The Lords of Anavar

by Jim Greenfield

  "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."

  "Let me take some men with me. I will catch them and stop Lemmin Menn."

  "He has an army with him."

  "I am respected. He will listen to me."

  "Are you certain of this? It's a long way to ride for your death. This tavern seems cozier if that is what you want."

  Skellen grinned.

  "Lemmin Menn wants to marry my daughter. He will listen to me."

  Gerrand laughed and slapped the table.

  "That brings cheer to me. So be it."

  Gerrand walked slowly along the road. His mind churned with the fact that Macelan returned three years ago. Perhaps longer. What were the signs? Who claimed they would come? Macelan stated what signs to watch for to be sure he gained a head's start. Macelan set the events in motion when he wanted the Mage's Council to act. Macelan controlled the actions of the Council. He played them like puppets and who was the biggest fool? Gerrand, the old man, was the biggest fool.

  He paid little attention to the people passing him on the road and did not see Skellen and a dozen men ride by to the crossroads to Wierland. Skellen glanced at Gerrand but did not acknowledge him. Gerrand tried to pinpoint when Macelan returned. If the volcano was part of his plan, then was Cehana a puppet of Macelan? What disaster happened that was greater? Perhaps it was as he thought - Macelan's 'signs' were only in his mind, put there by his former master to have Gerrand watching for signs that would never come. Gerrand could not accept his own stupidity.

  A chilling thought came to him. If Macelan knew, I would be able to detect his presence, would he be able to conceal himself from me?

  He sent his mind ahead to check on Faeya Ryr and the others. Again, he chastised himself for not thinking about them during his escapade. He stumbled. His probe hit something and stopped. He was blocked from seeing them. Something hid Faeya Ryr from him. He widened his search. He found Artus again, but Deah Vole was blocked too.

  At least one of the archers was dead, but he could not pinpoint the others. He rubbed his eyes and moved on.

  The next morning he woke up with a shadow standing over him. He did not move and used his sorcery to protect him. It was not needed. The youngest archer, Eva, waited patiently for him to rise.

  "Are you alone?" he asked.

  "Yes. I don't know where the others are. We were attacked by demons. Momma never said we had to fight demons. I'm sorry, Master Gerrand. I ran from them. I was scared."

  "It's okay, Eva. I would have been scared too."

  She still carried her bow and her quiver did not lack any arrows. Gerrand knew he had to return and rescue Artus, Deah Vole and Faeya Ryr. He knew he had sent the archers into a situation where they would not be safe. Now he would return Eva to that situation and it gave him a sour taste in his mouth. He looked at her face. Still a child, yet her eyes held a depth that made him shudder. She could die the next time, Gerrand knew, and he would not hesitate to use her skills to extend his aims. Was he any worse than Macelan?

  It was a question that needed an answer, but he feared to voice the answer. He feared what he had become over the centuries. Perhaps Macelan was not evil, only the logical result of power and immortality. He heard Eva's stomach growl and kicked himself for not even considering her condition. He gave her water and dried fruit with a roll of bread that she ate ravenously. He watched her quick movements and his throat tightened. Eva was a mere child.

  He cursed Macelan and the day they had met. Gerrand knew who Macelan was, everyone did at the time. Gerrand was in his late teens and excited about life beyond his home. He traveled a winding path to the master's door and knocked loudly. All he remembered we
re Macelan's eyes from that first meeting. They seemed to enter his head and suck out all the knowledge there, filling the space with Macelan's commands. Gerrand found himself the apprentice without asking for the position. It was what he wanted and he suspected Macelan read his mind. It did not seem hard to imagine Macelan began planning for his return even then. Many innocuous things now seem to have had a peculiar purpose about them. He ground his teeth until he saw Eva noticing. She did not say anything but Gerrand knew he did not put her at ease. What would he do with her? Would she die at his command?

  He smiled at her and held her hand as they walked down the road toward the mountains and Macelan.

  Chapter 12

  Yanor felt the tremor from the very heart of the castle, knowing one of his colleagues had met Tyman Stile or whoever it was controlling him. He felt compelled to reach out and discover who had been lost, but he knew his own location would be revealed if he did. Yanor did not possess Gerrand's desire to know all things. He could sit meekly and wait. He wondered why such a powerful creature wouldn't have killed them right away. He imagined such a being would be able to suck their powers from them alive or dead, if that was the intent. Perhaps it wasn't all-powerful and needed to separate them to defeat them. He shook his head. They did not hesitate to separate and now their number had decreased by one. How could he contact the others quickly without compromising them, or himself?

  Yanor decided to do it slowly, to find them one by one and tell them. He ran the risk of running into Tyman Stile, but the quicker option held certainly that he would find Tyman Stile or worst, Tyman Stile would find him. At least, for the slow way chances were better although slim.

  A chill settled over the castle penetrating the very stones and Yanor could feel it creep into the soles of his boots. He shivered and moved onward. His ears caught each sound and he stopped and waited until he was sure the passages were safe. He moved slowly and retraced his steps several times, knowing if the others were free, they would continue moving around the castle too. With luck, they would find each other.