The Lords of Anavar (10 page)

Artus realized he was not alone. He sensed a figure to his left in the shadows under the drooping branches of a pine tree. He continued eating as if he did not know. Slowly, he set down his bowl. He exhaled and decided to be bold. He had little choice.

"I know you are there." There was no response. "Do you wish to share my fire? It is quite meager for two, but you would be welcome." His hands trembled as he waited. He could not decide what spell to ready in case the intruder attacked.

After a moment, the figure came into the light. He appeared to be a fighting man, tall and weathered by years of battle. He squinted at Artus. The man's sword remained in its scabbard.

"You look familiar," said Artus, who squinted back.

The man opened his eyes wide and frowned, turning a thought over in his mind.

"Are you Artus Endria?"

"I may be." Artus watched the man closely. There were no signs of nervousness, no indication of danger from him.

"Gerrand sent word to look for you."

"Gerrand! Then of course, I am Artus Endria. Who are you?"

"Deah Vole."

"Of course, that's why you look familiar. Brothers?"

"Yes. I do not admit it to most people. They view Techna as a curiosity and think it will rub off on me. However, I have no magic."

"I won't hold that against you," he grinned. "Actually, I consider it a blessing at the moment. My brethren have not been kind to me lately. Come join me. I have a little stew left. Two days old."

"Sounds fine." He pulled out his own weathered bowl and crouched by the fire to serve himself. He sat across from Artus and ate silently. Artus tried not to watch him, but the man moved so fluid, like a cat. Artus tried to envision Deah Vole's swordplay.

"You should have used magic on the stew," said Deah Vole.

"What?"

Deah Vole grinned. Then his face returned to the dour expression he seemed to favor.

"Gerrand did not tell me why you would be here. Only to find you and help you. Can you tell me more?"

Artus thought about the request. Gerrand did not tell him to limit the information but he knew he should not tell everyone. Still, Gerrand sent Deah Vole to him, didn't he? How would he know if Gerrand send Deah Vole? He just had Vole's word for it. Should he use the spell to hear Gerrand's message before answering the question? However, if Deah were false, Artus would put himself in grave danger while the spell worked. Nothing would stop Deah from killing him then. In fact, what had kept Deah from killing him already if he was an enemy? He made his decision.

"I will tell you all I can, but first I need to go into a trance to hear instructions from Gerrand. May I trust you during that time?"

Deah Vole's nostrils flared. He spat.

"I am almost offended by your words, but Techna used to say the same things to me. To me, his own brother. Do not worry. I give my word that I shall protect you. Be certain of that."

"Thank you, Deah. I shall breathe easier."

He settled in against the log, closed his eyes and triggered the spell.

Deah Vole watched Artus glow with a soft amber light. Artus' lips moved silently. The soldier walked around the camp once more to familiarize himself with the terrain and then sat down just out of the fire's glow on the side least likely to be approached. He watched closely the manner of Artus' magic. He watched for two hours, nodding his head now and again, then Artus exhaled loudly and his limbs began to twitch. Deah Vole checked the perimeter of the camp once more.

Artus woke up. He stared unfocused for so long Deah Vole thought something was wrong with Artus. It was the message Artus received that carried the trouble.

"Are you all right?" asked Deah Vole.

Artus started at the sound. He looked at Vole with fear, and then shook his head as he remembered where he was. He shook his shoulders back and rotated his wrists in an effort to loosen his tight muscles.

"I will be fine in a minute. The message from Gerrand was so far reaching it is hard to reconcile myself to all its meanings. Sometimes I am afraid Gerrand thinks more of my abilities than they are."

"I used to think the same, but I grew into those expectations of Gerrand. I suspect you will do the same in time."

"In time? How do I know that there will be time for me to do that? The threat that faces us could destroy the world, as we know it. Will there be time then? I'm afraid I must do my growing now." He took a deep breath and looked directly at Deah Vole.

"You are familiar with the legends surrounding Macelan?"

"Yes. Anyone who lives in Curesia would be familiar with them."

"Macelan has returned."

"What do you mean returned?"

"Just what I said. Macelan walks the land again."

"I don't believe you." Deah Vole looked at his feet. "This talk is madness. Old wives' tales. I will not listen to it."

"Would you believe Gerrand? It is Gerrand's word. Gerrand studied under Macelan and recognized the signs Macelan foretold to herald his return. We had an eyewitness report of one such sign. Cehana, a Mage from Oraeland, spoke of a mountain exploding and killing nearly everyone in the populated areas. She even saw a face in the clouds and from her description of it Gerrand identified the face as Macelan."

Deah Vole shook his head violently for several moments, and then exhaled, fluttering his lips.

"What are Gerrand's feelings upon his mentor's return?"

"Macelan lost his sanity toward the end of his life. Gerrand believes the insane Macelan will return with all his incredible sorcery at his possession. Gerrand said that Macelan could move himself across large distances at will. Imagine moving from Curesia to Calendia with a thought."

"A mad sorcerer with such abilities will soon rule the world."

"That is Gerrand's belief. That is what Macelan tried to do before he died. If he really died at all. I am to seek out Petyr Wolk, who has turned away from the Mage's Council for his own ends. Gerrand believes Wolk could be involved with Macelan."

Deah Vole grinned, glad to be on a subject of which he was familiar.

"Wolk is certainly involved with something. Once, he was seldom seen in Jespin but that has changed. He is spreading his influence within the palace. He spends much time with High Lord Gharom although he thinks no one suspects him. I have made a point of watching Wolk whenever he enters Jespin. Perhaps he knows I trail him; I could not say. Still, I do not trust him and I know my brother does not either."

"I was in Jespin yesterday. I saw Wolk ride south at the head of a company of men. I trailed them out there but lost them. Somewhere in these mountains is the key. We must find it and send word to Gerrand. Only Gerrand can stop the threat of Macelan."

"I do not wish to downplay Gerrand's importance, but do not limit us to only Gerrand. I know he has lived hundreds of years, but he can die. What if he dies during this campaign? I would expect Macelan to go after him immediately. Once Gerrand is out of the way, who has the knowledge to defeat Macelan? Those who remain must not be paralyzed by Gerrand's absence. Then it will be certain death. We must be able to move quickly and decisively with or without Gerrand. Can you consider victory without Gerrand?" Deah's voice grew stronger as he spoke of concrete ideas.

Artus pursed his lips, his eyes staring at the treetops.

"I think I can. I shall try to think about it more. Your words are wise."

"Where to from here?" asked Deah, trying to provide the young Mage some focus.

"We must continue to follow Wolk. I cannot be delayed in that task."

"Very good. At first light, I shall scout the immediate area for tracks. There are only a few passable routes for horses. It will take nearly two hours to check them all, and if we are lucky, I shall find them sooner."

Luck was with them. Less than an hour after he departed, Deah returned. Artus had broken camp and stood ready to ride.

"They are headed west, to the highest peaks. Along the route is a labyrinth of caves that might be their destination. I suggest we approach them carefully. We will be seen far before we see them."

"I will trust your leadership in this."

Deah Vole watched Artus as he mounted his horse. He mounted his and trotted by Artus. They rode together for several yards before Deah Vole spoke.

"I will not fail."

"I do not expect it. Gerrand would not have chosen you if failure was your destiny. I have relied on his confidence in me to increase my confidence. He has seen things in me that I did not realize were there. I do not doubt he knows already what we shall accomplish on this mission."

Deah Vole chuckled. "I agree with you on that. Gerrand seemed to read my mind and knew what I would say whenever we were together. I did not appreciate it."

"I should say not. However, what can we say to him? His knowledge and experience so far outstrips us that it is beyond belief. What use are we to him?'

"Do not go that far, Artus. Gerrand may not give us our full worth, so we must believe in ourselves."

They rode in silence for the rest of the morning. Deah Vole stayed alert for signs of their quarry and constantly watched the cliffs and ridges for sentries. He shifted in his saddle several times. Artus noticed and began to fidget without thinking. Each cry of a bird sent electricity through him.

Their trail rose and fell through the rough terrain. Artus enjoyed the views of the mountains and marveled at their size. Each hill they crested presented a different scene from his eyes to devour.

Several times, they stopped while Deah Vole studied the hard ground for signs. If it had rained recently his job might have been easier, but he fretted at the slowness of their pace. Twice he guessed the direction based on a single mark in the dirt and twice he was rewarded with evidence of Wolk's passing.

On the third day, the air grew crisp and cold. Artus could not warm his fingers and stomped his feet around the campsite. Deah Vole shared an extra cloak and Artus wrapped it tightly around him. They had a cold breakfast and continued their journey.

"You have grown up as a Mage?" asked Deah Vole.

"It's all I know."

"I see. You have done well thus far in your traveling. Your horse is well cared for and you have not run out of food. You would be surprised how many travelers I have rescued over the years. Careless and nearly dead."

Artus said nothing and smiled briefly.

Deah Vole found an overgrown trail leading up toward the highest peaks. Most of the ground was rock and did not leave much evidence of passage. He pointed to a discarded apple core. Artus nodded and followed his guide. They passed the tree line just before the sun dipped below the mountains. They camped in a rocky shelter off the trail. They would see anyone approach them and there was enough cover to hide from rocks if someone reached the high places surrounding them. They ate a cold meal and wrapped extra blankets around them.

"At least the wind won't get to us much," said Artus.

"That is good. However, the wind will make it difficult to hear anyone approach."

"They won't hear us either."

"Agreed. It wouldn't matter if they knew we were here."

"Cheery thought, Deah. Can you think of more?"

"Trolls are rumored to live in these mountains."

"I was kidding for angel's breath! Don't say anymore."

"You are not a mountain man, eh Artus? You should get out into the wild more. Breathe the air and sleep under the stars."

"What do you think I am doing?"

"I mean as part of your life, not a once in a lifetime event. Every week you should sleep under the stars and walk in the hills breathing the fresh air. There is nothing like it. I cannot imagine spending all your time in a workroom learning spells and the like. I could never convince Techna to join me. Do not make his mistake. Confining yourself to city life chokes your imagination. It lengthens the end of your nose."

"What?"

"You don't see beyond your nose - the world around you is ignored even in the city. The bustle of the market is only noise; the town crier is a nuisance. You need to reach beyond the walls and feel the grass under your feet."

"Are you a philosopher, or a soldier?"

Deah Vole grinned. "I guess Techna is more an influence upon me than I thought."

"Well, in that case…"

Deah Vole slapped his hand over Artus' mouth and pulled him deeper into the cover of their shelter.

"Shh!"

Artus strained his ears to hear the sounds that alerted Deah Vole. The wind howled and frustrated the Mage. Then he used his eyes and stiffened. Dark shapes entered the shelter of the rocks. He heard Deah Vole draw his sword. They moved a few steps apart.

With shrieks, the attackers rushed forward. Deah Vole leapt out sweeping his sword before him. A soldier tried to block his blade but Deah Vole slapped the flat edge against the man's hand, and then stabbed him. He barely pulled his sword free to defend against another attacker.

Artus watched the frenzy of swords, backing away from the fighting. No one came for him immediately, but as more attackers joined the fight, he found himself surrounded. At first, his mind was blank, and then he remembered the anger when Richard Brox attacked Faeya Ryr and he tried to recall the feeling. There was a dull buzzing in his ears. Artus felt his fingertips tingle as he unleashed raw power into the figures, blasting them backward.

"Good one, Artus!" cried Deah Vole. He sliced the sword hand of his opponent and the sword dropped to the ground. Then Vole drove the blade into the man's neck. He stepped away, reaching a hand for Artus.

"Stay close. Don't let them get behind you."

He and Vole stood back to back watching for more shadows. Figures darted through the shadows and they could not tell how many still threatened them. Then they heard the voice float in the air above them.

"Very good. Ha, ha, ha. Such determination, such courage. Alas, it will not avail you in the long run." The voice swirled out of the darkness fading and flowing as if it were a living thing. Artus twisted his head back and forth trying to determine the source.