The Lady's Man (33 page)

There was a heady brew of emotions flowing through her. Overpowering her. Relief and shock, overwhelming joy and sadness, fear and laughter – all were coursing through her veins. As a child she'd once drunk from the cups of the patrons at a gathering hall and lost her thoughts in the wine. This was like that save that it was a thousand times more powerful and it completely overwhelmed her.

It was quite a while before her thoughts had returned to something approaching their normal calm, and then it was mainly because the cold of the lake was finally starting to bite. It was only then that she waded the last of her way out of the lake, and over to the small group of once proud rangers, milling around like lost chickens.

Captain Ysabel was there of course, wringing the water out of her cloak and jumping up and down a little on the lake shore, trying to get warm. She was giving instructions to the others, most of whom weren't listening as they busied themselves doing exactly the same things. But Genivere was maybe a little luckier than them in some ways. She had magic, and she was used to the unusual. Not this unusual perhaps, but enough so that she wasn't still in shock. And she knew as she felt the cold biting into her bones, and started shivering that the one thing she wanted more than anything else was to be warm.

By luck not twenty paces from them she spotted a rotting tree trunk lying across the shore, probably knocked over by a storm many years before, and she walked over to it. With the help of a couple of others she dragged it out onto the lake shore where it would not endanger the forest when it burnt.

After that it was simply a matter of concentrating, muttering the very short incantation she'd been taught as a child, drawing a little more of the Mother's power to her, and casting her hand towards it. The tree obediently burst into flame – it was old and dry and happily there hadn't been a lot of rain for a while – and soon she had flames leaping out of its trunk as high as her. The others quickly joined her around the fire, knowing the same need for warmth.

“Thank you.”

Genivere didn't know who said it – she wasn't looking at anyone as they spoke and there was still water in her ears affecting her hearing – but she knew that the gratitude was misplaced. They weren't thanking her for the fire. Or at least not just for the fire. They thought she'd had something to do with the birds.

“Captain we should do a count. And we need to get dry and warm before night falls.”

It was never Genivere's place to give the others orders, but for the moment they seemed to accept them. And that was for the good. But as they undressed, wrung their clothes out, and slowly hung them on sticks they jammed into the soft ground, she knew she would have to soon. But at least she would be able to. She was alive to tell them the truth and they were alive to hear her.

That was more than they'd had any right to expect. Especially when the count came back three short. Two were Yorik and Myral. They hadn't been sent flying with them. But she was certain that Dandelas had been. The fact that he wasn't with them meant that his body was no doubt out there somewhere, lying broken on the hard ground. That the birds hadn't been able to reach him in time and he'd fallen to his doom.

And that was the fate that should have befallen all of them. The fact that it hadn't was as close to an act of the divine as any she could imagine. Yet it still didn't seem enough. Not when a ranger she knew was dead, killed in such a terrible way. He was a good man, a good ranger, and a man with a kind heart. He had a wife and a daughter that he loved deeply. And some dark wizard had simply killed him without a second thought. It didn't seem right. But then nothing about this was right.

But then nothing about what had happened should even be possible.

Chapter Twenty.

“A thane!”

Annalisse was sitting on a bench staring at the roses in the small garden in front of the quarters she had been given, when the darkness suddenly exploded into the world and she knew her enemy. She felt him as he revealed his hand by attacking the party.

Of course it wasn't an actual darkness. The sun still shone as brightly as ever in the sky above, and the air was as warm as it had always been. Nor was the darkness anywhere nearby. It was far away at the temple of the Wind Dragon Falls. Exactly where she and Myral had expected it to appear. That was in the end the purpose of his journey. To reveal their true enemy. To find whoever it was that was pretending to be the Dark One. Who was raising the dead in such numbers. Who was little by little tearing the world apart.

But when he had agreed to go on this journey she doubted Myral had ever considered that what he would find would be so terrible. None of them had. And yet as she sat there staring at the flowers while her thoughts travelled in dark and dreadful directions, Annalisse knew it made sense. What else could do such things? Wield such terrible power? What else save a thane?

She hoped the cantankerous old wizard was all right. Myral was a capable wizard. More than capable actually. And his knowledge and cunning were legendary. But none of that would count for anything against a thane. Nothing would. Thanes weren't able to be fought. When they were around all you could do was run and hide. Even prayer would not help. In fact it was especially useless.

Neither of them had expected to have to face a thane. Not in their life time. In fact the last time a thane had walked the world had been eight hundred years before. And the records of the destruction from that time had been terrible. Cities, dozens of them, completely destroyed. Lands burnt. People killed in their millions. And none able to stand against the creature. He had in the end gone away of his own free will. That it was said, was always the way of the thanes. They came, they destroyed and they left. And the work of the people was simply to survive their time among them.

Of course the knowledge they had of that attack was extremely limited. It had been the sylph who had felt the full impact of the thane back then. It had been their cities that had been destroyed, their people who had been killed, and their land that had been broken. Unfortunately the sylph were not a friendly or talkative people. In fact they actively discouraged visitors. So if the sylph knew anything of the thane, they would not be sharing it with them. They would not help them either. That would be a loss when they were the most powerful of wizards and the ones who had the best chance of fighting this thing.

But the important thing was that as she sat there feeling the presence of their enemy in the world, her visions suddenly made sense. Terrible sense. The thane was in the world and there was death coming for them all.

“Daughter!”

She called for Ammelia immediately, knowing that now that their enemy had been revealed time had suddenly become short. And understanding that while this was indeed the place where the battle against their enemy would be fought, it would not be fought by them, and neither would it be soon. There was much more to come before that happened, and most of it was bad.

“Mother?” Ammelia was there quickly as she always was.

“Our plan has worked, rather better than I had hoped for. It's time to call the Council. Urgently.”

“Mother?”

Ammelia stood there staring at her, seeing the expression on her face and no doubt wondering just how bad things could be. And as bad as she feared they might be Annalisse knew they were worse.

“Just do it girl!”

Annalisse snapped at her daughter and immediately regretted it – as she so often did. Not that she snapped at her normally, but too often she ordered her around as if she were a servant instead of her most precious daughter.

But as Ammelia ran off to do as she was commanded, Annalisse quickly let her thoughts return to her visions. They were so powerful now, all but dominating her thoughts as they showed her the shape of things to come. And their power was strengthened by the darkness of what they showed her. The destruction of Hammeral. The levelling of so many towns and cities as the undead roamed freely killing and destroying. And finally the tearing apart of the land itself as the final battle took place. A battle that by some terrible jest of fate, they could not even fight. No one could.

Save for one. And as she sat there staring she suddenly realised that there was still one who could stand. Who would stand. How he would stand she didn't know. How he even could stand was beyond her. But as she saw him there, proud in his gold, she knew that he would. Perhaps later she would be able to meet with the other foretellers that had arrived in the city and together they could pierce the veil of the future a little more. Perhaps they could learn a little more of the final battle. But she doubted the wisdom they would gain would be much.

She didn't understand her visions. But she knew they were true. And in the end Yorik, a paladin who by his very nature was completely powerless against a thane, would stand against the most powerful of all beings in the ruins of Hammeral, and whatever came out of that battle would determine the shape of the world for the next thousand years.

She only wished she knew who would win. But maybe it was a good thing that she didn't. Because everything she knew from history said that the golden paladin had no chance at all. Not against a thane. Not knowing the outcome meant that at least there was hope and they had precious little else on their side. Ignorance was their only hope.

Chapter Twenty One.

Midday had arrived and the sun was up high in the bright blue sky above them. Normally it should have been a day to enjoy. To celebrate the return of the warmth to the land as the plants took in their fill of the sun's yellow light and the creatures of the world went about their business. But not this day.

This day was one of loss and mourning. It was one of confusion and fear. The rangers had survived the dark wizard's power, though not by their own skills. Someone had saved them. They had finally managed to dry out and find a little warmth. And they had tended to their injuries which were thankfully mostly just bruising. But they had decisions to make, a plan for the coming days that had to be sorted out. What to do, where to go and how to get there. The last was going to be difficult as they were leagues from where they had been and they had no horses. But it was the least of their troubles.

Where to go was more difficult. In theory they should return to Hammeral, but with no horses, their provisions gone, and potentially an impossibly powerful wizard between them and the shortest route back, that was going to be a problem. Did they risk returning to the ancient temple and hope he had gone so that they could round up the horses and leave? Or did they take a more circuitous path on foot?

But by far the hardest decision was what to do. The soldiers wanted to attack the dark wizard. Genivere couldn't blame them for that. She wanted him dead too. The red mist was rising within her as never before. All morning it had been the same. Anger and fear battling one another within her. But she also knew that it was madness. They couldn't fight him. Something that powerful – and despite the fact that he walked and talked as a man she doubted very much that he was at all mortal let alone human – could not be fought by them. She wasn't sure he could be fought at all.

It was a terrible thing to have to admit to the captain and the others. But they had asked and they had to know. As they stared at her looking for both answers and hope all she could give them was the truth.

“The dark wizard Yorik called Mayfall is no normal man. I've never seen a wizard with so much strength.”

Genivere wished she didn't have to admit that in front of the others, but it was the truth. Mayfall was a titan among wizards. A dark and terrible one.

“He doesn't cast or summon. The magic's there the instant he thinks about it, and it's released with barely a thought. So fast it can't be countered. So strong that even if you were fast enough you'd lose. A force of nature save that it's unnatural. It's some sort of hate and chaos all wrapped together in an overwhelming hunger. That's something I've never seen or even heard of before.”

Then again she thought, most of the last few days had been the same. From ghost dragons to dead wizards walking, it was all unknown to her. But there was worse that they had to know. They had to know who their enemy was.

“He may not even be able to be killed. Mayfall is the name of the wizard that Yorik killed months ago. The one that murdered his family. And given that he recognised him instantly and with such shock and anger it seems unlikely to be another.”

“So the wizard survived?”

“Or he didn't, and was returned from the underworld a hundred times more powerful.” But Genivere didn't want to say any more about that nor even to think on it, so she hurried on.

“And he has another ability. He completely cut off my joining with the Mother. The Order's connection with the Lady too. Normally the priests would be the most powerful spellcasters we could ask to aid us. But against the dark wizard they have no strength at all. The paladins too would be greatly weakened. And with his own strength so great we would be completely at his mercy.”

It was more than true; it was an admission of complete failure. Against him only another wizard could have stood. A wizard such as Myral. A wizard who wasn't with them. A wizard who was most likely also dead. He was old and knowledgeable but even he hadn't seemed to have that sort of power.

“And what the dark wizard did to Yorik – it was shocking. I would not have thought to see such a formidable warrior defeated so easily.”

Captain Ysabel was a soldier born and raised. So when she spoke she considered the issue from her own battle hardened perspective. But Genivere couldn't be so dispassionate and so it was hard to listen to her.

“In battle he proved himself far more than capable on several occasions, even without the Lady's aid, but against the dark wizard, he was kitten weak.”

Genivere wished that Captain Ysabel hadn't added that last, as the image of the beautiful golden paladin being hurled against the stone wall with such terrible fury, his blood flowing down his golden armour was once more with her. But it too was the truth. He was surely dead, and there was nothing to be done about it.

“We should compose some words for his commander when we return.” Genivere didn't want to say it – she didn't want to think it – but it was the right thing to do. And there was much to say of Yorik that was fine and noble – despite his belief that he had disgraced himself. He was a brave and good man whose courage and heart shone like a beacon. A man who had saved many others without a thought for his own protection. Even when he had killed the other knight he had been trying to protect them. And though he had fought and killed he was also a man of gentle heart. He had died bravely at the last as well, with never a plea for mercy leaving his mouth. The world was the poorer for his leaving it.
She
was the poorer.

It surprised her to realise that. To understand just how much poorer she was. Yorik was a good man but he was more than that. He was a friend, an ally and a companion. In time he could have become much more than that. He should have been. He would have made a fine husband and father, a thought that had been with her for months now. And there were few she would ever have considered for the role.

But no more. He had died and with his passing her private dreams had also died.

“We don't know that he's dead yet Genivere. If there is one thing we do know of Yorik, it is that he is a warrior to the end. He fights. He would not die easily, and if Myral is with him, so much the better. Between the two of them they may have seen the dark wizard off.”

That seemed unlikely, but Genivere didn't want to contradict her captain. Not then and not about that. Never about that. And maybe she was right. Maybe there was hope. Even if it was only a shred. So she held her silence.

“And then there is whoever sent the hawks. Perhaps that one who saved us also saved them?”

It was a faint hope of course, but maybe the captain was right to speak it. And maybe it would be wrong to speak against her on the matter. But even though she stayed her tongue, Genivere was sure her face told the truth of the matter. There was not much hope. Neither that Yorik and Myral yet lived, nor that the dark wizard had been defeated. What they had been fighting was far too powerful.

“In any case we need to do something. We cannot stay here forever, and whether Myral or Yorik live or not, we can do nothing for them.”

The captain sounded certain of herself, but whether that was the truth or simply her trying to sound as though she knew what she was saying and had a plan, was unclear.

“We will see the rest of the day and the night out here and in the morning head down to the lowlands, but not by travelling back through the ruined temple.”

The captain didn't say why but they all knew the reason. The dark wizard might still be around and the captain had accepted the terrible truth. They could not stand against him again no matter how much they might want to. It was something no one wanted to admit. Genivere especially knew she could not face him. With her connection to the Mother cut off she was especially vulnerable to his magic, and she hated that feeling of powerlessness.

And then there was the fear. Though she did not want to say it, whenever she thought of him, she knew terror. Not just of what he could do, but what he was. Whatever he was. But this was no time to give into her fear. It was time to be practical Genivere decided.

“Then in the morning I will send out a call to the horses. Some of them may hear me and come. Of course they aren't saddled or bridled.”

The last would be a nuisance but there was enough reed around that they could weave some rope for bridles, and it would be better to ride than walk.

No one she noticed, asked her why she didn't just call them then and there. They all knew the reason. The wizard might notice. He might follow them back. And no one wanted to admit the truth. That they simply couldn't face him. She wondered if anyone could.