The Lords of Anavar (23 page)

"It's horrifying. Is he really so evil? Tyman Stile claimed you tainted the histories for your own gain."

"I've heard that."

"Well?"

"My dear Faeya Ryr. How should I answer such impertinence?"

"The truth would be helpful."

Gerrand coughed and grimaced. "This wound pains me, but not as much as your question."

"Can you answer it?"

"Of course I can. And I will. However, I will tell you I detest this type of tactics you are using and please refrain from such distasteful displays after we are married."

"Old man, I will consider your request, provided you give in on one of mine."

"Which is?"

"I haven't thought of it yet. I must consider this carefully. It wouldn't do to rush into such an agreement. I shall look at every angle."

"No doubt, no doubt. Well, as to your tiresome question. There might be some truth to Tyman's words for I wrote the histories of Macelan nearly three hundred years after the fact. Plenty of time for clear recall to become muddy through personal memories."

"You don't deny that you altered the histories?"

"Altered? No, no, you aren't listening. If anything is not exact it is because of three hundred years passage of time. I wrote exactly as I remembered it. There was no intention deception, which is what Tyman hinted at. There was no such thing."

She smiled, patting his shoulder. "I am glad. I am sorry to have to ask such questions, but I did not want anything to stand between us."

"I would like nothing between us." His smile and the glint in his eye made Faeya Ryr blush.

"You old man!" She threw her hands in the air. "What am I to do with you? Wait! It was a rhetorical question!" She did not let him respond.

Deah Vole whistled as he pretended to mind his own business. They moved forward quietly. He found a campsite with the coals still warm. He went ahead while Gerrand rested. An hour later he returned, his face grim.

"There is something ahead of us. It has a feel similar to the demons that attacked us. I did not want to get closer so I was not able to make sure."

"Quite right," said Gerrand. "But I was not with you earlier. I should make short work of those demons."

"You are injured," said Faeya Ryr. "The arrow might have been used to weaken you enough to keep you from defeating the demons. We may be walking right into their trap."

"What choice do we have?" asked Gerrand. "We must stop Wolk and there is no other way to Jespin without backtracking. We cannot afford the time."

"You said Macelan could spell himself around the land. Can you do the same?"

Gerrand took several minutes before answering.

"I might be able to, but not with this wound. Besides, I wouldn't be able to take the two of you with me."

"So we spring the trap?" asked Deah Vole.

"Looks like it," grinned Gerrand, although Faeya Ryr wasn't sure if it was a grin or grimace. Gerrand began to move. A sudden intake of breath hissed through him. He held his hand up to say he was okay. Deah Vole and Faeya Ryr exchanged glances. He walked in front, a faint shimmering glow around him. Faeya Ryr nodded at Deah Vole who crept out of sight and hung back. He would not be able to help if the demons came against them.

Deah Vole shuddered when he heard the screams begin.

Gerrand surrounded himself with blue fire and Faeya Ryr did the same although her fire did not blaze with the same intensity. The howling increased and green and yellow light dashed around their heads. Some comets of lights veered toward the Mages, then away again. The darker lights actually dove into Gerrand's light and vanished. Others attacked Faeya Ryr and did not disappear immediately. Gerrand's light expanded, touching hers and strengthened her defense.

Deah Vole remained hidden and for the moment undiscovered by the demons. He watched as the demon light fused together to form a giant troll complete with battle-axe. Gerrand's light took the shape of a knight with broadsword. They ran together with a concussion that rang in Deah Vole's ears. The green axe blocked the blue sword and pushed the knight to the ground. The knight kicked the troll's legs out from underneath him and jumped to his feet. The blue sword flew in an arc only to be notched by the green axe. The strength of the troll proved greater than the knight as it pushed the knight into the trees. Suddenly, blue arrows struck the troll, unleashed by the slight blue archer coming from behind. The troll bellowed in rage and stomped its feet. It turned, knocking aside more arrows and raised its axe. The blue sword cleaved into its neck and the troll dissipated into the air.

Deah Vole did not move. He knew Petyr Wolk too well. Never had the sorcerer left merely a single obstacle for his pursuers. Gerrand and Faeya Ryr allowed their magic flames to dim somewhat and Deah Vole could discern their faces once more. Gerrand's face was drawn and pale and it proved difficult not to run to him to support him. Gerrand sat on a fallen tree while Faeya Ryr watched the trail warily.

Several minutes passed and no movement could be seen. Still, the foreboding wove tightly around Deah Vole until it was nigh unbearable. He hooted like an owl. Gerrand slowly raised his hand in acknowledgment. Deah Vole sighed. He had done all he could do. Gerrand was warned and only Gerrand had the power to protect them. Deah Vole found it difficult to sit still. He always exhibited great patience and now it failed him. His fingers tingled, as did his toes and he shuddered involuntarily.

It rose up from the earth. A skinny tangle of bones, most likely human, but the skull was not. It tapered to a pointed top and a mesh of fangs locked together seemingly unable to open. Then the mouth opened and snapped shut, leaving any doubts of its usefulness behind.

Deah Vole discovered he lost his voice. Faeya Ryr gripped Gerrand's shoulder. The ancient sorcerer shook his head. The skeleton creature came forward with a scream that bore into their very marrow.

Then it vanished!

Kisle Ber watched the sun set. He stood apart from the others, unable to come to terms with his situation. He remembered the last few days as if he had sleepwalked into Finald and asked the Princess to enslave him. It happened so quickly he could not be sure that fate did not guide him to this very spot. He should have killed the Queen and escaped. That was what he had been hired to accomplish. He had no business following the Princess. Perhaps he should have killed her as well, but he probably would have failed. He lost the element of surprise and her power was awesome.

They made good time leaving Finald and kept out of view of Warlord Lemmin Menn's scouts who moved east out of Curesia into Wierland. They were safe from the Curesian army for now. He grimaced when he recalled his conversations of the day.

"Why aren't we going to Bors Taria's estate? You said he has armed men. It's as safe as anywhere these days."

The Princess stared into the distance before she spoke. She seemed to listen to something, but Kisle Ber heard nothing. Then she turned toward him, her eyes still far away.

"Kisle, we are not going anywhere safe," said Princess Alicae. "I am sorry, but where I go there is great danger and you must come with me. Besides, Bors Taria is alone in the wilderness. He does not know who his enemies are and that is troubling. We are all facing a power few could withstand. Taria is but a mortal man. He is no Gerrand. We could not count on security for more than a night or two."

"Then where are we going?" asked Zae Pol. She watched the girl at every opportunity but still could not determine the origins of Alicae's power. Surely Gerrand could have told them something of her.

"The mountains of Curesia."

"To find Gerrand?"

"No. If we find him, fine, but Gerrand has his own part to play. I am going to meet someone, but Gerrand is not the one. Gerrand knows my errand. I tell you that before you take it upon yourselves to ferret out information. I will not share the details with you at this point."

"Sometimes you speak as a young girl," said Zae Pol. "Other times your voice becomes otherworldly and speaks with confidence of knowledge you couldn't possibly have gotten in Finald. Who are you?"

"Just a pawn in the great game. Please, ask me no questions. My road is a difficult one. I shall need my strength, and Kisle Ber, of course."

"I am at your command," said Kisle Ber.

"Yes, you are, aren't you?" The Princess giggled.

"Can you tell us anymore?" asked Zae Pol. "To plan ahead may save us all grief in the end."

"I would help you, I truly would, but it is beyond my strength. I know what we are to do, however, I am forbidden to speak of it ere the time. It is not a mere admonishment to silence; rather I am enchanted to do otherwise."

Zae Pol touched the girl. "I can read nothing. I see nothing but your mysterious powers. Who has spelled you?"

"I do not know. One thing is clear; I am not to allow anyone to stop me."

"Neither Lars Vokas nor I have enough power for that."

Princess Alicae looked deep into Zae Pol's eyes in silence. Then she turned away.

"Kisle, we must leave at dawn. We must reach the foothills by dusk. I sense a change coming and we must hurry. The timetable is changed."

"What timetable?" asked Lars Vokas.

"For stopping Macelan."

Zae Pol glanced at Lars Vokas.

As Kisle Ber stood alone in the evening air he sensed someone approaching from behind. He did not turn.

"She is asleep," said Zae Pol. "We must talk."

"I am yours." He grinned, but Zae Pol already looked elsewhere.

"Although you are bound to the Princess Lars and I are swept along in a current just as strong. How long have you known the Princess?"

"I met her the same day I met you."

"That is troubling. Why did she bond to you? Why did she wait to bond to someone until the very moment we were there? My dilemma is this: did Gerrand send us to meet her, or does our enemy want us to be drawn away from more important work? This begs an answer I cannot find. I need your help."

"I don't know what I can do. I am a fighting man and magic is beyond me. All I know is the power of its compulsion. How can I give you clues to what you want to know?"

"We have to think of something. We are being followed."

"What? I saw nothing. How can you be sure?"

"Magic. No way for you to know it's there. I am not sure what it is but it is getting closer."

"Does the Princess know?" asked Kisle Ber.

"She must. This thing thunders with power. Everyone with magic could sense it, although there is strangeness to it. I can't quite recall it, but there is a familiarity about it."

"Dangerous?"

"Oh yes, very dangerous. To whom, I can't say, but the prudent move is to get away from it. It's followed us directly, turning when we turn and gaining rapidly. Tomorrow it should catch us."

"Is that why she wants to leave at dawn?"

"I'm not sure," said Zae Pol. "I think she has other concerns ahead of her. I think we are in terrible danger, Kisle, and I want to contact Gerrand and ask him."

"You can do that?"

"Yes, but it will signal my position to any magical being nearby. It may put us in a tighter position."

"Does Lars Vokas agree?"

"He does."

"Then do it. We must find out. Ask him if I can escape from the Princess. I can't spend my days like this."

Zae Pol smiled. "I will ask."

She stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" asked Kisle Ber.

"Shh!" she hissed and pulled him down. She pointed to the far ridge. Kisle Ber strained his eyes to see what she indicated but the dim moonlight only showed him shadows and he thought he saw movement. The longer he stared the less sure he was of his vision.

"I can't see anything."

"There is something on that ridge. Very large. Larger than a horse."

"Dragon?"

"Not that big. Besides, a dragon disdains stealth. Whatever it is, it wants to surprise us. I think our follower has caught us already. I'll wake Lars. Have your sword ready."

Kisle Ber nodded in the darkness. He felt lost in this battle of magics. He was only a simple fighting man. He gripped his sword lightly, testing the strength in his arm and the feel of the weapon. Whatever followed them, he sensed the danger greater than any swordsman he had ever faced. His speed would need to be at his best. He would get no second chances.

He saw Lars Vokas rise and gather himself. The Mage nodded to Kisle Ber and walked briskly into the trees on one side while Zae Pol did the same on the other. A dull ache hit his stomach as Kisle Ber realized he would endure the first attack of their enemy. He would have to protect the Princess long enough for the Mages to counterattack.

Fully three quarters of an hour passed before the creature reached the camp. Kisle Ber could see the shape clearly. A dragon without doubt, but Zae Pol said stealth was not their game. Still, it was a dragon, so the Mage must not be up to date with her knowledge. He gripped his sword tightly.

The dragon stood nearly twelve feet at the shoulder. It waited under the tree branches out of the moonlight, but Kisle Ber saw the sparkling red scales flash from the shadows. Without warning, the dragon started forward and blue light hailed down on it. The colors swirled and ran off the scales like rainwater.

"Ho! Ho! Come out little Mages. I know you are here. You cannot hurt me." Its voice trilled and sent shivers down Kisle Ber's spine. The dragon moved closer to the Princess.

Kisle Ber leaped toward the dragon. Its eyes flashed but showed no other sign that it noticed Kisle Ber.

"Fighting man, I sense you are bonded to the Princess. I will let you live if you stay your attack. My scales are much too hard for that iron you carry. Come, Mages! Why do you tarry? I see you have brought the Princess with you. I have watched for her coming for centuries. I almost missed her. Too many naps. I am glad I caught up with you." It turned to see Zae Pol and Lars Vokas watching it.

"You are unlike any dragon I have ever seen or heard of," said Zae Pol. "What is your history?"

"Ho! That would be a tale to pass the years until even your hair grew white. The tale we live in will not wait for that. You need not stand guard tonight, warrior. I will keep the Princess safe."