Read The Fellowship of the Talisman for Free Online Page A

knock came at the door.
    â€œYes,” said Duncan’s father. “Who is it?”
    â€œIt is I,” said Wells’s voice. “I thought, perhaps, some brandy.”
    â€œYes, indeed,” exclaimed the archbishop, springing to life, “some brandy would be fine. You have such good brandy here. Much better than the abbey.”
    â€œTomorrow morning,” Duncan’s father said, between his teeth, “I shall send you a keg of it.”
    â€œThat,” said the archbishop suavely, “would be most kind of you.”
    â€œCome on in,” Duncan’s father yelled to Wells.
    The old man carried in a tray on which were balanced glasses and a bottle. Moving quietly in his carpet slippers, he poured out the brandy and handed the glasses around.
    When he was gone the archbishop leaned back in his chair, holding out the glass against the firelight and squinting through it. “Exquisite,” he said. “Such a lovely color.”
    â€œHow large a party did you have in mind?” Duncan asked his father.
    â€œYou mean that you will go?”
    â€œI’m considering it.”
    â€œIt would be,” said the archbishop, “an adventure in the highest tradition of your family and this house.”
    â€œTradition,” said Duncan’s father sharply, “has not a thing to do with it.”
    He said to his son, “I had thought a dozen men or so.”
    â€œToo many,” Duncan said.
    â€œPerhaps. How many would you say?”
    â€œTwo. Myself and Conrad.”
    The archbishop choked on the brandy, jerked himself upright in his chair. “Two?” he asked, and then, “Who might this Conrad be?”
    â€œConrad,” said Duncan’s father, “is a barnyard worker. He is handy with the hogs.”
    The archbishop sputtered. “But I don’t understand.”
    â€œConrad and my son have been close friends since they were boys. When Duncan goes hunting or fishing he takes Conrad with him.”
    â€œHe knows the woodlands,” Duncan said. “He’s run in them all his life. When time hangs heavy on his hands, as it does at times, for his duties are not strenuous, he takes out for the woods.”
    â€œIt does not seem to me,” the archbishop said, “that running in the woods is a great qualification …”
    â€œBut it would be,” said Duncan. “We’d be traveling in a wilderness.”
    â€œThis Conrad,” said Duncan’s father, “is a brawny man, about seven feet and almost twenty stone of muscle. Quick as a cat. Half animal. He bears unquestioning allegiance to Duncan; he would die for him, I’m sure. He carries a club, a huge oaken club …”
    â€œA club!” the archbishop groaned.
    â€œHe’s handy with it,” said Duncan. “I’d put him with that club of his up against a dozen swordsmen and I’d give you odds on Conrad and his club.”
    â€œIt would not be too bad a choice,” Duncan’s father said. “The two of them would move quietly and swiftly. If they need defend themselves, they’d be capable.”
    â€œDaniel and Tiny to go along with us,” said Duncan.
    Duncan’s father saw the archbishop’s lifted eyebrows. “Daniel is a war-horse,” he explained, “trained to battle. He is the equal of three men. Tiny is a great mastiff. He is trained for war as well.”

3
    Cedric left them well before dawn, after guiding them to a patch of thick woodland where they spent the remainder of the night. Shortly after dawn, Conrad awakened Duncan and they breakfasted on cheese and bread, unwilling to light a fire. Then they set out again.
    The weather had improved. The wind had shifted and died down. The clouds were gone and the sun was warm.
    They traveled through a lonely land, largely covered by woods, with deep glens and faery dells running through the woodlands. Occasionally they came across