The Lords of Anavar

by Jim Greenfield

  He thought of Deah Vole and hoped the man would survive. Perhaps he would prove tougher than Wolk expected, but Artus remembered all the blood pouring from Deah's chest. He shook his head. He was alone. Still, the stew tasted excellent and would strengthen him. In the days to come, he knew he would desperately need that strength and perhaps more.

  Artus' dreams that night proved the worst of his life. Thunder roared through his mind filling all crevices and corners with a throbbing pain. Waves of blood washed over him. He climbed a tree, slippery with blood. Splinters of wood bit his fingers and tore at his face. He fell and fell and fell, landing sudden on a soft bed. Light flared around him and he heard the hissing of the serpents. Snakes of magic bored through his eyes devouring his gray matter. He opened his mouth to scream but blood flowed out like water over a dam, spreading across the ground. The level rose and rose until he had to stretch to keep his chin above the blood, still more poured out of his mouth. He started to gag.

  Wolk shook him awake.

  "Artus! Are you all right? You were having a bad dream."

  "You are a bad dream. You and Macelan."

  "Ah, I see. Macelan is the key to your feelings toward me. I told you I would need to scour your mind for all the information you have because of Gerrand. You do not know him as I do. You may have spells woven about you of which you are not aware. Gerrand is crafty. He may have told you information then spelled you to suppress the information until he felt you needed it. Has he done so? Why wouldn't he give the information to you instead of weaving it in a spell? Why delay the knowledge? Because he wants you to be beyond turning back when you discover your course of action. Is that not so?" He looked at Artus, seeing the sliver of doubt create its shadow in the young man's mind. Wolk nodded his head.

  "Believe me when I say I have no animosity towards you, Artus."

  "What about Deah Vole?"

  "He has always been a tool of Gerrand's. Gerrand has many tools and all woven with a nasty spell or two. You must realize that Gerrand has spent most of the five hundred years since Macelan's end building his power slowly, subtly. Gerrand had firsthand knowledge of how Macelan stumbled in his quest for power."

  "Why didn't Gerrand do something before now? What does he wait for?"

  "I do not know Gerrand's mind, I must admit. But Faeya Ryr has a power over him that I did not expect. Perhaps he has fallen to a base human urge of some kind. Perhaps he hopes to impress her, I do not know. What I do know is Gerrand represents a terrible danger to the world. If it is possible to contain him, I shall. I would ask you to consider my friendship and work with me at my side. No, don't answer now. Think about it for a few days. We will speak no more of it now."

  "Very well, I will think on your words."

  "I can't ask more than that. Be ready to depart within the hour. We have a long journey ahead of us."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Trust me, Artus. Trust me."

  Wolk walked to a scout who just returned to camp.

  "Well?"

  "I went back like you said, but he wasn't there."

  "What?"

  "I checked the entire area. There was a blood spoor leading back the way they had come."

  "You said your archers were the best. Deah Vole must be found."

  "I sent two men after him. They will catch him. He bled a lot."

  "Do not underestimate Deah Vole. He is twice the man as any of you. If he finds his way to Gerrand I will flay you alive!" He struck the man with the back of his hand and turned away heading toward his tent.

  Artus watched Wolk and wished he had heard Wolk's words. Something did not please the sorcerer. Artus sighed and put his head in his hands, whispering Gerrand's name, but only the howling of the wind among the branches answered him.

  Chapter 7

  The first courier reached the Lathor castle at dawn. The hooves echoed in the courtyard as the lathered horse brought its rider to the steps of the castle. The rider stumbled up the steps then bowed low. His breath labored and he waited a moment before he could discharge his duty. Gerrand waited at the door. He knew of the message when the courier left Finald fifty miles to the north. He did not doubt he knew the content. He opened the seal and quickly scanned the flowing script. The message came from High Priestess Melena of the Isle of Cothos herself, commanding Gerrand and Faeya Ryr to return at once. He felt puzzlement as to why the High Priestess wrote the message in her own hand. Did she fear spies in her own palace? He thought Faeya Ryr had eliminated them all. He looked at the message again. The threat of war being so great, the High Priestess needed the security of her Mages to feel safe. Gerrand read the message to Faeya Ryr in the garden and joined their colleagues in the library. He showed it to Tyman Stile and told the others its content.

  "You are going?" asked Alec Endria.

  "Of course not. We have important things to do."

  "But your High Priestess calls you."

  "Alec, the Council and the protection of the world from Macelan are far more important than some petty war." He sighed. Alec Endria always brought up this argument.

  "I could not begin to count all the wars and kings and queens that have turned to dust in my lifetime. Only the Council has outlasted them."

  "Have you no feeling for your country?"

  "You forget. I have lived in Isle of Cothos for only a few hundred years. I have lived many places and cannot call one home more than another. However, if I had allegiance it would be to the land, not the government. No, I will not return to the Isle of Cothos until I have completed the task before me."

  "I fear we shall all receive such messages," said Hile Berbac.

  "The Council must stay focused on our task," said Tyman Stile. "We must not allow nationalist feeling to cloud our thinking. Our one task is to turn back any attempts of Macelan to wield his power over the land. Even if we must turn our backs on a kingdom as a sacrifice to the greater good. We cannot turn our focus away from our goal. The goals of the Council must override any goals of a country. Is that clear?" He pointedly looked at Alec Endria.

  "Yes," said Alec Endria. "It is abundantly clear."

  "I want my group to meet in my chambers in one hour," said Gerrand. "We do not have time to waste."

  "Good idea," said Tyman Stile. "We must work with urgency."

  "Techna, why is your army massing near our borders?" asked Alec Endria. He stood close to Techna Vole who hated people close to him. He tried to step back but the table blocked him.

  "I do not know," said Techna Vole through his teeth. "I have nothing to do with it. I do not mettle in government, unlike you."

  "Your High Lord Gharom is trying to expand his borders again. His father was especially covetous of our great farmland. Too bad he had no abilities to carry out his desires."

  "Expand? You mean reclaim our traditional land from your greedy queen. For centuries Sloss was a city of Curesia until the deceitful envoys came to Jespin. Wierland tricked us out of that land and now tries to keep it by misleading treaties and forged documents."

  "Nothing was misleading! If you thought so, then your High Lord should not have signed the paper! Do not blame me if he is an idiot!" He raised his fist but Gerrand grabbed it roughly.

  "This has gone far enough," said Gerrand. "Tyman, do you really want them sealed in the castle with you?"

  Tyman Stile shrugged. "I need their skills. There is much to do here that I will not be able to do alone. My strength would not be enough if we were attacked while involved in our projects. I need their strength to protect the castle. Once we begin our work I believe they shall be occupied enough not to bark at each other."

  "I hope you are right. It may be a long time before they can go their separate ways."

  "It shall provide entertainment at any rate," smiled Tyman Stile.

  "I am no one's entertainment!" shouted Alec Endria.

  "You have entertained me for years," said Tyman Stile. "I am always interested in what you will come up with next. I admit to su
rprise that your son provided me great delight with his poor judgment."

  "Leave my son out of this."

  "Yes, he is out of this, isn't he?"

  "Gentlemen!" snapped Zae Pol. "Gerrand said to end it. Please do so. You are not helping advance our work. Plus, you two are very irritating."

  Stile and Endria broke off their glares. Endria left the room without a word. Gerrand sighed and put his hand on Stile's shoulder. He increased the pressure.

  "Do not bait him. I warn you Tyman. You will feel the heat of my anger. Am I understood?" He spoke softly yet Tyman Stile's face whitened and he nodded vigorously. Gerrand took Faeya Ryr's hand and left the room.

  The next hour found them in Gerrand's room with Hile Berbac and Doad Bess.

  "Why did he choose the groups this way?" asked Berbac.

  "I could not tell you," said Gerrand. "Other than to say I am not pleased with the choices either. You and I need to be able to come to terms to work together for this exercise, however long it will take. I made a list of supplies for each of you to collect tomorrow. We shall leave at dusk."

  "Dusk?" said Hile Berbac.

  "Why?" asked Doad Bess. "I do not care for night travel. Whatever your plans are, I assume they are sure to be unpleasant."

  "That's why we were sent," said Berbac. "Tyman wants to punish us by being under Gerrand's thumb. Tyman does not trust us anymore."

  "He wants you to watch Gerrand," said Faeya Ryr. "To keep a leash on him."

  "Ha! That will be the day," said Bess. "Do we have to travel at night? In the dark? I wish we would not. I don't like it."

  "Nor do I," said Gerrand. "However, I believe Macelan already has this castle watched. This battle could be over the moment we step beyond the castle. I do not detect any magic nearby but many soldiers could surround the castle before I know it. I wish to leave under the cover of darkness and travel through the night, whatever direction we decide to take."

  "You don't know?" asked Hile Berbac. "I thought you knew everything, Gerrand. How is it you don't know where we are going?"

  "Berbac, I haven't decided if you will be of any use or not. The longer you talk the less hope I have that you will be of help. Both you and Bess tend to speak before you think. If you cannot follow my instructions to the letter, I have no place for you and you shall go your own way. That would affect whether we need to go out of our way to find useful help."

  "Gerrand," said Faeya Ryr. "Do not start bickering. There is no time for it."

  "As you wish, my dear. I am considering outside help no matter the course we take. These are our options as I see them. First, we take the battle to Macelan in the mountains of Curesia. I do not know what may be waiting for us there. He may be somewhere else by now. He will be raising an army. Mercenaries would not be reliable, and to control an army of demons would tire him too much. The initial spell followed by constant supervision limits the size of the army. Perhaps one attack or two, then send them back until he rested enough to handle them again. The best alternative for Macelan is to subvert a ruler of a country and use their army."

  "War between Curesia and Wierland," said Doad Bess. "One of them must be under his control. Neither one would risk such a war. They have shouted at each other many times without violence."

  "Still, their past was bloody. I believe we should go to Curesia," said Hile Berbac. "Perhaps not search the mountains, at least not at first. We should investigate the towns, especially Jespin. We might even find news of Petyr Wolk."

  "I sent Artus Endria there for that purpose."

  "Gerrand," said Hile Berbac, shaking his head. "He is no longer part of the Council. Is there nothing you will not stoop to do?"

  Gerrand glared at Berbac. "I do what I must to save the Council and keep Macelan at bay. Should I be concerned about proper protocol? Does the moderator of the Council have the answers to our crisis in his rules of order? Tyman does nothing but sits and plots his life away. He accomplishes nothing and has no value in my eyes. Artus has good qualities that I will not throw away. We need more help than we currently enjoy and I intend to use all I can. Do you argue with that?"

  "No," said Berbac. "You are correct. Victory at any cost."

  Gerrand glared at him.

  They gathered their supplies, said their good-byes and walked out through the gates of the castles. The gates closed with a muffled crash.

  "Do you think we will ever see the castle again?" asked Doad Bess.

  "I do not know," said Gerrand. "We may one day. Will it be standing? That is the question I fear."

  "Tyman will seal it off with a spell."

  "There is no spell Macelan cannot break, or for that matter, myself. No matter if the others assisted Tyman, I would have the spell down in an hour."

  "I did not know you were so powerful," said Berbac.

  "I chose not to display my true powers in front of the Council."

  "Why is that?" asked Bess. "Why do you keep so much to yourself? Do you think we cannot comprehend what you may reveal to us? Do you believe us to be so inferior to you?"

  Gerrand did not answer. He pulled his heavy cloak around him and led them on a quick pace.

  They traveled on foot to the west toward Curesia. Gerrand planned to follow the road until they crossed into Curesia then leave it as they neared Jespin. There was little cover in Wierland anyway, but the forests of Curesia grew thick near the road. Perhaps they would need to hide themselves from Macelan's army. They did not know what they would find. The Wierland hills rolled gently into Curesia's forests and the first part of their journey would pass quickly.

  The cool night air refreshed Gerrand. He found the castle too enclosed, too stifling, and too much inaction. Despite what he said to Doad Bess, he loved walking in the darkness, his eyes able to see through the shadows and find the safe paths. They walked without break for two hours, then another two following a brief rest. Gerrand pushed the pace much faster than his companions expected. He heard Bess and Berbac stumble behind him, cursing under their breaths.

  "Gentlemen, please keep your voices down. Although we should not meet anyone to endanger us on the way, the person I want to visit will shoot first, then find out if the noise proved friendly or not. I do not want to lose either of you. Not yet anyway."

  "Where are we stopping?" asked Faeya Ryr.

  "About three miles further, then we leave the road for two more miles. We shall find a hut of a hunter that I will ask to join us. He is exceptional with a bow and will aid us in tracking and feed us with his kills. I have a special plan for his skill when we reach Jespin."

  "What is his name?"

  "Haetane."

  "I've heard of him," said Doad Bess. "However, that was years ago. Is he still living after all this time?"

  Gerrand frowned. "That I cannot say. Perhaps I should have said that I hope to find him. I lose track of life spans for those without magic. Makes it difficult to keep in touch."

  Faeya Ryr shook her head. "You really need someone to look after you."

  Bess and Berbac snickered.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence to where Gerrand led them from the road and following a steep deer trail they reach the hut. It appeared empty. They heard no noise and Gerrand rapped on the door.

  "Perhaps Haetane is hunting," said Bess as he caught his breath. "He could be gone for days, Gerrand. From the pace you set I wonder do we have that much time?"

  "No, we do not. I felt sure he was here."

  "He is here." They turned to see a woman, grey haired with a supple grace, dressed in buckskin with a longbow in her hand. Her tanned face was lined by the weather but her eyes shone brightly with an otherness than made Gerrand uncomfortable. She pointed to a pile of rocks surrounded by flowers.

  "My father is buried there. He died fifteen years ago. He spoke often of you, Gerrand. I am surprised that you actually exist. I thought you to be one of his stories he told to entertain me. As I watched you walk into the clearing, my father's stories came alive. A
most disconcerting sensation."

  "You took a chance coming out in the open. You do not know our business."

  She shrugged. "I take few chances. My children are in the wood. Four bows trained on you. My father taught me well. I hear your voice, Gerrand, and I trust you. If you speak for your comrades, I shall call out my children."

  "We shall do you no harm. You have the word of Gerrand. It is my word."

  "Good." She whistled and the youths materialized out of the wood. They dressed alike, three girls and a boy. Lean and athletic, their eyes wary as their mother's. "These are my jewels. Clariare, Damaie, Eva, and Roc. We live here alone. My husband died last year from fever. I could have used your help then, Gerrand."

  "What is your name?"

  "Alavaria."

  "Alavaria? Was your mother Alavie?"

  "Yes." She smiled. It made her appear more dangerous. "I knew you'd remember. My mother died birthing me. I only know her through my father's words. I'd like to hear yours, too."

  "You will. First, I would like to tell you why I came."

  "You need a bowman. That is obvious. Now, you find five. We all shoot of a level with Father. We shall all join you." "Your youngest can't be more than twelve."

  "Correct. Eva is twelve, Roc fourteen, Damaie seventeen and Clariare twenty. We are a match for any soldier with a bow. Eva is the best for accuracy although she doesn't have the distance of her siblings. She won a blue ribbon at the fair at Hoin last year."

  "I do not doubt their skill. It is the wisdom of bringing them into danger that makes me hesitate. They have their lives ahead of them."

  "They will choose as I have chosen," said Alavaria. "Father told me of the times you dropped into his life and asked his help in a crisis. He told me your requests are not done lightly and are never meaningless. We live in this forest and visit the towns infrequently, yet we hear the disquiet in the land. We can do no less than help you end the darkness filling people's lives. Of course, we wish it otherwise, but we can do no less than my father. We are not sophisticated people and have no use for court manners, but we will defend the rights of all people to live as they wish. I believe your needs are why we have remained at this house. Many times we discussed moving, but something held us here. Now we know why."