Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe

by Clare Smith

  "But the creature didn't let me go, instead it dragged me into a small clearing and there you were! Both you and Rosera were lying on the ground and you were covered in blood, lots of blood.”

  "Animus thought the creature had killed you and started jumping up and down trying to scare the beast away before it finished eating you but it was quite plain to me that the creature was no more than a large horse and you had been badly wounded, not half eaten."

  Animus glared at his companion. "By the time Plantagenet had recovered from the shock of seeing you both there on the forest floor I’d set off to fetch the cart."

  "He can't stand the sight of blood," put in Plantagenet scornfully. "So by the time he’d found his way back to the clearing with the assistance of that delightful horse, I’d sewn up your arm and made you both comfortable."

  "But I drove you back here," countered Animus.

  "And I made you better," concluded Plantagenet with deft finality.

  “I didn’t know you knew anything about tending to wounds,” said Animus in sudden amazement.

  “I haven’t always been a magician you know and there are lots of things I know that you don’t know I know!”

  Jonderill leant back against the wall, something nagging unhappily at his mind as the two magicians argued with each other. "What happened to Barrin, where is he?"

  Plantagenet frowned and looked blankly at Animus. "As far as I know Barrin is where he usually is, in the palace on guard or at his father’s inn drinking ale.”

  “You didn’t see him then, he wasn’t with Sansun or us or standing nearby?”

  “No, there was nobody there, only you and the Princess. Is there something wrong?”

  “Barrin helped us to get out of Alewinder; without him we wouldn’t have escaped. He helped us to get out of the city gates and to the edge of the forest where I told him he should stop and go back.” Jonderill stopped for a moment feeling guilty about the way he’d lied to his friend. “I’d told him that I could make him forget all about helping us so he wouldn’t get into trouble when he went back to the city. So when we reached the edge of the forest I tried to put an enchantment on him but I felt all dizzy and I don’t remember anything else.”

  “Well he’s obviously gone back to Alewinder or we would have found him,” said Plantagenet with some certainty.

  Animus nodded his head in agreement, “And if he’d told anyone about where you and the Princess were the forest would be full of the king’s guards by now, so I think we are safe.”

  “But what about Barrin? What happens if he loses his position in the guards because of me, or worse, what happens if they think he was part of the plot and accuse him of being a traitor?”

  “I don’t think that will happen,” said Plantagenet, Barrin is a clever lad, he’ll know how to talk himself out of a tight corner.”

  Jonderill shook his head. Plantagenet was right, Barrin did know how to look after himself and in any case there was nothing he could do for him now. "How long have I been asleep then?" He wished he was back in that state again.

  "Almost a day."

  "And the Princess?"

  "Oh, she woke up this morning with a terrible headache and not remembering anything about last night," said Plantagenet curiously. "At first we thought she’d been hurt and Maladran’s enchantment had already worked, what with the silver horse being here but it hadn't of course. I mixed up some powders to ease her poor head and then discovered that she had no memory at all of her life as a princess.”

  "But it's better than we could ever have hoped for," interrupted the fat magician, knocking the pile of books over in his excitement. "Not only can she not remember who she is but she can't remember how unpleasant she used to be. Now she smiles and sings and sees beauty in everything." Animus clapped his hands together and closed his eyes whilst he beamed in pure delight.

  "It's most perplexing though," mused Plantagenet seriously. "I've never known that combination of powders to leave someone with no memory at all and such a bad headache, it's almost as if the child had been drinking. Now, boy, tell us what happened to you. You look as if you’ve been in a battle."

  Jonderill looked down at his freshly bandaged arm and the healing balms that covered the narrow cut on his chest. Again he remembered the feel of the knife in his hand as he pushed the point through resisting flesh and the grating feeling as it glanced off his victim's ribs and into Tarris's lungs. He felt sick at the callousness of the deed. One thrust had been enough to stop Tarris and save his own life but the second thrust had been for vengeance and pleasure. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind deciding not to tell the magician what he’d done.

  "I'm not sure," he lied. "I made a mess of mixing the powders and then I had difficulty persuading the Princess to drink the brew so I had to prove it was safe by drinking some myself. I think that's what made me so dizzy, because after that things became a bit hazy although I do remember falling and banging my head and cutting my arm badly on a sharp candle stand. I’m afraid everything else is blank.”

  "It was a good job Barrin and that horse were there to help you both escape otherwise you could still be lying there injured."

  "Or in the palace dungeons," added Animus in alarm.

  "The problem is we’re now stuck with the horse, he just refuses to go away and as he’s silver in colour Maladran’s evil enchantment is just there waiting to happen. If we don’t do something about the horse soon all our planning and the trouble we’ve gone to to protect the Princess will amount to nothing."

  "I know you’re very fond of him and he clearly likes you but he’s very big and quite frightening, don't you think you could make him go away?" pleaded Animus, wringing his hands together.

  "May I go and see him?

  "Of course, my boy, if you think it’ll help and, whilst you are gone, Plantagenet and I will light the fire and clean this mess up."

  Plantagenet gave a small groan and looked at Jonderill in despair.

  "I've a better idea," suggested Jonderill, taking the hint from Plantagenet’s look. "The sun is shining so why don't we all eat outside like we do on summer solstice day. Whilst I go and see to Sansun you can get some bread and cheese which is in a basket somewhere and there is some wine over by the hearth. Perhaps I could find some ground nuts too for our desert and some wild honey. How does that sound?"

  Animus looked delighted but Plantagenet looked miserable, holding his hands out to indicate the deplorable state of the cottage. “What about this mess?”

  "I know," put in Animus brightly, "Let's sleep outside tonight, then the mess won't matter."

  "That won’t get rid of the mess; it’ll still be there when we wake up in the morning." complained Plantagenet.

  "It's a wonderful idea," agreed Jonderill with false enthusiasm. "You can study the path of the stars, as you’ve been wanting to do for an age, and as for this mess, leave it to me to clean up, that's the one thing I’m good at."

  Animus and Plantagenet beamed at each other in heartfelt agreement, completely missing the bitterness in Jonderill's voice. Their past differences forgotten the two magicians began to search for dishes and bowls, rummaging through boxes and adding to the chaos in the cottage. Jonderill gingerly stood holding onto the rough wooden wall to stop himself swaying and with his bare feet on the cold stone floor. He shook slightly from the effort of moving and his legs felt wobbly whilst the gash on his arm burnt like fire. Looking around the dusty room with its cobwebs trailing from ceiling to wall his future didn’t seem particularly bright. Four summers of looking after two helpless old men and a girl with no memory was not an exciting prospect.

  True he’d looked after the two magicians since they had taken him for their apprentice but at least then he had been their apprentice. He’d had the chance to watch and learn about magic even if he couldn’t do it for himself but here, hiding from Maladran, there would be no chance to learn or practice magic. There wouldn’t be the opportunity to learn swordcraft either or
meet his friends for a drink and a game of stones. In fact he would be nothing more than the bound servant which seemed to be his destiny.

  For a moment he considered leaving but that would mean the magicians would eventually have to use their magic to survive. Maladran would find them and their plan would fail. Despite his own feelings they deserved better from him than that. With a sigh of resignation he pulled on his boots and made his way to the door of the cottage.

  He heard the girl singing as soon as he opened the door, a sweet gentle voice, and almost childlike but with a clarity that any minstrel would envy. The sun was shining brightly and sky flyers were singing in the trees. Jonderill gritted his teeth. “Damn!” The last thing he needed at that moment was facing the girl he’d so unceremoniously kidnapped and then having to listen to her being happy about it.

  Instead he walked quickly to the rear of the cottage where a broken fence enclosed an area of thin forest grass. Sansun raised his head from where he was grazing and waited for Jonderill to come to his side and rub his ears. "Thank you, I owe you my life and I won't forget it." The horse whickered softly and rubbed its nose against Jonderill's arm. "And now I have another task for you, my friend. I want you to turn to the north and go far away from this place and never come back."

  Sansun shook his head and neck in disagreement, making his dark main shimmer against his silver coat.

  "You must. You're a silver horse and your life will be in danger here for as long as Maladran's enchantment remains. If anyone finds you here they’ll take you back to Alewinder and the king will have you killed." The stallion snorted disdainfully. "Please, Sansun, you must go. Even if Maladran's curse or the thought of the king turning you into sly hound meat doesn’t scare you, remember you are as much a fugitive from justice as I am; you too made your mark on Tarris before he died."

  Sansun stepped back and seemed to consider the situation for a moment. "If you go north you’ll find Prince Pellum, he’s always admired you and will give you a good home with a warm stable and oats to eat but if you stay here all there is to eat is thin grass and dried leaves. You don’t want to be stuck here like I am do you?”

  Reluctantly the horse shook its head from side to side. He whickered softly and gently rubbed his nose against Jonderill’s shoulder before turning and slowly trotting away. Jonderill watched Sansun go until he was out of sight, feeling a deep sense of loss, even though the horse had never been his. He sighed and returned to the front of the cottage intending to go inside and start cleaning up the mess the magicians had made. Instead he leaned against the creaking doorpost and watched the golden-haired girl pick a woodland daisy and carefully thread it on the chain with the others.

  She still wore the clothes he’d dressed her in when he’d taken her from her room except now she had removed her jacket showing her pale arms. Jonderill wondered if Plantagenet’s skills went as far as making dresses or whether that would be something else he would have to do. Rosera put a circlet of yellow and white flowers on her head to match the one around her neck and the bracelet on each arm and then carried on making another chain which was already long enough for another adornment. Sensing Jonderill's presence she put the flowers down on her lap and looked up and smiled with blue eyes full of joy and laughter.

  "Hello," she said brightly and without a trace of grandeur or scorn. "I'm Rosera, who are you?"

  "I'm Jonderill."

  "Do you live here too with Animus and Plantagenet and me?" she asked innocently. Then she held up the daisy chain for him to see her handiwork. "Animus showed me how to make this, would you like it?"

  Jonderill pushed himself away from his place by the doorpost and went to kneel at the girl's side made speechless by her beauty. She put the daisy chain around his neck and smiled in pleasure.

  "I love flowers but so few grow here and these are very small."

  "If you like I’ll help you make a garden in front of the cottage which will brighten it up no end and then you can have big, bright flowers all summer long," suggested Jonderill on impulse.

  "Oh that would be wonderful." She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss on his cheek, making him blush. "What can I do in return?" she asked eagerly. "I know. I can help you to straighten the cottage and look after Animus and Plantagenet; they don’t seem to be able to look after themselves very well do they? And when we’ve finished they can stay and read their books and we can go for long walks in the forest, just you and me. Would you like that?"

  Jonderill nodded, speechless. Perhaps the next four summers weren’t going to be so bad after all.

  *

  "What do you mean you can't find them?" screamed Sarrat, leaping from the chair his guest had offered him in Maladran’s high tower room and advancing on the magician threateningly. "You’re meant to be a master magician, the best there is, able to destroy a man's mind with just a thought and yet you let a girl and two doddering old men challenge your spell, elude all pursuit and make me look like a fool. I tell you, Maladran, you may be content to let this matter rest but I‘m not. I’ll not be made to look like the biggest fool in the six kingdoms. Do you understand?"

  Maladran winced under the verbal tirade of his furious king as he knelt on the stone floor in front of him. As soon as he’d returned to his tower and had tried to use his scrying globe he knew that something was wrong and now he was exhausted from futile hours of scrying that had badly drained him of his powers. He didn’t know how Sarrat had found out so quickly that the girl was missing and his spy was dead but the timing couldn’t have been worse. His king’s unexpected arrival at his tower had caught him when he was too exhausted to resist or respond to the king’s anger and too weak to retaliate as his master reviled him in front of the sneering kingsguard.

  "I told you, Maladran, if I couldn’t have her then nobody would but instead of destroying her as I commanded and being done with it you allowed two senile old men to usurp your power and preserve her life. In a hundred summers, when I’m dead and gone, she’ll be free to mock me and all because you let your own personal feelings to come before your duty to me."

  The magician continued staring at the floor, considering Sarrat's words. He’d done what his master had commanded and put a death spell on the girl who’d chosen someone else instead of him. Deep inside he knew he could have made the spell stronger, he could have made it irrevocable and the girl would have died there and then. Instead he’d used his powers with reluctance and secretly he’d been pleased at the course of events.

  Even now with Sarrat ranting in front of him he didn’t regret the grain of mercy he’d shown. He’d known that Sarrat wouldn’t be pleased when he found out that the girl would live until her sixteenth birthday but that didn’t bother him. However, he’d seriously underestimated the ability of Steppen’s two magicians to soften the enchantment and then whisk her away so he couldn’t reverse what they’d done.

  The loss of Sarrat’s spy in Vinmore was not helping either. He’d seen the king's temper before when his plans had been thwarted and knew what the likely outcome would be if he didn’t handle this situation carefully. It had been his plan to put up some arcane resistance to limit Sarrat's fury when he found out what had happened; something to subdue his anger, but despite his efforts to empty his mind and focus his power, nothing would come together. He was as helpless as a first day apprentice. So for now all he he could do was bow his head and kneel in submission just biding his time until his powers recovered and he could regain his focus.

  "I've had enough of listening to your advice," continued Sarrat, taking another step forward. "If it wasn't for your schemes and plans I would have been master of Vinmore years ago, the royal house would be no more and I could have had the princess whenever I wanted her but you persuaded me to wait. Now I am going to act and do things my way. When I am rid of Sandstrone’s nomads who dare to raid my borders I shall dispose once and for all of the brigands and traitors who plague my kingdom. After that I will invade Vinmore and make it my
own."

  He took a final threatening step towards the magician. "Now listen to me, Maladran, and listen carefully, you have failed me for the last time. I have the strongest army and the most swords in the six kingdoms and that means I no longer need your advice or your useless spells. You are an anachronism, the last of your kind and I don't need you anymore, I denounce you as my magician and I no longer support you or protect you."

  Maladran looked up from the stone floor in disbelief, which changed rapidly to alarm at the look on Sarrat’s face. For the first time in their long and stormy relationship Sarrat showed no fear of him, only contempt. He gave a vicious laugh and indicated to the guards by the door to approach. Maladran didn’t bother turning to watch them, there was no point, he knew what they looked like in their studded leather uniforms and swords at their sides but for all their weapons not one of them would dare to touch him. He glared at Sarrat, his mind already contemplating his revenge when he’d regained sufficient strength to call on his powers.

  The kingsguard stopped beside Maladran and for a moment hesitated to touch the magician until Sarrat scowled threateningly at Guardcaptain Gartnor. Maladran saw Sarrat give a signal but was still taken by surprise when the guards at his side dared to take hold of his arms and twist them painfully behind his back. He looked up and hissed at Sarrat, focusing what little power he had left to repel the attack from the kingsguard. His magic was slow to respond and before his power could focus Gartnor grabbed his hair and roughly dragged his head back allowing Sarrat to rip the golden torc from his throat.

  Instantly all thought was shattered and the void where his power was gathering exploded in blinding white light. Maladran screamed in agony as searing flames burnt in his head and shrivelled his eyes. He could think of nothing except the pain as the torture continued intensifying with each jolting step taken by the kingsguard as they hauled him to his feet and dragged him across the stone floor to take him to the dark cells below the ancient tower.