Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe

by Clare Smith

  "Boy, don't hide in a corner, come here and answer our questions."

  Jonderill jumped in surprise at the king's command, hastily put his wine goblet down on a small side table and went to stand in front of Steppen. Almost immediately Animus and Plantagenet arrived at each side of him and he could feel concern and support beaming out to him.

  "The guards tell me you have some knowledge of this Maladran and know him better than most, is that true?"

  Jonderill hesitated, wishing that Barrin had kept that information to himself and uncertain about the threat in the king's voice. He could feel the sudden surprise of the two magicians at his side at the revelation. "Yes, Your Majesty, I know a little of Maladran." The king smiled at him, encouraging him to continue. "It was before I was sold to your household, where I have served loyally ever since."

  "Do you think the magician will carry out his threat?"

  Jonderill looked across the room to where Althea sat holding her daughter and trying to comfort her. Tears streaked Daun's face and he felt a great need to protect her. He looked around the sumptuous room for the other person who should have surely been at her side but Pellum wasn’t there.

  "Well, boy?"

  "He’s changed," stammered Jonderill, "but the spell was a strong one which I don't think he’ll lift."

  Daun broke out into a new fit of sobbing and Steppen looked as if he had been struck. He looked pleadingly at his two elderly magicians with Jonderill still standing between them. "Is there nothing you two can do?"

  Plantagenet shook his head. "I'm afraid not, we’ve already given our betrothal gift to the princess and by the time we have recuperated our powers, Maladran's spell will be irrevocably set."

  Jonderill looked up at Plantagenet whilst he fingered the ivory wand pushed beneath his belt and then back at Animus, wringing his podgy hands in front of him. "I don't think you have, master," he said quietly.

  Plantagenet looked at him disparagingly down his long aquiline nose; he hated his wisdom to be questioned. Jonderill pulled Animus's wand from his belt where he had placed it when Maladran had appeared.

  Animus looked surprised to see it in Jonderill's hand and suddenly remembered he had misplaced it. "By the goddess, the boy’s right!" he exclaimed in sudden excitement. "Plantagenet gave the gifts of chastity and celibacy but I didn't endorse them because I didn’t have my wand with me."

  "Then you can remove Maladran’s fearful curse?" asked the king, a note of pleading in his voice.

  "Oh no, sire," explained Plantagenet. "Maladran's powers are too great for Animus to remove, or both of us together for that matter, but we might be able to soften it somewhat if we act now before the spell is completely settled." Plantagenet took the wand from Jonderill and thrust it into Animus's shaking hands.

  "I'm not sure," stammered the fat magician. "I've had no time to construct an enchantment or practice it."

  "Just do your best, that's all that can be done," advised Plantagenet.

  Animus walked to where the Princess sat, her mother's arms still around her and cleared his throat, taking one nervous look back at Plantagenet before turning back to the princess and holding his hand over her.

  "If by chance from a horse you fall,

  Maladran's dart you will miss.

  Instead sleep forever in ageless thrall,

  until woken by true love's first kiss.

  "Is that it?" cried the princess, jumping up to face the magician eye to eye. Animus scuttled backwards to avoid being trodden on. "Is that the best you can do, make me go to sleep whilst everyone else is enjoying their life without me?" She stamped her foot in temper. "You stupid little man. I might as well be dead!"Steppen put his arm around his distraught daughter and guided her away from the magician. "It’ll be enough, my darling. I’ll make sure there are no silver horses in Alewinder for you to fall from and then we can be certain that neither Maladran's evil spell nor Animus's counter enchantment can harm you."

  "Kill all the horses for me, father, every single one, whatever the colour. I want them all dead."

  "It shall be done, child, and no horse will be allowed to enter this kingdom until after the day you are wed."

  Jonderill looked horrified at the scope of the slaughter. He’d never particularly liked horses since his days as a middin boy but to see every animal killed to satisfy the princess’s hysteria was appalling. "I don't think that’ll work," he said hesitantly.

  "What do you know about it, boy?" snapped the princess haughtily.

  They were the first words she had spoken to him in four summers and they were as harsh and as belittling as her first words had been. He felt himself flush but continued. "Before Maladran set his spell he warned the princess not to try and escape her fate because he would find out. I think if you kill all the horses he will know it and act immediately."

  "Then we’ll just have to kill all the grey horses," decided Steppen.

  "I’m sure he will still know," said Jonderill desperately. He thought about the stallion Sansun which did not deserve to die just because of its colour.

  Daun shrugged off her father’s arms and turned on Jonderill, "And how is he going to know, boy, unless of course Tarris speaks the truth and you are still Maladran's catamite? Then I suppose you would happily tell him what was going on.”

  "Daun! How could you say such things?" cried Althea, shocked by her daughter’s indelicate accusation.

  "It's true," snapped Daun. "He lived in Maladran’s tower for four summers."

  Jonderill turned pale and all eyes turned accusingly towards him, including those of Plantagenet and Animus.

  "Is this true?" asked Steppen, obviously shocked by the revelation.

  "No, Your Majesty," replied Jonderill hotly and then a little more quietly. "Yes, it’s true that I lived in Maladran's tower for four summers but I was his bonded servant and nothing else.”

  "That's not what Tarris says," mocked Daun. “He said you and Maladran were always together.”

  "Enough of this!" commanded Steppen. "What the boy did before he came to us is unimportant, unless he passes on information in exchange for Maladran's favours." He turned to face Jonderill. "Are you still in Maladran's employ and his spy, boy?"

  Jonderill flushed with shame at the easy way the king had accepted the accusation. "No, Your Majesty. I was never anything to Maladran just his bound servant. He sent me away, sold me like a slave and I have no feelings for the man except hatred." Plantagenet and Animus nodded in acceptance of Jonderill's statement, able to feel the emotions which were coming from him. "I’ve not seen Maladran since I was sold into your household and I’ve told him nothing but there is no need for anyone to tell him what happens here, he has a scrying device, a silver globe attuned to the palace so that he can see the princess whenever he wants."

  "You mean he's been spying on me! Whenever he wants he can pick up this thing and see what I am doing?"

  "That's impossible," said Plantagenet. "To use a scrying globe over that distance requires immense power."

  "He only uses it at night," explained Jonderill patiently. "He uses the power of the full moon to see a reflection of events." He looked from face to face reading their disbelief and sought a way to convince them. "I saw you drown your grey kittling when you were four years old and blame it on the garden boy who got a beating and sent away for doing nothing except trying to save its life."

  Daun flushed a little but without looking the least bit contrite.

  "So that's how he does it," mused Plantagenet to himself.

  "How he does what?" snapped the king, losing his patience.

  "The enchantment of course, Maladran's birthing gift. I wondered how he’d made it last so long. You see, all the time he can see the Princess his enchantment continues to influence her behaviour."

  "This is outrageous, how dare Sarrat and his magician interfere in what goes on in my kingdom! This scrying device must be destroyed and if necessary I will send an army to do it."

  Animus a
nd Plantagenet looked at each other in alarm. "Oh no, Your Majesty. He’ll see you coming and Sarrat’s army is twice as big as yours and will be destroyed. In any case, the globe will be protected by powerful spells so that only Maladran will be able to touch it and live. Even if you sent all your knights to Maladran's tower they couldn’t take it."

  "Then how do we stop him spying on my daughter?"

  "I don't think we can," replied Animus dejectedly.

  At least not whilst she's here thought Jonderill to himself.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Final Encounter

  "Are you sure this’ll work?" whispered Plantagenet loudly above the sound of the wind in the trees. Gone was his striped robe and instead he wore baggy breaches, a long leather tunic and a dark woollen cloak which had seen better days. He sat on the driver's seat of a small cart looking out of place and holding the reins of a piebald pony in his slender fingers as if they were about to bite him. "It's a long time since I’ve driven a pony and trap and then not in the dark. What if the animal runs away with me or refuses to go, what will I do then?"

  "Don't worry Plantagenet, I won’t be gone long and when I’m back I can lead the pony."

  Animus sat down on the stump of a tree and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. In the distance a night caller hooted and was answered by its mate whilst in the hedge by the side of the forest path, some small creature scuttled to the safety of its burrow. "I don’t know why we couldn't just use our wands; we could all be settled in the cottage by now instead of creeping around here in the middle of the night."

  "We've been through all that," said Jonderill patiently. "If you use your magic just once when we’re at the cottage Maladran will find its trace and follow us, and then all our efforts will be wasted and our plan won’t work."

  "Humph!" complained Plantagenet irritably. "I suppose you’re right but all the same I still don't like it."

  "Are you sure this is necessary?" complained Animus, once again trying to stuff his over-stretched shirt back beneath the waistband of his voluminous breeches. "We've taken hardly any food and I'm already starving." His stomach rumbled in agreement.

  "You know it is," Jonderill said with some irritation and then more sympathetically. "It’ll be all right, just wait and see. You can go on to the cottage if you want instead of just waiting here and I’ll be back as soon as I’ve done."

  He gave them an encouraging smile and slipped off into the darkness leaving the two magicians, the pony trap and their few possessions in the clearing. Once he left the woodland path behind he wound his way between the trees until he found his way onto the main highway back to Alewinder. As he started to jog down the road his mind went over their plan again. Considering the whole idea had been the magicians’ in the first place, they were already getting cold feet and all they had to do was drive the pony cart to the cottage in the woods and wait for him to do the rest.

  It had seemed like a good idea when they had first thought of it although he wasn’t sure how he’d been elected to carry out the most dangerous part of the plan. He supposed that over the next few summers, he would end up doing most things. Without their wands Animus and Plantagenet were as helpless as two children and so far had behaved just like them, complaining, fussing and needing to be guided in everything they did. He desperately hoped that they would improve or it was going to be a long four years.

  The road into the city was lit only by a slither of a waning moon and was covered in shadows as the weak light filtered through the trees at the side of the road. It looked totally different than it had done earlier that day in bright sunlight. Then he had walked at the head of the piebald pony churning the plan over in his mind and looking for things which could go wrong. The list had been alarmingly long. One problem was traversing the road in darkness, negotiating potholes and avoiding brigands.

  He chuckled to himself. In reality the problem was quite small. Vinmore was such a wealthy and well ordered kingdom that nobody had much need of taking things from others. Of course there was the occasional problem of brigands from across the border but as the king's castle stood at the very centre of the kingdom, roadway thefts were a rarity. So were potholes for that matter; Steppen ensured his roads were smooth and safe to ride along at any time, day or night.

  Jonderill slowed his pace to a steady walk needing to time his arrival just right. Too soon would mean he would have to wait outside the city, which would look suspicious or someone might recognise him and ask what he was doing there, and too late would mean he would miss the early market. As it was he reached the main gate just as the sun was rising and spent the hour waiting for the gate to open walking amongst the farmers and traders going into the city for the first market of the day in the hope of finding a free breakfast. Yesterday had been a long day full of anxiety and unhappy memories.

  After the disastrous betrothal ceremony and the king's interrogation he and the two old magicians had been dismissed by an angry Steppen and had returned to their tower in silence. He knew Plantagenet and Animus were hurt that he had never once confided in them. Whilst neither questioned him about his past or his relationship with Maladran he could feel their disappointment in their unaccustomed silence. They had always been kind to him and he knew he owed it to them to give an explanation about his relationship with Maladran and of what he could remember of the twelve summers before becoming their apprentice.

  It wasn’t until dinner was finished and they were sharing a platter of ripe green cheese and strong red wine that he found the courage to begin. By the time he reached the end of his story the cheese had gone and a second flagon of wine had been emptied. Neither magician said much; Plantagenet nodded gravely and occasionally added 'that explains everything' whilst Animus shed tears at the sadder parts of Jonderill's life. His story led naturally onto how Maladran and the powers of his scrying globe could be defeated and finally, over another two flagons of wine, the plan to save the princess emerged.

  Without mentioning it, Jonderill had also put together his own plan to save Sansun. It wasn’t a very good plan as its success depended on him getting into the palace as soon as he could and before Steppen could carry out his threat to kill all the grey horses in the kingdom in a futile effort to protect the life of his daughter. So once the decision had been made to take the princess away to a place where Maladran couldn’t find her he had persuaded the magicians that they had to act straight away. Plantagenet had agreed immediately but it had taken longer to persuade Animus that they couldn’t wait another summer or two. Then it had taken most of the morning to pack up the magician’s belongings, mostly books and scrolls, and an impossibly long time to find clothes that would fit them and make them look like normal people going about their business.

  Jonderill had led the pony and cart to the square where the caravans gathered before leaving on trading journeys and then had attached himself to the back of a mixed group of merchants heading for Leersland. In the confusion at the city gate they had slipped through without being challenged and by late afternoon they had travelled to the edge of the forest which stretched towards the country's northern border. As soon as they were away from where travellers might pass, Plantagenet had put a long distance enchantment to conceal that part of the forest where the woodsman’s cottage stood, locked his and Animus’s wands in a small wooden chest and had sent Jonderill on his way.

  Now he was back at Alewinder again waiting for the gates to open and munching on an apple and a thick slice of home roasted ham a farmwife had offered him. He felt dizzy with lack of sleep and wondered how he was going to stay awake for another day and a night. When the gates opened he walked through the early morning city. It was as familiar to him as the magicians’ tower. Every morning he had left the tower early and wandered through the market to buy fresh produce for his two masters so they could wake up to sizzling rashers and hot scrambled eggs. It was there that he bought fruit and vegetables so fresh they were still damp and cold from th
e vine or ground. A crisp carrot or juicy black grapes would often keep him going as he returned home through the private and warded corner door into the tower.

  This was the door he used today, locking it securely behind him as he made his way to his room on the top most floors to change. He’d a lot to do including letting everyone that mattered know that his two masters were confined to bed suffering from a cold. Then he had to purchase an appropriate list of remedies and other unguents to back up the story as well as buying the usual food supplies so people wouldn’t suspect that they were away from their tower. By the time he returned to the tower it was just passed noon; his feet ached and his legs felt like jelly. He poured himself some watered wine and sat in Animus's deep chair to rest for a moment before moving onto the next part of the plan.

  *

  Jonderill opened his eyes to total darkness and for a moment couldn’t remember where he was. Then the plan and what he had to do came crashing back and he leapt from the chair spilling the remains of his wine onto the floor. The previous night had seen the last slither of the moon fade to nothing and the lights of the city never penetrated the ancient tower which was now completely dark. He moved forward quickly, knowing where the lamps were placed but forgetting the bag which lay at his feet. With a shout of surprise, followed by a curse he sprawled to the floor, scraping his knee on the stone and jarring his wrist.

  Still groggy from his sleep and dazed by his fall he emptied his mind and clumsily produced elemental fire at the end of his outstretched fingers. The first ball of fire fell to the floor and fizzled out in the spilt wine. A second one ran down his hand and burned his already aching wrist but his third attempt was more successful and he managed to light one small lamp before the flame fluttered out to nothing.