The Sorceress
The Second Tale From Carrock
Page 1 of 4
It was dark in the castle, but she didn’t care. This was a place of extreme power. Here the wizards, warlocks, witches, and sorceresses of ancient times had come to revive their strength. It was more than ten years since she’d taken the plunge from that window in Carrock. She stared around in the darkness and slowly sat up. Why had it taken her so long to pull out of the dream voyage? Was it the blackness that she could almost touch? She rose from the cold, hard altar of stone and clapped her hands. In an instant a strange blue light surrounded the four torches at the corners of the altar and then they burst into flame. She reached down and picked up a black robe that she’d dropped on the ground before starting her dream voyage. Now she wrapped it around her tall, slender form, almost vanishing into the folds. It had been days since she’d eaten last, but she knew where she could find food. She reached up, took one of the torches into her hand, and then left the large hall.
Up many steps and around many more bends she found the small room that she’d taken as her own. There she lit the candles in the large iron chandelier and opened the windows to welcome the coming night. They faced east and she looked very pale in the failing light of day. Her brown eyes had sunken into her still youthful face. Her once black hair was gray now, streaked with white, but she still looked more like thirty than her seventy-some years of age. She leaned one slender hand on the window sill and hungrily looked towards the east, towards the land of Carrock. That was where the object of her revenge lay. The Lord Dylan. He’d humiliated her when he banned her from Carrock with his father. He’d won over her and Alick in the Battle of the Wolf, forcing her to flee from the lands. Worst of all, he’d stolen the maiden Alisande from her power. That was something she would not — could not forgive.
“Revenge,” she hissed to herself. “Soon it will be mine.” Her plans were laid, her intrigues set. She’d found willing servants and there was only one more who would submit to her power. That one was the center of her scheme. It would — must work. She would have her revenge and perhaps she would also get something that she hadn’t considered before but now longed for with all her heart — the throne of Carrock.
Late afternoon was settling over the lands of Carrock. This was Dylan’s favorite time of the day, when most of his work of state was done and he could come out to the small meadow just below the castle and think. Often Kyle and Asha would come with him and play in the grass. He wished that Tabea would finally get well enough to come out here again. His brow furrowed as he thought of his beloved wife. It was a year since she’d caught the same strange illness that had killed his mother. The doctors were stumped and Savoy was away somewhere. The only thing that seemed to help was the cool, dark room in the tower. The lord was certain it was some kind of sorcery, but couldn’t put his finger on how he knew it. It was just a stirring of the power inside him that alerted him to that fact every time he entered the room. Who was behind this?
Still, she had been better today, praise the Word, and perhaps tomorrow he’d take her out to the meadow with the children. Then they could be together like before. He sighed to himself and remembered the night that Roanna had jumped out of the window. They’d never found the body and then, a few years ago, the rumors of someone having been seen on the pinnacles of Damrok, the castle of the sorcerers. She had to be alive and it was probably her fault that Tabea was dying. He remembered what his wife had told him about Roanna enchanting his father. It must have been Alick who sent the sickness on his mother. She’d just wasted away slowly for six years before dying. I don’t want Tabea to go through that, he thought. She was much younger than his mother had been and sometimes was almost well, but that lingering look in her eyes... He shook his head. No, she wouldn’t get well on her own, he knew that. There was a spell on her and perhaps Savoy could break it.
“Daddy, Daddy!” The calls of his daughter broke his melancholy reverie. Asha was charging up the slight hill, her brown hair flying in the wind, blue eyes shining with delight. She grabbed her father’s hands and pulled on them.
“Look, it’s Uncle Stev and Aunt Alisande,” she cried. He got to his feet and let her drag him across the grass to where the horses of his friends were standing. Alisande rose from embracing Kyle as he approached. Stev came forward and enthusiastically pumped the lord’s free hand.
“How are you, Dylan?” he asked with a laugh.
“I am quite well, but Tabea isn’t.”
“Yes, we heard,” Alisande chimed in, her pretty smile now vanishing. She reached out and hugged him gently.
“Thank you, little sister,” he said. She nodded, stepping back beside her husband.
“We found out when she first got it,” Stev explained, “but business kept me at Enfurt until now. Savoy was there for a short time, too, and he has agreed to come as soon as possible.” Dylan breathed a sigh of relief.
“So, he’s coming after all.”
“Is Mom going to get better?” Kyle butted in.
“I hope so, son,” his father answered, putting a hand on his golden-brown head.
“Well,” the lord prompted, finally coming out of his melancholy attitude, “you two have come a long way and it’s getting quite late. Supper is waiting for us at the castle and I’m quite certain that my dear wife will want to see you both.” With that the five of them turned and walked up the hill to the large citadell, the capital of Carrock.
For once the windows in Tabea’s room were open, letting the light evening breeze in. She sat up, staring at the moonrise. Her fingers lightly strummed the guitar in her hands. The tune was sad, just like her attitude. The fever had left her again and she was feeling better, but not strong. She hadn’t felt strong for about a year, ever since that sickness had started. It was headaches and bouts with fever, but worst of all it kept her weak, unable to go outside. She didn’t want to hear about the doctors anymore, all she wanted was Savoy to come and tell her the cure.
There was a light rapping on the door. She straightened, pushed one hand through her long, golden-brown hair and then called out.
“Come in!” It was Dylan.
“Hello, lady love,” he greeted her with a smile, sitting down beside her. “How are you feeling?” She put the instrument down on the floor.
“Better,” she sighed, “but not too well yet.” She searched his green eyes gently and could see that he was bearing the pain with her.
“Are you well enough to recieve guests?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Who?”
“You’ll see.” His smile was secretive.
“Well, if they’re not too wild, I think so.” Her husband nodded and went to open the door. First of all Kyle and Asha bounded in and jumped up on the wide bed, hugging and kissing their mother.
“Now, that’s enough, you two rascals,” she laughed. “If you jump on me too much, I won’t get up tomorrow!” The boy nodded and backed off, but the little girl curled up at her mother’s side. Then the beautiful lady of Carrock turned to see who had come in.
“Alisande! Stev!” she laughed with delight. Her glassy blue eyes flamed with joy and it seemed that she’d gotten a whole lot better in one instant. Her friends came over to the bed and greeted her happily. There was quite some chatting and finally the lady announced that she would be going to dinner tonight. At the mention of that all the men hurried out of the room to let Tabea rise and get dressed. Dylan smiled to himself. So all that his wife really needed was some dear company. Still, he wanted Savoy to take a look at her. The Scholar was the only one who would really know what to do.
He walked down the stairs and out into the small center courtyard. He looked around and sniffed the fresh scent of flowers. He did not notice a bent figure sitting on the ground behind him. He left the courtyard and the figure rose silently. It was a very old woman it seemed, bent and battered, dressed in multi-colored rags. She looked towards the tower where she knew the lady of the castle was. She smiled and displayed two rows of white, perfectly even teeth — the teeth of a young woman. Let Tabea be well for the next few days. She would fall ill again soon enough — when the plan began to work!
Alisande decided that it was time to take a walk and think things over. She’d been away from Carrock far too long, on business. But after all, what is the grand ambassador of Carrock supposed to do? And she was the wife of this ambassador, whose only job was to go from place to place and represent the Lord Dylan when he was unable to leave the castle. Oh, how she longed just to go home to Stev Pulleny’s farm that was now run by Prisca and her husband.
She’d enjoyed the evening at the castle, eating and laughing with Tabea, who had retired quite early, her face suddenly very pale again. Dylan explained that this was the first time in weeks that his wife had been out of her chamber. This shocked Alisande. She didn’t know her sister-in-law was so sick!
“I wish I could help her somehow,” she mumbled to herself, sitting down on a low marble bench. She put her hands over her face and suddenly wanted to be a little girl again. Maybe then she could have a quiet cry and just let her emotions run free.
“Can I help you child?” came a crackling old voice from beside her. She looked up to see a bent old woman looking at her kindly — or was she scrutinizing her?
“I don’t think so,” the younger woman answered sadly. “No one has been able to help Tabea and I don’t think you can either.”
“Oh, yes I can!” the hag said with a laugh. “I have more power than you think, but first you must help me.” Alisande suddenly became wary, straightening and sliding herself away from the hunched over figure.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “And what do you want from me?” The old woman just smiled.
“I am someone that can help you, but before I reveal my name, you have to trust me fully.” Her brown eyes cut into the other’s, as if willing her to answer.
“All right, I’ll trust you.” Alisande was shocked that she’d said it. She didn’t mean it, did she?
“Very well, child, but you must never tell anyone.” Suddenly she straighened, her rags transforming into billowing black robes. She threw the hood back and let her gray and white hair fall to her shoulders. The wrinkled face smoothed and became proud. Very little revealed her actual age. The younger woman recognized her instantly and leaped to her feet.
“Roanna!”
“It’s Lady Roanna to you,” the sorceress corrected with a smirk. “Listen, Alisande, only I can heal the Lady Tabea now, but I need your help.”
“No, I won’t help you, ever,” the other screamed. “I’m going to call the guards.” One of the fine hands closed around her wrist like a vise.
“You won’t do any such thing,” Roanna warned. “You now know who I am and I won’t let you go. You are in my power now, Alisande. But think of the prize that is waiting for your subordinance — the healing of the Lady. Wouldn’t you want that?” The golden head nodded slowly, against her will.
“Very well, then you will serve me!”
“No, I won’t.” Again she tried to squirm away from the iron grip of the sorceress, but she merely grabbed the younger woman’s other hand, her eyes boring into the fearful gray ones. There was a pause and suddenly Alisande relaxed.
“You will serve me.” Her voice was quiet and seductive. The other woman’s lips quivered.
“I will serve you,” she finally answered.
“Good child,” Roanna laughed, letting go of her arms and taking her head into her hands. She gently placed a kiss on Alisande’s forehead. For an instant it seemed to the younger woman that she was in a tunnel, everything around her was darkening and something was getting into her — it was like Roanna was in there, under her skin. She struggled weakly against the overpowering force, but to no avail. Suddenly all was black.
When she came to she was sitting on the bench. Deep night had fallen already. She stood up and slowly walked toward the entrance to the living quarters. Her wrists ached and she felt like her forehead was burning, but she couldn’t tell why. Slowly, mechanically she climbed the steps to her room. What had happened to her? Her last memory was leaving the supper table to take a walk in the inner courtyard. That was shortly after sunset. Now the stars were clear and bright and the moon had reached its zenith. What had happened between now and then? She could not remember... It was an uncomfortable feeling. She slowly opened the door to her room. Stev was sitting in a chair by the fire, calmly waiting. The instant he saw her, he rose.
“Alisande, are you all right?” he asked, noticing that her face was pale. She came closer to him, her lower lip quivvering.
“I don’t know, love,” she sobbed. Something is wrong with her eyes, he thought. They were strangely glassy and cloudy and there was something like a red mark on her forehead. It reminded him of a bee sting. He brushed at it, but it was just a coloration of the skin. He gently gathered her in his arms.
“I’ve been waiting for you, dear wife,” he told her. “I’ve wondered where you’ve been. I was about to come look for you.”
“I’m here now,” her voice sounded content and yet fearful.
“What’s wrong?” She shook in his arms, pressing her head against his chest like a frightened child.
“I don’t know, I’m just so scared, Stev. Something happened, but I can’t remember what it was. I’m so scared.”
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “you’re safe now. Nothing can happen to you while I’m here.” She looked into his grave face. She could see his love for her in his eyes and gladly acknowledged it. He would protect her from whatever it was that scared her so much.
For the first time in months, Dylan decided to venture down to Will’s tavern. He knew that he was always welcome there, for the people loved him dearly. Usually he’d take Tabea along, but her sickness kept him from doing so tonight. Three nights ago Stev and Alisande had arrived. Now his foster sister was acting strangely, he’d noticed, peering around dark corners, looking for someone. That red mark on her forehead had faded slightly, but the more it did, the more uneasy she became. He thought about talking with his wife about it, but, no, it would just worry her and she would get even more sick. He remembered his talk with Stev the night before...
...The lord slowly ran one hand through his thick, reddish beard, staring at the large map over the fireplace. He was wondering about Roanna again. Where was she? Sometimes he thought he could sense the presence of a dark force in his castle, especially near Alick’s room. He’d seen an old hag hobble across the front courtyard the day that Stev returned. He hadn’t thought of it at that moment, but now he realized that he’d never seen her here before. Who was she and what did she want here? A quiet knocking cut through his reverie.
“Come in!” he called quietly. The door opened to reveal a very worried Stev Pulleny.
“Good evening, ambassador,” the lord greeted him warmly.
“Good evening, m’lord,” the sandy-haired man returned. He paused for a moment to close the door and then walked up to the fire-place.
“Dylan, I’m worried about Alisande.” The tone of his voice made his friend realize that this was very important indeed.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked, his brow furrowing.
“She’s been so detatched, ever since the first evening we arrived. She came back to our room near midnight, confused and scared. She said she couldn’t remember what had happened to her that evening.” The lord’s face became even more pensive. “I comforted her and she seemed okay the next morning, but I’m still very worried. I haven’t let her out of my sight since then. Right now she’s with Tabea and the children. I told her to wait there until I came to get her. It seems to me that she’s very mixed up, Dylan, perhaps enchanted.”
“There’s too much of that going on around here for comfort,” the lord snapped, turning back to the map. “I’ll talk with her tomorrow”...
...And that he had, coming away just as puzzled and worried about it as Stev was. There had been a slight stirring inside him, like a warning, when he’d first entered the room, but she seemed all right, just confused and scared. She’d clung to him like a child would to her father or older brother and confessed that she didn’t know what happened. And I promised to help her, he remembered. The only way to do that now is to get an inside scoop on the gossip at Will’s. Yes, that was still the place to find out what the people were really thinking and that was why he had been there so often since he took the throne of Carrock again. There it was in front of him now. It had been repaired and enlarged in the last ten years, some of the money from subventions by the grateful lord himself. For that reason his first mug of ale or goblet of wine of the evening was always “on the house.”
The warm air of the communal room washed over him as he opened the great doors. He took a deep breath of the smell of tobacco, ale, and food, just glad to be here again. Will was behind the long bar and now squinted in his direction. Suddenly he recognized the tall, powerful figure.
“M’lord Dylan!” he cried joyfully, waddling out from behind the counter. “It’s a pleasure to have you here again!” He came and bowed low before his ruler. Dylan raised him up and took his meaty hand.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Will?” he returned with a bit of melancholy. The round face of the bartender glowed with joy and satisfaction at seeing the lord of Carrock.
“Yes, m’lord, but now you’re here again.” He turned and escorted Dylan to the long bar, where several men reverently made room for him. More than half the people there hadn’t noticed his arrival, which was fine with him. After all, he’d been sequestered away in his castle for the last eight months, caring for his sick wife. He’d grown his beard during that time and few recognized their lord in his plain clothing. The pudgy bartender placed a big mug of frothy ale in front of Dylan and smiled away, his bald head fairly shining with delight.
“How’s m’lady?” he inquired.
“Not much better, Will, but I’ve seen some strange things at the castle and heard some even stranger. I wanted to know what the people are saying.” His old friend nodded gravely.
“There’s not much good being said, m’lord,” one of the men sitting next to him explained sadly. “Word has it that the lady is sick because of sorcery.” Will leaned on the bar.
“Word even has it that a sorceress is abroad.” Dylan raised his eyebrows. The innkeeper nodded solemnly and began his tale.
“Michael Dubris, the one who married Prisca Pulleny, told me about it just this morning. Four days ago an old woman came to his farm, looking for Alisande Pulleny. She said she was a far-off aunt or something like that and had something to give the girl before she died. Prisca believed it all right, you know how she is — hardly out of her teens and ready to believe anything anyone says, but Michael tried to probe deeper, asking the old woman’s name.
“‘What’s that to you?’ she snapped at him and gave him a very queer look. She then said something very wierd.
“‘The lady won’t get well until the children have returned to their rightful guardian.’ And then she just vanished into thin air — poof! She must have been some kind of witch or something. Say, are you all right, m’lord?” Dylan had gone quite pale throughout the story.
“There must be more, Will, more about the old hag.”
“There is indeed, sir,” his neighbor agreed. “Two nights ago an old woman came and asked for lodging in my barn. I granted it to her gladly, but found that I’d forgotten to give her a blanket. I went back with one after she’d gone in and laid wanted to knock on the door. For some reason I didn’t. I just opened a small hole that I’d made as a child and looked into the barn. As I did I saw the old woman straighten up and become a tall and beautiful lady.” The lord grabbed the farmer’s arm.
“Describe her!” he ordered urgently.
“Well, she was about as tall as I am and had long, gray hair that looked a bit white in places. Her face was very young, but her eyes were quite sunken in her face. She was dressed in wide black robes.”
“And then?”
“Well, I straightened up, afraid to go in, but decided I’d bring her the blanket anyway. So I knocked on the door and a few moments later the old hag opened it and rudely took the blanket from me. This morning she was gone and one of my sheep was dead, missing part of a side. It was like someone had carved himself a good chunk from it while it was still alive.” He shook his head. “Poor beast.”
“I’ll say,” Dylan returned. “I think we are about to solve this mystery. I have a bad hunch that I know that beautiful woman you described.” He gazed at the men around him for a long moment.
“I also have a story to tell you, my friends, and I want to know what you think about it.” With that he quickly recounted what had happened to Alisande three nights before. There was quiet muttering from the four men listening before the farmer ventured to speak again.
“Did you see an old woman around the castle at all, m’lord?” he asked.
“Why, yes, that same day, in the early afternoon, before I went out with my kids.”
“Perhaps she’s behind this. Could she be the sorceress?” The lord rubbed one hand through his heavy beard.
“It might well be.” He drained the rest of his ale and looked around at the men. “Very well, my friends, I would like to ask you to keep a watch out for this woman. Tell Will as soon as you see her and he’ll contact me. I’ve got to return to the castle.”
“But not alone, I hope,” one of the men said, his dark eyes sparkling.
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be in any danger,” the lord returned truthfully.
“Would you mind if I go along, Lord Dylan?” There was something in his voice, a soft intonation that the nobleman had missed for such a long time, then it came back to him, the brown face and black hair, the small moustache and goatee — Savoy. He nodded in recognition.
“By all means, sir,” he answered with a laugh. The Scholar rose from his place and tapped a slender young woman sitting beside him on the shoulder.
“Come, Lora, we’re going with his highness.” Dylan took one moment to admire the beautiful being that the little girl had become. He remembered carrying her back to Wiston through the darkness as a five or six-year-old.
“You really have grown, fair maiden,” he remarked with a laugh. She smiled, her bronze face shining and full lips revealing a set of even teeth. Her eyes were hazle and long hair, dark as the night, was pinned up. She wore pants and a tunic and held a light cloak in one hand. The only jewelry she had were two silver earrings that nearly touched her shoulders. To Dylan she was the epitome of the beauty of the southern lands.
“Shall we go?” her father asked and the lord nodded. Now some of his problems would be over — hopefully.
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