Chapter 9-Part II
Marcus and Roelle met on the dance floor, pirouetted and clasped hands. Both were out of breath, sweaty and aglow with exertion and the joy of the occasion. On impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her. She flushed. “Marcus,” she started and then ducked. “Have you seen Raven?”
“No, not for the last few hours. You haven’t seen him either?”
Now, both of them stopped moving causing a logjam in the flow of bodies on the floor. They decided unanimously to go in search of him. Several pairs of eyes watched them disappear, her parents and Sergeant Pire as well as the Captain. Marcus went first to the stables where he knew the mice pickings were plentiful. Asked the grooms if they had seen him and was told he’d been spotted heading towards the forest.
Roelle joined him, her skirts held high and in a pair of pattens from the barn. “No one’s seen him,” she gasped and both grabbed a lantern while Marcus conjured a witch light.
“Here, you two,” the Sergeant’s voice stopped them in their tracks. Captain Lambrecht joined the growing crowd.
“Roelle?” he asked his sister. He’d thrown a cape over his wedding suit.
“Captain,” Pire greeted.
“Sergeant. Marcus. What’s going on?”
“We can’t find Raven,” she cried.
“Raven? Oh, the little dragonet.”
“No, Lambrecht, Prince Raven. The Black Dragon. He’s really the Black Dragon and he’s missing,” she returned frantic.
“Roelle, if that’s true, what could hurt him? He’s a huge…Dragon.” He tried to reassure her.
“He’s not powerful as when he’s bigger, Lamb, he’s just a little thing. Big enough to kill a rabbit but nothing greater!”
She ran into the woods calling for him every few yards. Soon, they followed calling out for the dragon, ranging further away from each other with only Marcus worried about losing his way. He edged closer to the Captain figuring that he knew his way through the forests.
Gradually, they all converged on a clearing deep in the woods and near a hidden pathway that the Captain explained was an old smugglers trail. In the clearing, they found evidence of a bait trail and signs of a scuffle.
Marcus made the lights glow brighter until the Sergeant could read the spoor.
“Something was tied down here. Rabbit fur. Some blood. Something else struggled, there are gouge marks in the earth. Pieces of netting. Men’s boot heels and horse hooves. Six men and six horses.” He tracked them down the lane, his jaw gritting tightly. “Tell me without lying, Marcus. What were you, the girl and the Prince up to?”
“Nothing,” he started and Pire reached out, grabbed him by the throat and lifted his body off the ground.
“Will you stand there when I tell King Random, Prince Corwin and King Merlin that you did nothing to cause the Prince to be taken?”
Marcus’ face whitened and his Adam’s apple bobbed in terror. Roelle put her hand on Pire’s corded forearm. “We were going to sneak into Khafra to find a special treatise that hinted we could get Raven his body back,” she said and there was a pregnant pause.
“The boy’s been rather gloomy lately,” Pire mused. “That’s one of the reasons Rinlon asked me to keep an eye on him. Captain, have you a way to speak to the Castle swiftly?”
“I can send a hawk with a spell,” Marcus offered. “Or –” he hesitated. “I have Merlin’s Trumps.” They gaped at him. Even Roelle. “I’m not sure if I can use them, though. I think their magic applies only to those of the Blood of Amber.”
“It’s worth a try,” the sergeant said. “Who will you contact?”
“The Prince. He’ll be more coolheaded,” Marcus decided.
“You mean he’ll think twice before he runs you through,” Roelle snapped. “Call him, then.”
“Here? Now?” Marcus asked and at their nods, he reluctantly pulled out a thin wallet from inside his fine shirt and opened the leather pouch to reveal the beautifully drawn, exquisitely painted deck of Trumps. Corwin stared up at them smiling enigmatically, in black and silver, his silver rose at his throat and his hand on the hilt of Grayswandir. The cards were cold, icy to the touch and burned. Marcus swallowed and endured it for the sake of his friend. To their surprise, the drawn figure moved and astonishment clouded Corwin’s features.
“Marcus?” His mouth moved and he reached out a hand. “Pull me through.” Marcus reached, grasped the warm living hand of Raven’s grandsire and he was abruptly standing in front of them. “Speak,” he said to Pire but his eyes stayed on Marcus and Roelle. All of them started at once and Corwin held up his hand. “Sergeant Pire,” he prompted and the look in his eye was deadly.
The Sergeant cleared his throat nervously. “My Lord Prince, we were only aware of the dragon’s presence three days into the trip. I saw a small beast, no larger than a King’s falcon, black and Dragon featured. These two thought they kept it hidden but I saw no harm in allowing them to think so. It was obviously too small to be the Prince.”
“Marcus?” Corwin asked.
“I found a treatise that hinted at a cure for Raven’s problem. I told him. Roelle told Raven we wanted to search and we needed his help. He agreed. I used a minimax spell to make him small. He liked to use it so he could hide from Murphy and the guards,” he said defiantly. “He can’t ever get away and be alone.”
“He broods too much when he’s alone, Marcus. We do what we do because we want to help him,” Corwin said.
“Then help him. He wants to have a mortal body, he wants be able to hold a girl. Kiss her. He wants to be human again!” Marcus shouted, nearly crying. “It’s my fault this all happened to him! If I hadn’t pulled him with me to the tavern –“
“You didn’t force him, Marcus. He chose to go. He chose to give up his life for Vialle and Amber. Where is he now?”
“Taken. By mounted men. They rode off to the east on this path which leads to the coast where they can pick up berths on any number of ships,” the captain offered.
“Where do you think they’re taking him?”
“There were men – mercenaries in the tavern back at the last village,” Roelle said. “Very interested in us and asked lots of questions about Raven. They followed us for two days.”
“And then?”
“They turned off on the road toward Lynn,” Pire told them. “I suggested they not accompany us and their leader took the hint.”
“What did he look like?” Corwin demanded.
“Shorter than you, dark-haired and gray eyed. Looked like he might be from a desert clime, dark skinned and weathered. Clean-shaven, clean garments and well-oiled weapons,” Pire said closing his eyes as he brought up the memories. “Rode a big gray gelding, star and two rear socks. Sword was on his right side. Two daggers in his belt.”
“Keen eyes, Sergeant.” Corwin’s eyes fell on the Trumps and snatched them from Marcus’ hand, thumbed through them until he reached Random’s.
As they watched, the King turned around and spoke. “Corwin. Have you found him?”
“He’s been snatched,” the Prince said dryly.
“Snatched! How do you snatch a forty foot bloody big Dragon?” Random laughed.
“He wasn’t forty foot, Random. More like three. His friends shrank him and hid him in the wagon train. Send Murphy through. We’re going after him.” His eyes flickered to Roelle and Marcus. “You think you can perform this spell if you find it?”
Marcus shrugged. “I’ll try. I owe Raven that.”
“Have Murphy meet us at the Baron’s. We’ll need horses, equipment and a guide.”
“Where are they taking him?” The King asked. “Are you going to tell Merlin?”
“No. Not yet. He’s in a delicate bargaining position with several shadow realms. Especially with Luke and Jasra.”
They saw the gargoyle step forward and Corwin reached for his hand, grasping and pulling the gray winged creature from Amber’s Castle to the clearing in the woods. In the lanterns and witch lights glow, his eyes burned red and demon-like. He glanced around for the dragon and was grim when he did not see him.
“Take us to your father, Captain,” the Prince politely asked. The entire group marched back to the festivities. In their absence, the Baron (being the sound and sensible man that Random knew he was) had efficiently ended the party and organized things so that procedures for whatever option would materialize could be put instantly in place.
The Captain’s new bride was waiting in the study with the Baron, Baroness and his Captain of the Guards along with Sergeant Pire’s squad. They greeted Corwin without much surprise but were somewhat shy about the gargoyle who was sending dark deadly glances at the two youngsters. Roelle’s family bowed and shook hands. Corwin was abrupt in his explanations so that within minutes they were preparing a rescue party.
Murphy said, “I will fly and seek out his trail.”
“Can you sense him? You couldn’t before,” Marcus reminded.
Murphy snarled, “no thanks to you, boy. I meant the trail of the men who took him.” He leaped for the window, his wings unfurling as he smashed the glass and leaded casement to pieces. Corwin shrugged apologetically.
“Sorry. He’s a bit upset over the boy. I’ll see to it your window is repaired. Marcus, you’ll be paying for that. Baron, we’ll need horses for the trip.”
“No problem,” he returned. “The stables are full. Take your pick.”
Within a half-hour, they were kitted, saddled and back on the road. They did not follow the wood trail but the Captain took them on a shortcut that intersected the lane near where it emerged on the main pike. Overhead, Murphy flanked them, his shadow a presence that urged them on. Marcus rode at Roelle’s right side, his face narrowed and grim.
“Who do you think has him, Marcus?” She whispered. “And why hasn’t he said the spell to make himself bigger?”
“I don’t know, Roelle. Maybe he can’t talk.” The redhead chewed his lips. “Or he’s unconscious. He’s so small compared to what he usually is. This is all my fault.”
She didn’t say anything and their horses’ hooves droned a beat, it’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late until he thought he would go mad.