The Lords of Anavar (29 page)

"Zae has a point. Why couldn't you have told us?"

"Dear Faeya, if I could have quickly, I might have tried it. You must remember I've spent 500 years planning for this and it could not be boiled down to a short discourse."

"All right. I know when I'm beaten. But one day, old man, you will reveal your secrets to me."

"I don't know whether to look forward to that day or not," muttered Gerrand.

"You best smile and agree with me on all things that day."

"Well, I could agree for a day. Perhaps a whole day."

"Don't waver on this. You are to be my husband aren't you?"

"If you say so, dear Faeya."

"That's the spirit! You have a knack for being a husband already."

"Great," Gerrand said under his breath. Movement behind Gharom's men forced the soldiers out into the open where Petyr Wolk sent waves of fire at them. Macelan deflected some of Wolk's sorcery. Lemmin Menn and his forces smashed into Macelan's men and forced him out in the open. His men and Gharom's came together to defend against Lemmin Menn. Gharom shouted to his general but Lemmin Menn grinned and shook his head.

Lemmin Menn signaled his sergeants and his troops pinned Macelan's smaller forces against Wolk's keep. Macelan defended them against Wolk's magic and the arrows of Wolk's soldiers but Lemmin Menn's soldiers moved grimly forward.

"Gharom!" cried Macelan. "You shall rue your betrayal!"

"It wasn't me! Lemmin Menn turned traitor! Gerrand has bewitched him!"

The crash of iron drowned their speech. The soldiers rushed together. Colors swirled across the clearing, arms flailing. Faeya Ryr could see the red patches of blood as the weapons found their mark. The noise was deafening. She had never seen battle at first hand and the brutality sickened her. She heard the glee cries of Macelan as men's lives bled out on the battlefield. The soldiers were crushed together; it was difficult to tell them apart. Blood and gore covered the soldier's colors, and they looked like a single mass churning together in the grass.

There was a sudden cry, mournful and shrill. Macelan turned towards the southernwoods. His mouth moved without sound and his fists shook. Then he shuddered and was released from his paralysis.

"Gerrand!! I know you are here! Come forth and greet your master!"

"I am the master now," cried Gerrand. "You have slept the centuries while I worked and planned. Your time has passed."

A great swelling of sound flowed through the branches of the trees. Voices howled up through the ground, voices of those long dead.

"They call for you, Macelan!" cried Gerrand. "Your victims wait for you!"

The trees bowed from the voices as if a strong wind enveloped them, bending and twisting. Faeya Ryr held on to Gerrand's cloak, trying to cover her ears. The sounds rolled over each other sending the soldiers fleeing, their battle forgotten. Macelan stood alone, battered by his sins. The sorcerer swayed and bowed under the onslaught. Gerrand clenched his teeth and began to move toward Macelan.

A whooshing sound made him duck and the dragon Tiante lifted Macelan and carried him behind the line of soldiers. Then the dragon came back and landed in front of Gerrand.

"I owed him two favors. Bringing the Princess here was one; saving him from that spell was the last. You are free to kill him now."

"I did not know you still lived."

"Farewell, Gerrand. I don't think we'll meet again; your life span is so short." Tiante rose and vanished over the northern tree line.

Deah Vole found the keep unnaturally quiet. The muffled noises coming from the front of the keep where Macelan attacked seemed too few for the number of soldiers he had seen. He peered out to the wall again, counting the many men when a flash of light gave his disquiet answers. The men had no shadows! They were creations of Petyr Wolk's magic. Wolk had no more men than those that had captured Deah and Artus Endria. He searched for a passage to the interior.

He found an unlit corridor that seemed like another world when he entered it. A biting cold filled the air and the stones on the walls and floor were frosted. Sounds whispered along the stones and caressed his ears but Gerrand had taught him long ago how to shut such sounds out of his mind. Again, he was troubled by the emptiness of the keep and soon imagined footsteps trailing him. He stopped several times to determine if the sounds were echoes of his own boots. They were not.

He waited in the dimmest corner available and watched for his shadow. In all too short, a time a figure crept down the corridor. Deah jumped out with his short sword, but it was parried and the blades rang out in the narrow space. Deah stumbled but the other figure grabbed his arm to steady him.

"What?"

"Easy, my friend," said Kisle Ber. "We don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Sorry. I didn't know it was you."

"You weren't supposed to. I'm an assassin remember? Lead on. You are heading in the right direction-I can feel her getting nearer."

Deah Vole exhaled and continued on their route.

They found the cell within minutes. Deah, still unnerved by the emptiness, but Kisle Ber, his face sweating in the cold, did not seem to notice. Deah touched the door and it was warmer than the outer corridor.

Deah Vole pushed open the unlocked door and the Princess sat on a bench alone. He imagined he had seen the shape of a dragon fade before his eyes, but he dismissed it as fancy. Kisle Ber pushed past him.

"Princess! I have found you!" He hugged her and she laughed.

"My hero! You too, Deah Vole. Let's get out of here."

"Have you seen anyone down here?" asked Deah Vole.

"No. Petyr Wolk never came to see me."

"This place is unnatural. Come, let's move quickly."

Gerrand spotted Macelan moving through the soldiers. He noticed Macelan's attention had been stolen by activity near the keep. Kisle Ber and Princess Alicae stepped clear of the wall. Macelan recognized her for what she was. Gerrand raised his hand to signal Kisle Ber. Kisle Ber nodded and whispered to the Princess. Her arms raised and she floated into the air until she reached Macelan.

A spell rose up around Macelan. Gerrand could see the terror on his face as he realized Princess Alicae was a sorcerer weaving the same spell that imprisoned him so long ago. The air around them jelled into an orange mass muffling Macelan's voice. Suddenly, Gerrand heard the laughter of his former master.

"Gerrand! You nearly had me, but she did not tie off the spell properly. I sensed her hesitation and stopped her. You had me believing she was a sorceress! How clever, my old friend, but again, too little against me."

The spell dissipated and Macelan waved to Gerrand.

Gerrand felt victory slipping away as Macelan held the Princess. Her magic dissolved around her and she slumped into Macelan. He shook his fist at Gerrand and vanished into a black mist under the trees.

Gerrand started forward when a black flame erupted out of the forest and knocked them all down. Many of the soldiers were too close to where Macelan had been and died. Gerrand landed heavily against a tree root.

"My hero."

Gerrand looked up. Faeya Ryr wiped the blood from his eyes and he stared at the trail where Macelan and Princess Alicae disappeared.

"I have failed," he gasped. "I am still the lesser sorcerer."

"Not quite," smiled Faeya Ryr. "Let's hurry to catch up. Torby Mola's soldiers will provide protection for us."

"Why?" asked Gerrand.

"Because he is sworn to protect me." She pulled Gerrand to his feet. "Come, my love. There is still time to set this right."

They left the other Mages caring for Kisle Ber and Alec Endria. The final task was left for Gerrand and Faeya Ryr alone. Gerrand had run out of ideas. His head ached, his teeth ached and he did not know how he was to take another step.

"Leave everything to me," smiled Faeya Ryr. She kissed him softly on his cheek and led him by the hand.

Out of the rubble of the keep, Deah Vole stumbled. He cursed under his breath. Zae Pol treated his wounds and he followed the trail of Gerrand and Faeya Ryr. A figure trotted across the bloody grass toward him. Deah Vole clapped the man on the shoulders.

"Need company?" asked Skellen. "I have a taste for more action."

"I'd be pleased. Let's catch Gerrand and see how we can help."

"What about the High Priestess's soldiers?"

"I have a feeling they follow Faeya Ryr."

"Really?"

"There's something about her I can't put my finger on."

"Anyway, watch out for Gharom too."

"Isn't he dead yet?"

"No, but save him for me," grinned Skellen.

"Like hell I will." He laughed. "It's good to be with you again, friend."

A doorway appeared in the south side of the keep and Petyr Wolk walked through it. Without looking around, he moved directly into the woods. Artus Endria watched him approach in silence. Wolk did not notice him until it was too late.

"Petyr? Where are you headed?"

"Ah, Artus! A surprise to be sure. I am looking for new quarters. Between Macelan and Gerrand, the old keep is just not livable anymore. How about yourself, Artus. Where are you headed?"

"Back to Finald, after I settle with you."

"Ah, I see. Well, do you think you have learned enough to settle with me? I controlled you once. It won't be hard to do a second time."

Artus' face contorted with effort and he smiled grimly.

"You surprise me, Artus. You have grown much stronger so quickly. But not strong enough."

The woods went black. No light penetrated. Wolk's voice seemed to come from everywhere.

"You see, Artus. I have great skill. I believe you erred waiting to meet me alone."

"That was your error," said Alec Endria. Streams of green light cut through the darkness and Wolk's silhouette was visible. Artus Endria brought forth all his frustration and pain in a cleansing fury that engulfed Wolk. Wolk cried out and fought back. Sweat ran down Artus's face burning his eyes but he held tight to his spell. Wolk's efforts grew weaker.

Suddenly, three shapes appeared next to Wolk. Artus recognized the demons he met within Wolk's keep. They tossed aside Artus' spell, grabbed Wolk and vanished.

Artus leaned against his father as he regained his breath.

"Did they rescue him?" asked Alec Endria.

"No. It was a just dessert late in coming."

Kisle Ber's lungs ached. He ran and ran and did not see Gerrand or Faeya Ryr ahead of him. How could the old sorcerer move so fast? He laughed. It was sorcery, of course. He looked back and saw the shapes of Deah Vole and Skellen panting behind him. They moved quite well, but Kisle Ber was faster. He pushed harder and harder but gained no ground on Gerrand. The trees seemed to draw closer and the path narrowed. A mist rose and the air chilled suddenly and he knew sorcery was all around him. He felt it before he heard it- the hair on his neck rose and the air around him pressed his chest and then the thunder blew through the forest swirling the mist and knocking him to the ground.

Kisle Ber jumped to his feet and continued on. He heard no sound, the damp mist muffling all sound.

It was Kisle Ber's quickness that saved his life.

The faint ring of steel reached his ears and he ducked even as he unsheathed his sword. A masked attacker came out of the mist and their swords rang as they collided. He heard the shouts of his companions as more shadows leapt at them from the mist.

Again their swords met but this time Kisle Ber was the aggressor. He pushed his assailant backward and struck at his knee. The attacker cried out and lost his footing. Kisle Ber drove his sword into the man's neck. Two more figures came at him forcing him backward. He moved to one side so they both could not attack at the same time. He struck upward against his opponent's sword then slashed downward through his opponent's stomach. He leapt over the falling foe and plowed into the other one. Three quick thrusts and Kisle Ber turned to his companions who faced the last swordsman.

Kisle Ber left the last attacker to his companions. He hurried down the path, knowing they had lost ground on Macelan. The mist thickened and he slowed to keep sight of the path. Shadows and shapes were all around him but he could not determine what they were. His sword arm was ready.

He saw a shape on the path before him. Someone lay face down. He stopped and waited. The figure was breathing. He nudged it with his foot, but no response. After looking around once, he reached down to turn the figure's face toward him.

It was Gerrand. Kisle Ber rolled him over. Gerrand's eyes were open but unfocused. He helped the sorcerer to a sitting position as Deah Vole and Skellen caught up with him.

"Is he okay?" asked Skellen.

"That blast must have been Macelan's sorcery," said Kisle Ber. "Gerrand seems to be stunned."

Deah Vole looked around. "There's no sign of Faeya Ryr. This damn mist! I can't see ten yards!"

"Macelan has claimed this area," said Kisle Ber. "But I can still feel the Princess' presence. It doesn't seem to be moving away anymore. How far she is, I cannot tell. Out of earshot probably, but that's only a guess."

"Better than nothing," said Deah Vole.

"Gerrand? Can you hear me?" asked Kisle Ber.

The sorcerer looked at Kisle Ber. "Who are you?"

"Great!" cried Deah Vole. "This is the last thing we need."

"What is the first thing?" asked Gerrand. "An old fool who failed to vanquish Macelan?"

"Gerrand! How could ask 'who are you' to me?" asked Kisle Ber.

Gerrand looked at Kisle Ber, and then shook his head. "For a moment I wasn't sure where I was. I had seen visions a moment before."

"It was Macelan," said Deah Vole. "He blasted this whole area with some kind of spell. Knocked us all off our feet."

"Hm. Doesn't seem like him," mused Gerrand. "But he may be desperate. Where is Faeya?"

"We don't know. She wasn't here when I found you and Deah checked the immediate area."

"No sign of her."

A sudden noise made them jump.

"It came from that way!" said Deah Vole.