Chapter 16
Jillian was roused from sleep by a banging at the small huts door. Not for entry, but as a warning of company coming as Mareth had ordered the door barred from the outside and guards stationed outside the door at all hours. The small house was well furnished by local standards, polished dark wood furniture, glass windows with light brown curtains, and a dinning set that alone was probably worth more than most homes she had ever been in, a gilded cage, but a cage never less.
She barely had time to buckle her weapon belt before the clunk of wood hitting ground told her the door had been unbarred. The irony of that hit her as her hand rested instinctively upon the pommel of her sword. Obviously she was not considered a real threat to anybody. Mareth just did not want her disappearing. The door swung open allowing a man dressed in hooded dark red robes to enter. One of the guards pulled the door closed as the man removed his hood. The face was unforgettable, filling her with more dread than Mareth ever had even with his recent abuses of her.
“Lord Merca,” she acknowledged doing her best to keep her voice neutral and calm. “If you are looking for Mareth he is gone.”
“I would not be here otherwise.”
The sorcerer smiled and folded his arms to where his hands were hidden within his sleeves. Jillian found it extremely unnerving.
“I have a proposition for you,” he began. “We both have the same problem, one we can help each other with.”
“I highly doubt that,” Jillian retorted. “As you can see I am but a prisoner here.”
“And you shall remain one, for now. It is the only way.”
“You have lost control of your minion,” Jillian decided to risk Merca’s ire. After all what was death in comparison to being Mareth’s slave and consort. “He has grown too powerful and now you fear him. Why should I risk myself to help you?”
“The first reason is obvious. As long as Mareth lives, you are his. I know his intentions for you my dear. You are with child are you not?”
Jillian’s eyes widened in shock, “Even I am not sure of that, what makes you so certain?”
“It is Mareth’s way, but we will come back to that. The second reason is eventually under the Lord Generals rule the war will end and the survivors will get back to some resemblance of a normal life. Mareth seeks only war. No sooner than this one ends he will find another leading more and more people to their ruin. There will be no peace as long as Mareth lives.”
“And why would you care?”
“I do not. I care only for my goals in the end. Not of this armies, yours, or anybody else. But I cannot do that with the current Mareth breathing down my neck. So by helping me, you help yourselves and others in the long run.”
“Why me?” Jillian asked. “I cannot kill him. If he was concerned he would not leave me armed.” Suddenly something Merca had said caught her attention. “And what do you mean by current Mareth?”
“My poor, poor assassin,” Merca said in a mock comforting voice. “You are bearing the next. Mareth can be killed but as long as there is a genetic link his soul passes to the next body to begin again. The secret of Mareth’s immortality is not the impossibility of physical death, but the ability to be born anew.”
Jillian slumped onto a chair near the fireplace, the roaring fire unable to affect the chill she now felt. “Then I must destroy it.” she said silently after a few moments thought.
“It is not that easy.” Merca poured a glass of water from the pitcher on a nearby counter and handed it to Jillian. She accepted and sipped the drink. The same powers that protect him now protect the child. It will detect harm and prevent it. You cannot even kill yourself.”
“You Lie!” Jillian screamed pulled her dagger with incredible speed causing the sorcerer to back away then brought the blade hard into her stomach. Instead of impaling her belly the blade simply turned and slid harmlessly across her belly slicing her tunic as it went. Frustrated she threw the blade which stuck deeply into the far wall. Despite herself she began sobbing.
“That is why he cannot hurt you.”
“Yet I cannot hurt him.”
Merca eased closer. “There is one chance. There is a paladin companion to the warlock I had sent you to pursue. It is true any power that paladin has will be dispelled by Mareth’s presence, the paladin’s presence will similarly weaken Mareth’s defenses.”
Jillian’s thoughts flashed back to the battle in Galnath, the armored warrior who had plowed Mareth to the ground.
“It is doubtful that even then this paladin with the combined might of his allies can take Mareth down, but with this,” Merca produced a dagger from inside his sleeve where he had hidden it from the guards. Not that he needed a dagger to kill but guards were guards, “it is possible. It is inevitable that the two will seek each other out like a moth is drawn to flame. While in close proximity to each other this enchanted blade has the ability to cut through his armor, and defenses. I know this cause this weapon has killed him in the past.”
Jillian grabbed the offered weapon and examined it closely. A strange empowering sensation took hold as she held it in her bare hands. “How can I get into position while held under lock and key?”
“You are to travel with us to this Veegal’s Wall. Once the battle is joined in earnest I will make sure you are free to pursue you prey. You do this I am ridden of a potential problem, and you are free. Well as free as can be in your current situation.”
“Except for the fact that I will be bearing a monster you mean.”
Merca shook his head, “That is not necessarily true. If guided away from conflict and bad influences he may never realize what he is in the next life. Eventually his protections will diminish and become vulnerable. If stricken down before mating, it is possible to end the cycle.”
Merca walked to the door and rapped loudly against it signaling for the guards to open up. “One last thing,” the sorcerer said. “Assuming you survive and Mareth is destroyed do not be fooled if the child is female. The feminine versions of Mareth in the past have caused more destruction than the masculine form could ever dream of.”