Chapter 6

The rain came down, and it hit with thunder. Rod jolted awake wide-eyed, lurching up on one elbow to stare at the ceiling. The only light was the soft glow of the will-o'-the-wisp Gwen had lit on Fess's saddle before they settled down. Rain roared on the tent.

"How long has it been going on, Fess?" Rod murmured.

"It began only ten minutes ago, Rod."

Then the whole tent-top turned bright with lightning, barely gone before thunder bellowed. Rod turned and looked down at his youngest, and sure enough, the little boy lay rigid, eyes wide, scared witless by the thunder but too proud to cry out.

"You know there's nothing to be scared of, don't you?" Rod said conversationally.

"Aye, Papa." Gregory relaxed a little. "The lightning will not hurt us, nor will a tree fall on us—we pitched our tent far from the branches."

"And lightning bolts are much more likely to strike a higher object, such as a tree or the castle. Yes." But Rod reached out a hand anyway, and Gregory's fingers seized on his like a little vise.

"Oh! 'Tis glorious," Cordelia breathed.

The whole tent flashed bright again as thunder slammed down at them. It showed Magnus and Geoffrey halfway to the door. Darkness struck, and Rod could just barely hear Geoffrey say, "I do so love a storm!"

" 'Tis grand," Magnus agreed. The gloom lightened, and the sound of the rain became even louder.

" 'Ware the rain." Gwen was sitting up beside Rod, facing the door. "Doth it come toward thee?"

"No, Mama, 'tis at the tent's back." Lightning flared with a thunder blast, and Rod saw the boys hunkered belly-down with their chins on their fists, gazing out, and Cordelia wriggling up between them.

" 'Tis right atop us," Gregory murmured. "There is no delay 'twixt lightning flash and thunder."

Rod smiled; ever the scientist! Well, if it let the boy share his siblings' pleasure, what harm? "Don't you want to look at it, too?"

Gregory looked up at him, then smiled. "Aye!" He turned and crawled toward the door.

Rod caught Gwen's hand and squeezed a little. She returned the pressure and murmured, "Why should they have the sight to themselves, my lord?"

"Hey, the family .ought to stay together, right?" Rod rolled up to his hands and knees. "After you, dear."

"What, durst I trust thee so?"

"Sure, the kids are awake. But let's go side by side, if you doubt me."

Gwen giggled and they rubbed elbows as they came to their feet and stepped over to join their offsprings. Lightning blazed as they came to the doorway, thunder crashing down around their heads. Rod looked up in time to catch the last sight of the tower tops in silhouette—and stiffened.

"Hist!" Geoffrey cried.

They all fell totally silent, ears straining.

" 'Twas not the last boom of the thunder alone," Magnus said.

"I hear a lass wailing," Cordelia answered.

Rod started to say what he'd heard, then bit his tongue and stared up at the unseen tower with narrowed eyes. Gwen's hand tightened on his arm.

Gregory said it for him. "I do hear a man's laughter."

"Aye, and 'tis as wicked and foul a laugh as ever I've heard," Magnus agreed.

"I, too, hear it, my lord," Gwen murmured.

"He's gloating," Rod said softly. "I don't know what about…"

"The maid?" Cordelia guessed. "Doth he rejoice at having made her weep?"

"I mislike this castle," Magnus said, his voice hard.

Thunder tore at the stones, bleached white by the lightning.

When it quieted, Gregory asked, "Ought we go home, then?"

"Nay." Magnus said it even faster than Rod. "Whatever is here, we must face and banish it."

Thunder blasted them again, the next lightning flash following so hard on the first that it seemed one long, unbroken instant of light with only a flicker between. Then it died, and the afterimage danced before Rod's eye, confirming what he'd thought he had seen.

As the thunder faded, Cordelia gasped, "Was it a lass?"

"Mayhap." Geoffrey's voice hardened. "Whatsoe'er 'twas, it was long-haired and cloaked."

"Yet why did it plummet head-first toward the ground?" Gregory wondered.

"Because it was pushed, brother," Geoffrey answered.

"Or did it throw itself down?" Cordelia wondered.

"Whate'er 'twas, it was the fruit of wickedness," Magnus answered.

Rod could hear the anger in his voice, and said quickly, "Was, Magnus. Remember the was. Whatever happened there, however cruel or vicious, it was done two hundred years ago, not tonight."

"But how evil must it have been," Cordelia cried, "that the spirit must live through it again, and again and again, for two hundred years!"

"Then 'tis time it was finished." Magnus's voice was grim, with a determination Rod had never heard in it before. "Whatever lies within that stone pile, 'tis a fell, foul evil, and we must not let it stand."

Rod frowned down at his boy. He was right, of course—but where had this sudden determination come from? Magnus had never heard anything about Castle Foxcourt but its name, before tonight. He wondered further about it as the family settled down once again, but decided to say nothing to Gwen—yet.

"Wherefore doth it not now appear so grim, Papa?" Cordelia looked up at the walls of the castle, golden now in the morning light.

"Because it's dawn, dear, and everything looks better by the light of the day.''

"Then too, the rain hath washed it clean," Gwen explained, "as it doth with all. The sky is cleaner above, and mine heart doth sing within me to behold it."

"But we still have to get into the castle." Rod frowned up at the drawbridge. "There's the little problem of getting that slab of wood down."

"We must turn the windlass, Papa," Magnus said brightly. "Shall I?"

Rod turned to him. "What—do you think you can make it move without even having seen it?"

"Oh, aye, and next shalt thou bid a mountain come to thee!" Geoffrey jibed.

"Aye, sin that I know where it should be."

"Thou canst not truly, Magnus!" Cordelia stated.

Gregory didn't say anything; he just gazed up at Magnus wide-eyed. After all, if Big Brother said he could do it…

"Mayhap he can," Gwen suggested, "though even if he cannot, 'twill be good practice for him."

"Yeah, you need to stretch if you want to grow." Rod nodded slowly. "Okay, go ahead. It would save a bit of time."

Magnus frowned up at the drawbridge, his eyes losing focus. Gwen watched him carefully.

Rod glanced from Magnus to the castle, half-expecting the old planks to come rattling down. Just as a caution, he waved the other children back. They went, but with poor grace.

Magnus relaxed and shook his head in chagrin. " 'Tis no use—there is no response."

Gregory looked disappointed. Geoffrey's eye lit with vindictiveness, and both he and Cordelia started to say something, but Rod caught their eyes, and they stopped openmouthed.

"Still, 'twas good for thee to attempt it." Gwen stared at the castle. " 'Tis odd, though."

"So we do it the old-fashioned way." Rod replied.

"I shall!!"

"No, I am best at…"

" 'Tis my turn…"

"No!" Rod barked.

The kids fell silent, staring at him with truculence—but also with apprehension. He saw, and forced a smile. "I appreciate your willingness, kids, but there might be a bit of danger there—you know, rotten beams and falling rocks. I'm pleading seniority on this one—just me and Magnus."

"Wherefore doth Magnus go!"

"Magnus, thou dost cheat!"

"Wherefore not Mama?"

"Because," Rod said, "someone has to take care of you three."

"Fess can mind us!"

"Fess cannot stop you from following," Gwen pointed out. "Wouldst thou promise me not to go within?"