Mercedes Lackey: Castle of Deception

He hoped.

“We’re not going to be able to go much further today,” he told the mule reluctantly. “We’d better find a place to camp for the night.”

At least he had flint and steel in his pouch. After stumbling about in the dim light for a time, Kevin managed to find enough dead branches to build himself a decent little fire in the middle of a small, rocky clearing. The firelight danced off the surrounding trees as the bardling sat huddling before the flames, feeling the welcome warmth steal through him.

The fire took off the edge of his chill. But it couldn’t help the fact that he was still tired and so hungry his stomach ached. The bardling tried to ignore his discomfort by taking out his lute and working his way through a series of practice scales.

As soon as he stopped, the night flowed in around him, Iris small fire not enough to hold back the darkness, the little forest chirpings and rustlings not enough to break the heavy silence. Kevin struck out bravely into the bouncy strains of “The Miller’s Boy.” But the melody that had sounded so bright and sprightly with the inn around it seemed chin and lonely here. Kevin’s fingers faltered, then stopped. He sat listening to the night for a moment, feeling the weight of the forest’s indifference pressing down on him. He roused himself with an effort and put his lute back in its case, safe from the night’s gathering mist—Those nice, dull, safe days back at the inn didn’t seem quite so unattractive right now ....

Oh, nonsense! What sort of hero are you, afraid of a little loneliness?

He’d never, Kevin realized, been alone before, really alone, in his life. Battling with homesickness, the bardling banked the fire and curled up once more in his cloak.

After what seemed an age, weariness overcame misery, and he slipped into uneasy sleep.

Scornful laughter woke him. Kevin sat bolt upright, staring up into eyes that glowed an eerie green in the darkness. Demons!

No, no, whatever these beings were, they weren’t demonic. After that first terrified moment, he could make out the faces that belonged with those eyes, and gasped in wonder. The folk surrounding him were tall and graceful, a touch too graceful, too slender, to be human. Pale golden hair framed fair, fine-boned, coldly beautiful faces set with those glowing, slanted eyes, and Kevin whispered in wonder:

“Elves ...”

He had heard about them of course, everyone had. They were even supposed to share some of King Amber’s lands with humans—though every now and then bitter feelings surfaced between the two races. But Kevin had never seen any of the elf-folk. White or Dark, good or evil, never even dreamed he might.

“Why, how clever the child is!” The elvish voice was dear as crystal, cold with mockery.

“Clever in one way, at least!” said another.

“So stupid in all other ways!” a third mocked. “Look at the way he sleeps on the ground, like a poor little animal.”

“Look at the trail he left, so that anyone, anything could track him.”

“Look at the way he sleeps like a babe, without a care in the world.”

“A human child.”

“A careless child!”

The elf man who’d first spoken laughed softy. “A foolish child that anyone can trick!”

So alien a light glinted in the slanted eyes that Kevin’s breath caught in his throat. Everyone knew elvish whims were unpredictable; it was one of the reasons there could never be total ease between elf and human. If these folk decided to loose their magic on him, he wouldn’t have a chance of defending himself. “My lords,” he began, very, very carefully, “if I have somehow offended you, pray forgive me.”

“Offended!” the elf echoed coldly. “As if anything a child such as you could do would be strong enough to offend us!”

That stung. “My lord, I—I know I may not look like much to someone like you.” To his intense mortification, his empty stomach chose that moment to complain with a loud gurgle. Kevin bit his tip, sure that those keen, pointed elf ears had picked up the sound. AH he could do was continue as best he could, “But—but that doesn’t give you the right to insult me.”

“0h, how brave it is!” The elf man rested one foot lightly on a rock and leaned forward, fierce green gaze flicking over Kevin head to foot “Bah, look at yourself! Sleeping on bare ground when there are soft pine boughs to make you a bed. Aching with hunger when the forest holds more than enough to feed one scrawny human. Leaving a trail anyone could follow and carrying no useful weapon at all. How could we not insult such ignorance?”

The elf straightened, murmuring a short phrase in the elvish tongue to the others. They laughed and faded soundlessly into the night, but not before one of them had tossed a small sack at Kevin’s feet.

“Our gift, human,” the elf man said. “Inside is food enough to keep you alive. And no, it is not bespelled. We would not waste magic on you.”

With that, the elf turned to leave, then paused, looking back over his shoulder at the bardling. With inhuman bluntness, he said, “I hope, child, for your sake that you are simply naive and not stupid. In time, either flaw will get you killed, but at least the first can be corrected.”

The alien eyes blazed into Kevin’s own for a moment longer. Then the elf was gone, and the bardling was left alone in the night, more frightened than he would ever have admitted.

He’s wrong! Kevin told himself defiantly once his heart had stopped pounding. Just because I'm a bardling, not a Q woodsman who’s never known anything but the forest doesn’t make me naive or stupid!

Deciding that didn’t stop him from rummaging in the little sack. The elvish idea of food that would keep him alive seemed to be nothing more exciting than flat wafers of bread. But when he managed to choke one of the dry things down, it calmed his complaining stomach so nicely that the bardling sighed with relief and actually slipped back into sleep.

Kevin stood with head craned back, sunlight warm on his face, feeling the last of last night’s fears melting away. How could he possibly hold onto fear when it was bright, dear morning and all around him the air was filled with bird song?

Maybe the whole thing had been only a dream?

No. The sack of wafers was quite real. Kevin gnawed thoughtfully on one, then gave another to his mule, which lipped it up with apparent delight. He saddled and bridled the animal, then climbed aboard, still trying to figure out what the purpose of that midnight meeting had been.

A. last he shook his head in dismissal. All the stories said the elf folk, being the nonhuman race they were, had truly bizarre senses of humor, sometimes outright cruel by human standards. What had happened last night must surely have been just another nasty Elvis idea of a joke.

“Come on, mule. Let’s get going.” At least he wasn’t hungry.

The road sloped up, first gently then more steeply, much to the mule’s distaste. When it grew too steep, Kevin dismounted now and again to give the animal a rest, climbing beside it.

But at last, after a quiet day of riding and walking, they reached the crest. Kevin stared out in awe at a wild mountain range of tall gray crags, some of them high enough to be snowcapped even in spring. They towered over rolling green fields neatly sectioned into farms. On the nearest crag, surrounded by open space stood:

“Count Volmar’s castle!” Kevin cried triumphantly. “It has to be!”

The castle hadn’t been built for beauty. Heavy and squat, it seemed to crouch possessively on its crag like some ancient grey beast of war staring down at the count’s lands. But Kevin didn’t care. It was the first castle he had ever seen, and he thought it was wonderful, a true war castle dating from the days when heroes held back the forces of Darkness. Bright banners flew from the many towers, softening some of the harshness, and the bardling could see from here that the castle’s gates were open. By squinting he could make out the devices on those banners: the count’s black boar on an azure field.