With a gust of fresh wind in the blush of dawn Myrn Manstar landed lightly before them, her flying companions beside her. The narrow ledge was getting crowded.
“Douglas, my love!” she cried. “You certainly find the strangest places to camp!”
The two young people flung themselves into each other’s arms and seemed to be calling each other’s names over and over. Marbleheart turned to Cribblon.
“Now I get it! She’s the sweet, innocent, plain-looking, stay-at-home fisherman’s lass Douglas has been mooning over since I first met him.”
“Highly likely,” Cribblon said, grinning broadly. “Highly likely she is not some of those things, however.”
“This is Marblehead, then, of whom you wrote?” asked Myrn. “How cuddly and cute!”
“Marbleheart” retorted the Otter. “Heart! Heart! Have a heart, lady!”
“Now, children,” chided Douglas, stifling his laughter. “Don’t fight over me.”
“You?” exclaimed Marbleheart with a puzzled frown. “Who are you? A bumbling, bumptious, second-rated rabbit puller from some Briney sand spit snake-bite-tonic show? You, however,” he said to Myrn, “are pretty cute, too. You don’t, mayhap, need an experienced Familiar, do you? I can start fires with the snap of a claw.”
“You are much too familiar already,” said Douglas. “Besides, I saw you first.”
“Does that mean I am really your Familiar?” asked the Otter in surprise.
“Of course, fish chaser!”
“You never exactly said so! Does he treat you like this, Mistress?”
“Call me Myrn, darling,” said the girl, bending to scratch behind the Otter’s ears. Marbleheart purred like a kitten. “No, I must admit he’s usually very thoughtful.”
“Well, Myrn darling, if you can put up with him, I guess I can, too.”
Cribblon was looking on, first amazed, then shocked, slowly realizing his new friends were teasing each other—and him. He burst out laughing so hard he almost rolled off the ledge. Caspar Marlin deftly snagged his gown tail and dragged him back onto the ledge.
“Let’s get off this frightful mountain,” said Myrn, “before someone does fall off by accident. And I must hear your tale! We’ve had some adventures, too.”
The three escapees joined hands with the three fliers and, avoiding a line of sight from Coventown circled far up the vale, and then down to Douglas’s cave. By the time they arrived, each party knew what the other had been up to. Douglas was surprised about Pargeot’s willing surrender to the Witchservers, commenting that the sailor must not have known what they were like.
Myrn set about exploring the cave hideout while Douglas called for breakfast for them all.
“There is a sort of uneasy feeling here,” Myrn commented as they finished. “Don’t you feel it, Douglas?”
“Yes,” said Douglas, pausing to listen. “I felt it even more strongly in the dungeons and in the caverns under Blueye. It’s ... sort of... a tension, a trembling. Do you think it’s Witchcraft? Is Emaldar aware of us?”
“No ...,” said the Apprentice Aquamancer, hesitantly. “It seems to be in the air and in the ground, also. Something is about to happen, I think, but I don’t know what.”
“Blueye is, remember, volcanic,” said Willow. The party exchanged uneasy glances. “It trembles often.”
“It can’t make any difference,” decided Douglas. “We still have to rescue Captain Pargeot from the Witch and see what can be done about the Coven. And very soon!”
“None of us has had enough sleep,” said Myrn.
“We’ll have some more coffee. It’ll help us stay on our feet and on our toes,” Douglas agreed, yawning mightily. “Well, you know what I mean. Now that we know a way in and out of the Coven’s castle, we can rescue Pargeot at least.”
“Let’s get that hussy Witch Queen, too,” urged Myrn with surprising ferocity.
“We should try to capture her, if at all possible,” admonished Douglas. The question of actually destroying the Black Witch hung between the two Wizards, Apprentice and Journeyman, for a long moment.
“If possible,” Myrn agreed at last, nodding. “From all I hear, Emaldar is a real...”
“That she is, I can attest!” exclaimed Cribblon. “Whatever word you thought to use would not be strong enough, mistress.”
“Call me Myrn, please,” said the young lady. “You’re saying, my Douglas, that we should shove off at once?”
“Finish your coffee, sweet bird of Waterand,” Douglas said, half teasing. “I think I’d like to take a quick bath, after all that slithering around in dusty tunnels and sulfurous shafts. We’ll leave in an hour, folks. Be ready!”
Breakfast, bathing, shaving, and some attention to hard-used clothing—Myrn wielded a quick, clever needle on Willow’s trousers and Douglas’s shirt—and they were ready to go.
“We’ll split up. Smaller groups will be harder to spot if any of the Coven take it into their heads to be watchful,” decided the Journeyman. “Myrn, Willow, and I will go after Pargeot. The Bats will know where he is in Emaldar’s dungeon. Cribblon, you know the Spell of Invisibility now. Lead the rest unseen into Coventown. Watch Emaldar’s movements as closely as you can. We’ll join you here as soon as we get Pargeot out. When we can catch The Witch alone, we’ll pounce. Any questions?”
“I’ve a change to suggest,” said Myrn. “I don’t think I should be one of Pargeot’s rescuers.”
Douglas looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “There’s a reason for your words I don’t quite understand, sweetheart. Should I know it?”
“Take her word,” advised Caspar. “Pargeot’s already much too smitten with Myrn for her comfort and his well-being, too. If she rescues him from a deep, wet durance—”
“You see, my dear,” said Myrn, “Pargeot thinks he must make amends by serving me for his lost crew and ship and putting you in danger at Sea. That’s why he sacrificed himself to the Witchservers. He hoped they’d bring him here, and that I would follow.”
“I suppose I understand that. I can understand a man being smitten with you, Mistress Manstar. Wasn’t I bitten that way long since?”
“You are one of World’s most sensible, sweet, caring, understanding, forbearing...,” said Myrn with a bright blush. “Pargeot is a very good, brave man, but he has this weird streak of romance that makes him a danger to himself—and to us all.”
“Let’s go before it gets too sticky in here to fly,” growled Marbleheart, winking at Caspar and Willow.
“Right, then!” agreed Douglas. “It’s me and Caspar and my faithful Familiar to the rescue! Myrn, you take Cribblon and Willow into town. If we need it, you can create a diversion for us.”
“Hand in hand, then,” cried Myrn to her team after the invisibility spell had been re-cast. “Cumulo Nimbus!”
The Feather Pin worked instantly, and her invisible flight left the cave mouth, circled a moment, then flew off toward Coventown’s gate. Douglas led his own assistants to the ledge, where they spied on Emaldar. They watched while Myrn, Willow, and Cribblon landed just outside the gate.
Then he carefully crafted Flarman’s Levitation Spell and his team followed, flying directly to the ledge.
“Quietly, now,” said Myrn, leading the way up into the town. “Back out of the road! Look who comes!”
Six old women dressed entirely in black, each carrying a well-worn broom in one hand and a dusty, black leather suitcase in the other, approached, heading down to the gate.
“Witches!” whispered Myrn. “Here, duck into this doorway. They might pierce our invisibility if they look our way!”
The six Coven Sisters bustled past. One or two glanced about, as if they sensed a strange spell nearby, but Eldest Sister impatiently waved them on.
“Why cannot we fly now?” whined Grayelder, the youngest.
“My poor feet aren’t made for walking, you know.”
“Fool of a Beldam,” snapped Eldest Sister, swinging at her with her broom.
She missed by a wide margin when the other ducked away. “Fly here and Emaldar’ll know at once we’re leaving her, for sure. Hurry up! If I read the signs aright, Sisters, there are at least six powerful Wizards arrayed against us, and Emaldar’s gone off her nut right amidst it all! I don’t like those odds!”
They disappeared down the path toward distant Pfantas, bickering loudly among themselves but moving fast.
“Now, that’s interesting,” whispered Cribblon. “Deserting Emaldar, are they? I wonder why ...”
“Six powerful Wizards, I heard,” said Willow, mentally counting on his fingers. “I only think of three.”
“Bad news tends to exaggerate itself,” replied Myrn. “Here we go again. Ooops!”
The ground shook, as if an explosion had been set off deep underground. Stones fell from poorly mortared walls nearby and heavy cobbles heaved themselves out of the street beneath their feet.
“Come on!” cried Myrn.“Time would seem to be getting even shorter than we thought!”
“No need to panic, perhaps,” said Cribblon. “‘Tremors like that can go on for days or months and die away to nothing, I’ve heard.”
They walked up the middle of the steep and winding street, avoiding the walls of rickety buildings on either hand, in case any more stones worked their way loose. The town that had appeared deserted when they entered now began to fill with frightened residents. They stood staring in fear up at the castle.
****
Douglas, Marbleheart, and Caspar wafted down the shaft, much more quickly than they had escaped up it, and arrived at the bottom in a very few minutes.
“Down this way,” said Marbleheart, taking the lead once Douglas had spelled his headlight on. Douglas followed, then Caspar, who looked about in great interest but with secret misgivings, keeping his hand close to his cutlass’s hilt, just in case. A man of the open air, he was unused to being hemmed in by hot, quivering stone.
The Bat family slept hanging by their feet from the dungeon ceiling, swaying gently to and fro with each tremor from within Blueye. At the other end of the passage Douglas saw a bright light and heard a murmur of uneasy conversation.
As Douglas paused to awaken Tuckett, Marbleheart slipped silently toward the edge of the guards’ light.
“Yes, yes,” muttered Tuckett, shaking off his daytime sleep. “Oh, Wizard Douglas Brightglade! I thought you’d be coming along, seeing as how the Witch has put another poor victim in her awful wet cell.”
“He’s there, then?” asked Douglas softly, for sounds carried far in the rock corridor. “Heavily guarded, it seems.”
“Twelve Witchservers under a Warlock officer,” said Mistress Bat, also awakened. Her Batlings stirred but kept silent.
Marbleheart, returning just then, confirmed the Bat’s report. “I can’t see who’s in the cell, but whoever it is is thrashing about in chest-deep water and actually singing some sad sailor’s lament. Something about ‘Sweet Fanny Adams’ or some such.”
“That’ll be Pargeot, all right,” chuckled Caspar. “That song is one Westongue sailors sing when they want to feel sorry for themselves.”
“Sing it for me, sometime,” snorted the Otter. “But now, what’s to do, Fire Wizard?”
“We need a few moments to snatch Pargeot. How to get rid of the guards? If they’re sensible, a distraction wouldn’t draw all of them off, I think. Has Emaldar been down?” he asked Tuckett.
“Yes, an hour or more since. She yelled at the prisoner, then screamed at the guards, and left the Warlock behind to keep them alert. She went off in the other direction, letting herself through the grille at the far end, there,” Tuckett answered. “By my ears I could tell she went deeper into the mountain than you, however. Very angry and looking for you, Master Cribblon, I would guess.”
“I would so guess, also,” agreed the Journeyman Wizard, thoughtfully. “We didn’t meet her coming in, so she must have taken one of the other passageways back into the mountain, there.”
“Shall we follow her?” asked Caspar, gripping his cutlass.
“No, Pargeot comes first,” declared Douglas. “There’s a Sleeping Spell I could cast over them. Trouble is, it loses full effect if used on more than a half dozen people at a time.”
“Only Emaldar could call them away,” said Mistress Bat.
“There’s that,” said Douglas with a pleased nod. “All right! Everybody but the Bats, up the stair a short way.”
When the Otter and the captain had retreated out of sight up the staircase, the young Wizard stood in the deepest shadow he could find, quietly cleared his throat twice, and called aloud... in a strident woman’s voice, hoping it sounded a bit like Emaldar’s.
“To me! To me! Leave half your number, Warlock, and bring the rest this way—straight into the mountain! Hurry, you lazy layabouts!”
Douglas hoped the echoes and mufflings of the stony passages would serve to cover the deception. That, and the habit of instant, unthinking obedience he had noticed in the Witchservers.
Heavily armed and wild-eyed, a squad of soldiers pounded by the invisible Wizard and the hanging Bats, past the stairwell, and through the open grating at the far end.
Caspar and Marbleheart came back down the stairs.
“Never hesitated one second!” said Caspar, shaking his head. “She has them trained, I’d say.”
“What we do now is nip in, put the rest of them to sleep, fish Pargeot out of his hole, and run back the way we came, exactly,” ordered Douglas.
He sent his Sleep Spell before them and when they arrived at the end of the corridor, the guards were all soundly asleep, snoring and mumbling, lying on wooden benches. The floor was covered with almost a foot of dirty water.
“Pargeot, it’s Douglas!” called the Journeyman Wizard at the door grating. The door he had splintered the night before had already been replaced by a new, tougher panel.
There was no response. Putting his ear to the door, Douglas listened.
“Someone is in there,” he said. “And whoever it is, is snoring with the worst of these.”
“Of course,” said Caspar, vastly amused. “Your own spell...”
“This should help him awaken,” cried Douglas, and he again sent a terrific jolt of electric fire against the new door’s lock, enough to shatter the mechanism and swing the heavy door open on its hinges.
“Hey, Pargeot!” he shouted. “Wake up, man.”
“Let me,” said Caspar, squeezing past Douglas in the doorway. He cupped his hands to form a megaphone and yelled at the top of his voice, which was considerable, thanks to years of shouting orders above the sounds of storms and sails.
“All hands on deck! All hands on deck! Man your battle stations! Captain Pargeot to the quarterdeck!”
The dimly seen Pargeot, propped up to sleep against the far wall, sprang immediately to his feet, fully awake. He plowed across the cell, creating a respectable bow wave by his passage, and leaped up the three steps to the doorway, almost bowling Caspar over.
“Now, now!” soothed Douglas remembering to dispel the invisibility charm. “It’s Douglas Brightglade and Caspar Marlin and this is my friend, Marbleheart Sea Otter.”
Pargeot shook his head to clear the last of sleep and scrubbed his eyes with battered knuckles.
“What’s to do?” he asked at once.
“Run!” cried Marbleheart. “This way!”
He swam off down the corridor, pausing under the Bat family to say, “You Bats had better evacuate. No telling what might happen next.”
“We’re on our way, although it’s middle of day outside,” said Tuckett. “The whole mountain trembles. It bodes no good, I fear. Up and away, Missus! Come, girls, lad! Follow Mama and me!”
Marbleheart led his own companions past the stairway, through the open grille, and on into the passage.
They paused a moment in the domed room with the five exits, listening for sounds from the fiery interior of Blueye. Shouts and the scrambling of boots. Faintly came a woman’s
voice, raised in shrill fury.
“Time to go,” said the Otter, urgently. They followed him once more to the spot where the passage became a shaft.
“Go to the ledge, above,” said Douglas to the others. “You’ll be out of harm’s way, there. I’m going after the Witch!”
“I don’t...,” began Marbleheart, but his feet were scrabbling in thin air. He, Caspar, and an amazed Pargeot shot up the shaft.
“...want to fly without you around!” came the Otter’s voice, fading into the distance.
Douglas returned to the domed chamber, arriving just as a band of Witchservers followed their panic stricken Warlock out of one of the other passageways, on their way back to the dungeon proper. They didn’t notice Douglas as they passed.
Douglas followed them as far as the grille, closed and relocked it after them, using a minor Freezing Spell to jam the lock mechanism, in case the officer had a key.
Then he dusted his hands together and walked calmly into the heart of the volcano.
****
On Waterand Flarman leafed through a thick, gilt-edged book chained to a heavy marble stand in Augurian’s tower workroom. He felt something rub against his calf and looked down.
“Back so soon, Black Flame? How goes the Journeyman’s journeying?”
The big, very black tom sat down, curled his tail around himself, licked his nose, and grinned at his Master. He swished his magnificent tail twice and blinked thrice, slowly, glancing to the right.
“Augurian!” called Flarman, closing the huge book with a bang. “Augurian?”
“I am here, Fire-eater,” said the Water Adept, coming in from the next room. He was holding two glass vials of smoky liquid, which he had been pouring back and forth to mix. “What is it?”
“Black Flame says Douglas’s adventure is drawing to a climax. Do you wish to be in at the end of it all? Purely as observers, of course.”
“I could use a break,” sighed the Aquamancer.
“Right as rain! I’ll just toss a couple of singlets and a change of drawers in my kit and meet you in fifteen minutes on the west battlements.”
Aquamancer (mancer series Book 2) Page 26
