by W. C. Conner
“I have been seeing things of late,” she said, “things that have then come to pass.” She watched her father’s face carefully for any signs of alarm, but there were none. “When I asked Wil about them, he told me they were normal ... for a witch.” Again, Caron stopped to wait for a reaction from her father. His eyebrow rose in interest and he looked into his daughter’s eyes thoughtfully.
After a long moment he looked down and spoke so softly Caron almost missed his words. “Your mother had a talent, also.” He looked up once again and smiled sadly. “It was only a small talent, no greater than the simplest hedge witch, but she could coax birds and animals to her and heal their simple hurts or illnesses with a word or a song. I watched for it in you but I saw no sign of it, so I never said anything.”
“My powers were hidden by my elven heritage, father,” she replied. “As I have matured and grown, they have finally started manifesting themselves.” After a moment, she sighed deeply.
“There was an early indication of my powers that I was always ashamed of. When I was very young, I foresaw mother’s death. I saw it in a nightmare and I didn’t want to tell anyone at the time. But then, when she died exactly as I had seen in my dream, I thought it was my fault she died and I was afraid to tell you because I thought you would blame me. I blamed myself, in fact, at the time, but I now know why I saw what I did.”
Gleneagle put his arms around his daughter and held her close, wishing he could squeeze the hurt from her. She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. “I foresaw another death just this morning, Daddy,” she said. “I saw Geoffrey attacking you from behind with a dagger in his hand.”
“You saw him strike me down?” Gleneagle asked.
The question caught her off guard and she stammered a moment before she answered. “I... He... Well, no, I didn’t actually see him stab you. You were surrounded by demons. He had a wild look in his eyes and he was swinging the dagger toward your unprotected back as the vision faded.”
Her father nodded. “I trust Geoffrey implicitly, but it’s true that we’re not facing a normal enemy,” he said. “Even Greyleige was human, whereas this demoness appears to be nothing of the sort. Although I have every confidence in Geoffrey, it won’t hurt to keep our eyes open, will it?”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Caron said, leaning her head on his shoulder almost as she had when she was a child. She could not bring herself to tell him of her fear that there would be a price to be paid for victory should it be theirs in the end, nor could she tell him that she still believed it had been shown to her that her father would be that price.
That night Caron turned restlessly in the bedding beside Roland who slept soundly. At last, she decided she could not carry the knowledge of the impending assassination of her father alone. She slipped her hand out from under the bedding and wiggled it into the wrappings around the talisman.
Wil, she sent, I need you.
His thought came back to her immediately. I am always here for you, Caron.
She smiled in relief at the strength his presence gave to her. I had another vision this morning. I saw my father surrounded by demons, and Geoffrey attacking him from behind with a dagger.
Did you see Geoffrey actually strike him?
No. The vision faded away before it could happen. I’m worried, though, because I have had a presentiment for some time now that there will be a price to be paid for my role in this and I fear that price will be my father’s life.
It was a long moment before Wil replied. It seems there is always a price to be paid, doesn’t it? I am bound to the Old Forest as the price paid for my confrontation with Greyleige, and it was a price I paid willingly.
You knew that would happen?
I didn’t know for certain then, but I am certain whatever price is to be paid this time, it won’t be the life of your father.
How can you be sure?
I also have had a presentiment, but mine was specific enough to know that it will not be your father.
Will it be you again? Caron asked after a moment of hesitation.
Not this time, he returned, at least not directly. I do know for certain that it will be no one we have met.
Wil could feel relief flood her mind. Thank you, Wil, she said as she took the talisman from its wrappings and hugged it close to her. I feel much better now.
Wil felt her mind close down for sleep, but the touch of her body on the talisman kept open the link between them and he was unable to find sleep for himself. He tried to distance himself from thoughts of her, but the warmth of her touch flooded the talisman that was his arm, inevitably bringing memories of the time they had shared there in the stone cabin in the Old Forest. It wasn’t until several hours later when she rolled over in her sleep and lost contact with the talisman that Wil was able to disengage himself emotionally from the feelings and desires that coursed through him before the contact was broken.
Will I ever be with her again? he wondered as he finally relaxed enough to be able to drift off to sleep himself.
The tears came involuntarily to his eyes as he drifted.
Take good care of her, Roland. Take care of her for both of us.
23
Caron looked up as the tent flap opened and Kemp’s large form stepped through followed by Scrubby. She smiled up at them as they bowed in respect. “At the risk of appearing as if we are afraid of the battle to come, we are here to ask your permission to allow us to return to Castle Gleneagle and our families,” Kemp said. Scrubby nodded his agreement.
“You are not warriors, though you each have shown the courage of one many times over,” she responded. “Of course you may leave, though I will miss your company. What must be done here will be done whether or not you are present. Your first loyalty and responsibility must be to your families.”
Rising, she held her hands out to them. Kemp stepped forward and she disappeared inside his massive arms as they encircled her. Scrubby held out his hand as if to shake hers but she stepped forward and wrapped him in a warm embrace.
“I’ll take good care of Wil for you, Scrubby,” she whispered into his ear.
“You tell him to take good care of you, too,” Scrubby replied.
“Fare you well, Caron,” Kemp said as he held back the tent flap for Scrubby. She raised her hand in farewell, feeling empty inside at the departure of the last two of the original companions from four years before when they had together tracked down and brought Wil to his confrontation with Greyleige.
Roland strode up as they mounted their horses. “They are returning to their families, then?” he said.
She nodded ruefully. “That is where they belong, after all,” she answered. The tears sprang to her eyes as she looked to her husband. “I’m afraid, Roland. Even though you’re here, I feel alone and vulnerable. Last time we were here, we faced death, but Wil was the one who faced the unknown. This time it’s me, and I feel unprepared.”
“As I remember, Wil felt much the same, but he faced what had to be faced resolutely,” Roland said gently. “I can’t imagine that you, of all people, would do any less.” As he spoke, he took her in his arms and held her close, rocking her from side to side. The rocking quieted her anxieties somewhat and she felt herself relaxing physically, suddenly aware of the level of tension that she had been living with.
“Perhaps you should talk to Wil,” Roland suggested. “Bonding with the power you two share should help reassure and calm you.”
Kissing her husband gently on the cheek in thanks, she turned to get the talisman from the table on which it lay in their tent.
“I feel like we’re abandoning Caron,” Scrubby said as they rode from the camp. He looked over at Kemp whose mouth was set in a grimly determined line.
“Our battles are behind us, Scrubby,” Kemp replied. “This one will be Caron’s, and we have our families to consider.”
With that, they both turned their faces toward Castle Gleneagle. And they both felt they were abandoning their princess a
t the time she was most in need of them.
Caron stepped from the tent with the key in her hand. As she looked out across the Crelleon Plain toward Blackstone, Wil’s thoughts came to her. It has become black once again. What is it about this place that seems to draw evil to it?
As he finished the thought, the shade of Gleneagle appeared before him. Wil could sense Caron stiffening slightly as she saw her ancestor through Wil’s mind for the first time.
Is that Gleneagle? she asked.
It is, Wil responded. Gleneagle, your progeny is seeing you through me. The elf’s thin voice came through Wil’s mind to her.
Greetings, Caron. You are the first ever of my scions to see me since the elves departed. While you did not see me when you were here in the Old Forest, I watched over you the entire time. You are every bit as beautiful as your ever-so-great grandmother was. I don’t wonder that Wil loves you so desperately.
Caron blushed at the compliment, then looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed, but Roland had left her alone to meet with Wil, and no one else was near. At the mention of Wil’s love for her, she felt a rush of desire deep inside herself for the wizard locked up in the Old Forest.
You know of our love, then, she sent.
It would be easier to hide a sunrise, Gleneagle returned. His expression was wistful as he continued. The love you have for one another is a wonder, the more so given that Roland not only knows of it, but, in fact, loves and is loved in return by both of you. My own great regret is that I did not fight to keep my love as Wil is doing. With that, the elf’s image began to fade. The expression on her ancestor’s face as he disappeared turned subtly from wistfulness to one of both sorrow and hope.
He seems so sad, she sent.
He wishes he had somehow been able to keep your distant grandmother by his side, but it was not to be. Seeing you has re-awakened the hurt of hundreds upon hundreds of years of loneliness. He knows I am doing everything I can to ensure that does not happen to us and envies us the opportunity he could not have.
Caron stared at Blackstone looming before her. Have you any idea when we will be facing her?
I don’t know for sure. I don’t believe it will be long now, however. She is spinning webs and gathering power, much as Greyleige did, but she is far more dangerous than he was for she is not of our world. Her evil is unadulterated. Her power is pure hatred. She cannot even be called corrupted, for that would suggest there was ever a goodness to corrupt. No, she is the embodiment of decadence and hate. That which stands in her way, she destroys. That which doesn’t stand in her way, she destroys. That which she fancies, she destroys. She takes her pleasure in pain and hate. She is utterly selfish; utterly evil.
Do you fear her?
I wish that I had never heard her name.
But, do you fear her?
Her beauty and her sensuality are beyond most human abilities to resist. The knowledge of her name is a problem for it magnifies the effect of her powers on the observer. But, to answer your question directly, no, I do not fear her. I do, however, fear the evil she sows wherever she casts her glance. Some part of it is likely to persist even after she is destroyed or sent back to wherever it is she came from.
Caron hugged the talisman to her chest as she stared at Blackstone. It is difficult to believe she is that close to us, she thought.
Styxis lay prostrate across the High Altarn’s great chair. Her head lolled back as if she had passed out, which in a debauched way, she had, for she was in a state of sensual delirium.
Her greatest weakness lay in her insatiable need for sensual input from adoration and debauchery, or torture and the violent deaths of those ensorcelled by her beauty. But, like a snake which is most vulnerable at the time that it sheds its skin, she emerged stronger in her powers from the vulnerability of her deliriums. The wantonness, the screams, the agony, the deaths; all these fed her powers. With each victim, her powers increased. The closer she was to the agony and the ecstasy, the greater was the increase in her powers.
I will soon be ready to face the darkness that cocky little wizard managed to tie up in his spell of binding, she thought, deep in the afterglow of the death of the wizard at the hands of her demons. She could hear the crunching sound as they scraped the last of the meat from the bones of their victim and she smiled lazily, enjoying this last bit of depravity as if it were a tasty dessert filling the few remaining cavities of hunger.
I believe I will deal with him myself, she thought idly. He is attractive in an odd way. He will likely taste of despair. Her prostrate form shuddered at the delightful prospect.
Her thoughts drifted as she sifted through the emotions floating through the room and her eyes snapped open as the edge of an odious feeling brushed her mind. On the rise overlooking Blackstone, Caron and Wil shared their love through the bond of the talisman held close between her breasts. Her eyes closed once again in satisfaction.
You know my name, wizard, she thought. I stand upon the high ground in this battle, not you. Your precious little witch will soon be replaced by a new portal to your power. You will belong to Styxis.
On the rise, Caron felt a flutter of life within her for the first time. Though she had been waiting for this moment, something felt wrong about it and she shivered despite the warmth of the morning.
24
The cloud of dust on the horizon announced the approach of a large number of people, but neither Scrubby nor Kemp could make them out from the distance at which they sat. “I suggest we move off the road here before they become aware of us. We’ll wait to see what we might see then,” Kemp said. Scrubby had no objection so the two of them turned aside, leading their horses into a small, dense stand of young trees a dozen yards from the road.
It became apparent fairly quickly that the travelers upon the road were moving considerably more slowly than the smith and swineherd had supposed they would be, but they did eventually come abreast of where the two sat hidden by the foliage.
Having not known what to expect, they were taken by surprise to see that they were mostly women and children with the occasional elderly man. They watched patiently as the column neared the copse in which they sat, moving no more quickly than the slowest among them.
As the vanguard drew abreast of them, Scrubby suddenly leaped to his feet and ran toward the road. Kemp stood as his friend jumped up, puzzled by Scrubby’s behavior until it became apparent why he acted the way he had. At the far side of the road, Tingle’s little gray mare, Lily, pulled a cart driven by Tingle himself. Riding in the bed of the wagon were Thisbe, Peg and Mattie, along with Philip and the children.
Kemp collected the reins of the two horses and led them out of the trees and up onto the road where Tingle had stopped the cart at Scrubby’s shout. Arriving at the cart, he threw the reins of the two horses up to the gaggle of boys standing in the back, then reached up and lifted Peg over the side and into his arms.
By the time he and Peg disentangled themselves from their kiss of welcome, Scrubby was already busy telling Tingle and Thisbe of everything that had happened since they had parted from one another. Kemp waited patiently until Scrubby was done before he asked the obvious question. “Why is everyone headed toward Blackstone?” he asked. “Caron has not yet faced the demoness. This is not done yet.”
“It is not done in more ways than you would know, Kemp,” Tingle replied, swinging down from the wagon. Drawing Kemp along with him, he took him far enough away from the wagon that the children could not hear what he had to say. “Whatever this demon is, it has cast its net wide. Living things are going berserk in Gleneagle, attacking one another in orgies of lust and violence. It seems almost as if this madness is being used to herd us like animals, for as we move toward Blackstone, the attacks of madness dissipate. Every time we stop, those toward the rear of this column become agitated, showing signs of the madness, and push us ever forward toward Blackstone. I cannot see a reason why it seems everyone is being driven this direction.”
&nb
sp; Kemp looked with concern at the children chattering happily in the wagon as he replied. “After we arrived with Caron, Gleneagle told us of a truly horrifying incident they witnessed. They had drawn up before the fortress and set their positions when the gates suddenly opened and the darkness-touched poured out toward them. They assumed they were under attack, but it soon became apparent the unfortunate darkness-touched were themselves being pursued by the demons of Styxis who slaughtered and devoured as many of the darkness-touched as they were able before they were summoned back into Blackstone. It has been quiet since that time.”
“You think we are being driven like cattle to the slaughter, then?” Tingle said.
“I suspect that is her plan.” Kemp was silent a moment as he thought. “What have the women and children been told up to now?”
“Only that we are joining the northmen’s families in support of our warriors. The women know it a lie, but the children are treating this as a grand adventure. They are absolutely fascinated by these barbarians.”
“Good,” Kemp said. “I would not be able to propose a better story myself. I suggest we stick to it, for in a way, it is correct.”
“And the women?” Tingle asked.
“Our wives deserve the truth,” Kemp replied grimly, “but I feel Scrubby and Mattie would be best served to be left in happy ignorance with the children.”
Tingle looked at the ground and shook his head, clearly shaken by this turn of events.
Kemp turned to look toward the wagon where Peg had joined her children once again and was trying to keep their sons calm as they waited impatiently to greet him. Clapping Tingle on the shoulder, they walked over to join the others. Kemp reached out as Mitchal and Harold leaped over the side into his arms and Marlis clung to Peg, shyly awaiting her turn.
