First Rider's Call (71 page)

Laren couldn’t believe the devastation as they rode into the encampment at the D’Yer wall. Entire stands of forest had been toppled as if a giant’s hand had swept through it. Whole trees had been uprooted, some splintered to the size of tinder. Boulders, unmoved since the days of the great ice, had been rolled aside leaving gaping craters where they once rested.

When the wind turned toward them, they gagged on the stench of carrion. Even the wildlife had been unable to escape the catastrophe. Vultures circled overhead.

The downed forest opened up views of the wall, and her Riders were silent as they took it in. Laren hadn’t looked upon it in many a year, and even then, only at a distance. The sun glowed warmly on it, making it at once innocuous and magnificent.

Spoiling the effect was the breach, an imperfection that looked as if a god had reached down and ripped out a chunk of wall. Gray mist billowed through the wound over smashed rock and debris. The repaired section had not held during the destruction.

From the look of things, the power must have funneled right through it. She dared not think what would have happened if the rest of the wall hadn’t been standing to shield the countryside.

At the encampment itself, they were greeted by a fresh row of graves. Too many graves. Laren nudged Bluebird toward the wall, where soldiers stood guard. One broke off a conversation and started toward her. She met him halfway.

The soldier saluted. “Captain.”

“Corporal.”

“Corporal Hanson, ma’am.”

Laren nodded her acknowledgment.

“We are glad to see you,” Hanson said, “but we were hoping for a larger force. The soldiers here, they need relief.”

“We are here on reconnaissance, Corporal. We’ve had no word from the wall in quite a while.”

“Oh.” The corporal looked disappointed. “We sent a man up some time ago, first to Lord D’Yer, then to the king.” He did not speculate over what might have become of the messenger.

Laren swung off Bluebird, her Riders following her lead. “Tell me, Corporal, what is your situation? Who’s in command?”

“Captain Reems, ma’am. He was injured. I’ll see that he’s awakened and—”

“No, no. Don’t wake him. Surely you can brief me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hanson spoke of great whirlwinds crashing through the breach, slashing through the encampment and forest. It was miraculous, he said, that anyone survived. Those who stood directly in the path of the fury had been stripped of their flesh.

They had spent most of their time since then trying to take account of the living and dead. One soldier emerged alive from beneath the rubble of the wall’s repaired section, while others had been impaled by splinters that had once been trees.

“We’ve also doubled our watch on the breach,” the corporal explained. “The creatures within, they want out. We killed some half a dozen ’mites. They know the wall has weakened, and that we have, too.”

“My Riders and I will help as we can,” Laren said, “and I’ll send one directly to the king with the news.”

Laren was about to pass on the assignment to Dale when a shout went up near the breach. The guards stood with crossbows cocked and aimed at a figure that stepped through it and over the rubble. Mist curled around him, veiling his features at first, then ebbing away. She froze, startled to the bone.

“Lord Alton!” Corporal Hanson cried. “It’s Lord Alton!”

Karigan experienced few moments of clarity. She had ridden much of the day in the dimness of his touch and call. Though she rode beside her fellow Riders, they could have been a million miles away. She was an island amid an expansive ocean. Isolated, except for
him.

He must have been distracted by other things during those rare moments of clarity. She knew his mind was churning with plans. Plans to carry out when the wall was felled. Plans to make the world his. Churning, churning, churning like a wagon wheel, he made plans, and discarded them, or stored them away for later use. He planned that she be one of his tools, but she never figured out why he chose
her.

When he was in her mind, he pried into her memories, feelings, attitudes, and layers of knowledge. The violation sickened her, made her feel more vulnerable. He went where he had no right to, into her innermost mind, laying it all naked—the loss of her mother, small moments of childhood, a birthday celebration for her father, her confusion over King Zachary . . .

All she could do was issue a mental whimper when he probed her. She possessed no skill or weapon to stave off such an attack.

On occasion, he chose to be cruel for no other reason than it amused him. He planted images in her mind, of those she knew and loved, the dearest people in her life. One by one he decapitated them, or flayed their flesh off their bodies. Mara was shown to be roasting on a spit over a fire. The captain was slashed from her neck to her belly, her intestines squirming out of the cut. Her father was thrown overboard a merchant ship into waters boiling with sharks, the sea turning foamy red around him as he screamed and thrashed.

To the image of King Zachary, he included her participation. He made her wield a sword and cut off his limbs. His dogs attacked him, feeding in a frenzy that turned their white coats scarlet.

Her mind screamed, but she could not force the scream to become a physical act, could not make it cross her lips. The images were so intense as to be real while she saw them.

He was controlling her, he was testing her, he was breaking her.

In a brief clear moment, she wondered what had happened to the little boy who played with toy sailboats in a fountain, the young adventurer who set off on dozens of quests. Her wondering was met with quizzical silence. And a clearing of the mist. He departed again to carry out plans.

Through the evaporating mist, she became aware of her physical surroundings. She saw the wall for the first time in her life. The wall that contained Blackveil Forest; the wall that was supposed to contain
him.

“Help me,” she whispered, but no one heard her. There was some excitement occurring near the wall. “Help . . .” Why couldn’t her friends hear? Why wouldn’t they help her?

It was the voice of Lil Ambrioth.

The world reeled as Karigan looked around, and she stumbled against Condor’s shoulder. He nickered at her. Her mind had been so caught up in webs and images that she could not find equilibrium. She could see nothing of Lil but a pale pair of eyes gazing at her.

You must block him out,
Lil said.

“I—I can’t. He’s too powerful.”

“Please help me.”

Lil’s words angered Karigan. “You’re the First Rider—you have to know!”

Ghost eyes blinked.
The First Rider I may be, all-knowing I am not. That power is reserved for the gods alone.

“Help me . . .” Karigan’s anger dissipated into desperation. “He’ll return.”

Wild magic roiled in Karigan’s arm. She imagined it to be some hungry, insatiable beast that would feed on her life and energy till nothing was left. It allowed him to control her. If only she could flee and hide, but where could she hide?

The fog that clouded her mind continued to break, letting in sunshine. She felt lighter than she had in a while. Lighter, more aware, and more able to think.

Wild magic had done more than allowed Mornhavon to control her. Maybe, she thought, it wasn’t a matter of hiding
where,
but
when.

Because of the wild magic, she had traveled into the past, and forward into the future. And, if she were to have a “future,” she would have to take a stand now.

She absently stroked Condor’s neck as she considered the madness of her thoughts. Abruptly she gazed into Lil Ambrioth’s eyes.

“There is something we can try, but I’ll need your help.”

Karigan told Lil her plan. When she finished, Lil’s eyes blurred from side to side as though she were shaking her head.

During my day,
she said,
I was called insane by many for my actions. This is easily more insane than anything I ever did.

“It won’t work without you,” Karigan said. Part of her hoped Lil would refuse, but she knew it must be done.
Something
had to be done.

“Our brooch should hold us together.”

“Karigan,” Dale called, “what are you standing over there for? Come see Alton!”

“Alton?” Karigan turned away from Lil in surprise. When she saw him, she didn’t know whether to jump for joy, or to run and give him a hug.

She trotted toward where he stood at the breach, then stumbled to a halt. She took in his familiar form, the brown head of hair, the beard that had started to grow on his strong chin. He was woefully thin. When he saw her coming, he smiled.

Maybe it was tears of joy blurring her vision, but she couldn’t quite make out his features clearly. And his smile . . . There was something wrong with it. It lacked his easy-going humor. It was dead.

Past, present, future.
Memory.
Memory of Lil facing Hadriax el Fex at the base of Watch Hill, only it hadn’t been el Fex. Memory of illusion.

Her saber rang as it cleared its sheath, and she ran screaming at the illusion of Alton D’Yer. The Riders around her reacted slowly at first, shocked by her drawn saber, shocked by her scream. Then real time resumed.

“She means to kill him!” Dale.

She charged past Dale and Captain Mapstone, raising her sword as she went. Even the illusion appeared surprised. She ran until a giant in green knocked her sprawling to the ground, her breath whooshing from her lungs. Ty snatched her sword from her hand and the giant lifted her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her so she could hardly move.

“Let me go, Garth!” She squirmed violently, but he held her firmly against himself.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “That’s Alton, your friend—remember?”

Oh yes, she remembered.

“Not my friend,” she said, “illusion!”

“—been acting odd of late,” Ty said of her, and there was general agreement among the Riders.

“
Not
Alton—the wraith!”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.” The voice was Alton’s, but the intelligence behind it was not. “I thought she cared for me.”

Karigan recognized the taint of Mornhavon in the illusion, and now she knew why he had left her, so he could attend to this illusion. It was he who had given Varadgrim the appearance of Hadriax el Fex a thousand years ago, it was he who gave him Alton’s form now.

Captain Mapstone stood before her, full of concern. “Karigan?”

“It’s a trap—the wraith—not Alton!”

Garth was strong, but Karigan had trained with Arms Master Drent and learned how to bring a strong man down. An elbow to the gut, a heel to his instep. She twisted her leg behind his and shoved him off balance. Down he went like a massive tree.

Karigan ripped her saber from Ty’s grasp and held it before her to stave off her fellow Riders, her friends. They put their hands to the hilts of their own swords, and she could only guess what was going through their minds.
Yes,
they would be thinking,
Karigan has finally gone mad.
She wasn’t sure they were far off the mark.

It wasn’t her friends she wanted to engage, however. Her focus was the mind behind the illusion, and the only way to get him to do what she needed him to do was to goad him. Goad him as he had goaded her. She tried to push back her fear.

“A paltry illusion,” she shouted at Varadgrim. “The captain knows the truth of my words.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the captain quickly assess her. Then the captain ordered the Riders to arm themselves. The swords, however, were held toward Varadgrim, not Karigan.

Her relief was minor, considering the magnitude of what she was attempting to do. “You are not as powerful as you think,” she told Mornhavon.

“Girl, I could pick up a boulder and drop it upon you.” It was revolting to hear the words spoken with Alton’s voice. “I have seen in your mind your revulsion at the things that could be done to those you hold dear. Those things I could make reality.”

Bile rose up in her throat, but she must not let the fear overtake her. “I don’t think so. You are so weak you must use others to do your bidding.”

He laughed. The illusion around Varadgrim dissolved, and Karigan prepared herself for what she thought would happen next, but it didn’t.

Garth was suddenly after her, swinging his sword. By the bewildered look in his eyes, Karigan knew Mornhavon had seized control of him. Karigan blocked his blows.

“You’ll have to do better!” she cried, and she ran away from Garth; she ran for the breach, away from the Riders, and right past Varadgrim.