At the far edge of the clearing the fuachan leaped out at them when they tried to open the gale to the path beyond. One-legged, one-eyed, and one-handed, the muscular protogiants hefted their heavy clubs and posed their riddle.
“How may I circle the world in but a second?” The demand for the key, the password, was instant and direct. Access with a heavy edge. The clubs were poised to fall on their necks.
Francesca-Viviane produced a simple blank vellum scroll from the folds of her robe, and a quill appeared in her hand. Swiftly she drew a globe held it up for the fuachan to see, then drew a line arcing from one side of the sphere to the other. “Like this!” She said and flourished the solution triumphantly.
The fuachan was about to make another challenge, but the playing of Geraint-Taliesin’s harp soothed it. With that, the other fuachan laid down their clubs and ignored the visitors, hovering by the gate as the cloaked pair went on their way. Francesca breathed a sigh of relief and moved beyond the gate into a summery meadow ringed with trees. It was like a crossroads offering many possible paths. Francesca-Viviane looked around with her witch-eyes to see where the paths might lead.
Her analyzing soon told her that there was only one datastore. an arcane library in the far distance, and a path to yet one more woodland. The rest of the paths led to simple villages with working artisans, a sure sign they were mere slave nodes in the system. The library needed checking. She pointed it out to Geraint-Taliesin. who followed her soft footfalls across the grass.
The librarian stood with the card index clutched to his chest, a mundane collection of works arrayed on the shelves behind him. She reassured him that she had no desire to steal or even borrow any of his tomes, analyzing the contents of the index as he concealed it. There was nothing here but records of system operations, and only minor-league stuff at that. The books weren’t even gilt-edged. The librarian was suitably deceived and didn’t ring his handbell to summon assistance.
Geraint-Taliesin stood and observed the scene in silence, magical stave readied in case a phantom or sorcerous beast should unexpectedly swoop down upon them. They left and made for the path to the woodlands once again.
“That would have been too easy,” she said to the old man beside her. Got to be further in than this.
The woodland path was a nasty decoy. Only at the last moment did she see the slough begin to open up beneath her feet, leaping back from the treacherous terrain just in time.
Tar pit, yuk! Francesca thought. This is getting confusing. I can hang on to the Welsh-Celtic imagery Getaint’s generating, but this is a definite whiff of old-time John Bunyan. Whoever sculpted this sure has a sense of humor. In the distance, she thought she heard an owl hoot. Passive alert. Geraint would have heard it, too. They’d missed something, obviously. If it was white IC. no sweat. If it was gray, they were in trouble now. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to go, either.
Shifting into sensor mode, she saw the concealed pathway between the trees when she returned to the woodland they’d just left. As Francesca-Viviane urged the bard forward, his eyes flashed everywhere, looking for menace underfoot and in the trees. Her intuition told her they were getting hot now. She was right.
Passing below the tree canopy they beheld a castle-moat, drawbridge, pennant-topped towers, and all. The central processor. This had to be it. There was nowhere else to go.
As they approached the drawbridge, it lowered and a mighty knight mounted on his thunderous charger appeared before them. In the swirl of his flowing robes, it was almost impossible to perceive his outlines clearly. He wasn’t armored, but the robes shimmered with magic. Geraint was becoming worried about the defenses the IC construct might have. It would be hard to focus an attack on him. Francesca-Viviane did her best to hide her form as her companion spoke his words of invocation. She didn’t think it was time yet to join the fray.
In his own perception, Geraint called the great Eagles of the Hunt, and drew down the wise serpent to the battlements. The snake’s honeyed words seemed to calm and transfix the guards preparing their weapons upon the castles battlements. Suppressed an alert there, he thought. Now give me strength to defeat this mother. This is serious killer IC. The Eagles tore at the helm, shoulders, and body of the knight, ripped with their talons at his destrier, and drew blood. As a ripple of intense blue light flowed from Taliesin’s staff, the knight raised his shield to deflect it. The bolt flashed incandescent when it struck, reducing the shield to a corroded lump of burning wood. The knight dropped it and galloped forward, Lance raised, tip pointed at the offending magician.
Do I attack or defend? Geraint thought wildly. My serpent-frame is occupying the other guards, so I can’t use it to defend me. I live or die here. Another spell to destroy this errant knight.
The feathery flames hovered over the knight, then engulfed him as he rode on to the solid ground beyond the drawbridge. The mount faltered and the knight fell from his mount, but no call was heard atop the battlements. The serpent calmed the hearts of those within the castle.
“Haste, Taliesin!” Viviane called. They rushed across the drawbridge and entered the citadel. Within were many towers, a keep servants scurrying to and fro. Two squires stared at them uncertainly; gray IC not yet activated, they guessed. The enchantress scanned the scene, her inquisitive frame-servants exploring the citadel.
Taliesin grew increasingly anxious, wondering how long the confusion would last. As Viviane pointed in triumph to the far limestone tower, a trumpet sounded. Great, he thought! they’re on to us. Work swiftly, my priestess. We have little time left to us now.
Reaching the tower just as the dogs were unleashed in the courtyard, they slammed the door behind them with a crash. She led him up the winding stone staircase to the warded and barred door. He battered on it with his staff, screaming spells to dispel the magical protections. On the stairs, they heard footfalls and clanking sounds. Stuff the organic feel of this, Geraint’s panicking brain was howling, these guys have got swords.
The door opened without a sound, revealing a room in which myriad crystals floated airily, each containing a picture and a scroll. Viviane’s summoned sprites began to examine and read, analyzing the contents. They had taken one crystal and were looking for another when Nimue appeared before the bard’s eyes.
She smiled seductively at him, her hands alive with gelatinous webs. Her voice soothed him, called to him, her eyes alive with poignant sorcery. She cast aside her flimsy gown and stood naked before him. Adrenaline raced through his body at the sight of her, his arousal distracting him from his true task. Feebly he murmured an incantation of self-defense as the succubus advanced on him. Her body brushed his, and he delighted in that instant. He could feel her breasts pressing against his body as she began to wind her arms around him.
“Tell me, darling, where you have been, that I may come with you and rest within your bower and be your lover. I want to bring you my delights.” she purred, curling a leg around his, rubbing against him with her thigh, her tongue seeking his. He almost fainted.
Sorcery! Succubus!”
Taliesin heard the words in time and turned to see Francesca’s form changed into the fury of Morgan le Fay, in an instant changing again into the black bird. He changed his own form into that of a dove and escaped up into the airy cupola of the tower, circling around with the raven beside him. As one they dived beyond the furious, clutching maiden and sped down and out of the tower.