The Indigo King - James A. Owen [30]
For need of might
I thus bind thee
I thus bind thee
By blood bound
By honor given
I thus bind thee
I thus bind thee
For strength and speed and heaven’s power
By ancient claim in this dark hour
I thus bind thee
I thus bind thee.
The instant Mordred began speaking, all the companions found themselves unable to move; their arms felt bolted to their sides, their jaws fixed and unmoving. All, that is, save for one.
Mordred finished the Binding and once more looked at each of them in turn. He was triumphant, but there was a trace—the merest trace, John thought—of melancholy in his expression.
Of regret.
“Long ago there was a prophecy,” Mordred began, “that mentioned someone called the Winter King. It was said that he would bring darkness to two worlds, and that …” He paused, considering, then continued. “It said that three scholars, three men of imagination and learning from this world, would bring about his downfall.
“It was more than a thousand years before some among my people began to call me by that name—and only then did I remember the old prophecy.
“The prophet never mentioned the Far Traveler, but when he and his companion first came here fourteen years ago, it rekindled the possibility that the prophecy was true. And so since then I have waited patiently for the three scholars it spoke of to arrive: John, Jack, and Charles.”
This last he said with a wink at Chaz. “Not precisely what had been prophesied, but when the Far Traveler sought you out, I saw a possible connection and decided not to take chances. And when you sent word that you’d found these two, your own fate was sealed.
“My Shadow-Born will attend to you all shortly. We shall not meet again.”
Mordred spun about as if to leave, then thought better of it and stepped slowly back to where Jack was standing.
“I was not always as you see me, child,” he whispered. “I was different, once.…”
Frozen in place, Jack could not respond, and after a moment Mordred took a step backward, turned, and opened the door. They heard him striding across the bridge, then nothing. He was gone.
The Binding was absolute. There was no way to move or speak. But it was not so complete that it did not allow tears to flow, and Bert wept. So did Jack, but more from frustration than sorrow. Chaz was still too stunned to weep; and John’s mind was racing too fast to stop and worry over the desperate situation they were in. Even without the Binding, Fred would have been petrified by fear. A blood marking was a potent thing, and even more so among animals than men. Combined with the Binding spell, it was impossible to overcome. And so none of them were able to turn around to see what was making the crunching noises under the table.
“Oh, bother,” Uncas said. “That’s all the crackers, gone. If I’d known we were going to become prisoners, I’d have saved some of the soup, so as not t’ die on an empty stummick.”
Uncas was unfrozen. The Binding had not affected him at all. He continued complaining, all the while rubbing worriedly at the small silver coin he’d had in his pocket.
Of course, John thought. Bindings may be broken by silver! Uncas must have been touching the coin, and so he wasn’t frozen. There might still be a way out of this after all!
John’s initial rise of hope quickly dropped as he realized that Uncas being free might not be such a big advantage. The badger still had not realized that the rest of them could not move.
“Y’think he’s gone?” Uncas asked, peering over the bottom of the windowsill. “What d’you think that blood-marking business was about, anyhow?”
When no one replied, Uncas scurried over to his son, finally realizing that something was amiss. “Fred? What is it? What is it, son?” he asked. “Fred? Can’t you answer?”
Fred couldn’t, and didn’t, and the reality of what had occurred finally dawned on Uncas. And then he did the only thing he could think of, and consulted the Little Whatsit.
“Hmmm hm hm hm hmm,” Uncas hummed as he flipped through the pages. John had just enough range in his field of vision to see the pages below. The badger