Quartet for the End of Time
Buck
There was fire to the north, in the woods, and a great noise beyond it.
Creaking and cracking, like stone breaking apart.
He spied a dozen men, two dozen, three, all running toward the fire and the noises, carrying spears and swords and shouting angrily to one another, looking for a fight.
Buck couldn’t be sure, but he thought whatever was going on was his fault.
The monastery was empty from the moment he arrived.
The monks had left in a hurry and left no sign of where they went.
Buck tied Gregorian to a pillar in the chapel, just under the altar, then walked the grounds to see if anyone was left.
Only the gardener’s son, no more than five, was sitting underneath a poplar tree.
“Where’s everybody gone?” asked Buck.
“Went fighting in the war.” The boy was poking at a scorpion on the ground with a stick.
“When will they be back?”
“Don’t know, didn’t say. Magic’s coming back, that’s all I know.”
“They’re all fighting? Even the monks?”
“Monks wanted to fight most of all.”
“Can you deliver a message for me?” Buck asked the child to go to Otto’s farm and tell Kreek, or whomever from the Guild he could, that Buck had captured Gregorian. “They’ll want to come back here straightaway,” Buck said.
“Doubt that very much,” the child said. “Sir Kreek? He’s the one came by here with the Guild and some dragon man. That’s why everyone left.”
“How long ago? Can you follow them?”
“Father said not to.”
“You have to. I can hear the armies, they’re not far. Find Kreek and tell him I have the wizard.”
The boy hesitated, but Buck searched his pockets for a silver coin and handed it over. The boy ran off north.
Buck returned to the monastery and slumped into a chair in the chapel beside the wizard.
“I remember you,” Gregorian said. “You’re one of the reenactors, right? One of Kreek’s men?”
“Not anymore,” Buck said. “I screwed it all up.”
“Where is Kreek? Let me talk to him.”
“He’s gone to the war.”
“War?”
“He’s taken the dragon rider and gone to free the Malicarn.”
Gregorian tried to sit up, but the ropes around his wrists held his arms awkwardly above his head. “What’s your name?”
“Buck.”
“Buck, listen. I’m not a wizard. There’s no Necromancer, there’s no dragon rider. Kreek isn’t really a knight. His name is Brian Doyle, and he’s lying to you. He can’t bring magic back because there is no magic.”
Buck noticed for the first time that Gregorian appeared very scared. “Is that why you haven’t tried to fight me off with magic?”
“Exactly. I can’t, because there isn’t any. The Malicarn isn’t even a real place. It’s all made up.”
“Maybe you can’t use magic because the dragon rider has broken your hold over the realm?”
“No, Buck, please. This is for your own good. You don’t have to listen to any of this—”
“I used to think you were nice,” Buck said.
“But now I see you’re not. When I was a child you leant my father your horse and cart.
You probably don’t remember. You walked alone through the woods so that we could ride.
I always thought that meant you were very wise, and kind.
Maybe I was wrong. You’re just an old man. ”
“I don’t remember that. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I’m old now and nothing matters, but Buck, please. Listen to me. Let me go. By this time tomorrow the Malicarn as you know it will be over. There’s no sense being rash here.”
“The Malicarn’s greatest days are ahead. Kreek will show us. That’s what he’s doing with the dragon rider.”
“But you’re not with them. Why?”
“Because I was foolish. Not anymore.”
Buck stood and looked out the window. A haze was wafting across the field, smoke from the trees. Then he saw the gardener’s boy emerge, skipping back toward the monastery. A dozen men followed on horseback.
“See?” Buck said to Gregorian. “They have come!”
Kreek entered the chapel, brushed right past Buck, and grabbed Gregorian by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.
“This day has gone better than expected,” he said, and patted Gregorian on the cheek. “I owe you an apology, Buck. You have proven your worth to the Guild. We will have to look into your reinstatement.”
“Thank you, Sir Kreek. That honor means much.”
“The Guild’s armies have defeated a small company of queen’s men who were hiding in the woods. We smoked them out. Kingstown is ours, the Old Village, too, and a dozen more towns all along the river.”
“Brian, I—”
Kreek slapped Gregorian hard across the face.
“Quiet. We have already assembled our forces and will face off against the remainder of the queen’s fighters massing against us.
The dragon rider is held with our men on the field of the Morlon Kastaun.
He must remain in the open, to inspire the people.
But Gregorian, you are too sneaky. I suspect a plot.
Buck, I want you to keep him here. Watch him. When the battle is won I will return.”
“I would like to come to fight,” Buck said.
“No. You have regained my trust but you must do as I say. Afterward we will deal justice upon the wizard.”
Several of the other Guild soldiers milled about the inside of the chapel, each holding a long knife or a spear and trying to look threatening.
“Please, Brian,” Gregorian pleaded, “you have to let me go. There’s a deployment of Portuguese and British troops on the island. They’re coming here now, and they are going to take the pilot back by force, if they have to. You can’t fight them.”
“None of this concerns me,” Kreek said. “Sixteen years ago you decreed an end to magic as part of your deal with the Necromancer. This has led to poverty, grief, and the loss of our farms and homes to goblins. We want magic back. It is our birthright, our holy inheritance. The dragon rider is the key. He will inspire the realm and show us how to fight back these invaders.”
“Brian, stop it!” Gregorian yelled. “This isn’t part of the script, this isn’t part of the show. It’s not the Necromancer, it’s not Jules. It’s a goddamn army, a real army. Jesus, Brian, why the theatrics? Why is this necessary?”
Kreek stood up and circled the room, gesturing at eroded statues and gaps between stones.
“Are you speaking to me?” asked Kreek. “I do not know a Jules, or a Brian. I am Kreek, the royal swordmaster, and though I have traveled to faraway lands in service of the Malicarn, I have never met these people before. I do know you, though, Gregorian. I know you are wicked and false. Most of all, I know you are a coward.”
“You’re insane,” Gregorian said. He turned to the other men in the room.
“There is no magic, there never was. Look, up there!” Gregorian pointed to one of the distressed gargoyle statues hovering on the wall behind Kreek.
“In that statue’s mouth! Buck, look! There is a device called a camera.
The Necromancer is watching us. He knows where we are.
There are at least six more in this very room.
Kreek knows this, too. His real name is Brian Doyle.
He knows the truth of the Malicarn, even though he treats you all like fools. ”
Buck looked with concern toward Kreek, who remained unfazed.
“Gregorian,” Kreek said, “this is why you were never a true hero. It is why you are a failed wizard. And it is why you live a lonely, forsaken life. You never believe in what is before your eyes. You try to control it, but you must let go and accept what you see. This land is not false. I can smell it, touch it, hear it, taste it. I see it, and my perceptions do not lie. What I see is a world bereft of magic, men who yearn for what their fathers had, and the wizard who took it from them.”
“Hear, hear!” Buck shouted.
“Spare the queen, at least,” Gregorian said. “She is not involved.”
“Of course she is,” said Kreek.
Another man walked into the chapel and rushed up to Kreek. “The Queen’s Guard is on the move. We saw a company of knights riding toward our position on the Morlon Kastaun. We have more men waiting outside to join the others.”
“They will be searching for the rider,” Kreek said. “Buck, stay here and guard the prisoner. He is not to be moved, understand?” Kreek looked back down at Gregorian. “You were a fine wizard once. Shame you have forgotten your heritage.”
“What do you think is going to happen here, Brian?” asked Gregorian. “Magic isn’t real! It’s all an illusion!”
“No, Gregorian. You are the one who lives inside an illusion. I see things as they really are.”
Kreek left the chapel with the other guildsmen. The clanging of sword and spear followed them as they marched away outside. Buck hovered anxiously by the doorway.
“I wish I could go with them,” Buck said. “Soldiering’s part of my heritage. My father fought with wizards.”
“No, Buck, he didn’t.”
The soldiers had all marched off, the sound of their steps fading in the distance, when the gardener’s son walked into the chapel.
“They said they was asking about you, sir?”
“Who?” Buck asked.
“They said to come and see.”
Buck turned to follow the boy, then looked back at Gregorian. “You come, too. Don’t want you out of my sight again. Can’t afford any more failures.” He untied the rope from around the pillar and pulled Gregorian outside, as if on a leash.
“Told ya he was in there,” the gardener’s boy said to the woman waiting for them out front. Buck recognized her as the wizard’s companion in the woods.
“Run along now,” she said to the boy, who darted off away from the monastery. “We’ve come for the wizard,” she said to Buck. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
Buck took out his knife and held it at Gregorian’s throat. “I don’t want no trouble, either,” Buck said. “But I’m keeping this here wizard. For the Guild.”
“Lilly?” Gregorian asked. “You came back for me.”
“Would have been here earlier but we had to wait for Doyle and his friends to leave.”