* * * *
Thirty minutes later, Clarysa watched in awe as thousands of bats descended on the Aldebaran troops. Blindly, the soldiers swatted at the creatures in an attempt to drive them off. Slashes of their gleaming blades accomplished nothing, for they were overwhelmed in number.
Stellan’s rough hand closed about hers. He drew her into the long, winding passageway that tunneled deep into the blackened earth. The horses barely squeezed through, and only then by lowering their heads. A dank underworld poisoned with the smell of rot greeted them as they descended. Frozen stalactites jutted toward them, jagged and hungry for their weak human flesh.
Gretchen and her son met them as they emerged onto one of the castle’s lower levels. She reached first for Stellan. Standing on her toes, she patted his cheek and briefly tousled his hair. “I knew it was you the moment I saw those bats.”
Stellan shook his head wearily. “No easy feat, but it did the trick.”
Clarysa glanced shyly at the gypsy. “I apologize for being so rude to you.”
Gretchen turned to her with a welcoming embrace. “Not to worry. I’m just relieved to see all of you back!”
But the sea of long faces did not share in her joy. Gretchen shot Stellan a questioning look. A solemn Hunter Red dragged the litter forward and revealed its secret. The gypsy woman took in the sight, and then her alarmed gaze latched onto Stellan.
Stone-faced, Stellan muttered a single, curt reply. “I’m sorry.”
Gretchen wailed, a baleful keen that blanketed them all with its misery. She rushed forward, but Stellan halted her with an arm. She clung to him, her face a sea of anguish. Grief devoured her remaining strength and she collapsed into a fetal position by his feet.
Ghyslain stood nearby. His haunted, empty expression betrayed his refusal to believe his sister was truly dead.
Clarysa could hardly bear to watch. She wondered why Stellan didn’t offer her comfort. Gretchen needed him. But then Clarysa remembered his words from the night before. He must have felt responsible for Patrulha’s death. After all, it was his sister who had plunged that hateful blade. A rush of sympathy for him went through her. To feel extreme guilt on top of such an acute loss must have been more agony than most people could bear. No wonder he tries to bury all his emotions.
Clarysa bent down and wrapped her arms around the gypsy, now uncontrollably sobbing. She stroked her shoulders and uttered soothing words as best she knew how. Eventually, she coaxed Gretchen to her feet so they could follow the others to the main floor.
As they entered the great hall, the rest of the castle’s inhabitants watched, shell-shocked, as the litter bearing Patrulha went past. Froll fought to hold back tears, but quickly lost the battle. Ghsylain took his mother from Clarysa and guided her toward the kitchen.
Thirty or so of Stellan’s men now crowded the area, aimless and disorganized. No one appeared to know what to do. Clarysa stood idly by, feeling awkward and helpless.
Stellan strode into the center of the hall. “Gather ’round, men.”
Clarysa hurried to a spot at the front of the group. What was he going to do?
Stellan stood on a dais and addressed his loyal followers. “My friends, Patrulha’s loss was both unexpected and painful. But we cannot allow our grief to dissuade our cause, for the battle is not yet won. And you know as well as I that she would have wanted us to fight with everything we have.
“I have lived a lonely existence for many of my years. I’ve cursed the gods and circumstances that led me to this bewitched kingdom. But somehow each one of you found me. You trusted me and supported my efforts to keep Pestilence from the Five Lands.”
He held up a hardened fist and regarded everyone in the room one by one. “Hope was restored in my broken spirit as well as body. Look about you. All of us are gathered here for a reason. For each of us in his own way bears an albatross. In one way or another, we have all gone against our peers and society’s acceptance.”
Stellan’s head made a quarter turn, singling out Clarysa even as he addressed them all. “Each has a story to tell. Each of us has braved poisonous insinuations, and, in some cases, defied the razor-sharp blades of others to stand for what is right in this world!”
He stepped forward, his arms outstretched on either side. “Our fallen comrade, Patrulha, knew some causes were worth dying for. Are we to let her selfless sacrifice be in vain?”
A resounding chorus of “No!” thundered in the hall.
“I’m glad you agree.” Stellan raised his voice with renewed vigor. “Even now my father schemes to conquer all of the Five Lands. His instrument is Pestilence, and of all the sorcerers in the Western Wastes, I alone stand in his way.
“Yet other, more immediate challenges await us. The misguided crown prince of Aldebaran seeks our downfall. The assembled troops outside await his order to attack. Also, my recent ordeal at the hands of my sister has demonstrated the lengths to which my family will go to sow seeds of conflict and pain. Transforming me into a beast was Sada’s way of giving me a chance to repent my ways. My only chance. I’ve no doubt that the next time she and I meet, we will fight in a battle to the death.
Clarysa clamped both hands across her mouth. A magickal duel? To the death?
“The coming battle will shape the destiny of the Five Lands for years to come. Together, we are the future. So let it be remembered that on this day, we individuals, spurned by society, bound together and defeated those who would destroy us and what is right!”
A deafening roar of cheers went up, drowning out all of the war drums now beating incessantly outside. Clarysa gazed at Stellan with deep admiration.
A guard rushed
