your head,” Syth spluttered, gesticulating at Bellimar.
Amric sighed. “You know the situation as well as I, Syth,” he said. “Xenoth means to activate this Gate device and destroy our world. It would take us several days to ride there, even if we manage to recover the horses. On foot, it would take us much longer, and we would be without the provisions we lost in the packs that left with the horses. The land between here and there is crawling with Nar’ath and worse, and we have seen almost no water or game. We could detour to Keldrin’s Landing for mounts and provisions, but the city may be overrun. If the Nar’ath queen words were true, we would be marching right into the bulk of her returning forces as well.” He lifted his eyes to the other’s face. “When we rode to Stronghold, the forest became more and more dangerous the further in we went. According to Bellimar, the ruins of Queln are deeper yet into that forest. And if we survive the journey, we would likely be too late to stop Xenoth.”
Amric watched objection and doubt war in the man’s expression. “Do not misunderstand me, Syth,” he said. “I would be walking even now, if there was no other alternative. But Bellimar says he has another way, and I have to try.”
“By laying yourself open to him?” Syth asked in disbelief. “Are you mad? Do you even believe he can make you a match for the Adept?”
“I never made that claim,” Bellimar interrupted, his voice a raw, guttural growl. “I mastered sorcery over years––nay, centuries––of study and use. No, I can only implant a minute portion of my knowledge in the time we have, and even at the height of my powers I could not have faced the likes of Xenoth directly. I can give you the means to seek out the Adept, and perhaps the basic tools to live a few seconds longer than you otherwise would. The rest will be up to you.” He grinned. “You have a penchant for the unpredictable, swordsman, and for surviving against all odds. You will need it.”
“And what of you, Bellimar?” Amric asked. “Will you not fight with us at Queln?”
Bellimar shook his head, the death’s-head grin fading. “Regrettably, I cannot. I can no longer endure the direct touch of sunlight, as my protection from its effects was removed with the last vestiges of my curse. Dawn is mere hours away now, and we will consume most of that time in your preparation. I would be of no use to you, there.”
Amric’s eyes narrowed. “Then where will you go?”
“There is something more I must do, before I become lost entirely,” Bellimar said.
Amric regarded him in steady silence for a long moment. “I cannot let you become a plague on this world again, Bellimar. I will not stop one monster only to free another.”
The red eyes brightened, blazing with defiance, and the shadows gathered and rose to spread over them all like huge black wings. Valkarr and Sariel dropped into crouches, swords flashing free, but Amric did not move. Bellimar shuddered, faltered, and then sank back, his eyes dimming to their low, feral glow once more. “It will not come to that, warrior,” he said in a strained whisper. “You have my promise.”
Syth stared at Bellimar, and then rounded again on Amric. “Look at him! See the monster he has become, the fiend of legend once more. If you let him in, how do you know that he will not strike at you while you are vulnerable? What assurance do you have that he will ever relinquish your mind once he is in there?”
“Only my word,” Bellimar hissed. “And the fading strength of my will. We should be about this, before I lose even that. Look to the east. Our time draws short.”
Amric followed his gaze. The clouds extended in a ceiling high above, churning like a storm-tossed sea. In the wasteland, the cover had thinned, and fitful gaps had appeared, permitting the light of the moon and scattered fragments of star-flecked night to show through. Far to the east, however, the clouds were knitting together, growing dense and dark. An ember glow flickered there among them, and Amric might have thought it the first touch of dawn if it were not still some hours too early. As he watched, he felt a curious tugging sensation, akin to the inexorable pull of the earth below him, but pulling at something within him