The Skaar Invasion

by Terry Brooks

  Fearfully, she continued to approach the remains, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. It could be that her parents had chosen to find a new home, but why would their old one have burned to the ground? Was it an accident? Or was this perhaps why they had left? Deep in her heart, she knew the truth. This was Tavo’s doing. Her brother had come home, found them, and punished them for abandoning him in the only way he knew how.

  She stood where she was for a time, not ten feet away, memories flashing through her mind—insistent and vivid pictures of how she had grown up here with Tavo. She remembered playing together when they were younger—until he became too wild and uncontrollable. She remembered his behavior and how it had caused him to be banished to his uncle’s farm. She remembered coming to her decision to leave home herself, knowing she must travel to the Druids if she wanted to help her brother by better understanding the magic both of them had inherited.

  All that was wiped away.

  She understood now exactly how Drisker Arc had felt when he had found his cottage burned.

  She was crying without realizing it, and she angrily wiped at her tears and turned away. She had to find out what had become of her parents. She had to discover where they were.

  She returned to the pathway and followed it until it joined the rutted dirt roadway that led to Backing Fell. In something of a daze, distracted and confused, she walked to the village. At first, she saw no one. Then, as she drew nearer to the village proper, figures began to appear and she hailed them, waving her arms and calling out.

  But one by one, they either turned away or disappeared inside their homes—not gradually, but in haste. No one responded. No one made any attempt at all to talk to her. It was as if the very sight of her were distasteful, as if she were diseased and they feared catching what she had. Even when she started down the main street of the village, its residents fled from her. People she had known for years! Every man, woman, and child she came within sight of vanished. Worse still, some were calling ahead to others farther on, giving warning. She could not hear the words, but she could certainly detect the tone of voice used.

  Frantic. Fearful.

  She would have understood better if it were Tavo they were fleeing. But she had never given them any cause to be afraid of her. She had never experienced anything but friendship before now.

  Something was very wrong.

  She continued on. Finally, when she was midway through the village, the blacksmith appeared in front of her. Herkolan Kielson was a great, burly man, his size and strength well suited for his work, and he blocked her way with such determination that she slowed in spite of herself.

  “That’s close enough, Tarsha,” he said.

  Herkolan Kielson had always been a friend, someone with whom she had joked and told stories. With whom she had shared an occasional glass of ale. He had never spoken a harsh word to her, never been anything but a friend. But he was a friend no longer.

  She stopped. “What’s wrong, Herk?” she asked.

  He shook his head, declining to answer. “You have to go. Leave Backing Fell and never come back. You’re no longer welcome here.”

  She stared. “What have I done?”

  “It is your brother who has committed the crime. But there is no place here for you, either. Your magic might be different, but the people of this village cannot afford to take that chance. Turn around now and walk back the way you came.”

  She was suddenly frantic, her lavender eyes flashing with unexpected anger. “Where is my brother? Where are my parents? Tell me!”

  He shook his head. “Gone. And never coming back. Now go!”

  She stood her ground, furious. “Not until you tell me more.”

  Suddenly she was aware of movement around her. Figures were gathering to either side—men with blades and axes and sharpened poles. Rudimentary weapons, but effective enough at close quarters. And they were drawing steadily nearer.

  “Witch!” she heard someone say.

  “Demon!” said another.

  More epithets followed, vile names hissed and whispered. The faces of the men were dark and dangerous, their rage fueled by emotions she recognized all too well. She felt their fear and anger sweep over her.

  “Go, Tarsha,” Herkolan Kielson urged. “Don’t let this go any further. There’s been enough bloodshed. Your brother has seen to that.”

  Bloodshed? She felt a void open in the pit of her stomach.

  “Leave now, Tarsha,” Herk repeated, his voice more insistent.

  The magic of the wishsong was rising within her, coming to her defense. She knew what it could do. She knew that these townsmen, once her friends and neighbors, could be swept aside like leaves in a strong wind if she used it. She was tempted; she was furious with them for their obstinate behavior, their foolish refusal to speak.

  But she realized what it would mean to strike back at them. It meant hurting them, perhaps badly. It meant treating them as enemies when they weren’t. It wasn’t the homecoming she was seeking. It wasn’t anything like what she had expected. She wanted answers, but she needed a better way to find them.

  She nodded slowly. “All right. I’m going.”

  She backed away until she was in the clear. A wall of unpleasant but familiar faces watched her. She stared back at them defiantly, and then she turned around and went back down the road.

  * * *

  —

  She walked from the village in a daze, aware of eyes watching her from behind parted curtains and half-closed doors. She knew there were people everywhere making sure she was really gone before coming out into the open again. All of them afraid of her, believing for whatever reason she might harm them or their loved ones. People who had never before worried about her, had never been anything but welcoming.

  This was Tavo’s doing. Herk had said as much, but she was afraid to consider what her brother might have done.

  She was back out on the open roadway when she realized she had no idea where she was going. She had been told to leave, but she couldn’t. Not without knowing more than she did. How else was she going to discover what had happened to her parents? If she was to solve this mystery, she had to locate them. Had they been driven out? She thought they must have been, if the reaction of the townspeople was any indication. But it seemed so unreasonable. She could understand driving Tavo out, if his offense was severe enough. But not her parents, too.

  There’s been enough bloodshed, Herkolan had said.

  She slowed and looked back. Behind her, the streets of Backing Fell were empty. She turned around, determined to find out the truth. But she had taken only a few steps when she heard a voice hiss in warning. “Don’t do that, girl! Walk back the way you came in! I’ll tell you what you want to know once you do.”

  The voice came from a cluster of bushes to her left, and she turned that way at once. “Who’s there?”

  “Just do as I say. Get clear of the village. I’ll meet you down the road a way. Go!”

  Tarsha did as she was told, walking until Backing Fell was out of sight. She continued to search for the owner of the voice but saw no one. She went a mile farther before an aged woman appeared—a scrawny, withered oldster with braided gray hair that hung to her waist and eyes that reflected a toughness that brought Tarsha up short.

  “Over here!” the old woman snapped. “Get out of sight while we talk!”

  Tarsha followed the woman into the trees, leaving the rutted dirt road behind. Neither spoke until the old woman turned, a hard, tight expression on her face.

  “Tarsha Kaynin, you listen to me! You cannot go back there. You can never go back. These people won’t tolerate you. They’ll do whatever it takes to drive you out.”

  “Who are you?” Tarsha demanded.

  “Name’s Jes Weisen.” The old woman frowned as she glanced back in the direction of Backing Fell
. “I live in Yarrow, up the road. Do my business in gardens and plantings, but I know about some things I wish I didn’t.”

  “Do you know about my parents? Do you know where they are?”

  “Dead, girl. Dead and gone. Sorry to tell you this, but there’s no way to spare you. Terrible thing.”

  Tarsha swallowed hard. Her eyes filled with tears. “What happened to them?”

  “Torn to pieces in their cottage, they were. Like wild animals had got to them. Wasn’t hardly anything recognizable left. Just…blood. A lot of blood. Wish to all that’s good and merciful that I hadn’t seen it for myself, but I was the one that found them.”

  Tarsha’s legs gave way, and she sat down slowly. She didn’t want to hear the rest, already fearing what it might be. But she knew she had no choice.

  Jes Weisen sat down next to her. “I was bringing an order of plantings to them. I’d come up from Yarrow in my cart to make the delivery. Stumbled on this boy in the middle of a set-to with a larger boy. Didn’t know who either one was until later. The smaller boy was your brother, Tavo. The larger was named Squit Malk. They were about to go at each other, but I broke it up. Sent the bigger boy packing when he threatened me, the fool.”

  She paused. “There was blood on your brother’s clothing. I thought it was his at the time, but I was wrong. It was your parents’ blood.”

  Tarsha closed her eyes in despair. “I knew it. I knew he had done something terrible.” She began to cry. “Tavo killed our parents?” she whispered, still trying to make it seem real.

  “He must have, because I continued to your cottage after meeting him and found two bodies. Couldn’t hardly think it was anyone else under the circumstances. Given how fresh the blood on him was, it had to have been his doing. He was leaving Backing Fell when I met him, heading away east. He didn’t tell me what he had done, but when I reported it to the townsfolk, I heard the stories about him.”

  The stories. About the things he sometimes did. About his use of his magic. About the wishsong.

  She shook her head in despair. “Maybe he was seeking help.”

  “He wasn’t running toward the town,” the old woman said quietly. “He was running away.”

  Tarsha nodded, unable to speak. What more could she say? Jes Weisen’s words only confirmed her darkest fears. She knew Tavo was capable of such madness. She had been witness to it. “Did they go hunting for him?”

  “They did. They went after him as soon as they saw what he had done to your parents. Angry and frightened both, they were, but they went—until they found the other boy. He was in a field, miles away from where they had started the hunt. Or what was left of him was. They only knew him from a belt buckle some recognized. He was the same as your parents, torn all to pieces. This was half a day’s journey farther on. But your brother was well away from Backing Fell by then, so the searchers gave up, realizing what they would be facing if they caught up to him.”

  Oh, Tavo! Tarsha’s heart went out to him, in spite of the anger she felt for what he had done to their parents. Where was he now? She felt so many conflicting emotions, but she allowed herself to think only of her parents for now. Her mother and father were gone, victims of their son’s madness—and of a magic wielded by a child who could no longer differentiate between right and wrong. They had tried to help him, to understand the forces that were driving him, but they had failed. Instead, they had made things worse by sending him to live with his uncle—a decision that had likely cost them their lives. A wash of regret and frustration surfaced, leaving her raw and torn.

  “I’m sorry, girl,” Jes Weisen said.

  Tarsha nodded wordlessly. Her family was destroyed, her hopes for Tavo flattened, her plans for finding a way to help him scattered to the four winds.

  “You must have seen what happened to your home,” the old woman added. “The townspeople burned it right after they abandoned the hunt for your brother. I watched them do it. I told them not to, but they refused to listen. Perhaps they were just superstitious fools, not wanting any reminder of the terrible thing that had been done. Or maybe they just wanted to be sure there was no home for your brother to come back to. Or for you, either.”

  Tarsha was crying hard now, and Jes Weisen reached over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There, now. You cry as much as you need, girl. It’s a terrible burden you bear.”

  Tarsha shook her head wordlessly. Was her burden any worse than Tavo’s? There was reason to think hers would ease. How would her brother ever find relief?

  “I have to go after him,” she said finally, wiping away the last of the tears. “What happened is my fault. I was the only one he would ever listen to. I can still help him.”

  Jes Weisen snorted. “You’re taking an awful lot on yourself. You really think you could have changed things? You think none of this would have happened if you’d stayed in Backing Fell and tried to look after him?”

  “He depended on…”

  The old woman brought a finger up to Tarsha’s nose and touched it reprovingly. “You listen to me, girl. Here’s the rest of what you need to know. Your brother didn’t tell me where he was going—didn’t tell anyone, far as I know—but I know the direction he took and what towns and hamlets he would pass through on his way. A small village—if you could even call it that—was one of those on his route. Several days after leaving here, there was a report of something unspeakable happening there. Want to know what it was?”

  Tarsha couldn’t help herself. She nodded slowly.

  “A boy went into a place he shouldn’t have gone, a tavern with a rough crowd. Your brother, from the description we got. There was a fight—I don’t know the details—that got out of hand. Fifteen to one, if the serving woman who survived could count properly. Your precious brother tore those fifteen men to pieces with that magic of his.”

  She paused, her gaze steady. “So you listen to me. Anyone who would do that is beyond help. He isn’t thinking clearly, and one person can’t alter the way another’s mind works. So don’t go thinking you should set off on some mission to save him. He’s beyond that. He’s beyond anything rational. Likely he’ll be dead before you even reach him, if you’re still foolish enough to try.”

  Tarsha nodded, appalled that Tavo had used his magic for such terrible destruction. But if he could kill his own parents, he could certainly kill anyone else who crossed him.

  Including her.

  Jes Weisen was right. Tavo had by now gone beyond her help—and probably anyone else’s. The boy she had known was dead and gone, and in his place was this killing machine that might do anything if provoked.

  Yet even as she admitted all this, she knew she was still going after him. She had to try. She would never be able to live with herself if she didn’t.

  Jes Weisen climbed to her feet. “I’ve told you everything I know, and now I have to be going. I only came back because I saw you walking into Backing Fell and knew what you would be up against. Those people are scared out of their wits. They don’t understand someone like your brother, and they think you might turn out to be the same. So better to drive you away than to let you stay and take a chance.”

  “I only wanted answers,” Tarsha told her. “I just wanted to find out what happened to my family. It was never my intention to stay.”

  “Best you get going, then. Like me. I’m not staying here any longer, either, and I might not come back at all. But take heed to what I said about your brother. Don’t go doing something foolish. That boy is insane. A demon.”

  She reached down to touch Tarsha’s cheek, then turned and walked away. She was through the trees and gone in moments, but Tarsha continued to stare after her, lost in thought. Everything she had hoped to accomplish by coming back was destroyed as completely as her home and parents. Everything about her former life was gone. Except for her brother.

  She had to find him.<
br />
  She stood up. It was nearing midday. There were still six or seven hours of light remaining in which she could safely fly.

  She started for her airship.

  SEVEN

  On the third day after departing the Skaar camp, Kol’Dre was in Arishaig, approaching the offices of the members of the Coalition Council for an unscheduled meeting with the Prime Minister of the Federation. It was well past noon, and he walked until he found the building he wanted and then entered, navigating his way along a tangle of hallways that wound through its interior. He was stopped repeatedly at checkpoints, but he had purloined the necessary passes from the admission offices at the building entrance. A meeting now, even on such short notice, would have been impossible. Besides, a surprise appearance would better achieve his purpose.

  Ajin had been quite clear about what she wanted.

  “Speak to Ketter Vause personally. Tell him we have taken Paranor and destroyed the Druids. Ask him to consider supporting our efforts to make a home for our people north of the Mermidon, in land we already hold. Advise him that he may choose to refuse us, but in that case we would have to consider approaching the Elves with the same offer and they might be more willing to accommodate us.”

  She paused meaningfully. “Do whatever you think necessary to persuade him, Kol. Make sure he understands that it would be in his best interests to accept our offer.”

  Kol had nodded his understanding. “But even if he agrees, he will seek to betray us. He is that sort of man.”

  “Of course he is. And I am well aware of what he will do. I am counting on it, in fact.”

  “Then what is the point…?”

  She put a finger to his lips. “It is not an alliance with the Federation I am seeking. It is an alliance with the Elves. Now go, and come back again safe.”