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Chronicle II, Chapter 1 Contract By William Black Grey clouds rode low across the early morning sky as fairgoers started to pick their way past the various tents and hawkers of goods. Shopkeepers and artisans vied for attention from the passing crowds. A few got lucky, the sound of gold coins and coppers passing hands in final agreements. Agreements! Yes, that is what the robe-covered creature wanted as he made his way through the warm-blooded masses. He knew Morion's realm was one of the most sought after prizes the world had to offer; both just to visit and to conquer. "Conquest," the fellow thought to himself, "what a delicious idea!" He smiled to himself. It would be a conquest from inside-out. There was no reason to expend more energy than necessary. That had been Dumah's failure. The Angel of Death had trusted only in himself, but that trust, though complete, was in the end misguided. The hooded specter wondered how a simple Druid knight could have defeated such a powerful evil as the Angel of Death. Magic! That was the key. The knight had turned to the Source, and had been master of both the old magic and the new. He could combine their essential powers into a devastating whole without compromising either. Fortunately, the Druid had been annihilated in the very act of destroying Dumah. Magic was the answer. Prevent the practice of magic and the knights of Morion's realm would be his. The specter giggled to himself. Yes, Morion and her realm would soon belong to another. Ignoring a white dove as it past directly overhead, he continued on his way past vendors and fairgoers alike. They all seemed unaware of his presence, which did not bother him in the slightest. With a little patience on his part, they would all come to know and serve him. He turned onto a pathway leading to Morion's palace, and though he had to pass a few more booths on his way, he paid little attention to them. His mind was concentrating on the scene within the palace walls. Morion was consulting with her advisors. She had received his letter. He smiled as he thought of the coming days. Inside the palace Morion paced as she read the letter. It was from a Lord Banon of Damtree and issued a friendly challenge. Five people sat listening around a large oak table. They all looked intently at their sovereign, but each had their own opinions of what the letter was really requesting. Sir David, known all over the Realm as the First Knight, was about to speak when another interrupted his thoughts. "My Lady, please read that last bit again," said Sir Robert as he watched Morion pace. She looked down at the parchment and read the last few sentences... "It seems that your people have gone so long protected by magic that they have forgotten how to live and defend themselves. Look around you and see the decay that is happening. You have peace, yes, but also complacency. Your soldiers and knights are unskilled in practical warfare." She looked up a Robert, then to the others seated with him, "Well, it seems the Lord Banon believes that due to so many years of peace, our knights and soldiers have become lazy and unskilled in the art of war. He suggests that we depend too much on magic and the protection the Dark Crystal affords. He 'offers' to prove this by sending one of his finest knights to challenge any and all comers too fair and gentlemanly combat at our gathering." Sir David narrowed his eyes while considering how to phrase his question. For a moment he looked out at the grey clouds drifting by, then said, "What conditions are stated in this letter? I mean really? You read that he wants us to sign a contract, but what kind of contract? Does he not believe in our honor? If not, I would advise tearing up the letter and let us get on with the fair." "I agree," said a wizened older man with stooped shoulders. "Something is amiss here, but I cannot put my finger on it. My I see that letter, please?" Morion handed the letter to her wizard. She was always amused how old he could make himself look, though indeed he was at least four times her age. Turning to the rest while shaking her head slightly, she said, "I have no idea what his game is. But it seems harmless enough. If we don't like the terms of the contract, we don't have to sign. I think that whomever Lord Banon sends is in for a bit of a shock!" Sir Robert laughed, "If he jousts with me, he sure will be in for a shock." The others in the room chuckled. Then Robert looked at the woman next to him. "What do you think, Morgan? What do you feel?" The woman looked at him with a sparkle in her deep blue eyes, "I think, my love, that you forget; I don't use second-sight any more. However, as a councilor to my Lady here, I advise great caution. There is danger in every unknown; especially when a complete stranger asks for a binding agreement just so he can prove his point. If he is so confident, then why require a legal document. What does this Lord Banon character really want? "I will tell you what he wants," said a deep booming voice as he pressed past the guard trying to detain him. "He wants to prove to you all that your knights and soldiers could not protect their own mothers, let alone the Dark Crystal and its Mistress." The robed figure stopped before two other guards who, swords drawn, had positioned themselves between the council and the intruder. Sir Robert and Sir David were also on their feet. "What is the meaning of this intrusion, Sir!" growled Robert. Lady Ann leaned over to Lady Morgan and whispered, "Too bad this fellow didn't learn diplomacy from his Master!" Both women chuckled. "Stop!" Morion looked at the intruder in his black robes. This figure and his entrance reminded her of how she had first met the Druid knight. He too had interrupted her court once and demanded an audience. She walked over to stand in front of the robed man. Her guards gave way, but only slightly. The man was taller than the Druid by a good foot or so, and heavier set. "Who are you and what business do you have with us?" Before the fellow had a chance to answer, a loud screech echoed through the hall. A large eagle swooped into the room through the open doors and landed gracefully on its perch at the front of the council chamber. "Seems you have all sorts of wonderful protectors here. I see a wizard, a knight with magical qualities, a knight with a attitude, an ex-enchantress, a Lady-in-waiting, and finally, an eagle. Hmmmm... me thinks the bird would make the most worthy rival of the lot to my challenge, and good eating after its defeat!" With this the robed figure revealed himself. Arrow screeched in protest, but cocked his head as if to get a better look at this upstart. The man stood looking down at Morion, his features sharp and ruggedly handsome. His nose was long and narrow. An ugly scare graced his left cheek. His lips were a straight line without wrinkles; as if he never smiled. The dark eyes appeared coal black and did not glitter. They seemed to absorb the very light around them. "I am champion to Lord Banon. My name is Gardain of Damtree. My proposition," With this he looked at Lady Ann wickedly, "is simple." He turned to look at Morion, "I challenge your finest knights, save the 'First knight' here, to honorable combat, starting with the joust." "What's the catch?" Sir Robert moved closer. "Very simple, really. You must suspend the use of all magic during the time of the tournament. No magic is to be done anywhere in this realm. You see, Lord Banon and I want to prove a point. You cannot survive without magic. You are weak. And the weaker you become in physical combat, the more likely you will become in the use of your magic. So in reality, Lord Banon is trying to do you a favor. He doesn't want you to end up like those who built the old ruins to the far northeast of you." "Right, as if I believe this," snorted Robert. Morion placed her hand on her knight's shoulder. "My knights and soldier are quite capable of defending this realm from the threats without. They don't use magic. You may take a message back to your Master. Tell him we are not interested in his kind proposition. Tell him we appreciate his concern, but we are well able to manage our own affairs." "As you wish, but doesn't it bother you? That your realm is protected by magic and your soldiers have not known real combat? I offer them a tame, if not quite safe, way to hone their skills." Morion laughed. "We hold tournaments like the one coming up during this current festival for the very reason of giving us all a chance to know true competition and testing. What can you add?" The tall man gazed down at the Lady Morion and smiled. "I offer you the unknown. A possibility of defeat without the risks of true warfare. I offer you the chance to test the untested, and to prove you weaker than you suppose. All you have to do is suspend all use of magic during the fair." "I wonder why your Lord is so anxious about our welfare? It seems to me that if he had any concern, he would come himself, not just send one solitary knight to prove our mettle. No, what you propose is very obviously not out of charity. Your ulterior motive is rather plain." Morgan's eyes looked fierce. "You seek to understand our weaknesses and then use that knowledge against us." The big man doubled over with laughter. Once he had composed himself with some effort, he turned to Morion and spoke, "Your Enchantress is failing you Lady. I seek not to understand your weaknesses. I seek to create them!" Morion looked back at the fellow, then around at her councilors. They all shook their heads and started to protest, but Morion cut them off. "Sir, your challenge and terms are accepted!" Sir Gardain looked at Morion for a moment assessing the strength of her decision. "Well then, Lady. You won't mind signing a little contract. It is rather straight forward, if I do say so myself." With this the man pulled out scrolled pieces of parchment. He unrolled them and handed the contracts over to Morion. "Two copies, one for you and on for my Lord." Morion read the contents carefully. True to his word it was quite simple and to the point. She handed one copy to Morgan, who in her turn read and passed it on. When David read the document, he looked at the man and then back at the scroll in his hands. "Why do you fear me?" he said in a low, threatening voice. Sir Gardain walked up to David and stood inches away. "I don't fear you, Sir. I fear your magic. True, you do not choose to use it, but that does not mean you can't or won't. You have in the past and will in the future. No, I don't fear you in the slightest. The matter is, I regret having to keep you out of the tournament. It would be great fun finding out who is the better man." "I am your better. Fight me!" Sir Robert's face was red, his anger barely held in check. Morgan stepped over to calm her lover. But he shoved her aside and stepped up to the larger man. "I have no magic and distrust it as you. Fight me." His voice was a threatening whisper. "Your distrust of magic is just what I am counting on," Gardain answered but looked with lecherous eyes at Morgan. "Yes indeed. I will fight you. But surely you have more than this to offer as sport, Lady Morion?" He looked back to the Lady of the realm. "Yes, I do. However, each and everyone on of my protectors will need to make their own decisions. As for me, I will pledge on my honor that no magic will be done by the participants of the tournament while the fair lasts. I cannot say magic won't be done, for there are others in my realm not directly under my control." She looked at her councilors, and said, "We have an opportunity here. This fellow fears our magic, let him come to respect our knights. It will send a clear message across many realms and kingdoms that we are well fit and capable to defend our lands and people." "Even if it is a trap," she looked at Gardain with a slight smile, "we will still defeat you." With those words she took the scroll from her First knight, walked to the table and found a quill. Her wizard handed her a bottle of ink. "Wait!" Gardain walked over to stand with Morion. "Please accept my ink. It is vastly more permanent, and will seal this agreement with trust." He produced out of his script a small bottle of red liquid, and handed it to Morion. "Red ink? How nice." Her sarcasm bit deep. "So we are signing our lives away by our own blood, eh?" Morion took the bottle, opened the lid, and after dipping the quill into the dark crimson ink, signed both copies of the contract. Her councilors stood around her and took turns re-reading the agreement and signing their names. When Sir Robert's turn came, he looked once at his mate and, ignoring the warning in her eyes, signed the copies with a flourish. "You will find me an honorable man, Sir Gardain. I needn't a contract to prove this to you." Gardain tilted his head slightly, "No, I suppose you don't. But a contract is what we now have. Just one last signature and I will be on my way to prepare." Looking at Morgan with a leer, he purred, "Your turn." Yes, if all went well, both his Master and himself would be quite satisfied with the outcome of this fair. His eyes traveled up and down the seductive figure of Morgan. Her eyes were piercing blue. He hair a red halo around her soft featured face, but he knew she was no saint. He was impressed that never once did her detached attitude waver, nor did she seem to bother about his wondering eyes. She's proud, I like that, he thought to himself. Morgan looked at the contract. It seemed well-written and straight forward. She knew something was amiss, but could not put her finger on it. All the councilors present were uneasy about this agreement, yet for some reason they all felt compelled to sign the compact. They must prove themselves both capable and skilled enough to defend the realm they loved. She wished Sir William of Annsbury were still available to her. His council and wisdom, though she didn't always agree with it, were always a source of comfort to her. Morgan scolded herself for these thoughts. William was dead and she had gotten on with life. Still, the memories and pain of their parting were close enough to the surface of her consciousness that thoughts of him often intruded uninvited into her heart. "Dear Enchantress, sign the agreement," Gardain was watching her closely. Something about her thoughts disturbed him, but also gave him hope. The Lady Morgan took the quill from the ink pot, wiped the excess liquid off, and quickly wrote out her signature to both sheets of parchment. She tried to focus her mind on that of the stranger's. There should be some sign of magic or evil surrounding him if things were not as they should be. However, her thoughts turned up nothing. The Knight of Damtree was exactly as he said, a servant and champion of Lord Banon. She let her thoughts slip one more time, and this by her own will, "God, I wish you were here Will. You would sort this out." Gardain let the ink dry before he moved to retrieve the document. "Well, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now, for my signature...," he looked around at the them, "I wouldn't want you to think I had entrapped you by not allowing the use of magic. By my signing of this pact, I declare that I too am obligated, like you, to fight fairly, with honor, and only with my skill and physical strength." With great care he signed both copies. Then with a snap of his fingers, he brought what appeared to be his squire scurrying through the main doorway of the hall. "Take this copy to my tent and await my arrival," he ordered. "We have preparations to make." He handed one copy to the lad and then sent him on his way. Gardain turned to follow his servant, but then turned back to address Lady Morion. "You know, it will be a pleasure to prove you unready to defend yourselves. However, I must say I also pity you. It must be hard to give up the very thing that sustains you. I really wonder if your realm would last if not for the Dark Crystal." With that, he turned and walked out with a chuckle. Morion watched him go. His words, though meant to hurt, were also true. She did depend on the power emanating from the crystal. Her magic was nothing without it. It was only because of her wisdom and love of all life that she wielded the power of the stone. Its power upheld her realm; without it she was nothing. She looked around at her advisors, "Well, I cause we will see what we will see, eh?" She moved to the head of the table and sat down heavily on her chair. Normally vibrant, she felt tired. Why the apprehension, she thought to herself. My knights and soldiers are the equal of any alive. But she worried. They all wanted to say something, but it was Ann who broke the silence first. "My Lady, are you all right?" Lady Ann walked up to her while looking intently at her mistresses face. "Surly you are not worried about the boasts of that braggart? Any one of our knights can easily handle him, and even if some fail, the others will be even more determined to take Sir Gardain down a few pegs. Please don't fret about it." Morion looked at her young friend. Lady Ann really believed what she said, but Morion was a realist. Magic sustained her realm for many years now. Her knights had a few battles under their belts, yet the past few years were relatively quite. True, knights often went on quests and some never returned, but the army as a whole knew nothing of real combat. Magic was the main protector and deterrent. The only real excitement that occurred in the recent past was the devastation to kingdoms, realms, and land caused by the Druid knight's defeat of Dumah. Whole villages and hamlets leveled, castles and fortresses shattered to dust, and rivers changed their courses, but miraculously not a single life was lost. There were injures to be sure, but none resulted in death. It was as if death itself was so weakened by the magic employed by the Druid, that it left the injured and homeless alone, so it could go and lick its own wounds. Morion often thought of her Druid protector. The only one of his faith in her realm. Well, not of the faith anymore, she chuckled to herself. He had apparently turned to the Source before she actually met him for the first time. His use of magic was always a source of quilt to him, but he sure knew how to use it. He had been a good friend, both to man and beast. Arrow, the great eagle, seemed to sense Morion's thoughts and let out a chirp as if in agreement. Morgan watched her fellow councilors and Morion, "Look at us! We are all standing around with long faces, doubting ourselves and questioning our abilities to survive without magic! This is what Gardain wants." She stepped up to her lover, "Robert, I know that look in your eyes. You're stubborn, but you too wonder if you can win. If you doubt yourself, defeated is inevitable." Robert looked at his love and smiled. "Did he use witchcraft? Causing us to question ourselves and thus demoralizing us before we even take the field? Maybe you would do a casting to ward off this evil cloud of worry that has settled on all of us." Robert loved to needle his mate. He didn't believe in her enchantments. Well, not the magical ones anyway, he thought mischievously. "Remember, magic cannot be done during the festival," the Wizard spoke up. He never did appreciate Robert's humor. He didn't much care for the knight. Robert was far too cocky and proud for the old wizard's taste. "It would do us good to keep a close watch on Sir Gardain. It don't trust him." Morion cocked an eyebrow at her wizard. "None of us do. See to it that Gardain receives all that our hospitality has to offer... and observe him well." The wizard walked purposely out of the hall. The other bowed to their Lady and filed out talking amongst themselves. Morion watched them leave, then turned to Arrow who was still perched on his stand. She walked over to stroke his soft cheek feathers. The eagle tilted his head to give her a better angle for tickling his neck. "Beloved friend, please keep your eagle eyes open during the tournament. I have a feeling we'll need all the vigilance we can muster to guard against this protector of Lord Banon. He makes me uncomfortable." Then giving the great bird one final caress with her fingers, she walked out of the hall to attend to other duties. Arrow watched her go, then launched himself into the air, and flew out an open window at the back of the hall. Rain started to fall. William Black © Continues... Chronicle II, Main page |