by W. C. Conner
“There have never been any wizards or witches in my family, Wil,” Caron said, disbelief in her voice.
“It can arise spontaneously, Caron. How do you suppose the first wizards came into existence?”
Her face had calmed as he spoke. “It explains many things, doesn’t it?” she said. Wil nodded as he shoveled some eggs into his mouth. “You know, when you told me just now that I’m a witch, I felt something shift in my mind. It felt like a key turned in a lock and opened the truth to me.”
He reached out and took her hand in both of his. “I know that exact feeling,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve been given this added burden, Caron. You, of all people, would know how very sorry I am.”
She looked at her hand in his. It seemed so natural there, as if it should have been there from the moment she was born, and her fingers responded, wrapping themselves around his. Her head bent forward as if in sorrow.
“His son grows in you, Caron,” Wil said gently as if in reply to a question.
“I have known it from the moment of our lovemaking,” she said. She slowly removed her hand from his and sighed deeply.
“How can I love you both so fiercely?” she asked, the agony of the question clear in her voice. “Is there something terribly wrong with me?”
“How can a woman love two children at once?” Wil asked in response. “She loves them both the same, yet differently. Neither one has a lesser value than the other and she loves them equally. How can she love both her husband and her children? There is no immutable natural law that says you must love only one. As a practical matter, it usually presents problems, but that doesn’t change the truth of love.”
“There is another dream I have had that has come to pass,” she said, so softly he almost missed it. “I am in that dream now.”
“As am I,” he said, his voice as soft as hers.
He rose from his chair at that point and walked around the table to stand behind her. As he placed his hands gently onto her shoulders, she reached up to take one of them and hold it to her cheek. She didn’t resist when Wil drew her to her feet after several moments and turned her to face him, then wrapped her in his arms and held her close to him.
She stood unmoving in the embrace, afraid of her own feelings, afraid of what he was feeling, afraid of what any movement might produce. After a short time the tension of the physical contact between them relaxed a bit and her hands came up to touch his face, to reassure herself that he was real; that this was not a dream. Pulling back slightly, she gazed up into the eyes looking just as she had seen them in her dreams – intense, calling to her soul, yearning for the same things she did. She took his face in both her hands, bent it down to her and softly kissed his lips, then leaned her head back once again to look into the eyes that seemed to be drowning in hers. “You’re still here,” she whispered.
At his puzzled expression, she laughed lightly and kissed him again, but this time the kiss that started softly turned quickly into the kiss of passion she had wanted it to be almost from the moment they had met. His hands moved lower down her back, pulling her to him as he responded equally to her passion.
Her breakfast lay untouched upon the table as the door to the bedroom swung shut behind them.
12
Castle Gleneagle came into view of Kemp’s wagon at the point in the road that Caron had lost sight of her companions in the battle against Greyleige as they had departed following the battle at Blackstone four years before. Tingle and Thisbe sat in the driver’s box while Peg and Mattie sat in the back with the five children, doing their best to keep them occupied.
Albrecht had stayed behind with Kemp to mind Three Oaks, saying that he felt more at home behind the counter of a tavern than bouncing along in the back of some old wagon.
Tingle, on the other hand, had been eager to start the journey. It had been several years since he had lived the carefree life on the open road and from time to time the urge to travel pulled at him. Had he been married to anyone but Thisbe, he would likely have followed his urge shortly after settling down in Wisdom.
Pulling back on the reins, Tingle brought the wagon to a halt. Behind the wagon, Tingle’s beloved little gray mare, Lily, stopped at the end of her lead rope.
“By the powers,” he exclaimed, “Gleneagle looks like it’s under siege.”
And it did, indeed, look as if it was. Spread out before its walls was a massive encampment. But there was no evidence of siege engines nor military formations nor warlike activity of any sort.
“There are many women and children in that encampment,” Thisbe said, her hand held up to shade her eyes from the glare of the bright afternoon sky. She shook her head as the truth came to her. “They are refugees, much as we are,” she said.
“I doubt that Gleneagle will be able to protect them from the darkness,” Tingle mumbled.
“Perhaps not,” Thisbe replied as Tingle snapped the reins to start the horses forward, “but the darkness-touched are a different matter. Those people undoubtedly feel there is safety in numbers, much as do herd animals when their predators are around. When you think about it, they have done no less than we are doing.”
The closer they got to the castle, the more obvious it became that an uncomfortably large number of the refugees were barbarians from north of the Korvath mountains. The children stared out from the wagon with wonder at these people in their animal skin clothes. Barefooted children stared back at them with equal fascination. An occasional smile and the tentative wave of a small hand from one of the children they were passing caused the three boys in the wagon to stand so they could see better, and they waved enthusiastically back.
“I certainly hope we get to stay in the castle,” Peg observed to no one in particular.
Little Wil looked over to Mattie. “Mama, can we go play with the barbarians?” he asked enthusiastically, prompting Mitchal and Harold to join in.
“Yes, mother, we want to go, too. Can we?”
Peg frowned. “We will be in the castle,” she said. “I very much doubt there will be any of them there for you to play with.” To herself she prayed, first, that they would be put up in the castle and, second, that there would be no barbarians there to worry about. With Kemp not by her side she felt vulnerable and unsure of herself. Her only consolation was Mattie who, like her, felt lost without Scrubby. The journey from Wisdom had been long and tedious and they had come to like one another immensely during the trip.
As the two mothers in the back of the wagon had talked about pregnancy and birthing and babies, Thisbe would become quiet, staring straight ahead as if boring a hole in the horizon. At those times, Tingle would take her hand and hold it tightly, knowing the anguish she felt and feeling powerless to alleviate it. “We have Philip,” he would say, and Thisbe would look back to where he lay in the wagon, his body healing with every passing day and she would smile. The damage to his mind, however, was a different matter. Each night, they had put Philip between them and held him close, hoping to somehow ease the haunted look in his eyes, but there was no change from one day to the next.
“When Caron brings Wil out of the Old Forest,” Thisbe said on one occasion, “he will know how to help our Philip. He will be able to help him as he did Peg.” He will be able to help him as he was unable to help my father.
Tingle sensed the unspoken part of her prayer for he knew she still grieved for Morgan who had given his life in defense of hers. Tingle gave Thisbe a hug and silently prayed that she was right, for her sake as much as Philip’s.
The last night before they arrived at Castle Gleneagle, it seemed as if Wil did indeed reach out from the Old Forest to help them. As they all awoke in the morning, Tingle found himself holding Thisbe in his arms. Facing them, Philip slept soundly, his face peaceful for the first time since the attack at Three Oaks almost three weeks earlier. When Tingle rose to a sitting position, he found Little Wil sleeping as soundly as Philip, his two small arms wrapped closely about the older boy’s neck.
Tingle shook Thisbe gently and she opened her eyes. The peaceful expression on Philip’s face was the first thing she saw, followed closely by the two small arms around his neck. She rose up as Tingle had and saw Little Wil where he lay clutching Philip to him. A smile spread across her face and she whispered over her shoulder to Tingle. “I told you Wil could do it,” she said, then added with a chuckle, “but, I hardly expected it would be Little Wil.”
Thisbe looked back into the bed of the wagon where Philip had raised himself to a sitting position, holding Little Wil’s hand tightly to make certain he didn’t fall over the side in his enthusiasm, and looking every bit as wide eyed and excited by what lay around them as were the three younger boys. He looked up at Thisbe and smiled widely before turning his attention once again to the barbarians they were riding past. She slipped her arm around Tingle’s waist and drew herself closer to him. After giving his cheek a quick kiss, she laid her head on his shoulder in contentment.
“He’s going to be just fine,” she said to Tingle. “Our Philip is going to be just fine, thanks to Wil.”
The guards at the gate to Castle Gleneagle stepped forward as Kemp’s wagon approached. The sergeant in charge held up his hand as a signal for them to stop although Tingle would have been foolish to do anything else since the gates were closed and five armed men held pikes at the ready before them.
“By the powers,” the sergeant said, “Tingle, whatever happened to your hat?”
“Well met, Albert,” Tingle responded. “The hat? Well, it had seen better days, and...”
“...and his wife didn’t think it a respectable hat for an old married man,” Thisbe finished for him.
Albert’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I sort of never thought you’d get caught, Tingle,” he said as he inspected Thisbe closely. “Still, I can hardly blame you.”
He turned to address Thisbe at that point. “My lady,” he said, “I remember as clearly as if it was yesterday the first time I laid eyes on you back after the big battle. Albert, I said to myself, there’s the only woman I’ve seen in my lifetime that would make me reconsider my unmarried ways.” He bowed to her before turning once again to Tingle. “I have only two things to say to you, Tingle: First, you married far above yourself and, second, you still haven’t repaired my mother’s old pot.”
Tingle laughed loudly before responding. “You have the right of it on both counts,” he said. “It is an absolute truth that this woman is far and away too fine a lady for me, but – may the powers help me – I love her with all my heart and soul.
“As to that pot,” he continued, “I have often felt badly that I was unable to carry out my promise to you. Though my skills are rusty, you bring your mother’s pot to me and I’ll see it put aright as quickly as I can.”
“I know you would, Tingle,” Albert said, becoming more serious as he spoke, “but the need is gone. She passed over to the other side shortly after the battle. And please don’t say you’re sorry, for she was old and suffering terribly. She is far more comfortable where she has gone than she was here.” He shrugged at that point and indicated a small empty space to the side of the gates.
“Set yourselves up over there,” he said. “I’ll see to it that the Prince is told you’re here as quickly as possible.” With a brief salute, he opened a small door to the side of the great gates and disappeared. The five guards, who had long since lowered their pikes, returned to the shade of the castle wall.
Within less than half an hour the gates opened and Mertine bustled out followed by several serving girls and pages. Walking directly to Tingle she threw her arms around him and hugged him close.
“Welcome to Castle Gleneagle once again, Master Tingle.”
“Mertine,” Tingle said, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable in her embrace, “allow me to introduce the rest of my party.” Releasing him from her grasp, she turned to the rest of the group.
“Ah, Thisbe,” she said, beaming, “and Peg. How good to see you both. And all these children? My goodness, someone has certainly been productive.” Mattie had shrunk back behind the others, but Tingle pulled her forth.
“Mertine, this is Mattie, Scrubby’s wife, and the two young ones with her are Little Wil and Ellen.”
At this introduction, Mertine’s attitude changed immediately from playful to respectful. Dropping a slight curtsy to Mattie who was blushing furiously, she said, “I am honored to meet the wife of the truest friend I have ever had the honor to know. You must be a remarkable woman to have earned his love.”
Mattie looked up, expecting to see mockery in Mertine’s eyes but found only sincerity there. “No, my lady,” she said. “I’m not remarkable. I’m just old Hobbs’ daughter and he didn’t want me back after my first husband died, so he gave me to Scrubby.”
Mertine laughed delightedly and smiled warmly. “Mattie,” she said shaking her head and taking Mattie’s hands briefly in hers, “you are the perfect woman for Scrubby. You two are perfect for each other.”
Mattie smiled back. She had known that to be true since before her father had married her off the first time.
“Well,” Mertine said, turning and clapping her hands toward the servants who had accompanied her, “let’s go inside. His Highness will be delighted to greet you all.”
With that, they all trooped through the gates as some of the servants took their bags and supplies from the wagon, while others led the horses and wagon toward the stable area.
Peg breathed a sigh of relief as the gates closed behind them.
Tingle sat at Gleneagle’s right. To the Prince’s left sat a large man dressed in animal skins who had been introduced to the party from Wisdom as Drogol, leader of the Northmen. Geoffrey, who had turned eighty just three days before, stood ramrod straight off to one side.
Drogol had evaluated Tingle quickly: dependable, likeable, no threat. He had looked with undisguised interest at Thisbe, but at a word in his ear from Gleneagle, he turned away from her and ignored her for the rest of the evening.
Peg and Mattie were clearly uncomfortable in the war leader’s presence, but their children, along with Philip, were agog, barely able to keep from staring openly at him. Drogol saw their interest and smiled. They had no way to know that his own children stared with the same open fascination at Gleneagle.
Tingle had just finished telling them of what had been happening in Wisdom. Gleneagle sat with his fingers steepled before his face in thought.
“You saw her enter the Old Forest?” he asked, almost rhetorically.
Tingle nodded. “Every one of us saw it, as did almost the entire brotherhood of earth wizards. There is no doubt that she successfully entered the Forest, and Wil sent each of us a message telling us she would return to us.”
“And this wizard, Gregory, he was the survivor of the battle with the demons at Three Oaks?” Again, a nod of the head.
Gleneagle rose and starting pacing. Drogol followed him with his eyes.
“I truly fear for my little game player,” he said to no one in particular. Though all heard him, only Tingle and Geoffrey understood the reference. He turned to them.
“There is something about this that worries me far more than Greyleige ever did, if such a thing is possible.” At the question in their eyes, he continued, unknowingly reflecting the words of Eldred. “There is no head to this snake as there was with Greyleige. I am no great thinker. I am a war leader, but I cannot go to war against an enemy I cannot see.”
“Highness,” Geoffrey offered quietly from where he stood, “the reports indicate the darkness-touched are all moving in the direction of Blackstone. Perhaps we should find out why.”
Gleneagle looked almost stunned at the simple logic of his chamberlain. He looked to Drogol who nodded in agreement.
“That is something I can do, Geoffrey. Send out the word. We march in five days’ time. It ended there one time before. Perhaps it will end there once and for all this time.”
13
Mitchal sat a
part from the others, idly throwing his knife into the end of a large log in the woodpile stacked just off to the side of the wide porch on the front of the wizards’ meeting hall. He could hear the concerned voices at the other end of the porch as Kemp and Scrubby talked with Eldred and several of the other leaders of the earth wizard community.
“No one has seen Gregory in more than a week,” Eldred was saying. “When I saw him last, he had been out all night yet again and his appearance was appalling. His clothing was dirty and torn, his hair a tangled mess, he had obviously not shaved in many days and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from lack of sleep. When I suggested we find volunteers to help him, he all but barked at me that he alone could do what needed to be done.” Eldred stopped and ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve attempted several spells of location, but have found nothing. It’s as if he has been plucked off the face of the earth.”
A prolonged silence greeted his words. Eldred looked toward Scrubby as he raised his hand uncertainly. Eldred nodded for him to proceed.
“Maybe he was,” Scrubby said. At the question in the other’s eyes, he continued. “Maybe he did something wrong when he was collecting the shadows and got trapped and taken away.”
Someone snickered quietly, but Eldred glared toward them to discourage any further ridicule.
“I have the uncomfortable feeling Scrubby may be nearer the mark than we care to admit,” Eldred said. “Logic suggests Gregory was collecting large amounts of this darkness, but he refused to tell anyone exactly how or where he was disposing of it.”
“I’m no wizard,” Kemp offered, “but unless he was sending it into another dimension, it must be somewhere around here. It seems to me the logical place for it would be where it’s either very dark or very light.”
