The Lords of Anavar (19 page)

Artus felt the sweat bead on his face and his hands trembled. It was so difficult to stay focused. It was far too easy to give in - but he would not, he could not.

Artus tried to ignore Wolk and think of how he could help Faeya Ryr and Deah Vole. The cave was layered with spells designed to test them and analyze their skills. If they could face down their inner demons and emerge with their sanity, then Wolk would know their true power and tailor an attack based upon that. Not that Wolk seemed lacking for power, but Artus thought Wolk to be searching for something or someone.

Now Artus had a problem; how to save his friends. Would that he could speak with Gerrand. Artus closed his eyes and concentrated on the old sorcerer, saying his name over and over and over. Wolk noticed the expression on Artus' face, but he had thoughts of his own to consider.

Artus thought he heard a small voice and a glimmer of pale blue light in his head. The words were too faint, but he knew it was Gerrand, somehow he knew it was Gerrand.

He pretended to doze and soon Wolk left him. The sorcerer's mind focused on the torment in the cave. Artus wanted to stop him, but it took all his strength just to listen to Gerrand. He relaxed his mind, allowing Gerrand to sift through the information and hoped Gerrand could decipher it. The cool blue waves overwhelmed him and he slept.

"I contacted Artus," said Gerrand. He let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead.

"Is he okay?" asked Hile Berbac.

Gerrand nodded.

"He's shielded by some spell of Wolk's but I found a small gap to exploit. He seems fine although he feels he has betrayed us."

"How? Are we in danger?"

"No immediate danger. He is working with Wolk under false pretenses but feels himself drifting toward Wolk's control. Then Wolk will find out everything he knows. Somehow he held back a part of him, shielded from Wolk. I did not expect Artus to be so strong. It is fortunate."

"Poor kid. He had no choice. Will the others get to him in time?"

"That is a problem. Apparently Doad Bess is dead and Deah Vole and Faeya Ryr are trapped in some cave. The archers are nowhere to be seen, although Artus has heard screams coming from Wolk's cave. I cannot say who may reach him and when it may happen. No, Artus is in serious trouble and we cannot help him unless we abandon our quest, which we cannot.

"Now, I learned of a major development. Artus followed Wolk to another cave, a small opening where he had to crawl. Inside, he heard Wolk talking to someone and the voice terrified Artus despite not hearing the words clearly."

"Macelan?"

"That is what Artus believed and I agree with him. When we finish with Gharom we must move quickly to seal that cave forever, even before we go to Artus' aid. He has done great service, but may pay dearly. However, we shall demand retribution for Artus' suffering." Gerrand's eyes gleamed. He envisioned his reunion with Macelan. This time, there will be closure.

"Poor Doad," said Hile Berbac. "He just wanted to study magic."

They would reach Jespin by dusk. Gerrand knew what he wanted to do at the palace. He remembered the pathways to reach High Lord Gharom's quarters without the guards' knowledge. He heard rumor of an animal guarding Gharom and would be cautious. Gerrand did not doubt that the animal was a gift from Wolk. He wondered what it was and where Wolk found it.

As they neared the city it proved difficult to keep out of sight. The road became heavily traveled and the lands along the road were farmed and populated. They had to walk blithely down the road to the gate. The guards watched everyone but stopped no one. Gerrand did not hesitate and walked through without glancing at either guard. Berbac followed behind him. The streets were crowded with people and carts. The two Mages dodged the carts as they snaked their way into the center of town. Hile Berbac stopped in front of a bakery, but Gerrand pulled him away before he could sate his hunger. Gerrand headed directly for a tavern Deah Vole told him about. It was four blocks from the gate, its sign drooping on its last hinge. The "Red Dragon" was dark and smoky inside and the patrons crowded near a table in a corner. A tall man spoke and those around him leaned toward him to listen to what he said. No one noticed the newcomers.

Gerrand walked up to the barman and tapped him on the shoulder. The man stood a head taller than Gerrand and had broad shoulders although his waist appeared to be catching up. His beard was streaked with grey but trimmed neat. His eyes scanned both men in an instant. Then he grinned.

"Easy there, grandpa. What do you want? Been a while since you ate?"

"I seek a man called Skellen."

"You don't say. I am Skellen. I don't know you."

"Deah Vole told me I could trust you."

The man quickly scanned the room, and then focused on Gerrand. "Well, that's different. Deah can trust me, but I don't know about you, or your companion. What's your name?"

"Gerrand," Gerrand whispered. He looked deeply in Skellen's eyes. The man's eyes widened as Gerrand sent images of their peril to him.

The barman stood up straight and nervously looked around.

"You don't say. How 'bout that? Well, I do have a private room. Right this way. I'll bring beer and bread straight away. Stew will follow shortly after."

The room was bare but unlike the main room, the chairs had cushions. A lone candle lighted the room. Gerrand thought the room used more for nobles and their women than a business room. Gerrand and Berbac barely sat down before Skellen entered behind them with the bread and three mugs of beer. He shut the door.

"You are welcome, Gerrand. I am honored. Your companion.."

"Hile Berbac."

"He's welcome too. How is Deah? I heard the High Lord issued orders to arrest him. Doesn't sit well with most of the guard. A few of them drink here regular. I hear things. Deah Vole is a popular man among the common soldiers."

"He's a little weathered, but otherwise fine. He is presently occupied on an errand for me and out of the reach of Gharom. What is Gharom's standing with the people of Curesia?"

"No one would miss him, including me, if that's what you mean."

"It is exactly what I mean. We shall only spend the night and then be gone, but I will leave a token, this stone, upon your bar when we leave. If it is still there by tomorrow eve, then my mission has failed. Then you must warn the Mage's Council. Will you do that?"

"If I am able, I shall. But I am just an innkeeper. What can I do against your enemies?"

"Skellen, if I remember correctly, Mekor was the Captain of the Guard for High Lord Peveal, was he not? And did he not teach his son, Nairkor, to be the greatest swordsman in Curesia? Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but after Mekor was betrayed by Gharom during the latter's rise to power Nairkor disappeared. Where do you suppose he is now? Tending a bar perhaps?"

Skellen's face paled. He took a long pull from his beer. His shoulders sagged and he smiled sadly. There was a knock on the door and a serving girl delivered their bowls of stew and left swiftly.

"Deah once told me that if I ever met you that my disguise would be worthless. I should have posted a sentry to warn me if you approached the tavern. Yes, I am Nairkor. I could not remain in Gharom's service after what he did, but I could not abandon Curesia. If your path is against Gharom, you have my help."

"Good. Your father's blood runs true in you."

"Kind of you to say so, but I believe my father would have avenged his father's betrayal."

"Who is to say how soon such a vengeance must be carried out? I can think of several instances where revenge waited for years before justice was meted out. You have merely bided your time."

"I wish it were so, and perhaps it will be so, but I cannot honestly say that it is how I planned it."

"Who is to know?"

"No one. No one. You are right there. But I wanted to say it to you so I don't have to say it again. Now, what can I do?"

"Send word to the Council if we do not return. We will enter the palace tonight."

"Beware the cat."

"Cat?"

"Siele. She's a huge Catar from the mountains. I did not think their kind still survived. Gharom uses it for additional security. I've heard it killed two assassins and at least one lord at Gharom's command. I can't tell you anymore about it. Just watch out for it."

"We shall do that. I heard rumor of the cat, but found no information to enlighten me. In any case, we shall enter the palace tonight and ask Gharom to tell us of his plans. Then I propose to stop the muster of troops and the threat of war."

"War with Wierland is something we don't need. Most of the nobles are stirring up feelings at Gharom's command. Trying to talk to the regular folk about Wierland stealing our land. Don't they know most peasants and merchants don't care who's in charge as long as life goes on?"

"Doubtful. How often do nobles drink here?"

"Never," laughed Skellen.

"There's your answer. They have no idea what goes on outside of the court. Let us have your finest meal. I've a gold coin for it."

"Keep your money, Gerrand. The meal's on me."

"Free?"

"Well, perhaps if you could lay an enchantment on the beer barrels to improve their taste. A little too bitter for my customers. It comes from Wierland. I don't want a war started over my taproom."

Gerrand laughed. "Very well, Skellen. It shall be so."

The taproom had grown quiet by the time the back door opened. The interior light was shaded and two figures blended into the darkness of the alley. The door shut silently. It enjoyed better upkeep than the front door. Gerrand smiled in the shadows. Skellen had his own secrets. It proved the man had not given up to indifference.

The night air chilled them and a hard rain began to fall. Gerrand cursed and pulled his hood over his eyes and pulled his cloak tighter. There were few people out in the streets and they moved quickly, splashing in the growing puddles.

What guards that walked the streets Gerrand easily evaded. Gerrand's memory of the town proved correct. The palace loomed before them, dark and silent. A cold sentinel rooted in the center of town. Gerrand led Hile Berbac into the gardens on the south side of the building. He moved slowly, mindful of the absence of guards. That told him the cat prowled the area. He turned to give direction to Hile Berbac, but the Mage was gone. Gerrand looked around him and sent his power out to ward against attack. At once, he felt the impact of a heavy body on his magic shield and then he saw the cat. Siele crouched low watching his eyes. Fresh blood dripped from her mouth. Hile Berbac was dead. She jumped. Gerrand wrapped his power around the cat.

It jerked suddenly and with so much power, that Gerrand nearly lost his hold. For a moment, he was shocked, but then he knew the cat was a gift from Petyr Wolk to Gharom. It was wound with sorcery. Gerrand tried to estimate how much power the cat possessed, then shook the notion off. No half measures. He would proceed as if the cat was dangerous as Petyr Wolk.

Gerrand brought all his concentration to bear and increase the potency of his hold and squeezed it together. Tighter and tighter, his head began to throb. Still, the cat resisted. Finally, it winked out of existence and Gerrand stumbled to the ground, gasping for breath. Wolk never had such power. Macelan's hand was in this. Skellen said it was three years ago that Gharom received the cat. Three years ago, Macelan began to implement his plans. Three years! Gerrand's head spun. What should he do?

He went to Gharom first. He must finish what he started. He gestured toward a window that opened silently for him. He pulled his old body through, scraping his knee.

Gerrand found someone waiting in the darkened room. He moved into the shadows.

"You needn't hide, I can't see you anyway. I do not have Petyr Wolk's night vision. Who are you? I perceive you killed Siele. I cannot threaten you. Who are you?"

"I am Gerrand."

"Gerrand? You do exist? Wolk spoke your name with anger, but I merely thought him insane."

"I have come to stop your war. Or to be more precise; Wolk's war."

"Yes, Wolk's war. I'm afraid my vanity led me down a dark path."

"As it ever does, Gharom. You were led to this position and now what shall you do?"

"He will kill me, if I stop the war."

"I will do the same if you don't. The question is, who do you fear most?"

"You tell me. However, Lemmin Menn has his instructions and among those commands is one to ignore all further word from me until Wierland is burned to the ground. So you see, great Gerrand. I cannot do anything about the war now. I suppose Wolk foresaw this moment and kept me from having a change of heart. I have been used. I fancied myself a great leader but I am only a pawn. Can the taste be more bitter?"

"What will you do now?"

"Do? What can I do? All power to act has been stripped from me. I am adrift between two forces that would consume me. I know Wolk will kill me when he returns, I realize that now. To remain here is certain death and he will track me to the ends of the earth if I leave Jespin. My choices are no better with you. Are they?"

"I do not know. I must stop the war. Will you ride to Lemmin Menn and command him to return to Jespin?"

"I cannot. I know Wolk has me watched. If I leave the palace I will die." Gharom watched the night sky, then lifted a jeweled hilt dagger and ran his finger along the blade cutting it deeply.

"Well, you do have a problem. I will not say I am sorry. If you cannot help me, I shall leave."

Gerrand left, slamming the door behind him. He no longer cared if the guards discovered him. His power bristled around him, snapping and cracking against objects in the corridors.

Gerrand reached the tavern without incident and his mood not improved. He cursed and kicked the back door open, little caring who heard him. Skellen raced to the door and secured it. Gerrand sat in the side room. Skellen brought him a hot meal and ale.

"Hile Berbac?"

"Dead. The cat. I have been outfoxed. I can do nothing about the war. Wolk has foreseen my presence in Jespin. Lemmin Menn has irreversible orders. He is to ignore any orders until Wierland is burned to the ground."