Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call

by P. T. Dilloway

  “I know a great many things about you, Marlin. I know Beaux still loves you. She will return in time.”

  “Now see here—”

  He sits down across the fire from me. He looks me in the eye and then says, “What you seek is a calling.”

  “What I seek is a roof over my head and some food in my belly.”

  “You’ve tried a great many things to prove your worth, but none have taken. Why is that?”

  “Might be because I’m not very strong. Or very brave, if you must know. Can’t be a coward if you want to be chief.”

  “You don’t wish to be chief.”

  “I don’t? Then what do I want to do?”

  “You want to be a beacon of light.”

  I laugh at that. My squirrel has started to blacken, so I pluck it from the fire. I hold out the spit to him. “A pity I can’t offer you any better, stranger.”

  “It will be enough,” he says. He waves his right hand and instead of a tiny squirrel on the spit, there’s a plump chicken. He pries a leg quarter off of it. “Go on, it’s real.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “You will learn, in time. What you must know for now is that a darkness is rising. I can fight against it, but I need help. Your help.”

  “Me? I don’t see what good I’ll be to someone who can turn a squirrel into a chicken. Care to teach me that trick? It’d make Old Greetha green with envy.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do for you?”

  “I am a stranger to this land. I know nothing of its people or customs. I need a guide. I need someone who can clear the path for me.”

  “Me? You want me to do that?” I laugh again. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I’m the most hated man in the village. They exiled me.”

  “They don’t hate you. They have no respect for you. We must give them a reason to respect you.”

  “How?”

  “Behold.” He waves his hand again and a pillar of flame shoots to the ceiling of the cave. I just about wet my skins when he walks through the flame. Yet when he emerges, there isn’t a bit of him singed. I touch his hand; it’s ice cold.

  “If I am to save this world from darkness, I need your help.”

  I consider this for a few seconds. Mostly I think of the look on the chief’s face—on all their faces—when they see him walk through fire with me at his side. Then they’ll see who’s a joke. “I’m in.” We didn’t shake hands back then. Instead, I hold up my left thumb. He presses his to it to seal our agreement. “Say, stranger, I didn’t get your name.”

  “You can call me Merlin.”

  Chapter 2: The Gift

  She ran through the forest with no idea where she was going. All she knew was she had to get away. There was a whole mob after her with torches and scythes and other farm implements. If they caught her, she was dead.

  She still didn’t have any idea what had happened to her. One moment she had been milking the goats as she always did and the next her entire body had begun to glow. Her biggest mistake had been to run to her mother for help. Instead of helping her, her mother tried to disembowel her with a knife.

  “Demon!” her mother screamed.

  “Mother, no,” she pleaded.

  It hadn’t mattered. Her mother raised the alarm and soon the whole village had come after her. She had escaped them, but for the last two moons she had been on the run. It was the same wherever she went; something strange would happen and she’d be cast out as a demon, a herd of angry villagers on her trail.

  She crashed into some brush and then felt her scalp blaze with pain. The rest of her body wasn’t glowing or on fire, so this wasn’t another fit as she had decided to call them. This was something far more ordinary: her wild black hair was caught in the brush.

  She clawed frantically to clear the brush from her hair. She wished at that moment she’d brought a knife to cut it off, but she didn’t have one. She didn’t have anything but the animal skins on her back.

  After a few minutes she had only gotten herself more tangled in the brush. She began to cry. What good was it? Even if she got out of this, where would she go? No one would ever accept her, not like this. She was cursed.

  “You’re not cursed,” a voice hissed in her ear. “You have received a wonderful gift. You only need to control it, G’lyna.”

  She tried to turn her head, but she couldn’t. “Who are you? How do you know me?’

  A girl appeared before her. She wasn’t much older than G’lyna and yet there was something regal and commanding in her brown eyes. “My name is Anybl. I was like you not long ago.” To prove it, Anybl’s hand started to glow. “You see?”

  “You can control it?”

  “Yes. So can you. I can help you.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see. But first, we need to free you from this mess you’ve gotten into.” The girl smiled and then began to help G’lyna get the brush from her hair. By the time they finished, G’lyna heard voices approaching.

  “Oh no, they’re going to find us.”

  Anybl only smiled again. “They won’t find us. Take my hand.”

  G’lyna didn’t see what she had to lose at this point. She took Anybl’s hand. There was a flash of light—

  G’lyna found herself atop a mountain. A cold wind chilled her through the animal skins. “Where are we?”

  “Near where I grew up. I have a hut nearby. There’s a fire and food. And some warmer clothes for you.”

  It turned out Anybl hadn’t lied. There was a hut, the inside of which was warm as a summer day. A pair of birds roasted on spits. There were two bear pelts, one for Anybl and one for G’lyna.

  “I can’t thank you enough for this,” G’lyna said.

  “You don’t need to thank me. You just need to listen to me. More of us will come soon. I’ll need help to prepare them.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We are only the first, G’lyna. Soon we will have many sisters, women just like you and I. They’ll need someone to help them as I helped you. Together we will grow stronger.”

  “And then we can take our revenge on those who tried to kill us?”

  “No. We will protect those people.” Anybl took G’lyna’s hand and squeezed it. “As I said, this is a gift. Very soon a terrible darkness will fall upon the land. We must stand against it or it will consume everything.”

  Right on cue, G’lyna heard something heavy crash to the ground outside. Another and another crash followed. Anybl held up a hand for G’lyna to stay quiet. She crept over to the door of the hut.

  A moment later, a clawed hand reached through the flap to yank Anybl out of the hut. G’lyna screamed her name. She bolted through the door after Anybl. Outside, she found three creatures standing over Anybl.

  These creatures were actual demons. Their skin was blacker than the night. Claws extended from their fingers and toes. Leathery bat wings were folded against their backs. And their eyes were a very unnatural gold color.

  “G’lyna, run!” Anybl shouted.

  One of the demons turned to G’lyna. It grinned, revealing rows of pointed teeth. “Another child to feast on,” the demon hissed.

  “G’lyna—”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” G’lyna growled. Her entire body began to glow as it had before. “You three get out of here.”

  “What will you do, child? Cry for your mother?”

  G’lyna didn’t answer; her body did that for her. The glow that had encompassed it fired three bolts of light. Each bolt incinerated a demon, leaving only ash in the snow.

  Then G’lyna knelt down beside Anybl. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” Anybl said. She smiled. “You see now?”

  “I see,” G’lyna said. This ability of hers wasn’t a curse; it was a gift.

  Chapter 3: The Chieftain

  Our village didn’t have many outsiders visit. Those outsiders who did show up, did not receive a warm welcome. That’
s why when we arrive, the chief’s sons have their spears leveled at Merlin’s throat. “Now see here,” I say. “He’s not dangerous. He’s my friend.”

  “Your friend? Then we should kill him now,” says Elgar, the uglier of the two.

  “You kill him and you’ll be making a big mistake.”

  Elgar turns away from Merlin to glare at me. “Why would that be?” He taps me on the chest with a finger the size of a kipper.

  “Because he could turn you into something uglier than you already are,” I say. “He’s a conjurer, even better than Greetha.”

  “Is that a fact, old man?” Elgar says to Merlin. “You can summon the dark powers?”

  “Not dark powers,” Merlin says. “I summon the light.”

  “Light, dark, it won’t save you from my spear.”

  Merlin flicks one wrist and Elgar’s spear turns into a fish that wriggles out of his hand to plop onto the ground. Elgar cocks his fist back to pulverize Merlin’s face. His fist stops about two inches from Merlin’s nose. I stare at him for a moment, as does his brother, but Elgar doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe.

  The chief’s other son, the gangly, pimple-faced Artr, lowers his spear. “You are a conjurer,” he says.

  “I have come to see your father.”

  “What for?”

  “That is for us to discuss. Take us to him.”

  Artr thinks about it for a moment, but then decides discretion is the better part of valor. He leads us to the chief’s hut. It’s not much better than the other huts, just a bit bigger than the rest. It contains all the treasures of the village, which at that time are mostly jars of food. The chief dips into those jars quite often, which is obvious from the gut hanging over his waist.

  “Father, there is someone to see you.”

  The chief pushes away his wife to glare up at us. “I thought I banished you.”

  “You did, but I’ve come back. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

  “Get out of here. Both of you! Where is Elgar?”

  “He’s taking a rest,” I say.

  “Go and fetch him,” the chief tells Artr. “Then dispose of these two.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  We’re left alone with the chief and his unconscious wife. “I should have you know, Merlin here is a mighty conjurer. And he’s passed his skills on to me.” Just like that, my right arm begins to burn, but I don’t feel warm at all. I wish I could say I had conjured the flame, but it was all Merlin.

  “Before you two die, tell me why you’ve come.”

  “A darkness will soon wreak havoc on this land,” Merlin says. “To combat this evil, I will need help.”

  “You want my warriors to fight for you?”

  “Not all of them. Only one.”

  “And what do I receive for this?”

  “Only my favor.”

  “What good is that to me?”

  “You’ve seen the power Marlin and I wield. Imagine what good that can mean to your people.”

  The chief smiles. “Yes, I imagine there is much good you could do.” The chief’s eyes gleam. I’m sure he’s thinking about how much food Merlin could conjure up for him. Maybe even another wife or two, wives who are younger and more attractive.

  Merlin puts a hand on my shoulder. “We should go.”

  “What? But he was going to agree—”

  “The chief’s heart is seized by darkness. He would use my power to satisfy his greed.”

  We start to back away. The chief gets to his feet, a knife in his hand. “Wait! You two shall not leave here!”

  “We will return, when your heart is clearer.”

  The chief tries to stop Merlin, but with a wave of Merlin’s hand the dagger turns into a lizard. While the chief swats at the lizard, Merlin and I show ourselves out.

  Then it’s back to our little cave in the forest to wait.

  Chapter 4: Plague

  The hole in the rock isn’t all that comfortable for me but it’s even less comfortable to accommodate two people. I ask Merlin if he can conjure us up a hut, but he shakes his head. “Magic can’t be used for everything. Some things a man should do with his own muscles.”

  It takes us a week to build a makeshift hut out of logs and branches. We build it on a bed of moss so we have the old world’s version of carpeting. The finished product isn’t much to look at, but at least Merlin and I can stand up all the way.

  We’re putting the finishing touches on the hut when I hear a familiar voice say, “I never knew you were such a carpenter.”

  I turn and see Beaux in her mangy sheepskin, armed with the bloody club she uses to protect the sheep from predators. Her blond hair has more leaves in it than usual and her face is stained with more dirt. “You been sleeping in a mud puddle?”

  “It’s better than this place.”

  Merlin emerges from the hut. He claps my shoulder. “Ah, I told you Beaux would return.”

  “Just once it would be nice if you were wrong,” I grumble. “What brings you back here, woman? Get tired of only sheep for comfort?”

  “The sheep are better companions than you’ll ever be,” she says. “I’ve come to see your friend the conjurer.”

  “What do you want him for? He don’t know nothing about sheep.”

  “There’s plague in the village. People are dying. They say your friend is more powerful than even Greetha.”

  “Of course he is. He’s the greatest conjurer in all the land.”

  “Then will he help us?”

  “Why should he? The chief tried to kill us before. So did that ugly son of his. We ought to let the lot of you—”

  “Hold,” Merlin says. “I will help. But I will require Beaux’s assistance.”

  “What? I’m your apprentice, not this...this woman.”

  “No one knows this land quite like a shepherdess. I will require some special herbs to cure the plague.”

  We venture deep into the forest with Beaux leading the way. As Merlin said, she knows the area better than anyone from all that tramping around with her bloody sheep. I follow after her and decide this is as close to some alone time as we’ll get.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say.

  “The bed’s not quite the same with Merlin, is it?”

  “Better him than sheep.”

  “Better sheep than you.”

  “I said I’ve missed you. Am I supposed to get on my hands and knees to beg?”

  “That might be a good start.”

  “Well too bad, because I did nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing wrong? You killed Bleeth’s chickens! And before that, you ruined a whole basket of apples with that conjuring of yours.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t a great conjurer then, but now—” I hold up my hand to pull the same trick as in the chief’s hut. Nothing happens.

  “Now what?”

  “Just wait a minute.” I look over my shoulder, but Merlin is on his knees to study some leaves. I clear my throat and he looks up. “I said I might not have been a great conjurer, but now—”

  The moment Merlin nods, my hand lights on fire again. I turn triumphantly to Beaux. “You see that? Let’s see your precious Greetha do that.”

  “Merlin is the conjurer, not you,” Beaux says. She stomps off. I wait until the fire’s died out to follow after her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I only did that because you won’t seem to listen to reason.”

  “Reason? What reason could there be to let you back into my bed?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to be something! Do you think I want a husband who’s a laughingstock?”

  “Maybe I haven’t had much success so far, but this time it’s different. Merlin saw something in me. He said I would be instrumental in combating the darkness that threatens the land. Instrumental!”

  “You don’t seem very instrumental so far. All you’ve done is blunder after me like usual.”

  “Is that so?” I grab her by the ar
m and pull her into a kiss. As always her mouth tastes like old berries; I get a couple seeds caught in my teeth. Still, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve tasted in weeks.

  The kiss is interrupted by Beaux clubbing the back of my left leg. I stagger back a few steps. “What was that for?”

  “How dare you! Did you think that would impress me?”

  “I don’t know!”

  We glare at each other for a few moments, until Merlin clears his throat. “Excuse me, but I have what I need. We should go back to the hut so I can prepare the potion.”

  “Fine,” I grumble. I trudge after him with Beaux picking up the rear.

  Merlin boils the leaves and other ingredients in the sole cracked pot I took from the village. “You’re sure this will work?” Beaux asks.

  “It will,” he says.

  I get the honor of lugging the pot into the village. That no one stops us is a testament to how bad things are. Beaux leads the way to the chief’s hut. Before she can open the flap, it lifts on its own. I nearly spill the pot of medicine when I see a bear rising from the hut.

  “Outsiders!” the bear shouts. I realize then it’s not an actual bear but Old Greetha, clad in the skin of a bear. “Leave this place!”

  “We will do nothing of the kind, woman,” I say.

  “You will leave here or you will die,” she growls. The bear’s head she wears like a cap lifts enough so I can see the madness in her eyes. The next thing I know, there’s a dagger in my midsection.

  I manage to set the pot on the ground before I collapse next to it.

  Chapter 5: War of Magic

  There’s not much worse of a feeling than lying on the ground with a dagger in your midsection. The only thing worse is when the one who stabbed you stands over you, chanting a bunch of nonsense to make sure your soul goes to the darkest corner of the underworld. I’d tell her to shut up, but I’m too busy trying not to scream at the moment.

  “What did you do that for?” Beaux shouts. “We came to help.”

  “You came to infect them with his dark magic,” Greetha says. She points a finger, its nail half a foot long, at Merlin, who thus far has done nothing but stand there. “This I will not allow.”