The Lord of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book 2] Page 9

  There was no reply. Peter struggled to rise again—and again failed.

  Then he heard a sound in the distance that made his blood curdle. The howl of a wolf. Another answered. Then the sound was taken up by others. It drew closer and closer.

  "Hurry up, man!” a voice snapped. “If we don't move now we'll be trapped in the snow."

  The voice was that of Morgause and Peter was back in the wagon. There was no sign of Morgause, however, and much to his surprise he found he was wide awake and could actually move. He crept over to the nearest end of the wagon and lifted the flap. Snowflakes billowed in at him. Then he heard the voice of the wagoner.

  "´Tis rather early for snow, m'lady."

  "It probably won't last,” Morgause said, “but those wolves are getting too close for comfort. Unharness the horses and leave the wagon. You can come back for it tomorrow."

  She turned to climb back into her own wagon. Hastily Peter lay back in the bed and pretended to be still unconscious. He breathed evenly and deeply. But his heart was pounding so hard he was sure she must hear it. Before the wagon train resumed its journey he heard the wolves again—and they were surely much closer this time.

  "That sounds like an unusually large pack,” he heard Morgause say nervously to her lady-in-waiting.

  "They won't bother us, my lady. No pack of wolves, however large, would challenge a traveling company as big as ours."

  They arrived at their destination well after dark and Peter suffered himself to be slung over the shoulders of one of the men like a sack of potatoes. This time, however, he was fully conscious. He was thrown onto a bed and left to the ministrations of a servant. As he made sure she found it impossible to rouse him, however, he managed to escape having more of Morgause's drug poured into him.

  "Oh, well, just leave him,” he heard Morgause say when she came to see how things were and the woman complained that the boy would not wake up. “If he does wake up make sure you give him his medicine because I'll hold you personally responsible if anything happens to him. He's very precious to me."

  She swept from the room before the woman could reply.

  Assuming I actually get to sleep, this will be my first real sleep since landing myself in Morgause's clutches, Peter thought as he heard the door close behind her and the key grate in the lock. From the creaking sound he then heard he concluded that the woman left to watch him had seated herself in the chair. Peter waited for what seemed an eternity. Then slowly he lifted his eyelids until he was able to peep from underneath his lashes. The candle on the bedside table still burned. The woman's chin already rested on her chest. Even as he watched she started snoring gently. He waited another ten minutes or so.

  "Merlin! Merlin! Where are you?” he called—shouted—in mind-speech.

  A great howling sounded somewhere in the near distance. Peter jerked up. He looked quickly at the sleeping woman. They'll wake her up! Quick, Merlin! Hurry! The wolves howled again—closer. The woman, heavily wrapped against the cold, slept on. Peter jumped out of bed and ran to the window.

  He opened the shutter a crack. There was very little light—just enough to show him the swirling snowflakes. The cold bit into his bare feet. He turned to put his boots on; the howl came again. It seemed to freeze the very blood in his veins. This time it was right at the doors of the inn. He threw on his cloak, rammed his feet into his boots and returned to the window. He pulled the shutter open again. Then he saw them—three pairs of red eyes glowing in the dark—and behind them the pale glitter of other eyes, hundreds of them. They had the inn surrounded. He made to draw back—too late. Cerberus had seen him. Three pairs of baleful red eyes glared at him.

  Chapter 8

  The Horde of Menacing Eyes

  PETER'S MIND raced. Could the wolves get into the inn? Were they flesh-and-blood creatures or just specters? Specter or not, he told himself, Cerberus was capable of attacking Dreyfus. Therefore he can attack me. And if he's a specter he can probably enter the inn.

  In desperation he turned to the sleeping woman. He shook her vigorously. “Wake up! Wake up!"

  She slumped further in the chair. Oh no! Don't tell me she's dead! But even as he thought this the woman gave a loud snore. He shook her again—still to no avail. He grabbed the candle and raced to the door. Only as he turned the knob did he remember Morgause had locked him in. To his astonishment, however, the door opened. He raced out and hammered on Morgause's door.

  "Wake up! Wake up!"

  On receiving no answer, he turned the handle and pushed. To his surprise the door opened. He crossed the room and placed the candlestick on a chest at the bedside.

  Morgause lay on her back, her unbound hair spread over the pillow. The candlelight turned it to liquid gold and warmed the ivory pallor of her cheeks. It touched the strawberry-red of her lips, folded in misleading innocence. Briefly Peter wondered what the scene reminded him of. It was only as he grabbed her shoulder and shook her that it came to him. The Sleeping Beauty, he thought foolishly. I should perhaps be kissing instead of shaking her. The idea was utterly repellent.

  "Wake up!” He shook her again, but she flopped like a rag doll.

  The incongruity of this powerful sorceress being so helpless in the hands of her captive—and him a mere boy—struck Peter. But he had no time to ponder it. He turned to run from the room. At the door he remembered the candle. He returned for it. Morgause no longer slept in carefully arranged pose. Peter's shaking had thrown her into such disarray that she looked like a doll whose owner had carelessly tossed her aside.

  He grabbed the candle and returned to his room. All the while the dreadful howling rose and fell outside the inn.

  Someone's put a sleeping spell on everybody in the inn but me. If it's the Evil One, why would he want to immobilize Morgause? The answer came readily enough. Because although she might be Merlin's enemy and therefore mine, she's not on the Evil One's side. She works only for herself. He frowned, puzzled. In that case, why didn't the Evil One put the spell on me to make me easy prey for Cerberus and his pack of wolves? Perhaps he doesn't want me to be easy prey, but wishes to see me thoroughly terrorized before allowing Cerberus to get me.

  Peter sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. I must keep calm and clear-headed! I must concentrate and bring the Lady to my assistance. He strove to block out the howling by plugging his ears with his fingers. He tried to picture the Lady, struggled to imagine the eerie strands of her music.

  For a few seconds the howling receded. And he heard it—only a few notes. But it was definitely the Lady's music. Her voice followed—a mere whisper. “Merlin comes,” was all she said, the words dying on a thin strand of music.

  Almost sobbing with relief, Peter cried out in mind-speech, “Merlin! Merlin! Hurry! I'm alone and beset by Cerberus and a pack of wolves."

  "Where's Dreyfus?” The sorcerer sounded hard-pressed.

  "I don't know.” Peter couldn't disguise his anguish at Dreyfus's disappearance.

  "Don't worry; we'll find him. In the meantime stay away from the window. You'll only strengthen their determination. Give me a picture of what's been happening to you."

  It took a matter of seconds for Peter to do this—mind-pictures were quicker than mind-speech—but it seemed like hours to him. Conjuring up the right images to give Merlin just enough information left him mentally exhausted.

  "Okay; that's enough. I've got all I need."

  Peter sat on the bed waiting. He longed for action but could think of nothing useful he could do. The howling rose again, getting louder. A strong, unaccountable urge to go to the window gripped him. I have to know what's going on out there. He resisted, hanging on grimly to the edge of the bed.

  The strength of the compulsion grew with every passing second. The howls became increasingly insistent. They beat at Peter's mind like the force of the Evil One himself, threatening to break it. But they are the force of the Evil One, he reminded himself.

  Involuntarily, his hand went to the chai
n holding the Token of Power. He heard his own voice saying, “The Token of Power is a two-edged sword.” With shaking fingers he drew the Token from under his shirt. He gazed at the empty, burnished surface in despair. “A two-edged sword—a two-edged sword!” his voice shouted at him from miles away.

  "And a Token of Power is a two-faced symbol,” he muttered, and turned the disc over. The ruby eye of the red dragon winked at him from the other side.

  He touched the dragon with a shaking finger. But the raised image was no illusion. Instantly there was a rushing sound like a huge flock of birds overhead. And there was the dragon, his tail sprawled across the bed in a most undignified fashion. The jeweled ruby of the eye nearest to Peter winked at him. Peter put his hands on the monster's scaly side. He felt himself jerked upwards. Then he was sitting astride its back and they were out in the snow-filled air looking down at the scene around the inn. The white ground was thick with dark shapes.

  The wolves howled with redoubled rage at the sight of the dragon and the boy. Instantly they turned their attention from the inn. There was no longer any prey there. Peter didn't need to see Merlin to know he had arrived somewhere just outside the great pack.

  "I had to leave my dragon with the Lady. Her need is greater than mine and a dragon is no use for carrying a dog. In fact, a dragon is of little use with the ground swarming in wolves."

  "Have you found Dreyfus?” In his anxiety Peter failed to absorb the implications of what Merlin had said.

  "Not yet. Can you come and pick me up please?"

  Peter received a mind picture of Merlin's position. At any other time it would have made him laugh. To see the normally powerful sorcerer perched on a branch clinging for dear life to a tree trunk was quite a sight. It lost its amusing quality, however, at sight of the wolves below. Suddenly aware of the presence of their master's greatest enemy, they swarmed at the tree, snapping at Merlin's heels. One caught at the bottom of his cloak, falling back with a mouthful of cloth and fur.

  Peter sent his dragon hurtling in Merlin's direction. “Can't you do something to get out of their way?"

  "No.” Merlin's reply was terse with the unwonted helplessness of his position. “I've exhausted most of my power in helping the Lady.” He paused and when he spoke again his voice was caustic. “We haven't exactly been having a holiday in keeping the Evil One at bay!"

  As Merlin snapped out his last sentence the dragon arrived at the tree. Fortunately it was on the edge of the stand. Hovering with surprising agility in the dark, the dragon lowered itself sufficiently for Merlin to be able to touch its sides. As the dragon hovered, it turned his head to face the wolves. Eyes glaring balefully, it belched flames in their direction.

  "Stop wasting your energy!” Merlin snapped as he perched himself in front of Peter. “They're flesh and blood but they're immune to that sort of thing."

  The dragon made no answer. It simply beat the air with its wings and rose into the night sky. As it accelerated, the wolves on the ground ran to match its speed. Their unnatural howls filled the air. The snow had now stopped and their bodies were a seething mass of black against the white ground.

  "Can't we run them to exhaustion?” Peter asked.

  "The dragon itself is not inexhaustible, for all its power. Flying is a tiring activity—especially with two passengers on one's back."

  "When we find Dreyfus how do we save him?"

  "We don't. It's the other way round. If we want to be rescued we have to find Dreyfus."

  It was the wolves that found Dreyfus. A large section of the pack suddenly veered off at a tangent. From their perch on the dragon's back, Merlin and Peter caught a glimpse of Cerberus's red eyes at the head of the breakaway pack. Then they saw the reason for the change of direction. On top of a small round treeless hill stood Dreyfus—a dark shape looking much like another wolf against the snow.

  The wind that had been blowing the snow around swept aside the last of the snow clouds. The moon emerged, eerily bright, throwing Dreyfus's shadow down the hill towards the wolves. The wolves, Peter reasoned, couldn't fail to see Dreyfus outlined against the sky's sudden brightness. He looked enormous. They checked their headlong rush and their howls died abruptly. Their pale eyes glared in the dog's direction.

  The ones in front watched their leader. Peter sensed the three-headed dog stiffen as he recognized his old enemy and three brains remembered the brief pleasure of sinking their fangs into the dog's flesh. But the three heads, Peter realised with surprise, weren't in accord. In that earlier encounter one had received a wound. The brain within the head wasn't slow to recall this. It also remembered something else: the wound hadn't been ordinary, but had left that head with a distinct impression of having been attacked by something mightier than itself.

  Cerberus's leading head turned in Dreyfus's direction. One of the others followed suit. They glared red defiance at the dog standing like a statue on the hill, and flung their snarls at him in challenge. The moon behind him made Dreyfus's shadow appear huge. It barely touched Cerberus's third head. The third head cowered, whimpering. Its whimpers were barely heard over the snarls of the other two.

  Peter sensed Cerberus's message going right through the great pack of wolves. He watched helplessly as the pack readied itself for the charge.

  Up on the hill Dreyfus stood rigidly. The horde of menacing eyes must cower before he reaches his height of power. The rhyme from the prophecy recited itself in Peter's mind. Was this Dreyfus's time to come into his power? Come on, boy! he urged silently.

  Then it was as though he saw through his dog's eyes, noting the cowering of one of Cerberus's heads, for there were only two pairs of red eyes glaring at Dreyfus. But behind those grisly orbs stretched a never-ending sea of pale, slitted eyes, eyes that remained uncowed.

  The eyes, both red and green, stared fixedly in Dreyfus's direction, and to Peter it was as though they stared at him. He stared back at the red ones, trying desperately not to blink.

  It took him a few moments to realise there were only two pairs of eyes; Cerberus was having problems with one of his heads.

  He waited patiently, watching heads numbers one and two join forces to compel obedience from the one that cowered. Finally came just what Peter realised Dreyfus had been waiting for: the eyes of the third head finally turned in his direction.

  Peter felt the hairs all over his body rise as the three-headed dog signaled the pack to attack. What could Dreyfus possibly do against all those wolves? And what could he do to help?

  Suddenly Dreyfus moved. He threw back his head and sent his eerie howl resounding over hills and valleys.

  Moonlight caught the Token of Power at his exposed throat.

  Peter expected the dragon on the token to appear. What good will that do? If my dragon can't do anything, neither can another. Dreyfus will be killed.

  But the dragon stayed within the token. Very clearly in the moonlight, Peter saw what looked like pink mist issue from the area of his dog's throat. In a matter of seconds an eerie halo surrounded Dreyfus. At first it seemed that the reddish light came from the moon, but rapidly it took on a life of its own, flowing around Dreyfus and growing steadily larger. Then it surged outwards. Its power hit Cerberus full in the chest. Blood-curdling cries burst from three throats. The three-headed monster disappeared in a blaze of red fire.

  With their leader gone, terror seized the wolves. They tried to flee in all directions, but none succeeded. Some received bites in their panic-stricken rush to get away from the creature that had apparently destroyed their mighty leader. But a force none of them understood held them captive. One by one they became calm. Peter felt almost mesmerized as every wolf turned its eyes fearfully towards the apparition on the hilltop—an apparition that was now just a dog. But, to Peter's astonishment, it was as though Dreyfus's commanding gaze bored into the eyes of each wolf. So quickly that it was hard to see which wolf surrendered first, the horde of eyes cowered before the dog. The menacing lights went out as though someone had
thrown a switch. Then, in small groups and large, tails between their legs, the wolves slunk away.

  The dragon descended to land on the hill at Dreyfus's side. When Peter and Merlin had slid off his back he simply disappeared. Peter drew his Token of Power out and glanced at it. The dragon's ruby eye winked at him from both sides. He breathed a relieved sigh, and next moment was enveloped in Dreyfus's overwhelming greetings.

  Merlin's voice brought Peter back to sober reality. “Dreyfus is now leader of that pack of wolves—the biggest pack that has ever roamed the earth. He has claimed them from their master, the Evil One."

  Peter looked up at him. In the moonlight Merlin's face was still white and strained from the ordeals of the past few days. “He's a dog, not a wolf."

  "So is Cerberus."

  "Is? He's still around then? I thought he'd been destroyed."

  "He hasn't been killed, if that's what you mean. As you know, the Earthlight does not kill. I doubt that he'll be any further trouble, though."

  Peter glanced nervously down at the quiet, moonlit valley where the vast area of dirty churned-up snow was the only sign that there had been anything there. “What about the wolves?"

  "What about them?"

  "Well, will they trouble us again?"

  "Your wits must be addled, Peter. The wolves now follow Dreyfus. He is their leader."

  Peter swallowed. “But they're evil."

  "Not necessarily. They're just animals, but they're not immune to the powers of those above them—especially powers that are outside even human experience. Animals are perhaps the easiest creatures to use for ill purposes. Dragons are animals, remember—ancient members of the reptile family."

  "But we don't use them for evil purposes!"

  "No. In fact, we don't command the dragons. They are their own masters and help the Earthlight—or anyone for that matter—of their own accord. Morgause should have kept your dragon captive instead of merely shutting it out. Unfortunately for her, to capture and confine such a mighty creature in the short time at her disposal was beyond her powers. The dragon informed us of your plight but couldn't tell us if Dreyfus was with you, although he knew Dreyfus was caught in the same time and place."