"He knew also that their union would more tightly bind his kingdoms with that of Dardinel's father, King Turpin. But Obscura did steal the Great Crystal, and cast a death-spell on King Alban—and without its light of harmony and grace, the king sickened and died. His son Constantine became king in his place—but the young kings, whose hearts knew not the importance of Glancarte, fell to vying with one another in richness and pomp, then in their champions' passages at arms."
"And tournament gave way to battle," Rod said, remembering, "and the confederation fell apart. But why did the young kings have to tear down the palace, Grandfather?"
"Because each feared that the other might use it as a stronghold, reaching out to conquer all three other kingdoms. Thus is it ever—the center suffers the greatest strain, when balance is lost. As it was, certainly, when Obscura ingratiated himself with King Agramant, and persuaded him to attack King Turpin."
"And King Turpin died in battle, so Prince Dardinel became King before he had learned restraint," Rod mused. "Then Obscura planted a rumor that Lucina had been imprisoned by her brother, so Dardinel declared war on King Constantine. But the knight Beaubras awoke from his enchanted sleep, and came forth to rid the earth of the evil sorcerer.''
"Yes, Grandson, but he was slain himself in that battle. Oh, do not grieve, for I promised you that Beaubras shall rise again; Beaubras shall ever rise again. Yet in his death, King Dardinel realized his folly and made peace with King Constantine. But their realms had been devastated, so King Agramant allied with King Rodomont, and invaded."
"They conquered," Rod said, remembering, "but their own lands were devastated in the process, for Dardinel and Constantine fought like demons, to protect fair Lucina."
"Aye, and though they died, they sold their lives dearly. Agramant and Rodomont held dominion, but then began to vie for power.''
"And their armies were too weak to both guard their castles and maintain law and order—and there were many, many soldiers who had fled defeat, and were desperate for food and shelter. So banditry became rife."
"Then the contest of diplomacy failed, for Rodomont thought himself strong enough to conquer Agramant."
"But he was wrong."
"Aye; they were evenly matched, and tore one another to bits. Thus the Golden Age ended, and the Four Kingdoms sank into the barbarism from which they had risen."
Rod sighed, gazing off into space, his head ringing with the shouting and cries of great battles, with the thunder of hooves and the clash of weapons. He was shocked to feel tears in his eyes. "Can it not live again, Grandfather?"
"Aye—every time we tell its tale. I have begun it for you this time, my grandson. You are now on the verge of its greatest of days, for the knight Beaubras has but now set forth on his quest, and the Rainbow Crystal is yet to be found."
"Yet to be found?" Rod whirled, eyes widening. "But that means that Ordale hasn't come forth to show him the Faerie World yet—and Olympia still waits at the crest of Mount Stehr! It's all still to come—the glory, the wonder, the enchantment!"
"Aye, all yet to come." The old man nodded, his eyes aglow. "And we have talked away the night, my grandson, and the east is burgeoning with the sun. The hour is come when poor, tenuous ghosts, wandering here and there, must troop home to churchyards."
"No!" Rod cried in a panic. "Don't go! We have so much still to talk about!"
"All that truly matters has been said." The count had risen and was backing away. "The history of Granclarte, and the good it sought to bring."
"But I need you! I can't be without you!"
"Nor will you be." Mist was rising from the clearing, all about the old man. "I am within your heart and your mind, Rodney—you cannot be without me. None can take me from you."
"But what of Granclarte?" Rod cried. "How will it endure without you?"
"Through you, mine heir. I bequeath it to you, root, stock, and branch. Let it rise again, Rodney. Let it grow, let it ever grow." And his voice was fading now, as his outline softened and his substance blurred into the mist, suffused with the golden light of dawn. "The night has gone, and the day comes—your day, my grandson, and your realm now. Live in it; fare well in it.
"Farewell…"
Rod stood, petrified, scalp prickling, seeing the ghost diffuse and fade, hearing his voice dwindle, speaking again, but so softly that it might have been the cry of a distant songbird: "Farewell…"
Then it was the cry of a bird, far away, calling, summoning…
Rod turned away from the clearing in the glory of the newly risen sun and plodded back through the forest, his heart leaden, but his soul exalted.
"He was there, Fess," he said softly. "He was really there."
"So I judged, from the words I heard you say, Rod," the great black horse answered. "It is inspiring."
But he didn't sound joyous. Rod frowned, peering closely, then understood, with a surge of sympathy. "Hard on you, isn't it, Old Heart, to be reminded of your former master?"
"Robots do not grieve, Rod."
"Nor computers delight. Sure." Rod swung up into the saddle again. "But how could the time pass so quickly all of a sudden?"
"It did not really, Rod. The passage of time was no faster than in the evening."
"It just felt like it." Rod shook his head. "Well, then, I'm safe in a way, Fess. I'm in Granclarte."
"Yes, Rod, safe in many ways—but remember the perils the good knight confronted."
"How could I forget them?" Rod replied. "But how did I come to be here, Fess? Why did I go crazy so suddenly?"
"I have given you my best answer," the robot said softly. "You must find your own now."
"I think I have." Rod nodded. "Yes, I think I have."
"In your grandfather's stories?" The robot sounded surprised.
"Yes. After all, it makes sense, doesn't it? The knight Beaubras, I mean. He's just beginning his quest now. He must have sent for me, must have called me here. There must be some way in which I can help him."
The robot was quiet for a second, evaluating the statement. Then it said, "Beaubras rode alone, Rod."
"Yes, but there were mighty deeds wrought by other knights in other places, and their accomplishments helped him find the Rainbow Crystal, Fess. Maybe he needed one more." Rod's eyes glittered. "Just think—somewhere in this magic land, the knight Beaubras is riding his good steed Balincet, right this minute!"
Fess was silent, weighing, planning for contingencies.
Lucidity pierced for a gritty moment. "Fess—I'm really far gone in delusion, aren't I?"
"There is always a way back, Rod," the robot said quietly.
"Yes." Rod nodded. "Yes, there is, isn't there?" He turned the horse's head toward the east. "And if it's always there, then it won't matter if we go a little farther in before we turn back out. Right, Fess? Yes, of course right. We'll give it a chance to wear off, at least. Shall we go?"
Chapter Five
Dawn turned the winter forest into an enchanted realm of crystal trunks with glittering branches, a cathedral of ice carpeted with fleece.
"But then, it is an enchanted realm," Rod mused. "This is Granclarte."
Fess maintained silence.
"Ow-w-w-w-w-oo!"
Rod reined in, startled. "What the hell was that?"
"It did not have the sound of an animal," Fess answered.
"Then it's a man in trouble." Rod turned Fess's head toward the sound. It came again, and Rod shivered. "If it's a man, he's more angry than hurt."
"Howling in rage?" Fess asked.
He was, and he was a man. But Rod stopped in amazement, because he was one of the few dwarfs Rod had ever seen in Gramarye, besides Brom O'Berin.