Christopher Stasheff - The Warlock is Missing

"Oh, aye!" Cordelia cried, instantly contrite. "How selfish of me! Praise Heaven they are not hurted!"

But even as she said it, the vision began to fade. Cordelia gave a wordless cry of longing, but the mist thickened, obscuring their parents and their friends, till cloud filled the crystal again.

"At the least, we did see them for some little while." Magnus stared at the darkening crystal with huge eyes. "Godspeed, my father and mother! And bring thee back to me quickly!"

Then the crystal was only a glittering bauble again, and Gregory's eyes closed. He swayed, kneeling, men slowly top-pled

Cordelia leaped forward and caught him, cradling his head in her arms. "Oh! Poor lad! Magnus, it hath quite exhausted him, this seeing!"

"'Tis only weariness, sister," Magnus reassured her. "He must needs rest some little while; then he will be well."

"An we have that 'while' thou speakest of." Geoffrey looked up, turning toward the entrance to the grotto with a frown.

"What dost thou hear?" Magnus was instantly alert, holding very still, straining his ears. Then he heard it, too—a crashing through the brush and a distant "Ho! Ho!" coming nearer.

"The troll!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Oh, it must not find mis wondrous place!"

"I fear that it will," Geoffrey said, tight-lipped. "It doth follow our trace, and will track us here soon or late!"

"A great blundering monster such as that, entering in amidst all this dainty beauty?" Cordelia cried. "Such a creature would destroy it quite!"

"Nay, it will not." Magnus rose, hefting Gregory's unconscious body, but with great effort. "It will not come in… if we… are gone."

"Thou must not leave!" Summer insisted, hands upraised to stop him.

"Aye! 'Tis not safe," Fall agreed. "The monster will follow and catch thee!"

"Aye… but it will not have come in here, if… we have fled."

"Will it know that, though?" Cordelia demanded. "Nay! It will follow our trace in, then will follow it out again—but Heaven alone knows what havoc it will wreak while here! Nay! Set down thy brother, and aid me! That troll must not enter this grotto!"

"In that, we agree." Summer and Fall said in chorus. "Faerie magic is thine to command. How shall we stop the creature?"

A glitter caught Magnus's eye, and he turned, staring at the tracery of a dew-coated web. "With thine aid, I can at least think how to slow it when it doth seek to enter."

"Slowing the thing will not save this grotto! Oh!" Cordelia stamped her foot, glaring at Gregory's unconscious form. "Waken, lob! Canst thou not find a way to stop this monster?"

"Do not seek to rouse him." It was a deep baritone; Puck stood by her knee, frowning up at Gregory. "That seeing drew

greatly on his strength; thy folk must be far indeed from us."

"Yet how shall we stay this troll, Robin?"

"An Magnus can slow it at the entrance to this grotto, I may know how to banish it—unless I mistake the creature's nature quite." Puck grinned. "At the least, we could watch from safe hiding and try. Art thou willing, children?"

"Well, if it must be safe hiding, it must," Geoffrey sighed. "What is thy plan, Puck?"

When the troll came blundering and bellowing to the grotto, they were ready for it.

It followed their trail up to the hole in the vines, went on past it, slowed, stopped, and looked around, confused. Then a grin split its face, and it turned to swagger back, sniffing as it went. As it came to the hole in the vines, its grin widened, and it shouted, "Aho!" It bent over, sniffing from side to side, then turned toward the hole with a chuckle. It stepped forward…

And blundered into an invisible wall.

The troll stepped back, frowning, but whatever it had come against clung to it and it swatted around trying to bat the substance away. But the effort was for naught, and it bellowed in anger, kicking and thrashing.

"It is wrapped in the spiders' webs," Geoffrey reported.

"Small wonder, when there were a thousand of mem, one on top of another," Magnus answered. "Now, 'Delia, lead us. Think, brother."

Geoffrey glared at the troll, but his mind concentrated on Cordelia's thoughts.

Cordelia was thinking of birds—many birds. Sparrows, robins, bluebirds, crows—hundreds of them. Magnus picked up on the sparrows, imagining a horde of mem as vividly as he could. Geoffrey took robins, lots of robins, flocking together to practice flying south for the winter.

The troll roared in full anger now, struggling with more and more strength but less and less effect. As it struggled, bits of it began to flake off against the spider webs, taking on independent life, wriggling through the holes the troll tore in its invisible cocoon, clawing loose and fluttering away into the night.

"'Tis even as Puck thought!" Geoffrey cried. The troll is a thing made of witch-moss!" And he redoubled his efforts, glaring furiously at the monster.

The birds were fluttering out of the churning chrysalis by the dozens now—robins, sparrows, and bluebirds flying away, huge crows flapping into the night with cawing cacophony that masked the troll's shrunken, high-pitched roaring— and as they fluttered away, the thrashing shape grew smaller and smaller.

Finally, it was small enough to crawl through one of the holes it had torn—and a foot-high troll came waddling and tumbling down the side of the grotto wall with roars that sounded like a kitten's mew.

"Eh, the poor thing!" Cordelia said, and her vision of blue-birds vanished like a soap bubble. She leaped up, arms out-stretched—but Puck caught at her skirt. "Nay, lass! Small it may be, yet 'tis even now a vicious, voracious monster! Hold out thy hand to it and it will take thy wrist with its teeth!"

"Think, brother!" Magnus commanded, and Geoffrey obeyed with a will. As Cordelia watched, appalled, the troll's form blurred like a wax doll too close to the fire. The colors of its face, hair, and body flowed, blending into an even pinkish mass which still wobbled toward them, pinching in the middle, dividing, splitting apart. Then each half stretched, darkening, and slabs of its substance shelved out, moving up and down, as its form coalesced and hardened—and a crow flew away into the night, cawing. A sparrow hopped after it, chirping.

Then the grotto lay empty, and silent.

Cordelia stared, eyes huge and tragic.

"Do not feel guilt, sister," Geoffrey snapped. "It would have eaten thee, an it could have."

" 'Twas never a thing of its own," Puck pointed out, "for it had no mind—only an impulse, a blind, clawing need. 'Twas born of an old wife's delight in a children's tale, and had no more substance than a fevered dream."

"'Tis almost as though it had never been," Cordelia whispered.

"Never think it!" Geoffrey insisted, and Magnus nodded, his face hard. "It would have bitten thee with teeth hard and sharp, and devoured thee with an actual hunger. 'Twas real enough, sister—real enough."

It was still dark when Kelly shook them, one by one, calling softly, "Wake. The sun rises over the pastureland, children, even though ye see it not. We must begin the day's journey. Wake!"

The children rolled over with an assortment of groans. "But we were awake so late last night, Kelly," Gregory pleaded.

"And 'twas quite wearying," Geoffrey seconded.

"Wearying! Sure and I thought ye did love a good fight!"

"I do," the boy yawned, "yet 'tis wearying nonetheless.!'

"Wherefore ought we to wake, when Puck doth not?" Magnus groused.

"He rose up before ye, and went ahead to spy out the countryside. Ye'll not go unwarned into danger again, says he! So come, awake!"

"Let me sleep a bit more," Cordelia murmured, burrowing her head back into her rolled-cape pillow.

But a velvet nose nuzzled her cheek, and she looked up to see the unicorn standing over her, silver in the dark. With a glad cry, she leaped up to throw her arms about the creature's neck.