The bolt struck before Kevlin could react, but once again the amulet hidden under his shirt absorbed the magic and poured it into him. Coupled with the power it had already stolen from Merab, it became a torrent that surged through his body, filling him with strength and terror.
He wanted to scream with frustration. Why would Harafin do this? He needed to get rid of it before it corrupted him or killed him from the inside.
“What are you doing?” Ceren yelled, echoing Kevlin’s thoughts.
Harafin ignored her, his eyes fixed on Kevlin. “I don’t know how you annulled my power, but I will not allow you to possess the steward. I’ll destroy the vessel first.”
Kevlin back-pedaled, and the truth hit him. Harafin can see the magic in me, like I can see it in him. He thinks. . .Oh, no.
The Leander frowned. “I’m not so sure--.”
Gabral showed no hesitation. As the little man lifted the Mace, it burst into blue fire.
“Wait a minute.” Kevlin forced the words through suddenly dry lips. “They’re not possessing me. Let me explain.”
He pushed at the magic, trying to get rid of it, but it wouldn’t leave. Instead, it seeped deep into his bones, filling him with strength. It was like a river raging inside his body, and every muscle thrummed with the need to use the marvelous power.
He didn’t know how.
His senses sharpened to unbelievable clarity. He could count the hairs in Harafin’s beard, hear the creak of Gabral’s grip tightening on the haft of the Mace, and smell the gentle perfume Ceren wore.
“You don’t get a minute to work your devilry,” Gabral said. The Mace bearer raised his flaming weapon and pointed it at Kevlin.
The spike shot off the top.
It sliced through the air faster than an arrow, straight for Kevlin’s heart. Time slowed, along with everything else around him.
The missile should have pierced him before he even registered the danger, but he reacted faster than he’d ever imagined possible, throwing himself backward and extending a hand to ward off the blow.
Even as he envisioned the spike deflecting away, the magic inside him responded. It flowed out of his hand and hardened the air in front of him, knocking the spike off course.
“You can’t do that,” Gabral shouted.
Harafin pointed again, and fire erupted all around Kevlin. It licked to within a hair’s breadth of his body, but didn’t burn him.
The amulet poured even more magic into him, until he felt he might burst. Heat from the flames seared his lungs, and fire encircled him like a burning tomb. He tasted ash, and the smell of cinders filled his nostrils.
The single beat of a drum sounded in his soul.
He cringed, and the fear blossomed into full-blown panic.
The song of Savas.
A fanfare of horns rang through him and his body tried to react. He suppressed the urge, barely.
I can’t let that happen! They’ll kill me for sure.
It had to stop.
“Stop!” He screamed and threw his hands wide. The air cracked with a thunderclap, and magic blasted from him in all directions in a single, tremendous wave. It slammed into his companions, tumbling Gabral and Ceren across the street and shaking the buildings on both sides.
It deflected away from Harafin, who stood with light encircling him like an impenetrable halo. It rolled past Leander without effect. Leander half-raised his hammer, but did not attack.
Drained of magic, Kevlin’s senses contracted back to normal. He felt half-blind and his body sagged with weariness as if he’d just run for miles.
“I’ve got to stop doing that,” Kevlin muttered. “I’m not a sentinel.”
Across the street, Gabral leapt to his feet. The magic fire burning around the Mace rolled down over his arm, then enveloped him. “Let’s see you do that again,” he shouted angrily. Raising the Mace, he charged.
“Hold.” Harafin’s voice cracked like a whip and the colonel skidded to a stop. The sentinel stared at Kevlin with a frown on his face.
“Please,” Kevlin said, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Just stop for a minute.”
“Where are those who possessed you?” Harafin demanded.
“They were never here,” Kevlin shouted. “If you’ll just wait a minute, I’ll explain.”
“Let’s kill him,” Gabral said, “just to be safe.”
“No,” said Harafin. “Not yet.”
Gabral cursed under his breath and lowered the Mace. The blue fire winked out, but he didn’t put the weapon away.
Harafin approached. “How can you explain it?”
Kevlin reached into his shirt and lifted the amulet on its silver chain. “With this.”
“That looks like Bajaran’s amulet.” Harafin frowned and leaned closer. “But it’s not, is it?”
“It used to be.”
They all drew closer, and Leander declared, “The flaming sword.”
He pointed to the small silver emblem embedded in the face of the blue amulet, which was a miniature reflection of the one on Tia Khoa.
Something was going on that Kevlin lacked any ability to grasp. Hopefully Harafin could provide some answers, or he’d throw the rock at the next squirrel he saw and be done with it.
Harafin nodded slowly and met Kevlin’s eye. “I think it’s time you tell us the rest of your story.”
Kevlin explained about the amulet, how he came to possess it, and how it changed after striking down Tanathos.
“You lied to us,” Gabral spat.
“No. I spoke no lies. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
Harafin moved a few paces away. Turning, he slammed a fist into his open palm. “There isn’t enough time.”
“What do you mean?” Ceren asked. She’d been studying Kevlin with an unreadable expression. Kevlin was grateful when she turned from him to look at the sentinel.
“I need to question this Tanathos,” Harafin said. “With the Sigrun united and focused on events here, we need more information.”
“The Sigrun?” Ceren asked, glancing around with the same nervousness Kevlin felt.
Harafin nodded. “They are the ones who attacked us through Merab. They are masters of the Sthenic arts, but only the united power of the Sigrun council could have achieved so much.”
“It is no simple thing to unite the Sigrun,” Leander said.
“No, it is not,” Harafin agreed. “But I recognized at least three of them, and I believe the entire quorum was involved."
Kevlin wasn’t sure if he should be relieved to know that Enkur himself hadn’t possessed Merab, or terrified that it was the Sigrun council.
“How could you recognize them?” asked Gabral. “You’ve actually met them?”
“I knew them well," Harafin said with a wry smile. "I was close friends with two before they pledged their service to Angrama and led the uprising that overthrew the reign of the sentinels before the empire was founded. We were all very young then.”
Harafin sighed, two centuries of grief on his face. “Kyllikki and Nyyrikki were twins, and my sworn brothers. They succumbed to the allure of power offered through service to the Lord of Darkness, despite my best efforts to dissuade them."
"When I stood against them, they swore to kill me for betraying them when it was they who betrayed everything we had all lived for. That was in the early days of the war, and they became the cause of much suffering and death among the people.”
Kevlin shared a look of amazement with Ceren. Harafin was living proof of all the legends. Harafin had lived those legends. The thought made Kevlin feel very small.
“I need answers to many questions now raised,” Harafin said. “But we don’t have time to reach their fort and still make it back to Tamera.”
“We might,” Ceren interjected, her eyes bright with an idea. She turned to Kevlin. “Ingolf. Remember the boats?”
“Of course.”
“Boats?” Leander asked.
“Yes,” Ceren said excitedly.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
She explained how they had hoped to take ship from Ingolf to Tamera, but the boats were all gone due to the bloodset. “At least some of them are bound to be back. If we can’t return the stone to Antigonus, we could sail from Ingolf and still make it to Tamera. I think.”
“It’s risky,” Leander said. “But it may be worth trying.”
Harafin paced away, his head bent in thought. He glanced at Kevlin once, then continued pacing. Half a minute later, he turned.
“The idea has merit, but our duty is clear. We must leave for Tamera immediately. Finding the rightful bearer of Tia Khoa is our most important task.”
Kevlin’s heart fell. Harafin scared him, and he didn’t want to anger the powerful old man, but he had no choice.
“I’m not going,” Kevlin said.
“Listen, Kevlin,” Harafin said, “I understand your frustration.”
“I don’t think so.” Kevlin needed to explain, but how could he put it into words?
He hated magic. The thought of being named steward, of carrying around the most powerful artifact he’d ever heard of, rattled him to the core. And yet, his sworn duty to Antigonus offered a chance to break the shackles of his memory, to become whole for the first time ever.
He didn’t need to love magic, but he could face it without terror. Abandoning Antigonus would leave him broken, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever find the strength to attempt reconciling his past again.
Kevlin couldn’t explain all of that, but he had to say something. “I swore an oath to save Antigonus, but ever since I met him, I’ve been immersed in magic. It’s like. . .it’s like all the forces of light and darkness have swarmed around me, and I’m stuck in the middle of a whirlwind.”
Harafin rocked back as if he’d been struck. He glanced at Leander, and the two old men shared a meaningful look that compounded Kevlin’s nervousness. Scheming old men were best avoided.
So of course, he was surrounded by them.
Harafin studied Kevlin closely, like a butcher trying to decide on a cut of meat. Kevlin’s heart pounded, his hands sweaty. How did he manage to set the old man off so fast?
“This is unexpected,” Harafin said softly. “So be it.”
He turned to Gabral. “Assemble your men. We leave for the fort with all speed.”
Despite the confusion evident on his face, Gabral saluted. “It will be done.” He hurried up the street toward a pair of soldiers standing guard at the corner.
“I agree,” Leander said to Harafin. “It must be done.”
“What did I just miss?” Kevlin asked. Harafin’s sudden, inexplicable change of heart made him as nervous as that intense stare a moment earlier.
“We have much to discuss,” Harafin said.
More riddles. That was getting old really fast.
Harafin fixed him with a serious gaze. "The Sigrun have marked you. They do not do that lightly.” Then he turned and headed up the street after Gabral.
Kevlin cursed under his breath. That was a rotten way to end a conversation. He already felt out of his depth, and now he had to worry about the Sigrun hunting him?
They killed sentinels.
The belligerent and perhaps not very bright part of him rose in defiant rage to hold back the fear. He was tempted to face west toward Grakonia where the Sigrun ruled and make an obscene gesture in their direction.
All he needed to do was get the rock to Antigonus. After that, he was done.
Leander clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry, my boy. All will become clear in time.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
Kevlin glanced past the stalwart to Ceren. She was watching him again. Did noblewomen just instinctively do that, or was it part of their training?
He turned from her and noticed Healer Indira approaching. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the beautiful young woman. She moved gracefully, but looked extremely tired, with dark circles around her lovely eyes.
Maybe she was enchanted to beguile travelers and lull them into accepting Harafin’s cryptic words without question. He decided to guard himself around her and not fall for the trick.
Indira smiled warmly at Leander. “Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“We’re all fine. Thank you, my dear,” said Leander. “How are the men?”
“One of the wounded died before I could reach him,” she replied with a deep frown. “Three of the others will require bed rest for several days to fully recover. The rest have already joined the company and are preparing to ride.”
“Excellent work, as always. You didn’t overtire yourself, did you my dear?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then will you see to Kevlin’s feet? I’m sorry, but I don’t have the energy to deal with it myself.”
“Of course.” Indira motioned for Kevlin to take a seat. He did so, and painfully pulled off his boots and stockings. He’d forgotten about the blisters during all the talk of Sigrun. He slipped the amulet from around his neck and dropped it in a pocket.
“Oh my,” Indira breathed as she surveyed the patchwork of broken blisters and raw sores. “I’m impressed you were able to walk at all.”
The compliment made him feel good, but Kevlin pushed it away. She was being too nice. What was her angle?
Indira placed her hands over his feet, and her alluring fragrance drifted to his nostrils. She smelled like spring, an enticing mix of wildflowers and clover.
She started to chant in a sweet, musical voice, and her hands glowed softly white. The light flowed over his feet, and a wonderful feeling swept through him, first draining away the pain, then extending up his legs and into his torso.
The constant burning of his wounds washed away under the gentle balm of Indira’s magic, leaving him refreshed and whole. Unlike the raging strength of the magic the amulet had captured, her power was wholesome and peaceful.
He tried to find a reason not to trust it, but couldn’t. That made him all the more suspicious. He’d never encountered anything magical that was simply good. He’d learned as a youth the dark underbelly of magic and wouldn’t be taken unawares again.
After another minute, Indira sat back with a sigh. She swayed, and it looked like she might faint. He reached out a steadying hand.
“I’m all right,” she said with a weak smile. “You’ve had a rough time.”
“Thank you.” He pulled on his boots and jumped to his feet. Indira rose to stand beside him and he added, “You have no idea how good that feels.”
He decided to test her act of simple goodness. Before she could respond, he lifted her off the ground by the waist and spun her around. She cried out in surprise and clutched at his arms.
When he set her back down, she laughed and tossed her hair back. Their eyes met and a spark of pure heat rippled down to his heart. Standing so close, holding each other, and with her face flushed with excitement, he couldn’t help it.
He kissed her squarely on the lips.
Indira stiffened in shock, and he broke off. She stepped away and he stared after her, watching for a crack in her perfect façade. He ignored the burning of his lips from the brief contact and stood fast against the urge to chase after her and kiss her again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good kiss. I guess I’m out of practice.”
Indira turned away and pulled up the hood of her cloak to cover her flushed cheeks. “You surprised me. I didn’t expect you to do that.”
Still sweet, not railing at him. Either she was extremely well trained, or maybe she really was the good-hearted woman she seemed. Either way, she scared him as much as she attracted him.
Ceren punched him in the shoulder hard. “You’re such a brute.”
“Where I come from, kissing is a sign of deep gratitude,” he said.
“And where do you come from?” she asked, hands on hips, anger pouring off of her.
Her anger seemed disproportionate until he realized he had just insulted her recent kiss. He had never expected Ceren to want to kiss him again, particularly after they found safety. It looked like he wouldn't have to wonder about that any more.
Leander interrupted. “Perhaps you should consider which customs of your home might cause problems before you share them?” He looked more amused than angry, but Kevlin didn’t miss the warning.
He didn’t want the powerful old stalwart mad at him. At least Gabral was gone. The little colonel probably would have seen it as an excuse to try to kill him again.
“I need to fetch my pack from the inn,” Kevlin said. He needed some time alone to think too.
“Hurry,” Leander said. “We need to leave right away.”
“Where should I meet you?”
“In the square at the center of town.”
Kevlin headed for the inn while the others followed Harafin. He blew out a long breath. What a morning. Harafin had agreed to lead the expedition against the fort, but Kevlin couldn’t shake the feeling that he was farther than ever from escaping his current entanglement with magic.
It would’ve been helpful if Harafin had thought to bring a bigger army. Kevlin still felt optimistic about their chances of defeating Tanathos’ forces. With the Mace leading the charge, Harafin's powers ready to block the shadeleeches, and Leander’s incredible battle prowess, they fielded a mighty force.
Kevlin half expected the Grakonians to surrender when they learned Harafin led the assault. The stories written about Harafin’s exploits against the Sigrun filled volumes.
Harafin scared Kevlin. His motives were unfathomable, and he seemed willing to sacrifice anything to the demands of his duty. He’d already shown that he’d sacrifice Kevlin in a heartbeat. Their paths lay in the same direction for the moment, but how long would that continue?
Now they had this autumn solstice to worry about too. Killing Tanathos should be enough for anyone. Once they got the rock back to Antigonus, the solstice would take care of itself.
He liked Leander. There was a man to be trusted. Of course, it didn’t hurt having the powerful stalwart close by when confronting Tanathos. . .and the Sigrun.
Gabral was another story. The irritating little man’s motives were clear. He wanted respect, and his pride seemed easily affronted. Being bearer of the Mace didn’t seem to be enough, despite its tremendous power.
Gabral's methods worried Kevlin. The soldier had gone too far in his interrogation, had been too quick to unleash deadly force. Kevlin had seen others with that same reckless disregard for control. Without mastering it, they tended to die young, and got a lot of their companions killed in the process. Gabral could prove as much a danger to them as Tanathos.
Then again, Indira was proving to be a threat of an entirely different sort.
The common room of the inn lay in shambles, with broken furniture scattered around. The fat innkeeper stood beside a table on which lay a prone figure covered by a tablecloth.
“I see ye survived,” the big man remarked.
“I’m sorry about your inn. They were after me.”
“Aye. They left everyone else alone but old Dwyn.” He gestured at the shape on the table.
“Dwyn?” The man had spoken as if Kevlin should recognize the name.
“Aye, he be the one wot threw his chair at the beasts on the stairs as ye ran by.”
“I was afraid he’d gotten himself into trouble with that.”
“Don’t feel sad for him. He was the oldest fellow in Baldev. He fought the Grakonians in the last war, and he died fighting them just like he wanted. His soul’ll go to Serigala bearin’ yew an’ stone.”
“Aye,” Kevlin nodded solemnly.
The Hallvarri burial customs were interesting. Dwyn’s hands would bear to the grave yew, representing a bow to signify death in battle, and stone, representing the earth. Serigala, goddess of the hunt and the harvest, would welcome him home as a cherished son, the greatest honor for Hallvarri dead.
As they spoke, a very short young woman whom Kevlin recognized as one of the archers from the battle entered the room and joined them.
“I never got a chance to thank you and your friends for saving my life,” Kevlin said.
The innkeeper smiled proudly. “This be Adalia, my niece. Best hunter in Baldev.”
Kevlin took her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Adalia.”
“By Jagen, I wish I’d gotten there sooner,” Adalia said hotly. “I’d like ta kill more of the brutes fer killin’ Dwyn.”
“You defended your town and your family with honor today. You should be proud of that.”
“Why was they after you anyway?” the innkeeper asked.
“Because I’m going to destroy them.”
“There be more of ‘em?”
“Aye, and we’re leaving to hunt them down.”
Adalia grabbed his arm. “Kin I go with ye?” Her bright green eyes lit with fierce determination.
She’s got spirit.
“If you bring along those other archers, you can. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Aye,” Adalia exclaimed. “I kin git the whole bunch of ‘em. I pledge me honor to it, sir.”
“Good, then assemble your men and meet me in the town square. Bring supplies for several days in the forest. And be quick. We leave within the hour.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Check in with your father afore you go,” the innkeeper said to her.
“I will.” Adalia raced from the room, her long blond braid flying out behind.
“Thank ye for taking her,” said the innkeeper. “It be important to the folk in Baldev to know we kin defend our town.”
Kevlin had a thought. “Are there any woodcutters and miners in town with as much will to fight as your archers?”
“Aye, but why?”
“I have an idea for how they could help turn the tide of battle for us. Can you find me half a dozen of the best woodsmen in town, and an equal number of good miners? And quick?”
“Aye,” replied the innkeeper. “I know just who ye need. I'll get 'em to the square quick-time.”
Kevlin clasped wrists with the innkeeper. Then he jogged upstairs to what was left of his room. He picked through the shattered remains of his bed to find his possessions, then buckled on his leather breastplate. After donning his pack, he hung the amulet around his neck with a silent reminder never to take it off again.
When he reached the town square, he had to do some fast explaining to Gabral before the impetuous colonel sent the eager miners and woodcutters away. The colonel finally agreed to Kevlin's plan.
Then Adalia and her archers arrived.
Gabral nearly refused to allow the fiery woman to accompany the group. She was the captain of the archers however, so he reluctantly agreed.
Before the sun stood directly overhead, the grim force rode out of town.