"Hold your ground!" Valdemar's tongue felt thick, his words slurred. A Dhamphir. Why here? Why now?
His command did not have the desired effect. The sound of his voice seemed to free the men of their paralysis, but they did not draw weapons to fight beside their lord. As one, the entire band fled, throwing frantic looks over their shoulders as they followed the trail left by the dogs and horses. Their terrified yells dwindled in the distance as fear fed their muscles, taking them swiftly away from the shadowy visage that breathed death and madness with every shuddering exhalation. In no time at all only the Dragonists remained with Valdemar, and even they appeared frozen, the swords in their hands unmoving as they stood rooted, fixed cold by the glimmering stare of the Dhamphir.
Then there was Gile Noman.
The grizzled mercenary's manner was casual as he guided his surprisingly placid horse beside Valdemar. "You'll be wanting to avoid eye contact with the Dhamphir, m'lord. That darkfear of theirs is a nasty thing. Oozes from their skin, it's said. Nearly paralyzing when they lock gazes with you. Does a job of triggering those terrors we tuck away deep inside." He eyed Ganbatar and Khidyr, who stood still as statues, their eyes wide, and sweat trickling down their faces. "Bloody nice trick, actually."
"I know what the Dhamphir are." Valdemar ruthlessly crushed the dread that sought to erupt from his chest. He tried to ignore the hovering creature, fixing Gile with his most furious stare. "But the fact that you know as well tells me that you have been hiding something from me, Gile Noman. You are no mere mercenary." Valdemar's hand gripped his sword hilt. "Who are you?"
Gile eyed Valdemar's gilded scabbard with a derisive sneer. "You won't want to do nothing rash, m'lord. After all, the High Lady won't be too pleased if you harm one of her trusted vassals."
Valdemar's eyes narrowed. "You serve the High Lady? I don't believe it."
"You will believe it." The voice from the shadows hissed as though a den of snakes housed in its throat. "Your Mistress has many servants, both high and low. You should know this by now, son of Basilis."
Despite himself, Valdemar shuddered. He slowly turned toward the shadow that haunted him. Deep in the thicket, a gaunt silhouette that might have been a man was barely distinguishable from its surroundings. Twin orbs glimmered dully from its face, pale eyes that pierced Valdemar with the intensity of their gaze.
"You are to return to Bruallia," the voice continued. "Your attention is needed at home. This hunt of yours is a wasted effort. My servant is here to assure that you go no further."
Above them, the Dhamphir squealed as though in response. The wings continued to batter the air, smothering them with the creature's stench and ripples of shivery fear.
Valdemar shook his head to clear it of the haze, his rage overcoming his dread. "I am mere hours away from capturing the man. He will not escape me. You must allow me this chance, or it will vanish forever!"
"No matter." The shadowy figure's answer ruthlessly crushed Valdemar's hopes without a hint of regret. "You think only of your petty feelings, like a child wailing over a broken toy. You were raised to be a conqueror, not some churlish lordling that places his interests over that of his duty. The High Lady has given this order. Your part is to obey without question. You do not wish to negate the bargain that assures you of the larger victory."
Valdemar's teeth gnashed together. "And what is to become of Marcellus Admorran? Is he to get away with his crimes unpunished?"
"The Champion of Kaerleon is the concern of Gile Noman now. He will see to it that the High Lady's orders are carried out."
Valdemar glared at Gile, who smirked back in return. For a moment, Valdemar seriously considered stabbing Gile to see if he could keep the insolent smile on his face with a blade rammed in his belly. But Valdemar dared not. The High Lady had stressed the consequences of disobedience, and her retribution was something that even Valdemar did not wish to arouse.
Valdemar gestured toward Gile. "The task of hunting Marcellus is given to this lowly criminal." The thought was nearly blasphemous. Returning home empty-handed would be the most difficult task Valdemar had ever faced. Having his prize handed to a treacherous ruffian like Gile was nearly worse.
"It is the High Lady's will." The shadow's voice hissed irritably. "Gile Noman has his assignment. Be satisfied with what you have."
Valdemar whirled, facing the indistinct figure. "And what do I have, other than humiliation and failure?"
The pale eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have your war. Be content with that. Return, and wait for your commands. Remember what it means to obey without question."
Valdemar met the unblinking stare for a long moment, fists clenching and unclenching. The phantom's dull eyes glimmered as it stared back impassively. Valdemar finally dropped his gaze, exhaling a shuddering breath. "As the High Lady orders, so I obey." Despite every fiber in his being screaming to do otherwise, he dipped his head in acquiescence.
"Guess this is where you and me part, m'lord." Gile's lopsided grin was wry. "Can't say it's been a pleasure. But I'll be sure to give Marcellus your regards when I put a dagger in his gullet."
Valdemar said nothing, refusing to allow Gile to bait him. His muscles clenched as he watched Gile lead his horse forward, following the trail left behind by Marcellus' grunnien until the looming shadows of the mountains swallowed him. As if on signal, the Dhamphir uttered a piercing shriek and shot upward, the ragged wings carrying it away with the swiftness of a rushing wind. Only its piercing cry remained, resounding off the stony crags as it swept across the passes.
The voice of the figure in the thicket rustled like a snake through dry leaves. "Remember who you are, son of Basilis. Obey, conquer, and triumph." The skeletal silhouette faded into the gloom, leaving only quivering shadows to mark its passing.
Armor creaked behind Valdemar as Ganbatar and Khidyr regained their senses. Ganbatar immediately turned to Valdemar.
"Lord Commander, are you hurt? What happened? I heard voices—"
Valdemar pulled away roughly. "I am unharmed. No thanks to either of you."
The two Dragonists dropped to their knees, their heads bowed. As one, they unsheathed their blades and offered them to Valdemar. "We have failed you," Ganbatar said, his eyes downcast. "Our lives are forfeit."
"Keep your blades and your lives," Valdemar said. "I still have use of them. What you faced was beyond human. Avoid the creature's eyes, and be prepared to embrace death should there be a next time." He glowered in the direction Gile had disappeared, battling an almost animal urge to follow. Instead, he roughly jerked the reins, turning his stallion the opposite direction. "For now, we return to Bruallia. I have business there that requires my attention."
The Dragonists slowly stood, Ganbatar with a bewildered stare at Valdemar. "We are giving up on tracking Marcellus Admorran? Even without the dogs, we can clearly see where he has—"
Valdemar locked gazes with his General. "Does the blade question whether it is to be sheathed or unsheathed? Have you forgotten what it means to serve blindfolded?"
"No. Forgive me, Lord Commander." Ganbatar bowed deeply.
"Then fall silent and obey." Valdemar spurred his horse and began the long, treacherous descent back down the mountainside. Wrapped in silence and quiet rage, he scarcely noticed where his horse led them. Every thought was of Marcellus Admorran, his imagination inventing a thousand tortures for when their paths crossed again. He knew it would happen. No matter what the High Lady desired, no matter what Valdemar's orders were, the time would come when he would see Marcellus again. It was inevitable.