The Warlock's Last Ride Read online

Alea felt her pulse quicken with hope and did her best to ignore it. "All the more difficult for your siblings to find out their true nature."

  "That really seems to be more a problem for the eldest than for anyone else." Magnus gazed off into space, his smile turning nostalgic. "I remember when I was a teenager and my brothers were straining at the bonds of childhood, bursting into young manhood, that I felt a burning need to prove I knew more than they did, every time, every day—at the slightest sign of their having any knowledge beyond grammar school."

  Alea's eyes rounded; she already had some notion of the younger Gallowglasses' abilities. "How long did that last?"

  "Until I saw Geoffrey lead a troop of soldiers for the first time," Magnus said, "and until I overheard Gregory discussing the theory of magic with one of the monks from the monastery."

  "Cordelia?"

  "Well, she wasn't a boy, so I didn't feel her to be challenging me," Magnus said with a bleak smile. "Silly, isn't it? But I learned the truth of it when she healed me—or gave me the first stage of healing, I should say."

  Alea could sense the revulsion, the turning away from the memory of the need for that healing, and knew it was something vital, something she would have to ferret out of him sooner or later.

  Later. "So you can accept them as equals now?"

  "Well, the impulse to argue and prove I know more is still there," Magnus admitted, "and probably always will be—but I've learned to fight it. I can accept the fact that Gregory has more knowledge of magic than I do, and Geoffrey more knowledge of war—and women."

  Alea tried to ignore the anxiety the words raised. "And Cordelia?"

  "More about people, more about healing, more about telekinesis," Magnus said, "and the list goes on. It isn't pleasant, but I've accepted it."

  "You know more about subverting governments, though," Alea pointed out, "and about rebuilding them—with all the other kinds of knowledge that involves."

  Magnus was still, staring into her eyes. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes, I do, don't I? Thank you, Alea. Thank you very much."

  "My pleasure." Alea smiled, and finally dared to lean forward and catch his hand. "Who should know better than one who has learned with you?"

  For a moment, they shared a smile, gazing into one another's eyes. Then that moment passed and Magnus stirred, looking away and breaking the connection as though it had become too strong for comfort. "It's late, and we're both drained. I must let you sleep."

  Alea sighed with regret but forced a smile. "And I you. Good night, Gar. I hope you find a soft bed."

  "Gar…" Magnus stopped in the doorway to turn back. "It's good to hear that name in this house—reminds me of who I have become."

  "So long as you don't forget who you were," Alea said, "or that the two together make up who you are. Good night." The door closed behind him, and Alea sat alone in his boyhood sanctuary, surrounded by the mementos of his childhood ideals, feeling closer to Magnus in that moment than she ever had. In the last half-hour, he had told her more about himself than in the whole of the four years she had known him.

  "MAGNUS, NOW!"

  Magnus sat bolt upright in his pallet by the fire, heart hammering, whole body thrumming with the need to fight or flee. Then he felt the call, too—alarm and terror, and knew it was his father's. He threw back the quilt and scrambled to his feet, catching up a robe as he ran for the staircase.

  Alea hovered outside the door of Gwen's room, not sure she should intrude. Through the open door, Magnus could see his brothers and sister kneeling by the bed—sleeping on the second floor, they had come seconds sooner than he himself. He caught Alea's hand as he passed, saying merely, "I need you."

  Alea blinked, then hurried with him.

  Gwen lay limp, hands on her breast, breath rasping in her throat. Magnus looked for a place to kneel, then stepped up behind his siblings and saw the grief already hollowing his father's face, saw the trembling hands, and moved quickly around the bed to kneel beside him.

  Alea hovered at the foot of the bed, unsure of her place. She heard cloth rustle and turned to see Quicksilver come up beside her, knotting the cord around her robe, and Allouette beyond her.

  A pang of fear turned her head toward the bed again, fear of loss that she knew came from Magnus. Gwen hadn't moved, but Alea saw her hand twitch as though trying to rise, saw Cordelia look up staring at her mother's face, then Geoffrey with eyes brimming, then Gregory, dry-eyed but trembling.

  Magnus's head swiveled from Rod to his mother in surprise. After a moment, he nodded, reaching out to touch Gwen's hand.

  Suddenly, Alea felt Gwen's mind in hers, heard her voice, and knew that, though the body lacked strength to move, the mind could still quest. Take care of him, the thought said, and with a rush of emotion that almost overwhelmed her, Alea answered, Madam, I shall. Then she couldn't hold it back any longer; her own panic welled behind the thought: Don't leave us!

  Gwen's children glanced at her in amazement.

  I would I did not have to, the dying woman answered; then her touch was gone.

  Magnus and his siblings stared at their mother.

  Rod lifted his head, gaze fixed on her face, tears welling, hands clutching hers, and Alea knew he shared one last thought with his wife.

  There was no visible sign, no sudden slackening of the body, no rattle in the throat, but Gwen dwindled as though she receded into distance, and was gone. There was one less person in the room, one less presence, one less soul.

  Cordelia bowed her head over her hands, sobbing. Tears ran freely down Geoffrey's cheeks and finally welled from Gregory's eyes, though he knelt as stiffly as though carved in marble.

  Alea felt Magnus's thoughts fasten to hers, felt the sudden clawing need, even as he turned to his father, arm out but not touching.

  Rod knelt dry-eyed, though, face strangely empty; then his lips moved, and Alea could tell the thought: Till I see you again.

  There was a great deal to do, and Magnus's siblings turned to it with the air of people carrying out plans already made. A hundred times Magnus had to bite back questions, then finally retired to a chair at the side of the house's central room, only able to watch. Alea realized it on the instant—she had been watching him like a hawk since he had come forth from Gwen's room—and sat by him, touching his hand. "Who is with your father now?"

  Magnus looked up at her, startled, then nodded and went to the stairs, Alea right beside him.

  Rod sat by Gwen's bed, gazing at her motionless face, his own almost as still. He looked up as Magnus entered, then reached out with a faint smile. "Thank you, son. I could use some company."

  Magnus pressed his father's hand, then pulled up two chairs. He sat, and Alea sat beside him.

  "It's good to have you here again," Rod said, "so good."

  "Thank God I came in time, Papa!"

  "I do." Rod nodded. "I do."

  Then his gaze strayed to Gwen's face again.

  Magnus and Alea sat in silence.

  Rod sighed, shaking his head. "So many years wasted."

  Magnus stared, scandalized.

  "Twenty-eight years of my life, before I met her," Rod said. "Even if you don't count the first eighteen, that's ten years when I could have been with her but wasn't."

  "None even knew of this planet then, Papa," Magnus reminded gently.

  "True." Rod nodded. "That doesn't make those years any less empty, though." He shrugged. "I'd given up hope of ever falling in love with a woman who would fall in love with me—showed a horrible knack for falling in love with the wrong ones, in fact. Then I met your mother."

  And the two sat quietly, listening in fascination as Rod told the story of his meeting with Gwen, of the slow realization of how much she had come to mean to him, of the sudden discovery that he was in love with her, and of their life together as a young couple.

  Magnus listened intently, fascinated by all that he had never known of their early days, and Alea drank it all in, wanting every scrap she could have of
this friend she had met too late.

  The coffin touched bottom, the pallbearers pulled up the silken ropes, and everyone waited for Rod to throw down the first handful of dirt, but he only stood, hands folded, musing as he gazed down at the oaken box. Finally, Magnus reached down for him, scooped up a handful of dirt, and threw it down.

  Pebbles rattled on wood, and Rod looked up, startled, then nodded slowly and said to Magnus, "Thank you, son."

  "My right," Magnus answered him, "and my honor. Come away, Papa."

  Rod looked up at him with an amazingly peaceful smile. "Why not? After all, she'll always be with me no matter where I go."

  A choked sob came from the mourners; Alea wondered if it were hers.

  "Even so." Magnus turned his father away from the grave and began walking with him, back toward the house. "Bide with us, then—we who need to mourn, Papa."

  "Of course." Rod nodded. "Not that it's really necessary, mind you—but it's fitting."

  So they went down to the gate of the churchyard, where Magnus hovered watchfully as Rod mounted the tall black stallion that had carried him there. Magnus mounted his own horse, and the siblings and their spouses fell in behind him, then the rest of the entourage behind them.

  Alea rode with them, as near Magnus as she could be, and wondered at the man and woman who rode in the black-draped coach with the gilded crown carved on the door.

  She found out who they were in the great room of the family cottage, where the mourners gathered for warmth and reassurance. Only a quarter of those who had come to the funeral stayed for the reception, of course, but that was still enough to fill the cottage's room. Alea threaded her way though to the kitchen, looked about for a tray, found one with glasses and a bottle, and took it to serve the guests, but Cordelia came through the door just as Alea approached it and smiled, stopping her with a gentle hand. "Leave that to the elves—they wish to honor their king's daughter, and their work is their tribute."

  Alea sighed as she put the tray down. "I must have something to do!"

  "Then stand by Magnus," Cordelia advised. "He will need you now as much as he ever did in battle."

  Alea looked into her eyes for a second, saw there was far more there than Cordelia put into words, and nodded. "There is sense in that—but what will I say?"

  "Whatever comes to mind. You've dealt with the grieving before, or I mistake quite."

  Alea remembered sitting by the bed of a dying matriarch and nodded. "Yes, I think I can. Thank you."

  She threaded her way back to Magnus and found him talking to the man and the woman from the coach. They were dressed in black, but their coronets gleamed all the brighter for it. Prince Alain stood beside them and looked up as Alea came near. He smiled with the warmth that would make his people love him and took her hand. "It is well you could be here, damsel. Mother and Father," he said, turning to the man and woman, "I would have you meet Magnus's companion, Alea."

  "Welcome, damsel." The elegant woman with gold and silver hair held out a regal hand.

  Before Alea could touch it, Alain said, "Damsel Alea, my mother and father, Queen Catharine and King Tuan."

  Alea froze, staring at them, then dropped a curtsy, very glad that she hadn't touched the queen's hand. She did now, long enough to kiss it, and said, "I am honored to meet Your Majesties." She hadn't realized Magnus was so well connected.

  "We were childhood friends," Magnus explained to her. "In fact, Alain came once to rescue us when we siblings had wandered off and become lost."

  Queen Catharine's eyes sparked. "There may be such a thing as taking a friendship too far."

  "Never, Mother," Alain said instantly. "After all, they have saved my life as often as I theirs."

  "Yes, I'm looking forward to hearing those stories," Magnus said. "Gregory always glossed over the interesting parts."

  "Such as our peril at the whirlpool of the afanc?" Alain smiled. "But how could I have been in any real danger with two doughty warlocks beside me?'

  "The danger of a monster with sharp teeth baring them at you," Queen Catharine said instantly.

  "Better that he has learned to face danger before it has come to war." King Tuan placed a mollifying hand on her arm, then turned to Magnus. "Though, if rebellion raises its many heads again, I trust you will be by his side."

  The question caught Magnus off guard. "I… I will if I am on this planet, Majesty."

  Queen Catharine frowned. "Surely you will not be off on your travels again!"

  "I… I had assumed that… of course, I would be about my work…"

  "There is your labor." King Tuan nodded toward the fireplace.

  Turning, Magnus saw his father standing alone by the hearth, an untouched wineglass in his hand, staring into the flames.

  "I mistrust his composure," King Tuan said. "Be sure that I will do all I can for my old friend—but I must be far from here, in Runnymede. Surely the claims of blood are stronger than those of your mission."

  "Especially since it is one you appointed for yourself," Alain added.

  "Well… we haven't discovered the next planet that needs us…"

  "Or have we?" Alea touched his arm, then stepped away and slipped between people to stand by Rod's side.

  The room was full of bright chatter and muted laughter, people reassuring themselves that life could still be fulfilling without a friend they had always relied on. Rod was an island of silence there. Alea stepped up beside him and followed his gaze into the fire. "What pictures do you see in the flames?" she asked softly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rod looked up, surprised by company, then smiled. "Those I saw when I was a child, damsel—fairy castles and shining knights fighting dragons."

  Alea smiled, too. "Do you still cheer for the knights?"

  "It depends on the dragon," Rod said. "I suspect you've faced your share of them."

  "Literally? Only on one planet, and they were scarcely a few feet long—wyverns, really, not true dragons."

  "A local life-form?" Professional interest quickened Rod's tone, and Alea wondered how much he had given up to remain on Gramarye.

  Far less than he had gained, no doubt—but enough for nostalgia. "They were, but the colonists had tamed them—not that their descendants remembered, of course. Only a few still had the skill of writing."

  "Typical retrograde colony." Rod nodded. "But the oral tradition held?"

  "Yes, but in its usual garbled form," Alea said. "Spaceships were incomprehensible, so their legends only told that their ancestors had come from the stars and didn't say whether or not they had brought the wyverns with them."

  "Medieval?" Rod asked.

  Alea nodded. "I'm beginning to realize why Magnus understood the people so well."

  "Yes, he grew up with knights and wizards on every side," Rod said, "but with Newton and Einstein and Hawking in his books. I think he was twelve before he realized that not everyone was reared with that blend."

  "He wasn't caught between the two cultures?"

  Rod shook his head. "Never saw the slightest conflict—but then, he had a very good tutor."

  "Really! I would like to meet her. Who is she?"

  "A him—sort of," Rod said. "My horse, Fess."

  Alea stared at him, suddenly wondering if grief had unhinged him.

  "He's a robot," Rod explained, "with a very powerful computer for a brain. In fact, when I was between stars, he piloted my ship."

  "Oh!" Alea laughed with relief—and saw Rod's smile widen. "But if it's a robot, why do you say it's masculine?"

  "It's the tone Fess takes." Rod shrugged. "Probably because I'm male, and all but one of his previous owners have been, too. Besides, it'd be a little awkward if you fell in love with your robot—though there are stories about my grandfather."

  "Such as?" Alea was beginning to feel that the old man was trying to impress her in some way and was surprised to realize she was enjoying it.

  "He went a little dotty in his dotage," Rod explained, "and st
arted seeing the world as a medieval romance. He must have thought the serving robots were wenches, because he started making passes at them."

  "Not really!"

  "I've always wondered about that," Rod said, "after I grew up, anyway. Was he really delusional or just putting us all on?"

  "When you grew up? What did you think of him when you were little?"

  "That he was an awful lot of fun." Rod's gaze strayed to Cordelia. "I hope my grandchildren think of me the same way." But he saddened.

  Alea hurried to change the subject. "May I meet this cybernetic horse?"

  "A.I., actually." Rod pulled his gaze back to her. "He's an artificial intelligence—though sometimes I wonder about the 'artificial' part. I'm sure he'd love to meet you. Maybe give you a ride, too."

  "It wouldn't be the first time a male has taken me for a ride."

  "Oh, really!" Rod frowned. "I think I'd better have a stern word with that son of mine."

  "No, the problem with him is that he'd never even think of taking me for a ride."

  "That's not entirely reassuring."

  "Oh, you want him to think about it, but not do it?" Alea rushed on so that she couldn't think about what she'd said. "You have every reason to be proud of him, especially in his conduct toward me."

  "I suppose he does make you feel safe." Rod still seemed concerned.

  "Dare I say he's a good boy?"

  "Not if he's listening, you don't."

  Alea laughed and spent the rest of the evening chatting with Magnus's father. When the guests had left and he bade her good night, then went to his room, Magnus took her aside and said, "Thank you for taking care of him."

  "Taking care?" Alea asked in astonishment. "I thought he was keeping me company."

  "Really!" Magnus seemed surprised.

  "If he hadn't, I would have felt very awkward amidst all these strangers."

  "Surely you didn't feel you were in the way!"

  "Not with your father talking to me." Alea frowned. "It's surprising how comfortable I felt with him."

  "Yes… he was in good spirits, wasn't he?" Magnus frowned toward the stairs, brooding.