"All high and mighty, the favorite whore of Gerrand."
Artus heard the slap and flinched.
"You will pay for that!" His voice snarled. Artus heard scuffling and a muffled noise. The perfume Faeya Ryr wore seemed to surround him. He could think of nothing else but her. He began to loathe Richard Brox, hate Richard Brox. Brox had no right to be so close to her!
Suddenly, a surge of energy washed through the corridor as Richard Brox pulled his power to him. Artus heard Faeya Ryr gasp, taken by surprise and unable to defend herself against the spell. The corridor now glowed with yellow light. Artus saw Faeya Ryr suspended in midair. He stood watching, his mouth moving without sound as his blood pounded in his chest and head. Without thinking he responded, pulling his own power into him and blasted Richard Brox with pure energy. Brox cried out briefly as his body smashed against the stone wall.
Brox returned the Mage fire but Artus had surrounded himself with his power and Brox's fire spilled off the shield onto the walls and floor. Again and again Artus struck wildly and Brox stumbled in his terror. Artus finally caught Brox with his full force, driving him to the ground. Brox's image became blurry, blending in with the yellow light. Artus kept it up as long as possible, but felt faint, staggered for a step and passed out.
When he came to, his father stood nearby, frowning at him. Gerrand and Tyman Stile argued in the corner where Richard Brox had been. Tyman shook his head as Gerrand gestured, Gerrand's face red with anger. Artus felt someone pat his hand. He turned to Faeya Ryr, smiling beside him.
"Thank you for saving me." She looked as pretty as always; no sign of the fight with Brox remained in her expression. Artus smiled.
"Brox?"
"Dead."
"I've killed him?" Artus' head throbbed.
"More than that, you stupid fool," growled Alec Endria. "You used sorcery to attack another Mage in the castle. You will be expelled from the Council."
"I did? Then it was necessary. Brox attacked Faeya Ryr."
"I don't argue that point, son. In fact, I am proud of you for your selfless action. But now, it is time to pay for that action. Before the night is over you will be expelled."
"Gerrand will think of something," said Faeya Ryr.
"It's his own damn rule. Tyman will be delighted to hold him to it."
"How can I be reinstated?" His hands shook so he folded his arms so no one would notice.
"After two years you may petition to become a member again. Two years!" Alec stomped off. Artus watched his father and sighed.
"He loves you, you know," said Faeya Ryr.
"I know. I just wish he didn't care so much about his status."
"He is really thinking about your status. But he is right; Tyman will force you out. You must start thinking about where you will go and what you will do. Do not say anything until Gerrand talks to you. I believe he could give you ideas."
Artus tried to stand but found himself unsteady. Faeya Ryr grasped his arm to steady him.
"Okay?"
He nodded. Gerrand approached wearing a somber face.
"So I am out?"
"I am sorry. At least Tyman agreed not to gloat over your father about this. Faeya told me what happened. I think you did the only thing you could."
"But at what cost?"
"You saved my life," said Faeya Ryr. "Is that worth less than membership in the Council?"
Artus looked to her; his face flushed. "I did not mean it that way. You both have been so kind, but it is difficult to gather myself together so quickly."
"You must," said Gerrand. He gripped Artus's shoulder. "You will leave at dawn. There are a number of tasks that you can attend to for me. Perhaps they will divert you and perhaps they will inspire you. I placed a spell on you when you were unconscious. In two days it will trigger and tell you everything you will miss at the council tomorrow. Be wary. Your road shall be no less perilous than ours. Trust no one. Now, get some rest. I shall see you off in the morning."
Artus numbly nodded. He watched Gerrand and Faeya Ryr walk off into the dimly lit corridor still faintly tinged with the aroma of sulfur.
The morning came too quickly for Artus Endria. The bright sunlight warmed his face through the dirty streaked windows. He stretched and dressed; splashing his face with cold water from the bowl on a table next to the bed. A servant knocked on the door just after sunrise. When he opened the door he found two stern guards with the servant.
"I'm sorry you have to leave, sir. These men will accompany you to the gate. There you will be given rations for two weeks."
Artus nodded. The servant watched him for a moment.
"I hope you return soon, sir."
"Thank you very much. I hope so too. Well, we must be off." He gathered his pack and followed one guard down the corridor. The other guard brought up the rear. The corridors seemed lighter; full of fresh air. His heart felt light and his back unburdened. Did the Council oppress him that much? Or was it the expectations of his father that weighed him down?
Gerrand and Faeya Ryr waited at the gate. Tyman Stile stood at a window of the keep smiling down at the scene. Alec Endria walked out of the shadows and hugged his son. He pressed something into Artus' hand. "For later, when you are alone."
It was a thick letter. Alec turned away, wiping his eyes. Artus put it in his cloak. Suddenly, the intoxicating fragrance surrounded him again.
"Artus, I wish you luck," said Faeya Ryr. "Your good deed will turn out well in the end." She hugged him and kissed him. He turned back and saw all the Mages watching at windows. Perhaps they were ashamed in his banishment for a deed they wished they would have the courage to attempt. Only Tyman Stile showed outward pleasure.
Gerrand took his arm and walked him through the gate. He stared long into the young man's eyes.
"Artus, I wish your experience was greater for I fear you may have a pivotal role in this great adventure before us." "What is happening?"
"Macelan returns," He whispered.
"Wha.." Gerrand covered Artus' mouth with his hand.
"Not now. Think on it. He will come from the mountains of Curesia, but in what form I cannot say. Speak to no one. Especially not Petyr Wolk. He spent much time in those mountains, never explaining why or speaking of it at all. He replied to questions about his doings with a blank stare. Now, he has not appeared here and Techna saw him on the road, but Wolk rebuffed him. That is where we stand."
"How do you know about Macelan?"
"I know much the Council does not know. You will learn the rest of the story from the spell I set. Remember; in two days find a secluded place so you can listen with all your facilities. I cannot guarantee that someone next to you will not hear my voice. Be alone and ward yourself. You must go now. Be strong, be true. This task will prove your place in the Council. Do not despair." He grasped Artus' hand.
"Thank you, Gerrand. I do feel better after your words. I shall do as you ask and find out as much as I can. How shall I relay information to you?"
"I will find you when the time comes. Do not fear. I shall keep an eye on you."
"How can you do that?"
"I learned much from Macelan. One such spell allows me to find anyone I want no matter where in the world they are."
"Then you know where Wolk is?"
"No, I do not. He is shielded from me. That is a trick he does not have the power to do so I am especially concerned. Plus, to block such a spell necessitates the knowledge of it. No one but you knows of this spell. That is one reason why I believe Macelan's eyes are watching this world. Be wary, be careful. Trust no one. Absolutely no one. Even if you see Faeya Ryr without me, do not trust her."
"Faeya Ryr? I don't understand."
"Trust and die. Remember that, Artus Endria. Times are treacherous. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Gerrand."
Artus waved to those at the gate and walked down the road intending to take the east road at the fork two miles away. He thought about Gerrand's words and found he was scared. How could he cope against such beings as Petyr Wolk? What of Macelan? Even though he knew Gerrand's age and acknowledged the reality of it, Macelan had been dead five hundred years. How could one comprehend such things?
He seldom traveled without his father. Was he really such a young man? Was this his first outing alone? He shook his head. Sweat began to ease its slow way down his forehead and he felt it under his hair. The pack was heavy; the Council proved generous.
The sun rose high overhead. He would need to find an inn or a nice quiet place by a creek where he could bathe the sweat off him. He never looked back after walking away from Gerrand. He felt his father's eyes on his back until he cleared the last hillcrest. For the first time in his life, he walked alone. He was not only leaving the Council and castle, but his home. The feeling, while unfamiliar, was uplifting. His steps came strong and certain; his future lay before him; and it gleamed with promise.
Gerrand bit his fingernails. It was an old habit but old habits were often the most enjoyable. The earthy taste was comforting, reminding him of his garden. Faeya caught his eye and frowned at him. He pursed his lips, wiping his fingers on his shirt. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He did not appreciate changing his habits for Faeya. Yet, he did it. Why was this happening to him? He had not changed anything in a hundred years. He grasped for understanding.
They waited for Tyman Stile and Techna Vole in the library. Tyman elected to meet with them before he spoke to the entire Council. Tyman exasperated Gerrand the way he called meeting after meeting to discuss subjects that did not require such formal atmosphere. Stile had been a court official before he found his talent for magic. Apparently, some skills never fade.
The door creaked open and Gerrand opened his eyes, surprised that he had nodded off.
"What is she doing here?" asked Tyman Stile as he walked into the room with Vole behind him. Stile set down a cup of streaming liquid. Gerrand frowned; he did not want to know what it contained. The aroma was more than he could stand.
"Good morning to you, too," said Faeya Ryr.
"She goes where I go," said Gerrand gruffly.
"Harrumph! Very well. Cehana is here, finally. She arrived just before dawn looking like something the cat got at. The fear in her eyes paralyzed me. I don't recall seeing her without that contempt in her expression. It had been scared completely out of her. She mumbled a few words then went straight to her room to sleep. I heard few details other than what she sent weeks ago. What little I did hear supports the need for this council. I wish I had overreacted, but that is not the case." He hovered over them, trying to gain the upper hand if only in appearance. Such things were important to Tyman Stile. He wished to be a power. The desire for power drove him to ignore good advice from Gerrand often.
"I could have told you that," said Gerrand. "I came here amazed that no one else could feel the stirrings in the world. I do not need to hear of a violent act of nature to know Macelan is awake. I feel his presence in the breeze. Can't you?"
"Unfortunately, I do not have the skill you possess. Also you knew Macelan and you have lived many more years than any of us. It is likely you have forgotten more spells than all of together hold in our heads. As it is, we must make do with any means to gather information. Cehana will speak first, and then I will briefly describe my proposal for the Council. Then I ask that you speak. Comment on Cehana's words and my own. Tell us what you remember of Macelan and the work that you did together. Tell of his failings and downfall. Then tell us what to do. If Macelan walks the earth again, how can we stop him? I admit differences with you, Gerrand, but this situation is grave. We must work together."
"I hear wisdom in your words, Tyman, much to my pleasant surprise. However, I feel there is an important aspect to consider. This return of Macelan's cannot be kept secret, especially if he is successful. The rulers of Anavar shall not lie idle, nor will they refrain from meddling in our affairs. They will want to conduct this as a military campaign and that we must avoid at all costs. It would camouflage Macelan's actions and make it so much more difficult for us to find him. I would not be surprised if Queen Beatrice has already gained much information on our activities from Alec Endria."
"Endria!" he snorted. His face paled as a thought suddenly hit him. "What about young Endria? What harm will he do?"
"He is not his father. Artus has no strong love for Queen Beatrice. He will not undermine our goals. I believe he will hover on the fringes of our activities in the hope of being asked to rejoin the Council. He has no political motives."
Stile raised an eyebrow at that comment.
"Tyman, what will be your proposal?" asked Faeya Ryr. Stile hesitated; surprised that she would speak at a meeting she had not been invited to. Then Stile decided to go the smooth road; he badly needed Gerrand's help.
"I will keep it to myself until the meeting. Frankly, there are a number of points I wish to consider again before I utter them. I do not want to sow confusion. The Council must have a strong and clear purpose in this endeavor."
"Yet we must follow your lead blindly?" asked Gerrand.
"Okay, okay. I propose a three prong action. One, to protect the castle and research the archives; two, to send word of warning to the kingdoms, and last, to directly contest Macelan."
"Fair enough," said Gerrand. "I don't see anything wrong with that."
"Good. The meeting will begin promptly on the hour." With those words he turned and left the room. Techna Vole, sighed, and then followed him.
"That was nearly a waste of time," said Gerrand, shaking his head. "He changes his moods so fast, it seems unlike him. Normally it would be months before he could make up his mind on an issue. I wonder what he is really up to."
"You don't believe his words?" She pretended to study her fingernails.
Gerrand sat silently, thinking. "I do not believe their meaning. There is no deceit in his words, but he left out something, I think. Tyman is positioning himself for something, but I cannot say what it is. We will have to wait and hear what he says at the meeting."