Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men

by Robert N. Charrette

  "You've got Faye's word," John protested.

  Bear looked at John thoughtfully. "So we have."

  "Are you saying she's lying?" John asked angrily.

  "Do you believe her?"

  "Yes!"

  "You know her better than I," Bear said. "But Bennett's rank isn't the issue. We haven't come here to visit his court. We gain nothing by remaining here. We should push on."

  "Bennett said to wait for him," Spae said.

  "All the more reason to move on."

  "You heard him. We could easily get lost in this dimension. It's not like our own. Bennett's our only guide."

  "Not true. John's friend is a native." Bear pointed at Trashcan Harry. "The goblin belongs here too. He knows this realm."

  Trashcan Harry looked nervously back and forth at the others. Bear was calling him a goblin again, and for the first time John thought he could see why. Bennett had said that Harry was one of his agents, brought from the otherworld to watch over John. Here under the starry skies of the other-world he looked the part of an otherworld denizen; it was a difference akin to the transformation Bennett had undergone when he revealed himself as an elf, but less pleasant. Harry looked even uglier than usual now, less human. His skin had a pallor that John somehow knew was not related to his injuries. Harry's teeth looked sharper, his ears more pointed, his skin scabrous. The change must have occurred when they crossed the boundary between the dimensions, but everyone had been so intent on their surroundings that no one had noticed. But then, everyone pretty much avoided looking at Harry unless they had to.

  "Shit, another one!" Kun exclaimed.

  "Behave yourself, Mr. Kun," Spae said. To Harry: "Why didn't you tell us sooner, Mr. Black? I have a lot of questions—"

  "They can wait, Doctor," Bear said. "We waste time here."

  "Bennett said to wait," she shot back.

  Trashcan nodded vigorously. "Yeah. We gotta wait. We need his protection."

  'Protection?" Kun took a steo toward Harry. "From what?"

  "Things," Harry said timorously.

  Spae stepped between them. "Don't let him intimidate you, Mr. Black. What sort of things? Come, now. You're not going to be as uninformative as Mr. Bennett, are you?"

  "You are supposed to help, aren't you?" John asked.

  "Uh-huh." Harry looked miserable.

  "Then talk to us," Kun snapped. "What sort of things?"

  "There's all kinds of things," Harry said.

  "He's not trying to be difficult, Mr. Kun," Faye said in a placating tone. "It is hard to be specific about these things. You wouldn't know the names we use for dangers that we know, and there are dangers for which even we have no names."

  "We should go back. Get reinforcements," Kun said to Spae.

  "Better to push on. We have no guarantee that we will get another chance," Bear said. "Bennett is only trustworthy as

  long as his goals are the same as ours. I mislike the way he abandoned us; I fear that he plans some treachery."

  "You're being paranoid," Spae said. "Bennett said to wait for him."

  The argument went on without reaching a conclusion. Finally, Spae made the suggestion that they take a vote.

  "But the creatures get no say," Kun amended.

  "They are as much a part of this expedition as you are," Spae said.

  "They are creatures of Faery," Bear said.

  "And can't be trusted," Kun finished. They both nodded solemnly at Spae.

  "All right. All right. Just humans vote," Spae agreed. She mumbled something under her breath, but John didn't catch it. "I say we wait for Mr. Bennett."

  "We go on," Bear said.

  "We go back," Kun said.

  John quailed when they turned to him; he didn't want to make the decision for himself, let alone the rest of them. He felt a strong urge to do anything contrary to what Bennett wanted. What did he owe the guy, after all? Bennett had ridden off to his Faery princedom alone, despite all his speeches about parental concern and the importance of John's elven heritage. Right now, John would be happy to see him disappointed big time. The best way to do that would be to go with Kun's plan and go home, TTiat'd throw all of Bennett's plans into the trash. But going home might mean leaving Faye behind. Or the corporeal Faye, anyway. That thought was very bothersome.

  "Jack?" Bear prompted.

  Bear was the only one of the three who really cared about John. Maybe if John went with him, it'd be easier for Bear to take it when he learned John was an elf. He could prove to Bear that all elves weren't bad. John didn't feel like the sort of guy Bear seemed to think that all elves had to be. Bear needed to know that, and John could prove it to him. He'd start by helping him here. Still, John was a little bothered that Bear seemed to be expecting John to side with him just because of the comes thing. If Bear had such expectations, they'd straighten that out later. Bear would be a lot easier to deal with once he got what he was looking for.

  "I don't think we should sit here," John said. "The point of this whole trip was to help Bear get Caliburn. Let's do it."

  Bear slapped him on the back, staggering him. "Well said."

  The decision made, the group set out again with Bear leading, striding confidently down the knoll. Dr. Spae did not give up her position gracefully and grumbled as they marched along. "How will Mr. Bennett know where we've gone?" she asked Bear's back. He ignored her question, but Faye assured her, "He will be able to follow us." The doctor grumbled some more, and Kun looked decidedly upset. The agent began to check his weapon with a compulsive regularity.

  Although he had stood with Bear, John didn't understand how Bear intended to find what he sought. He stretched his legs to catch up with their leader, who was striding confidently across the countryside. Bear acknowledged him with a nod and they walked along quietly for a quarter mile or so before John worked up his nerve to question Bear.

  "You sounded pretty confident that you knew how to find Caliburn, but how are you going to do it? Neither Faye nor Trashcan Harry knows where it is, so we really haven't got a guide. Maybe if we had a map."

  "We need neither map nor guide. We have what we need. You must have faith, Jack."

  Faith made a lousy compass and a worse map. From what John had learned of the otherworld, they had some serious obstacles in front of them. "Didn't you go to sleep in England?"

  "Yes."

  Bear's blunt answer suggested he didn't see the problem. "Bennett said that Faery reflects the real world. Won't there be an ocean between us and England?"

  "I expect so."

  "You don't know?"

  "No."

  "You don't know! How in hell are you going to find anything when you don't even know if there's an ocean between us and England?"

  Bear seemed unperturbed by John's strident tone, but he stopped and stared dreamily into the distance. "Have you ever touched Caliburn, Jack?"

  "What kind of a question is that? Of course I haven't."

  "I have."

  "But—"

  "Don't question me," Bear ordered. More kindly he added, "Have faith."

  Bear started on again, leaving John staring after him.

  CHAPTER 21

  Holger knew the decision to press on was wrong. He knew it. He thought again about heading back to where they'd crossed over into this place; but even if he found it again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make the crossing without either Spae or Bennett. More important, if he made it back he'd have to explain why he had abandoned Spae. Headquarters wouldn't like any answer he gave them.

  Artos was leading them across a countryside that the foolish might think placid and innocent. Placid it might be, for the moment, but Holger had heard the alien sounds and seen the furtive motions of the things that followed them from time to time, and he knew that their surroundings were anything but innocent.

  He had to be vigilant.

  The fog was rising, closing the night in around them and cutting down the already poor visibility. He didn't bother pulling on the
Nightshades™; he'd tried them earlier and they hadn't made any difference against the strange night of this otherworld. It was like trying to see through a fog. Back in the real world the shades were not much help in fog except on the thermal setting; not a viable option here. None of

  Watching for an attack was what a paranoid would do, wasn't it?

  This was fairyland, the wondrous place, all green and natural. Who could have enemies here? The very thought was paranoid. The eminent Dr. Spae didn't think that this was a suitable place for paranoia.

  The eminent Dr. Spae didn't think clearly enough.

  Holger caught sight of a dark shape in the fog, moving parallel to their path. He took a step in its direction, trying to get a better look. When he reached the point at which he had seen it, there was nothing there.

  He must have scared it off, which was good. As long as the things out there were scared of them, they had a chance.

  The thickening fog made it harder and harder for John to see where they were going. Bear, in the lead, became an indistinct dark shape, then disappeared from sight altogether. The thickening murkiness swallowed Kun soon after.

  When Dr. Spae started to become indistinct, he thought about taking Faye's hand. He told himself that he wanted to do it to reassure her, but when he looked at her she didn't seem worried at all. He kept his hands to himself, unwilling to look like a wuss.

  With each step the mist became thicker. Trashcan Harry, limping along behind, disappeared into its hazy embrace, though John could still hear the irregular rustle-clump of his passage. For a moment he and Faye were alone in the vaporous nothing, then his foot snagged a root, slowing him, and she was gone as well.

  With them all out of sight, the only thing John knew of his companions was the sound of their passage. He quickened his pace, intending to close up the distance between him and Faye, but after a few yards he hadn't caught up and he slowed again. He must have walked at an angle to her path. Fearful of getting lost in the dimness, he followed the sounds. The ghostly tendrils of fog grew together overhead, hiding even the stars from his eyes. The sounds of the others' passage grew fainter until they were swallowed altogether by the mist.

  At first, John didn't notice. The silence made it easier for him to think about where he was and what he was doing. Or rather, to worry. Faye's face kept forcing its way into his thoughts, and that worried him too. How was he supposed to deal with the change in their relationship, in her presence?

  When he finally realized that he could no longer hear the others, he stopped. Silence. The noise of his passage wasn't masking anything. There were no sounds around him, no hint of the whereabouts of the others. He might have been the only living thing in the chill gray world of slowly swirling mist.

  He shouted out Bear's name, calling for a halt.

  No response disturbed the silence.

  He called for Dr. Spae and Kun.

  No answer.

  Faye.

  No reply.

  Even Trashcan Harry.

  Nothing.

  He was alone. Lost. Abandoned, or just mislaid? Most likely it was his own fault for having strayed from the line of march. He'd been straying for some time if they were out of earshot. Had they noticed yet that he was gone? And if they had, what would they do about it? An effective search was impossible in the fog.

  The ground upon which he stood was uneven, a hillside, so John headed upslope in the vague hope that a higher elevation might allow him to see over the fog and get his bearings. His companions might try a similar approach. Maybe they'd all find hilltops and spot each other across the mist. He began to think he'd made the right choice when he noticed the mist thinning as he climbed. He changed his mind when he emerged from the fog bank as though he'd walked through a wall, and saw what stood before him.

  It was a tower, a slender spire of dark stone. Its shape was similar to the one he had seen earlier, and for all he knew, it might even be the same one; he could have easily gotten turned around in the fog bank. John searched for an entrance but found none on ground level; the only door he could see had a threshold a good ten feet above his head. He stepped back from the tower's base, pondering the smoothness of the walls and wondering if he could climb up to the door. Just as he was concluding that there were not enough hand- and footholds, the door opened. As it gaped wide a stone stairway came into being, step after step appearing in a curve along the wall from the door to the ground. John didn't need to feel the tingle that prickled his skin to know he was seeing magic in action.

  A shape appeared in the doorway. The figure might have been a demon clattering forth from hell, as it stepped out onto the landing that had not been there before. The being's shoulders were broad and humped, ridged with spines, and its head was crested, its face drawn out in a snout. Wan moonlight glinted from steel and John realized that it was a man in ornate armor, armor formed and fluted into curious shapes that disguised the human silhouette. The fantastic, bestial face was simply the helm's visor wrought by art into an inhuman visage.

  A gauntleted hand rose and lifted the visor, revealing an elven face with skin so brown as to be almost black. The pale eyes stood out starkly, seeming to burn with a white light as they turned on John. The elf did not speak loudly, but John heard his voice quite clearly despite the distance between them.

  "Who stands before my door?"

  John had heard the songs and read the stories, and decided not to give his name. "A traveler," he said.

  "What brings you to my keep?"

  "I was lost. I climbed the hill thinking I might find a place to see over the fog, or at least someplace to wait until it lifted."

  "You did not come here deliberately?"

  "By chance only."

  "Chance?" The elven knight didn't sound as if he believed it. "You did not come seeking me?"

  "I was hoping to find my friends."

  The elf's head lifted slightly. "You are traveling with others?"

  "I'm supposed to be."

  "Humans?"

  Something in the elven knight's tone made John suddenly cautious. Certain that complete honesty was not the best policy in this circumstance, John tried to be vague, saying, "Some of them."

  "I see."

  "Please, sir knight. I didn't mean to disturb you." John had no desire to enter the chill fog again, but he wasn't sure he wanted the elf s company either. "If I could just wait out here. I'll be gone as soon as the fog clears."

  "Come inside."

  It was as much an order as an offer. Having given the order, or made the offer, the elf turned and reentered the tower without waiting to see whether John would comply. I ower down the slope, hidden in the fog, something moaned low and long. It sounded hungry.

  John found himself on the stairs; and once he had started, it seemed only reasonable to continue. Shortly he found himself standing on the landing where the knight had stood, short of breath and sweating lightly, though less from the climb than from nervousness.

  The knight awaited him inside the tower. Though the elf was no longer wearing his armor, he was no less fantastically dressed. His principal garment was a robe with voluminous folds and glittering silver spangles, and he wore a torse of feathery fronds about his head. The fall of silver curls flowing down the back of his neck stood out starkly against his dark skin. It was a decadent effect, but he seemed no less menacing than he had in the armor.

  But the hall looked warm and inviting, especially the fire roaring in the great stone fireplace. The chill of the fog had seeped into John's bones; his clothing was damp, his skin clammy with the mist.

  "Enter," the elven knight said. "If you will."

  John hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. The keep might have been an island in nothingness, for the fog stretched from the ground below into the sky, making a bowl of fog to enclose the structure. The mist seemed somewhat closer to the tower's base than it had been. The thing in the fog moaned again.

  What did he have to lose?

  He s
tepped over the threshold. Trying to be polite, he turned to close the door and found it already shut behind him. For a moment he was puzzled; the massive wooden door would have had to have swung through where he stood. Magic, of course, was the answer. It was still a little unnerving to have it happening around him.

  "Tell me, young sir. What has brought you to my home?"

  John fed him a line about wandering travelers, so heavily edited as to be more of a blipvert than a story; it didn't have a plot or any motivation, and John was the only definite character in die sparse cast, but the elf seemed not to notice.

  "Your story is most interesting," he said. "You say you became separated from your companions in the fog and found your way here by yourself?"

  "Yeah. I was thinking about some stuff and kind of lost track of them. I called when I figured out we were separated, but I didn't get any answers. I guess I wandered pretty far."

  "Far afield, of a certainty. Few come here uninvited. Fewer still with peaceful intent."

  "I mean you no harm." It seemed the right thing to say, though John had no idea how he could harm such an obvious master of magic. When the knight pointed to what was slung over his shoulder—the Viper—he thought of a possible way.

  "Yet you carry a weapon from the human realm."

  "Would you wander this realm unarmed?"

  The elf smiled. "No, I would not."

  John shifted the weapon sling so that it hung more on his back. The weight of it felt heavy and awkward, but he was reluctant to part with it. Fortunately, the elf didn't suggest that he should.

  "But I am being a poor host," the knight said. "Your ordeal has clearly tired you, and you must be hungry."

  John realized that the knight was right. He was so hungry that he couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed until now the savory smells permeating the room. Already he could feel his mouth water in anticipation. When he turned, and saw the table laid to overflowing with plates and platters and bowls heaped with food, his saliva production went into overdrive. There was far more food than two people could eat. Were there more elves about?

  "Please," the knight said, handing John a golden plate. "Help yourself."

  John was reluctant at first; there were songs about people who accepted an elf s invitation to dinner. But this wasn't an elf hill and he already was in Faery. How bad could it be?