if at its own chosen speed. Not as fast as Dun would have liked to go, but faster than he could have run himself. The other horses followed them out of the valley a moment later, confused, but preferring to stay together.
By the time they neared the wizard’s cottage, the snows started to fall again, thicker and faster than before. When he reached the small clearing in front of the house, the snows had already doused most of the fire.
The house and the trees around it were reduced to their black skeletons. A stake stood in the middle of the clearing. Dun reached down to pick up the old man’s ring from the ground beneath it. He looked at the smooth wood, soft against his skin as he turned it around between his fingers.
He couldn’t make himself look up at his friend and teacher. He stared at the snow that fell on his feet as the tears froze on his cheeks. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but at some point he sensed a presence in the clearing. He looked up to see a skinny rabbit hopping along the edge.
“Bit early in the year for you, little friend,”
He automatically checked the way it moved, to see if it might be hurt. The wizard treated woodland creatures when he found them ill or wounded, and they somehow seemed to know to seek him out for help.
A lot of them would be making that trip in vain the coming seasons. The thought of them, left without the help of the old man, chocked his throat. They lured him away from the house, and for what? So they could kill a kindly man that did nothing but help. He didn’t understand how that could be any good to anyone.
The bunny sat on its hindquarters, looking at him curiously. He lowered his pack slowly, not to scare it, and pulled out a wrinkled, chubby parsnip. Crouching, he offered it to the rabbit. Its nose twitched with excitement, as it came forward in hesitant hops. When it bounded off with its prize, Dun could see its tail bobbing up and down, a white ghost dancing between the trees.
While he cut the slender figure down from the pole, his anger turned into something solid. He would make them pay for this, if he had to burn the entire world to do it.
He left the old man’s swaddled body out on a large rock nearby for the animals to find. The wizard was a firm believer in circles, and now he would be part of another circle, provide the material for new life to start. The though made Dun feel a little better, but not much.
He went back to the burnt out shell of the house and dug at the edge of the grounds, where the kitchen garden would have been coming spring. An arm’s length down in the frozen ground, he found the flat stone that covered what he was looking for. He took out a small parcel of oiled cloth and hid it down in his pack.
After he refilled the hole, he looked at the smouldering timber and cracked stones one last time. He would not be back here.
Spring fest
The snows had returned in full force and even now, one day before Spring fest, the last remains of a coat of snow clung to the trees. Dun approached the keep from the river’s side. The sound of preparations for the fest floated down to the forest edge. The keep was on higher ground than the rest of the village that had grown up around it over the years. The houses straggled down the incline, like goslings running after a parent.
The large triangular body of the keep covered the top of the hill, just clear of the edge where the cliff fell steeply away. From where he stood, the wall added extra layers of stone and wood to the cliffs’ height.
The river thundered past the keep. Its path eroded down through the cliff from long years of water running down. It was the best defensible position for leagues around. Dun felt a grin twist at the corners of his mouth upwards. It might be defensible against an army, but one man would enter easily. He intended to leave nothing more than an empty shell. A blown egg, testament to his vengeance. He wrapped himself closer in his cloak and settled in to watch and wait.
Spring fest morning came with the pale blue brightness that promised a cold but radiant day. Green and blue pennants were raised at the keeps three corners, the breeze just strong enough to lift their edges up in a gay flutter, but keeping the new lord’s sigil hidden in the folds.
Stall holders were out and about and their voices carried down on the breeze in snatches. A little shy of midday, the market was in full swing and Dun strolled up. At least a hand taller than most of the people that thronged between the displays of goods and the tents of fortune tellers, he should have stuck out like a sore thumb. This was one of the first things the old wizard had noticed about him: Nobody noticed him.
At least, not unless he wanted them to. It wasn’t magic in the ways of wizards, but a magic nonetheless. And the more people were there to ignore him, the stronger the illusion became. In a crowd like this, he was a good as invisible.
Dun recognized Filas behind one of the stalls that sold pies, walked around the cloth that covered the back and took the vendor’s own lunch packet from the cart. It was bound to be better than the mystery-meat pastries the fat man was selling at the front. Dun sat on a fence rail to eat it.
A black-and-sand-coloured stray sidled up, wagging a bony tail. He scratched her ears, handing bites down while he ate. The apple core went to the scruffy horse that nuzzled his back.
He strolled past the stalls, on his way up to the three-sided fort. The gate was set into the wall where two of the sides met in a point. The creaking of iron against wooden rollers warned everyone that the portcullis was opening.
A gaunt youth appeared, dressed in the green and blue of Solis. He blew on a piece of metal pipe and in a voice that jumped up and down the tone scales, announced that that lord Solis was ready to give audience.
A cluster of people were waiting near the gate and they walked into the short tunnel that led inside. A number of people who had been browsing the stalls near the gates, went in after them. Too proud to be seen waiting, but wanting an audience, or to witness someone else’s, nonetheless.
Dun followed them inside. A platform faced the gate, it was still in the shade, but in a couple of hours it would be lit by the sun. On it were two chairs. One large, one small. Solis sat in the largest, conferring with a hooded figure that stood at his shoulder.
Dun watched as people were called forward by the pale youth that had announced at the gate earlier.
All audiences seemed to follow the same pattern; Congratulations were offered and a gift was presented to celebrate the oncoming union between Solis and Wolfour’s daughter. A rambling story explained the importance of the request to come. A boon was asked. The boon was granted, maybe in some revised manner.
After a while he ducked between the two men that guarded the door into the keep. A short flight of stairs led him to the end of the first floor hallway, where lord Wolfour had his study. Vera’s rooms could be reached by the steps hidden behind a curtain that seemingly covered the bare stone wall next to the study door.
Dun looked around before he slipped behind the thick fabric. The hall was empty. At the top of the stairs he stood and listened. The rooms beyond were silent. Too silent. He frowned. There should be chatter of maids, music played while Vera got ready to go downstairs. Did they move her bedroom? Or maybe she fled by herself. If she did, the guards would find her within a day. He smiled. He would make sure they didn’t. He opened the door just enough to slip his large body into the room. A gasp welcomed him.
“Dun...”
She didn’t sound happy. It took a moment for his beaming mind to register this, but by then it was too late. A heavy hand dropped down on his shoulder as darkness fell over his face.
Solis lounged in Wolfour’s study, his legs stretched on the antique wooden desk. Hunting scenes decorated the side panels, their carved edges rounded by time and a thousand cleaning cloths and oils.
“An intruder? At my party?”
He shook his head in a slow mockery of disappointment. Dun said nothing. The man made his skin crawl. In anyone else he might have admired the skill with which his hair was cut and oiled, the taste with which the expensive-looking doublet and shoe
s were chosen, the care with which the nails were manicured. On Solis, it made him shudder.
“Cat got your tongue?” Solis took his feet from the leather sheet that covered the desk and put them in front of his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Or should I say, dead wizard’s got your tongue?”
He roared with laughter at his own joke. Dun waited for him to be done with his show, looking around the room looking for a way to escape, or at least something he could use to smash Solis’ face in.
“You know, wizards running loose are dangerous,” Solis got up from behind the desk and poked Dun’s chest. It was level with his face, but the aura of unbalanced danger emanating from the shorter man prevented the gesture from looking ridiculous. Dun looked down at him and waited.
“But, no worries!” Solis grinned a grin wide enough to show a golden gleam where one of his molars used to be. “I have a good place to put you.”
Wild magic
Back in the dank chill of the stone cellar, Dun swung back and forward. Small sways at first, getting larger as he gained momentum. He spread his large arms out to his sides, flapping them like wings on the rhythm of his moves.
Up on the surface, the day’s activities tapered to an end. Only the stalls that sold food and drink still doing any business. In the keep, the servants bustled, carrying out plank tables,