The Warlock Enraged-Warlock 4 by Christopher Stasheff Page B

been happening while you were, uh... while you 'slept.'" He turned to Grathum. "Release him—he's on our side again." And he turned back to Gwen, just in time to see the children, as a team, wake the last soldier, while Gwen supervised closely. "Gently, Magnus, gently—his mind sleeps. And Geoffrey, move slowly—nay, pull back! Retreat! If thou dost wake him too quickly, thou'lt risk driving him back into the depths of his own mind, in shock of his waking so far from his bed."
    The soldier in question blinked painfully, then levered himself up on one elbow. He looked down and stared at his bound wrists. Then he looked up, wildly—but even as he began to struggle up, his eyes lost their wildness. In a few seconds, he sank back onto one elbow, breathing deeply.
    "Well done, my daughter," Gwen murmured approvingly.
    "Thou didst soothe him most aptly."
    Rod watched the man growing calmer. Finally, he looked about him, wide-eyed. His gaze anchored on Gwen, then took in the children—then, slowly, tilted up toward Rod.
    "All are awake now, husband, and ready." Gwen's voice was low. "Tell them thy condition, and thy name."
    "I am named Rod Gallowglass, and I am the High Warlock of this Isle of Gramarye." Rod tried to match Gwen's pitch and tone. "Beside me is my lady, Gwendylon, and my children. They have just broken an evil and vile spell that held you in thrall." He waited, glancing from face to face, letting them take it in and adjust to it. When he thought they'd managed, he went on. "You have been 'asleep' for three days, and during that time, you have fought as soldiers in the army of the Lord Sorcerer, Alfar."
    They stared at him, appalled. Then they all began to fire questions, one after another, barking demands, almost howling in disbelief. They were building toward hysteria. It had to be stopped. Rod held up his hands, and bellowed, "Silence!" 46 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK ENRAGED 47
    The soldiers fell silent, as military discipline dug its hooks into their synapses. But they were primed, and ready to explode, so Rod spoke quickly. "What you did during those days was not truly your doing—it was the 'Lord'
    Sorcerer's and his minions. They used your bodies—and parts of your minds." He saw the look that washed over the soldiers' faces, and agreed, "Yes. It was foul. But remember that what you did was their crime, not yours; there is no fault of yours in it, and you cannot rightly be blamed for it." He saw their foreboding. Well, good—at least they'd be braced, when Grathum and his peasants told them what had been happening. He glanced from face to face again, holding each set of eyes for a moment, then breathed, "But you can seek justice."
    Every eye locked onto him.
    "You have pursued these goodfolk, here..." Rod jerked his head toward the peasants. "... southward. You have passed the border of Romanov, and are come into Earl Tudor's land. Wend your way on to the South, now, with the folk you did chase—only now, be their protectors." He saw resolve firm the soldiers' faces.
    Rod nodded with satisfaction. Southward you go, all in one body, to King Tuan at Runny mede. Kneel to him there, and say the High Warlock bade you come. Then tell him your tale, from beginning to end, even as Gavin Arlinson has told it to me. He will hear you, and shelter you—and, if you wish it, I doubt not he will take you into his army, so that, when he marches North against this tyrant sorcerer, you may help in tearing him down."
    Rod glanced from face to face again. He hadn't said anything about guilt or expiation, but he could see remorse turn into fanaticism in their expressions. He turned to Grathum. "We can trust them. Strike off their bonds." Grathum eyed him uncertainly, but moved to obey. Rod felt a tug at his belt, and looked down.
    "Papa," said Gregory, "will the guards allow them to speak to the King?"
    "I'll have to see if I can get you a job as my memory." Rod turned away to fumble in Fess's pack, mumbling, "We did