The filthy yellow foot opened and released the prize. The second harpy landed next to the first and snatched up the torn arm with one of her grimy appendages.
“It has someone’s arm,” Kehfrey remarked, his tone filled with revulsion.
Marun stepped a pace back in horror. That hand. Those rings. He remembered those rings. He’d given them to Vik.
The second harpy lifted the forearm to her lips and bit into it. The first squeaked in protest, hopped clumsily closer and attempted to snatch the arm back using her teeth. The pair of misshapen females commenced to tug the morsel back and forth, hopping on talons and flapping their revolting stench into the air. White faced, horrified, Marun backed away.
“No!” he whispered a second time. “Oh, no!”
“Who did they attack?” Kehfrey asked, retreating with him. “Those rings? They seem … familiar.”
“No!” Marun screamed. The rage burst out of him. He shouted for fire. He roared for it. A terrible hot wind blew inward from out of nowhere. The ghoul harpies looked up from their gruesome feast and burst into flames. They combusted as if a fiery hell had arrived exactly where they stood.
Kehfrey shouted in surprise, snatched Marun and dragged him back from the inferno. At a safer distance, he turned to the sorcerer. He found the man staring at him, his dark eyes filled with dread. “Marun! Whose arm was it?”
Marun shook his head in refusal. “I can’t!” he said. “I can’t tell you!”
Kehfrey grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer. He had a horrible presentiment. He knew something important had occurred, something seriously important to him. “Tell me!” he insisted. “Tell me!”
“No!”
Kehfrey stared at him fixedly. They stood locked together like that for several cold seconds, and then the uncanny light entered Kehfrey’s wild eyes. “Tehlm Sevet,” he said.
“No!” Marun pleaded. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way!”
“You started a war,” the ancient stranger said. “In wars, people get hurt. They die.”
“Kehfrey!” Marun cried. “I didn’t mean it!”
“Kehfrey? Is that my name?” the entity demanded.
“Yes!” Marun said to it.
It smiled with Kehfrey’s sweet curved lips. “Liar,” it whispered malevolently. “You don’t know, and neither do I. But that doesn’t matter. It’s time for both of us to die. This life, I find it wearisome.”
“No!” Marun screamed. He felt it. Burning! The aura was over him! It was burning! “No! Please! I love you! Kehfrey!”
He struggled within the chaotic nimbus, but Kehfrey’s hands were locked like vices in the cloth of his shirt. Marun twisted until the cloth ripped. Kehfrey grabbed him by the arms. The corona brightened, but then the spell of the soulstone rose to fight the ruthless power.
Kehfrey’s eyes grew wide. Agonised, tortured, Marun looked into them and knew Kehfrey’s surprise intimately. The azure fire flashed out. Kehfrey stared at him in utter astonishment. “Your soul is missing!” he cried. He laughed. “And I’m with you! How did you manage that? What a brilliant joke on me!”
And then he was gone. Marun gaped in shock. Kehfrey had run from him.
“No! Stop him!” he screamed. “Get him back!”
The soldiers were wiser than the Shadow Master. They let him run. With no other recourse, Marun sped after him alone.
Let me in, Tehlm Sevet, the Ancient Power whispered up to him.
“No!” His feet pounded the earth, but despite his greater stride, Kehfrey pulled further away. The runaway leapt over a startled soldier who had just ducked out from a tent, and it almost seemed he flew, so far did he travel with the single bound.
He will go back to King Ugoth, his mistress said. He will rejoin the gryphon king. Do you want that?
“Who is he!” he screamed at her. “Who is he?”
Her frustration lashed him. Do not ask! Do you want him freed completely! We will never bind him then! Let me in!
Kehfrey was at the front of the host now. He broached the boundary. He crossed the invisible ward he had helped create and dashed across the burnt field.
“Yes!” Marun screamed. “Take me!”
***
Ugoth cried out. “He’s free!” he shouted. “Herfod!”
Herfod was there, just at the boundary of the tents that still remained to be repositioned. Even beneath the overcast sky, his bright hair was like a beacon to all who saw him. He ran like a man chased by demons. He ran for all he was worth.
“Herfod!” Ugoth screamed. His shout reverberated back from the enemy’s invisible ward. Herfod’s distant figure looked up. His pace never slackened and he arrived in the barren field in seconds.
“Go!” Ugoth bellowed. “Get out there! Save him!” His voice lashed the army all the way down the hill.
The Cho Korth cavalry rushed out first. The horses thundered across the wide field toward the fleeing monk, and Ugoth watched tensely from on high, helpless to do anything else. The entire army roared as one, crying out to Herfod, willing him forward. A small group of Ulmeniran soldiers and monks hastened after the cavalry.
“Come! Come to me!” Ugoth said, staring fervently down at the man who meant so much to him and all of Ulmenir. The distant figure leapt over a ditch in the field and continued on without a moment lost.
“Run! Run!” Ugoth urged. A black fear gripped him. He looked further off. Marun! He was running through the field. A horrible darkness fouled the ground at his feet. “No!” Ugoth whispered.
The blackness spread. It grew immense. It darted up the field toward Herfod.
“No!” Ugoth screamed.
The blackness leapt ahead of the fugitive. Herfod slid to a halt, almost landing on his back. He scrambled up and dashed sideways. Shadows snatched at him, and he fell to his knees. Ugoth watched him crawl, clawing through the field toward the Ulmeniran line, refusing to give in to the darkness. Marun arrived to kneel at Herfod’s side. The darkness surged up and swallowed the fallen man completely.
“No!” Ugoth whispered in despair.
The first rider of the cavalry reached the shadows. The horses screamed and reared upward. The beast fell backward lifeless. The soldier on its back didn’t move from beneath. Two more mounts and riders fell to the darkness. The rest wheeled about and backed off. One man fired an arrow at Marun. The sorcerer took the bolt in the chest.
He rose. A dark figure, he bled anger so profound it radiated all the way to Ugoth’s position.
The warrior who fired died as shadows engulfed him. Another victim fell and another after him. The Cho Korth leader called a retreat.
The cavalry backed off, the riders shooting arrows as they fled, but the darkness leapt up and consumed each offending warrior. By the end of the rout, six arrows had punctured Marun’s chest and one had grazed his head, while twelve Cho Korth had been punished with death for these transgressions. Conceding the skirmish, the Cho Korth raced back to the safety of the Ulmeniran ward, daring no further assault.
The few monks and soldiers who had issued beyond the lower wall on foot hesitated less than a third of the way to Marun’s position. As Ugoth watched, he saw them back off and he saw why. The army of undead had broken position and raced toward them, their unholy cries of hunger scraping terror down the spines of the living.
Ugoth lifted his spyglass. The Shadow Master stared as if directly at him, but his eyes were black, the whites completely gone. His lids shut on the ominous darkness. He arched back. The shadows immediately about him washed green, and the arrows in his chest glowed and disintegrated. The sorcerer righted himself and touched his chest over the torn shirt. He glared up the hill again, his hate a whip, but the eyes were normal—brown, human and angry. Ugoth watched powerlessly as the Shadow Master lifted Herfod up and carried him back to the enemy lines, challenged no further.
Ugoth lowered the glass and swiped tears of frustration from his eyes. Herfod had been free, and they had failed him. Marun had h
im again.
“Oh, Ugoth,” he heard someone say.
“Brother Samel,” Ugoth murmured.
“Oh! She took him! The Ancient Power took him! It has come to this. Marun can control him no other way.”
“I know.” Ugoth struggled with his grief, but it burst out despite his effort. “He was almost free! Samel, he was almost free! Just a few more yards and Marun would have triggered the traps we set!”
In the distance, the Shadow Master stalked up the rise toward the first line of tents, Herfod a limp figure in his arms, his head hanging back. He looked like a sacrifice, one that had already been taken.
Ugoth felt Samel’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. “He will be free again,” the monk said with certainty. “I know it. Nothing can contain him. He is blessed, Ugoth. More blessed than we can know.”
“Why is that, Samel?” Ugoth asked dejectedly. “Has that angel of yours answered any of your prayers? Has he said anything?”
A fervent response lit into his ears. “He has whispered to me, Ugoth. He has given me hope. He has said he will watch over you. He promised me.”
Marun rounded a tent and disappeared from view. Ugoth turned to gape at Samel. “Promised you? Then go pray again and ask him to watch over Herfod!”
But Samel shook his head, his aging face filled with beatific conviction and complacent determination. “He only promised to watch over you. He said you were important.”
“But it is Herfod who must be freed!” Ugoth protested.
“He said that Herfod must be properly named in order for this to become a reality.”
“What? What sort of nonsensical answer is that? Must the gods constantly speak in riddles?”
“Ugoth!” Samel reproached. “We do not question the will of the gods!” He gave the king a firm tug on his shoulder. “Trust them, Ugoth. They will not see the Ancient Power triumph. We will win this war. Brother Herfod will return to us.” With a last firm shake, he released Ugoth and walked away.
Ugoth stared at him, but then turned away. He found no comfort in Samel’s words. He remembered clearly what Herfod had said to him. Some of the gods had screamed at him to go to one of the hells. Those faceless entities might prefer that this war were lost.
Down below, the ghouls milled around the fallen Cho Korth, tearing the dead apart, the men and the horses. The abominations consumed the casualties of the war. Ugoth hastily averted his gaze.
***
Marun settled Kehfrey on the cot in Quei’s tent. He righted himself and gazed down at the unconscious man. A sigh of frustration exhaled from his lungs.
“Well?” Quei demanded. “What will you do with him? He tried to kill you. I saw it.”
“He was distraught. His brother was injured.”
“And what if he awakens and wants to try again?”
“Call the hags,” Marun said without turning. “Call them and tell them to prepare the circle that will break the wards of the enemy. We will begin attacking shortly.”
“Yes, Master!” Quei said sarcastically and stomped out of the tent.
The sorcerer felt no interest in the disrespect and no desire to correct it. He knelt by the cot and touched Kehfrey’s face, the grief and longing inside him almost unbearable.
“Awaken!” he called to his love. “Awaken!”
Kehfrey opened his eyes and blinked at the canvas ceiling. His head turned and he looked at Marun. His hazel eyes filled with confusion. And thank the gods for that. Thank the gods it was not the utter contempt of hate.
“Who are you?” Kehfrey said.
Marun smiled. “I am the man who loves you,” he said. He bent and kissed his lips.
***
Marun walked Kehfrey over blood and into the middle of the circle of hags. Kehfrey’s body had gone rigid with mistrust yards away from them. Now he stared balefully at each sour face. There was nothing of happiness in any of the hags. They were embittered to the dregs of their cold souls and perhaps always had been.
“Don’t be alarmed,” the sorcerer said. “They will do as I bid them.”
“They stink!”
“They don’t want men to approach them,” came a reasonable reply.
“It’s working!” Kehfrey responded.
He glared at the tallest woman, a skinny, cadaverous witch. She was cleaner than the rest, but she had a forbidding air to her that brooked no tolerance of advances. Kehfrey’s glare transformed into a challenge. He sent her a charming, teasing grin. Slowly she smiled back. A hint of blackness leaked into her eyes.
“Stop that!” Marun snarled. Damn him! He’d lost his memory and still his wild humour could not be repressed. The man was annoyingly dauntless.
“Are you jealous that I smiled at a hag?” Kehfrey said. “I don’t know that you should have the right. I’ve only just met you.”
“You belong to me!” He pulled Kehfrey’s body into place before him. “Start the spell!” he barked at the hags.
Kehfrey looked back at him. “What are you doing? Why do we stand like this?”
“Because your power will rise out of you. Then I will use it to cast the coven’s spell outward.”
The witches had begun their cacophony. Kehfrey winced and clutched at his head.
“Don’t fight it, Kehfrey,” Marun exhorted. “Don’t fight! There’s only pain if you fight.”
“But it …! It’s not right!” he said.
“Yes! It’s right!” Marun slipped a hand up Kehfrey’s shirt and over his heart again. “This is right. Feel the power. It grows inside of you. It grows tenfold because of the earth magic.” He kissed Kehfrey’s neck just below the ear. “Easy,” he whispered. “Ride the pain out. It will change soon. Bear with it for me.”
Kehfrey shivered, enduring the agony despite that he knew nothing of this man or his reasons for casting a spell within a circle of ugly, bitter women. He didn’t understand why, but he wanted to please the sorcerer, even if it cost him pain and torment. But after another minute, he couldn’t bear it any longer. The voices were scraping his mind out.
The man at his back seemed to know when he was ready to break. “Easy,” the sorcerer breathed. The other hand wormed down into Kehfrey’s trousers, and the scraping vibrations began to sing along his nerves instead.
“Oh!” Kehfrey cried and arched back into him. “This! I’ve done this before!”
“Yes!” Marun whispered. “This is ecstasy, Kehfrey. Listen to them. It’s beginning to resonate.” At his feet, the sorcerer pulled the blackness up. The shadows curled over Kehfrey’s legs and forced a shudder out of him.
“Yes,” Kehfrey breathed. Marun’s hand tugged on him just so. “Oh, yes!”
The spell resonated. “Now!” Marun urged. “Give me your power! Dance for me!”
Oh!
***
“The wards are falling!” Vehre shouted. “We are under attack!”
All about them, in the air and at their feet, what had once been an invisible barrier shuddered blue and bright. Everywhere that Vehre looked, gaps appeared in it.
“Chant it again!” he bellowed at the monks nearest to him. “Bolster it!”
They began the prayer. Vehre grabbed one of the messengers assigned to him.
“Go to the king! Tell him a physical attack is imminent!”
The messenger dashed off. Vehre stared at the failing ward. To his side, Unene and Thali glanced at each other and clasped hands.
“Get ready, ladies,” Vehre said.
“We are,” Thali replied. Vehre looked back at her and nodded.
The ward flashed one last time and failed completely.
***
Glowering down the outcrop, Ugoth comprehended the meaning of the flickering wards without being told. Herfod had been used again.
The king sent messengers flying to all command posts. All spare monks were called to start the chant for another warding wall over each key position. Ugoth ordered the first ballistae team to fire altered missiles at the dead army tha
t continued to mill in the field between enemy lines. The second ballistae team was to make ready to spread chemical fire on the living enemy.
Just then, the clouded skies saw fit to begin drizzling. Ugoth cursed angrily. It was as if the gods betrayed him.
He peered narrowly at the enemy front. Ballistae were being rolled to the fore. They were modelled after the Ulmeniran design.
Ugoth smiled grimly. Secrets couldn’t be contained forever. A weapon of his own make was about to be used against him.
***
“Wake up!”
He shifted restlessly. There was a strange green glow.
“Wake up, Kehfrey!” the voice demanded a second time.
The glow brightened. It tingled on his flesh, outside, within. His eyes opened and he arched off the earth.
“Aah! No!”
It was hurting! There was so much power! It stretched! It stretched everywhere!
The green shot with blue and then flamed over him, a dance of searing snakes. The man hovering above withdrew his hand from Kehfrey’s chest.
The glow dwindled, but it crackled deep within, a slow, smouldering burn that hurt but somehow promised to settle into comfort if it were permitted the time. He had a presentiment that time wasn’t a gift he would be offered.
“Kehfrey!” the man called, urgency in his tone. Definitely there would be little time granted by this frantic stranger. “I need you! I have another task.”
Kehfrey struggled with a deep bewilderment that filled his mind like stone. “What? Who are you? What do you want?”
“Get up!” the man said impatiently. “They are ready to summon!”
“What?”
Beyond the stranger, ugly, filthy women stared down at him. The dark-eyed man dragged him to his feet. He teetered precariously, his eyes taking in a confusion of red splattered on dried grass. The man caught him in a hard grip.
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