by Terry Brooks
He stared suspiciously at her. “You make bold claims, old woman. Why should I believe they would renege on their accord?”
“I am going to explain why, my lord. In detail. If, when I am finished, you find my logic impossible to embrace, then send me on my way or do whatever you think best. But first hear me out, and I think you will decide that you are right to trust me.”
Slowly, painstakingly, she detailed what she had in mind, laying out her plans, giving him all the reasons she believed she could succeed. What she did not do was reveal any of her hidden intentions—those that would set her in position to re-create the Druid order and regain control over her own destiny.
She watched his face and his posture as she explained, and the further she got into it, the more he exhibited signs of both understanding and approval.
By the time she was done, he was hers.
* * *
—
Aboard the Behemoth, Drisker Arc was standing alone at the bow, looking out over the wintry landscape of the Callahorn as the airship continued across the grasslands toward the Mermidon River. He was not happy they had been forced to come this way, aware of the confrontation taking place between the Skaar and the Federation not all that many miles ahead of them. But to detour either north or south far enough to assure avoidance of all detection would cost them valuable time. And it was time he was afraid they did not have. The days were slipping away, and if the war was to be prevented, they needed to complete their visit to the Hadeshorn.
The bulk of their company would continue on to the Tiderace and cross to the Skaar homeland; that was settled in his mind. His own mission, in which he would be accompanied by Tarsha and her brother, was another matter entirely. The Ilse Witch had revealed much to him that he had kept hidden, in the manner of Druids everywhere. Still, it troubled him to keep such things from his companions—including the identity of his sinister helper, Grianne Ohmsford, who had somehow slipped the bonds of her imprisonment within the Forbidding to send him her image. It should not have been possible—but then he would have said the same about his ability to send an image of himself out of lost Paranor to reach Tarsha.
In any event, he had let them believe it was Allanon’s shade that had advised him, and had not revealed the bargain he had made, which none of them would have condoned. But impending disaster required extraordinary measures, and a willingness to do what otherwise would be avoided.
At some point, of course, he was going to have to tell them the truth. But at least he would have this final meeting before deciding. He pondered on it until he had worn the subject thin, and then tucked it away for another time.
Ahead, the eastern sky was quickly darkening, flooded with clouds that allowed only glimpses of a moon sliding silently from behind their ruffled curtains—here one moment and disappeared the next. The air was very cold, and they had left the Behemoth dark, with the warming fires unlit, so as to avoid detection from those they must pass over on their way to the Valley of Shale.
Tarsha Kaynin appeared suddenly at his side, a silent presence. She stood next to him without speaking, her eyes directed forward, her young face intense. He waited for her to tell him what she had come to say, knowing she was there for a reason.
But in the end, when long minutes had passed, he lost patience. “Where is your brother, Tarsha? Is there some problem?”
The girl shook her head. “He is behaving as if he is a new person. What did you do to him, Drisker? Is he cured?”
The Druid turned to face her. “He is not cured. What I did was use magic to smooth over the rougher parts of his thinking to give him an overall sense of comfort and peace, but this will not last. At some point, the old demons will reassert themselves. He may have further visits from his darker half. His condition is permanent, but it can be tempered and controlled.”
“So he is still a danger to himself and others?”
“Yes. But for now, he is otherwise engaged. I watched him in the pilot box taking instruction from the Rovers. He is fascinated by the airship and its workings. It might be that this will distract him for a time.”
“But I will need to find a way to reach him in the meantime, won’t I?” She looked momentarily lost. “I haven’t had much luck with that so far.”
Drisker nodded. “Give yourself time and space. Keep talking to him. Don’t give up on trying to reach him. You will succeed, at some point. He has been lost for a long time, but he wants to be found. We will be traveling together after the others depart for Skaarsland, so we will both have opportunities to reach him. But your chances of doing so will be better.”
She nodded slowly. “I wish I could believe that. But he tried to kill me. It’s hard to stop thinking about that.”
“He wasn’t himself, remember. Clizia had poisoned his mind. She had asked him to kill me, but his rage over your perceived abandonment led him to target you first. The magic I used on him pushed those feelings deep down, so for now, at least, we have a sane mind and a willing spirit to work with.”
“I hope that’s enough.”
He smiled. “We’ll have to make it enough.”
The Behemoth was swinging north now toward the Dragon’s Teeth, bringing her closer to the peaks in order to stay as far away from the Skaar encampment as possible. Since the airship had the look of a transport, it might not attract the attention a warship almost certainly would. It was dark enough by now that they would probably not be seen at all, especially with the clouds as heavy as they were. The Rovers were skilled fliers and could keep this cumbersome monster low and close enough to the cliffs to minimize the possibility of detection.
“Are those the Skaar?” Tarsha asked him, noting the dim glow of watch fires in the distance.
“Those are my people,” Ajin d’Amphere answered, coming up out of the darkness. “My father and my soldiers. How strange to see them like this.”
“You could go back,” Tarsha reminded her. “We could set down and let you off.”
Whether they could or not was a question left unanswered; the princess quickly responded with a shake of her head. “No. I’m dismissed and my father will not let me return, airship crash or no. I will go back to Skaarsland with you, to face my mother and my people.”
A long silence followed. “Will you confront your stepmother?” Tarsha asked finally.
The Skaar princess gave her a searching look. “I haven’t decided yet. What I will do is guide you safely to my country and give you a chance to do what you intend with your machine. Other than that, I cannot say what I will do.”
After that, no one said anything until she walked away.
* * *
—
On the ground, near the north edge of the Skaar encampment, Clizia chanced to glance skyward just as the moon was emerging from behind a cloud, and a massive shape was backlit against the dark wall of the mountains.
She slowed in spite of herself, peering up at the shape as it came into sufficient focus that she could tell it was a giant transport. Oddly configured, it appeared to be a hull with three masts and several giant buildings or statues or some such settled in place just behind and ahead of the mainmast. She squinted hard to make out what she was seeing, but before she could manage it, the moon disappeared once more, leaving her staring at the blackness of the clouded sky.
Still she stared, waiting for the moon to reveal it again.
What was that?
But when the moon appeared, it was gone, masked by other clouds.
Even so, she lingered a moment longer, wondering at the immense size and strange shape of the airship (for it most certainly was an airship that high up) before dismissing the matter and continuing on.
SEVENTEEN
IN THE FEDERATION ENCAMPMENT on the south banks of the Mermidon River, Ketter Vause was up early, dressed and sitting at his worktable, when Belladrin entered. He had
sent word for his aide while it was still dark, his anger and his impatience keeping him from sleep and driving him to act now, before any further time had lapsed. That he had been brought to this point by Cor d’Amphere was galling, but he resolved to have the other’s head spiked above the gates of Arishaig before another month was out. He had bought the time he needed to accomplish this by agreeing to a cessation of all fighting while the two of them attempted to reach a truce. In the Skaar king’s view, that meant the Federation must accept the terms he had offered. In Vause’s view, it meant finding a way to put an end to the Skaar invasion once and for all.
He believed he had found such a way.
“This is very early,” Belladrin said, yawning. Her hair was tousled and her fine features still heavy with sleep. “Even for you.”
“I want you to draw up an agreement to be delivered to the Skaar king. I want it to approximate the one he has insisted upon, while not following it exactly. I want one or two things left out. I want it to sound gracious, even slightly subservient. Can you do that?”
She scowled. “You don’t intend to give in to him, do you? He threatened you, Prime Minister. He treated you as if you were no one.”
Vause stared at her. “How do you know this?”
She tightened her scowl. “I was just outside, listening.”
“My, my. You’re developing bad manners, young lady. Well, you need to understand something. Sometimes it is best to let an enemy think you weak and malleable. His daughter was more direct in her approach by openly challenging us, and was more likely to follow through on her threats. But this man, as bold as he seems, is less dangerous. He postures without taking time to accurately assess the situation. He doesn’t realize that I was a commander in the Federation army before I was Prime Minister. He wrongly assumes he holds the upper hand because his people have the ability to disappear. We will make him pay for that.”
Even as he said it, he remembered the fear he had felt in the other’s presence, wondering if his guards stood invisibly close at hand. He remembered, too, his shame at having experienced such fear afterward.
“So you don’t intend to accede to his demands?”
Vause shook his head slowly. “I intend to see him and every last one of his Skaar destroyed. To that end, I need him to think he has already defeated me. But I require time, as well, to prepare for what must be done.”
She grinned. “That sounds more like the Prime Minister I know. I’m so glad you brought me with you.”
He had brought her so he could train her, already finding her smart, efficient, and highly capable. Her command of strategy and her ability to reason were impressive. It put her head and shoulders above so many of his commanders and Coalition Council ministers, whose lack of wisdom rendered them seriously deficient. When he was tired of being Prime Minister, for whatever reason, perhaps Belladrin would be even more skilled than he was at carrying out his duties and, eventually, with enough time, be a logical choice to succeed him.
This was all in the future, but training her now was the key to everything that would follow.
“Draft that agreement, and when you are finished bring it back to me for review and we’ll send it off. After that, I have another task for you. It will require that you make a journey into the Eastland with a contingent of soldiers and Federation commanders. You will be my personal representative, tasked with meeting and speaking to members of the Dwarves at the village of Crackenrood. Are you game?”
She pursed her lips. “I am. But why would you send me, when you could dispatch someone with more experience?”
“There may be those who question this decision—who question why one so young should be given such authority. But it is not their place to do so, and you must ignore them. To aid you with this, I intend to send someone to accompany you who will make certain you are not interfered with.”
She was silent a moment, staring down at her boots. He waited impatiently, wondering if he had said the wrong thing or embarrassed her somehow. Talking with young women was not something he was accustomed to, and as much as he admired this one, he didn’t want her around if they couldn’t talk freely.
“I don’t want to fail you,” she said finally. “And I am afraid I will if you give me this mission.”
He almost laughed—but that would have been a mistake he could never have fixed. Instead, he simply shook his head. “You underestimate yourself, Belladrin. You are indeed young and still learning, but your skills at recognizing what needs to be said or done and finding the right answers to problems are formidable already. I would go myself, but I need to stay close to the army while we wait out the results of our gambit with the Skaar. A delicate balance must be maintained.”
“I want to believe you are right about me,” she said.
But there was still uncertainty in her eyes. He wondered for a moment if he had misjudged her. But he did not think so and made the decision not to back down. He had believed her the best choice for this mission, and he saw no reason to let a few doubts persuade him he was wrong. And if he was wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time. And it wouldn’t be fatal.
“Then go to Crackenrood,” he told her. “Carry the message I will give you. Present the argument I wish you to offer. Believe me when I tell you a seasoned negotiator is the wrong choice for what I intend. A fresh face is needed but not a callow mind. You are exactly the person I require. I have faith that you will not fail me. Put aside your doubts and carry through in the way you always have.”
She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “All right.”
Ketter Vause smiled. “Well done. Now let’s get to work.”
* * *
—
Midnight had come and gone by the time Drisker Arc and his companions arrived at the foothills below the pass leading into the Valley of Shale. By then the cold of darkness had turned bitter, and all those aboard Behemoth were wrapped in heavy cloaks, their hoods pulled up for additional warmth. They would have liked to fire the deck burners to provide a little warmth, but the Druid forbade it. The risk of revealing their position to any enemies was too great. While no one was happy to hear this, all of them understood. They were in territory filled with people who would like nothing better than to get their hands on the Behemoth and her strange cargo.
Drisker took the time to warn Dar against letting any of the others wander away from the airship before setting out for the Hadeshorn. He took Tarsha with him—to her obvious surprise—because of something the Ilse Witch had told him during their previous meeting. Tarsha, she advised, was crucial to everything and needed to be present if he was to summon her again. He was to bring her down to the shores of the Hadeshorn, but she must not be allowed to speak. This was not a suggestion; it was a requirement. Although he had asked the reason, none had been provided. Tarsha was to be there with him; that was all he needed to know.
Because he had followed the instructions he had been given thus far with no attendant difficulties, he saw no reason to ignore them now. Tarsha was more than a little curious about the reason she had been asked to accompany him, but the Druid simply told her it was necessary and he would explain why later. The others wanted a reason, too—especially Tavo, who was suddenly suspicious of what the Druid was planning.
“You cannot leave me,” Tavo whispered, coming up to Tarsha so that only she and the Druid could hear. “You cannot go!”
Tarsha took him by the shoulders—not yet sure enough of herself to try for a full-on embrace—so that he could look into her eyes as she promised to return by sunrise. She held him fast until he nodded and vowed to listen to Dar Leah in her absence. This was important, she told him. This was necessary.
Good girl, Drisker thought to himself. He was impressed by the compassion and intensity of her words, by the depth of truth that infused her promise and gave her brother the reassurance he was looking for.
They set out after that, Drisker leading the way up the slopes to where passage into the valley could be found. The skies were still cloudy and the light from moon and stars intermittent, but their path was clear enough for them to make the journey safely. It was slow going, though, the terrain rocky and uneven, preventing them from any attempt at hurrying. They had until an hour before dawn to reach the Hadeshorn and summon the shades of the dead, Drisker reminded himself, and there was more than enough time.
They walked in silence for a long distance while Drisker wrestled with whether or not to tell Tarsha whom they were going to meet. In the end, he decided not to. While she would know of Grianne Ohmsford and maybe something of her history, she had no personal knowledge of all the particulars, and likely did not know of Grianne’s fate following the collapse and subsequent restoration of the Forbidding several centuries earlier. When it became apparent that he must tell her the truth, he would. But not until silence no longer remained an option.
“You did well with your brother,” he told her finally as they neared the entrance to the pass. “You were persuasive but compassionate as well. He read your honesty in your voice.”
She nodded, a small movement of the hood that covered her head. “I think I am closer to reaching him. And he seemed to want to believe me. He listened and did not argue. I think I have a chance of getting him back.”
