The Warlock Rock (23 page)

"Well, there is that, yes."

"Let me see!" The skeleton hopped down off its stump and pushed through the dancers, over to the ring of stones. The children saw it coming, and drew back—but the skeleton halted a dozen paces away.

"These are not of my village."

Rod brightened. "Does that mean they're immune to your music?"

"Aye—but they have ancestors of their own."

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Rod relaxed, reflecting that most of the children's local ancestors were not only still alive, but likely to remain so. Their more frail progenitors were thirty light-years away. "You know, I can't help wondering…"

"Poor fellow. Only listen to the music awhile, and it will cure thee of that malady."

"Yes, I don't doubt it. But, um, I was going to say—you are beginning to look a little weary." The skeleton was silent for a minute, then admitted, "Aye. I feel the first faint edge of tiring. I am not so young as once I was, a hundred years agone."

"I kind of thought so. You're going to want to rest before too long."

"I doubt it not." The sigh was a gust of breeze. "Yet I have rested so long that I am loath to lie down again."

"Don't push it too hard." Rod glanced at the dancers with apprehension. "You may need a vacation from your holiday. "

"And if thou dost not, thy young folk will." Gwen gazed past the skeleton to the dancers, with concern.

"Wilt thou never release them from this spell?"

"Only if they wish it—and I think that they will not. Be not troubled in thy heart, kind lady—there have ever been deadheads, and ever will be. In truth…" Its empty gaze lingered speculatively on Magnus and Cordelia.

"Don't even think it," Rod snapped. "Fear not. I can see that these have too much joy in thought; they would be loath to be deadheads."

Gregory tugged at Rod's sleeve. "Papa—dost thou recall? That pretentious prince did say that only the dead did know."

Rod looked up at the zombie, startled. "That's right, he did, didn't he? And here are the dead!"

"Of what dost thou speak?" asked the zombie.

"The music-rocks." Rod demanded. "Can you tell us where they came from?"

"Nay, only that I am right glad they did. Yet mayhap Destina would know." He turned his hollow eyes back toward the crowd, crying, "Destina, come!"

Cordelia frowned. "What is Destina?"

Another zombie came dancing out of the crowd toward them. From the tatters of a skirt and bodice adorning its bones, they could tell it must have been a woman once.

"Destina," said the leader. "Tell: Whence come the music-rocks?"

"Ah," said she, "the first did fall from the Sky Egg. But find and follow it"—she turned toward the Gallowglasses— "and belike thou shalt find… Why, so!"

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"What?" They all gave her a blank look.

"A right comely lad!" Her bony hand reached out to chuck Magnus under the chin. "Art thou wed, sweet chuck?"

Magnus recoiled. "Nay!"

"He is too young," Gwen said, with steel in her voice.

"Wherefore? My first was a father by the time he had come to this height! Nay, I've need of another husband, handsome youth. Wilt thou come with me to wed?"

"Oh, no!" Magnus took another step backward. "Thou canst not mean it!"

"I doubt not she doth," the leader said. "Nay, come along with ifs, and taste life eternal!"

"I'm afraid she's not quite what I had in mind for a daughter-in-law…"Rod began.

"Thou shalt be of another mind when thou hast kissed me." The skull-face thrust closer to Magnus.

"Thou dost lie!" Magnus stumbled back. "Pray Heaven thou dost lie!"

"Come, essay it!" The leader reached out for Magnus, and Destina giggled and stepped forward. "We shall insist thou stay with us a while!"

"He most assuredly shall not!" Gwen stepped between her son and the zombie, arm raised—then hesitated.

"Do not, Mama." Magnus's voice trembled, but he persisted. "They are but poor and empty things!" Gwen's mouth twitched. "I am loath to give hurt to ones who have, at long last, gained so pitiful a measure of pleasure."

"Measure of pleasure!" The leader lifted his skull, eyes lighting. "A measure of pleasure! Aye, a measure indeed!" And he began to beat a rhythm on his pelvis and a tune on his rib cage, chanting,

"He shall have a measure, A quantity of pleasure! Let him with us tarry, Dally and be merry!" Magnus swallowed. "Said he, 'be merry,' or 'be-marry'?"

"Now, come !" The leader sprang at Magnus.

The lad leaped back as his father leaned in; the skeleton slammed into Rod's chest and fell in a jumble of bones.

"What hast thou done!" Destina keened.

"More to the point, what should we be doing?" Rod corrected. The leader began to pull himself together.

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"I am loath to fight them." Coming from Geoffrey, that was saying a great deal.

"What else can we do?" Cordelia asked.

The leader rose up, singing,

"We do not measure please,

But give pleasure in full measure!

So if thou wouldst thy pleasure measure…"

"We can run !" Rod shooed them away from him.

They ran.

The zombies yelped with joy and bounded into a bone-shaking chase.

"Where can we go?" Gregory panted.

"Where but straight ahead!" Magnus outdistanced them all.

"Fly!" Gwen commanded. "Lest thou dost break thy leg in a fall!" They all rose up a foot off the ground, skimming along as fast as they dared in unknown country. Behind them, the young people added their enthusiastic shouting to the chase. The music-rocks picked up the excitement, and began to boom and howl all about them.

Then, suddenly, they crested a rise—and found themselves in a cul-de-sac, a box canyon, surrounded by stone on all sides.

"Back!" Magnus whirled about. "Out from this place, ere our pursuers…" The mouth of the canyon filled with walking bones and bonny youths.

"Too late." Rod spread his arms, trying to shield his whole family. Before them, the crowd advanced with glee and stones, holding out rocks that were racketing with an unholy din. Then the noise began to beat at them from the back.

"It doth echo off the cliff walls!" Cordelia called.

"Nay," Magnus shouted, "they do take it up!"

It was true. The canyon walls had begun to vibrate in sympathy, resonating and re-emitting the music of the stones.

"What can we do now!" Gregory wailed. "We are caught between their rocks and a hard place!"

"We can fly!" Gwen snapped.

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On the word, Cordelia's broomstick took off like a rocket. All three boys shot up after her, with Rod and Gwen right behind them.

Below, a disappointed moan filled all the canyon.

The music dwindled behind and below them.

"Praise Heaven!" Magnus shuddered. "I feared I would have to dismember them!"

"Where shall we go now?" Geoffrey asked.

Rod looked up with a sudden smile. "Hey! We're in the right place to look for it…"

"For what?" Gwen asked.

"That female zombie said something about following a Sky Egg!"

"But how can there be an egg in the sky?" Gregory said reasonably.

"Mayhap she meant the moon," Cordelia suggested.

"An that be so," Gwen pointed out, "we must wait—for the moon hath set."

"All right, I suppose we should"—Rod sighed— "especially since I'm afraid she didn't mean the moon but just that blimp we've been following."

"Why—'tis so!" Cordelia said, surprised.

"Even so," Geoffrey agreed. "Dost recall that when first I saw it I said 'twas a giant egg?"

"It seems to run all through this terrain," Rod growled.

"Have we come in a circle, then?" Gwen asked.

"Traid so, dear—and we'll have to break out of it, tomorrow. But for tonight, let's get some sleep. Pick a good camping place. Sorry about that bed you wanted."

She sailed up alongside him to squeeze his hand. " 'Twas more a door I had a-mind—but let it rest."

"Not much choice, now," Rod said, resigned. "Come on, my love. Let's see if we can get a little sleep, at least."

"And food," Geoffrey reminded them.

They had journeyed an hour or two the next day when Cordelia tilted her head back and sniffed the wind. "I smell brine."

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"We do come near to the sea, then," her mother said. "Magnus, go aloft and tell if thou dost see water." Magnus bobbed up as though he'd hit a thermal, skyrocketing to a thousand feet. His mental voice said, Aye, Mama! Ah, 'tis ever a noble sight! Such a vast expanse of water, so wide and flat, clear to the edge of the world !

"Stop being so poetic," Rod said, grinning. "It's just the horizon." Ah, but who doth know what may lie beyond this horizon?

"More water, and you know it darn well." Rod felt a stab of anxiety, though; Magnus was almost of an age to begin wandering. How soon would his son leave him?

"How far is it?" Gwen asked.

Twenty miles or more, Mother. Two days' journey afoot, at least.

"Anything worth looking at in between?" Rod asked.

Dost thou wish to look at fens and marshland?

"Let us leave no stone unturned." Rod sighed. "Come down, son, and let's see what the fen has in store for us."

But they found out on the way. They happened across a road and, as they neared the scrub growth that marked the fen, they saw a group of people ahead—and another even farther ahead. Rod frowned.

"What is this, a procession?"

"Aye," said Gregory. "Behind us, Papa."

Rod looked back and saw another handful of people following a hundred yards to the rear. "We seem to be popular."

"Or the fen is," Gwen pointed out.

"Wherefore are there only small children among them?" Cordelia asked.

"Interesting point, that." Rod lengthened his stride. "Let's ask someone." They caught up with the group ahead—two men and two women in their forties, a woman in her sixties, and three small children.

"Where are you going?" Rod asked, but the people plodded on as though they hadn't heard. Rod throttled his irritation and was about to ask again, when Fess noted, "They wear bandages about their heads, Rod. Between that and the clamor of the rock music, they may not have heard you."

"Good point." Rod reached out and tapped the shoulder of the peasant in front. The man shied away like a critic hearing a countdown, then took in the sight of Gwen and the children. He relaxed a little, but eyed Magnus and Cordelia with caution, almost hostility.

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Their voices echoed in Rod's head. Who hath hurt him, Papa? Of what is he so wary ?

Of us, sister, Magnus answered. But why should he fear a youth and a maiden ?

Let's ask. Rod pointed to his ear and said, "Can you hear us?" loudly and slowly. The peasant frowned, shaking his head. He pulled the bandage off his head, popped a wax cover off his ear, and promptly winced. "Aiee! The noise! I trust Your Worship hath good reason to rob me of my ward."

"I just want to know why so many of you are going to the fen," Rod called, trying to project over the sound of the music.

"Why, to escape this coil of howling," the peasant called back. "Come, but ask no more until we've gained shelter, I beg of thee." Still, he didn't turn away; Rob was obviously gentry. Impatiently, Rob called, "Right. Go ahead."

The peasant smiled in gratitude and replaced his earcover, pulling the bandage back to hold it in place. He relaxed visibly, then gave the Gallowglasses a smile and turned away to trudge toward the fen.

"Can they truly seek refuge from the music?" Cordelia asked, wide-eyed.

"They can," Gwen assured her. "For myself, I do not wonder at it; 'tis a veritable cacophony."

"Nay, Mama! 'Tis pretty! Well… not 'pretty,' surely. But 'tis most appealing!"

"If that's appeal, I'll steal the bell," Rod growled. "Come on, family. If there's silence ahead, I crave it."

"If thou wilt." Magnus sighed, and followed after.

"Magnus," said Fess, behind him, "must you put in extra steps for each stride?"

"It doth no harm, Fess," Magnus answered, "and this music doth make me feel so filled with movement that I must needs find some way to let it out."

"Well, if you must, you must." The horse sighed, and followed the family, remembering how Will Kemp had danced his way fromLondon to the seacoast, never taking a normal step for nine days. The ground became marshy to either side of the road. Soon small pools appeared. Then they were in among the low scrub growth, and the peasant family stopped to take off their bandages and earcovers, warily at first, then quickly, with sighs of relief.

"Was it truly needful, Mama?" a ten-year-old asked.

"Mayhap not for thee, sweet chuck," his mother answered, "but it was for me."

"We would liefer not have thee heed the clamor about us, as thy brother and sister have done," his father explained.

"What clamor?" the boy said. " Tis most sweet strains, here." And they were. The music was soft, very melodic—and so peaceful that Rod almost didn't realize it was
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there, until he stopped to listen. The tunes had a much greater range of notes, and the bass line and rhythm were no longer dominant.

"Aye, there be sweet sounds here ," said the other man. "Thou art within the fen, and its music doth bar that howling that we have waded through these two days."

"The music doth emanate from some place ahead," Magnus pointed out.