Krull. Part 4

Then he gritted his teeth and plunged his bare right hand into the seething cauldron.

There was no pain. Only a faint tingling, an odd sensation as full of excitement as threat. His arm felt through the molten rock for only a few seconds.

Then he yanked it out, blinking in wonder at the object he'd retrieved.

The flattened, starlike glaive sported five curved arms in which blades lay concealed. It was a dull black from years of sleeping untouched in the lava basin.

So intent was he on the glaive itself, on this fragment of mythology suddenly become real in his hand, that he ignored the flames that enveloped his arm.

Abruptly the dancing fire vanished into the glaive, sucked up by some unheard call. As it disappeared, the black crust of chilled lava cracked from the surface. Now Colwyn was compelled to turn his eyes aside as the black became gold and the glaive began to burn with a light as strong as the sun's.

Flat and made to fit the hand, it seemed as natural to fling it as it was unnatural to see it return to his hand. His exuberance sent him scrambling and sliding back down the mountainside, and it was as much luck as good sense that enabled him to reach the waiting Ynyr unhurt.

"I have it, Ynyr, I have it! The glaive is real, and I am its master!" He raised the weapon and made as if to throw it over the steep slopes, but Ynyr hurried to forestall him.

"What's wrong? This is the glaive you spoke of, isn't it? I saw no other weapon."

Ynyr eyed him thoughtfully. "And what else could it be? Yes, that's the glaive of legend, as surely as we both stand here examining it."

Colwyn frowned. "Then, what troubles you? Haven't I come safely back with it?"

"You have acquired power, yes. Wisdom is far more elusive and harder to come by. Power used frivolously is power wasted." He nodded toward the gleaming weapon.

"I am pleased, but not awed."

This time Colwyn disdained a quick reply in favor of a moment's hard17 thought, which pleased Ynyr considerably. The prince slipped the glaive into a loop on his belt.

"That's better," said Ynyr. "You're learning. Don't use the glaive until you need it. Then the power will be there when you require it most. It is not a toy. Do not play with it, Colwyn."

"How will I know when to use it?"

"That is easier known than when not to." He peered closely at the glaive with old eyes, ran the fingers of one hand over its five golden arms. It was cold to his touch, inanimate now, responsive only to Colwyn's commands. The old books described it accurately he thought. It shone as though it had been forged yesterday. Now if only the descriptions of its powers were equally accurate.

If this young prince will grow up, there may yet be a chance to drive the Slayers and their master from the world. It is much to place on the shoulders of one so headstrong and inexperienced. At least he is willing to take advice, Ynyr mused.

That was a hopeful sign.

"You will know," he told him confidently.

Colwyn was looking past him, across the mountain's flanks down to the forested hills beyond. Power was in his hand and revenge in his heart. He felt there was nothing that could stand against him. It remained for Ynyr to worry about what lay in the impetuous prince's head.

"Lead me to the Black Fortress and I'll jise it soon enough," Colwyn muttered angrily. He hefted the glaive, luxuriating in its solidity and coldness.

"It strains to be used and I terribly want to use it."

"Patience, patience. Finding the Fortress is not easy. It knows no single kingdom but claims all Krull as its domain. With each sunrise the Fortress moves.

Sometimes it comes to rest in the mountains, othertimes the desert, sometimes it hovers over the sea. Never twice in the same place. Even the Beast does not control everything, so he moves about to confuse and frustrate as well as to terrify.

Furthermore, he is dependent for such movement on the activity of Krull's magnetosphere, which is in a constant state of flux."

Colwyn looked baffled. "Old man, you use words I do not know."

"Ancient words, Colwyn."

"It is Lyssa I seek. You told me you knew where to find the Fortress."

"Courage is not the only virtue of a king, nor is the power he may hold in his hand. Courtesy is also useful, especially toward one's elders. You would not be here now nor that,"

-he gestured to the glaive-"be in your possession if not for me."

Colwyn forced himself to relax. "I'm sorry. It's only that the thought of Lyssa... there..."

"Such thinking crowds reason from your brain and weakens you. You need more than resolve to reach and penetrate the Fortress. Stealth is less exhausting than strength. Spend the former wisely and husband the latter." Colwyn's inner torment was plain to see and Ynyr softened his tone, put a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder.

"I do have a tendency to lecture, I know. It's only that more than Lyssa's fate rides with us on this journey, my boy. I know how you are feeling. I too was young once. I too have loved as you do." His voice fell. "But you will be luckier than I. You must be."

Come now, old man, he told himself angrily, this is no time to burden the lad with your own sordid past. What he needs now is advice and rea.s.surance.

"What I told you, Colwyn, was that I knew how to find the Fortress. That is not the same as knowing where it is today. You hold in your hands one device of the ancients. Krull holds other secrets. The way we will locate the Fortress is by enlisting the aid of the Emerald Seer."

"But his whereabouts are a mystery to all."

"Not quite all," Ynyr corrected him. "It is known to me. Oh, don't look so startled. Did you think that having solved one mystery,"-and he pointed to the glaive-"I was incapable of solving any more? A day's journey from here lies the means by which a man may extend his vision. Come."

"If it lies within a day's ride of the White Castle, why has the place never been found before?"

Ynyr shook his head. So much to teach, so little time for instruction. "The glaive lay in a spot even nearer and had done so undisturbed for hundreds of years.18 Proximity is not the same thing as being close at hand. The Emerald Seer guards his privacy with more subtlety."

Colwyn thought back to the charred skull he'd stumbled over in the cavern of the glaive and nodded slowly. He mulled over the old man's words as they started down the mountain.

Their journey took them through a mountain pa.s.s rarely traversed by the citizens of Eirig. Soon they once more enjoyed the company of evergreens and berry bushes. Birds and insects filled the airways between the trees, reminding Colwyn that he belonged to the world of the living. Yet the serenity of the forest was deceiving. He knew that at any instant it could be crushed to pulp at the Beast's whim, as could any part of Krull.

They followed a stream downhill, stopping beside a low bank where the water slowed and dozed, forming a small pool. Ynyr dismounted and went to draw himself a drink while his companion fiddled with the glaive. Like any sensible outrider, Colwyn carried leather strips and clamps for repairing horse tack or boots while on the road. Now he utilized them to fashion a carrying strap and protective pouch for the glaive so he could carry it slung from his belt. He did not trust it to the saddlebags and there might come a time when having it close at hand could save a life.

As the pouch neared completion, a peculiar aroma caught his attention. He sniffed. Nearby, the tethered horses stirred uneasily. Something singed the evening air. His eyes widened as something spun widly past him, causing him to duck instinctively. Ynyr merely looked interested.

At first Colwyn thought it might be a hare or some other small game thrown aside by a hidden predator. He was positive he saw the face of a fox in the whirling shape. Or were those deer legs? Elk antlers, the hind end of a steer, and the startled face of a globus all mixed together, spinning round and round with human limbs and features.

Eventually this aerial confusion came to rest with a violent splash. The smell and sound vanished and he found himself standing next to the pool, confronting a young man of small stature. The visitor lay facedown in the pool, kicking and flailing at the water.

"Help, help, I'm drowning!"

Colwyn leaned forward, resting his right arm on his thigh as he studied the new arrival. "I doubt it. The water you're lying in is barely a foot deep."

At this the stranger ceased his exertions and rolled over. He sat upright and wiped at the mud on his shirt, muttering to himself. His hair was stringy and long and his att.i.tude as tart as pickled herring. Slowly he rose, still striving to divest himself of the grime so recently and ignominously acquired.

"Well, it could have been quicksand. I might have been dragged down to my death while you stood there gawking. That is not the reaction of a friend." He waded soggily out of the pool, kicking first one leg and then the other, like a dog trying to shed water. He eyed his surroundings warily.

"Where is this place?"

"A forest near the foothills of the Granite Mountains, on the far side from the kingdom of Eirig-Turold."

The little man frowned at him. "Now, I know of the kingdom of Eirig, and I've heard of far Turold, but of Eirig-Turold I know nothing."

"There has been a merging made. The kingdoms have been joined."

"I am underwhelmed. The Granite Mountains, you say?" Colwyn nodded. "Blast and frog jumps! A thousand miles off course!" He shrugged sadly. "Well, I was rushed. There was a certain difference of opinion concerning a gooseberry trifle.

The foolish man left it sitting isolated and friendless on his windowsill, poor thing. What did he expect?"

"Perhaps," Colwyn speculated, "he expected to eat it."

The stranger glared at Colwyn. "For that rudeness, lout, you're going to spend the rest of your life as a toad. Or would you rather be a frog? No, I'd say toad-dom would fit that face better." He hesitated, eyed Colwyn cautiously. "Well, aren't you going to quake in fear? Aren't you going to go to your knees to beg my forgiveness?"

Colwyn sighed, shook his head and turned away from the pool. "Not right now.

There's a fire to attend to and the question of supper. Other matters to be dealt with."19 "Other matters? I'll show you what matters need attending to!" Rummaging through his numerous pockets he yanked out small sc.r.a.ps of multicolored paper filled with indecipherable scribbling. He settled on one sc.r.a.p, squinting at it.

"No, that's a recipe for a hot fudge sauce." He moved to throw it aside, thought better of it, and shoved it back into a pocket. "Well, a goose will have to do. Warmer than a toad, but I can't waste time when I'm mad. Better to work when one's in the mood. Yes, a goose, fat and ugly!"

There were certainly many words inscribed on the piece of paper and some of them were very long and difficult. The visitor stumbled over their p.r.o.nunciation more than once. Finally he concluded his invocation on a rising inflection and snapped his fingers at Colwyn.

Colwyn turned and regarded the goose squatting at the water's edge with interest. No doubt about it, this stranger had talent. Somewhat erratic, however. He laughed.

"Very fat and very ugly. I should not have doubted you."

The goose let out an angry honk, seemed befuddled at the noise, and made a dash at Colwyn. It halted short of its target, apparently thinking better of the idea, and turned instead to waddle across to where a slip of paper rested by the pool's bank. It c.o.c.ked a querulous eye at it, obviously in a fowl temper, and honked steadily and softly.

A white cloud enveloped it. Colwyn amused himself by trying to decide whether it revealed more goose than visitor. The cloud resolved the argument by disappearing with a soft popping sound, leaving the stranger behind. If naught else, the eflfort had cleaned him up a little.

He sounded only slightly chastened. "And from that you see what I could have done to you if I were a vengeful man." More softly he muttered, "Blasted matter transformations use so blasted much energy a body can't tell whether he's coming or going." He put a hand to his forehead.

"I am tired. Leave me now, lest a worse fate befall thee."

Colwyn finished putting out the fire and packed the last of his belongings.

Ynyr waited patiently nearby, eyeing their intemperate guest with curiosity. Matter transformation was a difficult business. The little fellow was both adept and inept.

"We intend to take our leave of this campsite, but the forest is not safe.

You'd best travel with us."

The stranger pulled himself up to his full height and glared imperiously at Colwyn. "Me? Travel with youl Do you know who I am? Do you have the faintest idea, lout, in whose presence you stand?"

Colwyn leaned against his horse. "No, but I have this odd feeling you're going to tell me."

Either the visitor was beyond sarcasm or else simply chose to ignore it. "I am Ergo the Magnificent; short in stature, tall in power, narrow of purpose, wide of vision." This was delivered with appropriately descriptive gestures. "And I do not travel with peasants and beggars. Good day to you." Whereupon he whirled and strode purposefully (though, insofar as Colwyn could see, aimlessly) into the woods.

He repressed a chuckle as he mounted. Ynyr pulled himself into his own saddle.

"He'll be the first member of our army."

Ynyr frowned, looked back over a shoulder. "Of what use could he be?"

"He is the master of a talent. Well, not a master, perhaps, but matter transformation is a tricky business."

"Indeed it is, my boy, but if casually handled it can be more dangerous than useful. I do not like to see such power indifferently employed."

"I seem to have heard that recently," said Colwyn with a grin. "But if such power confuses the one who employs it, think how it would confuse his enemies!"

"Confusion benefits no one, least of all us."

"I defer to you in matters of history and learning, Ynyr, but where combat is concerned I have studied long and hard under dedicated instructors. When a.s.saulting an enemy of greater strength, confusion can be a potent ally. Besides which, he seems to be a man of spirit as well as spirits. Give me a fighter with steel in his backbone and I'll not concern myself with the composition of his sword.

This one would stand by a friend."

"If he has any?'

"True enough. He does strike me as the obstreperous sort. I've seen his kind20 before, though. When they are unsure of their position, they feel it's best to strike out and see what their surroundings are made of."

"Have a care, Colwyn, that he does not accidentally strike at you."

"I'll be careful. Meanwhile, let's try and have patience with him, should he change his mind and rejoin us. Perhaps his instructor in alchemical matters was an indifferent one. Could you help him perfect his useful art?"

"I'm afraid my knowledge is of more practical matters. I do not dabble in arcane arts. But my opinion of this one," -and he gestured back across the pool-"is that in an awkward situation he'd most likely transform himself into a crow and fly like mad for the nearest place of safety."

"I think you do him an injustice. Still, there might be opportunities to test him further along the way."

Ynyr still stared back at where the forest was swallowing up the campsite.

"No doubt there might be. If he rejoins us."

It was very quiet in the woods. Much quieter than the town from which Ergo the Magnificent had so recently and hastily beat a retreat. The moon hung faint and bilious in the lowing sky, hardly lifting the spirits of the trees surrounding him.

Indeed, with each step he took, their branches seemed to bend a little lower, reaching toward him with stiff, sharp fingers. Dead leaves and toadstools crunched beneath his feet, and night murmurs a.s.saulted his hearing. He longed for the bright lights and cheerful cries of Moukaskar, the city he'd fled. He would even have paid for the rifled trifle.

There-a noise, off to his left! A rabbit or some other evening forager, he a.s.sured himself. Harmless as the wind. The sound came a second time and he stopped to peer close. Saints and devils, was that an eye? A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. It surely was an awfully big eye. Much too big for a rabbit. It grew even larger as it moved suddenly toward him.

Then in the moonlight he saw a beardless face, and the source of the solitary stare was apparent. It was solitary I because that face held but a single eye.

He was too startled to cry out, but not too startled to whirl and break into a desperate sprint. Branches and leaves seemed determined to restrain him as he tore back toward the pool, retracing his steps in a third the time while glancing repeatedly back over his shoulder. The single eye vanished, outdistanced by his mad flight. Or perhaps it had reasons for not pursuing.

He burst into the clearing bordering the stream and looked frantically about. No sign of the two men who'd witnessed his inglorious arrival. In panic he splashed through the water, crossing the stream where it narrowed again beneath the pool. Ah, there, just ahead! Movement among the bushes and the comforting sound of horses' hooves.

As he grew near he thought to slow to a stately walk and compose himself.

"Why, if it isn't Ergo the Magnificent. And the Breathless. Something give you a start?" Colwyn looked past the smaller man, back into the forest. He saw nothing.