A Knight Of The Word

“Is she here, Owain?” Ross asked finally, coding forward to the very edge of the rock shelf on which he stood. “Is the Lady here?”


The fisherman gave a barely perceptible nod. “She is.”

“Good. Because I couldn’t feel her, Couldn’t feel anything of the magic when I walked down.” Ross groped for the words he needed. “I suppose it’s because I’ve been away for so long. But... it doesn’t feel right.” He hesitated. “Maybe it’s because I’m here in the daylight, instead of at night. You told me, the first day we met, that if it was magic I was looking for, if I wanted to see the fairies, it was best to come at night. Id almost forgotten about that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll come back tonight —”

“John.” Owain’s soft voice stopped him mid-sentence. “Don’t come back. She won’t appear for you.”

John Ross stared. “The Lady? She won’t? Why not?”

The fisherman took a long time before answering. “Because the choice isn’t yours to make.”

Ross shook his head, confused. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Which choice? The one for her to appear or the one for me to stop being a Knight of the Word

The other man worked his pole and line without looking up. “Do you know why you can’t feel the magic, John? You can’t feel it because you don’t admit that it’s inside yourself anymore. Magic doesn’t just happen. It doesn’t just appear. You have to believe in it.”

He looked over at Ross. “You’ve stopped believing.”

Ross flushed. “I’ve stopped believing in its usefulness. I’ve stopped wanting it to rule my life. That’s not the same thing.”

“When you become a Knight of the Word, you give yourself over to a life of service to the Word.” Owain Glyndwr ran his big, gnarled hands smoothly along the pole and line. Shadows from passing clouds darkened his features. “If it was an easy thing to do, anyone would be suitable to the task. Most aren’t.”

“Perhaps I’m one of them,” Ross argued, anxious to find a way to get his foot in the door the Lady had apparently closed on him, “Perhaps the Word made a mistake with me.”

He paused, waiting for a response. There was none. This, was stupid, he thought, arguing with a ghost. Pointless. He closed his eyes, remembering San Sobel. “Listen to me, Owain. I can’t go through it anymore. I can’t live with it another day. The dreams and the killing and the monsters and the hate and fear and all of it endless and purposeless and stupid! I can’t do it. I don’t know how you did it.”

The big man turned to face him again, taking up the pole and line, looking away from the stream. “I did it because I had to, John. Because I was there. Because maybe there was no one else. Because I was needed to do it. Like you.”

Ross clenched his hands on the walnut staff. “I just want to return the staff,” he said quietly. “Why don’t I give it to you?”

“It doesn’t belong to me.”

“You could give it to the Lady for me.”

The fisherman shook his head. “If I take it from you, how will you leave the Fairy Glen? You cannot walk without the staff. Will you crawl out an your hands and knees like an animal? If you do, what will you find waiting for you at the rim? When you became a Knight of the Word, you were transformed. Do you think you can be as you were? Do you think you can forget what you know, what you’ve seen, or What you’ve done? Ever?”

John Ross closed his eyes against the tears that suddenly welled up. “I just want my life back. I just want this to be over.”

He felt the rain on his hands, heard the sound of the drops striking the rocks and trees and stream, small splashes and mutterings that whispered of other things, “Please, help me,” he said quietly.

But when he looked up again, the ghost of Owain Glyndwr was gone, and he was alone.



He climbed out of the Fairy Glen and returned — walking more than half the distance before he found a ride — to his inn. He ate dinner in the public rooms and drank several pints of the local ale, thinking on what he would do, on what he believed must happen. The rain continued to fall, but as midnight neared it eased off to a slow, soft drizzle that was more mist than rain.