Black Kerthon's Doom (9 page)

"Yes. Nearly twelve years."

"Those were good times," Gareth murmured. He walked silently, smiling. "Well kinsman, we'd better walk faster or Brice will be there and back before we get started."

Brice led them at a blistering pace and Macelan soon was winded. Gareth walked behind him and did not let him slow. They did not stop until lunch and then not for long. Macelan's lunch threatened to vacate his body but after a time he adjusted to the strenuous pace although, it would be days before the burn left the muscles in his legs. His training had been good, but it was not enough. A week does not compensate for the five years Gareth and the rebels had lived in the wild. He tried not to show that they had bettered him, but he could not. Gareth smiled grimly when Macelan turned to ask for rest. They kept moving.

The hills sloped lower towards evening and in the distance, they could see the craggy rock formation, which marked the vale of the tower. The entrance to the vale was wide enough for eight horses abreast but beyond that, nothing could be seen because of long shadows crossing the entrance as surely as a gate. They stopped for the night because it would be completely dark by the time they reached the tower and both Brice and Gareth had become agitated after the vale entrance appeared.

"We will go no farther. As it is, we may hear sounds better left unheard. But we shall help each other ignore them. We must have short watches. Macelan, you shall take the first. As tired as you are if you fall asleep now, we'd never wake you for your watch. Do some walking and regain your breath. There is much to do tomorrow. Two hours, then wake me. Brice will watch after me, then you again. Pay no attention to the voices in the wind. But be warned, there are voices, and do not dismiss their allure, or else Brice and I will have to continue alone."

"I hear you," said Macelan. "I will be careful."

"Take this," said Brice. Macelan took the heavy spear. "It has runes carved into it to ward off the evil ones. Keep it near you."

"Thank you for your concern, but I shall be here to wake you."

"It is to be hoped."

"Remember," said Gareth. "You are one of us now. Betray us and you will be hunted down as a traitor and justice will be done."

"Cheery fellow," Macelan muttered to himself. "Where am I going to go?"

His companions settled in and were quickly asleep. He walked around the edge of their camp and became familiar with the terrain. His eyes strayed several times to the rock formations which seemed to beckon to him and he was tempted to explore in that direction but he knew that his watch was a test of his loyalty and either Gareth or Brice kept one eye open. Macelan sat on a rock and waited for his watch to pass. He watched the sleeping forms for a while but felt his own eyelids grow heavy. Tiny bugs landed on his face and he brushed them away. The moon was out but it was not a bright night and the shadows grew long and twisted. Again, he felt himself relax and nothing seemed so important anymore. There was no reason he had to miss his sleep. They were alone in the wild and no danger would come to them. He slid off the rock and prepared to lie down when he landed on a pointed rock, the shock went through his body, and he remembered where he was. He stood up and did some deep knee bends until he began to sweat. He rubbed his hip, which bore the brunt of the sharp rock. The cool breeze refreshed him and he knew he would not fall asleep, now.

The first hour passed without incident. The wind grew and murmured over the hills and through the trees. It was soothing at first but then it took a deeper tone and he became aware of the sound. A melodious voice greeted him and he thought he heard his name and he walked toward the voice, which seemed to rise from the vale of the tower. He didn't know if it was male or female but the voice was dreamlike and brought back memories of his childhood. He would be safe, he would be comfortable, and no one could bother him again. Around and around his mind the voice spun its spell, drawing him tightly to its dance. He moved slowly as if in a trance and his mouth hung open in wonder.

He saw tiny sprites flying around his head and they were singing merrily. He smiled and tried to grab one but it suddenly changed into a bat.

He was grabbed roughly and spun around. Brice was staring into his eyes. The tall man looked but did not speak and then nodded his head.

"You've heard too much for your own good," said Brice, not unkindly. "Best return and rest, I'll take the watch now. Gareth can use the sleep. Where did you put my spear?"

Macelan looked at Brice as if he had seen him for the first time.

"Spear?"

Brice shook him and Macelan finally caught on. He shook his head. They both looked around the camp but the spear was not to be found. Macelan didn't remember setting it down.

"I had it in my hands when I first heard the voice. I didn't do anything with it. I didn't leave the clearing. I'm trustworthy."

"This is bad. I must wake Gareth." Brice shook the shoulder of the sleeping figure and Gareth opened his eyes.

"What is it?" asked Gareth as he looked at his companions. "The voice in the wind?"

"And more," replied Brice. "My spear is gone. Macelan remembers having it when the voice began but remembers nothing else. Now we cannot find it. I swear that I stopped him before he left the clearing. It could not be beyond the campsite."

"If Macelan had moved it," said Gareth. He eyed Macelan, finding himself trying to read the young man's mind. His stomach knotted as he pushed away the seductive call of his magic, always lurking, waiting for his call. "I know this land better than you. Stranger things have happened to me, yet this is a serious problem. I do not recall the theft of anything by the spirits of the vale. This is a new twist to the mysteries of the vale. We must wait until morning to discover more. And since it is my watch I shall use it to plan our next move."

"I could watch for you," offered Brice. "I was going to relieve Macelan before we discovered the spear was missing."

"No, it's all right. I find it relaxing." He looked at Macelan. "Many years ago I learned how to resist the song in the wind. You shall learn too, but another time."

Brice returned to sleep but for Macelan, sleep did not come quickly. Every sound pricked his ears and he waited for the voice to begin again. But it did not. He wanted to see the sprites again. He wanted to fly in the air with them and sing their merry songs. He hummed one of their melodies to himself. He heard the whisper and rolled over to see a dark face peering through a thicket. He crawled toward it and the face split into a wide grin. Macelan reached out to touch it but was roughly pulled back by Gareth. The face disappeared. Gareth shook his head and gestured for Macelan to return to his bedroll.

Gareth was troubled. He no longer knew how to defeat the High King, especially since the High King recruited the guidance of the two wizards. One wizard would have been bad, but the two of them worked as a team so one of them was always with the High King during the day. Gareth had not anticipated the wizards. It was almost impossible. Everything he had worked for was crumbling around him and he had no alternative but to continue. Perhaps his luck would change but he looked at the silhouette of the tower and knew the bad times were ahead. Perhaps his agent in Nantitet would prove successful. After all, wasn't that the point of the rebellion? To provide a diversion to attain his actual objective? But he did have one other alternative. He tried to push the thought back down into the far recesses of his brain but ever it appeared, grinning like a gargoyle. He had vowed never to venture into that unknown realm and fought hard against it through the years. It would bring no joy to be victorious in that manner. It would only be the beginning of darkness.

The rebel army was small and ill supplied. They could not sustain an attack, even with surprise on their side. Guerrilla warfare was all they could muster and the High King's Soldiers conscripted more soldiers each week to an already overwhelming number of fighters. Gareth estimated he was outnumbered a thousand to one and that included all his non- fighting personnel, too. No, the outlook was bleak and now a messenger was missing. Perhaps it had nothing to do with Daura. I hope not. I miss my little sister.

When Brice relieved him of the watch just before dawn Gareth had decided what they were to do. After a short but refreshing rest and breakfast, he led them to the vale of the tower.

Macelan felt the excitement within him and tried to breathe slowly and even but they were walking so fast that he could not. And when they entered the vale, he felt the presence of the Sorcerer. It seemed a wall of cold mist blanketed his body as he walked between the pillars of the vale. It gripped him, pulling him to the tower and he could not resist. There before him stood the ruins of a castle with one large tower as a sentinel. The light of day did not penetrate the gloom of the courtyards and the trees close to the structure were dead and withered. The tower waited.

The crumbling tower had once been tall and even in daylight the bricks were black. Macelan wondered what could have charred them. But there was no sign that a fire had ever hit the region. The bricks were too uniformly black. Macelan's hair began to stand on end. The shadows obscured most of the tower, and Macelan didn't care to see more. The smell in the air was of rotting things.

"We must look around quickly," said Brice. "This place is not safe, even in daylight."

"You are right," said Gareth. "If there was trouble there might be a message left here for me. We have used it too often in this manner. Follow me."

They moved from the arched entrance to the courtyard. It was free of the rubble of the outer bailey. Yet it appeared more ancient. Inside the wind was much stronger and the noise was insidious. Macelan felt his skin crawl.

"I will not enter," said Brice.

Gareth looked at his old friend and smiled.

"I can't force you to, my friend. Keep safe. We'll return shortly."

Macelan followed Gareth into the windstorm of the courtyard and soon fell behind. Gareth seemed to vanish into the swirling dust. Macelan peered into doorways but the darkness denied him. He heard a soft sigh and his heart skipped a beat. Gareth was out of sight. His ears strained to hear the sound again. Macelan thought the sound came from an archway to his left. He listened again and then ventured inside a doorway, which opened into a small room. He heard the sigh again and saw a slight movement in a corner. He started to back out, sweat suddenly running through his scalp.

"Kerthon?" asked a faint voice. It rose out of the cold stone floor. Macelan nearly screamed and he jammed his hand into his mouth to muffle his moan.

Kerthon? Who would ask for the Sorcerer? Macelan tried to back out of the room but the ghost groaned as if in some pain. He decided to take a risk, despite hearing Serada's voice in his head warning him. He moved closer.

"I am Macelan. Who's there?" His voice sounded small to him. He did not know if it was heard. His hand was on his knife.

"Help me," came a fainter reply.

Macelan chewed on his lip, aware of the likely possibility of some mischievous spirit trapping him in fairyland forever.

"Please, Macelan. I'm dying." The voice was urgent and weak. He crept nearer the shapeless voice in the corner.

He chose to risk the darkness, came forward, and grabbed the dark shape under the arms. It felt real enough, and he was relieved somewhat despite the clammy touch. The long hair brushed his arm and coupled with the slight figure he held told him it was a woman.

"Can you walk?" asked Macelan.

"I don't think so." Her voice rushed out in a sigh, she relaxed, and he knew she had lost consciousness.

He put his arms around her neck and he lifted her legs off the ground. He walked back out into the courtyard but he could not see Gareth so he returned to Brice. The wind in the courtyard tore at him, dying down once he exited through the archway.

"Who is that?" asked Brice, when he saw Macelan return. The rebel had his sword drawn.

"I don't know." He set her down gently, smoothed her dirty hair, and wiped some of the dirt off her face. "I found her inside after Gareth lost me. She seems very weak."

"Daura!" said Brice. He didn't move at first. Why would Daura be here without Cara? He did not want to think about it. He put his cloak under her head.

Gareth came upon them.

"No message," he said.

"Who's this?" He got a closer look. "Daura! Where did you find her? She's so thin." He checked her cuts and bruises and treated the ones he could.

"Inside. Is this the messenger you lost?"

"No. She is my sister." Gareth's voice was soft. "My messenger was to contact her."

"Your sister?"

"Yes. She works in the High King's court and provided us with valuable information. But if she is here then there is much trouble. Did she talk to you? Did she say why she was here?"

Brice was washing her and cleaning her wounds and shook his head to Gareth's question.

"She needs rest," said Brice. His voice was thick with emotion. "She is totally exhausted. Looks like she hasn't eaten in days. Probably wouldn't have lasted another day or so." He wrapped her in the extra blanket.

"Macelan, did she say anything to you?"

"Just to help her. Oh, when I first walked in she asked if I was Kerthon."

"What?" Gareth grabbed Macelan and slammed him against a wall. He looked deep into the eyes of Macelan. "Do not joke with me. I would kill you."

"What's the matter? That's what she said. Probably delirious. Must have known where she was."

"Don't lie to me!" screamed Gareth.

"What's the matter? It's the truth! I swear! Are you crazy?"

Gareth looked at him. "No, not yet."

"And where is Cara?" Brice asked aloud.

They looked at each other.

Gareth released Macelan and felt sympathy for Brice. But he could do nothing.

"We will not speak of it here. Let's build a litter and return to camp as soon as possible. I don't think we can wait longer for Daura's sake to search for Cara."