The Vlakan King (Book 3) (20 page)

"Are you Melian's father too?" asked Brevin.

"I fathered them but Wynne did not want me to be part of their lives. I was useful to her and not likely to pursue parenting."

"How convenient," said Brevin.

Blackthorne glared at him. "Do not assume to judge me."

"If anyone is willing to find the boys leave now," said Kerreth. "They have a long start."

"They are too far ahead," said Navir. "I could not catch them. Perhaps if Wynne assumes her hawk form she could overtake them, but we would lose time getting word to her."

"They are on their own?" asked Brevin. "Are they prepared for this trial? Davan is a tavern boy, not a warrior."

"For now they must rely on each other," said Kerreth. "As you say, Jarius has power and Davan is resourceful."

"And they may find unlikely allies," said Navir.

"Or enemies," said Blackthorne. "If they survive they will have grown into their destinies. Everyone must and so it is for them. Come, we have our own battle to fight. I have things to do at home and don't want to waste more time in this desolate place."

"I see what Wynne likes about you," said Loric. "Nothing."

They stopped on a wooded knoll with a view of the tower. Built long ago by the Daerlans, the structure was surrounded by thick wall with turrets on each corner.

"The Tower of Erast," said Navir. "It fell to ruins long ago. Erast was dead by the time the Daerlan left Arda."

"It looks in good shape now," said Kerreth.

"Yes, the sorcerer has many resources to draw from," said Navir.

"Do you think the gods are awake?" asked Brevin.

"Pashar Bei is from Mordyn," said Blackthorne. "Galamog is awake again. I don't know who may be in these lands."

"Legend says Wulfgeld was seen last in Arda," said Kerreth. "And Warga as well."

"Excellent. Two of the strongest gods and the dumbest." Blackthorne looked at Navir. "Was the Menaloch as strong as Wulfgeld?"

"No, but much smarter. Wulfgeld was not evil but he showed little mercy. The Daerlan could have remained in Arda with Wulfgeld instead of the Menaloch." Navir spoke no more, drifting into his own thoughts.

"They are beyond our strength," said Blackthorne. "Gerrand's unspoken command was for us to end the threat of Pashar Bei before Wulfgeld or Warga are drawn into the conflict."

"We must also consider the presence of the Celaeri who chased me," said Navir. "What is the connection between Galamog and the Celaeri?"

"I do not want to be here," said Berlo. "I am just a scholar."

"Think of it this way Berlo," said Blackthorne. "You are getting the training Dimont requested for the Mage Academy. You will return home the battle expert the Academy needs. I guarantee no one will be as qualified as you. A scholar and a warrior."

"Then why is the thought not comforting?"

"The tales of heroes are more glamorous than the reality," said Loric. "Mostly it is mud, sweat and blood and smelling real bad."

"I was going to say," said Blackthorne. "If you could ride at the end of our group again Loric, it would be appreciated by civilized folk."

"Blackthorne, you are heartburn incarnate," said Loric.

"I have to admit it is not as enjoyable to antagonize you as it once was. Perhaps you're developing a thick skin at last?"

"If I am getting a thick skin don't think it is your doing."

"Never. I would not want credit for anything you do."

"Listen," said Kerreth. "We will try to gain entrance to the tower. Blackthorne, you will force its defenses and Loric and I will try to enter. Moria and Navir will follow us only after we have gotten through. Blackthorne, how much time do you need to prepare?"

"Give me a quarter hour and I will be ready." He walked to the wagon and pulled out a small chest. Dimont and Berlo followed him. He was aware of their presence and for once held his caustic tongue. Brevin moved closer to see what Blackthorne was preparing. The chest held several small bottles filled with murky liquids. Blackthorne selected two and an empty container.

Kerreth, Navir and Loric wandered several yards away from the wagon. Moria watched them but did not move. She could read Kerreth's moods.

"What is it?" asked Loric.

"I don't like this," said Kerreth. "There are too few of us to take this tower. I can feel the strength of the magic reaching out from the buildings. It is too strong. I fear Pashar Bei has already brought the gods into the battle."

"Are you sure?" asked Navir. "I can't sense them."

"Pashar Bei is using Galamog's magic and it is shielding Warga and Wulfgeld. But I can sense Warga's anger at the death of his Wolfen."

"Do you think Blackthorne can break through the spells?" asked Loric.

"I think so, but what will be unleashed is another matter. Pashar Bei will know we are here and if he has more Celaeri we may be hard pressed. We may only get inside and run out of options."

"And we don't know what he wants with Aidae," said Navir. "She may be already dead and her innate magic at his disposal."

"Okay. Loric and I will go in. Navir, I want you and Moria to wait for us to signal you. If we fail, go back to Toraba."

Blackthorne's spell rose into the sky, a faint violet shimmer, floating like fog over the Tower of Erast and the attached buildings. There was a green crackle when Blackthorne's spell contacted the protective spell around the tower and the air grew cold.

Loric and Kerreth enter the tower of Erast. The doors opened easily; they were not locked because of the protection of the spell. They could hear someone shouting and many people running.

"Guess he noticed when his spell failed," said Kerreth. "Go up to the tower and find the girl. I will stay here and draw their attention."

Loric made his way to the winding stair. Torches lined the wall as he went up but he heard no sound and saw no movement. The door at the top level was ajar and he pushed open slowly. The foul smelling room was full of tables and candles. Loric saw the figure on the table on the far side of room and hurried across although he could smell the blood. The Daerlan maiden was dead; her blood filled several bowls on the table. One bowl had been burnt by a spell. Loric felt the world shift suddenly. The spell had worked; they were here.

Kerreth walked outside to the courtyard, striking down the Celaeri standing there. Several more Celaeri rushed out to attack.

"Come and fight, Celaeri! I am Kerreth Veralier and I shall end your lives!" The first Celaeri to reach him died and the rest held back. A small figure came out of the building and halted.

"So, the great Kerreth knocks on our door," said Pashar Bei. "I must ask myself why he is here? Who sent you? The Mage Academy? I don't think so. They would have no influence over you, so who could it be? Perhaps that old meddler Gerrand still lives. No matter, you shall die today."

"Your Celaeri cannot kill me."

"Perhaps, but they are not my Celaeri. They are on loan to my mistress, Lady Galamog. You are not a god, Kerreth Veralier, and you have interfered where you are not wanted."

"You are not a god either, Pashar Bei," said Kerreth.

"No, perhaps not yet. But it is a goal I am nearing." He beckoned to the doorway he had come through.

"Come friends and meet the Wolfen slayer."

The tall shape came into the light and Kerreth saw the stooped old man, but it wasn't a man. Nearly eight feet tall with a long beard and braided hair the newcomer looked at Kerreth with yellow wolf eyes. His fingers were extremely long and his eyes larger in proportion than human eyes.

"You have killed my Wolfen, Kerreth Veralier," said Warga, God of the Hunt. "You must pay with your life." The god moved gingerly as if in pain.

"I was defending my company."

"Aye, but I care little for that. My Wolfen are dwindling and soon will be extinct. I do not have the strength to create more. They must not die out. No, no, no. I must set an example and unfortunately for you, you have chosen yourself."

"They are killers and would not have stopped until my company was dead."

"That is their purpose," said Warga. "They are killers! That is what they do! They will not die out. They must not. You killed Arval. He was the best of them all, even better than Urvarg. I will never see his like again. You will pay."

"You are not strong enough Altengud. I will resist you."

"Yes, yes, you are strong, but I have help." He gestured behind Kerreth to the nine foot armored figure.

"Wulfgeld?" said Kerreth.

"Yes, it is I, young Kerreth. Your time has come. Raise your swords against me and you shall die an honorable death. That is the best I can offer you." Wulfgeld held a six-foot mace with eight-inch spikes curving from the end. His face was impassive and his voice very deep, a rumble in his throat.

"My issue is not with you," said Kerreth.

"True," said Wulfgeld. "But even a god may answer to his father in certain situations. Warga has need of my strength and I shall not refuse him."

Loric slowly moved back into the shadows, certain he had not been seen, but who knows what senses a god may have. An Altengud and a Jungegud twenty paces from him. True the elder seemed a bit touched but who can judge a god? Loric knew that he would not be able to help Kerreth; Wulfgeld never lost a battle. Even Cothos avoided direct confrontation with Wulfgeld. They could only hope that Kerreth occupied him long enough for the rest of them to escape. Even the Celaeri were watching Wulfgeld and Kerreth.

Loric slipped out of the tower and crossed the courtyard at top speed nearly knocking over Moria.

"What is happening?" asked Moria.

Loric grabbed her arm and motioned to Navir. "No time. We need to get as far from here as we can."

"I don't understand. Who had the booming voice?"

"Moria. We must run or die."

"Kerreth? He's still in there. We can't leave without him."

"It's too late for him. Wulfgeld has come to kill him."

"Wulfgeld? Wulfgeld? Why?"

"I will tell you once we are on our way," pleaded Loric.

"We have to help him!!"

"We will die, Moria! We cannot help! We can do nothing! Kerreth's death cannot be avoided, let us keep our own lives."

Brevin had the wagon turned around and the horses were ready to ride.

"What happened?" asked Dimont.

"Wulfgeld is here," said Loric. "Let's ride. He is fighting Kerreth to the death."

"Wulfgeld? The god of war?" said Dimont.

"Kerreth can't beat him," cried Moria. Blackthorne came up behind her and put his arm around her.

"And we can do nothing either," said Blackthorne. "We must return to Toraba and plan our next move. The war is not over, but this battle is lost, as is our leader."

"He can't die," whispered Moria. "I always thought him immortal." Blackthorne put Moria on her horse.

"He is when compared to every other being except the gods," said Navir, who sat on Kerreth's horse. He took the reins from Blackthorne and led Moria away from the tower. "He will put Wulfgeld to the test before he falls." Even as he spoke, a thunderclap came from the Tower or Erast.

"The first blows are being struck," said Brevin.

"Loric?" said Navir. "Did you find her?"

"I am sorry Navir. Aidae is dead," said Loric. He handed Navir a necklace wrought in silver with emerald leaves entwined in the chain.

Navir bowed his head.

"I will remain behind," said Blackthorne. "To witness the end of Kerreth Veralier if nothing else. I can conceal myself and defend myself for a time even against Wulfgeld. If there is a chance to save him I will but do not look for it. I will meet up with you in Toraba. Go now. If they see you they might choose to follow us."

Blackthorne watched the company ride off and then turned to the tower. The noise of the battle was staggering. Blackthorne compared it to a mountain thunderstorm. Even the ground shook and he stumbled slightly. The tower shook and loosened stones from the windows and roof. The stones smashed into the ground forcing Blackthorne to scramble backward. His spell that broke through Pashar Bei's defenses weakened the mortar of the tower. Another tremendous thunderclap brought more stones down. He saw a group of Celaeri run out of the buildings into the courtyard. The tower shuddered and the far wall collapsed. A bleeding Kerreth rose from the rubble. The huge shape of Wulfgeld dashed toward him, the mace held high and then downward in a blur. Kerreth partially blocked the blow but fell to his knees. He raised his remaining sword and it was shattered by the god's mace. Another blow to the head and Kerreth crumpled to the ground.

"It is done," said Wulfgeld. He nudged the still form with his boot and exhaled deeply. "I will answer to Cothos for this death. Kerreth Veralier was one of the noblest creatures to walk on Landermass and his passing will not be unchallenged. But your Wolfen is avenged, Warga."

"He is dead! He is dead!" The old god cackled and danced. Wulfgeld raised his mace in salute to Kerreth. He looked upon the still form and then slowly faded into the mist.

Blackthorne crept closer.

Mauran de Arayr wore a dragon-skin cloak, which was remarkable for no tales tell of him wearing anything else during the many thousand years he walked the land, and also there is no proof dragons ever existed.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass.

Davan's lungs burned but he was gaining on Jarius. The sorcerer was slight of build and did not have the long legs and muscle that carried Davan over the ground. Davan concentrated on the turnover of his stride until he could sustain the effort he desired. Davan looked back but did not see the Wolfen anymore. Perhaps they had turned back. He tried one last effort to catch Jarius and nearly collided with him. Jarius had finally stopped to rest.

"Hey!" cried Jarius as Davan put his hands on his shoulders.

"I think we're safe now," said Davan, breathing heavily.

"Why did you follow me?" asked Jarius. "I don't want your company."

"You ran from the Wolfen."

"I didn't run. I was following your father's trail." He shook Davan's hands off him.