Christopher Stasheff - The Warlock Unlocked

When he saw the light of day again, it was golden-orange, and dim. Turning a head that seemed as large as an asteroid and rang at the slightest touch, he saw the reason for the dimness—a tiny window, barred, and up near the low ceiling. Turning his head again in spite of the pain, he saw walls of rough-hewn rock, damp and splotched with fungus.

He levered himself up on his elbows. Consciousness tried to slide away again, but he hauled it back. Little Geoff huddled next to him, curled into a ball. Beyond him, Father Al sat gravely watching.

They were both shackled to the wall by four-foot lengths of heavy chain.

“Good afternoon, my friend,” the priest said softly.

Geoff’s head snapped up. He saw Rod’s eyes open, and threw his arms around his neck. “Papa!” He began to cry.

“There, there, now, son,” Rod soothed. Chains clanked as he wrapped his arms around Geoff. “Papa’s all right. It’ll be okay.” He looked up at Father Al. “Where’re Gwen and Cordelia and Magnus?”

“In a room like this one, I’d guess. The soldiers carrying them split off one floor up; I gather they’ve two layers of dungeons here.”

“You were conscious.”

“By then I was, yes.” Father Al fingered a bruise in the middle of his tonsure. He had several more on his forehead and cheeks, and there was clotted blood around his nostrils. “It wasn’t much of a fight. Your wife stepped out just as you started to crumble, and they caught her on the back of the head with a cudgel; she was out before she could do anything. Your little daughter and I made something of a try—the air was quite thick with flying stones for a few minutes there, till a soldier caught her from behind with a pike-butt. For myself, I found a reasonably solid stick, and actually managed to lay out a couple of them, myself.” He sounded surprised.

“Which lost you your clergy’s right to not get hit.” Rod found his respect for Father Al going up still more, while dull anger grew at the bastards who’d struck his wife and daughter—and clouted a priest, besides!

He took Geoff by the shoulders and held him back a little. “Try to stop crying, son. I’ve got to check you over. Where does it hurt?”

Geoff pointed to his head, and Rod fingered the spot gently—there was a large goose-egg. Geoff winced as he probed, but didn’t cry out; and the bone didn’t give when he pressed it. Good. “Look at me, son.” He stared into Geoff’s eyes—the pupils were the same size. “No, I think you’re okay.” Thank Heaven ! “You’ll have a headache for a while, though. Now, close your eyes, and see if you can hear Mama’s thoughts.”

Obediently, Geoff sat back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. After a few minutes, he said, “She there, Papa—‘n’ Mag’us ‘n’ Delia near. But everyone asleep!”

“Haven’t come to, then.”

“ Big sleep, Papa—bigger ‘n’ you just had!”

‘Bigger?’ Rod didn’t like the sound of that—it smacked of drugs.

A key clanked in the lock, and the door groaned open. Duke Foidin stepped in, grinning, flanked by guards. “Well, well! The gentlemen wake!”

“Yes, we do.” Rod glowered up at him. “Gonna slip us a sleeping potion now, like you did to my wife and other children?”

The Duke couldn’t quite mask the surprise. “Well, well! Thou dost have some power! And to think Eorl Theofrin assured me ‘twas the other three who were dangerous.”

“We operate as a unit,” Rod snapped. “What’re you planning to do with us?”

“Why, turn thee over to the Eorl, naturally—his help thus far has been rather half-hearted, being solely concerned with capturing thyself. Thou must have offended him deeply.”

“I didn’t exactly find him complimentary, myself.”

“Delightful, delightful!” The Duke rubbed his hands. “He should be quite eager to seize thee and thine—eager enough to pledge full support. To assure it, I believe I’ll give him thy family, but save thee till Lord Kern’s defeated.”

Rod studied the Duke’s face, deciding that his usual squeamishness about murder could be waived in this case.

“Oh, and thy wife! I had forgot!” The Duke raised a finger. “I ha’ not had time to attend to her properly—but I shall.” A leering grin spread over his face. “Be assured that I shall.”

Rod held himself wooden-faced, but the anger and loathing condensed and hardened into iron resolve.

Footsteps clattered in the hall, and a soldier burst in, covered with dust and caked blood. He dropped to one knee. “Milord Duke! Foul sorcery! Lord Kern’s troops filled the pass ere ours could come there! We battled to hold them within, but a horde of monsters turned our flank, and…

“Be still, fool!” The Duke snapped, with a furious glance at Rod. “Well, I must attend to this matter, wizard—but I’ll see thee again, at my leisure! Come!” he snapped to his guards, and whirled out the door. The messenger scrambled to his feet and stumbled after him. The guards clanked out and slammed the door; the key grated in the lock.

“I don’t think he’ll have much leisure for anything, now,” Rod said, with vindictive pleasure. “Lord Kern’ll come down like a whirlwind, and mop him up. Unless…” his face darkened.

“Unless Eorl Theofrin joins him whole-heartedly?” Father Al nodded. “But he has to buy Theofrin’s support. I suggest we do what we can to eliminate his buying power.”

“Yes—and now, while he’s busy!” Rod turned to Geoff. “Try to wake Mama, son! She can get us out of these shackles. Try really hard.”

“I… will, Papa,” the little boy said hesitantly. “But sleeps real hard.” Nonetheless, he screwed his eyes shut, concentrating. His whole little face knotted up with trying.

Then he yawned.

“Son?… Geoff. Geoff!” Rod reached out and shook him. Geoff’s head lolled over against him, with a little smile, and the boy breathed deeply and evenly.

“Damn! Whatever they put into her must’ve been really strong—it put him to sleep, too! What do we do now, Father?”

“A good point.” The priest frowned down at his hands. “We are, as they say, thrown back on our own resources.”

“Which means me,” Rod said slowly. “Ready to try a theory now, Father?”

The priest sighed and straightened up. “I don’t have much choice now, do I?”

“We have come to the crunch,” Rod agreed.

“All right.” Father Al slapped his hands on his thighs. “Try to follow me through this. First, the Gramarye espers could read your mind—until you fell in love with one of them.”

“Hey, now, wait a minute…”

Father Al held up a hand. “It was your falling in love that did it. You can’t remember the precise moment you became psionically ‘invisible,’ of course; but you weren’t before you met her, and you were afterwards. What other event could have triggered it?”

“Mmf. Well, maybe,” Rod grumbled. “But why? I want her to be able to read my mind, more than anyone!”

“No, you don’t.” Father Al waved a forefinger. “Not subconsciously, at least. She may be your greatest blessing, but she’s also your greatest threat. A man’s vulnerable to his beloved when he’s vulnerable to no one else; because you’ve ‘let her into your heart,’ she can hurt you most deeply. You needed some defense, some way of keeping the core of yourself inviolate—which you couldn’t do, if she could read your mind.”

“It sounds sensible. But Lord, man, it’s been nine years and four children! Wouldn’t I have outgrown that by now? I mean, shouldn’t my subconscious be convinced it can trust her?”