The Last Druid

by Terry Brooks

  “But I thought you and she…” Tarsha began, but the sadness in Dar’s eyes stopped her.

  “It’s funny,” he said, in a voice full of regret. “In the beginning, when we first met, I tried everything I could think of to persuade her that we weren’t meant to be together. When I finally changed my mind, it was too late.”

  “You don’t know that,” she told him. “She might still come.”

  He shook his head, permitting himself a rueful grin. “I don’t think so. Her people want her to rule, and she knew it was the right thing to do, so she embraced her duty. Besides, she was always meant to be queen. She will be perfect at it.”

  Tarsha fed them after that, the four of them sitting around the little table in the dining area, talking further, speculating on the future, just taking advantage of being together at least once more. Eventually, they ran out of things to say and the silences grew longer and more awkward. She asked them to stay the night and perhaps another day, but she knew they would leave soon. Brecon would go back to his family, and the other two would go to wherever they now believed their homes to be. It made her sad to think they might never see one another again, but she knew it was inevitable.

  But they all did stay on another day, and then Brecon and Dar departed, both bound for the Elven capital city. They asked Shea to come with them, suggesting he might enjoy a short visit to the Elven nation, but the boy declined, arguing he needed help from Tarsha to manage his magic and should not put that off.

  “Thanks for letting me stay—apart from helping me with the magic,” he confessed to Tarsha when they were alone. “I don’t really have anywhere to go now that Rocan is dead. I think the Rovers would take me in if I asked, but it wouldn’t be the same. All my friends were on the Behemoth.”

  “I know. And I am so sorry about what happened to them.”

  “You probably have plans of your own, and they probably don’t include me hanging around, but it would just be for a little while.” He gave her one of his familiar crooked grins. “You know, until I get a firm grip on…well, whatever it is I need to get a firm grip on.”

  She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I have no plans, and you can stay as long as you like.” She said it warmly, understanding only too well the feeling of having no place to call your own.

  He nodded his thanks, then looked suddenly embarrassed. “Also, this might sound weird, but…I missed you. I know we didn’t start off as friends, but I feel like maybe we could be friends now.”

  She almost laughed at how hard he was trying not to sound desperate, but managed to keep a straight face.

  “Shea, I think we are way past the could be stage. You and I are friends. And I meant what I said. You can stay as long as you wish.”

  “Well, that’s…I can’t tell you how much…really, I won’t be in the way, you just tell me if I…” He trailed off, gathering himself. “Thanks, Tarsha.”

  This time she did laugh. But she hugged him once more, and gave him another kiss.

  FORTY-TWO

  After leaving Tarsha and Shea in Emberen, Dar Leah accompanied Brecon to Arborlon for what he intended to be a week and ended up being more like a month. They hunted and fished, worked in the Gardens of Life, and ate and drank lavishly. They walked the woods and talked at length about everything that had happened since the Blade had come to the Elven city to persuade his friend to help find Tarsha Kaynin. The Elfstones were back in their old place of concealment—the new king’s sleeping chambers—with no one the wiser. Neither the Elf nor the Borderman saw any point in poking that hornet’s nest—especially since Brecon’s oldest brother was now king and the two had never been particularly close.

  And, well…some things are best left untold.

  They did spend time with Brecon’s mother, who made a point of thanking Dar profusely for seeing her son home safely. Both Brecon and he insisted they had never been in any particular danger, and the entire voyage east over the waters of the Tiderace had been nothing more than a grand adventure. Neither mentioned the Skaar or their encounter with the pretender.

  Neither mentioned Ajin d’Amphere.

  Except when they were alone; then Ajin’s name came up all the time. Brecon knew how his friend felt about the Skaar princess and kept insisting that maybe Dar’s decision to leave Skaarsland was made too hastily and out of a misplaced concern for her future as queen of the Skaar nation.

  “Even though Ajin is queen, that shouldn’t be an impediment to being with her. You helped save Skaarsland, after all. Surely the people would make an exception for you. And besides, when has Ajin not gotten exactly what she wanted?”

  Dar shook his head. “It isn’t Ajin’s place to make such a decision. There are rules and traditions when it comes to marrying into royalty. We were never more than lovers, Brecon. I have no royal blood and I am not a Skaar, in any case. We argued this out. Her advisers have told her any relationship with me would be a mistake. She says she can change their minds, that she can find a way, but in the meantime, what happens to her life and mine? I just don’t see how this can work out the way we want it to. Royal consorts can’t be commoners—especially ones who come from another part of the world.”

  “But she loves you. She always has. And who’s to say the Skaar wouldn’t love you, too? Or at least respect you enough to realize what you mean to her? Besides, you just left her. You didn’t even say goodbye; you just flew out of there the morning after the coronation. You need to go back and see how things stand. You need to put things right between you.”

  “Trust me, things are as right as they will ever be. Let her have her life. Let her have a chance to see what matters now that she is queen. If I go back now, I will just be a reminder of what she can’t make happen.”

  Brecon found this line of reasoning infuriating nonsense and said so. But by the time Dar left for home, intending to go back to his family in the Highlands, the Elven prince had given up the argument and simply told him not to stay away so long before coming back for another visit. If he did, Brecon would be forced to come drag him back by force.

  So Dar Leah went home to his parents and siblings, giving them news of the fall of Paranor and the demise of the Druids, then providing them with details of the Skaar and the war that had never come about, saying nothing of Ajin. He could not make himself speak of her to them, although he couldn’t have said exactly why. Perhaps it was his feeling that what had happened between Ajin and himself was private, and should be kept that way. Besides, it hurt too much to do anything else. In spite of his stoic acceptance of their separation, he thought about her all the time. And although he tried not to, he found himself wishing he had made a different choice.

  He missed Shea Ohmsford, too, but he knew the boy belonged with Tarsha Kaynin for now. One day, he would go back to Tarsha and find out if Shea was still there or had moved on. He was inclined to bet on the former.

  After a little more than a month with his family, he grew restless. Making his excuses, he left for the hunting cabin he had helped build as a boy, deciding he wanted to be off by himself for a while to think about his future. His time as a Druid Blade was finished, and he was not now sure where to go or what to do. So, basically, he settled on doing nothing and waiting to see what came along.

  He waited weeks, and then one fine summer day—a slow, lazy, warm day when life feels so good it seems nothing can improve it—he walked back to his cabin after a long hike and found a familiar figure sitting on the steps, waiting.

  It was Ajin.

  His heart quickened, and he found himself slowing down almost without realizing it. Impossible, he thought at once. He was imagining it. This was someone else. It had to be someone else. He wanted to believe it was Ajin, but his mind and his eyes were conspiring to trick him. It couldn’t be her.

  Yet as he drew closer, he saw it was. The same blond hair cropped short and teased into
ringlets, the same clear blue eyes, the same exquisite features and maddeningly confident look.

  He walked up to her, shaking his head while he gathered his thoughts. “It really is you!”

  She shrugged, not bothering to rise to greet him, just sitting there, staring back, a faint grin on her lips. But still, he could see the uncertainty behind her eyes. Perhaps she wasn’t as confident of her reception here as she was pretending—and that very hesitation sent a wave of tenderness flooding through him.

  “Aren’t we the star-crossed pair?” she said. “We just keep bumping into each other.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Hard work, that. Brecon pointed the way to your home. Your family was very helpful once they knew who I was. They were a little surprised, though. It seems you had never mentioned me.”

  He could hear the hurt in her voice, and shook his head. “I couldn’t talk about you with them. It was too painful.”

  “Are your memories of me that bad?” she teased, though her voice was tight.

  He laughed in spite of himself. “Well, they’re haunting, anyway. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left.”

  “Have you?” Her smile was firmer now, dazzling to his eyes. “You certainly didn’t suggest it by running off immediately following my coronation. One last night of passion and out the door?”

  When she smiled like that, everything else disappeared, and his attempt at staying calm vanished in a tumble of emotions. He took a deep breath. “Is that why you’re here? To chastise me?”

  “Maybe. You deserve it. But I came for something else.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Oh, various things. A bit of curiosity. A bit of impulsiveness.” She paused. “But I mostly just wanted to see how you were.”

  “How long are you staying?”

  “That depends.” She got to her feet and walked up to him. “I’ve been doing good work, Dar. I’ve been a better queen than I expected I would be. My mother thinks I am exactly right for the position, and my people agree. Everyone is happy—except for me. And I’m the one who matters. I should be enjoying the challenges; I am provided with the sorts of opportunities I enjoy—working with people, understanding their problems, figuring out how to solve them. But something is missing, and I think you know what it is.” Her gaze locked on his. “You.”

  She paused, reflecting. “I know my counselors said we couldn’t wed, that people wouldn’t accept it. So I told them I’d resign, turn in my crown, and wish them well. Unless, of course, they changed their minds about allowing us to be together. They’ve had sufficient time to see how well I was doing and to realize what it would mean if I abdicated. Too many people rely on me; too many appreciate the way I have conducted myself as ruler. Things are so much better now than before I came back. With the winter gone, the milder weather has resurfaced, and life is returning to normal. Our scientists have begun building more machines like the one Tindall invented. Soon enough, we will have dozens of Annabelles to rely on should the weather choose to change back again.”

  She paused. “In any case, Skaarsland is settled enough for the moment that it can do without me for a bit. I decided to take some time to see what I could do about my own unsettled feelings. I thought perhaps reaching an accord with you would help correct that. I didn’t much care for the way we left things between us—especially after I found you chose to just disappear rather than try to work them out.”

  She shrugged. “So, here I am.”

  “Here you are,” he repeated.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders. “I want you to come back with me, Darcon Leah. You know as well as I do we belong together—no matter the obstacles, no matter what others think. I believe we can work things out. That is…” She looked uncertain again. “…if that is what you still want?”

  He shook his head in disbelief “I’ve never wanted anything else. But I don’t see that anything has changed, Ajin. You’re queen, and you can’t partner with a commoner—especially an outlander. And if we can’t be together in every sense, where does that leave us? We would both be miserable. It’s why I chose to just disappear. I saw myself as an obstacle, and I didn’t want to be that. And I love you too much not to share your life.”

  She looked amused. “I said much the same things to my advisers on announcing why I was giving up the throne. I don’t need someone to help me rule. I don’t need a king.” She gave his shoulders a hard squeeze. “What I do need is Paranor’s Blade to be my personal defender, there at my side every hour of every day, protecting me and keeping me safe.” She raised her hands to cup his face. “Who is there can do that better than you?”

  “Ajin…”

  “Who better, Darcon Leah?”

  He smiled. “No one.”

  “This is what I told them. This is what I made them understand. What difference does it make if we are something more than Skaarsland queen and Blade? We are meant to be life partners. We are meant to be together always. And my advisers have come to accept I won’t tolerate not having you with me. For now, that is enough. A marriage and a wedding will come with time.”

  Being so close to her was making him dizzy, and it was hard to find words. She was offering him everything he had always wanted.

  “So, again, here I am.” She moved closer. “What do you have here that would be better than being with me? Tell me that you honestly prefer living out here in the wilderness, counting pinecones for entertainment. If you can convince me there is anything at all to keep you here, I will say goodbye right now. Otherwise, you will come home with me. Together, we will face my advisers and anyone else who thinks we don’t belong together, and together we will convince them that they are wrong.” She moved right up against him. “Tell me, do you still want me?”

  “Always.”

  “And how much do you want me?”

  “A lot.”

  Her eyes locked on his as she kissed him. “And how much is that, my brave but often muddleheaded Blade? How much?”

  He started to answer, but her hand came up quickly to cover his mouth. “No. Don’t tell me. Show me.”

  Then she kissed him again, and he took her into his arms and his life once more.

  FORTY-THREE

  Several months after Shea Ohmsford moved in with her, Tarsha Kaynin remembered the letter that Drisker had written. She had tucked it away in a drawer, thinking to read it when she felt more able to hear his voice in her head, then had simply forgotten about it. Now, sufficiently recovered from the shock of her mentor’s death and the terrible knowledge that he was gone forever, she recalled it and decided it was time to take it out and read it. Shea was off in the woods somewhere with Flinc, practicing his tracking skills. He had been working so hard on mastering his use of the wishsong that she had decided he needed a break for the day. So she was all alone until late afternoon with no demands on her time, and there was no reason to wait any longer.

  She sat down on the porch, untied the leather binding strap, and unrolled a single sheet of paper. She read it through, then read it again before setting it aside and staring off into the trees.

  Three times shall you have a chance to make a difference in the lives of others and three times shall you do so. But one time you shall change the world.

  Parlindru.

  The rule of three.

  She recalled, as best as she could, how each of the three might have come to pass, but her reasoning felt flawed. Some fulfillments seemed clear, while others felt uncertain. But she felt a need to list them.

  How many times had she died and come back to life? Surely more than three. Once, when Tavo tried to stab her with the Stiehl, while under the sway of Clizia Porse, but had found only an image created by Drisker. Again when Clizia caught her off guard at Cleeg Hold and knocked her over the cliffside into a canyon hundreds of feet deep. And most
recently here, in Emberen, again facing Clizia. She had escaped all three, but it still seemed as if there must have been more.

  And then Parlindru had told her she would love three times, but only one of the three would last. There was Drisker and Tavo, that was two, and now both were dead, so that had come true. But who was the third? Flinc? She did like the little forest imp, but love him—on any level? Maybe Brecon, then. She had been very attracted to him. Would he come back into her life?

  Then she paused when she came to Shea. Was the street boy from Varfleet someone she could love? She shook her head, refusing even to consider it. She was in no way ready to let herself think about the possibility of Shea Ohmsford as her one true love. It was simply too strange.

  Which left the third prophecy in Parlindru’s rule of three.

  She would make a difference in the lives of others three times, and once when she did she would change the world.

  She hadn’t given it much thought—certainly not as much as the other two—possibly because there was no way she could imagine such a thing and possibly because it did not even seem real. What could she possibly do to change a life?

  But now, here it was, clearly set forth in Drisker’s letter—the prophecy she had been wondering about, and perhaps the last to go unfulfilled. She could not mistake it for anything other than what it was. She balled up her fists and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration and dismay. She did not want this. She wanted no part of it. But she knew she could not avoid it or ignore it or shove it off on someone else. Only she could make the choice.

  And she would change the world, whatever she decided.

  She sat waiting for Shea to return, and the wait was a long one. She drank several glasses of ale and ate lunch, still sitting on the porch. She thought to walk a bit but couldn’t muster the energy. She felt oddly drained; it was as if the knowledge of the charge she had been given had sapped her strength.