The Warlock is Missing wisoh-7

by Christopher Stasheff

  Geoffrey and Magnus were silent, watching. Puck's face was screwed up with worry, and he stood tense, ready to leap to aid if he was needed.

  Phagia stirred in. her sleep, muttering a stream of words that the boys couldn't quite understand. Her body twitched a few times, stiffened, then suddenly relaxed. She breathed a deep sigh.

  So did Cordelia, leaning back and going limp. "'Twas a sore trial, that."

  "There was danger!" Puck accused.

  Cordelia shook her head. "Only in that I might tire—but Gregory's strength was enough to lean on. And he sensed weakened points that I could break. 'Tis done; she'll not seek to bake another. She'll wake well rested, and with a greater sense of well-being than e'er she's had." She dropped her face into her hands, shuddering. "But, oh! That any could be so evil as to wreak such havoc in a person's mind, as that fell Lontar did!"

  "Doth he still live?" Geoffrey's face had hardened.

  Cordelia shrugged, but Kelly said, "He may. Word of such an one doth run through fairy gossip, now and again. Yet none know where he dwelleth."

  "Well, we are warned." Magnus turned to Puck. "An we come near him, Robin, we'll be fully on our guard. This magus, at least, is naught to trifle with."

  "And merits death." Geoffrey's eyes glowed. "An we encounter him, brother, take no chance. We'll smite him down, ere he can know we're by."

  "Nay, surely thou wilt not!" Puck glared up at the boy, his fists on his hips. "Thou wilt not encounter him, be certain! For thou wilt now march home right quickly! Out the door! Off down the path! At once!"

  Geoffrey glowered down at him in rebellion.

  Magnus touched his shoulder. "Be mindful… webbed feet…"

  Geoffrey looked up, appalled. Then he sighed and capitulated. "'Tis even as thou sayest, Puck. Anything thou sayest."

  "Home," Gregory chirped.

  Chapter 5

  They hurried on down the path, unnerved and shaken. Gregory glowered his darkest. "How could a man be so vile, Puck? 'Twould have been foul enow to weigh his greater strength against a woman; she had scant enough hope of fighting him even had she known she was beset—but to cast so horrid a spell on her, unawares!"

  "'Tis, foul, I know," the elf agreed. "And men have done worse, lad."

  "But to rend her whole life thus!" Cordelia cried.

  Puck shrugged. "What cared he? So long as he felt the satisfaction of revenge—of what concern was her life to him?"

  "'Tis the most vile of Sassenaches," Kelly muttered, face thunderous. "An we can find him, we must slay him!"

  Gregory shuddered.

  "That may not be true," Fess said quickly. "The wrong he has done, will not necessarily be righted by the equal wrong of his murder."

  "Mayhap not—but it will surely prevent him from harming any others!"

  "How now, brother," sneered Geoffrey, "thinkest thou to imprison a warlock?"

  Magnus turned to scowl at his impertinent younger brother. "Wherefore not?"

  "Why, for that he'll disappear clean from any cell thou mayest find for him!"

  Gregory's eyes lost focus. "Mayhap there is a way…"

  Geoffrey eyed him warily. "Dost think to craft a gaol that will hold a magic-worker? 'Ware, brother—ere thou dost find thyself imprisoned within it!"

  "An he doth, he'll discover a way to come out," Magnus assured him, "yet no other would. An we can catch this vile sorcerer, I doubt not we can hold him."

  "And how shalt thou catch him?" Cordelia scoffed.

  "Why, thus!" Magnus cried, and he swatted at Geoffrey. "Tag!"

  Geoffrey rounded on him, incensed, but Magnus disappeared with a bang—a double bang, for Geoffrey disappeared right after him. From a thicket a hundred feet away, his voice cried, 'Tag!" followed by the sound of a small explosion, then another in an oak tree a few yards away; its top swayed with sudden weight. But a small boom echoed it, and the treetop lashed wildly as Magnus's voice shouted, "Thou art 'it'!" Geoffrey howled in anger, but Magnus answered with a laugh that cut off with another small explosion, followed immediately by another bang as Geoffrey disappeared after him.

  Kelly leaped for the nearest oak root. "What manner of weird game is this?"

  "'Tis young warlocks' play," Puck answered. "Dost know of mortal children's 'tag'?"

  "Wherein one must flee while another seeks to touch him? Aye."

  "'Tis much the same, save that the one who is 'it' must read in the other's mind, the instant ere he doth disappear, some passing hint of the place he doth flee to. Then the lad who is 'it' doth disappear also, and doth attempt to reappear in the same place as the one he pursueth, that he may tag him."

  "And they who are not 'it' must needs try to hide their thoughts, so that he cannot follow them," Cordelia added, glaring toward the treetop.

  Kelly frowned. "And if the one who is 'it' finds no hint of where the other is going? Or if he reads the hint wrongly?"

  "Then must he cast about, mind open to all impressions, seeking his quarry's thoughts."

  Magnus reappeared with a thunder-crack right behind Gregory, eyes alight with glee, crying, "Hide me!" and ducking down behind his little brother.

  "Thou great oaf, I can see thee most clearly!" Cordelia cried; but Gregory squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating furiously, thinking of apples and oranges, of a large bowl of luscious fruit, of their tantalizing aromas.

  Air boomed, and Geoffrey shouted, 'Tag!" as he swatted Magnus's shoulder, then pivoted to Gregory. "I had lost him; he 'scaped without a trace of a thought of where he was bound. Yet when I listened for sign of his presence, all I could find was a picture of luscious fruits in thy mind—and, me-

  thought, 'There's no reason for Gregory to be so suddenly entranced with food.' Therefore did I know thou didst seek to hide knowledge of him—wherefore, he must needs be near thee."

  "Thou dost talk overlong." Magnus slapped his shoulder and disappeared, crying, "'Ta…!"

  "It will not serve," Geoffrey hollered. "Thou must needs remain long enough to finish the word!" But he was talking to empty air. With a hiss of impatience, he turned to tap Gregory. "Thou, too, art in this game! Tag!"

  He disappeared with a firecracker's bang, and Gregory disappeared after him with a whoop of joy.

  Cordelia stamped her foot. "Oh! How naughty of them! They know Papa was wroth with them for playing this game, how afeard he was that two of them might appear at once in the same place together, and bom be slain!"

  "Aye," Puck agreed, "till thy mother did explain to him how some instinct within a warlock's mind ever seeks ahead of himself, to be sure he will not appear inside a tree or rock —and that it must needs work so with this game of tag, sin that the one lad is always ahead of the other, by no matter how slight an interval."

  "Oh, aye! Yet Papa did say that such a knack must have grown because little warlocks whose minds did not work in that fashion, must needs have died young!"

  "Yet he could see thy brothers all lived," Puck reminded her, "and was therefore persuaded that their minds did have such guarding within." Privately, he thought Magnus had found an admirable way to shake his brothers and sister out of the effects of their harrowing night—and didn't doubt for an instant that the eldest had intended just that.

  "Naetheless! Mama hath forbade them to play this game, when I've naught to do by myself!" Fuming with jealousy, Cordelia glared off toward the series of small explosions like a string of firecrackers. "Oh! Vile lads, to play so without me!"

  "Yet what withholds ye?" Kelly demanded. "Go! After them! Horse and hattock! Ho, and away!"

  "I cannot," Cordelia answered, seething.

  Kelly frowned. "Wherefore not? Can ye not read minds as well as they?"

  "Aye," Cordelia answered, "mayhap better—but I cannot teleport."

  "No witch can." Puck frowned at Kelly. '"'Tis a warlock's

  power only. Dost not know so simple a fact?"

  "Nay." Kelly reddened. "Nor do I now, since word of it has come only from an Englishman. Is't tr
ue then, lass?"

  Cordelia nodded, face thunderous.

  "How do ye know it, then?"

  "Papa hath told me, as Mama hath also. Nay, further—so hath every other witch and warlock that I've met."

  "Ah, well, then," Kelly sighed, "if all do say so, it must needs be true."

  Puck scowled at him. "Mind thy sarcasm!" But Cordelia didn't notice; she was too busy trying to follow the peripatetic tag game by telepathy, as the whole acre of woodland re-sounded with pops, bangs, and cries of "Tag!"

  "Nay, 'tis thou art 'it'!"

  "Base!"

  "There is no base!"

  Air boomed, and Magnus stood before them, darting glances around the trail. "Where is he? Hath he not returned to thee, sister?"

  "Nay, he hath not! Which 'he'?"

  Geoffrey was there beside them with a bang, swatting at Magnus. 'Tag!"

  "Oh, be still!" Big Brother snapped, before Geoffrey could disappear. "I've lost track of Gregory."

  Geoffrey shrugged. "'Tis his purpose, in this game. Rejoice that he doth it so well."

  "I do not." Responsibility made Magnus peevish. "There's too great a chance of one so small being hurted. Listen for him, brother. If I can have but a single happy thought from him, I'll pretend I've heard it not, and take up our game again—but I must know he's safe!"

  "Oh, Magnus!" Cordelia cried, exasperated. "He's no longer a babe! Gregory doth know what danger is!"

  "Even so," Geoffrey agreed. "'Tis silly of thee to worry."

  But for once, Magnus's concern was warranted.

  Gregory popped into sight in the middle of a thicket some distance away, and found himself staring up at a half-dozen men in dirty, ragged livery, rusty steel caps, and three-day beards. They stared at each other, stupefied.

  Then Gregory felt a surge of panic—but before he could think himself back to Magnus, two of the men lunged and seized his arms, and he froze in fright, staring up at them.

  "Hugh!" cried one. "What in the name of all that's foul is this?"

  "Ah, that? Why, 'tis a lad, Bertram—naught but a lad. Dost'a not see?"

  "Oh. Well, uh, I can see 'tis a lad, Hugh—yet what doth it here?"

  "Well asked." Hugh frowned down at Gregory. "And how came it amongst us so suddenly, and with so great a noise? What dost thou, boy?"

  Well, after all, he was only six years old—and being Gregory, he couldn't think of anything but the truth. "Why, I do but play!"

  "Play?" The men eyed him warily. "What manner of game is this?"

  "'Tis flit-tag."

  "'Flit-tag'?" Suspicion sharpened.

  "Aye, one doth flit from place to place—and the other must seek in his mind to discover where he hath fled."

  "In his mind?" Wariness was edged with fear, and the hands clenched more tightly on his arms. Gregory winced, but they paid him no heed.

  "He is a witch-child!"

  "Aye—yet which child?" Hugh fixed Gregory with a glare. "What is thy name?"

  "Gr-Gregory. G-Gallowglass."

  Bertram, Hugh, and their mates locked gazes. Together, they all nodded. " 'Tis the one we've been sent for."

  Fear stabbed through Gregory, horror welling in behind it. What had he done?

  Then he caught something odd, and the horror receded. He frowned. "Thy garb is motley. How canst thou be sent?"

  Six gazes whipped back to him. "What?"

  "Thy garb," Gregory repeated. "Thou dost not wear livery. Thou dost wear each colors that differ one from another. Thou art not, then, all of one lord's company; therefore no lord can have sent thee."

  The men exchanged glances again. "'Tis even as we've said," one snarled. " 'Tis a witch-brat."

  "Aye! Let us slay him and be done with it!"

  "Slay?" Gregory gasped, and his mind screamed, Magnus! Cordelia! Geoffrey! Aid me! "Why! Wherefore wouldst thou slay me? I have done thee no harm!"

  "I would not be sure o' that, sin that thou art a witch's brat," Bertram snarled. "If thou hast such power as thou dost show, how canst thou not harm me?"

  Gregory stared, made speechless by absurdity—and in his mind, Magnus's voice soothed, Courage, brother.

  Oh, Gregory…!

  Bide, Cordelia! Gregory, we dare not leap upon them, lest they strike at thee.

  Yet if they do strike, thou must flit! Geoffrey added. If thou dost bear two great hulking brutes with thee, fear not! We shall deal with them!

  If thou canst, Magnus agreed. Yet we'll seek to come upon thee, if we may; 'tis more sure. Do thou keep them occupied in talk, the whiles we do stalk them.

  Gregory swallowed heavily, reassured, but still frightened. "Is that wherefore thou wouldst slay me?"

  "Nay," Hugh growled. "For that, 'tis a matter of money, lad—pure silver. Living comes hard, to we who have fled to the greenwood. We must take food, or coin, where it comes."

  They are soldiers who have deserted their lords! Geoffrey's thought was scandalized and enraged. 'Ware, lad! For an they did flee their posts, belike 'twas for that they'd committed heinous crimes!

  Thou dost not aid, Magnus thought, exasperated. Gregory, lad! They do wish to talk! Ask, accuse! But keep them in speech!

  Keep them in speech! How? But Gregory plucked up his courage, and tried. "How—how will slaying me, gain thee silver? I have none!"

  "A thought," growled another soldier, and he patted Gregory quickly down both sides, then shook his head. " 'Tis as he doth say—he hath no purse."

  "Surely not, Clodog!" said Hugh in disgust. "'Tis but a lad, when all's said and done."

  " 'Tis a fee," Bertram explained. "They have hired us to slay thee—and thy sister and brothers."

  Gregory felt a cold chill spread out from his spine. "Yet— how canst thou know who to slay?"

  "Why, the High Warlock's children!" Hugh replied. "How could we mistake thee? All in Gramarye do know of thee— three warlock-lads and a witchling!"

  Gregory tried to ignore the mental squawks of rage. "Who —who could have hired thee? Who doth hate us so?"

  "Any of thy father's enemies, I warrant," Bertram snorted.

  Hugh shrugged. "Who can say who they were? We know only mat three slight, meager men with burning eyes did come

  to us, give us silver, and promise us more if we slew thee." He shook his head sadly. " 'Tis a pity—thou dost seem a good enough lad."

  "An he were not a warlock," Clodog growled.

  "Still, we have need of the silver," Bertram grunted, and he whipped a dagger up.

  "Nay, hold!" Gregory stared at the naked blade, terrified. "An they will pay thee silver to slay us, Papa will pay thee more to spare us!"

  The dagger hovered, but hesitated. "More?"

  "Gold!" Gregory cried in desperation.

  "Yet who will pay it?" Hugh scoffed. "Thy father is vanished! So the meager men did say—and so say all we have heard by the roadside!"

  "The King!" Gregory gasped. "King Tuan will ransom us!"

  The thugs exchanged glances again. "Belike he will," Bertram said slowly. " 'Tis known how the King doth treasure his warlocks."

  "I mislike the thought." Another bandit darted glances about the thicket, as though expecting to see King's men pushing through the brambles.

  "Eh, he'll not come himself," Hugh growled. "Dost thou think a king to be a page? Nay, belike he'll send a knight."

  "With men-at-arms!"

  "We'll bid him not to."

  Gregory sighed with relief, going limp. Then he saw the glint in Hugh's eye and tensed again.

  "Wherefore ought we to take gold for one, when we may have gold for four?" Hugh purred.

  Gregory watched him, feeling like a sparrow beset by a snake.

  The dagger whipped about and down, its point pricking Gregory's throat. He gasped in horror and froze.

  "Call thy brother," Hugh breathed.

  Gregory stared at him, wide-eyed. Magnus! He doth wish thee to come, too! Do not—'tis danger!

  Mayhap, Magnus thought slowly, yet not for
us.

  The dagger twisted, pricking deeper. "There is blood on thy throat," Hugh growled. "Summon him!"

  Air boomed. Even though they'd known it was coming, the thugs flinched away. Geoffrey stood beside his little brother, his lip twisted with contempt. "He hath summoned. What wilt thou have of me?"

  Hugh reddened, and stepped forward again. "What! Is there no more than this?"

  Geoffrey set his jaw, eyes narrowing. "Aye, there do be more Gallowglass children. Art truly so foolish as to wish us all here?"

  Huge hands seized him, and Hugh snarled, " 'Tis thou who art foolish. Summon thy brother!"

  "Be not so hasty," Geoffrey sneered. "I do marvel thou hast the courage for it, sin that thou wast so craven as to flee thy lord!"

  The back of Hugh's hand cracked into his cheek. "Mind thy tongue, when thou dost speak to thy betters! Now summon thy Brother!"

  "On thy head be it, then," Geoffrey gasped, and thought, Come, brother! The lambs are led to the pen!

  Magnus was there, in a crack of thunder. He nodded to Hugh with grave courtesy. "My sibs tell me thou dost wish speech with us."

  The soldiers stared, frozen.

  Magnus nodded, with sympathy. "Aye, 'tis unnerving. My father hath said he shall never become accustomed to such flittings in and out."

  Bertram swore, and set the edge of his dagger against Magnus's throat.

  "Hold!" Hugh barked. "We lack yet one!"

  "What—my sister? Wouldst thou slay lasses also?"

  "Do not seek to school me." Hugh's eyes narrowed. "What I must needs do for a living, I must needs do."

  "Thou mayest yet live without slaying children."

  Hugh turned and spat. "Hiding in thickets? Sleeping on bracken? Eating roots and berries and, with good fortune, the meat of a badger? 'Tis not what I would call living! For that, I need gold."

  "Which thou wilt gain by my blood?"

  "Aye, and thy liver and lights, if need be!" Hugh roared. "Now summon thy sister!"

  Magnus sighed, and closed his eyes.

  Save thine effort. Rage imbued Cordelia's thoughts. I flit to thee already!

  And Robin?

  He hath gone before, with Kelly! Fess stands ready, too, if needed, but I shall leave my sweet unicorn behind.