Read Online The Warlock Enraged-Warlock 4 by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Juvenile Fiction, Epic, Science Fiction - General, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Fiction - Science Fiction, Fantastic fiction
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whiles the monsters held their attention, the other warlocks and witches rained blows on them from all sides. 'Twas simple—but
'twas enow; it did suffice."
"Hm." Rod looked directly into the boy's eyes. "So you don't think much of their tactician?"
"Eh, I did not say that. Papa! Indeed, he did just as he should have—used only as much force as was needed, and when and where it was needed. I doubt not, had Count 52 Christopher Stasheff
Novgor proved stronger than he'd guessed, he'd have had magical reserves to call upon." Geoffrey shook his head.
"Nay, I could not fault him. His battle plan in this skirmish may have been, as thou hast said, simple—but he may also be quite able to lay out excellent plans for elaborate battles." He shrugged. "There is no telling, as yet." Rod nodded slowly. "Sounds right. Any idea on the number of subordinate warlocks and witches?"
"Four, at the least—one to craft witch-moss, and direct her constructs; one to fly above, and drop rocks; two, at least, who did appear and disappear, jumping from place to place within the melee, wreaking havoc and confusion. There may be a fifth, who threw fireballs; and also a sixth, who did cast the trance spell."
"Hypnosis," Rod corrected.
"Hip-no-siss." Geoffrey nodded, with intense concentration. "As thou sayest. And, of course, there was the Tyrant-Sorcerer, this Alfar; it may have been he who cast the trance spell, which would make his lesser warlocks and witches only the five."
Rod nodded. "So. We can be sure there're Alfar, and four subordinates—but there may be more." He checked his memories of Gavin Arlinson's account, but while he was checking, Gregory confirmed, "'Tis even as Geoffrey doth say. Word for word, he hath counted them." Geoffrey cast him a look of annoyance. "Who did ask thee, babe?"
Gregory's face darkened.
"Children!" Gwen chided. "Canst thou not allow one another each his due share of notice?"
Cordelia sat up a little straighter, and looked virtuous. Rod leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky.
"Well! I didn't know we knew all that much! I expected you children to help out on the odd jobs—but I didn't expect this!" He looked down at his brood, gloating. "But—if they've got all that going for them—why did they worry about some escaping peasants? Why did they send their brand-new army to chase them down?"
"Why, 'tis simply said!" Geoffrey looked up, startled.
"'Twas done so that they might not bear word to Duke Hapsburg, or Earl Tudor—or e'en Their Majesties!"
THE WARLOCK ENRAGED 53
They were quiet again, all staring at him.
Geoffrey looked from face to face. "But—'tis plain! Is't not?"
"Yes, now that you've told us," Rod answered. "But what bothers me, is—why doesn't Alfar want anyone to know what he's doing?"
"Why, 'tis even plainer! He means to conquer the Duke, and doth not wish any other Lord to send him aid!" His brothers and sister watched him, silent.
Rod nodded, slowly. "Yes. That's what I was afraid you were going to say."
Count Drulane and his lady rose, and all their folk rose with them. At the farthest end from their dais, the family of tinkers rose, too—though Gwen had to prod Geoffrey into putting down his trencher long enough to remember his manners.
"A good night to you all, then," the Count intoned. "May your dreams be pleasant—and may you wake in the moming." The habitual phrase fell rather somberly on their ears, considering the tenor of the table conversation. The Count may have realized it; certainly, his departure through the door behind the dais, with his lady, was a bit brusque. Gwen leaned over to Rod and murmured, "Is such fear born only of silence?"
Rod shrugged. "You heard what they said. The peasants are used to meeting Romanov peasants at the markets, and suddenly, they're not there. And the Count and Countess are used to the occasional social call—but there haven't been any for two. weeks, and the last one before that brought rumors of the Romanov
'twas enow; it did suffice."
"Hm." Rod looked directly into the boy's eyes. "So you don't think much of their tactician?"
"Eh, I did not say that. Papa! Indeed, he did just as he should have—used only as much force as was needed, and when and where it was needed. I doubt not, had Count 52 Christopher Stasheff
Novgor proved stronger than he'd guessed, he'd have had magical reserves to call upon." Geoffrey shook his head.
"Nay, I could not fault him. His battle plan in this skirmish may have been, as thou hast said, simple—but he may also be quite able to lay out excellent plans for elaborate battles." He shrugged. "There is no telling, as yet." Rod nodded slowly. "Sounds right. Any idea on the number of subordinate warlocks and witches?"
"Four, at the least—one to craft witch-moss, and direct her constructs; one to fly above, and drop rocks; two, at least, who did appear and disappear, jumping from place to place within the melee, wreaking havoc and confusion. There may be a fifth, who threw fireballs; and also a sixth, who did cast the trance spell."
"Hypnosis," Rod corrected.
"Hip-no-siss." Geoffrey nodded, with intense concentration. "As thou sayest. And, of course, there was the Tyrant-Sorcerer, this Alfar; it may have been he who cast the trance spell, which would make his lesser warlocks and witches only the five."
Rod nodded. "So. We can be sure there're Alfar, and four subordinates—but there may be more." He checked his memories of Gavin Arlinson's account, but while he was checking, Gregory confirmed, "'Tis even as Geoffrey doth say. Word for word, he hath counted them." Geoffrey cast him a look of annoyance. "Who did ask thee, babe?"
Gregory's face darkened.
"Children!" Gwen chided. "Canst thou not allow one another each his due share of notice?"
Cordelia sat up a little straighter, and looked virtuous. Rod leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky.
"Well! I didn't know we knew all that much! I expected you children to help out on the odd jobs—but I didn't expect this!" He looked down at his brood, gloating. "But—if they've got all that going for them—why did they worry about some escaping peasants? Why did they send their brand-new army to chase them down?"
"Why, 'tis simply said!" Geoffrey looked up, startled.
"'Twas done so that they might not bear word to Duke Hapsburg, or Earl Tudor—or e'en Their Majesties!"
THE WARLOCK ENRAGED 53
They were quiet again, all staring at him.
Geoffrey looked from face to face. "But—'tis plain! Is't not?"
"Yes, now that you've told us," Rod answered. "But what bothers me, is—why doesn't Alfar want anyone to know what he's doing?"
"Why, 'tis even plainer! He means to conquer the Duke, and doth not wish any other Lord to send him aid!" His brothers and sister watched him, silent.
Rod nodded, slowly. "Yes. That's what I was afraid you were going to say."
Count Drulane and his lady rose, and all their folk rose with them. At the farthest end from their dais, the family of tinkers rose, too—though Gwen had to prod Geoffrey into putting down his trencher long enough to remember his manners.
"A good night to you all, then," the Count intoned. "May your dreams be pleasant—and may you wake in the moming." The habitual phrase fell rather somberly on their ears, considering the tenor of the table conversation. The Count may have realized it; certainly, his departure through the door behind the dais, with his lady, was a bit brusque. Gwen leaned over to Rod and murmured, "Is such fear born only of silence?"
Rod shrugged. "You heard what they said. The peasants are used to meeting Romanov peasants at the markets, and suddenly, they're not there. And the Count and Countess are used to the occasional social call—but there haven't been any for two. weeks, and the last one before that brought rumors of the Romanov
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