Black Kerthon's Doom (18 page)

The tower was several hundred yards up a rocky incline gnarled with ancient hedges and an occasional hawthorn tree. Those items could only be determined by their silhouettes as little penetrated the area surrounding the tower. It looked to Serada like one giant trap waiting to swallow him up.

Serada looked long at the dark battlements and felt a chill in his heart. He could sense the presence that awaited him in the ancient stones that now crumbled unseen. It was little wonder Macelan did not wish to recall this silent place to Serada, who now was fully aware that he had volunteered for this chore.

"Follow me close. There are many pits and loose stones. Once I found a skeleton at the bottom of one of these pits. A careless soul I dare say."

Brice walked slowly but he did not hesitate and Serada kept pace with him. He did not want to ask how deep the pits were; it disturbed him enough just to know they lurked underfoot. They moved up the final slope to a dark aperture in the wall. Serada slipped twice but he had been expecting it and he did not fall.

"There are three entrances. The safest one is on the other side. But this one will get you to the bailey quickest. There is little light inside but do not risk a torch. The witch will not appreciate it, I know, and neither will the one who dwells here."

"Kerthon? But he died years ago. Didn't he? Mostly a legend wasn't he?" Brice smiled at him.

"Something lives here. Perhaps one of Kerthon's minions keeps a vigil for his old master. Can't you feel the touch of evil? Macelan did. It shook him badly. Do not lose yourself. There is more at stake than just your life."

Brice directed Serada down the dark corridor to the bailey. Serada stopped several times and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness that sealed him off from Brice. After fifty feet, he could no longer see the arched entrance to the corridor. The blackness acted like a fog and filled in the corridor behind him. He could hear nothing ahead of him and suddenly he ran into a large door. It was made of wood but Serada was surprised at how cold it was. His skin nearly stuck to it. And then he noticed the air was cold and his breath felt hot and moist.

The door handle was a large ring and it was heavy. He laid hold of it and pulled but nothing happened. He grasped it with both hands and pulled with his body. He tried two more times, finally there was a loud scraping that sounded through the corridor, and a crack as the old door opened outward. There was a rush of stale air and it choked him momentarily. He covered his mouth to stifle the cough, walked into the tower, and heard muffled voices. As soon as he entered, the voices stopped abruptly and he thought he could hear movement ahead of him toward the center of the room. Something brushed his face and he turned to follow the feeling but nothing was there and he turned back to find a dark figure in front of him.

"I did not ask for your presence," said Neheva.

"Who were you talking to?"

"He who dwells here, what did you expect?"

"I..I don't know."

"Better you know nothing at all. Come, I will take you out of here before he changes his mind. You would not like it here."

An icy cold hand gripped his and pulled him back the way he had come. Her strength was unbelievable, he stumbled several times, and then she pulled him in front of her.

"What you did was unforgivable. I asked not to be followed and yet you did. You would be lost if I had not been in the tower, so why should I save you? You betrayed my trust."

"Gareth wanted to follow you but I came in his stead."

"Noble and foolish. I will send Brice back to Gareth now. I want to show you what once was." She led him down the corridor and through the archway to where Brice waited for Serada.

Brice stood a few feet away and nodded when Neheva looked at him and he moved off down the path without a second look at Serada who now had a queasy stomach. Neheva watched Brice disappear and then turned to Serada. Her eyes were black pools and seemed to suck Serada into them and he felt himself floating.

He saw the tower as it was when in its glory and might. The stones were polished and the moon shone brightly, reflected in the brilliant colors of the walls and floors. He entered through the same corridor but it was bright and clean. It appeared a cheerful place in appearance but he could see no smiles on the people inside. He shivered from the cold that never seemed to leave. The ring on the bailey door was brass and it gleamed. He reached out to pull it open when it glided toward him and revealed a vast lighted chamber and a woman dark and meek.

She stood before the lord of the tower who sat on his jeweled chair and leaned over the slight figure. The lord was large and broad and his clothes silk and black. His long fingers gently tapped the arm of the chair and he reached out and lifted the woman's chin. Serada recognized Neheva but she was in her human form.

"You see, my dear," said Kerthon. His voice was melodious but harshness lingered and did not disappear. "You have no cause to fear your fate. My power is stronger than all others and you shall not transform tonight." He pulled her closer.

"I might wish that you stay here forever, your beauty is exquisite. Alas, you are also a witch and I at times must sleep. How can I trust you? I know you too well, my Neheva. I still doubt my fortune that brought you to me. I have prepared a place for you that shall keep you until I am ready for you. You shall be comfortable yet at my call. You shall not leave me, but if somehow you do depart, I shall always be with you no matter where you wander. I shall be in the back of your mind and whatever you see, do or say, I shall know." The face of Kerthon then looked at Serada. The black eyes, the arched eyebrows, high cheekbones and sneering mouth framed by a long waxed mustache burned its way into Serada's mind. Somehow, the Sorcerer knew he was there, but wasn't Neheva showing him the past?

Serada found himself shivering outside the ruins. The witch stared at his face but he couldn't hold that cold gaze.

"Why did you show me that?"

"What makes you think I showed it to you?"

"Can Kerthon...?"

"Never underestimate the power of a dead sorcerer. I never shall again. Come let us go."

Gareth watched them enter the hollow and tried to speak to Neheva. He had stood looking toward the tower since Brice had returned. Gareth allowed those who needed to sleep the extra hours of early morning while he waited. But all were ready to leave quickly when Gareth was ready.

"I no longer trust you, Gareth," said Neheva. "I asked you not to follow and you send two of your men after me. Your words are deceit and cunning and I want none of it."

"What did you see?" Gareth asked Serada.

"I'd rather not say." He glanced at Neheva who shrugged her shoulders and turned away. She went to the fire and stood next to it, the flames licked at her cloak and her face was paler than before. Some backed away from the witch, not wanting to be too close. She watched them move and none would meet her gaze except for the shadow at the edge of the clearing.

"You!" she cried. "Come forward."

The figure moved slowly and there was a gasp when the face was lighted.

"Macelan!" shouted Serada. "You're alive!"

"Don't be too sure," said Neheva softly, but Serada didn't hear. He ran up to his friend and hugged him. Macelan smiled and patted Serada on the back.

"How did you escape?" The others had joined them by this time.

"I don't remember." His voice was melodic but rough. Serada thought Macelan hoarse from his ordeal. "I think something drew them away and I was left alone. I slept for a long time and then spent the rest of the time dodging soldiers and following your trail."

"How did you find our trail?" asked Gareth, quietly. "I thought it was well covered."

"It was. I had lost you and decided to head south and it was only by accident that I found it again. And that was only last night. I am fortunate to be here." His expression never changed.

"Yes, you are indeed," said Neheva. "So this is the one who was left for the Amogrihens? I have never heard of them missing prey. You had an injured leg? I must know more about you."

Macelan glanced at her and turned toward Serada.

"How are you, old friend? You seem to have weathered many perils." His voice hissed out through his teeth.

"I am alive and I am glad you are too," said Serada, coolly. Macelan's eyes were darker than they had been, sending a shiver down Serada's spine.

Macelan did not answer but began to look around the camp. He saw Daura standing just behind Gareth. He smiled at her but her expression did not change.

"Why is everyone so quiet?" asked Macelan.

"You seem different," said Mira. Her knife was in her hand. Many of the other had armed themselves. "Have you told us the truth?"

"I see. I am doubted. Has the dark one bewitched you all? I am Macelan and I have returned. Perhaps it is your guilt at leaving me for the Amogrihens."

"We had no choice," said Gareth, softly. "Perhaps none of us would have been here."

"We didn't want to leave you," said Daura. "I wanted to stay but it was useless. Can't you see that?"

"Yes, Macelan how is it that you begrudge them their fate," asked Neheva. "When you have reached your destiny only through their actions."

"I don't understand, Witch," said Macelan. He stepped back from her.

"You know of what I speak. I was at the tower."

"I know. I have nothing to say to you." He looked at Serada and then at Daura. He appeared to want to say something but turned away.

He walked away from the fire back into the woods. No one tried to stop him; they watched his dark back until it was swallowed by the trees.

"What did you mean?" Gareth asked Neheva.

"He has the mark of Kerthon on him."

"No!" said Serada. "He's my friend."

"No matter. It is so."

"Will he betray us?" asked Daura. She fought to hold back her tears and told herself that it was not really Macelan they had seen. It wasn't. It couldn't be.

"To whom? The High King has no hand in this. Kerthon's plans are not known by your enemies."

"Do you know them?"

"No, Gareth, I do not know the sorcerer's plans. If I were you, I would be wary. If harm comes to you from Macelan it would be inadvertent, but still it might destroy you all."

"What will happen to Macelan?" asked Serada. "Is there any way to help him?"

"I truly cannot say," said Neheva. "Macelan's fate is in the hands of Kerthon."

"Even his name chills me," said Daura. Serada had put his arm around her and she turned her face into his shoulder.

"Consider yourself lucky," said the witch harshly. "His darkness never leaves you and you are forced to live in shadows. It is dark and very cold. You are lucky. Lucky." Her voice cracked as she spoke and she turned away.

They watched where Macelan had gone, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. The sun was now high in the sky and bright.

"There's been no trace of Kaell," said Mulane. He was back in his uniform and although weary, he stood erect, ever the voice of his dead wife in his ears to urge him to attention. She often told him; "Set an example for your men. Stand straighter."

"My men have examined every room in the palace and could not find a definite clue to his whereabouts," said Mulane. "We might guess where he passed through rooms and corridors but the footprints are many and they do not lead in any single direction. He must have crisscrossed his path many times if they were indeed Kaell's tracks. He is no longer in the palace."

He stood at the door of the High King's sitting room across from Michak who sat while Bayernal dressed his wounds. The room was long and velvet curtains adorned the walls. On a cushion on the floor sat Prosty.

"That is not good," replied Michak. "He is in the palace. I do not doubt that. Perhaps there are secret passageways we do not know about. This building is centuries old."

"Quite possible, but how are we to find them?"

"Tap on the walls. Find the hollow spots. Arbitrarily knock down walls. Anything! I want him found and soon!" The High King wiped his sweaty brow. "Find him," he said.

"We have a few places to start on the walls. There were footprints in some of the unused rooms such as the library, but they led nowhere. Disappeared in the middle of the room. I think some must have been made by children who then backed out in their own footprints; some were quite small. However, there were full size prints and traces of what might have been blood. There were several such locations, but which one holds the key, I do not know -- yet!"

"Get moving on it. Kaell must be found soon, before he can set his plans in motion. He is hurt and perhaps not at full power. While we have a chance, we must find him."

Mulane bowed. There was a bounce in his step now that he was back in favor and he urged his men to greater effort. He had endured the merciless taunts of Kaell in the dungeon and despair had been his companion. Now it was his turn to punish Kaell.

"Step lively! We must find this traitorous wizard. A fortnight of leave for the one who delivers him to me unharmed." He grinned at the High King and followed his men.

Prosty sat at the feet of the High King and waited. He was confident that he could escape at any time although the ceremonial throne room guards had been replaced by seasoned veterans. He did not fear Michak, but he wanted to retain some measure of good faith with the High King. He did not like to burn bridges in life. Life repeats itself too often.

"Tell me, Prosty, can you find him with magic?"

"If he uses magic I can sense him, otherwise I must send my thought to each room in the palace to detect him. But I must have a description of each room to attempt it and if he is in an unknown place there is no chance I can find him."

"Try anyway. Well, Bayernal how is the patient?"

"Fine." The old doctor was changing the bandages on the High King's hand and legs. "You'll heal just fine. I don't foresee any complications."

"Good. Just what I wanted to hear." He watched Prosty radiate a soft glow and then it stopped. The wizard opened his eyes.