"Marcellus? I told you that—"
"Not him. Rhanu."
Nyori shook her head. "What am I to think of him? He appears to be a good leader. His men respect him."
"You did not sense anything?"
Nyori paused in thought. "When I first saw him…I felt the harbinger." She recalled the telltale quivers, as though a shivery chill had rippled across her shoulder blades.
"So your encounter was one of significance. Stay with him, Nyori. He is important, perhaps as important as Marcellus in the larger scheme of things."
"Important? How?"
Ayna's expression was thoughtful when she gazed as though her eyes could penetrate the snowdrifts and spy Rhanu out. "It is yet to be determined. But it seems he will need some guidance before he can be of use." Her gaze sharpened when it focused on Nyori. "Be wary, Nyori. Reserve your trust to a carefully chosen few." She stared the direction of Rhanu's band. "I sense ill eyes among you."
Nyori's heart quickened. "Thralls?"
"I cannot tell. But you should know by now there is no place of safety. Be as vigilant as you can until we meet again."
Nando lifted a hand. "Be careful, Nyori. We will return soon."
"When?"
Ayna's gaze was still on the opposite horizon. "It centers on Rhanu. I saw his arrival and his importance in the Eye of Everfell just before it was destroyed. The future is never certain, but Rhanu will need my skills at some point very soon. When that time comes, I will be there. That is all I can tell you. Be safe, Nyori."
Ayna left her white mare to Nyori before she strode into the forest with Nando. They vanished into the snow-covered tree line.
Nyori still stared at the forest when Marcellus returned.
Her hand went to her mouth when he rode into the camp with Rhanu. She wasn't prepared for her reaction. She had thought never to see him alive again. Yet he was there, looking much as he did before the horrific episode with Leilavin. Nyori had not realized how much she missed him until that moment. Everything of late had been so…unfamiliar.
Marcellus' arrival surprised the band, not unexpected considering how he had vanished without a trace the last time they saw him. Yet they welcomed him warmly, for they recognized the asset of an experienced warrior. Dradyn's smile was broad as he exclaimed loudly and pulled up to clap Marcellus on the shoulder.
Marcellus replied cordially, but there was a distance about him. His gray eyes were haunted and dull as unpolished steel. Yet it was his aura that caused her to feel as though shadow hands seized her by the neck. It pulsed from him like a dense fog, so thick she felt almost choked by it. He may have looked unchanged outwardly, but the Reaver still crouched within. She felt it inside, waiting. Hating. Fighting to be released. It was small wonder Marcellus looked so careworn.
One of the younger Huntsmen stepped toward Marcellus hesitantly.
"You are Marcellus? Sir Marcellus Admorran — the Champion of Kaerleon?"
"Once." Weary as he was, there was still no hiding the noble bearing in his shoulders, the dignity that depression could not erase. It was easy to imagine him in shining armor, resplendent and victorious.
The Huntsmen murmured excitedly. "They say you're the one responsible for everything," another said.
Marcellus frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"They say you left Kaerleon with a dead king and the kingdom in chaos. The provinces are rumored to be plotting rebellion, while the Lord General tries to control it all by enforcing the law severely, hanging traitors and seditionists daily."
Marcellus' eyebrows rose. "Oren is in charge?"
"There is no one else. Many rulers in the provinces would wear the crown if they could, but they are in fear of Oren's army. Yet he does not claim the crown for himself, only holds the stewardship. He has called for you to return to the kingdom, saying you will not be harmed. He seeks only fair justice, or so the word goes."
All eyes watched him expectantly. Nyori saw him try to keep his face smooth, his inner turmoil hidden.
He shook his head. "It is too late. The man you speak of is no more. My path lies in another direction. I am a hunter of akhkharu, the same as you."
He pulled a little away from the others to brood in silence as the men spoke in hushed whispers. Nyori saw a flicker of recognition when he looked up. As he approached, she felt the invisible shadow with him; an almost smothering presence that impelled her to grip the bridle tightly to stop her hands from shaking.
Marcellus calmly assessed her. "Among these Huntsmen, you stand out like a dove in the company of hawks, milady. I had expected you would have returned home."
"They were escorting me back to my home, but plans have changed. I go to Glacia now."
"Glacia? Why?" He paused and looked away. "I suppose because you must. Do not worry — I will not be in your company long. My task lies elsewhere."
"How is it that you are human again? I saw what happened to you, Marcellus."
He winced. "I would have spared you the sight if I could. But perhaps its best you know. That way you can get as far away from me as possible. My form changes, Nyori. In daylight, it is as you see me now. The Reaver is tied to the darkness of night, like the akhkharu. Their presence is what triggers the transformation. I can feel when they are near, sense where they hide among us. The Reaver takes care of them then."
"Do you…know what happens to you when your form alters? Do you remember anything?"
"Not much." Marcellus grimaced as though the recollection pained him. "I recall little of the Reaver's actions. When I awaken, it is as if from a shrouded dream. I recall little, and what I do remember is of fire and screams."
Nyori laid a hand on his arm. "There must be something that can be done to reverse this, Marcellus."
He looked at her sharply. "Reverse? This is what I chose, Nyori."
"In a moment of maddening grief—"
"In a moment of remarkable clarity." Marcellus pulled away from her. "You don't know me like you think you do. Vengeance is a harsh mistress, but I have served her gladly over the years. I have no problem doing so now."
Nyori felt a flush of anger. "You know who Leilavin is, don't you? She was an Acolyte of Stygan. Do you know what that means?"
Marcellus' eyes were empty, completely devoid of feeling. There was nothing there, no pain or sadness, not even the rage that she had seen before. "Stygan? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. With soul-sucking creatures and Death herself, why can't the Dreadlord make an appearance?"
"Leilavin is not Death, Marcellus. I think she was Aelon. Before she was…corrupted."
Marcellus shrugged. "Does it matter? You say she was an Acolyte of Stygan. As in she no longer is. So why should I not take advantage of the powers she has granted? I can destroy them, Nyori. I can bring their empire to its knees. And I can stop them from trying to kill you." Passion finally crept into his voice, but the shadow only darkened in his eyes.
He dropped his head as though he read her thoughts. "Stay away from me, Shama. You don't wish to be around what I have become."
His cloak billowed in the wind as he walked away, but she saw the flash of unspeakable pain his face betrayed. She could think of nothing to say, nothing that would bring the light back to his eyes. It was as though he faded right in front of her.
"Shama Nyori!"
Rhanu's face was furious when he spurred his horse over. "Where is your meddling mistress?"
She gave him a wary glance. "She had business to attend to."
His face darkened further. "Business? Business? She comes here, charms my men and takes over, leading us to Rham knows where. I only allowed it because she promised to lead us to this dark rider. Now she is gone? Barra!" He searched the surrounding woods. "What direction did she go? I have a mind to—"