The Last Druid

by Terry Brooks

  She nodded, her head against his shoulder. “I am. Will you be there to watch me?”

  He was stunned. He moved her away and stared at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because we won’t be together when it happens. Because I am required to stand apart from everyone during the ceremony, to demonstrate my strength and resilience as the future queen. The protocol is clear; I cannot be allowed to appear as if I need help from anyone.”

  He shook his head. “That’s nonsense! Everyone needs help from someone at some time. And queen or not, no one ever stands completely alone. I am so sick of this pretense—all this insistence of following rules and keeping you shut away as if you might break if I were to hold you in public! I want you to tell these so-called advisers that all this is over the moment the coronation is complete.”

  She glared at him. “Don’t make demands! And don’t presume to tell me what I must or must not do! That makes you just another adviser. If you cared for me, you wouldn’t even suggest it!”

  “Well, I love you and I am suggesting it. In fact, I am insisting on it. If we really love each other, we have to stop pretending nothing is happening.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind, but I am beginning to wonder if you’ve lost yours. Things aren’t the same as they were when we were fighting for our lives. Then we were just trying to survive. Now we’re trying to find our way to the life we always thought that struggle would give us. So don’t downplay the importance of what we are doing.”

  He shook his head. “But I don’t understand what we’re doing! I see us fighting still, only now it’s with people who should be trying to help us. Why do you keep making excuses for what they are doing to us?”

  She exhaled sharply. “You know what your problem is? You have no patience and not the foggiest idea how to massage difficult situations. I told you I would need time to make this happen, and that nothing has changed between us. But allowing that to happen while not diminishing my advisers and my mother isn’t all that easy.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Now you’re just being mean. My mother knows how important you are to me. She has spoken to the royal advisers countless times already about how much she and I both owe you, and how you saved both our lives. I have spent time doing this as well, working to build you up and make them see what a good man you are. I am starting to see some cracks in the wall. But you have to understand that protocol and appearances mean a great deal to these people, and they rely on the members of the royal family to conduct themselves with respect and wisdom. My father disappointed them, so I cannot. They need order. They crave reassurance. I have to give them this, or my future rule will mean nothing.”

  “Perhaps you’ve made a wrong choice, then!” he snapped, forgetting the promise he had made himself.

  Immediately he regretted the words as Ajin stared at him, hurt. “Ajin, no, I didn’t mean…”

  “But you said it, didn’t you?” Her eyes flashed and she stepped back from him. “I had meant this evening to end differently, but I don’t think that’s going to happen now.” She paused, then added, “I want you to consider carefully what you’ve just said to me. I want you to consider how much you are willing to tolerate in order to remain together. Because more will be asked of you, and more will be required. I will love you forever, but not if you can’t accept this.”

  “Ajin!”

  He reached for her, but she stepped away. “Sleep well, Dar. And think about what I’ve said.”

  A few further steps, and she was through the door and gone.

  * * *

  —

  He spent a sleepless night, thinking about how matters stood between them and how it felt like they had drifted into a dark place. Come morning, he dressed in something of a daze before joining Shea and Brecon. Wordlessly, they ate breakfast, then the three made their way to their reserved viewing area while the coronation took place. Dar was aware of his companions glancing over from time to time, and he knew they were aware that something was wrong. How could they not be? He wore the evidence of it on his face.

  The coronation began at midday and lasted for hours. Dar remembered almost nothing of the details afterward—only the pageantry with its colors and flags, its trumpets and drums, and its sea of rapt faces filled with awe. He was close enough to Ajin to see the happiness reflected in her smile and in the exuberant waving of her hands. She seemed fully invested in what was happening, and she did not once glance his way.

  Afterward, there were greetings exchanged in a long line of notables before an adjournment to the royal dining hall for an evening meal. But Dar was not hungry. He was numb and devastated. When it came to his turn in the reception line, Ajin offered him her hand to kiss and gave him a wink. Nothing more. Nothing special. Nothing reassuring. Then he was moving on to other dignitaries.

  What he knew then quite suddenly—and what he had failed to realize before—was that he was wrong for her. He might have been her match when they fought side by side against imminent disasters, but this was something else. This was the hereafter, and she needed someone who could better fulfill the part of a court-trained and educated consort. He would never be that person, and he knew it.

  It was a stunning, harsh reality, but staying in Skaarsland would eventually lead to something ugly growing between them. She deserved to be queen, and she would be a good one. She was strong and able and determined. He would only hold her back; he would always be a hindrance. His service to the Druids had only trained him for one thing—to serve as Blade to the High Druid: a position that no longer existed. Ajin would not accompany him back to the Four Lands, and he could not imagine staying here with her, knowing how useless it would make him feel.

  Halfway through the dinner celebration, he got to his feet and said to Brecon and Shea, “We’re leaving.”

  They stared at him, then rose wordlessly and followed him toward the exit. When they had reached it, he brought them to a sudden halt. “No. I have to say goodbye to her.”

  The Elven prince shook his head. “You mean good night, don’t you?”

  Dar shook his head. “I don’t belong here. This all feels wrong to me. Go on to bed. I will speak with her and then join you. In the morning, we will fly back to the Four Lands. I will ask for the use of an airship, and we’ll go home.”

  “Are you sure…?” Shea started to ask, then stopped when he saw the look on the highlander’s face.

  “This is nonsense, you know,” Brecon said, unable to contain himself. “You are making the worst mistake of all time! Whatever is bothering you, find a way to work it out.”

  But Dar just turned and walked back into the dining hall, moving toward the head table and Ajin. As he neared, he saw her talking with a young Captain of the Guard he had noticed her with earlier and slowed. Then he stopped, just as she noticed him approaching. He stood there, not knowing what to do, then gave her a wave and pointed toward the door. She beckoned him to her, but he shook his head, turned around, and left the room.

  Really, how much more convincing did he require to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing?

  * * *

  —

  He was making a poor attempt at sleep when she came to him for the second night running and crawled into bed next to him. Without thinking, he took her into his arms, and they kissed. For a long time. And for those moments, he was transported back to when there were no obstacles to how they felt about each other.

  Finally, she whispered. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I was trying to do the right thing, and I ruined it.”

  He kissed her nose. “You did what you had to. I understand that. I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “You know I care nothing for that captain you were glaring at. I care nothing for anyone but you. Please do not thin
k anything else, Dar.”

  “I don’t,” he lied. “I was just tired and not feeling well, so I came to bed.”

  “Can we talk about all this tomorrow?” she whispered. “Can we leave it for then? I want to feel close to you tonight. I want to feel how much we love each other and nothing else. Can we do that?”

  He found they could.

  But even so, he had not changed his mind about their future and what he had resolved to do.

  FORTY-ONE

  Tarsha decided she would stay at Drisker’s cottage. No one else would claim it if she didn’t, and it was as close to a real home as anywhere else. She was like Grianne Ohmsford in that way. She had lost everything while still young, but had found this cottage a place where she could be at peace, protected against the world. She had always assumed she would stay for good, but that Drisker would be here with her. Even with her mentor’s death, his cottage still spoke to her, so she would forsake any other plans and remain.

  She had the company she wanted in the moor cat and the forest imp. Fade was always there, seldom for more than moments at a time, but at least once every day nevertheless. Her silent passage through the forests surrounding the cottage gave reassurance that a sentry was keeping watch. Flinc, too, picked up with her right where he had left off with Drisker—teasing, questioning, offering unasked-for advice and what passed for sage wisdom—which she found both heartening and entertaining. She liked listening to him talk about the old days: days so far in the past the Four Lands had not yet come into being. He was quite old, she discovered—so ancient that the time of his earliest ancestors predated both the Druids and the Ohmsfords. He never revealed exactly how long he had been alive, but she got the impression he might have been there when the Faerie folk of light and dark fought their war and the Forbidding was created.

  She thought now and then of Grianne Ohmsford, safely returned to the home she had sought for so long, become again an aeriad in the service of Mother Tanequil. She was a Faerie creature now, endowed with new purpose and freedom from the horrors of the Forbidding. That she was happy to be living a free-flowing life was unmistakable. Tarsha had heard it in her voice; she had sensed it from the tone and inflection and lilt of each word. The Ilse Witch was gone forever, and the Straken Queen was no more. What remained was just an ordinary woman, unburdened and at peace.

  The days passed leisurely and without incident, and slowly the raw edge of Tarsha’s memories softened sufficiently she no longer cried thinking of them. Life in the Four Lands seemed to have settled. There had been no word of war breaking out, but news traveled slowly to Emberen, and she found the pace suited her. Still, eventually word reached even this remote outpost. The Skaar, it seemed, had departed, their war with the Federation over. But why and how they gave up so completely, she might never know—at least not until the crew of the Behemoth returned.

  She looked for them at first, and then stopped. Why bother? They would come when they could. They would come when they had accomplished what they had set out to do or they would not come at all. The latter was possible, but her faith in Shea Ohmsford, the Blade, Brecon, and the others who had gone with them was strong enough to make her believe they would overcome whatever odds they faced. The only uncertainty was the performance of the odd machine the old man Tindall had invented. But it was what they had to work with, and the best chance they had for resetting the weather and putting an end to the Skaar invasion. Still, maybe the Skaar’s departure alone was a signal of the mission’s success, because what else might have induced them to leave?

  Then, one day, months after her return from the tanequil, three figures walked up the road from Emberen and into her yard. She knew them before they reached her—knew them even sooner than she could see their faces clearly, she would insist later.

  Shea Ohmsford, Darcon Leah, and Brecon Elessedil!

  She leapt out of her rocker and charged down the cottage steps to meet them, yelling with unrestrained glee. She hugged them all and kissed their cheeks, not bothering to wipe away her tears of joy as she did so. She was so happy to see them again she could not stop smiling.

  She took them up on the porch, sat them down, and poured them glasses of ale. “Tell me everything,” she urged impatiently.

  “You first,” Shea insisted. “What’s happened here? We know the war with the Skaar is over, but not much else. Tell us about yourself.”

  Tarsha shook her head despairingly. “There’s so much. Not all of it good. Drisker is dead.” The minute the words were out of her mouth she began to cry. After regaining control of herself, she added, “But so is Clizia Porse.” And she told them all about Drisker’s banishment into the Forbidding, and her battles with Clizia, and the demon Clizia had brought out of the Forbidding in exchange for Drisker. And then about Grianne’s fate, and the bond they had formed.

  By the end of her story, they were all shaking their heads in wonder.

  “We lost Rocan and Tindall,” Shea said. “And the Behemoth was struck by lightning while trying to use Annabelle and exploded. The entire Rover crew was killed.”

  “Annabelle was destroyed,” Brecon continued, “but her demise was the trigger that brought about a new spring, so there’s a new beginning for the Skaar. They have a home again where they can grow crops and live off the land. Everything’s changed. Shea, tell them what the old man did.”

  The boy looked embarrassed. “He left plans and writings with me that explained how Annabelle was built and how the chemicals could be mixed and used to seed the clouds. I don’t know if he sensed he might not be coming back when he saw that storm coming, but he must have thought it was a good idea to leave some sort of record. He wanted the plans to go to the Skaar people—it was so awful over there—so I gave them to Ajin. I thought she would know who might put them to the best use should the weather turn bad again.”

  “Tell her the rest,” Dar urged gently. “You can’t be hiding things at this point. Not from her.” Tarsha turned to look at Shea questioningly. The boy hesitated, perhaps searching for the words, and the Blade cocked an eyebrow in disapproval. “As it happened, Shea had a great deal to do with how everything turned out. Tell her.”

  Shea shrugged and blushed—a response that caused Tarsha to raise an eyebrow. “Yes, tell me.”

  The boy rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. You know how I’ve said I didn’t think I was any part of the Ohmsford bloodline? I was orphaned early, and I never knew my parents or my history. I always thought that even if I was an Ohmsford it didn’t matter; I didn’t inherit the wishsong. There’s never been any evidence of my possessing it.”

  Tarsha took his wrist and held tightly. “But now you think maybe you do? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  Shea gave another shrug and nodded. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. When lightning struck the Behemoth and blew her…” He stopped, suddenly unable to continue. Everyone waited as he gathered himself. “…blew her and everyone aboard to pieces, I was watching it happen from the ground with Seelah. I didn’t do anything for a few moments; I guess it hadn’t sunk in yet. But when it did, I screamed. I don’t know where it came from. It didn’t sound like a real scream; it was something much louder and more violent. It just burst out of me. But when it did…well, it caused the whole sky surrounding the remains of the ship and Annabelle and everything else to just explode. It was the chemicals—the mix the machine used to spray the clouds. It was like I started a chain reaction that went across the sky for miles in all directions, shoving back the clouds, the cold, and the winter. I could feel this power radiating out of me, this…this magic, I guess. I don’t know why it happened then and not before; it was the stress and horror of what was happening, I suppose. But I don’t have any other way to explain it. I’m still trying to get used to the idea.”

  “So the change in the weather was due not just to Tindall and his chemicals, but to your scream, too? You th
ink it was the wishsong?”

  “I know it was. But it was not like your wishsong or the grandfather’s magic. This was something different. Something really scary.” Shea shook his head again. “I don’t know what to do about it. Will it happen again? Can I find a way to control it? Is there something I should know that you can tell me?”

  “He wants you to teach him how to manage it,” Brecon finished for him, with a grin.

  Tarsha was immediately reminded of Tavo. She had wanted to teach her brother how to control his magic, but she had failed him. Now she was being offered a second chance.

  “What of Seelah?” she asked suddenly. “What became of her? She must have been devastated losing Rocan that way. You told me how close they were.”

  “She disappeared,” Shea said quietly, and the way he said it told her not to ask anything more just then.

  “Shea Ohmsford,” she said instead, very deliberately using his full name. “I don’t want you to worry about using this newfound magic—wishsong or whatever it may be. I promise I will do my very best to teach you.”

  The boy laughed. “Then I promise I will do my very best to pay attention.”

  It took them considerable time and effort to finish their explanations. But time was something they had, and they were in no hurry. For the first time that any of them could remember, there was no immediate threat to the Four Lands or themselves, and they could be at ease.

  “Where is Ajin?” Tarsha asked finally. By then, the light had started to fade and the sun to slide west in the afternoon sky. She was beginning to think about food and sleep.

  Brecon shook his head and Shea looked down at his hands. Darcon Leah cleared his throat. “A messenger from the Skaar army returned home while we were still there, and she learned her father had been assassinated in his own tent during the standoff with the Federation. They didn’t seem to know by whom, and were reluctant to attack the Federation again without their king and commander. So Ajin ordered the whole Skaar army to return, and when it did, she was welcomed back by her soldiers. Moreover, her people begged her to become queen and she accepted. So she gave us her airship and sent us home.”