Black wizards - Douglas Niles [18]
They slept little that night, but dawn quickly called them from their restless beds. They went immediately to the stables, where Daryth selected his mount, a chestnut gelding, and Tristan saddled Avalon, the mighty stallion that had served him so nobly during the Darkwalker War.
Lord Fergus and his son were already prepared, and even Pontswain arrived soon afterward. The young lord was dressed in a shining suit of plate mail and rode a proud charger of midnight black. In addition to his sword, Pontswain carried a long wooden lance.
The only other member of the party was Tristan's prized moorhound, Canthus. The great dog stood half as high as his master and weighed every bit as much. He was a keen hunter and steadfast companion who had received his training from Daryth.
Fergus waited astride a great dappled mare, standing in the courtyard at first light. His son, Sean, rode a small stallion of the same colors. The young horse skittered nervously away from Avalon as Tristan, Daryth, and Canthus emerged from the stables.
The great warhorse ignored the other stallion, moving into an easy trot as Tristan preceded the others from the castle gate. Canthus loped beside him as he gave the stallion his head. They cantered down the winding approach to the castle and turned toward the west upon Corwell Road. They would follow this, the kingdom's one highway, across Corwell to the eastern port of Kingsbay.
For most of the first morning they rode in easy silence, slowing their mounts to a walk after a short stretch. Fergus traveled beside the prince, trailing the rest of the party. Eventually the genial lord cleared his throat awkwardly.
"You know, prince, I am reminded of tales I've heard of the early days of the Ffolk upon Gwynneth and the other Moonshae Islands. Gwynneth, as you and I well know, was the grandest of the isles back then – in the days before Callidyrr, I mean." Fergus cast a glance at Tristan to be sure that he was listening. Satisfied, he continued, his great mustache bobbing up and down with each word.
"I was not actually present at Freeman's Down last summer. I did arrive at the castle in time to witness the siege and the rout of the Northmen.
"Those were the grandest sights I've ever beheld! It made me proud to be a lord of the Ffolk! And I cannot help thinkin' that it was you who brought those victories about." Lord Fergus turned to meet Tristan's gaze squarely.
"What I'm trying to say is that perhaps we're seeing a bit of that old glory return to Gwynneth now. You will be our king, and your reign will be good for Gwynneth, and for all the Ffolk. And I'll be the prouder for havin' served you," Fergus concluded. He cleared his throat again and looked awkwardly across the moor, away from Tristan.
For a moment Tristan said nothing, but his face burned with excitement and joy. He felt as though he had truly been born to be king of the Ffolk. Silently, he vowed to bring about a return to the days of Gwynneth's glory.
"Your words are heartening, my lord. It will be a comfort to know that I leave the kingdom in the hands of men and women such as yourself."
They passed through several cantrevs, but most of the land was devoted to sparse, stony pastures or small tilled fields. Small farms dotted the landscape every mile or two, but the road was empty of other travelers.
They talked little for the rest of the day. Tristan looked occasionally at Pontswain, riding beside Sean before them. The lord spoke constantly, gesturing broadly. The thought of his boasting made Tristan sick with disgust. But unwilling to let Pontswain dampen his excitement, he forced his mind to brighter thoughts.
Robyn. Where was she now? What was she doing? Did she think of him often? The familiar sense of longing returned – he missed her so! He felt guilty that he had not gone to tell her of his father's death. After all, King Kendrick had been her stepfather, the