Remnant of Power

Chapter Fifty-three

Yavenna

Pulling her cloak around her, Yavenna followed Gared into the castle. Four soldiers stood inside the doorway. They killed two of them and knocked the other two unconscious, but they bound the hands and wrist of each of them.

Gared turned to Yavenna, "Do you remember where he is?" She nodded. I'm glad he's with me, she thought, even if he's a horrible pig, he's very strong for a human. She shoved her axe into its case, and ran forward, gripping her sword tightly. Gared followed her up two flights of stairs, one after another.

As Yavenna ran along the corridor past her suite thoughts of Sharva came flooding into her mind, but she blanked them, trying to focus only on Mal. She almost flew up the next two flights, and when Gared reached the top, she pointed along the corridor.

"He should be down there. The fourth room along. I'll see you in a minute." Then she ran off.

"Yavenna!" He called her. "Where're you going? Don't go off on your own, wait for us." But she shook her head and raced down the corridor in the other direction, treading as softly as she could.

At the top of the final flight of stairs a group of soldiers stood chatting and laughing together. Pulling her cloak tightly over her face, Yavenna crept around the back of their group and tiptoed up the staircase. She didn't think they'd see her; could it be Ithrim blood that gave her the gift of concealment? She tried the door at the top of the stairs. Finding it unlocked, she opened it a fraction. A breath of air wafted through the crack, and with it came the foul stench she'd smelt before. But this time, like a fist punching her stomach, she felt a shock of such fear she thought her legs would give way. Battling against the urge to vomit again, she desperately swallowed the saliva flooding her mouth. What on earth did she think she was doing? It was ridiculous that she'd come here.

The door was still slightly ajar. She was too scared to move it in case it made a noise but then she heard footsteps. She stood trembling as the mage pulled the door open with a cackle.

Keeping his staff held high in the air he cackled again.

"Ha, the wilful Princess! Have you come to fight me, Gildron? Then you have come to your doom! Go find the King and beg him to keep you safe in his bed. Then you might just avoid a bloody death, like your pathetic maid." He lifted his staff and shouted a stream of unintelligible words. Yavenna's sword clattered to the floor. A gust of blue mist threw her against the door. But her fear had dissolved at his reference to Sharva. She sprang towards him, not letting herself look at his eyes and in one movement she ripped her axe out of its case and smashed it down on his foot. He let out a howl, and banged his staff down onto her right arm. She heard a crack, and dropped the axe with a grunt, as a spike of pain speared her elbow.

The mage stepped backward, leaving a smear of blood on the wooden floor, kicking her axe as he moved. She reached for her sword with her left hand, and rolled over to move away from him. She flashed a glance at him, desperately trying not to look at his eyes. She saw a grimace of pain break across his face, but he lifted his staff and barked a foul word. Yavenna was lifted straight into the air and dropped abruptly. She landed on her broken elbow, and the sharp agony made her drop the sword. As she desperately looked around for it she realized the dust had gone. At least while they were fighting he hadn't raised any more soldiers from the dead. The pain was worth it, then.

She staggered to her feet, then struggled to reach her sword. The mage limped towards her and swiped at her head with his staff, and she lunged downwards, saving her head from the blow, but taking it on her shoulder. The mage gripped his staff with two hands and smacked the end of it against her ribs. Yavenna screamed in pain. Scrabbling on the floor for her weapons, the truth of his earlier remark washed over her like a bucket of icy water. He was right, she had come to her doom; he was too much for her without the pendant.

As she scrambled desperately to her feet the door banged open. Twisting around she couldn't believe her eyes. Mal ran through the opening, sword in hand. He ran straight up to the towering fiend as if to stab him, but the mage raised his staff, and with an evil smile, spoke another foul word. Mal slammed to the floor. Shrieking, the mage crashed his staff down to produce a massive flash of blue lightening that hit the floor exactly half way between Yavenna and Mal, then he swapped his staff to his left hand and drew a huge curved sword from a loop on his waist. Mal was knocked backwards again, flat to the floor. Yavenna flinched with the shock of the noise and the light, but the lightening didn't reach her.

"Don't look in his eyes!" she screamed at Mal, praying she wasn't too late.

Gildron whipped around back to Mal. With a grunt, Mal hauled himself up, then suddenly twisted sideways and thrust his blade deep into the mage's side. The mage's expression changed to disbelief. He let out a roar and swung his scimitar down onto Mal's back. The weapon hit the top of Mal's back, ripping his shirt, then slid to Mal's side, tearing through his belt and cutting his flesh. The mage raised his staff and spat at Mal.

"You might kill Ulric," he croaked, "but you will never overcome my master." He swivelled around and sliced at Yavenna's legs. Toppling over, she struggled to get to her feet, a tiny gleam of hope rising in her heart as she saw Mal creep around behind the mage. I want to kill you, she thought, but even more than that I want to kill that bastard Ulric, so I am not going to die now. Summoning her last shreds of energy, she barged into him. Then Mal smashed his sword down on the back of the mage's neck. The mage fell to his knees and Mal smashed a second blow to his neck. Yavenna heard a snap and a terrifying wail; she shuddered at the noise of it. She pushed herself up from the floor with her left hand and looked down at the bloodied mage who was lying awkwardly, not moving.

Pushing her hair off her face with her left hand she looked over at Mal, then gently poked her right arm. A spear of pain shot through her limb and her head reeled.

Mal walked slowly over to her.

"Hello again. It's good to see you." He put an arm gently around her shoulder and helped her up and to her horror she felt little pricks of water start to fill her eyes.

"We made a good team, didn't we?" he squeezed her left hand and smiled slightly. But as he turned away his expression changed and she saw what looked like deep heartache carved into his face. What had happened to him? He walked to the edge of the roof and gazed for a minute over the city and the plain.

The door opened, and Yavenna's shoulders slumped. She had to get up quickly to fight, even if she did feel lightheaded from the pain. But it was Gared. Blood ran down his mail shirt and his helm was dented.

"I got rid of the guards," he said.

"Then I'm going to find the King. I told you what he did to Yoldas. I'm going to kill him" said Mal.

"Wait a minute, Mal, I need a drink." Yavenna shuffled along on her bottom. "We'll all go."

Mal shook his head. "No," he said, bending down to pick up Yavenna's sword. "I'll borrow this if I may, Princess?"

She tried to turn her head around to look at him. "I want to kill him too. He murdered someone I should've protected." Automatically, she put her right hand down on the ground to push herself up, but her arm gave way, and she let out a cry of pain.

Mal glanced at Gared. "Stay with her," and before either of them could reply he ran through the door.