Black Kerthon's Doom (27 page)

He followed the figure and caught up with it just outside the walls. As they neared the gate, Brice rushed forward, grabbed the figure, and threw him inside the courtyard at Gareth's feet.

"Parean?" cried Daura. "You're alive!"

She ran forward and hugged Parean who was too amazed to speak. Gareth talked low and quick to Brice and then nodded. Macelan watched the scene in disbelief. He had never truly expected to win Daura but he did not think her suitor would return either. It was difficult to think his growing hope would be dashed so completely and they were trapped together in Moorld while the soldiers remained. There was no place to go. He turned back to explore more of the castle. He looked back at Daura one more time and kicked the dirt. What was left for Macelan? To be thrown aside, far from home. He said Daura's name to himself, over and over.

It began gnawing at him. Daura. She will return to Parean and Macelan would be alone. Alone. A voice in his head began to speak and it was adamant that he listen. His hands began to tremor and his jaw went slack.

"I can't believe you're alive," said Parean. "Kaell had said so, but I didn't believe him. I am the luckiest man in the land."

"Yes, you are," agreed Gareth and he walked away. Daura was alarmed by the sarcastic tone and watched her brother. He knew more than he would say, but she did not find that unusual at all.

"What's wrong?" asked Prosty, as he drew alongside Gareth.

"His arrival is too coincidental," said Gareth.

"He said he escaped."

"If Kerthon is there, then he didn't escape. He was set free and to what purpose?"

"One sure thing; Macelan walked off in a huff."

"Yes, I thought about that. But I wonder how they knew Daura was here? Or even that the rest of us were? We spotted no one watching us. No trackers or hunters. It does not make sense. I don't like it."

"Are you sure it's Daura they're searching for?"

Gareth turned to Prosty. His eyes narrowed.

"I know what you're fishing at, but I have never claimed my birthright, if that is what you call a curse."

"Time will tell. Perhaps they just assume you will claim it. They will use Parean to get to Daura for leverage against you."

"I won't use sorcery," he said.

"Trust your instincts," said Prosty. "They have kept you out of Imperial hands for some time."

"Thanks. I need support right now. Any kind. All roads have turned us to a dark journey."

"Faith in yourself. Remember faith." Prosty laid his hand on Gareth's shoulder. "You are the only true threat; my powers are no match for Kerthon. I must find Macelan. If you will not use sorcery then Macelan must find out how he killed that Stalker."

Gareth climbed back up to the top of the wall. Why would Parean have been brought if not to be used against them? And what if Prosty was right and Macelan had gained some power but did not know how to use it? Kerthon would not wait long. Macelan would have to show his power soon or the soldiers would swarm the castle. But Macelan doesn't appear to have any power, except for when the Stalker attacked and how do they find his power if it does exist? He had meant to ask Prosty that question but it slipped his mind for a moment. He felt fate pulling him into its chaos.

"Gareth?" Daura was there.

"How is Parean?"

"I don't know. I can't say that I feel as strongly towards him as before."

"Macelan will be glad."

"That's a different problem. Parean has been through some difficult times. His mind is very...I don't know how to put it, but I don't trust him."

"His appearance is hard to believe without the hand of Kerthon behind it."

"That's what I thought so I wanted to ask you about it."

"There's no reason for Kerthon to have brought him this far without something in mind."

There was a sudden scream and they turned to find Macelan running into the courtyard with Brice on his heels. The big man tackled Macelan and knocked the wind out of him. By the time Gareth and Daura reached them Prosty had appeared also.

"He killed Parean," said Brice. "He came charging at us, his eyes red with rage and some power erupted."

"I felt it," said Prosty. "It was incredible. I do not have such power. Sorcery without a doubt. There never was a wizard who could claim such power."

"Parean?" asked Daura.

"Don't go in there," said Prosty, kindly. "It will do no good."

Macelan caught his wind and looked at everyone.

"What's going on?" His face was puffy as if he had just woken from a deep sleep.

"You tell us," said Gareth.

Macelan rubbed his head.

"The last thing I remember was stalking off after Parean showed up." He looked at Daura. "I felt my world slipping away. I walked the corridors to think and clear my head. The next thing I know, I'm here."

Prosty looked closely at him.

"I see no deceit in his eyes. Some power overtook him. Kerthon without a doubt."

"What happened?" asked Macelan, shaking. He recalled Kerthon's appearance in Nantitet and the sorcerer's cold appraisal of him.

"You killed Parean with your sorcery," Gareth bit off the last word. Betrayal and death. That was the legacy of sorcery.

Macelan's mouth dropped and he struggled for words. He looked to Daura but she would not meet his eyes. He started hitting his head on the ground but Brice stopped him before much damage was done.

"What is happening to me?!" Macelan cried out and collapsed into sobs. Brice carried him to a shady spot and Daura followed. Gareth tried to stop her but she pulled out of his grasp, sat down, and held Macelan to her. She was hardening, Gareth could tell, but she had far to go and either she would survive or she would break. And it all depended upon Macelan. Gareth went to help with the corpse and ordered Brice to watch Daura and Macelan. Gareth felt sympathy for Macelan, knowing it would worsen.

His dreams were dark and the black figure drew close to embrace him but he pushed away despite the burning heat from the black figure that scorched his hands. He ran and ran, the black shape gliding after him, closer, closer. He swung his sword, awkwardly, never gaining the mastery of it, and he plunged into a dark, damp pit, falling, falling. Suddenly, there were arms everywhere and he could not get away. They pulled at him. His flesh tore away in chunks, bloodless. Each pain a knife to his heart. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't..

"Macelan, wake up!" She shook him again and she shook him hard. "Wake up!"

He woke with a start and his eyes were full of wildness, which Daura had never seen before, and he tried to pull away from her. Then he eyes cleared.

"Daura?"

"It's okay. Shh."

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to kill Parean. I didn't know I did."

"I know. Hush."

"I thought I had lost you, and I hadn't even caught you yet."

"Shh." She held him tight and let her tears flow.

Gareth watched from his high perch and then turned his gaze toward the soldiers. You must let go, he told himself. She is no longer the child you had to raise after your parents died. And if her choice is not yours and it is for love, let go, let go. Live for yourself, Gareth, now. Finally.

The transformation was complete. Kaell's body existed no longer. Serada could not quiet his stomach as he had watched the hideous display unfold. The flesh of Kaell burned away ever so slowly. Eyes bulged from their sockets, blood seeping through pores, the pop and crack of joints enlarging. Now, only the black man remained; the huge dark figure to which Scithers groveled and whimpered. The fiery eyes blazed out in the twilight and the night grew dark quickly around the Sorcerer. It was no longer his shape on Kaell's body, it was Kerthon's body. He came forward to their tent and Serada pulled Mira behind him. Neheva stood firm. Kerthon reached for her and she resisted his touch with her mind. Her magic had been in place for hours and it irritated him. But he laughed. Her power paled beside his. The reckoning could wait.

Neheva felt his power swirl around her, testing her limits. She stared at him defiantly. Behind the tortured face, there was a shadow of someone she had once known but it was deeply hidden and as she tried to find it, a fiery darkness engulfed her and she pulled away with a gasp.

"Soon. We shall be united once more." The voice was hard and Neheva knew who actually spoke those words. He smiled but the result was gruesome; his mouth had been half torn away in a previous life and the flaps of skin hung on his chin. He whirled and called to Scithers who bounced to his feet and followed his master to his tent.

"Are you all right?" Serada asked Mira, whose face was as pale as his.

"I think so. I wish I'd never seen that."

"Be thankful if that is the worst you see or experience," said Neheva. "He is pure evil. He will destroy everything in his path."

"Is it too late to escape?" asked Mira.

"Perhaps not," replied Neheva. "When he is ready to do whatever he has been waiting for, then there might be an opportunity to slip away while he is preoccupied."

Meanwhile, thought Serada, we shall sit in the hot sun or in the hot tent and our skin will melt off us.

"Cheer up," said Mira. "We're still together and there is still a chance."

Serada heard her words and wondered if she meant a chance for escape or a chance for love. And the latter was what was creeping into his mind more and more. Mira was in his thoughts most of the time. He stole glances as often as he dared. His focus had been pulled in and was only concerned with the three of them. Nothing else mattered until someone bullied his way into their world. He wanted to belong somewhere where he could start over, where he would not hear the old-timers remembering his father and saying what a shame it had been for him to die so young. Serada wanted to find peace within him but he could not do it so close to the sea, he now realized. He was glad he and Macelan had left Dale although he felt a pang when he thought about Macelan. That was another missing person he would have to deal with. Serada smiled to Mira and wiped the sweat off his face.

"Has anyone seen Prosty?" asked Chraset. He had cast aside his humble gardener attire, ragged beard and accent and openly wore his medallion, which proclaimed him the Lord of Stormridge and the most powerful noble backing the rebellion.

"No," said Brice.

"Gareth wants to ask him something about sorcery and I can't find him."

"Well, he isn't in here. The castle is very large, he could be anywhere."

"But why wouldn't he answer when I call?" asked Chraset. Brice did not venture a guess.

"We better tell Gareth."

They did not have to find Gareth because he entered the foyer almost immediately.

"Where's Prosty?"

"We can't find him."

Gareth muttered under his breath. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted him." He took a deep breath and decided.

"Brice, find Macelan and Daura. If Prosty has abandoned us then we must help Macelan find his power."

"We saw the results," said Chraset. "Do we really want to try?"

"Kerthon is out there and we are no match for him. And he has an army with him. There are not a lot of choices."

"Aren't there?" asked Chraset. Gareth did not respond.

Brice left and Chraset retrieved a jug from his pack and offered it to Gareth.

"For old times, then. They shall never return and these times do not promise to become old times for us, old friend."

"I'm afraid you may be right," said Gareth. "Our numbers have dropped to nothing and our enemies are all the stronger. Sometimes I wonder why I keep trying."

"Not for the money, surely?" Chraset smiled.

"Ha! That is true. Money. It's been so long since I've had any I'd forgotten what it is for."

"I have never forgotten the lack of it," said Chraset. "I guess that's why I worked so hard to keep it."

"You've done well at that, my friend, and taken good care of your father. I wish I would have had the chance to do the same for mine."

Macelan and Daura joined them. Brice remained on the wall, watching the soldiers. Macelan's eyes were clear and bright and his step was light. His mind no longer seemed surrounded by darkness.

"We cannot find Prosty," said Gareth. "Did you and Prosty find anything among Kerthon's affects?"

"Nothing. We had found nothing when Brice called us."

"Did you both leave at the same time?" asked Chraset.

"No, I was ahead of him. Not more than a few seconds."

"Long enough," said Chraset. "Especially if he had already spotted what he was after. Once Macelan was out of the room, Prosty picked up his prize and no one was the wiser."

"What do you think happened, Gareth?" asked Daura.

"He is gone. I do not know whether he is helping Kerthon or has some plan of his own. In either case, the outcome will not be favorable to us. Our only hope is escape but the sea is behind us and we are not sailors. There once was an escape route to the sea. I think it was located in the dungeons. Any other route will be easily tracked and that takes for granted that we can provide a diversion to allow us to escape.

"No, my friends, I have brought you to a difficult place and I have no good plans to keep us safe. Our barest hope lies on Macelan's shoulders. Somehow he has come upon great sorcery; we have Prosty's word on that."

"If his word is good," muttered Chraset.

"But we have seen Macelan's power in action. It is devastating."

"I don't know how to use it!" cried Macelan. "You are putting all the pressure on me."

"That stimulus released it before. It may again. What would you have us do? You may have been running from more than soldiers when you met up with us, if my guess is correct." Macelan said nothing. "Think of Daura. If you had the only means of saving her and it was difficult to achieve, would you not try? Could you tell her you don't think enough of her to risk yourself?"

"Smooth words.." said Macelan.

"But true."

"Put yourself in my place," said Macelan. "Who knows what will happen."