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‘NOW WHERE HAVE THEY gone?’ Astocath wondered to himself. Promptly wanting to relay his concern to Math, he held his tongue until he could fathom the situation. He did not want Gethrond to get wind of his dilemma, nor to look foolish before Math. With them were two henchmen from Math’s tower.
“I hope young Jorlon and all are safe?” Math looked doubtful. “Why did you not all come in search of me together?”
“I have much confidence in Jorlon,” returned Astocath, “but I had not expected him to make so much haste. It seemed more expedient to seek you out alone, not wanting the others to know too much about us—or think they know. Also to save time as Quest here can fly, as you saw for yourself, though we must ride now. They are maybe a half-hour from us now.”
“We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s quicken our pace.” Math called to his henchmen, Haik and Talmar, “My fellows! Speed up, eh? How much simpler it would be if we all could fly!”
Haik was the smaller of the two, but equally rugged, and he growled in laughter from his barrel chest and urged his horse onward with loud encouragement.
Astocath wished he could dare fly now upon Quest. He had come to doubt there was much more of the horse’s life span. It would be bad news falling from the clouds, he considered. Having passed through the time disparity, the enchantment’s duration was in doubt; and once it had worn off, he would not be able to use Quest’s stone again until the passing of a full moon’s cycle. Astocath had to use Quest cautiously for now.
They rode quickly in the direction Astocath had instructed Jorlon to follow, which was almost opposite to the direction he had had to take to join Math. Trusting the company had not been slain, they expected to pick up clues as to where they might be.
Math pushed his horse onward, quickening his mare’s failing pace. However, Astocath began to fall behind. As if in answer to his quandary of the enchantment’s longevity, Astocath felt Quest’s body begin to stiffen and the creature was positively shrinking. “Math!” he called ahead. “My mount is giving up its enchantment!”
Quickly, he stopped the beast and dismounted before Quest would leave him to fall heavily to the ground. His judgement was timely, for Quest rapidly lost his stature. Math had reined in with the henchmen, and he watched Astocath’s incident with a positive lack of sympathy, grinning at his peer's predicament. Astocath growled. Math was jealous of Quest. The two henchmen frowned with concern.
Almost kindly, Math said, “Come, ride with me.”
Picking up the pebble that was all that was left of Quest, Astocath felt irate at having to share Math’s mount. He heaved himself up behind the mage with a grimace and turned to the henchmen. “We go on!”
***
JORLON FELT IMPATIENT to return to their original sphere and was annoyed with Mordrak’s command that they must wait here until they could know this garrison’s intentions. They had argued, but it seemed Mordrak’s idea made better sense than riding on without knowing what was behind them. Whilst they waited, he ran through the names of all the wizards Ifhrd had told him about. The name of Gethrond sprang to Jorlon’s mind like the breaking of a harp’s string, and full of apprehension, he said to Mordrak, “The name begins ‘Geth’, doesn’t it?”
Mordrak turned his face to the apprentice with narrowed eyes. “Could be,” he replied slowly. Reflecting on Ifhrd’s final gasps and Nastrond, he added, “Now you say it, I’m almost certain it did. Should I utter the full name?" he asked, studying Jorlon’s face.
Jorlon‘s bowels groaned as if his weight were too much for his frame, and his heart pounded at such a rate that he felt faint. “He’s about two centuries old!” he wailed.
Mordrak turned white, and he thought Tulan’s face aged before his eyes as his posture sagged. “H-how old is Astocath?”
“About fifty years younger—and these are ages used for mage-hood since apprenticeship, not the literal age since they were born.” Jorlon’s tone far from alleviated their foreboding. “I’m not born yet, as it were.”
“So he has fifty years of study on Astocath?” reasoned Mordrak.
“We’d best keep our minds off him, then,” said Tulan.
“I am resolved to carrying this quest through no matter what the odds may seem to be.” Mordrak continued with firm conviction, “The blood that has been spilled for peace, and especially Nan-Enn, will not be wasted by me!”
“Then you’ve a lot of catching up to do,” Jorlon snarled. He was seething, annoyed and frustrated with Mordrak’s incomprehensible attitude. “How will Astocath find us if we are with an army from this castle? Our presence will be blotted out.”
Before Mordrak could rejoin, the sound of a trumpet blast announced the coming of more white knights quickly riding into sight from the water’s fort. The clatter of hooves ricocheted as they came charging down the causeway.
“We can’t go with them,” Jorlon hissed. “You must tell them so. Besides, I really haven’t been able to sense Astocath for ages now.”
“We should never have divided,” replied Mordrak. "I must help these good fey with their battle. They will be sure to assist us in return.”
“Not without thoughts of battle and the winning of honour. Is this your opportunity for renown in Faerie? A welcome dream?” sneered Jorlon.
“You have no idea, do you, Jorlon? What if those dark knights are actually protecting him? Eh? What if we have to fight them to get to him? Surely it’s better to fight alongside these friends,” he nodded towards the approaching cavalry, “than to lose the opportunity of their friendship altogether. In any case, our direction’s surely much the same.”
“Could hardly be much different, could it?” Jorlon replied sarcastically. “We must press on as best we can without them.”
“But we can neither sense Astocath nor know what to do!” Mordrak was vehement. “We would do better fighting for him!”
In magnificent formation, the shining knights rode beneath the bastion, and under their banners of gold and red, they wheeled towards the company and came to stand before them. Their leader raised his sword before his face in the form of a salute. “Who rides with us?” He puffed out his chest in proud magnificence.
“I regret my untrained company may not aid you, sir. But your enemy retreated away over there.” Mordrak pointed across the lagoon, hoping he sounded courteous and sufficiently sympathetic to warrant some feeling of trust. “I share your sorrow for the knights you’ve lost.”
“They will be avenged. I, Orleium, swear it. And since you are of little immediate interest to us, we ride; but for your sakes, pah!” He shook his head at the sight of the worn travellers before him, and his eyes conveyed a sense of disappointment with Mordrak in particular. With a piercing gaze, the elf lord pointed towards the Autumn realm, and he looked as if he would spit at Jorlon. Then placing his silvery helm upon his head, he waved his arms to summon his brigade. The lord turned his horse about and headed along the shore after their enemy. All the warrior elves faded away.
Jorlon looked at Mordrak with unease, and then, without a word uttered, he wheeled his horse around and rode onward in the approximate direction of the elves.
Mordrak however was furious. “You see! Those elves are all to do with us. Well I might have known the attitude of a sorcerer—give ‘em help and they’ll have it all done for them!”
“That’s enough!” cried Jorlon.
“Is that what an apprentice is taught? Eh?” Mordrak was adamant.
“Even so, I might suggest we don’t chase after them,” Jorlon said. “Otherwise we go deeper into Faerie again!”
“What do you mean?” Mordrak demanded.
“There are different layers in Faerie. Just like I told you.”
***
“WE SEEM TO BE GAINING on them, think you?” asked Math.
“To be sure, I’m more concentrating on holding on. It’s not comfortable here behind you! I feel as if I will fall at any moment,” Astocath said quickly.
“You! You!” a voice cried out, apparently from behind a cluster of trees.
They brought their horses to a sharp halt, where Astocath cursed as he nearly fell from the mare’s rump. Haik and Talmar drew their swords and looked around in anticipation of a trap. Astocath scanned the treeline above and behind the branches until he realised there was no one talking except for a shape within an old oak tree in the form of a female dancer stretching upwards in an erotic stance. However, the voice was male, and as he spoke, Astocath saw the face above the body in the gnarled knot of the tree.
“Are you Astocath and Math?” he asked.
“Have the very flowers been whispering to the trees?” asked Astocath suspiciously to the form.
“What is it to you?” demanded Math irately to the tree.
“Everything. I know of your sort. I’ve eyes to see and ears to hear.”
“What is it you want?” snapped Math.
“To join your Circle.” There was the barest hint of a smile within the face imposed upon the trunk.
Astocath climbed off the mare more quickly than he thought he was able. “Who are you? Or what?”
“Do you know the best way to convince your King Tell of the benefit of having magi within his lands?”
Astocath cautiously approached the tree and was aware Math was also dismounting. Casting spells whilst mounted was rarely advisable. He hoped the henchmen were continuing to be attentive for unexpected dangers. “Answer my question,” Astocath demanded. He felt a certain familiarity with this hidden creature and racked his mind for all he had ever met within Faerie. This had to be Gethrond.
“I mean to aid you, not delay you,” said the voice in the tree.
“Who are you?” Math shouted angrily. “Gethrond!”
“Haha—what of it?”
“Our Circle is not open to the likes of you. You’re an outcast, and we’re positively closed to you,” snarled Math.
Astocath began to back away from the oak, and the voice said, “Think about it, will you? Your best chances lay whilst Tell’s sycophant isn’t with you. You can draw out a more amicable conclusion with me, and Count Mordrak need never know.” And with that, the form of the face above the dancing torso was gone.
No one replied, and Astocath mounted the mare behind Math once again. “Now what’s he up to? Does he really expect us to accept him into the Circle? There’s no way you’ll sponsor him, will you?”
“Certainly not!” Math sounded most offended by the suggestion. “Look, why don’t you take Talmar’s horse? They can double up and follow after us. We’re losing time.”
“Shall we study the tree more before we go? Perhaps we’ll get a sense of where he really is.” asked Astocath.
Math shook his head. “Surely he’s already prepared for that?”
“Pah! Probably.”Astocath looked annoyed with himself.
They rode onwards, Astocath and Math each upon a horse, and they quickly left their companions to fall behind. They mounted the crest of one higher hill of many, and looking below, they saw the slain bodies of horses and knights across an otherwise deserted battlefield. Every knight that lay dead was dressed in white armour.
Astocath’s first reaction was to draw in a breath as he uttered, “Mordrak?” An image that he had perhaps joined the fight flashed like a series of moving pictures within his mind.
Math cursed and fumed. Wheeling his horse around to continue along the crests of the hills, he soon led them to an area that revealed many hoof prints. Astocath and Math agreed they must have belonged to the victors of the battle who would have been Unseelie. They trailed along the route Jorlon would have taken under Astocath’s parting instruction, and finally, a host of prints veered northward leaving no further tracks, not even a mere few of the company’s that he had hoped for.
The henchmen were now out of sight, and Astocath paused to debate with Math as to the merits of following the clearly defined tracks. “Let’s get to that height and take a good look at the lay of the land,” he said, pointing to the far edge of this run of hills.
Looking over the landscape, they saw rolling hills in every direction. Very little long-range view was afforded to them, except to see sufficiently that they were approaching the borders of the Unseelie realm. Then they saw the lagoon in which squatted the light grey castle.
“I don’t see that Jorlon would be in there,” said Math, speaking of the fortress.
“It seems they continued on after all. They must have had the sense to stop on these fringes, surely?”
They kicked their horses onward towards the castle.
Math called, “You ought to have asked Mage Fafrack to conjure you a horse since yours was failing. Make him feel useful. As for me, I feel a bit vulnerable without our two warriors here.” Math looked behind them. “But for the sake of your others, we must press on.”
Astocath did not reply.
“Come—let’s fly!” And Math kicked his horse to such a speed, that if he had meant to take off, they might well have made it to the moon.
Passing the lagoon and skirting a forest, they mounted another hill and paused to look around, as much to give themselves some breathing space as view the area. Ahead they saw Jorlon’s company, who were closer than the henchmen following. Math’s two henchmen were mere dots behind them but riding fast enough to throw a little dust in the air.
“Good!” Astocath smacked his lips. “All to plan.” He felt and looked very pleased with himself.
“Now, they’ve stopped,” said Math in surprise. “Wonder if they know we’re here? Or is this some kind of trap, and it isn’t really them?”
They cantered down the hillside and rode towards their friends. They saw a figure break away from the group towards a line of trees. It had to be Mordrak. Math prompted Astocath onward, and they rode as fast as their horses could manage. Closing their distance on Jorlon, who seemed to have seen them, both magi finally viewed perhaps half a dozen dark knights. The black company cast shadows around themselves as they rode, quickly advancing towards Mordrak. Astocath cursed the Brother’s foolishness in separating himself from his companions.
Now he could see a field that had formerly been hidden from his line of sight by some woodland, in which about fifty shining knights were defeating a large number of their enemy. On one flank, a large retinue of Seelie knights were chasing some black figures that were racing toward Mordrak. Some other Unseelie broke off from this group and fled.
Astocath and Math cut across the field between these and Jorlon’s company and they slowed and came to a stop. Dismounting, both of them conjured with words of power and enchantment. The remaining group of dark riders fell into chaos, victims to the wizards’ spells. Some of the Unseelie were shouting orders, but with the lesser-ranked knights arguing in belligerence, the commands fell on insubordinate ears. A melee quickly broke out, the dark knights set against one another, and what became apparent to Astocath was that the stallions, even amongst the fighting, were trying to rut with the mares. He permitted himself a smile as he accredited the wile of that to Math.
“Come on,” urged Math. “Let’s get to your apprentice.” Lifting their reins, they rode forward and, to avoid danger, kept a respectful distance from the melee.
Now more white knights joined the fray. Their swords glinted in the sun and the light of their armour pierced the shadows as a lance against an unprotected body. The whole area seemed blinding with a throbbing and pulsing light. The magi rode up to Jorlon and Tulan, who were looking on in awe at the fighting.
“Mordrak could not resist the call of a good battle,” said Tulan, as a younger brother might boast of his sibling.
“Glad you’re here,” said Jorlon to Astocath, ignoring Tulan’s excitement.
“Jorlon, this is Mage Math,” replied Astocath as he watched the proceeding melee. “And we have a couple of friends following us.”
“Ah, yes, indeed.” It seemed Math was weighing the apprentice beneath a furrowed brow.
Finally, the sound of a trumpet resounded in a victory call as the shadow knights fled from the field. The knights of light let up cries of great cheer, and as they pulled away from the field, there lay upon the ground only the bodies of the black knights with their slain horses. The field was streaked with mud, blood and gore.
Astocath coughed uneasily. “Doesn’t it figure that Tell has chosen to form a brotherhood of white knights? Ha!”
“Well now,” replied Math. “Doesn’t it just?”
“Ah, well,” said Astocath with a rye smile. Then his attention was drawn to some knights who were quickly approaching them.
“Hail! Well met!” Math called across to them.
The elf lord lifted off his great helm and looked at the two magi grimly. Then he turned around and beckoned Mordrak up before addressing him. “What brings you here? Are you the ones from Errimiayo?”
Astocath nodded. “We seek an enemy we have spoken of to King Errimiayo,” said Astocath plainly. “Has he the power over those dark knights?”
“The one you undoubtedly seek has no power with any but a bunch of ogres and spirits, whatever he might claim for himself. He certainly is within the power of the Sorcerer King, who I might add, is not entirely wrong for being so wary about Tell’s dreams of conquest. War will forever draw his sword to battle for peace, eh?” The elf shook his silvery-haired head, giving every impression he was properly vexed. The elf lord turned to face Mordrak, who sat quietly alongside him.
“It was an honour to fight with you, my lord,” the Brother said humbly.
“It is good to see your valour and your honour; you with your white armour as ours, and armed with no less than a rune-sword, I see. What is your name?”
“Mordrak.” He fought the urge to give his full title.
“‘Tis a shame you have the heart of a pagan, or you’d be called by us again.”
Mordrak bowed his head. ”I am not sure what to believe anymore, having taken account of all I’ve seen.” He smiled with graceful humility.
“Hope then,” commented the elf. “But perhaps you wish to chase your enemy now? The way is clear.”
“Indeed we must, and thank you,” said Astocath. “So, by your leave, we continue?”
“I can help you no further. Defeat your enemy. He should have no help from the black knights now.” The elf nodded and wheeled around to lead his knights away. They followed their lord with great whoops and cheers as they headed away back to their castle, their horses carrying them swiftly, the light of their armour flashing in the afternoon sun.
Once they were alone again, Astocath led the company on towards Gethrond at a trot, aware they may yet need Tamor and Haik who followed. “You know,” he said, “the Seelie and Unseelie warriors ransom their dead one for another. It is a war eternal, but it is this that inspires the myth in Escavia that teaches Odin’s warriors to ever fight by day and ever drink by night. So much of these worlds are influenced by the other.”
“So they never really die?” asked Mordrak.
Astocath raised his brows, pursed his lips, and nodded.