The Lords of Anavar (26 page)

"Come, we have far to go. There is a hunting lodge several miles east. There I shall tell you many things, but we must hurry. I fear the night comes hard upon us."

"Gerrand, you have not said if I did well on my mission," said Artus. "I did as well as I could. Are you pleased?" He grinned and they saw he missed two teeth and the gums were dark.

"I am pleased," said Gerrand. "But we have to get you some place where you can heal. You haven't been eating well, and haven't seen much of the sun."

"You don't want to know what I've eaten. I am on the edge of my sanity, although I expect you guessed it. You didn't voice it, but I am the reason you do not want to attack Macelan. You are not sure what spells may be woven around me, or what I may do."

"There is some truth in your words."

"So you are not sure of me. Yet, you trusted me with so much knowledge. Did you expect Wolk to tear it out of me, is that why you gave it to me?"

"You needed the knowledge to survive, to understand what was being done to you. I did not have a choice if I wanted to see you again. Otherwise you would be serving Wolk as a slave too low for Macelan to notice. But you had too much knowledge on your own, so don't think you were subjected to anything special because of what I gave to you. No, Artus, you are formidable on your own. Especially now. Wolk alone could not withstand you. Macelan may have been speaking the truth."

Artus' head snapped up and he looked behind them.

"We are pursued."

Gerrand stared in the same direction. "Your senses are sharp, Artus. I fear Macelan has sent stalkers after us."

"Stalkers?" said Deah Vole. "No one has seen any for a couple hundred years."

"True. However, it was Macelan who created them. I should have guessed he would start over again."

"How far away are they?" asked Deah Vole.

"Five miles," said Gerrand and Artus together. Gerrand gave the young Mage a sour look.

"They will catch us before we've gone two miles," said Deah Vole. "Can you travel like Macelan?"

"I can, yes," said Gerrand. "But you cannot. I will not leave the three of you to Stalkers. Let us find shelter we can defend."

They followed Deah Vole up an incline to a rocky area. Once over the larger rocks the ground gave way and sloped steeply to a narrow ravine where a creek meandered over smooth stones. They splashed in the water following it downstream to hide their tracks. The water was icy cold and soon their teeth chattered.

Faeya Ryr found herself looking back to the edge of the ravine for the shaggy feline heads of the Stalkers. Once the creatures spotted them there would be no escape. The Stalkers had been bred for speed and no animal could outrun them. If they hunted in packs larger than four, it would be nearly impossible to escape them. Stalkers stood seven feet at the shoulder and their quickness proved lethal. Faeya Ryr remembered that a single sword or arrow could not kill them. She looked back again.

The air was humid in the ravine and she found her breathing laboring. The warmth did not refresh her and sweat beaded on her skin. Gerrand followed Artus Endria and Deah Vole followed her, his hand on her back nearly pushing her. She could feel the tension in his hand. No doubt he would push her hand if he spotted the Stalkers.

It was at times like this when her mind would become crystal clear. Each thought timeless and penetrating. She remembered that the Stalkers had another name. Something more elegant and descriptive, yet the precise term still eluded her. She tried to ask Gerrand, but their pace was too great and she did not have the breath for it. She thought Gerrand was hiding something for he seemed changed since the questions of Macelan had come up. He admitted knowing much more sorcery than ever before and there seemed to be something about his relationship with his former mentor that he wanted to suppress. Faeya Ryr found it fascinating and wanted to know more.

Suddenly, Deah Vole hissed and pushed hard on her back.

"They're in sight!" he called to Gerrand.

"Might as well stand here," puffed Gerrand. "I can run no farther. If you wish to run, go ahead. I will hold them as long as I can."

"We stay with you," said Faeya Ryr. She began to shimmer as she drew her power to her. Artus did the same. Deah stepped back, frustrated that he could not help.

Gerrand walked forward waving his arms across the ground and speaking softly. The grasses and rocks seemed brighter after he passed. He proceeded to walk in a circle surrounding them with the sorcery. Then there was a howl. Three Stalkers paused at the crest of the hill. A soft noise behind them revealed two more, waiting ahead of them.

"We would have run right into them," said Deah Vole.

"They always hunt this way," said Gerrand. "Of course, few remember now. They shall be very deadly in this era without knowledge of how to defense them."

"But of course, you know how to defense them," said Faeya Ryr.

"Why of course, my sweet Faeya. I wouldn't lead you into danger would I?"

"Do you really wish for my true opinion on that, old man?"

"Perhaps later. Everyone stand back to back, and hold hands."

"Hold hands?" said Deah Vole. "This is a new defense for me."

"Quiet! I have to concentrate. Do not let go, no matter how close the Stalkers come to us. Keep the connection and no one will be injured."

They grasped hands and stood, backs to each other. The Mages eyes were closed but Deah Vole's were wide as the creatures closed in on them. The Stalkers sensed something but couldn't tell what awaited them. They slowed and circled their quarry. All five Stalkers moved closer. Deah Vole felt their breath on his neck and closed his eyes.

He felt something tug at his arms, trying to loosen his grip on the others. He pressed his eyes closed and struggled to keep his grip despite the burning now building in his muscles. He felt compelled to open his eyes. Slowly he peeked at what had a hold of him. The long feline face was inches from him; he felt the whiskers tickle him. It was the eyes that chilled him. They were human eyes, full of rage and hunger, and then suddenly fear filled them as Gerrand's spell tightened about them. Deah Vole now stared with both eyes as the creatures blackened and withered, but the creature's eyes stared back until they glazed over.

"Those were human eyes," said Deah Vole.

"You may be right," said Gerrand, softly. "I no longer remember their origin. Only Macelan could tell you for sure."

"You don't want to know," said Artus Endria. "Keep ignorant."

Deah Vole reached down to touch one of the creatures.

"Don't!" cried Gerrand, too late.

Deah Vole's hand tingled and colors washed over his eyes. He felt himself falling, as the years seemed to drift away. Trees grew shorter; some vanished, and he found himself on a hill overlooking the Stalker pens of Macelan. The mountains beyond the hills appeared to be the ones he knew, but the landscape was alien. He recalled no structures or traces of them in this area. Suddenly he remembered to get out of sight. He had been standing exposed on the hill.

Dozens of the creatures pounded the iron fences surrounding them. Eerie cries rose from the buildings near the compound. The Stalkers shied away from the noise as if afraid. Deah Vole marveled at what might frighten Stalkers. The creatures were of different sizes and colors which surprised him. As he watched he noticed the personalities of the Stalkers and the evident pecking order. The image in his mind was a merciless killing machine but here were creatures, social and vulnerable. His image of Macelan darkened considerably.

Suddenly, he realized he was not alone. A young man stood next to him. He seemed familiar but Deah Vole knew he had never seen the man before. A full head of brown hair draped over the shoulders of the ragged cloak barely keeping the chilly wind from the man who did not seem to feel the wind. Deah Vole pulled his cloak tighter.

"It's where they are created," said man. Even the voice nudged at Deah Vole's mind, but brought no recollection.

"Macelan makes the Amogrihens in those buildings. I went in once. It's more than even I can stand."

"He makes them? From what?"

The young man turned to Deah Vole and glared at him. Now, he knew.

"You do not want to know. I shall not tell you."

"Gerrand? You are Gerrand aren't you?"

"I sense you are not of this place so I shall not answer. For all I know Macelan is testing me again. It will end. Tell him it will end." The young man turned and dashed into the trees across the gully. Deah Vole found himself unable to move.

He felt hands shaking him. He looked up into the man's eyes, yet the face had changed.

"Deah? Are you okay?" asked Gerrand.

"You had us worried," added Faeya Ryr.

"Never touch the work of Macelan," said Artus Endria. "I learned that to my sorrow. I pray you are unscathed."

"Gerrand…"

"Hush. I know what you saw."

"You knew? All these years?"

"Now you begin to understand. You were not the first to make such a journey. There are others who are to be tried so. Keep it to yourself lest you jeopardize the lives of those who follow you."

"But you know, each one, don't you."

"Let it drop, Deah Vole. I will not continue this discussion."

"What is it?" asked Faeya Ryr.

Gerrand looked and smiled. "I shall not reveal the future to even you, my dear. The consequences are too great. Let us just say that Deah dealt with an experience I knew he would have, even before I met him when he was but a teenager. Please grant me the right to hold back these tenuous futures lest we foul them from happening. I do not know what will happen if we do."

"You know the future?"

"Better say that I know the past."

"Gerrand, I don't understand, and I so want to know the burdens you carry."

"I know you do my dear, but it is not time. Do not fret that I am being valiant. I have seldom been accused of that, however no one else can carry these burdens as you can them. I prefer to think of them as merely the price of a long life.

"Come, we have spent too much time here. I want to enter Jespin as soon as possible. We must be ready for Macelan and Petyr Wolk."

"You really think he survived?"

"Macelan would make sure such a valuable servant survived. He is not prone to waste."

Deah Vole led them away from the carcasses of the Stalkers. Amogrihens. They were called Amogrihens. Those eyes would haunt him always.

They climbed a slope back into the thick trees. The progress slow, but Deah Vole needed to be sure no one could track them. His path proved laborious to Gerrand but the ancient sorcerer did not voice complaint. Gerrand knew the turmoil in the soldier's mind.

As the day wore on the air became humid as the heavy branches of the trees closed in around them.

"This is the deepest part of the forest," said Deah Vole. "We can rest here, and then continue to Jespin."

"Very good," said Faeya Ryr. "I am very thirsty." She sat on a moss-covered log and leaned against Gerrand. The sorcerer stared ahead and did not seem to notice her rubbing his shoulder.

They sat quietly for several minutes, each within their own thoughts. Deah Vole fighting the images he had seen, Faeya Ryr piecing together the puzzle of Gerrand, and Artus Endria fleeing from whatever dark demons followed him from Macelan's grasp. Gerrand closed his eyes and breathed slow and deep. He had a decision to make and quickly. He knew these people well, but did he know them well enough to know their breaking points? Could they withstand the true knowledge of what he withheld from them? He did not have much time and he worried about Artus Endria. There was too much at work here, more than just his plan. Macelan, Petyr Wolk, the sorceress, and perhaps Lord Gharom as well. Gharom always kept his own council and may have outwitted Wolk, but Gerrand couldn't be sure. He believed himself prepared, but events have moved much too fast for him. Where there was certainty, was now doubt. He sighed and tried to relax. In a short while they would be walking again, but in darkness or light, Gerrand could no longer tell. For good or ill, he had made his decision.

The pain increased each day. Thin saliva continuously flowed in his mouth and he swirled it around his teeth. His nerves were aflame and his extremities ached. Every step sent a shiver of pain through him and his ears heard wind whooshing through them although the air was still. He bit his lip just to distract from the pain of bonding that was shooting through him. The further apart from the princess the more intense the pain. He must hold on, he told himself. She is out there somewhere, and he will find her. Zae Pol watched him with sympathy, but there was nothing she could do for him. His mind was feverish although his body was not. Kisle Ber stood as one apart, forever bound to a sorceress; feeling her fears and his compulsion to protect her.

It began gently, and he nearly did not notice it. He thought he imagined what she might be thinking or saying. It soothed him although he felt an undercurrent of urgency. Then he realized that she was speaking to him. His heart began to race! She was speaking to him. The words were too soft, he could not hear clearly until he walked away from Zae Pol, out into the clearing. He felt like singing. The connection had not been broken, perhaps only blocked by the magic that stole her away. Or perhaps she had fainted. No, she would not faint, he felt sure of that. The tone of her words caressed his ears and he lost himself in her vision.

"What can we do?" asked Lars Vokas.

"Nothing. We must find Gerrand. He is somewhere in Curesia."

"A large place to search."

"Yes, but Gerrand usually stirs up trouble wherever he goes. It might be surprisingly easy to find him."

"I hope not too easy. I doubt if we are the only ones searching for him."

"You're right in that," said Zae Pol. "What puzzles me is that dragon. I thought they were all destroyed centuries ago."

"Perhaps Macelan created it recently."

"No, remember what it said about its past? That dragon has been around for eons. I think it may have guarded Macelan's body over the centuries. What do you think?"