by Terry Brooks
She stepped closer to him. Their eyes locked, then she looked past him to Brecon. “And look who you have with you! The king’s youngest. What sort of mischief are you two up to, I wonder?”
“You should look to your own conscience, Princess,” Dar snapped.
Ajin’s exquisite features showed an exaggerated dismay. “Should I? Whatever for?”
“What did you tell my father?” Brecon demanded, stepping forward to confront her. “What did you say to the Elven High Council?”
Ajin spared him no more than a momentary glance. “Perhaps you should ask him. If he wants you to know, I expect he will tell you. It isn’t for me to say.”
“It’s a bold move, coming here like this,” Dar said. “You risk much in revealing yourself this way.”
She shrugged. “No more than I am willing to risk. Confrontation is better than hesitation, and I’ve always believed caution is overrated.”
“So what are you doing here?”
She seemed to give the matter a few moments of thought. “I don’t suppose there is any reason not to answer. I came to offer an alliance. I want the Elves and the Skaar to become friends.”
Dar shook his head. “A nice sentiment, but I suspect your friendship comes at a price.”
“My enmity comes at a price, Dar Leah, not my friendship. Only those who stand in my way need fear anything from me.”
“The Druids, for example? They paid a rather high price—even the ones who were unaware of what was happening right up until the moment of their deaths. So how did they stand in your way?”
“You were there on the Plains of Rabb. You saw it all yourself. Those Druids who accompanied you acted impulsively and foolishly. They threatened us, and it cost them. Those at Paranor turned a blind eye to what their leadership was doing to them. They did nothing to hold those leaders accountable and thereby invited their own fate. The Druid order was sickened from head to foot. It would have come down eventually, like any dying tree, even if I had not acted.”
Dar raised an eyebrow. “Not a conclusion I would have reached. The Druid order was a living, breathing, working collection of men and women who were doing something they strongly believed in and they did much good over the years. The head might have been muddled, granted, but the body was functioning. But then, I think we see things a bit differently, you and I.”
She stepped back, as if giving herself space. “It’s a difference mostly of degree.” She paused, giving him a look, her blue eyes taking his measure. “Why are you here? Have you come for a visit with the Elessedil family? Or for something more pressing?”
He smiled blandly. “The Elessedils are friends from a long time back, Princess. I haven’t visited for a while.”
“And you decide to pay a visit at a time when the Keep has disappeared and the Druids are mostly gone? An odd choice.”
“I have nothing better to do. Besides, I thought they should know what you did at Paranor. But I suppose you already told them, didn’t you?”
“I thought it should come from me. But if you worry for their safety, you needn’t. I am no threat to them, and Gerrendren knows this. I intend the Skaar and the Elves to be allies, just as I said. A simple enough arrangement that will benefit us both.”
Dar didn’t miss the way she used the Elven king’s first name. As if they were already close friends. He remembered Brecon saying that beautiful women easily charmed his father, and he experienced a moment of intense frustration.
“You wish to ally with us?” Brecon was openly appalled. “An invader who covets our land and would kill our people?”
Ajin turned on him at once. “Caution, Prince Brecon. You speak harsh words without cause. The Skaar do not covet your land and have no intention of killing your people. We have come to find a new home, yes—but not at your expense. Our interest in the Four Lands lies elsewhere.”
“Yet what happened to Paranor and to those Troll tribes would suggest your interest lies everywhere,” Dar countered.
Ajin shrugged. “Things are not always as simple as we would like them to be. You will come to realize this in time. Now I have to go. This unexpected encounter has been pleasant, but I have work to do.”
Brecon stepped forward to block her way. “Maybe you should be made to come to terms with what you’ve done first. Perhaps letting you leave would be a mistake.”
Despite his anger with Ajin, Dar Leah stepped between them, sensing that matters might be getting out of hand. There wasn’t much to be gained by picking a fight at this point. And trying to stop Ajin from leaving was pointless. Any guest of the Elven king was under his protection, and any attempt to interfere would win a harsh reprimand and perhaps cost both of them the king’s good graces.
“Peace, Brecon,” he said quietly, drawing his friend back. “Let her go for now.” He glanced at Ajin. “Another time.”
She smiled in response and put her hand on his chest. “I told you we would meet again. I suspect we are not yet done with each other, Dar Leah. I believe we will have further encounters down the road. I hope so. I look forward to them.”
“You should be careful what you wish for, Princess,” he said.
She removed her hand and stepped back. “And you should be more astute at recognizing who your friends are.”
She brushed past him and did not look back. Her Skaar companions trailed after her, giving the Elf and the highlander sharp looks as they passed by.
Dar watched her go, reflecting. She was dismissing him for now. She would learn nothing more of his intentions today, and that was enough. She realized he was not there because of her; he could not have suspected she was coming. Their encounter was simply by chance. But she knew, as well, that he was in Arborlon for more than a simple visit to Brecon Elessedil and his family. She knew his reason for coming would have something to do with the loss of Paranor and the Druid order. She might wonder what that something was and how much trouble it might cause her later, but she knew better than to pursue the matter now.
Just as he knew better than to underestimate the purpose of her visit and its impact on the king.
“She’s planning something,” Brecon said quietly, a troubled look on his face.
“She’s always planning something,” Dar replied, looking back at him. “It’s unfortunate we had to run into her like that. I would have preferred she not know I was here at all. She’ll want to discover what I’ve come for, and she’ll keep nosing around until she does.”
His friend made a dismissive gesture. “Let her try. No one knows the reason you’ve come but the two of us.” He paused. “Still, she does seem inordinately interested in you, like there is something between you that only you and she know.”
Dar sighed. “In a way, perhaps there is. She saved my life once. And then I returned the favor—though something tells me I might live to regret it. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“I think it’s more than that. I saw how she looked at you. Sort of like a hungry cat eyeing an appetizing mouse.”
Dar ignored the comment. “She’s right about one thing. You should ask your father what was said in the assembly. Find out exactly what she came here for. But for now we need to get to the Elfstones before either she or your father finds out what we’re up to. So lead the way.”
They went deeper into the palace, following a series of hallways to Gerrendren Elessedil’s private quarters. No one was about, so there was no one to question where the two of them were going. When they reached the king’s bedroom, they slipped inside, closing the door behind them and locking it, then went into the small room off the sleeping chamber that served as his private office. Dar looked around with appreciation. Gerrendren’s quarters were sumptuous—beautifully decorated with tapestries, paintings, precious glass, and thick rugs. Flowers in vases had been placed throughout. Sunlight flooded through windows from high up on a south-faci
ng wall, streaming across a desk and chair and cabinets situated against the wall opposite.
Brecon pulled back a rough woven rug laid out in the center of the room, then ran his hands across the smooth flooring in a series of sweeping motions that seemed to brush away an invisible veneer to reveal the outline of a panel set into the floor.
“My father told me about it once when I was much younger,” he said. He had a mischievous look on his face. “I had asked him about the Elfstones, and I think he didn’t see the harm in showing them to me. After all, I was a boy, and the door was concealed and secured by magic. What harm could it do to tell me? Except that I was one of those precocious children who couldn’t let well enough alone. Having seen the Elfstones once, I wanted to see them again. I had the concealment unlocked within the week. I knew a few things about magic, even then.”
“You took the Elfstones out?” Dar grinned. “He would have skinned you alive if he’d found that out!”
“At the very least. But I was careful. I put everything back the way it had been. You know how it is when you’re young. You have to test your boundaries, find out what’s being kept hidden from you. I didn’t tell him what I’d done, but I told my mother.”
“And she didn’t tell on you?”
“No, not her. She thought I could do no wrong. She still feels that way. I’m her youngest. She loves it that I won’t be king. Prefers it that I am the designated chief gardener of the Carolan. After I shared my secret about accessing the vault to get to the Elfstones, I think she thought that giving me up to my father would stop me from ever sharing anything with her again. She would have been right, too.”
Dar pictured a younger Brecon Elessedil with his mother. Arialena Elessedil was a small, lively woman with exquisite features and a wonderful laugh, but also a quick temper. She had always been kind to Dar when he had come to visit, and she liked it that he and Brecon were close. She hadn’t changed much over the years, and Dar regretted that he probably wouldn’t have time to see her on this visit.
Brecon knelt and lifted away the floor panel by placing his hands carefully on its surface so the wood adhered to his fingertips. The panel was thick and sturdy, yet it seemed to weigh nothing as he pulled it free and set it aside. Another small Elven magic, Dar presumed. Over the past twenty years or so, the Elves had returned to mastering arts they had let slide for many centuries, their slow retreat from the other Races apparently giving them the impetus to seek out knowledge they had once possessed and lost. Theirs was a culture of magic established before the coming of humans and the Great Wars, and it felt right that they should seek it out anew. Dar only wished he had such a heritage to reclaim, but when it came to magic he had only the sword he wore strapped across his back. A fighting weapon. A bringer of death, not life.
He brushed these thoughts aside and watched as Brecon reached into a shadowy interior not brightened even marginally by the sunlight that fell across its opening. Slowly, he extracted an odd container. It appeared to be a square box constructed of silvery metal, but it revealed no joints, openings, or locks and instead was perfectly smooth on all six surfaces.
“The Elfstones have been in this box ever since I last saw them,” the prince observed, his voice gone distant and soft. “I always thought we should have been doing something with their magic, employing them for some useful purpose. My brothers openly urged our father to do so, but he just brushed us off. One time, some years back, he said something about their history being darker than we realized, but he never explained what he meant. But I know it had to do with the past, when the Druids and the Ohmsfords used the Stones on all those dangerous quests.”
He held the box carefully in front of him. “The Druids wanted these Elfstones, you know. They tried very hard to persuade us to give them up. Aphenglow Elessedil gave them back to us years ago after she became Ard Rhys. She was an Elf, and she thought they should be with her people because only Elves could use them, anyway. She wouldn’t return the Crimson Elfstones, though—the ones that were brought out of the Forbidding when the Ellcrys failed during her early years in the Druid order. She thought them too dangerous to be anywhere but locked away in Paranor. But these, the Seeking Stones…”
He trailed off. Dar nodded. “She was probably right, even though the Druids didn’t prove to be any better at keeping their magic safe. They couldn’t even keep themselves safe in the end.” He gestured. “Let’s have a look.”
Brecon glanced down at the box, his narrow features tightening as he worked his fingers around its surface, searching. His concentration was visible on his face and in his eyes, and eventually he found the places on the smooth sides he was looking for and pressed hard. The box shimmered and the top slowly lifted away.
Inside was a leather pouch, closed tightly by drawstrings.
“How did you discover the secret of opening this puzzle box?” Dar asked his friend. “You were what? Midteens?”
Brecon nodded. “The secret is in the nature of the material that makes up the container—an organic substance with which I am familiar. It serves to ward sections of the Carolan, and the exploration of its properties taught me how it functioned. It took me awhile, but I knew what to look for. I just kept experimenting until the secret revealed itself. It wasn’t words or gestures or anything so mundane. It was a bonding of flesh to metal.”
“Another kind of magic,” Dar observed.
“Another kind. An Elven kind.”
“Earlier, you hinted you couldn’t even get inside the lockbox.” Dar gave him a look. “Testing me, were you?”
Brecon pulled a face. “Just wanted to see how determined you were to do this—how serious you were about using them. It doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s any less risky or dangerous to take them out.”
He reached into the container and removed the pouch. Setting aside the container, he loosened the drawstrings and dumped their contents into his palm. The three brilliant blue gems glimmered as if alive, their hue reminiscent of a twilight summer sky. Dar stepped close and peered at them in awed silence.
“So when do we leave?” he asked.
They quickly decided that sooner was better than later, but Dar thought Brecon should first inform his mother of their plans. She would be more understanding and more willing to help cover for them, should their absence be discovered too quickly.
Not to mention that she would be more cautious about revealing what she knew to Ajin d’Amphere, should the princess or her Skaar come sniffing around.
So Brecon closed the box and resealed it—the Elfstones removed and tucked away in his pocket—and then lowered it back into its hiding place and returned the floor to its previous condition. Dar pulled the rug back in place, and they retraced their steps down the hallway to the reception room Brecon had taken Dar into earlier. Leaving the highlander to himself, the Elven prince went off to speak with his mother. Dar was prepared for a long wait, but it took Brecon less time than he had expected; he was back within the half hour, his mission completed.
“Mother sends her love, and says you are responsible for me.”
Dar smiled. “She would say that.”
“She also said you can justify her faith in you by bringing me back safe and sound.”
By now Ajin and her Skaar companions would have made their departure from Arborlon. Assured there would not be another unexpected encounter, Dar and Brecon set out for the Elessedil private airfield to prepare for their own impending journey. As an Elven prince, Brecon had an airship designated for his personal use, which was kept housed and serviced year-round. Since the vessel was always fully provisioned, there were no further preparations necessary once they reached it, and the friends boarded and were quickly away.
* * *
—
They flew out of Arborlon heading southwest in the general direction of Backing Fell. Their craft was an expanded single-mast sloop that
could easily hold six but still be flown by a single pilot. Even though his help wasn’t needed, Dar worked the radian draws and light sheaths while Brecon manned the helm. Once they had crossed the Rill Song and come in sight of the eastern borders of the Sarandanon, Dar tapped Brecon on the shoulder. “Find a place to land so you can use the Elfstones. We need to be sure of our direction.”
Brecon immediately took the airship down to a clearing at the edge of the forests bordering the Sarandanon. Dar secured the radian draws and then lowered the mooring lines that would hold the airship in place. Once they were hovering just a few feet off the ground, he threw out a rope ladder, went over the railing, and anchored the lines to tree trunks and exposed roots so the vessel was stable.
Brecon followed him down and together they moved to a rise overlooking miles of farms and cultivated fields that made up the bulk of the soil-rich valley.
Dar shielded his eyes. “Pretty country. I could live here.”
His friend nodded, a crooked smile spreading across his lean face. “I’ve actually considered it. I’d leave Arborlon and move here in a second flat, if I could. I’d even leave the Carolan. There are others who could do my work.”
“But?”
“I don’t want to leave my mother alone. She’s not close to my father these days—hasn’t been for a while. My brothers don’t seem to see it, but they have their own lives and families. So she turns to me. I don’t want to abandon her.”
Dar nodded. “We all make such choices. I had thought to go back to my family when I saw what had been done to Paranor. But I don’t think I can abandon the Druid’s Keep, either. Or Drisker.”
“Neither one is your responsibility.”
“You could argue that. But it’s more in how you see it than how it is.” He gave Brecon a nudge. “Might as well use the Stones, Brec. See if you can find Tarsha.”
The Elven prince pulled a face. “This isn’t going to be as easy as you seem to think. First of all, I have no idea what this Tarsha person looks like, and I have to picture her to find her. Or at least provide the Elfstones with some identifying characteristics. Second, I’ve never used this magic, so I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing.”