Warlock and Son

10

Rod was worried. It wasn't that he had lost Magnus's trail; he knew exactly where his son was. But he had seen him meet the wild-looking beauty, seen him swing her up onto his horse, and had discreetly turned away. Being accessible in case of emergency was one thing; spying was another. No, Rod had gone off and pitched camp and whiled away the time making amusing little carvings and writing in his journal. Not that there was anything to fear, of course, but some nagging concern kept him from just packing up and going home. Of course, if it hadn't been there, he never would have gone traipsing off after Magnus in the first place-but the young man was in very unstable condition right now, very vulnerable. Of course, he had only one real weakness under ordinary circumstances, but that weakness bore a thousand pretty faces and knew a million seductive movements, and was heightened by his current dissatisfaction with himself and his life.

So Rod camped nearby, and waited-and waited. When the gloaming gathered in to become night, he tried to sleep, but vague and dire dreams kept waking him. He rose in the false dawn, blew the coals to flame, heated water, brewed some herbal tea, and waited. And waited.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, he reached out, tentatively, very delicately and with total passivity, to try to eavesdrop on his son's mind-not closely enough for thoughts, mind you, just a general mood....

It slammed through him and nearly dragged him into the earth with the weight of its sadness and despair.

Not even waiting to think it through, not even stopping to look, he sent out a plea for help with an urgency that verged on panic-but a plea to a very specific person. Some things, only a mother can handle. More to the point, there are some crises for which a parent would much rather have reinforcements, if they're available.

Instantly, he felt her response, colored with alarm: What ails thee, husband?

Our son, he thought back. I don't know what it is, but something has him hip-deep in despair. No, amend that-I do know what it is, just not how or why.

Another woman who doth seek to twist my son? The thoughts were tinged with hints of mayhem now, and incipient murder.

Something like that. Come quickly, won't you, dear? Faster than the eagle flies, she assured him.

Rod relaxed a little. When Gwen said "fast," she meant it. He turned away to put out the fire and start a little skulking. It was time to spy.

Gwen landed on the bald spot atop the ridge, where lightning had blasted a pine and new growth had not yet sprung up. She hopped off her broomstick and ran to Rod-but she didn't get more than two steps before he swept her up in a crushing embrace. She yielded, letting herself melt into him for a minute or two, their thoughts mingling in mutual anxiety and reassurance; then she pushed him away and said, "What hath the shrew-witch done to my son?"

"I can't say for sure-I didn't spy on the deed, just its aftermath. All I know is that he met a wild maehad-type, and she went riding off with him, Apparently, she ran him through the wringer."

Gwen frowned, not quite understanding the simile, but certainly grasping its gist. "It may be that solitude is all he doth need, my lord. Thou hast hinted, more than once, that thou hadst been hurted by vengeful women of a time."

"Well, yes, but I was lucky enough to meet you, and you healed all those hurts."

Not completely, Gwen knew-in fact, she had later opened old wounds, quite unintentionally. She now realized just how deeply some of her careless remarks must have hurt him. "Gramercy, my lord," she breathed, and reached up for a long kiss. When at last they drew apart, she smiled and looked down, then looked up again. "And thou dost fear that Magnus will not meet a woman who will banish his memories of the others?"

"Or at least make them seem unimportant?" Rod shrugged. "Maybe. But he has to survive long enough to meet her, and right now, that's very much in doubt."

Gwen's eyes widened. "So bad as that?" Then her gaze lost focus as she turned her attention to the impressions coming directly into her mind rather than those of her other senses. Suddenly, she stared, shaken, and her gaze snapped back into focus.

Instantly, Rod was open to her mind and caught the impression of their son's emotions.

"Great Heaven!" Gwen cried. "He is sunk in a melancholy so deep that he is like to seek his death!"

"But how?" Rod groaned. "He just finished dealing with a couple of females so predatory that they made wolverines look sweet!"

Gwen nodded, her face grim. "He is more easily swayed for having but just now been set aside, my lord."

"On the rebound," Rod translated, "and not in very good condition to discriminate between good women and bad."

"And she has snared and hurted him already." Gwen's face hardened with anger. "Hurted him, and cast him aside. How long hath she had for the doing of this deed, my lord?"

"A night and a day. I didn't want to seem to be following him too closely."

Gwen shook her head in wonder. "That such as she must feed their dwindled hearts off goodly men, and take the tenderness from them and cast them aside so quickly! Come, my lord-let us seek him and free him from her bonds."

Rod followed, reaching out to touch her hand. "I thought we were supposed to be able to relax and stop worrying about them, once they grew up."

"Never, my lord. Let us seek."