The Skaar Invasion

by Terry Brooks

  She bent close, her voice a whisper. “Can you step outside, Prime Minister? It’s extremely urgent.”

  Vause knew immediately what this was about. He had heard nothing from Arraxin Dresch and his advance force—which had departed Arishaig a week ago for the Mermidon and the Skaar—since their leaving. More than once, his patience almost beyond bearing, he had contemplated dispatching scouts to bring back information on what was happening, haunted by a growing suspicion that things were not proceeding as they should. He had confidence in his first commander, but these Skaar invaders were an enemy not to be underestimated.

  Especially that cold-blooded princess and her clever envoy.

  He left his place at the head of the room and followed Belladrin into the hallway.

  “What’s happened,” he demanded, but she shook her head and motioned for him to follow, glancing right and left at the guards standing at the various doorways.

  This must be important, Vause realized, and his suspicions must be correct. They went down the hall to the first vacant conference room and stepped inside.

  Belladrin closed the door and locked it.

  “A message, Prime Minister,” she advised, handing him a small sheet of paper that had been rolled into a tight cylinder—the kind used for communications via arrow shrikes. “It just arrived and I brought it directly to you.”

  “Do we know…?”

  “Who sent it?” She shook her head.

  He took the message from her and unrolled it.

  To Prime Minister Ketter Vause:

  Perhaps by now you are aware of the fate of your advance force.

  I can only hope that their treacherous and unwarranted attack against the Skaar was not your idea.

  Be that as it may, please know that any further attacks will be met with a similar response.

  We had hoped to find a peaceful welcome to these Four Lands. We are disappointed in the Federation’s failure to provide us with one.

  Do not think for one minute that we will be driven off.

  Consider making a new start.

  We await a response that indicates you are willing to discuss how we might arrive at a peaceful resolution to our mutual problem.

  With respect,

  Ajin d’Amphere

  Ketter Vause felt the world drop away. The fate of his advance force? What was she talking about? What had happened that he did not know about? He gave Belladrin a quick glance. “Have we heard anything from Commander Dresch and his advance force?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, Prime Minister.”

  Vause looked away. “Leave me. Wait outside. No one is to enter.”

  She did as he commanded, closing the door behind her. Vause remained where he was for a moment, then moved over to a small side window that opened out into the heart of the city. For the first time in forever, he felt vulnerable. He felt as if he were on a cliff edge, teetering toward the precipice, in danger of falling into the abyss. Dresch and the advance force were gone. He didn’t need to consider the possibility further. He was sure of it. Five thousand soldiers, gone. He didn’t have to be told this—he had only to read the message to know it was so. Nothing he had ever encountered before—in or out of office—had rocked him quite as hard as this. He had not in his wildest speculations imagined the Skaar were capable of standing up to the Federation. Not even after he had learned of the fates of the Troll tribes had he thought they were any serious threat.

  Now he wondered.

  It was not a good feeling.

  “Belladrin!” he shouted.

  She was through the door instantly, her young face turning pale as she caught sight of his. “Yes, Prime Minister?”

  “I want scouts dispatched to the Mermidon immediately. Use Sprints. I want them there and back as quickly as possible, and I want a full report when they return.”

  He made a motion of dismissal and she went back out the door at once, leaving him alone.

  Ketter Vause was suddenly furious. The audacity of this Skaar princess was galling. Did she think he would not act to crush her and her upstart bunch of invaders? Did she think he would stand for this nonsense? A discussion to find a resolution to their mutual problem? Was she insane?

  But then he caught himself, ever the politician. Was it possible that Dresch had acted as she said, that he had chosen an unauthorized sneak attack in an effort to put an end to the Skaar threat? Could he have decided to attack without permission from Vause and the Federation’s Coalition Council? Could it be that no provocation had been given and the Skaar had simply responded out of necessity?

  But in those circumstances, how had a force of less than a thousand managed to destroy one so much larger? How had his soldiers failed in their attempt to catch the Skaar off guard? Was First Commander Dresch so much worse in battle than anyone could have anticipated?

  Vause moved over to a bench by the window and sat, looking out into the city once more. He should not act in haste, he thought, even though the temptation to do something at once was very strong. He must think this through carefully before making any response. If the Skaar had dispatched an army of five thousand so easily, they were far more dangerous than he had given them credit for. It would be a mistake to underestimate them. The question of what to do about the destruction of his advance force needed thought. The facts of what had happened were not yet clear, and any reaction from the Federation must wait.

  His scouts would be back within three days and would confirm if what he suspected was true. Perhaps they would be able to unravel some of the uncertainty surrounding what had happened.

  And in the meantime, he would say nothing to anyone; he would simply bide his time.

  As much as he wished he didn’t have to.

  * * *

  —

  “High King,” Ajin said to Gerrendren Elessedil when he moved to receive her in the palace reception room allotted for their meeting.

  She bowed in deference, and he quickly took her hands and brought her upright once more. “You are a princess of the Skaar,” he told her with a smile. “You need not bow to me.”

  She had flown all day and the night following to reach Arborlon with Jen’Na as her guard and a crew of four to man the airship. And all the while she had rehearsed the words she needed to persuade him to her cause. Once Ketter Vause had decided her message was false and that it was the Skaar who had attacked the Federation and had done so without provocation—and he would do that, eventually—she would be facing an army dozens of times the size of hers. So she needed the Elves to provide at least the appearance of an ally until her full plans came to fruition.

  So she faced her prospective ally now, returning his smile with one of her own. “You are very kind to receive me on such short notice. I apologize for the abruptness of my arrival, but events have taken an unfortunate turn, and I…” Her voice faltered, a trick she had mastered early on. “I have to do something. I fear for my life and the lives of my soldiers.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and the king had an arm around her shoulder at once, steering her toward a nearby couch. Gently, he eased her into place and sat next to her, taking her hands in his once more. “There, now. Would you like something to drink?”

  She shook her head, appearing to collect herself. “I had such high hopes for the future of our peoples, those of Skaarsland and of the Four Lands. It is a crushing disappointment to find I have misjudged so badly. But you, at least, give me hope. You show me kindness.”

  “Of course I do. How could I do otherwise?” Gerrendren Elessedil’s voice was sympathetic as he squeezed her hands reassuringly. She thought momentarily how easily she could crush his, should she choose to do so. “You must tell me what has happened. You must take your time and tell me everything. I am certain something can be done.”

  Ajin tried hard to look as i
f she was gathering herself to speak before doing so, bringing a stricken look to her face as she began to relate what had befallen the Skaar. Two nights earlier, while the Skaar were sleeping, she said, the Federation army that was positioned on the south banks of the Mermidon attempted to cross the river in force. Fortunately, sentries spotted movement on the far bank almost immediately and sounded the alarm. It was apparent at once what was happening. This was a full-on assault. Under orders to defend the advance force against any adversarial movements, the Skaar crews manning the flash rip cannons appropriated earlier began firing at both transports and airships. Some excellent marksmanship and confusion within the Federation ranks allowed the cannons to bring down three of the five attackers in the first few minutes. The other two collided and tumbled earthward. The Skaar repelled the rafts trying to cross the river and sent soldiers of their own to fight against Federation forces still gathering on the south bank.

  The battle raged for several hours, but the end result was a victory for the Skaar. Most of the Federation soldiers died in the struggle, and a fair number of Skaar, as well. There was no provocation for what happened, and no one left who could explain it afterward. The Southlanders they had taken prisoner knew nothing of the reason for the assault, and the rest had fled. Ajin sought to learn more through messages sent to Ketter Vause, but there had been no response.

  Recognizing the danger to the Skaar, she had flown directly to Arborlon and the Elves to report what had happened and seek help for her beleaguered soldiers.

  “We have done nothing any reasonable person wouldn’t have done. The attack was unprovoked, and no attempt at negotiation was made. We had only the warning of our sentries to rely on, and we were fortunate it was enough.”

  She paused, and the look she gave him was a mix of hope and desperation. “I ask you, King of the Elves, to help us. You know I only want to find a home for my people. You know I have sought to make alliances with all of the Races—Southlanders included. If they come for us now with their mighty army, we will be destroyed. Will the Elves stand with us to stop this from happening?”

  The king nodded slowly. “We will do what we can, Princess Ajin. I cannot act on my own, but must go before the High Council to plead your cause. Yet I will be happy to do this. I think they can be persuaded to help, though I cannot promise what the form or extent of that help will be.”

  She leaned into him, her hands tightening about his. “Surely you will not leave us on our own? You will prevent the Federation from putting a complete end to us, will you not? Or will the Elves leave us as sheep to be devoured by wolves?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think it will come to that.”

  His casual treatment of the danger to the Skaar and to herself infuriated her, but she did not let it show. Time enough for that later. For now, she needed the Elves to make at least a show of coming to her aid if she expected the Federation to hold off until her father’s army arrived. And arrive it would; Sten’Or’s treachery had made certain of that. Still, she knew a few things that her scheming commander did not, and there would come a reckoning.

  But the presence of the Elves at her elbow when Ketter Vause and the Federation came calling was essential to her plans. And the High King’s refusal to promise Elven support outright was troubling. She assumed she had charmed him sufficiently that he would do so without hesitation. But now he was suggesting it was up to the High Council to decide, not to him. What sort of king was he, anyway?

  She gave him a knowing nod. “You must do what you feel is best, Gerrendren,” she said. “And I must be content to rely on your persuasive powers. I must be brave in the face of imminent destruction. I must rally my tired and wounded soldiers and stand fast against the forces that are sent against us.”

  She released his hands and rose. “I will wait to hear further from you, hoping the decision I receive is a favorable one.” When she had taken a few steps, she turned back to him and bowed. “Please pray for me and my soldiers.”

  Then she departed, worrying as she did so she might well have wasted a lot of good time on courting this old fool. She had worked hard to give him the impression that he could bed her if he allied with the Skaar, and he had seemed intent on doing both. Now she had to wonder. It might be that the Skaar would have to stand against the might of the Federation without aid.

  She did not much care for the prospect.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  As time passed and nothing changed, Drisker Arc came to realize that he was not going to survive his imprisonment in lost Paranor. It was a harsh realization, but whatever else the Druid might be, he was first and foremost a practical man. It was not all that difficult for him to come to terms with the reality—that if he didn’t escape, he would die. Death was always close at hand for members of the Druid order, and his exile had not changed his condition in any significant respect. He was still reviled in some quarters, and attempts to kill him were not infrequent. It was only good fortune and training that had allowed him to survive the assassins of the Orsis Guild.

  But his current situation was a bit more problematic.

  What troubled him most was his inability to understand why he could not invoke the power of the Black Elfstone. Others had done so before him—others who were members of the Druid order. Walker Boh had even done so before he was actually a Druid, but simply a man trying to find a way to stop the Shadowen. So what was the matter with Drisker? What sort of blockage kept the magic from responding when he tried to summon it? How was he so different from those others who came before him? How had they managed to discover the secret that continued to elude him?

  He had read the books of the Druid Histories—everything that pertained to or mentioned Cogline—until he could practically recite the pertinent passages from memory. He had read everything he could find on the use of the Black Elfstone over the past three thousand years of recorded history, searching for the clue that would unlock his understanding of how it worked. He had spent hours before the west gates attempting to open them, attempting to summon the magic of the Stone in every way he could imagine. He had gone to Paranor’s highest towers, to her lowest depths, to her farthest and darkest corners in an effort to cause something to happen.

  But nothing had helped.

  In the meantime, he was beginning to sense his mortality draining away. He still ate when he was hungry and drank when he was thirsty, but his strength was steadily fading. Because time had no meaning in disappeared Paranor—neither night nor day evident—he had trouble telling exactly how much he had changed. But it was enough for him to be certain that it was happening. It was gradual, it was incremental, but it was still a fact of his existence. He was disappearing a little bit at a time, growing less clear, less substantial, less…here. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  He continued to speak regularly with the ghost of Cogline, but their conversations were increasingly irritating. The failed Druid was of no further help, and once Drisker got away from pursuing the topic of the Black Elfstone’s use, everything else seemed irrelevant.

  “You could tell me more than you have,” Drisker said on this particular day, during this particular conversation. They stood together in the cold room staring down at the still, unresponsive surface of the scrye waters. “You have secrets you are deliberately withholding. You need to tell me what they are.”

  Cogline shook his head, his wispy hair flaring with the movement like tendrils of mist. “I have no such need, Drisker Arc. You think you need me to tell you more. You are fixated on it, and it has kept you from doing what you must. Nothing will change if I do what you ask. Which I cannot—as I have repeatedly told you. It is forbidden to me to speak of such things. Forbidden by the certainty that the punishment for breaking that taboo would be more than I could bear. I would be banished back to the underworld, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen.”

  He smiled. “Besides, I d
on’t think things will work if I just tell you the answer. I think they only work if you come to whatever realization is needed on your own—as Walker Boh did. He never revealed how he had made the leap, but he found a way, didn’t he? So now it is your turn, and asking me to give you the answer is a waste of time.”

  Drisker nodded absently. He had expected this. It was essentially the same answer Cogline had given him every time before. He supposed he understood. Use of magic was peculiar to every individual who sought to wield it. Others could not bestow its secrets; those had to be discovered. Cogline had never been a magic user, in any case. Science was what interested him. It was his reason for leaving the order; it was his passion for the remainder of his life both before and after his death. He was always going on about the diapson crystal technology that the Federation so heavily relied on—a new science that had facilitated practically all of the advancements their people had made.

  Drisker shook his head in irritation. “The answer to the problem—I can practically reach out and touch it, but it’s just beyond where I can make it out. I hate how it leaves me feeling so helpless not to be able to see it clearly. Or even to catch a momentary glimpse of it!”

  “Yes, well.” Cogline shrugged. “These things take time. Why don’t you turn your attention to something else for a while? You made contact with this girl—this Tarsha Kaynin—awhile ago. Have you gone back to her to see if her situation has improved?”

  Drisker had told Cogline everything about Tarsha, of course. He had no one else to talk to and a burning need to discuss her captivity with someone—even the enigmatic ghost—in case even a hint of something he could do to help her might surface. Nothing had, beyond his discovery that he could project himself outside the Keep, but the subject was still relatively new and everything else they had talked about had a stale, pointless feel to it.

  Besides, Cogline was right: He needed to see if Tarsha had gotten free—even if there was a risk to both of them if he did so. It was easy enough for him to track her down as a shade, though difficult for him to explain why that was. But he knew from his last experience that every time he did this, it accelerated his diminishment. Whether it was the stress of his efforts or simply the act of disconnecting from Paranor, he couldn’t say. But he could feel it. Each act caused him to disappear further. And if Clizia Porse detected his presence, she would shut him down once and for all, using her magic to prevent even his ghost from reaching out. But it had been long enough now that he felt he had no other choice but to seek Tarsha out once more.