Black Kerthon's Doom (34 page)

The signs on the trail were fresher and Chraset knew he was gaining on his quarry. But would he reach them in time?

Macelan tried to recall the secrets to tracking but he could not. Brice had scouted a mile or so and indicated the general direction he felt the hunters would pursue. Macelan started quickly but he soon became unsure of himself. The trees, fallen and upright, forced him to wander through the underbrush. He found signs of what he thought were the passing of the hunters but in other places where he felt sure there had to be sign, he found nothing.

Macelan knew his movement was too loud and as he compensated for his lack of stealth, his progress became minimal. He was losing ground and it frightened him.

Suddenly, he heard the low murmur of voices. He stopped and took refuge behind a tree. He hoped he had not been seen. He crept forward to a tall tree with branches low enough for him to reach and climb. The camp of hunters began to appear through the thick branches and he tried to find a glimpse of Daura.

Macelan sat in the high tree and did not move. He watched the activities of the hunters as they set up their camp. It was their first stop since they kidnapped Daura. Macelan was exhausted and hoped he would not doze off and fall out of the tree. He looked down again. No, he did not want to fall.

Daura was sitting inside a tent; her legs were visible to Macelan. The hunters did not approach her save one and he was chased away by the leader of the band. Macelan believed that meant they were going to sell her and did not want to abuse her while on the road. Macelan silently urged Brice to move faster. They had to catch the hunters before they crossed the last mountains and entered the north plains. The stories of the nomadic tribes did not ease Macelan's mind. He was sure one of the tribes was the prospective buyer of Daura.

He tried to envision what might happen if he was discovered or if Daura was in danger. He could not see any outcome that did not include sorcery. And he knew there was an evil presence lurking behind his power. He knew it was the demon he had seen materialize near Kerthon. Each time he tried to play the situation out in his mind it ended with Macelan becoming Kerthon. He tried not to think about it and counted the leaves on the branches nearby. Brice would arrive soon. He hoped.

After an hour had passed, he thought he heard the sound of approaching hunters. It was not loud but it was there and steady. A murmur in the trees and the gentle yielding of the underbrush rose to Macelan's ears. He tried to turn around without making a noise or being spotted. He peered back at the camp and a hunter was walking toward the tree, probably to relieve himself. The man stopped. He, too, heard the sounds of movement. He whistled sharply and the camp was aroused. Fifteen hunters, armed and wary spread out through the trees.

The oncoming noise increased until several men broke from behind the camp and then the others who were making the noise rushed forward. The hunters were caught between them.

Brice's men attacked at once, both groups hit the circle of hunters and force them into the woods away from the tents. Both sides were well armed and although they were outnumbered, the hunters fought fiercely.

Brice reached Daura first and led her back behind the line of his men. She whispered something to him and he fought his way to another tent where he found Mira. Serada was not to be found and neither Mira nor Daura knew what had happened to him.

The hunters were outnumbered but they fought hard and were evening the odds when they rushed one side of Brice's men and bowled them over. The leader of the hunters was named, Hanja, and he was large and strong. He killed two men with one blow of his axe. The fighting was too close for arrows and Brice was disappointed. It would not be a quick clean battle. He wanted to join the battle but he did not dare leave Daura alone again. Mira was a seasoned fighter and Gareth had trusted her with his life many times. Brice could do the same.

Brice's men were beaten badly and the hunters were ready when the other half of Brice's troops rejoined the battle. The hunters forced them back into the clearing where Brice stood guard over Daura and Mira, who now had a bow in her hand. Hanja led his men toward Brice.

"We are no longer with superior numbers," said Brice. "I may have to ask you ladies to run."

"I will never run," said Mira. She fitted an arrow and raised her bow.

Macelan debated climbing down and helping his friends but he would be no match for the axe of Hanja. He felt his power start to pulse through him but he decided not to attempt sorcery. He knew what Gareth's fears were and he had seen Kerthon. Each time the sorcery came to him he felt another presence looking over his shoulder and it was not a gentle feeling. His guts heaved at the touch and he did not want to know what the presence represented. If he had no other choice, if his friends would die, if Daura would die, then he would use it to defend them. But he knew it would be the end of him.

Hanja cut down another man. Brice stepped forward and raised his sword. Hanja rushed him but Brice was too quick, much quicker than his size would indicate. Hanja felt the coming of Brice's blade, dropped to the ground, and rolled away. He hopped to his feet. Two other hunters crept up behind Brice and Hanja smiled.

"Give up, big man. You cannot win."

Brice gritted his teeth and tried to keep an eye on his attackers, old and new.

Suddenly, the sound of arrows pierced the forest. The two newcomers lay dead and Brice's men rushed the remainder. Into the clearing walked Chraset in his noble regalia. The hunters were encircled, but unbeaten.

"You men are under arrest. I am Lord Martres of Stormridge. Do not resist."

Hanja threw down his axe. Then he smiled.

"Hand to hand, Martres. If you win, we shall surrender. Otherwise you must fight us to the bloody end."

Chraset tossed aside his bow and cloak without hesitation. He stepped forward and did not take his eyes off Hanja. The two men circled each other looking for an opening. Hanja smiled. He ran forward and Chraset stepped aside and stuck out his foot. Hanja tumbled to the ground. He was up quickly and rushed again. This time Chraset ducked under the outstretched arms and landed an uppercut on Hanja's jaw that staggered him. The hunter wobbled for a moment then stepped forward and quickly spun his entire body and unleashed a tremendous kick to Chraset's side. There was a sick crack upon contact and Chraset slumped to the ground, holding his side tightly.

"Ha! You are finished, Martres." Hanja stepped forward to kick Chraset again. Chraset barely rolled out of the way but his ribs were too painful to allow him to think his way out of his predicament.

Hanja allowed Chraset to get to his feet.

"I will finish this, now," said Hanja. He leapt for Chraset who crouched and kicked upward which caught the hunter in the throat. Hanja made a funny sound and rolled to the ground. He coughed a few times and got to his feet. There was blood on his lips. He roared and slammed into Chraset, whose face showed his pain as they fell to the ground, the heavier man on top. Hanja wrapped his huge hands around Chraset's neck and began to squeeze. It was Chraset's turn to choke and cough and Hanja put all his strength to his task.

Suddenly, Chraset brought his knees up in Hanja's groin and the hunter sprayed his spittle on Chraset and rolled off him. In his hazy vision, Chraset saw the crouching shape of the hunter and launched a boot to his face. Hanja rolled over with a thud. Chraset picked up the hunter's axe, raised it over his head, and brought it down on Hanja's back. Hanja cried in pain and rolled over on the axe. Chraset watched as Hanja slowly died. Brice's men disarmed the hunters and herded them toward Stormridge.

Chraset sat down and Mira tended to him. Macelan had climbed down the tree, ran to Daura, and hugged her. They stood over Chraset.

"Where did you last see Serada?" asked Macelan.

"I think it was a few minutes before the hunters came into the stable," said Mira. "But I can't be sure."

"I don't remember," said Daura. "As soon as the hunters saw me I tried to run but they caught me. There were two of them around the back of the stable."

"Were they expecting to find someone, I wonder?" said Brice.

"We will find out when we return," said Chraset. "We shall search the whole town and question everyone."

The search did not take long. Jeb found Serada in the cellar of the tavern. He had been tied up and wedged between two kegs. He had bites on his legs and arms from the rats but he had enough vigor to keep them away. But he had been tiring.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Serada when Macelan questioned him on his ordeal. "I lived through it. No sense bringing it back by talking about it. I suppose you were the hero?"

"No. I did nothing. I am not a fighter."

"Are you sure?" asked Serada.

The storm brought with it a shadowy figure, a man perhaps, in a long black cloak. The rain came down in torrents and the streets of Stormridge were rivers of mud. The figure was not slowed by the mud and strode directly for Chraset's house. The house was buffeted by the wind and rain; the trees swayed and brushed the windows with an eerie sound. The figure stopped near the door and raised an arm as if to knock. It hesitated as the hand shook and then lowered the arm. It stood, head bowed, listening to the voices within.

Inside they were gathered around the dinner table. They were happy to be safe again. They put their worries behind them, if just for the night. Chraset, however, felt distant, and could not join in the merry making. He was home but something was different. He did not know what it was but the feeling was strong. He stood near the fire, staring into the flickering colors as the howling wind crested and fell. He felt an urge to look out the window at the dark rainstorm. He was aware of a watchful presence outside. He looked to his sword, but did not wish to alarm anyone. A glance into the night before he unsheathed his sword.

The figure outside prepared to move on, forgetting forever the life it had once enjoyed. Just then, a face appeared at the window, watching the storm. Chraset noticed the dark figure and was staring at it even as the lighting flashed nearby.

The face was lit briefly but it was all Chraset needed to recall for the remainder of his life, the fire-scarred countenance of Gareth. The figure raised its hand in salute and walked away into the storm. It moved with pain fading into the mists rising from the long grass.

Chraset turned back to the life in the house and remembered the good times, hard and easy that he and Gareth had shared. He looked at the faces of Mira and Serada, Daura and Macelan, and Brice and his father. The memories would be enough, thought Chraset. They had to be.

"What did you see?" asked Mira.

Chraset thought for a moment, and turned away to hide his tears.

"Nothing. Just the storm. Just a storm."

Gareth stopped just outside town. He stood under a tree and tried to rest but the constant struggle with Wargat tired him. His sorcery swirled around him and tried to keep the demon out. But it was the demon who had taught the sorcery to Kerthon. Wargat would not be denied. It hounded his thoughts, penetrating each memory. Even thoughts of his father changed the familiar face into the demon grinning like a jester.

Gareth had intended to cross the mountains and leave his friends far behind. He had to isolate himself in case he lost his battle with the demon. He could not hurt his loved ones. He would not hurt his loved ones.

Each day was more difficult. He saw Wargat's face in everyone he met and despite avoiding settled areas, the image of the demon stayed with him. The horrid voice whispered in his mind at quiet moments.

"Gareth. It is so good of you to join me. I have waited so long. Kerthon had long since lost his appeal. But you! You are fresh and powerful."

Gareth would shake his head, scream silently, and try to push the blackness from his mind. But it would not vanish completely and would creep forward as soon as Gareth's thoughts were elsewhere.

"Gareth."

He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his head. After a moment, it passed.

He had climbed the first hill and looked back toward Stormridge. Silently, he said good-bye to his sister, his friends and vanished over the hill.

"Macelan, don't you feel well?" asked Daura.

Macelan's face was pale and his breath was short. Chraset was watching him closely. The others had gathered around.

"Something's happening. I feel it. Evil, very evil. But I don't understand."

"Is it your sorcery that enables you to sense the evil?" asked Chraset.

"I think so. I do not know. I just sense it, and it comes unbidden. I can't stop it."

"Do you know where it is?" asked Chraset.

"Close by. Fading a bit, perhaps. Indistinct would be a better description."

"It's going away?" asked Brice. "Are we safe?"

"It's not us. We are not in danger. Someone else is fighting it and losing."

"Gareth," whispered Chraset, too soft for the others to hear. "Macelan, can you follow it, this feeling? Can you find the evil?"

"It's everywhere."

"But where is this person fighting it? Can we help him? Do we want to?"

"I think we can. To the north. Towards the mountains. He's trying to flee but he can't be free." Macelan was in a trance, his eyes were not focused and his voice coming from far away. Daura held his hand. Serada and Mira stood near the window while Brice paced. Chraset stood near the table, his eyes still riveted to Macelan.

"I want you to take me to him," said Chraset.

"No! There is evil. Too strong for me."

"You must take me. We must save him."

"Do you know what he's talking about?" asked Daura.

"I might," said Chraset. "But I want to be sure before I say anything. I will take Macelan, just the two of us. I think we can find this person easier than a larger group. We may need to move quickly and perhaps hide from our quarry. I am unsure of the danger. And it the evil is as great as I fear, you will be safe here."