The tunnel ran a little farther and took a sharp right turn into an arch of dressed fieldstone. From that point on, a steep, narrow stairwell of dressed stone spiraled up into blackness. Aeron counted almost a hundred steps before the passage ended in a small landing. Raedel turned back and motioned to him; the wizard returned his light-wand to the pouch, leaving them in total darkness. Ahead, he heard a small click, and a narrow wedge of brightness appeared. Phoros moved in front, peered out, and opened the door enough to slip into the chamber beyond. Aeron quickly followed, Kestrel and Eriale a step behind.
They stood in a spartan chamber of dressed stone, illuminated by a double-arched window. A few pieces of utilitarian furniture, a sword-and-shield display, and a cold hearth were the sum of its decoration. Raedel looked around, a fierce grin on his face. “Good. Nothing’s been disturbed.”
“He must know you’re gone,” Eriale said. “It’s been more than three days now.”
“Indeed, the count’s absence did not escape my attention,” drawled a voice from the chamber’s doorway. Aeron and his companions whirled to face the entrance to the room. Master Crow stepped out into the open as if emerging from a solid shadow. His sallow features seemed as dead and malleable as wax in the dim light of the empty royal quarters. “I had hoped you would rejoin us, my lord Raedel. But I must admit I did not think that you would actually bring Aeron as well. Fortune smiles on me.”
Phoros snarled and started forward, but Aeron quickly caught his arm. “Wait,” he said. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t confront you without being certain that you were no threat.”
“Listen to Aeron, Raedel. He possesses no small amount of wisdom,” Crow said with a feral grin. He made a casual gesture with his left hand. Beside Aeron, Baillegh bared her teeth and growled, crouching for a spring. In each corner of the room, a dark pillar seemed to coalesce from the air, gradually condensing into tattered shapes of skeletal soldiers in mail. Their faces were blank and awful, with cold yellow light glimmering in their unseeing eyes, and they stank of death. On each warrior’s stained surcoat the emblem of House Raedel was embroidered. “I’ve taken the liberty of improving on your guardsmen, my lord,” Crow said.
Phoros shook off Aeron’s hand and took another half-step forward, but the two skeletal warriors standing nearest to Master Crow straightened and advanced to bar his path, cold gleaming swords in their yellowed hands. The count ground his teeth in frustration, but his common sense won out over his anger. He halted just out of reach of the skeletons’ weapons. “Damn you, Crow! Assuran curse the day I let you into my keep.”
Master Crow waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “My lord count, I am truly sorry to hear you say that. After all, you brought me here to defend you against Aeron, and have I not done that? The Storm Walker has not troubled you once since I’ve become your advisor.” He looked past Raedel to take in Aeron, Kestrel, and Eriale. “Now, I’ll ask you to lay down your arms. Aeron, you are to keep your hands in plain sight. I’ll order my warriors to attack at the first sign you’re casting a spell.”
No one moved. Aeron glanced around the room, weighing the enchantments that bound spirit to the armor-clad corpses that surrounded them. These were not mindless husks called back to a semblance of animation through Crow’s sorcery. These creatures were far more formidable, each driven by a malicious spirit bound to Crow’s will.
“Aeron, what do we do?” hissed Eriale.
Aeron hesitated, unwilling to take the first move. He was afraid of what Crow might be capable of, given Sarim’s knowledge and strength. He stalled for time. “What do you want with us, Crow?”
The sorcerer shrugged. “Your friends I could care less about, Aeron. Raedel I’ll keep at my side to rule this land … although I’m inclined to work a spell or two to render him more amenable to my advice, you might say. As for those two—” he nodded at Kestrel and Eriale, who waited with their weapons ready—“they may prove valuable in ensuring your cooperation.”
“Why am I so important to you?” Aeron demanded.
Crow stepped closer, ignoring the others to direct his fevered gaze directly at the mage. “You started something five years ago that you never finished. I came here to conclude your pact with the Shadow Stone. I know you’ve sensed the changes in magic we’ve wrought over the last month or so, Aeron. This is only the first step. If you join us, if you finish the road you started down, you will become more powerful than you can ever imagine. You will be a king among wizards, a lord whose least wish can be fulfilled with the power at your command.”
Aeron narrowed his eyes. “And you’ll destroy me if I refuse?”
Crow laughed loudly, a brash and abrasive sound. “No, of course not. You are a mage of power, Aeron. You are far too valuable to destroy. If we cannot rally you to our cause, then there is another purpose you can serve. We can use your magic to fuel our spells.” He stopped laughing and his voice grew cold. “But I’ll offer you this advice, Aeron. You would be much better off as a lord among wizards than you would as our slave.”
“Your only purpose here is to bring Aeron into your circle again? Maerchlin itself is nothing to you?” Eriale demanded from behind Aeron.
Crow shrugged. “All of Chessenta will be my prize someday, young lady. Maerchlin is important to us because that’s where Aeron resides.” He raised his hands, and Aeron felt shadow-magic swirl and gather around his fingertips. “Time enough for talk later. Lay down your weapons.”
Phoros Raedel snarled, “Rot in Tchazzar’s hells!” He launched himself forward in a blinding rush that carried him past the two skeletons, somehow dodging the deadly cuts they leveled at him as he rushed by. Master Crow barked out a spell against the burly young lord that blasted stabbing fingers of black fire at him. Raedel roared in pain and pressed ahead through the agonizing flame, swinging blindly until Crow was forced to dance backward a few steps to stay out of his reach.
Aeron immediately raised his staff and began an old abjuration to discorporate the evil spirits from the bodies of Raedel’s soldiers, hoping to even the odds. It was a long and complex spell, and his high, clear voice echoed in the chamber as he recited the incantation while weaving threads of magic to each of the skeletal warriors. But the undead soldiers surged forward, weapons raised to strike. Baillegh leaped forward in a silver streak, knocking down the first warrior that charged Aeron while he was engaged in working the spell.
Behind him, Eriale whirled and sank an arrow into the breastbone of one skeleton, staggering it in its tracks. The creature seemed to shake it off and surged at her again, but she laid another arrow across her bow and fired again with uncanny speed and precision, burying the second arrow in the skeleton’s left eye socket. The impact shattered the back of its skull, and it collapsed to the ground in a clatter of bone and steel.
Beside her, Kestrel ducked under the first swing of another skeleton and knocked its legs from under it, spilling it to the ground. He yelled a wordless challenge and leaped across the body to defend Eriale from another skeleton rushing her from the flank, driving it back with a flurry of blows. But the first creature he’d felled clawed at him, pinning his legs in place, while another moved forward, a heavy axe in its talons. It flew at Kestrel with a fierce bloodthirst, pounding at the slight woodsman’s guard until Kestrel buckled beneath the attack. The axe fell one more time and came up dripping red.
Eriale turned back from the skeleton she’d just shot and cried out, “Father!” She dropped Kestrel’s attacker with a single arrow in its eye, but Kestrel lay crumpled on the ground, a spreading pool of blood growing under his motionless body.
Aeron nearly lost the spell as he saw Kestrel fall, but with iron discipline he forced himself to finish it. The chamber rocked with the power of the last word he spoke, stone cracking and wood splintering with the weight of the magic. The remaining skeletal warriors dropped as if their strings had been cut, the animating force behind them suddenly barred from the room. By the door, Phoros Raedel pushed his
way to his feet as his assailants collapsed, but Eriale fell to her knees by her father, cradling his head. Aeron whirled to face Master Crow. “Damn you, Crow!” he howled.
The dark sorcerer snapped out a quick spell that conjured bolts of magical energy and hurled them at Aeron and Raedel. The count grunted and staggered as the bursts hammered his torso, leaving the stink of charred flesh in the air, but Aeron managed to raise a short-lived shield to block the assault. He sought a spell in response, but the uncertainty of his hybrid sorcery halted him. Do I dare retaliate? he thought, frozen in one long agonizing moment of indecision. What if I end up like him?
“Morieth, do something!” Phoros screeched from the floor, writhing under Crow’s magical attack.
“I can’t!” Aeron responded. He took several steps back, trying to think. The shadow-magic boiled in his heart, surging through his limbs and flickering like black witch-fire about his fingertips. Before his eyes he saw the horrible scene in the crypt of the Shadow Stone, Oriseus gloating as he invited Aeron to seize the power he craved. You want to be the one people fear, the saturnine conjuror whispered in his ears.
Beside him, Eriale turned an anguished gaze up to Aeron. “Please, Aeron. Help us!”
Crow laughed out loud as he scorched Phoros with his sorcerous powers. “Considering my offer, Aeron? I’d hoped you would come around, sooner or later. Let’s put an end to this, shall we?” His hands flashed and sparked as he tortured the nobleman with snapping arcs of black fire.
It doesn’t matter what it costs me, Aeron realized. That’s not Sarim anymore, and I can’t let him win. He shouted out the words for the storm’s stroke, pushing to the back of his mind the black tide from which he drew his power. A great bolt of lightning leaped forward from his fingertips, blasting Crow off his feet and smashing the door behind him into flying flinders. Aeron narrowed his eyes, surprised that Crow had not countered the spell.
In the scorched wreckage of the entrance to the room, Crow suddenly sat up. His robe was burned and shredded, but he seemed otherwise unhurt. “You’ll have to do better than that, Aeron,” he called.
Crow snapped out a word that sent Aeron and Phoros hurling toward the ceiling. Aeron flailed in the air for a moment before crashing into the hard stone with bone-jarring force. Bright light spun over his eyes, and suddenly he fell to the floor again, landing heavily on his left arm and side. Something crunched in Aeron’s forearm and an electric jolt of pain raced up his arm. Raedel grunted as he landed flat on his back.
“What? No counterspell to that one?” Crow gloated. He gestured and sent both men slamming into the ceiling and then dropped them to the ground again.
Aeron’s vision reeled, and he could hardly tell which way was up, but Baillegh bounded into his field of vision, worrying at Crow’s arm. The sorcerer managed to gasp out a quick spell that repelled the silver hound, sending her skittering into a corner. In the momentary respite that Baillegh’s attack earned him, Aeron raised himself to his knees and unleashed a spell of transformation, striking Crow full in the chest with a flickering green ray. “Let’s see how you look as a mouse,” Aeron muttered, concentrating on the transformation from human to rodent. Crow seemed startled for a moment as the shimmering emerald aura washed over his body, but again the spell did not affect him, vanishing like water draining into a sinkhole.
“A noble effort, Aeron,” the sorcerer smirked. “But your spells are useless against me. Any enchantment you work, I will absorb and add to my own strength.”
“Absorb this,” said Eriale from somewhere behind Aeron. Her bow thrummed, and a white-feathered arrow suddenly appeared low in Master Crow’s throat, just above the notch where his collarbones met. The sorcerer’s eyes bulged in astonishment and he flailed his arms, trying to keep his balance. Crow opened his mouth as if to say something, but a dark rush of blood streamed over his chin. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed in a heap.
The chamber fell eerily silent. Aeron could hear the blood pounding in his ears, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, watching Crow for some sign of movement. The sorcerer’s body lay still. He turned slowly, and saw Eriale kneeling by Kestrel, her bow in her hands. “Thanks,” he said. He moved over and dropped down beside her, hoping to help Kestrel.
The woodsman lay on his back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The rough homespun shirt was soaked with blood where the skeletal warrior’s axe had split Kestrel’s breastbone. “Kestrel,” Aeron whispered, bowing his head.
Eriale’s voice trembled. “Aeron, can your magic—”
“No,” he answered. “He’s far beyond my skill.” He reached down and closed Kestrel’s eyes, a hot ache growing in his chest. “Eriale, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Why didn’t you act, Aeron? What hold did he have on you?” Tears streamed down Eriale’s face. “What were you waiting for?”
Aeron sagged back, unable to answer her. “I didn’t want to face him,” he said quietly. “I should have known that it would come to this.”
“My father’s dead, Aeron. Raedel and I would have been next. Wasn’t that reason enough for you?” She looked over at the doorway to the chamber, where Crow lay with the white-feathered arrow protruding from his throat. Close by the sorcerer’s body, Phoros Raedel wheezed heavily, one arm clamped over his wounds. “You’d better check on Raedel. We’ll need him to explain why we’re here.”
Aeron reached out and caught Eriale’s arm, turning her to face him. “You’re right, Eriale. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t want to confront Crow, and my hesitation might have cost Kestrel his life. But I won’t make that mistake again—I swear it.”
He held her eyes for a tense moment, until she relented and looked away. Then he stood, picked up his staff, and faced the door. “Look after the count. I have work to do if we’re going to put this castle back in his hands.”
Sixteen
Aeron and Eriale spent several days in Maerchlin, helping to set things right as Raedel reclaimed his castle. Crow had left a tangled web of dangerous enchantments, wardings, curses, and magical coercions over the places and people of Maerchlin. Aeron worked for days expunging every rune and warding, dispelling charms and curses, and undoing as much of Crow’s influence as he could. Kestrel’s death demanded no less of him.
Phoros Raedel made no objection when Aeron and Eriale reopened Kestrel’s old house at the edge of Maerchlin. The count had been badly wounded and burned during the fight against Crow and his undead minions, but through raw force of will he was on his feet again within a day, making certain that no one in Maerchlin had any doubt as to who was the lord of the county. He relayed no words of thanks to Aeron or Eriale for their service, instead ignoring their presence in his lands. If it had been anyone else, Aeron might have felt slighted by the lack of gratitude, but he knew that it must have angered Phoros beyond reason to be indebted to him. He intended to remove himself from the count’s domain as soon as he was satisfied that Crow’s magic would work no more mischief.
Three days after their confrontation with Master Crow, Aeron and Eriale burned Kestrel. Aeron used his sorcery to create a clean, pure pyre; he could not stand the idea of burning Kestrel with the sodden, sickly firewood at hand. A somber handful of their old friends and neighbors turned out for the ceremony.
Eriale and Aeron lingered for a long time by the pyre, watching the funereal flames dance and crackle. Eriale was silent and worn, with dark circles under her eyes, and Aeron was exhausted as well.
He was shaken out of his reflection by Eriale’s voice. “Aeron? Why did this happen?”
“What?” He turned toward her with a startled look.
“What did we do to earn Master Crow’s hate? Why did he come to Maerchlin, and why did he do what he did?”
Aeron tried to think of an answer and failed. Eriale looked up at him, the cold damp air plastering her hair to her cheeks like a dark hood. “He said that he came here because of me,” he said at length. “I don’t know whether I believe him, t
hough.”
“I remember what he said, but what I want to know is why. What did you ever do to him?”
“I knew him back at the college, Eriale. His name then was Sarim, and he was one of my mentors. A terrible wrong was done to him by Lord Oriseus after I left.” He repressed a shudder as a cold tendril of water pierced his hood and ran down his back. “I’d thought that I was no longer of interest to Oriseus and his followers. Out of sight, out of mind. After all, they never tried to contact me or hunt me down after I left. I guess I was wrong.”
“So you think that Oriseus made Sarim into Crow and sent him after you?”
Aeron thought it over. “Yes. I think he did.”
“Do you think that Oriseus told Crow to use his magic to enslave the people of Maerchlin? Or do you think that was Crow’s idea?”
“I don’t know, Eriale. I just don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Eriale stepped closer and fixed her gaze on his eyes. “Do you think Oriseus might try again?”
Aeron fell silent. He didn’t have an answer.
Eriale turned and paced away. The mists and rain shrouded them in a world of gray, bleached of color. The dark line of trees that started beyond Kestrel’s homestead might as well have been a wall of wet stone. “Didn’t Crow say that he and his friends were responsible for this?” She waved her arm in a gesture that included the earth, the forest, and the gray sky overhead. “That this was all a spell they were working on?”
“What are you getting at?” Aeron asked.
“We can’t let this go on,” Eriale said, speaking into the shadows under the trees. “This is killing the land. Whoever is behind this must be stopped. Whoever—” her voice broke for a moment—“Whoever sent Master Crow to Maerchlin and forced us to confront him must be stopped.”
“They’re dangerous, Eriale. Ruthless, arrogant. We’re beneath their notice. Do you understand? They have no fear of me.” Aeron clenched his fists, his shoulders taut. “You don’t know how close I came to sharing Sarim’s fate. There are powers in the world that no one was meant to tamper with, and they almost destroyed me.
The Shadow Stone Page 27
