“The frost that covered the fields wasn’t the only reason,” the young man began in an uncertain tone.
“Not the only reason?” Manfred clenched his fists so white his knuckles and Leroy was not unreasonably afraid that the next heavy object the monarch encountered would strike him. The king was now so enraged that one could have no doubt that if necessary he would remove the heavy crown from his head and use it as an instrument of punishment, and yet Leroy took the liberty to continue.
“The thin ice is too slippery for our horses and lancers. And it can’t even be melted by visible warming and fires. Sometimes there seems to be something under the ice…” he paused to explain in words what he’d recently seen himself. It seemed to defy any explanation. Neither the sounds, nor the voices, nor the movements of the tiny bodies beneath the ice could be described in words, much less convinced that this was not nonsense, but Manfred seemed to understand and nodded.
“Go on!”
Courageously the young man took a step forward. His hands were trembling and he clasped them in front of him. Even on the battlefield, in the midst of the carnage, he did not feel as helpless as he did here. On the contrary, there he was in his place. Physical strength was all that mattered in battle, but here a single word from the king was enough to make him lose his head. Leroy had already imagined the execution order and the executioner’s axe. He decided to be honest before he died. There was nothing left to lose anyway.
“The local villagers swore they saw someone in the fields, some who were more courageous, who had been near the battlefield, swore they had observed corpses cowering or some creatures near the corpses. Of course, we executed the witnesses as looters, but the rumors didn’t stop. They say someone is knocking on peasants’ houses at night, trampling and burning crops, even eating corpses in cemeteries and battlefields. We didn’t believe it, of course, but at night when we decided to go out again we did see…” he swallowed hard, not knowing how to describe it. “It was a whole field of these creatures. There were black creatures. And they really do eat corpses.”
“Did they threaten you?” Manfred tensed.
“It was not in words,” the young man admitted honestly. He really couldn’t hear the words, only the clucking and writhing, like all his companions in general. “It wasn’t the speech either, but their looks, their movements. It was hard not to understand their intentions. They wait for us, every time we are about to approach the mountain range. They won’t let us into Menuel’s territory.”
“Can’t you fight them because of the ice?” One of the counselors grinned, but Manfred signaled him to be quiet.
“Where is the warrior who helped you to win the first victory?” He asked. “Where has he gone? Why is he not with you now, though he was at your side in the first battle? They say he never leaves those he fights for. He brings victory.”
Leroy didn’t know what to answer and nervously studied the floor with his gaze. The king was close to the truth. The first time it really was. But then they began to be haunted by bad luck. It was after the incomparable warrior disappeared.
“No one knows where he is,” the young man finally muttered, already sensing that another outburst of royal wrath was about to follow. “He disappeared just after he helped us gain the upper hand. He’s elusive. He comes and goes as he pleases. And it is impossible to find him again.”
“It is not impossible,” Manfred bellowed, and then another of his cries echoed sharply through the hall. The walls of the palace seemed to tremble. “Douglas!”
There was no need for such a cry. The young warlock, dressed as a raven in black, strode out from behind the throng.
He wanted to bow politely, but then realized that was unnecessary. Manfred was quite out of breath. He beckoned his extraordinary pet to him.
“Think of something.”
Douglas shuddered; never before had the king made such a request of him in front of witnesses. After all, everyone would have subtly realized that it was a matter of forbidden techniques, or rather of witchcraft. But now no rules of court etiquette mattered. Douglas only straightened the black lace sting that suddenly tightened around his throat like a noose, and nodded courteously. There was nothing he could do.
“Sire, I…” He did not know how to confess at once, and so he hesitated. There was something he had to explain before there could be any unnecessary misunderstanding. “Sometimes even I am powerless.”
“Are you?” Manfred glared at him in a fit of anger. “You dare to shirk your responsibilities.”
Well, now, now everyone pretended not to notice him. Who didn’t know or guess what those duties were. Douglas felt like he was in a circle of enemies. To think there were only crows around, though the only one dressed like a black raven here was him. His rivals in the dark robes of stargazers and astrologers seemed to be hiding venomous grins. Douglas looked for Conrad, the only one he could count on for support, but there was no one in the hall. Pity, he would have done anything foolish to regain his hold on Rhianon. Even defend the outcast and the magician. And getting into another argument with his father would cost him nothing at all. Then Douglas would have a chance to retreat. Now he felt hunted. No one was looking in his direction, but everyone’s exaggerated attention was focused on him. And that made him feel out of place.
He wished he could hide in his tower again, but no, the king was waiting for him to answer.
“There are some things too terrible to pay…” Douglas muttered only to say something, though in general he was not far off the truth.
It didn’t frighten the horny Manfred out of his mind.
“Call this warrior to me. Let him fight at my side again and lead my warriors.”
“But sire,” Hermion, the chief advisor, who was standing almost behind his suzerain, cautiously reminded him. “Everyone knows it cannot be done.”
“I don’t care what can’t be done,” Manfred roared. “I am King, you must obey me.”
True, it was more of an appeal to the contrary, but Douglas bowed low to testify again to his deference and obedience.
“He’s elusive, my lord,” the magician whispered. “And besides, you know… I have reason to believe he’s a lord, too. His domain is somewhat larger than Loretta’s.”
“So why is he fighting?” The king was still furious.
“Dare I remind you that he never demands a reward for his labors,” Douglas muttered.
“But he does,” Manfred clenched his fists. That already seemed sufficient reasoning for him. “He exists, and therefore he can be summoned…”
“In your armies, sire, I have it in mind,” Douglas bowed again in a courteous bow. He was about to touch the floor with his forehead. He liked that less and less.
“Perhaps he’d make a better general than that fool Moren,” the King said thoughtfully. If the appointments could be changed, he would certainly change them in favor of the former. The nameless warrior would be his emblem, his personal symbol of invincibility.
“Find him, even if it’s in hell itself,” the king shouted, letting Douglas go. “Go, I don’t care where or how you find him or how much he’s involved. Even if you have to go down into the fires of hell, you will bring me from there the one I want and persuade him to lead my troops.”
Douglas understood, so he bowed quickly and hurried out of the hall as quickly as he could. The indifferent glances that lingered on him seemed to burn his back. This