The Skaar Invasion

  But Vause knew the truth. He was as certain of it as he was certain the Skaar were not finished with whatever had brought them to the Four Lands in the first place. And a small part of him had begun to wonder if war with these invaders might not prove too much for the Federation army.

  He turned from the window and walked into the center of the room. He was sickened by the idea of a delay. He was incensed by the thought of the Coalition Council debating endlessly. He was furious with all of it—and he was not going to wait around any longer.

  “Belladrin!” he called to his young aide.

  She came at once. He knew she would still be there. She always was, never leaving his offices until he had left himself. She had been a find—a young woman of great capability and intelligence. Eager to serve him, anxious to advance her station, not making any pretenses otherwise but still smart enough to remain respectful of her duty to him.

  “Prime Minister,” she said. “What can I do?”

  “Summon Commander Bashonen. Wake him, if you have to. Tell him he is to muster the Fifth Army and its fleet of airships and have them ready to set out by tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, I will be informing the Coalition Council of my decision.”

  She stared at him. “They will claim you are overstepping your authority.”

  “By the time any of them has gotten up the courage to do so, I will be gone with Commander Bashonen and his soldiers to the Mermidon. I need to see this enemy for myself.”

  “You will destroy it?”

  The gleam in her eyes did not escape his notice. “Utterly. Would you like to see it happen?”

  She nodded eagerly. “I would. Are you taking me?”

  “If you wish. You could be my aide on the flagship. Interested?”

  “I would be honored. I will be ready when you are.”

  She turned and left the room, a bit of extra spring to her step. He liked her eagerness to participate in this endeavor. He thought having her learn more about how things worked would serve them both well in the future.

  He took a final look out the window. In three days’ time, the Skaar would be no more. That was his promise to himself.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Two nights later, a snowstorm rode in on the back of an early winter wind, blowing down out of the northwest and across the Streleheim. It reached the former site of Paranor a little before midnight—a clear indicator of an early winter and a truncated autumn. Tarsha was seated around a small campfire with Dar Leah and Brecon Elessedil, wrapped in travel cloaks and blankets to ward off a deepening chill, when the first flakes began to fall.

  All three glanced up at the same time, watching as the fat white crystals began to flutter down, spiraling earthward like tiny creatures.

  “Snow,” Brecon said in wonder. “Awfully early.”

  “Awfully inconvenient,” Dar replied with a tinge of disgust in his voice. “We’ve nowhere to take shelter if it worsens.”

  They were settled back in the trees, away from the open space where Paranor had once been, talking about Drisker Arc’s appearance in ghost form six days earlier, trying not to show their impatience with having to wait around to see if the Druid would find a way to negate the spell that had dispatched Paranor into limbo and bring it back into the Four Lands so he could free himself from its imprisoning magic.

  “We’re well enough protected by the trees,” Tarsha ventured after a moment. “We can move camp farther back under the conifers if need be.”

  No one said anything for a minute, caught up in the dance of the snowflakes as their fall steadily increased and the ground began to take on a whiter cast. Finally Dar rose, kicked out the fire, and led them back under a massive old fir with broad limbs that offered better shelter. They built a new fire, gathered more wood for the remainder of the night, and then resumed their places.

  “Happy now?” Brecon teased the highlander.

  Dar shook his head. “I’ll be happy once we have Drisker back again. Every moment we spend sitting out in the open like this is another opportunity for Clizia and Tarsha’s brother to find us. They won’t be confused about where we are for long.”

  “Even with the mark removed from Tarsha?”

  Dar had found it four days earlier. He was familiar enough with how this form of magic worked—and how often, over the years, it had been applied by various Druids—to be aware he should look for it. Once Brecon had used the Elfstones to find it embedded in Tarsha, Dar had used a root extract the Druids had discovered years ago to negate its power. Drisker had been the one to teach him about it, and what Drisker had taught him, Darcon Leah always made sure he remembered.

  “She will use other means to track us, Brec,” he assured the other. “She won’t give up until she finds us.”

  Brecon sighed and rose. “In that case, I think I’ll take a look around, just to make sure your worries are pointless.”

  Off he went into the trees, disappearing into darkness and snowfall. Dar glanced up and away again. Tarsha thought he should be more concerned about the Elf going off on his own in this weather, but he seemed unconcerned.

  She took a moment to consider Brecon Elessedil. She was more than a little curious about him, although not quite understanding why. Not that she’d had much of a chance to be attracted to anyone, given the way her life had unfolded. But she remembered still the moment during her flight from Flinc’s underground lair when she had run straight into Brecon’s arms. All sorts of emotions had rushed through her then—relief, joy, and a strange sense of homecoming coupled with a deep feeling of contentment and security. Something about Brecon had triggered all this—and while she knew it was mostly the circumstances, she had come to believe it was something more, as well.

  Traveling with him to Paranor had given her a chance to test those feelings out, and to her surprise they had lingered. In fact, if she was being honest, they had strengthened. She had given herself a chance to step away from those emotions, to allow them to diminish, but each time she looked at him or spoke to him or just walked next to him, they were renewed. She liked Brecon Elessedil; she liked him a lot. Enough so that she didn’t feel compelled to examine the attraction too closely yet. She just wanted it to continue.

  Which, under the circumstances, was ridiculous. They were running for their lives, under constant threat of being discovered and likely killed, and facing the very real possibility that the Druids would be completely wiped out if Drisker did not get free, leaving the entirety of the Four Lands under siege from the Skaar invaders.

  “Are you warm enough?” Darcon Leah asked suddenly, his question scattering her thoughts.

  She nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

  She wanted to say more, but she couldn’t think of anything. The Blade was a formidable figure, radiating a dangerous power and possessing a willingness to use it. She still marveled that he had chosen to stand alone against Clizia Porse. If not for him, she would still be Clizia’s prisoner.

  Which made her wonder anew about her brother. Tavo was likely still with the old woman, held in her thrall and doing her bidding. Clizia would use him if she could find a way, and it would not be in her interests to seek a cure for him. He was simply a tool she would employ before casting him aside, as she did everyone.

  “You look troubled,” Dar Leah was saying. “Are you worried for your brother?”

  “I don’t see how I will ever get him back again,” she admitted. “Clizia has him, and she won’t ever let him go.”

  “Maybe we won’t give her a choice,” the Blade replied, pulling his cloak tighter about his slender form. “If Drisker gets free, he will deal with Clizia, and we will get Tavo back. Don’t give up hope.”

  She smiled. “I’m not. And it isn’t just Tavo I’m worried about. It’s Drisker, too.”

  “Not to mention the three of us.”

  They were silent a mome
nt, and then she came to a decision, speaking of something she had been mulling over for days. “Can I tell you about something that happened to me while I was traveling to Backing Fell?” she asked.

  The Blade smiled, a reassurance. “Of course.”

  She gathered herself. “I met this old woman. I was staying at an inn, sitting in the tavern by a window, when she appeared. She was old—and yet she wasn’t. I was never sure about her age, and I’m still not. She stood there and pointed at me, and I knew she was asking if she could come inside and join me. She asked for a glass of ale and drank it, but afterward it was still there, untouched. In fact, the innkeeper told me later he never saw her at all, that he thought I was playing games with him. As far as he was concerned, she was never there.”

  “But she was?”

  “I spoke with her. She was as real as you are and sitting just as close. She told me about something she called the rule of three. Do you know about it?”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  Tarsha nodded. “Neither had I. This woman said she was a seer. She told me her name was Parlindru. The rule of three was her rule—a kind of schematic for how the world worked. She said she wanted to share something of my future with me, and that she would use the rule of three to reveal it. She took my hands in hers and held them for a time. I don’t know how long; I couldn’t be sure afterward. But long enough for me to feel something—a kind of intrusion, like someone reaching inside me. I saw the color of her eyes change, over and over.”

  Dar Leah had shifted his position and was leaning closer. Tarsha hesitated, momentarily unsure of herself, but then continued.

  “Then she released my hands and told me three things that would happen to me. She said I would love three times and all three would be true, but only one would endure. She said I would die three times, but that each death would see me born anew. Finally, she said, I would have a chance to make a difference in the lives of others three times, but that one of those times I would change the world.”

  She went quiet then, staring at him, waiting for a response. “Did you believe her?” he asked.

  “Not at first. But later, yes. I can’t explain why. I don’t usually believe in such things. Seeing the future seems more like a parlor trick; it shouldn’t be possible. But I think maybe she really could.”

  He frowned, his dark features tightening. “There are seers. We had one or two among the Druids of Paranor while I was there. I never spent much time with them—nor did anyone else. No one really wants to know their future.”

  “I didn’t, either. And I didn’t ask her to tell me all this. I was just trying to be nice by giving her that glass of ale. But she claimed she had come to find me specifically, and I think—looking back on it—she had. Too much of it felt real. Then and now.”

  The Blade shook his head. “Sometimes things feel real when they aren’t. It might all just be nonsense you’ve persuaded yourself is something more. But that’s for you to decide, not me. Why are you telling me this, anyway?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Mostly because I wanted to tell someone. I would have told Drisker if he had been here when I returned. But since he wasn’t…” She shrugged. “I decided to see what you thought.”

  “Lucky me.” He smiled—but neither the smile nor the words were intended to mock her. “I like it that you value my opinion enough to ask it, and I wish I had something insightful or inspiring to say in response. But I’m afraid I don’t.”

  The wind gusted, and a smattering of snowflakes blew into her face. She wiped away their dampness and smiled back. “I didn’t think you would. I just needed to get it out of my system.”

  “Maybe you will still have a chance to tell Drisker,” Dar said.

  She looked off into the distance toward where the Keep had once been. “Maybe.”

  Moments later, Brecon returned, trudging out of the darkness, a ghostly figure in a thin covering of white. He must have seen something in their faces because he slowed as he looked from one to the other and back again.

  “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing,” Darcon Leah said.

  “Nothing,” Tarsha echoed.

  The Elven prince settled himself next to them and related what he had seen and heard in his search, which was precisely nothing. No sign of life, no indication that anything or anyone was out there in the darkness. The sky was masked with clouds. Snow was falling steadily and beginning to accumulate. Winter appeared to be on the verge of staking its claim to a new season.

  But Brecon Elessedil was mistaken.

  In the darkness eyes watched them, unseen.

  * * *

  —

  That same evening, some miles farther south and on the far side of the Dragon’s Teeth, Ajin d’Amphere sat staring across the Mermidon River into the darkness, talking quietly. Kol’Dre sat close, listening, a silent presence providing company she was happy to have. They were situated on a rise where they could look out across the river and into the countryside beyond. It had been six days since the Skaar had wiped out the Federation advance force under the command of Arraxin Dresch and she had sent Ketter Vause, Prime Minister of the Federation, a message advising him of what she had done to his soldiers and warning of what would happen if he tried to do anything like that again. She had lied about who was at fault, shifting the blame to the Federation force she had destroyed and claiming, falsely, that the Skaar had been attacked, suggesting that Vause meet with her to achieve a peaceful solution. It was a suggestion she was certain he would ignore, choosing instead to come at her with what he assumed were enough men and airships that her much smaller Skaar force would simply be overwhelmed.

  Old news to Kol, but a necessary lead-in to something that wasn’t.

  “Things have not worked out the way I had thought they would,” she began, the words a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Well, it’s true the Elves haven’t come to your support as you thought they would,” he said, after she was quiet for a moment.

  True enough, she thought. Gerrendren Elessedil and his Elves had failed to appear, apparently still undecided about whether to stand with her. She had been so sure the Elven king would be moved by her impassioned pleas for assistance, given his obvious feelings for her. And the look on Ketter Vause’s face when he registered that alliance would have been priceless. But it appeared she had misjudged badly, and she was disappointed and resentful.

  “You think perhaps that I expected too much,” she said. “Because if the Federation chooses to respond by striking back at us now, it is unlikely we possess sufficient strength to fight them off. But you misunderstand. Gerrendren Elessedil was never the one I was counting on to save us. My father was.”

  Kol stared. “Your father? But I thought you didn’t…”

  “Want him to intervene? Want him to steal my victory by dismissing me and claiming credit? I didn’t. But when Sten’Or brought me the message from my father and I realized what my traitorous general had done, I saw an opportunity.”

  She paused. “I have a confession to make, Kol. I lied to you. It was a lie of omission, but a lie nevertheless. And I suspect you will be very angry with me for doing so.”

  Kol’Dre shook his head at once. “I would never be angry with you, Ajin. You know that.”

  “We are about to find out. You were there when Sten’Or brought my father’s message. You should remember the glee he exhibited at the news that my father was coming. It was clear enough that he had orchestrated it, probably by revealing my failure to take and hold Paranor after losing all my soldiers while seizing it. He thought that I would be sent packing. But while I could not undo his actions, I thought I could change their impact. I messaged my father right afterward—without telling you what I was doing—admitting I had overreached and asking forgiveness. I reminded him of my value over the years. I told him that everything I had do
ne had been for him, and that my intentions this time were no different. I did not try to dissuade him from coming; instead, I urged him to come. If he did, I said, I had a gift for him. If he arrived at a particular time and place with the rest of our army, I would present him with an opportunity to crush the Federation for good. Or, if not to crush them, then at least to force them into negotiating an agreement that would allow us to stay and give us time to plan further. But he must come when and where I asked him to.”

  She paused. “I never told you this. I never told anyone. It was to be my personal redemption when the plan unfolded. Everything I have done since learning of my father’s arrival has been directed toward bringing Vause and the Federation army to bay. The deliberate ambush of those Federation sentries. The subsequent slaughter of his entire advance force. A message that practically dared him to come after me, a challenge to his vaunted Federation invincibility. And I am certain it worked; he’s probably on his way at this very moment. Everything is falling into place, just as I had hoped.”

  She shook her head wearily. “Except for the one thing I needed the most. My father hasn’t done his part.”

  “When was he supposed to arrive?”

  “The night of the new moon. Yesterday.”

  “He told you this? He promised he was coming?”

  “He didn’t have to. He is my father. I know him well enough to be certain that Sten’Or’s summons, coupled with my own admission of guilt and my offering, would bring him—if for no better reason than to sort matters out. No, something has gone wrong.”

  “Ajin, Ajin.” Kol whispered her name in soft reproach. “You have taken on too much. You have risked us all.”