The Riddle - Alison Croggon [80]
“Greetings, travelers,” said the man, and then he drew up his horse in surprise. “Cadvan!” he said.
“Nay,” said Cadvan, quickening his pace to pass them swiftly and making an odd gesture with his other hand. “You mistake yourself.”
“It is Cadvan of Lirigon,” said the woman, warding off Cadvan’s charm. “Don’t try to trick me with your wiles, Cadvan, lately of Lirigon; I’ve known you since you were a stripling.” She turned to her companion. “It’s the outlaws for certain, Namaridh. It was said Cadvan was traveling with a young woman.”
The other Bard drew his sword, at the same time casting a freezing spell. Maerad and Cadvan both glanced it aside, but Darsor and Imi stopped fast in their tracks as if they were made of wood. Maerad struggled to undo the charm, but it held fast. There was a short, almost embarrassed silence.
“I mislike this, Cadvan,” said Namaridh, looking at both of them apologetically. “It’s not that I feel any enmity toward you. It breaks my heart that a man such as yourself has seen fit to betray the Light. But you will have to come with us. You are declared outlaw in this land, and you have no right to enter here. That is the law.”
“My friend, you are wrong,” said Cadvan. “I have not betrayed the Light.”
“Some of us have longer memories, Bard,” said the woman coldly. “I remember your little skirmish with the Dark. I would not trust such a man again. I never understood why you were not banned forever from all Schools. Well, the folly of that has become very clear now.”
“It is not so, Ilar of Desor,” said Cadvan calmly. “I would no more betray the Light than you. You do not know the full story of what is happening in this land. And I say to you that you cannot make us come with you and that it would be inadvisable to try. Let us pass.”
“No one here has betrayed the Light, except those who cravenly obey the evil edicts of Norloch,” added Maerad fiercely. “If you attack us, you are but a slave of the Nameless One.”
“So speak all traitors, with tongues made slick by lies,” said the woman contemptuously. “Take them, Namaridh. We can bind them and bring them back to Lirigon, to face what they deserve.”
Cadvan signaled Maerad to be silent, but Namaridh had dismounted and now moved to take Darsor’s reins. At the same moment, Maerad and Cadvan threw off the freezing spell from their horses, and Darsor and Imi reared back. But before she could collect herself, Maerad was hit with a stunning blast of light from Ilar that nearly knocked her off Imi.
She reacted with blind fury, without thought. She gathered up all the power she felt within her and directed it at the Bard in a bolt of White Fire. Ilar simply collapsed and slithered off her horse, which skittered sideways in alarm. She fell to the ground, motionless and completely white, the only sign of injury a small, black burn in the middle of her forehead. In that instant, Maerad knew she was dead.
Namaridh stared at Maerad with horror and backed away, throwing a shield of protection around himself, before he ran to check the fallen Bard. He listened for her heart, and then picked up her body, holding it to his breast.
Cadvan swung Darsor violently around to face Maerad.
“That was not well done,” he said with cold fury. “That was not well done at all.”
Maerad stared back at him, her face a mask of shock. “She was going to kill us,” she said.
“She would not have killed us. And she did not deserve death.” Maerad had never heard his voice so implacable, and she flinched. But now Cadvan was speaking to the other Bard, his voice steady and full of compassion.
“Namaridh,” he said. “This was needless and wanton. I have no desire to harm you further. Let us pass; my errand now is of such urgency that if I do not succeed,