Wrath of a Mad God ( The Darkwar, Book 3)

For the first time in his life, since meeting Macros the Black on Sorcerer’s Island, – back when Pug was only a simple squire in Lord Borric’s court at Crydee Castle – Pug saw confusion and uncertainty in Macros’s face. ‘Nakor is right. We are embarking on the most dangerous undertaking attempted in this, or perhaps any other, world. There is a being who calls itself the Dark God of the Dasati, who endangers not only this world, but countless others. And we are going to stop it.

 

‘I am not going to attempt such an undertaking rashly, and waste the lives of myself and my friend and my son because someone else wants us to act the part of mindless dupes. I need to know who is truly the person responsible for all this.’

 

Magnus said, ‘We need to know who controlled the White before you.’

 

‘I…’ began Macros, then he faltered. He shook his head. ‘I left my home, in a quadrant of the city not too distant from here, and I took the Star Bridge to another world. Mathusia. From there I travelled to… a place. I don’t remember where, but when I got there, they were expecting me!’

 

‘What sort of place was it?’ asked Nakor.

 

‘A Bloodwitch enclave,’ said Macros softly.

 

‘Then we must speak with whoever is in charge of the Bloodwitch Sisterhood.’

 

‘Lady Narueen?’ asked Magnus.

 

‘No,’ said Nakor. ‘She is important, but she’s not in charge.’

 

‘How do you know that?’ asked Pug.

 

‘Because whoever is in charge isn’t having babies and hiding out and risking being killed by crazy Bloodknights. Whoever’s in charge is somewhere very safe telling others to go out and take risks.’

 

‘Father’s in charge of the Conclave, and he certainly takes risks.’

 

Nakor grinned and even through his false alien visage, the smile was all his own. ‘Your father, at times, is not the sanest man I know, but on our world, it’s rarely the case that when you step outside the door of your home, everyone and everything is trying to kill you.’

 

‘Rarely,’ Pug agreed dryly.

 

‘Where are the Bloodwitches’ leaders, Macros?’ asked Nakor.

 

‘On the other side of this world, in a hidden valley in a mountain range called the Skellar-tok.’

 

‘Then we’d better get started,’ said Nakor. ‘If we don’t take these Lesser servants with us, we can travel faster.’

 

Macros laughed. ‘One more night won’t make a difference. I need to rest, and you do as well, though not so much as I do. Besides, I need to remain here until word of what has occurred reaches us. I may be someone else’s idea of a dupe, but I am still the leader of the White and I need to know my people are safe and ready to serve.’

 

‘One night,’ agreed Pug. Looking around, he said, ‘While it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept outside, I don’t imagine you brought us here to this grove just to sleep on the ground.’

 

Macros shook his head and laughed. ‘No. There is a hidden entrance to an underground safe haven over there. It’s a little… lacking in amenities, but it will serve until morning.’ He led them to the workers’ shed, and opened the door. Inside two Lessers stood waiting, both armed, which was unusual for those of their rank, and Macros motioned them aside. He waved his hand and Pug felt magic coalesce in the air. A trio of planks in the floor vibrated and then vanished and suddenly a flight of narrow steps led down into the gloom. With another wave of his hand, Macros caused light to appear at the bottom of the steps and down they went. Whatever the two guards left above might think about all this went unspoken, as they resumed their duties of protecting everything in this nameless shed without a word.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINE - Discoveries

 

 

JIM DUCKED BEHIND A BOULDER.

 

Not for the first time since leaving the elves, he cursed himself for a fool. Up till now, one of the things that had made him both successful and dangerous was an optimism bordering on the foolhardy, a sense there was nothing he couldn’t do once he put his mind to it. Blessed with mental agility as well as a physical quickness bordering on the supernatural, he could quickly assess situations and make snap judgments that were almost always correct.

 

But it was those occasional moments when he wasn’t correct that had nearly got him killed over the years. This time, he was certain this was going to be one of those moments if he made a wrong move.

 

He had considered the location of the trail taken from the beach up to the elves’ stronghold, and where the ships lay at anchor on the opposite side of the peninsula and had judged a game trail up into the mountains they had passed along the way to Baranor a likely route over the crest – he had even spied a gap in the peaks in the moonlight and was feeling confident of his choice. His only concern at that time had been either other elven pursuers, which he doubted, or those wolf-riding creatures, of which there had been no sign.

 

Until he almost walked into their encampment.

 

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