Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #14 May 2015 | Seite 7

colour of flax and he wore a polished and oiled chainmail hauberk with an over garment of deep green. His
chest was emblazoned the image of a red dragon.

well enough, but they slouched when I stood up.
“Now, before we go, are you sure you don’t have an
explanation for being here?” he enquired once again.
“I really need to have some sort of information to
explain your popping in unannounced like this. One
doesn’t just appear in a locked tower unless they are
… well, there is a nearby wizard who has such a talent.”

Welsh, I thought as he regarded me with volcanic blue
eyes that belied a mixture of curiosity and disgust.
“Found ‘im’ in the tower Cap’n’ ”, announced my
stumpy escort.
“Do you have a name, wretch?” he enquired.

“I came here seeking my brother,” I returned. “You
say there is a wizard nearby?”

“Etienne,” I replied.

Wizard. Humans have a habit of romantically labelling
things for which they have no solid explanation. Wizards, elves, faeries, trolls, demons, wraiths and ghosts;
the list is quite extensive and new terms are added
frequently.

“How did a Frenchman get in my tower without me
knowing it?” was his next question.”
“Breton,” I corrected him. “It’s a long explanation,
and I’m sure you wouldn’t believe my story anyway.”

“Yes,” he said in a hushed tone as if this wizard might
be lurking about. “He is altogether evil. My lord the
king has a brother that lives in that castle across the
way. This wizard is in his company and has been a
great asset in the war we are currently engaged in.
Fortunately, we captured my lord the king’s niece,
disguised as a man, riding a horse near the lake. She
is currently in the tower and is a surety against further
attack.”

The captain of the guard turned toward his underling.
“What are you waiting around for, you overgrown
wart?” he barked. “Get back to the tower. If the King’s
prize escapes, I’ll personally hang you.”
He then stepped back a couple of paces and regarded
me critically as the simian guard waddled back to his
post.

As I listened to the captain, another voice began forcing its way into my mind. I sensed a dark, brooding
consciousness drawing near. I had found my brother,
or more accurately, he had found me.

“Since you are in his castle without leave,” he informed me. “I’ll have to take you before the king.
However, you aren’t quite dressed for an audience
with His Majesty.”

“Looking for something, Brother? Or shall I say,
someone.” the voice hissed at me from out of the
darkness that was growing around my thoughts.

He disappeared into a small antechamber and returned
with an arm load of clothes. I breathed a sigh of relief.
This nasty blanket had worn out its welcome a short
time after I put it on.

“I’m sorry, but I need to conclude our little chat,” I
said politely. “Forgive me.”

“These should fit,” he announced.
He handed me a pair of breeches, shirt, boots, a vest
with an arrow hole in it (complements of a local
archer), and a dusty grey green hooded cloak that
smelled of mildew and wood smoke. The boots fit

I gently touched the captain’s forehead with my fingertips. His eyes rolled back and his body slumped to the
floor.

7

“I believe you have something that belongs to me