Alaric pointed without bothering to look. All heads turned in that direction. Dradyn had slowly tried to melt to the back of the crowd since the Co'nane first appeared. He stood frozen, eyes wide and uncharacteristically terrified.
"Come, my servant." Alaric beckoned, his eyes still fixed on Marcellus.
Dradyn knelt before Alaric without hesitation. "How may I serve, Great Lord?"
"Let Lord Admorran know what awaits him."
Marcellus felt his heart sink when Dradyn turned to him. Shame rippled in the man's eyes, but his mouth spoke the commanded words. "There is no point in resisting, milord. The Co'nane are our masters. It is in our best interest to submit."
Marcellus directed the nearest men nock their arrows and aim at the Co'nane. "You break the banner of truce. It's obvious that you control him somehow. Release him or die."
Alaric did not appear concerned. "I break nothing. He is the one that has revealed your location time after time, betraying you without hesitation. Did you think you avoided my grasp? I have known your every move, seen your every plan through the eyes of my servant."
Dradyn wilted under the accusing glares of the Companions, appearing on the verge of tears. Marcellus was sure Dradyn was the reason Yanus found them in the snowstorm. It should have been obvious they had a traitor on the inside. How he had missed that was beyond him.
Tears slid freely down Nyori's cheeks. "Dradyn. How could you?"
Dradyn's face contorted in shame. "I never meant to. I didn't know—"
"There is much you do not know." Alaric gazed only at Marcellus. "You dare to rise up against your masters. You have no idea what the cost of your arrogance will amount to."
I will kill him myself. The pulsing cloud of darkness that was the Reaver swelled inside of Marcellus' chest.
His muscles knotted with the pressure of resisting the Reaver's attempts to seize control. He turned his attention to Alaric. "You're in no position to make threats. If you haven't noticed, you are at the graces of my mercy right now. And I am not in the most merciful of moods."
Alaric looked at the arrows as if just noticing them. He frowned ever so slightly.
Every arrow and bow pointed at him snapped in two. The men staggered from the sudden release of tension and fell back in astonishment as their weapons scattered to the ground.
Alaric's voice was soft and deadly. "Thus I shall break you, if any should point a weapon at the Blood again. I am the King of the Co'nane. You are merely men. You shall know your places should I set sight upon you again."
"Is that why you came?" Marcellus' smile was grim. "To drive fear into our hearts? You're wasting your time."
"No." Alaric gazed again at the throngs that surrounded Marcellus. "I came for the Shama." He stared intensely at Nyori, who flinched as though struck. "It has not been long for you, Nyori of Halladen. But it has been so very long for me. Long have I anticipated the moment when we could finish matters unsettled between us."
Confused mutters rippled through those in earshot. Marcellus felt puzzled as well. He still did not understand what had happened between Alaric and Nyori, only that the Aelon lord desperately wanted to gain possession of Eymunder.
"I will make you a bargain, Nyori." Alaric focused only on her, as though the entire army of thousands was inconsequential. "And we will see what you place your value upon. If you surrender Eymunder to me right now, I will spare the lives of all of these people. No one will need to die. No battlefields will be full of charred and broken bodies."
Marcellus spoke through gritted teeth. "You make a bargain with the wrong person." He winced as a scream rent through his mind.
Kill him. The Reaver's voice was muffled thunder. Our mistress must be obeyed. We must fulfill our purpose.
Ignoring the phantom voice was like ignoring a needle stabbed through his eye. He desperately tried not to let the strain show on his face. "The Shama does not lead this army. I do."
"I am not finished with the details." Alaric's gaze never left Nyori's face. Her eyes were wide as though transfixed. "You wish to stop these akhkharu? Then you will find an ally in me."
"You would have us believe that you are not in league with the akhkharu?" Nyori said. "It was your servants that sought to slay me more than once."
Alaric shook his head. "Not mine, Shama. There are rebel divisions among the Sects. They are the ones who attack your kingdoms. They are the ones responsible for the death of your king. Those who came after you are my enemies. They sought to destroy you and gain Eymunder for themselves, so I could not accomplish the goal that eluded me so many years ago when you removed it from my grasp."
Nyori leaned forward as though trying to read Alaric's face. "Why would you risk so much to come to us? Is Eymunder so important to you?"
Alaric lowered his voice. "Eymunder is only half of the puzzle, Nyori. You have the staff. I have the other piece. Together they can be used to reverse the malady that afflicts my people."
Nyori's hand drifted unconsciously to the pouch at her side. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Alaric's lips twitched. "Your pretense is amusing. You know of what I speak, though it has not been seen in over an Age. I have the Tome of Apokrypy. The one originally owned by Teranse the Theurgist. The cipher to unlock its secrets can only be unlocked by Eymunder. I only need to heal my people. Think, Shama. There will be no need for war if the Co'nane no longer prey upon human life. We need not be enemies when we can be allies instead."
Marcellus pulled his horse closer to Nyori. "You speak pleasant tales, your Majesty. But you forget we have your handiwork. The deeds of the servants are the same deeds of the master. And what black deeds have been done in your name."
The Reaver felt as close as Marcellus' shadow. Kill him!
Alaric displayed emotion for the first time when he glowered at Marcellus. "Are your hands not stained with blood, Knight of Kaerleon? Do you not serve at the bidding of Leilavin, who once stood at Stygan's right hand? I offer terms of peace. Would you spurn them just to lead men to their deaths?"
Marcellus opened his mouth, then hesitated. What if what Alaric said was the truth? Negotiation was a method he had not even considered in his haste to attack Alaric's kingdom.
What if I'm merely compelled by the Man with Mirrored Eyes or the urges of the Reaver? How can I trust that my actions are my own?
A vision of mirrored eyes flashed across his mind, and a new voice whispered, terrible in its familiarity.
You cannot think to contest me…
In that exact moment, the Reaver attacked.
Marcellus reeled as his vision darkened and the roiling presence inside of him burned his insides with fire. A groan escaped his clenched teeth as he doubled over with waves of agony pulsing through his veins.
Alaric's eyes widened, and he raised his hand. "No. You must fight it, Marcellus. Fight Leilavin's control!"
Marcellus tried. But he felt the malevolent force burst through his defenses like pus through a malignant boil. He swayed in the saddle, locked in a battle unlike any he had ever experienced. He fought against the darkness that boiled inside of him. He fought to retain his own existence.
And the Reaver was stronger.
Alaric's escorts drew him back protectively as they stared at Marcellus in outright terror. They became smaller somehow, as though they shrunk before his eyes. His vision dimmed further as the horse underneath him morphed into something unnatural. His companions drew back, shouting and trying to settle their terrified mounts.
Alaric's face hardened as he turned toward the curtain of dirty fog. The air thickened with wild howls. Phantom figures sprang from the mists, pressing wildly against the disorganized soldiers.