Black Kerthon's Doom, page 27
"I think it was a few minutes before the hunters came into the stable," said Mira. "But I can't be sure."
"I don't remember," said Daura. "As soon as the hunters saw me I tried to run but they caught me. There were two of them around the back of the stable."
"Were they expecting to find someone, I wonder?" said Brice.
"We will find out when we return," said Chraset. "We shall search the whole town and question everyone."
The search did not take long. Jeb found Serada in the cellar of the tavern. He had been tied up and wedged between two kegs. He had bites on his legs and arms from the rats but he had enough vigor to keep them away. But he had been tiring.
"I don't want to talk about it," said Serada when Macelan questioned him on his ordeal. "I lived through it. No sense bringing it back by talking about it. I suppose you were the hero?"
"No. I did nothing. I am not a fighter."
"Are you sure?" asked Serada.
Chapter 25
The storm brought with it a shadowy figure, a man perhaps, in a long black cloak. The rain came down in torrents and the streets of Stormridge were rivers of mud. The figure was not slowed by the mud and strode directly for Chraset's house. The house was buffeted by the wind and rain; the trees swayed and brushed the windows with an eerie sound. The figure stopped near the door and raised an arm as if to knock. It hesitated as the hand shook and then lowered the arm. It stood, head bowed, listening to the voices within.
Inside they were gathered around the dinner table. They were happy to be safe again. They put their worries behind them, if just for the night. Chraset, however, felt distant, and could not join in the merry making. He was home but something was different. He did not know what it was but the feeling was strong. He stood near the fire, staring into the flickering colors as the howling wind crested and fell. He felt an urge to look out the window at the dark rainstorm. He was aware of a watchful presence outside. He looked to his sword, but did not wish to alarm anyone. A glance into the night before he unsheathed his sword.
The figure outside prepared to move on, forgetting forever the life it had once enjoyed. Just then, a face appeared at the window, watching the storm. Chraset noticed the dark figure and was staring at it even as the lighting flashed nearby.
The face was lit briefly but it was all Chraset needed to recall for the remainder of his life, the fire-scarred countenance of Gareth. The figure raised its hand in salute and walked away into the storm. It moved with pain fading into the mists rising from the long grass.
Chraset turned back to the life in the house and remembered the good times, hard and easy that he and Gareth had shared. He looked at the faces of Mira and Serada, Daura and Macelan, and Brice and his father. The memories would be enough, thought Chraset. They had to be.
"What did you see?" asked Mira.
Chraset thought for a moment, and turned away to hide his tears.
"Nothing. Just the storm. Just a storm."
Gareth stopped just outside town. He stood under a tree and tried to rest but the constant struggle with Wargat tired him. His sorcery swirled around him and tried to keep the demon out. But it was the demon who had taught the sorcery to Kerthon. Wargat would not be denied. It hounded his thoughts, penetrating each memory. Even thoughts of his father changed the familiar face into the demon grinning like a jester.
Gareth had intended to cross the mountains and leave his friends far behind. He had to isolate himself in case he lost his battle with the demon. He could not hurt his loved ones. He would not hurt his loved ones.
Each day was more difficult. He saw Wargat's face in everyone he met and despite avoiding settled areas, the image of the demon stayed with him. The horrid voice whispered in his mind at quiet moments.
"Gareth. It is so good of you to join me. I have waited so long. Kerthon had long since lost his appeal. But you! You are fresh and powerful."
Gareth would shake his head, scream silently, and try to push the blackness from his mind. But it would not vanish completely and would creep forward as soon as Gareth's thoughts were elsewhere.
"Gareth."
He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his head. After a moment, it passed.
He had climbed the first hill and looked back toward Stormridge. Silently, he said good-bye to his sister, his friends and vanished over the hill.
"Macelan, don't you feel well?" asked Daura.
Macelan's face was pale and his breath was short. Chraset was watching him closely. The others had gathered around.
"Something's happening. I feel it. Evil, very evil. But I don't understand."
"Is it your sorcery that enables you to sense the evil?" asked Chraset.
"I think so. I do not know. I just sense it, and it comes unbidden. I can't stop it."
"Do you know where it is?" asked Chraset.
"Close by. Fading a bit, perhaps. Indistinct would be a better description."
"It's going away?" asked Brice. "Are we safe?"
"It's not us. We are not in danger. Someone else is fighting it and losing."
"Gareth," whispered Chraset, too soft for the others to hear. "Macelan, can you follow it, this feeling? Can you find the evil?"
"It's everywhere."
"But where is this person fighting it? Can we help him? Do we want to?"
"I think we can. To the north. Towards the mountains. He's trying to flee but he can't be free." Macelan was in a trance, his eyes were not focused and his voice coming from far away. Daura held his hand. Serada and Mira stood near the window while Brice paced. Chraset stood near the table, his eyes still riveted to Macelan.
"I want you to take me to him," said Chraset.
"No! There is evil. Too strong for me."
"You must take me. We must save him."
"Do you know what he's talking about?" asked Daura.
"I might," said Chraset. "But I want to be sure before I say anything. I will take Macelan, just the two of us. I think we can find this person easier than a larger group. We may need to move quickly and perhaps hide from our quarry. I am unsure of the danger. And it the evil is as great as I fear, you will be safe here."
"What of you?" asked Mira. "Will you be safe?"
Chraset looked at her and smiled a sad smile.
"Perhaps not. But I will feel much better knowing that I did not lead you into such danger."
"I don't want Macelan to go," said Daura. Her eyes bore into Chraset.
"Of course not," said Chraset softly. "But he is the only one who can lead me to this person and I think the evil he speaks of will soon turn its attention to him. For if Macelan can sense it, the reverse should be true."
"Your words make sense," said Mira. "But it doesn't mean we have to like it."
"I feel stronger already, knowing your concern goes with us. Come Macelan, we have no time to waste." Macelan kissed Daura, his eyes long locked with hers. He turned away and did not see the tears course down her face.
Chraset pushed Macelan as fast as he could travel. He knew that time was running out for Gareth. The sky had darkened and the rain came once again. The brief clearing had ended and the sky prepared to drench the earth again. The rain began quickly and soon began heavy. The duo moved slowly through the thick, wet underbrush. Chraset felt the chill shiver through his body and tried to move faster but Macelan had stopped.
In the small clearing before them stood a dark figure, its cloak waving crazily in the wind. An eerie crackle came through the storm to them. They had reached their goal.
The figure threw back its hood. The peeling face, which once belonged to Gareth, leered at them and smiled a toothy grin. The face shimmered. Macelan was uncertain of the features. Was it really Gareth?
"Fools!" It cried in the wind. "You shall die, here."
"Gareth?" said Chraset. "Can you hear me? We're here to help you."
"And how can you help Gareth?" it asked. It raised its bony hands and began a gesture. Green light emanated from the fingertips.
"No!" cried Macelan, as he felt his anger and power begin to rise.
"Ah, the young traveler," said Gareth. "Wargat remembers you. You, too, have potential."
"Wargat?" asked Chraset.
"I think it's the demon I saw with Kerthon," whispered Macelan.
"You are correct. But your knowledge will not aid you. You will both perish and I shall enslave the land."
Chraset and Macelan had separated and moved to either side of Gareth who stood still with his arms raised. The air crackled and Chraset dove behind a tree. Macelan raised a shield of light around him although he was not sure how he did it.
Gareth sneered at Macelan and suddenly turned toward Chraset who froze in place as the spell wove about him, sucking the air away from him. Chraset crumbled to the ground unable to catch his breath. Gareth ignored Macelan and concentrated on finishing Chraset. He did not see nor did he expect the vehement attack that drove him to the damp ground.
Macelan focused and felt his power flow towards Gareth and then there was a numbing sensation that started in his hands and moved up his arms. Gareth screamed in anger and turned to face Macelan. Gareth's eyes were bright red, his features were changing, and Macelan saw the image of Wargat superimposed on Gareth's face. He roared and threw a bolt of red energy at Macelan. It struck him and surrounded him but fell off. Macelan did not break his concentration.
Gareth staggered to his feet and came toward Macelan with his arms outstretched. Macelan closed his eyes and concentrated. The power kept flowing but he began to feel a draining, a hollow hunger growing inside him. Gareth was nearly touching him.
Chraset got to his feet. His head felt leaden. He rubbed his forehead and leaned on a tree for support. He watched the ethereal light surrounding Macelan and Gareth. Slowly his mind cleared and then suddenly, he acted.
His sword was heavy in his hand and he approached from behind and thrust it into Gareth's back.
At once, the demon screamed as Gareth's voice failed him and Macelan's power flared around the demon and wrenched it to shreds. Gareth pulled away from Macelan and rolled on the ground, his flesh burning with flames that left no mark. Chraset had been thrown to the ground and he watched as Gareth rolled and cried and then lay still. The form of Wargat rose above him and then dissipated in the rain. Macelan lay prone in the dirt.
Chraset went to Gareth and lifted his head. Gareth's eyelids fluttered and he looked at Chraset. The demon was gone. Gareth tried to speak but he coughed and relaxed. He was dead. Chraset held him for several moments. Then he set him down and went to Macelan who had regained consciousness.
"Is he dead?" Macelan's voice was hoarse. He was unable to sit up without Chraset's assistance.
"Yes. But I think he is free of his curse."
"I don't know what I did."
"I know. Perhaps there was some remnant of Kerthon in your magic and wanted revenge against his old master. Who can say?" Chraset looked at the bruised face of Macelan.
"How are you?"
"I hurt," said Macelan. "I feel like my insides have been pulled out. In only a few months my life has been turned upside down to the point where I don't even recognize myself." Macelan rubbed his face and felt the bumps and sore spots.
"Let me help you. Let us go back to the house. We'll need help with Gareth." Macelan nodded and walked with Chraset.
Later they buried Gareth in the Martres' family cemetery. Macelan stood at the grave long after everyone, including Daura had left. He wondered if Gareth was really in a better place and if Wargat would leave him alone. Macelan remembered the voice of the demon and hoped he would be left alone too. He could not feel the magic inside him anymore and he prayed it was gone. He did not want it and did not need it. He did not want any more adventures.
The sky was overcast and it would soon rain. The rain had a soothing quality much like the sea and he had begun to enjoy the woodlands with the evergreens and the pattering rain. It was a place he could stay.
Macelan turned to go and saw Daura standing several feet away. He smiled and took her arm. Drops of rain began to sprinkle on them and they walked slowly among the raindrops, their pain easing in each other's company.
The rain fell hard through the night and the voices in the wind were silent.
Jim Greenfield, Black Kerthon's Doom
