Black Kerthon's Doom (21 page)

Macelan got to his feet and went to the doctor.

"Are you all right?" asked Macelan.

Bayernal tried to pull away from him but Macelan was too strong.

"No, I'm all right now. The sorcerer has left me."

"Sorcerer?" said Bayernal. He hoped he was still dreaming.

"Kerthon."

"Kerthon? Rubbish!" He saw the fear in Macelan's eyes and he could still smell the sulfur. Bayernal was unsteady. "I am too old for such times. A child murders his father and the dead return to life. What can we do?"

"I don't know, but he will have control of this palace and the soldiers in short order. We must flee and find Gareth."

"The rebels?"

"There is no other help."

"But they are close to death themselves. Horeth has orders to kill them on sight. I heard the High King issue them this morning."

"Perhaps they haven't reached Horeth yet. There's a chance." Macelan led the doctor out of the death room and found he needed the doctor's support as well. There was a surge of aches and pains and a dead feeling inside him that he could not identify. He tried to think of Daura but he could not picture her face. Kerthon had taken something from him that he would never regain.

Suddenly he saw a small stone in the middle of the floor. It was ebony yet seemed transparent. Macelan picked it up. It was hot and he dropped it. He covered his hand with the end of his cloak and picked it up. It had cooled already. A thought came swiftly to him. Kerthon dropped it! There was mystery and power locked inside that stone and Macelan would find it. He swore he would. He looked at it again and put it safely in his pocket. He started down the back stairs after the physician who had already disappeared.

They reached Nantitet at nightfall as the markets were closing but they did find a couple merchants who would not turn their backs to another sale. The people of Nantitet were courteous, but the lacked warmth. The curt guards closed the city gates immediately after the disguised rebels entered. Gareth wondered if the gates were used for keeping people out or in. They were certainly sealed inside for the night. The rebels bought fresh fruit, bathed at a public house, and drank cold beer and all slept together in front of the fire in the great room at Manchester's Inn. Old Manchester had worked for Gareth's father and felt he owed the son many overdue favors. He closed up early and gave Gareth the run of the Inn while his wife washed their clothes. Manchester's son went to the palace and brought back the grim news of the High King's death and of the dark shadow, which now prowled the grounds. The stories were sketchy but they were fearsome enough and Gareth decided to get a good night's rest before determining their course.

In the morning, Gareth was refreshed and he did not remember their situation immediately. He stretched, yawned, and laid back on the straw and relaxed. There was no urgency for him and he desired nothing. But it was only momentary. He got to his feet and surveyed the condition of his followers. He would take two of them, they would walk to the palace to find out what really happened, and then they would return to plan their strategy.

Brice and Daura walked behind Gareth who had bundled himself in rags to avoid recognition and it allowed him to hear many rumors.

"Say friend," Gareth said to a man walking toward him. The merchant wore a blue robe with gold fringe. His usual expression of contempt had been stricken from his face. "What's the commotion at the palace?"

"The High King's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes. And there is some wizard who claims to be the voice of the new High King, Ransal. The soldiers in town have already sworn to him."

"Did the rebels kill the High King?"

"You mean Gareth? No, although I wish it was. Gareth's a good man and there's many here that would say the same. But it is sorcerers and goblins at the palace now. You'd do best to turn around unless you want the evil eye on you."

"Thanks kindly."

"Did you hear?" Gareth asked Brice and Daura as they passed him. Gareth smiled to himself.

"Yes."

"Be wary."

As they neared the palace, they saw more and more people fleeing. One robed figure stopped in front of Gareth and stared at him for several moments. The man threw back his hood and the high forehead glistened. His eyes were bright and Brice started to intercept the figure.

"Stay good Brice," said the man. "I mean no harm. I wish to talk with Gareth, here, but you may join us."

Gareth nodded and followed Prosty into a tavern and the wizard rented a room for privacy.

"Now, what may I do for you?"

"You know me as Prosty."

"What?" They reached for their swords but Prosty raised his hands and the air tingled. They could not move. Then he released them.

"No need to be alarmed. I have no ill will towards you. Kaell pushed for the end of the rebellion. He ordered the attack on your camp. I have other interests. I am a scholar and saw my chance to have access to the Imperial library as long as I acted in the High King's behalf. In any case, Kaell is Kaell no longer. A curious thing happened after the High King died. A young man encountered Bayernal and claimed to have been a companion of yours."

"What makes you think he's ours?"

"He's not from Nantitet. He dressed in the same manner as you but he appeared to be from up the coast by his speech."

"Tall and lean? Dark hair?"

"Macelan!" cried Daura. "Was he alive when you left?"

"I believe so. Well, Kaell made an appearance and the details are not clear, Bayernal was quite upset you see, so his recollection may be faulty to a degree but somehow power was transferred from your friend to Kaell. I am afraid Kaell has seen better days. I wish I could have seen it, the actual power transference. It would have been one of the high points in my life."

"What happened to Kaell?" asked Gareth. "Is he dead?"

"Not the way you think. His body is alive but he is dead."

"I don't understand," said Gareth.

"Kerthon has returned through Kaell's body. Kerthon rules from the palace now. Kerthon's spirit in the shell of Kaell's body. Do you understand now? There is sorcery at work no one has seen for centuries. There are a number of palace troops under his command who are hunting Mulane's men and Kerthon's lieutenants are already on their way to Calendian army outposts. In a matter of hours he will be firmly in power throughout the kingdom." Gareth did not speak immediately.

"The legend had said he could return. What can we do about it?"

"Nothing, as far as I know. My chief interest in coming to Nantitet was to find traces of Kerthon to learn about sorcery and wizardry in greater depth, scope but Kaell and I met on the road, and I agreed to try to help the High King in any manner that he required to quell the rebellion. Well, soon that became Kaell's quest for power from which I woke up, finally. My desire for research did not anticipate Kerthon returning in the flesh. The study of Kerthon would be a little too in depth, if you take my meaning."

"We must be able to plan something. Are there any limits to his power?"

"I do not know enough about it. I plan to go to Moorld to search for clues and then up to the tower where he had died. There must be something for me to find."

"As there was for Macelan," said Brice.

"Who is Macelan?"

"The one who transferred Kerthon's spell to Kaell," said Daura.

"Ah, Lady Daura," said Prosty. "It is good to see you once more despite the tenuous circumstances." Daura nodded to him. "So this Macelan was one of yours?"

"Did Macelan survive?" asked Brice.

"I do not know. I have not seen him nor have I been to the room where Kerthon took over Kaell's body. There were some who claim to have seen Macelan flee the palace, but I was not able to verify that. The descriptions varied so I couldn't be sure."

"I must get into the palace," said Gareth. "Can Kerthon sense my presence?"

"I could not if I was not searching for intruders, but as I have said, I do not know the extent of Kerthon's power. It must be formidable to return to life a thousand years after your physical death."

"I acknowledge your point, but what of Ransal?"

"I'm afraid he's the killer of his father."

"Your news is not good."

"Kaell's influence, I'm certain. But Kaell is no longer a problem. Kerthon is your opponent, now. I would advise you to search for any information regarding the sorcerer. Of course, if someone still lived from the time of Kerthon's life, it would benefit you greatly. That statement is ridiculous, but what else is there? All knowledge of sorcery remained in Kerthon's era. The lore is lost today."

"You are one who seems to know quite a lot about Kerthon," said Gareth. "What will you do for us?"

"My help I will offer, but do not count on great things. I am a scholar of sorcery, not an adept."

Gareth looked at Prosty and considered the risks.

"I might be able to provide you with a survivor of Kerthon's time. But I am not convinced of your motives."

"As it is wherever I go."

"Have you heard of the witch Neheva?"

"Vaguely."

"She may be the one you seek. She traveled with us as far as Rhath. I believe she was heading this way."

"You tell me she is a thousand years old?" asked Prosty, one eyebrow raised.

"I cannot say, but she has had contact with Kerthon. And recently if my guess is correct."

Prosty stiffened suddenly and listened for something the others could not hear. Then he urged his companions through a small doorway to a cellar.

"Just a place for uninterrupted daydreaming."

The heavy hoof beats of the soldiers' horses thundered by the door. Gareth looked questioningly at Prosty.

"Yes, I sensed their arrival. Kerthon is wasting no time beating down the opposition. What he thinks of you, I cannot say. But for the next few days, Gareth, stay out of sight."

Gareth sat on a crate and rubbed his hands over his face. They watched him as he pondered the situation.

"I can't get to the palace; we can't search for Neheva with the soldiers everywhere. How am I to gather the information I need?"

"Surely you have friends in town that could walk around unnoticed? Use as many as you can, do not endanger their lives. Make sure Kerthon doesn't see them in the same place twice."

"Surely, he's not that omnipotent?" said Daura.

"We can't take that chance," said Prosty. "He has already shown me more than I would have guessed."

"Still, I must take some chance," said Gareth. "I will go to the palace briefly. Then we will go with you up the coast toward Moorld."

"Fine," said Prosty. "But I shall not venture near the palace. Where can I meet you?"

"There's a small inn on the outside of town. Manchester's Inn. Let's meet behind it at the stables. We shouldn't find prying eyes watching us there."

"Good. See you then."

Prosty opened the cellar door to the outside and listened, then stuck his head out and looked around. Then he was gone.

"Do we trust him?" asked Brice.

"Give me a better option and I'll take it," said Gareth. "If he was going to betray us he would have done it already."

Gareth led Daura and Brice out on to the street and they made their way toward the palace. They walked close to the buildings and did not look up when soldiers rode by.

Daura trailed the two men and looked into the faces of the people they passed and she saw the fear behind their eyes. Then she saw a shape, a figure of someone going the opposite direction on the other side of the street and the movement seemed familiar. She started to say something to Gareth but he was too far ahead. She decided quickly and ran across the street in pursuit of the figure.

Gareth found the road for deliveries to the palace and waited to see if it held any activity. After he felt assured it was a good choice, he and Brice began to creep toward the open door.

"Where's Daura?" asked Gareth, softly.

"I don't know. She was behind me."

"Perhaps she didn't want to take a chance with Kerthon. She'll be waiting at the Inn."

"I'm sure you're right."

"Do you really trust Prosty?" Brice asked.

"Of course not. But we must be open for all help, no matter the source. Keep alert and we should have no trouble from Prosty. I sense he has some fear motivating him. We shall watch and wait."

"Is your sense from sorcery?"

Gareth snapped his head in Brice's direction, biting back his first reply. "No. Just human nature." Brice nodded.

The interior was lighted by torches and running water could be heard somewhere in the black shadows beyond the torches. Gareth ventured inside and moved along a wall until he came to the single staircase leading to the kitchens of the palace. The steps were stone and did not give away the presence of the climbers who found the kitchen to be empty as well.

"Everyone must have fled who didn't belong to the military," said Brice.

"Can you blame them?"

The man was too far to see clearly by the time Daura reached the other side of the street, which was surprisingly crowded despite the danger of the Sorcerer. She thought better of running once the heavy hooves of horses hit her ears once more. She would do nothing to draw attention to herself. But the sight of soldiers sent her quarry to flight and he was spotted and hailed immediately. He did not stop and ducked down an alley. Three soldiers dismounted and followed him down the narrow passage. The remainder of the soldiers rode on to their destination. Three soldiers would be more than enough to handle one man. Daura ran down the street prior to the alley and saw one of the soldiers catch Macelan who spun and slit the man's belly with a short sword. The other two stopped and spread out, their swords drawn and wary of their prey.

Macelan waited for them to move and stood lightly on the balls of his feet. Daura came closer and could see the shadow on the face of Macelan. It was deeply etched into the creases of his face like a chronic pain, a reminder of some past transgression.

Both soldiers struck at once. Macelan parried one thrust, the other missed, and the blade struck the stone of the building. The other Calendian soldier took his eyes off Macelan for a second and Macelan lunged at him but his aim was poor. His momentum carried him past his adversary and Macelan stumbled. The soldier came forward and raised his sword. Macelan rolled into the man's leg, knocked his off balance, and then tried to regain his feet as the man fell headlong to the ground. The second soldier swung at Macelan who dove under the sword and attacked the soldier. Macelan was struck a glancing blow to the head by a fist and fell over just as a soldier tried to run him through. Macelan was on his feet and shook his head. Macelan tried to run but the alley was closed at the far end and the soldiers were between him and freedom. He raised his sword and advanced. The Calendian soldier stabbed at Macelan but missed and Macelan cracked a blow on the man's head with his fist. Macelan spun to meet the remaining Calendian soldier but the man was dead, in his place stood Daura. Macelan burst into a wide grin. He turned back and struck the dazed man again. The man slipped to the dirt.