The Penwyth Curse (Medieval Song 6)

Bishop just shook his head. “It doesn’t look like the billowing clouds anymore, but it doesn’t matter. I still can’t see through it.”

Merryn looked hard, but she couldn’t see through it either.

Suddenly they saw something whirling in the middle of the light, something that was going round and round so fast they couldn’t make out what it was. But it was small; the brilliant light held it. They watched it hit against the light again and again, but it couldn’t free itself.

“It’s a prison of light,” Merryn said. “What is being held in that light, Bishop?”

“I believe you’re right, but I don’t know what is in that light.” He reached for his wand.

They heard a voice scream, “NO!”

31

Sometime Else

“THIS ISN’T GOOD,” THE prince said, staring thro

ugh the water into Brecia’s eyes.

“We have the cask. We will figure out how to get out of this well.”

They drew their wands from their sleeves and pointed them directly overhead. The prince said, “Dranore narbus.”

The water trembled about them, bubbled wildly, then settled. Nothing had happened. They weren’t free.

“I wonder if this will be more difficult than Mawdoor’s damned bubble,” the prince said.

Brecia remembered her burning fingers and said, “I hope not. We must think about this, prince.” She sat down at the bottom of the well. She said a few words beneath her breath, and both she and the prince looked like themselves again. In that instant she knew the answer. She smiled up at him. “I know,” she said. “I know what to do. Don’t worry.”

She billowed her cloak out about her, wrapped her arms around her bent legs, pressed her cheek against her knee, and held on tightly. She chanted softly, so softly the prince couldn’t hear her. Time passed. She chanted until the water seemed to flow along with the cadence of her chant. Suddenly she was gone. She’d told him not to worry, damn her witch’s powers. Where had she gone? Then he knew.

“Ah, Brecia. Is it you?”

“My lord Mawdoor. Thank you for bringing me up from the well bottom. I knew that if I spoke directly to you, you would release me.”

“It was a difficult decision,” Mawdoor said, looking her up and down. “By all the new gods whose power I spit upon, you made yourself into a powerfully ugly old crone. That gives a wizard pause.”

“I thought the narrow head was a nice touch.”

“It was. I freely admit it. It convinced me not to look beyond that small bit of magic I felt coming from the two of you. The magic was distant, weak, no real power in it at all. Now I have you. Was that not a well-executed trap?”

“Aye, the cask at the bottom of the well—that was very well done of you, Mawdoor. And the key was gone. Do you have it?” He only frowned at her. She hoped he had the key. She knew that Mawdoor didn’t realize he hadn’t been what brought her out of the well. She’d sent out the thought and he’d snapped it up.

He nodded, smiling. “The prince will remain at the bottom of that well until time itself ceases to go forward and the earth stalls and withers beneath the heavens. The bands of magic that hold him cannot be severed, no matter how strong the wizard. He will spend all of eternity stroking that damned cask. To be in a well with a demon’s chest—it’s a dreadful thing. It is a quite perfect punishment for the damned wizard. Forget the key.”

Brecia said, “I thought you had made the decision to keep the demon cask with you. Does that not mean that you must bear the responsibility of it?”

Mawdoor shrugged. “I suppose the ghosts told you of this. They seem to thrive on tales of lost caskets and magic keys that unlock the secrets to the universe. As to the cask and my responsibility to it, we will see. But the prince will stay there until the day of doom, if such a day ever comes.”

Brecia tapped her foot up and down, and stroked her chin with her fingertips. “That makes no sense, Mawdoor. You have me now. Why would you want to kill the prince?”

Mawdoor became a foot taller, towering over her. “The prince must die. I’ve always wanted him gone from this earth. He had you, didn’t he? He was your first lover, wasn’t he?”

Slowly, she nodded. “Aye, he was my first.”

Mawdoor brought himself back his normal height again. He looked down at his boots for a moment, then said, “I have heard it said that the prince makes his women do unnatural things.”

For the moment, she forgot her fear and her plans and perked up. “Hmmm. What sorts of unnatural things?”