The Warlock Rock

Chapter Eight

The forest thinned; the trees became fewer and more slender. The ground began to rise and, as the sun rose to mid-morning, the children found themselves in an upland moor. Wind tossed their hair, and the wide-open view lifted their hearts. "Oh!" Cordelia cried. "I could dance!"

"Please do not," Fess said quickly. Even here, strains of repetitive music rose from rocks all about them.

Magnus looked about, his brow furrowed. "I see no springs or ponds, Fess."

"You will find very few," the robot confirmed. "Open water is rare on a moor. When we do find some, we must fill waterskins."

"And if we do not?"

"Then we shall not turn back," Fess said, with decision, "until we do."

"Do we not chance fate, Fess?"

"With ordinary children, yes. But you can fly; when you begin to grow thirsty, we shall go aloft."

Cordelia swallowed. "I have thirst now."

"That is only because we have been discussing the issue, Cordelia."

"I might flit to the stream we camped by last night," Gregory suggested.

Fess lifted his head. "Of course! I continually fail to correlate the full range of your powers with current circumstances."

"Thou doth mean thou dost ever forget what we can do."

"Not 'forget,'" Fess demurred.

" Tis only that he doth not wish to acknowledge it," Geoffrey muttered to Magnus, but Big Brother shushed him.

Fess affected not to have heard. "Then there is little peril from thirst, since you can fetch water whenever you wish. However, there are bogs, children. Be careful to remain on the path; those patches of soft earth could swallow a child whole."

"Not with thee by us, Fess," Gregory piped.

"Yet Mama would be wroth at so much mud on thy clothes," Cordelia pointed out. "Mind thy steps, brother."

Gregory's lower lip jutted in a pout, but he followed as they set off up the path, two abreast, Geoffrey and Cordelia in the lead, Fess following behind.

They crested the top of a rise and found a huge boulder blocking the path. On top of it glowed a pair of girls' shoes, electric blue.

Cordelia let out a cry of delight and ran to the rocky pedestal. "Oh! They are so beauteous!" She caught up the slippers and held them up in the sunlight. "And so soft."

"Soft?" Gregory asked, wide-eyes. "Are they cloth, sister?"

"Nay, they are leather—but velvet to the touch."

"It is a leather-finish termed suede," Fess explained. "Cordelia! They are not yours!"

"Yet who else's could they be?" Cordelia kicked off her shoes and pushed her toes into the blue slippers. "Surely, if someone left them and went away, they must care not who takes them! And see, they are new from the last!"

"And also from the first." Magnus scowled. "Why do I mistrust them?"

A bass note thrummed especially loudly. Magnus jumped aside, and saw a new rock landing almost where he'd been. "A plague upon these noisy stones!"

"They are a plague." Then Gregory stared at his sister, wounded. "Cordelia! Not thee too!"

Cordelia's feet had begun to step lightly to the music of the rock, her body swaying. "Wherefore not? Ah, now I ken wherefore this music hath so strong a beat—'tis for dancing!"

"I have lost all stomach for the sport," Magnus declared, "since we have seen what others make of it. Give over, Delia! Let us be off!"

"There is no harm in dancing, Magnus," Fess told him. "Let her amuse herself for a few minutes; we assuredly have no pressing schedule."

Magnus looked up at him, startled, and gave the robot a glare that clearly accused him of treachery. Fess only watched Cordelia, though, immobile and patient as a block of iron.

" 'Tis more silly than aught I have seen," Geoffrey snorted, "to dance to strains that go DOO-DOO-DOO." He grunted along with the tune, hopping about in a crude parody of Cordelia's dance. She screeched in outrage. "Thou vile boy! Canst thou not see another's pleasure, without need to lessen it?"

" 'Ware, brother," Magnus cautioned. "Thou dost begin to step quite deftly."

"Oh, aye, and to trip the light fantastic," Geoffrey said, with withering sarcasm. But he forgot to grunt his musical burlesque, and went on dancing. Sure enough, his steps began to be rather neat and nimble, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Thou dost take as much pleasure in it as I," Cordelia gloated.

Geoffrey jerked to a halt, paling at the insult. "Never! 'Tis a girls' game, that!"

"You will find it pleasant enough when you are grown, Geoffrey," Fess assured him, "even as you will find the company of young women to be one of your greatest delights."

"I could wish not to grow, then!"

"Do not, I prithee," Gregory said quickly, "for wishes have an uncommon way of coming true—in Gramarye."

Geoffrey glowered, but he didn't answer.

"We have passed enough time," Fess said. "Come, Cordelia. Finish your dance; we must resume our journey."

"Oh, thou dost spoil the joy of it," Cordelia complained. "Naetheless, the sun grows low, and I shall go with thee."

"Well, then, come," Magnus repeated. "Cease thy dancing."

"Why, so I do!"

"Oh, dost thou!" Geoffrey grinned. "I could swear thou yet dost hop!"

"Assuredly, thou dost not truly believe thou hast stopped, Cordelia," Gregory added.

"Nay, I do not," Cordelia said, alarmed. "Yet I assure thee, brothers, I do strive to! Nay, be still, my beating feet!"

Fess lifted his head. "The shoes themselves continue to dance! They will not let her stop!"

"How can that be?" Gregory protested. "They are not living things!"

"Perhaps a living being is nearby, to animate them; perhaps they are alive, as much as any witch-moss construct is!"

"Shoes of witch-moss!" Magnus said, unbelieving. "Surely they could not endure!"

"They need last only a bit longer than Cordelia's strength, to do their wretched work," Gregory answered. "Come, throw all thy weight upon her toe! Hold still her foot!" And he leaped at Cordelia, both heels slamming down at her feet.

But the slippers skipped aside, even as Cordelia screeched, "Do not step on my blue suede shoes! I could not bear to have them spoiled!"

"Then I shall catch thy body!" Gregory threw his arms around her waist, just as a crow of victory split the moorland and a very large woman leaped out from behind the boulder, whirling a net over her head. Her skirts were full, her face was gaudy with rouge and powder, and her neckline scooped low enough to violate the laws of aesthetics. "Two at one catch!" she cackled. "Eh, I'll have much gold for them!" The net spun high, weights on its border spreading it wide as it swooped down to snare Cordelia, and Gregory with her. "A catch, a catch!" the woman cried, and waddled toward the mound of netting that thrashed and heaved, for Cordelia's body whipped in wild movements, the shoes still beating at the ground in their dance.

Cordelia screamed, and Gregory shouted, "Brothers, aid me!"

Magnus and Geoffrey dove in with a will, Magnus throwing his arms around Cordelia from behind in a bear hug, Geoffrey sailing in at the back of her knees in a perfect tackle. Cordelia slammed down, and Magnus fell with her, but her shoes kept striking about wildly, trying to continue their dance. Geoffrey struggled out from under and yanked at the slippers.

"Leave off! Leave off!" the harridan shrieked, swatting at him. " 'Tis my catch!"

"Nay, 'tis my sister!" Geoffrey whirled, scarlet with rage, unleashing a glare at the fat woman. She staggered back screeching, as though a football halfback had slammed into her, and Geoffrey's lip curled as he turned back and with a violent jerk pulled one of the slippers off.

"Ow!" Cordelia cried. "Gently, brother! 'Tis not a block of wood thou dost hold!"

"Pardon, sister, but there's small time for gentleness." Geoffrey yanked the other shoe off.

Another net swooped down around him, gathering all four of them into a churning mass, and the overblown woman howled with glee as she heaved at Magnus, rolling him over Cordelia into a hempen cocoon. "Wouldst thou strike at a woman, then? Vile, unmannered brats! I have thee now!"

"What art thou?" Magnus cried, finally ready for the next danger on the list; but the woman giggled, "Only a poor spinster, lad; and call me Arachne, for I've caught thee in my web!"

Geoffrey managed to draw his dagger with his left hand and started sawing at the ropes. Magnus realized he had to keep Arachne's attention. " 'Twas thou didst craft these shoes!"

"Nay! I may be wicked in my way, child, yet I'm not a witch! I found the shoes, hard by a music-rock. And well they've served me—for they held this little beauty till my net could settle over her!"

"And what wilt thou do with her?" Magnus tried to sound as though dread were hollowing him.

"Why, sell her, lad, for gold!" Arachne replied. "I know a fine gentleman, who dwells not far off within a cave, and who will come out this night to give me gold for her. I've sold him girls before, and I doubt not he will wish to have her. Nay, I wot that he may give me more gold for each of thee, though thou art lads!"

"Buy us?" Geoffrey protested, scandalized. "I shall not be a slave!"

"Nay, thou shalt!" Arachne crowed. "And thou shalt do whatever he doth wish thee to do! Now—wilt thou suffer thyselves to be bound and hobbled, and walk before me? Or must I knock a rock upon thy pate, and drag thee thither?"

"Strike me an thou canst!" Geoffrey cried, surging up out of a long rent in the net with his dagger stabbing out. Arachne shrieked and leaped back. Then she clamped her jaw and lifted a huge, knobby cane, swinging it up.

A great black horse seemed to rise up out of the ground behind her, rearing up.

Geoffrey grinned, and pointed over her shoulder. "Beware!"

"Dost thou think me a bairn, to be caught with so ancient a ruse?" Arachne spat, just before a steel hoof cracked into her head. A stunned look came over her face; then her eyes rolled up, and she slumped to the ground.

"Aye," Geoffrey answered her, then looked up at Fess. "Many thanks, old ruse. How ancient art thou?"

"Five hundred thirty-one years, ten months, three days, four hours, and fifty-one minutes, Geoffrey."

"Yet who doth count?" Magnus murmured as he fought his way loose of the net.

"Terran standard, of course," Fess added.

Geoffrey nudged Arachne with a toe. "Mayhap we should bind her?"

"Do, with her own net," Magnus agreed. Geoffrey nodded and knelt to start packaging the harridan while Magnus turned to peel the other net off Cordelia. She sat up with a shaky moan. "I thank thee, brothers. Tis long since I have been so frighted."

"She left the shoes as bait for her trap," Gregory informed her.

"I believe I might have guessed that, brother."

Geoffrey shrugged. "Guessed or not, thou wert snared."

"Oh, 'twas I alone, was't?"

"Your brothers were caught because they sought to aid you, Cordelia," Fess reminded her.

She hung her head. "Aye, I know. Oh, brothers! I was so afeard thou wouldst be trapped because of me!"

"Aye, yet 'twas we caught the trapper." Magnus squeezed her around the shoulders. "We could not allow her to harm our fair only sister, could we?"

"Nay!" Geoffrey's brows drew down, hiding his eyes. "None may touch thee whiles we live! For thou art our sister!"

"As thou art my brother." Cordelia leaped forward and caught Geoffrey in a bear hug, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. He shrank back with a cry of dismay, but she only beamed at him. "And none shall touch thee without my leave!"

If this boded ill for all their future courtships, Fess alone took note of it. However, he only said, "Perhaps it is time to rejoin your parents, children."

They whirled on him, dismayed, erupting into a chorus of frantic denials. "There is no danger, Fess!"

"We are more than equal to any peril!"

" 'Tis not even twilight yet!"

"We have not found the information we seek!"

"I would say we have found ample data," Fess contradicted. "We now need time to sift it, organize it, and deduce its implications."

'Ample, mayhap, yet not complete!" Gregory's chin jutted. "Wouldst thou have us build hypotheses when we've less than full evidence?"

Fess stood still and silent.

"And there is that other poor lass!" Cordelia said.

The robot-horse's head turned to her. "Which other juvenile female?"

"The one that Arachne hath already sold to the man in the cave! Are we to turn our backs upon her?"

"Nay!" Geoffrey cried. "We must free her!"

"There could be danger there, children," Fess said slowly.

"Pooh! From one mere man, 'gainst four witch-children? Yet an he doth prove more puissant than we expect, thou mayest step in and smite him!"

"Provided I do not have a seizure…"

"There's small enough chance of that," Magnus said quickly, ever alert for egos needing bolstering. "Yet there's smaller chance of need of thy strong hoof."

"An thou dost doubt," Gregory suggested, "ask Papa."

Fess heaved a burst of static. "Very well, I shall contact him." He turned toward the northeast, opening his mouth to form a parabolic dish, and shifted to radio frequency. Rod. Father Warlock—this is Fess. Tutor to progenitor—come in, Rod.

Receiving. Rod's signal was weak; the transmitter imbedded in his maxillary was broadcast, not directional.

We have encountered a potentially dangerous situation, Rod. It could imperil the children.

I doubt it, Rod answered. Still, it must be one hell of a situation, to give you pause.

No, only hooves.

Are you developing a sense of humor? If you are, I'll have to see about having it upgraded.

Certainly not. Purely coincidental, I assure you. Fess was suddenly aware of having been caught in an error, which caused a logic-loop almost equivalent to an emotion. It was simply a failure to distinguish between homonyms; I experienced a delay in interpreting contextual references. I assure you it will not happen again.

Oh, I don't mind. Just be a little more deft, will you?

Unwittingly, Rod had given Fess a directive. The robot's memory adjusted his program accordingly; Fess would now, obediently, make every pun he could—except the really bad ones, if he could distinguish them. Executed. Which is how you may wish to treat the woman the children have just vanquished.

Oh? Rod's voice tightened; Fess could almost hear the adrenaline shooting through his veins. What'd she do to them?

She trapped them, and intended to sell them to a man who lives in a cave.

Draw her and quarter her. Fury in Rod's voice, then sudden brooding. On the other hand, is there anything left to draw?

Oh yes, Rod. Your children have been well trained; they avoid serious injury whenever possible, and shy at the thought of killing. She is merely unconscious—and it was myself who struck the blow, not one of them.

As long as she's out of commission. So what's the danger?

The woman—Arachne, she calls herself-—has already sold at least one young girl to this man in the cave.

And the kids want to free her? Well, I can't really argue with that. Just make sure there's something left of the man for the bailiffs to bring in, will you?

I shall take every precaution, Rod. Fess sighed. You are not concerned for the children's safety, then?

What, with only one nut to crack? The only problem is that he might get mean enough so that they can't be gentle. If that happens, you knock him out first, okay?

As you say, Rod, Fess acknowledged reluctantly. Yet there is still the possibility that I might have a seizure before I could intervene.

Oh, all right! Rod sighed. I'll ask Gwen to call for a contingent of elves to shadow you, unobtrusively. Think that will be enough protection?

I had more in mind a command to rejoin you…

There was a pause. Fess suspected Rod was discussing the situation with Gwen. When he gave answer, it confirmed the notion.

No. Categorically. We can't insulate them completely from the world, Fess. If there's evil out there, they've got to learn something about it, firsthand.

Perhaps that experience should not be too vivid, Rod.

There's no reason to think it will be, from what you've said so far. Especially with you for protection, and a squad of Little People.

That should be adequate, Fess admitted, capitulating. I do not think they will be able to complete this mission before dark, though.

Of course they will, if they fly! Don't let 'em take too long with this slavemaster, okay?

Even as you say, Rod. Over and out.

Over and out. Good luck, Old Iron.

Fess turned to the children. "Your parents have no objection—they only ask that you exercise all due caution."

The children cheered.

"Where is the cave?" Geoffrey demanded.

"We must seek that from Arachne's mind," Gregory answered.

The topic of conversation moaned.

"She wakes." Geoffrey dropped to one knee beside the harridan, hand on his dagger. "Speak, monster! Give answer!"

"Not so roughly." Cordelia knelt by the woman's other side. " 'Tis flowers bring bees, not nettles."

"Then beware their stings," Geoffrey growled.

"I shall." Cordelia reached out to pat Arachne's cheek. "Waken, woman! We have questions for thee."

Arachne's eyelids fluttered, then cracked open, squinting painfully.

"Aye, thy head doth ache, doth it not?" Cordelia said, with sympathy. "Yet rejoice—thy pate's not broke, though 'twas a hard hoof that felled thee."

Arachne rolled her head to peer at the great black horse, who was cropping grass for appearance's sake. "Whence came that beast?"

"He was by us throughout. Thou wouldst have seen him an thou hadst paid heed," Geoffrey sneered.

Arachne turned her head to glare at him.

Behind her, Gregory said, "There is no sense of greater room within mine head, nor any sign that she doth hear our thoughts."

Arachne's gaze darted up; she craned her neck, trying to see. "What creature is that, which doth speak of hearing thoughts?"

" 'Tis but a small warlock," Cordelia soothed, "my brother."

"Thy brother!" Arachne stared, horrified. "Then thou art…"

"A witch." Cordelia nodded. "And thou, we find, art not. Whence, then, didst thou gain the dancing shoes?"

"I have told thee—I found them by a music-rock." White showed all around Arachne's eyes, and Geoffrey nodded, satisfied. She is too much affrighted to speak falsely.

She is terrified, Cordelia thought, rebuking; and aloud, "How didst thou learn their power?"

"Why, I put them on, and began to dance."

Cordelia glanced at Arachne's large feet. "How couldst thou pull on shoes so small?"

Arachne reddened, embarrassed, but Gregory said, "I doubt me not an they fit their size to the wearer."

Arachne's eyes rolled up again in fear.

Cordelia nodded. " 'Tis of a piece with their magic. Yet how didst thou take them off?"

"Why, I tired, and fell," Arachne said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"She hath not the endurance of youth, I wot," Geoffrey said grimly. "And thou didst then think to use them to trap maidens?"

"Well, young lasses, at least." The old woman frowned. "Such a one came by, donned the shoes, and capered right merrily. When she began to tire, I flung my net and caught her."

"Wherefore? Didst thou know this cave-dwelling gentleman already?"

"Aye, for I'd seen him about of nights, gaunt in the moonlight."

Cordelia wondered what the woman had been doing out in the woods at night.

Belike she did seek to learn magic, Magnus's thought answered her, and, failing, is the more in awe of we who have it.

The more sin that we are so young, Gregory agreed.

"And what had this proud gentleman done, to make thee think he would buy a girl?"

"Why, for that I saw him stalk a lass who dallied in a clearing, to meet a lover. He fell upon her and carried her away to his cave—and thus I learned where he dwelled."

Cordelia felt a chill envelop her back. What manner of man was this, who went out hunting maidens by night?

'Tis an evil one, certainly. Geoffrey's thoughts were grim. He will also be twisted and warped in his soul, I doubt not.

We must rid the forest of him, Magnus agreed.

"What did he to the lass?" Cordelia demanded.

"Naught of great harm that I could see," Arachne answered, "for I went to look the next day, and saw her sitting by the cave-mouth; yet she was drawn and pale."

"And did not seek to escape?" Magnus frowned.

"Nay—so he could not greatly have hurt her, could he?"

"Either that, or he hurt her vastly, yet in her soul, not her body," Magnus said gravely. "What, monster! Thou hast seen what he hath done, and yet thou didst sell a young lass to him?"

"Aye." Arachne's jaw jutted out. "For I saw no great harm, seest thou, and he paid me in gold."

"And gold is worth the vitality of a lass?" Geoffrey spat. "Nay, then! Let us sell thee to the headsman, and take gold for thy pate!"

Arachne's eyes widened in alarm.

"She doth know she hath done wrongly," Gregory pointed out.

"She doth that." Magnus frowned, bending over to glare down at the harridan. "Where lieth his cave, hag?"

"Why, to the west and north, hard by the dark pool before the cliffs," Arachne stammered, shaken by the look on Magnus's face. "Thou… thou wilt not seek him out?"

" 'Tis our affair," Geoffrey answered her, "as art thou still, I fear." He looked up at Magnus. "What shall we do with her, brother?"

Arachne cried out in alarm. "Assuredly thou wilt not hurt me!"

"Wherefore not?" Geoffrey retorted. "Wouldst thou have scrupled to hurt my sister?"

"I—I did not know she was a witch!"

"Which is to say, thou didst not know that she could hurt thee." Geoffrey turned away in disgust. "Whate'er we do, brother, 'twill not be excessive."

"Yet I scruple to hurt her," Magnus said slowly. "Are we to be no better than she, brother?"

Arachne went limp with relief.

"Shall we take her to the bailiff, then?" Gregory asked.

"Why, what evidence shall we offer of her misdeeds?" Geoffrey demanded.

"Only our word of what she hath said," Magnus said sadly, "and 'tis the word of young ones 'gainst that of a woman grown. Nay, we must seek other justice to which to hand her."

Arachne stiffened again, eyes widening.

Geoffrey frowned. "What justice can that be?"

"Why, that of the land itself." Magnus turned his head and called, "By Oak, Ash and Thorn! An thou canst hear me, proud Robin, please come!"

Arachne stared at him, her foreboding deepening; but Magnus only held his stance, frozen, waiting, and his siblings watched him in silence.

Then leaves parted, and Puck stepped forth. "Wherefore dost thou call me, Warlock's Child?"

"I cry thy justice upon this woman, Robin."

Puck's head swivelled around; he stared at the harridan. Then his eyes narrowed. "Aye, we have seen her aforetime, yet her offenses were never so great as she yearned for them to be. What hath she now done, that thou dost think her worth our concern?"

"She hath stolen a woman-child," Magnus answered, "and sold her for gold to a gentleman who doth dwell in a cave."

Puck's face turned to flint. "We know of him; 'tis a vampire." Slowly, he turned to Arachne. "And thou hast sold him a maiden?"

She looked into the elf's eyes, and screamed.