Black wizards - Douglas Niles [72]
"Nothing so straightforward," said Tristan. He explained about the assassination of King Kendrick and their mission to Alaron. After a long hesitation, he described the castle of Queen Allisynn and the prophecy he had received there.
"I'm sorry to hear about your father," Pawldo said.
Tristan felt a moment of sorrow. It came suddenly and then passed. He realized, with a twinge of guilt, that it had been many days since he had thought of his father. But now he could feel some sense of atonement. "We did more than a little avenging in Llewellyn," he said. "I'm certain that the men with Razfallow were the same who accompanied him to Corwell."
"I wish that bloodthirsty devil hadn't gotten away," said Daryth bitterly. "But we've certainly trimmed down the numbers of his band."
"It's too bad we couldn't have put an end to his killing," said the prince. "But we'll have another chance, I'm certain."
"Especially with your subtle plan," snapped Pontswain. He had been listening to their conversation, using a saddle to keep his head off the ground. But now he sat up.
"I didn't ask you to come along!" retorted the prince, his anger kindled.
"No, that was my decision. And now that I'm here, I'm wondering what kind of madness you're planning next!"
"My lord Pontswain, this is my fight – and it has become a personal matter. I neither seek nor welcome your involvement in it! If you have concerns that can be better addressed elsewhere…"
"Indeed I do, prince. I want our kingdom to prosper – to see some of the glory it had ages ago. If I am king, I think it will. Perhaps the same thing can happen under your ruler-ship. But I haven't seen any proof of that yet!"
Tristan flushed, instinctively reaching for his sword. Anger blazed from his eyes as he met Pontswain's level gaze. The lord's face was curiously unemotional.
"Oh, you wield your blade well – certainly better than I do" continued Pontswain. "But I wonder how well you can wield your mind!"
Tristan forced down his rage, but the remark cut him deeply. In a dark corner of his mind, he realized that Pontswain was too close to the truth. What ideas did he have to offer? What kind of a plan had he assembled?
"Perhaps under the tutelage of your wisdom I'll learn!" he snapped, trying to turn Pontswain's sarcasm back at him. But the challenge sounded hollow, even to himself.
"On that cheerful thought, I'm going to get some rest," said Daryth. The others, too, rolled into their blankets. Tristan was still livid. His mind coughed up numerous sharp remarks that he regretted he had not thought of at the time. But as his anger cooled, a strange thought struck him. For the first time he saw Pontswain not just as a rival for the throne, but as a man who truly cared for the kingdom. The knowledge was disturbing, and he took it with him to sleep.
That night they rode again, gradually turning north. They found themselves entering wilder country now, though still tame in comparison to Corwell. The prince's wound still hurt, but did not seem to have gotten worse during the last day. This time they found it easy to find a secluded place to spend the day, and on the following night they rode into Dernall Forest itself.
"At least we're a bit more secure here," remarked the prince as they trotted down a dark forest lane. Canthus, as usual, loped along before them. "We should have no trouble finding a place to hide during the day."
All of them felt more relaxed among the thick, sheltering branches. Though the moon was half full, the canopy of leaves made the road almost black.
That changed very suddenly. Their only warning was a low growl as Canthus froze, staring into the darkness. Harsh words in a strange language barked from the night.
"Magic!" cried Pawldo in alarm, and even as he spoke the ground itself suddenly glowed with cool, bright light.
The little party halted, clearly outlined by the bright spell,