by Duncan Lay
‘Why were you so blind?’ she demanded softly.
She heard swift footfalls coming towards her and tried to compose herself, although inside she was raging. If it was a hurrying noble, woe betide him…she saw it was her chief lady-in-waiting, Rana, and subsided a little. Not only was Rana a friend, she was also the daughter of a noble, Count Sendric, the most powerful man in the country’s north.
‘My Queen, the nobles are arriving. They are already asking for you in the main chamber.’
Merren forced a smile to her face. ‘Then let us go and meet these treacherous, small-minded dogs, and give them far more respect than most of them deserve.’
4
The household of the Queen’s Magician came with a score of servants, although Barrett rarely used them. Unlike other Royal Magicians, he never gave parties or used his arts to entertain the nobles. Part of that was because he preferred to study and hone his craft, and part of it was because he was seen as too close to the Queen, so was despised by many at court.
The servants kept his over-large house and garden clean but he strongly suspected several of them were in the pay of Duke Gello, so he told them he would be travelling and would not be back for several days. All seemed rather pleased at the prospect of a few days’ holiday. Just to be on the safe side, he watched them go before searching through his extensive library for maps of eastern Norstalos and Tetril, as well as any other useful information he could find about these areas. It was not easy. Tetril was a small, poor country that was generally accepted to be no threat to anyone. Eastern Norstalos was full of plump farmlands and small towns, with none of the industry of the west and south and no mines like the north, so had little beyond its tax yields to interest city folk.
Still, he had found the location of a royal magician’s lodge near the border, which was useful. Wizards such as he had the power to rapidly travel long distances—but needed time to rest when they arrived. A safe place for that rest was vital. He was just sorting the papers he had found into a bundle—and thinking about taking some provisions with him when someone rang the bell outside his front door. At first he ignored it, because there were servants to get those sorts of things. But when it kept ringing, he remembered he had dismissed his servants. He slammed down the papers and stormed off towards the front door, vowing he would show them what it meant to knock on a wizard’s door uninvited.
He threw open the door, ready to terrify some foolhardy salesman—and found himself face to face with three bearded men in long robes and pointed hats, all clutching staves heavily adorned with silver talismans, feathers and mystic sigils. Even if he had not already known them, their outfits would have screamed ‘wizard’. But he recognised them instantly. The leader was Tellite, one of his former rivals for the position of Queen’s Magician, although he was never a serious contender. Tellite cultivated a long white beard, which someone had carefully plaited. The other two were acolytes of his, Elong and Ackwal. They were typical young mages, puffed up with self-importance and easily impressed by a cheap showman such as Tellite. They were trying to grow beards, to emulate him, but their rather wispy efforts just made them look younger, rather than adding to their status as mages. The brotherhood of magicians was a relatively small one, and most knew each other at least casually. But Barrett knew them well because the three of them were most often referred to as Duke Gello’s wizards.
‘What do you want?’ Barrett demanded, in no mood for a social visit.
Tellite smiled. ‘May we come in? We have a proposition that may interest you.’
Barrett ignored the two acolytes and concentrated on the leader. ‘No.’
Tellite’s face tightened, while the other two shuffled a little nervously.
‘Listen to me, Barrett. You need to come with us to see Duke Gello.’
Barrett stared at him coldly. ‘I will go nowhere with you.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Barrett! The Queen’s days are over! Duke Gello will soon rule this country, and from there the continent and from there, who knows? Come and work for me. The Duke can be a generous man.’
Barrett laughed. ‘He would have to be, to employ a pack of useless finger-wavers like the three of you! But you can tell your precious Duke that I am going away. I will not be in the palace when he comes to depose the Queen.’
Barrett could see that statement shook them, firstly that he was not going to be there, and secondly that he foresaw their purpose.
‘I’m going, so you can reasonably walk back to the Duke and tell him not to worry about me stopping him from becoming a traitor.’ He stared hard at them. ‘Or, you can stay and try to face me.’
Tellite, painfully aware his allies were now shuffling nervously and casting glances back down the long drive towards the street, decided to reassert his authority.
‘By the power vested in me by Duke Gello, I demand you accompany us for questioning over the theft of the Dragon Sword,’ he snapped. ‘If you refuse, it will go badly for you.’
‘Badly for me?’ Barrett smiled thinly.
Tellite cleared his throat. ‘Be reasonable, man! You don’t even have your staff with you!’
Barrett’s smile stayed in place but his voice was cold. ‘The fact you think I need a staff shows why you were never going to be the Queen’s Magician,’ he told him, then clenched his fist.
Instantly, the tall plants on either side of the doorway exploded into growth, tripling and quadrupling in size in a heartbeat, thick branches reaching towards the trio of wizards.
‘Get him or we’re all dead!’ Tellite screamed, just before a thick bundle of leaves shoved themselves into his mouth.
But Elong and Ackwal were swamped under a mass of greenery, picked up and slammed into the hard stone pathway.
Tellite, however, was powered by desperation. Swiftly the plants around him died back, and he leapt away, soaring high in the air. The effort he was expending was obvious—his lips were drawn back in a grimace and sheets of sweat were flying from his face.
Barrett, lightly sweating, brought up both hands and sent Tellite cartwheeling away across the garden. The older wizard managed to control his landing and spun, jabbing his staff back at Barrett. Insects roared out of trees and bushes, or crawled out of the ground, and flew or ran at Barrett, who was breathing harder now as he sent them scurrying back away. Surely Tellite was going to give up soon? He would be exhausted by his efforts so far. But one glance at Tellite told a different story. Wizards used their strength to summon natural magic; when a wizard was exhausted, they stopped to rest. But Tellite was not going to stop, although he was gasping for breath.
Sending a swarm of bees flying back to their nest, Barrett jumped at Tellite, using his magic to propel himself fifteen feet at a time. Two jumps and he was on top of the other wizard, who snarled, showing long teeth in shrunken gums, then ignited his whole staff this time, swinging the weapon at Barrett’s head, using the magic to speed up his blows.
Barrett had to reach into the magic himself, to spring backwards and away to avoid the attack, but Tellite chased him, swinging wildly. Desperately, Barrett grabbed Elong’s fallen staff and copied Tellite’s technique, increasing it in size and using magic to strengthen his arms. He traded blows with the berserk wizard, unsure how much longer the man could last. Tellite looked almost skeletal now, his flesh burning off in his crazed attempt to keep the magic flowing. Barrett had heard of cases like this before, of mages so caught up in the use of magic that they were unable to stop until it had drained every last spark of life from them. If he had the energy, he would have found this fascinating: how far a wizard could propel himself down the path of death before the magic ran out. But he could feel his own strength draining away. His breath was coming harsh and fast and sweat was now dripping into his eyes. He was also conscious of how much else he had to do that day. It would serve his Queen little if he defeated Tellite but failed in his mission to find the Dragon Sword. He had to end this. He doubled the size of the staff he held until it resem
bled the trunk of a small tree, then smashed it at Tellite’s head.
The crazed mage blocked the first blow, then a second, but was knocked back by the force of the impact.
‘You’re coming with me!’ he screamed, eyes unnaturally bright in a sunken face.
He raised his arms to the skies, his beard and robes beginning to whip around him as wind and dark clouds began to swirl above him.
Barrett stared at him in horror for a moment, unable to believe the man would really go so far as to try and summon a giant electrical storm. Weather magic was the hardest to master, and the most dangerous. Since it was usually the preserve of the priests, most wizards were happy to avoid it. It took an enormous toll on the body, because of the disruption not only to the local weather but also to the weather across the continent. But Tellite was obviously not thinking rationally. Instead he was trying to create a huge thunderstorm concentrated on this one spot. If he succeeded, the house and anyone near it would be destroyed by a massive bombardment of lightning. Barrett wasted precious time thinking about that before he reached into the magic and tried to break apart the storm.
But once started, such a storm could not be easily dismissed, and Tellite was laughing now as dark clouds spun across the sky at his bidding. The wind was whipping through the garden, gusting hard, and Barrett had to dig deep as he fought to break apart the clouds and force the storm away.
‘You cannot stop me!’ Tellite screamed, his eyes triumphant, as he swung hands like claws at the sky.
Barrett saved his energy for what he was doing, although the effort was beginning to tell on him as well. Despite his best efforts, the clouds were growing thicker, and an ominous rumble of thunder in the distance warned them both of what was to come. Gritting his teeth, Barrett concentrated on the main cloud mass, urging it to dissipate. For long moments, nothing seemed to happen; Barrett risked a glance at Tellite to see he was also concentrating on the clouds, seeking to keep them together. Then the huge cloudbank seemed to blow apart, scattering across the sky.
‘No! Come back!’ Tellite screamed. Raising his hands to the sky, he jerked suddenly, actually lifted off the ground slightly, then collapsed in a heap.
A little spatter of rain fell, then the clouds dissipated and the sun came out once more.
Barrett ignored that, as he leaned on his borrowed staff and sucked in air. His legs were trembling and his stomach was growling. He knew he needed to eat and rest—and swiftly—but he wanted to check on his foe first. Cautiously he used the borrowed staff to flip Tellite over—and almost recoiled in horror. The man was nothing but skin stretched over bones. His fingers were twisted into claws and his mouth was open, as if for one last defiant cry. He was obviously dead, the magic having consumed him. Barrett shuddered and turned away. How frightened had he been of the Duke, to drive himself beyond the limits of his body? Still, he had achieved something. Barrett was exhausted. He hurried inside, careful to magically lock the door. Hopefully the still-entangled Elong and Ackwal would come to their senses, see the body of Tellite, then rush back to the Duke to report that Barrett was gone. If not, then he would have to deal with them. Whatever they did, he knew he had little time. As soon as he realised his tame wizards had failed, Gello would send other men to stop him. The Duke could not let someone as powerful as Barrett wander around the capital. He rushed through to the kitchen. He ate fast, always with one ear out for more of Gello’s men, until he could no longer stand the feeling that they were about to burst into his house. He had to go. He grabbed his papers, staff, a waterskin and a last hunk of cheese and walked out the rear door. Tired though he was, he still took the time to cast a series of magical traps on the ground at the back of his house. If anyone came this way, he wanted to know about it. Especially as his secret escape route was hidden at the back of his huge garden.
Years ago, wizards had discovered how to use oak trees to move great distances. It was a complicated and exhausting use of magic. Somehow the oak knew the location of other oak trees—Barrett believed it was due to the way the trees propagated themselves. Careful study had shown there were he-oaks and she-oaks and they needed to know where the next one was so they could fertilise each other. Combining that with an ability found in some birds, such as pigeons, which could find their way across country they had never seen before, it allowed a wizard to step into one tree and emerge at the next nearest oak tree, be it feet or even miles away. The first attempts, like all new magic, had been fraught with danger and required the mage to both commune with the tree, and with birds, before attempting it. But once the theory had been mastered, and taught, it had been refined to the point that Barrett had reached. By stringing these steps together, he could actually travel from Norstalos City to the far east of the country in a matter of heartbeats. But this travel came at a price—he would be exhausted when he arrived, as if he had walked that same distance.
Although researching plant and animal behaviour and how that could be reproduced magically had taken up much of Barrett’s training as a wizard, an equally large amount had been devoted to discovering the limits of his power and, more importantly, his strength. His relative youth and fitness was one reason why he was such an accomplished wizard. Older men had the knowledge but lacked the strength to tackle great feats of magic. Through hard work and study, he had amassed knowledge while still being strong enough to put it to use. Still, he had just had a graphic demonstration of what could happen to a wizard who went beyond his own strength. As if he needed any more. His own master, a former royal magician, had died attempting to push himself beyond his limits, just five years ago. This journey was as long as any he had undertaken and he was a little apprehensive. But his daydream about returning to the Queen drove him onwards.
His oak tree was hidden behind several other trees, for even wizards as pitiful as the unconscious Elong and Ackwal would instantly understand this was his method of moving to and from the city, and have it watched or cut down.
Cautiously he moved to the tree and touched the bark. His breathing was normal, and he no longer felt hungry or thirsty, but he could feel the tiredness in his muscles. He was aching all over and normally would have slept for the rest of the day before attempting this. But there was no time, so he deliberately put aside his aches. Taking a deep breath, he reached out into the magic, becoming one with the tree. Holding onto the feeling of this tree, he sent out his mind, darting to the next oak tree, which was in a park on the outskirts of the city. Carefully he gathered the impression of that tree, and leapt to the next, which was outside the city walls.
He kept travelling from tree to tree, lining them up one by one in his mind, keeping in place the exact order in which he had to travel, like so many doors through which he had to pass. Further and further he went, until he could feel the impression of the trees straining at his mind, struggling to break free of the careful order. This was the most dangerous time. Just miss one of these steps and a wizard would be forever trapped in the journey, lost in their own mind. It was difficult, it was frightening, but Barrett loved it. This was where he liked to be, out on the edges of magic, testing the limits of both his mind and his body. This was what made him the greatest wizard in the country, perhaps the world. Others would seek to break the journey up, to minimise the risk, but he drove himself on, gathering a seemingly endless array of trees, until he came to a last one, near the border of Tetril and close to the Royal Magician’s lodge that he could use to recover.
Now his mind had made the trip, all he had to do was open the way for his body to follow. The process had taken only a few heartbeats and he was prepared to travel halfway across the country. Keeping the way open with his mind, he stepped into where the first tree should be—and walked through it, then through every other tree in the same instant, before stepping out on the other side, near the Tetran border. The effort of such a journey hit him a heartbeat later, driving him to his knees, so he was forced to haul himself up on his staff. He just had the energy to smile in triumph. H
e had done it, he was ahead of the thieves! All he had to do was rest for a day or so, then he could intercept them. He guzzled down water and then stuffed the cheese into his mouth, as his body was crying out for food and drink. There would be more supplies in the lodge, he knew. He just had to get there.
He began to stagger down the path towards the lodge and it was then the first tendril of fear touched him. He could feel his energy draining away with each pace. He had never felt this exhausted before and, unbidden, an image of Tellite, all twisted skin and bone, sprang into his mind.
‘I am strong!’ he told himself, although it was all he could do to summon the energy to open the place up and collapse onto a bed.
As he lay there, fighting to get his breath back, he knew the reality was different to his brave words. The way he felt, it was going to be days before he was ready to search. Tellite may have died, but he had done Duke Gello sterling service that day, he reflected bitterly.
Queen Merren was infuriated by the paltry number of nobles who had turned up for the council. Many were missing—and most of those were the ones she normally thought of as, if not her supporters, then at least opponents of Duke Gello, which was nearly as good. In fact, as she counted the ones around the table, it seemed as if there were only just enough to form a quorum. This was ridiculous, given the events of the night before. It also meant these men could force through anything Gello wanted them to. A vote on an issue by the Royal Council was not binding on her; she could still decree exactly the opposite of what they wanted. But without the support of the nobles, the ruler of Norstalos would have nobody to enforce the laws and decrees. And without an army, she had nothing to use as persuasion for the nobles.
She forced down her disquiet and concentrated on the discussion which, naturally, was of the Dragon Sword and its theft.
