Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [143]
Then Keane barked a word, so short and abrupt that Alicia didn't even hear what he said. She blinked reflexively.
When the princess opened her eyes, Keane-and only Keane-was gone.
* * * * *
"This is the Circle of Transport," said the decrepit Malawar, showing Deirdre a ring of gold about a foot in diameter. "It is mine, but it can only be activated by a sorcerer-or sorceress!" He cackled at his addendum.
The princess stared at him. In the hours of this darkest of mornings, her emotions had run a gauntlet from guilt, to disgust, then to anger and self-loathing at her previous naivete. Finally she had returned to anger. Grimly determined not to let her fury show, she waited with taut attention for the priest to explain.
"How does it work?" she asked finally, hating him.
He showed her, and they both grasped portions of the ring with both of their hands. "You will take us to the hall of Caer Blackstone," he concluded.
Deirdre nodded, then gasped as a whirlwind of pressure swirled around her. Quickly she realized that the gale was a storm in sound only, since no wind gusted past her skin or disturbed her hair.
Yet in the next instant, she recognized the dark-beamed ceiling and the array of stuffed animal heads that were the prominent features of the Earl of Fairheight's Great Hall.
"By the gods!" sputtered the earl, leaping to his feet in astonishment, knocking his chair backward, and dropping the half-eaten remains of a pork haunch to the table. A nearby maidservant dropped a crystal tray, and the crash of ceramic rang through the hall with shocking violence.
"Leave us!" Malawar barked at the maid, who cast a frightened look at the earl, then ran for the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Blackstone, still standing. "Who are you?"
"It is I!" The withered cleric spat the word, and the earl stepped backward as if he had been slapped. Recognition mingled with horror in his face.
"How did-?"
"You're coming with us. Now." The venerable priest's words were driven home like nails into soft pine.
"What? You can't-why? Where are you going?"
"To the Moonwell-where one of your sons has failed to perform your instructions!"
"Gwyeth? He failed? But how? Did he-"
"He's dead," snapped Malawar. "Slain by the hand of your third son, who even now threatens to disrupt all of our plans and ambitions."
"Hanrald, a traitor? The bastard! I knew he couldn't be a true Blackstone!" The earl, his voice verging on hysteria, bellowed his anger.
"Take a weapon and let's go!" the priest ordered.
"Yes, of course," the earl declared, his voice dropping grimly. He took a huge dark-bladed battle-axe from the trophy wall, the same axe he had used to slay the prophet.
The three of them seized the golden circlet, and Deirdre's brow wrinkled in concentration. She heard that same cyclone, but this time it didn't distress her. In another moment, the three of them stood among the stumps of the ruined cedars, looking around the battle-scarred vale of the Moonwell.
A wall of fire crackled beside the pond, slowly dying, while several armored horsemen stared at them in shock. As Deirdre's eyes swept upward, she beheld the grotesque image of the dracolich Gotha, perched on a rocky bluff above. Blackstone shouted in alarm, while the princess pressed her hand to her mouth in shock.
"No need to worry," said Malawar, noting the source of their fright. "He, too, is a devoted servant of Talos!"
"Keane!" cried Deirdre, stunned on top of her surprise to see her tutor suddenly materialize before them, about fifty feet away.
"Deirdre! Beware!" shouted the mage.
"He is your worst enemy!" Malawar hissed at her. "You must destroy him-quickly!"
"Keane? No!" she cried, appalled.
"Else he will destroy us and the hopes of our master along with us-you must!"
Keane, his angular face perplexed, stepped toward Deirdre.
Anger surged within the princess, a hot fury directed at Malawar, who would twist