Greyfax Grimwald (36 page)

“Where is he?” demanded Greyfax.

“Where is who, my dear Grimwald? You’ve burst in upon me while I was speaking with Melodias, and I must say, travel doesn’t improve your temper.”

Greyfax halted, bowing low. “I’m most sorry for this rude interruption, my lady. I’ll retire and await your command. Please forgive me.” The gray-cloaked figure bowed once more, moving away toward the high marble-arched door.

“If you’re seeking young Master Faragon, you’ll find him in the gardens somewhere, with Cybelle.” Her voice grew gentler. “And I shall be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you, my lady, I shall eagerly await you.”

He returned her smile, and went out upon the balconies that ran around the house of Cypher and looked about, trying to find Froghorn. Cybelle’s light, tinkling laughter rose upward onto the soft breeze, away beyond the north garden, which overlooked the lands of Atlanton Earth upon the northern borders. Far beyond, the dazzling white halo of lights dimmed as Lorini’s realm ended, and beyond that, the black haze of the Dark Queen hung over the world. There, even at the stroke of high noon, the darkness was only a dim shadow of the day, and the one remaining sun appeared there only as a faint, ugly red-orange glow, like a siege lamp burning fiercely above a great battle.

Greyfax heard the light laughter once more, and turning his vision from the dark north, went down into the great courtyard, crossed it, and entered the hedge gate that surrounded the green, lush gardens that bordered all sides of the house.

He saw Froghorn, standing with one booted foot upon a fountain edge, speaking quietly against Cybelle’s golden spun hair. She laughed again, but her smile faded when her eyes fell on the grim countenance of Greyfax, who strode quickly to the two.

“Greyfax,” began Froghorn, turning.

“Don’t Greyfax me, you sideshow magician.” Greyfax bowed low and took Cybelle’s hand.

“If you’ll excuse us, my dearest lady, I have urgent tidings for your Master Fairingay.” He placed his lips to her hand.

“Please don’t keep him too long away. We’ve been having the most delightful walk.”

“I shan’t keep him long, my lady.” Greyfax watched Cybelle until she had crossed through the green gate of the garden.

“I don’t know what you’re in such a state about; Grimwald. I have the Arkenchest here safe.”

“Yes, and our delightful lady of Darkness has Dwarf as safe there. How in the name of Windameir did you let yourself get snared that way? Have all our warnings flown in one ear and out the other? Or has the lady Cybelle blinded your eyes to all but her?”

“Don’t make jests with her name,” warned Froghorn, glowering.

“I haven’t had time for jest in three ages, and I shan’t for three more if I’m burdened with a stupid lump of a magician that takes more interest in amusing the ladies than seeing to it his task is well done.”

Froghorn opened his mouth to speak, but Greyfax raised a hand and went on.

“Don’t interrupt me, I must think.” He sat down on the edge of the fountain and fell into a deep, far-seeing meditation. Fairingay fidgeted uneasily beside him. At last he rose and turned to the younger man.

“Well, that settles that,” he explained, and began to walk toward the gate.

“What settles what, Grimwald?”

“Don’t you ever pay attention? Must I forever be explaining things to you?” scolded Greyfax.

“You said nothing,” objected Froghorn.

“Of course I
said
nothing. What in the wildest fantasy of Erophin do you think you have a head for? To carry your hat around safely?” Greyfax scowled. “But come, I must closet with the lady Lorini, and perhaps you can manage to keep your mind off one certain young lady long enough to discover the errands we have before us.”

“Are we leaving then, so soon?”

“Not soon enough, I fear, if soon is waiting about for a love-sickened whelp to leave his beloved.” The gray cloak opened briefly, and the brilliant white glowing robes of Greyfax shone forth for a moment.

“Great dome of Windameir, give me the patience,” he began, rolling his clear gray eyes upward, then, knitting his brows down in a piercing, scalding gaze, he spoke. “Yes, we are leaving soon, Master Fairingay, within the hour. I suggest you save your questions for later. Try listening a bit. It might fill your ears with something more than sweet whispers from your lady.”

Greyfax stormed away, Froghorn close at his heels.

As the two entered the high east door, an elf in the livery of Cypher approached.

“My lady Lorini will receive you now, Master.”

“Thank you. You may tell the lady we are upon our way.”

The handsome figure of the elf disappeared before them down the long, sun-filled corridor.

“What have you learned that makes our stay here so short, Greyfax? Have you been with Melodias?”

Greyfax walked silently on.

“As close as ever, I see.”

“Not so close, as you shall learn in a moment,” corrected Greyfax, entering once more the spacious, airy antechamber of Lorini’s study.

Ah, good, you’ve found him, came her clear, soft voice. She sat at a large table, set out with three finely wrought cups and a silver pitcher. “Come, let us have a cool drink; then you may begin, my good Greyfax.”

After the three had made themselves comfortable and tasted the cool, clear drink, Greyfax spoke.

“If you were speaking to Melodias, my lady, you know that Cephus Starkeeper is with him at this moment; and that I have returned from council with him bearing the gravest news. Erophin of ancient Windameir was there to advise us, and he too was most anxious that we be about our business as quickly as possible.”

“You saw the Starkeeper, then,” muttered Froghorn aloud. Lorini quietened him with a frown.

“Cephus is with Melodias even as I speak, and I doubt not they will soon be ready to strike. Others of that realm have made their way to Atlanton Earth to offer aid. I have not been abroad yet, to see what state we stand in, but as soon as we have finished hare, our patient Master Fairingay and I will be off.”

Froghorn had moved away from the table, and stood looking out the high-pillared window that opened onto the gardens and courtyards below.

“Your news comes as no surprise, Grimwald, although I dare say perhaps none too soon. I have counseled with Melodias, as you saw when you interrupted me in your haste before. Cephus Starkeeper and Melodias Starson will move their forces to the very borders of my realms, for my dark sister has begun a siege of my northern realm, and she grows stronger by the hour if none move to check her.”

“Things are dark, my lady, but not without hope. Melodias and Starkeeper have contained her before, along with the aid from others of the Circle.” Froghorn spoke, still at the window.

“That was ages ago, my dear Faragon. She has waxed strong since her last defeat. And Atlanton Earth lies half in her designs.”

“But what victories there are, snatched from the very jaws of destruction, my lady,” smiled Greyfax. “And this will indeed be that if we win through.”

“Even with that, my dearest old friend, what then? It is an ending and a beginning of us all. Whoever may be victorious, we cannot alter fate.”

“Yes,” mused Grimwald, sitting back and taking the cup in his hands. “But still I would not like to think of having to continue this business next time.”

The room fell silent a moment, and each of the sad, gay faces of the three grew older, as each one thought of the many long ages they had seen, all now drawing to an end. A golden glow from the wind lighted the room in Swimming, swirling motions, and a myriad of sounds and visions began, from the farthest memory of a beginning, through each of the countless ages and histories, and at last, the wind smoothed the colors gone, and Greyfax finished his drink.

As Froghorn stood at the windows, a bluish white space opened before his eyes, spreading around him like a flowing azure pool. From far away, the secret sign of his name was made and Mithramuse appeared to him. Froghorn saw the man figure of Otter beside him, bent low over a veiled circle of pale white radiance, looking at him. Froghorn knew at once Otter, at least, had reached his journey’s end. He spoke quickly to Mithramuse in High Elvish, and the pool withdrew as the other man bent his thoughts away.

“I’ve just seen Otter, Grimwald. He’s with Mithramuse at the moment.”

“What of the others? Did you see any sign of Bear, or of Dwarf?”

“Nay, I saw only Olther.”

“What tidings are these, I wonder?” Greyfax began paring the room. “I must find what fate has fallen upon my small charge, and alter it if I may.” He smacked a fist down hard into his open palm. “If only I’d told him what he carried,” he cried.

“But it would have fallen into her hands had you told him, Grimwald. At times, I must admit, a close tongue has its part.”

“Yet it’s my fault he’s taken, and close tongue or no, it’s my errand to free him if he yet lives.”

“I fear we have other more urgent matters to deal with at the moment, my dear Grimwald. I regret as deeply as you the cruel prison of your Dwarf, but if we are to move, we must be swift.”

Greyfax nodded reluctant agreement. “I think the Arkenchest as safe here as anywhere, so it shall stay with you, my lady. As for myself, I must find my stirrups and be away.”

“Where, this time?” asked Froghorn, coming quickly down the room.

“My wise Master Fairingay, I told you you should use your ears for something more than a well-spring for keeping the voice of your fair lady. Think a moment, and “I’m sure you’ll discover all the replies you have been missing, standing about the window, mooning like a wounded dove.” Greyfax turned and bowed low to Lorini, “My fairest lady, I must bid you farewell once more. You shall hear word soon, I trust, of my errand’s end.”

“I await your return, old friend. Perhaps next we meet, we shall be able to finish our supper Wore you would bolt off again.”

“I shall do my utmost, my lady.”

Greyfax raised his hand to Froghorn, and motioned him to follow. At the stable entrance, he gave his last instructions, mounted, and was gone.

Froghorn went in search of Cybelle to say his farewells once more.

And away beyond the borders of Cypher, upon a dark road in western Atlanton Earth, Dwarf and his two companions came upon an ambush. And yet farther, a great black-shrouded army fell in vicious assault upon the war camp of General Greymouse.

U
nder the cover of darkness, the two horses moved steadily on at a fast trot. The three riders were bone-weary, and sore from the unaccustomed manner of travel At last they reached a shallow ford of a small stream that crossed the road, and eagerly dismounted to water their steeds and walk about to uncramp their aching limbs.

Dwarf, legs asleep and numb, fell backward into the cold running water, and small floes of ice brushed his back, making him cry loudly in an agonized huff.

“Aieee, I’m stuck with a thousand hot darts,” he wailed, struggling futilely, short legs uselessly pumping.

Cranfallow, thinking Dwarf had been struck a blow from some conceded enemy, fired off two shots in rapid succession into an old overhanging willow, laden with a shelf of snow in its bent boughs. The horses shied at the sudden loud reports of the rifle, and while Thinvoice held their wildly rearing heads to calm them, he shouted over his shoulder, “You got ‘em, Cranny, I heard ‘em fall.” The rustling plop of deep snow sliding off the limbs, caused by Cranfallow’s bullets, had sounded to him like the noise of a body falling.

Dwarf, witless and half hysterical, darted away, his legs, now recovered in his fright, and brushing past Ned, was under the bolting horses before he knew where he was, and almost trampled down under the flashing hooves.

Cranfallow splashed quickly across the stream to investigate his fallen assailant, but found only the willow tree, empty.

“Ooooooh,” huffed Dwarf, hat down hard over his eyes, “I shall turn the lot of you inside out,” he fumed, then screamed again as a piece of trapped ice slid out of his soaked cloak into the back of his yellow trousers.