Black Wizards by Douglas Niles

looked barely alive, and he did not acknowledge the prince’s presence.
    “Aye,” grunted Tristan. “And I’ve lost the Sword of Cymrych Hugh. The goddess alone knows how far it is to land from here, or what such land would be.”
    “Still, the seas are calming, and it’ll be daylight soon. We may evensight a sail.” But Daryth didn’t look as cheerful as he sounded.
    Pontswain coughed weakly and struggled to raise himself. His efforts sent the makeshift raft rolling, and everyone scrambled to regain their handholds.
    “Be careful!” snapped the prince as the lord gave him a baleful glare.
    “This is your fault! If you hadn’t let that old fool take us in his rot-ridden craft, this would not have happened!”
    “That man gave his life for us! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
    “He met the fate he deserved for his incompetence. He failed, and that’s all that matters,” said Pontswain.
    But as twilight gave way to dawn and the clouds broke apart, the men saw no sign of anything except the rolling sea. They could tell which direction was east, for there the sun became a rosy glow against the horizon, finally breaking free from the sea to begin its climb into the sky. But that knowledge did them little good, for they had no idea which direction to look for land.
    “What’s that?” Daryth asked suddenly.
    Everyone fell silent because they all heard it: A faint rumble seemed to arise from the sea itself. The sound was almost inaudible but was so deep and powerful that they felt it as much as a vibration in their bones as a sound in their ears. The sound grew in volume and strength, until they heard a noise like crashing thunder, rolling constantly. The water itself seemed to shake.
    Suddenly the surface of the sea turned to foam a scarce hundred yards away from them. Water frothed upward and then rolled away, creating a steady wave that forced them backward. A crenellated parapet, like the top of a tower, burst through the surface and sent spray and waves crashing away from it. Another, and then a third, exploded from the sea, thrusting skyward like gigantic lances.
    And then the foaming water spilled away to reveal a vast surface of smooth stone. A glowing rosy hue shone from a wall as the thing caught the rays of the morning sun. More walls, and a gate, and more towers continued to rise for a minute until the vast object came to rest, seeming to sit upon the surface of the sea.
    Tristan, Daryth, and Pontswain, bobbing in the water and gaping in awe, stared at the most magnificent castle that they had ever seen.
    It stood motionless, vast and imposing, like a monument to someforgotten era of grandness. Water spilled down its vast sides, thinning into a soft mist that floated around them. Tendrils of seaweed hung from the crenellated parapet, draping across the sides.
    The whole structure was oddly silent, as if mere sound could not convey the grandness of its arrival nor the majesty of its appearance. And too, there was warmth flowing from the edifice—not a physical warmth, but a spiritual sense of power and majesty. Each of them felt this magical emanation as both welcoming and foreboding.
    The castle remained, and they knew they had no choice but to enter.

    “Here, lady. Wood!”
    Smiling broadly, the man dumped a huge pile of twigs and dried wood at Robyn’s feet.
    “Thank you, Acorn,” she replied, warily meeting his gaze. She had taken to calling the man after the seed of the oak tree, for he could not remember any name of his own. The name seemed to suit him—his nature was childlike, but Robyn sensed that he harbored a deep inner strength. She wanted to nurture that strength, to see him grow. At the same time, she was still a little afraid of him.
    “You did very well,” she added, embarrassed by the way he beamed at the praise. “Now, if you will fetch some water so I can rinse these linens, we can take a rest.”
    Eagerly, Acorn scrambled toward the silver ribbon of bubbling water