The Skaar Invasion Page 8

  Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, and her fingers squeezed to emphasize the bond between them. In that moment, he would have done anything for her.

  Sending him into such danger demonstrated once again the degree of confidence she had in him. Others might have agreed to take the risk for her, but none had the experience or skill to achieve the desired results. When it came to assignments where death was only a heartbeat away, Kol’Dre was the best choice by far.

  He smiled. He was an odd sort of man, and he recognized this about himself. The Skaar were a warlike people, and to survive as one of them you had to have a certain recklessness inside you. But for Kol’Dre, recklessness was a step away from carelessness. No, what he found invigorating and addictive was the excitement that came from taking highly calculated risks. He liked knowing he could do things no one else could ever hope to do—and not so much things of a physical nature as things that required a certain mental superiority and courage. He knew he was smart—smarter than most. And testing the limits of that belief provided reaffirmation. Giving himself challenges made life worthwhile. Kol’Dre had never valued staying alive more than he had valued accomplishment.

  He thought again of Ajin, and he wondered if perhaps she shared these feelings. Certainly she was willing to put herself at the forefront of every incursion she led—never hanging back, never staying safe, always showing that whatever she asked of others she was willing to do herself. He admired her for this. Her father, Cor d’Amphere, was nothing like her. He was a king who ruled from his throne and not from the head of his armies. He was smart enough, and decisive when it was needed, but his courage was buttressed by his position of power and did not come from within. Stripped of his title, he would have been a very ordinary man.

  Admittedly, it was dangerous even to think like this, but Kol’Dre was not afraid to give free rein to his thoughts. He was never one to fall into line with everyone else—never one to play things safe.

  It would be the same this time. Here, in Arishaig, he would do what no one else could. He would do what Ajin had asked of him and walk into the lion’s den, emerging unscathed. He would win the promise of an alliance, false though he knew it would be, and he would set the stage for whatever deeper plan Ajin was in the process of enacting. It didn’t take a genius to see that she was calculating something that would either undermine or negate the power of the Federation. And his aid in bringing this about would open doors that were otherwise closed to him. It would elevate his stature in a way that nothing else could.

  It would bring him one step closer to Ajin.

  And perhaps even to the throne itself.

  An ambition he would never dare voice aloud.

  It was dim and institutional within the Federation office complex—a typical administrative warren housing functionaries and their directors. But he was patient and pleasant to everyone he met, doing nothing to suggest he was anything other than what he pretended to be, a visitor on state business. He took note of the fact that there were sentries everywhere. Apparently assassination attempts against Federation Ministers were not unfamiliar. Kol’Dre smiled inwardly. Had he wished any of these people dead, they would have breathed their last before their protectors knew what was happening.

  When he finally reached the offices of the Prime Minister—a decided improvement in appearance over everything that had come before—he found himself in a sumptuous waiting room in the company of a dozen other visitors and four heavily armed guards. The guards stood to one side, watching closely but saying nothing. It was late in the day—the time reserved for personal requests and favors from members of the general public who had already passed through enough bureaucracy to gain admittance. Two hours was all that was allotted. You waited your turn, and if your turn didn’t come within those two hours, you had to come back another day.

  Kol’Dre sat with the others, used to waiting, indifferent to how long it might take. He used the time to look carefully at the weapons the guards were carrying—the diapson-crystal-charged flash rips the Federation army routinely issued. While the Skaar preferred blades to weapons such as these, it was always wise to know how your enemies fought and what sorts of tools they employed.

  His wait to see Ketter Vause was shorter than he had anticipated. When the man seated next to him was called, Kol’Dre waited a beat and then rose with him, careful to stay a step behind and out of his view. He followed the man to an open door where a secretary waited and continued through as if he and the man were together, nodding and smiling reassuringly. Just following my friend, he seemed to be indicating, and the secretary smiled back.

  As he passed through the open door and into the Prime Minister’s office, he made himself vanish. The two guards standing watch on either side of the door never saw it happen. The man Kol had followed in was already moving forward to state his request when the Skaar Penetrator dropped one guard and then the other. Then he disabled the supplicant, as well. He was so quick that it was over in seconds.

  Kol’Dre then reappeared and stood face-to-face with the Federation Prime Minister.

  “Not a word, please,” the Skaar Penetrator said quickly.

  Ketter Vause, to his credit, did not panic. He gestured at the fallen men. “Did you kill them?”

  “No. I only wanted them out of the way while we talked.”

  “Is that so? Well, maybe we’d better get started, then.”

  The Prime Minister was a man of average height and appearance; there was nothing about him physically that would suggest he was in any way suited to be leader of the most powerful government in the Four Lands. It was there, however, in the confident way he studied Kol, and in the unhurried inflection in his voice as he spoke. But mostly it was there in the calm he exuded as they faced each other. He had just watched the Skaar Penetrator disable two guards and a supplicant in the blink of an eye, all while invisible, and it didn’t seem to bother him at all. It was immediately clear he was used to difficult situations involving difficult personalities, and he had learned how to manipulate and control both.

  “I apologize for the intrusion, Prime Minister, but there was no time to arrange an appointment and I had an urgent need to speak to you quickly.”

  “Then perhaps we should sit while we discuss this.” Vause was already moving to occupy the chair behind his desk. “I’m sure we can work something out…”

  Kol made a hissing sound, bringing the other up short. “Stay where you are, Prime Minister! We will stand where we can see each other while we talk. Just in case you are tempted to use any weapons you might have hidden behind your desk. Turn and face me.”

  Ketter Vause stopped where he was, then shrugged and came back around his desk to stand not five feet from Kol. “It is not your intention to kill me, then?”

  Kol shook his head. “If I wanted you dead, you would already be so. What I want from you is something else entirely. I am here seeking an accommodation.”

  “An accommodation? Of what sort?”

  Kol took a moment to glance around the Prime Minister’s office. The room was surprisingly spare and unadorned. The walls were mostly bare of decorations or art, the floor bereft of carpets and rugs, and the furniture old and unassuming. Vause’s desk was cluttered with paperwork. There was a single chair behind it and two in front, but none indicating anything approaching comfort.

  “You seem a no-nonsense man with a wish to get to the point. But give me a moment to explain a few things first. I assume you know of the attacks on the Troll tribes to the north? Two of them in the last few weeks?”

  The other man nodded. “I do.”

  “And has a report reached you about what’s transpired at Paranor?”

  A long pause. “What is this about?”

  “My name is unimportant, but you need to know I am an envoy for Her Majesty, Princess Ajin d’Amphere of the Skaar nation. We’ve come from across the Tidera
ce in search of a new country in which to settle our people, and we have chosen the Four Lands. Upon arrival, several Troll tribes attacked us, and we destroyed them as a warning to the others. Then we confronted the Druids at Paranor and they refused to hear us out. So we entered their Keep, killed them all, and caused Paranor to disappear. You will hear about it soon enough, if you have not already.”

  It wasn’t entirely the truth, for the Skaar had nothing to do with making Paranor disappear. But it was better to let the Prime Minister think that all that had occurred was at their instigation.

  Ketter Vause was staring at him, his features still expressionless. “How did you manage all this? You destroyed the entire Druid order? What sort of power do you possess?”

  “The kind that allows me to enter a Prime Minister’s offices without invitation. Shall I tell you the rest of what brought me here?”

  “I hope you haven’t come here to ask for our surrender, envoy.”

  “Hardly. To do so would be an insult. And think on this, for a moment. We have just done you a great service. We have rid you of the Druids, Paranor, and all its troublesome magic. Your greatest enemy is no more. You might doubt me at the moment, but it will be easy enough to determine if I am telling the truth. Assuming I am, you are in our debt. What I seek in payment is an alliance with the Federation—mostly, an agreement that each of us will stay out of the way of the other. You do not attack us; we do not attack you. We do not meddle in your affairs or encroach on your interests, and you do the same for us.”

  “I believe they call that mutual non-intervention.” Ketter Vause stood with his hands folded in front of him. “You do not seek our support against other nations?”

  Kol shrugged. “We don’t require it. Perhaps there will be no need for us to act again, now that the Druids are gone and our presence is well established. We are trained fighters, Prime Minister—soldiers and warriors. We have conquered all the lands across Eurodia, far to the east. We are afraid of no one. But we would prefer to ally with our strongest neighbor. It is our intention to settle ourselves north of the Mermidon, in Troll country. It would be in the best interests of both of us if the accommodation I mentioned could be reached.”

  Vause smiled. “It would seem that way. But I am not convinced you have told me everything. What are you holding back from me, envoy?”

  A long moment of silence passed as Kol’Dre let the other man think he was pondering how much he should reveal. Finally, he shrugged. “We may have to do battle with the Elves. They were more closely allied to the Druids than the Federation. If we have to go to war with them, we would prefer it if you kept your distance. Non-intervention, as you’ve so deftly pointed out. A battle on two fronts is not impossible, but it is impractical. Would you be willing to agree to this request?”

  “It deserves consideration,” Ketter Vause acknowledged. “I will need to think it over. I will send a delegation to Paranor to confirm what you’ve told me about the Druids.”

  Kol nodded. “I would expect no less. But you will find things as I have described them. In the meantime, think very carefully about what I’ve said. I can give you three days. I’ll expect your response by then. Time and tide waits for no man.”

  He was out the door and through the waiting room and lost from sight in the tangle of hallways beyond before Ketter Vause could respond.

  EIGHT

  After letting Ajin go, Dar Leah flew west through the remainder of that day and night, landing only to eat before continuing on. But he was still miles short of the Pass of Rhenn and the gateway to the Elven capital city of Arborlon and thoroughly exhausted when midnight on the second day approached. Choosing a spot situated on a wooded rise where he could view the sweep of the surrounding countryside for anyone approaching, he steered the two-man into the shelter of a cluster of conifers. The air was cool, so it was comfortable sleeping out in the open beneath a canopy of stars and a full moon hanging low in the eastern sky. White light flooded the open plains for miles and provided a welcome feeling of security.

  He was tired, after all, of living every moment as if it might be his last, wondering from which direction the next threat to his life might come.

  His sleep through what remained of the night was deep and untroubled in spite of the task he had set himself. And when he forced himself awake, the dawn was a thin golden ribbon bordering the horizon. He took just enough time to repack his sleeping gear and grab a quick bite before setting off once more. It was fortunate the little craft was already packed with blankets and food left over from the start of his journey with Drisker Arc on leaving Emberen; there had been no time to find either when he fled Paranor. At first, his thinking was vague and unfocused; he was still coming fully awake and still muddleheaded. But after a time, his thoughts coalesced and turned to the future and what waited ahead.

  His decision to go to Arborlon was born of a desperate hope that what he found there would offer the best chance for Drisker. He had already decided that he had to find Tarsha Kaynin, and the person who could most likely help with this was his longtime friend Brecon Elessedil.

  The two had met years earlier when they were both still boys. Dar and his father were on a delivery run to Arborlon carrying unformed diapson crystals from Dwarf miners in the Rock Spur. There was a time that the Elves would not have considered using the crystals for anything other than powering their airships, but over the past few decades they had been experimenting with capturing the sun’s raw power for other purposes—ones central to their commitment to protect their Westland home and its resources.

  Brecon had come down to the transport with his father—another in a long line of Elessedils to become the ruler of the Elven people—and asked Dar if he wanted to see inside the palace. Because the Leahs were staying the night, Dar’s father had no objection, and the king seemed fine with it, too. So off the boys went, and that was the beginning of what quickly became a solid friendship that lasted even after Dar had migrated to the Druid order and became the High Druid’s Blade under Drisker Arc and Brecon had gone on to serve his father.

  It was an unlikely friendship; both boys knew it even then. But friendships are mercurial and often difficult to define. Relationships are based on all sorts of strange connections. And while it was odd to form such a close friendship out of little more than a chance meeting and a single day’s visit, the two boys had liked each other instantly, finding they shared a handful of interests about which they were passionate. Both loved flying, and both were excellent pilots. Both were athletic and skilled in the use of weapons and could spend hours sparring or competing. Brecon was fascinated with growing plants and trees, and his talents were so impressive that his father would eventually appoint him caretaker of the Carolan and its Gardens of Life. It was a suitable job for a fourth son who had no real expectations of ascending to the throne, and Brecon was content to accept it. Dar was skilled as a Tracker and a hunter, his education acquired in the outdoors and on journeys with his father. The two respected each other for their individual skills and knowledge and taught each other what they could.

  But Brecon Elessedil had one thing more that Dar was hoping could help in the search for Tarsha Kaynin, and it was for that specific reason he had come to see him.

  He landed the little two-man at the public airfield rather than the one dedicated to the king’s private use so as not to draw attention to his presence. He was not there to see the king or appear before the Elven Council, but to see Brecon and Brecon only. He was not at all sure the Elves knew anything about what had happened to Paranor and the Druids, and he did not want to be the one to tell them. If he did, he would likely be detained while they endlessly questioned him on the details and debated over what they should do about this disturbing turn of events. The Elven High Council was like every other government in the Four Lands: It needed time and discussion to make decisions. It was more enlightened and generous than some, but it wa
s a government still. Better that he should slip in and out of Arborlon unnoticed, speaking only with Brecon.

  So leaving his two-man in the care of the airfield manager, he walked into the city, making his way along the winding pathways and through the crowds of Elves to the palace. No one gave him a second glance. Members of other Races came to Arborlon regularly, and it was not unusual to find Southlanders among them. A Troll might have drawn more attention, since Trolls seldom came down out of the Northland, but not Dar. And given his lengthy absence from the city, it was not surprising that no one recognized him. Nor did he do anything to give them the chance, keeping his head down and speaking with no one until he reached the palace grounds.

  Dar might not have traveled to see Brecon for a long time, but he remembered which residence the prince had last occupied. So he started there, moving toward the Home Guards who warded the entryway to the family compound. A tall hedge closed off the yards and buildings, and the only entrance was through a flower-laden trellis. The prince had grown it himself when he had moved in five years ago. Gazing at it now, Dar couldn’t help but be impressed. Flowers cascaded down in long streamers and stretched out from the trellis in all directions. He experienced a moment of pride. He had helped Brecon build that trellis, and seeing it now, in full bloom, made him smile.

  Brecon was home, the guards informed him, and once advised of his visitor the Elven prince appeared almost instantly, grinning as he came down the walkway. He was taller and more slender than Dar, his gait gangly and loose, his blond hair worn long and tied back in the Highland style—an affectation he had borrowed from his friend. On spying Dar, his fine features lit up with pleasure.

  “Took you long enough!” he exclaimed, as they embraced. “You were gone so long, I thought maybe you couldn’t find your way back.”

  Dar shrugged. “Life intervened. Besides, it hasn’t been that long.”