Spell of the Crystal Chair

by Gilbert L. Morris

  Somehow this saying both disturbed and pleased Fairmina. She had spent much of her life trying to earn her place in a world ruled by men. She thought she had worked harder at being a good warrior than anyone else, and she valued her place at her father’s side when the battle trumpets sounded. Still, as the tall young man behind her spoke so gently, his words gave her a warm feeling.

  “You have a gentle spirit. I am surprised.”

  “What did you expect? That all Yantis are wild beasts?”

  Suddenly Fairmina laughed. “Of course. I always thought of you as wild beasts. Isn’t that the way you think of the Lowami?”

  “I’m afraid so. I listened to some of the tales of the older warriors, and they make you sound vicious indeed.”

  “I think we both have listened to those old tales a great deal. Too much, perhaps.”

  Now the two began walking, side by side, slowly, with the scowling Deur just behind them. “He would like to put an arrow in me,” she said.

  “He hates all Lowami. As a matter of fact, I think he hates most everybody. He’s loyal only to my father. He’s a good archer, though, so I do warn you, Princess—don’t ever try to outrun one of his shafts. He can pin a fly to a tree from a hundred paces.”

  “I would like to shoot against him sometime.”

  “I’m sure my father wouldn’t permit that. Think what it would mean if a woman beat his best archer.”

  “It would give him a little humility, perhaps. I’m sure he needs it.”

  “I think, perhaps, he does. But then, don’t we all? I think I see a little pride in you, Princess.”

  “Pride is not a bad thing. It is good.”

  “That depends,” Beorn said. “It can eat away at a man—or a woman—and destroy them. Humility is better, or so my grandfather says.”

  They walked on, talking. Suddenly Beorn said, “You didn’t eat yesterday.”

  “No. Your father forbade it.”

  “Well, he gave no command for today. So before he has a chance to do so, come along.”

  “I will not eat.”

  “Surely you will not refuse to join me. That would be discourteous.”

  Actually Fairmina was starving. Besides, the cold weather drained the energy out of a person quickly, and she knew that she had to keep up her strength if she was going to survive.

  “We’ll go to my home. My mother always has something bubbling over the fire.”

  “I don’t want to meet your father.”

  “He won’t be there. He’s gone on a hunt. Just my mother. Come along, Deur. We’re going to my house.”

  “Your father said nothing about that.”

  “Take it up with him when he comes back. Let’s go, Princess. I’m hungry myself.”

  Fairmina walked alongside him. The rope hung loosely around her neck, and he held the other end loosely in his hand. It was only a formality, she knew. He had shown great courtesy.

  “This is our house. Come inside,” Beorn said. “Deur, wait here at the door.”

  “I am not to let her out of my sight.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Deur! There’s only one door. She’s visiting my mother.”

  The archer scowled, but he did not argue further.

  As soon as she entered the chief’s house, Beorn said, “Mother, you know this is Princess Fairmina. This is my mother, Olah.”

  “I am glad to see you, my daughter,” Olah said kindly. “I remember our people well. I was only fourteen when I was captured, but I knew your father and your mother. They were very good to me.”

  Fairmina was almost speechless before the quiet grace of this woman. She bowed slightly, saying, “My mother has spoken of you often.”

  “We were friends. We were the same age, you know. I would give anything to see her again.”

  “Perhaps that may come,” Fairmina said.

  A shadow crossed the eyes of the woman, and she said, “I pray that it will be so.”

  “Mother, she hasn’t had anything to eat. Can you prepare us something?”

  “Of course. You two sit and talk. I have some fresh stew, and I baked bread. Sit down.”

  When the food was put before Fairmina, the other two joined her at the table. She had to restrain herself from gulping down the stew. But she forced herself to eat slowly. “This is very good!” she exclaimed.

  “My mother’s the best cook in the world.” Beorn took his mother’s hand and kissed it. It was a gesture that caught Fairmina’s eye. She remembered that her own mother had once said, “Watch how a man treats his mother before you marry him. He will treat you the same way.” The act pleased her.

  That meal changed Princess Fairmina’s mind about the Yanti tribe. If these two are gentle, as I see they are, then there must be others as well.

  After Beorn had eaten, he said, “I will leave the princess with you, if you don’t mind, Mother. I have some work to do, but this house will be much better for her than that little hut.”

  “Of course!”

  “Father may not like it.”

  “I will explain it to him.”

  Beorn grinned and winked at Fairmina. “That means she’ll tell him how to think. She does that with father and me both. I’ll be back later.”

  It was a pleasant day for Fairmina. She helped her hostess sew clothing out of soft reindeer skin. She helped her prepare some food. All in all, she felt a peace that she had not felt since she had been captured.

  Outside, Beorn went about his work, but during the course of the day he heard a man repeating a tale to another. It seemed he had once been enslaved by Zarkof but had escaped.

  “Nobody will ever get in. There’s a monster guarding it. A big spiderlike thing.”

  His companion was listening with avid curiosity. “What’s he guarding in there?”

  Beorn leaned forward to catch the answer.

  “He’s got a magic chair down under the castle. I don’t understand it, but I heard two of his lieutenants talking. He gets all his power from that chair, and it’s guarded by that big spider.”

  Just as I suspected. Power lies in that crystal chair, Beorn thought. He had thought of little else since making that visit with his father to the white fortress. He remembered the glowing chair and how it had put its glow into the wizard’s body.

  Later in the day, he returned home and found his mother and the princess laughing together.

  The princess stood as soon as he came in. “I suppose it’s time for me to go back to my cell.”

  “I think it might be better if you were there when my father returns,” he said with some embarrassment.

  “I’ll have you here for another visit.” Olah smiled. Then she kissed the girl. “Don’t worry, my dear. It will turn out well.”

  He and the princess walked back toward Fairmina’s prison as Deur walked behind, still scowling and fingering his arrow.

  Fairmina said, “Your mother’s a very lovely woman.”

  “The loveliest I’ve ever known.”

  “What a nice thing to say!”

  “It’s true enough.”

  As they waited for the guard to open her cell, Fairmina turned and smiled. She whispered, “Thank you for a lovely day. It was very kind of you.”

  “I wish I could do more.”

  She hesitated, then leaned forward and spoke so quietly that the guards could not hear. “Beware of the Dark Lord. I know about him, Beorn. He will be a hard master. You are in danger of being enslaved as much as I am right now.”

  She went inside then, and the guard slammed the door and fastened the padlock.

  Beorn turned away, but he couldn’t forget the girl’s words. You are in danger of being enslaved. It was a thought that sent fear through him, for he loved his freedom. He went to see his grandfather.

  Magon listened quietly as Beorn spoke of the princess. “She is a beautiful young woman and very brave,” his grandfather said finally. “I wish she were back with her people.”

  Beorn glanced quickly at his
grandfather. “Maybe we could persuade father to let her go.”

  “I think not. He’s a stubborn man, and he will never admit he’s wrong.”

  Beorn sat quietly, looking glumly at the floor. “This war’s a bad thing.”

  “It always has been. War is never pleasant.”

  11

  A Rebellious Son

  Zarkof, as always, had his fears as he entered the underground caverns. He knew that the medallion he had been given by the Dark Lord had always stopped the monster spider in her tracks. Still, Shivea was a frightening creature, and a cold sweat broke out on the wizard’s brow. He wiped it away, muttering, “What if sometime the spell doesn’t work?” A shiver went over him, and he thought of those poison-dripping fangs. It was more than he cared to think of, and he hurried on.

  Shivea suddenly appeared to his left, her many faceted eyes glowing like tiny red furnaces. Her fangs were bared, and at once Zarkof held up the medallion. For one terrifying moment it seemed to him that the spell was not going to work—but then the creature slithered backward, her claws making a scraping noise across the stone floor.

  I don’t think it’s worth it having her for a guard. She’s going to get loose and kill me one of these days. I think I’ll put her out of the way.

  Zarkof had had this thought before. Still, he needed her. He was determined that nothing would get to the crystal chair. It had been given to him by the Dark Lord himself, and it was only when he sat in it that the power seemed to flow. Zarkof was an old man now, older than anyone he knew. He had come into this cavern for scores of years, and in some way the power of the chair kept his true age from showing.

  Now he entered the room where the chair sat in the midst, giving off its luminous green glow.

  Eagerly, as always, Zarkof threw himself into the chair. He was like a drug addict who lived for this particular moment. At once he felt the power of the Dark Lord reaching out from his own stronghold far to the south.

  What have you to report?

  The voice spoke inside Zarkof’s head, but he answered aloud. “Things are going well, sire.”

  Have you obliterated the Lowami tribe?

  “Well, not exactly, my lord—”

  Not exactly! And what does that mean? They are either exterminated, or they are not. Answer me.

  Stammering wildly, Zarkof explained that the warriors had been shot out of their harnesses.

  Who shot them out?

  “I understand—although I was not there myself—that it was three of the young people they call Sleepers.”

  Instantly a tremendous pain shot through Zarkof’s brain. It flowed down through his entire body, and he would have fallen from the chair except for an unseen power’s keeping him there.

  Finally the pain ebbed away, leaving him feeble and helpless.

  The Seven Sleepers. You must kill them! Do you understand me? They are more dangerous than all the Lowami tribe or anyone else. If you fail me in this, you will die.

  “I will not fail. I promise you, my lord. They will die.”

  And kill the girl, Fairmina. Send her head to the Lowami. To Denhelm, her father.

  “Yes, my lord. At once.”

  The glow faded, and it took all the strength Zarkof had to get up from the chair. It was not the first time the Dark Lord had brought this pain to him. It was something he dreaded and did everything he could to avoid.

  Fingering the medallion, he staggered out of the secret room, saying, “Kill the princess—kill the princess—kill the Sleepers!”

  “I must do it,” he said, “or he will have my life. I know he will!” He saw Shivea’s red eyes glowing in the darkness. He showed the medallion and scurried past.

  He said to the first guard he encountered, “Get me a messenger.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  When the messenger came, Zarkof said, “I will not write this down. It must be vocal.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Tell Chief Balog that I command him to kill Princess Fairmina.”

  “Yes, sire. At once.”

  “Repeat the message.”

  “Chief Balog is to kill the Princess Fairmina.”

  “Go quickly.”

  The wizard fled to the top of his fortress, where he was attended by blank-eyed slaves. He began drinking himself into insensibility, but he was already rehearsing his next speech to the Dark Lord. “The Princess Fairmina has been killed, and the Seven Sleepers are dead as well …”

  Beorn had been highly confused ever since the day he took the princess to visit his mother. He constantly heard talk of executing her and could hardly bear to think of it. He had protested, “She is but a woman!”

  “She is the heir of Denhelm. She is his war chief. Woman though she be,” Balog, his father, exclaimed, “she cannot live!”

  Beorn talked with his mother and with his grandfather many times. The three of them all opposed taking the life of the princess.

  “It will bring evil on our tribe. There is no honor in it,” Magon said grimly. “We must not permit my son to do this.”

  Olah shook her head. “He is stubborn. How can we prevent it?”

  “We must do something,” Beorn said.

  After this conversation, he went to visit the princess. As usual, he brought her out of her prison house, although the noose was around her neck and he held the end. He wanted to get far enough away to talk freely. They had done this now for several days and had gotten to know each other quite well.

  “Something is bothering you, is it not, Beorn?” the princess inquired.

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Your face is not hard to read. I can see trouble in your eyes.”

  “Can you? I never was much at hiding things.”

  “Your mother has eyes like that. You know exactly what she’s thinking.”

  “Yes, you do. And they’re always good thoughts.”

  As they strolled along, a dog came up and sniffed at Beorn’s hand. He patted its shaggy head and said, “Be off with you now.” He turned to Fairmina. “Are you being well cared for?”

  “Very well.”

  “It’s very uncomfortable in that prison. I’ll see what I can do to make it more comfortable.”

  Fairmina appeared puzzled, as though she knew something was on his mind. “I wish you’d tell me what’s troubling you—not that I could do anything about it. After all, you’re the captor, and I’m the captive.”

  “To be truthful, I’m worried about you.”

  “Is that all you have to think about? An enemy.”

  “I do not think of you, Princess, as my enemy.”

  Fairmina stared at him. “You don’t?”

  “Of course not. You don’t think of me as an enemy, I hope.”

  “I did when I was captured. But—” She hesitated and then added, “You’ve been very kind to me, Beorn. You and your mother have changed my whole idea about what the Yanti are like. If two of you are that kind, there must be many others.”

  “We are like other people, I suppose. Some of us are kind, some not so kind.”

  “It’s certainly that way with my people,” the princess said. “Maybe with all peoples.”

  After they had walked for some time, Beorn made up his mind. “I will talk to my father. I will ask him to release you.”

  “He will never do that.”

  “He may. My grandfather has great influence with him. Freeing you would make Grandfather happy. And my mother as well. At least I will try.”

  Impulsively the princess put out her hand. It was at once enclosed by Beorn’s. He squeezed it hard, and she said, “Thank you for your kindness.”

  “I make no promises, but I will do what I can.”

  Beorn went at once to his father and without preamble said, “Father, I want to ask a favor.”

  “What is it, Beorn?”

  “I think we should release Princess Fairmina.”

  “Have you lost your mind!”

  “I’ve been thinking ab
out this whole business of war. If she’s a sample of what the Lowami are like, we’re fools to fight them.”

  “What do you know about it? You’re a boy!”

  “I think I know honesty and courage and truth when I see it.”

  “She’s the enemy!”

  “We’ve made her that way. This war takes the brains out of people. We don’t have any sense left. We just fight and fight”—Beorn’s voice rose—“and men and women die, and nothing is ever settled!”

  “Don’t talk to me that way, boy!”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” He was angry now. “It was the same way when you were young! It was the same way when Grandfather was a boy! The stupid war goes on, it never gets settled, and people die! And all for what?”

  “You cannot know about these things!”

  Just then a voice speaking outside the door interrupted their argument. “I must see the chief. I have a message from the wizard.”

  “Wait here,” Beorn heard the guard on duty say. “I’ll see if he’ll have you.”

  The guard stepped inside. “Sire, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a messenger here from Zarkof.”

  “Send him in.” Then Balog turned to his son. His face was still red with anger. “I’ll hear no more of this!”

  Beorn turned to go out, but then he stopped and looked at the messenger from Zarkof. He was a muscular, swarthy man with an evil look.

  The man said, “I have a message, Chief Balog.”

  “Well, what’s the message? Give it to me.”

  “It’s not written down, sire.” He glanced at Beorn. “It’s for your ears alone.”

  “This is my son. He can hear.”

  “Very well. Zarkof says you are to kill Princess Fairmina.”

  A chill ran through Beorn, and he turned to his father. Shock appeared to run through the chief too. Surely he won’t do it, Beorn thought.

  But Balog, it seemed, had fallen more under the power of the pale wizard than his son had realized. He was trembling, but he nodded. “It shall be done.”

  As soon as the messenger left, Beorn cried, “Father, you can’t do it!”

  “I must do it. We can only win with the help of Zarkof and the ice wraiths. I must do it. After all, she’s a warrior. She took her chances.”