Free Return to Caer Lon by Claude Dancourt

glowing and the color was clearing again. Her father’s thumb pressed against the substance left a mark into it. She dared a question:
    “It was solid gold, last time, wasn’t it?”
    The frown on the large forehead deepened. The man grabbed the basin with both hands and moved his face to ward the mellowing surface. His hair slipped forward, nearly touching it, and he jerked backward.
    “Father?”
    She recognized the dangerous growl and was already retreating to the door when Wolfryth ordered “Leave me.”
    The door closed behind her and he concentrated on the recipient again. The large bowl of stone was filled with some silvery liquid once more. He cleared his mind to reach the power within him and bade the sorceress to yield to him: “ P antswa nekem marzenia. ”
    The liquid gurgled and greyed quickly, densifying.
    “ P antswa nekem marzenia. ”
    The boils turned more violent as he focused on the spell. Wolfryth repeated his incantation a third time, forcefully:
    “ pantswa plon nekem marzenia Dine to! ”
    The effervescence ceased abruptly. The petrified matter began to glow again, the lead color giving way to copper and radiating. Wolfryth grinned, satisfaction twisting his scar into a horrible grin. Then the light vanished completely and he retained a cry of rage.
    The sorcerer raised one hand over the basin and the liquid transformed into pure water. The image reflecting showed a young blond man, his elbow set on a table and his chin pressed on his wrist, reading. Pendragon. The shadow in front of him was blurred. With a new flip of his hand, the water turned back into silver goo.
    His magic was not to blame. The controlling spell had rebounded on the other side. Somehow, the seer blocked his intrusion in to her mind . Wolfryth snorted. With or without his help , her visions would push her forward. He could not fail.
     
    oOo
     
    The mirror was not doing her justice. Fillin pouted. The old surface refused to reflect the shine of her blond hair, and the incredible blue of her eyes. Her skin looked wan, instead of young and attractive.
    She took a handkerchief and tried for the hundredth time to wipe out the stain. The reflecting surface gleamed for a second, and darkened again. She scolded. This place was impossible. Mirrors withheld fair play, some doors remained stubbornly closed. If by some miracle she managed to convince (coerced) the staff into cleaning one room, it was dusty and grim again the next day.
    She sighed. Her father insisted they stayed here until he had found ‘the Source’, as he called it. And given only the blood of the dragon could open the way to that source, she had to wait for that stupid witch to bring Derek Pendragon to Caer Lon.
    The blonde arranged her hair, smiling at her deformed image, unable to decide what smile suited her best. If only that stupid mirror could work properly…
    How a girl with such powers could be that naïve? Her father manipulated her dreams for weeks now, and the seer had not doubted her visions once. She was too eager to prove her friends she knew . Predictable idiot.
    The gold and blue dress fitted her perfectly, Fillin decided. It flattered her hourglass figure and enhanced the color of her eyes. It didn’t matter if the spell had not worked today; the seer was already doomed. It was probably that despicable place playing tricks on them again. She could not wait to be back in Camelot ’s Court, with a crowd of efficient servants instead of those frightful natives or those halfwits guards her father called Jutes. This place was horrible. Waiting for a n idle sorceress, barely able to control her powers, to bring her lover to them was excruciating. She stamped her foot. She hated this!
    Everything was that so-called Sacha ’s fault. Her father had finally conceded to teach her , and because of Sacha , she had been cast out of the room and she had no idea when he would grant her a new lesson.
    A gush of air made her skirt swirled beautifully, and