Black Kerthon's Doom (15 page)

"Thanks," said Serada, rolling his eyes. "I'll sleep easy tonight."

"Should we have our weapons ready?" asked Mira.

"Not against the witch," said Brice. "It would be of no use and might only anger her."

They settled down to sleep; Brice would take the first watch. The night wasn't cold and Gareth was glad not to risk a fire with the soldiers around. Brice was happy about it too, but for a different reason.

Serada would have the third watch and he eagerly lay down to sleep. At first, his body ached too much to relax and he tried counting backward, sheep, and anything that came to mind. Finally, he was able to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Then he was awakened by Mira's nudge. It was his watch already.

The night passed slowly for Serada on his watch. The forest was eerie with the greenish moonlight casting long shadows upon the sleepers. The trees were tall and close together, reaching out to each other, making the forest difficult to travel through. It was difficult to see very far beyond the path and the shadows seemed to sway although there was no wind. Mists rose several yards from the camp surrounding them, chilling them. He felt he was being watched and he was constantly turning around to look in each direction. Everything moved yet nothing did. He was nervous at the silence and jumped when he heard the singing.

It was slow and melodious and the range was beyond human ability. The voice was female. It was a cheery voice and made Serada smile. The song was a silly song and he couldn't catch all the words. He saw the dark shape of the singer appear from behind a tree. The shape was slender, black, and lacking details. He did not know what it was, but it had to be Neheva. He walked toward her as she sung and he tripped over Brice who was on his feet in a moment, sword in hand. He whistled and the entire camp awoke.

"Who are you?" asked Gareth. The singing stopped. It was very still in the woods. They stood in a half circle around the witch.

"Who are you?" he asked again. "Are you Neheva?"

"Who speaks my name?" The voice was small and gentle. Perhaps a young girl. "Why are you in my woods?" The voice was harsher now.

"We flee the soldiers. We seek safety."

"What is that to me?" The voice was cold. "Go, leave me in peace. I have no need of company."

"Can we just stay until sunrise? I promise we will leave then."

"You promise? Is it a promise you can keep? Do you speak for all your friends, Gareth?"

"I do. How do you know my name?"

"I am Neheva. Your thoughts are open to me." She came forward.

She appeared younger than Daura and her skin was pale white and her hair black as night. Her eyes were dark and her nose long and narrow. Neheva looked at each member closely, ignoring the warding signs made by some and the blush of others. Each person reacted in some small way to her gaze. She beckoned to Serada with long fingers with sharp pointed nails.

"You. Come speak with me. If you are to stay then I wish company. Come."

"Don't go!" cried Brice as he grabbed Serada's arm.

"I don't want to go crazy!" cried Serada who hid behind Brice.

"Do not be foolish," said Neheva. She raised her hand and Brice was stuck dumb. Daura ran to him. He shook his head to clear it but seemed fine otherwise. Neheva gestured and Serada could not resist her and walked to her side.

"I do not intend to harm your friend. I merely wish to know what he knows. If you have been truthful with me, then no harm shall come to you and you will leave with the sun and remember nothing of our meeting."

They watched as the witch withdrew and Serada followed her. Gareth started after them but they outdistanced him although he was running and they appeared to walk. Their silhouettes faded to the forest green and disappeared.

"What? Where are they? They were right in front of me."

"We can't follow them now," said Mira. "Let's rest and wait for morning. She said we would be able to leave."

"And remember nothing," said Daura. "I don't like the sound of that. What if she erases more than that memory."

"Don't worry about it," said Mira. "We can't do anything about it."

"We must find Serada," said Gareth. "I won't leave without him."

"Grown rather fond of him, haven't you?" asked Mira.

"I can't afford to lose any more soldiers."

No one spoke for the rest of the night and only a few could find sleep. Brice stood watch and Gareth paced. Mira thought to look for berries or anything that could pass for food but when she tasted what she thought were blackberries she spit out the bitter acid tasting berry and declined to sample anymore. She felt a little dizzy, sat down, and put her head between her knees. She soon felt better.

Just before dawn, Serada returned alone. His face was white and he moved slowly. He did not speak and did not meet anyone's eyes. Daura gave him a drink of water and he sighed. Brice gave him some wine and the color returned to his face.

"What happened?" asked Brice.

"I'd rather not say," replied Serada. His voice was weak.

"Did she hurt you?" asked Mira. "Are you okay?"

"I think so. I don't remember everything and what I think I remember, well, I'd rather not say."

"Do we get to move on?" asked Gareth.

"Yes, you do." They turned to see a young woman, dressed in black standing in the sunlight. Her face was pale but her cheeks were rosy and her blue eyes twinkled. "And I am coming with you."

"Neheva?" asked Gareth.

"Don't you recognize me, Gareth?"

"Actually, no."

"The night throws shadows on everything. Did I look foreboding and evil?" Her voice was merry and musical.

"I don't know what to say."

"Why do you want to come with us?" asked Mira. "You had no such inclination last night."

"That is true. But there is so much of the world that I have not seen. And my home will remain. No one will bother it. In fact, the years are long since anyone came of their own free will. Perhaps I need a change."

"I'm not sure I would like that," said Gareth.

"The choice is not yours. You have no power over me." She gave him a knowing look as if tempting him.

Gareth muttered to himself and cursed magic in all its forms. Why couldn't every strife be settled by a battle of wits. Magic has no place in this world, he thought. It had brought nothing but trouble and corruption.

"Did you always look as you do?" asked Gareth.

"And how should I look?"

"I meant no offense. But do you age?"

"What is age? I exist. If you ask if time changes me as it does yourselves, I would say no. Time does not wait for me or me for it. I have my own business to attend. You will never see me old and ancient, of that you can be sure. The trees in the forest will pass before I age."

"Will you help us against the soldiers?"

"Gareth, I am not coming as a soldier. Even you may not conscript me. I am merely going to observe. You must make your own decisions. I am not a part of your world. Mine is an older world where wars have no meaning and pride has no place."

"Where do we go?" asked Brice.

"We must cross the river again and head west towards our camp, then south in the wake of the Calendian army. I want to follow them to Nantitet, perhaps kill a few on the way. There is nothing left but to enter Nantitet and wage small warfare within the castle itself. There are many tunnels and hidden rooms. We should be able to be effective."

He looked at his comrades.

"It is difficult to reconcile myself to such actions. I hoped to fight the High King face to face on the battlefield, not sneak around in darkness like thieves."

"Life is full of surprises," said Neheva. "Perhaps you will get your wish in some form. But you must be content to take what is given you."

Gareth snorted and walked away.

They gathered their gear and began to head west out of the tangled forest. Neheva followed the rebels and many turned to look at her as they walked. It was either fear or curiosity, which made them look, but Neheva returned each glance with a smile.

They walked out of the woods and found the trail they had used coming down from the mountains. Their path took them near the river and the river flowed fast. Gareth thought how much quicker their journey would be if they could cross the river now, rather than wait until they were further south. The threat of soldiers would be stronger the closer they came to Rhath.

There was a low bank where the trees drew close to the water. Tied to one tree was a raft. Gareth saw it first and stopped.

"We passed here," said Brice. "Why didn't we see this?" He looked at the witch, who just smiled.

"If it's sturdy, let's use it," said Gareth. "No sense getting wet."

It was stout and carried six at a time. Neheva followed with the last group and became ill. Brice looked at Gareth with a knowing expression. The witch cannot cross water. Some of the old wives' tales were true.

They made good progress and stopped for a late lunch, then pushed on again until nightfall. They camped in the open under the stars and chanced a fire. It was several miles to where the Calendian army had camped so they felt safe. Still, it was a small fire.

Gareth wanted to talk to Neheva but when he looked at her, his mouth dropped. Her skin was white again and her eyes took on the darkness of the night. She seemed taller and her face was more angular. There was no mirth in that face. No one sat near her.

"You wished to speak to me?" she asked in a harsh voice.

"You change with the coming of darkness."

"Is that what you wished to say?"

"No. We are getting near the tower. I was wondering what your thoughts were on it."

"I have been there, but it was complete then. And he was there in flesh. He is still there I think. But the flesh has long rotted."

"Is he as evil as legends say?"

"What is evil? I cannot judge by your standards, I am not human. Neither was he. He was powerful and willful. I do not know what he is now."

"When we pass by we hear the wind call to us and his name is carried in the air."

"A simple trick. Perhaps that's all the power that remains to him. Could we go there? Is it out of our way?"

"Not entirely. But it is perilous for us."

"Camp nearby and I shall visit the ruins alone."

"Will you return?"

"That is a strange question." Her dark eyes pierced Gareth. "Do you want me to? Or are you too happy to have me gone?"

"Good or ill, I don't know what you will mean to us. I must fight the High King or die trying. Any help I receive will be appreciated, but I don't need any more setbacks."

"Of course not. Who would? I will do what I will do. I promise nothing other than that."

When Macelan awoke, he saw the damp stone wall and the corridor leading to the room where he had found Daura. He tried to call out but his voice was hoarse. He got to his feet and walked around the courtyard. There were no other footprints but his own, and those were only from the spot he had been laying. It was as if he had flown to the courtyard. How had he reached the tower?

Then he remembered the voices in the wind and the dark shape that had towered over him. The icy cold hands that grabbed and the eerie voice that penetrated his mind and told him to sleep. His dreams had been dark, full of evil shapes and cries of terror and of a long bony hand reaching for his throat. He reached for his throat unconsciously and shuddered. The blackness around him appeared thick enough to touch. He thought he heard movement, his hair standing on end. He reached for the weapon he didn't have and slid toward a wall, placing it firmly at his back.

"So, you are awake." The voice was deep and seemed to rise up from the ground.

Time passed.

"I am. Who are you? And where are you?"

"You have heard my name. And I am here. My name is Scithers. My shape is not as definite as your own. Also the sun shreds my shape into slight patches unrecognizable by your eyes."

"What do you want?"

Pause.

"That is a question I could not answer in your lifetime. Be content that you live and naught worse shall come to you. Although there are some who say that living is the greatest curse of all."

"How did I get here?"

"I brought you on the wind. I have need of your service."

"My service? What can I do?"

The only sound was the wind. Macelan almost believed he was alone.

"You can be my eyes and ears. You can tell me what I want to know. I cannot move freely by daylight yet and much happens that is important to me."

"I don't understand why you picked me?" Macelan kept looking around to find the speaker but the voice did not come from the same place each time. He felt a chill and shivered. Suddenly there was a small fire before him. He did not ask questions but reached out his hands to the warming fire. It was real. He felt faint. The Sorcerer lives and Macelan must help him. He tried to push the thoughts away.

"You are not necessary to the rebellion, you are not necessary to your town. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. You are in some small way descended from my master. I can make you great or I can crush you with a thought. But I do not wish to frighten you, nor do I wish to force you to help me. I need your help. Will you help me?"

Make you great, he said. Macelan could have everything he wanted. Respect. Daura. Revenge against Gareth for abandoning him to the Amogrihens? Again, he battled against the temptations laid before him. Eternal wealth and damnation or death.

"No." He felt intense relief. But it was brief.

The winds howled and some of the stones toppled from the ruined walls. Macelan covered his ears and crouched into a ball. He felt debris hitting him and a few large pieces nearly knocked the wind out of him. He crawled along the damp dirt to the corridor and tried to enter the guardroom but there was a monstrous shape in the doorway. It came forward and he could feel the decayed evil sinking through his skin.

"You will help me!"

Macelan felt a terrific pain in his shoulder and saw a bony black hand squeezing it. The pain shot into his head and he saw the dark things hidden from the world. There were creatures never seen by man and there was evil. A large winged figure grinned at him and brushed his face with its claw. The evil left a foul taste in his mouth that would not pass, he saw into the pit that was the mind of Kerthon, and he remembered no more.