Startled, Jim looked up and to his right. It was a white sun now, and the upper branches through which the daystar's upper edge looked could not have been blacker. The bright color of the Drowned Land was gone. He reined in Gorp. The others also stopped.
"Just a moment," said Jim, searching at his belt for the case for his magic glasses. He put them on, just to make sure. No colors. With relief he put the glasses away again.
He was about to say something about going on once more, when Dafydd spoke up.
"Lyonesse it is indeed," he said, "and therefore I am going in the wrong direction. I must carry word to my King and that means I leave you now."
Without waiting for any answer from the rest, he reined his roan about and started off at a hand-gallop back the way they had just come.
"Wait, Dafydd!" Jim called after him, "you don't want to run the risk of running into that encampment!"
"There is no danger!" shouted Dafydd over his shoulder. "Now that the sun is up, I can find my way safely around it. This is my country!"
—And he was gone, out of sight among the farther trees.
There was a long moment of silence, which Brian finally broke.
"A proper sense of duty," he remarked. "Shall we on?"
They onned.
"I have been thinking how best to go about this," the QB broke the new silence after a little while. "The problem is that we here in Lyonesse have no king such as Arthur was, to whom news of that army on our border should go first. I would ordinarily believe that any evil chance for us in those gathered men would be small. They seem a force more prepared to take over the Drowned Land than Lyonesse. But with the Dark Powers looming over us as well, I have an uneasy feeling that our knights should indeed be warned."
"Why think you it may be small?" Brian looked curiously down at the loping leopard form.
"For more than one reason," said the QB. "Much more than Lyonesse, the Drowned Land is like to the land above, which these invaders are used to, full of people to be their servants and slaves; and finally, it is all but without magick. No matter what they may say, I believe that you people in the land above fear, but are used to living with, magick."
"With reason," said Brian, "if some of it is in evil hands."
"Yes, but in Lyonesse, with some few exceptions, magick is our friend. An old friend, as are the tree magick and the Old Magic, who together made a home for us when otherwise our stories might have been forgotten and lost forever."
"Such great stories are never lost!" said Brian. "Support me, James. Is that not true?"
"I can guarantee it," Jim said, "for another thousand years, at least. But QB, if you haven't got a king like Arthur to go to, where are we headed now?"
"To another king," said the QB. "Though his name is Pellinore, not Arthur. But he was one of the many at King Arthur's Round Table; and the only one whose strength was equal to or greater than that of Arthur himself. So much so, that once as they wrestled together in armor, Arthur's sword having broken, Pellinore overcame Arthur and would have slain him, but Merlin stopped him."
"I seem to recall some word of that tale, too…" said Brian, frowning thoughtfully.
"King Pellinore is one of the Originals," went on the QB. "One of those Knights of the Legends who sit apart from their children's children's children nowadays. It is such as he who must be told of the danger in the Borderlands; for while our Knights can fight like no others can, I fear for them without Arthur. In Arthur was always victory—for his cause, for others, if never for himself… In some ways those of Lyonesse are ordinary men in spite of the Legends; and, lacking him, they lack something of what made them great—especially face-to-face with such greater numbers as those we have seen in the Borderland."
"Ordinary men may do unordinary things," said Brian.
"Yes, but… it is more than that. When Arthur went to war, the earth fought for him. The sky fought for him. All fought for him. You cannot understand what that means. You have not seen him as I have, his sword flashing like lightning in the melee! Had you, you would understand—" The QB's usually pleasant voice had taken on hoarseness not unlike that of a human who was close to tears. "I cannot explain! I cannot explain!"
"You don't need to, QB," said Jim. "Your word is good enough for us."
"Perhaps for you, Sir James and Sir Brian. But the Knights of Lyonesse remember Arthur and will know what they lack—and in that is the greatest danger."
"There's help for them in Dafydd's people, too," said Jim. "Once those in the Drowned Land understand both kingdoms face a common danger, they'll be ready to join forces with Lyonesse—I can almost guarantee it!"
"Perhaps," said the QB.
"If Dafydd were still with us," observed Brian, "he might say that those of the Drowned Land have found little to love in Lyonesse as their neighbor. Remember, James, the stories he told us of Drowned Landers going into Lyonesse and being trapped there, lost and unable to come home?"
"But with a situation this dangerous, I can't see either the Knights or the Drowned Landers hesitating, Brian!"
"I hope you to be right, Sir James." The QB turned his head to look over his shoulder at Jim, without interrupting his smooth, swift running that kept the horses behind him at a fast trot. "But it must be put to the Original Knights as a question, since on their part they know that knighthood is unknown in the Drowned Land."
"Hah! If needs be, let me speak to them," said Brian. "It would be a foolish head that entertained the thought that Dafydd's lack of a knight's belt and golden spurs meant he also lacked warlike skills and the courage to fight; and I misdoubt there is any great lack of others in the Drowned Land like him."
"I do not hold him so, myself, certainly," said the QB, "and I will put it in just those words to King Pellinore. But the full problem must be put to him. A truce with you on this point, Sir Brian. We all have our own ways."
"Indeed"—Brian's voice dropped—"I should not have flown out at you so."
The QB halted suddenly. They reined in their horses sharply to keep from riding over him.
"I must call ahead," he said. They were in deep woods yet, with hills like small mountains all around them and no sign of buildings or people. But remembering how the QB had whisked him from one end of Lyonesse to another in almost no time at all, it struck Jim that they might have covered more ground than he would have thought since the sun came up.
But before he could start to guess where they were, there burst from the QB the sound of thirty couple of hounds, questing—and for the first time Jim was able to note that the sound came not from his serpent's mouth—but, as the legend had told it, from his belly.
After a moment a horn like that a hunter might use answered, followed by the yelping of other hounds—not thirty couple of them, but at least a dozen or so. The QB turned himself into his hound shape and put on speed, leaving them behind. Jim and Brian followed.
It could have been no more than seventy-five yards before they passed through a cluster of young trees and came out into a forest-encircled clearing. A large and long house of logs filled the far side of the clearing; with a sturdy bench next to its front door, made of half a log that had been split lengthwise, the bark still on its underside, the flat side on top, and eight thick legs fitted into it below, supporting it.
On the bench, in full armor, sat a clean-shaven, mature-looking man who was one of the most tall and powerful-looking individuals Jim had ever seen. He was not looking at them. From inside the closed door of the log building came occasional yelps like those they had heard before, to which the large man paid no attention at all.
The QB had halted at the edge of the clearing, still in his form as a hound. He looked back at them and whined in his dog voice.
"M'Lord," came the voice of Hob, "he wants to go ahead alone, first. Do you mind coming after him?"
"Not at all," said Jim, speaking quickly before Brian could say anything else.
The hound nodded and trotted toward the seated man. Jim and
Brian gave him a head start of about half the length of their distance to the man, then rode out from among the small trees, directly toward him.
The man's eyes had been all on the hound from the moment he had appeared. It was only when it stopped some six feet from him and sat down on its haunches that the man looked beyond it, and stood up, seeing Brian and Jim.
"Who are you?" His voice was rusty with age, but as powerful-sounding as his body looked strong.
The hound turned suddenly back into the QB—and a chorus of dog voices burst out behind the closed door of the log house. The man turned his head toward the door.
"Silence."
—And silence it was. Sudden, almost shocking, silence. He turned back again to look at Jim and Brian, who had ridden up behind the QB, and drawn rein there.
"Sir Pellinore," said the QB, "these are my friends and yours—friends to all Lyonesse; and have travelled a long way to help us. May I name to you Sir James de Malencontri and Sir Brian of Castle Smythe, both from the land above? James, Brian, I have the honor to name to you King Pellinore, my friend and Original Knight of the Table Round."
Brian and Jim swung down from their horses and bowed. Pellinore inclined his head.
"In what should we need help?" he asked. His rusty voice was like a great drum booming in the wide cavern of his chest.
Jim found himself held by Pellinore's gaze. The King's heavy-boned face was expressionless and showed no wrinkles or lines of age; but his eyes were dark and deep under his black brows. They did not blink. The impression Jim got from him was one of tremendous strength and will—much more of both than he had expected. For some reason, possibly the way Sir Dinedan (a descendant, not the Original of that name) had spoken of him, Jim had got the idea of Pellinore as an almost comic knight.
He was anything but. Come to think of it, none of the Originals should be. Hamlet had his grave-digger in the play by Shakespeare. The Legends about King Arthur had no such character.
He found himself now in a staring match which he could do nothing but lose. He was about to give up and drop his eyes, when Pellinore looked once more at the QB.
"You did not answer me, old friend," he said.
"I was surprised you did not seem to know, King," said the QB. "Some evil forces, known as the Dark Powers and until now a trouble only to the land above, have made intent to perhaps try to take this land of Lyonesse for themselves, and for full evil purposes. Sir James and Sir Brian have encountered with these Powers before and bested them, not once but several times; and so they have come to do what they can to aid us of Lyonesse."
"In what shape do these Powers come, then?" said Pellinore's deep voice. "Surely there will be others besides me who will be willing to face them and send them away again?"
"In no shape, and with no face, King Pellinore. That is what makes them such terrible foes. Fighting them is like fighting the winter when it comes. Brave hearts, strong arms, and good weapon-work find nothing in them to strike at."
"This is hard to believe—yet I would never misbelieve you, QB," said Pellinore. His implacable eyes swung back to Jim and Brian.
"How then," he said, "can such as you help?"
"I am a magician," said Jim, speaking with all the fourteenth-century formality he had learned in the last few years; "and also, while the Dark Powers themselves are as hard to wound as ghosts or shadows—to take anything real, such as the ground we stand on, they make use of creatures that can be touched with weapons and killed."
"Creatures?"
"Harpies," put in Brian. "Like great bats, except that they have a woman's face and poison fangs. Worms, like giant lampreys, their circular mouths filled with rows of teeth. Ogres, giants four yards high, with bones so thick no mace or ax, let alone sword, can break them… and others."
"These I have never heard spoken of," said Pellinore.
"The Dark Powers may try to conquer Lyonesse with such as Sir Brian mentions," said Jim. "Perhaps with other sorts of creatures, too. But they will also come at you with those you had not expected to fight for them." He lifted a hand to indicate Brian.
"In the past," he went on, "Sir Brian and I have faced a rogue magician, a great army of sea serpents attacking us upon land, and a Demon from the Kingdom of Devils and Demons. Also those who were called the Hollow Men; and at another time the greatest and oldest deep-sea squid, a monster with a dream of conquering all the land above. Not only magicians are needed when the Powers attack; knights and any else who'll fight are needed to conquer their creatures."
King Pellinore's eyes watched Jim.
"You won these battles, I take it," he said. "Otherwise, you would not be with us now, if all you say is true."
Jim nodded.
"We won," he said; "but only because the rogue magician was defeated, the Hollow Men destroyed, the great squid finally made helpless by my Master-in-Magic—one much greater than myself."
"And what," said Pellinore, "if this time, the attack upon us calls for another, greater than you in magick?"
"There isn't any other to come and help," said Jim, his medieval formality beginning to break down. "You're going to have to fight with what you've got now. Besides your own forces, I'm what you've got—Sir Brian and I. There're only two of us, but we've had experience with this enemy before. It's your Knights, us, and beyond that only the trees and the Old Magic."
"That is true," said the QB.
"Yes, it is true," said Pellinore. "But we do not command the trees or the Old Magic. We cannot even speak to them—we Knights cannot—I know you can talk to them, QB. But it may be they do not even decide a matter together as we do, who walk and talk beneath them. Who is to know whether they might aid us and how?"
"There's one," said Jim. "Merlin might know. I can ask him."
Not only Pellinore, but the QB stared at him without words. Jim was suddenly embarrassed. It was all very well for him to talk of asking Merlin about something; but clearly neither QB nor the King had ever considered such a thing being done.
But then, as often happened with him, his own embarrassment made him angry, and anger made him stubborn. The words had just popped out; but he was not going to take them back now.
"However," he said to the QB, "I suppose you won't be able to take me to him until the next dark of the sun. The question here and now is what we can do with our strength other than magic."
"It will be dark soon," said the QB; and there was a hard note in his voice that Jim would not have imagined from the way the other had always spoken to him. "But you are right, Sir James, about our needing to count our strengths. For what use it will do, I will speak to the trees, of course—but King Pellinore is right. I have little hope of any direct help from them.
"As for the Old Magic, I know of no one who can speak to it at all—or if it has the ability to hear our words. But I believe it has a kindness for you, Sir James, and possibly could be your friend as well, because it helped you to escape the Queen of Northgales. Perhaps it will help, in its own way and time. But as to who may fight for us; and what they may hope to do—it is beyond me. That was why I ventured to bring these new friends to my oldest friend."
He looked at Pellinore.
Pellinore's eyes were looking past them, off at something in the distance.
"Never since Arthur left us for the Vale of Avilion," he said, as if he was speaking more to himself than them, "have all those here who once sat at the Round Table gathered together. I will go to them one by one and perhaps we can meet again. Be sure there will be none who dare not fight; but there may be some who for other reasons would stand aloof."
He stood up.
"Horse!" he said in a strong voice.
There was a whinny from behind the log cabin; and not more than a couple of minutes later, a tall horse, already saddled and bridled, and all white except for a black blaze on the muzzle and four black feet, came around a corner of the building and walked toward them, nodding with each step. It came to Pellinore and rubbed its head a
gainst the large man's chest.
Pellinore patted the white shoulder in an automatic gesture, took up the reins, and stepped into the near stirrup to swing himself lightly into the saddle.
"I will sound my horn when I have something to tell you," he said to the QB. "God's grace be with you, Sirs."
"And with you also, King Pellinore," said Brian.
The big man on the big horse rode off and was lost to sight among the trees.
"He seems a man of much strength and valor," said Brian, looking after him. "But at that pace, on that horse for all its long legs, we may have to wait months before he calls you with the word he has gotten from his fellow Knights."
"I pray you not to judge by appearances, Sir Brian. The Originals, as I can, may travel swiftly when they wish. If it would have taken a long time, he would have warned us of it."
"I doubt that not," said Brian, "now that you have told me about this matter of swift-going. I meant no slighting word. As I said, he seems a Knight valiant and of great power."
"He is indeed," said the QB. "And he had two pure and noble sons, as worthy in their own ways as himself. One was named Sir Percival and the other Sir Lamorack of Wales."
As he was speaking, the sky, the trees, the earth, and the building behind them all seemed to fade and to lose the sharp lines of their edges, as the day dimmed.
"Now comes the dark, Sir James," said the QB.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The dark came swiftly.
"Sir Brian," said the QB, "I suggest you lead your horses with you to the bench and seat yourself there until we return. When the last of the light is gone, Sir James and I will be gone with it. But we will be back before the first light shows."
"I will await you," said the voice of a Brian already becoming a dim figure. "But I would I were going with you."
Jim swallowed. He had not forgotten what he had so unthinkingly said a little while past. But now, with the QB's last words, it had suddenly become immediate—and far too real.
"Face it," he told himself, "you spoke up all right to Merlin the last time you saw him, but don't try to dodge the fact—Merlin chills you."