by I K Spencer
"Who are you?" one soldier asked, fear evident in his voice.
Anthen pulled the cloak from over his head and ignored the fresh pain behind his eyes. The sight of the drawn, gray, bloodstained face sent the group of sentries stumbling backward. His sunken dark eyes, tightly shut, looked like bloody, eyeless sockets.
"Kyreial?" he asked, in hopes his inquisitor might be one of the elf's comrades.
"State your allegiance!" The nervous soldier aimed his crossbow at the bloody guardsman.
He attempted to open his eyes a bit to survey the situation but only burning whiteness came through. "I am Anthen, captain in service of his Majesty, King Jamen."
"Stand down!" An officer pushed his way through the circle of men and froze when he saw the state of the guardsman. "Oh beseech the gods!"
"What is your allegiance?" Anthen asked quickly. "Are you from the realm?"
"Who is this wretch?" the officer asked the lead sentry, ignoring Anthen. More soldiers and officers gathered.
"Says 'is name is Anthen and a captain from Jamen's host," the other answered.
"Who are you!" Anthen roared with all the strength he could muster.
"We are of Arnedon," the man answered in an appeasing tone. "Now rest easy. You are badly wounded and—"
"Arnedonian?" Anthen interrupted excitedly. "Teya? Teya sent you? Is Teya ... alive?" the warrior asked, though afraid to hear the expected answer.
"Anthen?" a quavering voice called from beyond the ring of soldiers around him.
The familiar voice caused Anthen's head to whip around. He cursed the blindness.
Teya pushed through the crowd of soldiers staring at the wretched stranger. Even if Anthen were not blind he might not have recognized her, dressed in full battle gear with her hair pushed under a helmet. She flinched at the terrible condition of her comrade and lover but then rushed to him.
"Teya? Is it really you?" The guardsman was nearly delirious and not sure whether he faced just another vision, a dream, or even a dying man’s trance.
"Of course," she answered softly, hugging him fiercely.
He could not see the tears in her eyes but shed his own tears of joy as he felt her familiar touch and caught her scent.
"We found your horse and gear and I thought the worst."
"You were not ambushed by Hraedari?" he queried, frowning.
"Yes I was but outran the wraiths. How did you know?" She replied, then forgot her question when she saw a knife stuck in his calf. "No, that is not important; we must see to those wounds."
Teya and another soldier helped Anthen into her tent. When the soldier left the two alone, they embraced for a long time saying nothing. Concern for his welfare, though, forced her into action; the guardsman was gaunt and covered with so many wounds she thought he might die at any moment.
"Anthen, I must fetch water, bandages and food. You rest," she said rising.
"No wait!" Anthen clutched her hand frantically.
In the dim light inside the tent, he could open his eyes a crack. That was cause for fresh pain in his head but worth the vision of her smiling down at him. He spent a few precious moments gazing at her before remembering their situation.
"Teya we must hold council before I sleep. I am very weak and may be out for some time but there is much to discuss. Are you in command?"
"No. Lord Myran is senior officer."
"Perhaps he should join us then," he suggested. "After I have cleaned up," he added, seeing his terrible reflection in her shiny chest plate.
She brought food and water and he attacked both with such vigor that he barely noticed when she extracted the knife the draug had left embedded in his calf. He forced himself to stop though, after a small amount of each, knowing his stomach, long-empty of any solid food, would likely protest at being full.
Teya brought warm water, soap and rags and left again to see about medicine and bandages. He again saw his image in a shield in her tent and did not recognize the stranger looking back at him. He saw a gaunt, filthy street beggar, covered with so many bloody wounds that he might be mistaken for a leper. He quickly took up the soap and scrubbed away the grime and blood from his face but the improvement was only marginal.
Anthen struggled to stay focused. He felt very tired and in his much-weakened state, his mind wandered. He had moments of lucidity but then everything seemed to get mixed up. In a moment of clarity, he realized that if Teya lived, then Garrick might also be alive, and that thought gave him strength.
"Much better," Teya said when she saw his clean face after returning with enough bandages to cover an entire squadron. The concern etched on her face gave little credit to the comment.
Teya stripped off her battle armor and helmet and went quickly to work on him. She pleaded with him to sleep but he refused, instead, recounting his experiences after they had separated. Describing Kyreial reminded him of the elf's disappearance and he quickly asked for any sign of his friend.
"No," Teya answered, beginning to wonder if Anthen were indeed raving.
He resumed his tale, quickly covering the difficult journey to the mountain and the wolf attack. He described their plan to attack the camp and the very different reality that followed. He lost his place often and she had to help him remember. His voice grew very soft when he mentioned the draugen and he did not mention the details of the torture nor his escape.
"Now rest," she coaxed gently when he had finished his tale. She had many questions but they would have to wait for he was in no condition to handle them.
"No. Not until we've held council. Tell me of your adventures after we parted."
Teya complied, hoping he might fall asleep while she talked. She recounted the tale absently, her concern growing as she treated the seemingly endless wounds on his ravaged body.
She had reached the Arnedon border in three days of hard riding. She had indeed been attacked by a band of Hraedari, but lost them in a manner very similar to Anthen's vision. Unlike his vision however, the wraiths had not caught up with her again.
Lord Myran governed the border region and the nearest fort and, she warned, he was far from convinced that Arnedon should involve itself in squabbles between the realm and Dolonar. She had chastised herself for not traveling further to other officials with whom she had better standing. Myran had finally agreed to send a message to the Lord General and they waited two days for the response. She had nearly decided to come back without them but knew she could do little alone and doubted Myran would come unless she were there to badger him. Finally, a supportive dispatch had arrived and Myran grudgingly agreed to bring a regiment. They had arrived at dusk two days ago and she confided that Myran was growing impatient.
Teya ended the tale softly, hoping that Anthen had fallen asleep but the guardsman stirred and pushed himself up. He took a long drink from the waterskin and started to rise.
"Anthen what are you doing? You need rest! Do you wish to die?" She tried to push him back down.
"No Teya! We must talk with your Lord Myran and then I will go to sleep. I promise."
"I will fetch him. Lie still."
Anthen struggled to his feet, holding her for support. "No. He will give me no credit if I meet him from my sick bed. Here help me dress."
She saw that he would not be dissuaded and helped him into spare clothes from the pack that they had found near Rorc. The guardsman leaned heavily on Teya as they shuffled across the camp to Myran's large tent but he tottered on his own when they were admitted.
The large tent was filled with finery; Lord Myran clearly did not travel light. Rich tapestries hung on every wall and a number of furniture pieces filled the space, including a heavy oaken table that could easily seat a score of diners. Several officers and servants had gathered in the tent but Anthen recognized the Arnedonian lord immediately—the man seated in a large, ornate chair resembling a throne. He wore an immaculate uniform, the breast heavy with medals. He finished a short discussion with one of his advisors and looked at the tw
o visitors.
"Lord Myran. May I present—"
"You look like death's closest kin!" Myran exclaimed, interrupting the introduction.
Anthen felt an instant dislike for the nobleman. He was trim and dark, with close-cropped, curly black hair. Anthen guessed the man to be in his early thirties and had no doubt that most of the medallions on his chest had not been earned.
"Lord Myran." Anthen bowed as well as his present condition would permit. "Time is short. We have matters of utmost importance to discuss."
"You are one of Jamen's elite guardsmen?" Myran asked, surprise evident in his narrow face.
"Yes sir. There is a great threat—"
"Really? I had always heard you were such stalwart, mighty warriors."
"Lord, Anthen has been a captive of the draugen for several days and his wounds are extensive," Teya explained, careful not to betray the anger she felt at the man's rudeness.
"Yes. I understand you have an entertaining tale Guardsman. You may proceed."
Anthen recounted again, briefly, the details since he and Teya had parted. He then quickly reviewed their present situation.
"So, this traitor, Cidrl, may already have reached his goal," Myran surmised when Anthen had finished.
"I assume so, unless he failed."
"If he is successful or has failed, then there is nothing we can do," Myran concluded.
"It is not too late," Anthen said quickly. "We must go after him."
"That is impossible." The Arnedonian laughed and his advisors quickly followed suit.
"I think I can navigate the labyrinth," the guardsman replied softly, as though not sure he actually believed the words.
"And what leads you to believe you are capable of such a spectacular feat?" Myran's face was a mixture of amusement and incredulity.
Anthen described the elf's translation of the inscription and his resulting conclusion that his faith would see him safely through the maze. As he feared, the nobleman laughed at him. Even worse was the doubt he saw in Teya's face.
"Mock me if you will," he said quietly, though his fury was barely contained, "but make no mistake. The man we chase is pure evil and you know, probably more so than I, the devastation that he will bring if he is not stopped."
For the first time since the council had commenced, Anthen saw serious fear in Myran's face.
"The Lord General must not dispute this, otherwise we would not be here," Teya added.
The Arnedonian commander gave Teya a sharp look, then returned his gaze to the guardsman. The mask of arrogance was gone, replaced by a look of morose apprehension.
"Anthen, even if I believed in you, which I do not, I could never send my men on such a mission. My duty is to defend Arnedon's borders."
Anthen searched the man's face and, seeing there was no hope to change his mind, just nodded somberly. "Sir, I would then make two requests?"
Myran gestured for him to continue.
"Please send a party to King Jamen with a message from me. I have no guarantee that he is even aware of the situation and the grave threat to the realm."
Myron nodded his assent. "And the second?"
"Food and supplies. I will enter the caves after I have rested."
"Take what you will," Myran said, shaking his head in sadness, "though I hope you have come to your senses after resting. You are in no condition to fight and there is nothing further you can do here, except die. You will be needed in your homeland."
"Thank you." Anthen bowed again and wearily limped from the tent.
Teya helped him back to her tent, promising to fetch all the supplies he named as well as materials for him to scribe a message for King Jamen. She remained tight-lipped and he knew she was struggling with his apparent decision to reenter the labyrinth. He composed the dispatch and checked his gear and weapons, which Teya had taken possession of when the Arnedonians found them near the mouth of the cavern.
"Anthen are you thinking clearly?" Teya finally asked, as he ate more food before going to sleep.
"I believe so," the guardsman answered after truly considering the question. He felt a little better, with more food in his stomach. "Teya, I have given this much thought. If there is a chance, and I believe there is, what other choice do I have?"
They both knew the answer and Teya did not have to say it. "Is this the plan of a professional warrior or a personal crusade against a hated enemy?"
"Most surely the latter but I believe it to be my duty as well. Teya, if you have a better plan I am eager to hear it."
"Sleep," she answered and kissed him tenderly.
The spent guardsman closed his eyes and slept immediately, though the sun had barely passed its peak. Such was his weariness that for the first time, Teya noticed, he did not toss and turn as usual. She gazed at him as he slept. The pale, drawn countenance was so different from the healthy face she last remembered, brown from their journey through the Misean Desert.
Frowning, she stroked his hair as she pondered what to do but it proved, in fact, an easy decision for her. She doubted his ability to lead them through the deadly maze but if he entered the caves in the morning she would follow.
With the decision made, Teya left Anthen to rest while she made preparations for their departure. Much later, she slept nestled against the guardsman to keep him warm through the cold night.
Chapter 47
The next morning did not come.
The rising sun appeared as dim as a faint star because of a thick black mist that covered the land. Great changes had obviously taken place during the night and Anthen sensed they might be too late, that Cidrl might already have seized power enough to make him unstoppable. Anthen thought of the Dolonarian horde pouring across the border and shuddered.
He had woken shortly after dawn, stiff with soreness. Every part of his body was in pain but he felt a bit stronger, especially after a full breakfast, complete with coffee. He hoped the Arnedonian commander might be of a different mind now, considering this unsettling new development, and requested an audience. After the hurried breakfast, as they waited to see Myran, Teya asked if he was still committed his plan and when he nodded, announced that she would join him.
"Teya, you do not have to do this." He saw the doubt in her face and had mixed feelings. He desperately needed her help but knew that their chances were slim and failure would be doubly painful should Teya be sacrificed as well. "Do not follow me if you think it folly," he added, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Every warrior in Arnedon will be needed should the realm fall."
Teya looked fearfully at the dark sky. "I think it matters not how many warriors we have if this evil man is not stopped."
Myran stood waiting for them as they entered his tent. All traces of the haughty aristocrat from the day before were gone, replaced by grim seriousness. He greeted both warriors respectfully.
"You have not changed your mind?" the nobleman queried.
Anthen shook his head and gestured to the sky. "I hoped you might have changed yours."
"I am sorry. I do apologize for dismissing you so quickly but my course is clear. This ill omen means that I must hurry back. Arnedon must mobilize."
Anthen nodded; there was little left to say.
"I will accompany him," Teya announced.
"As you wish." Myran shrugged and did not look surprised.
"May I ask for any volunteers?" Teya asked.
The lord pondered the question for a moment before nodded, adding, "I will ask for you, though I doubt we will see much interest."
Anthen and Teya bowed, ready to depart. Myran stepped forward and hugged Teya awkwardly before grasping Anthen's hand firmly.
"I am sorry that I cannot do more. My six fastest riders have left with your message Captain Anthen," the commander promised. "Good luck, to you both. Know that your sacrifice will be remembered and your names honored."
Anthen and Teya left the tent and made a final check of their gear while Myran sought volunteers. He proved correct; not
a single Arnedonian would volunteer to follow the guardsman. Anthen had expected little else; it was an easy choice between returning home or following a foreigner and an unknown officer into the deadly caves. The camp bustled with activity as the soldiers hurriedly made preparations to depart.
As the pair approached the black mouth of the cave, a commotion at the edge of camp caught their attention. A big smile spread across Anthen's face when he recognized the slight form exchanging heated words with a pair of sentries. The guardsman hurried over as best he could in his present condition.
"Kyreial you are alive!" Anthen said excitedly and hugged the elf, who didn't appear quite comfortable with the greeting.
"As are you Guardsman, though just barely I see." The elf wore a pained expression as he scrutinized the guardsman. "You have seen rough times my young friend."
"Draugen," Anthen answered in explanation.
The elf's look of concern changed to one of shock, then awe. "I am sorry. You escaped the blood-eaters?"
Anthen nodded. "What about you? When the winged demon returned I thought the worst?"
Kyreial's face turned hard. "It was a diversion. Knowing I must follow, the phaantor led me far away, staying just beyond my reach. The demon toyed with me into the night and then disappeared completely. You had entered the caves by the time I returned and I have been keeping watch since. It seems your traitor was expecting us."
"Aye," Anthen replied in agreement, remembering the way Urvena had pointed him out.
"This Cidrl is very shrewd," Kyreial offered, glancing uneasily at the black mist overhead. His eyes fell to the two warriors, loaded with all their gear. "What is your plan?"
"We go after him," Anthen replied.
"What about the labyrinth? And the draugen?" the elf queried calmly, seeming unphased by the guardsman's answer.
