Black Kerthon's Doom (25 page)

"Then we must adjust ourselves," said Gareth. "We must have a different plan for tonight. Perhaps similar enough to fool them but a change here or there to save our lives."

The day's journey was hot, the wind had died and the trail led them down to the lower elevations. They found a place to camp but it was sheltered on only one side. Night had fallen and there was no chance to find a better site. There was still the unnerving lack of wildlife and the silence was not reassuring.

"What do the dark people eat?" asked Daura.

"Mostly grubs and snakes, that sort of stuff. Some rodents but the snakes get most of those."

The silence was broken suddenly by a hollow cry and Gareth was on his feet. The rest had remained where they were around the campfire. It was the weakest position they had found themselves in the three-day journey through the hills. They were on a low hill with no shelter and all sides vulnerable. But the wind had died and that was unusual in these hills.

A piercing cry rose over the hills, died away, and rose again.

"The dark people?" asked Daura.

"No," said Brice. "They do not make such a cry."

"We are not safe here," said Prosty. "I feel the coming of power, such I have never felt before."

"Kerthon?" asked Gareth.

"It can be no one else."

Although the night was cool, they were hot and tired. Serada's shirt was stuck to his back and he could feel the water ease its way through his scalp. He scratched his neck, unable to remember the last time he had a bath. He followed Neheva and Mira as they walked throughout the long darkness and he could no longer remember where they were going. The shapes of the tree were indistinct, only the stars gave him comfort and it was cold and distant.

Just before dawn, they found a secluded area and rested. Even the sound of the river was refreshing. Serada could not think clearly until after he had slept for a few hours. When he awoke, the events came back to him in a rush or images and he cursed under his breath at the memory of Macelan and his vacation.

At dusk Neheva led them away from the river and westward across the plains toward Moorld. They did not ask her why she changed their direction and the witch did not offer an explanation. But they were glad for their own reasons. Serada now had a destination to focus on and he wanted to find a town where he could leave them and the rebellion. It had become too much for him. Mira was glad because Moorld was far away from anywhere else and she did not want Serada to have the opportunity to leave them. Not yet.

Two days before they had watched the couriers coming from Nantitet and overheard their news of the High King's death and of the black man now ruling behind the new High King. Neheva said nothing but her jaw was clenched. And the last messenger who came looked like death himself and the soldiers drew back in his presence. He was tall and lean and his black clothes hung on his bony frame. His teeth had been filed and he ran his tongue over the sharp tips. His gaze could cause a man to void himself and his touch could paralyze. He called himself Scithers, and he was the lieutenant of Kerthon.

Neheva looked upon the man with cold eyes. They were on a bluff overlooking the camp. The voices rose to them.

"All these years! I thought the creature had perished in the war. Kerthon's power is strong."

"Who is he?" asked Mira.

"He is a servant of Kerthon. A most evil creature, part man, part sorcerer and without a soul. He was created out of a lizard that Kerthon fancied and Scithers does not stray far from his reptilian heritage. Very dangerous. We must be very careful."

"He's a sorcerer too?" asked Serada.

"Yes. But not of the ability of Kerthon. Still, you should not come into his hands. Mortals do very poorly in such a situation."

Neheva made them wait until Scithers had ridden off before she would move. Since then she had looked over her shoulder for the skeletal features of Scithers. But they were far away from the soldiers. She told them Nantitet was no place for them. They would go to Moorld.

Mira gathered extra fruit and water to last most of the journey to Moorld. They would need to head south sharply at some point to find food for the plains provided little, but for three days at least, they would walk directly toward Moorld.

The night was cool and Neheva walked all night without a pause and as dawn drew near Serada and Mira were exhausted once more.

Serada awoke to find Mira snuggled in close to him and he was surprised that he did not mind. In fact, it gave him a slight sense of belonging. He was not a wanderer and the endless journey he began with Macelan brought him to a life he had not imagined. And the stocky woman who lay next to him had been with him through it all. She was pretty in a way. Healthy, certainly. But there was a sparkle behind her eyes that would escape briefly. Serada knew it was there and found himself wishing to see more of it.

Then he remembered where he was. He heard the lilting voice of the witch sing in some forgotten language. It was a song of love and Serada listened to the unknown words but felt the story through the music. He felt the anguish of the lost love and he was surprised when Neheva turned sharply to look at him. There were tears in her eyes. The singing continued, disturbing him more than if he could understand the words. The melody would run through his mind the rest of his days but he could not recall it to hum it. It haunted him.

Two days passed without incident but as they stopped before dawn of the third day, they heard the thunder of hooves closing in on them. There was nowhere to hide and cursing their luck, Neheva stood and faced the direction they had come and soon the horsemen appeared. Scithers rode at the head of the group.

Scithers pulled up and looked at the trio he had caught. He smiled and bowed to Neheva who spat at him. He then looked at Serada and Mira and wondered how important they were for they were traveling with Neheva.

"I bid you to be my guests. We have ridden far and are weary. We shall camp here. Please make yourselves comfortable. No one else will do it for you."

"We decline," said Neheva.

"Ah, my lady. I am afraid I cannot accept such refusal. I speak for Lord Kerthon and it is wise to accept his favor."

"I know too well what his favor means and I shall be damned if I accept it a second time!"

"Yes, I believe you will." He smiled pointedly.

He barked a command and his men dismounted and prepared to set up camp. Scithers beckoned the trio to sit. He dismounted and joined them.

"I believe you must be headed for Moorld to meet with the rag-tag rebel army, such as it is. That is good. Lord Kerthon wishes you to be there. He will claim you for his wife in his ancestral home."

"Why does he rush to his demise?"

"Not his, I assure you. There is the matter of a thief and betrayer and a few unimportant rebels to crush. He wishes to rebuild his kingdom without needless loss of life."

"If the rebels are unimportant, why does he come to them to kill them? Why not forget them? Gareth? Is he that close to his potential? Is Gareth a threat to Kerthon?"

Scithers smiled. He studied his sharp fingernails.

"He will leave nothing to chance. Ever again."

"Ah, so he can learn something new. Mira, forget the saying about an old dog."

"You will go too far!" snapped Scithers. "My instructions did not touch upon the condition you were to be in when you are presented to Lord Kerthon. I just may take some liberties."

"Are you really so foolish? He would torture you until the world cracked and time runs dry. Although, it might be worth it. For me, that is."

"But my instructions do not include your companions. Shall I play with one?" He grinned and Serada's blood ran cold. "Does he really need all his fingernails?"

"I do not think that would be wise," said Neheva. "You need my cooperation to bring me to Moorld. My power is still greater than yours and Kerthon is too far away."

Scithers stared at the witch and the muscles in his neck tightened, then relaxed.

"For now," said Scithers. "But I will have my chance, mark my words. I have waited many years to finish my work with you. You were almost ready to be his bride. Next time you will be prepared."

Neheva shuddered, unable to speak. The emotions and memories welled in her and she feared she would burst.

Scithers assigned five men to guard them and went to his tent.

"What do we do?" asked Mira.

"We can do nothing," said Neheva.

"But you said your power was greater than his."

"I did. But we cannot fly all the way to Moorld and I cannot kill all of them before you perish. I don't think I will leave you to them, but who can say?" She grinned at them. Then she was serious again. "We must wait for an opportunity."

"What if it doesn't come?" asked Serada.

"Then we must make one, but we must wait until escape is possible. Relax and save your strength. I believe we will need it." They sat silently with their own thoughts.

Scithers came toward them.

"Since you apparently travel at night and are not rested, we shall wait a few hours before breaking camp. Just a small consideration for my Master's betrothed. But then we shall be on our way. I detest day travel myself but its helps moral." He looked at Serada. "I hope your boots have thick soles."

"Not as thick as your soul," said Neheva.

"Are you provoking me to have you killed?"

"The choice is yours."

"And you win if I so chose. I will not. You shall see your betrothed soon. We shall find another way to dull your tongue."

Serada tried to sleep but it would not come. Each time he closed his eyes the image of Scithers appeared. The thin man hovered over him and rubbed his hands in anticipation of torturing Serada. He could hear Scithers rasping laugh and the teeth became sharper and longer. Sleep would not come to allow Scithers access to the deeper portions of Serada's mind. He lay awake in the hot sun; there was no shade.

It was all too soon when the guards nudged him with a foot. Scithers was mounted and already moving off. Serada got to his feet and received a smile from Mira and they followed Neheva with their escort at their sides.

The pace was easy, which surprised Serada. He expected Scithers to walk their feet bloody. Perhaps that was not his intention. But fear had been the result.

The scenery was unchanging and Scithers's pace did have a purpose after all. There was plenty of time to look at the blandness around them and think. Serada wondered about his reasons for being with the rebels in the company of Mira and Neheva, doubting his worth. Several times, he caught Scithers watching him and Serada wished the journey would speed up. The heat was unbearable. There was little breeze and the hot air was difficult to breathe in, filling their lungs, sapping their moisture.

By the end of the second day, Serada could see a large group moving over the southern plains and Scithers seemed to lead them toward the newcomers. Serada was not sure whom they would be meeting and Scithers did not speak to them once they started the journey. And Neheva did not offer any suggestion. But Serada thought he knew.

"I think it's Kerthon," he whispered to Mira.

"Without a doubt," snapped Neheva. She did not look at him. Her eyes were focused on the army to the south, trying to find the huge black figure. But she could not see him. The tremors in the air were startlingly strong.

"I sense him," she said softly. "But where can he be?"

Suddenly, Scithers broke away and rode hard to the head of the army. He rode to a figure that Neheva could not identify. She was confused until they came close enough to see features of the newcomers. It was not Macelan. Mira started, unknowingly grabbing the witch's arm. Neheva's eyes flashed but the scene before them drew her attention.

"Kaell!" said Mira.

"One of the wizards?" asked Neheva. She tried remembering if wizards were important to Kerthon. Wizards?

"Yes. He's very dangerous."

"Perhaps. But not for the reason you think," said Neheva.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't believe this wizard, Kaell exists anymore. Not in spirit, only flesh. I believe Kerthon has taken his appearance, burning away the soul of Kaell. Scithers would obey no one else and I sense Kerthon is here. It must be Kaell."

"How did Kerthon find Kaell? How could he have traveled from the tower?"

"Macelan. That's the only way. Kerthon must have woven a spell around Macelan to allow him to travel to anywhere Macelan was. It was necessary because Kerthon cannot move about in daylight. His body dissipates in sunlight and he does not have the power to move without a body. But he has a tremendous amount of power. And we should be fearful for our lives. With him here, we cannot escape as easily. He can watch us while Kaell's body sleeps."

"How?" asked Mira. "I don't understand."

"You don't want do!" Neheva said sharply. "Not all magic or sorcery is evil but what parts are evil are very evil. Do not risk your soul even to hear the spells described." Mira drew closer to Serada, grasping his hand.

"Why didn't he use Macelan's body?" asked Serada.

"I do not know."

Kaell rode up to them and stared at Neheva. She could see the dark image behind his eyes. Kaell did not move. Serada felt Mira tremble and the air crackled.

"Soon," he muttered. Then he rode away again.

Scithers rode with Kaell at the head of the army while the prisoners fell in behind the army and walked the remaining miles to Moorld.

The walls of the castle were very high and Serada could see them with several miles yet to walk. From what he had heard from Neheva's conversation with Scithers, Gareth and the rebels would be there but the castle was too large for such a small band to defend. And Moorld was Kerthon's home. The home of the Sorcerer King.

The army stopped a mile from the ramparts and made camp. The High King Ransal rode around the camp, inspecting it. Kaell and Scithers sat together and talked. This was curious to Neheva.

"If there are only rebels inside, I don't understand why Kerthon waits. He is too powerful for Gareth. There is more to this than what Scithers has led us to believe."