Yanor placed each boot so carefully he did not raise dust. At each sound he paused. Movement caught his eye; cobwebs moving in the air currents. He watched the cobwebs as he walked, halting when they moved. Perhaps Macelan could move as a spirit. His palms sweated and he trembled as he crossed an open space. Quickly, he faded back into the shadows, waiting and listening. The groans of the old castle smothered him and he needed to regulate his breathing. His heartbeat pounded in his chest.
He heard whispers from the courtyard and he stopped at the doorway. He did not recognize the words and it chilled him. The alien sounds vibrated with power. He could taste it in the air. He retreated; looking for another way to the north section of the castle. Shadows seemed to dance in the distance and he did not know if his imagination caused their movement or something else. Yanor chose a different route than the one he had taken; feeling the watchfulness of the shadows.
He moved slowly down the servants' corridor, past the storerooms and kitchen. Suddenly, he stopped. He heard breathing! He backed away, afraid to move his gaze in case he was attacked. He felt he had moved enough to turn and run.
"Yanor!" came the hissed words. Yanor jumped, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. Cehana peered out of a shadowed doorway. He moved to her, watching each doorway as he passed.
"Did anyone see you?"
"I don't think so, but I am jumping at shadows."
"Understood. Come back in here a moment. I don't want to be overheard." She watched out the door as she slowly closed it. She grinned at Yanor. Her pale face looked a fright; hair plastered with sweat and dust across her forehead. Dark circles supported her eyes.
"I found it. The whole cache of magic. It's here in the kitchen. The pantry has a false door behind it. I noticed a half footstep of flour from under the wall. It's so obvious that someone walked there; I don't know why it wasn't discovered before. I wanted to wait for someone else to help. Now you've come and we can get to it."
"The location was obvious? How many other footsteps are there?"
"Just the one."
He pulled her away. The intensity of her gaze unsettled him.
"Isn't that obvious, too? One footstep? Would Gerrand have been so foolish? There would be dozens of footsteps or none."
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry; I almost led us into a trap."
"Not to worry. We're under a lot of stress," said Yanor, grimacing. "I worry that we shall be taken one at a time. We cannot hope to defeat Tyman or Macelan or whoever. We must escape this castle."
"Do you know how?" She watched him closely, licking her lips as if trying to rid herself of some taste. He noticed it and it frightened him. She appeared like a vulture waiting for him to die. There was a depth of color to her eyes and currents moving behind her eyes that made his skin pucker. He wondered if she had been lost already.
"I believe I do," he said slowly. "Come with me."
"But what about the cache?" asked Cehana.
"It is a trap. Tyman knew about it and wants us to find it."
"No, I can't believe that. We will enter." She grabbed his arm but he shook her off. He stepped back.
"You do so without me," said Yanor. The hair on his arms stood straight up.
Cehana's eyes flashed and she hissed. "Fool! There is greatness enough for all. Macelan will share it with us. He told me that at Oraeland."
Yanor felt a pinching pain in his gut.
"I thought he was a face in the clouds."
"He was, and more. He spoke to me and asked me to help him."
"Help him do what?"
"Make the volcano erupt."
"Cehana!? You killed your own people?"
"They aren't our people and do not accept us. They fear the magic. We are different. They do not trust us. Well, let them distrust us. Let them serve us instead! They are inferior to us in every way. Killing them is no different than killing rabbits."
Yanor suddenly thought he heard Gerrand's voice in his head and realized while Cehana raved, Macelan could be closing in on him. He began to back away.
"You are insane, Cehana. Macelan lied to you and you will be his slave."
"NO!!" Her screamed echoed in the corridor. Yanor felt her power growing and a still greater power humming in the upper regions. He turned and ran. He ran as fast as he could as the heat unleashed by Cehana blasted the walls, thundering in his ears. Yanor shielded his back with magic. He might be able to withstand Cehana's rage but the power of Macelan would crush him. However, he could not quit. Luckily, Cehana could not contain her rage and focus her attack. He turned a corner beyond her sight.
As he ran through a shadowy corridor, hands grabbed him and pulled him into a doorway. A hand clamped hard on his mouth. The wild eyes of Alec Endria bore into his eyes. The thunder of Cehana's rage echoed throughout the castle.
"Quiet. I know a way out. Quickly." He pulled Yanor after him back into the storeroom. He lifted a trapdoor and jumped down. "Pull it closed after you and I will light a torch."
Yanor did as asked and shielded his eyes from the glare of the torch.
"You are yourself?" asked Yanor.
"At another time I would have been offended by such a question. Yes, I have not been conquered by Macelan."
"How can I believe you?"
"Yanor, you are an idiot. Gerrand always believed it and so do I. At least you lost that stupid hat of yours."
"I believe you. Even Macelan would have more manners. Then it must have been Techna who died upstairs."
Alec Endria nodded. "We must reach Gerrand. I can think of nothing else. I did not think we would be so vastly overmatched. My vanity nearly killed me. Gerrand must despair as he thinks of the help we can give him. It's not enough; it's not enough."
"Do not despair yourself, Alec. I am not sure I have the desire to continue alone. The darkness surrounding us is our despair. Let us move to keep it from choking us."
They moved as quickly as they dared through the earth tunnel. The dampness and dangling roots clung to them. They walked through webs and over bones.
"Where does it lead?" asked Yanor.
"I am not sure. I've never been through it."
"Should I be worried? What if it doesn't head anywhere? A cave-in is not out of the question."
"Artus came through here once, years ago. I know he was tempted to use it again after Tyman banished him. If memory serves, the tunnel is nearly a mile long and opens into a cave at the south of Bors Taria's lands. We can head west from there."
"Good enough for me."
They found places they could not walk upright. Their backs scraped the ceiling bringing dirt down on them. After the first time, when his collar filled with dirt, Alec wore his hood. Yanor copied him. They walked and walked and walked. The tunnel did not become larger or branch in any other direction.
"How long did you say it was?" asked Yanor.
"Artus said a mile or so."
"If it ends in Bors Taria's land, it must be longer. Perhaps three miles. Maybe Artus found another exit that since filled in. I will swear I've walked two miles at least."
"I have to agree. Let's stop for a moment. How should we behave if we are discovered by anyone? For all we know the tunnel ends far from anyone, but the risk is there. What do we say?"
"I am not well known in Wierland. You might be recognized."
"Covered with an inch of dirt?"
Yanor laughed. "Perhaps not. However, you might recognize whoever finds us."
"Good point. I assume many people saw the fireworks at the castle so we can't pretend there are no problems. We may have to speak plainly."
"Risky," said Yanor. "We are little trusted. Despite Cehana's duplicity, she spoke truth about that. We might be lucky not to find a sword in our ribs."
"We cannot turn back."
"I meant no such thing. All I meant to say is to have your power at hand. Just in case."
"Ah. I understand. Well, let's keep moving."
The end of the tunnel did bring them to a cave in the hills abo
ve Bors Taria's land. In all, they walked four miles and glad to be that much farther from the castle. It was dawn with its light seeking out the dark corners of the land. They stretched as they strode into the open air. Then they heard horses coming from the north.
"Have we been seen?" asked Alec Endria.
"Not yet. What colors?"
"Bors Taria. Come we might as well hail them. Look! The tall man with the blue cape. Bors Taria himself. He knows me."
"Good fortune to us."
"I did not say he liked me. Come, we have no better alternative. Besides, he can send word to Queen Beatrice. If Zae Pol and Lars Vokas have spoken with her, then assistance should come speedily."
At their hail the riders changed direction quickly and encircled them. The tall black bearded man rode forward and waited. All the riders waited silently too.
"Bors Taria, I am Alec Endria. Do you know me?"
"I do."
"There is trouble at the castle and Yanor and myself escaped."
"I see that. How did you escape?"
"There is a tunnel from the castle to those caves behind us."
"A tunnel to my property? Why was I not informed of this tunnel?"
"I cannot answer. Tyman Stile was the head of the Council and kept counsel on such things."
"Was? There is much to your story that I must hear. However, this is not the place." He signaled to two men who pulled the Mages up behind them. "We shall go to my estate. I trust the people there. I was going to Lathor in response to a merchant's request, but I believe you will provide what I need to know."
They rode hard for the remainder of the morning, resting briefly, until they came to a sprawling house surrounded by eight-foot walls. Guards patrolled the top of the wall and several men raced out to help with the horses.
"Bors!" A lean man waved as he ran from the house.
"Kal! When did you arrive?" They hugged.
"Just after you left, it seems. What brought you back?"
"I found some answers on the road. Allow me to the introductions. This is my brother, Kal Taria, a knight of Queen Beatrice's court. I bring to my home two Mages, Alec Endria and Yanor."
"I know of you, Kal Taria," said Alec Endria.
"Only good I trust."
"Would Princess Alicae say otherwise of you?"
Kal laughed heartily. "By the heavens, no. She is a wonderful young lady. I am humbled that she would speak of me you. How is Artus?"
"That is part of my tale, which should be told in full to Bors Taria."
"Let us begin it, then," said Bors Taria. "Come, Kal, join us."
Curtains lined the gathering hall in subdued colors, not the bright scenes loved by Queen Beatrice and the people of Finald. Bors Taria thought himself a farmer, although a wealthy one. He had no urge to spend lavishly. His household was furnished for comfort, not style. Let the nobles in Finald waste their resources; Bors Taria spent only what was necessary.
When Alec Endria finished their tale, Bors Taria cursed and stared out the window for several minutes.
"I heard rumor that Curesia's army had marched on Finald and should reach it by tomorrow. I fear this is all connected somehow."
"We must go to Curesia to find Gerrand," said Yanor.
"I do not think so. According to your words, Gerrand has the power to fight Macelan, you do not. You would be safer here. Plus, Curesia is at war with Wierland. I cannot allow you to foolishly endanger your lives."
"Bors," said Alec Endria. "We are Mages. We are capable of defending ourselves."
"I know. I would feel better knowing you are here to help defend Curesia."
"That's fine for Alec, but Calendia is my home," said Yanor.
"Perhaps Curesia will attack Calendia next. Help us defeat them and protect your home in the bargain."
"Are you giving me a choice?" asked Yanor, his anger rising. Alec Endria put a hand on Yanor's wrist, but Yanor pulled it away.
"No. I am sorry, but I cannot give you a choice. Wierland comes first in my responsibility. I shall not allow other considerations to affect my decisions. I hope you can understand that for I have no other words to offer."
"I understand," snapped Yanor. He walked to the other side of the room, his teeth clenched. Alec Endria shrugged his shoulders.
"You usually have more to say, Alec."
"Nothing you said gives me cause to argue. I know I should seek Gerrand, but your assessment of our abilities is correct. However, you have to consider three areas. One is the Curesia army, another is Petyr Wolk's activities in Curesia, and more important; the situation at Lathor Castle. Whatever power is awake there has taken Techna Vole, Cehana and Tyman Stile without apparent effort. I do not know how to fight it. I can only ask Gerrand for assistance."
"I see." Bors Taria glanced at the back of Yanor and sat next to Alec Endria. "What I see is an enormous cloud descending on us and choking us. There are too many weak points in our defense. If Gerrand can sense where each of you are, can he send you messages? If he can, are you able to send messages to him in return?"
"I do not know. I have never tried it. He revealed his power to us only recently. No one knows all the aspects of him, save Gerrand of course."
"Do you realize how often you Mages say that something is unknown, except perhaps for Gerrand's knowledge? Have any of you sat down with that sorcerer and tried to find out what it is that he knows? There must be centuries of information that he will not give you unless you ask. Has no one asked?"
Alec Endria blushed. "You make us sound like idiots."
"Am I wrong?"
The Mages did not answer. A servant brought wine and bread. Alec Endria ignored the bread. Yanor ignored both. Bors Taria sent messengers to his neighbors and spent several minutes composing a message to Queen Beatrice.
"This is a difficult letter. I have never denied the Queen anything and now I must inform her that I will not send her help. I trust your word on this, Alec. Do you feel I am placing my faith in you justly?"
"I do. I have never been so serious."
"Good. I have nearly five hundred men at my disposal. They are well trained."
"I have twenty knights with me," said Kal Taria. "I will stay and help."
Bors Taria looked at his brother. "I was hoping you would take this letter to the Queen. I do not trust any other to do it."
The brothers faced each other. Kal Taria shook his head.
"Father sent me away once, do you remember? The raiders had been sighted and he wanted to face them without me. I shall not let you die the same way."
"You couldn't have saved father."
"We will never know, because I did not have the chance to try. I will not make the mistake again."
"Well then, take command of my men as well. Send word to Lathor for everyone to distance themselves from the castle. Soldiers and knight have no power against the like of Macelan. At the very least we must remove the people from harm's way, if possible. Offer them the choice of coming here, but tell them to bring as much supplies as they can carry. We do not how long they may be here and our supplies are limited. We shall send scouts to monitor the progress of Warlord Menn, but no engagements; surveillance only.
"The threat from the castle must be watched constantly and I will need either Alec or Yanor to accompany those men. The remaining Mage shall try to contact Gerrand and find out what in blazes is going on in this world. We need to know if there is anything we can do to help Gerrand's endeavors."
"Excellent thoughts," said Yanor. "I will do as you ask."
"I will search for Gerrand," said Alec Endria. "I might be able to reach Artus easier, and Gerrand may have contacted him by now."
Kal Taria departed on his mission. Bors Taria watched until Kal's figure dwindled into the distance. He exhaled, pulled a green glowing knife out of his shirt and brought it down with both hands into Yanor's back. The Mage groaned softly, and then fell to the floor. Alec Endria jumped back, his power rising around him, but it was too late. His powe
r fell around him and evaporated before Bors Taria's bright green eyes.
"Thank you for leading me to this man. He has the necessary position and personal power I require."
"Why didn't you use Petyr Wolk's body," stammered Alec Endria.
"Too powerful. I could not fully conquer him, but he is my servant. You see my body still lies in that cave in Curesia. Nothing Wolk could do would animate it. So he brought me one of his soldiers and I made him mine."
"You can jump from body to body?"
"Exactly. This is the type of information Gerrand withheld from you. There is more knowledge in that bald head of his than anywhere in the world. Why, I bet he even knows more than me. Believe that, if you will."
"Why did you let Kal go?"
"I cannot make Bors kill his own brother. There are limits, but I shall find a way around them, I always do."
"What about Gerrand?"
"Yes, what about him? I shall keep him so busy he will never discover my true plans. He always hated loose ends. I shall leave him many loose ends. It will drive him to distraction."
"What are your plans?"
"Alec Endria. Do not think you are clever. I know you try to gather as much information as possible in the event of your escape so you can tell Gerrand what he needs to know. You will never escape, just as your son will never escape Petyr Wolk."
"Artus? What of Artus?"
"He has sold his soul to Petyr Wolk. As we speak he is torturing little Faeya Ryr. I shall try to do as well with you. Imagine both Endria Mages devout servants. It's enough to brighten my day; don't you think?"
Alec tried to leap at Bors Taria, but he couldn't move. Bors Taria started to laugh and the laughter found its way inside Alec Endria, deadening his nerves and washing despair over his soul.
"Even now the spell Tyman Stile wove about your precious castle is collapsing back upon it, absorbing it, dissolving all life within. Alas only Tyman Stile and Cehana were still alive inside its walls, but no matter, you Mages will succumb soon enough."
Alec Endria could endure no more and let his mind go as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Chapter 13
Deah Vole fought back the nausea. His failures rose before him and he saw the people die, saw the disappointments of his dead wife turn her inward and waste away. All the hidden things, he so carefully shielded from himself, crawled out from under their rocks. He felt himself shrink from the disappointment in the faces of those he loved. He felt tears well up in his eyes and his vision blurred. The voice of his wife, abandoned years ago, cried out for him. Her agony cut into him deep to his bones baring his marrow to the chilling air. The pain shot through his body in a moment. Even his eyelids ached.
The Lords of Anavar Page 16