by W. C. Conner
Mitchal gave him a sidelong glance before answering. “There are many women in my life, Kemp,” he said, “and I love all of them dearly. But there is one I love above all.” And he nodded toward Caron who rode several yards in front of them. “I would give my life for that woman.”
Kemp said nothing in response, though to himself he thought, as would many, my friend.
Behind them, Caron’s handmaiden, Angela, rode in the carriage, followed in turn by a wagon carrying tents, food and water for the entire company. Caron’s lifelong handmaid, Mertine, had asked to be allowed to return to Castle Gleneagle to visit her brother and two sisters while Caron was gone, to which Caron had willingly agreed.
Behind all of these, the Duke’s guards posted the trot, wishing they could either drop to a walk or pick up a canter to ease the pounding on their posteriors.
The sounds of a camp at rest came to Caron’s ears as she lay awake in the bedding beside Roland who snored softly in his sleep. She lay on her back, staring toward the top of the tent which she could not see for there was no moon out to even weakly illuminate the encampment. Trying to see in the darkness strained her eyes and she closed them in acknowledgment of that futility.
Can you hear me, Wil? she thought. I need your reassurance. I need your strength. Though I sense that I will be able to enter the Old Forest this time, I am frightened at what I might find there. Will your summoning be a threat to my life or to those I love?
You must come to me.
Her eyes opened again to be met with the still profound darkness as the summons echoed in her head.
I’m coming, Wil.
Her mind settled itself following her answer to the summoning of the man she knew she would never stop loving, and her eyes closed once more. We are coming.
4
Albrecht looked up expectantly as a large apparition loomed in the doorway. “Come in, come in,” he called, “and welcome to my humble tavern.”
“It’s only me, Albrecht,” said Kemp as he stepped into the room.
Looking about at the few patrons huddled at a table in the back corner, he shook his head and walked over to the counter. “I’m traveling west with Princess Caron and Duke Roland and took the opportunity to pick up a couple of items that were left behind when we departed for Wisdom.” A mug of fresh cider had already been set on the counter for Kemp.
“Are they here with you?” Albrecht asked eagerly, hopeful for some play from the troops who always accompanied them.
“No. They continued toward Wisdom. I intend to catch up to them at the crossroads.” He looked around once again. “Is it still so grim here?”
“Worse, Kemp. Last week Albert and Ned and their bunch found Grady lying flat on his back down by the cooper’s shop. He was alive, but his eyes were so bloodshot they looked as if they would start bleeding at any moment. When Albert tried to help him up... well, what do you think? He popped up as if he had been pushed from beneath by an unseen hand and he tore Albert’s throat out with his teeth.” He shuddered as he recalled the incident. “I didn’t see it myself, mind you, but Ned and his cronies, well, they did and they spent a lot of coin in the tavern here trying to wash away the memory of what they saw.”
“What happened to Grady?” Kemp asked.
“He ran off,” Albrecht answered. “Just as soon as he did it he ran off and nobody’s seen even a glimpse of him since. Folks are still a bit jumpy, what with all the other strange things happening since the darknesses started showing up.”
“Did Ned or any of the others notice anything besides the red eyes?”
Albrecht’s voice lowered. “He was lying in a large darkness when they found him, but the darkness left with him for it’s not there anymore.” He straightened up and leaned his back against the wall. “More folks have started packing up and leaving, Kemp. There’s scarcely enough to keep the tavern alive anymore. I’m thinking of joining them.”
“Come with me Albrecht,” Kemp said. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning if you can be ready by then. If not, just follow me to Wisdom when you’re able.”
Albrecht looked thoughtfully toward the few customers near the fireplace in the back of the room. “Sheldon,” he called, “do you still want to buy my tavern?”
As Mitchal pulled Caron’s saddle from her horse, she stared back in the direction from which they had come, a distant look in her eyes.
“Kemp will be here shortly and he’s bringing Albrecht with him.”
“How do you do that, Highness?” Mitchal asked.
She shook her head as her eyes cleared. “I have absolutely no idea, Mitchal,” she replied. “It frightens me a bit when it happens. I’m hoping that I will be able to discover why this is occurring when we arrive in Wisdom.”
“You know, Highness,” Mitchal said, “even when you were young you would stare off into the distance. I always used to feel you were seeing things the rest of us couldn’t see when you did that.”
“It felt to me like I was almost able to do just that, Mitchal,” she replied, “much like the word that is just at the tip of the tongue yet eludes you. It was a frustration at the time, but now that I have found the word, so to speak, it is disquieting.”
Kemp rode into the encampment at the crossroads with the former tavern owner perched behind him. After Albrecht slid off the horse, he explored his backside gingerly. “I had a blister there earlier,” he said ruefully as Kemp dismounted, “but it’s long gone now.”
Kemp smiled in sympathy. “Perhaps the princess will let you ride in the coach with Caron’s handmaiden, Angela.”
Albrecht looked hopeful. “If that’s supposed to be an insult, it won’t work,” he replied. “I’d be very pleased to ride in the coach for a pair of reasons. First, of course, my backside would appreciate the change; second, I would be more than pleased to share the company of a gentle woman rather than a bunch of crude-spoken men. There are curtains on the windows, are there not?” He winked at Kemp lasciviously.
Kemp laughed. “On second thought, perhaps we’d best have you ride up in the box with the driver.”
Caron and Mitchal walked over to them as they stood talking and Albrecht bowed respectfully. “Your Highness,” he said, “Kemp here has suggested that I might be more comfortable riding in the coach with your handmaiden.” As he spoke, Caron had been looking over his head at Kemp who pointing up, mouthed the word “box”.
“I have a better idea, Albrecht,” she said. “You may ride with Antonio up in the box. I know he would be pleased to have someone to talk with on the road.” Suppressing a grin she added, “I will personally have a soft pillow delivered to you before we leave in the morning.” Giving Kemp a conspiratorial wink, she took him by the arm and turned him away as Mitchal led Albrecht in the other direction to find Antonio.
Caron’s expression became serious as they walked away from the others. “When we awoke this morning, one of the guards was found lying in a darkness.” At the look in Kemp’s eyes, she stopped.
“His eyes,” he said, “Were they red as if bloodshot to the point of bleeding?”
She nodded, her look of concern mounting. “Roland and several of the guardsmen attempted to help him, but he ran off like a deer with the hounds of death behind him. They’re still out trying to run him down.”
Kemp ran a hand through his thatch of unruly hair as he thought. “That very thing happened in Wrensfalls less than two weeks ago,” he said. “That’s the reason Albrecht accompanied me. Wrensfalls will likely be deserted before long.”
There was a prolonged silence before Caron sighed. “I wonder why I can see your coming but have no sight for these evil things,” she said.
“I think I would be more concerned if these evil things were known to you,” he replied.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of jangling harnesses and the clatter of many hooves as a mounted troop rode into the encampment. At the forefront rode a grim-faced Roland. Caron and Kemp walked over to him as he dismounte
d.
“He is done with,” Roland said, “though I am doubtful we have seen the last of the evil he was.”
“You’re frightening me, Roland,” Caron said.
“I’m frightened myself because we’ve seen his kind before. When we surrounded him he fought like a demon; for demon he was. After he lay dead upon the ground, his remains bubbled, then turned to a many-colored vapor which seemed to be sucked away into the air.”
Caron’s hand went to her stomach as she bit back a cry. The memory of Greyleige’s fallen warriors as they dropped like hammered animals before disappearing in ribbons of vapor returned to her memory as if it had just happened.
“We must get to Wil,” she said so softly that only Roland heard her.
“There will be no more stops after tonight until we reach Wisdom,” Roland said. “We will ride straight through the night to get there.”
5
The front door of Three Oaks flew open as Scrubby burst into the common room.
“They’re here! They’re coming,” he yelled before turning and running back outside. Tingle and Thisbe looked at one another and shook their heads before making their way through the still open door. When they arrived at the courtyard gate, they could see Scrubby as he ran toward the approaching riders, his arms waving in greeting.
Mattie and Peg followed them out to the road, each with her daughter in her arms. Behind them, three small boys walked close together for courage in the face of the imposing troop that rode toward them. Peg stood on tiptoe in an effort to find her husband among the riders while Mattie shrank back before retreating to the courtyard of Three Oaks, intimidated by the legendary Princess Caron.
As the troop clattered to a halt before Three Oaks’ gate, Peg moved quickly among the horses to where Kemp was dismounting and handed Ellen to him before hugging him tightly. “I have been worried for you,” she said.
“And I for you,” he replied. “Perhaps now an answer can be found to what is occurring.”
A young man had emerged from the gate as the riders arrived and took the reins of both Roland’s and Caron’s horses as they dismounted.
“Little Philip?” Caron exclaimed as she realized who he was. “By the powers, you’re certainly not the tousle-haired child you were when we were last here. You’ve grown into a very handsome young man.” At her compliment Philip looked toward the ground and mumbled a few words as his face turned a handsome shade of pink.
Her eyes found Tingle and Thisbe where they stood off to one side and she walked over to them, hugging each one closely in turn. At last, she saw Scrubby standing behind the others, the anxious look of an adoring puppy in his eyes.
“Scrubby,” she called, “where is Mattie?” At the question, Scrubby disappeared into the Three Oaks courtyard and returned holding the hands of both Mattie and Little Wil. Caron smiled as she walked over to them. Dropping to her haunches, she looked into Little Wil’s eyes. “You must be Little Wil,” she said. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” he said seriously, “you’re the beautiful princess.”
At those words Caron laughed delightedly and caught him up in her arms, then stood and whirled him around. “And you will forever be my handsome prince.” She beamed as she placed a kiss on his forehead and set him down, then looked to Mattie who glanced very briefly into the princess’s eyes before looking down at the ground.
“Hello again, Mattie,” she said gently. “Who is this beautiful baby you hold?”
“Ellen,” Mattie managed, at last daring a look into Caron’s dark eyes.
“Ellen,” Caron repeated. “You and Scrubby have done wonderfully well; your children are both beautiful.” Mattie blushed, clearly pleased at Caron’s praise of her family.
At last she turned to Scrubby and held out her arms. Scrubby stepped forward and she wrapped him in a warm embrace for several long moments before she released him and stepped back.
“I’ve come to try to find Wil and bring him back, Scrubby,” she said.
He nodded. “I know, Caron. That’s why we sent for you.”
A light knock sounded at the door and both Eldred and Gregory looked up expectantly as it was opened by one of the young brothers. They arose together as Roland walked through the door with Caron on his arm.
“Welcome to our meeting hall, my Lord, your Highness” Eldred said as they both bowed.
“Well met, Eldred,” Roland said. “And Gregory, I am pleased to see you again as well. We’ve not seen one another in more than three years.” He looked about himself and smiled. “You have been busy since last we met. You have built a very impressive compound in a short time.”
“Well, my lord, we are wizards after all,” Eldred said, a mischievous grin on his face.
Roland laughed. “You are indeed.”
Eldred turned to Caron who stood with a faraway look on her face. He opened his mouth to speak, but her words stopped him.
“I am to go to the Old Forest now,” she said.
“But, Highness,” Gregory protested, “we have planned a lovely dinner for your entire party and we will escort you to the margins of the Old Forest in the morning with a supply of food and drink for your journey”
“I am to go to the Old Forest now,” she repeated, “and I am to bring nothing with me. The Forest will provide what I need.” She turned and looked at Roland, her eyes filled with hope and fear. “I love you, Roland. Always trust that I love you.”
“I have never doubted it, Caron,” he said. He held out his hand to her as he spoke and she grasped it tightly as he led her back out of the door. Most of the earth wizard brotherhood stood outside along with Caron’s companions as Roland led her gently through them and directly to a point just a few yards from the margin of the Old Forest. Releasing her hand, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, then turned and walked back to stand with the others as Caron stood before the trees, swaying back and forth with anxiety . She had no way of knowing it, of course, but she was standing in the exact spot that Wil had stood four years earlier after fleeing Scrubby’s house under the shadow of Greyleige’s seeker.
After just a few minutes she looked up as if seeing something only she could before starting to walk toward the Forest. When she arrived at the first of the trees, the onlookers gasped audibly as she vanished suddenly from sight.
6
The monolithic fortress of Blackstone enclosing the original wizard’s compound had been built at the direction of the Great Wizard Greyleige prior to his fall four years earlier. Clouds covered the sliver of moon, deepening the blackness of the night. Torches burning beside the entrance stood out sharply even from a distance in the profound darkness.
Blackstone. It was a dark name and its short history was evil. It was a name that reflected both the heart of its creator and the appearance of the stones from which it was made. But the blackness of the fortress and the wizard who had created it had both disappeared at the moment of the collision of the spells of magic summoned by Greyleige and Wilton. The fortress had turned within that single instant from black to pure white as Greyleige had been vaporized along with Wil.
In the few years since the cataclysmic event, the appearance of the mighty fortress had subtly changed. Rain and snow had etched at the stones from which the walls were made and the wind had blown dirt and sand and smoke across the Crelleon Plain and all that stood upon it. Seen from afar, Blackstone was no longer the pure white it had been after the climax of the battle. The pits and pockets in the stone that had collected dirt and ash had changed its appearance from snow white to a dirty gray.
Within the fortress, those wizards who had not departed to join the earth wizards’ brotherhood studied and practiced in their pursuit of the promise of knowledge and the fulfillment of potential that being a wizard bespoke. But they pursued a goal that was a danger to them, for it was a goal that would lead them inevitably to a future that had happened only a few years in the past. To follow this path would set in motion once again the conditions for
the corruption of another Great Wizard at some unknowable future time. But they, like so many, saw history only as a picture of what has passed. They were unable to see in it lessons from which they could direct their future.
As the wizards in the old compound of Blackstone studied and practiced, Grady moved steadily and stealthily toward them, drawn by the shadow of a magnet for evil that had dwelt there only a few years before. As he crouched beneath rocks and bushes by day and traveled through the darkest areas by night, he was unaware of the others who had also been touched by a darkness. Even had there been an awareness of them, he would have ignored them, for the creature that had been Grady had only two imperatives: The first was to kill whatever he found before him that did not already smell of death; the other, and by far the stronger, was to return to the place where the evil that now corrupted him had been vaporized in the collision of magics summoned by Wil and Greyleige during their confrontation in the tower at the center of Blackstone.
He crouched now upon a rise, looking down the slope toward the torches burning beside the open gates of Blackstone and waited. Had he the interest or the awareness to look around, he would have seen the pale reflections from dozens of pairs of red eyes spread sporadically about the fortress, looking toward the gates of Blackstone, waiting as he was.
Hidden deep in a cave, an amorphous clot of blackness pulsed strongly as it sensed the focus of those who crouched in the hills and gullies surrounding Blackstone. There was no consciousness or thought; there was only an elemental awareness of the presence of the hatred and malice of the pure darkness that drifted earthward in ever increasing amounts.
The spell that warded it was yet sufficient to maintain control of the mass of darkness, so it waited. With the infinite patience of pure evil, the blackness waited, pushing relentlessly against the power of the spell of binding.
