Nightseer

Tobin conjured a blue witchlight. It bobbed just behind Keleios so as not to ruin her night vision. They had come this way before, in practice.



"Where are the other guards?" Lothor asked.



"There are no others," Keleios said.



"The three of us to defend all the lower reaches of the castle. Are you mad?"



Keleios glanced back at him. "You are free to go back."



Tobin said, "The lower reaches are designed for just a sorcerer and a enchanter to guard. A crystal ward guards everything in the lower reaches. If anyone dares to dig under or breech the lower areas, it would kill them."



"Crystal wards are very rare," Lothor said. "It is indeed the ultimate warding."



Tobin nodded. "That is why only the two of us. Someone on this side would have to remove the crystal ward for anyone to gain entrance."



"And what is to stop someone from doing just that?" Lothor asked.



"No one would betray this keep," Tobin said.



Keleios realized what he meant a moment before Tobin said, "Fidelis, but even she wouldn't betray the entire keep."



"Mother Blessen save us," Keleios whispered.



A scream shattered the quiet. It froze them for a heartbeat, then Keleios cursed, "Urle's forge, they couldn't have broken through." They broke into a jog, weapons held close and pointing out and down.



The sound of many men came from up ahead, and Keleios slowed, waving them back. She crept forward, willing herself unseen. It was not magic, and thus not detectable, an elfish ability to blend with surroundings to simply be overlooked. She came to the huge doorway that led to the main cellar. Light flowed from it, bright and golden, lamplight, and torchlight. Keleios peered round the edge of the doorway and found a sea of men. They stood in silence like good soldiers, but their clothes spoke of the sea. Armor was almost nonexistent among them. Five men in the group did not belong. They were dressed all in black. Torchlight fluttered off the device sewn on their chests: a decaying skull with green eyes. It was the symbol of Verm, god of corruption, Loth's twin brother. All five gave off a magic aura and they were black healers. If she hadn't seen Fidelis' treachery herself, she might have accused Lothor of being an accomplice. The thought came to her that he still might be.



Struggling in the grips of one of the black-robed was Melandra. Keleios bit her lip to keep from crying out. She would not lose Melandra, too. A basket of carrots lay spilled at the girl's feet. Melandra had been a favorite of the cook's and was often in charge of the kitchen crew. Three others were captured with her. The tall boy had his arms bound behind him. The smallest girl was crying and huddling against a black-haired girl. Keleios ought to have known the Zairdian girl but couldn't place the name.



The black healer jerked on Melandra's arm, but she did not cry out. She had spent years enduring much worse than that. Keleios forced her hands to unclench. Anger would not help them; planning would.



Keleios stood and searched the room for some way to save them, but three couldn't fight a hundred. All they could do was keep the fighters from gaining the upper areas. They could not rush in and save the children and let these men through. She had to defend her post, to defend this keep, no matter the cost. Her duty was clear but she cursed it.



One black healer in particular seemed to shine unbelievably bright. If he was as magic as he appeared, they would find out just how powerful the lower reaches' defenses were. The only course was to whittle them down on the way -- the only way -- to the higher levels and hope that they didn't kill the prisoners. Keleios took one of the fire ward pouches from her belt and sprinkled it lightly in front of the doorway. She sent a silent prayer to Urle that she would remain unseen.



Two men were dispatched to see if that flicker of movement had meant anything. They hit the ward at almost the same time and the fire roared round them. Their shrieks chased Keleios back to the others.



She whispered her findings to Lothor and Tobin, then pulled them farther into the darkness away from the screams.



Keleios stared at Lothor in his night-black armor. "I thought about killing you, prince. And if I find you've betrayed us I still might."



"Why should I betray you?"



"Five below are black healers or dressed as such."



He was so silent that Keleios knew he was hiding something. When he spoke, it did not help him. "Velen has won."



"Who is Velen?"



"My brother. There is no time for more now. But I did not betray this keep."



She turned from him because there wasn't time. "I set a fire ward that should keep them busy for a while," But as if her words had cursed it, a dull explosion sounded. "Urle's forge, the ward's down." They ran back up the corridor.



"That isn't the only ward down. Feel," Tobin said.



The tingling of the keep's main ward was gone.



"Lothor, set a ward across the hall, something damaging. Tobin, set a second just behind his; make yours inconspicuous."



"If they merge . . . "



"You could be killed, I know. But it will work, and I haven't the skill to do it. My control of wardings isn't fine enough for it."



Tobin had seen enough of her classwork to know it was true.



Lothor asked, standing on the other side of his glowing ward, "And what will you be doing while he risks his life?" His ward was perfect, large and showy, as she knew it would be. They could not miss it. She ignored the insult and simply replied, "Something only I can do."



She turned and pressed her body against the left-hand wall. The spells were there, in the walls themselves, waiting to be activated. She called enchantment first, and it was a welcome familiar heaviness of magic. Then she called sorcery to her as well, and it was a light tingling magic, like caged lightning. She wound them together into a single rope or power. The makers of the spell had intended two people to call the spell, for enchantment and sorcery were a rare combination in one person. Keleios knew her own magic as she knew her own hand or face in the mirror. If she failed, it would be the sorcery that would betray her. If you failed at instant enchantment, you simply failed to enchant your item. Failed sorcery could lash back upon the spellcaster, and that possibility was why she didn't often combine her talents.



It felt like the tingling rush of sorcery but quieter, stronger, controlled.



She whispered to the stones, "Walls, hear me; do as I bid. Stop the wicked, help the good, protect your own safety and those up above. Be my strong arms for this day." Keleios stood away from the wall and touched it gently. The stones hummed with enchantment. She turned to the right-hand wall and merged her power with it, also.



Sweat beaded her face, but she smiled. The spell was a combination of Bellarion's strong-arm enchantment and Venna's trip spell. Master Tally and Zeln the Just had invented it together.



Keleios turned her attention to Tobin. He was pressed inches from the white glare of the first ward. She could see his sorcery tracing outward, delicate, possessing a restraint that the black healer did not even understand. The lines of yellow-gold power spread outward framed by the wafis, floor, and ceiling. His ward was a phantom, lost against the glare of Lothor's.



She smiled at Tobin's relieved and proud grin. "I knew you could," she whispered, and motioned them both farther down the hall.



The second fire ward was poured along the floor.



Keleios decided that the warding of pain would go just before the turn to the stairs but not yet. There was scouting to be done.



A second dull explosion came, followed by screams.



"How are they breaking through those wards so quickly?"



Lothor said, "You show contempt toward my sorcery because it lacks delicacy." She stared at him, for the thoughts were her own. "But we are taught to use raw power to overcome any obstacle."



"So you are all taught the same way?"



He nodded.



She began to have an idea.



When next she scouted, only two of the black healers strode in front.



Walking a horse-length in front of them was a prisoner. Keleios couldn't put a name to the blond girl. She was six or seven and in Fidelis' beginning herb-witchery class. Her blue eyes stood out in a very pale face.



She stopped, uncertain, looking back toward her captors for reassurance. One in front, black hood thrown back to show him every bit as blond and blue-eyed as she, motioned her forward.



Keleios could almost feel the child's pulse racing.



Keleios took one step away from the wall to warn the child but a soldier stepped into the enchantment.



Arms of stone shot from the walls. They grabbed the man and began to crush and tear. The yellow-haired black healer stopped the fighters from rushing in. He stood arms wide and shot magic out toward the walls.



Keleios flinched at the power in the dispelling. If it had been only sorcery, it would have worked, but enchantment is a stouter thing.



The soldier hung limp and bloodied. The man tried again to dispel it as if he couldn't believe he had failed.



His next attempt was at destruction, and power like red lightning played along the hall.



The child, waiting alone, stumbled back in fright and fell into the fire ward. Flame roared up her legs, drowning out her screams. Her small frame was engulfed in fire. It rushed outward a sheet of flame, orange death. It filled the hallway with burning.



When the fire cleared, the men stood untouched. The girl had done her duty. She had set off the ward with them safely out of range. Her bones were twisted and black, a charcoal heap.



The magic-user tried once more, and this time Keleios leaned against the wall. It was the sorcery that tripped the enchantment like a string on a snare. She reached outward through the cold stone toward that sorcery. Keleios wasn't sure how to absorb it, so she held it in by brute will. The stone arms on the left side vanished.



The blond spellcaster smiled, pleased with himself.



They entered the cleared way, the right-hand wall straining after them. When as many as possible were there, Keleios released her control. The arms shot out and grappled. Metal screamed on stone to little effect.



"You would have used that on me?"



Keleios whirled, sword half-rising from its sheath. Lothor stood there and repeated his question. "You planned to use that fire ward on me, didn't you?"



"You challenged me to the arena. What did you expect? And what are you doing here?"



"You have been gone a long time."



They backed away, leaving the men to the carnage of the stones.



Keleios poured out the warding of pain at the bend to the stairs.



Lothor said quietly, "I know the magic-user who leads them."



"Who is he and how powerful?"



"Tranisome the Smiler, and very."



"The smiler -- what does that mean?"



"If the gods are not with us, you'll see soon enough."



"You are his prince. Can you talk to him?"



Lothor considered it. "Perhaps, but doubtful."



"Doubtful is better than facing seventy to eighty men and a powerful sorcerer."



Again Keleios crept forward and spied upon them. Another child walked before them. This time Keleios could put a name to her.



She was Bella, daughter to a Zairdian earl. She was eleven and a sorcerer of some promise. The girl paced forward nervously, sweeping long black hair from her face, eyes concentrating on the floor. Bella was good.



She stopped and flinched; she had seen it. The girl looked backward and licked her lips; she was planning something.



Tranisome came within sight and called to her, "Girl, get on with it."



"I . . . have found one."



Bella stepped a little back from it. He approached and peered at the powder line. She was standing just behind him, and it was a small matter to give a tiny push. The ward flared brighter and vanished, his screams echoing in the hall. Bella ran past him over the now-useless ward.



Tranisome writhed on the floor and shrieked, "Kill her!"



Two guards moved to obey and Keleios simply appeared before them. Luckweaver sliced one's neck and took the other in the side. The blade pulled free with a sound of breaking bone, and Keleios ran up the stairs after Bella.



The fighters were in full chase. Here was something they could fight, something to bleed and die.



Keleios let her still-bloody sword fall to the steps and touched the wall. A warding of destruction was in the walls; all it needed was a spark of sorcery. The warding blinked into place. Two fighters hit it seconds later.



Lightning exploded in blinding white fire. It raised the hair on head and arms like a secret wind. The bolt blazed down the stairway. Men screamed, ran, burned, and died.



Tranisome was still writhing and shouting, "'Idiots, they want you to chase them!"



The smell of burned flesh was strong, and Keleios swallowed past it. Smoke curled from the bodies. It was not the complete incineration of a fire but as if a great lightning whip had torn along them.



Tranisome called for the boy to be brought to him. Keleios knew this one, also, briefly. It was Tobin who exclaimed, "Brion!"



Some of the fighters glanced their way. Keleios understood the frustration, the horrible helplessness of it all.



Brion was a journeyman herb-witch and fighter. His hands were bound behind his back, and they forced him to kneel by the writhing black healer.



Keleios whispered to Lothor, "What is he doing with the boy?"



"Healing himself."



"How will the boy help him?"



Lothor said nothing, only stared down at the scene below.



Bella had been quietly sick in a corner, the stench of burning hair and flesh too much for her.



The healer put hands on Brion's shoulders and the boy started to scream.



Keleios swallowed hard, fighting sickness. She knew what he was doing now. "He's using him like a grey healer uses an animal, but the boy can't take that much damage."



"His life force, no; his dead body, yes."



"This isn't healing, it's murder."



He chose not to argue.



The boy's screams stopped abruptly, and he sagged to the floor. Tranisome never lost contact with him. The body quivered, then lay very still. But it was long after that that Tranisome released the body. Then he stood and looked up the stairs, smiling.



Lothor stood in front of the ward's bare glow without his helmet and waited. It was the last ward fixed into the walls themselves. After this, it would be their magic alone.



Tranisome walked slowly, deliberately, through the bodies and stopped on the other side. The smile spread across his face. It was large and cheerful but it never reached his eyes. They remained pale and empty like a corpse's.



He bowed from me neck, still smiling. "Your brother, Velen, sends greetings, my prince."



"And what are those greetings, Tranisome?"



"Death, my prince. She must die."



"So in my absence my father's mind was changed."



The smile brightened. "Did you expect it would be otherwise, my prince?"



"No." Lothor stared at him for a moment and asked, "Am I to die also?"



"Regrettably, my prince."



"And will you do it, Tranisome?"



The smile waxed and waned, eyes never changing. "There is a bonus for your death. Someone will claim it before dawn."



Keleios stepped into sight, "But it won't be you, smiler."



Tranisome looked surprised. "I am flattered that you spoke of me, prince." His blue eyes searched her from golden helm to leather armor and shining sword hilt. "Ah, this must be . . . your intended."



"Yes."



"I am honored, but this warding will not stop me from slaying you." He glanced along it. "It is strong, but not strong enough."



She said, "Let us test how strong it is." She placed her hands flat against the surface. It glowed and shimmered through her body as she connected with it. Tobin gasped. What was a rather childish test of wills in the classroom could be deadly in combat. Though Tobin's control was better, Keleios could not ask him to do this test. It was hers to succeed or fail.



A smile of pure delight shaped Tranisome's lips but left the rest of his face untouched, like a partial mask.



Lothor understood also, and was horrified. "Keleios, no."



Tranisome spoke, a lilt to his voice. "Oh, what a bonus I will make tonight." He matched his hands to hers.



The world narrowed to a glowing wall and hands that she could almost feel pressed against her own. He would use great force against her, that's what she was counting on.



The first surge came. Testing the strength of the ward and her. It was a careful swat of power, pure and concentrated. His smile widened, for she had not added to the force. She refused to waste energy against anything but attack. Sweat began to trickle down her face. He had more control than she had wanted him to have.



He tried again, a mere feint. He shot power through the warding, forcing her to put power into it to hold. Keleios felt him gathering strength, and she gathered hers to answer it. At the last moment, with sorcery nearly blazing in the air, she threw, not to strengthen the ward, but to burn Tranisome.



His force hit the ward unchecked, and it vanished with a dull boom. For a moment their hands met. His eyes flew open wide, and he began to burn. As the fire rushed up him and consumed him, he screamed, "Kill her!"



As he passed, he set the partially burned bodies afire. The stair was soon filled with choking acrid smoke. His own men began to run, for he did not burn as he should have, but continued to stumble down the stairs as he flared.



"Why isn't he dead?" Keleios asked in a whisper.



"He is healing himself as he burns. Whether he dies or not will depend on whether your fire does more damage than he can heal."



Keleios swallowed very hard, bile threatening to come up. "White healing is strange enough, but this -- this is abomination."



"He may live through this; your white healers would be dead by now."



The fighters down below were backing off from him; a few began to run. The fighter who gripped Melandra's arm began pulling her back with him. She struggled, trying to break free, and he hit her a backhanded blow. She staggered and was dragged off.



Keleios whispered, "Melandra." She went after them, following the cries of the burning man. The stones shuddered underfoot. Keleios paused, then ran on with Tobin and Lothor following her.



Tranisome no longer burned, and two men dragged him along. His yellow hair was gone from one side of his head, blisters and blackened skin covered his face, his clothing turned to ash in places. He moaned but no longer screamed.



Tobin shot a bolt of power and another. Two men went down and did not rise again. Keleios called her own sorcery and felt the hair on her head creep with the nearness of it. A bolt took a man in the back. Cries of, "Attack, attack," and the men turned to face them. Bows were brought to the front, and Keleios flattened herself to the ground. Tobin rushed to her, taking her behind his great shield.



Lothor, shieldless, strode toward them. He pointed the blade of his ax at them, and a roaring bolt of red energy poured out. Arrows bounced off his ebony armor, and the red waves cut swaths of death in their ranks. A round ball rolled down toward him and exploded into thick grey smoke. When the smoke cleared, they were gone. Lothor led the way now.



There was a hissing sound, and Keleios called it to their attention. Tobin spotted a tiny spark on one side of the hall; its twin sparkled across from it.



Lothor yelled, "Back, run!"



They ran. Bella, waiting at the foot of the stairs, came out of hiding to question what was wrong. An explosion rocked the stones and threw them all forward. They scrambled up and ran as the second explosion echoed the first, and the walls began to crumble.



The world was full of roaring falling rocks, and there was no air to breathe. Keleios felt deafened by the rushing force, her head vibrating with the rumbling.



It was impossible to stand, and she crawled along the buckling floor. Rocks bounced down on her, bruising her body. She didn't know where the others were; she was alone in the crashing world.



The world ended in jagged stone, and she could crawl no further. She tried to protect herself, using arms and curling her body, but the stones rained down. She tried to huddle underneath her shield, but the world was full of crashing stone.



Slowly, the overwhelming cacophony of sound quieted. Keleios was buried in a dark, dust-choking space. Rock touched her, enclosed her. There was no air. She panicked, arms scrambling through the rocks. Her shield buried her left arm, pinned it. She calmed herself enough to feel down her arm until she found the straps that trapped her arm to the metal. Keleios undid the straps and carefully pulled her arm free. More rocks cascaded down on top of the shield, burying it. She fought against the rock and freed herself to the waist, half-sitting but still trapped in the rock. She could breathe; nothing was broken. She would be all right unless more rock fell.



A haze of grey dust hung in the air. A second mound of rubble was in front of her and partially blocked the passageway. From what she could see there was no passageway left behind her.



She began to move cautiously, afraid of bringing more rocks down. Enchanted strength allowed her to push the larger pieces away from her. A block almost as large as her own body rested against her right leg. A hand's breadth more and she might have lost the leg.



A red glow came over the mound in front of her, and Lothor crawled into view. His witchlight glinted on something metal. He said, "I cannot find the Meltaanian prince, or the girl."



She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. "I saw a glint of metal there." She pointed and Lothor slid down to investigate.



He cleared a shoulder in gleaming armor and stopped.



"What are you waiting for? He'll suffocate," She pressed hands to the large stone block and began to push. Her back pressed against another pile of rubble, and small stones slid down it. She stopped, worried that she would bury herself again. She needed more leverage for something this big. "What are you waiting for? Dig him out."



"I think I am getting an answer."



"What are you talking about?"



"The answer I came for these many weeks ago."



She stared up at him, "You have had your answer."



"I am asking again."



"Surely there will be a more appropriate time to discuss this."



"But this is the perfect time, Keleios. The keep fells tonight, as you predicted. I will not try to bargain with your own life, but your friend's life -- that we will bargain with."



"Black healer, I'm warning you," She pressed her back into the rubble pile and pushed, cursing softly between her teeth. Rocks began sliding faster, cascading down about her shoulders and head.



"No, by the time you free yourself and drag him to the surface, it will be too late. I can heal him."



The boulder shifted the wrong way as the debris moved underneath it. Now she was holding it just to keep it from rolling on top of her. "Cursed rock. I will teleport with him."



He seemed unconcerned with her plight.



"Where? You have no idea where the fighting is or how much of the keep is still standing. You could teleport both of you into a rubble pile."



She pressed her forehead against the gritty rock. "Black healer, I would come closer killing you than marrying you. Loltun customs are too severe. I would give my life for Tobin but not my soul and the souls of my unborn children."



"Be my consort then."



"Verm's curse on you and this rock!" She called power to her hands. Too much power and she might bring down the rest of the hallway, but at least Lothor would be buried, too. Sorcery hit the rock and shattered it. When dust had settled, Lothor was staring at her, his hands spread wide, ready for battle if she chose. "Only I can heal him in time, Keleios."



She stood carefully, hands ready, sorcery bubbling just below the surface, "If Tobin dies, you die."



"And you will die in killing me. And we will all be dead, including the little girl."



Keleios cursed quietly, "Urle's holy fire, Loth's blood! You know I can't let them die."



Lothor allowed himself a small smile.



She glared at him. "Know this, black healer, if we bargain, you may get what you want, but I will make your life a living hell."



His eyes grew cold. "I expected nothing less out of this."



Keleios continued, "I will not be your consort but you be mine. For the life of my friend and the child, you be my consort, according to Astranthian laws."



He nodded. "If our child is a boy, he goes with me; a girl, she stays with you."



"No, we raise the child together according to my customs, or at least not Loltun customs."



"That isn't acceptable, Keleios. If it is a girl, I will have no use for it."



"But I will have a use for my child, male or female."



"It will be my child, too."



"If you keep reminding me of that, I will let them die before I consent."



A rumbling sounded far off, and Lothor shifted nervously. "Agreed. I will be your consort, and we will raise the child together."



She added, "And not according to Loltun customs."



He nodded. "Not according to Loltun customs. You must swear, Keleios Nightseer, swear that we will be consorts after we escape." He drew a large hunting knife. "I want a blood oath for it. That way you can't kill me without destroying yourself."



She started to argue but the very floor shuddered. "Agreed, but get on with it. And remember, this oath covers our entire bargain; you can't run away with our son if we swear this. You will be just as bound as I."



He drew off his left gauntlet and sliced his palm. He stared at the bright red blood and sliced her right hand. They clasped hands, and he spoke slowly, "By our mingled blood let us swear, and if we lie, let the gods beware of it. Let the hounds of Verm and the birds of Loth circle us if we bear false oath."



With a few simple words they were bound.