"Guess he noticed when his spell failed," said Kerreth. "Go up to the tower and find the girl. I will stay here and draw their attention."
Loric made his way to the winding stair. Torches lined the wall as he went up but he heard no sound and saw no movement. The door at the top level was ajar and he pushed open slowly. The foul smelling room was full of tables and candles. Loric saw the figure on the table on the far side of room and hurried across although he could smell the blood. The Daerlan maiden was dead; her blood filled several bowls on the table. One bowl had been burnt by a spell. Loric felt the world shift suddenly. The spell had worked; they were here.
Kerreth walked outside to the courtyard, striking down the Celaeri standing there. Several more Celaeri rushed out to attack.
"Come and fight, Celaeri! I am Kerreth Veralier and I shall end your lives!" The first Celaeri to reach him died and the rest held back. A small figure came out of the building and halted.
"So, the great Kerreth knocks on our door," said Pashar Bei. "I must ask myself why he is here? Who sent you? The Mage Academy? I don't think so. They would have no influence over you, so who could it be? Perhaps that old meddler Gerrand still lives. No matter, you shall die today."
"Your Celaeri cannot kill me."
"Perhaps, but they are not my Celaeri. They are on loan to my mistress, Lady Galamog. You are not a god, Kerreth Veralier, and you have interfered where you are not wanted."
"You are not a god either, Pashar Bei," said Kerreth.
"No, perhaps not yet. But it is a goal I am nearing." He beckoned to the doorway he had come through.
"Come friends and meet the Wolfen slayer."
The tall shape came into the light and Kerreth saw the stooped old man, but it wasn't a man. Nearly eight feet tall with a long beard and braided hair the newcomer looked at Kerreth with yellow wolf eyes. His fingers were extremely long and his eyes larger in proportion than human eyes.
"You have killed my Wolfen, Kerreth Veralier," said Warga, God of the Hunt. "You must pay with your life." The god moved gingerly as if in pain.
"I was defending my company."
"Aye, but I care little for that. My Wolfen are dwindling and soon will be extinct. I do not have the strength to create more. They must not die out. No, no, no. I must set an example and unfortunately for you, you have chosen yourself."
"They are killers and would not have stopped until my company was dead."
"That is their purpose," said Warga. "They are killers! That is what they do! They will not die out. They must not. You killed Arval. He was the best of them all, even better than Urvarg. I will never see his like again. You will pay."
"You are not strong enough Altengud. I will resist you."
"Yes, yes, you are strong, but I have help." He gestured behind Kerreth to the nine foot armored figure.
"Wulfgeld?" said Kerreth.
"Yes, it is I, young Kerreth. Your time has come. Raise your swords against me and you shall die an honorable death. That is the best I can offer you." Wulfgeld held a six-foot mace with eight-inch spikes curving from the end. His face was impassive and his voice very deep, a rumble in his throat.
"My issue is not with you," said Kerreth.
"True," said Wulfgeld. "But even a god may answer to his father in certain situations. Warga has need of my strength and I shall not refuse him."
Loric slowly moved back into the shadows, certain he had not been seen, but who knows what senses a god may have. An Altengud and a Jungegud twenty paces from him. True the elder seemed a bit touched but who can judge a god? Loric knew that he would not be able to help Kerreth; Wulfgeld never lost a battle. Even Cothos avoided direct confrontation with Wulfgeld. They could only hope that Kerreth occupied him long enough for the rest of them to escape. Even the Celaeri were watching Wulfgeld and Kerreth.
Loric slipped out of the tower and crossed the courtyard at top speed nearly knocking over Moria.
"What is happening?" asked Moria.
Loric grabbed her arm and motioned to Navir. "No time. We need to get as far from here as we can."
"I don't understand. Who had the booming voice?"
"Moria. We must run or die."
"Kerreth? He's still in there. We can't leave without him."
"It's too late for him. Wulfgeld has come to kill him."
"Wulfgeld? Wulfgeld? Why?"
"I will tell you once we are on our way," pleaded Loric.
"We have to help him!!"
"We will die, Moria! We cannot help! We can do nothing! Kerreth's death cannot be avoided, let us keep our own lives."
Brevin had the wagon turned around and the horses were ready to ride.
"What happened?" asked Dimont.
"Wulfgeld is here," said Loric. "Let's ride. He is fighting Kerreth to the death."
"Wulfgeld? The god of war?" said Dimont.
"Kerreth can't beat him," cried Moria. Blackthorne came up behind her and put his arm around her.
"And we can do nothing either," said Blackthorne. "We must return to Toraba and plan our next move. The war is not over, but this battle is lost, as is our leader."
"He can't die," whispered Moria. "I always thought him immortal." Blackthorne put Moria on her horse.
"He is when compared to every other being except the gods," said Navir, who sat on Kerreth's horse. He took the reins from Blackthorne and led Moria away from the tower. "He will put Wulfgeld to the test before he falls." Even as he spoke, a thunderclap came from the Tower or Erast.
"The first blows are being struck," said Brevin.
"Loric?" said Navir. "Did you find her?"
"I am sorry Navir. Aidae is dead," said Loric. He handed Navir a necklace wrought in silver with emerald leaves entwined in the chain.
Navir bowed his head.
"I will remain behind," said Blackthorne. "To witness the end of Kerreth Veralier if nothing else. I can conceal myself and defend myself for a time even against Wulfgeld. If there is a chance to save him I will but do not look for it. I will meet up with you in Toraba. Go now. If they see you they might choose to follow us."
Blackthorne watched the company ride off and then turned to the tower. The noise of the battle was staggering. Blackthorne compared it to a mountain thunderstorm. Even the ground shook and he stumbled slightly. The tower shook and loosened stones from the windows and roof. The stones smashed into the ground forcing Blackthorne to scramble backward. His spell that broke through Pashar Bei's defenses weakened the mortar of the tower. Another tremendous thunderclap brought more stones down. He saw a group of Celaeri run out of the buildings into the courtyard. The tower shuddered and the far wall collapsed. A bleeding Kerreth rose from the rubble. The huge shape of Wulfgeld dashed toward him, the mace held high and then downward in a blur. Kerreth partially blocked the blow but fell to his knees. He raised his remaining sword and it was shattered by the god's mace. Another blow to the head and Kerreth crumpled to the ground.
"It is done," said Wulfgeld. He nudged the still form with his boot and exhaled deeply. "I will answer to Cothos for this death. Kerreth Veralier was one of the noblest creatures to walk on Landermass and his passing will not be unchallenged. But your Wolfen is avenged, Warga."
"He is dead! He is dead!" The old god cackled and danced. Wulfgeld raised his mace in salute to Kerreth. He looked upon the still form and then slowly faded into the mist.
Blackthorne crept closer.
Chapter 17
Mauran de Arayr wore a dragon-skin cloak, which was remarkable for no tales tell of him wearing anything else during the many thousand years he walked the land, and also there is no proof dragons ever existed.
From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass.
Davan's lungs burned but he was gaining on Jarius. The sorcerer was slight of build and did not have the long legs and muscle that carried Davan over the ground. Davan concentrated on the turnover of his stride until he could sustain the effort he desired. Davan looked back but did not see the Wolfen anymor
e. Perhaps they had turned back. He tried one last effort to catch Jarius and nearly collided with him. Jarius had finally stopped to rest.
"Hey!" cried Jarius as Davan put his hands on his shoulders.
"I think we're safe now," said Davan, breathing heavily.
"Why did you follow me?" asked Jarius. "I don't want your company."
"You ran from the Wolfen."
"I didn't run. I was following your father's trail." He shook Davan's hands off him.
"Well, I don't see anyone following us, friend or foe. It's just the two of us." Davan looked at the curled frown of the young sorcerer. He knew Jarius did not like him and the feeling was mutual. However, they were far from the others who were faring who knew how well against the Wolfen attack.
"How long should we wait before going back?" asked Davan.
"Going back? Not me. Let the Talos Company deal with the sorcerer in Arda. Don't you want to help your father?"
"Of course I do."
"Then let's get moving. I felt the evil consuming him when he passed through Toraba. We need to find him and try to reverse the transformation."
"Just us?"
"Davan, I am a sorcerer and stronger than most. I can handle the situation."
"I thought you didn't want to be part of this."
"I didn't," admitted Jarius. "But we have traveled this far and the two of us won't be as noticeable as the larger group. Besides, from the look of things back there the Talos Company might be tied up for weeks between the Wolfen, Celaeri and the sorcerer. I don't think you can afford to let your father run to his fate. The sooner we find him, the better."
"Well then, I have my pack and you have yours. About a week's worth of supplies and we should save as much as we can."
"Don't worry. I'll take care of things. Come on, let's move if you're coming with me."
Jarius started north with a brisk pace and Davan shook his head and then followed. If Jarius wanted to be in charge it did not matter to Davan. He would keep his own counsel anyway and hope Jarius would be cautious when they met anyone else. Magic may not be uncommon, but it was often unwelcome and the wielders distrusted.
They walked over the fields within sight of the sparse growths of trees filling the landscape between Arda and the mountains bordering the Koberi Desert. There were no towns until the coast and few travelers; mostly hunters and the occasional wanderer. The grass was long and brown, hiding small animals and birds. Jarius, now that their decision had been made did not force the pace; it seemed more a gait to pass the time with a young lady.
"Why are you walking so much slower?" asked Davan.
"Don't you know?" said Jarius. "No, I expect not. You have no abilities. I sense a power nearby and it makes me cautious. I cannot determine what type of magic it is and that is something that I have never failed to know. I am shielded in some way or else the power is far beyond my mother or Blackthorne, and that would be terrifying."
"Is Blackthorne more powerful than Gerrand?"
"He is now. I don't know how powerful Gerrand was in his prime but he is very old. Blackthorne might be older than Gerrand but he has learned many aspects of sorcery that Gerrand avoided and keeps his youth."
"Black magic?"
"Ha! I suppose to you that's a good a term as any. Gerrand was very strict about what he taught others. His mentor was Macelan, you know. Macelan turned out as black as any so Gerrand had good reasons to shut the door on some of the trickier magics."
"What makes them so dangerous?"
"Well, I can't speak from experience, but there are ways to increase power or access new power by harnessing demons to do your bidding. I like the idea in theory but if the demon is too strong for you it may devour you or make you its slave. Demons don't die so that would be a very long time to pay for your mistakes."
"Blackthorne does this?"
Jarius shrugged. "He's never let me watch him so I can't really say. One of these days I will find out what he knows."
Davan put that thought in the back of his mind, knowing he should be far, far away whenever Jarius tried to reach those shadowy shores.
The sun was setting and the young Men were tired. They passed several tight groups of trees but with the sunset the wind had increased and none of the spots would provide enough protection from the chill air. They kept moving for another hour until they found a suitable spot out of sight of the road protected from the wind. Davan prepared dinner and Jarius cleared the ground of rocks for their bedrolls. They ate in silence.
Davan took the first watch and it was mere minutes before the heavy breathing of Jarius settled into a quiet rhythm. The fire was small and warm. Davan had walked to the road and back when it began to get dark to test the visibility of the fire from the road. A steep slope shielded their fires from traveler's eyes. Davan sat with his back to the fire and his sword in his hand. He gazed out into the darkness. There were animal noises but nothing unfamiliar to him. He listened for the call of the Wolfen and relaxed when he realized they were far from the haunts of those creatures.
Davan's head snapped up; had he slept? He got to his feet and walked around their campsite. Jarius still slept and he looked even younger asleep. It was difficult to imagine the power the young man wielded. Jarius was young in so many ways yet Davan suspected him to me much older than he appeared. Wynne had lived for centuries, as had her daughter Melian; Davan had heard stories of Melian the witch had been told for generations. His friends were always trying to tell the scariest story and the raven-haired pale woman who ate unwary travelers was unnerving to say the least. And her brother slept on the ground before him.
Davan raised his sword. He felt something in the air change; perhaps crackle with energy. He stared into the darkness, believing he had seen movement. The night seemed blacker.
"Good evening, young traveler," said an old man, appearing out of shadows.
"What do you want?" asked Davan firmly. He was pleased his voice didn't quaver.
"Ah. Not much, perhaps a seat by your fire? I am old and would appreciate the company."
Davan stared at the man. He was old, very old but he moved with strength. In the dim light the man's cloak seemed to be a battered dragon skin and he wore a silver wolf's head around his neck on a chain.
"Show your weapon," said Davan.
"I have my staff and a long knife." He showed the knife in its sheath on his belt. "I am alone."
Davan thought for a moment and looked out into the darkness. Then he nodded for the man to join him.
"What is your name?" asked Davan.
"Call me Ran." He sat near the fire across from the sleeping Jarius. He pulled an old pipe out of his cloak. It was roughly carved and stained by time. He dipped it in a pouch of tobacco and lit it. Davan didn't like to smoke; it burned his throat, but at times the smell of pipe smoke returned him to the cozy rooms of the inn. The smell of Ran's pipe was comforting and he appreciated it very much at the moment.
"Your friend sleeps soundly," said Ran. "It has been long since I slept so well. When old age becomes your constant companion it keeps you from long sleep, perhaps in preparation of the final sleep." He sighed and took a pull on his pipe.
"Where are you from?" asked Davan. "I live in Peradon."
"Well, I shall tell you two things, master Davan. One, is do not be so free with information about yourself to a stranger. The other is related to the first. You are very far from Peradon and whatever business you have traveling this road will subject you to many types of dangers. I do not care what your business is, but when you come to a town you will be asked what your business is. Whatever you choose to tell them should make sense otherwise you may be locked up until you tell them the truth. Two young Men such as yourselves are too young to be owners of a business looking for wares to buy - you obviously have nothing to sell with you. Do you work for someone else? Why are you traveling without your master? Then what is your task? If you are traveling to visit someone, be knowledgeable of where you go."
> "I never told you my name," said Davan.
"Oh, maybe I heard your friend mention it."
"He has been asleep for three hours. Have you been watching us that long?"
"Oh, very well. I received a message of your traveling without a guide or guard."
"Who?" asked Davan. "Who told you?"
"Why do you distrust me now? You invited me to your fire."
"You didn't tell me you knew my name already."
"I don't understand why that would matter to you," said Ran.
"I have met types of people in the past few days that I didn't know existed. I have run from Wolfen and now I meet a stranger who knows my name. I've never left home before."
"I see. Well Brevin is a trader and occasionally brings me supplies. Brevin is quite an enthusiastic talker and I listen quite well. Must be my age. Anyway, Brevin spoke about his travels and I'm sure he mentioned your parents and their inn. I picked up your name from him. He sent me the message that you and Jarius ran away without preparation for the task ahead of you."
"What do you know about it?" asked Davan.
"You are following someone, your father I would guess. How do you think you would obtain passage to Amloth?"
"Amloth? Why would I want to go there?"
"Your father is heading toward the sea. He passed this place two days ago heading toward the port of Hoodsmouth. You are very brave Davan, but also foolish. You know little of Jarius but I hazard a guess that your opinion of him is very low. Yet his power is very great. There are few sorcerers who could match his raw strength, but the key word is raw. Jarius is not courageous as you saw. How will you convince him to fight for the both of you when he won't fight to save himself?"
"How do you know so much about me and where my father is? Brevin doesn't know all that. Who are you and what do you want with me?"
"Very good," said Ran. "You are beginning to be cautious. Remain so for your sake. You are beyond the help of the Talos Company and you must be careful of your situation. Trying times are ahead Davan. Be steady in your convictions. You must face your trials alone."
The Vlakan King (Book 3) Page 16