Rhianon-8. War and Magic

«I will go with you to the first battle,» she turned to Ferdinand, who had finally decided to enter the hall.

«But…» He was momentarily taken aback. The sword in her hand even startled him. The dwarf was right. The blade was begging for blood at every moment. Not just begging, but demanding. Her hand was strong enough to restrain it. It was for now. Too bad once it tasted blood, it wouldn’t be able to stop. It wanted to now. And Ferdinand was very near, so seductive, so close, so alive… it could be dead in a moment.

Rhianon took a few steps away from him. The long azure train draped behind her on the floor, cramping her movements, and yet she felt herself ready to fight. The sword was thirsty for blood. All she had to do was control it, pointing it at her enemies and not at her supporters. Too bad there was no choice now. Apart from Ferdinand there were no other people present. And blood had to be spilled now. The sword demanded it. She held it back with difficulty.

«You cannot go to the battlefield with me. You are not a knight,» Ferdinand began, for the first time, to dissuade her from doing something. He was frightened. She could see that.

«How can you fight with your frailty… and in your position?»

Oh, yes, he remembered about the child. It was the child of the devil. Rhianon grinned. With a flick of her hand, the sword made a dangerous arc that slid almost across his face. She played with the flame. In one second she had to bring the sword down. Immediately there was a squeak. When she raised the blade forward, there was already a strange creature with green skin and a gutted belly fluttering on it.

«Well, do you suppose there’s much in the world that you’re not yet familiar with?» She watched with pleasure the range of feelings on Ferdinand’s beautiful face, from amazement to almost disgust and fear. The infernal creature’s clawed limbs fluttered violently. A black liquid gushed out of its ripped abdomen. One drop of this substance and her new dress would be hopelessly ruined, but Rhianon was not frightened. She was watching her husband’s emotions more closely than she was watching the creature’s futile attempts to thrust herself up and off her sword.

«You have no idea what a fairy is capable of. To put on my armor and fight is the least I can do.»

«But you could be hurt or even killed,» he murmured in confusion. He could no longer call the creature wriggling on the tip of her sword a pleasant little beast from abroad, but he could at least cling to shards of truth. «Even with magic, you are not immune to injury.»

«How would you know?» She grinned triumphantly. «Look!» she grinned victoriously.

She let the creature go, but pressed it to the floor with the tip of her sword so that Ferdinand could see how its torn abdomen magically healed. It was as if leprechaun had never been wounded.

«He might still take you to the treasure, if you don’t lose him on the way. Who knows, maybe the pot of gold isn’t buried where the rainbow begins, but right under our horses’ hooves on the battlefield. We can take him with us to show us the right place. After all, the enemy troops will not be frightened away by this little fellow. He can be wounded and even killed, well, almost killed,» she pressed on him with the tip of her sword, but it had no effect other than another sob. «They’re immortal, you know. So am I.»

«Are you sure?» He was still hesitant. The dainty jagged crown pressed lightly against his smooth forehead. She was only now noticing it; if he didn’t send it back to the blacksmith to straighten it out a bit, it would push his wrinkles back into his old age.

«That’s true, Ferdinand, subconsciously you knew it already when you met me there by the swamp, but that didn’t stop you. Ten, maybe twenty more years, and you’ll grow old, but I won’t. The fire inside me won’t let that happen. If you thought a fairy could take the throne beside you, why can’t she fight? You think I am not yet acquainted with marquee, carnage, and cannon volleys. I have fought before, and as you can see there are no wounds or scars. My head is still on my shoulders. But I have seen more than the wars of men among themselves. Other creatures far more dangerous than humans are capable of warfare.

«Have you seen them, too? Was it in battle?»

She nodded.

«I have seen them, and the warlord, too. If he weren’t here, I could take them all into battle now and win instantly. But for now I would have to be satisfied with men.»

«My men will not fail you,» he promised her with sudden seriousness. «They can fight.»

«It is a startling statement for one whose troops have never been in battle.»

«But they are well trained, though all they do is joust, train, and occasionally help other warring countries, but I know they will prove themselves in combat.»

«And we’re outnumbered,» Rhianon shot him back. «Who can resist that?»

«You’re pleased.»

«Yes,» she agreed. «But revenge knows no boundaries. If I were to fight him at the head of an army of evil spirits, and die in the aftermath, I would accept without hesitation. Whatever the price of my enemy’s head, I would get it. The deal with the devil doesn’t matter anymore. The only devil is the one you hate, not the one holed up in a tent far from our world.»

«But you have seen what he is like in battle?»

She shrugged indifferently.

«Whether he’s on our side or theirs doesn’t matter, I can be stronger than him,» she pressed the leprechaun harder against the floor, making him squeal in pain. «Angels used to fight, too. We are two angels. And only one of us is the strongest.»

She let go of the leprechaun. The leprechaun leaped up and sprinted off, running so fast that she barely had time to follow him. The tip of her sword greedily absorbed the black blood. In a moment it would not be enough for it.

Rhianon quickly turned away from Ferdinand. His proximity for a sword in her hands was too tempting.

«I am going into battle, whether you like it or not. You cannot win without me. You may object now, but once you know Manfred better, you will see how right I was. Your astrologers are nothing compared to his tricks. A battle with him without the use of sorcery would be lost in an hour.»

«I’m not against the protection of enchantments, believe me, but if you have to risk it…»

«I’ve risked all my life,» she turned sharply, barely able to hold her blade, which was already hissing with temptation. «That’s what I am.»

She was taking a risk even now. His unprotected throat was close at hand, and her fingers were struggling to hold the twisted, gilded hilt, which curved into the shape of a salamander with its outstretched wings forming a cross and a thin tail that curled into a hilt. The dwarf smith did his best, and she didn’t even thank him. After the sacrifices she had made, it was unnecessary. The steel had drunk their blood only recently, but its appetite had only grown.

«I need the armor,» she only now noticed that Ferdinand had even noticed where his queen had gotten such a rare and unusual sword. Well, his lack of curiosity played right into her hands. To live in marriage with a fairy and not interfere with her affairs, the betrothed must be completely intoxicated by her.

«Also my own camping tent and squires, my warhorse will be Noreus. That’s the name of the horse I was given,» she quickly explained, noticing his bewilderment. It’s a good thing he doesn’t ask whose gift it is. Such a question would have been more difficult to answer. She would have had to make something up as she went along, and Rhianon didn’t like to lie. It was better to keep silent about loving a fallen angel than to lie that you had never seen one. Lies had become disgusting to her as of late. Madael would say it was a purely angelic trait. A proud, exalted creature never lies, for it is above all and has no one to ingratiate itself to. To hide the fact that she opened her paradise in the arms of a demon, Rhianon was not going to. Everyone would see her worth in the war anyway. Soon her supernatural allies would join her army. All she has to do is click. The wise dragon in the tower gave her an unusual horn, trumpeting it to summon all the evil of Vinor and himself. The further she went, the more supporters she found. She is queen of the evil spirits, and soon her army will be innumerable.

«And by the way,» she was about to leave, but she remembered on the way out. «I’ve tamed the little dragon, so no one can touch it.»

Ferdinand gasped.

«Don’t be worried, it won’t get any bigger while I’m around it. But keep the others away from it, especially Vivian, with his dragon-fighting instincts. I will not forgive anyone who touches my pets.»

She had to hurry. The blade in her hands was becoming almost uncontrollable. It thirsted for blood, anyone’s blood, even that of Rhianon herself. And the scabbard of it remained in her bedroom. Never again would she leave them lying around. The feeling of holding a snake in her hand, ready to sting, grew stronger and stronger. On the way she couldn’t find a single mouse or rat to stab it, so she could temper its bloodthirstiness, at least for a while. And to kill a man in the castle she would not dare. She was still lucky that Gwendolyn and Ulrich’s disappearance went unnoticed by anyone. For that, the spirit had done its best. He advised her to use spells that took away the memory of everyone. Only astrologers could have suspected anything, but they were powerless. Rhianon was even glad now that she had broken their web. At least from then on they tried not to get in her way anymore. Their strength had been unequal in the beginning, and now she could easily destroy them all if she wanted to.

The scabbard, made by the same dwarf, and covered with special runes that held back the power of the blade, remained where she had thrown it. She quickly hid the sword in them, and yet the blade managed to cut her. It hissed triumphantly, but only for a moment. A drop of blood immediately burst into flames on the carpet, reminding Rhianon that to wound her was to endanger one’s own life as well. Apparently, the wondrous sword was no exception. She clutched the hilt and felt that it would not dare to hurt her a second time. The enchanted sword, as if for the first time, became a natural extension of her hand, recognizing her as its true mistress. She was stronger than it, which meant that only she could wield it. Rhianon grinned. Everything was now falling into place. This weapon must obey her will, not the other way around. It can be difficult to wield a sword that pierces and slashes at will. It can want blood all it wants, but it must be guided by her.

«Can I be the best knight I can be? Better than him?» She asked, but the spirit did not respond.

He would not say a word. Rhianon grew furious at him, but quickly recovered her composure. For if she could not make all arrangements with Madael herself. She needed to know this. Would he bow to her, even if he were stronger himself? If he loves her, he must. And she needs at least one more look at him before the fight begins. She remembered the pendant she always carried with her now. It kept changing shape without end, so she hid it behind her corsage so it wouldn’t embarrass people with its changeability. Lately it had taken the form of a sword, a tower, or a salamander writhing in flames. She had grown weary of its endless transformations, but now, as she pulled it out into the light, she saw only a flat, golden blob. What could that mean? It looked like a drop of liquid gold, only it was solid and the flat droplet felt like there was no beginning or end. She squeezed the pendant in her hand.

«What are you doing?»

A nasal voice made her shudder. She hadn’t heard it in a long time, and she didn’t expect to hear it anymore. It made her dumbfounded for a moment. Rhianon had no idea the dwarf could be so far off the ground. Her tower was high above the sea that lapped at the rocks. Only an angel or a dragon could reach it, and only someone with wings. Fate, however, who had crawled out from behind a pedestal in the corner, was quite unlike either of them.

Perhaps he had used the tunnels to get in here, Rhianon consoled herself, and then turned away from him. She tried not to see that the dwarf was acting as if this were his moment of triumph. He would never take anything from her again.

He grinned, but she couldn’t even look at him.

«Don’t disturb me to think.»

«Thinking about where you’d like to go?» He suddenly became very wary. «I can see it in your mind. I couldn’t go there even with the pendant.»

«Of course you wouldn’t. Now go away.»

But he didn’t budge. She shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring his bad manners. When a lady demands, one must obey, but he evidently did not know that.

«Well, you may remain, for in a moment I shall be gone anyway.»

She looked at the pendant and mentally wished for one place, her bedroom in the celestial castle, the bed where Madael so often slept, his curls scattered on the pillows frolicking with leprechauns. He shook off strange insects and black fairies from his wings. She wanted to be where she saw him again, but the pendant didn’t seem to understand her until she imagined all the passages and galleries of the castle beyond the clouds. It was nothing again. Something wasn’t right. She’s not imagining things well, or the gnome’s presence is getting in her way. He lurked in a corner and waited. Rhianon chose to forget his presence and imagined the place even more clearly. Now that she concentrated on one object entirely, it should work. Her thoughts ran faster than the wind through balustrades of flowers, gardens of paradise, massive arcades, enfilades of gleaming halls, and even a bird house. Somehow, despite her flight of fancy, it all seemed terrifyingly empty, and yet she persisted in imagining the vaults of the grand heavenly structure.

«I want to be there. Immediately,» she demanded.

And the pendant was suddenly gone. She clutched it in her fingers, a hollow space.

«What? What is it?» She stared at Fate, perplexed. The dwarf was clutching at his bubble-like belly and writhing in laughter. He looked as if he were going to burst.

«You tricked me, didn’t you?» Rhianon stepped menacingly toward him and snapped her fingers together, sending out sparks.

«It is not at all.» He moved swiftly out of her way. «You’re just forgetting something, aren’t you, my pretty?»

«What’s that?»

He stared at her triumphantly, his dark eyes sparkling with angry beads.

«You make a wish for a place that isn’t there, and the gold pendant loses all its power. You send your magic to emptiness, and emptiness is what you get!»

He disappeared, and Rhianon was still staring after him in amazement. What did he mean by that? You can’t wish for magical places, but she did, and she succeeded. But places that aren’t… Wasn’t there a castle in the sky? That’s where she lived. And the messenger, who had seen it in the light of dawn, claimed it was there. But the pendant was gone, as if she had really sent it into the void. Did that mean the castle was gone? Rhianon didn’t want to believe it.

How was that possible? She still couldn’t come to her senses. It was like a nightmare dream. She would have considered it a dream if the pendant were still with her. But it was gone.

The miniature dragon was poking around her chest of drawers, clawing at the boxes and counting how much jewelry was hidden in each one. He was so amusing. Rhianon tried to distract herself from her thoughts by watching him. She hadn’t even given him a name yet, she had to name him something and still be able to use magic to make him respond to that name.

«Nugget,» she decided after a moment’s hesitation, and the little dragon turned at the sound of her voice, twitching its wings deliberately. He was perched on top of the chest of drawers, clawing at the handles with only his claws, wondering if the new name suited him. Rhianon thought it did. Since, curled up in a ball, he would have looked like a solid gold bar with aquamarine eyes, anyone would have guessed to call him a nugget.

«It sounds silly,» the spirit said angrily. At last he spoke up. Rhianon almost laughed. She could tell if he was being silent enough to bite him in the ass and he would speak again.

«You must obey my whims, even if you deem them foolish. Otherwise you can go away.»

There was a moment’s pause, after which a heavy sigh blew through the silence.

«It’s a good thing you didn’t call him a pot of gold. It would have suited him, too.»

The remark came just right. Her little pet was already a treasure collector, if only within the confines of his lady’s room for now. The spirit must have put up with her whims rather than leave. Rhianon felt victorious. Lately it had been surprisingly easy to insist on her way with him. She’d even figured out the easiest way to do it. All she had to do was demand that he obey her or get out, and then victory was on her side.

«So are we preparing for war?» The spirit’s question caught her off guard.

«I’m already doing it.»

«You’re not doing it well.»

«Yes, how dare you!» She instinctively grabbed her sword and suddenly realized that it was useless. There is no blood in the veins of a disembodied spirit, so the wondrous blade cannot be turned against it either.

«Did you at least check to see if all those you recruited would answer your call?» He continued to lecture her. «What if they can’t keep their word – the spirits and the fairies and the dragons? They’re all tricky. You expect them to rescue you from the first danger on the battlefield.»

«I’ll prove it when I march,» Rhianon observed recently, noting that the tiny creatures even accompanied her on her walks and often on her hunts. Dwarves appeared under her horse’s feet every now and then, escorting her, and pixies flew overhead. When she hunted with the royal retinue, she knew that she could lure the magical creatures from the thicket and they would bring a doe, weasel, or deer to her themselves. They obeyed her as they did their lord. What alarmed Rhianon most of all was that her instincts had become like Madael’s. Once she had shot a doe with a bow, she felt a strange thirst. Even before the huntsmen had begun gutting the carcass, she wanted to put the flask under the trickle of blood, or press her lips to the wound. What if she had done it in front of everyone? Madael could, unashamedly on the battlefield, drink the blood of the wounded if he wanted to. He was surrounded by those who understood him. And she had to have the decency to avoid the bonfire herself. Vivian, who had joined the hunters, looked at her suspiciously enough. He was good himself. Rhianon only managed to spot one small dragon in the thicket, but it was quite active, not inebriated. He was beyond Vivian’s control. If it got out of hiding it could have torn apart their entire small squad, but when it spotted Rhianon it only quickly tilted its head and hurried to hide.

Rhianon was about to mentally warn Vivian not to stare at her so stunned, but the smell of flayed game was so irritating to her sense of smell that she couldn’t think of anything else. The smell of blood became a lure. She wanted to put the goblet under the scarlet stream and in place of the slit throat of the doe, she imagined Manfred’s throat.

Soon it would not be a fantasy, but a reality. For some reason Conrad came to her mind first. Pulling out the dagger with which to finish the animal, Rhianon imagined the prince’s throat. He had encroached on her, he deserved to die. Even Madael would decide exactly as she did.

Warrior-Lover

Douglas woke up suddenly. He felt as if someone was there. Someone he had been waiting for a long time.

As soon as he managed to doze off. He hadn’t been able to sleep for a long time. Suddenly sleep enmeshed his consciousness like a spider’s web. The young man didn’t even have time to control his magical defenses. He shook his hand carelessly through his tangled hair, dyed with special solutions to a searing black color. Before, an effort of thought would have been enough to tidy it, but now he was using his hands instead of his charms like a normal man. The whole thing felt more like an obsession.

Good thing all his captive supernatural beings hadn’t scattered while he slept. Douglas glanced around anxiously and was suddenly dumbfounded. Standing before the window open into the night was him… the one he must have been waiting for forever. A scarlet cloak fluttered behind his winged back. It wasn’t hard to guess how the guest had entered his tower. Why would he need a window, though? He could probably pass through walls, seep through cracks with air or flowing water, or burst into flames. He was everywhere, and everything was under his control. Just now the wind was blowing nearby, but it didn’t penetrate the open window. The net for the stars stretched beneath him remained unbroken.

A handsome, muscular hand clutched his sword, but Douglas knew that his guest would not challenge him to a duel. He was here for something else.

The young man could barely catch his breath. How long and hopelessly he had dreamed of this moment. And now the miracle had happened. It was a frightening miracle. The sight of the angelic beauty made his blood run cold.

He was not afraid of going blind at the sight of angelic features. It had not already happened to him. So it would not happen to him again. But the chiseled profile, framed by golden strands, made him feel a kind of morbid admiration. There he was, Dennitsa. He’s right there. Incarnate. Douglas, try as he might, had never been able to make sense of the complex structure of supernatural bodies. It was almost incomprehensible. Even now it was difficult to determine where ether ended and matter began. The guest seemed to him quite tangible and material and at the same time incommensurably more powerful than a physical being could be. Even the wings that fluttered slightly behind him seemed so powerful. One swing of them could knock a man to the ground.

Douglas swallowed hard. Why did he hesitate, the fool? He had waited all his life for this moment, and he did not dream of waiting. Right in front of him in his tower isolated from the world stands the very man he has so ardently dreamed of. Perhaps he is only here for a moment before his inevitable disappearance. So he should take advantage of that moment.

He could ask for something. Instinctively he could almost sense that his guest was waiting for it and even ready to respond. Douglas’s lips went numb. It was so hard to believe in the long-awaited moment. Already seeing the immortal warrior here was an indescribable reward.

«Don’t be afraid!» the angel moved toward him, smoothly and not at all menacingly, but Douglas pressed himself against the wall in fright. Bookshelves of books fluttered and caged creatures whirled behind him, sending a charming smile across his pale lips. He reached forward and touched Douglas’s hair with long slender fingers. The young warlock was dazed. The sensation was unspeakable. Here almost ethereal yet unspeakably strong hands slid over his strands, winding them as if to tie them into a net. Shining blue eyes in a halo of golden lashes look inside him. They were seductive pale lips quite close at hand. Dennitsa himself… Douglas had many horrible or noble names swirling on his tongue that were worth calling him: Lucifer, Masemma, Beelzebub…

«You know my name!» The golden voice came through as if through him. «The one I prefer.»

«Yes,» Douglas nodded uneasily. He saw his dream so close, and at the same time he was suddenly stung by a sharp sense of disappointment. Was this what he’d been dreaming of lately? If so, he was very close to him. So why was Douglas suddenly looking for different feminine features in his face? Rhianon’s. Why couldn’t she come to him now? Why had Mastema come instead of her? After all, Douglas had been dreaming of nothing but her lately.

It had taken him some time to realize that the beautiful angel had not come to him with an offer of intimacy.

«Does your king want me in his army?» His pale lips curved into a sneer that sent a chill down his spine. It was a statement, not a question, and yet Douglas nodded.

«It is a curious suggestion…»

Even Douglas’ captive creatures in the cages and corners of the tower chuckled, recognizing the sneer in Dennitsa’s tone. Douglas, on the other hand, did not know where to put his eyes.

«I promised…»

«I know it,» the angel interrupted him. «You don’t think there’s anything I don’t know.»

«Well…» The young man felt like a fool. His idol had deliberately dragged him through the mud, chiding him for his naivety. «I think nothing escapes your attention, Monsignor.»

«Monsignor,» the beautiful pale lips sneered again. Douglas noticed that the mocking grin bloomed on them like a rose, so beautiful were they. He’d never been a poet, and yet the comparison was self-evident.

«It’s a funny way of putting it, but I like it…»

The laughter never came, but in Douglas’s mind it rang, like the clang of gold in a dragon’s cave, deafening yet husky at the same time.

«It is too low for you,» he murmured fearfully.

«But it conveys the essence,» his golden lashes lowered suddenly, casting no shadow across his cheeks, only a glow. «I was never the first…»

He frowned thoughtfully, as if weighing recent memories.

«No, you are the first, and only you,» Douglas dared to retort, and then he bit his tongue. The hand that had been stroking his curls nearly closed around his throat.

«She doesn’t think so,» Madael whispered.

Douglas had no further objections. He remembered Rhianon. The mere sight of her would make everything he had ever lived before vanish in a moment. He could understand Dennitsa, his passion, his love, his self-denial… He was not prepared to lose for her, was he? Douglas was suddenly frightened.

I love you, he almost said, both of you, and that is the only reason you should not fight. Fight the whole world, but not each other. Why can’t you be against all, but together? But apparently everything had already been decided without his advice. Douglas panicked, and the hand that was clutching him suddenly grew harder. Freeing himself from the statue’s grasp would be much easier than throwing it off.

«Demand whatever reward you want from your king, little one, for convincing me to take your side.»

«But…» Douglas was taken aback. The golden voice was like an echo. How tired he was. «If you are with them, you are against her.»

The very guess stunned him. He stared dumbly at the gorgeous face, as if frozen for a moment. His laughter, which sounded sudden, like the clinking of coins rolling across the floor, completely threw him off balance.

«She has a husband, if you remember,» the angel reminded him, laughing bitterly. «Or have you finished watching her?»

The hand that held him against the wall grew even harder. Douglas shrank back.

«Even I could kill him… with my own special methods, of course. Send a bird with poison into his dining room, for example. No one would even notice its claws slipping over the king’s glass.»

«I want to kill him in front of her,» Madael protested with an implacable tone. There was no point in arguing. Douglas gave in immediately.

«Does she love him? Do you think so?»

«I don’t think so,» the angel shook his head. «I would have sensed otherwise. But she is with him. That’s good enough for me,» he said, his voice abruptly steeled. «Tell him I’m taking the girl anyway. And the Crown Prince I am taking too. The rest goes to your lord, since he has no objection to my being at his side.»

The steel palm let him go, but Douglas was in no hurry to leave and carry out the order. He was still staring at his guest in stupefaction.

«You don’t have to do that, do you?» He guessed. «You should be on her side, not his. Such is the supreme command. Am I right?»

«Go away!» Suddenly there was such hatred in his beautiful eyes that Douglas had the good sense to run for the door. «Remember, boy,» the harsh voice said as he drew nearer to the door. «Here on earth, I’ll decide for myself what I do, what side I fight on. I have been ordered enough by the Lord before, and I do not need your advice anymore.»

It was meant to be. Douglas knew that. You can’t command the strongest forever, even if he’s a prisoner. One day the chains would break. Rage allowed him to realize his superiority. Good if that rage wasn’t being unleashed on him now. Douglas could almost hear the angel clock, somewhere in the immeasurable distance, chiming an alarming beat. It is done. It was time. He shrugged, resigning himself to the inevitable.

«Well, then it’s time,» he said, not really counting on Madael to understand or approve of such observations of himself. But the angel only grinned.

«And you thought you were better than me?» Conrad flinched and turned around, but the gallery behind him was empty. No one was hiding in any of the arches. No one was following him, but the whispering sounded in his brain, piercing and burning. It coursed like fire through every vein, intoxicating his brain, making him feel anxious and afraid. But was it fear of whom? Was it fear for conspirators? Was it fear for rebels who are rumored to have begun burning the estates of their lords? How can they get into the castle? There’s no one suspicious here, and the guards are awake. And yet Conrad felt himself in danger. He even felt uncomfortable. Who could be afraid in an empty gallery? And he was not only afraid, he was trembling. His skin was covered with goose bumps, and his body was shaking convulsively. He stopped and leaned against one of the pillars. What was this all about? If this was all Douglas’s tricks, it was time to turn him over to the inquisitors or the rioters. Let the rebellious people destroy the devil in his person. The rebels need someone’s blood now. They attacked old Bertrand only because he was supposedly infected with the devil. What’s worse than a court wizard? Only that he lives at court and is not easy to reach. Conrad himself would have given him to the rebels now, though he wasn’t sure Douglas wouldn’t conjure something so that they all scattered. He could be expected to do anything. But why had he turned on his lord? Conrad stubbornly considered himself the benefactor of the young warlock, for he had found him a task, paid him handsomely, showered him with favors. And not only had Conrad not yet found a direct path to Rhianon’s return, he had begun to turn his enchantments against his own client. Lately he had been insistent that Conrad’s rival was much stronger than one could imagine.