Krull

The White Castle was not as old as some. Its walls showed little damage from war and weather, the huge limestone blocks shining in the early morning light. Towers and battlements soared cloudward, challenging the sky. It combined in its construction all the best that the masons and architects of Krull could offer, providing a safe refuge in times of trouble and a vision of pale magnificence in times of peace. Columns were fluted like cave flowstone while grand archways provided entry to vast halls and a spacious, well-appointed courtyard. Those who had raised it were proud of their handiwork, and justly so, for it put all the other castles and fortresses of Krull to shame.

The woman who approached the parapet and placed delicate hands atop the white wall seemed to step from the imagination of some supremely skilled sculptor. A floating cloud of wispy bright hair framed her face, adding to her ethereal beauty as she turned to inspect the wide plains below the wall. Though her features were slight and her body slim, her resolve was manifest in both her expression and the way she carried herself before commoners as well as kings. Even to casual visitors it was clear there was something unique about Lyssa of Eirig.

Her father sensed it once again as he strode toward her. He tried to isolate that quality that defined Lyssa's difference but, as always, it continued to escape him. It was frustrating being unable to understand one's own offspring, but that did not keep him from admiring her or loving her.

He put a comforting hand around her waist and she smiled back at him for an instant before returning her gaze to the uninformative horizon.

'Colwyn and his escort should have been here a week ago, Father.'

'The passes are patrolled by the Slayers. They like to fall upon incautious travelers. He may not have enough troops to break through.'

'That would please you,' she said dryly.

Eirig looked away from her. It was impossible to conceal one's true feelings from Lyssa. More than the slyest diplomat at court, she had a way of knowing when falsehoods spilled from a facile mouth. What an unreasonable and awkward talent for a daughter to possess!

'I sent men to help. Did I not send men to help? They were not requested, nor was I bound to send them. I did so only at your urging.'

'Twenty men?' The rebuke was no less effective for the gentleness with which it was delivered.

'Our walls are thinly held. Most of the men are off to the east bringing in the harvest. Would you have me leave the castle defenseless, your own kinfolk and subjects, to aid a stranger who might well be beyond help? Have you now become a student of military matters as well as philosophy? Perhaps I should make you a field general in my army.' This tirade he ventured without looking into her eyes.

'I sent what I could spare. These Slayers are everywhere. My first obligation is to protect Eirig. I could not send more.'

'Our walls are paper so long as the Slayers roam our world with impunity,' she replied. 'I have read much history. Division and suspicion between kingdoms poison all of Krull.

They aid these Slayers as much as anything does. They are unlike any enemy we have fought. For once we must put ancient jealousies aside. We must have this alliance. You know that all the wise men are in favor of it.'

'Old fools,' Eirig whispered. The knowledge that she was right did nothing to soften his heart. 'Alliance with Turold, our ancient enemy! Marriage to his son. Nor is there any guarantee this alliance is what we need to defeat these Slayers.'

'No wise man gives guarantees, Father,' she said consolingly. 'That is one sign of wisdom.'

He turned away from her. 'You spend too much time in books.'

'Every day we hear of another village burned by the Slayers,' she said. 'We must do something. This alliance can only strengthen us. I know it. All the signs say so.'

'You and your damned signs,' he muttered. Strange woman, he mused. Daughter and stranger all at once.

'Father,' she said calmly, 'the past is a luxury, and past hatreds the most expendable luxury of all. Now we have only one enemy we must concern ourselves with: these Slayers who are enemy to us all. We must stop them somehow or they will make slaves of us all. 1 make this alliance with Turold's son for all Krull, for all the people. The common folk must know that against these invaders, the kingdoms stand united.'

Eirig leaned on the cool stone, his fingers working against each other. 'If only it were anyone but Turold's son!'

'It must be Turold's son.' There was no uncertainty in her voice. 'It is right. You know that this is so.'

'Yes, yes, I know,' Eirig rumbled. He'd given his approval to this match with the utmost reluctance.

'It will work, Father. It has to work, for all our sakes. I do not know what to expect from this marriage, but I will do what I must to make it work.'

Seeing that her musings were having little effect on him, she added, 'Colwyn is said to be a great fighter.'

'I worry for my daughter as well as for my people and for Krull,' Eirig responded, a little less testily. 'I am allowed that much, surely.'

She smiled, put a hand on his arm. 'Of course you are, Father, and I love you for that.'

'Good fighters make bad husbands.'

'I respect your opinion, Father.' She moved to kiss him before he could move out of the way. 'But there is no need for you to worry for me on that account. 1 am quite capable of taking care of myself.'

'I hardly need to be reminded of that,' he fondly muttered.

'Perhaps you are right. If so, then it will be I who owes you the apologies.'

'I do not want your apologies,' he said. 'I want your happiness.'

'There is but one way to know for certain if that is to be obtained.' She returned to scouring the plain beneath the castle walls, her eyes traveling as far as the marshland that bordered the river.

'Perhaps,' he admitted reluctantly. 'In any case, there's no need to exhaust yourself with these daily vigils. Go and rest; I will call you if by chance they should arrive this day.'

'Now, that is the common sense King Eirig is famed for.' She left him with a smile as she strode from the wall.

Eirig followed her with his eyes. Strange girl. No, strange woman, he reminded himself. Her mother would have been proud of her. She was cast from the same unswerving mold.

In spite of all the good reasons she'd advanced, in his heart he still opposed this arranged marriage. But his mind concurred. His advisers were divided on the benefits the match might bring, being their usual quarrelsome selves, more a hindrance to his decision-making than a help. He'd been left to his own judgment. Heart say yea, mind say nay, and the two had warred within him many times these past difficult months.

Eventually his mind had barely won out, though even at this late date there were moments when he thought of calling the whole business off. He never reached that point. There was too much sense in his daughter's words. With them clung the nagging suspicion that she might be just the slightest bit smarter than her father.

The walls probed skyward above the exhausted horsemen as they urged their mounts over the last hundred yards. It was difficult to tell whether rider or beast was the more fatigued. Certainly both were in need of a long rest.

Colwyn leaned back in his saddle and shouted as they approached the parapet. 'Mark the gate! Let us in!'

'Let who in?' an argumentative voice from above demanded to know. Another quickly shouted it down.

'By the serpents of the river, 'tis Prince Colwyn! And King Turold himself with him. Let them in!'

The massive gate swung inward. Colwyn led his companions forward into the courtyard. Light came from wall-mounted torches, adding to the haggard look presented by the riders. They were mobbed by a cluster of anxious attendants and men-at-arms.

'All the way from Turold… How did you slip through the Slayers? Did you come all that way, only the four of you…?' The questions came too fast for ready reply, even had the riders been inclined to answer them.

The soldiers moved aside as their own lord approached with his royal escort. They would have to sit on their curiositv for a while lonser.

Turold dismounted, concealing from the party of newcomers the ache in his numbed legs. Exhausted he might be, but he would not ask for assistance from his son's future father-in-law. Colwyn remained on his horse,