The Lady's Man (35 page)

“And how will we persuade them to help us?”

“You are a wizard and the sylph will respect that, even if they would not consider you their equal. And Yorik acts for me. When I walked the world the sylph I encountered knew enough to treat me with respect. We will have to hope that that is enough.”

Hope
, Myral knew was the important word. But he knew better than to argue. There was no purpose to it and in any case he was exhausted. He needed to rest. To lie down before he fell down.

“Lady, I am close to my limit. I will need to draw myself into a healing sleep. At least for the night. Can you find a way to wake me when the sun rises.”

If she didn't he knew he would sleep on, probably for days.

“Oh yes old friend.”

She giggled a little and he knew that meant trouble. Whenever she giggled like that it meant trouble.

“I have already prepared your wake up call and I assure you, you will not sleep through it.”

“Good!” But it probably wasn't good. Somehow Myral knew it wasn't going to be as simple as a friend softly shaking him awake in the morning. Not when she was still giggling. “I think.”

“After the last time you think you can really object?”

“Last time?”

“When you went out for a run under the stars. Running free as a wolf. You said you'd be back in the morning.”

“Oh!” Myral remembered the incident well. Or more correctly he remembered her response when he'd finally returned to her. “I tried to.”

“Tried yes. Succeeded no. What was it, three months later when you returned?”

Myral didn't answer her. Partly because he didn't actually know. When he ran as an animal he didn't have any real knowledge of the passing of time. All he really knew was that by the time he'd made it back to her the season had changed and the Lady had been far from happy with him for his absence.

“That will not happen again old friend. You may rest assured that you will awaken in the morning!”

Chapter Twenty Three.

“Get up!”

Someone yelled at him and Yorik ignored it. Then that someone shook him, and the sudden lightning bolt of agony as his body moved in ways it just wasn't prepared for, woke up Yorik.

Despite his years of hard training and endless lessons in discipline, he let out a scream, caught off guard by the unexpected torment, and barely managed to stifle a second one. It was a mistake. He was in hostile territory, and nothing he knew should be done that could bring attention to him. Not when there was a dark wizard out there with terrible power and a desire to harm him. A dead wizard.

At least whoever was shaking him wasn't Mayfall.

He opened his eyes to stare at a pair of legs wrapped up in homespun cloth and feet shod with simple leather sandals, and he knew the man was an elf. That was good, better than good, as it meant he hoped that some of the others had survived. But it wasn't Genivere, and as her face flashed in front of his eyes he knew another moment of grief. He missed her more than he could admit, and he was terrified she was dead, but still, somehow he found the strength to remember his mission, and to recognize the ancient wizard.

“Myral.”

He named him, but with less enthusiasm than he would have normally. Less than he should have, given that the wizard was suddenly alive when he'd thought him dead.

“At least your head still works young one.”

The ancient wizard even managed a small smile as he reached down a hand to help him up. Yorik didn't take it; he knew how bad his wounds were and how much it was going to hurt. Instead he concentrated on his magic, summoning more healing magic to him and beginning the long, slow and painful journey to standing, by rolling over. The pain ripped through him, informing him all over again just how badly he was injured, but at least he could concentrate on his questions instead of simply giving in and simply screaming. All those years of training in the yards had given him a strong will.

“The others?”

He had to ask even though he knew the answer.

“I don't know.” The wizard sounded almost as broken as Yorik felt. “I did what I could. I sent the birds to catch them. The Lady helped.”

But what he could do was little enough. Yorik remembered only too well the way they had taken off as if fired out of one of those accursed dwarven cannon. He remembered the way they had flown so fast and so high, vanishing almost in the blink of an eye. And he remembered being completely helpless as the wizard had simply tossed them to their deaths with scarcely a thought.

As for the Lady, while she had immense power it was only given to her faithful. It wasn't selfishness or a lack of caring. It was simply that even she had limits and the Order's needs had to come first. What she could do was one thing; what she would do was another entirely. When the pain of his damage ribs and broken shoulder ripped through him, like being stabbed with a rusty sword and made him nearly cry out, he was secretly grateful for it. He should suffer for his failure.

“Let me help you.”

Ancient but surprisingly strong arms grabbed Yorik around the shoulders and started lifting him to his feet, causing him to almost cry out once more as he felt more injuries bursting into life. But he choked the scream back, and somehow even managed to stay upright when the wizard let him go. Paladins did not give in to pain, and they did not fall down until long after they were dead, if then. Such weaknesses were not acceptable.

So he stood there on the grassy river bank before the wizard, and finally knew where he was. On the shores of the Dragon Falls River, not that far from the falls themselves. He could hear their thunder and feel it in the ground. The spray of the water and its magical vitality had been helping him to heal as he slept. The ancient temple was a third of a league away, almost straight up. It was going to be tough to get back there. And when he did he would be in no shape to fight.

Aside from his injuries his armour was broken and lying in pieces all around him. He remembered letting it fall from him as he'd collapsed, looking for a place to sleep. He had found his great sword, but his shoulder was in such bad shape that he doubted he could even draw it. And then when he had tried to fight, he had been unable to anyway. The Lady had not been there with him. Without her he was nothing.

“By the Mother you're a mess!”

It was an understatement if anything. His armour was broken and lying in pieces and his body was just as broken as it. Broken ribs making it painful to breathe, broken shoulder and very nearly a broken back. Breathing was still painful though at least the taste of blood was no longer in his mouth. But blood had poured from at least a dozen wounds. Wounds that were still open. In fact it was a miracle that he breathed at all. Nothing but a little magic and a lot of luck had kept him alive. Only strength of will and the care of the Lady would keep him going for much longer. But he would do whatever was required of him, starting with killing an evil wizard. Nothing else mattered. But something did strike him.

“Me? What about you? And why are you covered in bird droppings?”

It seemed an odd thing to Yorik, and as his brain finally woke up more fully and he saw his robes covered in thick white guano. He could smell him too, an unpleasant odour.

“The Lady decided that it was important that I awaken promptly this morning. So the birds squawked and pecked at me and when that wasn't enough, left reminders of their visit.” Myral looked disgustedly at the mess they had made of his robes.

Even in his pain that brought a smile to Yorik's face, though he tried to hide it. This was not the time for amusement. They were alive and there was work to be done. One task in particular. And there was one thing he needed to know.

“How does that creature still live?” He had to know. He had to know so that he could kill him. Properly this time.

“Mayfall you called him. The same wizard you killed before?”

“Yes.”

Except that he clearly hadn't killed him the first time. Not completely. No more it seemed, had the demon when it had driven its talons deep into his eyes. It was impossible. He should have been long dead. Several times over. Instead he was alive and uninjured, and a hundred times more powerful than before.

“I figured. He didn't seem to like you.”

“But how can he be alive?” It was still the question that Yorik most badly wanted an answer to, and the one he suspected that no one could give him. Not even a five hundred year old wizard.

“You're assuming that he is?”

The ancient wizard smiled at him as if he was a small confused child, and by his standards maybe he was. But even through the pain of his broken body Yorik didn't allow that to annoy him. Nor even the pain as the wizard started pulling off what remained of his clothes. Not even when he started dragging whole laundry lines of bandaging out of a leather carry bag and began wrapping them around his middle. Not when he suddenly realised Myral might actually know something of Mayfall.

“He's not?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Alive, dead. The words get confused around some people.”

If Yorik had had the strength he would have reached out and grabbed the ancient wizard by the shoulders and shaken him until the answers fell out. Luckily enough perhaps, he didn't, and so instead he had just stood there, letting himself be wrapped up in white linen like a bride, and waited until Myral took pity on him.

“It's hard to say what state that wizard was in. But the “what” is easier. It's a thane.”

“A village justice?” That made no sense at all to Yorik.

“Maybe these days, but thousands of years ago the thanes were minor lords. Rulers of a number of smaller lands bound within the realm of a larger kingdom. Powerful within their own lands, but still subservient to the King. They hated that.”

Of course they did. The same was true still. Whenever anyone was in a position of power, they always wanted more. More power, more wealth, more land, in fact more of everything. It was their nature. It was one of the reasons why every paladin was commanded to give up all their titles when they entered the Order. A paladin could have only one name, one kingdom, one fealty, and that was to his mistress.

“So some of them struck a bargain.”

That Yorik guessed, was a bad thing. Bargains for power were always bad. But how bad it was depended on who or what they'd made their deal with. He suspected it was very bad.

“They wanted power, so they gave themselves, mind, body and soul to the Nameless in return.”

The Nameless! The word itself was enough to send a shiver down Yorik's spine. And he knew no more what it was than did anyone else.

To most it was a legend. A word spoken in the dark of night to frighten small children and keep them in bed. To those with magic it was a source of dark power. Something primal and ancient, formless and without even substance, but still something that could be drawn upon. The beast of the void. To the priests it was that which had been there before the world had begun, and that which hungered to bring the world back to that first darkness. It was hunger and destruction, and the enemy of life. But to everyone, it was evil. No one knew what it was truly, but they knew one thing above all else; you didn't make deals with it.

“Unfortunately for them, the Nameless accepted their sacrifice. Thereafter what walked in their stead was something other.”

Yorik could understand that. What he couldn't understand was how that related to a dead wizard walking and blessed with magic beyond what he should have, but with all the pride and malice remaining. He would have asked but there was no point, especially when Myral tightened one of the bandages around his middle and he could only stand there holding his breath, and try to keep from screaming and drawing predators to them. Then the wizard tightened a few more.

“Over the centuries and millennia the thanes vanished from our world, died out maybe, lost their power or just went away. No one knows for sure what happened to them. But they vanished and everyone thought they were gone. That was after all three, four or even five thousand years ago.”

“So you think Mayfall made a deal with the Nameless?”

“No.” The wizard looked away, his face a mask of unreadable emotions, none of them good however. “The path to the Nameless was warded; locked away and hidden long ago. And it was done by many casters far older and more powerful than me. Sylph casters. No mere wizard would be able to break through. And no one who knew the way and where it led would take it.”

And yet Yorik would have guessed from his expression that Mayfall had the same dark thoughts in his most secret places.

“But there have always been rumours over the years that the thanes still walked the world, quiet, unseen, greatly weakened. Cut off from their master, whoever or whatever the Nameless truly is.”

“There were also stories that if they found a suitable host, someone evil of intent, weak of will and desperate, they could subsume them. They could do this by merging their essences with the mortal wizard somehow, slowly devouring their souls from within like a gut worm, but granting them immense power while they did so. A marriage of sorts, unequal and not of long duration, but immensely dangerous. The two become one – the thane taking the wizard's form and memories while the wizard takes the thane's power. And there were also tales that spoke of the return of their ancient powers when they did so. And that's what tells me what Mayfall truly is.”

“A dark wizard?”

“A thane. One of the thane's terrible powers was the ability to sever ties. Leaving all of the priests powerless.”

And more importantly, powerless against him as Yorik realised. That feeling of being completely helpless against Mayfall was one that would live with him for a long time to come, and probably haunt his nightmares. The feeling of being alone though, of being without the Lady, that was even worse.

“It was their greatest power, their most dangerous weapon.”

It would be Yorik realised. The priests were the most powerful of spellcasters, their magic divine and as such far beyond mortal. The paladins like himself were also among the strongest of warriors, their strength aided by their patrons. But if Mayfall could break their connection they would be defenceless. And there was no telling how much more he could do.