Lioness of Kell

by Paul E. Horsman

  The letter was written. The former Strapan chose a distant cousin from among his followers and bound him with dire oaths, before handing him the letter.

  Jurgis saw a furtive look in the messenger’s eyes when he left the cabin. Oho, he thought. Some added security might be wise. At the gangway, he halted him.

  ‘A minute, Unwaari,’ he said, his voice glacial. The fresh scars on his face gave him a mean appearance and the messenger quailed. ‘You are entrusted with a mission of great importance. We will show you our appreciation. A thousand gold pieces for your efforts, messenger, upon the completion of your mission. Carry that thought with you, as you will this curse I lay upon you should you betray us. By Aera, Lady of the Sun, Bringer of Rain and Wielder of Wind and Snow, I curse thee shouldst thou break thine oath, for ever and ever after. Now go and may Fate be with you.’

  Shaken and pale, the man stepped onto the quay and mounted his spelldrake. Swiftly he disappeared toward the town gates.

  ‘You didn’t trust him?’ Maud said from behind him.

  ‘I still don’t,’ Jurgis said, turning his damaged face to her. ‘But a thousand gold pieces should work as a powerful charm.’

  ‘Yes,’ Maud said. ‘Do we have a thousand gold pieces?’

  ‘Oh.’ Jurgis waved an airy hand. ‘Yarwan will cough it up from the money Darquine gave him. It’s a trade investment, after all.’

  ‘You asked him, of course.’

  ‘Maud! I’m not daft. If I asked him, he would say no. We’ll tell him when we need the money.’

  ‘You sneaky rat!’ Maud said.

  Jurgis shivered. ‘Not a rat. I hate rats!’

  The next day, a dhow sailed up the Tome, to go and find Kelwarg.

  ‘We’re off,’ Basil said. His eyes gleamed and his face was flushed. ‘Finally we’re going to Kelwarg’s tower.’

  ‘You know.’ Jurgis stared at the river, with a frown between his eyes. ‘I hope Saul will be there. We haven’t seen him since he left me at Dimdras, and he was under a cloud for losing this ship.’

  ‘You’re worried about him?’

  ‘Yes. He is our brother, and he got an even rawer deal than I did. I want him here and happy. Does that bother you?’

  Basil felt a small pang of self-reproach; Saul’s fate hadn’t crossed his mind for a second.

  ‘No,’ he said, unsure of his emotions. ‘You have spoken with him; that makes a difference. To me, he is an opponent to beat.’ He thought of the fellow in his brown mantle; raising the dead, planting a troll; no negligible feats. ‘You’re right; he is our brother.’

  The two of them sat on the platform above the tiller, with a great view over the surrounding grasslands, dotted with copses of trees.

  ‘It would be great for cattle,’ Jurgis said after a while.

  ‘What?’ Basil was thinking of the spell to repair his foot. How it would feel to do away with that stupid boot and be able to walk. To run. ‘Cattle? If you say so. Were you thinking of becoming a rancher?’

  Jurgis sniffed. ‘Nah, it would be dull. I’ve no idea what I want to do when all this is over. Depends on Maud. The queen told her point-blank she can’t have my children and stay a clan member. That means she’ll have to choose between the Brannoe and me.’ He looked at his brother. ‘That’s not an easy decision, but it’s hers and I will have to abide by it.’

  Basil nodded. ‘She knows we’d love to have her?’

  ‘Sure.’ Jurgis smiled. ‘I never asked Father, though.’

  ‘He won’t mind. Had you been a warlock, it would’ve been different, but as it is he won’t care.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he be ... happy for us?’ Jurgis said.

  Basil blinked. ‘I don’t know. Father and I have never been intimate. One doesn’t, in Malgarth.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Jurgis said. ‘I don’t know if I care about him, either.’

  Basil looked at him. ‘Give it time.’ He smiled. ‘By the way. If Dori is right and I am the Spellwarden, you must be the Warden of Winsproke, Father’s old title.’

  Jurgis opened his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say, he swallowed. He shook his head. ‘All those fine titles,’ he said. ‘Lording over ruins. What’s the use?’

  Basil thought for a moment. He knew the answer, but he hadn’t tried to articulate it for others. ‘Of themselves, none. When they work to bind the people to us, it’s useful. Most of all, it’s a reminder of our obligation. We have failed those same people, brother, by being unprepared, feeble and uncaring. We must do better now.’

  Jurgis shifted, his hand rubbing the itching marks on his face. ‘Father? He’s Spellstor. Does he think like you?’

  Basil shrugged. ‘No idea. We’ve never spoken of Vanhaar; most of what I know is from the books. We’ll have to see. Meanwhile I’m the Spellwarden. I feel this obligation, so I must act.’

  ‘And the Council?’

  ‘Blow the Council!’ Basil cried. ‘I had trouble accepting those fools back in Malgarth, but over here they don’t exist.’ He beat the roof with his fist. ‘They’re welcome as warlocks, not as councilors.’

  ‘Even Master Volaut?’

  ‘Master Volaut will be dead when I’m done with him.’

  ‘You really have changed,’ Jurgis said.

  Changed? Basil shook his head. ‘I keep hearing myself talking tough and decisive; running around, killing people, and I could scream with frustration. I want my tower, and my studies, everything I had before that fucking summons. I want my own life back!’ He lowered his voice. ‘But I can’t.’ He felt the touch of his brother’s hand and looked up. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it gets me.’

  Jurgis clasped his shoulders. ‘I understand. I felt the same, the first year after Isaudor died and I had to beg and steal to stay alive. And I am the outgoing, active type, so it was easier for me than for you, my studious brother. But you’re doing great, and when we’ve won, you can rearrange your life as you like it.’

  Basil patted Jurgis’ knee. ‘You’re right, dear. Thanks.’

  The river voyage remained uneventful. No one in Seatome had a map or even an idea of the distance to Kelwarg’s tower, so they didn’t how long the journey would take.

  It was near the end of the third day that Jurgis pointed into the distance. ‘What’s all that mist ahead?’

  ‘It could be a lake,’ Basil said. ‘A very cold lake.’

  ‘Bitter cold, you mean?’

  His brother smiled. ‘As in Bitter’ights? Could be.’

  ‘There is a tower.’ Maud turned to the twins. ‘This must be it. Kelwarg’s tower. I wonder if he’s home?’

  Silently, the dhow crept into the lake.

  Jurgis held his hand in the water, but he snatched it back with a curse. ‘Cold!’ he gasped, shaking his hand violently to keep the blood flowing.

  ‘I said it was.’

  In silence, they stared at the tower.

  ‘No handle to the door,’ Jurgis said. ‘How will we get in?’

  ‘You could use the bell,’ Wargall said innocently.

  Jurgis turned his head. ‘What do you mean?’

  The boy pointed to a large, gleaming bell hanging from a stake on the lake’s rocky edge.

  ‘Ah, that one.’ Jurgis grinned. ‘Smartypants.’

  When the dhow had moored, Wargall jumped ashore and ran to the bell. ‘Shall I?’ At Basil’s nod he rang loud enough to wake a nearby duck colony.

  ‘There!’ Maud had drawn her sword and waved it at the open door and the small bridge that came sliding out.

  ‘Clever,’ Basil said. He walked back to the dhow. ‘Mister Jorlok, we’re going in. If you haven’t heard from us by nightfall, return to Seatome and report to Captain Yarwan.’

  ‘Good luck,’ the second mate said. ‘Give my love to the Princess in the Tower.’

  ‘Ha!’ Basil said. ‘She’ll be an ogre, I fear.’ He walked back to the bell. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Wait!’ Jurgis called, as Wargall ran across the bridge into the
hall. He hurried after him. ‘Idiot! You don’t know if there’s any danger.’

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ Wargall said.

  ‘I know, but that’s not a reason to run blindly into danger, Warrior.’

  Wargall blushed. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Don’t stand in the hall, my brothers,’ a familiar voice said from above. ‘Do come up.’

  Jurgis looked up. ‘Saul!’

  ‘You sound glad to see me?’ The voice sounded surprised.

  ‘I am glad to see you, man,’ Jurgis said. ‘I was worried about you.’ He hurried up the stairs and there was Saul. ‘You look thinner,’ he said, gripping the other’s shoulders.

  ‘Quite possible,’ Saul said. ‘The food was less’n usual, the last weeks.’ He eyed Jurgis, his eyes narrowed. ‘Are you really glad to see me?’

  ‘I am,’ Jurgis said. ‘And so is Basil, once he gets used to the idea.’ He turned and gripped Basil’s arm. ‘Meet Saul,’ he said.

  The two brothers shook hands like two dogs sniffing each other for the first time.

  ‘Now we are complete,’ Jurgis said, stepping back to feel Maud’s arm slip around him. ‘Somehow, it’s a nice feeling.’

  ‘There is another here you will know,’ Saul said. ‘Come to my chambers.’

  They walked to a half-open door and then Wargall cried, ‘Wemawee!’

  He ran into the room and stopped before his clansister. ‘It’s really you! Oh, I am glad.’

  ‘Wargall!’ The girl seemed confused, not the arrogant wisewoman they knew. ‘I ... I missed you, Wargall,’ she said, uncertainly.

  ‘You did?’ The boy stared at her in surprise. ‘You missed me?’

  ‘Truly. I’ve been mean to you; I am sorry.’ She looked at him and her eyes grew puzzled. ‘I thought you’d go back to the Boys’ House.’

  ‘Never!’ Wargall let his muscles roll. ‘I’m a warrior and a lot stronger than I was. I can fight, and shoot a bow, and I’ve killed bad men. I killed a shaman!’

  ‘You’re strong? Give me your hand. Show me your strength.’

  Wargall looked her in the eye and squeezed her hand. A spasm crossed her face.

  ‘Ah!’ she said. ‘Stop!’

  Wargall released her. ‘I’m strong, ain’t I?’

  Wordlessly, she nodded. Then she looked straight at him. ‘I was an awful bitch to you. I didn’t mean to be, but I was. Can you ... forgive me?’

  ‘Forgive you?’ Wargall said, puzzled. Then his face cleared. ‘Of course I forgive you. You were scared and unhappy. That’s over; I can protect you now. All right?’

  She blinked at him and after a moment’s hesitation, nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I’ll bed you when you need it,’ he said happily.

  ‘But not now.’ Maud strode forward and confronted Wemawee. ‘I’m glad I found you alive, Wisewoman. But you have a lot of explaining to do.’

  Wemawee took a deep breath. ‘I will tell you all, Lioness. But I’ve not betrayed the queen’s trust.’

  ‘Before we talk, I will show you something,’ Saul said with a small smile. ‘Something that will interest you very much. Follow me to the upper floor.’

  ‘Well, this is ... unexpected,’ Jurgis said, staring around at the superbly male statues in their various poses of excitement. ‘This doesn’t fit my image of Kelwarg at all. Basil?’

  His brother had burst out laughing. ‘Oh my,’ he said, with tears running down his face. ‘I must show these to Yarwan. He will love them; they’re so impossible.’ He tried a pose, but he couldn’t stop laughing. ‘No, I’m not built for that. You must be a dancer, or an acrobat; no normal human could stand thus, let alone copulate. Oh, my Yarwan, you really must see those.’

  ‘Who’s Yarwan?’ Saul said.

  Jurgis grinned. ‘His loving partner. Captain Yarwan, who commands the Magonaut.’

  ‘Oh,’ Saul said, and he swallowed. ‘Ah. And you?’

  ‘I’m with her.’ Jurgis smiled up at Maud. ‘Now, was this what you wanted to show us?’

  Saul coughed. ‘No, not at all. Come.’ He hurried on to a pair of doors. ‘They were sealed, but Wemawee managed to open it. And then we saw this.’

  He threw open the doors. ‘Meet the Master,’ he said. ‘Kelwarg the Black Warlock.’

  ‘So he’s been dead all this time?’ Maud said, staring at the giant body on the bed.

  ‘There’s a placard over his head,’ Saul said. ‘That’s how I knew it was him. Kelwarg of the M’Arrangh, Warlock, Singer, Past Prince-warlock of Winsproke, with a date over seventy years ago.’

  ‘He’s big,’ Maud said with awe in her voice. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to face him on the field of battle.’

  ‘No.’ There was such fear in Wemawee’s voice that Jurgis shot her a look. She’s been fighting shamans? Something has changed her; that bloody arrogance has gone. He turned to the body on the bed. ‘If he’s dead, then who is our enemy?’

  Basil shook his head. ‘I’m a fool. A blind, gullible fool.’

  Jurgis turned and saw his brother staring at a framed painting of a group of young people in front of a building, against a backdrop of high mountains. One face in the group was clearly the dead man on the bed, at age twelve or thereabouts. ‘Why?’

  Basil heard his brother’s question, but he didn’t answer. He unhooked the painting from the wall. On the back, someone had written one word, possibly the location, and a date a few years before the war. In a drawn outline of the portrayed people, the same hand had jotted down names. Behind Kelwarg’s dark face in bold letters, ME. But there was another word, naming a slightly older person. This name made Basil shake his head in a mixture of unbelief and disgust. Vystyn Glastym’s son. With care he removed the frame and put the painting in his backpack.

  ‘I’m done here,’ he said.

  ‘You’re keeping secrets.’ Jurgis’ face was indignant and Basil smiled in sudden, unholy joy.

  Jurgis pulled a face at him. ‘Well, if you’re not going to tell us ...’ His eyes searched Basil’s face and he muttered something dire.

  ‘The show is over,’ Saul said. ‘Let us retire to my rooms and tell each other the story of our lives. Wemawee and I have searched the rooms on this floor, and there’s nothing useful left. Not a hint of a key to the book.’

  Basil looked at him and his smile broadened. ‘I have the key.’

  Saul faltered. ‘What?’

  ‘I have the key. Jurgis got it from the kobold king who assisted Kelwarg before his fall.’

  ‘Damn you,’ Saul cried, red with fury, as he whirled to Jurgis. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, that day in the ruins?’

  ‘Use your brains,’ Jurgis said coolly. ‘You had me prisoner, bound in a dungeon. How was I to trust you? Had you brought me back to the ship, yes, but trussed up in that cell? No way.’

  Saul sagged. ‘Another of my brilliant decisions,’ he said bitterly. ‘I was a fool all the way, wasn’t I?’ He gripped Basil’s arm. ‘Please come,’ he said, his ever-present fear blooming in his face. ‘Any moment, he can activate the spell and I’ll drop dead. Please ...’

  ‘Come, then.’ Basil broke into a hobbling run to the stairs.

  Once back in Saul’s rooms, he took the black case from his backpack.

  ‘That’s it?’ Saul said breathlessly, eyeing the silver wand with something akin to religious awe.

  Basil nodded. With the wand in one hand, he tried to open the book. It didn’t work. Then, he touched the book with the wand, but again nothing happened.

  ‘Open, dammit,’ he muttered. At the first word, a jingling sound filled the air and the book opened. ‘The gods rot you, Kelwarg!’ he cried. ‘Miserable jokester.’

  ‘You dare!’ a giant voice roared, and Kelwarg, younger-looking but unmistakably the body on the bed, appeared in the room. He was dressed in a leather kilt, shaman-wise, his bald head covered in colored symbols. In his hands he clenched a spear like old Hala’s, but half as long again. ‘Face your death, intruders!’

>   Maud’s sword flashed, but the giant brushed her aside as one does a child, and she stumbled across the room.

  Basil threw a beam of scintillating power, to have it sucked up by Kelwarg’s protective shield.

  The giant gave them a mocking smile. ‘Neither your weapons nor your puny magic will touch ME!’ he said.

  ‘M’Arrangh!’ Wargall shouted, and he sprang. But Kelwarg plucked him from his charge and sent him flying across the room.

  ‘The book!’ Basil cried. ‘Take it and get out of the room; quick!’

  Jurgis grabbed the tome and ran into the corridor, with the others on his heels.

  ‘You, too, Maud,’ Basil snapped. ‘Now!’ She cast one look at his face and left. Basil lifted both his staff and the wand. ‘Take heed, apparition of a dead man,’ he said, and cast a beam of solid ice. It splintered into a million pieces against Kelwarg’s shield.

  The giant roared with laughter. ‘Funny little fellow,’ he said. Then the large writing table flew through the air and crashed into Basil. He staggered, but his shield held and in rapid succession, five massive vases hit the giant between the eyes. ‘Is that all?’ the loud voice called. Between his hands a living flame appeared, and ran to Basil, burning smoking holes in the carpet. A waterfall cascaded from the ceiling and drowned the flame, before it changed into a globule that splashed against Kelwarg’s shield. The giant called one word. ‘Shockwave!’ Immediately, the floor heaved, and Basil tumbled around amidst all the furniture. It’s not right, he thought. This can’t be happening. When the last tremor passed, he pointed the wand at Kelwarg, and shouted, ‘Disappear, illusion.’ It was as if the whole tower came crashing down. Stones fell, walls shook and clouds of dust hampered Basil’s sight. He heard the others cry out, and then absolute silence followed. Through the dust clouds he saw something creeping toward him, and frantically he sought for another spell. But it was Wargall, his bleeding face determined.

  ‘Y’alri’t?’ mumbled the boy through bruised lips.

  Basil tried to answer, but his mouth was full of dust and he bent double with a paroxysm of coughing. Then large hands held a glass against his mouth and he gulped greedily. ‘Gods,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Gods.’ Then, ‘Where is he?’