The Lords of Anavar (18 page)

"Do you really think it is Macelan?" asked Doad Bess. "Or merely Wolk using the legend for his own uses?"

"Whichever it is," said Faeya Ryr. "We best act as if Macelan has returned and if we are wrong, then no harm has been done."

Deah Vole instructed them where to place themselves as they walked. Two archers led and two trailed. The youngest, Eva stayed in the center next to Faeya Ryr. It would take four hours to reach the area where Artus Endria and Deah Vole were attacked. From there Vole was not certain how long the journey would be for they would be required to move more slowly.

As they reached higher elevation, a damp mist rose up around them. The cloaks keep the damp from their skin but it seeped into their lungs and soon several people were stifling coughs. It proved difficult for the archers who held their weapons ready to cover their mouths without dropping their arrows.

Roc led them with Alavaria flanking him. Twice he whistled and they stopped. Two whistles started them going again. Deah Vole recognized the area where they had camped. He signaled Roc to set up a perimeter. Doad Bess and Faeya Ryr examined the scorched rocks and turf. They whispered to each other as they moved through the area. They looked eye to eye and Faeya Ryr nodded her head.

"We found signs that were made by Artus' magic without a doubt. He put up a mightily struggle. Other marks I cannot determine except one perhaps made by Petyr Wolk. The signature is not the same as his, yet similar enough to hazard a guess. If Macelan has perverted him that may be the reason for its alteration."

"The other marks?" asked Deah Vole. "Would they have been made by whatever creatures attacked us?"

"Possibly. Now, we must study this further."

"The same creatures," said Faeya Ryr. "Doad, we are not in the library at the castle. We need snap analysis or we may not have time to use whatever you figure out. Wolk will kill us. Does the word 'kill' have any meaning to you or is it another subject open to study."

"Really, Faeya. You wound me."

"Stop it," said Deah Vole. "I cannot have this bickering. She is right, Bess. Any hesitation may cost lives. We must keep moving further into the mountains."

They walked for another hour through the thick mist. Nearly all of them stifled coughs. It clung to their lungs, chilling them. Deah Vole was worried. His fingers shook from the cold, but it seemed colder inside of him, than without.

"This is not natural, this mist," said Deah Vole.

"No, it is not," agreed Faeya Ryr. "There is some spell at work, yet I cannot pinpoint it."

"Nor I," said Doad Bess. "All I can see in the trees are shadows and they all seem to move. Where are the archers?"

Eva whistled to her siblings and mother, but no one answered.

"We go no further," said Faeya Ryr. "We have lost them."

"I am scared," said Eva. She whistled again.

"Quiet now," Deah Vole said quietly. "Someone is out there."

They waited several minutes watching the mist dance and swirl around them. Shapes appeared and faded and Eva pressed back into Faeya Ryr.

"Can you search with magic?" asked Deah Vole.

"It will send a beacon to Wolk that we are here," said Doad Bess. "We must find the others without magic before Wolk finds them."

"I found them," said Petyr Wolk as his image rose out of the mist in front of them. "They came as lost little lambs and are now safe in my camp. Now, the question is how may I help you? I am surprised to see Deah returning to my hospitality. He fled it once without a farewell. Why the change of heart?"

"What have you done to Artus?" asked Faeya Ryr.

The shimmering figure turned to her as if noticing her for the first time.

"Ah, the lovely Faeya Ryr. Why would Gerrand let you out of his sight? He must be lurking nearby, although I cannot sense his presence. Gerrand! Come out, Gerrand!"

Wolk closed his eyes for several seconds, and then opened them. "He is not here. I am surprised. Yet, I believe you can tell me what I want to know."

"We will tell you nothing," said Deah Vole.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. However, I expect the children will talk. Perhaps the little girl there. What is your name?"

Eva trembled but did not answer.

"No matter. A little pain will loosen her tongue. Now, continue in the same direction for another three hundred yards and you will reach my camp. We shall await you there." There was a flash and Eva disappeared.

"Eva!" cried Faeya Ryr.

"He took her. We must follow quickly," said Doad Bess.

"Yes, we must," said Deah Vole. "However, I do not doubt that he will be sending his demons after us. If we don't make it, so much the better for Wolk. The children will be able to tell him what he wants. They heard Gerrand's words, nearly everything he said in the last few days."

"I don't want to alarm anyone," said Faeya Ryr, glancing behind her. "But those demons you spoke of have arrived already."

They stood back to back looking into the forest mists. There were dark shapes moving from tree to tree and the bright glow of their eyes shone through the mist as if it wasn't there.

"Any ideas?" asked Faeya Ryr.

"They weren't harmed by my weapons, so don't look to me," said Deah Vole.

"I will handle it," said Doad Bess. "As soon as I engage them, run!"

The little man spoke rapidly and spread his arms wide. Faeya Ryr felt the rising of his magic. So did the demons that sped out of the shadows directly at him. Deah Vole grabbed her arm and pulled her after him.

"Let's go!"

"But he won't survive!" Faeya Ryr turned back to see the bright light of Doad Bess' power slowly lose ground to the darkness of the demons. Deah Vole tugged her arm harder.

"He bought us time, that's all he did. He gave us a chance, let's not waste it."

He led her into the trees dodging the branches as they ran. Upward wound their path jumping over rocks in their way. They did not look back but Faeya Ryr gasped when she felt the passing of Doad Bess. A hollow burning welled up inside her and Deah Vole had to support her.

"What's wrong?"

"Bess is dead. I felt his passing. So soon. Poor Bess."

"They will come for us next. I see a rocky area up ahead. There might be places for us to hide."

"Lead on, I don't have any better ideas."

The rocky area consisted of several huge boulders jutting out of the ground. Deah Vole ran up one side on an incline and disappeared. Then he returned.

"There's a cave. Looks like it goes back a ways. Doesn't look inhabited. Let's give it a try."

After twenty feet, the cave grew very dark, but the air was still fresh. The cave tunnel turned to the right and the entrance could not be seen. They rested a quarter hour before they moved on. Their pursuers did not catch up. They smiled and exhaled, determined to follow the tunnel to its source.

They lost all track of time as they walked. Their hands followed the rough wall of the cave and their steps were short to avoid pits and crevasses that may appear before them. The tunnel seemed to be straight with few obstacles in their path, which was unusual. They saw no light in front of them.

"How long have we walked?" asked Faeya Ryr.

"I am not certain. I would have said three hours but I tried to keep track a little while ago and my sense of time has disappeared. I expected this tunnel to end long ago. I am out of my depth. I cannot even tell you how far we have walked. Some guide I am."

"You have your pack and I have mine. At least we can eat and we have our bedrolls. It could be a lot worse."

He nodded in the darkness.

They stopped later for a bite to eat and to rest. Sometime later, Deah Vole awoke, horrified that they had slept.

"Faeya! Wake up!"

"What? Have I been sleeping? How long?"

"I don't know. I've slept too."

"I don't like this," said Faeya Ryr. "That we both should sleep makes me suspicious."

"And you should be." A voice rose up all around them and then they saw the lights. It blinded them at first; the multitude of colors, but the pulse of energy was what worried Faeya Ryr.

"There's a lot of magic here. I cannot read it to discover the Mage wielding it, but it is tremendous. We are in trouble."

"I guessed that on my own," said Deah Vole.

Faeya Ryr knew she still held Deah Vole's hand but she could not see him. She had been transported far away to a green pasture where horses grazed in the sunshine. She recognized the place as the royal riding grounds and she saw Torby Mola walking toward her. She tried to back away, but he had seen her. Besides, the High Priestess rode behind Mola. Faeya Ryr couldn't afford to create a scene, not here. Her mouth opened and she remembered the words she spoke and Mola's too. His jaw snapped shut; his face flushed with anger. He stopped away, barely acknowledging his High Priestess on her horse. The High Priestess looked at her niece, shaking her head. Faeya Ryr shrugged her shoulders. There had been a brief scene anyway. Perhaps she would join Gerrand and the rest at the castle in Lathor. There was nothing left for her here.

She knew the images were real, but merely taken from her memories. She was not afraid. Then slowly, the familiar images began to change slightly. The colors weren't the same and people showed up in places they didn't belong in her life.

"Faeya," a voice floated to her. "Why did you forsake me?" She thought the voice Gerrand's but didn't know what it meant. Then the broken body of the sorcerer appeared to her with a grinning Macelan waving at her. Macelan's face transformed into Gerrand's face and she thought it strange that it didn't have to change very much to become Gerrand. Then it changed back to Macelan's leering grin and grew until it filled her eyes.

"No! No! NO!" She cried. She tried to run to Gerrand, but her legs were heavy, her feet stone. She couldn't move fast enough. The image of Gerrand began to move away faster than she could move. It became a tiny dot in the distance and Gerrand's mournful voice trailing after it. She tried to break free, but she was trapped.

Suddenly, she noticed the webs around her. Giant webs held her and kept her from Gerrand. For a moment she thought it was a real web in the cave but Deah Vole was nowhere in sight. Then huge bodies began to move on the web. Several spiders with human faces. Tyman Stile, Petyr Wolk, Richard Brox, Torby Mola and other faces she didn't recognize. They came closer, hissing at her. She struggled and fought, panic welling up inside of her. She closed her eyes as she felt their piercing bites all over her. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

"Are they in the cave?" asked Artus. He never felt so tired. He couldn't concentrate. His temples pounded. Even his eyelids ached. His use of magic had been so extreme, pushing him to the limits of his endurance. The energy needed just to speak exhausted him. He felt himself melting into a heap. He knew his friends were in danger; he had no alternative but to persevere. He had to find the strength to oppose Wolk.

"Yes." Wolk clapped his hands. "Completely fooled. You should be proud. It was your idea, Artus. No bloodshed, and so it shall be as you desired."

"I still don't like it, Petyr." His voice carried little power. He had constructed the trap with Wolk's help. It was far more intricate that anything Artus imagined. The Mage Council knew nothing of that level of skills, he felt sure. Artus had never used such power and he worried that he did himself irreparable harm in its use. He read nothing in Wolk's expression.

"Of course not. You still don't trust me and those two are your friends. A perfectly natural reaction. I don't expect you to change overnight. It would arouse my suspicions if you were docile and content with your situation. You are a Mage of exceptional skill. Little wonder you would chafe until my tutelage. I do understand your position, Artus, and I will do everything I can to help you during the transition." He constantly twisted the end of his beard.

"But Doad Bess didn't have to die."

"It was necessary to drive Vole and Ryr to the cave. There was no other way. They had to be pushed to go fully into the cave. If they waited at the opening, your plan would not have worked. Surely as a man of wisdom, you can see that?"

"I also can see needless death."

"You have much to learn still, Artus. There are no needless deaths. I have a purpose for everyone."

Artus Endria sighed and watched the clouds roll by. He had resigned himself to survival which meant cooperating with Petyr Wolk. He did not fully cooperate but cooperated enough to ease the torments Wolk set upon him. Artus had doubted Wolk when the sorcerer told him that he would be happy to answer all questions Wolk asked. However, it seemed only minutes before Artus broke down under Wolk's skill and revealed his knowledge to Wolk. He let Gerrand down. Could he face his mentor again? More importantly, would Gerrand survive Artus' betrayal to face him again?

Artus leaned heavily against a rock. His strength returned slowly since Wolk's interrogations, but he appeared gaunt and pale. He protected a small portion of himself, hidden away deep inside where Wolk could not find it. He hoped for the chance to escape or use his power to disrupt Wolk's plans. He had followed Wolk to the other cave, the small dark, damp one where he had to crawl on his belly to enter. He did not go far inside; for he heard Wolk's voice as he talked to someone. There was a reply, soft and hoarse but the words were too low for Artus to hear. However, the sound of that voice sent chills through him as he knew it might be Macelan's voice. Macelan lay in that cave for someone to find him and Wolk did find him.

Artus left the cave before Wolk noticed him, but later Wolk looked at him so strangely that Artus doubted that his presence had been undetected. The day after, Wolk started teaching him spells, small and harmless, but unknown to the Council. Artus was fascinated by the new discoveries. Soon his time was consumed by the little morsels Wolk tossed his way. Then Wolk added a larger spell and Artus snatched at it. Wolk smiled, knowing his quarry was hooked. That was the worst moment for Artus. He knew he had fallen for Wolk's trap but he could do nothing about it. It seemed his willpower had evaporated and perhaps that was an aspect of the minor spells he greedily learned. It would have been simple to ensorcel him through the practice of the other spells. He cursed himself daily for being such a fool. Perhaps Tyman Stile was right and Gerrand wrong. He tried to fight back the negative thoughts, but he had no strength to resist.