Spell of the Crystal Chair (12 page)

Shivea suddenly appeared to his left, her many faceted eyes glowing like tiny red furnaces. Her fangs were bared, and at once Zarkof held up the medallion. For one terrifying moment it seemed to him that the spell was not going to work—but then the creature slithered backward, her claws making a scraping noise across the stone floor.

I don’t think it’s worth it having her for a guard. She’s going to get loose and kill me one of these days. I think I’ll put her out of the way
.

Zarkof had had this thought before. Still, he needed her. He was determined that nothing would get to the crystal chair. It had been given to him by the Dark Lord himself, and it was only when he sat in it that the power seemed to flow. Zarkof was an old man now, older than anyone he knew. He had come into this cavern for scores of years, and in some way the power of the chair kept his true age from showing.

Now he entered the room where the chair sat in the midst, giving off its luminous green glow.

Eagerly, as always, Zarkof threw himself into the chair. He was like a drug addict who lived for this particular moment. At once he felt the power of the Dark Lord reaching out from his own stronghold far to the south.

What have you to report?

The voice spoke inside Zarkof’s head, but he answered aloud. “Things are going well, sire.”

Have you obliterated the Lowami tribe?

“Well, not exactly, my lord—”

Not exactly! And what does that mean? They are either exterminated, or they are not. Answer me
.

Stammering wildly, Zarkof explained that the warriors had been shot out of their harnesses.

Who
shot them out?

“I understand—although I was not there myself—that it was three of the young people they call Sleepers.”

Instantly a tremendous pain shot through Zarkof’s brain. It flowed down through his entire body, and he would have fallen from the chair except for an unseen power’s keeping him there.

Finally the pain ebbed away, leaving him feeble and helpless.

The Seven Sleepers. You must kill them! Do you understand me? They are more dangerous than all the Lowami tribe or anyone else. If you fail me in this, you will die
.

“I will not fail. I promise you, my lord. They will die.”

And kill the girl, Fairmina. Send her head to the Lowami. To Denhelm, her father
.

“Yes, my lord. At once.”

The glow faded, and it took all the strength Zarkof had to get up from the chair. It was not the first time the Dark Lord had brought this pain to him. It was something he dreaded and did everything he could to avoid.

Fingering the medallion, he staggered out of the secret room, saying, “Kill the princess—kill the princess—kill the Sleepers!”

“I must do it,” he said, “or he will have my life. I know he will!” He saw Shivea’s red eyes glowing in the darkness. He showed the medallion and scurried past.

He said to the first guard he encountered, “Get me a messenger.”

“Yes, sire.”

When the messenger came, Zarkof said, “I will not write this down. It must be vocal.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Tell Chief Balog that I command him to kill Princess Fairmina.”

“Yes, sire. At once.”

“Repeat the message.”

“Chief Balog is to kill the Princess Fairmina.”

“Go quickly.”

The wizard fled to the top of his fortress, where he was attended by blank-eyed slaves. He began drinking himself into insensibility, but he was already rehearsing his next speech to the Dark Lord. “The Princess Fairmina has been killed, and the Seven Sleepers are dead as well …”

Beorn had been highly confused ever since the day he took the princess to visit his mother. He constantly heard talk of executing her and could hardly
bear to think of it. He had protested, “She is but a woman!”

“She is the heir of Denhelm. She is his war chief. Woman though she be,” Balog, his father, exclaimed, “she cannot live!”

Beorn talked with his mother and with his grandfather many times. The three of them all opposed taking the life of the princess.

“It will bring evil on our tribe. There is no honor in it,” Magon said grimly. “We must not permit my son to do this.”

Olah shook her head. “He is stubborn. How can we prevent it?”

“We must do something,” Beorn said.

After this conversation, he went to visit the princess. As usual, he brought her out of her prison house, although the noose was around her neck and he held the end. He wanted to get far enough away to talk freely. They had done this now for several days and had gotten to know each other quite well.

“Something is bothering you, is it not, Beorn?” the princess inquired.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Your face is not hard to read. I can see trouble in your eyes.”

“Can you? I never was much at hiding things.”

“Your mother has eyes like that. You know exactly what she’s thinking.”

“Yes, you do. And they’re always good thoughts.”

As they strolled along, a dog came up and sniffed at Beorn’s hand. He patted its shaggy head and said, “Be off with you now.” He turned to Fairmina. “Are you being well cared for?”

“Very well.”

“It’s very uncomfortable in that prison. I’ll see what I can do to make it more comfortable.”

Fairmina appeared puzzled, as though she knew something was on his mind. “I wish you’d tell me what’s troubling you—not that I could do anything about it. After all, you’re the captor, and I’m the captive.”

“To be truthful, I’m worried about you.”

“Is that all you have to think about? An enemy.”

“I do not think of you, Princess, as my enemy.”

Fairmina stared at him. “You don’t?”

“Of course not. You don’t think of me as an enemy, I hope.”

“I did when I was captured. But—” She hesitated and then added, “You’ve been very kind to me, Beorn. You and your mother have changed my whole idea about what the Yanti are like. If two of you are that kind, there must be many others.”

“We are like other people, I suppose. Some of us are kind, some not so kind.”

“It’s certainly that way with my people,” the princess said. “Maybe with all peoples.”

After they had walked for some time, Beorn made up his mind. “I will talk to my father. I will ask him to release you.”

“He will never do that.”

“He may. My grandfather has great influence with him. Freeing you would make Grandfather happy. And my mother as well. At least I will try.”

Impulsively the princess put out her hand. It was at once enclosed by Beorn’s. He squeezed it hard, and she said, “Thank you for your kindness.”

“I make no promises, but I will do what I can.”

Beorn went at once to his father and without preamble said, “Father, I want to ask a favor.”

“What is it, Beorn?”

“I think we should release Princess Fairmina.”

“Have you lost your mind!”

“I’ve been thinking about this whole business of war. If she’s a sample of what the Lowami are like, we’re fools to fight them.”

“What do you know about it? You’re a boy!”

“I think I know honesty and courage and truth when I see it.”

“She’s the
enemy!”

“We’ve made her that way. This war takes the brains out of people. We don’t have any sense left. We just fight and fight”—Beorn’s voice rose—“and men and women die, and nothing is ever settled!”

“Don’t talk to me that way, boy!”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” He was angry now. “It was the same way when you were young! It was the same way when Grandfather was a boy! The stupid war goes on, it never gets settled, and people die! And all for what?”

“You cannot know about these things!”

Just then a voice speaking outside the door interrupted their argument. “I must see the chief. I have a message from the wizard.”

“Wait here,” Beorn heard the guard on duty say. “I’ll see if he’ll have you.”

The guard stepped inside. “Sire, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a messenger here from Zarkof.”

“Send him in.” Then Balog turned to his son. His face was still red with anger. “I’ll hear no more of this!”

Beorn turned to go out, but then he stopped and looked at the messenger from Zarkof. He was a muscular, swarthy man with an evil look.

The man said, “I have a message, Chief Balog.”

“Well, what’s the message? Give it to me.”

“It’s not written down, sire.” He glanced at Beorn. “It’s for your ears alone.”

“This is my son. He can hear.”

“Very well. Zarkof says you are to kill Princess Fairmina.”

A chill ran through Beorn, and he turned to his father. Shock appeared to run through the chief too.
Surely he won’t do it
, Beorn thought.

But Balog, it seemed, had fallen more under the power of the pale wizard than his son had realized. He was trembling, but he nodded. “It shall be done.”

As soon as the messenger left, Beorn cried, “Father, you can’t do it!”

“I must do it. We can only win with the help of Zarkof and the ice wraiths. I must do it. After all, she’s a warrior. She took her chances.”

For one long moment, Beorn stared at his father’s face. He had always loved and respected his father, but something had happened to Balog since the contact with Zarkof.
He’s not the same man. He’s not himself
, Beorn thought. He left without another word. Even as he went out, he knew what he had to do.

Beorn went to the prison and said to Deur, “Bring out the princess.”

“You’ve already walked with her today!” the archer snapped.

“You hear me, Deur? Do what I say!”

As the other guard watched, Deur finally nodded grudgingly.

The princess looked at Beorn in surprise. It was the first time he had come twice in the same day. “What is it?”

“Come. We must talk.”

The guard placed the rope around her neck as she
stepped outside and, as usual, handed the other end to Beorn.

“You can wait here,” Beorn told him, “or take a break. I’ll be responsible.”

“Yes, sire.”

It was useless, of course, to talk to Deur.

To Fairmina, Beorn murmured, “We’ll walk down to the river.”

They walked the path that they always took, and Beorn was silent. When they got far enough ahead of Deur, he said quietly, “You must leave this place at once.”

Fairmina gave him a startled look. “How can I do that?”

“You must trust me. I will make a way. I will take care of Deur, but you must go at once.”

Fairmina continued to stare at him. “What has happened?”

Struggling with the truth, Beorn finally said, “My father is not himself. He is under the power of the pale wizard.” He hesitated, then said, “A message has just come from Zarkof—an order to execute you at once. Even now my father is probably giving the orders. You are a fleet runner. Let me tell you what to do. When you leave here, follow the river for three miles, then cross over it at …” He gave her instructions. “The warriors will be after you with dogs, but if you use the edge of the river from time to time, that will wipe out your scent. Follow what I’ve said, and you’ll have a chance.”

“But what about you?”

“There’s no time, Fairmina.” His voice lowered, and he said, “You are a lovely girl outside and inside even more lovely.”

Fairmina seemed unable to say a word.

Then he said, “We’re almost at the river. When I tell you, jerk the rope off your neck and run like the wind.”

“What about Deur?”

“I will take care of Deur.”

They were at the river now, and he said, “There’s the river path.”

“Yes, but I can’t let you do this, Beorn.”

“You have no choice. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said, and her eyes were warm. “I will never forget this, nor will my people.”

“May Goél be with you. Run fleet as the deer, and may you be safe.”

Suddenly Beorn stopped, turned around, and called, “Deur, come here.”

The archer’s face grew suspicious. “What is it?”

Beorn did not answer. He let the small archer get within five paces and then, still holding the end of Fairmina’s rope, asked, “Is that a good arrow you have? Does it fly true?”

Deur looked down at his arrow with puzzlement. “Why, of course …”

He never got to say another word, for suddenly strong hands seized him. His bow was ripped from his hands, and he found himself pinioned face down, unable to move.

“Run, Princess! Run!”

Deur struggled frantically, but Beorn was strong.

He watched until Fairmina disappeared, then got to his feet. “Come, Deur. You must tell my father what happened.”

“Have you lost your mind, Beorn? He’ll have you killed in her place!”

“We will see what kind of a man I have for a father. Just come. Pick up your arrows and your bow.”

Thirty minutes later the council was hurriedly called together. Beorn’s mother was present. Magon was there. Balog was shouting and screaming.

“Do you know what he’s done, this traitor son of mine? He’s let her go!”

“Good. The best day’s work he ever did,” Magon said, his face alive with pleasure.

“Father, be quiet! You are not the chief any longer. I am!”

“Be careful how you speak to your father, Balog,” Olah said softly. “You know what is said about showing respect to the elders, especially to a chief.”

“He is not the chief! I am the chief, and my orders have been disobeyed!”

Beorn said nothing. When first challenged, he’d simply said, “It was wrong to keep her here, and it would be a terrible crime to have obeyed the orders of Zarkof to kill her.”

“If you were anyone except my son, I would have your head taken from your shoulders!”

“I knew that might be my fate,” Beorn said calmly.

Balog pulled at his hair. “Leave this place! Take what you can carry, and I never want to look upon your face again! Out with him!”

Two warriors roughly seized Beorn, and ten minutes later he started off with what he could carry.

His mother and his grandfather were waiting at the edge of the village. Each took one of his hands and held him.

“Do not be discouraged, my boy,” Magon said. “Things are dark now, but these things have a way of working out.”