Arthur H. Landis - Camelot 03

by The Magick of Camelot

  I raised my cup in salute, saying, “Let’s to It then, and quickly.” Our Marackians raised theirs in courtesy. “But remember,” I told her, “we cannot have it storm forever, my lady.”

  She stopped her movement away from the table. “Oh? And why not?”

  “Because,” I smiled, “this new enemy, who unfortunately is not a beast, but rather men like ourselves, is not stupid. Tis now the end of spring; the beginning of summer. Soon there’ll be no clouds to draw from. Twould seem strange then to those who fly through the heavens in great ships to see below them one large fat cloud in one fell spot, which stays and stays and stays….”

  “Great ships, my lord? Men who fly through the heavens?”

  “Afterwards,” I promised. “We’ve no time now, remember?” The bait extended—and taken, I arose to accompany her and the twelve who’d followed at her nod, plus Commander Jos Viins, his men-at-arms and her ladies.

  For privacy, she chose a small anteroom off a corridor of the council hall. Rawl came too, and Gen-Rondin who was deeply interested in such things. Sernas and Dosh joined for our comradeship. Fel-Holdt wisely remained with the other lords, to keep them company and to keep them quiet. 1 In courtesy to our coven, we stayed at one end of the anteroom with Jos Viins and his troupe.

  A simple huddle as to the word-sounds needed, their number and continuity, and they began. It took but a second or so to enjoin the chorus properly. Once unleashed however, each word from each mouth became but a single, powerfully intoned word-sound with no meaning beyond its proven effect. This single sound, when enjoined with others in a continuity—I counted nine in all—became the incantation of the moment, the Magick of Camelot-Fregis!

  But was it truly magick? Is there such a thing? Goolbie, the great sorcerer of the north has written—and he was the first to discover the supposed basis for it all-—that: ” ‘Tis a thinge of sounds alone. And if one do not saye the wordes aloude, the witchery -will come to nought.”

  And, too, for each word or incantation there were counterspells. If one, for example, did not want the rain clouds, counter words could be intoned. The winner would be he whose incantation was the most perfect and the most unpermissive of other sounds. This concept of exact tonal inflections, or word-sounds, as activating specific areas of the planet’s” magnetic field for a designated purpose, had its origins in the early policies of the Dark One. He’d given it to the priests of the religion he’d created for the people in the south—the better to hold them in thralldom.

  Osmosis-wise, however, the “magick” had crept north, jumped the River Sea and come into the possession of northern priests. The gestalt effect of five thousand years of practice was such that the practitioners of the north, priests, warlocks, witches and the like, had surpassed in many ways the priests of the south.

  Through a tedious process of trial and error, this “Magick of Camelot-Fregis” had become a viable, growing thing. Word-sounds were collected; their effects observed and tabulated… . Hooli, of course, was my informant as to how all of this had come about. Had I accepted his rather simple explanation? Not quite. My situation; however, was that I had either little or no time for the study of abstract problems, or used that time in more pleasurable ways when I did have it. I’d hoped some day to take the question of Camelot’s magick to the Deneb’s computers. Now even that door was closed.

  One of the four witches was a peasant housewife, the others maiden ladies, daughters of this lord or that who’d not been asked in marriage. They seemed so taken with their work that I had no doubts that in the affairs of love their magick bad-long won out where society, Marackian style, had failed them. The sorcerers were mostly middle-aged men; three of them priests of Ormon, Wimbely and Harris. One, a young knight called Sir Sobstice, confessed to me later that the “stuff” actually came easy to him. He boasted too that he was quite good at quoits.

  Noting that a door from the anteroom opened directly to the courtyard, I stepped through it and moved quickly to a ground-floor window to observe the action further. Again I pressed the belt-stud for Kriloy, felt the node embedded at the base of my skull grow warm and called mentally, “Come in, bastard.”

  His reply came instantly. “I’m right above you.”

  “Why the hell haven’t you contacted me?”

  “Had a blip on the screen. Still got it Could be the Glagmaron ship. It’s directly north of us; about twenty miles.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch! You in null plus? Because if you’re not and they’ve got a sensor on you, I’m gonna feed you to the goddamn kaatis—that’s a Camelot grizzly.”

  “I’m in. Don’t worry.”

  “What’s your barometer read?”

  “The bottom just fell out. You wouldn’t believe how fast those clouds are coming on.”

  “I’d believe,” I said. “Get the ship down quick, else you’ll be coming in on infrared. One last thing. You were supposed to contact me. You didn’t. Now listen up. Once more, for whatever reason, and you’ve had it You’re out of the ship and into the forest, bare-assed and on your own. You hear me?”

  He laughed. “Hey, Kyrieee!”

  “Hey, gog-shit We’re in a life-or-death deal. You do your part, or I’ll do you. That’s it No more talk. Now bring it in.”

  “I’m in.”

  “Where?”

  “North of the castle, maybe five hundred yards. There’s a big meadow, gogs, baby gogs, dottle-mounts and the like. There’s a big granite boulder. You can’t miss it. I’m a few yards to the west.”

  “You phased out?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Now keep trying to track down the other four ships. When you nail ‘em, get a sensor on ‘em and keep it there. Work the grid-screen, the coordinates. Stay awake! Also—and this is the number-one priority—keep trying for the power tap and the tie to the galactic grid. That’s it Ciao!”

  “Okay. And Kyrie?”

  “What?”

  “Bless you.”

  He sounded contrite. An A-plus. I said, Tin coming over tomorrow morning,” and turned him off.

  At which point a first-gust of wind hit me square, in the face. Accompanying raindrops were as big as marbles. In seconds I was again forced into ‘the anteroom to avoid a downpour that hit the great flagstones of the courtyard with the force of a waterfall. -

  “In the name of bloody Ormon!” I roared in some alarm at the monotonously chanting coven. “Cease! Stop! There’s only so much water in those damn clouds. When it’s gone well again be visible. Slow it to a drizzle, I beg of you. As a matter of fact, all we really need is the clouds….”

  And they did slow it, with the Lady Elioseen advising the others how best to proceed and dividing them into groups of three to spell each other at the quite hypnotic task. Then, her patrician lips touched with a soft and silent laughter, she advanced to take my arm possessively and triumphantly lead the return to the council room and the interrupted lunch.

  The ambassadors of Kelb and Great Ortmund, having been sent on their way at the end of the dottle browsing period, still had a hundred miles or so to go; or so I figured. With a difference of but twenty to fifty miles at best, all four ambassadors had each to go but three hundred miles from Glagmaron to reach their respective capitals. I figured they’d all arrive within the twentieth hour. Considering, however, I had no choice but to check the situation myself. This being the case, I’d arranged that they be in a place of their choice on the morrow where I’d meet them and be given the particulars as to what had happened; providing, of course, they were still alive.

  In no way had they questioned my ability to get there. They were “Collin veterans,” space veterans, now; for they’d been in at the death of the Deneb, plus a few other singular oddments about which they could now boast to their grandchildren. That they had only the foggiest idea as to what had happened was also the guarantee that they’d risk their fate in my hands.

  The afternoon was spent in further council with Elioseen, the twelve s
orcerers and witches,) Jos Viins, Fel-Holdt and the Lords of Marack. All access roads were now heavily posted with a double guard; this, since we now had1 twice the strength of the usual garrison. Agreeing generally on the tactics to be used in events we expected to unfold, we had little else to do but await whatever information I’d bring-back on the morrow.

  Taking Fel-Holdt to one side, I suggested that I meet with Elioseen privately. “I must converse with her under relaxed circumstances; for her sake,” I told him. “I would win her wholeheartedly to our cause.” He frowned darkly, upon which I glared just as darkly as his obvious assumption. He shrugged then, smiled icily and agreed. It was understood, of course, that her ladies would be present.

  I had a strong presentiment that even the aged Fel-Holdt was a mite jealous that Elioseen would meet with me this way. A better word would be—envy.

  After a late supper to the continued accompaniment of lashing rain, wind and hail—this last the size of ping-pong “balls—most of our party wanted nothing else but to retire to their quarters with a pint or two of ale. The pervasive sound of it all was hellish, like the soughing of a great death-wind through all the forests surrounding Gortfin.

  In Elioseen’s apartments the four witches too had remained, prepared to intervene should she attempt any shenanigans. I was shown to a comfortable upholstered chair, with ottoman, and served with a decanter of good wine and a silvered chalice. Our Lady, after changing into something more befitting the intimacy of her rooms, chose an equally comfortable divan and had a decanter and chalice to match my own. We made small talk and toasted each other with raised cups, while her ladies laid a fire on a stone hearth a short distance away.

  I sighed contentedly, free for the moment from the images of Murie and that bastard Tarkiis that lurked hauntingly just on the edge of my vision… . The atmosphere was conducive to precisely what I intended. “My Lady,” I began seriously; this, as she adjusted the flimsy gossamer robe about her sheath-slip, which was also anything but opaque. “I deem it in the best interest of all that you be told what we know about what is happening and why. The more so since you’ve lent us your aid for which I’m sure the king, your brother, will eventually thank you personally.”

  I paused to breathe deeply. Her body beneath the thin stuff seemed absolutely naked, though I could not believe she’d attempt to seduce me. The thin stuff of her robe and sheath lay on her flesh in such a way as to emphasize every curve and hollow. She exuded sex, literally; and knowing, ignored the fact except where it was” reflected in my eyes.

  Even the gold fur with its silvered tints on back, arms and thighs (Fregisians are devoid of fur on face, breast, belly, and on down to the area of the inner thigh; there is no pubic ban-), shone with an almost transparent rosy fire. Her hair, no bouncing, shoulder-length, pageboy—was a shimmering veil;

  I sensed strongly, however, that though she knew all this quite well, even delighted in its overall effect on others, it was still not a deliberate design for the conquest of males. She liked herself! Her care and dress were therefore for herself alone, and to hell with what others might sense or feel.

  She brushed back the aureole from about her head and waited, bemused, for me to continue.

  I told her everything, bluntly and without embellishment. At the beginning she was, at best, curious. As the tale developed, she bent to it, alert, all senses open. Then, at the end, when I described the Alphian’s arrival and the aftermath of death and destruction, I knew that I’d captured her attention fully and in a way that nothing had done since she’d been taken captive and the Dark One driven from Marack.

  Ending it abruptly, I refilled my glass, drank deeply and waited….

  “So,” she said after awhile. Her large eyes were pensive, staring to nowhere, then to me, then to nowhere again. “Why then, sir, I’m bound to think that all you say is true. For never have I heard such things from any living being; nor read them either.”

  The blue-purple eyes grew suddenly larger still. Her parted lips showed the pinkest of tongues playing over snow-white teeth. She sighed, said suddenly, “You are without a doubt, my lord, the Collin, as I’ve imagined you to be. For, indeed, I’ve wondered who you were, really, and from where you really came. Had I known—” and her accompanying, contemplative laughter was both silver-sweet and deadly—”when I had you in my dungeon, what you’d eventually do, what you could do to me and the dreams I’d dreamed, why, sir, I’d have brought the very stones of this poor keep down on your head rather than see you flee.” She laughed again. “But now, I’m most pleasantly glad I didn’t.”

  “I, too, am ‘pleasantly glad’ my lady,” I told her softly. “And I do hope that things will never revert to what they were ‘twixt you and me. Indeed, I beg of you now, as one who’d be your friend, that you do not dwell upon the past. I assure you, too, that all that you sought can still be gained in other ways; if not here, then in other places. Power, my lady, is but a passing fancy. There are machines that can destroy both you and me and this world too, and all the stars! They were not created to do this, however; and so .are, in fact, controlled. In essence, power misused, from whatever source, is power wasted. Power misused in the enslavement of intelligent life in any form is an abomination. Unfortunately, life in all its forms must learn this for itself, else it will not truly mature. The road up the evolutionary ladder is therefore in no way smooth.

  “And so? What would you, my lady? I’ve told you of the stars. Would you go to them? 1*11 show you how. I doubt me that you’re so small as to wish only to reign somewhere as queen and ruler. Tis a waste of the years for a thinking person such as you. And if that be true, and it is, then why bother? Listen to me, Elioseen, for I swear to you that there are some who are meant by accident or the trickeries of history and conditioning to do these things—and some who are notl The only true law of life is to respect life!”

  A slight glitter had come to her eyes, perceptible but faint. Her left hand reached out across her body to take up her cup. In so doing h touched her waist and belly ever so lightly, lingered to caress her flesh for seconds in a strange intimacy with self. It was as if she needed no mate, no partner, but was all things to herself and with herself, alone! I knew then that she truly loved herself in a way unknown to others. It seemed also, in this last respect, that she viewed her body as being completely apart from her mind, self, id-ego. A thought touched my mind. By the gods, she seemed like Hooli, the host-occupant of a chalice welded to her will. My reaction was instant revulsion. But, no! It wasn’t true and I knew it and was strangely glad for the knowledge.

  “Well now,” she was saying softly, her voice as one with a night breeze that blew the curtains and smelled redolent with more rain, “I do believe my lord Collin, that you’ve lectured me.”

  I smiled. “I have.”

  She shrugged so that the diaphanous robe slipped to expose a naked shoulder and finely moulded breast. She ignored the nakedness as my Murie would when bathing in a stream. ” Tis that I’ve never been spoken to in exactly this way, sir. I find it interesting, compelling even. You must know that our lords of Marack, what with their Ormon, Wimbely and Harris, know little and care less for such philosophy.”

  “But your sorcerers do.”

  “Do they?”

  “I’m minded on one. They called him Goolbie.”

  She sat up, startled. “You knew him?”

  “Nay. I saw only his body. He was slain, you know, by your compatriot”

  “My compatriot?”

  “Aye. The Kaleen. The Dark One.”

  She frowned. “I did not know this.”

  “Why did you join with him?”

  “Because this is a fool’s world. He would have changed it”

  “Had you much talk with him?”

  “I did. We spoke of many things. I could have learned a great deal. He wanted,” she told me, remembering, “only to leave here, to return to his home. Why?” she asked directly but with no rancor, “did you kill him?”


  I frowned. “My lady, if I had not killed him, he would have destroyed this world, and much more besides.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “His magick,” I said, in words she could understand, “was flawed. What he sought to do would have unleashed powers beyond his control.” I repeated again, “Your beauteous world would have died. I killed him. Your world lives as do you and all your people. They are free now, within the context of their social order. That too will change, my lady. The process, however, is exceedingly slow; unacceptable to such as yourself. And rightly so. I will now tell you something else which you must hear. When I’m finished, you’ll be given a choice to tell me yes or no.” I then told her flatly who I was, where I’d come from and what I was doing on Camelot-Fregis. I doubt that she understood but a fraction of the particulars. But she did grasp the whole, as I knew she would. And that was the thing!