an ever-present mare waiting to snatch them into the beckoning maw of its black embrace. Recognizing the inevitability of that embrace and their stomach-churning susceptibility to its remorseless inevitability, many of them took their own trembling lives.
Which took a certain kind of courage.
Wither the cowerer then?
Chapter Five
Merlin sat quietly on the side of the boy’s straw bed and watched the rise and fall of his thin young chest and listened to the hush of his breath as he slept. Occasional incoherent mutterings broke from Twilight’s lips as the fantastic events of the previous two days played across his subconscious. The old wizard’s face softened, and he reached out his long, bony fingers and gently stroked the dark hair that partly covered the sleeping face. It was a tremendous burden to be placed upon one so young, so vulnerable, yet there was an inner strength in that thin body and a quick mind behind those dark, Cimmerian eyes that belied his age. Were seven years enough to accomplish all that needed to be done? Could the complexity of the enchantments and their enactment be learned to the point where they could be applied correctly? Would the raging mists accept a mere stripling at their Equinoctial Festival of the Dead?
He sighed deeply, got up from the boy’s bed, and walked to the door of the small dwelling house situated in the center of the compound. Looking out, he nodded and began to smile.
Another big question had just been answered.
Turning back to the bed he saw Twilight’s dark eyes were wide open and fixed upon him.
“Good morning, skirmisher. I trust you slept well.”
“I felt your hand,” said Twilight. “It was gentle, yet spoke of doubt.”
“Ahhh.” The old wizard’s eyes flashed. “That was before I looked outside and saw what awaits you in the twilight glow of the dawn . Ad tempus , my monochrome-viewing little friend, has arrived.”
The boy sat bolt upright. “My ligamen!” he shouted excitedly. “My ligamen are here!”
He leapt from his straw bed and ran to the door … and stopped dead, stunned by the sight that greeted his black-andwhite vision.
Row upon row of black and white.
“Pica,” Merlin breathed in his ear. “You are the liege-lord of the entire population of the wondrously inventive pica … otherwise known by the Celts as the magpie, the most proudly twinkling and capriciously intelligent, bauble-loving blatherskites of all the wild birds.”
On every available place around the compound, festooned along the tops of the stockade fence, crowded onto the straw roofs of the two simple dwelling houses, along fallen logs used as seats, and on every available branch in the surrounding trees perched thousands of beautiful, silent, glossy black-and-white fan-tailed birds. Every one of their glinting, dark brown eyes was fixed upon the doorway that now held Merlin and Twilight, every sharp black beak pointed in proud homage toward the ground.
“Pica,” Twilight whispered in awe.
Raising his hands toward them Twilight stepped from the doorway and turned in a circle to include the entire multitude of birds in his salute. As he did so all the birds began to hop from one foot to the other and to flutter and fan their long tails and wings. Finally the massed rows settled down.
“Oh Merlin, they are magnificent,” he whispered. “What should I do now?”
“Nothing … just wait for a few moments,” came the quiet reply. “They will have selected leaders, and they will be gathering all their courage for the right moment to present themselves to you. Remember, pica mate for life and are never far apart from each other.”
Twilight thought of the many times he had observed the magpie pairs from his settlement, their bright-eyed, natural wariness of humans always ensuring that they kept a safe distance from him. He had become the same with his fellow man, especially after he had given up speech and had become steadily more isolated from the daily
Which took a certain kind of courage.
Wither the cowerer then?
Chapter Five
Merlin sat quietly on the side of the boy’s straw bed and watched the rise and fall of his thin young chest and listened to the hush of his breath as he slept. Occasional incoherent mutterings broke from Twilight’s lips as the fantastic events of the previous two days played across his subconscious. The old wizard’s face softened, and he reached out his long, bony fingers and gently stroked the dark hair that partly covered the sleeping face. It was a tremendous burden to be placed upon one so young, so vulnerable, yet there was an inner strength in that thin body and a quick mind behind those dark, Cimmerian eyes that belied his age. Were seven years enough to accomplish all that needed to be done? Could the complexity of the enchantments and their enactment be learned to the point where they could be applied correctly? Would the raging mists accept a mere stripling at their Equinoctial Festival of the Dead?
He sighed deeply, got up from the boy’s bed, and walked to the door of the small dwelling house situated in the center of the compound. Looking out, he nodded and began to smile.
Another big question had just been answered.
Turning back to the bed he saw Twilight’s dark eyes were wide open and fixed upon him.
“Good morning, skirmisher. I trust you slept well.”
“I felt your hand,” said Twilight. “It was gentle, yet spoke of doubt.”
“Ahhh.” The old wizard’s eyes flashed. “That was before I looked outside and saw what awaits you in the twilight glow of the dawn . Ad tempus , my monochrome-viewing little friend, has arrived.”
The boy sat bolt upright. “My ligamen!” he shouted excitedly. “My ligamen are here!”
He leapt from his straw bed and ran to the door … and stopped dead, stunned by the sight that greeted his black-andwhite vision.
Row upon row of black and white.
“Pica,” Merlin breathed in his ear. “You are the liege-lord of the entire population of the wondrously inventive pica … otherwise known by the Celts as the magpie, the most proudly twinkling and capriciously intelligent, bauble-loving blatherskites of all the wild birds.”
On every available place around the compound, festooned along the tops of the stockade fence, crowded onto the straw roofs of the two simple dwelling houses, along fallen logs used as seats, and on every available branch in the surrounding trees perched thousands of beautiful, silent, glossy black-and-white fan-tailed birds. Every one of their glinting, dark brown eyes was fixed upon the doorway that now held Merlin and Twilight, every sharp black beak pointed in proud homage toward the ground.
“Pica,” Twilight whispered in awe.
Raising his hands toward them Twilight stepped from the doorway and turned in a circle to include the entire multitude of birds in his salute. As he did so all the birds began to hop from one foot to the other and to flutter and fan their long tails and wings. Finally the massed rows settled down.
“Oh Merlin, they are magnificent,” he whispered. “What should I do now?”
“Nothing … just wait for a few moments,” came the quiet reply. “They will have selected leaders, and they will be gathering all their courage for the right moment to present themselves to you. Remember, pica mate for life and are never far apart from each other.”
Twilight thought of the many times he had observed the magpie pairs from his settlement, their bright-eyed, natural wariness of humans always ensuring that they kept a safe distance from him. He had become the same with his fellow man, especially after he had given up speech and had become steadily more isolated from the daily
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