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Rod froze.
Then he whirled about. "What!"
"Thou wast here, indeed." Tuan clamped his jaw shut. "Thou wert here, and the
beastmen could not freeze thee."
"I' truth, they could not!" Brother Chillde cried, his face radiant. "Thou didst
sweep across their line, Lord Warlock, like unto a very tempest, laying about
thee with thy sword of flame. Five at a time thou didst grapple with, and
conquer! Their whole line thou didst confound and craze! And 'twas thou who
didst give heart unto our soldiers, and didst prevent their retreat from becoming a
rout."
"But& that's impossible! I& "
" 'Tis even as he doth say, my lord." Gwen's voice was low, but it carried. "From
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this hilltop did I see thee far below; and 'twas thou who didst lead, even as this
good friar saith."
Rod stared at her, appalled. If she didn't know him, who did?
Then he turned away, striding down the back of the hill.
"Hold, Lord Warlock! What dost thou seek?" Tuan hurried to keep pace with
him.
"An on-the-spot witness," Rod grated. "Even Gwen could be mistaken from a
distance."
He skidded to a stop beside a knot of soldiers who huddled under the protection
of a rocky overhang. "You there, soldier!"
The soldier lifted his tousled blond head, holding a scrap of cloth to a long rent
in his arm.
Rod stared, amazed. Then he dropped to one knee, yanking the cloth off the
wound. The soldier yelled, galvanized. Rod glanced up and felt his heart sink;
surely that face belonged to a boy, not a man! He turned back to the wound,
inspecting it. Then he looked up at Tuan. "Some brandywine."
" 'Tis here," the young soldier grated.
Rod looked down and saw a bottle. He poured a little on the cut and the soldier
gasped, long and with a rattle, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Rod tore
open his doublet and tore a strip of cloth from his singlet. He held the wound
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closed and began to wrap the bandage around it. "There's a lot of blood, but it's
really just a flesh wound. We'll have to put some stitches in it later." He looked
up at the young ranker. "Know who I am?"
"Aye," the young man gasped. "Thou'rt the Lord High Warlock."
Rod nodded. "Ever seen me before?"
"Why, certes! Thou didst stand beside me in the melee! Thou wert then no
farther from me than thou art now!"
Rod stared up at him. Then he said, "Are you sure? I mean, absolutely sure?"
"Nay, be sure that I am! Had it not been for the sight of thee, I'd ha' turned and
fled!" Then his eyes widened and he glanced quickly at his companions,
flushing; but they only nodded somber agreement.
"Take heart." Tuan slapped his shoulder. "Any would have fled such a battle, an
they could have."
The young soldier looked up, finally realized the King himself stood near, and
almost fainted.
Rod grasped his shoulder. "You saw me, though. You really did see me."
"Truly, my lord." The young man's eyes were wide. "I' truth, I did." He lowered
his eyes, frowning. "And yet 'tis strange."
"Strange?" Rod frowned. "Why?"
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The young soldier bit his lip; then the words spilled out. "Thou didst seem taller
in the battle by a head or more! I could have sworn thou didst tower above all
soldiers there! And thou didst seem to glow& "
Rod held his eyes for a moment longer.
Then he went back to wrapping the bandage. "Yeah, well, you know how it is
during a battle. Everything seems bigger than it really is especially a man on a
horse."
"Truth," the young soldier admitted. "Thou wast astride."
"Right." Rod nodded. "Big roan horse."
"Nay, milord." The young soldier frowned. "Thy mount was black as jet."
"Calm down, Rod," Fess's voice murmured, "you are beside yourself."
"I am?" Rod looked around in a panic.
"It was a figure of speech," the robot assured him. "Lower your anxiety level
you are quite definitely a singular personality."
"I'd like to be sure of that." Rod frowned down at the soldiers around him. He
was walking through the camp, surveying what was left of Tuan's army. Whether
he'd been there during the battle or not, the mere sight of him was putting heart
back into them. Personally, he felt sheepish, even guilty; but&
"Your presence is good for morale, Rod," Fess murmured.
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"I suppose," Rod muttered. Privately, he wondered if he wasn't "showing
himself" to reassure himself that he was indeed himself. "I mean, the
phenomenon is totally impossible, Fess. You do understand that, don't you?"
Soldiers stared up at him in awe. Rod ground his teeth; he knew the rumor would
fly through the camp that the Lord Wariock had been talking to his "familiar."
"Certainly, Rod. Attribute it to mass hysteria. During the battle, they needed the
reassurance that the Lord High Warlock stood by them, to oppose the beastmen's
magic. Then one soldier, in the heat of the fight, mistook some other knight for
yourself, and doubtless cried out, 'Behold the High Warlock!' And all his
fellows, in the gloom of a lightning-lit battle, also imagined that they saw you."
Rod nodded, a little reassured. "Just a case of mistaken identity."
"Lord Warlock?"
"Urn?" Rod turned, looked down at a grizzled old sergeant who sat in the mud.
"What's the matter, ancient?"
"My boys hunger, Lord Warlock." The ancient gestured to a dozen men in their
young twenties, who huddled near him. "Will there be food?"
Rod stared down at him.
After a moment, he said, "Yeah. It'll just take a little while. Rough terrain, and
wagons you know."
The ancient's face relaxed. "Aye, milord."
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