Warlock's Last Ride wisoh-13

by Christopher Stasheff

  Magnus's head swiveled from Rod to his mother in surprise. After a moment, he nodded, reaching out to touch Gwen's hand.

  Suddenly, Alea felt Gwen's mind in hers, heard her voice, and knew that, though the body lacked strength to move, the mind could still quest. Take care of him, the thought said, and with a rush of emotion that almost overwhelmed her, Alea answered, Madam, I shall. Then she couldn't hold it back any longer; her own panic welled behind the thought: Don't leave us!

  Gwen's children glanced at her in amazement.

  I would I did not have to, the dying woman answered; then her touch was gone.

  Magnus and his siblings stared at their mother.

  Rod lifted his head, gaze fixed on her face, tears welling, hands clutching hers, and Alea knew he shared one last thought with his wife.

  There was no visible sign, no sudden slackening of the body, no rattle in the throat, but Gwen dwindled as though she receded into distance, and was gone. There was one less person in the room, one less presence, one less soul.

  Cordelia bowed her head over her hands, sobbing. Tears ran freely down Geoffrey's cheeks and finally welled from Gregory's eyes, though he knelt as stiffly as though carved in marble.

  Alea felt Magnus's thoughts fasten to hers, felt the sudden clawing need, even as he turned to his father, arm out but not touching.

  Rod knelt dry-eyed, though, face strangely empty; then his lips moved, and Alea could tell the thought: Till I see you again.

  THERE WAS A great deal to do, and Magnus's siblings turned to it with the air of people carrying out plans already made. A hundred times Magnus had to bite back questions, then finally retired to a chair at the side of the house's central room, only able to watch. Alea realized it on the instant—she had been watching him like a hawk since he had come forth from Gwen's room—and sat by him, touching his hand. "Who is with your father now?'

  Magnus looked up at her, startled, then nodded and went to the stairs, Alea right beside him.

  Rod sat by Gwen's bed, gazing at her motionless face, his own almost as still. He looked up as Magnus entered, then reached out with a faint smile. "Thank you, son. I could use some company."

  Magnus pressed his father's hand, then pulled up two chairs. He sat, and Alea sat beside him.

  "It's good to have you here again," Rod said, "so good."

  "Thank God I came in time, Papa!"

  "I do." Rod nodded. "I do."

  Then his gaze strayed to Gwen's face again.

  Magnus and Alea sat in silence.

  Rod sighed, shaking his head. "So many years wasted."

  Magnus stared, scandalized.

  "Twenty-eight years of my life, before I met her," Rod said. "Even if you don't count the first eighteen, that's ten years when I could have been with her but wasn't."

  "None even knew of this planet then, Papa," Magnus reminded gently.

  'True." Rod nodded. "That doesn't make those years any less empty, though." He shrugged. "I'd given up hope of ever falling in love with a woman who would fall in love with me—showed a horrible knack for falling in love with the wrong ones, in fact. Then I met your mother."

  And the two sat quietly, listening in fascination as Rod told the story of his meeting with Gwen, of the slow realization of how much she had come to mean to him, of the sudden discovery that he was in love with her, and of their life together as a young couple.

  Magnus listened intently, fascinated by all that he had never known of their early days, and Alea drank it all in, wanting every scrap she could have of this friend she had met too late.

  THE COFFIN TOUCHED bottom, the pallbearers pulled up the silken ropes, and everyone waited for Rod to throw down the first handful of dirt, but he only stood, hands folded, musing as he gazed down at the oaken box. Finally, Magnus reached down for him, scooped up a handful of dirt, and threw it down.

  Pebbles rattled on wood, and Rod looked up, startled, then nodded slowly and said to Magnus, "Thank you, son."

  "My right," Magnus answered him, "and my honor. Come away, Papa."

  Rod looked up at him with an amazingly peaceful smile. "Why not? After all, she'll always be with me no matter where I go."

  A choked sob came from the mourners; Alea wondered if it were hers.

  "Even so." Magnus turned his father away from the grave and began walking with him, back toward the house. "Bide with us, then—we who need to mourn, Papa."

  "Of course." Rod nodded. "Not that it's really necessary, mind you—but it's fitting."

  So they went down to the gate of the churchyard, where Magnus hovered watchfully as Rod mounted the tall black stallion that had carried him there. Magnus mounted his own horse, and the siblings and their spouses fell in behind him, then the rest of the entourage behind them.

  Alea rode with them, as near Magnus as she could be, and wondered at the man and woman who rode in the black-draped coach with the gilded crown carved on the door.

  SHE FOUND OUT who they were in the great room of the family cottage, where the mourners gathered for warmth and reassurance. Only a quarter of those who had come to the funeral stayed for the reception, of course, but that was still enough to fill the cottage's room. Alea threaded her way though to the kitchen, looked about for a tray, found one with glasses and a bottle, and took it to serve the guests, but Cordelia came through the door just as Alea approached it and smiled, stopping her with a gentle hand. "Leave that to the elves—they wish to honor their king's daughter, and their work is their tribute."

  Alea sighed as she put the tray down. "I must have something to do!"

  "Then stand by Magnus," Cordelia advised. "He will need you now as much as he ever did in battle."

  Alea looked into her eyes for a second, saw there was far more there than Cordelia put into words, and nodded. "There is sense in that—but what will I say?"

  "Whatever comes to mind. You've dealt with the grieving before, or I mistake quite."

  Alea remembered sitting by the bed of a dying matriarch and nodded. "Yes, I think I can. Thank you."

  She threaded her way back to Magnus and found him talking to the man and the woman from the coach. They were dressed in black, but their coronets gleamed all the brighter for it. Prince Alain stood beside them and looked up as Alea came near. He smiled with the warmth that would make his people love him and took her hand. "It is well you could be here, damsel. Mother and Father," he said, turning to the man and woman, "I would have you meet Magnus's companion, Alea."

  "Welcome, damsel." The elegant woman with gold and silver hair held out a regal hand.

  Before Alea could touch it, Alain said, "Damsel Alea, my mother and father, Queen Catharine and King Tuan."

  Alea froze, staring at them, then dropped a curtsy, very glad that she hadn't touched the queen's hand. She did now, long enough to kiss it, and said, "I am honored to meet Your Majesties." She hadn't realized Magnus was so well connected.

  "We were childhood friends," Magnus explained to her. "In fact, Alain came once to rescue us when we siblings had wandered off and become lost."

  Queen Catharine's eyes sparked. "There may be such a thing as taking a friendship too far."

  "Never, Mother," Alain said instantly. "After all, they have saved my life as often as I theirs."

  "Yes, I'm looking forward to hearing those stories," Magnus said. "Gregory always glossed over the interesting parts."

  "Such as our peril at the whirlpool of the afanc?" Alain smiled. "But how could I have been in any real danger with two doughty warlocks beside me?'

  "The danger of a monster with sharp teeth baring them at you," Queen Catharine said instantly.

  "Better that he has learned to face danger before it has come to war." King Tuan placed a mollifying hand on her arm, then turned to Magnus. "Though, if rebellion raises its many heads again, I trust you will be by his side."

  The question caught Magnus off guard "I… I will if I am on this planet, Majesty."

  Queen Catharine frowned. "Surely you w
ill not be off on your travels again!"

  "I… I had assumed that… of course, I would be about my work ..."

  "There is your labor." King Tuan nodded toward the fireplace.

  Turning, Magnus saw his father standing alone by the hearth, an untouched wineglass in his hand, staring into the flames.

  "I mistrust his composure," King Tuan said. "Be sure that I will do all I can for my old friend—but I must be far from here, in Runnymede. Surely the claims of blood are stronger than those of your mission."

  "Especially since it is one you appointed for yourself," Alain added.

  "Well… we haven't discovered the next planet that needs us …"

  "Or have we?" Alea touched his arm, then stepped away and slipped between people to stand by Rod's side.

  The room was full of bright chatter and muted laughter, people reassuring themselves that life could still be fulfilling without a friend they had always relied on. Rod was an island of silence there. Alea stepped up beside him and followed his gaze into the fire. "What pictures do you see in the flames?" she asked softly.

  Seven

  ROD LOOKED UP, SURPRISED BY COMPANY, THEN smiled. "Those I saw when I was a child, damsel—fairy castles and shining knights fighting dragons."

  Alea smiled, too. "Do you still cheer for the knights?"

  "It depends on the dragon," Rod said. "I suspect you've faced your share of them."

  "Literally? Only on one planet, and they were scarcely a few feet long—wyverns, really, not true dragons."

  "A local life-form?" Professional interest quickened Rod's tone, and Alea wondered how much he had given up to remain on Gramarye.

  Far less than he had gained, no doubt—but enough for nostalgia. "They were, but the colonists had tamed them— not that their descendants remembered, of course. Only a few still had the skill of writing."

  'Typical retrograde colony." Rod nodded. "But the oral tradition held?"

  "Yes, but in its usual garbled form." Alea said. "Spaceships were incomprehensible, so their legends only told that their ancestors had come from the stars and didn't say whether or not they had brought the wyverns with them."

  "Medieval?" Rod asked.

  Alea nodded. "I'm beginning to realize why Magnus understood the people so well."

  "Yes, he grew up with knights and wizards on every side," Rod said, "but with Newton and Einstein and Hawking in his books. I think he was twelve before he realized that not everyone was reared with that blend."

  "He wasn't caught between the two cultures?"

  Rod shook his head. "Never saw the slightest conflict— but then, he had a very good tutor."

  "Really! I would like to meet her. Who is she?"

  "A him—sort of," Rod said. "My horse, Fess."

  Alea stared at him, suddenly wondering if grief had unhinged him.

  "He's a robot," Rod explained, "with a very powerful computer for a brain. In fact, when I was between stars, he piloted my ship."

  "Oh!" Alea laughed with relief—and saw Rod's smile widen. "But if it's a robot, why do you say it's masculine?"

  "It's the tone Fess takes." Rod shrugged. "Probably because I'm male, and all but one of his previous owners have been, too. Besides, it'd be a little awkward if you fell in love with your robot—though there are stories about my grandfather."

  "Such as?" Alea was beginning to feel that the old man was trying to impress her in some way and was surprised to realize she was enjoying it.

  "He went a little dotty in his dotage," Rod explained, "and started seeing the world as a medieval romance. He must have thought the serving robots were wenches, because he started making passes at them."

  "Not really!"

  "I've always wondered about that," Rod said, "after I grew up, anyway. Was he really delusional or just putting us all on?"

  "When you grew up? What did you think of him when you were little?"

  "That he was an awful lot of fun." Rod's gaze strayed to Cordelia. "I hope my grandchildren think of me the same way." But he saddened.

  Alea hurried to change the subject. "May I meet this cybernetic horse?"

  "A.I., actually." Rod pulled his gaze back to her. "He's an artificial intelligence—though sometimes I wonder about the 'artificial' part. I'm sure he'd love to meet you. Maybe give you a ride, too."

  "It wouldn't be the first time a male has taken me for a ride."

  "Oh, really!" Rod frowned. "I think I'd better have a stern word with that son of mine."

  "No, the problem with him is that he'd never even think of taking me for a ride."

  "That's not entirely reassuring."

  "Oh, you want him to think about it but not do it?" Alea rushed on so that she couldn't think about what she'd said. "You have every reason to be proud of him, especially in his conduct toward me."

  "I suppose he does make you feel safe." Rod still seemed concerned.

  "Dare I say he's a good boy?"

  "Not if he's listening, you don't."

  Alea laughed and spent the rest of the evening chatting with Magnus's father. When the guests had left and he bade her good night, then went to his room, Magnus took her aside and said, "Thank you for taking care of him."

  "Taking care?" Alea asked in astonishment. "I thought he was keeping me company."

  "Really!" Magnus seemed surprised.

  "If he hadn't, I would have felt very awkward amidst all these strangers."

  "Surely you didn't feel you were in the way!"

  "Not with your father talking to me." Alea frowned. "It's surprising how comfortable I felt with him."

  "Yes … He was in good spirits, wasn't he?" Magnus frowned toward the stairs, brooding.

  "He was putting on a good face." Alea's tone sharpened. "You don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you?"

  "If that were all it was, no …"

  "You don't think he's grieving enough?"

  "You could say that." Magnus turned back to her, face creased with worry.

  Alea stared at him in surprise, then realized what he wasn't saying. She touched his arm gently. "It's denial, Magnus. It will wear off."

  "I hope so." Magnus turned to the stairs again. "I do hope so."

  IT LASTED THE rest of that week, at least. The siblings agreed it would be better that Rod not stay in the house where he and Gwen had been young parents, so they moved back to the castle. It had happy memories, too, but they weren't so overwhelming. Rod seemed quite cheerful, quite relaxed about the matter, friendly and amiable, and went right to the room he had fitted out as a study (it had been the tower magazine). On his way, though, he told one of the servants to set up a bedroom for him in the room next door.

  Other than that, he seemed quite content, poring over his books, adding a few lines to his history of Gramarye, or wandering around the castle with a very peaceful, contented look.

  Magnus didn't like it. "You don't suppose he's gone back into shock, do you?"

  Alea frowned. "He passed that almost at once and went into denial."

  "He still is," Cordelia said. "One of us must speak to him and make sure of it."

  Magnus didn't wait to be appointed. Dreading the conversation, he fell into step with his father as he wandered through the great hall. Frowning about, he said, "We must be thinking about Christmas."

  "Christmas?" Rod blinked up at him. "It's scarcely September!"

  "Aye, but the Yule log should be cut soon so that it may season well. Did we not always do that at the end of summer, Dad?"

  "No, we usually waited till October," Rod said, but not with any sign of nostalgia, simply reporting a fact.

  That gave Magnus gooseflesh. "Dad—I am glad that you are so peaceful…"

  "But you wonder why?" Rod gave him a keen look. "It's because I know she's not really gone, son."

  Denial! "But, Dad … she is no longer here …"

  "No, she's gone away—but I know where."

  Magnus stared at him. "You do?"

  "Of course—to
Tir Nan Og. Everybody knows that."

  Magnus froze, as much as he could while still keeping pace with his father. Then he said, "Well, yes, every Celt knows that the dead go to the Land of Youth—but they stay there, Dad."

  "Exactly! So all I have to do is find Tir Nan Og, and I'll have found Gwen." Rod's gaze strayed from his son's. "We only know it's in the west. I've been working through the old legends, but that's all I can find out about its location."

  Magnus struggled within himself, weighing the kindness of letting Rod keep his illusions against the possibility of a "cure," of putting his father back in touch with the real world by confronting him with the truth—that his mother was dead, gone no doubt to Heaven, not Tir Nan Og, and couldn't come back. But he saw the look of peace on Rod's face, remembered his past spells of delusion, and opted in favor of sympathy.

  When he told his siblings, Cordelia nodded with satisfaction and said, "The dream will sustain him until denial passes."

  "Yes," said Gregory, "but then comes anger, and he is likely to seek her out to scold her for leaving him."

  "A possibility," Geoffrey admitted, "but let us see him across that bridge when he comes to it."

  So, when all was said and done, they did nothing—but they kept a close eye on their father while they did it.

  So did Alea, reminding Rod that he had promised to introduce her to his horse. Agreeably, Rod took her on a tour of the stables and brought her to the stall where his oldest friend spent his time with mechanical patience.

  The black stallion stood with his head over the stable door, munching a mouthful of hay. Alea stared; if Rod hadn't told her what Fess was, she would never have guessed.

  "You can stop the charade, Fess," Rod said. "She knows what you really are. He doesn't swallow the hay, Alea— just lets it fall out of his mouth. Horses aren't known for their table manners."

  "One must keep up appearances, however," the black stallion reproved him.

  Alea had to fight to keep from jumping out of her skin. Even forewarned, it was a shock to hear a horse speak.