The Warlock is Missing (27 page)

Geoffrey stepped forward, pale with rage. The soldiers in front of him knocked backward, sprawling against the ones behind them to either side as though a snowplow had hit them. The invisible plow moved onward, shooting off bow-waves of soldiers.

No, Geoffrey
! Magnus thought; but his younger brother didn't even seem to hear him. He stepped forward, a foot at a time, as though he were wading through molasses. One thought, and one thought only, rang through his mind, again and again, like the tolling of a funeral bell:
The Shire-Reeve! Though I die, I will slay the Shire-Reeve
!

Magnus leaped in behind, adding his power to Geoffrey's, slamming soldiers back against one another. He didn't want to see murder—but if someone had to die, it was going to be the Shire-Reeve, not his brother.

"Slay them!" the Shire-Reeve shouted, pale with fright, and the soldiers leaped in. There were fifty of them, all grown men, and only two young boys. A wave of peasants slammed into the backs of the front rank, and the front rank pitched forward, crashing down on top of the boys. Cordelia screamed in rage, and rocks struck the soldiers nearest the pile—but they fell forward, on top of the stack. Underneath, Geoffrey squirmed, pinned to the ground, fighting for breath he couldn't get; then more soldiers slammed down on top, more and more, pinning him down, crushing him, and the fear of death seeped through his every fiber. He fought back hysterically, and his brother did, too, repelling the crushing pile above them with every ounce of adrenaline shooting through them. The pile lurched, heaved—and steadied. More soldiers leaped on, and more, collapsing the bubble of telekinetic force that protected the young warlocks, jamming the huge pile of flesh down on top of them, crushing, flattening…

A hoarse shout rang through the forest: "For the Queen and for Gramarye!" And, suddenly, soldiers in the royal colors were leaping out of the trees around the clearing, faces shadowed under brimmed metal helmets, the blazon of the King's elite Flying Legion on their surcoats, charging in at the Shire-Reeve's ragtag peasant boys, chopping down at them with pikes, stabbing with long spears. The Shire-Reeve's men turned, with howls of terror and rage, fighting back. Pikes flashed; men dropped with blood pumping from their chests, gushing out of slashed necks. A head went flying; a headless corpse fell to the forest floor.

With a tearing scream, the huge black horse reared, steel hooves lashing out, the unicorn beside it, goring men with its silver horn. The Shire-Reeve's men howled in superstitious fear and crowded back against their own companions in a huge knot, surrounded by King's men.

Through it all raged a great chestnut warhorse with a golden knight on its back, shouting, "Onward, brave fellows!

Onward! For glory and freedom! Hurl the soldiers aside! Hack through to the core! Seize the vile recreant who seeks to slay children!"

"King Tuan!" Cordelia cried, eyes streaming.

The King it was, laying about him, hacking and hewing his way to the pile of men on top of the boys.

That pile exploded with sudden, shattering force, a dozen men flying outward, striking their fellows and knocking them down. An eighteen-inch elf stood where they'd been, face pale with fury, as the two boys scrambled to their feet, gasping for breath.

"Ga-a-a-llowgla-a-ss!" a great voice bellowed, and a small dark body shot from the King's horse like a cannonball, landing beside the two boys, laying about him, two feet high, huge-headed and black-bearded—Brom O'Berin, the King's Privy Councillor, come to defend the children who were his favorites in all the land. He leaped, kicking and slamming punches. Armed soldiers fell back from his blows. Foot by foot, he cleared the path between the boys and Cordelia, and she caught up Gregory and ran to her brothers with a glad cry.

The Shire-Reeve's men turned to face the new enemy—but they were all about, ringing in the whole clearing, crowding in by the hundred, against fifty. The Shire-Reeve's guards fought with the desperation of men who know they cannot retreat; but one young soldier cried, "Mercy! I yield me! Have mercy!" and dropped his pike, throwing his arms up, palms open. A King's soldier yanked him by the collar, hurling him behind and out of the fight, where more soldiers, coming out of the trees, stood ready to catch him and tie him up.

Seeing him still alive, other soldiers began to cry, "I yield me!"

"I yield me!" The King's men caught them and pulled them out of danger.

"He is a traitor who yields him!" the Shire-Reeve shouted. "A traitor and a fool! Fight! 'Tis thine only hope—for the King shall hang thee if thou dost surrender!"

"A pardon to any man who yields him!" King Tuan bellowed. "Full pardon and mercy! I shall hang no man who was constrained to fight! Surrender and live!"

"He lies!" The Shire-Reeve screamed; but the King knocked the last bodyguard aside, and his horse leaped up to the Reeve.

The Shire-Reeve howled like a berserker in fury and stabbed at the King, sword-point probing for the eye-slits in the helmet; but Tuan's sword leaped to parry, whirled about in riposte, and stabbed down as the King lunged, full extension. The Shire-Reeve gave a last curdling scream, and his eyes glazed even as the sword transfixed him, piercing his heart. Then he fell, and Tuan yanked the sword free. "Thy master is dead!" he roared. "Yield! What cause hast thou for fighting now? Yield thee, and live!"

The Shire-Reeve's soldiers hesitated, for but a second— but that was enough for Tuan's finest. In that moment, they struck the weapons from their enemies' hands and set the points of their pikes to the throats of the Reeve's men. The enemy shouted, "I yield me! I yield me!" holding up their empty hands, and King Tuan wiped his blade and cried, "Let them live!"'

When the soldiers had shackled the Shire-Reeve's officers and led them away, Tuan nodded to his own men. "Let them flee."

Glowering, the legionnaires stood aside, and the Shire-Reeve's peasants blinked up at them, trying to believe they were really free, but afraid they were not.

"I did declare I would not harm any man who hath been constrained to fight for the Shire-Reeve," Tuan said. "Now go, and tell thy fellows what hath happed here."

With a glad cry, the peasant boys turned and bolted.

As they disappeared among the trees, Brom O'Berin rumbled, "Was that wise, Majesty?"

"It was," Tuan said, with full certainty. "They will bear word to the Shire-Reeve's army, and the army will disband, each man going to his home, as most of them wish to do. The remainder will know their cause is lost with the Shire-Reeve's death." Then he turned to the children.

Four chastened and humbled Gallowglasses looked up at him with foreboding—and an apprehensive Puck eyed Brom O'Berin warily.

"We thank thee, Majesty, that thou hast saved us in our hour of desperation," Magnus managed.

"I rejoice that I came in time," Tuan returned. "Yet I trust thou hast learned not to meddle with armies again, till thou art grown!"

"Oh, aye!"

" 'Twas dangerous folly, we now know!"

"We will never dare such hazard again!"

Tuan reserved his own opinion about that—and he noticed that Geoffrey hadn't said anything. Still, he counted his winnings and decided to stand pat.

Cordelia said, greatly daring, "Yet how didst thou know we stood in such great need"of rescue?"

Tuan smiled. "For that, thou hast another to thank." He turned to the trees and called, "Come forth, Highness!"

There was a moment's silence; then Alain stepped out from between the trees with Kelly beside him.

The silence stretched; then Puck muttered, "I commanded thee to take him home!"

"Aye, ye did." Kelly's beard jutted up defiantly. "Yet if I had, what would have become of the other children?"

"Would thou hadst ta'en such great caution with all those entrusted to thy care." Brom O'Berin glared at Puck.

Puck looked away. "Who could ha' known the Shire-Reeve had his own tame warlock?"

"Who should ha' known better than the Puck?" Brom re-torted.

Puck bit his lip. "I cry thy worship's pardon; I mistook."

"Gentlefolk," Tuan murmured. Dwarf and elf alike fell si-lent, and the King bowed gravely to his son. "I thank thee for thy timely news."

Equally formally, the Crown Prince returned the bow. "I rejoice that I have been of service." He cast a glance at the Gallowglasses. "Mother was so far away—and 'twas even as Puck said: Father was scarce two miles off!"

"Let him not deceive thee," Tuan said kindly. "He was concerned for thy safety."

"As well he should have been," Brom muttered.

"And I must thank
thee
," Tuan said to the Gallowglasses, "for thy loyalty. An all my subjects were so true and courageous, I would have little to concern me."

They stood, staring; then Cordelia, blushing, dropped a curtsy, and the boys, suddenly remembering their manners, bowed. "We are only glad that we could aid," Cordelia said.

"'Tis well for me that thou didst. Thanks to thee, this greatest threat to Queen Catharine and myself—and thy friends the princes—is removed; for, due to thine action, I took this Shire-Reeve unawares, yet with honor."

The blush spread to the boys.

Tuan turned to Alain. "Thou hast served me well this day, my son."

Alain fairly beamed.

"Yet I cannot help but wonder," Brom O'Berin rumbled, "how much of what they did was out of fear for Their Majesties, and how much was adventure." He glowered at Kelly. "Thou, I'll wager, couldst not abide the thought of being far from battle."

The elf hunched in on himself, but Puck spoke up. "The fault, my lord, was mine. 'Twas I who led them out against enemies."

"Aye, but the enemy was not the Shire-Reeve," Magnus said quickly. "'Twas a fell giant, who gave us little trouble."

Brom's head snapped up; he stared, appalled.

"Coming to fight the Shire-Reeve was
our
choice," Geoffrey seconded.

"Yet not thine idea." King Tuan bent a stern eye on his son, who seemed to shrink. "I mind me an I bade a certain person to bide at home, for the protection of his mother."

"I could not see thee go against such odds," Alain wailed.

"Bless thee for thy caring, son," Tuan said, thawing a little, "yet I've faced such odds before, and won."

With Papa's aid
, Magnus thought; but he didn't say it aloud.

"Yet I cannot pretend I am not happy at the outcome of thy disobedience," Tuan admitted. "Indeed, thine aid was most fortunate."

"Fortunate indeed," Brom rumbled. "In truth, 'twas but good fortune that none of thee were slain, or maimed."

The children shrank in on themselves again.

"He doth but speak the truth," Tuan said, some sternness returning.

"We know," Magnus said, his voice low. "Had it not been for thy timely rescue, we'd ha' been crow's meat this even-tide."

"Indeed thou wouldst have," Brom O'Berin agreed. "Therefore, hearken! I now command thee to get to thine home! And sweep, adorn, and wash it, that thy parents may have pleasant housen when that they return!"

"Dost thou think they will?" Magnus's eyes lit.

Brom shrugged impatiently. "A universe could not keep them from thee. 'Tis but a matter of time. Therefore, go!" He glared at Puck. "Directly, to their home! Conduct them, Robin—and let them not linger by the wayside!"

"I go, I go!" Puck cried. "See how I go!"

"Be sure, I will," Brom said.

"Thou also." Tuan fixed his son with a stern gaze. "Thou must not risk thyself further."

"Must I go home then after all?" Alain protested.

The wood was quiet while Tuan gazed at his son thoughtfully. At last he said, "Nay, I think not."

Alain grinned, delighted.

"A prince must learn the ways of battle," Tuan explained, "and this will be a proper chance for learning, now that the Shire-Reeve is felled and there's little danger. These petty barons are not like to combine against me—and, one by one, I may swat them like flies. Yet an thou art with me, my concern for thy safety will hamper me; I will not strike as swiftly and fully as I ought. Therefore must thou promise most devoutly to stay within my tent, whiles I do battle."

Some of the glow left the prince. He lowered his eyes and glowered at the ground, shuffling a toe.

"What!" Tuan cried. "Is a father's commandment not enough?"

"Nay," Alain said reluctantly. "I will obey."

"Yet I bethink me thou wilt forget, and seek to creep out to watch the battle," Tuan said, frowning.

Alain was silent.

"Therefore, I command thee—as thy liege!" Tuan said sternly. "Son or not, thou art my subject—and my vassal!"

Alain drew himself up smartly. "I am, Majesty!"

"Then thou wilt hearken to me, by thy vows as my vassal! Thou wilt stay in thy tent when battle rages! 'Tis thy duty to thy sovereign!"

Alain stared at him. Then he said, "An thy Majesty doth command it, I shall," and his face was full of devotion.

Tuan broke into a smile. "Stout lad! Come, then—for thou and I must hasten back to our army."

"Aye, my liege!" Alain came running, and jumped. Tuan caught his outstretched arm and swung him up behind, on his horse's rump. Alain threw an arm around his father's waist, and turned back to wave to the Gallowglasses.

"Again, I thank thee!" Tuan called back over his shoulder. "Now get thee home, young witchfolk!"

They rode off into the forest, and disappeared among the trees with Brom and the soldiers thronged around them.

Cordelia watched them go with a gleam in her eye.

"And what dost
thou
think, watching that handsome lad so shrewdly?" Magnus teased. "Bethink thee, thou'rt five months older—he's too young for thee."

"Yet he'll not always be so," Cordelia pointed out. "And thou, great lummox of a brother, mayest mind thine own affairs!"