When Horris turned, Abernathy leapt on him and bore him to the floor. Horris shrieked and tried to break free, struggling mightily. He was all bony arms and legs, and Abernathy couldn't hold him. Horris squirmed out from under his attacker, dragged himself to his feet, and reached for the door. Desperate to hold him, Abernathy fastened his teeth in the other's worn supplicant's robes and braced himself on all fours. Horris tried to pull free, but couldn't quite manage it. Abernathy growled. The two struggled back and forth in front of the door, neither able to gain an advantage.
Then Horris Kew caught sight of the Tangle Box, shrieked anew, tore himself free with a mighty rip, and snatched up the box. He was making for the door and safety, kicking out at Abernathy furiously, when Fillip and Sot charged out of the darkness and catapulted into him, knocking him from his feet and flat on his back where he lay gasping for breath.
Abernathy took back the Tangle Box, started to give it to Fillip, and thought better of the idea. Using his free hand, he hauled Horris Kew back to his feet and shook him so hard he could hear the other's teeth rattle.
"You listen to me, you troublesome fraud!" he hissed angrily. "You do exactly as I say or you will regret the day you were born!"
"Let me go!" Horris Kew pleaded. "None of this is my fault! I didn't know!"
"You never know!" Abernathy snapped. "That's your problem! What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I came looking for Biggar," Horris managed, swallowing his fear in great gulps of breath. "Where is he? What have you done with him?"
Abernathy waited for the other's breathing to slow a beat, then brought them nose-to-nose. "The Gnomes ate him, Horris," he said softly. Horris Kew's eyes went wide. "And if you do not do what I tell you, I am going to let them eat you as well. Do you understand me?"
Horris nodded at once, unable to speak.
Abernathy moved back a fraction of an inch. "You can start by opening the cave door and getting us out of here. And do not attempt any tricks. Do not try running. I shall have a good grip on you the entire time."
He propelled Horris back to the entrance, Fillip and Sot following close behind, and waited while the terrified conjurer worked the rune sequence and triggered a release of the locks. The door opened ponderously, and conjurer, scribe, and Gnomes stumbled back out into the light.
Abernathy swung Horris Kew back around to face him. "Despite what you think, this is indeed all your fault, Horris, everything that has happened, so I do not want to hear you say anything else. You have one chance to set things right, and I suggest you take it. I want the High Lord set free. I want High Lord Ben Holiday back in Landover. You put him in the box; now you get him out!"
Horris Kew swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, his cheeks and mouth making a sucking noise. He looked like a scarecrow left out in the field long after its usefulness has reached an end. He looked like he might collapse into a pile of straw. "I don't know if I can do that," he whispered.
Abernathy gave him the meanest look he could muster. "You had better hope you can," he replied softly.
"But what will they do to me once they're free? Holiday might understand, but what about the dragon and the witch?"
"You will have bigger worries if you do not set them free." Abernathy was in no mood to bargain. "Speak the words of the spell, Horris. Right now."
Horris Kew licked his lips, glanced down at the G'home Gnomes, and took a deep breath. "I'll try."
Abernathy, without releasing him, handed over the Tangle Box and moved around behind him. One hand clamped about the conjurer's skinny neck. "Remember, no tricks."
Dawn was a red glare through the shadowy mass of the forest about them as it chased the darkness slowly west. Abernathy did not like the look of it. Bad weather was moving in. He was already thinking about the trip back to Sterling Silver, about the siege, about Kallendbor and the black-cloaked stranger. He gave Horris Kew's neck a sharp squeeze. Horris began to speak.
"Rashun, oblight, surena! Lar in, kestel, maneta! Ruhn!"
And the top of the Tangle Box disappeared instantly in a misty swirl of wicked green light.
Ben Holiday saw the crack appear in the blackness of the wall before him and turned toward it instantly. It glimmered as he raced for it, Nightshade and Strabo a step behind, then broadened as if the entire wall had been split apart. Fairy mist spun wildly, drawn to the brightness as if become a living thing. Ben flung himself into the breach, heedless of the consequences, knowing only that an opening of any kind offered a chance to get free. The light seemed to suck him up, to draw him into a vortex that twisted him about like a feather in a great wind. He was conscious of the witch and the dragon being drawn along with him, all three of them caught up in a whirlwind of motion. The gloom and the mist disappeared below him. The Labyrinth faded away. Above, the light took on a greenish glow, and there were shadows that swayed and rippled-tree branches and leaves, he realized-and sky, still dark with night's departure, and the smell of earth and moss and old growth, and the coppery taste of something like sulfur, and the sound of voices crying out ...
And then he was spit out into the forest gloom of Landover, come back once more into the world from which he had been taken. He found himself standing less than a dozen feet from Abernathy, Horris Kew, and Fillip and Sot, all of whom stared at him wide-eyed and openmouthed.
Then Nightshade appeared as well, become herself once more, the power of her magic radiating off her body in small sparks and glimmerings. She flung her arms skyward, a spontaneous gesture, the white streak in her black hair gleaming like frost on coal, the cool edges of her sculpted face lifted toward the red glow of the dawn.
"Free!" she cried with joy.
Strabo exploded out of the Tangle Box behind her, returned to his dragon form, scaly black body uncoiling, wings unfolding, rising skyward with a huge burst of fire that rolled from his maw, hammered into the cave door, and then burned upward through the trees. Steaming and glistening, all spikes and edges, the dragon gave a huge, booming cough and rocketed away into the departing night.
"High Lord!" Abernathy exclaimed in greeting, the relief evident in his voice. He snatched back the Tangle Box from Horris Kew and hurried over. "Are you all right?"
Ben nodded, looking around, making certain that in fact he was. Fillip and Sot were making small squeaking sounds in his direction while cowering away from the black form of Nightshade. Horris Kew appeared to be looking for a place to hide.
Ben took a deep breath. "Abernathy, what is going on?"
The scribe drew himself up. "Well, actually, quite a lot, as it happens ..."
A burst of acclaim from the G'home Gnomes cut him short.
"Great High Lord!"
"Mighty High Lord!"
Fillip and Sot were hugging each other and jumping up and down in glee, apparently convinced that it really was him after all. Ben gave them a tentative smile. What were they they doing here? doing here?
Abernathy tried to continue, but Nightshade had spotted Horris Kew and was starting forward in a rush of black robes. "You!" she hissed in undisguised fury.
Ben stepped quickly between them. "Wait, Nightshade. I want to hear from Abernathy first."
"Get out of my way, play-King," the witch ordered venomously. "We are no longer in the Labyrinth and no longer subject to its rules. I have my magic back, and I can do as I please!"
But Ben held his ground, reached into his tunic, and brought forth the medallion. "We are both who we were. Do not test your strength against mine. I will hear from my scribe on what has been happening in our absence before I make a decision about Horris Kew."
Nightshade stood frozen in place, livid with fury. "Start talking, Abernathy," Ben advised quietly.
Abernathy did. He told the High Lord all about the Tangle Box and Horris Kew, the mind's eye crystals, the black-cloaked stranger, Kallendbor, and the siege of Sterling Silver. Ben listened without comment, his eyes fixed on Nightshade. When Abernathy was finished, Ben stepped back to stand beside Horris Kew. "Well?"
"My Lord, I have nothing to say in my defense." The conjurer seemed totally defeated. His tall, skinny frame was hunched over in submission. "The stranger is a fairy being come out of the Tangle Box-my fault, as well-a thing of great magic and evil called the Gorse. It plans revenge of some sort against the people of the fairy mists after it conquers Landover. I am sorry I did anything to help it, believe me." He paused, swallowing. "I would say in my behalf that I did help set you free."
"After you trapped us, of course," Ben pointed out. He looked at Nightshade. "I'll have to keep him with me for a time. I may have need of him in dealing with this fairy creature."
Nightshade shook her black-maned head. "Give him to me."
"He is not the real enemy, Nightshade. He never was. He was used as thoroughly as we were, if not as badly. Put aside your anger. Come with us to Sterling Silver and confront the Gorse. Your magic would be a great help. We worked together in the mists; we can do so again."
"I have no interest in your problems!" Nightshade snapped. "Solve them on your own!"
She stared at Ben challengingly. Ben took a deep breath. "I know that what happened in the mists, what passed between us ..."
"Stop!" she shrieked with such fury that Fillip and Sot scattered into the trees and disappeared. She was white with rage. "Don't say a word! Don't say anything! I hate you, play-King! I hate you with every bone in my body! I live only to see you destroyed! What you did to me, what you pretended ... !"
"There was no pretense ..."
"No! You cannot speak to me!" Her cold, hard, beautiful face was a twisted mask. "Take the conjurer! I want nothing to do with either of you! But ..." Here she fixed Horris Kew with her gaze as a pin might a butterfly. "If I should ever see you again, if I should ever catch you alone ..."
Her gaze shifted back to Ben. She gave him a withering glare. "I will hate you forever!" she whispered, the words a curse that hung in the following silence like razors waiting to cut.
Then she lifted her arms in a sweeping motion, brought smoke and mist about her in a rush, and disappeared into the dawn.
Ben stared after her, mixed emotions running through him as he considered the impact of her anger. It seemed strange that it should be like this after what they had shared-and at the same time inevitable. He wondered briefly if there was any way it might have been avoided and decided there was not.
"High Lord!" Abernathy cried urgently, and grabbed at his sleeve.
Ben turned.
A huge shadow fell over them, and Strabo descended once more out of the sky, snapping off branches and stirring up dust and debris as he settled his great bulk down upon the forest floor.
"Holiday," he rasped in friendly fashion. "We are not finished yet, you and I. Is this the one responsible for what was done to us?"
Ben shook his head. "No, Strabo. The one we want is back at Sterling Silver, engaged in further mischief."
The dragon's great horned head swung about, and the yellow eyes gleamed in the half light. "We started this journey together, though we did not choose to do so. Shall we end it together as well?"
Ben smiled in pleasant surprise. "I think we should," he agreed.
When they had gone from the clearing, Holiday, Abernathy, Horris Kew, and Strabo, the men flying off atop the dragon, and when enough time had passed that it was clear that Nightshade was gone as well, Fillip and Sot emerged from hiding. They crept out of the trees and stood peering about guardedly, ready to bolt at the slightest sound. But there was only silence and the faint, lingering smell of dragon fire where it had burned the trees.
"They are gone," Fillip said.
"Gone," Sot echoed.
They turned toward the cave, measuring the distance that separated them from its opening. The door stood ajar now, knocked off its hinges by Strabo's blast of fire, the locks smashed. Steam rose from its blackened surface in delicate tendrils.
"We could go inside now," Fillip said.
"Yes, we could look for crystals," Sot said.
"There might still be some," Fillip said.
"Even though we didn't find them before," Sot said.
"Hidden in a clever spot."
"Where we didn't think to look."
There was a long pause as they considered the prospect. The dawn's coloring had penetrated the forest gloom and was turning everything crimson. Birds had stopped singing. Insects had stopped chirping and buzzing. Nothing moved. The silence was oppressive.
"I think we should go home," Fillip said quietly.
"I think we should," Sot agreed.
So they did.
REDEMPTION.
As he looked down from his perch atop Strabo, flying high above Landover, Ben Holiday found himself pondering on how quickly things could change. An hour earlier he had been imprisoned in the Tangle Box, as far removed from this world as the dead from the living. A day earlier, he had not even known who he was. He had believed himself to be the Knight, a King's Champion, a personification of the Paladin that was in fact his alter ego. Nightshade and Strabo had not existed; his companions had been the Lady and the Gargoyle, and they had been as lost to themselves as he was. Together they had formed an odd company, bereft of any real knowledge of their past, forced to begin life anew in a world about which they knew almost nothing. Thrown together by a common mishap, compelled to share a life filled with unknowns and false hope, they had reached an understanding during their travels that bordered on friendship.
More than friendship, he amended carefully, where Nightshade was concerned.
Now all of it was gone, stripped away with the recapture of their identities and return to Landover. It was as if they had been made over twice, once going into the Tangle Box, once coming out, stripped each time of life's knowledge and forced to learn anew, strangers first in an unknown world, familiars second in a world all too well known. It was the second that would allow no part of the first, the second that demanded that everything from the first be given up because it had all been acquired and nurtured under false pretenses. It made Ben sad. He had shared a closeness with Nightshade that would never be there again. There had been a mutual dependence that was ended forever. Things would be different with Strabo as well. He carried them now to Sterling Silver to settle accounts with the Gorse, but once that was finished he would be gone. Ben harbored no illusions. There would be no further talks as there had been between the Knight and the Gargoyle, no sharing of fears and hopes, no common effort to understand the workings of life. They would go their own ways as they had done before being lured into the Tangle Box, and the time they had spent together in the mists would fade as surely as a dream on waking.
Ben resisted the urge to look back at Horris Kew, who sat immediately behind him and ahead of Abernathy. The instrument of their misfortune, he thought darkly-yet too foolish and misguided to be held responsible. The Gorse was the real enemy. How was he going to deal with this creature? It had a formidable command of magic and would not hesitate to use it, especially once it discovered that Ben, Nightshade, and Strabo were set free again. Why had it imprisoned them in the first place? What sort of threat did they represent that compelled it to place them in the box? Or was it simply a matter of expediency and nothing more?
Whatever the answers to his questions, there was one chilling certainty. In order to deal with the Gorse, he would once again be forced to become the Paladin, the King's knight-errant, the creature he feared he was becoming in fact. His fear had made him see himself as the Knight within the Tangle Box, and he had barely survived what that had initiated-the destruction of the townsfolk, the River Gypsies, and very nearly the Gristlies. His fear of his dark half had worked to destroy him within the fairy mists, but he had escaped. Yet now he must become his dark half if he was to survive. And once again he must worry how much of the Paladin's identity he assumed and how much of Ben Holiday's he gave up with each transformation.
Ben watched the Heart pass away beneath him, white velvet rests outlined in pristine bars against verdant green grasses, the flags of Landover's Kings a swirl of bright color in the wind. A part of him was anxious for the change, eager for the transformation. It had always been so. It was this that frightened him most.
Horris Kew was thinking as well, and his thoughts were not pleasant ones either. A confrontation between the Gorse and Holiday was only moments away, and no matter who won he was in big trouble. Both would hold him responsible for anything the other had done or had tried to do or even had planned to do. Both would want to exact punishment of some sort. In the case of the Gorse, Horris did not want to consider too carefully what that punishment might be. Certainly it would not be pleasant. Holiday might be the better choice. He wished Biggar were there to consult. He found, oddly enough, that he missed the bird. They had shared a common attitude toward life's opportunities and misfortunes, and it was too bad the latter had caught up with Biggar a little earlier than either of them had expected. Horris felt keenly the loss. If nothing else, perhaps he could have blamed some of what had happened on the bird.
He sighed. Thinking like that led nowhere, of course. He shifted gears and tried to decide what he could do to salvage matters. He would have to do something quick. Already Sterling Silver's bright ramparts were coming into view. Take sides with Holiday then, he decided. His chances were better with Landover's King, a fellow human being, than they were with the Gorse. So what could he do to help himself? What could he do that would put him in a better light when it came time to determine his fate?
Ahead, the dawn was a crimson stain all across the horizon, a strange and terrifying sight. The red was so pronounced that it seemed to have seeped into the earth itself, to color grasses, trees, brush, rivers, lakes, roadways, fields, towns, farms, and the whole of every living thing for as far as the eye could see. Clouds were forming all about them. They hadn't been there the previous day; there had been no trace of them last night. They appeared as if by magic, masking the morning skies west to east, threatening to swallow the rising sun, the harbinger of a storm that was quickly approaching.
Strabo started down, a gradual descent out of the retreating night. The approaching sun momentarily blinded the dragon's passengers, and they squinted against its glare. The castle's polished battlements and towers gleamed redly, reflecting the strange light. The portcullis was down and the gates closed. The bridge running from the island to the mainland was shattered. Shadows clustered darkly across the meadow that fronted the castle gates, and the sluggish movement of armies massing was visible. Ben Holiday started. Battle lines were being drawn up between opposing forces. There were Greensward soldiers at one end of the meadow and Abaddon's demons at the other.
"High Lord!" Abernathy exclaimed in horror.
Ben glanced over his shoulder and nodded back. Demons from Abaddon-the Gorse must have brought them out to aid him in his plan. What had he promised them? What lure had he used? They would not have come if they thought the Paladin would be there to stop them; they had always been terrified of the Paladin. So the Gorse must have promised them that with the King gone from Landover, there would be no threat from his Champion. With Nightshade and Strabo dispatched as well, there was little to fear from anyone.
Ben's mouth tightened. Now he must face both the Gorse and Abaddon's demons. Even with Strabo to aid him, he did not much care for the odds.
"Strabo!" he called down to the dragon. A wicked yellow eye locked on him. "Take us down! Land right between them!"
The dragon hissed sharply, flattened out his approach, swept the battlefield once in a high, broad arc so that all could see him, and then settled slowly into the center of the meadow.
Ben, Horris Kew, and Abernathy scrambled down. It was like descending into a bizarre painting, a horrifically rendered version of Hell on Earth. The reddish dawn gave the whole of the grasslands a surreal look. Even the Bonnie Blues were turned to blood. Men, women, and children clustered at the edges of the trees and across the ridgeline north like the ghosts of the dead.
Ben turned toward the demons and exhaled slowly as he took in the size of their army. Too many. Far too many.
"My Lord, I think that maybe I have-" Horris Kew began, and was cut short as Abernathy's hand clamped tightly about the back of his neck.
Ben turned to his scribe, who still clutched the Tangle Box tightly beneath his free arm. "Take the box and Horris and move to the lake," Ben ordered his scribe. "Call for Questor to bring the lake skimmer and have him ferry you both across. Hurry!"
Abernathy hastened away, dragging a protesting Horris Kew after. Ben glanced at the demons anew. The Gorse had moved into the forefront of their ranks, black-cloaked and featureless even in the strange light. Ben moved out from the shadow of the dragon to face the demons. He reached into his tunic and held forth the medallion of Landover's Kings. At his side, Strabo widened his maw and coughed sharply, an explosive sound. There was movement all up and down the clustered black ranks, an uneasiness, a hesitancy. It was one thing to face a Lord of the Greensward and his army. It was something else again to confront Holiday and Strabo as well.
"Kallendbor!" Ben called over his shoulder into the ranks of the Greensward army.
Almost immediately there was the sound of a rider approaching from behind. Ben turned. Kallendbor, armored head to foot with only his face showing beneath his lifted visor, wheeled to a stop atop his charger.