The Lords of Anavar

by Jim Greenfield

  "End it in what way?" asked Gerrand. "Do you wish to be free or slave?"

  "Do I have a choice?"

  "You always have a choice."

  "Then I choose to be free, but is the choice really mine?"

  "It can be. You must trust your strength. It will be enough. We must go now. Gharom's soldiers approach, as does Macelan. I want Petyr Wolk between us."

  They moved quickly to the west side of the keep even as Gharom's men reached the edge of the wood across from Wolk's keep. Each of them found a place twenty paces apart and waited. They heard the voices clearly. Gerrand's magic enhanced their hearing.

  "Gharom, I see you," called Petyr Wolk.

  "Show yourself," replied Lord Gharom.

  "I see your archers. I am not so foolish surely."

  "One can hope. Your reign is at an end."

  "Bravely spoken! Did you know Macelan approaches behind you?"

  "You cannot scare me with such tales."

  "Ah, if you were truly wise, Gharom, you would fear my words. It's embarrassing to admit but I'm afraid I freed Macelan and am now unable to control him. Look to your safety."

  "You are a fool Wolk. Overreaching your ability again. If your words are true then you have damned us all."

  "His words are true." The voice was low and soft yet carried over a great distance. Gharom saw a man walking toward him with a small band of soldiers. Gharom also heard the crackle of sorcery snap around Wolk's keep. He was caught between them.

  "Petyr protects himself first," said Macelan. "His allies always fend for themselves in the end."

  "You are Macelan?" Gharom did not back away from the Sorcerer's approach.

  "I am." The face of Bors Taria had completely given way to Macelan's own features. The piercing gaze did not unnerve Gharom.

  "You are akin to Gerrand."

  "So you think, but it is not true. I am the Master, Gerrand the slave, nothing more. I have returned to take my rightful place."

  "What of Wolk. Is he to be punished?"

  "Would you like that?"

  "Something good must come of this."

  "So, you are reconciled to my victory?"

  "What else can I do?" asked Gharom.

  "I know much of you, Lord Gharom. I know you should not be trusted. You are much too devious for anything but a short leash. I will make good use of you, but carefully."

  "You flatter me, Macelan. I am merely a politician and try to forecast the result of any given scenario. I feel your leadership is the best."

  "I hear the unspoken, 'for now'. But do not worry Lord Gharom. I do not cast away useful tools, even if the sharp edge pricks my finger now and again. Be mindful - I do not tolerate fools or traitors in the larger picture. Seeking power in your own right is one thing, to betray me to Gerrand is another."

  "I understand completely, Macelan."

  "Be sure you do."

  Faeya Ryr looked at Gerrand, who frowned at her. He motioned for her to join him.

  "This is moving too quickly," said Faeya Ryr. "I didn't expect Gharom to give up so easily."

  "Nor did I," said Gerrand. "However, I believe he is still playing his game and following Macelan's lead only as long as it pleases him."

  "Is that wise?"

  "I don't know Gharom's plan. I bet he doesn't plan on being a slave to anyone."

  "Is that what you were?"

  Gerrand looked at her unsure of how to respond. He sighed.

  "Yes. Macelan proved a horrible Master. I will not speak more on the matter." He looked back at her. "At least not now. Too distracting."

  Faeya Ryr nodded her head.

  Gerrand closed his eyes and sent out his senses far and wide. He grinned and opened his eyes.

  "There are many forces converging here. We shall see if the plans I set in motion bear fruit."

  "Did you expect these forces to be here, now?"

  "Quite possibly," he winked at her. "At last I can say that and relax a bit. Whether we prevail is quite another thing, but I know now that my endeavors worked. Soon there shall be more soldiers to contend with Gharom and Macelan. We will not have to deal with soldiers, only Macelan and Wolk."

  "Seems like enough." She smiled at him. "I glad this mood has lifted, although we can do nothing about it right now."

  "Whoa. Don't talk like that or I will lose all focus. My, you are a sweet young lady."

  "Thank you. I noticed you didn't say 'girl'."

  "I try to learn."

  "I am pleased to know you are teachable."

  "That doesn't sound good."

  "Gerrand!" Deah Vole moved up quickly to them. "A large force is moving in behind Gharom."

  "Should be Lemmin Menn."

  Deah Vole just shook his head and grinned. "I don't know why I bother."

  "Thank you, Deah. There will be others, keep a watch for them. Be especially alert for the soldiers coming from the northwest."

  "Northwest? Who would be coming from that direction? There are no towns."

  "Correct. But the water is deep off the coast and ships may moor there."

  "Who do you expect?" asked Faeya Ryr.

  "Your friend, Torby Mola."

  "He's not my friend. Why would the High Priestess send him here?"

  "Did the High Priestess send him?" asked Gerrand.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not the only one with secrets, my dear one. You have some connection to the High Priestess that I haven't fathomed. You can communicate with her but without sorcery. I just wanted you to know that I am aware of it."

  Faeya Ryr shook her head. "You are an amazing man."

  "Don't forget it."

  "Don't let me forget it," she said softly.

  The air became shockingly cold. A deep breath burned their lungs. The crackle of sorcery sang through the chilled air. Macelan had begun his attack.

  The air shuddered as waves of power echoed around the keep. Deah Vole pitched down the hill toward the edge of the trees but Artus Endria managed to grab his arm. They were still concealed by the trees. Faeya Ryr gripped Gerrand's hand. The power struck the keep and recoiled. Wolk's sorcery was enough this time although the keep glowed red in spots. There was silence although Deah Vole's ears were ringing.

  Macelan's soldiers were glowing green and running toward the keep. As each one touched the stones, a piercing scream filled the air and the greenish glow began to reach out from each spot spreading across the stones.

  Petyr Wolk cried into a swirling wind and orange rain swept from the sky washing the green from his walls. Gerrand and Faeya Ryr, joined by Deah Vole and Artus Endria, huddled from the wind behind a gnarled old tree. The wind ripped at them and the screams vibrated their teeth.

  "Can't you do anything!" yelled Deah Vole. "This is tearing my ears off!"

  "Patience! I will not tip my hand yet. They must be distracted further by their battle when the other armies arrive. Then we shall make our move. Go now to your position."

  Deah Vole sighed. He moved unsteadily down the hill, the wind buffeting him. He moved quickly since there was no need for stealth. The soldiers on the parapets focused their attention to Macelan. He crossed the clear cut to the moat slipping into the murky water. He crossed it in minutes and stood against the outer wall of the keep. He spoke the words Gerrand taught him and the wall darkened. He began to climb slowly, finding hand holds in the stone.

  Deah Vole moved upward steadily. Gerrand watched him intently.

  "What should I do?" asked Artus Endria. "Are you sure you trust me?"

  Gerrand looked at Artus Endria for long moments, and then smiled.

  "Yes, Artus. I trust you. There is strength in you that you haven't tapped yet. I think your father has finally puzzled it out but he hasn't said so to me. Relax your mind. You will do what is necessary. Do you believe you would betray your friends, Artus? You will not. I foresee it."

  "Thanks." He shook his head and grinned. "Thanks, Gerrand. I mean that. I feel myself uncoiling the tensio
n that has gripped me. This is the turning point. What should I do?"

  "I want you to make your way to the west and meet your father and some others. He will tell you the next step."

  "My father? Here? I shall do it. Thanks."

  The young Mage walked swiftly into the trees.

  "My dear Gerrand," said Faeya Ryr. "You have rebuilt that boy into a man. He will fight with his last strength."

  "I believe you are correct."

  A brilliant flash of light followed by a thunderous roar sent them sprawling from their concealment into the cutting wind. They rolled into a tree, Faeya Ryr landing on top of Gerrand.

  "Oh! I wish I could be pleased at this turn of events, Faeya, but that hurts!" She carefully regained her feet without falling on him again. He managed to get to his feet without her help, but his breathing sounded labored.

  "Lighting strike?"

  "No. Macelan is raising the stakes. He wants to see how much Petyr can withstand."

  "Will it get worse?"

  "Much worse."

  "Look! Artus found them." Several people moved quickly among the trees toward their location. Artus and his father led Lars Vokas, Zae Pol and Kisle Ber to Gerrand. "Who is that last man?" asked Faeya Ryr.

  "A soldier named Kisle Ber. He figures greatly in this game."

  One of the approaching figures rushed ahead and grasped Gerrand's arm.

  "Well met, Gerrand," said Alec Endria, grinning like a man released from a long isolation.

  "I was not sure I would see you again. I am glad my fears were unfounded."

  "You know of Princess Alicae?" asked Zae Pol.

  "Good to see you too, Zae. And yes, I know of the Princess. She is currently within Petyr Wolk's keep."

  "I know it," said Kisle Ber. "I sense her."

  "She is impressive," said Zae Pol. "This old man won't tell us." She indicated Alec Endria. "But I believe he is her father."

  "Father?" said Artus Endria. He looked at his father.

  "You didn't read my letter?" asked Alec Endria.

  "No. It was destroyed by demons."

  "Better excuse than your old ones, I guess."

  "Is it true?" asked Artus Endria.

  "Yes, it is."

  "How old is she?"

  "Merely seventeen. Long after your mother died."

  "I see. When were you going to tell me?"

  "I wrote it in the letter. You had several days to read it, why didn't you?"

  "I forgot. I was overwhelmed by being out on my own that everything else slipped my mind until Deah arrived."

  "You two communicate very well," said Zae Pol, dryly. "Anything we need to know that you haven't told us?"

  Artus Endria did not meet her eyes, but Alec Endria shook his head.

  "Gerrand, you knew all this?" asked Zae Pol.

  "Yes."

  "What harm would have been caused if you had told us what you know?"

  "Such an innocent question, that begs for more than I can reveal. Let us just say that in Princess Alicae's situation, you would have been more determined to rescue her and she might not be where she is now. That would make our position much more difficult."

  "You even planned for the Princess to be captured. Are you sure she will survive long enough for all your plots to mature?" asked Zae Pol.

  "No one can see all ends. However, everything in its own time. Deah Vole will signal the start of the finish of this ordeal. Kisle Ber, follow the path of Deah Vole and be ready to assist Princess Alicae. Artus and Alec go to the west wall and ward yourselves. Zae Pol and Lars Vokas go to the north wall and do the same. Faeya and I will hold the east and south. Macelan will soon try to overrun the keep with Gharom at his side. Torby Mola will soon reach the keep in Gharom's aid. Lemmin Menn will attack Macelan's flank and that is when I will set things in motion."

  They moved at his bidding. His gentle old uncle-like demeanor gave way to the seriousness of a general commanding his army. His power lay veiled from them, but only barely. This then, was the Gerrand of legend.

  Gerrand and Faeya Ryr moved slowly through the lengthening shadows to a spot halfway between the keep and Macelan. They could see Gharom's soldiers just beyond them, hanging back from the immediate conflict. They waited in silence as Macelan and Petyr Wolk sparred with each other.

  "Macelan is toying with him," said Gerrand. "Petyr does not have the power to withstand him."

  "Could Macelan's power be less after all this time?" asked Faeya Ryr.

  "That would be too much to hope for."

  "Zae has a point. Why couldn't you have told us?"

  "Dear Faeya, if I could have quickly, I might have tried it. You must remember I've spent 500 years planning for this and it could not be boiled down to a short discourse."

  "All right. I know when I'm beaten. But one day, old man, you will reveal your secrets to me."

  "I don't know whether to look forward to that day or not," muttered Gerrand.

  "You best smile and agree with me on all things that day."

  "Well, I could agree for a day. Perhaps a whole day."

  "Don't waver on this. You are to be my husband aren't you?"

  "If you say so, dear Faeya."

  "That's the spirit! You have a knack for being a husband already."

  "Great," Gerrand said under his breath. Movement behind Gharom's men forced the soldiers out into the open where Petyr Wolk sent waves of fire at them. Macelan deflected some of Wolk's sorcery. Lemmin Menn and his forces smashed into Macelan's men and forced him out in the open. His men and Gharom's came together to defend against Lemmin Menn. Gharom shouted to his general but Lemmin Menn grinned and shook his head.

  Lemmin Menn signaled his sergeants and his troops pinned Macelan's smaller forces against Wolk's keep. Macelan defended them against Wolk's magic and the arrows of Wolk's soldiers but Lemmin Menn's soldiers moved grimly forward.

  "Gharom!" cried Macelan. "You shall rue your betrayal!"

  "It wasn't me! Lemmin Menn turned traitor! Gerrand has bewitched him!"

  The crash of iron drowned their speech. The soldiers rushed together. Colors swirled across the clearing, arms flailing. Faeya Ryr could see the red patches of blood as the weapons found their mark. The noise was deafening. She had never seen battle at first hand and the brutality sickened her. She heard the glee cries of Macelan as men's lives bled out on the battlefield. The soldiers were crushed together; it was difficult to tell them apart. Blood and gore covered the soldier's colors, and they looked like a single mass churning together in the grass.

  There was a sudden cry, mournful and shrill. Macelan turned towards the southernwoods. His mouth moved without sound and his fists shook. Then he shuddered and was released from his paralysis.

  "Gerrand!! I know you are here! Come forth and greet your master!"

  "I am the master now," cried Gerrand. "You have slept the centuries while I worked and planned. Your time has passed."

  A great swelling of sound flowed through the branches of the trees. Voices howled up through the ground, voices of those long dead.

  "They call for you, Macelan!" cried Gerrand. "Your victims wait for you!"

  The trees bowed from the voices as if a strong wind enveloped them, bending and twisting. Faeya Ryr held on to Gerrand's cloak, trying to cover her ears. The sounds rolled over each other sending the soldiers fleeing, their battle forgotten. Macelan stood alone, battered by his sins. The sorcerer swayed and bowed under the onslaught. Gerrand clenched his teeth and began to move toward Macelan.

  A whooshing sound made him duck and the dragon Tiante lifted Macelan and carried him behind the line of soldiers. Then the dragon came back and landed in front of Gerrand.

  "I owed him two favors. Bringing the Princess here was one; saving him from that spell was the last. You are free to kill him now."

  "I did not know you still lived."

  "Farewell, Gerrand. I don't think we'll meet again; your life span is so short." Tiante rose and vanished over the northe
rn tree line.

  Deah Vole found the keep unnaturally quiet. The muffled noises coming from the front of the keep where Macelan attacked seemed too few for the number of soldiers he had seen. He peered out to the wall again, counting the many men when a flash of light gave his disquiet answers. The men had no shadows! They were creations of Petyr Wolk's magic. Wolk had no more men than those that had captured Deah and Artus Endria. He searched for a passage to the interior.

  He found an unlit corridor that seemed like another world when he entered it. A biting cold filled the air and the stones on the walls and floor were frosted. Sounds whispered along the stones and caressed his ears but Gerrand had taught him long ago how to shut such sounds out of his mind. Again, he was troubled by the emptiness of the keep and soon imagined footsteps trailing him. He stopped several times to determine if the sounds were echoes of his own boots. They were not.

  He waited in the dimmest corner available and watched for his shadow. In all too short, a time a figure crept down the corridor. Deah jumped out with his short sword, but it was parried and the blades rang out in the narrow space. Deah stumbled but the other figure grabbed his arm to steady him.

  "What?"

  "Easy, my friend," said Kisle Ber. "We don't want anyone to get hurt."

  "Sorry. I didn't know it was you."

  "You weren't supposed to. I'm an assassin remember? Lead on. You are heading in the right direction-I can feel her getting nearer."

  Deah Vole exhaled and continued on their route.

  They found the cell within minutes. Deah, still unnerved by the emptiness, but Kisle Ber, his face sweating in the cold, did not seem to notice. Deah touched the door and it was warmer than the outer corridor.

  Deah Vole pushed open the unlocked door and the Princess sat on a bench alone. He imagined he had seen the shape of a dragon fade before his eyes, but he dismissed it as fancy. Kisle Ber pushed past him.

  "Princess! I have found you!" He hugged her and she laughed.

  "My hero! You too, Deah Vole. Let's get out of here."

  "Have you seen anyone down here?" asked Deah Vole.

  "No. Petyr Wolk never came to see me."

  "This place is unnatural. Come, let's move quickly."

  Gerrand spotted Macelan moving through the soldiers. He noticed Macelan's attention had been stolen by activity near the keep. Kisle Ber and Princess Alicae stepped clear of the wall. Macelan recognized her for what she was. Gerrand raised his hand to signal Kisle Ber. Kisle Ber nodded and whispered to the Princess. Her arms raised and she floated into the air until she reached Macelan.