* * *
Yvaughan whimpered in her sleep. A voice tolled incessantly in her mind, like a death knell, but she couldn’t understand the words. Her dream was starting again, and a part of her was aware of it and feared it. She rolled over, seeking her husband’s warmth, but her arms remained empty. Maldrake was away tending other matters. Silent, bitter tears fell from her eyes to the silken pillow. Her two pet birds cooed and fluttered to her side. One nestled at her ear; the second cooed again, then flew to a dark corner of the bedchamber.
Her dreams grew more frightening. The dark, many-fanged creature entered them as he had so many times before. He was moving toward her, a man-shaped beast with brutal claws. A tiny groan escaped her lips. She knew of the dream and what was to come. She struggled to control her thoughts, to force the monster from her mind, but the angular creature continued toward her. She covered her face with her arm, trying to bar the vision from her mind.
Still it came.
The thing with the shining claws came to her bedside and bent over her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream—only whimper. Drawing her arms from beneath the covers, the monster stroked them lightly over and over. His claws raked her skin just hard enough for the flesh to open and ripple with pain. Then he bit her at the tender joint of one elbow. She almost welcomed the pain, for it meant her dream was almost done.
But something inside her fought back tonight, something that was suffocating. Her breath was being pulled from her body in wave after wave. Yvaughan panicked and fought her way toward consciousness, thrashing in the bed. She had to awaken, she had to, or else she would surely die. With a sudden, strangled gasp for air, the woman sat up.
Darkness surrounded her, the familiar darkness of her bedchamber. Beside her, a bird cheeped a complaint at having its rest disturbed. Automatically she soothed her pet, petting and stroking its downy buff feathers. Then something flew at her from the corner of the room, and she threw her hands around her head and gave a tiny shriek. But it was only her other bird, jealous for attention. She took it in her arms and lay back down. It cheeped plaintively.
She noticed then how weak her arms felt, how cold and drained of life. She rubbed her hands across them. They felt wet and slippery. Am I still dreaming? she thought. This has never happened before. Concerned, she reached out to the table beside her and touched the lantern. Instantly, it sprang into magical light.
Yvaughan extended her arms before her and looked at them. Blood and jagged lacerations laced her white skin. She screamed. “Teryl! Teryl!” she cried for her advisor, her only friend with Maldrake away. “Teryl!”
The doors to her chamber flew open, and the mage ran toward her. “Lady Yvaughan!” he called. “Is something wrong? Has someone disturbed your rest?” In the room beyond, her other birds fluttered and cried out in alarm. How wonderful that they care for me, she thought suddenly.
Teryl tottered to the bed and sat on its edge. Tearfully, Yvaughan stretched out her arms to him. The mage’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, lady,” he whispered. “What have you done? What have you done to yourself?”
Yvaughan shook her head in growing horror. He thinks I did this! she thought wildly. She shook her head again, desperate that he understand. “Teryl, this is not what it seems! I didn’t—”
The advisor put his hand on her shoulder and pressed her back into the waiting pillows. “Calm yourself, my lady. I will fetch bandages and a cool drink for you.”
“Teryl, you don’t understand!” Yvaughan cried as the man walked away. “I didn’t do this! There was a monster, and he—”
“The monster of your dreams?” Teryl inquired as he reached the door. “Come, come, lady. We all know dreams cannot hurt us.” The mage left the room, and Yvaughan pounded her fists impotently on the silk coverlet beneath her hands. Why doesn’t he believe me? she asked herself. He is my friend! More hot tears fell from her eyes.
“Here we are, lady,” Teryl said, coming back quickly. He held up a goblet of wine and pressed it to her lips.
Yvaughan choked on the pungent bitterness. “What is this?” she asked.
“Something to help you sleep peacefully through the rest of the night. Didn’t you take the draught I made you earlier?” Teryl asked accusingly.
Between swallows Yvaughan replied, “No, I didn’t drink it. I didn’t think I would need it, Teryl.”
“But you always sleep so poorly when Lord Maldrake is away, lady,” Teryl chided. He set aside the chalice and began applying salve to her injuries.
“That’s true, but… tonight was no different from the other nights I’ve had this dream, Teryl,” Yvaughan responded slowly, her tongue suddenly thick. “Except that tonight I fought back.”
The mage pursed his lips. “And that, my lady, is obviously how you hurt yourself.”
“But I’ve dreamed the attack before, and there were never any marks on me then.”
“Ah, but you didn’t wake up those times, did you? That’s because you never hurt yourself before tonight, which is why you woke up this time,” Teryl said sagely.
Yvaughan tried to clear her muddled mind. “What… what are you saying, Teryl? That I deliberately hurt myself?” The man nodded, a twitch gripping his shoulders. “I’m afraid so, lady.” He applied one last dab of salve and a bandage. “There, that’s the last of it.”
“But I don’t understand, Teryl,” Yvaughan’s voice dropped to a whisper. She could barely keep her eyes open. “I don’t understand. Why would I want to hurt myself. Why?” Teryl gathered his things together and looked down at her. Her cloudy mind thought it heard the words, “You’ll find out soon enough, lady. Soon enough.” The mage turned on his heel and left the room.
* * *
Sir Brisbois nervously paced the flagstone bridle path leading to the back of the stables. White puffs of breath escaped his lips in the cold, biting air. “It’s just like Maldrake to make me wait,” the knight muttered as he paced up and down the winding path, blowing on his hands to warm them. A few knights galloped past. Brisbois looked up for a moment, then turned away immediately when he didn’t see Maldrake. The knights merely nodded and continued down the path.
On their heels came another knight, who halted his steed beside the pacing man. Brisbois sighed inwardly, then gazed with irritation at the rider. It was Sir Lile Graybow, the castellan of the castle.
“Good morning, Sir Brisbois,” Graybow said affably, his gravelly voice cheerful and sincere. He was seated on a golden mare and bedecked in his finest armor.
“Good morning to you, Sir Graybow,” Brisbois said brusquely. When Graybow made no move to continue down the path, Brisbois was forced to add, out of deference, “And where are you off to this morning?”
“I’m visiting some of the villages of Penhaligon today,” Graybow said smoothly. After a pause, he continued, “I’m going to institute some of the peasantry tax relief measures Lord Maldrake and I devised.”
“Tax relief… measures?” Brisbois asked slowly. He and Maldrake hadn’t made any plans since the deal with the horses had fallen through.
“Yes,” Graybow said archly. “I was surprised you didn’t want to meet with us, Brisbois, but Lord Maldrake told me you no longer wanted to be a part of the committee. Of course, when we presented our plans to Baroness Arteris, we had to tell her of your decision. She was quite distressed. A shame, really.”
Brisbois put his gloved hands behind his back and clenched them. He smiled civilly. Collect yourself, Brisbois thought. Graybow could be trying to rile me for all I know. Maldrake’s in for quite a conversation, if he ever arrives. “Ah, thank you, Sir Graybow,” Brisbois said formally and gave a little bow. “You’ve been most… informative.” The castellan nodded and then moved his horse off at a trot.
Many long minutes passed before Maldrake came down the bridle path. His horse was cantering sideways in a highly stylized and controlled parade march. All Maldrake’s concentration seemed centered on making the horse take deliberate, measured steps. Brisbois was freshly irri
tated. He took off his gloves and slapped them into one hand. His friend had made this appointment seem urgent. Apparently equestrian practice was more important. Brisbois wouldn’t put up with such insults.
With a flourish, Lord Maldrake dismounted from his horse and bowed elaborately before the knight. “Brisbois!” he shouted with great affection. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Maldrake,” Brisbois growled. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“Oh, please, Brisbois,” Maldrake looked pained. “Isn’t there something else we can talk about?”
“Yes, there is,” retorted Brisbois. “We can discuss just exactly what you’re doing with Graybow, or we can discuss what happened to Yvaughan!”
“Oh, that,” Maldrake scowled. “Nothing more than she deserved.”
“Maldrake!” Brisbois shouted. “She’s your wife! Don’t you care about her?”
The young lord crossed his arms and looked both bored and annoyed at the same time. “Look, Brisbois, there’s something you should know. I was never in love with Yvaughan—not even in the beginning. Our feelings were all one-sided—hers. I only wanted to marry her because she was a Penhaligon and Arteris is far too icy for my tastes. Marrying Yvaughan was a good move for me, and I’m grateful for your discrediting her previous husband.”
“Maldrake—!”
The blond lord held up his hand. “As to Yvaughan’s deserving anything, the only thing she deserves is to be thrown from the highest tower!” Maldrake’s green eyes flashed, and his pale skin turned red. “That woman killed my son, Brisbois, and you want me to be worried about her? Those little scratches she gave herself are nothing! I wish she’d clawed out her jugular—”
Brisbois shook his friend. “Stop it, man! Can’t you see? Yvaughan’s innocent! She didn’t kill that pitiful being you called your son! And she didn’t wound herself. It’s that damned wizard who did both!”
Maldrake knocked away Brisbois’ hands. “Never touch me again!” he hissed through clenched teeth, his canines shining in the bright morning sun. Brisbois stepped back involuntarily.
“Maldrake…” he whispered.
The lord stabbed his finger against the knight’s chest. “I told you about Teryl Auroch. He didn’t kill my son or injure my wife. And even if you are right about his harming Yvaughan, he did it to please me. He succeeded—” Maldrake’s eyes flashed “—where you failed.”
Brisbois stared unblinking at his friend. He had always tried to do his best for Maldrake; how could he be faulted for trying? Brisbois held out his hands. “All right, Maldrake,” he said in a subdued voice. “Whatever you wish. You asked to see me. What did you want?”
Maldrake smiled. It was a thin, reptilian smile, and it chilled Brisbois. “Flinn is on his way to the castle.”
“When?” Brisbois felt fear trickle into his heart. He had done more than enough to earn Flinn’s wrath.
“Soon,” answered Maldrake. “In the next few days.”
“What are you going to do?” Brisbois asked.
“What am I going to do, Sir Brisbois?” Maldrake responded coyly, then shook his head. “You have it all wrong, my friend. All wrong, indeed.” He put his arm around Brisbois’ shoulder. The knight stiffened and Maldrake shook him, smiling all the while. “Relax, Brisbois, relax.” They began walking toward the stables, the trampled snow crunching beneath their boots.
“What do you have planned?” Brisbois insisted, knots forming in the muscles across his shoulders and back.
Maldrake laughed and looked at Brisbois. “Listen, and I’ll tell you.” He shook his head, his green eyes wide. “The best part is, neither you nor I will have to do a thing.” Maldrake’s laughter filled the morning air.
Chapter XIII
The setting sun touched the top of the trees as Flinn and his friends overlooked the valley leading to Karleah Kunzay’s home. Snow blanketed the forest and the rugged hills beyond, and rays of fading sunlight sparkled off the unblemished white. The slopes of the valley were lined with pale aspens and dark green spruces. A few birds circled lazily in the air, and Flinn eyed them warily. Spies of Karleah’s, he thought. A blue jay cackled, its voice reminiscent of the old woman’s laugh. The warrior grimaced. So much for my plan to surprise the wizardess, he thought. We’ll have to enter the valley on her terms. He nudged Ariac into a slow walk, and the others fell in behind. Jo followed on her horse Carsig, and Braddoc and Dayin rode the dwarf’s long-legged ponies. Braddoc used a lead rein to tow Fernlover, who took up the rear carrying supplies.
Flinn frowned as they descended into the valley. No tracks appeared in the snow, which had fallen at least three days ago. Along the line of trees, a deer spooked suddenly, her eyes wide and unblinking. She flicked her tail, bounded across the open valley floor, and disappeared into the forest. Immediately after the doe’s passing, the snow closed over the tracks.
Flinn smiled grimly. He raised an eyebrow and wondered what other surprises Karleah’s valley held in store. “Keep your eyes open,” he said as Jo and Braddoc came to flank him.
“I don’t like the idea of calling on crazy Karleah,” Braddoc grumbled once again. He’d voiced his misgivings once or twice before on the trip, but to no avail. “Seems we’re just asking for trouble,” he added.
Flinn pulled Ariac to a halt and looked at the dwarf. “What do you expect me to do? I promised Dayin I’d bring him to Karleah Kunzay because he knows her and doesn’t want to go to the castle.” Flinn waved his hand. “I can’t just leave Dayin here by himself!”
The dwarf said stubbornly, “Why not? He survived the last couple of winters just fine without you.”
“We’ve come this far, Braddoc,” Jo noted. She added sensibly, “It can’t be much farther.”
The dwarf looked uneasily from Jo to Flinn and then to Dayin. His eyes roamed the trees around him. “There’s something about… about this place that’s giving me the willies. The—the… trees want us to leave. Can’t you hear their whispers?” Braddoc’s voice cracked, and Jo looked at Flinn in sudden alarm.
The warrior moved next to Braddoc and gripped the dwarf’s arm. “Braddoc!” he said in a low, authoritative voice. “Calm yourself! The whispers—”
“There’re so many, so many!” Braddoc’s eyes darted to the woods again.
Flinn slapped the dwarf. “The whispers are just Karleah’s wards trying to drive you away! She doesn’t like dwarves, but fight against the charm and it’ll stop.”
Braddoc’s eyes dimmed, and he tugged nervously at his beard. The dwarf coughed suddenly and looked up at Flinn, his eyes clearer. His expression was grim. “I knew there was a reason why I hate wizards.” He laughed wryly, and the others joined in.
“Flinn,” Jo asked when the laughter subsided, “how did you know about the ward against dwarves?” She spurred her horse next to Flinn’s griffon. They continued slowly down to the center of the snow-filled valley. The cold wind was dying down.
Flinn found his thoughts slipping nearly fifteen years into the past as he told Jo, Dayin, and Braddoc the story of how he had met crazy Karleah Kunzay. He’d been recovering in the castle’s rose gardens one day after his battle with Verdilith when, unexpectedly, an old crone approached him. She was dressed in filthy rags and smelled of dust, and Flinn had sneezed three times during his greeting.
The old hag had come straight to the point. She told Flinn that she had dreamed of the battle between him and the dragon. On three nights afterward she’d had a dream of a second battle between them. In the first, Flinn had died while the dragon won. In the second, the reverse had occurred. In the third dream, both man and dragon died. Karleah told Flinn that, for a small fee, she would dream a fourth time and divine the true future for the next battle. Flinn laughed, handed the old woman a coin, and told her that he knew who would die: Verdilith.
Flinn chuckled as he relived the incident. “Although I saw Karleah Kunzay after that, she never did tell me if she’d had a fourth dream or not. And I never asked h
er,” Flinn finished his tale as they reached the valley floor.
“Why didn’t you ask?” Jo asked curiously. Dayin echoed the question. Braddoc was still eyeing the woods suspiciously and paid little attention to Flinn’s story.
The warrior shrugged. “I prefer not to know my fate.”
Flinn lapsed into silence, his thoughts returning to the strange wizardess.
Once, in the middle of the night, he had walked onto the parapets of the castle and found Karleah there. She told him she was settling in the hills northeast of the castle and that she wanted advice on how to protect her home. Flinn readily complied, telling her the kinds of defenses he would create. Snow that could conceal tracks after their creation had been one of his suggestions, and he was flattered she’d taken it.
Abruptly, as though he hadn’t interrupted his tale earlier, the warrior stated, “Unfortunately, word got out about Karleah’s ‘prophecy.’ First it was rumored that Verdilith would die.” Flinn shook his head. “People actually prayed for the dragon’s return so I could kill it.”
“When did the prophecy change?” Jo asked.
“After my fall from grace. People said then that I would die if I was to meet up with Verdilith. The same ones who prayed for the dragon’s return so I could kill it now prayed for its return so it could kill me.”
Suddenly the animals jerked to an abrupt halt. Ariac squealed and flapped his stubby wings, and Carsig and the ponies whinnied. Dayin and Jo were thrown from their mounts, while Flinn and Braddoc had to fight to keep their seats. Fernlover panicked, fell to his knees, and then was still. Flinn lightly heeled Ariac in the flanks. The griffon quivered and tried his best to take a step forward, but he couldn’t move. Flinn looked back at Jo, who was kneeling by Carsig and pushing the snow from the horse’s hoof.
“Can you see anything?” he asked the young woman. He and Braddoc were still mounted, and each had drawn his weapon. This defense of Karleah’s certainly seemed effective, thought Flinn.
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