Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men (34 page)

He had to be vigilant.

The fog was rising, closing the night in around them and cutting down the already poor visibility. He didn't bother pulling on the Nightshades™; he'd tried them earlier and they hadn't made any difference against the strange night of this otherworld. It was like trying to see through a fog. Back in the real world the shades were not much help in fog except on the thermal setting; not a viable option here. None of

Watching for an attack was what a paranoid would do, wasn't it?

This was fairyland, the wondrous place, all green and natural. Who could have enemies here? The very thought was paranoid. The eminent Dr. Spae didn't think that this was a suitable place for paranoia.

The eminent Dr. Spae didn't think clearly enough.

Holger caught sight of a dark shape in the fog, moving parallel to their path. He took a step in its direction, trying to get a better look. When he reached the point at which he had seen it, there was nothing there.

He must have scared it off, which was good. As long as the things out there were scared of them, they had a chance.

The thickening fog made it harder and harder for John to see where they were going. Bear, in the lead, became an indistinct dark shape, then disappeared from sight altogether. The thickening murkiness swallowed Kun soon after.

When Dr. Spae started to become indistinct, he thought about taking Faye's hand. He told himself that he wanted to do it to reassure her, but when he looked at her she didn't seem worried at all. He kept his hands to himself, unwilling to look like a wuss.

With each step the mist became thicker. Trashcan Harry, limping along behind, disappeared into its hazy embrace, though John could still hear the irregular rustle-clump of his passage. For a moment he and Faye were alone in the vaporous nothing, then his foot snagged a root, slowing him, and she was gone as well.

With them all out of sight, the only thing John knew of his companions was the sound of their passage. He quickened his pace, intending to close up the distance between him and Faye, but after a few yards he hadn't caught up and he slowed again. He must have walked at an angle to her path. Fearful of getting lost in the dimness, he followed the sounds. The ghostly tendrils of fog grew together overhead, hiding even the stars from his eyes. The sounds of the others' passage grew fainter until they were swallowed altogether by the mist.

At first, John didn't notice. The silence made it easier for him to think about where he was and what he was doing. Or rather, to worry. Faye's face kept forcing its way into his thoughts, and that worried him too. How was he supposed to deal with the change in their relationship, in her
presence?

When he finally realized that he could no longer hear the others, he stopped. Silence. The noise of his passage wasn't masking anything. There were no sounds around him, no hint of the whereabouts of the others. He might have been the only living thing in the chill gray world of slowly swirling mist.

He shouted out Bear's name, calling for a halt.

No response disturbed the silence.

He called for Dr. Spae and Kun.

No answer.

Faye.

No reply.

Even Trashcan Harry.

Nothing.

He was alone. Lost. Abandoned, or just mislaid? Most likely it was his own fault for having strayed from the line of march. He'd been straying for some time if they were out of earshot. Had they noticed yet that he was gone? And if they had, what would they do about it? An effective search was impossible in the fog.

The ground upon which he stood was uneven, a hillside, so John headed upslope in the vague hope that a higher elevation might allow him to see over the fog and get his bearings. His companions might try a similar approach. Maybe they'd all find hilltops and spot each other across the mist. He began to think he'd made the right choice when he noticed the mist thinning as he climbed. He changed his mind when he emerged from the fog bank as though he'd walked through a wall, and saw what stood before him.

It was a tower, a slender spire of dark stone. Its shape was similar to the one he had seen earlier, and for all he knew, it might even be the same one; he could have easily gotten turned around in the fog bank. John searched for an entrance but found none on ground level; the only door he could see had a threshold a good ten feet above his head. He stepped back from the tower's base, pondering the smoothness of the walls and wondering if he could climb up to the door. Just as he was concluding that there were not enough hand- and footholds, the door opened. As it gaped wide a stone stairway came into being, step after step appearing in a curve along the wall from the door to the ground. John didn't need to feel the tingle that prickled his skin to know he was seeing magic in action.

A shape appeared in the doorway. The figure might have been a demon clattering forth from hell, as it stepped out onto the landing that had not been there before. The being's shoulders were broad and humped, ridged with spines, and its head was crested, its face drawn out in a snout. Wan moonlight glinted from steel and John realized that it was a man in ornate armor, armor formed and fluted into curious shapes that disguised the human silhouette. The fantastic, bestial face was simply the helm's visor wrought by art into an inhuman visage.

A gauntleted hand rose and lifted the visor, revealing an elven face with skin so brown as to be almost black. The pale eyes stood out starkly, seeming to burn with a white light as they turned on John. The elf did not speak loudly, but John heard his voice quite clearly despite the distance between them.

"Who stands before my door?"

John had heard the songs and read the stories, and decided not to give his name. "A traveler," he said.

"What brings you to my keep?"

"I was lost. I climbed the hill thinking I might find a place to see over the fog, or at least someplace to wait until it lifted."

"You did not come here deliberately?"

"By chance only."

"Chance?" The elven knight didn't sound as if he believed it. "You did not come seeking me?"

"I was hoping to find my friends."

The elf's head lifted slightly. "You are traveling with others?"

"I'm supposed to be."

"Humans?"

Something in the elven knight's tone made John suddenly cautious. Certain that complete honesty was not the best policy in this circumstance, John tried to be vague, saying, "Some of them."

"I see."

"Please, sir knight. I didn't mean to disturb you." John had no desire to enter the chill fog again, but he wasn't sure he wanted the elf s company either. "If I could just wait out here. I'll be gone as soon as the fog clears."

"Come inside."

It was as much an order as an offer. Having given the order, or made the offer, the elf turned and reentered the tower without waiting to see whether John would comply. I ower down the slope, hidden in the fog, something moaned low and long. It sounded hungry.

John found himself on the stairs; and once he had started, it seemed only reasonable to continue. Shortly he found himself standing on the landing where the knight had stood, short of breath and sweating lightly, though less from the climb than from nervousness.

The knight awaited him inside the tower. Though the elf was no longer wearing his armor, he was no less fantastically dressed. His principal garment was a robe with voluminous folds and glittering silver spangles, and he wore a torse of feathery fronds about his head. The fall of silver curls flowing down the back of his neck stood out starkly against his dark skin. It was a decadent effect, but he seemed no less menacing than he had in the armor.

But the hall looked warm and inviting, especially the fire roaring in the great stone fireplace. The chill of the fog had seeped into John's bones; his clothing was damp, his skin clammy with the mist.

"Enter," the elven knight said. "If you will."

John hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. The keep might have been an island in nothingness, for the fog stretched from the ground below into the sky, making a bowl of fog to enclose the structure. The mist seemed somewhat closer to the tower's base than it had been. The thing in the fog moaned again.

What did he have to lose?

He stepped over the threshold. Trying to be polite, he turned to close the door and found it already shut behind him. For a moment he was puzzled; the massive wooden door would have had to have swung through where he stood. Magic, of course, was the answer. It was still a little unnerving to have it happening around him.

"Tell me, young sir. What has brought you to my home?"

John fed him a line about wandering travelers, so heavily edited as to be more of a blipvert than a story; it didn't have a plot or any motivation, and John was the only definite character in die sparse cast, but the elf seemed not to notice.

"Your story is most interesting," he said. "You say you became separated from your companions in the fog and found your way here by yourself?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about some stuff and kind of lost track of them. I called when I figured out we were separated, but I didn't get any answers. I guess I wandered pretty far."

"Far afield, of a certainty. Few come here uninvited. Fewer still with peaceful intent."

"I mean you no harm." It seemed the right thing to say, though John had no idea how he could harm such an obvious master of magic. When the knight pointed to what was slung over his shoulder—the Viper—he thought of a possible way.

"Yet you carry a weapon from the human realm."

"Would you wander this realm unarmed?"

The elf smiled. "No, I would not."

John shifted the weapon sling so that it hung more on his back. The weight of it felt heavy and awkward, but he was reluctant to part with it. Fortunately, the elf didn't suggest that he should.

"But I am being a poor host," the knight said. "Your ordeal has clearly tired you, and you must be hungry."

John realized that the knight was right. He was so hungry that he couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed until now the savory smells permeating the room. Already he could feel his mouth water in anticipation. When he turned, and saw the table laid to overflowing with plates and platters and bowls heaped with food, his saliva production went into overdrive. There was far more food than two people could eat. Were there more elves about?

"Please," the knight said, handing John a golden plate. "Help yourself."

John was reluctant at first; there were songs about people who accepted an elf s invitation to dinner. But this wasn't an elf hill and he already was in Faery. How bad could it be?

As if to alleviate John's fears, his host stepped up to the table, his own golden plate in hand, and heaped mounds of meat and vegetables onto it. He waited until John had selected enough from the table to feed the entire fencing team, then led him to a pair of ornately carved chairs with arms wide enough to set the plates upon. A jeweled golden goblet already sat on the right armrest of each chair. The knight seated himself, motioning John to do the same. Without benefit of eating utensils, the elf started in on his food. John was still a little uneasy as he selected his first morsel, the drumstick of some small bird. But the taste won him over at once, for it was smokily flavorful and the meat was cooked to a perfect blend of juiciness and tenderness. He started tucking away the rest of his selections like a football jock after the big game. Having devastated the contents of his plate, he laid it on the chair's arm and leaned back.

"There is more if you wish it," the elf said.

Burping embarrassingly, John said, "I think I've had more than enough."

"Forgive my lack of decorum, young sir, but I find it most curious that you travel in disguise."

"Disguise?" Sure, he wasn't wearing what he usually did, but— It dawned on John what the elf meant. "You can tell I'm an elf?"

The elven knight took a sip of his wine and nodded. "Of course. Your disguise is built of such simple spells, and ones clearly designed to operate in the earthly realm, at that. But even there I would be able to see through them. Here in Faery, they are the merest flicker of light, a trivial hindrance to the rankest novice on the Way."

"If they're so bad, what's the point? Why are they still working?"

"Am I to understand that they are not your spells?" The knight actually sounded surprised.

"A present from my father." Whom he didn't want to discuss. "You think I was a mage or something?"

"That is ob—" The knight put down his goblet. "Is it you who wish to test me, or do you do so under the command of another?"

The elf sounded offended. Which didn't make sense. As the visitor here, wasn't John the one who was supposed to be tested? And what was this "command of another" business? "I don't know what you're talking about."

The elf seemed puzzled by John's response. "You speak sincerely. Could it be that you are truly ignorant?"

John's anger flared with sudden heat; he'd never liked being called ignorant. He knew he didn't understand a lot about the otherworld. He couldn't help not knowing. It wasn't as though he'd grown up in Faery. This elven "better than thou" attitude was really starting to be prehistoric. "Yeah, I'm a real jerk. I don't know nothing. Okay?"