by Clare Smith
"Go on, get 'im out of 'ere," commanded Lowis. "Take 'im to the stables and throw some water over ‘im, that will bring 'im 'round."
"Aye and dunk yourself at the same time," sneered Barrin, "It might shrink your prick and save the squire from a poking."
Lowis laughed at the comment and helped Jonderill and the squire out of the tower with a none too gentle push and an obscene gesture. Jonderill staggered under the dead weight of the princess, trying not to think about Barrin's comment and made his way to the stable yard. Never before had the distance seemed so far nor the courtyard so full of people taking the night air. Each one stopped to ask after the magician's health and to give his groaning friend an amused look but fortunately nobody bothered to ask who it was. With considerable relief he manoeuvred himself and his burden to the top of the stable yard steps and then with great difficulty lifted her down the stone stairway, across the yard and into the stable where he collapsed into an exhausted heap.
The stable was warm and peaceful and the air of calmness and order eased Jonderill's ragged nerves as he regained his breath. His arms and shoulders ached from carrying the weight of the princess and his legs felt strangely wobbly as if they belonged to someone else and only half obeyed his commands. Worst of all was his head which felt as if it were about to float away. Thankfully he laid Daun carefully down in the straw, her golden hair fanning out around her. He was pleased to see that she had succumbed to a drunken stupor rather than being sick everywhere. Now all he had to do was to get her on a horse, out of the castle, through the city and into the forest without being recognised.
He muttered to himself about a hopeless task and made his way down the stalls to the very end, praying that the king had not yet carried out his terrible threat to kill all the grey horses in the kingdom. Breathing a sigh of relief he saw Sansun waiting in his stall, his intelligent eyes watching Jonderill's every move and his sharp ears listening for every sound. He spoke to the horse softly, feeling strange at sharing his plans with an animal and unbolted the stall door. Carefully he placed the halter over Sansun’s head and began to lead the horse forward out of his stall.
"Yer takin' up 'orse theivin' now are yer lover boy?" said Tarris suddenly from the darkness of the empty stall opposite. He stepped forward into the light from the single lantern and gave Jonderill a sneering look. "If it's a layin' yer want yer don't 'ave ter bugger the 'orses, I'll oblige yer."
"Let it be, Tarris," warned Jonderill. "I'm here on business for the princess." He stepped to the other side of the horse and began leading him down the aisle between the stalls.
"Yer are, are yer? Well what sort of business could that be, I wonder? She don’t usually associate with the likes of you." Tarris followed Jonderill and the horse until they came to the last stall with the princess sprawled in the straw, her loosened golden hair instantly giving her disguise away. Jonderill cursed his bad luck and turned to face Tarris. "Well, what 'ave we got 'ere? Not only are yer the perverted pet of that damned magician but yer a bloody kidnapper too."
"This has nothing to do with you, Tarris, just go away and forget what you have seen."
"Nothin' to do wiv me? Now that's where yer wrong, it's got everythin' to do wiv me. Sarrat's ordered yer dead as a lesson to yer magician friend an' I'm goin' ter make sure yer die in the way yer deserve." He laughed maliciously. "Now I can do me master's biddin’ an' become an 'ero’ at the same time, savin’ the princess from yer filthy clutches an ‘avin’ some fun wiv yer too. Now boy, getcher breaches down an I'll make it nice fer yer before I slit yer throat, else I'll cut yer up an ave yer whilst yer yard’s layin' on the ground in front of yer nose. See, it don't make no difference to me."
Tarris pulled a long knife from the sheath at his side and Jonderill stepped away from Sansun, crouching slightly and ready to move. He’d no weapon or any means of defence whilst his attacker was armed, a good hand taller and well muscled. What was more Jonderill's head swam dizzily every time he moved it and his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. He tried to remember what the Swordmaster had taught him about defence, hoping that the same principles would apply to this situation as they did to being armed with a sword. Slowly he circled around Tarris, watching his eyes, at the same time keeping an eye out for a possible weapon.
The first attack was easy to dodge as Tarris's scream of enthusiasm gave ample warning of his intentions but Tarris learnt quickly and the next attack came silently with a thrust towards Jonderill’s abdomen which cut through his shirt and scored the skin beneath. Again they circled and Tarris charged in, trying to use the advantage of his height to drive his blade downwards through his opponent's shoulder. Jonderill anticipated the move and blocked Tarris’s descending blade arm with his whilst countering with a clenched fist to Tarris's unprotected stomach. The man was hard and muscular from his work in the stables and the blow had little effect, except to separate them once more.
The Stablemaster returned to his basic but effective dart forward and slash tactic, cutting the air in front of Jonderill and forcing him backwards until he stood trapped against the stable wall. Tarris's final pass scored a line across Jonderill's chest, making him cry out and drawing blood. Tarris stepped back a fraction and gave his victim a sadistic leer.
"I've gotcha now boy an' I'm goin' ter cut yer up real slow."
Jonderill was trapped between the knife and the wall with no way out. He desperately looked for a weapon with which to defend himself but there was nothing, only the great silver and black horse which had passively watched the fight. Tarris lunged forward and sliced Jonderill's arm from shoulder to elbow, laughing with pleasure as skin and muscle parted.
He felt the pain as an explosion in his mind and in his agony he screamed something unintelligible. Sansun jumped as if he had been cut with a whip and turned on Tarris, sinking his big yellow teeth into the man's knife arm. Tarris dropped the knife as the horse yanked him backwards away from Jonderill, his teeth ripping the Stablemaster’s flesh through to the bone.
In an instant Jonderill dived to the floor and grabbed the knife and with all his force plunged it into Tarris's back, passed his ribs and into his lung. Tarris gave a gurgling scream as blood filled his mouth and tried to turn on his attacker but Sansun still held him fast. Jonderill tore the knife free and thrust it into Tarris's body again, severing the other lung. Sansun released his grip and Tarris crumpled to his knees, choking on his own blood before he fell to his face, his eyes blank and staring and blood pooling on the floor around him.
Jonderill staggered backwards, clutching his bleeding arm, horrified at what he had done. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, not even Tarris. All he wanted to do was leave with the princess but now he was a murderer, a felon with blood on his hands. He started to shake with the shock of what he’d done and the pain in his arm but before he could bring some order to the turmoil in his mind, the stable door opened and Barrin stood framed against the darkness, the lantern lighting up his pale features. For a moment Barrin froze in horrified silence whilst he tried to understand what was going on and then he closed the door quietly behind him, dropped the latch and drew his sword, resting its tip against Jonderill's chest, exactly in line with his heart.
"Your story had better be good."
Jonderill didn’t flinch although he knew his life would be forfeit if he couldn’t convince Barrin what he was doing was right and best for the kingdom. He thought of telling a lie, that Tarris had plotted to kill the princess and he’d saved her but he knew Barrin would know it was a lie and would only accept the truth from him.
"I'm taking the princess away from here to where she will be safe from Maladran's curse. Tarris was a spy for Sarrat and tried to stop me so I killed him.
Barrin looked from Jonderill to the red-stained corpse. Killing the Stablemaster was a crime he dismissed as unimportant, Tarris probably deserved to die but what he was proposing to do with the princess was different. "That's kidnapping."
"I have to do it, Barrin. If s
he stays here Maladran can carry out his threat whenever he wants or whenever Sarrat tells him to but hidden with the magicians, where Maladran cannot find her, she'll have a chance."
Barrin hesitated, unsure of what to do. "Does the king know about this?"
"No, or at least not yet. I have left a note from Plantagenet so he’ll know in the morning. Please, Barrin, please let us leave."
"Why didn't you ask him before you started this thing?"
"We couldn't, Maladran might have been watching using his scrying globe. It’s important that nobody knows where we have gone. If they do Maladran will make them tell him what they know."
Barrin slowly let his sword drop and looked back to the princess and once again to Jonderill. "Those things people are saying about you, they aren't true are they?"
Jonderill shook his head. "No they’re not true. They were all lies that Tarris's spread about me."
"That's why I followed you here, I had to find out for myself but I didn't expect this. I would help you if I could but if I let you go I will have committed treason against my lord and I can't do that."
"What if you couldn't remember what you had done, like you were under some sort of enchantment and couldn’t help yourself, would you help me to save the princess from Maladran then?”
Barrin smiled and sheathed his sword. "You can do that to me?"
Of course I can," lied Jonderill. "I'm a magician."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rosera
"I tell you it won't work," argued Plantagenet loudly. "It doesn't look anything like it does in the book, they’re all squashed together in a heap and they should be stacked in a pyramid."
"Then the book's all wrong," retorted Animus angrily. "It's just a case of putting the little pieces of wood at the bottom and the bigger ones on top and then setting light to the whole thing.
"But the book says it needs air," insisted Plantagenet in exasperation.
"Burn the book!" shouted Animus, brandishing a sizeable log like a weapon, "I know what I'm doing."
Jonderill decided he couldn't feign sleep any longer and opened his eyes to a scene of chaos and confusion. Animus stood in front of a stone hearth jammed with logs, some of them green and still bearing leaves. One hand defiantly rested on his hip whilst the other was wrapped around a thick log which he held like a club. His usually cheerful features were darkened by anger and beads of sweat covered his brow as he glared threateningly at his life-long friend. Plantagenet held his ground, despite the log, and glared back, jabbing a long finger at the page of the open book he held in his other hand. His usually well groomed hair was dishevelled and dotted with twigs and leaf mould and his placid face was twisted in a disdainful sneer.
Books lay in a discarded heap around his feet as if they had been quickly searched through and then carelessly dropped when they proved unhelpful. Every flat surface was strewn with parchments, scrolls, writing materials, jars of pickles, onions, vegetable peelings, cooking utensils and a quantity of spilt flour. Clothes and pots and pans mingled with more books standing in piles on the floor. There was even a chicken picking its way through the mess and clucking loudly. Sunlight forced its way in through dusty windows revealing the dilapidated state of the cottage.
When Animus had said he knew where there was a pretty little cottage in the northern woods which no one used any more, he’d forgotten to add that the place was falling down. It would take days to clean up the mess the magicians had made and then as long again to make the place habitable. The thought made Jonderill feel more tired than he already was and for a moment he thought about closing his eyes again and pretending he was asleep.
"Why won't you listen to me you ignoramus? You haven't a clue what you're doing," shouted Plantagenet as Animus tried to jam more wood into the hearth.
"I won't listen to you because as usual you don't know what you are talking about," screamed Animus.
"And you do? You fat, ignorant, bumptious toad!"
"Why you overgrown, mindless beanpole! I'll......."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," interrupted Jonderill a little hoarsely but unable to stifle a laugh at the comical sight of the two magicians facing each other like a pair of fighting cocks. He pulled himself up into a sitting position from the rough wooden pallet he was lying on and winced at the sudden fire in his arm which had been carefully bandaged. "This is no way to get a fire started, at least not one which will burn in the hearth and heat water for our morning tea."
"Jonderill!" both magicians exclaimed at once in surprise and pleasure. They dropped their battle implements and hurriedly made their way to his side, stepping over the confusion on the floor and chasing the clucking chicken away from an overturned sack of grain.
"We thought you were still asleep," said Animus, by way of an apology. "So we were going to get everything ready for when you woke up as a surprise. We’ve unloaded the cart and have brought nearly everything inside and were just about to light the fire and make something to eat."
"Only there isn't enough space to put everything we brought with us and then we couldn't get the fire going. Everything is so exceedingly difficult without our magic," Plantagenet finished rather lamely.
Animus looked around the room and blushed slightly. "Don't you think we could use our wands just this once, just to get the fire going and get this mess cleaned up? It will only need a little bit of magic."
It was a wonderful thought but impossible. "No," replied Jonderill firmly, resisting the temptation. "No magic. Remember we’re supposed to be just three ordinary men living ordinary lives in a woodsman's cottage in the forest."
"But we don't know how to be ordinary," cut in Animus.
"Then we’ll have to read and learn from what Plantagenet’s books tell us, which includes how to lay a fire so it has enough air to burn." Animus looked crestfallen whilst Plantagenet looked smug and was about to say 'I told you so' when Jonderill continued. "You know what we agreed. The only way to keep the Princess safe was to hide her from Maladran. He’ll never think of looking for her in a poor woodsman's cottage but if we use magic just once he’ll follow its trail and find us and the Princess Daun and you know what’ll happen then."
"It's all right for you, you’re used to doing everything like an ordinary person but for us it is very difficult, we've always used our magic."
Jonderill knew it would be very difficult for the two elderly magicians who had to be looked after all the time and even harder for the Princess who had always had the finest of everything, not to mention servants to do everything for her. As if his own thoughts had reminded him of her existence, he looked rapidly around the room for her and then stood up in alarm, his head throbbing painfully with the sudden movement.
Plantagenet stepped back at Jonderill’s sudden move. “Be careful, boy, we’ve only just stitched that arm and it’ll all come undone if you use it too much. Oh and don't worry about the Princess, she’s outside in the sunshine making daisy chains."
Jonderill looked flabbergasted. "Daisy chains!"
Animus laughed, his anger gone and his usual happy self returned. "Yes. Daisy chains. I taught her and she's sitting outside singing as sweetly and as cheerfully as a sky soarer in spring."
"But I taught her to sing," butted in Plantagenet, eager to tell his part in the miraculous transformation.
Jonderill eased himself back into his pallet, his head spinning and his vision slightly blurred.
"What did you do to her? You didn't use your magic on her did you?"
"No, my boy, nothing like that," laughed Animus. "Actually we were going to ask you what you’d done to her because she’s been like that since we found you both in the forest."
"I didn't do anything, or at least nothing that I can remember." Jonderill's stomach knotted as his memory started to return and he closed his eyes as he recalled the badly mixed powders he’d emptied into the honey mead and the amount of grain spirit he’d allowed the Princess to drink. It wasn't the only
recollection which came back to him as he remembered the feel of plunging the knife into Tarris’s back making him feel suddenly sick. He opened his eyes to see both the magicians looking at him anxiously. "I don't remember much of what happened, does anyone else?"
"Not a thing," said Animus excitedly. "The Princess doesn't remember who she was, or where she came from or even her name."
"So we've called her Rosera after the rare, delicate flower with the sweet fragrance," added Plantagenet seriously. "She seems to like the name. We would have waited for you to wake before naming her, only as you were hurt when we found you we gave you a sleeping draft like the one you mixed for the maids and we didn't know how long you would sleep for."
"Where did you find me? How did I get out of the palace?"
"It was really all very strange," began Plantagenet, moving a pile of books from a three-legged stool and sitting himself next to Jonderill. "When you didn't return by noon-tide as you said you would we thought something terrible must have happened to you so we tied up the pony cart and Animus and I went back along the forest path just in case you were lost. I wanted to stay with the cart thinking you would return there but Animus insisted I went with him and it was a good thing I did."
"When we reached the forest edge there was no sign of you so we thought we would wait a bit to see if you turned up," interrupted Animus excitedly. He sat on the pile of books Plantagenet had just moved, making them wobble precariously under his weight. "We waited until it was dark and I was just about to suggest we went back to the city to look for you when this enormous silver creature burst through the woods nearly scaring poor Plantagenet to death."
Plantagenet looked haughtily at his friend. "Animus would have run away from the creature but before he could move the animal grabbed him by his shirt sleeve and dragged him back along the path and into the forest. Of course I followed with the intention of rescuing him as soon as the beast let go of him."
