Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [84]
Then the spectral knight vanished, a chill gloom lingering in his wake.
"Well, isn't he just a ray of sunshine?" Ferret muttered glumly.
Mari cast a look at Morhion. He sat astride his dark stallion, Tenebrous, head bowed. Over the last several days, as they rode deeper into the High Moor, Serafi appeared from time to time, warning them of obstacles or steering them toward easier paths. The mage had told the others of the pact he had forged with Serafi to save Caledan's life. Yet Mari could not help thinking there was something else beneath the mage's brooding. Morhion's pact with the spectral knight, forged ten years earlier beneath the fortress of Darkhold, didn't really explain the spirit's presence on this journey.
There was no sunset that day-the iron gray clouds hid all traces of the sun-but gradually the wan daylight faded, until Mari could barely see Ferret, who led the way astride his bony roan stallion. They made camp in a low hollow that offered some protection from the bone-numbing wind. Supper that evening was only dried fruit, nuts, and hardtack, for they dared not light a fire. They had seen no signs of the shadevari since leaving Soubar, but there was no sense in making themselves any more conspicuous than necessary.
Morhion retrieved a leather-bound tome from Tenebrous's saddlebags. "I am going to study my spellbook," he said coolly. With a soft word, the mage conjured a tiny sphere of purple magelight. He sat on a rock, hunching over the book and shielding the faint illumination with his body to conceal it from prying eyes. "Would you play a song, Mari?" Kellen asked then. Out of habit, Mari had packed her lute in her saddle-bag, but she had not yet brought the instrument out on this journey. She had not felt like making music. Yet tonight the prospect seemed appealing. It might be good to let her mind drift on the forgetful strains of a song. She smiled at Kellen as she retrieved her lute. It was a beautiful instrument, fashioned of cherry inlaid with rosewood. Her adopted father, Master Andros, had made it for her. Its surface had been polished to a glowing patina with long years of use.
The ballad she sang told the story of a prince who fell in love with a maiden trapped in a witch's tower. The prince tried to climb the tower but fell into a hedge of thorns. The thorns scratched his face, blinding him, and the prince became a wandering beggar. Mari paused, her fingers hovering above the strings. Why had she chosen such a mournful song? Kellen had rested his head on her knee, listening. Now he looked up at her. "The poor prince," he murmured sadly "If only he had never fallen in love with the maiden."
At this, Mari shook her head fiercely. "Don't say such a thing, Kellen. It is never wrong to feel love. Besides, I have yet to finish the tale."
Strumming softly on the lute, she sang the remaining verses. After several years the witch died, and the maiden escaped from the tower. In the forest, she came upon a wretched beggar and realized that it was her prince. She cried bitterly, her tears falling on his face. Such is the power of love that her tears healed his eyes and restored his sight. They returned to the tower and lived there together to the end of their days.
Mari played a few final, wistful notes, then let her hands fall from the lute.
"Thank you," Kellen said quietly.
Ferret had finished repacking their supplies. "I am going to do a little scouting while there's still a shred daylight," the thief said.
Kellen hopped to his feet. "Can I come along?" he asked eagerly.
Ferret gave him a critical look. "Can you move without making a sound?"
Kellen chewed his lower lip. "I think I can," he decided, "if you show me how."
Ferret laughed at this. "I imagine you could at that. Come on then, if it's all right with Mari."
Mari nodded her assent-the boy could be no safer than with Ferret-and watched the two disappear into the gathering gloom. She turned to see Morhion watching her.
Mari sat down on the smooth rock beside the mage. "He is wise for a child," she said after a moment. "Kellen