The Lords of Anavar (20 page)

"Let me take some men with me. I will catch them and stop Lemmin Menn."

"He has an army with him."

"I am respected. He will listen to me."

"Are you certain of this? It's a long way to ride for your death. This tavern seems cozier if that is what you want."

Skellen grinned.

"Lemmin Menn wants to marry my daughter. He will listen to me."

Gerrand laughed and slapped the table.

"That brings cheer to me. So be it."

Gerrand walked slowly along the road. His mind churned with the fact that Macelan returned three years ago. Perhaps longer. What were the signs? Who claimed they would come? Macelan stated what signs to watch for to be sure he gained a head's start. Macelan set the events in motion when he wanted the Mage's Council to act. Macelan controlled the actions of the Council. He played them like puppets and who was the biggest fool? Gerrand, the old man, was the biggest fool.

He paid little attention to the people passing him on the road and did not see Skellen and a dozen men ride by to the crossroads to Wierland. Skellen glanced at Gerrand but did not acknowledge him. Gerrand tried to pinpoint when Macelan returned. If the volcano was part of his plan, then was Cehana a puppet of Macelan? What disaster happened that was greater? Perhaps it was as he thought - Macelan's 'signs' were only in his mind, put there by his former master to have Gerrand watching for signs that would never come. Gerrand could not accept his own stupidity.

A chilling thought came to him. If Macelan knew, I would be able to detect his presence, would he be able to conceal himself from me?

He sent his mind ahead to check on Faeya Ryr and the others. Again, he chastised himself for not thinking about them during his escapade. He stumbled. His probe hit something and stopped. He was blocked from seeing them. Something hid Faeya Ryr from him. He widened his search. He found Artus again, but Deah Vole was blocked too.

At least one of the archers was dead, but he could not pinpoint the others. He rubbed his eyes and moved on.

The next morning he woke up with a shadow standing over him. He did not move and used his sorcery to protect him. It was not needed. The youngest archer, Eva, waited patiently for him to rise.

"Are you alone?" he asked.

"Yes. I don't know where the others are. We were attacked by demons. Momma never said we had to fight demons. I'm sorry, Master Gerrand. I ran from them. I was scared."

"It's okay, Eva. I would have been scared too."

She still carried her bow and her quiver did not lack any arrows. Gerrand knew he had to return and rescue Artus, Deah Vole and Faeya Ryr. He knew he had sent the archers into a situation where they would not be safe. Now he would return Eva to that situation and it gave him a sour taste in his mouth. He looked at her face. Still a child, yet her eyes held a depth that made him shudder. She could die the next time, Gerrand knew, and he would not hesitate to use her skills to extend his aims. Was he any worse than Macelan?

It was a question that needed an answer, but he feared to voice the answer. He feared what he had become over the centuries. Perhaps Macelan was not evil, only the logical result of power and immortality. He heard Eva's stomach growl and kicked himself for not even considering her condition. He gave her water and dried fruit with a roll of bread that she ate ravenously. He watched her quick movements and his throat tightened. Eva was a mere child.

He cursed Macelan and the day they had met. Gerrand knew who Macelan was, everyone did at the time. Gerrand was in his late teens and excited about life beyond his home. He traveled a winding path to the master's door and knocked loudly. All he remembered were Macelan's eyes from that first meeting. They seemed to enter his head and suck out all the knowledge there, filling the space with Macelan's commands. Gerrand found himself the apprentice without asking for the position. It was what he wanted and he suspected Macelan read his mind. It did not seem hard to imagine Macelan began planning for his return even then. Many innocuous things now seem to have had a peculiar purpose about them. He ground his teeth until he saw Eva noticing. She did not say anything but Gerrand knew he did not put her at ease. What would he do with her? Would she die at his command?

He smiled at her and held her hand as they walked down the road toward the mountains and Macelan.

Yanor felt the tremor from the very heart of the castle, knowing one of his colleagues had met Tyman Stile or whoever it was controlling him. He felt compelled to reach out and discover who had been lost, but he knew his own location would be revealed if he did. Yanor did not possess Gerrand's desire to know all things. He could sit meekly and wait. He wondered why such a powerful creature wouldn't have killed them right away. He imagined such a being would be able to suck their powers from them alive or dead, if that was the intent. Perhaps it wasn't all-powerful and needed to separate them to defeat them. He shook his head. They did not hesitate to separate and now their number had decreased by one. How could he contact the others quickly without compromising them, or himself?

Yanor decided to do it slowly, to find them one by one and tell them. He ran the risk of running into Tyman Stile, but the quicker option held certainly that he would find Tyman Stile or worst, Tyman Stile would find him. At least, for the slow way chances were better although slim.

A chill settled over the castle penetrating the very stones and Yanor could feel it creep into the soles of his boots. He shivered and moved onward. His ears caught each sound and he stopped and waited until he was sure the passages were safe. He moved slowly and retraced his steps several times, knowing if the others were free, they would continue moving around the castle too. With luck, they would find each other.

Yanor placed each boot so carefully he did not raise dust. At each sound he paused. Movement caught his eye; cobwebs moving in the air currents. He watched the cobwebs as he walked, halting when they moved. Perhaps Macelan could move as a spirit. His palms sweated and he trembled as he crossed an open space. Quickly, he faded back into the shadows, waiting and listening. The groans of the old castle smothered him and he needed to regulate his breathing. His heartbeat pounded in his chest.

He heard whispers from the courtyard and he stopped at the doorway. He did not recognize the words and it chilled him. The alien sounds vibrated with power. He could taste it in the air. He retreated; looking for another way to the north section of the castle. Shadows seemed to dance in the distance and he did not know if his imagination caused their movement or something else. Yanor chose a different route than the one he had taken; feeling the watchfulness of the shadows.

He moved slowly down the servants' corridor, past the storerooms and kitchen. Suddenly, he stopped. He heard breathing! He backed away, afraid to move his gaze in case he was attacked. He felt he had moved enough to turn and run.

"Yanor!" came the hissed words. Yanor jumped, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. Cehana peered out of a shadowed doorway. He moved to her, watching each doorway as he passed.

"Did anyone see you?"

"I don't think so, but I am jumping at shadows."

"Understood. Come back in here a moment. I don't want to be overheard." She watched out the door as she slowly closed it. She grinned at Yanor. Her pale face looked a fright; hair plastered with sweat and dust across her forehead. Dark circles supported her eyes.

"I found it. The whole cache of magic. It's here in the kitchen. The pantry has a false door behind it. I noticed a half footstep of flour from under the wall. It's so obvious that someone walked there; I don't know why it wasn't discovered before. I wanted to wait for someone else to help. Now you've come and we can get to it."

"The location was obvious? How many other footsteps are there?"

"Just the one."

He pulled her away. The intensity of her gaze unsettled him.

"Isn't that obvious, too? One footstep? Would Gerrand have been so foolish? There would be dozens of footsteps or none."

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry; I almost led us into a trap."

"Not to worry. We're under a lot of stress," said Yanor, grimacing. "I worry that we shall be taken one at a time. We cannot hope to defeat Tyman or Macelan or whoever. We must escape this castle."

"Do you know how?" She watched him closely, licking her lips as if trying to rid herself of some taste. He noticed it and it frightened him. She appeared like a vulture waiting for him to die. There was a depth of color to her eyes and currents moving behind her eyes that made his skin pucker. He wondered if she had been lost already.

"I believe I do," he said slowly. "Come with me."

"But what about the cache?" asked Cehana.

"It is a trap. Tyman knew about it and wants us to find it."

"No, I can't believe that. We will enter." She grabbed his arm but he shook her off. He stepped back.

"You do so without me," said Yanor. The hair on his arms stood straight up.

Cehana's eyes flashed and she hissed. "Fool! There is greatness enough for all. Macelan will share it with us. He told me that at Oraeland."

Yanor felt a pinching pain in his gut.

"I thought he was a face in the clouds."

"He was, and more. He spoke to me and asked me to help him."

"Help him do what?"

"Make the volcano erupt."

"Cehana!? You killed your own people?"

"They aren't our people and do not accept us. They fear the magic. We are different. They do not trust us. Well, let them distrust us. Let them serve us instead! They are inferior to us in every way. Killing them is no different than killing rabbits."

Yanor suddenly thought he heard Gerrand's voice in his head and realized while Cehana raved, Macelan could be closing in on him. He began to back away.

"You are insane, Cehana. Macelan lied to you and you will be his slave."

"NO!!" Her screamed echoed in the corridor. Yanor felt her power growing and a still greater power humming in the upper regions. He turned and ran. He ran as fast as he could as the heat unleashed by Cehana blasted the walls, thundering in his ears. Yanor shielded his back with magic. He might be able to withstand Cehana's rage but the power of Macelan would crush him. However, he could not quit. Luckily, Cehana could not contain her rage and focus her attack. He turned a corner beyond her sight.

As he ran through a shadowy corridor, hands grabbed him and pulled him into a doorway. A hand clamped hard on his mouth. The wild eyes of Alec Endria bore into his eyes. The thunder of Cehana's rage echoed throughout the castle.

"Quiet. I know a way out. Quickly." He pulled Yanor after him back into the storeroom. He lifted a trapdoor and jumped down. "Pull it closed after you and I will light a torch."

Yanor did as asked and shielded his eyes from the glare of the torch.

"You are yourself?" asked Yanor.

"At another time I would have been offended by such a question. Yes, I have not been conquered by Macelan."

"How can I believe you?"

"Yanor, you are an idiot. Gerrand always believed it and so do I. At least you lost that stupid hat of yours."

"I believe you. Even Macelan would have more manners. Then it must have been Techna who died upstairs."

Alec Endria nodded. "We must reach Gerrand. I can think of nothing else. I did not think we would be so vastly overmatched. My vanity nearly killed me. Gerrand must despair as he thinks of the help we can give him. It's not enough; it's not enough."

"Do not despair yourself, Alec. I am not sure I have the desire to continue alone. The darkness surrounding us is our despair. Let us move to keep it from choking us."

They moved as quickly as they dared through the earth tunnel. The dampness and dangling roots clung to them. They walked through webs and over bones.

"Where does it lead?" asked Yanor.

"I am not sure. I've never been through it."

"Should I be worried? What if it doesn't head anywhere? A cave-in is not out of the question."

"Artus came through here once, years ago. I know he was tempted to use it again after Tyman banished him. If memory serves, the tunnel is nearly a mile long and opens into a cave at the south of Bors Taria's lands. We can head west from there."

"Good enough for me."

They found places they could not walk upright. Their backs scraped the ceiling bringing dirt down on them. After the first time, when his collar filled with dirt, Alec wore his hood. Yanor copied him. They walked and walked and walked. The tunnel did not become larger or branch in any other direction.

"How long did you say it was?" asked Yanor.

"Artus said a mile or so."

"If it ends in Bors Taria's land, it must be longer. Perhaps three miles. Maybe Artus found another exit that since filled in. I will swear I've walked two miles at least."

"I have to agree. Let's stop for a moment. How should we behave if we are discovered by anyone? For all we know the tunnel ends far from anyone, but the risk is there. What do we say?"

"I am not well known in Wierland. You might be recognized."

"Covered with an inch of dirt?"

Yanor laughed. "Perhaps not. However, you might recognize whoever finds us."

"Good point. I assume many people saw the fireworks at the castle so we can't pretend there are no problems. We may have to speak plainly."

"Risky," said Yanor. "We are little trusted. Despite Cehana's duplicity, she spoke truth about that. We might be lucky not to find a sword in our ribs."

"We cannot turn back."

"I meant no such thing. All I meant to say is to have your power at hand. Just in case."

"Ah. I understand. Well, let's keep moving."

The end of the tunnel did bring them to a cave in the hills above Bors Taria's land. In all, they walked four miles and glad to be that much farther from the castle. It was dawn with its light seeking out the dark corners of the land. They stretched as they strode into the open air. Then they heard horses coming from the north.