The Lady's Man (49 page)

“You can master the shapes and you can hold the magic within you. But before all else you must first master your emotions. You have to remember that Mayfall is dead and gone. And that he exists only in one place; the darkness of your heart.”

“You are not fighting Mayfall. You are fighting the Nameless, and he cannot be fought. All you can do is show it the truth of itself.”

“Now eat and gather your strength, and in a little while we will start again.”

Yorik quietly took his seat by the fire, feeling ashamed of himself. He was supposed to be a paladin of the Order of the Lady, and yet deep down inside he was nothing more than a wild heart barbarian. A savage filled with hatred and anger. And he knew that the wizard was right. That was who he could not be. Not if he was to have any chance of winning.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Thirty Seven.

Ten days later they reached their destination and Yorik was grateful for the sight of the elven village ahead. More than grateful. He'd spent fifteen long days in the saddle, wondering for all that time how many more towns and cities Mayfall was destroying when he should be stopping him instead of riding.
If
he could stop him. Soon that challenge would be upon him and he prayed to the Lady and all the gods that he was able to do what needed to be done. But at least then he could finally
do
something instead of just riding and practising his spells.

He was tired and sore. Fifteen days in the saddle since they had met with the slyph had taken a lot from him. But the fifteen nights spent around a fire mastering the half dozen magical shapes that Myral and the Lady thought he should know had helped. He was stronger now. He knew how to hold the Lady’s magic within him. To use it sparingly and well. He was not a wizard but he had some ability, and they were teaching him how to use every bit of it. He was also learning how to master his emotions. Naturally he was exhausted. But he had hope.

The village ahead looked like any other elven village to him. Not that he had seen a lot of them to compare it with. But there was a clearing in the forest filled with crops and grazing animals, while the homes were built into the trees surrounding it. One thing was different though. This clearing was filled with tents. Thousands of tents, most of which looked as though they had been built by children and blind men using whatever scraps of material they could find.

These Yorik guessed, must be home to the survivors from Hammeral, or some of them at least, and the fact that there were so many tents brought him hope. After having been to the city he hadn't known who or how many had lived, but he had feared it would be only a few. At last he had some evidence that it was more than that and the sight lifted his spirits.

There was another sight that brought him cheer. There were a lot of people waiting for them and some of them were wearing the gold. It appeared that some of his Order still lived and he was infinitely grateful for that.

“What is this place?”

For once it was Myral asking the questions, and Yorik found that a little amusing. He had to take his amusement wherever he could. After fifteen days in the saddle riding hard, his body was a mass of pain. He was saddle sore as he hadn't been since he was a young boy first learning to ride. These acornia were simply so powerful and so broad that riding them was an exercise in pain. And his body still hadn't fully recovered from the hammering Mayfall had given him. His shoulder and back still ached. He suspected they always would. There was only so much healing a man could do even with magic to aid him.

Still, they had ridden nearly four hundred leagues in fifteen days. That was an amazing ride. The acornia were everything the wizard had said they were and more. They could run a league in far less than ten minutes and then only needed a few more to recover. And even when they were recovering their breath they trotted far faster than a normal horse. Yorik had never seen a unicorn before; he’d only ever heard the tales of them as had most people. But if these were half of their blood and this powerful, it made him think that the tales of their sires he had heard were not exaggerated at all. If anything they were too modest.

“Andalia. A small village maybe ten leagues south of Hammeral.”

Of course he had never heard of the village before. He was only working on what the Lady had told him as she guided them home. And its name didn't really matter anyway. It was the end of their journey. That was what mattered.

They cantered the last third of a league to the elders waiting for them, the acornia even after all their days of being ridden hard still impossibly strong. Then again, maybe they guessed that the journey was nearly over. If anything they seemed even more eager for the run than before.

Yorik was eager too, especially when he recognised some of those waiting. Annalisse was there standing in the middle of the group and he was happy to see her. She was irascible and critical and probably still annoyed with him for one thing or another, yet seeing her ahead he was suddenly glad to know she lived. And maybe that was in part because he knew that if she lived than others from Hammeral lived. She would surely have given them advance warning.

Standing beside her was Father Rubrecht and the sight of the priest lifted Yorik's flagging spirits. A familiar face. At least someone from his chapter was alive. The times couldn't have been easy for the cleric though. He looked to have lost some weight since Yorik had last seen him, and his robe was torn and dirty, something he would never normally have abided.

Beside him stood Commander Latray of the West Brookland chapter of the Order. The last time Yorik had seen him had been in the Ender's Fall chapter when Ascollia and Genivere had walked in with him to deliver their message. He looked older than before, his face more deeply lined than Yorik remembered, even though it had surely only been a few months back. But maybe that was just tiredness. For Yorik though his aged look was less of a shock than the fact that he was standing beside Father Rubrecht in place of Commander Elron. That worried him. Where was the commander?

There were other paladins standing there as well, but not of the Order of the Lady. He saw the shining silver armour of the Silver Order, the sword and shield of Lyrin the Just, and even the red of the Order of Kyla – something he was sure had never before been seen in elven lands. The only order missing was the Iron Hand, and that he could guess was because they were under attack. But even if they hadn't been, they wouldn't have been there. Defending the weak was never their calling. Neither was fighting battles they couldn't win.

The others were elves, most of whom Yorik couldn't place though he thought he recognised a couple of their faces. But their white hair and the fact that they were waiting for them told him that they were elders. The Lady had said they would be met and she would never have suggested that they be met by just anyone when their mission was so important. A couple of the elves he was sure were from Hammeral. He'd seen their faces in the Council Chamber there even if they hadn't been introduced. A building that now like the rest of the city was a burnt out ruin. At least it was more evidence that others had survived.

Beside the receiving party stood a patrol of rangers. They were already mounted up and looked as though they were prepared to ride.

“Elders.” Yorik greeted them as he brought his steed to a halt and dismounted. He even managed a small nod.

“Enough child! There is no time for pointless manners.”

Annalisse spoke up before anyone else could speak, and then walked over to him and started poking and squeezing him as though he were a fruit being checked for ripeness.

“You're too thin, and still sore. Do your injuries still trouble you?”

Yorik would have said that they would have troubled him a lot less if she stopped poking and prodding him, but he was too slow and she had already moved on to his companion.

“And you old fool. Have you not been tending to him properly? Has he not been eating well?”

“Have you not met the boy before woman? He has the stubbornness of a mule – and the wit of one as well.” The wizard smiled at Annalisse and then embraced her. “He does not have the thought to eat properly. But at least he knows enough to train. He has taken to his lessens well.”

Yorik hoped he was right about that. He was sure that his mastery of the shapes was as good as it was going to get. And that he could use them as he needed to. But his anger and pain were another matter. They were his enemy. Not the creature wearing the face of Mayfall. But remembering that was difficult. Especially when Myral kept throwing the illusion of Mayfall in his face whenever he wasn't expecting it.

“I hope so.” Commander Latray suddenly spoke up. “But there is only one who can speak the truth on this.”

“Yorik, son of Heric.” The commander looked straight at him, his face one of complete seriousness. “We need to stop this thane. The destruction he has caused is already terrible. The number of dead are beyond counting and there is no end in sight. We have been told that the only way we can stop him is to place you in his path.”

“But this will require everything from you. All that you have and all that you are. It will need for you to finally put aside your vengeance and become once more a paladin of the Order of the Lady. You must serve life and love only. You must be completely true to the vows you swore so long ago. And you must know in your very bones that the instant you give in to your anger you will break those vows. In doing so you will betray us all.”

“Are you ready for that? Are you capable?”

“Yes.”

Yorik held his stare and gave him the answer he needed and knew it for the truth. Not because he actually knew it for the truth but because he knew it had to be. If he knew nothing else he knew he had to be the paladin he had once been. For too long he had been something else. Something he wasn't proud of.

“Good.” Commander Latray crossed the few paces between them and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

“Your vow is sworn and the compact once more is made here in front of these witnesses. You are held to it. Now these rangers will escort you to the camp. And for this part of the journey at least you may rest.”

Apparently they were serious about the rest part. Because when Yorik looked around, it was to see that a wagon had been prepared for them. Straw mattresses were already laid out in the back, and he guessed that they knew just how tired he was. Maybe they even guessed how sore he was from all the riding.

“You will remain at the camp overnight, to heal and recover your strength, and in the morning you will face the thane. All our hopes will stand with you.”

“Thank you Commander.”

Yorik nodded his acceptance of his mission knowing that for the moment he was still a paladin. It was surprising how much that meant to him, even then. Perhaps that was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong to him. It felt very right. For too long he had failed to live up to his vows, but now it was finally time to do so. To become a paladin once more.

“Ride with the Lady.”

The Commander gave the formal farewell he would give to any paladin being sent off on a mission, and then turned on his heels to walk back to the others, his duty done.

After that it was time to go. Yorik hadn't realised that he would have to leave so soon. He didn't know where the camp was or where he would have to face the thane – though he could guess the last. But he knew that he had been dismissed. He bowed politely to the assembled and turned on his heels.

As he walked over to the wagon Yorik found himself flanked by Myral and Annalisse. He wondered if they were coming with him or just seeing him off.

Thirty beats of a heart later and they were standing in front of the wagon, and Annalisse was looking serious. He guessed she too had something to say.

“A warning before you leave. One for you above all others Yorik. You are trying to put all thoughts of anger behind you.”

Annalisse seemed concerned for some reason. She didn't seem to understand that he had moved beyond anger. Mostly. That the only thought in Yorik's soul was the desire to end this. Whether he was responsible for the thane's arrival in the world or not he could not allow any more people to be hurt. That had to be his only consideration. Life and love.

“I am. I've been training to control my emotion.” And he had been. Working as hard as he could so that whenever Myral threw the image of the dark wizard at him he didn't react. But it wasn't easy. He controlled the rage, but he still wanted desperately to kill him. To run him through again and again and again.

“No. I don't think you understand.” She stared at him, hands on her hips, lips pursed in concentration, studying him closely. “And you will fail if you do not.”

“The anger is still strong within you. Hidden, forced down by guilt and shame and horror, buried under long nights of training and covered over with desperation. But it has not gone away. In fact it is stronger than ever. And when you see him, when you see the thane it will be hard for you to control it.”

“I
will
control it.”