The knight smiled. "I am dying. I will not live long enough to be of use to you, thanks be to Paladine."
"Ah, now. Don't give up hope. My magic is good for something. I cannot heal you, Sir Knight. Nor do I necessarily want you healed. You would, I fancy, prove a most troublesome captive. Yet you will remain alive until I can transport you to the Lost Citadel.
"A wish spell will accomplish what I want. Yes, a wish will do nicely. The spell will cost me a year of my life." The wizard shrugged. "But what is that? When I have the power of the great Fistandantilus, I will gain that year back, with interest!"
Akar lifted his hands, gazed up at the sky, to the black moon, Nuitari, the moon that only those with the vision of darkness can see.
"My wish is thus: Let the knight remain alive until he meets death at the point of this dagger." Akar removed the dagger from its sheath at his belt, held it up to the sky. The metal darkened, as if a shadow fell across it, then it flashed with a terrible, unholy light.
"My wish is granted!" Akar said in satisfaction.
"No! Paladine, forfend! Take my life! Kill me now!"
The young knight struggled to his feet. Ripping the bandages from his wound, starting the blood flowing freely, he lurched across the clearing, heading toward the forest.
Akar made no move, watched calmly.
Nicholas fell to his knees. His lifeblood flowed from him. He stared at it, watched it soak into the ground. The pain was intense, excruciating. He doubled over, cried out to die.
Death did not come. Nicholas lay in his own blood, writhing in agony.
Akar whistled. A horse as black as goblin's blood — which was, indeed, the steed's name — cantered into the clearing, drawing behind it a small wooden cart. The wizard grasped hold of the knight by the shoulders, dragged him across the bloody grass to the cart, and heaved him up into it. Removing a length of rope from the cart, Akar bound the suffering knight's hands and feet securely.
"Not that I think you're in any shape to do me harm," said Akar. "But you're a tough breed, you knights. I'm sorry I can do nothing to ease the pain. But, look at it this way. After a few hours of agony, you'll be more than ready to die. Try not to groan too loudly. Foul creatures roam the countryside these days. And now, to find the Lost Citadel."
Akar mounted the cart, lifted the reins in his hands. Once again he gazed up at the sky. As he watched, a shadow crossed the sun, like the moon eclipsing it, but it was a shadow only he could see. He stared at it, squinting against the sunlight, until he found what he sought.
The shadow extended downward from the sun, formed a shaft of darkness that pierced the daylight. Whatever that shadow touched instantly burst into flame. Fire roared through the forest. Smoke, foul and poisonous, hung in the air. Akar sniffed its perfume. Behind him, he heard the knight choke and retch.
When the smoke dissipated, blown aside by a deathcold wind, Akar saw that a trail had been burned among charred trees, a trail of blackness, a trail of night in day.
"Nuitari be blessed," said Akar.
Slapping the reins on the horses back, he drove the cart onto the shadow-shrouded path.
Part V
The goblins' trail was easy for Michael and Nikol to follow… too easy. The army had cut a swath of destruction through the forest surrounding the burned and gutted castle. Their numbers were strong; they had no need to hide or conceal the path that led back to their lair in the mountains. They feared no retribution. Neighboring knights, in neighboring manors, had their own lands and people to consider.
Michael stared in dismay at the broken trees, the trampled brush, the bodies of dead goblins, who, wounded, had been left behind by their loutish comrades. Nikol roamed the path, her gaze fixed on the ground, searching for any clue of her brother.
"My lady, if they did take him, what chance do you have of rescuing him? There must be… hundreds of them!" Michael waved his hand at the destruction.
"Then at least I will have the comfort of dying with him," Nikol returned. Straightening, she brushed her hair back out of her eyes. "You knew what we faced. I warned you this morning."
Michael didn't want to be reminded of the morning. The two had awakened, clasped in each others arms. Confused and embarrassed, each of them kept the other well at a distance. He meant to tell her, then, that he was leaving her, but somehow he couldn't find the words.
The silence between them grew uncomfortable. Undoubtedly she was thinking of this morning as well.
"Nikol," he began, longing to say what was in his heart.
She turned away from him hurriedly, began looking with self-conscious intensity back at the ground.
"Have you ever known goblins to take hostages, Brother?" she asked him abruptly, putting, he thought, a heavy emphasis on his title.
Michael sighed, shook his head tiredly. "No, I haven't. It takes a subtle mind to plot exchanging hostages for ransom. Goblins think only of looting and killing."
"Precisely. And yet they took Nicholas, stole him deliberately. They took him alone. They didn't want anyone else. They killed poor old Giles. Why? Unless they were under orders to capture Nicholas…"
Her face was flushed with her new idea. She forgot the strained formality. "That's it, Michael! The attack on the castle was a diversion to cover their real intent: capturing Nicholas. Which means that someone wants him and that someone must want him alive!"
"Yes, my lady." Michael agreed.
No need to tell her that her twin, if he was still alive, might well have good reason to wish himself dead. A few hours fruitless searching and Nikol would be forced to admit defeat. Then, perhaps, he could persuade her to take refuge in some neighboring manor, while he himself prepared to leave…
"Michael!"
Her excited voice rang like silver in the still air. He hastened through the brush toward her.
"Look! Look at this!" Nikol pointed to a splotch in the trampled grass. Blood. Red blood. Human blood.
Before Michael could say a word, Nikol had dashed off, following a trail that broke from the main one. He hurried after her, not knowing whether to give thanks or curse the gods that had put this sign in her way.
They came upon the clearing. Both stopped. Although the sun shone brightly, the evil that lingered in the place covered it with a dark cloud. Nikol put her hand to the hilt of her sword, but nerveless fingers slipped from it. Unconsciously, she reached out to Michael. His hand closed over hers, and they drew close together, shivering in the chill, sunlit darkness.
"Oh, Michael," Nikol whispered brokenly, "where is he? What have they done to him? I — "
She gave a cry. The large puddle of red blood glistened in the light. Near it lay the bandage she had wrapped with her own hands around her brother's wound. Nikol covered her face with her hands, slumped against Michael's chest. He put his arms around her, held her shivering body close.
"My lady, we must go away from here." Michael's love for her, his pity, was agony. "Let me take you to Sir Thomas's manor. You will be safe — "
"No!" Hastily, Nikol wiped her eyes, pushed herself away from his comforting embrace. "I was weak for a moment. This dreadful place…" She looked around, shuddered. "But Nicholas isn't here. His body isn't here," she continued, her tone grim, resolute. "They've taken him off somewhere. He's still alive. I know he's alive!"
She began searching the clearing. It did not take her long to find the tracks left by the wheels of the cart, or the spoor of blood that led to it. She followed the signs;
Michael followed her. Both found the opening burned into the forest, the opening of darkness. They stopped, stared at it, blood chilling in their veins.
"I think this is what it must be like to gaze into the Abyss," said Michael in awe.
Nikol's face was ashen, her eyes wide and terrified. She stood close to him, and he could feel her body tremble beneath the armor. "I can't go in there…"
Wind moaned in the tops of the blackened trees, a cry of pain, as if the trees were screaming. And
then Michael realized, with a thrill of horror, that the cry came from a human throat. He hoped against hope that Nikol had not heard.
"Come, my lady, let us go away from this evil place — "
"Nicholas!" Nikol called out in anguish. "I hear you! We're coming!" She took a step forward, into the noisome shadows.
Michael caught hold of her. "Nikol, you can't!"
She struck at him, hard, shoved him back. "I'm going. And so are you, you coward!" Her hand closed over his wrist with a grip of iron. "You will heal him — "
"I can't!" Michael cried savagely. "Look! Look!" He yanked the holy symbol from its hiding place beneath his robes, held it up for Nikol to see. "It's dark, as dark as that path before us. Do you know what that means? The goddess has turned away from me. She won't answer my prayers. Even if we did find Nicholas, I could do nothing for him."
Nikol stared at him, not comprehending. "But… how? How could the goddess abandon you?"
Because I abandoned the goddess! I did it for you, for you and Nicholas! Michael wanted to shout at her, vent his frustration, his fear and anger — anger at her, anger at the gods…
He shivered suddenly. He shouldn't be angry. That was wrong. The faithful were never angry, never questioned. Again, he'd been found lacking.
"I can't explain," Michael said tiredly. "The matter is between myself and my god. But, now, you must come away from this place. As you see, there's nothing we can do…"
Nikol let go of him, as she might have tossed away a piece of rubbish.
"Thank you for accompanying me this far." Her voice was cold, bitter with disappointment. "You needn't go on with me. This place holds far more danger for you than for me, for now it appears that you are defenseless against its evil. Farewell, Brother — ! mean, Michael."
She turned and walked, with firm step, into the fearsome, fire-ravaged forest. The shadows surrounded her instantly. He lost sight of her, could not even see a glint of her armor.
Michael stood shivering on the outskirts of the blackened woods. Mishakal's words, forgotten until now, came back. to him suddenly, as if spoken for this very time, this very place.
IF YOU LACK FAITH, IF YOU STAY AND INTERFERE, YOU RUN THE RISK OF DOOMING YOURSELF, THE WOMAN, AND THE WORLD TO A TERRIBLE FATE!
He had stayed. He had interfered. He had helped bring this evil upon her, upon himself, perhaps upon the world!
"I should have faith," he counseled himself. "If I did, I'd let her go. Paladine is with her. Love armors her. She will only lose her life. I might lose my soul! I should turn away, seek the Lost Citadel, beg the goddess to forgive me. I have only until tonight to find it, to retrieve my faith…"
He did turn away. He turned his back on the dark and fearsome woods into which she had vanished. He took a step away from her and then another. And then, he stopped.
He could not leave her. He could not leave her to die alone, in pain and in terror. Although it would cost him his soul, he would go with her, be with her until the end.
Until doom fell upon them… and the world.
Part VI
Michael was blind. Darkness, thick and suffocating, fell over his sight the moment he entered the fearsome woods. His loss of vision was utter and instantaneous. He could see nothing — not vague shadowy outlines, not movement. He could see neither the shine of Nikol's armor nor the sheen of her golden hair. So strange and terrifying was his sudden blindness that he involuntarily put his hand to his eyes. It seemed to him that they must have been plucked out.
"Michael?" Nikol was frightened. "Michael… is that you? Michael, I can't see!"
"I'm here," he said.
He tried to sound reassuring, but he choked on the words. Yes, he was here. A lot of good it would do her, do either of them. He reached out with groping hands toward the sound of her voice, the silvery jingle of the buckles on her armor. "I… can't see either, my lady."
He paused, blinked. Suddenly, he could see. He could see the way out, the way back. He could see the hot sunlight shining in the clearing, see the ruts left by the wagon wheels leading into these woods. He gasped aloud in thankfulness. He had feared, for a moment, that his sight had been stolen from him forever.
"What is it, Michael?" Nikol heard him, caught hold of his hand.
"Turn around, my lady," he said, guiding her.
She did so, slowly, feet shuffling in the charred undergrowth and ashes. Her eyes widened, she clasped his hand tightly.
"I was so afraid!" She breathed, shifted to look at him. Her smile slowly faded. "I can't see you!" She moved her head around. "I can't see anything ahead of me…"
"We can see the way out — "
"But I don't want to go out!" she cried angrily. "I — "
The sound of the scream came again, but it sounded farther away, came from deeper within the wood. They could hear a horse's hooves and the rattle of a cart being driven at a slow pace over uneven ground. Letting go of Michael's hand, Nikol ran forward.
"Nikol! Come back — "
He heard her running footsteps, then heard her stumble, fall, heard the sound of angry, frustrated sobbing. He made his way toward her, fumbling through the terrifying darkness that seemed to become darker the farther into it he ventured. He almost fell over her, knelt beside her.
"Are you hurt?"
"Leave me alone!" Nikol started to get to her feet. "I'm going after him."
He lost patience. "Nikol, be reasonable. It's hopeless! Even if you could see, could you keep up with a cart on foot? You can't find the trail! You can't see what obstacles or dangers lie in your path. You could step off a cliff, fall into a chasm — "
"I will not abandon him. I will go after him if I have to crawl!"
He felt her, so near him, turn. He knew she was looking back the way they'd come. He turned as well. Never had sunlight looked so bright or so beautiful. The clearing, which had seemed a place of terror before, was now a haven of peace and safety.
Thus do we take our blessings for granted, until they are gone, he thought in bitter sadness, putting his hand to the symbol of Mishakal that lay, a heavy burden, on his chest.
"What is causing this?" Nikol demanded in frustration. "What evil has created this darkness?"
"Nuitari," answered a soft and whispering voice, "god of the unseen. You walk in the light of the dark moon."
"Who is it?" Nikol was on her feet. Michael heard the ring of steel. She had drawn her sword. "Who is there?"
"Your weapon is useless, Sir Knight." The voice was heavily ironic. "I've been sitting here, watching you two bumble about for the last ten minutes. I could have slain you both twice over before now."
Michael stood, grasped Nikol's sword arm. He could feel her trembling in frustration and fear. She shoved him away, swung the sword in front of her wildly, more to relieve her own sense of helplessness than in hope in hitting anything. He heard the blade whistle harmlessly through the air.
The unseen watcher began to laugh, a laugh that caught suddenly in his throat, changed to a racking cough. After long moments, the coughing spasm ceased. Michael heard a ragged, indrawn breath.
"My lady," Michael counseled, reaching for her, finding her arm, holding it firmly. "If this person has watched us, as he claims, then he must be able to see."
"That is true," said Nikol, lowering her sword. "Can you see?"
"I can," answered the voice calmly. "To those of us who walk in Nuitari's night, this wood is lit as brightly as the day. For you, it will grow ever darker with each step you take. But, perhaps you have wandered in here by accident. I suggest you leave, while you can still find the way out."
"If you have been watching us, as you say, you know that we did not enter this wood by accident," said Nikol coolly. She had turned in the direction of the voice, her sword still in her hand, her guard raised. "Someone has been taken into this wood, someone dear to us. We have reason to believe he is being held captive by goblins."
"A young man?" asked the voice. "Comely, well made, with a g
rievous wound in his side? He is wrapped in bloody bandages…"
"Yes," said Nikol softly, her hand closing over Michael's, holding him tightly for support. "Yes! That is my brother. You've seen him?"
"I have. And I offer you this counsel. Turn back. There is nothing you can do for him. He is a dead man. You will die yourselves. Nothing you can do will save him. Isn't that true, Revered Son of Mishakal?" The voice seemed to sneer.
"I am not a Revered Son," answered Michael quietly, "only a humble brother."
"Not even that, seemingly," said the voice.
Michael felt eyes staring at him, strange eyes that he swore he could almost see, eyes like hourglasses. Selfconsciously, the healer put his hand over the medallion on his chest, thrust it hastily beneath his robes.
"Let him alone," Nikol retorted angrily. "He has no reason to be here, not as I do. He comes with me not out of love, but out of loyalty."
"Is that so?"
Michael could see the hourglass eyes laughing at him.
"So you come in here for your brother, Sir Knight?" the voice continued, soft, hissing. "Give him up. You can do nothing for him except die with him."
Nikol spoke steadily. "Then I will do so. I could not live without him. We are twins, you see — "
Twins?" The voice was altered, low and dark, darker than the woods. Twins," it repeated.
"Yes," said Nikol, hesitant, uncertain at the sudden change she sensed in the speaker. Did it bode good? Or ill? "We are twins. And if you know anything of twins, you know that we are close, closer than most siblings."
"I know… something of twins," said the voice.
The words were spoken so softly that the two might not have heard them, but both were straining every sense to make up for the loss of their eyesight.
The reign of Istar t2-1 Page 27
