The Reign Of Istar (35 page)

Michael stared in dismay at the broken trees, the trampled brush, the bodies of dead
goblins, who, wounded, had been left behind by their loutish comrades. Nikol roamed the
path, her gaze fixed on the ground, searching for any clue of her brother.

“My lady, if they did take him, what chance do you have of rescuing him? There must be ...
hundreds of them!” Michael waved his hand at the destruction.

“Then at least I will have the comfort of dying with him,” Nikol returned. Straightening,
she brushed her hair back out of her eyes. “You knew what we faced. I warned you this
morning.”

Michael didn't want to be reminded of the morning. The two had awakened, clasped in each
others arms. Confused and embarrassed, each of them kept the other well at a distance. He
meant to tell her, then, that he was leaving her, but somehow he couldn't find the words.

The silence between them grew uncomfortable. Undoubtedly she was thinking of this morning
as well.

“Nikol,” he began, longing to say what was in his heart.

She turned away from him hurriedly, began looking with self-conscious intensity back at
the ground.

“Have you ever known goblins to take hostages, Brother?” she asked him abruptly, putting,
he thought, a heavy emphasis on his title.

Michael sighed, shook his head tiredly. “No, I haven't. It takes a subtle mind to plot
exchanging hostages for ransom. Goblins think only of looting and killing.”

“Precisely. And yet they took Nicholas, stole him deliberately. They took him alone. They
didn't want anyone else. They killed poor old Giles. Why? Unless they were under orders to
capture Nicholas ...”

Her face was flushed with her new idea. She forgot the strained formality. “That's it,
Michael! The attack on the castle was a diversion to cover their real intent: capturing
Nicholas. Which means that someone wants him and that someone must want him alive!”

“Yes, my lady.” Michael agreed.

No need to tell her that her twin, if he was still alive, might well have good reason to
wish himself dead. A few hours fruitless searching and Nikol would be forced to admit
defeat. Then, perhaps, he could persuade her to take refuge in some neighboring manor,
while he himself prepared to leave....

“Michael!”

Her excited voice rang like silver in the still air. He hastened through the brush toward
her.

“Look! Look at this!” Nikol pointed to a splotch in the trampled grass. Blood. Red blood.
Human blood.

Before Michael could say a word, Nikol had dashed off, following a trail that broke from the main one. He hurried after her, not knowing
whether to give thanks or curse the gods that had put this sign in her way.

They came upon the clearing. Both stopped. Although the sun shone brightly, the evil that
lingered in the place covered it with a dark cloud. Nikol put her hand to the hilt of her
sword, but nerveless fingers slipped from it. Unconsciously, she reached out to Michael.
His hand closed over hers, and they drew close together, shivering in the chill, sunlit
darkness.

“Oh, Michael,” Nikol whispered brokenly, “where is he? What have they done to him? I - ”

She gave a cry. The large puddle of red blood glistened in the light. Near it lay the
bandage she had wrapped with her own hands around her brother's wound. Nikol covered her
face with her hands, slumped against Michael's chest. He put his arms around her, held her
shivering body close.

“My lady, we must go away from here.” Michael's love for her, his pity, was agony. “Let me
take you to Sir Thomas's manor. You will be safe - ”

“No!” Hastily, Nikol wiped her eyes, pushed herself away from his comforting embrace. “I
was weak for a moment. This dreadful place ...” She looked around, shuddered. “But
Nicholas isn't here. His body isn't here,” she continued, her tone grim, resolute.
“They've taken him off somewhere. He's still alive. I know he's alive!”

She began searching the clearing. It did not take her long to find the tracks left by the
wheels of the cart, or the spoor of blood that led to it. She followed the signs;

Michael followed her. Both found the opening burned into the forest, the opening of
darkness. They stopped, stared at it, blood chilling in their veins.

“I think this is what it must be like to gaze into the Abyss,” said Michael in awe.

Nikol's face was ashen, her eyes wide and terrified. She stood close to him, and he could
feel her body tremble beneath the armor. “I can't go in there....”

Wind moaned in the tops of the blackened trees, a cry of pain, as if the trees were
screaming. And then Michael realized, with a thrill of horror, that the cry came from a
human throat. He hoped against hope that Nikol had not heard.

“Come, my lady, let us go away from this evil place - ”

“Nicholas!” Nikol called out in anguish. “I hear you! We're coming!” She took a step
forward, into the noisome shadows.

Michael caught hold of her. “Nikol, you can't!”

She struck at him, hard, shoved him back. “I'm going. And so are you, you coward!” Her
hand closed over his wrist with a grip of iron. “You will heal him - ”

“I can't!” Michael cried savagely. “Look! Look!” He yanked the holy symbol from its hiding
place beneath his robes, held it up for Nikol to see. “It's dark, as dark as that path
before us. Do you know what that means? The goddess has turned away from me. She won't
answer my prayers. Even if we did find Nicholas, I could do nothing for him.”

Nikol stared at him, not comprehending. “But ... how? How could the goddess abandon you?”

Because I abandoned the goddess! I did it for you, for you and Nicholas! Michael wanted to
shout at her, vent his frustration, his fear and anger - anger at her, anger at the
gods....

He shivered suddenly. He shouldn't be angry. That was wrong. The faithful were never
angry, never questioned. Again, he'd been found lacking.

“I can't explain,” Michael said tiredly. “The matter is between myself and my god. But,
now, you must come away from this place. As you see, there's nothing we can do....”

Nikol let go of him, as she might have tossed away a piece of rubbish.

“Thank you for accompanying me this far.” Her voice was cold, bitter with disappointment.
“You needn't go on with me. This place holds far more danger for you than for me, for now
it appears that you are defenseless against its evil. Farewell, Brother - ! mean, Michael.”

She turned and walked, with firm step, into the fearsome, fire-ravaged forest. The shadows
surrounded her instantly. He lost sight of her, could not even see a glint of her armor.

Michael stood shivering on the outskirts of the blackened woods. Mishakal's words,
forgotten until now, came back. to him suddenly, as if spoken for this very time, this
very place. IF YOU LACK FAITH, IF YOU STAY AND INTERFERE, YOU RUN THE RISK OF DOOMING YOURSELF, THE WOMAN, AND THE WORLD TO A TERRIBLE FATE!

HE had stayed. He had interfered. He had helped bring this evil upon her, upon himself,
perhaps upon the world!

“I should have faith,” he counseled himself. “If I did, I'd let her go. Paladine is with
her. Love armors her. She will only lose her life. I might lose my soul! I should turn
away, seek the Lost Citadel, beg the goddess to forgive me. I have only until tonight to
find it, to retrieve my faith....”

He did turn away. He turned his back on the dark and fearsome woods into which she had
vanished. He took a step away from her and then another. And then, he stopped.

He could not leave her. He could not leave her to die alone, in pain and in terror.
Although it would cost him his soul, he would go with her, be with her until the end.

Until doom fell upon them ... and the world. Part VI Michael was blind. Darkness, thick and suffocating, fell over his sight the moment he
entered the fearsome woods. His loss of vision was utter and instantaneous. He could see
nothing - not vague shadowy outlines, not movement. He could see neither the shine of
Nikol's armor nor the sheen of her golden hair. So strange and terrifying was his sudden
blindness that he involuntarily put his hand to his eyes. It seemed to him that they must
have been plucked out.

“Michael?” Nikol was frightened. “Michael... is that you? Michael, I can't see!”

“I'm here,” he said.

He tried to sound reassuring, but he choked on the words. Yes, he was here. A lot of good
it would do her, do either of them. He reached out with groping hands toward the sound of
her voice, the silvery jingle of the buckles on her armor. “I ... can't see either, my
lady.”

He paused, blinked. Suddenly, he could see. He could see the way out, the way back. He
could see the hot sunlight shining in the clearing, see the ruts left by the wagon wheels
leading into these woods. He gasped aloud in thankfulness. He had feared, for a moment,
that his sight had been stolen from him forever.

“What is it, Michael?” Nikol heard him, caught hold of his hand. “Turn around, my lady,” he said, guiding her. She did so, slowly, feet shuffling
in the charred undergrowth and ashes. Her eyes widened, she clasped his hand tightly.

“I was so afraid!” She breathed, shifted to look at him. Her smile slowly faded. “I can't
see you!” She moved her head around. “I can't see anything ahead of me....”

“We can see the way out - ” “But I don't want to go out!” she cried angrily. “I - ” The
sound of the scream came again, but it sounded farther away, came from deeper within the wood. They could hear a horse's hooves and the
rattle of a cart being driven at a slow pace over uneven ground. Letting go of Michael's
hand, Nikol ran forward.

“Nikol! Come back - ”

He heard her running footsteps, then heard her stumble, fall, heard the sound of angry,
frustrated sobbing. He made his way toward her, fumbling through the terrifying darkness
that seemed to become darker the farther into it he ventured. He almost fell over her,
knelt beside her.

“Are you hurt?”

“Leave me alone!” Nikol started to get to her feet. “I'm going after him.”

He lost patience. “Nikol, be reasonable. It's hopeless! Even if you could see, could you
keep up with a cart on foot? You can't find the trail! You can't see what obstacles or
dangers lie in your path. You could step off a cliff, fall into a chasm - ”

“I will not abandon him. I will go after him if I have to crawl!”

He felt her, so near him, turn. He knew she was looking back the way they'd come. He
turned as well. Never had sunlight looked so bright or so beautiful. The clearing, which
had seemed a place of terror before, was now a haven of peace and safety.

Thus do we take our blessings for granted, until they are gone, he thought in bitter
sadness, putting his hand to the symbol of Mishakal that lay, a heavy burden, on his chest.

“What is causing this?” Nikol demanded in frustration. “What evil has created this
darkness?”

“Nuitari,” answered a soft and whispering voice, “god of the unseen. You walk in the light
of the dark moon.”

“Who is it?” Nikol was on her feet. Michael heard the ring of steel. She had drawn her
sword. “Who is there?”

“Your weapon is useless, Sir Knight.” The voice was heavily ironic. “I've been sitting
here, watching you two bumble about for the last ten minutes. I could have slain you both
twice over before now.”

Michael stood, grasped Nikol's sword arm. He could feel her trembling in frustration and
fear. She shoved him away, swung the sword in front of her wildly, more to relieve her own
sense of helplessness than in hope in hitting anything. He heard the blade whistle
harmlessly through the air.

The unseen watcher began to laugh, a laugh that caught suddenly in his throat, changed to
a racking cough. After long moments, the coughing spasm ceased. Michael heard a ragged,
indrawn breath.

“My lady,” Michael counseled, reaching for her, finding her arm, holding it firmly. “If
this person has watched us, as he claims, then he must be able to see.”

“That is true,” said Nikol, lowering her sword. “Can you see?”

“I can,” answered the voice calmly. “To those of us who walk in Nuitari's night, this wood
is lit as brightly as the day. For you, it will grow ever darker with each step you take.
But, perhaps you have wandered in here by accident. I suggest you leave, while you can
still find the way out.”

“If you have been watching us, as you say, you know that we did not enter this wood by
accident,” said Nikol coolly. She had turned in the direction of the voice, her sword
still in her hand, her guard raised. “Someone has been taken into this wood, someone dear
to us. We have reason to believe he is being held captive by goblins.”

“A young man?” asked the voice. “Comely, well made, with a grievous wound in his side? He
is wrapped in bloody bandages....”

“Yes,” said Nikol softly, her hand closing over Michael's, holding him tightly for
support. “Yes! That is my brother. You've seen him?”

“I have. And I offer you this counsel. Turn back. There is nothing you can do for him. He
is a dead man. You will die yourselves. Nothing you can do will save him. Isn't that true, Revered Son of Mishakal?”
The voice seemed to sneer.

“I am not a Revered Son,” answered Michael quietly, “only a humble brother.”

“Not even that, seemingly,” said the voice.

Michael felt eyes staring at him, strange eyes that he swore he could almost see, eyes
like hourglasses. Selfconsciously, the healer put his hand over the medallion on his
chest, thrust it hastily beneath his robes.

“Let him alone,” Nikol retorted angrily. “He has no reason to be here, not as I do. He
comes with me not out of love, but out of loyalty.”

“Is that so?” Michael could see the hourglass eyes laughing at him. “So you come in here
for your brother, Sir Knight?” the voice continued, soft, hissing. “Give him up. You can do nothing for him except die with
him.”

Nikol spoke steadily. “Then I will do so. I could not live without him. We are twins, you
see - ”