forsaken all forms of warfare, he has been a mighty force in the battles and enchanted history of those lands.”
“You refer to the legendary Merlin?” Penda frowned.
“Yes,” replied Elelendise. “Known as the long magus because of his great height.”
“Why has he forsaken all forms of warfare?”
“When, fifty years ago, he was the famed counselor to King Arthur of Camelot - who, as you know, was a relative of Oswald, whom we have defeated here today - Merlin became disillusioned with the perpetuation of continuous killing in the name of war.”
“But legend has it that Arthur only embarked upon a campaign when the prophecies of Merlin so declared it,” said Penda with a furrowed brow.
“That is so, my lord. The Grail King fought twelve successive battles on the advice of Merlin, but somewhere along that bloodthirsty trail the long magus had a change of heart and began to turn away from warfare.”
Penda looked at her carefully. “I hope that you are not likely to have such a change of heart. Our Saxon cause needs your prophecies undivided by any considerations of pity or vulgarian subversion.”
Elelendise smiled. “Worry not, my lord. All the astoundments at my command are in your service for as long as you need them. Have I not demonstrated my complete loyalty to your Saxon Christian cause?”
“You have, particularly here on this field of battle. Tell me, does Merlin have the power or the will left to disrupt our invasion of Wessex?”
She thought for a while. “I think not. He is old and weary, although he will probably be teaching a replacement who could have a different view on the matter.”
“What do you suggest?” asked the Saxon king.
Elelendise caressed the long, coarse white fur on Lupa’s neck, causing the wolf to whine and push against her hand in pleasure.
“Lupa and I will go there and entreat forcibly with him. Goad and push at his aged venefical pride to see if there is anything left that would cause him to use the enchantments to impede our progress.”
“And if he does?”
“We will ensure his immediate incarceration under his destiny stone.”
“You have the power to extinguish the mighty Merlin’s flame?” asked Penda with incredulity.
“I have the power to extinguish the inferno of Hades itself,” she replied softly.
“And his venefical replacement?”
“When I was there one year ago he did not have one. If he has one now he has not had the time to pass on anything of consequence. The replacement will be a novice in the enchantments - one year is not enough. I sat at the feet of Mael for fifteen years in order to learn how to command the phenomena of great sorcery.”
Penda pondered for a moment.
“Then go and goad the long magus. We will rest here until your return. If you are not back within three days we will begin the march toward Wessex. In the meantime,” he turned to his equerry, “send a strongly armed detail to the north for my wife and daughter. I have need of their company, and they shall join us in Wessex.”
“Immediately, my lord.” The equerry hurried away to carry out the order.
As Elelendise strode purposefully through the still-warm blood of the battlefield with the ever-vigilant Lupa locked to her side, a flock of silent night-black rooks swooped low over the bloody battlefield and landed on the top of the nearby hill. A broadsword flashed in the still morning air of the Marches, and the severed head of the former King Oswald thudded to the ground in preparation for its hilltop vigil.
When each one of the many millions of cowerers died, they died badly. Whimpering, roaring, or mute, whatever their final state, they all died locked in the craven grip of a dread that had accompanied them throughout their lives. That is the lot of the cowerer. Every cringing thought revolved around the terror of ultimate death. No matter what they did throughout their abject lives, the finality of death lurked behind every action, every moment,
“You refer to the legendary Merlin?” Penda frowned.
“Yes,” replied Elelendise. “Known as the long magus because of his great height.”
“Why has he forsaken all forms of warfare?”
“When, fifty years ago, he was the famed counselor to King Arthur of Camelot - who, as you know, was a relative of Oswald, whom we have defeated here today - Merlin became disillusioned with the perpetuation of continuous killing in the name of war.”
“But legend has it that Arthur only embarked upon a campaign when the prophecies of Merlin so declared it,” said Penda with a furrowed brow.
“That is so, my lord. The Grail King fought twelve successive battles on the advice of Merlin, but somewhere along that bloodthirsty trail the long magus had a change of heart and began to turn away from warfare.”
Penda looked at her carefully. “I hope that you are not likely to have such a change of heart. Our Saxon cause needs your prophecies undivided by any considerations of pity or vulgarian subversion.”
Elelendise smiled. “Worry not, my lord. All the astoundments at my command are in your service for as long as you need them. Have I not demonstrated my complete loyalty to your Saxon Christian cause?”
“You have, particularly here on this field of battle. Tell me, does Merlin have the power or the will left to disrupt our invasion of Wessex?”
She thought for a while. “I think not. He is old and weary, although he will probably be teaching a replacement who could have a different view on the matter.”
“What do you suggest?” asked the Saxon king.
Elelendise caressed the long, coarse white fur on Lupa’s neck, causing the wolf to whine and push against her hand in pleasure.
“Lupa and I will go there and entreat forcibly with him. Goad and push at his aged venefical pride to see if there is anything left that would cause him to use the enchantments to impede our progress.”
“And if he does?”
“We will ensure his immediate incarceration under his destiny stone.”
“You have the power to extinguish the mighty Merlin’s flame?” asked Penda with incredulity.
“I have the power to extinguish the inferno of Hades itself,” she replied softly.
“And his venefical replacement?”
“When I was there one year ago he did not have one. If he has one now he has not had the time to pass on anything of consequence. The replacement will be a novice in the enchantments - one year is not enough. I sat at the feet of Mael for fifteen years in order to learn how to command the phenomena of great sorcery.”
Penda pondered for a moment.
“Then go and goad the long magus. We will rest here until your return. If you are not back within three days we will begin the march toward Wessex. In the meantime,” he turned to his equerry, “send a strongly armed detail to the north for my wife and daughter. I have need of their company, and they shall join us in Wessex.”
“Immediately, my lord.” The equerry hurried away to carry out the order.
As Elelendise strode purposefully through the still-warm blood of the battlefield with the ever-vigilant Lupa locked to her side, a flock of silent night-black rooks swooped low over the bloody battlefield and landed on the top of the nearby hill. A broadsword flashed in the still morning air of the Marches, and the severed head of the former King Oswald thudded to the ground in preparation for its hilltop vigil.
When each one of the many millions of cowerers died, they died badly. Whimpering, roaring, or mute, whatever their final state, they all died locked in the craven grip of a dread that had accompanied them throughout their lives. That is the lot of the cowerer. Every cringing thought revolved around the terror of ultimate death. No matter what they did throughout their abject lives, the finality of death lurked behind every action, every moment,
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