The road wound upward toward the central hill, through well-spaced, wind-swept trees. There was plenty of light, unlike in the thick forests around Castle Redmont, or the dark pine forests of Skandia that Will remembered all too well. The leaves were just beginning to bud on the trees. All in all, it was pleasant country. As he rode, Will saw plenty of evidence of game- rabbits, of course, and wild turkey. Once he caught a quick flash of white when a deer showed him its hindquarters as it bounded away. The trees eventually thinned and he rode out into the sunlight again at the bottom of the hill that the village rested upon. Will sighed in relief, groaning as he stretched, popping the muscles in his back. It was times like these that made some of his missions feel almost like a vacation, traveling throughout the kingdom, often with just Tug for company. He sighed again and nudged Tug, starting to move towards the village. He would get a room at the local inn that night, and spend the evening performing for the villagers, and maybe getting some information. With it being a few days ride from Castle Dacton, it was doubtful if he would get any pertinent information here, but it was worth a try. Besides, he enjoyed playing and performing for people.
High in the tallest tower of Castle Dacton, Baron Linwood and his wife worked. They had to have everything ready for when the new moon hit its highest point, and they were running late. Linwood was in the middle of painting a thin line of blood in a circle around the middle of the chamber. He didn't know where it had come from; he had just ordered his secretary to somehow procure it, and he had. Lady Natalie was following behind him, straightening the line.
Linwood finally put his paint brush aside. "It's ready," he sighed. Natalie sat back on her heels and looked around at the chamber. The room was entirely encircled about by the red line. The chamber was brightly lit, with lanterns and candles speckled around the edge of the room. A chalice sat at each of the four cardinal directions, a stick of incense in each one.
"Are you sure this will work?" she asked.
He nodded confidently. "It will. Now, let's see," he walked over to the desk in the corner of the room, outside of the line, and opened the book to the marked page. "Now all we can do is wait for the moon."
. . .
Linwood shut the book with a snap. "It's time. Get into position." He moved to stand at the front of the chamber, just outside of the circle. "Get out of the circle," he motioned to Natalie. She moved to stand next to him. With a deep breath, Linwood turned to the East. "May there be might in the East." He lit the stick of incense .
"So mote it be", Natalie whispered. He turned to the South. "May there be strength in the South."
"So mote it be."
"May there be power in the West."
"So mote it be."
"May there be nobility in the North." Linwood lit the last stick of incense and moved to the middle of the circle, spreading his arms wide. "May there be majesty in this circle, and throughout the whole kingdom."
There was a final "So mote it be," followed by a sudden clap of thunder, and both Linwood and Natalie fell to the ground unconscious. The room filled with a thick, silvery mist, flowing up from the line of blood. The mist started to draw together in the middle of the circle, taking the shape of bodies. The mist swirled around the room one last time before dissipating, leaving eight unconscious people behind, still sitting in a semicircle in their ornate chairs, heads slumped forward and resting against their chests. With a groan, one of the men stirred, raising his hand to brush against his head as he woke up. He looked around the chamber, staggering to his feet. "Milord!" Terence gasped, stumbling over to the body of a large man.
"Milord, wake up!"
Gawain began to stir, trying to brush Terence away with a moan. "Not now, Terence, give me a just a few more minutes."
"Gawain, wake up! This is not the time for a nap!"
Gawain opened his eyes blearily, before jumping to his feet with a gasp. "Good Gog, Terence what happened!"
"What's the last thing you remember?"
"I- We were- we were fighting, I think, and- and Camelot's gone." He gasped. "And your father- he put us to sleep, said that we would wake when we were called for, whatever that means."
"Yes," Terence responded. "Someone must have called us forward. But it's not the right time." He frowned.
"How can you tell?" Gawain asked. Terence glanced at him. "Just- from things my father said. Someone must have interfered."
"Regardless, we should probably go wake the others up." "Right," Terence nodded.
A few minutes later, everyone was awake and confused.
"What just happened?" Terence heard Kai's gruff voice ask. "Anyone know where we are?"
"I have no idea," Lancelot responded.
"We have been summoned," Morgan said weakly. She stumbled and started to slump to the floor, before Lorie caught her. "Morgan?" she asked, patting her cheek gently. "Are you alright?" Morgan didn't respond.
"The ritual used to summon us drew partially on her power," Terence said. "Once she has a chance to rest, she'll be fine."
"Look at this." Eileen said. Terence walked over to where she stood next to the crumpled bodies of a man and woman, dressed richly. "I guess they were the ones who summoned us," he mumbled under his breath, before turning his attention to the book that Eileen had found. His face grew pale.
"Terence?" Arthur spoke for the first time. "What is it?"
"The ritual used to summon us here- it's dark magic. It looks like one of Morgause's.
Gawain cursed. "I had hoped that I was done with her."
Terence chuckled. "Bad luck, then, milord."
Arthur glanced around the room anxiously. His eyes landed on the open window. "Terence."
He looked up. "Yes, sire?"
"Could you climb out that window and down the tower?"
Terence walked over to the window, leaning out and glanced down to the ground below. The tower was made out of large blocks of stone, the edges still rough and jagged. A few guards could be seen, but it would be easy for someone of Terence's skill to avoid them. He pulled back into the room. "Of course."
Arthur nodded. "Good. I want you to climb down and figure out what's going on. Who the current king is, who summoned us and what their purpose is, what the state of the kingdom is. That sort of thing."
Terence nodded. "Yes, sire." He kissed Eileen goodbye before practically jumping out the window.
"Always scares me a bit when he does that," Kai said.
Not that far away, a lone rider rode up into the village surrounding the castle. He jumped off his horse and put it away in the inn's stables, and walked into the inn with a pack on his back. Once inside the inn, he sat down at a table, asking for a bowl of stew and tankard of ale when the serving girl came over to him.
There was a murmur of interest as those present saw what the young man had been carrying under his cloak. He placed a hard leather instrument case on the table. Travelers weren't that rare in this part of the kingdom, but any kind of entertainment was always welcome, so those present saw the prospect of a more interesting night than they had anticipated.
The serving girl came back with his stew and ale. "Musician, are you?" she asked expectantly, and Will nodded, smiling in return. "Just an honest jongleur, darling," he winked at her. "So let's have a tune then," she suggested, smiling back.
Will paused, looking meaningfully down at his bowl. "Oh," she realized. "Perhaps when you are done with your dinner?"
He smiled genially at her. "Perhaps. Maybe a few songs after my supper."
. . .
Later, after Will had almost exhausted his repertoire of songs, the tavern keeper, who had left the bar to one of his serving girls and had come to sit close by Will, glanced at the water clock that dripped slowly on a mantle. "Perhaps one more," he said, and Will nodded easily. Inside, he felt a tightening of his chest. This was the moment he had built to over the night- a chance to get the locals talking.
Now he strummed a major chord sequence and began singing:
"I call upon the muse of song
Or epic, like as not,
To tell a tale, but not too long,
Before it be forgot."
He sensed the change in the room the moment he began singing. The song was a popular one, and well-known, telling the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. People exchanged apprehensive glances, and the younger ones moved closer, focusing on the lyrics.
"'Behold!' cried Gawain, 'There my falsehood lies fallen!
'Your cut taught me cowardice, care for my life,
'I have ever sought loyalty, love, and largesse,
'But in falseness I find only fear.'
"'Grasp once again, O Green Knight, your axe,
'And strike yet a second time after my shame.
'I will not resist, too wretched am I,
'And gladly I . . .'"
He let the song tail away, as if noticing the discomfort among his listeners for the first time. "I'm sorry," he said, smiling at the room. "Is something wrong?" Again, glances were exchanged and the people who just a few moments ago were laughing and applauding him were not unwilling to meet his gaze. The tavern keeper, obviously troubled, said in an apologetic tone, "It's not the place or time to be telling tales of Arthur and his knights, lad. You weren't to know, of course." There was a chorus of assent. Will allowed the smile to widen, keeping his expression as artless as possible.
"I wasn't to know what?" he said. There was a pause, then the tavern keeper took the plunge. "There's strange rumors going around the fief these days, is all."
"You mean . . . something to do with Camelot?" he asked in a hushed voice. The room went silent for a moment. Then one of the farmers answered. "It's not for us to say what it is that's going on in his head, but . . ."
"Who?" Will asked. "Whose head?"
"Lord Linwood. There's people saying that he's trying to bring the king back. Through- through sorcery! The black art!"
"Right uncanny," one of the others grumbled. "Them that are dead should stay dead, that's what I say."
"Ay. It's not natural."
"That's enough of that talk now, Barney," said the tavern keeper. "It's best not to talk about such matters." From the mumble of agreement, Will sensed that there would be no further discussion this night. He struck a chord on the mandola. "Well, I agree then, this is no time to sing about Camelot. Perhaps we should finish with one about a drunken king and a staggering dragon?" And he launched into it straightaway.
"Oh, the drunken king of Angledart
Could blow out candles with a fart.
But the world never knew of the courage in his heart
Till he slayed the Staggering Dragon . . ."
Laughter swelled up in the room and the uncomfortable mood was dispelled as Will laid out the tale of the knock-kneed staggering dragon and the king with serious digestive problems. It would never do at Castle Araluen, he thought, but it certainly did the trick here.
Parts of this chapter were quoted from The Sorcerer of the North. The songs that Will sings are from both The Ballad of Sir Dinadan and The Sorcerer of the North.
