"Lead me to the Black Fortress and I'll jise it soon enough," Colwyn muttered angrily. He hefted the glaive, luxuriating in its solidity and coldness. "It strains to be used and I terribly want to use it."
"Patience, patience. Finding the Fortress is not easy. It knows no single kingdom but claims all Krull as its domain. With each sunrise the Fortress moves. Sometimes it comes to rest in the mountains, othertimes the desert, sometimes it hovers over the sea. Never twice in the same place. Even the Beast does not control everything, so he moves about to confuse and frustrate as well as to terrify. Furthermore, he is dependent for such movement on the activity of Krull's magnetosphere, which is in a constant state of flux."
Colwyn looked baffled. "Old man, you use words I do not know."
"Ancient words, Colwyn."
"It is Lyssa I seek. You told me you knew where to find the Fortress."
"Courage is not the only virtue of a king, nor is the power he may hold in his hand. Courtesy is also useful, especially toward one's elders. You would not be here now nor that,"
—he gestured to the glaive—"be in your possession if not for me."
Colwyn forced himself to relax. "I'm sorry. It's only that the thought of Lyssa… there…"
"Such thinking crowds reason from your brain and weakens you. You need more than resolve to reach and penetrate the Fortress. Stealth is less exhausting than strength. Spend the former wisely and husband the latter." Colwyn's inner torment was plain to see and Ynyr softened his tone, put a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder.
"I do have a tendency to lecture, I know. It's only that more than Lyssa's fate rides with us on this journey, my boy. I know how you are feeling. I too was young once. I too have loved as you do." His voice fell. "But you will be luckier than I. You must be."
Come now, old man, he told himself angrily, this is no time to burden the lad with your own sordid past. What he needs now is advice and reassurance.
"What I told you, Colwyn, was that I knew how to find the Fortress. That is not the same as knowing where it is today. You hold in your hands one device of the ancients. Krull holds other secrets. The way we will locate the Fortress is by enlisting the aid of the Emerald Seer."
"But his whereabouts are a mystery to all."
"Not quite all," Ynyr corrected him. "It is known to me. Oh, don't look so startled. Did you think that having solved one mystery,"—and he pointed to the glaive—"I was incapable of solving any more? A day's journey from here lies the means by which a man may extend his vision. Come."
"If it lies within a day's ride of the White Castle, why has the place never been found before?"
Ynyr shook his head. So much to teach, so little time for instruction. "The glaive lay in a spot even nearer and had done so undisturbed for hundreds of years. Proximity is not the same thing as being close at hand. The Emerald Seer guards his privacy with more subtlety."
Colwyn thought back to the charred skull he'd stumbled over in the cavern of the glaive and nodded slowly. He mulled over the old man's words as they started down the mountain.
Their journey took them through a mountain pass rarely traversed by the citizens of Eirig. Soon they once more enjoyed the company of evergreens and berry bushes. Birds and insects filled the airways between the trees, reminding Colwyn that he belonged to the world of the living. Yet the serenity of the forest was deceiving. He knew that at any instant it could be crushed to pulp at the Beast's whim, as could any part of Krull.
They followed a stream downhill, stopping beside a low bank where the water slowed and dozed, forming a small pool. Ynyr dismounted and went to draw himself a drink while his companion fiddled with the glaive. Like any sensible outrider, Colwyn carried leather strips and clamps for repairing horse tack or boots while on the road. Now he utilized them to fashion a carrying strap and protective pouch for the glaive so he could carry it slung from his belt. He did not trust it to the saddlebags and there might come a time when having it close at hand could save a life.
As the pouch neared completion, a peculiar aroma caught his attention. He sniffed. Nearby, the tethered horses stirred uneasily. Something singed the evening air. His eyes widened as something spun widly past him, causing him to duck instinctively. Ynyr merely looked interested.
At first Colwyn thought it might be a hare or some other small game thrown aside by a hidden predator. He was positive he saw the face of a fox in the whirling shape. Or were those deer legs? Elk antlers, the hind end of a steer, and the startled face of a globus all mixed together, spinning round and round with human limbs and features.
Eventually this aerial confusion came to rest with a violent splash. The smell and sound vanished and he found himself standing next to the pool, confronting a young man of small stature. The visitor lay facedown in the pool, kicking and flailing at the water.
"Help, help, I'm drowning!"
Colwyn leaned forward, resting his right arm on his thigh as he studied the new arrival. "I doubt it. The water you're lying in is barely a foot deep."
At this the stranger ceased his exertions and rolled over. He sat upright and wiped at the mud on his shirt, muttering to himself. His hair was stringy and long and his attitude as tart as pickled herring. Slowly he rose, still striving to divest himself of the grime so recently and ignominously acquired.
"Well, it could have been quicksand. I might have been dragged down to my death while you stood there gawking. That is not the reaction of a friend." He waded soggily out of the pool, kicking first one leg and then the other, like a dog trying to shed water. He eyed his surroundings warily.
"Where is this place?"
"A forest near the foothills of the Granite Mountains, on the far side from the kingdom of Eirig-Turold."
The little man frowned at him. "Now, I know of the kingdom of Eirig, and I've heard of far Turold, but of Eirig-Turold I know nothing."
"There has been a merging made. The kingdoms have been joined."
"I am underwhelmed. The Granite Mountains, you say?" Colwyn nodded. "Blast and frog jumps! A thousand miles off course!" He shrugged sadly. "Well, I was rushed. There was a certain difference of opinion concerning a gooseberry trifle. The foolish man left it sitting isolated and friendless on his windowsill, poor thing. What did he expect?"
"Perhaps," Colwyn speculated, "he expected to eat it."
The stranger glared at Colwyn. "For that rudeness, lout, you're going to spend the rest of your life as a toad. Or would you rather be a frog? No, I'd say toad-dom would fit that face better." He hesitated, eyed Colwyn cautiously. "Well, aren't you going to quake in fear? Aren't you going to go to your knees to beg my forgiveness?"
Colwyn sighed, shook his head and turned away from the pool. "Not right now. There's a fire to attend to and the question of supper. Other matters to be dealt with."
"Other matters? I'll show you what matters need attending to!" Rummaging through his numerous pockets he yanked out small scraps of multicolored paper filled with indecipherable scribbling. He settled on one scrap, squinting at it.
"No, that's a recipe for a hot fudge sauce." He moved to throw it aside, thought better of it, and shoved it back into a pocket. "Well, a goose will have to do. Warmer than a toad, but I can't waste time when I'm mad. Better to work when one's in the mood. Yes, a goose, fat and ugly!"
There were certainly many words inscribed on the piece of paper and some of them were very long and difficult. The
%%%
visitor stumbled over their pronunciation more than once. Finally he concluded his invocation on a rising inflection and snapped his fingers at Colwyn.
Colwyn turned and regarded the goose squatting at the water's edge with interest. No doubt about it, this stranger had talent. Somewhat erratic, however. He laughed.