The Warlock Rock by Christopher Stasheff Page A
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantastic fiction, Rock Music, Gallowglass; Rod (Fictitious character)
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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."
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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.
Chapter Nine
For Rod and Gwen, it had been a slow journey, since they had to wait for the rocks to absorb enough witch-moss to split. A few times they cheated by rolling a fragment of stone into the nearest patch of the fungus. The children were well out of sight before they had gone more than a hundred yards. So the sun was setting as they backtracked a flying stone out of a small woodlot into a meadow. Before them, dimly seen in the dusk, another line of trees loomed.
"We must give the poor wee thing a chance." Gwen nudged the stone toward a crop of grass webbed with fungus.
But Rod heard a sound, and turned back to look. "Gwen…"
"Aye, milord?"
"We're, uh… being followed."
Gwen turned to look, and stifled a shriek.
It was at least as big as a pony, but it had a long, bushy tail and a shaggy gray coat.
"Grandma, what big teeth you have," Rod murmured.
It was a wolf, dancing toward them on pads the size of platters.
"Fight, or fly?" Gwen readied her broomstick—as a quarterstaff.
"Go, but I think we can stay on the ground." Rod nodded at the huge beast. "It can't go very fast, that way."
The wolf's paws were weaving in the steps of an intricate dance. It was surprisingly graceful, but it took two steps backward for every three forward.
"True," Gwen agreed. "Let us move toward the far wood, my lord, for there may we entrap it, if we see need."
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"Good point." Rod moved with her, with quick glances back over his shoulder. "Uh… it's not working." Gwen turned to look, and saw that the wolf had speeded up its dance. It was stepping closer to them with every measure. "Let us walk as swiftly as we may—the wood is better for us."
"Anything you say." Rod was beginning to feel the old, atavistic dread of teeth that go clash
" '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."
Page 63
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
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.
Chapter Nine
For Rod and Gwen, it had been a slow journey, since they had to wait for the rocks to absorb enough witch-moss to split. A few times they cheated by rolling a fragment of stone into the nearest patch of the fungus. The children were well out of sight before they had gone more than a hundred yards. So the sun was setting as they backtracked a flying stone out of a small woodlot into a meadow. Before them, dimly seen in the dusk, another line of trees loomed.
"We must give the poor wee thing a chance." Gwen nudged the stone toward a crop of grass webbed with fungus.
But Rod heard a sound, and turned back to look. "Gwen…"
"Aye, milord?"
"We're, uh… being followed."
Gwen turned to look, and stifled a shriek.
It was at least as big as a pony, but it had a long, bushy tail and a shaggy gray coat.
"Grandma, what big teeth you have," Rod murmured.
It was a wolf, dancing toward them on pads the size of platters.
"Fight, or fly?" Gwen readied her broomstick—as a quarterstaff.
"Go, but I think we can stay on the ground." Rod nodded at the huge beast. "It can't go very fast, that way."
The wolf's paws were weaving in the steps of an intricate dance. It was surprisingly graceful, but it took two steps backward for every three forward.
"True," Gwen agreed. "Let us move toward the far wood, my lord, for there may we entrap it, if we see need."
Page 64
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Good point." Rod moved with her, with quick glances back over his shoulder. "Uh… it's not working." Gwen turned to look, and saw that the wolf had speeded up its dance. It was stepping closer to them with every measure. "Let us walk as swiftly as we may—the wood is better for us."
"Anything you say." Rod was beginning to feel the old, atavistic dread of teeth that go clash
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