by Duncan Lay
Nott, who had listened to the Archbishop’s words with mounting horror, just stared at him in silence when he finished. Finally, he cleared his throat.
‘Your eminence, I know what you want to hear but—but I do not know if he can…’
Conal and Martil went through the cabin’s cupboards and took what was left—dried oats, smoked meat, salt and honey—to replenish their supplies. There was little left but plenty had obviously been eaten recently, judging by the amount of empty packages.
‘What is this place?’ Conal asked. ‘Who lives here?’
‘This is a royal magician’s cabin. We sometimes need to move around the country quickly, and when we arrive, need somewhere quiet to rest and relax, to recover our strength. Magic wards protect them, while a local family ensures they are kept clean and stocked with both food and firewood, in exchange for a yearly stipend. I know the location of them all, dotted across the country, and they are a useful place to hide. Now, if we are finished with the stupid questions, we should go.’
Conal went out to load up the horses, Karia helping him carry some of the things as his left arm could not hold as much without a hand. Barrett waited until she was out the door, then stopped Martil from following them.
‘I think she may be able to do magic,’ he said softly. ‘She’s been dreaming of dragons, and they’ve been calling to her. That’s a classic sign. Then she picked the staff was not a magical conduit—few people realise that. Did you know her parents?’
So Martil was forced to quickly tell the story, and Barrett looked thoughtful.
‘Interesting. The intervention of Aroaril, the old priest recognising strange signs. It fits. I’d still have to test her, but I think she should be trained.’
‘But she’s just a little girl!’
‘Makes no difference. You’d be surprised how many women can do magic. Of course, society sometimes frowns on that, and many are prevented from achieving their full potential. But we have a Queen now, so perhaps that stigma will be gone. Or at least reduced. At the moment, sadly, many of my older colleagues still believe you need to have a staff to be a wizard, not the other way around.’
Martil acknowledged the little joke but his mind was more on what Karia could become. Would he be magically enslaved to be her servant, forced to keep providing her with food and amusement? If so, things would not change much, he admitted to himself.
‘We should get moving. The test for Karia can wait; besides, I need all my strength for the trip.’
Martil was intrigued by how they would travel—by dragon?—but decided not to provoke another lecture from the wizard. They loaded up the animals and Barrett led them further up the trail, away from the road.
‘You don’t have to come along, you know,’ Martil told Conal, whose donkey puffed after them. ‘You could slip away.’
The old bandit shrugged. ‘I told you I’d like to give you a hand. Besides, if we can get the Queen out and win back the country, I want a royal pardon and a sackful of gold.’
Barrett guided them for perhaps a hundred paces, then stopped in front of a massive oak tree, whose roots formed a natural step in the path.
‘We shall use this to get to Norstalos City,’ he announced.
‘How? Do we chop it down and fly it?’ Conal grinned.
Barrett slapped the massive bole of the trunk. ‘Watch, fool, and see how I can harness nature’s power to create magic. Now you should do something useful and blindfold the horses, as well as that creature you are riding. They rarely enjoy this type of journey.’
Once he saw Conal was using old tunics to cover the animals’ eyes, Barrett closed his own eyes, then reached out to touch the tree’s trunk with one hand, the other hand using his staff to prop himself up.
He grunted with effort and Karia gave a squeal of excitement. ‘Look! I can see what he’s doing! We’re going to the city!’
Martil looked at Conal but the old bandit seemed equally baffled. They turned to Barrett, to see the wizard’s face tight with concentration. ‘It is done. We must hurry,’ he croaked.
‘What’s done?’ Martil could not see any change within the tree, and had no idea how a tree could get them across the country anyway.
‘Look! It’s beautiful! There’s grass there!’ Karia laughed, grabbed Martil’s hand and dragged him towards the tree.
‘Bring my horse with you, and hurry!’ Barrett snapped at Conal, who made no move to obey, but just stood there foolishly. ‘Move, man!’ Barrett’s voice still had enough authority in it to make Conal jump to obey.
Martil tried to hold Karia back, afraid she would hurt herself on the tree. But then Barrett lifted his staff and thrust it into the tree trunk. Martil nearly cried out in shock when the staff, instead of thudding into solid wood, seemed to disappear into the trunk.
‘Hold the staff as you go through. It will guide you. Make sure you do not break contact with it or you will become lost,’ Barrett grunted.
Martil still hung back but Karia had no such fears. She pressed her hand against Barrett’s staff and simply walked into the tree. Instead of smashing into it and falling to the ground, as Martil’s eyes and brain insisted must happen, she vanished.
‘Karia!’ Martil’s heart lurched and he rushed after her, dragging the blindfolded Tomon along with one hand, as he reached for the staff with the other. Instinctively he closed his eyes. But instead of crashing into the tree, he stepped into open space. He opened them to see he was standing on grass, with the sun on his face, in front of a large oak tree only this one was not beside a trail in the forest.
‘What?’ He stared around for a second before remembering. ‘Karia! Where are you?’
‘That was fun,’ she laughed, skipping out from behind the tree. ‘But don’t you think you’d better get Tomon through?’
Martil, about to admonish her for going through without him, turned to see he was still holding Tomon’s reins, although only the horse’s head was protruding out of the oak tree. Fortunately, he had kept hold of the staff and guided the horse out.
‘You should never go first. You should always wait for me. How did you know what was on the other side?’ he demanded.
‘I could see it was safe,’ she protested. He was just being silly. Anyone could see what that wizard had been doing!
‘I couldn’t! I was worried about you.’
Before she had time to answer, Conal walked through, leading Barrett’s horse and his donkey. Lastly Barrett staggered through, hauling himself along his staff as if it were some sort of handrail. He pulled his staff through afterwards then slumped to the ground.
‘Get me something to drink,’ he gasped.
Taking a waterskin from Conal, he drank greedily, water splashing down the front of his tunic.
‘Where are we?’ Martil wanted to know.
Looking around, he could see the oak tree stood by itself, surrounded by grass, but beyond the grass clearing, on all sides was seemingly solid trees.
‘We’re at the back of my garden in Norstalos City,’ Barrett wheezed. He had opened a pouch and was cramming what looked like honey sweetmeats into his mouth.
‘So where’s the house?’
‘Through there,’ Barrett said thickly. ‘I don’t like people knowing I have this tree. There are those who would realise its purpose and perhaps lie in wait for me when I return. And, as you can see, when you travel a long distance by this method, you finish it exhausted.’
‘Why oak trees? How does that work?’ Martil pressed his hands up against the tree, finding nothing more unusual than a few ants crawling up the surface.
‘I’ll explain another time. Accept that opening these gateways is an area I have studied carefully. I believe there are few who can match my skill at it,’ Barrett said, leaning against the tree, drinking from the waterskin.
‘So all the magic you do is found in nature,’ Karia said slowly.
‘That’s right. New magic is being learned all the time. If a plant, a fish, a bird or
an animal can do something, we can take that ability and use it. Likewise the natural weather patterns can be altered, to bring in wind, rain, lightning, even fire.’ He licked the last of the honey off his thumb. ‘Now, enough questions. We must get to the house.’
10
Barrett pushed himself to his feet and then gestured at the thick trees in front of him. They instantly shrank into tiny seedlings, revealing a large stone house.
‘What if your house is being watched?’ Martil said suddenly.
Barrett shook his head. ‘I’d have felt it. I have protective wards around here. Help me.’
Leaning on his horse, Barrett led the way down the path to a more formal garden, with wide herb beds filled with flourishing plants, and beautiful flowers. Pressed gravel paths led through the raised beds, and he made his way through them to a large paved area at the back of the house, which was littered with long sticks.
‘I think you need to get some new servants. This place needs tidying up, wizard,’ Conal chuckled.
Barrett gave him a withering glance, then let the trees spring up again with a gesture. He pointed to the paved area and the sticks flew up, collecting themselves into a neat pile by a wall.
‘You didn’t need to do that on my behalf, wizard. I’m happy to live in a pigsty,’ Conal grinned.
‘Do you have a brain? Those were my wards,’ Barrett said caustically.
‘What, you’d hear if people trod on them?’
Barrett sighed. ‘I do not have the energy to waste on you. If you had tried to cross them, they would have entangled you. Now come on.’
Martil ignored the byplay, instead concentrating on the house. It was obviously for a high-ranking official; the beautiful stone walls and fine glass windows spoke of that. Two storeys tall, it seemed big enough to house a score of people, let alone one wizard.
There were several doors, none of which appeared to have visible locks or keyholes, but one opened as soon as Barrett placed his hand on it.
‘What about the horses?’ Conal asked.
‘The stables are out the front, but it is perhaps best not to make our presence too obvious. Hobble them and leave them here. You can bring out corn for them to eat later.’
Barrett, still leaning heavily on his staff, took them through a long hall, where their footsteps echoed on the marble floor, and they were stared at by beautiful portraits on the lime-washed walls. Rooms opened up to either side: a huge library, an even bigger dining room and several reception rooms, all of them lavishly furnished. Karia wandered around, her mouth open. She had thought the Crown and Sparrow inn was impressive but this was just amazing! Even Edil had not been able to think up a palace this magnificent for them to dream about.
‘I inherited the furnishings along with the house, when I took the position. It is not to my taste but, sadly, redecorating has been far down my list of priorities,’ Barrett shrugged. ‘I have servants usually, but I sent them away for a few days before I left. First I must check my house has not been disturbed. I was confronted here by three of Gello’s tame wizards. I defeated them and the two that were left alive are unlikely to have tried to trespass here. Still, I need to be sure.’
So they waited while Barrett crept up to the front door, and peered out. The evidence of his battle with Tellite was gone, and there was no sign of the body, the other two wizards or more mundane guards. Even better, the magical lock he had placed on the door had not been touched. He breathed a sigh of relief. Probably Elong and Ackwal had told Gello that they had driven Barrett away, losing Tellite in the process. The Duke was notoriously vengeful to those who failed him, so they would have had to put the best possible face on things. As long as he was careful, he should be able to use the house as a base.
‘We’re all clear. Come on, let’s see what food is left in the kitchen,’ he invited.
It was a little messy, with the remains of his last, hurried, meal still on a table, but the massive kitchen, with huge fireplaces and an enormous pantry, had plenty to offer.
‘This place is more like an inn’s kitchen. How much do you eat, wizard?’ Conal gasped.
‘In times past, the Royal Magician entertained the royal court. But I would sooner swallow a dragon than have the likes of Gello in here,’ Barrett grunted. He aimed for a chair and only just made it. ‘Please, get me something to eat.’
The pantry yielded a fine ham, plenty of cheese and even some over-ripe fruit; predictably Karia was hungry, while Barrett gorged himself.
‘That must put a huge strain on you,’ Martil observed.
‘Well, I do not perform that sort of magic every day. Thankfully. It is one of the hardest things to master. And I was still a little drained by my efforts yesterday. I travelled all around the border country, looking for evidence of the Sword—only to have it disturb me over dinner!’
Conal carved a slice of ham and stuffed it into his mouth. ‘I love to hear you talk, wizard, but I have no idea what you are saying sometimes,’ he said around the mouthful of meat.
‘I’m not speaking for your benefit, but for the girl’s. She might have to try that some day. You, on the other hand, have about as much chance of doing something magical as that ham does of raising a family of piglets.’
Conal stared at him for a second, before laughing and cutting another slice. ‘I like you, wizard,’ he announced.
‘Perhaps we should go looking for the Queen,’ Martil suggested hastily, seeing the dark look on Barrett’s face.
The wizard could feel his body recovering but it was still an effort to think. ‘Yes. But you should be careful. And you should also carry the Dragon Sword at all times.’
Martil held up the beautiful Sword. ‘How can I do that? It’ll be seen immediately. Not only is it more decorated than a palace flunky’s tunic, but you tell me every child knows what it looks like.’
Barrett sighed. He did not have the energy to be patient. ‘It’s also magical, and can be disguised. Take off one of your swords.’
Martil untied his sword belt and carefully took one scabbard off, replacing it with the Dragon Sword. ‘Now what?’ he asked.
‘Concentrate, and imagine it looks like your old sword.’
Martil did so, then opened his eyes to see it had not changed in the slightest.
‘That’s odd. Perhaps you need to hold the Sword.’ Barrett rubbed his head as he tried to remember all he knew about the Sword.
This time Martil clasped the hilt while he imagined it looking like his old sword. Again, nothing happened. Barrett stood and began to pace, even as he chewed on a chunk of cheese.
‘That doesn’t make sense. The Sword certainly has the power to change its appearance. And it is magical enough for even the most unmagical wielder to use it. I need to look in my library.’
This only reinforced Martil’s desire not to go marching out in the open, trying to rally men to the Sword.
They followed Barrett out of the kitchen and into a huge room lined with shelves. Books and scrolls filled the shelves, cascading over tables and chairs set all around.
‘Wow! Do you have lots of good stories for me to read?’ Karia breathed.
‘I’m not sure about that. But we do have a very fine collection of sagas, both in poetry and in prose.’ Barrett smiled at her.
‘I might have guessed,’ Martil muttered.
Barrett used a short ladder to reach up and pull down a book. He flicked through it, then dropped it onto the floor before selecting another. This one seemed to have something he wanted, because he gave a grunt of satisfaction as he read swiftly, turning pages rapidly.
‘It says here that the Sword’s powers are latent—that they will begin to act as soon as it is drawn from the scabbard. Whoever is allowed to use it will find it makes him invincible in battle. But its more subtle power, the power to inspire other men, will not be so obvious.’
‘How do you tell if it’s working or not?’ Martil demanded.
‘I’m looking, I’m looking,’ Barrett snapped
, flicking through pages, then he jabbed a finger down triumphantly. ‘It says here that the Sword will provide its own proof, a warning if you like, to the wielder, so he knows if he is living up to the Sword’s expectations. To know if its hidden magical powers are being invoked, you just need to look at the dragon on the hilt. Its eyes should sparkle with life and the body grow warm, almost as if it is alive.’
‘How is that possible? It’s a metal carving, with jewels stuck in where the eyes should go,’ Martil protested.
‘Just have a look,’ Barrett urged, clambering down from the ladder.
Martil held up the hilt but could see nothing. ‘I can’t tell,’ he admitted.
Barrett chewed his lip. ‘That can’t be right. If you’re not sure, then it mustn’t be working for you.’
Martil tried not to think about what that would mean. It made him feel sick. He sheathed the Sword, wishing he had never found it. ‘Well, I’ll leave it here. I need to go out and look around.’
‘If you’re going out, can I come too?’ Karia asked. ‘I like being with you.’
Martil could not help but smile. ‘I like having you around,’ he admitted. ‘You can come along. We’ll just be looking around, not doing anything dangerous.’
‘That’s all very well, but what about the Sword?’ Barrett grumbled. ‘I don’t like that it is not obeying you. Give it one more try.’
Martil concentrated once more, and opened his eyes when he heard Karia gasp in surprise.
‘I saw its eyes! They sparkled! As if it was looking at me!’ she screeched excitedly.
Martil glanced down, hoping to see it for himself but the Dragon Sword just looked exactly like one of his old swords now, although the hilt still felt like the finely-worked dragon, rather than the familiar old wood and leather it appeared to be.
