by W. C. Conner
The conversation died off and Caron lifted her head, turning it left and right as if sniffing the air. “Did you hear thunder?” she wondered aloud.
The others cocked their heads and realized there was, indeed, the distant mutterings of thunder. They looked at one another in puzzlement as the sky was as clear as it was possible for a sky to be. There came another clap of thunder, distant still, but clearly closer than the previous one.
“It surely seems to be coming this way,” Scrubby observed, his head cocked in concentration, much like a dog wondering at his master’s words.
Caron and Mitchal stood up almost as one. “I do not like the sound of this thunder,” Mitchal muttered. “The day doesn’t call for outbursts of this sort.”
“You’re right, Mitchal,” Caron agreed. “There is something unnatural at work here.”
They were all now standing and looking to the east from where the rumblings originated when Scrubby, long accustomed to watching the east road for travelers of interest, pointed and exclaimed. “Look there,” he shouted. “May the powers have mercy on us, look at that!”
By now all could see what Scrubby had spotted. Coming over the rise leading into the narrow valley was a dark gray cloud moving along the ground with bolts of lightning shooting from it. Wheeling and swooping over the cloud were four large charcoal-colored creatures, looking from this distance like great bats. Every one of the onlookers knew immediately that they were looking at the remaining four abominations summoned by Greyleige.
Scrubby cried out and fell to the ground facing away from the approaching horror. His hands covered his ears against the sound of the thunder and the sense of terror they could feel even at this distance. The others stood rigid, seemingly frozen for the moment by the memory of their desperate battle only a few hours before. It was Morgan who finally moved, turning and disappearing into the inn to return shortly, fully armed, his face set as a man looking at his death.
“This need not be our battle, Morgan,” Mitchal said grimly. “These do not seek us. They follow the unnatural cloud.”
“I see my mortal enemies before me,” Morgan responded with no change in his expression. “The fact they attack that cloud makes plain to me there are people within it. That those foul creatures attack whoever is within the cloud makes them my friends, and my sword is ever for the defense of my friends.”
“You shame me, Morgan,” Mitchal said as he moved to stand with him, his hands upon his weapons.
Caron watched as the two men squared their shoulders against the terrors that approached before she too turned and went swiftly into the inn to get her weapons, followed immediately by Kemp and Thisbe.
Peg went over to Scrubby and helped him to his feet as the others returned, armed and with grim looks on their faces. Upon seeing them stalk past him, Scrubby stopped and looked back at them, taking in the set of their shoulders, their postures of defiance even in the face of overwhelming danger and unreasoning terror. Removing Peg’s hand from his arm, he turned resolutely around and walked forward to stand with the others, his legs shaking and his noon meal bidding fair to join the oak leaves thick on the ground at his feet.
As Kemp smiled encouragingly over at him, he noted Scrubby’s lack of any weapon. Striding quickly to the stable he grabbed a hayfork with a stout wooden handle and long, sharp tines. “It’s a peasant’s weapon for certain,” he said as he handed it to Scrubby, “but no less formidable for that.”
By the time the cloud with its deadly pursuers had reached the edge of town, the small group of defenders had moved into the street to meet them, while the townspeople who had come out of their homes to see what was causing the thunder disappeared more quickly than they had appeared. As the companions stepped into the roadway, the blasts of lightning coming from the moving cloud faltered. They drew their weapons and moved forward, dreading the approaching battle, but determined nonetheless. As they did so, however, the pursuing creatures broke off their attack at last, wheeling and gliding back toward the east, disappearing into the brilliant blue sky.
The little group of companions, with Morgan at the forefront, watched as the moving cloud continued in their direction, dissipating as it came until there was fully revealed a ragtag group of a dozen men dressed in wizard’s robes of various colors and states of disrepair. As the last of the vapors drifted away they all staggered and fell against one another, the exhaustion evident in their faces.
Scrubby threw down his hayfork and ran to the foremost of the men who had fallen to his knees, obviously at the point of collapse. Putting the man’s arm over his shoulder, Scrubby lifted him to his feet and half dragged him into the courtyard of Three Oaks. Leaving him on a bench in the shade, he turned back to get more. As he rounded the gate, he found the others similarly helping exhausted men to the courtyard.
After getting them all settled, Thisbe and Peg brought tankards of ale to refresh the exhausted wizards who all drank deeply and gratefully.
Eventually, the first man Scrubby had aided stood unsteadily and bowed to them. “We are deeply in your debt,” he said. “’Twas your steel turned the balance back there.” He looked from face to face with weary interest. “Most would break and bolt when confronted by those that pursued us. It seemed as though you knew what it was you faced.” The grimness of the faces looking back at him told him he perceived correctly.
“We did indeed,” Caron responded. “We slew the fifth of these foul creatures not much more than twelve hours ago.”
As she spoke, recognition dawned in the wizard’s eyes and he dropped to one knee. The others rose from where they sat and followed in kind. “Your Highness,” he said, his face going deep red with embarrassment, “forgive us for not recognizing you immediately.”
Caron stepped forward and lifted the man to his feet. Once again the others followed in kind and took their seats, too tired to honor the protocol that would demand they remain on their feet until given leave to sit by their princess.
“I’ve become weary of that title,” she said, her voice pitched to be heard by everyone. “Scrubby called me by my correct name last night. It is a name that feels comfortable, like a well worn pair of shoes.” She smiled around at everyone. “For the present at least, I would prefer to pretend that I have no title. Please call me Caron from this point forward.” She gave Mitchal a mock severe look and added, “and I’ll make that a command if you resist.”
Mitchal bowed his head, but shook it from side to side. “Forgive me when I forget, Highness,” he said. “It is a habit of long standing and will be difficult to break.”
Caron smiled at him fondly. “My honored guardsman, you needn’t even ask it.”
She turned back to the wizards. “Well and well, I’m sure we both have fantastic tales to tell one another.” Looking around she noticed a few townspeople had ventured back out of their houses. “But let us do so out of the glare of the sunshine and the hearing of curious passersby.” With that they removed themselves to the common room in Three Oaks, closing and locking the door behind them. Thisbe and Peg went to the larder and brought out cheeses and bread, and apples and pears for all.
Caron’s look told the leader of the wizards that he should start, so he reluctantly set his ale down and stood to tell his tale. “First, Highness,” he began, then, at a playful scowl from Caron, corrected himself, “I mean, Caron, I was remiss in not introducing myself when we first met. My name is Eldred and I and my brothers here renounced our allegiance to Greyleige among ourselves long ago.”
Caron nodded. She recognized him and several others as among those at the meeting in the Judgment Hall who had clearly been there out of duress.
“We had not been happy with his leadership for some time, but when he built the tower in the middle of our compound and began practicing black arts in it, we organized ourselves into a loose confederation of resistance. We worked to counter his magics, hoping to keep him from perverting our brethren as best we could, but he has gathered fearsome powers to him
self and we were confounded in our efforts. His voice has become sweet poison, bringing death of the soul to those unable to resist his words. Then, when he caused massive fortifications and battlements to be built all around the compound, we became first alarmed and then frightened.” He looked around at his brotherhood of breakaway wizards.
“We are simple men, Caron,” he continued, stumbling slightly at her name. “We are of the Lesser and Simple Wizards and we fancy ourselves the successors of the elves, nurturing the earth and its living things. We haven’t the ability to perform the glamour the elves could, of course, but we take pride in what we are able to accomplish.”
“That is well and good, Eldred,” Caron said. “We honor your stewardship of the earth and plants, but how is it you came to be under attack on the road?”
“We openly denounced and defied Greyleige,” Eldred replied. “We are not warriors, but we arose as a group at the recent convocation in the compound and denounced Greyleige for what he is: a power-hungry maniac willing to do anything for supremacy, including bringing forth those foul creatures. He aspires to consolidate all remaining magical powers to himself so that he may live and rule all the lands forever. It is even whispered among us that he has tortured and consumed the magics of many of the brothers of our guild who showed any promise of being a Great Wizard, both to assure himself of no rivals and as a path to increased powers for himself. Though unproven, it’s true that our membership has dwindled over the past dozen years, and none more so than the Great Wizards. We are none of us aware of any acknowledged Great Wizards other than Greyleige.” His head hung as if in both anger and shame. “He has given our compound a dark name that bespeaks both its appearance and its leader. He has named it Blackstone.” The dark expression on his face as he spoke gave the listeners a glimpse into the horror that Greyleige had made of the compound. His eyes turned to Caron.
“In leaving the compound, we defied Greyleige’s command that all wizards from our levels of potential up must unite to become the natural rulers of the world, a position that he believes our abilities have been leading us to since the departure of the elves. It would appear that he sent forth those seekers to find us after it was discovered we had escaped, and we were attacked shortly after we left the crossroads. At first there was just one but they appear to have the power to summon others, for as the days went along more and more appeared until, as you saw, today four of them bent their hatred upon us.
“For the past three days we have battled our way toward the Old Forest, hoping its power could turn the creatures away. It was clear to us that their powers weakened the closer they got to Wisdom, and when they were faced with your earthly weapons in addition to the powers of the Forest, they broke off their attack.”
The entire group of wizards looked sober as he finished. “In truth, had you not come forward to meet us, they would have broken us. Because we are none of us Great Wizards, it took every bit of our remaining collective energies to make the dash from the far side of the valley to here while maintaining the protective bubble of our lightning storm. Singly, no one of us would have survived the first seeker alone.”
His face showed once again the fatigue of their desperate flight. “These seekers are new to us. We had left the compound before he summoned these, but they are not the first foul creatures, nor will they be the last.” Eldred sighed and shook his head. “He is quite mad, you know. He is beyond reason. He is... lost.”
Kemp’s voice broke the moment of silence following Eldred’s words. “Once you have recovered yourselves,” he said, “you will be valuable to our cause.”
Eldred and the others looked somberly around at one another. “We are done with fighting him, sir,” Eldred said. “We seek only peace and solitude away from Greyleige and his terrible ambitions.”
“You will buy yourselves only a brief time of peace, I fear,” Caron said, rising and starting to pace. “He seeks dominion over all life; even that beyond the five lands of this world. If he is not stopped now, he will never be stopped.” She paused and looked at Eldred, seeking an answer in his eyes, but he looked to the floor at his feet and said nothing.
“I have my answer,” Caron said evenly, but without rancor, “We will do what must be done, with or without your help.”
In the two weeks that had passed since the ragtag group of breakaway wizards had swirled into their lives, Morgan and Kemp had become more and more irritable as they waited for something – for anything – to happen. Wil’s absence was beginning to wear on all the companions except for Caron who would smile patiently when any of them complained that it seemed he should have returned long since. From time to time she would cock her head and announce that the seekers were far overhead, still looking for Wil, still having no success.
It was Morgan who finally could stand no more. “I cannot abide this waiting,” he complained as he poked at the remains of a bowl of stew. “There is a storm coming, and though I cannot see it I can certainly feel it. It hangs over me like a shroud.”
Caron looked at him calmly.
“I owe Greyleige, for myself as well as all these others. I intend to join your father,” he said after stirring the dregs of the stew around a bit more. “He must surely know of the evils being released and be preparing a military response. I am not a subtle man with subtle skills. Those skills that I command would serve your father’s need best.”
As Morgan finished, Kemp shifted on the bench, pushing his empty bowl to the center of the table. “I go also,” he announced, his frustration evident. “I wanted to be here for Wil, but it’s clearly uncertain when he will return. If we are to help Gleneagle, I have begun to doubt it can be accomplished by sitting around here doing nothing in this least-noticed village in the least-noticed part of the principality.”
“My head as well as my heart would counsel against it,” Caron said quietly, “and I am certain you are wrong about Wisdom, but I have nothing other than that in argument. I will only counsel against it. I would never command you to not follow your hearts.”
Morgan stood and stepped over the bench. “I leave at daybreak tomorrow,” he said solemnly as he turned to leave the room. Kemp followed him, unaware of the anguish on Peg’s face.
The two companions set out as the sun rose the next morning, their packs full, their expressions set in determination. Caron, Mitchal, Thisbe and Scrubby watched them until they were out of sight over the rise on the far side of the narrow valley.
Peg had been unable to watch, so great was her anguish. She sat in the hay above the stable, rocking back and forth with her arms about her knees, her body shaking as she sobbed with fear and frustration at the departure of the two men who meant life to her – the one who had freed her from unwilling slavery, the other to whom she had willingly enslaved herself.
24
Tingle sat astride Lily, his wagon having been left behind at Gleneagle’s castle, for he had accepted the charge to ride with letters of summons to the three strategically located duchies which guarded and buffered Gleneagle to the west, south and east. To the north lay open lands belonging to the principality alone, and containing the formerly benign wizards’ compound now reborn as Blackstone.
To the southwest was the Duke of Altamont, long a steadfast supporter of the prince and natural enemy of such as Greyleige since it was near the northern edges of his duchy that the wizards’ compound lay. Lily had made the one week trip easily, cantering almost the entire way without becoming blown. Within the hour of Tingle’s arrival with Gleneagle’s sealed letter, Altamont had sent out the call for his troops to assemble.
After a large meal eaten at a leisurely pace and a sound night’s sleep for both horse and rider, they departed the next morning. Duke Altamont’s eldest son left at the same hour, leading a small army detachment to personally inform Gleneagle of the imminent movement of the Duke’s army in support of his close childhood friend.
Cantering easily once again, Lily carried Tingle without effort to the Beramor Duchy
to the south. Here, again, Tingle was cordially received although the duke was unwilling to commit his forces without consultation amongst his military leaders which was as Gleneagle had told Tingle to expect.
Many years in the past, the duchy had taken upon itself the defense of the trading routes to and from the port at Afrah against brigands. As well, they shared the protection of the southern coast from invasion by the sea raiders who would sweep in occasionally from across the narrow sea. The duke was loath to pull forces from those critical areas without some study. He did, however, send a sealed message to be carried by courier directly to Gleneagle assuring him that he would contribute what he could and with all prudent haste. With a true copy of Beramor’s letter of commitment secure within his pouch, Tingle left the second morning following his arrival on his way to present Gleneagle’s request for aid to the Duke of Confirth.
In his customary role as itinerant tinker, these cities were standard stops for Tingle as he sold and talked his way around the principality, and he was well familiar with the sounds, smells and feel of each of them. In all, he was routinely received by the folk of the cities he visited as a welcome visitor and vendor not only because of his wares and warm camaraderie, but because of the news from family and friends that he carried with him. The guards at the various duchy castle gates routinely traded insults with the glib tinker and they often drank and wenched together when he was in town.
This time, though, as Tingle approached the gates of the city, he felt an apprehensiveness within the citizenry. They engaged in their normal activities as one would expect, but when Tingle looked closely, he could see the nervousness in their eyes, the wariness in their glances, the discontent in their postures.
The normally lax, irreverent guards seemed to have discovered a reverence for discipline, for there was no light bantering with Tingle. On any previous visit, the discovery that Tingle was astride rather than behind Lily would have been the cause of considerable good natured teasing and hilarity.
