The Last Druid

by Terry Brooks

  “We’re getting out of here,” she announced anyway as she stalked toward the cell door.

  Immediately there was a stirring in the shadows and a handful of the wolf creatures padded into view, fangs bared.

  Ajin stopped where she was, and then backed away from the bars of the cage. “What are those things?” she asked.

  Orestiana came to stand beside her. “I’m not sure. Agathien seems inordinately proud of them; she talks about them as her ‘work.’ Like she might have made them.”

  “How do you breed men with wolves?” Ajin shook her head in dismay. “I should have killed her long ago.”

  Her mother put her hand on Ajin’s shoulder and squeezed. “What you should have done was stay with your father in the Four Lands.”

  Still watching the wolf-men as they retreated back into the shadows, Ajin permitted herself a quiet snort. “My father sent me home. He claimed I had overstepped my authority, and he punished me by sending me back.”

  “And you came?”

  “It wasn’t as if I was given a choice.”

  “You could have refused. You could have insisted! I know your father. He would have come around.”

  Ajin looked at her. “He didn’t come around for you, did he? Once he found the pretender?” She stalked back over to the bed and sat down again. “He doesn’t much care about either of us. He thinks we don’t matter anymore. I did so much for him, and this is the way he repays me.”

  Her mother sat down beside her. “Tell me everything, Ajin. Everything that’s happened.”

  So Ajin did, starting with her arrival in the Four Lands with the advance force and ending with her return home two days past. “I don’t know about this machine the old man made, this weather-changing device, but some of those who accompanied me seem to think it can work. They are going to test it sometime in the next few days. Imagine what it would mean for the Skaar people if it did work!”

  Her mother gave her a bleak look. “We’ve had hopes before, Ajin, but they all came to nothing. This winter is here to stay—and it will be the end of us if we do not find a new home. Your father is right about that.”

  “But the old man and his Rover friend have tested this device. Rocan told me. He watched Tindall use it to create a thunderstorm that put an end to a drought. Maybe it can end this winter, too, and change the weather back to how it was.” Then she shook her head. “But that won’t help us. By the time it happens—if it happens at all—we’ll be dead and gone. We need to find a way out of here and get back to the ship. I have to think of something!”

  But she despaired of being able to do so. They were in a situation where escape looked to be all but impossible, and time was running out. The pretender would not wait long before dispatching them. Ajin was somewhat surprised that her mother hadn’t been killed already. It suggested that Agathien had plans for something very unpleasant.

  They talked in hushed voices for a time, comforting and reassuring each other. And all the while, Ajin kept trying to think of a way to escape. She wondered if Dar might come once he realized where she had gone; he was headstrong and determined enough. The thought warmed her—but then he might end up imprisoned, too. She regretted now she had been so quick to leave him behind in the first place. Had he been with her—had there been two of them—she might not be in this situation.

  But would she have ever found her mother? Would she have been able to find this cell, wherever it lay? It made her furious to think of the immense unfairness of the conundrum. What sort of choice was that to make, finding her mother by being locked away with her or staying free and losing her mother forever? Life was so cruel sometimes.

  She was sharing her memories of coming to the Four Lands, her hopes of finding a new home, one still fresh and unspoiled, when a door at the far side of the room opened and a solitary figure stepped through. When the door closed again, the darkness returned and the figure disappeared, but Ajin could hear footsteps approaching.

  Abruptly the pretender appeared, materializing out of the gloom, a pair of wolf-men moving to flank her. Ajin came to her feet, facing her enemy directly, daring her to come closer. Daring her, but helpless to make it happen.

  Agathien d’Amphere was not what anyone would expect of a Skaar queen. She was not regal or threatening. She was not a forbidding presence in any way. She was small and slight and rather plain. So why her father had chosen this woman was a mystery that Ajin had never been able to solve. But it didn’t matter; the deed was done. The pretender had seduced Cor d’Amphere, persuading him to cast aside his wife and former queen and take her instead as his new partner on the throne. She had changed Ajin’s world in every way possible, and none of it had been for the better.

  Now she stood there, looking smug and rather excited.

  Ajin was too impatient and angry to wait on her. “Why are we still alive?” she demanded.

  The pretender feigned shock. “Oh, my! How brutal you sound. How brutal you make me sound. Do you really think I would kill you and your mother while my husband is away and unable to prevent it? Wouldn’t he be awfully angry when he came home and found out what I had done?”

  “A charge of treason, a quick trial, and a public execution? You could have it over and done with and there would be nothing for him to do but accept it or cast you out. And he wouldn’t do the latter, would he?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think I would want to chance it, though.” The pretender thought about it a moment, then brightened. “Do you have any other ideas? This is getting interesting.”

  Ajin took her measure. “How about you just make us disappear, claim we ran off to find a better life? What could he do then? It would not be your fault if we left. He might search for us, but he would never find us. Not if you handled things correctly.”

  Agathien’s smile was quick and dark. “I like that better, but I’m still not sure it would be satisfying enough. You’ve caused me considerable trouble, Ajin. You’ve cast doubt on me that my husband will not soon forget or easily dismiss. I think we need something more fitting for such despicable behavior.”

  She took a few steps closer, still keeping well out of arm’s reach from Ajin and the confining bars of the cage. “You should have stayed in the Four Lands, Princess. Maybe you would have found a new life over there instead of coming home to end your present one. Foolish girl. Such a brave warrior—your father’s pride and joy in spite of my efforts to discredit you—but so clueless about power.”

  Ajin knew when she was being baited and said nothing. Her mother was still sitting on the bed behind her, silent as well. Both were waiting to see how this was going to play out.

  “We could make this easy,” the queen said suddenly, looking as if she had suddenly been inspired. “I could give you poison, and you could drink it. Everything would be solved in a matter of minutes. Dead by your own hand, my place at my husband’s side made secure, and all the loose ends tied up—what could be better?”

  “I don’t think either of us intends to make this easy for you,” Orestiana said quietly, and Ajin smiled to herself.

  “No, I didn’t think you would.” Agathien sighed deeply. “Nor do I think it would be satisfying enough for me. I want something more. I think maybe what I want most is to keep you both around. You might prove entertaining for those boring dark days when everything seems just a little too familiar. Doesn’t that sound better?”

  “Oh, keep us caged like dangerous pets you can visit every now and then?” Ajin snapped at her. “Please do. Sooner or later, caged animals find a way out.”

  Agathien looked perplexed. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to keep you caged. That wouldn’t be any fun. I want you to be free, but I would prefer you tame, too.” She looked left and then right at the wolf-men who warded her. “Like they are.”

  Ajin made her lip curl. “My mother thinks you made these things.”


  The queen’s smile was dazzling. “I did! Aren’t they wonderful? I learned the skill from a witch in Arvania some years back, when I was studying necromancy and potions and mind control. Before I made my way here to claim your father’s affections. That witch was a genius, full of all sorts of interesting ideas. She envisioned creating a whole new race of beings! I was her helper and student, and I was fascinated by her skill and foresight, eager to learn everything she knew. Eventually I did—all of it! Then I killed her. I mean, I couldn’t let her stay around experimenting while I was carrying out my plans for becoming a queen. Besides, she was old and rather unstable, and I think maybe she was planning to kill me. But she was a little too slow.”

  “I would be quicker,” Ajin said quietly.

  The pretender shrugged. “Probably. If you were given the chance—which you won’t be.”

  She sounded so pleased with herself that Ajin would have ripped down the bars and torn out her throat if she’d been stronger. With considerable effort, she forced herself to remain calm. “So you made these creatures to serve you. Does my father know?”

  “Of course not! After all, one day I might decide to change him, too. It will be good practice for me to see how the formula works on the two of you first—a good indicator for how successfully it might work on him later.”

  “So you keep these things here?” Ajin’s mother asked. “Do they live here?”

  “Well, I can’t have them staying in the palace or anywhere else they might be seen. But I let them go out at night to play. I have a few minders who keep them under control. The wolf-men are very loyal to me, but they do need to eat. So at night I let them hunt. A few go out and bring food back to the others. It’s rather messy afterward, but their minders clean up.” She paused. “Maybe you would like to know what they eat?”

  Neither mother nor daughter spoke, but the pretender carried on anyway. “Of course you would! How could you not? Well, my wolf-men are not so particular about what they eat, so long as it involves meat. They don’t just crave meat; they need it, in order to survive. Were they without it for a time, they would begin to eat one another, you see.”

  Ajin was shaking her head, but Agathien did not stop. “They find it in the streets. The homeless. Men and women, yes…but children, especially. So tender; so delicious. And there are so many of them these days.”

  Orestiana d’Amphere retched and broke into sobs. In that moment, Ajin hated the pretender more than she had ever imagined possible. “You are the real beast, Agathien! Not your wolf-men.”

  The queen nodded. “I suppose I am. But I don’t apologize. I think I have to be what I am in order to survive. In any case, now you know what I have planned for you. It will be fun having you both become my creatures. I can visit you every day without fear because the drink will change you completely. You won’t remember anything about the way you were. You will become one with the pack, but you will be tame and obedient when you are around me. And I will feel so happy having you serve me!”

  She began backing away, still talking. “I will let you think things over for a day or two. Enjoy each other’s company while you can, and picture what life will be like once you belong to me body and soul. I cannot think of a better way of making you disappear without actually having to kill you or send you away. Think about what eating a child will be like; you will get used to it quicker than you think.”

  She was almost out of view again, lost in the shadows. “Goodbye!”

  Ajin walked up to the bars of the cage and spat in the direction of the pretender. She drew back just in time to avoid the claws of a wolf-man who lunged at her out of the black, hairy arm reaching through the bars, claws raking the air in front of her.

  “You should be grateful I do not choose to feed you to them,” the pretender called back from the door as she opened it. “They eat their prey while it is still alive, you know. I have watched them do it.”

  Then the door closed and she was gone, leaving Ajin and her mother to suffer with the knowledge of what was to be done to them.

  I won’t let it happen, Ajin thought as rage and fear warred within her. But she had no idea how she was going to prevent it.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  It was one of those perfect days. A day when the sun shines brightly, but the heat is not extreme. A day when everyone you encounter is pleasant and cheerful, and there is an expectation of good things coming your way in the not-so-distant future.

  “Won’t be long now,” Lakodan remarked to the big man sitting next to him.

  “Not long at all,” Battenhyle answered. “Happy to be going back to Crackenrood?”

  “Always. It’s home. It’s where we belong.”

  “That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”

  The Dwarf chieftain looked about at the bustling Federation camp, taking in dozens of small tableaus that made it eminently clear what sort of activity was occurring. Here men were bundling up various types of weapons—both ancient and modern, blades and flash rips alike. They sorted, wrapped, and stacked each set of items diligently before transferring them to wooden crates. Over there, various food supplies, tent posts and canvas coverings, cooking implements, blankets and bedrolls were being organized in similar fashion. And farther out, on the camp perimeter, horses were being divided into groups—some to haul the wagons, some to carry supplies, and a special few to allow the commanders and junior officers to ride.

  The latter of which the Dwarves did not understand. Officers, they believed, were supposed to be leaders, and leaders should walk with the men they were leading.

  Still, it was none of their business. When this pack decamped, the Dwarves would not be going with them. Finally, after well over a month, they were parting company. It was something the Dwarves had been anticipating since Belladrin Rish and the Federation commanders had reached a truce agreement with the Skaar.

  “How do you suppose she managed it?” Lakodan asked his friend. Of late, the question had been bothering him. “Miss Belladrin.”

  Battenhyle glanced at him. “Of which miracle are we speaking? She seems to have managed quite a few.”

  “The truce between the Skaar and the Federation. How could she have accomplished such a thing, a young woman like that? I would not have thought it possible.”

  His friend shrugged. “Say what you like about her age, but you cannot deny she is accomplished.”

  “I understand. We are proof of her prowess, are we not? Did she not persuade us to come to the aid of our greatest enemy?” Lakodan looked off into the distance. “Still, I would have thought it would be more difficult with the Skaar. Why would they even listen to her, let alone enter into an agreement with someone who is little more than a scribe?”

  “In title, perhaps. But you know her to be capable of almost anything by now, so don’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth. She managed it, and the how of it doesn’t really matter.” Battenhyle paused, frowning. “But she did fail to find a way to return our Reveals.”

  Lakodan nodded. “At least the Federation could have offered us a fair price, not simply confiscate them. She wasn’t so good in arranging for that, was she? I was surprised, given her success in helping us when Ketter Vause sought to violate the conscription agreement.”

  “She said those idiot commanders overruled her. They still see her as inexperienced, even after all she has accomplished. She cannot be expected to change their minds on everything.”

  “I know, I know. They want those Reveals for protection back in Arishaig.” Lakodan refused to be placated. “But here’s another thing, Old Bear. You have to wonder why the army is still packing up to fly back to Arishaig when the orders to decamp arrived days ago.”

  It had been the talk of the camp since Commander Aarcobin had returned. In a mere week after he had carried the treaty to Arishaig for ratification, he had returned with word that it had been approved and wit
h orders for the army to decamp. Lakodan had overheard Commander Oberion remarking that this was the fastest the Coalition Council had approved anything save a pay raise for themselves, and that it almost seemed too good to be true. And yet still the army lingered.

  “Well, it’s hard to move an army of this size from one place to the other, even with transports. Just the act of packing up all this equipment and supplies is daunting. They should take a lesson from the Dwarves. Pack light, travel light, no delay.” Battenhyle shrugged. “Anyway, as I said, it is not our concern. We still have our mobile Reveals, even if they did confiscate the platform models. We were smart enough to keep those hidden. So we won’t be leaving empty-handed.”

  They were quiet after that, sitting companionably, lost in their own thoughts, looking out from their perch on the back of an open wagon bed at the bustle taking place around them. But something about the whole business made Lakodan uneasy.

  “Such industrious little ants,” Battenhyle observed finally, chuckling.

  Lakodan’s frown deepened. “Better if their common sense did the same amount of work now and then.”

  “There’s truth to that,” a voice rumbled. The wagon lurched as Choten Benz climbed aboard behind them, using the spokes of a wheel to lift himself up into the bed, where he settled into place, resting his back against one of the side walls. “I’m troubled by all of this.”

  Lakodan glanced back at him. “Unusual for you, isn’t it?”

  Benz nodded. “Indeed. But these past few weeks have involved more than a few unusual events, and I am beginning to think we need to get to the heart of them before we return to Arishaig for good.”

  “That would be before you return to Arishaig,” Lakodan pointed out with a laugh. “Old Bear and I are off for home.”

  Benz shrugged. “Just for the sake of argument, let’s examine this a bit. It will pass the time, and it might help settle my concerns. What say you?”