Stormed Fortress (84 page)

'
I know.
'
The bitten resurgence of the Hanshire aristocrat meant the warning would be disregarded. Mean as a ferret, Sulfin Evend refused pity as the guardsman
'
s kind features drained white.

'
You
'
re not going up there!
'
Fennick gasped, shocked.

Ranne kept his silence, beyond distressed. Their past mistake, that once lost them Tysan
'
s young prince, now haunted the tension between them.

'
Someone must try!
'
Sulfin Evend insisted, despite his dread terror.
'
Desh-thiere
'
s curse has prevailed. Lysaer can
'
t break off! You know this! If he
'
s not shaken free, he won
'
t come down standing upright.
'
If he came down at all.
More likely the madness would drive him to death, as the platform ignited beneath him.

'
This cannot happen,
'
Sulfin Evend resolved.
'
I have promised the masses an Alliance council of war that he must be left fit to mediate!
'

The man styled as avatar dared not collapse while the Master of Shadow threatened the warfront. The least sign of weakness could not be shielded. Anyone who presumed to usurp Lysaer
'
s place would be killed in cold blood for presumption.

'
My lord, we won
'
t find your charred carcass to bury!
'
Fennick despaired, while Ranne more discreetly gathered himself to block the stair
'
s upward access.

'
I have to go!
'
Sulfin Evend ignored the loyal protests, laid open.
'
Nobody else is equipped to survive.
'
The blasting barrage on the s
'
Brydion harbour mouth
would
be turned upon helping hands in assault.
'
I do know the measure of danger I face.
'

'
But not how to solve the insane confrontation,
'
Fennick argued.

'
Then I will have to trust that somewhere, somehow, I can discover an answer
'
Sulfin Evend showed teeth as he drew a firm breath.
'
There are no sureties. I will not live in fear! We cannot hang back and still serve our commitment to the troops under us.
'

What could be done, but salute such rash courage? Ranne edged aside, face turned in rife misery, while Fennick closed a mailed hand on his Lord Commander
'
s left bracer.
'
Go in grace, then, my lord!
'
He let go with regret.
'
Bring yourself down in one piece, if you can.
'
Though endangered as well, he rejected retreat.
'
Count on the fact that this stair stays secure, with both of our swords at your back.
'

Far more likely, Sulfin Evend thought wildly, they would all meet flaming oblivion. He adjusted his mail shirt, eased the sword at his hip for quick action, then mounted the plank stair, bent against the onrushing storm that screamed through the gaps in pegged scaffolding. The nailed cover of hides slapped like shot in the gusts, while the pelting snow blanked visibility, and reduced him to a featureless shadow.

The top platform loomed over him, much too soon. Not that planning could help. Above, the sky split to a sizzling light-bolt. The strike briefly lit the white flakes to gold foil, then curdled their shimmer to billowing steam. The melt pattered down, glazing the board stair with treacherous ice. Sulfin Evend edged upward, hammered by the thunder-clap echoes slamming back off the bay. The siege tower shuddered, belted by every recoil of stress-heated air.

Sulfin Evend clawed towards the hatch, forced to grip with both hands, lashed and blinded by the turbulence. He scrubbed tears from blurred vision, and at last glimpsed Lysaer
'
s form beside the rope tackles that lowered the siege tower
'
s drawbridge. Blond hair tangled, his gold trim and fine mantle soot-stained and frayed to singed threads, he howled, fixated on havoc as his next strike hissed aloft.

Dazzled and rocked by the crash of concussion, Sulfin Evend staggered, off-balanced by the whip-crack of his streaming surcoat. He clung, fighting the buck of stressed timbers, and cleared the closed well of the stairway.

Now in the open, his last safety was forfeit. Cruel quandary confronted him: the wracked figure that stood, hurling light-bolts, was no man, but a force
sing
le-mindedly pitched to strike down the Spinner of Darkness.
Anything
moving to thwart that directive would be blasted to ash without recourse. The friend poised to coax a cursed mind back to reason could expect to become razed down as an enemy target.

The dichotomy wounded, straight to the heart: that the same bard whose rare talent had called down the shining notes to frame peace should have turned in assault, wielding Shadow. By that one act, Arithon
knew:
reflex must trigger the hideous change and drive his half-brother under the fury of Desh-thiere
'
s murderous insanity.

'
Damn your hypocritical promise to Sithaer!
'
Sulfin Evend snarled in his helpless agony. He possessed no mage training. No exalted grasp of the mysteries. Upbringing at Hanshire had taught him hedge simples, not the disciplined grace for grand conjury. Conviction alone, backed by his mortal care, would not leave his accursed liege abandoned.

Sulfin Evend poised himself. Between the release of white levin bolts, he ignored sapping fear, committed himself, and called out to Lysaer by name.

The avatar spun from the railing and faced him. Flint eyes showed no human awareness. From snarling, bared teeth to flexed hands and torn clothing, this was a possessed creature, become the instrument for an undying revenge. Sized up like meat by that soulless regard, Sulfin Evend choked down his sickened revulsion.

'
Lysaer!
'
he shouted.

'
You
'
ve come here to meddle!
'
the mad voice denounced.

'
Fight back!
'
Though the plea felt like grasping for straws in a maelstrom, Sulfin Evend resumed with the scorn of his haughty origins.
'
Man and prince, you have birthright! Reclaim your human intelligence!
'

Twice before, intervention had snapped through his liege
'
s berserk retaliation. But never before across the antipathy roused by the half-brother
'
s Shadow.

The mistake defied remedy. Lysaer
'
s fury twisted. Feral will revelled, triumph run amok on the intoxicate thrill of destruction. Hands lifted, Desh-thiere
'
s puppet gathered himself. Light blazed for the fire-storm that would torch all insolent interference to ashes.

Never mind the close target would also ignite the siege platform
'
s timbers like kindling.

Unable to run, beyond futile hope, Sulfin Evend flung up a shielding forearm. He cried out, desperate to touch the heart of the man who was lost, imprisoned as the raving antagonist. The grief would not rest, that this animal ferocity would kill:
the most staunch of friends and Tysan
'
s two most reliable liegeman undone without thought, by the Mistwraith
'
s design.

Sulfin Evend could do naught except crouch on tucked knees, braced to receive a fireball
'
s end without screaming.

That helpless gesture checked fate for a moment. Shocked to be met by unmoving surrender, Lysaer recoiled in hesitation. Light burned in his hands, an arrested force that seared the winter air like unsheathed magma.

Sulfin Evend choked, scarcely able to breathe, as his raced thought lamented the failure: that
once,
a grand harmony channelled through by a Masterbard
'
s talent had broken the Mistwraith
'
s delusion long enough to revive the self-honest yearning for peace.
If only
his cursed liege could be offered the footing to touch that drowned fragment of memory.

Against the dazzling blast of raw light held poised to annihilate, entreaty threw even the need for survival into eclipse. Sulfin Evend cried, shattered,
'
Lysaer, you have to believe in yourself!
'

The levin bolt crackled, arrested again.

On that livid instant, insight seemed to pierce
through
the shattering blast.
Sulfin Evend felt his perceptions slow down.
On-coming event showed as red-gold flame, laid against finer light, that punched past his galvanic fear. A jolting shock of pure wonder snapped through, that
he did in fact See!
Need forced open the flood-gates: the inherent talent, awake through his oath, raised the heritage of s
'
Gannley. Gifted by vision, the filigree pattern etched about Lysaer
'
s form
was
no less than the veil of the man
'
s living aura.

Through arrested terror, Sulfin Evend watched the flow surrounding the
s
'
Ilessid
become muddy again, rifted over by insatiable darkness. He shouted, aghast, using the same phrase.
'
You have to believe in yourself!
'

Again, came the coiling retreat of the murk. He spoke quickly, before the tide faltered.
'
Lysaer! Fight the curse. I know you
'
re not helpless!
'

The pale lightness resurged. At some deep, innate level, Lysaer was responding.

Granted that opening, however slight, Sulfin Evend poured all he had into seeking clear words of encouragement.
'
You can listen, Lysaer. Claim your natural self!
'
Guided onwards by the gilt sheen of the aura, which strengthened upon reinforcement, Sulfin Evend kept faith, adjusting his phrases to bolster the struggle against Desh-thiere
'
s obdurate binding.

'
Lysaer! You have to choose! Hold out for the love that knows kindness first!
'

Through the crackle of bared light, and the howl of the storm, a pealing scream tore from the throat of a prince, locked into an agonized conflict.

As the curse ripped back, stronger, contending for dominance, the Lord Commander exhorted.
'
We have more than this moment! You can hold firm. Think! Lysaer!
'
While the flickering light flared and battled the dark tendrils wound through his friend
'
s subtle presence, Sulfin Evend dared more.
'
True justice suspends judgement! You have been well-taught! I entreat you to weigh every angle and seek, until you achieve balanced insight.
'

Against nerve-cracking threat, his Sight
tracked
the trapped will, embattled within Lysaer
'
s being.

"The fair ruler does not bow to rage, or act in summary execution.
'
Choked by tears, Sulfin Evend bowed his head, his opened hands offered up in appeal.
'
Step forward, Lysaer. Come downstairs on your feet!
'
Tenderly careful to avoid direct threat, or make any reference to Shadow, the Lord Commander fed confidence.
'
Together, we can prevail as before. I believe in you, even at risk of my life! Come down! Let us plan by our wits and triumph through the clean use of our human strategy
'

He talked, while the icy wind lashed him numb.
'
Help me, liege. We will do this in partnership. For rightness, for peace, and not for the wiles of fell entities sealed under Rockfell Peak!
'

Under the wracking, cruel conflict, the poised flare of raised light flickered out. Lysaer had successfully bridled his gift. One reprieve might win others. Sulfin Evend spoke faster.
'
We will advance methodically, by well-planned stages. Claim yourself, and strike for a triumph won with forthright honour.
'

Eyes shut, now guided purely by love, Sulfin Evend fanned the lit ember of hope. Talking until he was raggedly hoarse, he kept on, until by a miracle, or iron persistence, he felt Lysaer
'
s trembling touch brush against his outstretched palms.