The Warlock Enraged-Warlock 4 (5 page)

"Still, that is only a blow to your pride," Fess reminded him. "The object was accomplished; the danger was banished."

"Only temporarily," Rod growled, "and the next time, it might banish us, if I let my rage block off my brain again."

"That is possible," Fess admitted. "And the danger must be considered greater, now that there is reason to believe the enemy knows your identities and direction."

"And can guess our purpose," Rod finished. "Yes, we can be sure they'll attack again, and as soon as possible.

... Fess?"

"Yes, Rod?"

"Think it's time yet to send Gwen and the kids home?" The robot was silent for a moment; then he answered,

"Analysis of available data does not indicate a degree of danger with which your family, as a unit, cannot cope."

"Thank Heaven," Rod sighed. "I don't think they'd be very easy to send home, just now."

"Your children have become intrigued."

"Children, my eye! It's Gwen I'm worried about—her dander's up!"

Fess was silent.

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30 Christopher Stasheff

Rod frowned at the lack of response; then his mouth tightened. "All right, what am I missing?" The robot hesitated, then answered, "I don't think they trust you out alone. Rod."

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"We're getting pretty close to the Romanov border now, aren't we?"

"Aye, my lord. 'Tis mayhap a day's journey further." Gwen was holding up bravely, but she did seem tired. Rod frowned. "Look—they know we're coming; there's no point in keeping our disguise. Why're we still walking?"

"To save fright. Papa," Gregory looked down at his father, from his seat on Fess's pack. "If the good peasant folk see us flying north, they would surely take alarm." Rod stared at his youngest for a moment, then turned to Gwen. "How old did you say he was? Three, going on what?"

But Gwen frowned suddenly, and held up a hand. "Hist!" Rod frowned back. "The same to you."

"Nay, nay, my lord! 'Tis danger! Good folk come, but flee toward us in full terror!"

Rod's face went neutral. "What's chasing them?" Gwen shook her head. "I cannot tell. 'Tis human, for I sense the presence—yet there's a blank where minds should be."

Rod noted the plural. "All right, let's prepare for the worst." He put two fingers to his mouth, and blasted out a shrill whistle.

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32 Christopher Stasheff

Like tandem firecrackers, Magnus and Geoffrey popped out of nowhere, and Cordelia swooped down to hover behind them. "Why didst thou not but think for us. Papa?" Magnus inquired.

"Because we're up against an enemy that can hear thoughts farther than whistles. All right, kids, we've got to set up an ambush. I want each of you high up in a tree, doing your best imitation of a section of bark. Your mother and I'll take the ground. When the enemy shows up, hit 'em with everything you've got."

"What enemy. Papa?"

"Listen for yourself. Mama says it's human, but nothing more."

All four children went glassy-eyed for a moment, then came out of their trances with one simultaneous shudder.

"Tis horrible," Cordelia whispered. "'Tis there, but—'tis not!"

"You'll know it when you see it," Rod said grimly, "and just in case you don't, I'll think 'Havoc!' as loudly as I can. Now, scoot!"

They disappeared with three pops and a whoosh. Looking up. Rod spotted three treetops suddenly swaying against the wind, and saw Cordelia soar into a fourth. "Which side of the road do you want, dear?"

Gwen shrugged. "Both sides are alike to me, my lord."

"What do you think you are, a candidate? Okay, you disappear to the east, and I'll fade into the left. I keep trying, anyway."

Gwen nodded, and squeezed his hand quickly before she sped off the road. Leaves closed behind her. Rod stayed a moment, staring north and wondering; then he turned to the underbrush, muttering, "Head north about ten yards, Pess." The robot sprang into a gallop, and almost immediately turned off the road onto Rod's side.

The leaves closed behind him, and Rod turned to face the roadway, peering through foliage. He knelt, and let his body settle, breathing in a careful rhythm, watching the dust settle.

Then, around the curve of the roadway, they came—a dozen dusty peasants with small backpacks and haunted

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faces. They kept glancing back over their shoulders. The tallest of them suddenly called out, jerked to a halt. The others hurried back to him, calling over their shoulders to their wives, "Go! Flee!" But the women hesitated, glancing longingly at the road south, then back at their husbands. The men turned their backs and faced north, toward the enemy, each holding a quarterstaff at guard position, slantwise across his body. The women stared at them, horrified. Then, with a wail, one young wife turned, hugging her baby, and hurried away southward. The others stared after her; then, one by one, they began to shoo their children away down the road.

Then the men-at-arms strode into sight.

Rod tensed, thinking, "Ready!" with all his force. They wore brown leggings with dark green coats down to midthigh, and steel helmets. Each carried a pike, and a saffron badge gleamed on every breast. It was definitely a uniform, and one Rod had never seen before.

The soldiers saw the peasants, gave a shout, and charged, pikes dropping down level.

Rod thought the word with all his might, as he muttered it to Fess: "Havoc!"

He couldn't have timed it better. Fess leaped out of the underbrush and reared, with a whinnying scream, just as the last soldiers passed him. They whirled about, alarmed, as did most of their mates—and Rod leaped up on the roadway between peasants and soldiers, sword flickering out to stab through a shoulder, then leaping back out to dart at another footman even as the first screamed, staggering backward. Two soldiers in the middle of the band shot into the air with howls of terror, and slammed back down onto their mates, as a shower of rocks struck steel helmets hard enough to stagger soldiers, and send them reeling to the ground.

Rod threw himself into a full lunge, skewering a third soldier's thigh, as he shouted to the peasants, "Now! Here's your chance! Fall on 'em, and beat the hell out of 'em!" Then a pike-butt crashed into his chin and he spun backward, vision darkening and shot through with sparks; but a roar filled his ears and, as his sight cleared, he saw the 34 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK ENRAGED 35

peasant men slamming into the soldiers, staves rising and falling with a rhythm of mayhem.

Rod gasped, and staggered back toward them; there was no need for killing!

Then another thought nudged through: they needed prisoners, for information. He blundered in among the peasants, took one quick glance at the remains of the melee, and gasped, "Stop!

There's no need... They don't deserve..."

"Thou hast not seen what they've done," the peasant next to him growled.

"No, but I intend to find out! Look! They're all down, and some of 'em may be dead already! Stand back, and leave them to me!"

A rough hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around.

"I' truth? And who art thou to command, thou who hast not lost blood to these wolves?"

Rod's eyes narrowed. He straightened slowly, and knocked the man's hand away with a sudden chop. It was ridiculous, and really shouldn't have made any difference to anybody—

but it would work; it'd get their cooperation. "I am the High Warlock, Rod Gallowglass, and it is due to my magic and my family's, that you men stand here victorious, instead of sprawling as buzzard's meat!"

He didn't have to add the threat; the man's eyes widened, and he dropped to one knee. "Your pardon. Lord! I... I had not meant..."

"No, of course you didn't. How could you tell, when I'm dressed as a tinker?" Rod looked around to find all the peasants kneeling. "All right, that's enough! Are you men or pawns, that you must kneel? Rise, and bind these animals for me!"

"On the instant, milord!" The peasants leaped to their feet, and turned to begin lashing up the soldiers with their own belts and garters. Rod caught the belligerent one by the shoulder. "How are you called?"

Apprehension washed his face, and he tugged at his forelock. "Grathum, an it please thee, milord." Rod shrugged. "Whether or not it pleases you, is a bit more important. Grathum, go after the women, and tell them the good news, will you?"

The man stared, realization sinking in. "At once, your lordship!" And he sped away.

Rod surveyed the knot-tying party and, satisfied everything was well under way with the minimum of vengeful brutality, glanced up at the trees and thought. Wonderful, children! I'm a very proud daddy!

The branches waved slightly in answer. Rod could have bent his mind to it, and read their thoughts in return; but it still involved major effort for him, and he couldn't spare the concentration just now. But he turned toward the underbrush, and thought. Thanks, dear. It was nice to see you throwing somebody else's weight around for a change.

"As long as 'tis not thine, my lord? Thou art most surely welcome!"

Rod looked up, startled—that was her voice, not her mind. Gwen came marching up, with the women and children behind her. Grathum hurried on ahead, face one big apology. "'Ere I could come unto them, milord, thy wife had brought word, and begun their progress back." She had obviously run the message on her broomstick; the wives were herding their children silently, with covert glances at her, and the children were staring wide-eyed. Rod turned back to Grathum. "Any more of these apes likely to be following you?"

The peasant shook his head. "Nay, milord—none that we know of. There were more bands—but they chased after others who fled. Only these followed the high road, when we who escaped to it so far as this, were so few."

"'Others who fled?'" Rod frowned, setting his fists on his hips. "Let's try it from the beginning. What happened, Grathum? Start back before you knew anything was wrong."

"Before... ?" The peasant stared at him. " 'Tis some months agone, milord!"

"We've got time." Rod nodded toward the north. "Just in case you're worried, I've got sentries out." Grathum darted quick looks about him, then back at Rod, fearfully. Rod found it unpleasant, but right now, it was useful. "Several months back," he prompted, "before you knew anything was wrong."

"Aye, milord," Grathum said, with a grimace. He heaved a sigh, and began. "Well, then! 'Twas April, and we were 36 Christopher Stasheff

shackling our oxen to the plows for the planting, and a fellow hailed me from the roadway. I misliked his look—

he was a scrawny wight, with a sly look about him—but I'd no reason to say him nay, so I pulled in my ox and strode up to the hedge, to have words with him.

'"Whose land is this?' he did ask me; and I answered,

'Why, o' course, 'tis the Duke of Romanov's; but my master, Sir Ewing, holds it enfeoffed from him.'

"'Nay,' quoth this wight, ' 'tis not his now, but the Lord Sorcerer Alfar's—and I hold it enfeoffed from him.'

"Well! At this I became angered. 'Nay, assuredly thou dost not,' I cried. 'An thou dost speak such treason, no man would blame me!' And I drew back my fist, to smite him." Rod's mouth tightened. That sort of fit in with his overall impression of Grathum's personality. "And what'd he do about it?"

"Why! He was gone ere I could strike—disappeared!

And appeared again ten feet away, on my side of the fence!

Ah, I assure thee, then fear did seize my bowels—but I ran for him anyway, with a roar of anger. Yet up he drifted into the air, hauling a thick wand out from his cloak, and struck down at me with it. I made to catch it, but ever did he seem to know where I would grasp next, and ever was his stick elsewhere; and thus did he batter me about the head and shoulders, till I fell down in a swoon. When I came to my senses, he stood over me, crowing, 'Rejoice that I spared thee, and used only a wooden rod—nor tossed a ball of fire at thee, nor conjured a hedgehog into thy belly!'... Could he do such, milord?"

"I doubt it highly," Rod said, with a dry smile. "Go on with your story."

Grathum shrugged. "There's little more to tell of that broil. 'Be mindful,' quoth he, 'that thou dost serve me now, not that sluggard Sir Ewing.' The hot blood rushed to my face, to hear my lord so addressed; but he saw it, and struck me with the wand again. I did ward the blow, but he was behind me on the instant, and struck me from the other side—and I could not ward myself, for that the arm that should have done it, was beneath me. 'Be mindful,' quoth he again, 'and fear not Sir Ewing's retribution; ere the harvest comes, he'll not be by to trouble thee further.' Then

he grinned like to a broad saw, and vanished in a crack of thunder."

Rod noted that all this junior wizard seemed to have done, was teleport and levitate—but he had used them to give him an advantage in a fight!

"This worm of a warlock was fully lacking in honor," Gwen ground out, at his elbow.

"Totally unethical," Rod agreed, "and, therefore, totally self-defeating, in the end. If witches and warlocks went around behaving like that, the mobs would be out after them in an instant—and how long could they last then?"

"Forever," Grathum said promptly, "or so this Lord Sorcerer and his sorcery-knights do believe. They fear no force, milord, whether it come from peasants or knights." The fright in his tone caught at Rod. He frowned. "You sound as though you're talking from experience. What happened?" Then he lifted his head as he realized what someone like Grathum might have done. "You did report this little incident to Sir Ewing, didn't you?"

"I did." Grathum bit his lip. "And I wish that I had not—

though it would have made little difference, for each and every other plowman on Sir Ewing's estates told him likewise."

"The same warlock in each case?"

"Aye; his name, he said, was Melkanth. And there was no report of him, from any other manor; yet each had been so visited by a different warlock or witch. Naetheless, 'twas our Sir Ewing who did rise up in anger and, with his dozen men-at-arms, rode forth to seek out this Melkanth." Rod clamped his jaw. "I take it Sir Ewing found him." Grathum spread his hands. "We cannot think otherwise; for he did not come back. Yet his men-at-arms did; but they wore this livery thou seest on those who pursued us." He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder at the heap of bound soldiers. "Aye, they came back, these men that we'd known since childhood; they came back, and told us that Sir Ewing was no more, and that we served His Honor Warlock Melkanth now."