The Lords of Anavar

by Jim Greenfield

  Kisle Ber waited in the corridor as the Mages readied themselves. All three stood in silence until the Princess returned. Her eyes were red and moist, but she did not speak of her mother.

  "Let us depart this place."

  "Where are we to go?" asked Kisle Ber.

  "Do not ask questions, sword bearer. I command you."

  Kisle Ber started as if he was struck and indeed, his face reddened on one cheek, marked from a slap. He looked at the Mages, stunned. Zae Pol shrugged her shoulders. She did not know of such power.

  "Zae Pol, walk with me. Lars Vokas will walk with my sword bearer."

  "Why are you being so harsh with him?"

  "I do not answer to you," said Princess Alicae.

  "Nor I to you," said Zae Pol, softly. "What is the problem?"

  "Not right now," said the Princess, after a moment. "I will speak later, when we are far from Finald."

  When they walked through the gates of Finald and turned toward the west, dark clouds rose in the distance and thunder rocked the earth.

  Their path drew them far to the south to avoid the Curesia army on its journey to Finald. They heard reports from riders that the army had crossed into Wierland two days earlier and would reach Finald on the next evening. Kisle Ber watched the horizon and thought he saw the rising columns of dust of Warlord Lemmin Menn's army.

  Princess Alicae's mood did not lighten during the first day of their journey and she walked several yards ahead of them, scuffing her feet in the dirt.

  "She needs a counselor for her power," whispered Lars Vokas. "She has no self-control. I understand she is sixteen or so, but someone could have taught her discipline."

  "It is peculiar that Alec Endria did not mention her. He is fiercely loyal to Queen Beatrice; you would think he would brag about the Princess."

  "Unless he's her father," said Kisle Ber.

  "That's not funny," said Lars Vokas.

  "I wasn't trying to be funny. It makes sense to me."

  They continued in silence, watching the slight shape of the Princess ahead of them.

  "I think so too," said Zae Pol. "However, we mustn't speak of it any more. You saw how defensive she gets about the subject."

  "I know," said Kisle Ber. "All that power to be wielded by a whim of an immature girl." He shuddered.

  Kisle Ber kept watch on the army's dust as Princess Alicae led them on a little-used road to Lathor. They would turn east before Lathor and cross the river into Curesia. They saw no one on the road or in the fields. "Word of war travels fast," said Lars Vokas. The road became broken, with weeds growing in its middle. One section had been washed out by heavy rains last year and never repaired.

  "Who uses this road now?" asked Zae Pol, who had caught up with the Princess.

  "Bors Taria is the only one. This is his land. He does not allow any nobles or their servants here without his leave. He trusts no one, but is very loyal to Mother. Upon news of war, he would have gathered all his serfs and freeloaders to his estate. His small army could defend themselves well for he built his home on a high hill surrounded by rough, rocky terrain."

  "He has his own army? I would not expect Queen Beatrice to allow that," said Zae Pol.

  "I told you, he is very loyal. Mother trusts him more than she trusts me."

  "Look!" cried Lars Vokas, pointing to a dark cloud rising to the east. "That's where Lathor is. Could the castle be in peril?"

  "It was in peril when we left," said Zae Pol. "There was something going on and I could never figure it out."

  "Were they betrayed?" asked Kisle Ber.

  "I do not know. We must make haste to Curesia. My heart tells me our lives are in serious jeopardy."

  "You are correct," said Princess Alicae. "I sense the malice reaching out toward us. Let us move quickly and not stop until we reach the border."

  "So far?" asked Lars Vokas. "I am already tired."

  "Better tired than dead," snapped the Princess. She grabbed Kisle Ber's hand and began to run.

  Chapter 10

  Gerrand woke up with a headache, the likes of which he could not remember. The back of his eyes throbbed and his dinner threatened to vacate his body. He moaned and slowly gained his feet. Something felt wrong in the wind, but he could not place it. Even his appetite was off. He walked several minutes in the morning sunlight beyond the edge of the campsite. Faeya Ryr found him and put her arm through his arm. She felt the tension through his sleeve.

  "You are troubled this morning. What is it?"

  "I fear I have moved too late and Macelan has planned too well."

  "What do you know?"

  "Nothing, but I recognize the changes in the wind. There are tremors in the land that are…unaccountable. I am anxious. Come, we must speak with the others."

  She held back. A shadow crossed her face.

  "You must tell me. Why must I wait to hear it with the others? I thought I was special to you." Gerrand turned and looked at her. He smiled as a grandfather to a child, kindly, without passion.

  "You are, but we don't have time for such things now. We must hurry. Our plans must be changed."

  Gerrand hurried off, leaving Faeya Ryr watching him. Her face was flushed. She muttered a few words, and then followed him.

  Gerrand had everyone assembled by the time she caught up with him. She did not look at him.

  "Friends, I fear we have moved too slowly. There are changes in the wind and I fear what they portend."

  "Speak plainly," said Hile Berbac.

  "Macelan has returned already."

  "What makes you think so?" asked Hile Berbac.

  "Ages ago, when Macelan lived, there were sounds in the wind caused by his spells. The sounds could not be heard without the aid of a hearing spell and I have kept a vigil through the years. Since his death, I have not heard the same sound in all the time since. Never. Until this morning. I listened for several minutes and tried to be dispassionate about my determination, but there can be no doubt. Macelan has returned." He looked at the shocked faces around him.

  "Whether the trap is before us now or not, I cannot say. Our paths must diverge here. You continue to Wolk's estate and spy out the land. Wolk must be preparing for Macelan to wage his war. I will go to Jespin and see what High Lord Gharom is planning. That too, may be part of the trap."

  "Then don't go," said Faeya Ryr.

  Alavaria waved her hand to catch Gerrand's attention. Finally, Faeya Ryr elbowed him and he acknowledged the woman.

  "I overheard two riders last night," said Alavaria. "They rode slowly and I was able to trail them. Among the things they spoke of was a gathering of soldiers and supplies in Jespin. Apparently Curesia is raising an army to march against Wierland."

  "Did they say when the army would march?"

  "I didn't hear that clearly, but I got the impression it may already be marching."

  He hung his head as he summoned up his strength. He raised his head and his eyes were clear and bright. He made his decision.

  "Then I cannot delay. I must go, now. I must stop Gharom. He is controlled by Petyr Wolk and everything Gharom does helps Macelan."

  "I will go with you," said Faeya Ryr.

  Gerrand smiled at her. "No, I won't risk you. I shall return, but I cannot guarantee the safety of my companions."

  "You think me weak?" she snapped.

  Gerrand frowned and pursed his lips.

  "No. Never that, but Macelan is beyond you. I cannot dream of living without you. You must remain here. If it were a trap, only I would survive. I go alone." He kissed her forehead.

  She looked in his eyes and her expression softened. She squeezed his hand.

  "No. I chose to accompany you," said Hile Berbac. "I have mocked you too long. Now, I must make amends. I will watch your back."

  Their eyes locked as they measured each other. Hile Berbac had always been a thorn to Gerrand as one of Tyman Stile's cohorts. Gerrand smiled and nodded his head.

  "I sincerely thank you. We must depart qu
ickly."

  As they readied themselves, Roc whistled and they all prepared for trouble. They heard the sounds in the trees, the snapping of branches, the heavy unsteady tread. A solitary figure stumbled through the trees. Gerrand motioned for the archers to let him pass. The man entered their camp and collapsed. No one moved except Gerrand who turned the man over and cursed. It was Deah Vole. His ragged tunic was dark with dried blood and his face bloodless. His chest rose and each ragged breath.

  Gerrand swore again. They made Deah Vole comfortable and tended to his wounds. Gerrand placed his hands on the soldier and healed him. The heat flowing through Deah Vole could be seen rising from his body much like the mid-day heat from a stone. Gerrand's face paled from the exertion. Deah Vole's breathing became deep and natural. His eyelids fluttered.

  "Was that wise?" asked Hile Berbac. "You will need all your strength on our journey."

  "Deah is important and I fear his news, but I must hear it before we leave. If I waited for him to heal on his own we might be here days."

  Gerrand sat next to Deah Vole and waited. The others found things to occupy themselves as the time passed. Finally, the man moaned and opened his eyes.

  "Gerrand." Deah Vole's voice was hoarse but he smiled. "I hoped to find you. Walked so far in a daze. My wounds were overtaking me at last." He looked around to the other faces.

  "Wolk is in the mountains. I think he captured Artus. Wolk has so much power. He called demons out of the air to fight us. I couldn't do anything against them. I am sorry. I left Artus to that madman."

  "Was Artus still alive when you saw him last?" asked Faeya Ryr.

  "Yes. I am sure of it. Wolk had him taken to his camp and sent men to finish me off." He grinned. "I was waiting for them. They thought me too weak to defend myself."

  "I am glad you escaped. I believe Artus is still alive. I am attuned enough to him to believe I would feel his passing."

  "It appears to me," said Doad Bess. "That you have a great deal more power than the rest of us. Why have you not shared it over the years? Are you really hoarding it as Tyman Stile suggests?"

  "My reasons are my own and have to do with the ability of the members of the Council and their moral strength. To date I have not found many to meet my criteria."

  "Should I not be insulted at your words, Gerrand?"

  "It is a statement of fact. In your case, it is your strength, not your morals that I question, although on occasion I thought your judgment questionable."

  "I thought you said you were in a hurry," said Faeya Ryr coldly.

  Gerrand turned sharply at her. He breathed deeply and walked away.

  "Come Berbac, we must be off."

  "Gerrand, what shall we do?" asked Deah Vole. "What about Artus?"

  "Lead them to Wolk's estate. But be careful. Wolk will be expecting us. We shall return meet you there or on the road if we are able within three days. Otherwise I will find a way to send a message."

  They watched in silence as Gerrand and Hile Berbac left the camp. Berbac turned back and shrugged and followed the ancient sorcerer north. Alavaria sent her children back to their watch posts. She recognized the danger from the chaotic behavior of the group and she would not fail to guard the group. She clung to her duty like a lifeline.

  "Looks like you're in charge, Doad," said Faeya Ryr. "You are the senior Mage."

  "Thank you for the honor, but I must refuse it. Gerrand would laugh to hear me admit this, but it is a far different thing to argue over leadership in the cozy library at the castle than to face it in the woods with your life on the line. I say we let Deah Vole guide us in this. It appears to be a military maneuver and he has the skill for it."

  "What do you say, Deah?" asked Faeya Ryr.

  "Fine with me. I must say using children for soldiers was not included in my training."

  "They are trained as archers," said Alavaria. "You cannot find better."

  "I don't argue that. I see their expertise in the way they handle their bows. I question them taking of lives. Will they stand up under that terrible burden?"

  Alavaria looked at him, then lowered her head and walked into the woods, unable to answer such a question.

  Twenty minutes later Alavaria hurried back into the camp.

  "There are men approaching. Four I think. They are hardened soldiers and bloody already."

  "They must have tracked me," said Deah Vole. "I did not deal with them completely enough. Are your children in place?"

  "Yes. The men are being watched by Roc. But they also have bows. Roc cannot handle them alone. I will return to help him if that is your command."

  "We will let them approach and take them captive. They may have information about Wolk helpful to us."

  The Mages took their places around the campfire, their eyes downcast. Doad Bess raised a spell to wrap around the men when they arrived. Faeya Ryr also readied a spell. Deah Vole stood with his back to the direction from which Alavaria indicated the men approached.

  Several minutes passed and then Deah Vole sensed their presence.

  "Don't move soldier," said one of the men. "We have you now. Thought you'd give us the slip? Well, you and your mates are caught now. The sorcerer will be pleased."

  Deah Vole turned around slowly. All four men aimed their arrows at the trio at the campsite.

  "To your feet," the man commanded Faeya Ryr and Doad Bess. As Doad Bess rose, his hands released the spell and the men stiffened, unable to move.

  "They are trapped now," said Doad Bess.

  Deah Vole walked to the leader and glared at him. "Turned the tables on you, didn't we? I want some questions answered."

  Suddenly the men cringed in pain and cried out voicelessly. Then they dissolved into nothingness.

  "What did you do?" cried Deah Vole. "I wanted to question them."

  "Nothing. I did not do a thing. Something got to them through my spell. I felt it like a wisp of chill air. How could such a thing happen?"

  "Deah, this is impossible," said Faeya Ryr. "Mages cannot break through the spell of another Mage and harm those protected by it."

  "Macelan?" asked Deah Vole.

  "The gods help us," said Doad Bess.

  Gerrand walked for two hours without a break. Hile Berbac found his breathing labored and kept his eyes focused on Gerrand's back to be pulled along by the sorcerer's wake. Berbac did not acknowledge their break. He sat down heavily and sighed.

  Gerrand watched the horizon for several minutes before he sat on a rock.

  "Am I doing the right thing?"

  "How am I to know?" asked Berbac. "I do not have your sight or knowledge of Macelan. It seems he has perverted Petyr Wolk. Who knows what else he might have done?"

  "I do not know, that is what worries me. I thought I would be prepared but I find myself unsure of the steps to take. I knew sometime he would return, but I thought it would have been sooner. Now, I think I am feeling the weariness of time. I am only here today because I did not want the world to be unprepared for Macelan's return. He has returned and neither the world nor I am ready."

  "What can I do to help? Should I just shout out ideas and see if they trigger anything for you?"

  "Sounds as good as anything. I need some small task to focus on to be a confidence builder or such thing. Something to keep my mind occupied to allow ideas to come unbidden."

  Hile Berbac thought in silence. He glanced at Gerrand a few times and shook his head.

  "My first thought is how much power does Macelan possess? How can he control Petyr Wolk and High Lord Gharom when they are miles apart? And can he control anyone else at such great distances?"

  Gerrand coughed. "Macelan can control them easily and yes, he can manipulate more people no matter the distance once they have been in his presence. If he laid his plans well, we might be fighting a battle at all corners of the world. It will be a lost cause then. I don't have the strength."

  "Gerrand, it is unnerving to hear the despair in your voice. If you can't resist Macelan, h
ow can the rest of us?"

  "I'm so tired. But you are right. I am glad you accompany me. I will need your support. I remember clearly, the power of Macelan and I wish I was only a couple hundred years old, then my power would be green and I would have a chance."

  "You have the support of the Council, can you not use us?"

  "You don't understand, Hile. The entire Council does not have the combined might to oppose me, even at my advanced age. Macelan is far beyond me. With the Council I could not match Macelan's power. We can only win by cunning and a systematic destruction of Macelan's forces."

  "Won't he know what we are doing?" asked Hile Berbac.

  "That is our risk and why we must enlist Queen Beatrice to our side. I told Zae Pol to go there first and convince the Queen to aid us. Queen Beatrice is smart and has vision. She will understand the need. She is prepared for this day."

  "But Curesia will attack Wierland. Will that distract her?"

  "Possibly, but I urged Zae Pol to great speed. We shall see. However, we have rested long enough. Let us continue."

  Gerrand stood up and walked away without seeing if Hile Berbac followed him. Berbac shook his head and stiffly regained his feet and shuffled down the trail. The air was damp and mere trickles of light found its way through the roof of branches. The path they trekked became overgrown with brambles pulling at them. Gerrand cleared a path as they went but it consumed precious time.

  They followed the trail for two slow more miles then Gerrand threw up his arms and cursed. He led Berbac to the road and they followed it the rest of the day. They moved quickly and saw no one else, which disturbed Berbac. Gerrand said nothing. The campfire burned low in silence before Berbac spoke to Gerrand who sat brooding in the shadows.

  "Why did you give up on the trail?"

  "Too slow. This road does not go to Finald so I guessed Gharom's army would not ride our way. We might meet some travelers, but I don't believe Gharom would send spies south. He is too sure of himself. A fool in many respects, but a dangerous one."

  "Perhaps you're right. Gharom may not be so thorough. What about Wolk or Macelan? Would they leave this road open to attack?"