Black Wizards by Douglas Niles Read Free Book Online Page B

council. Fires burned low in the hearths, and a chorus of snores arose from various corners of the hall.
    They had finalized the details of their journey—Daryth would accompany the prince and Lord Pontswain to Caer Callidyrr. There, they would each meet with the High King and plead their case for the kingship of Corwell. They agreed to abide by the king’s decision.
    “Very well,” said Pontswain. “How do we get there?”
    “I was hoping to accompany Lord Fergus to Kingsbay, riding the length of Corwell Road.” Tristan looked at the other lord, who watched the discussion impassively. “Can you furnish us with a boat to carry us across the Strait of Alaron?”
    Fergus nodded, his handlebar mustache bouncing. “It shall be my pleasure.”
    “Very well.” Tristan stood, followed by the others. “We shall leave for Kingsbay at first light.”
    Daryth and Tristan went to their quarters and gathered their belongings for the journey. Daryth carried his scimitar at his waist and concealed a pair of long knives in the sleeves of his cloak. Tristan wore the Sword of Cymrych Hugh and carried a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his saddle.
    They slept little that night, but dawn quickly called them from their restless beds. They went immediately to the stables, where Daryth selected his mount, a chestnut gelding, and Tristan saddled Avalon, the mighty stallion that had served him so nobly during the Darkwalker War.
    Lord Fergus and his son were already prepared, and even Pontswain arrived soon afterward. The young lord was dressed in a shining suitof plate mail and rode a proud charger of midnight black. In addition to his sword, Pontswain carried a long wooden lance.
    The only other member of the party was Tristan’s prized moorhound, Canthus. The great dog stood half as high as his master and weighed every bit as much. He was a keen hunter and steadfast companion who had received his training from Daryth.
    Fergus waited astride a great dappled mare, standing in the courtyard at first light. His son, Sean, rode a small stallion of the same colors. The young horse skittered nervously away from Avalon as Tristan, Daryth, and Canthus emerged from the stables.
    The great warhorse ignored the other stallion, moving into an easy trot as Tristan preceded the others from the castle gate. Canthus loped beside him as he gave the stallion his head. They cantered down the winding approach to the castle and turned toward the west upon Corwell Road. They would follow this, the kingdom’s one highway, across Corwell to the eastern port of Kingsbay.
    For most of the first morning they rode in easy silence, slowing their mounts to a walk after a short stretch. Fergus traveled beside the prince, trailing the rest of the party. Eventually the genial lord cleared his throat awkwardly.
    “You know, prince, I am reminded of tales I’ve heard of the early days of the Ffolk upon Gwynneth and the other Moonshae Islands. Gwynneth, as you and I well know, was the grandest of the isles back then—in the days before Callidyrr, I mean.” Fergus cast a glance at Tristan to be sure that he was listening. Satisfied, he continued, his great mustache bobbing up and down with each word.
    “I was not actually present at Freeman’s Down last summer. I did arrive at the castle in time to witness the siege and the rout of the Northmen.
    “Those were the grandest sights I’ve ever beheld! It made me proud to be a lord of the Ffolk! And I cannot help thinkin’ that it was you who brought those victories about.” Lord Fergus turned to meet Tristan’s gaze squarely.
    “What I’m trying to say is that perhaps we’re seeing a bit of that old glory return to Gwynneth now. You will be our king, and your reign will be good for Gwynneth, and for all the Ffolk. And I’ll be the prouder for havin’ served you,” Fergus concluded. He cleared his throatagain and looked awkwardly across the moor, away from Tristan.
    For a moment Tristan said nothing, but