War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3)

by B. J. Beach

  The old man gave an emphatic nod. “All the other doors have their own keys; iron ones.” The sight of the key seemed to loosen his tongue. “Each time I tried that key it turned itself over in my hand and faced the wrong way. In the end I put the key away and pushed the cupboard against the door.”

  Karryl looked around him. “Is this part of the original house?”

  The old man seemed to mellow as he also looked around the grimy kitchen. “This part is all that’s left. Just over a thousand years old. The front of the house was rebuilt about four hundred years ago. The story is that something stopped the builders touching the back, which includes this part.”

  Gently plucking off a kitten that was climbing up his robe, Karryl dropped it in a basket and gestured towards the ancient door. “Do you mind if I try?”

  The old man ran his tongue over thin lips and nodded. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  Age and grime had welded the escutcheon plate to the door, and Karryl was obliged to resort to a basic spell of easing before he was able to push it to one side. The long key slid smoothly in and Karryl felt it engage with the lock. It turned easily, releasing with a loud and satisfying click. Grasping the iron ring Karryl pulled at the door. It remained steadfastly shut. Putting his other hand to the ring he mustered his strength and gave an almighty tug. The obdurate door suddenly yielded, sending Karryl staggering against the back of the cupboard as cold stale air wafted across his face.

  With the heavy door pushed back, Karryl struggled to disguise his disappointment. Cold white marble shelves lined the yellowing, lime-washed and windowless walls of an old empty pantry. An unmarked film of dust covered a blue-grey slate floor. The scene offered nothing of immediate interest.

  The old man peered round Karryl’s elbow. “Hardly seems worth the effort does it? Would you like a bite of lunch while you think about what to do next?”

  Recalling the grimy plates and the desiccated mouse, Karryl held up a hand and graciously declined. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve already made arrangements.” He took another lingering glance into the pantry before turning away. “Would you mind if I came back tomorrow?”

  Hieronymus Smeers scowled up at him. Shuffling towards the kitchen door, he called back. “I won’t be in tomorrow. There’s a spare front door key hanging behind this door. Take it with you when you go. Lock that pantry too. You can leave the cupboard where it is.”

  After the old man was out of sight, Karryl stepped into the pantry. Crouching down he held out his hand palm downwards an inch or two above the dusty floor. The tingling in his fingers was unmistakeable. Allowing himself a little smile of satisfaction, he left the cold cheerless little room and locked the door behind him, returning the key to its box. He slipped the box into the pocket of his robe, dropped the spare door key in after it, and left the grimy kitchen.

  The old man was in the sitting room, a large blue-eyed white cat curled up on his lap. “You’re off now then?”

  Karryl nodded. “Yes. Thank you for your help and hospitality. No doubt I’ll see you again soon.”

  The old man gave his toothless grin. “Glad to be of service; and maybe you will.” He made no effort to stand up, so after wishing him good-day Karryl let himself out of the step-less front door and set off up the hill towards the palace. There was something else almost as important he had to do, and with matters having taken such a positive turn, today seemed as good a time as any.

  After checking that Symon was comfortable and bringing him up to date with events, Karryl hurried into his study. Unlocking the door of a small concealed cabinet, he drew out the pouch on its necklace of teeth which had been given to him during the achingly moving encounter with the Geffendrogger Podli. With the pouch tucked into the pocket of his robe he left his study, only stopping to tell Symon where he was going. Making for the far side of the city, he headed for a small workshop tucked away in a short narrow side-street. The clear tones of a little golden bell rang through the still air of the shop as Karryl pushed open the door. Taking one step down onto the clean swept blue-flagged floor, he closed the door behind him. From her seat at a workbench a young woman with blonde hair worn in a long neat braid down her back, looked up and smiled warmly. She carefully placed the item she was working on to one side and hurried over to Karryl. He took both her hands in his own as she gazed tenderly up into his face.

  Her eyes sparkled. “Karryl, it’s so good to see you. I’ve really missed you, it’s been so long.”

  Drawing Aenys into his arms, Karryl briefly rested his cheek against hers before their lips met in a lingering kiss.

  Karryl held Aenys at arm’s length and studied her face. “I’ve missed you too, but there’s so much going on right now I’ve hardly had a moment to call my own. Even now, as much as I’d like to be, I’m not here at my leisure.” He flashed her a mischievous grin. “It’s really your brother I’ve come to see.”

  Tossing her head in mock indignation, Aenys pulled reluctantly away and lifted aside a heavy leather curtain at the rear of the workshop. “Braen, there’s someone to see you.”

  There was no reply, but a few seconds later the curtain lifted again and the tall familiar bald-headed figure of Karryl’s future brother-in-law stepped into the shop.

  The two men shook hands. “Karryl! It’s good to see you again. I’d like to think that this was a social visit but my senses tell me otherwise.”

  Karryl nodded and gestured towards the back of the shop. “Would you mind locking the door so that we can all go into the rear workshop?”

  Slightly puzzled, Braen nevertheless locked the shop door and the three of them slipped behind the leather curtain. Three strides took Karryl across the room. He peered through the wide multi-paned window at a small walled courtyard with one heavily bolted and barred door at the far end. The room was not overlooked. Karryl reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out the small leather pouch.

  He nodded towards the bench. “Can you find a clear space somewhere Braen? I’ve something I’d like you to do for me.’’

  12 - Departures

  Head bowed and hands folded, the brown-robed servant stood behind his master, listening to his every word. Ghian was in full flow, the stirring tones of his harangue echoing and re-echoing around the high walls of the vast outdoor arena. Ever watchful, his queen grelfon loomed nearby. Far below him, bonded Grelfi stood close to their restive beasts, while those with no particular handler flapped and jostled in an adjoining compound. Having roused their fervour of loyalty to him and to their dark god, Ghian raised his arms high to accept the roars of approbation from the army of priests, Grelfi and armed guards amassed in the arena. Taking up a small decorated metal bowl, the brown-robed servant stepped forward and offered it to Ghian. Cradling it on the fingertips of both hands Ghian raised the bowl high in salutation. Once more those assembled below roared their approval. Bringing the bowl to his lips the Grelfine Lord, Master of Vedra drained the contents. After handing the empty bowl back to his servant, he dismissed him with a contemptuous flick of his hand. The servant bowed low, backed away from the platform and out of his master’s presence. As he hurried along a side alley towards the vast black temple his lips twisted in a grim smile. The grelfons would be flying soon and there was much to do.

  The brown-robed servant silently materialised just inside Ghian’s apartment and quickly crossed his master’s study. Pulling aside a large woven wall-hanging he pushed his fingertips hard against one of the smooth dressed stones. A small section of the wall swung away revealing a dark cavity. Thrusting in his hand, he briefly groped around before lifting out a grey metal casket. The servant pushed the section of wall back into place and carefully straightened the wall hanging. Clutching the casket, he looked about him. From the top of the heavy dark-wood desk he removed four small objects and slipped them into the deep pocket of his robe. After one more glance round the room he shimmered and vanished. A servant no longer, but a warrior of the Jadhrahin, he would not be
coming back. Not for a while anyway.

  * * *

  Lady Evalin and Mordas arrived at Symon’s apartment just as Symon and Karryl had finished a rather belated lunch. The tall physician-mage appeared to have fully recovered from her attempts to destroy the Wraith-infected crystal. Her eyes sparkled, her long auburn hair shone, and Karryl sensed something different about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  As Symon made himself comfortable in his fireside armchair, Evalin took his hand. “Well, my old friend, do you think you’re fit for a bit of travelling?”

  The little magician inclined his head, his eyes twinkling as he frowned up at her in mock annoyance. “Not on a full stomach dear lady! I should like to sit for a while before we depart for wherever it is we’re going. Anyway, Karryl has something I think you should see.”

  Crossing to the hearth, Karryl reached onto the mantelpiece and took down the box he had brought back from the house of Hieronymus Smeers. While Karryl was preparing lunch Symon had used vinegar to clean off the accumulated grease and grime. Now the images of the medallion and the third artefact carved into the rich golden-brown wood were clear and unmistakeable. The large and ornate bronze key was passed from hand to hand with much interest as Karryl related his experiences of that morning. Evalin placed the key back in the box and gently closed the lid.

  She handed it to Karryl. “So, what do you plan to do now? Dig up the floor?”

  Karryl shook his head as he returned the box to the mantelpiece. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I detected a warding over the flagstones of the pantry floor. Once that’s removed, I think, or rather I hope a way down will be revealed.”

  Symon clasped his hands beneath his chin. “I do so wish I could come with you but it would seem that forces are conspiring to keep me out of the way.” He looked up at Evalin. “I have a small bag packed with a few essentials, so I think I’m ready now.”

  Giving the diminutive magician a warm smile, Evalin nodded. Turning to Karryl and Mordas she placed a slender forefinger across her lips as she gave a knowing wink. Her hands clasped prayerfully in front of her, her expression softened as she gazed into the middle distance. Karryl felt the tell-tale prickling of his skin and raised an eyebrow at Mordas. She returned a little warning frown, and they waited.

  A sparkling pale green oval shimmered just above the floor in front of them, the carefree sound of light-hearted laughter reached their ears, and a half dozen tiny people bounded lightly through. Karryl grinned as he recognised the wood sprites whose timely appearance had been so effective at that crucial council meeting. Their delicately featured faces bright with anticipation they ran forward and gathered round Symon, their excited chatter filling the room as their miniature fingers touched his face, hands and hair.

  He seemed close to overwhelmed as he looked up at Karryl. “Would you mind fetching my bag? I appear to be otherwise engaged.”

  Not wishing to miss more of this unique event than was absolutely necessary, Karryl dashed into Symon’s room, grabbed the bag from the floor at the foot of the bed and dashed back again. Holding the bag, he stood and watched as Symon pushed himself out of his chair. With two sprites holding each hand and two behind him, he moved slowly towards the sparkling portal. Stopping just in front of it, one of the sprites behind Symon skipped forward.

  In a high lilting voice which betrayed some difficulty with human language, she addressed the three onlookers. “Master Symon may remain in our care for one cycle of your moon, then he must return. He will be our most honoured guest. Anything he desires it will be our pleasure to provide.”

  Before any of them could respond the sprite sprang in front of Symon, craning her neck to look up into his face. “Have no fear. Walk as if through an open door.”

  Beaming with delight Symon nodded and held out his hand to Karryl for his bag. “This is amazing, and most unexpected.” His eyes widened. “I may not even want to come back.”

  With the bag clutched against his chest Symon stepped into the sparkling green oval, closely followed by his escort of wood sprites. A second later the portal winked out of sight, leaving Karryl, Evalin and Mordas gazing at empty air.

  13 - The Jadhra and the Cat

  Although Hieronymus Smeers had told Karryl he would not be here, the cold dawn light coupled with the old man’s absence heightened the air of sad neglect within the house. The desolate atmosphere took the young Mage-Prime by surprise. From its perch on the kitchen windowsill the tortoiseshell cat with mismatched eyes glared at him. Karryl picked his way around the baskets and threaded through the mob of assorted cats and kittens.

  He reached out and fondled the cat’s ears. “Hello puss. Remember me?”

  “Of course I do. It was only yesterday after all.”

  The voice which entered Karryl’s mind was a warm, rolling baritone. He laughed out loud, delighted at this unexpected mental exchange.

  “So, who are you really then?”

  The sleek tortoiseshell blinked and yawned. “I am Moonstone the one hundred and forty-third. Contrary to what you may have been thinking, I am simply a cat.” Stretching his neck he appeared to smile as he closed his amber eye and regarded Karryl with the green one. “Nevertheless a rather special cat, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Gently scratching the top of Moonstone’s broad head Karryl nodded. “I would indeed.”

  The large feline pushed his soft muzzle into Karryl’s hand and began to purr loudly.

  “Would you like a cat? I’m not committed at the moment.”

  Karryl chuckled and gave him a gentle tap on his flat brown nose. “I appreciate the offer but we have a cat who regularly visits, and she might feel a bit ruffled if I turned up with another one.”

  Moonstone gave a paw a nonchalant lick. “Ah. You mean Detelia. Not a problem. She and I are old friends. We get on very well.”

  The tortoiseshell gazed up at him and adopted an appealing pose. Karryl grinned. “I suppose, when you put it like that …”

  He didn’t have time to finish as Moonstone’s ears pricked up. “A stranger comes; through the air.”

  Karryl had just enough time to throw a glamour of ancient brickwork and peeling paint over the pantry door before a shimmering portal appeared above the centre of the floor. Unperturbed, the cat looked on as a black-clad figure stepped through, touched two fingers to forehead, lips and chest and bowed in Karryl’s direction.

  His suspicions aroused Karryl frowned. “Areel? You’re the last person I expected to see here. How did you find me?”

  Areel crouched down and pulled a basket containing a black and white cat and three assorted kittens away from the vicinity of the portal. “They would not survive very long in the desert.”

  The portal vanished as Areel moved to stand in front of Karryl. “I have met with the Lady Evalin.” The desert warrior’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Her powers are remarkable. She has some very subtle ways of testing credibility. She told me you were probably here, after I had spoken with her and King Vailin and told them as much as I know.”

  Karryl nodded and forced a little smile, although this was one of those rare occasions when he felt annoyed. What he had to do he wanted to do alone. The as yet unexplained arrival of Areel could complicate matters.

  The warrior’s obsidian black eyes met Karryl’s dark brown ones. “It was necessary to warn you, and this was the quickest way. My thoughts may not have reached you.”

  Unable to ignore the gravity of Areel’s tone, Karryl frowned. “Warn me of what?”

  The desert warrior’s expression was troubled. “The same thing of which I have warned your king and the lady. Lord Ghian’s dark forces are gathering in Vedra. In a bid to recover the medallion along with the third artefact and so gain ascendancy, he has already instructed the Grelfi. A full-scale attack on this city is imminent. You must counter this threat before the city and its people are destroyed.”

  Karryl’s mouth set in a grim line as he rapidly considered his opti
ons. “How soon do you think they’ll attack?”

  Areel’s reply was immediate and positive. “I was present when Lord Ghian revealed his plan to the Grelfi, and also when he gave his rallying speech from the platform above the grelfon arena. The attack is scheduled for the night of the next full moon, but my master is not renowned for his patience.”

  Karryl scowled. “The Wraith only gave us until then to return the artefacts to them, or there would be retributions.”

  Areel looked at him askance. “And you expected a Vedran Wraith to keep its word? If that is what it told you, you may rest assured the attack will be sooner. Why were you visited by a Wraith?”

  Karryl briefly related the events of the past few days while Areel listened intently. It was only when Karryl had finished that he spoke. “How close are you to recovering the third artefact?”

  His suspicions aroused, the young Mage-Prime gave him a long look. “Why?”

  Areel looked around the cold, grimy kitchen. “Is there a place more comfortable where we can talk? If you are close to recovering the Navigator I may be able to avert this impending disaster.”

  It was only when Karryl was entering the drab sitting-room that Areel’s words registered. He spun round and glared at the desert warrior. “What did you call it?”

  The Jadhra raised a narrow eyebrow. “The object which you call the third artefact is properly called the Navigator.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve known for quite a while. I also know what the medallion is called. But I didn’t expect you to know.”

  As Karryl perched on the edge of a shabby chair, Areel pulled a cushion off another one onto the floor and seated himself cross-legged on it. “There is every reason for me to know. I am the last of a line of warrior chiefs whose tribe are the rightful owners of the artefacts. We also know the exact location of the fourth artefact, and it is that above all else that the Vedrans want.”