The Jackal of Nar (50 page)

In less than ten minutes he emerged out of the forest, back to the path and the place he was sure he had left Sabrina. He quickly sighted their little picnic area with its blanket and half-eaten loaf of bread. Lightning was still tied up against the tree. The gelding turned its big eyes toward Richius in relief. But the beast was alone. The small mare Sabrina had ridden was gone—and so was Sabrina.

Richius returned home well after sunfall and entered the keep with nary a nod to the sentry at the gate. He hadn’t raced back to the castle as he knew he should have, but instead took a more scenic and circuitous route. Certainly Sabrina was here by now, and if she wasn’t, well … it would be a temporary reprieve. There was a cauldron of hostility waiting for him, and before he was boiled alive in it he wanted to sort out the thousand questions plaguing him. His hands still shook and his stomach tingled with the fearful ache of nerves. A chronic buzzing had taken over his mind, every thought tainted with dour resentment. Absently he dismounted and led Lightning to the stables. The courtyard was silent. Candles burned in the windows of the castle. They were waiting for him inside, he knew it. Even now Jojustin was pacing like an inquisitor. Richius groaned. He didn’t have any answers.

When he reached the stables he was surprised to find the structure’s doors flung open. A single lantern tossed its light onto a grim visage staring at him from the dimness. Patwin’s face was tight with rage. Behind him, the small silhouette of Sabrina’s mare stood silently chomping on alfalfa. It lifted its head for a moment as Richius entered, then turned back indifferently
to its food. The horse seemed calm and well rested. Clearly Patwin had been waiting some time.

“She made it back safely,” observed Richius, gesturing to the mare. “Good.”

“Good?” said Patwin. “Is that all you have to say?”

Richius led Lightning past him without a glance. “Yes.”

Patwin seized him by the shoulder and spun him around, his periwinkle eyes flaring. “Don’t,” he warned. “You’ll have to explain yourself to someone tonight. It might as well be me.”

“Patwin, stop.” Richius scarcely recognized the desperation in his voice. “I can’t argue with you, I haven’t got the strength. Leave me alone, please.”

“In hell,” snapped Patwin, snatching the reins from Richius’ hands. “I want to know what happened to you today. Sabrina came home in tears and started raving that you’d lost your mind. She said you saw a ghost! The whole castle’s wondering what’s gone wrong with you. How could you leave her like that? What were you thinking?”

Richius stumbled backward and sat down on a bale of hay, almost collapsing into the prickly mass. Wearily he ran his hands through his hair, uncertain where to begin. His tale was unbelievable, his actions inexcusable. But Patwin was looking down at him pitilessly, waiting for a convincing story, or at least some elaborate lie. Richius wasn’t sure he had either.

“I didn’t leave her,” he began shakily. “Not really. Only for a few minutes. When I came back she had gone. Is she all right?”

“No thanks to you,” said Patwin. “What happened?”

Richius started to speak then abruptly fell silent, unable to find sufficient words. “I can’t explain it,” he stammered. “God, Patwin, you won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“You’d better try,” said Patwin. “Jojustin’s been waiting for you since Sabrina got home and he’s crosser than I’ve ever seen him. King or not, you’re going to have to come up with some answers to calm him.”

“The hell with him,” spat Richius. “He’s the least of my worries. What did Sabrina say to you?”

“That you’ve gone mad,” said Patwin. “That you started raving about seeing some Triin that wasn’t there and that you went running off into the forest to chase him. What about it, Richius?
Is that what happened? Because if that’s all you’ve got you’re going to have a lot of trouble explaining it.”

Richius looked up at Patwin. “Did she tell you anything else? Did she tell you who I saw?”

“She couldn’t remember,” said Patwin. “She just said it was some Triin you knew in the Dring Valley.” Patwin’s eyes narrowed. “But I think I can guess.”

“It
was
Lucyler,” Richius insisted. “And let me tell you truthfully—I haven’t lost my mind, Patwin. I saw him like I’m seeing you now. He was there.”

Patwin’s expression became mournful. “Oh, Richius. Let’s go inside. You need to rest.”

“God damn it!” flared Richius, springing to his feet. “I don’t need rest! I
did
see Lucyler. Sabrina didn’t see him because she couldn’t, because that’s the way he wanted it. I don’t know how or why, but that’s what happened and if you don’t believe me then I really will lose my mind! I need someone to listen!”

“All right,” soothed Patwin. “I’m listening. Sit down.”

Richius sighed and fell again against the hay. His head was pounding miserably and he put his hand against his forehead. In the morning he would have a headache worse than any hangover. But he smiled when Patwin sat down beside him, grateful to see the old concern back in his comrade’s eyes. There was one thing he loved about Patwin; he never stayed angry for long.

“I don’t know where to begin,” said Richius finally. “We were eating at the roadside, just talking, and then …” He shrugged. “I saw him.”

“What were you talking about?” asked Patwin.

“Dring,” snapped Richius. “As if Sabrina didn’t tell you. That’s not enough to make me see ghosts, Patwin.”

“But the strain of everything …”

“Listen to me. I’m not mad. I’m not surprised Sabrina thinks I am, but I’m not. And he didn’t just walk up to me and say hello. He appeared to me. I can’t really describe it, but it was like a form of him. He called it a projection.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Yes. When I left Sabrina I followed him into the forest. He had disappeared but I knew he had something he wanted to tell me, so I went after him.”

“It seems you found him.”

Richius nodded. “He appeared to me again, and it wasn’t easy for him, I could tell. He was like a ghost, all clear, white light. He told me he couldn’t hold the form very long. God, he seemed as amazed by it all as I was.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Very little.” Richius turned to Patwin and grabbed at his sleeve. “Patwin, I need to ask you something. Will you be honest with me and tell me the truth?”

“Of course,” answered Patwin. “What is it?”

“What did you tell Sabrina about Dinadin? She was questioning me. She seems to know a lot more than she should.”

Patwin blanched. “I’m sorry, Richius. I guess I told her more than I intended to. She came to me yesterday morning and asked me about Dinadin. She wanted you to stay home with her and I told her that you couldn’t because you had to talk to him. She asked me why, and I didn’t have an explanation for her. She got suspicious when I wouldn’t tell her more.”

“But she doesn’t know about Dyana?”

“God, no! Not from me anyhow. Why?”

Richius sat back, frowning. “She was asking me about the Dring Valley and about Dinadin. When I told her there was nothing to talk about she didn’t seem to believe me. I think she suspects, Patwin. I don’t know how. I never told her about Dinadin because I didn’t want her to find out anything about Dyana. But now she seems to know anyway.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Patwin gravely. “I swear it.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you. The question is, do you believe me?”

“I want to,” answered Patwin grimly. “But Lucyler’s dead, Richius, captured by Voris. How could you have seen him? It doesn’t make sense.”

“He’s not dead. I saw him, or at least some sort of image of him. Like I told you, he couldn’t hold the form very well, so he didn’t have time to explain it to me. But it was him. I’m certain of it.”

“But what did he say to you? If he’s not dead, then where is he? Is he all right?”

“I think so,” said Richius thoughtfully. “He said he was. He
wouldn’t tell me very much, only that he needs to speak to me. I’m supposed to meet him at our plateau in the mountains in three days.”

“What?” erupted Patwin, losing all composure. “Are you serious? He asked you to meet him
there
?”

Richius only nodded.

“And just like that you’re going? You really have lost your mind if you’re truly considering this, Richius! Why would you agree to go into the mountains?”

“I have to,” said Richius simply, still unsure if he should explain why.

“It isn’t safe,” said Patwin, lowering his voice. “There could be Drol scattered throughout those peaks, for all we know. I hate to say it, but did you ever consider that this could be some sort of trap? Even if it was Lucyler you saw, who knows what’s happened to him since the valley? He could have turned Drol!”

“Stop!” said Richius. “Don’t ever say that. I trust Lucyler with my life, Patwin. You did, too, once. He’s no traitor and you know it. If he says he has to speak to me then there’s a damned good reason for it.”

“Really?” asked Patwin. “What is it then? If he’s so keen on speaking to you, why doesn’t he just come to the castle like anyone else? Why all this magic and rubbish?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Richius. “He wasn’t able to tell me why.”

“How convenient. But you’re going anyway. God, Richius. What can I say to convince you? This is utter madness. Please listen and let me talk you out of it.”

“Patwin, you don’t know everything yet,” said Richius desperately. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but I must.” He leaned closer to his comrade, speaking in a whisper. “He knows where Dyana is.”

Patwin went ashen. “Oh, my God,” he croaked. “He told you that?”

“He did.”

“Where is she?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. He wants me to go to the plateau. Then he’ll tell me where to find her. At least that’s what he promised me.”

“And that doesn’t sound like a trap to you? Richius, think for
a minute. He could be using Dyana as bait to lure you into the mountains. I bet he doesn’t even know where she is, but he knows you’ll come after her.”

Richius shook his head. “I don’t think so. Lucyler shouldn’t even know who Dyana is. I never saw him again after I left for Ackle-Nye. By the time I met Dyana, he was probably already Voris’ prisoner. Besides, I trust him. Lucyler would never try to hurt me.”

Patwin sighed heavily and stared down at the stable floor, kicking at the bits of hay with the toe of his boots. “Well then, I can’t let you do this damn fool thing alone. If we leave in the morning we can make it to the plateau in three days. But we’ll have to come up with something good to tell Jojustin. And Sabrina.”

Richius reached out and grasped his friend’s shoulder. At any other time he would have welcomed the company, but he knew he was going off on a fool’s errand, and that there was no way he could accept Patwin’s offer. Patwin was right: there probably were Drol in the Iron Mountains, just waiting for a pink-skinned human to flay. This time he would have to face the dangers of Dring alone.

“I might be gone a long time,” he said. “And I don’t know where Lucyler plans to take me. If Dyana is back in the Dring Valley I’m going to have to go in after her. I might not be coming back.”

“If you’re trying to talk me out of going with you, forget it. You need me.”

“Yes,” admitted Richius. “I probably do. But I can’t let you risk your life for Dyana. I’m the only one who has to do this. I want you to stay behind and look after Sabrina for me. She’s going to need you, too, maybe even more than I will. Especially if I don’t make it back.”

“Richius …” Patwin began, but Richius put up his hands to silence him.

“Don’t argue with me about this, Patwin. I’ve already given it a lot of thought. This is the way it has to be. I’m leaving in the morning for the plateau—alone.”

“No,” said Patwin vigorously. “You’re the king. It’s my duty to protect you.”

Richius tightened his grasp on Patwin’s shoulder, trying to
calm him. “It’s also your duty to follow my orders. I don’t give them very often, my friend. Will you follow this one for me?”

“How can I?” asked Patwin sadly. “You don’t know what you’ll find in the mountains or where Lucyler plans to take you. You could be riding off into your doom.”

“All the more reason for you to stay behind. No offense, but if the Drol are after me, having you with me won’t help much. They’ll just kill you, too.”

“Then I’ll die defending my king,” declared Patwin. “Like a Guardsman of Aramoor should.”

Richius couldn’t help but smile. He would miss his fair-haired friend, maybe more than anyone else in the castle. But it helped his resolve to think of Patwin swinging from a Drol gallows, and he rose decidedly to his feet.

“I wish I could say yes to you, Patwin. But I’d be a poor friend to ask you to risk your life for a woman you don’t even know. Stay behind. Look after Sabrina for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Patwin looked up at him gloomily. “What will you tell Sabrina?”

“What I told you, mostly. Hell, she already thinks I’ve gone insane. I doubt she’ll be too surprised that I’m going off to see Lucyler.”

“Are you going to tell her about Dyana?”

Richius bit his lip. “Maybe. If she knows about Dyana already, I’ll explain it to her. If not …” He let his voice trail off, leaving a little verbal shrug.

“Jojustin’s madder than a wolf in a bear trap,” warned Patwin. “He’s going to want to hear your story, too. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” said Richius, starting toward the doors. “There’s no sense in you being more involved than you are already. I’ll handle Jojustin. You get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Richius left the stables, making his way through the dreary courtyard. As he sighted the glowing candles in the castle windows his stomach twisted. Sabrina was behind one of those frosted panes, waiting for him to return. She was probably worried about him, too, and Richius cursed himself for taking so long. Why did he always make her worry? He crossed the courtyard
quickly, eager to be out of the chilly night, and stepped as silently as he could into the foyer, hoping to reach Sabrina before Jojustin sighted him. But the old man was as keen as a hawk. He stepped out of the shadows just as Richius took off his cape.