The Stiehl Assassin

by Terry Brooks

  The squad leader nodded and turned to his men, sending them to the walls to take up their positions. Without bothering to spare her even a glance, he followed after them. She watched as they climbed to the battlements and began to spread out, the squad leader calling out names and assigning stations.

  After a few moments to be sure they were otherwise occupied, she went back inside.

  Instantly she knew something was wrong.

  The air inside the Keep had turned cold and misty, the latter reflecting a greenish color. From deep within the bowels of the building, a long sustained hissing sounded, gaining intensity with every passing second.

  Clizia wheeled about, almost as if expecting to find what she feared was already waiting.

  The Guardian of the Keep was awake.

  No! She hissed audibly. It can’t be coming out now! It retreated back into the depths where it slept with the destruction of the Skaar invaders, and these minions are in my company and should be protected…

  But they were not protected, she realized. Any of them. They were being viewed as invaders. Somehow, in some way, Drisker had managed to convince the Keep or its Guardian that she was no longer a Druid.

  It was impossible that he could have managed this, and yet there was no other explanation. Already, the mist was leaking through the windows and doors, from the trapdoors and vents that opened from the cellars. In minutes, it would spread everywhere throughout Paranor, overpowering those who did not belong, sentencing them to death.

  And herself? Was she right about what Drisker had done? Would she be treated as an enemy, too?

  She felt all too certain that she would be—that Drisker had connected with the Guardian in a way no other Druid ever had. What price he had paid for this, she could not imagine. But her efforts at gaining control of the Keep’s magic and making it her own were over—along with any plans to occupy and control Paranor itself.

  She glanced around hurriedly, assessing her situation. The mist was not yet in view in the corridors behind her. As a precaution, she quickly used her magic to disguise herself so that she would appear to be a part of the walls around her.

  But out in the courtyard, the greenish mist was spreading. After crawling from the Keep’s cellar’s exterior vents, it had flooded the open spaces between the buildings and was climbing the outer walls at a slow, steady pace. Already it had blocked all the stairways leading down. The Skaar were turning around now, sensing that something was wrong, seeing how the greenish haze had flooded everything below them.

  The squad leader rushed down the stairs, vaulting the mist that occupied the lower steps to land in a swirling lake of ichorous brume. Heedless of how its tendrils were wrapping about him, he staggered across the courtyard to the doors she stood behind, gasping and choking, his hands working spasmodically, his face gone bloodless.

  She waited until he was right up against the door, his fingers fumbling at the handles to open them, before she threw the locking bolts.

  The man screamed in fury, yanking on the doors, trying to force them open. It was a hopeless effort; she could see it, even if he couldn’t. He was on his knees a moment later, the last of his strength draining away. His face pressed up against the glass panels, his eyes fixing on her. His body was disintegrating, melting like ice in the sun, his skin and blood first, his organs next, his bones last.

  And then he was gone.

  The rest of the Skaar were suffering the same fate, but she chose not to stick around to watch, and instead bolted for the stairs leading down. She was vaguely surprised to find that the Guardian had not yet closed about the interior of the tower, focused perhaps on the larger number of intruders that lined the wall. She glanced over her shoulder to find the mist seeping toward her from down the hallway, and she went down the stairs in a rush, her efforts little more than a frantic shuffle, which was the best she could manage. But it was enough to outdistance her otherwise unavoidable fate, and she gained the cellar door leading out, still open from when they entered. Pulling it closed behind her, she secured the heavy locks anew and began to run once more.

  It took her almost no time to reach the entrance leading in from the forest, although it felt like forever. She charged up the steps and secured the trapdoor anew before dropping in exhaustion to her hands and knees, panting like a horse run half to death.

  On the walls, the Skaar were dying, their screams a terrible sound as the mist enclosed and devoured them. She could not stand to listen and yet could not help but do so. She waited them out, waited until all had faded away and the forest was silent once more.

  A wave of despair washed through her, and tears of frustration filled her eyes. What was she going to tell Cor d’Amphere? How was she going to explain to him that everything she had promised was lost? There was no possibility now that the Skaar king would do anything to help her in her efforts to reform the Druid order. She would be lucky not to be put to death.

  She was suddenly enraged beyond words. This was all Drisker Arc’s doing, and she swore on everything she held sacred that she would see him pay for it!

  Still seething, she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled away.

  * * *

  —

  By midday of the same day, Drisker and those who had arrived with him—along with Rocan, Tindall, Shea Ohmsford, and a crew of Rovers—were flying east toward the Dragon’s Teeth and the Hadeshorn in the Behemoth. It might have been easier to go in a small vessel with fewer travelers, but the Druid had decided this would be the wrong choice.

  In the first place, he wanted a test run for the Behemoth, so that all of them could experience what it was like to fly her and to make certain that everything that should be operating was doing so in the proper fashion. While the Rover crew would be flying her and none of the others would be required to assist—in the absence of an emergency—it was still a good idea to get the feel of a vessel as large and complicated as this one while help was still close at hand. Because once they set out across the Tiderace, they would have only themselves to rely upon.

  In addition, no matter what he learned at the Hadeshorn, either they would embrace the assurance of the shades that they were on the correct path, or they would abandon the effort and return to Aperex. But for Drisker, the latter was not an option. Whatever they were told, he was committed to them continuing on. Since that much was decided and there were no extraneous passengers or crew at this point, it made sense not to mention a return. The assumption he was instilling in his companions was that the shades would affirm what he had already indicated, and nothing in their current plans would change.

  Of course there was still the problem of what would become of the Kaynin siblings and himself, who would not be going with the others after the Behemoth departed the Hadeshorn. Once left behind, they would have to find a new form of transportation. To solve that problem, Drisker had asked that a three-man flit be loaded aboard—ostensibly as an additional precaution, but in fact so that the three remaining behind could use it once the others were safely on their way to Skaarsland.

  So the journey had assumed a finality that left little doubt in anyone’s mind as to what the future held: The Behemoth and its passengers would be flying on from the Dragon’s Teeth east to the Tiderace and eventually to Skaarsland, but without Drisker and the Kaynins. It was troubling to have made the decision beforehand, but the Druid had decided that this was how it must be. How this would all play out in the days ahead was difficult to tell, but at least there was an acceptance on the part of everyone that this was what was expected to happen.

  Even so, Drisker was unsettled for other reasons.

  He did not like removing himself from any chance of helping those traveling to Skaarsland, did not like that Ajin d’Amphere was the best they could do for a guide or interpreter or source of information. While she had been cooperative enough up until now, he knew they could not expect h
er to stay that way. As soon as she was back in her homeland, she might well revert to form and turn them over to her people.

  He was worried enough about it that when they stopped that first night on the borders of the Tirfing, still well west of their destination, he pulled Darcon Leah aside. They were moored out in the open, as there was no shelter anywhere in sight of sufficient size to conceal their transport. The others were still eating, and the Druid had managed to catch the Blade’s eye before rising and moving away to the bow of their craft.

  Out of sight of the others, Drisker spoke. “I don’t like it that I won’t be with you, especially since you might have to rely on the Skaar princess at some point. How far do you think you can trust her?”

  The Blade was quiet for a moment. “She’s a complicated young woman, Drisker. She can be ruthless and devious and clever when it suits her, but she also lives by a strong moral code. Which is why I am still alive, as you know. In this case, I think she feels ill-used by her father. But her homeland is dangerous for her, too. Her stepmother wants her dead, and she is afraid that going home will allow it to happen. But by the same token, I think she agreed to go just so she could settle things with her stepmother once and for all.”

  “Which means what for the rest of you?”

  Dar shook his head. “I’m not sure. But I intend to keep a close eye on her, and Brecon will do the same. He trusts her less than I do, but that’s mostly because he’s seen her with his father and saw how intent she seemed on bedding him. I think that was all just for show—just to gain his favor. Anyway, if she says she will do something, she will do it. So, at least in the early stages, she will be of some help.”

  Drisker nodded slowly. “Just promise me you will be careful. Watch her closely and do not give her the opportunity to undo the mission. I trust you most of all. Rocan is strong, but he swings with the winds of opportunity. His men will follow him. Be on your guard.”

  “Always,” the Blade answered with a grin. “You’d best do the same. Especially where Tarsha’s brother is concerned.”

  As he disappeared back to join the others, Drisker stayed where he was a moment longer. Tavo Kaynin. What were the chances anything good could come from him?

  SIXTEEN

  CLIZIA PORSE WAS NOT certain what to do after leaving Paranor and the unfortunate Skaar who had gone with her to their doom. She retrieved the Skaar transport—which she had no trouble taking command of since she could bypass its alarms easily enough—but instead of lifting off, she chose to stay where she was. She was in little danger of being found by anyone—and certainly no one from the Skaar camp—so she had time to consider her options. Haste was almost always a mistake, and while she was still furious at Drisker Arc, she was aware that giving in to her emotions would gain her nothing. What was the old saying: Don’t get mad; get even? Well, she had done that often enough in the past to understand that, in the long run, it was the far more satisfying result.

  Still, the truth was dismaying. Drisker had known it was safe to leave Paranor unguarded, and she was no threat, because the Keep and its Guardian no longer saw her as a Druid. Trying to go back had been a huge mistake, and she should have seen this right from the beginning. But she had been so eager to blunt the impact of Drisker’s return to the Four Lands and her embarrassing failure to destroy him that she had misjudged.

  But was this an irretrievable loss? Could she not recover her status as a Druid and be readmitted to Paranor? And if so, what would it take?

  She wondered if maybe the problem was the result not of her own actions in betraying the Keep but of Drisker’s. If he was now acknowledged as a Druid once more, had the Keep decided to restore his status as Ard Rhys as well? Because someone had to hold that distinction if there was to be a Druid order, and it clearly wasn’t her. So if Drisker had somehow been anointed, then he would have the right to choose who served in the order. And he would have made it clear that she wasn’t to be one of them.

  What would happen, though, if Drisker was killed and she was the last living Druid? It was possible she could then regain control over the Keep and become the new Ard Rhys. But killing Drisker, of course, was the only way to find out if she was right. And that would take time and luck and persistence—none of which were likely to arrive in a timely fashion. In the meantime, she was stuck with the problem of what to do about Cor d’Amphere. With Paranor at least temporarily lost to her, she needed another base of support and some faction of the Four Lands to recognize openly her claim as Ard Rhys—and, despite all that had transpired, the Skaar king still seemed her best option. Neither the Federation nor the Elves had any reason to want to aid her. Her contact with both during her tenure as a Druid had been minimal, so any approach to either government now with a claim that she had orchestrated the Keep’s downfall and arranged for the destruction of the Druid order would be met with suspicion and doubt.

  And, likely, open hostility.

  No, the Skaar remained her best chance for an alliance, but she would have to find another way to convince them of this. What could she offer that was too valuable to spurn?

  She sat there, brooding on it, until night had fallen. She carried the problem into sleep—and when she woke the next morning, she had found the answer she was searching for. Immediately, she climbed into the pilot box of the transport, powered up the diapson crystals, and flew south. It took her the rest of the day, passing through the Dragon’s Teeth by way of the Kennon Pass before turning east to where the Skaar encampment waited. Because she was flying a Skaar vessel with Skaar insignia, she was not challenged as she returned to the landing area where the other airships were moored. Setting down, she exited her craft and demanded to be taken to Cor d’Amphere, already preparing herself for the confrontation she knew was coming.

  Their meeting was every bit as bitter as she had expected. She was admitted to the Skaar king’s presence quickly enough and then left alone with him. In a calm, reasoned voice, she gave him a highly modified and largely false version of the events that had transpired.

  “I gained admittance to Paranor just as I promised I would. But one among our company disobeyed my instructions and caused a disruption that summoned the Guardian of the Keep before I could intervene. Almost instantly the magic destroyed your men. I’m sorry to say they never had a chance. When such a creature rises from the pit, there is no stopping it.”

  The king nodded slowly. “And now they are dead. All twenty.”

  He did not make it a question. He simply stated it as fact. There was a barely controlled rage evident in his voice, but Clizia did not react to it. She simply nodded.

  “And you could save none of them,” he continued.

  She shook her head. In the silence of the moment, she was aware of the distant voices of Skaar soldiers and the familiar rustlings and hissings of cook fires as the camp prepared for dinner and nightfall. She could hear the scrape of weapons and the clash of armed men sparring. More distant still, she could hear the sound of an airship powering up and readying for liftoff, intending perhaps to make a run for supplies or to scout the Federation by moonlight. The night skies were clear enough, and flying would be pleasant if you could ignore the cold. Patches of snow still lay on the ground, not yet melted, and there was a fog forming over the Mermidon. Winter was settling in.

  Cor d’Amphere broke into her reverie, clearing his throat. “Yet in spite of everything, you managed to escape without a scratch.”

  Ah, there it was. The accusation she knew she would have to face. But she was prepared for it. “I had an advantage your men did not. My magic enabled me to hide from the Guardian. But I was not the one who caused the death of your men. I was not the one who broke the rules. They should have listened to me more carefully.”

  An out-and-out lie, if you knew the whole of it, but this man did not. Yet his ignorance might not be enough to save her. Her life still hung in the balance, should h
is anger outweigh her words.

  “My lord,” she said quickly, giving him no chance to respond to her accusation. “I accept responsibility for losing your men, even though I was not the cause. But if you will hear me out, I think I can make amends.”

  The king smiled. It was not pleasant. “You cost me twenty men, you fail to gain for me possession of the Druid’s Keep, and you all but admit that what my daughter has already lost once, you have now lost a second time. And still you ask for a chance to make amends? You are aware, as I recall, that I dismissed Ajin from the army and ordered her home for just such a failure? And I rather like my daughter; I have not forgotten the many successes she had before this solitary failure. You, however, I have no such feelings for.”

  “What if I were to show how I could be useful?” she asked. “What if I were to tell you that I could turn the tide of this impending battle between Federation and Skaar in your favor without you having to lose a single soldier? Would that buy me a reprieve?”

  The king shrugged. “I have already reached an accommodation with the Federation. When I met with the Prime Minister, I gave him three days to grant the Skaar the land we already hold. This is the third day, and not six hours ago they sent a messenger to advise me that an accord had been reached. It only remains for us to work out the details. There will be no war. There will be no loss of life. I have nothing to fear from an impending battle. And there is nothing you can do to improve my situation.”

  This was a new wrinkle, but Clizia held her ground. “You are mistaken on several counts, my lord—especially if you think the Federation intends to bow to your demands. They are stalling, at best. If they make an agreement with you, I can promise they will not honor it—not while they still believe they are the dominant power. They, too, covet the land you now claim. And despite the fact that you cost them an entire army, the Federation is huge and can rely on grinding you down eventually. Yes, you have skills and some capability to alter your body mass, but you lack reinforcements and supplies—and their access to both is virtually limitless. No, you need something more if you are to be free of the threat they pose. This is what I am offering you, and I am the only one who can provide it.”