The Penwyth Curse (29 page)

“Oh, aye,” Brecia said, stretched and yawned. “We slept like the blue sarsen stones at the sacred circle.”

“If you don't bring me Brecia, I will kill you in a manner you won't like. Then I will toss your tattered old bones to my wolfhounds.”

The prince, who was busy chewing on some singularly sweet bread, raised his head and said, “Dogs wouldn't touch her bones. Her bones would stick in their throats and kill them dead. Throw them mine.”

Mawdoor looked from one to the other, then rose, and shouted, “Maida! Bring me yourself. I have plans for us.”

The young woman walked to him, her lovely hair floating over her shoulders and down her back, a wolfhound on either side of her. “My lord?”

“We will go hunting,” Mawdoor said.

“Where will we go, my lord?”

“To Spain, I think,” Mawdoor said, and in the next instant both of them were gone.

“Why would he want to go to Spain to hunt?” The prince said aloud, then swallowed more sweet bread. “There is nothing to hunt in Spain.”

Brecia could only laugh at him.

They didn't have long to find the cask again. Neither of them doubted that it would be as easy to find this time.

“Mawdoor is gone,” the prince said. “He isn't here to sense our magic.”

“I don't know,” Brecia said slowly. “I just don't know. As you said, why would he go hunting in Spain? And take a mortal with him? This doesn't make much sense.”

“If it is a trap, we will have to deal with it. We have no choice but to find that damned cask, Brecia. We have no choice but to get rid of Mawdoor. Damned witch, if only he didn't want you so badly.”

“I am not a damned witch.”

“Aye, you are. A trap, you think? You are probably right, but no matter. We will do what we must.”

Brecia said, “Do you think he carries the cask with him now?”

“I think he's afraid of it,” the prince said. “Probably too afraid to keep it very close to him.”

All day they searched Mawdoor's fortress. They even sent their sight into the cow byre and the chickens' pen, even sifted their hands through the miller's flour. Nothing.

When the fortress bells rang six o'clock, Brecia called to him, “I have found it.”

The prince, who'd been searching each crevice in the wooden ramparts, was beside her in an instant.

“Look,” Brecia said and pointed downward.

The prince came next to her and saw the cask at the bottom of the fortress well. Only a wizard or a witch would have seen it beneath a good twenty feet of water.

“An excellent hiding place,” Brecia said. “I dropped my cup in there and that's when I saw it. I never sensed it. Mawdoor has protected it very well this time.”

The prince called up the cask.

The cask didn't move. He sighed and disappeared, only to reappear at the bottom of the well, the cask in his hands. In the well water the cask wasn't cold to the touch.

He waved up at her.

Suddenly, without warning, Mawdoor's laughter filled the courtyard. Brecia had no time to do anything before she was thrown headfirst into the well.

Present

The brilliance of the light that burst out of the cask blinded them. They staggered back, covering their eyes. Then, slowly, still keeping their eyes shaded, Bishop and Merryn stared down into that impenetrable light.

“What is it?”

Bishop just shook his head. “It doesn't look like the billowing clouds anymore, but it doesn't matter. I still can't see through it.”

Merryn looked hard, but she couldn't see through it either.

Suddenly they saw something whirling in the middle of the light, something that was going round and round so fast they couldn't make out what it was. But it was small; the brilliant light held it. They watched it hit against the light again and again, but it couldn't free itself.

“It's a prison of light,” Merryn said. “What is being held in that light, Bishop?”

“I believe you're right, but I don't know what is in that light.” He reached for his wand.

They heard a voice scream, “NO!”

31

Sometime Else

“
T
HIS ISN
'
T GOOD
,”
THE
prince said, staring through the water into Brecia's eyes.

“We have the cask. We will figure out how to get out of this well.”

They drew their wands from their sleeves and pointed them directly overhead. The prince said, “
Dranore narbus
.”

The water trembled about them, bubbled wildly, then settled. Nothing had happened. They weren't free.

“I wonder if this will be more difficult than Mawdoor's damned bubble,” the prince said.

Brecia remembered her burning fingers and said, “I hope not. We must think about this, prince.” She sat down at the bottom of the well. She said a few words beneath her breath, and both she and the prince looked like themselves again. In that instant she knew the answer. She smiled up at him. “I know,” she said. “I know what to do. Don't worry.”

She billowed her cloak out about her, wrapped her arms
around her bent legs, pressed her cheek against her knee, and held on tightly. She chanted softly, so softly the prince couldn't hear her. Time passed. She chanted until the water seemed to flow along with the cadence of her chant. Suddenly she was gone. She'd told him not to worry, damn her witch's powers. Where had she gone? Then he knew.

“Ah, Brecia. Is it you?”

“My lord Mawdoor. Thank you for bringing me up from the well bottom. I knew that if I spoke directly to you, you would release me.”

“It was a difficult decision,” Mawdoor said, looking her up and down. “By all the new gods whose power I spit upon, you made yourself into a powerfully ugly old crone. That gives a wizard pause.”

“I thought the narrow head was a nice touch.”

“It was. I freely admit it. It convinced me not to look beyond that small bit of magic I felt coming from the two of you. The magic was distant, weak, no real power in it at all. Now I have you. Was that not a well-executed trap?”

“Aye, the cask at the bottom of the well—that was very well done of you, Mawdoor. And the key was gone. Do you have it?” He only frowned at her. She hoped he had the key. She knew that Mawdoor didn't realize he hadn't been what brought her out of the well. She'd sent out the thought and he'd snapped it up.

He nodded, smiling. “The prince will remain at the bottom of that well until time itself ceases to go forward and the earth stalls and withers beneath the heavens. The bands of magic that hold him cannot be severed, no matter how strong the wizard. He will spend all of eternity stroking that damned cask. To be in a well with a demon's chest—it's a dreadful thing. It is a quite perfect punishment for the damned wizard. Forget the key.”

Brecia said, “I thought you had made the decision to keep the demon cask with you. Does that not mean that you must bear the responsibility of it?”

Mawdoor shrugged. “I suppose the ghosts told you of this. They seem to thrive on tales of lost caskets and magic keys that unlock the secrets to the universe. As to the cask and my responsibility to it, we will see. But the prince will stay there until the day of doom, if such a day ever comes.”

Brecia tapped her foot up and down, and stroked her chin with her fingertips. “That makes no sense, Mawdoor. You have me now. Why would you want to kill the prince?”

Mawdoor became a foot taller, towering over her. “The prince must die. I've always wanted him gone from this earth. He had you, didn't he? He was your first lover, wasn't he?”

Slowly, she nodded. “Aye, he was my first.”

Mawdoor brought himself back his normal height again. He looked down at his boots for a moment, then said, “I have heard it said that the prince makes his women do unnatural things.”

For the moment, she forgot her fear and her plans and perked up. “Hmmm. What sorts of unnatural things?”

“You know what I mean, Brecia.”

“No, I truly don't. I was innocent. I think everything he did seemed very normal mayhap even too normal—boring, mayhap, nearly sent me off to sleep, if you know what I mean.”

The water in the well heaved and churned.

Mawdoor looked at her, blinked. “You say what he did was so boring it sent you off to sleep? Ah, what, specifically, was boring?”

“Why he rubbed his toes against mine and kept rubbing until I thought my skin would be raw from it. That was boring. Don't you think?”

“He rubbed your toes with his?”

“Aye, for an interminable time. I thought perhaps it was some sort of wizard mating ritual. Do you think that is unnatural?”

Mawdoor shook his head. “No, you're right, that was
boring. I wouldn't rub your toes, Brecia. Or if I did, it would just be for a moment.”

“What is unnatural, then?”

She was still wet from her stay in the well. Mawdoor lightly touched his fingers to her sleeve. Instantly she was dry, her hair shining beneath the afternoon sun.

He said, eyeing that glorious hair of hers, “Tell me what else he did and I will tell you whether it is natural or unnatural.”

“He chewed on the flesh behind my knees.”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that unnatural?”

“Yes, that is unnatural, if done in excess.”

The water in the well bubbled as madly as a boiling cauldron, nearly overflowing.

Brecia shook her head. “No, he did it only about twenty minutes.” She paused, frowned. “One candle did burn down, so maybe it was longer.”

“He is obviously mad. You are blessed to be rid of him.”

Brecia smiled. “There were all the other things he did, Mawdoor.” She shuddered delicately.

“What, damn you?”

“I cannot tell you, it embarrasses me.”

“It is said that he has his women on their knees in front of him, and they must see to his needs until they swoon from fatigue.”

Brecia nodded slowly. “Aye, I can see how that would be tiring. And your knees would grow sore. He did not have me do that. Would I be praying whilst on my knees in front of him?”

“You stupid witch, you would have his sex in your mouth until your jaws locked and you gagged until you couldn't breathe—if he is of a size, that is, to make you gag.”

Her eyes lit up. She said, a wealth of disappointment in her voice, “He didn't show me how to do that. Now
that doesn't sound boring. You say he would want me to do that for hours on end?”

“So it is said about the prince, damn him. But now I've got him, and he will dissolve in the water over the endless years ahead.”

“It still makes no sense, Mawdoor. Why keep the prince entrapped? Why not let him roam the land alone, without me, contemplating his defeat at your mighty hand? Surely that would be a punishment worse than floating at the bottom of a well, all relaxed, holding your father's cask to his chest.”

“I see the deceit in your eyes, Brecia.” Mawdoor clasped her throat in one big hand and tightened his fingers, but Brecia only kept looking at him, so calm she looked bored, cocking her head slightly to the side, which was difficult to do with his hand around her neck.

He said right in her face, “Damn you, you have tried to bring me low, Brecia. All I wanted to do was mate with you, make you my wife, have you birth incredible wizards, but just look at what you and the prince tried to do. What you would still like to do.”

His fingers tightened about her throat.

“Kill her, Mawdoor! Kill that ugly bitch!”

“No, I won't kill her,” Mawdoor shouted over his shoulder, never looking away from Brecia's face.

“In that case, let her go, and I will kill her!”

Mawdoor slowly turned, taking Brecia with him, to see Maida standing twelve feet away, two of his wolfhounds at her side.

Mawdoor shouted, shaking Brecia's neck, “This doesn't concern you, Maida. Get back inside.”

“Last night you told me that you wanted me to stay with you. If that is true, then why do you want this creature?”

Mawdoor yelled at her, “Can't you see I'm choking her?”

“You're doing it with lust in your eyes. Let the wretched woman go, let me kick her in the head.”

Mawdoor gave Brecia a good shake, and again yelled at Maida, “She isn't a woman. She's a witch.”

“A witch? Aye, she looks like one, doesn't she, the hag? Just looking at her makes me shudder.”

Brecia's eyes narrowed. “And just what does that mean?
Make me shudder?
I'll make her shudder.”

Maida yelled, “Aye, it's obvious to me now that she is a witch, and you're choking her, but she doesn't feel it at all. She's hanging there and she's laughing at you. Aye, she's making fun of you. My lord, she isn't worthy of you.”

Maida went flying backward and landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her.

Mawdoor dropped his hand from Brecia's neck, and she landed lightly on her feet. He said, “You did that, didn't you?”

“Of course,” Brecia said, smiling to herself even as she rubbed her neck. “I'm a witch.”

“I bedded her,” he said. “I enjoyed her. I will continue to enjoy her after we are wedded.”

“I believe she broke her leg when I threw her against the wall, Mawdoor. Maybe I broke her neck as well. Is she gagging, lying there with her arms twisted at such odd angles?”

He turned quickly and ran to where Maida was lying on the ground. Brecia heard the woman screeching, “The witch! Kill the witch!” and Mawdoor saying, “Be quiet, woman. That witch will be my wife. Are you all right? Are you broken?”

Brecia smiled, watching the woman grab his arm and shake him. All his attention was on her. Brecia looked skyward and began chanting. When she stopped, after just two breaths had passed, everything else stopped as well, including Mawdoor—thank the gods.

Time froze.

Only the wind moved, fanning the warm air in her face. She looked toward Mawdoor, locked in the instant that time had stopped. He'd left himself vulnerable by
touching the woman, letting her humanness into himself. He was concentrating on her, feeling anger, hate, love—it didn't matter. And thus the spell worked on him as well.

The earth stood still and one very strong wizard as well. But not for long, not for long.

She ran to the well and called down, “Prince, would you like to join me in some unnatural acts?”

She heard his laughter even as she drained the power from the spell. The prince stood beside her, shook himself like a dog, then flicked his head back and he was as dry as she was.

“I am a very clever witch.”

The prince looked toward Mawdoor and the mortal woman and nodded. “You have become more clever since I am with you. But Mawdoor isn't mortal, Brecia. We haven't much time, you know that. We must hurry.” He lightly touched his fingers to her jaw. “Do you have it?”

“Aye, I have it,” she said. Brecia smiled as she brought the golden cask from beneath her gown. She held it in her hands. It wasn't so cold now since Mawdoor was as still and silent as the score of old people huddled together near the pigsty.

“Look at him,” the prince said even as he readied himself. He slowly pulled out his wand, gently caressed it with his fingers. “Soon now. It can't hold him much longer. Do you know, Brecia, I was right. He was unfaithful to you, and with a mortal woman who wanted to kick you in the head. Aye, he would have forced you to wed him and taken her as his concubine. That is disgraceful.”

She wanted to laugh, but she was too afraid. “He has the key.”

“I know. We must find it quickly.”

She brought up her wand, held it outstretched, pointing toward Mawdoor.

But there was no time. It happened quickly. The earth began to shake. Maida screamed. The old people tripped over themselves to escape.

Then there was silence. There wasn't a single breath of life for one very long moment.