Black wizards - Douglas Niles [66]
"Imbecile!" barked the king. "Out of my sight! Fool! Do not return until you have found him!"
The king rose and stalked down the stairway leading to his throne. He reached the bottom of the staircase and turned to the side in agitation, wrapping the robe about his legs and almost tripping himself.
"Out!" he screamed. "All of you! Go away!"
The courtiers, jesters, and ladies-in-waiting in the huge chamber all turned and fled for the doors. In seconds the vast room was empty except for the king.
And one other.
Cyndre stood beside the throne, his black robe billowing and swelling around him. The king turned back, pacing, and suddenly saw him. He gasped and clapped a hand to his mouth, but quickly straightened to march purposefully up the steps.
"Where have you been? I have had every messenger in the palace searching for you! Why can't you be where you're supposed to be?"
"I came as soon as I could, sire. I was in the midst of some arcane meditation. To interrupt it would have been extremely dangerous." The wizard made a slight, almost imperceptible gesture. The king's shoulders sagged as he turned to flop wearily into his throne.
"I have been so worried!" he whined. "Has there been any word of that upstart from Corwell?"
"We have had word of his arrival at Llewellyn. A strong garrison of the Scarlet Guard is posted there. I am certain that we will hear of his capture very soon." The wizard's voice was soothing, and the king began to relax.
"I'm sorry I shouted at you, Cyndre. My nerves are not what they used to be." The wizard did not reply, and his thin smile of amusement was masked by his robe.
"When he is captured," continued King Carrathal, "I want him brought to me immediately. I am curious about this prince. I wish to learn why he pretends to my throne."
"At the earliest opportunity, sire, I will have him delivered to you," replied Cyndre, silently adding, "his corpse will not tell you much."
"You will protect me from him, won't you?"
"Of course, sire. You know that you have nothing to worry about. Perhaps you need something to take your mind off this little distraction – an execution, perhaps. Is there a prisoner you would like put to death? Perhaps that sister of the outlaw, O'Roarke?"
"No, not yet!" The king spoke firmly. "I still hope to make him see reason. I will never be able to do that if she is dead."
The wizard gestured subtly and whispered to the king.
"Very well," sighed Carrathal. "Have her put to death in the morning." For a moment, a look of stark horror flashed across the king's face. Once again, he saw the ghosts arrayed against him and sensed their number growing. But then he yawned listlessly. "Thank you, Cyndre. Sometimes I wonder what I would do without…"
The king could not finish his sentence, for he had already fallen asleep.
* * * * *
"I shan't be gone for more than a day," explained the Great Druid. Her manner was solemn. "Try to keep them from fighting. Talk to the leaders – they will help you."
Robyn nodded, trying to conceal her doubts. The grove of the Great Druid had, overnight, filled with terrified animals. Many deer, rabbits, wild pigs, squirrels, mice, and other little mammals were overrunning the place, nervously trying to avoid the few wolves, foxes, badgers, and weasels that had also come here for protection.
But protection from what? They still knew very little about whatever menaced the grove, save that it had caused an unprecedented fear among the wild creatures.
"If you have to, ask Grunt for help," said Genna. "He will complain a lot, but he could be your best ally."
"I will," said Robyn. Indeed, the old brown bear was a cantankerous and surly fellow, but she knew him to be an unusually steady and reliable animal.
"I will hurry," added the druid. "Take care, my child."
Genna turned toward the south and her short body shifted and blurred before Robyn's eyes. She grew smaller, and her brown robe slowly became a coat of golden feathers. Her arms became wings, and her nose became a beak. The smooth head, no longer even vaguely human, turned