She smiled wistfully, and quickly kissed him on the cheek.
“I suppose you know how I feel,” she said. “As long as you’re not certain of what is in your heart, then I should keep my distance. But when you think you’ve decided…” She laid her hand on his chest and swayed suggestively close. “I’ll be waiting.”
Gaelin flushed and carefully stepped back. “I feel like a fool,” he said to no one in particular.
“At least you’re an honest one.” Seriene stooped to gather her things, and in a few moments they were leading their horses back over the crest of the hill. Gaelin could have sworn that Blackbrand was snorting derisively at him, as if to say, What on earth is wrong with you, Gaelin?
Seriene suddenly stopped, reaching up to catch Gaelin’s arm. He glanced over at her. She nodded down the slope of the hill. “Where are the guards?” she whispered.
It was dark, but Gaelin’s eyes were well adjusted to the gloaming, and the hillside was fairly clear. Down a little far- ther, he could see the half-dozen horses of their escort, standing around with their reins hanging loose. They hadn’t been tied off or secured, just left to wander. And there was no sign of their escort, except for one dark form that rose and stretched as the two of them watched. “What is going on here?” Gaelin said quietly.
The man below them turned and started up the hillside at a steady pace, glancing up at them. It was Madislav, his features dark and shadowed in the starlight.
“Madislav, what’s going on?” Gaelin called, pitching his voice just loud enough to carry. “Where are the others?”
“Them? Oh, I sent them away,” the Vos replied cheerfully.
“I did not need them around for this. I was getting bored waiting for you two.”
Gaelin sensed something terribly wrong. Something about the way Madislav looked at them, the easy swing of his arms, the purposeful stride… there was danger here. He took a half-step back and reached across Blackbrand’s saddle to put his hand on the sword hanging from the pommel. Seriene caught his worried look and stepped clear. “Madislav, what’s going on?” he said.
The Vos climbed toward them. “I will explain in a moment,” he said with an upward glance.
Gaelin drew his sword with one fluid motion, the steel ringing from the sheath. “Why don’t you stop there and explain?” he said, his voice steady.
Madislav raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Quick to draw steel on an old friend, are you not?” With an exaggerated gesture, he raised his hands and spread them open. “After all, I am unarmed.” He mumbled something under his breath.
Seriene shrieked. “Gaelin! Watch out!”
With a word, the wizard circled his hands and flung a gesture at Gaelin. From his outstretched fingertips five coruscating spheres of blue light leapt away from him. Four spheres raced at the young prince, while one altered course and streaked toward Seriene. Before Gaelin could even blink, the bolts crashed into his body, striking the center of his torso. He barely noticed when the bolt directed at Seriene suddenly vanished in a flash of silent light.
Pain doubled Gaelin up and sent him tumbling headlong down the hill. He fell and rolled about twenty yards, sliding to a stop against a set of low, mossy rocks that caught and turned his ankle viciously. His stomach burned as if he’d been branded with a torch, and the smell of burnt cloth and flesh reeked in his nostrils.
Dizzily, he rolled over and looked back uphill. He saw Madislav staring at the princess, a deep scowl on his face. “I did not know you were a mage,” the Vos said in a menacing voice.
Seriene still stood between the horses, near the hill’s crest.
There was fear on her face, but she controlled it. “Nor had I thought you might study the art,” she replied. “Or are you really Madislav at all?”
The Vos boomed laughter. “You are not thinking that I am being someone else in here?” he said. With deliberation, he began another enchantment, letting the ancient words roll forth in a resounding cadence. Seriene began one of her own, her voice high, shrill, and desperate. A heartbeat later, the night was split by a brilliant flash of light as a great bolt of lightning stabbed at Seriene with a crackling roar. But the spell did not strike her, as an invisible shield parried the blow and sent it streaking wide. Beside her, both horses reared in panic, and she ducked out of the way of their flailing hooves.
In that instant, Bannier sprang like a tiger, surging up the hill in three great bounds. Seriene saw him charging and started to bark out the words of another spell, but Bannier hammered her with one colossal fist. The sorceress spun and fell, knocked senseless by the blow. “Fight wizards with swords, and fight swords with wizardry,” he remarked. He glanced down the hill at where Gaelin was just now regaining his feet. “Don’t leave yet, Gaelin. We’ve places to go, you and I.” He raised his hands, preparing another spell.
Gaelin stood unsteadily, one hand clamped over the burning wounds in the middle of his body, his sword still in his hand. The Vos was still more than fifty feet away, and uphill at that; he’d never reach him in time to prevent the spell, and he couldn’t throw his sword with any accuracy. He took a step forward and demanded, “Who are you? What have you done with Madislav?”
Bannier paused, his hands still ready with the spell. Behind him, the horses still plunged and danced, whinnying in fright. He grinned at Gaelin. “This body is indeed Madislav, but I am not,” he said. “The barbarian’s mind is entrapped in a gem in my stronghold, and my own body sleeps there too.”
“Bannier,” breathed Gaelin. “I should have known.”
“Your observation is correct,” Bannier said. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I need to deprive you of your powers of movement and speech.” He raised his hands again.
For an instant, Gaelin was transfixed by panic. Then he cried out, “Blackbrand! Kick!”
Behind Bannier, the great black war-horse reared and lashed out with his hooves, hammering the Vos with a pair of crushing blows. One hoof clipped the side of Bannier’s head, and he pitched forward, rolling down the hillside in a nerveless tangle of arms and legs. He came to a stop spread-eagled on his back, a few yards away from Gaelin. Even before he stopped sliding, Gaelin was standing over him, sword poised at his friend’s throat. Blood streamed down the side of Bannier’s face. “Bannier! Release your hold on Madislav, or I swear by Haelyn, I’ll – ”
“You’ll what?” coughed Bannier weakly. “Run your friend through? Open his throat, instead? What will you do, Gaelin?” Bannier’s eyes were unfocused and filming, and his arms and legs trembled uselessly.
Gaelin blinked, still holding the sword at his throat. Tears blurred his vision. “I’ll cut his tongue out before I let you speak another spell with his mouth,” he promised darkly.
Bannier managed a weak chuckle. “Don’t bother. You’ve broken his back. Can’t move. And my head feels funny… this body’s ruined, I think.”
Gaelin dropped to his knees, still threatening Madislav with the sword. “Be damned to Azrai’s hells, then, Bannier. If Madislav dies, he’ll be glad to know you’re dying with him!”
“Sorry, Gaelin… doesn’t work that way. My own body’s just fine… I’ll be back there in a flash, faster than thought… though you’ve parried this thrust nicely.”
Gaelin’s voice broke in a heaving sob. “Damn you! Why?”
“Needed the Mhoried bloodline.” With a great effort, Bannier held off dying for a few more minutes, his eyes burning brightly in Madislav’s sagging face.
“Bannier, you were my friend, my teacher! How could you do this to my family?”
“If you’d continued your studies, I would have shown you marvels, Gaelin. Terrors and glories unimaginable. I made a bargain, and the Mhorieds were the price I was to pay.” He sagged back, blood welling up in his mouth. “Listen to me, Gaelin. I have your sister. And I’m growing tired of trying to catch you. Surrender yourself to me, or she will die in ways that you can’t even imagine. It’s you I want. Give up, and I’ll let her go. I’ll even make sure Tuorel never finds her.” He coughed and spat blood. “I swear by the Face of Evil that she’ll die by the next full moon if you don’t leave this place and come to me.” His eyes burned intensely into Gaelin’s own for a moment and then began to fade. “Your choice, Gaelin,” he breathed, and fell still.