"And me?" asked Neheva, a twinkle in her dark eyes.
"That goes without saying," Brice added quickly.
"What can we do?" asked Daura.
"Are we trapped?" asked Macelan.
"Macelan!" cried Serada, who rushed forward to hug him. He pulled back and looked into Macelan's eyes.
"You are Macelan, this time. But there is sorrow in your eyes, which I have never seen before."
"He has killed," said Neheva. "I sense it. Your power has taken lives."
Macelan nodded and Daura put her arm around him. He pulled out the stone and showed it to Neheva.
"How can we use this to help us? It heats up every time Kerthon or I use sorcery."
"Destroy it," she said at once.
"Destroy?"
"It is the focus of his power. Without it, he is nearly powerless."
"But I can't. It helps my power." He was unsure if he wanted to help them. Neheva appeared to shrink and shrivel before his eyes.
"One and the same."
"We need my power!"
"We need Gareth's power. Although it has the same source as Kerthon's it is not merely a shadow of the Sorcerer's might as is your power. Everything you do is tainted by his touch. Nothing will go as you planned. He will turn your power against us. Although Gareth would be risking his soul, it is our only hope."
Neheva took it from his hand and dropped it to the floor where her boot stamped on it and cracked it. Macelan tried to stop her but Brice held him back despite the trembling in Macelan that may have been the rising of his sorcery. Brice smashed his heavy foot upon the stone and at once Macelan felt a shortening of breath. He flailed wildly in an effort to break free. Neheva touched his forehead and he calmed down and sobbed.
"Do not worry," said Neheva. "For you it will pass. For the other, it will be terrible."
A terrible howling rose up in the empty corridors and was greeted by another voice outside. The foundations of the castle shook and Neheva dashed for the far wall. She pressed a stone and waited but nothing happened. She tried another stone.
"Come! Help me! Press the third stone from the top."
They all found a stone and pushed, there was a hollow clang, and a door slid open.
"This leads down to the sea. There used to be boats large enough for us all. If not we must swim. It is the only way. Hurry!"
"But Gareth!" protested Daura.
"I will wait if he comes here," said Macelan. "We will catch up with you." He kissed Daura and turned away.
"Do not wait too long," said Neheva. "The castle may fall on your head. Once you follow, set this lever inside the door and no one will be able to open the door to follow us." She rushed into the darkness and the remainder of the rebels followed her.
Macelan stood waiting in the darkness. There was a soft glow from the floor to one side but he did not notice it. The sounds of booted feet came to him and he backed into the doorway and put his hand on the lever. Suddenly, Gareth came into view with soldiers on his heels. Gareth turned and gestured and fog erupted out of nowhere. The soldiers could not find Gareth.
"Macelan! Wait!" cried Gareth. Macelan stood at the entrance of the tunnel, his hand on the lever to seal the passage.
Macelan heard a voice in his head. Gareth has embraced his potential, the voice said. There was momentary fear and then evil mirth washed it aside. Macelan felt himself falling. A dark veil fell over Macelan's eyes. He saw himself on a throne, wielding power, Daura at his side, all the land under his dominion and he was pleased. Macelan smiled and pulled the lever. The door slid shut and the sound reverberated even as a soldier emerged from the fog and rushed Gareth in front of the stone passage.
Macelan followed the steep passage down to the boat. Everyone was loaded and ready.
"Gareth?" asked Daura. Macelan shook his head.
"They were on him even as he reached our level. He had no chance."
"None indeed," said Neheva under her breath. Macelan looked at her but she did not return the gaze. Brice pushed off from the dock and the oars dipped into the water and began to pull the boat to sea.
Scithers stood near the body of the slain Calendian soldier, his body charred by Gareth's magic. His Master had vanished with the passing of the stone, banished back to the tower, shapeless. And Scithers would soon feel the urge to return before he too, faded. But he had never died and would still guide his gaunt body through the years while Kerthon brooded. Scithers would search for another stone, another talisman for Kerthon to channel his power. But year by year Kerthon's power slipped away and his descendants gained more and now Kerthon's fate was tenuous. Wargat was not pleased with his servants. The demon screamed in anger when the stone was destroyed. Wargat's touched burned Scithers. He could still feel his skin burn, flaking off as the demon grabbed him. Scithers understood his fate was tied to Kerthon. Gareth must die or Kerthon would cease to exist, and so too would Scithers.
The quarry was out of reach but Scithers spied a small pile of what appeared to be rock, but it glowed and was warm to the touch. Perhaps it was not totally destroyed. It still pulsed with power. He gathered it up and placed it in a pouch. He chuckled and left the room and the remains of the Calendian army on the floor.
As soon as the heavy door slid shut, Macelan had a feeling of guilt but it soon passed. Everything he had wanted would soon be his and he laughed as he ran down the corridor to find his companions. Everything would be grand. Gareth could not come between Daura and himself and perhaps he would become the leader of the rebels. The power would be his and no one could stop him. He had a vision of a black shape urging him on. Then suddenly, he could not remember what he had wanted and he felt panic begin to rise in his chest. What was he doing? He did not know. He did not know where he was or who he was. He had stumbled down and Serada had caught him before he hit the hard ground.
Neheva still looked at him from time to time and Macelan felt she had seen through his lies. But he could not admit what he believed he had done. Why would he lie? Who was speaking through his mouth? He shuddered because he knew the answer.
They had found a boat that could still float and there was enough lumber for oars. Brice and Serada pushed the boat into the underground stream that flowed very fast. Serada held the line while everyone climbed in. Brice let the stream propel them and only used an oar for a rudder. The strong current pushed the boat from side to side and it scraped hard against the side of the cave and the old wood splintered and creaked.
"Keep in the center!" cried Mira. Her voice was lost amidst the roar of the water. The cave drew low in several places, once every one had to lie prone in the bottom of the boat to avoid the overhang, the boat rode against the cave wall, and they held their breath. Suddenly they were out to sea. Above them, the cliff rose sharply to the castle. Brice readied the oars but the current was with them and he let it do the work.
They let the boat drift while they looked back to the dark shape of the castle that the morning sun was now warming. The rumbling had stopped and the castle still stood. It was a dark shape stark against the dawn. Wisps of smoke rose from its battlements and the wind brought foul air from the cliff to the sea. Neheva sat near the edge of the boat and leaned over the side every few minutes. Her pale features were chalky white.
"I don't understand," said Neheva. Her breathing was labored. "With the stone destroyed everything Kerthon created with his sorcery should crumble to dust. He had always used that stone for his major spells. It was bound up with most of his power. And he guarded it so closely that I can't believe it had little significance."
"Perhaps the castle was created the conventional way," suggested Daura.
"No, I was there. It was sorcery. Something is not as it should be. I do not believe we destroyed him. He must still exist in one form or another. The best we can hope for is that he has been banished to the tower once more and with the passing of the stone, his power is diminished. My memory about the significance of the stone must be faulty."
"Why is the tower so significant?" asked Serada.
"That is where his remains are."
"Wouldn't they have become dust by now?" asked Daura.
"No. That is not the way of sorcery. As long as his power exists, so will his mortal body. It was through betrayal by his son who used Kerthon's own sorcery against him that the Sorcerer was killed. Although he did not die the way, you may envision death. He may never use his own body again, I do not believe he has the power to animate it and what we saw was the terrible power of sorcery reshaping a human body. The body was still Kaell's."
Mira looked at the six people in the boat and felt sorrow for the hundreds of rebels who were no longer with them. They had spent so much effort, so much time to the rebellion and for naught. Gareth, how could he have died? He was such a capable leader. It was inconceivable that he was dead, yet Macelan said that it was so. She leaned against Serada who put his arm around her.
Brice and Macelan returned to the oars and the boat followed the coastline for several miles. The seawater was cold and the horizon stretched out before them endlessly. The wind was light and only the gulls could be heard, above the waves on the shore. No one spoke but Macelan could feel the dark presence among them. He looked at the faces and each was withdrawn into their own thoughts. Serada rose and moved next to Neheva. He looked down at her as she leaned over the side again. Suddenly, he picked her up and threw her overboard. She splashed heavily and coughed up water.
"I have completed my bargain, witch!" cried Serada, his eyes wild and glazed. "Now, you shall die as you wished!"
She floundered in the water and her thin voice returned to them.
"Fool! I am Kerthon's now! There is no escape for me unless he is dead!" She seemed to dip under the water and Brice dove in after her.
"She wanted to die," protested Serada. Macelan recoiled from the look in his friend's eyes, stood up, grabbed him by the shoulders, and struck him in the face. Serada was shocked, and then he relaxed, his face clear of the emotion that had dominated him. He looked at Macelan and then out on the water where Brice swam after the witch. He sat down and put his head in his hands.
"What? Oh no!" He realized what had happened and watched Brice as he swam toward the still figure. Neheva slipped beneath the surface and Brice dove under. Heartbeats passed. Serada was not sure if anyone could stay under so long. Then Brice broke the surface. Daura and Mira pulled the still form of Neheva on board. Brice climbed in, out of breath and shivering.
"She's still alive," said Daura.
"No thanks to me," said Serada. He had felt a cold grip on his heart and he had acted without thinking. It was not the same as when Neheva had bewitched him. It was colder and painful. Another presence had wrenched his body to do its bidding.
"It was Kerthon," said Brice and they all knew it.
"It had to be," said Macelan. "There is no other power such as his."
"He used my promise to kill her. She brought us to Gareth on my word that I would kill her when she was ready. Kerthon took over my mind and I did not have a clue that he was there. Are any of us safe?"
"No," gasped Neheva. "Not until he perishes. If I had died, he would have claimed me for eternity that is the curse laid upon me. Please do not try to keep your promise as long as the Sorcerer exists."
Serada mumbled something and turned away.
"What can we do?" asked Macelan.
"I do not know," replied Neheva, who was resting on Mira's lap. "I thought the stone was the way to destroy Kerthon, now I doubt that it is possible. Your power, which you scarcely know how to control, is but a shadow of Kerthon's. Perhaps we must let him exist and keep unwary fools from his grasp."
"Is that enough?" asked Brice.
"What can we do?" said Neheva. "We have no power with which to contest him. We would perish in vain."
"But what of you?" asked Daura. "You must live forever."
"I have lived far longer than Kerthon. I shall do fine." She coughed again. There was a touch of sadness in her voice and in the daylight; she had changed back to the young girl.
"You can live with us," said Mira. She held Serada's hand.
"Us?" said Macelan, looking at a sheepish Serada.
"Thank you," said Neheva. "That is very kind. But I cannot stay long from my woods. I have dwelt there too long and much of my strength comes from there. Perhaps you could travel some of the distance with me. It is a long journey and I find I am not as partial to my solitude as I once was." She did not speak of the fear that Serada would be forced to attempt to kill her again.
"We shall do so if we can," said Mira.
Macelan was laughing. "Better adventure than you reckoned on?" He spoke to Serada and nodded his head at Mira.
"I guess so," said Serada, quietly. Then he smiled and Macelan thumped him on the back.
"We shall all go together," said Daura. "We do not know what condition the empire is in, or if Kerthon still controls the High King Ransal. We have no place to go. We should remain together. I'm sure Gareth would have wished that."
"Very well," said Neheva. "But we should not go much further down this coast. It shall be a long journey as it is."
Brice found a sandy spot along the shore and brought the boat onto the beach and they disembarked and splashed their way to the dry sand. They rested and then hunted for fruits, berries, any type of food they could find for the long journey ahead. They did not know if they could seek food and shelter in the towns on their route because of uncertainty if Kerthon still controlled the soldiers. They prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.
As they climbed the last hill leading from the sea Macelan looked back on the waves pummeling the shore and sought the peace and serenity that the sea had given him for so long. But all he found was the restlessness of a man he did not know. Daura held his hand and led him in the wake of their companions to an uncertain future.