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 reassurance.
"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. 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.
IV
Their journey took them through a mountain pass 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 attitude 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."
"Other matters? I'll show you what matters need attending to!" Rummaging through his numerous pockets he yanked out small scraps of multicolored paper filled with indecipherable scribbling. He settled on one scrap, 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 pronunciation 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 cocked 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 effort 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 tire
d. 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 you? 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 assaulting 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 kind 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 assaulted 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 assured 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 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.
"Nonsense," Ergo replied haughtily. "Ergo the Magnificent is not frightenable."
"Nor does he talk very well when he's out of breath. You are sweating, my friend."
"My evening exercise. I never miss it."
"I see," Colwyn turned his attention back to the trail ahead. "Then what brings you so soon into our company again?"
"I just remembered that I have some urgent business in this direction."
"I daresay, from the way you're breathing." He reached a hand toward the other man. Ergo hesitated, then took the offer and swung himself up onto the horse behind Colwyn. "What business might that be?"
"Staying alive," Ergo confessed, glancing nervously behind them. Whatever creature it belonged to, the eye stayed mercifully hidden.
Colwyn chuckled. "Then it seems we are in the same business, my friend. And men who work the same business ought to stick together."
"Most assuredly," agreed Ergo quickly.
Lyssa had never thought of a nightmare as having walls and a floor, a ceiling and strangely hued hidden lights. A nightmare was thin and wispy, faint and impalpable. It ought not to ring hollowly beneath one's shoes or to twist and turn like the thoughts of an evil courtier.
Was she inside the Black Fortress or inside her own mind? She clung precariously to her sanity as she rushed down weaving, convoluted corridors that seemed spun of gold and ceramic instead of honest wood or stone. She could not imagine how such a place could have been built. Perhaps it had not been built in the sense men thought of as "built." Perhaps it had been grown, for certain of the tunnels and cavernous hallways she raced through resembled far more the inside of some stolid, immobile creature than the corridors of any building ever described to her in her lessons.
Occasionally a wall would ooze shut behind her, forcing her onward, or a tall white Slayer would appear to block her path. Then she would turn desperately down any unblocked passageway, her dress whirling around her legs, seeking even temporary freedom.
Freedom: it was little more than an intellectual exercise, since it was clear that even if she stumbled across the right tools she'd be unable to dig herself to freedom. But it was a useful abstract to concentrate on as she ran, and it helped to keep her from going mad.
She thought also of Colwyn and the burning fresh love that had drawn them so close so quickly, saw him buried under a wave of Slayers as he'd tried to hack his way through to her in the castle courtyard. What must he be thinking of her now? Would he be more at peace believing her still alive, with a chance for rescue, or better off thinking her dead?
No matter. She had no way of conveying a message to him. Her palm burned as she thought of him and she remembered the gentle, comforting heat of the flame she'd taken from the font during the ceremony. It gave her strength, that memory. Strength to keep hoping, strength to run on.
Once, a gown resplendent with jewels and metallic thread appeared like a vision before her. Above it floated a crown of precious metal and strange mien. It held her transfixed with its beauty for a long moment, until she saw the threat that lay beyond. To some it might appear raiment fit for a queen but Lyssa was far more perceptive than that. It was beautiful, yes, but so were many burial shrouds.
She turned from it and rushed on.
There were too many dead trees around for Colwyn's liking. They'd reached a defile in the rocks, a place of desolation and broken stone. At least the morning fog had dissipated. Walls without substance, his father had once called such fogs. The mark of difficult country.
The sun hung somewhere overhead, masked by the sheer walls that rose around them. Birds and other less wholesome things called out hesitantly, as though uncertain of safety. Lonely sounds fit for a lonely place. He would be glad when they had passed beyond.
Something nudged him in the small of the back and he felt his passenger shifting position. Ergo sat behind the saddle and by now it must be wearying to him.
"How are you doing back there, my magnificent little friend?"
"Not magnificently, I fear. I have spent all morning debating the benefits of riding thus versus walking. My feet opt for their present status but another part of me disagrees most strenuously."
"I'm sorry. When we reach a town we'll have to see about acquiring a mount for you."
"With what? I left my last place of residence in such a rush that I was compelled to leave the bulk of my fortune behind."
"It's your help I need, not your money. I am willing to help those who help me."