He saw it all and knew his Rhiannon, so much the daughter of Brielle. He saw it all, and he understood again the benefits, the highest joys, of the mortal coil that was human life, and for the first time since he had returned to Ynis Aielle, Del was filled with deep regret that he had passed on from this world. For all the glories of the heavens, there were indeed experiences here that could equal the joy.
Brielle, his love, was one of them; Rhiannon, his child, was certainly another.
“Where is she?” the spirit asked, his tone somber, for he suspected now that there was some terrible trouble concerning his daughter.
“The wraith got her, unless I miss me guess,” Brielle replied. “The wraith got her, and thus, Morgan Thalasi’s got her, and all the world’s gone dark.”
Del wanted nothing more than to go to her and put his arms around her and hug her close and tell her that she must hold out for hope. That he could not do, though. And he knew then that if anything terrible happened to Rhiannon-if that beautiful life that Brielle had shown to him was cut short-it would pain him evermore. It was not, could not be, Rhiannon’s time to pass on-not before she had truly experienced love and life.
But Del feared that he could do no more to help Rhiannon than he could to comfort Brielle, and he considered then the fact that if he went over to hug the witch, his arms would pass right through her physical body.
He almost cursed Calae in that moment, almost called out against this cruel, seeming joke.
Chapter 19
Comrades of Convenience
THE LAST SEVERAL blows didn’t even register, as the young witch fell far, far away from the brutal beating Thalasi’s zombies exacted upon her, escaping from the pain to a place deep within herself. She recalled scenes of Avalon in springtime, of feeding birds and squirrels, of swimming naked and free in the dancing waters of the great River Ne’er Ending. And yet, even here, the Black Warlock found a way to reach her, for each of those calming images were invaded, tainted, by the specters of Thalasi and Mitchell, hovering at the edges of the scene, laughing wickedly, promising doom.
So Rhiannon stopped dreaming altogether, stopped thinking, as she had stopped feeling. She fell so far into herself that she came, at last, to a place beyond Thalasi’s reach, and no longer did she hear the taunts or the slaps, and no longer did she feel even the shackles that had her hanging from the wall by her torn wrists.
“I will wake the witch,” Mitchell promised, and started for her.
Thalasi held the Staff of Death out in the wraith’s path, stopping him short. “You will not reach her,” the Black Warlock explained. “She is far from us now, and is strong, so very strong.”
“And so very stubborn,” the wraith added, drawing a chuckle from Thalasi.
“Like her mother,” the Black Warlock remarked.
“Like her father,” Mitchell growled, and Thalasi laughed again.
“She cannot hide forever,” the Black Warlock calmly explained. “Rhiannon has achieved a state of high meditation, and any tortures we might now exact upon her physical body would be wasted effort.”
“How long?” the impatient wraith wanted to know.
Thalasi, who seemed to be enjoying Mitchell’s ignorance as much as the discomfort given to the daughter of Brielle, laughed yet again. “Be calm, my dead friend,” he said. “Rhiannon will return to consciousness soon enough, and we will be waiting.”
His prediction proved accurate, for the next morning, the battered young witch opened her crystal blue eyes to see Thalasi and Mitchell standing right before her, their zombie guards standing behind them, as unmoving and impassive as stone columns.
The wraith growled low and advanced, ready to punish some more, and Rhiannon closed her eyes at once. Again Thalasi stopped Mitchell by presenting the Staff of Death before him. “She will be gone from us in a matter of moments,” he explained, and he moved right up to Rhiannon, put his face right before hers.
“They are coming for you,” he whispered.
Rhiannon was already moving away from him, slipping fast to that secret inner place. The words caught her, though, and stopped her. She blinked open her eyes.
“They are coming for you,” Thalasi said again. He looked back to Mitchell and winked.
“All of them,” the Black Warlock said suddenly, sharply. “Coming in a rush to Talas-dun because they know you are mine. Do you understand all the trouble you have caused?”
A slight whimper escaped Rhiannon’s lips. She could take any punishment Thalasi and Mitchell could hand out; she did not fear the pain nor death itself. But the thought that many others-people that she loved and who loved her-were on their way to Talas-dun for her sake assaulted Rhiannon’s gentle sensibilities profoundly.
Which was, of course, exactly the effect that the Black Warlock had sought, for adding that anxiety to Rhiannon’s fears would confuse her, would jumble her concentration to the point where she might not be able mentally to slip away from him any longer.
Stubbornly, Rhiannon closed her eyes again and began to sing softly, a merry tune that she had often shared with the birds of Avalon.
Thalasi’s cackling laughter got through those notes, and so did many of his words as he conversed with Mitchell, as he and the wraith spoke of battle plans to defend against the coming forces. He mentioned Arien Silverleaf and Belexus, and Brielle often. “Out of Avalon, the cursed witch is no match for us,” the Black Warlock said pointedly, and before he was finished with that statement, Rhiannon’s song was no more. “Brielle knows it, too,” he added. “She knows that she cannot stand against me anywhere in all the world save her precious Avalon.”
“Then why would she come out?” the wraith asked, cuing on the devious prompt and looking knowingly at Rhiannon all the while.
“Because of her!” the Black Warlock snapped, rushing over so that his skeletal face was right before Rhiannon’s eyes, so that she could see his supreme confidence and joy. “At long last, I have lured her from her forest. Brielle comes out because of her poor daughter.”
The Black Warlock stood close, examining Rhiannon for a short while. Then, convinced that despair would prevent her mental escape, he motioned for Mitchell to move back in and resume the beating.
Some time later, Rhiannon hanging unconscious in the dungeon, Mitchell and Thalasi walked the parapets of their fortress, surveying their army.
“We must not underestimate our enemy,” the Black Warlock cautioned. “Many heroes will come out against us, unless I miss my guess. The rangers of Avalon, surely, and likely Arien Silverleaf and his elven kin.”
“And the witch,” Mitchell added.
Thalasi wasn’t so sure of that. “Brielle would be ultimately foolish to leave Avalon,” he explained. “For if she did, then know that I would be quick in the back door, claiming the forest as my own, or at least staining the place evermore. I have never known the Emerald Witch to be a fool.”
“But this is her daughter,” the wraith retorted. “Could she stand by and let her daughter be tortured?”
“She is grieving, no doubt,” Thalasi replied. “And I do not discount her, for it is likely that she will have some surprise to throw our way, as she did with the river at the Four Bridges. But still, she will not leave her forest. Among all the four, she is the most restricted. In coming to Talas-dun, Brielle would leave most of her power behind, and would leave that power vulnerable to my attack.
“But the others will come,” the Black Warlock quickly added. “Rudy Glendower-Ardaz-will lead the way, cursing my name every step! And Istaahl will ride beside Benador, and Arien Silverleaf and the cursed rangers beside them. Their powers are no longer great, though certainly considerable, but what they will be counting on is the sword, and not the magic.”