Adrenaline flooded Tristan’s veins as the dark eyes of the Red Knight blazed in the setting sun.
“There’s a sacred pine tree beside the well. Where the spring forms the Fountain of Barenton. A golden basin hangs from oneof its branches. I can summon a tempest by pouring three drops of the sacred water from the fountain ontole Perron de Merlin—the wizard’s ancient stone.”
The thrill of battle surged through Tristan as he listened, enthralled.
“With lightning, tremendous winds, and hail appearing out of nowhere, Bédalis’ men will be terrified. They’ll suspect an evil enchantment.”
Lancelot’s eyes were aflame, caught up in Esclados’ plan. “We attack from behind. Overpower them. With the element of surprise, the terror of the storm, the cover of darkness—all in our favor.”
The three men nodded, quickly donning their armor and swords. They dashed outside to the awaiting horses as Lancelot gave instructions to his servants.
“Most of our knights will return tomorrow. I’ll keep a half dozen with me at my mother’schâteau.I’ll return in three or four days.” With a quick nod to Tristan and Esclados, they mounted their destriers and rode off to join the warriors of the Tribe of Dana.
* * * *
At the Castle of Comper, Lancelot, Esclados, and Agrane were outlining plans in the Great Hall. Knights were sharpening their weapons, checking their armor and horses, preparing for battle. Lancelot, his chain mail gleaming in the candlelight, addressed the tribe.
“Esclados, you and Tristan disguise yourselves as beggars, with a large cloak to cover your armor. Approach the spring slowly, with stooped backs, as if you’re elderly. If you’re stopped and questioned—say that you’re pilgrims, on your way to the chapel of the Goddess Dana. That you stopped to rest and quench your thirst at the fountain.”
Both knights nodded solemnly. “Tristan, sit down on Merlin’s perch—the sacred ancient stone—while Esclados fetches the golden basin. To summon the storm.”
Tristan’s muscles were tightly coiled, screaming for release.
Lancelot turned to address one of the tattooed warriors of the Tribe who had been summoned by Agrane. “Kirus,” he said, garnering the instant attention of a tall, burly soldier with dark brown hair and a brutally scarred face. “You and the Tribe will wait in the trees west of the spring. When the storm begins, bring Esclados and Tristan two horses and proceed to the front of thechâteau. If the castle has been breached, engage in battle.” Kirus nodded, his regard savage and fierce. Tristan’s heart thumped through his armor, the wings of a sea raven ready to take flight.
“Agrane, you and your knights approach from the rear of the castle. Engage the enemy from the east and prevent any escape.” Lancelot locked eyes with the First Knight of Landuc. “Takenohostages.” Agrane nodded gravely.
Lancelot turned to face another senior knight from his own command. “Judoc, you and your men approach from the south.” Another nod of comprehension. “And I will lead from the north. All right, men. Get into position and wait for the storm. May the Goddess Dana assure our victory! We ride!”
Slivers of moonlight shone through the thick canopy of trees. Tristan and Esclados waited in the darkness of the dense forest until the warriors of the Tribe of Dana were in position, surrounding the dwarf Bédalis’ unsuspecting men. The two knights donned their long, dark cloaks and assumed the hunched backs of elderly pilgrims, slowly approaching the sacred Fountain of Barenton.
A clearing stood in the heart of the dense forest, illuminated by the moon and starlight above. An owl hooted in thedistance. Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as the horses waited impatiently in the thick woods.
Tristan spotted a low wall, composed of dozens of smooth stones, encasing a hole in the forested ground. Water from an underground spring gurgled and bubbled, forming a fountain which pooled into the stone-enclosed well. He observed the sacred pine tree behind the well, with the golden basin hanging from a low-lying branch. His heart pounding with adrenaline, Tristan slowly lowered himself onto the smooth, sacred stone named for the famed archdruid. Staring into the blue eye of the sea raven, he kissed the ring upon his left hand.
Tristan’s muscles quivered with anticipation. He watched Esclados retrieve the golden basin from the sacred pine tree and fill it with water from the spring. No one questioned them, and soon Tristan slowly stood and tottered towards the fountain, as if to quench his thirst.
Esclados cautiously poured three drops of the sacred water onto Merlin’s stone. Instantly, a whirlwind arose, as if a cyclone encompassed the entire clearing. Though it was already dark, what little moonlight had been visible was now totally obscured by ominous clouds that rumbled with thunder. A current sizzled through the night air.
Lightning flashed as a furious wind whipped the trees. Hailstones the size of walnuts began falling from the sky, clattering onto the branches of trees and the stones near the well. Amid sudden shrieks and shouts, the sound of metal clashing announced the beginning of the onslaught. Tristan and Esclados cast aside their cloaks, uncovering their armor, as Kirus and his men rode into the clearing with the two horses. The two knights quickly mounted and raced through the forest to theChâteaude Landuc.
Esclados led the Tribe to the front entrance, where the lowered drawbridge indicated the castle had been breached.Two dozen knights were valiantly defending the besieged entry, but were being pushed back, outnumbered by Bédalis’ men. Swords clashed; the shrieks of dying men tore through the dark forest, illuminated by flashes of lightning as hail pummeled metal helmets and shields. Gale force winds battered the heavy branches of oaks as torrents of rain fell in buckets from the black sky.
The Red Knight and Tristan engaged the dwarf’s army from the front, while Kirus and the Tribe surrounded the enemy from behind. Tristan blocked a thrust, dodged another strike, landing a fatal blow just as he saw the dwarf Bédalis run into the castle on foot. Quickly dismounting, Tristan raced to follow, his sword drawn, his shield up.
Inside the castle, he heard Laudine scream just as he caught sight of the dwarf’s lunge. He barely managed to deflect the sword, which gouged his cheek with the tip of the blade. Recovering quickly, Tristan launched a barrage of strikes in quick succession, overwhelming the frantic dwarf. With one final massive blow, Tristan cleaved his sword into the side of Bédalis’ neck at the shoulder, nearly decapitating him. He quickly removed his bloodied blade, ran up the stairs, and found a trembling Laudine huddled with her frightened attendants, desperately clutching each other behind an overturned chair. Her face was streaked with grime, but she nodded to Tristan, who raced down the hall.
He ran into the remaining chambers, finding more terrified servants but no attacking knights. He flew down the stairs and tore through the castle but found only his fellow members of the Tribe defending the front entrance, their massive swords drawn, their gruesome faces bloodied.
Outside, the storm had stopped. Amid puddles of mud and blood, dozens of slain enemy bodies were scattered across the castle grounds. Tristan stood at the entrance of Landuc asLancelot rode up from the north. Judoc—Lancelot’s First Knight ofla Joyeuse Garde—and his men approached from the south. Agrane—Esclados’ First Knight of Landuc—returned from the rear of thechâteau. On every face, Tristan saw savage grins of victory, tempered by the pain of loss. They had liberated the castle, freed Laudine, yet several of their brothers had fallen in battle. Tristan’s blood pounded in his ears as battle frenzy surged in his veins. The copper tang of blood assailed his nostrils as he wiped the flow oozing down his face from the bite of the dwarf’s treacherous sword.
Lancelot dismounted and beckoned for the leaders to follow him into the castle. Esclados tore up the stairs, threw his arms around his wife, showering her with kisses as she sobbed onto his chest. He helped her to her feet, and she leaned against him as they came downstairs to join Lancelot and Tristan in the Great Hall.
“Report?” Lancelot inquired of each of his commanders. Judoc replied first. “None escaped. We lost four, with two wounded.” He nodded to an area across the room where Laudine and her priestesses were tending to the injured, washing off blood and grime, herbal remedies in hand.
Agrane responded next. “We lost two men. Several wounded.” He turned to Esclados. “We recovered about three dozen horses from the dwarf’s men.” A grin spread across his bloodied face. “A good addition to the stables of Landuc.”
Lancelot questioned Kirus. “And the Tribe?”
