Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe

by Clare Smith

  Something red caught his eye and he stopped to pick up the hunting hat, decorated with long coolly bird feathers. "Yours?"

  "No."

  "The magicians’ then?"

  "Definitely not."

  "Then it's got ter belong ter the attacked or the attacker, like this 'as." Perguine picked up a piece of the broken sword.

  "I think it must have been the attacked," said Jonderill. "And this looks like it was the attacker."

  Perguine leaned over Jonderill's shoulder where he had crouched down to gather enough shattered stones pieces together to make a rough reconstruction of a snouted head with tusks and horns.

  "Yer not tryin' to tell me that thing lived are yer?" Jonderill nodded. "It's bloody 'orrible."

  "And it wasn't on its own. This one had its head smashed and another one lost an arm. I guess from the number of footprints outside that there were lots more of them. Whatever they were, they came in force."

  "So this 'ere man wiv a red 'at an' a fine sword, comes 'ere to see the woman 'e loves an' these things jump 'im an' carries ‘im off wivout spillin' a drop of blood? Soun’s a bit unlikely ta me."

  "No, I’m right. You see, this place is enchanted so that no one should be able to find it unless they have been invited here. Plantagenet and Animus never left the cottage and I’ve invited no one here except you so it must have been someone the Princess met in the forest. These things must have found out about him and so they came here and captured him. I bet they’re holding him prisoner somewhere so he never has the chance to give the princess her true love's first kiss."

  "Well, now we finks we knows what's 'appened all we got to do is work out who's got 'im an' where."

  "That's simple," said Jonderill confidently. "I've seen these creatures before or something very like them; they belong to Maladran the black. I bet our mysterious friend is being held as a prisoner in the magician's tower, so all we have to do now is go in there and get him out.

  “Why aint I cheerin’,” muttered Perguine to himself as he followed Jonderill out of the door.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Captives

  "What do yer know about this 'ere tower?" asked Perguine, breaking the long silence between them. "I mean, 'as yer ever been there?"

  They were walking through Leersland's northern forest having crossed the Blue River the day before. Leersland's forest was identical to Vinmore's and if it hadn’t been for the Blue River, which separated them, it would have been impossible to tell where one kingdom ended and the other began. Weiswald trees grew tall and massive, their open canopy allowing sunlight to penetrate through to the forest floor so that the ground was dry underfoot and leaves rustled crisply as they passed. A sprinkling of everleaf stood straight and almost as tall as the leaf-shedding giants, ensuring a green tinge to the forest even in winter. Now they looked dowdy next to the brightly coloured leaves which turned orange as they caught the early morning sun.

  "Yes, I know the tower; it’s not far from Tarmin and stands on the crest of a fair sized rise with grassy banks and a commanding view for miles around."

  "Not the sort of place yer can creep up on an' attack wiv an army then?"

  "No. The tower is five stories high and Maladran has his room at the very top. If he's keeping watch he'll see us coming whatever we do. Why do you ask?"

  "Nothin’, jus' like to know what I'm lettin' meself in fer."

  Perguine returned to his usual silent contemplation and Jonderill gave him one or two suspicious glances before he decided he would get nothing more from the secretive thief. He kicked irritably at the leaves beneath his feet, annoyed that his travelling partner had once again created more questions than he’d answered. It had been the same throughout their journey, always asking questions but never giving a direct answer to anything Jonderill asked. The thief hadn’t even answered when Jonderill asked why he was going to Maladran's tower with him.

  He was curious about that; it wasn’t as if Perguine had any real reason to go there or to even want the giant honeyvine hedge to be removed. On the other hand he was glad to have Perguine travelling with him. The little man was an excellent hunter and each day when he disappeared he always returned with a long eared hopper or a brace of coolly birds for Jonderill to prepare and cook. He was sure that if he had been by himself he would have gone hungry for most of the time.

  "Is this 'ere Maladran goin' to keep 'is prisoner up in the tower wiv 'im or 'as 'e got dungeons like?"

  More questions thought Jonderill. "No, he’ll hold him in the caverns below the tower where he does his work as Sarrat's soul searcher." Jonderill gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of the caverns. He’d never been down there but he knew of them and their fearful reputation.

  "Nasty," commented Perguine. "I don't s'pose yer've got a plan to get 'im out 'ave yer?"

  "Not yet but I'm working on it."

  Perguine looked thoughtfully up at the sky. "Well yer jus’ keep on thinkin' about it an' I'll goes an' sees what I can find fer our dinner."

  Before Jonderill could offer a word of caution the little man had gone, disappearing into the forest without leaving a sign of his passing. It was almost as if he were part of the forest Jonderill thought but the brief history Perguine had given him of his past life was all to do with towns and cities and nothing to do with the woodlands. Then there was the question of his strange name, Perguine the Pocket. Such a name must refer to the large hidden pockets in his over sized jerkin and baggy trousers which always seemed to contain something useful, although where it all came from he hadn't dared to ask, but he could guess.

  Now, however, that was unimportant, what did matter was how he was going to rescue the Princess, fast asleep in the palace with all her loved ones and a whole city around her. First of all there was the enchantment to break and for that he would need the man Maladran held in his dungeons. Then there was that huge honeyvine hedge to cut through and what if Maladran had put his own defensive spell around the place to keep people out? If everything people said about Maladran were true there would be something dire waiting to be set free by anyone foolish enough to enter the tower uninvited.

  He’d no idea what that was likely to be or how was he going to cope with whatever it was. The problem was immense, surely too much for one man armed only with an ancient iron sword and hardly enough arcane power to light a fire. Still, he thought, what was it Animus always said about big problems which seemed unsolvable? Tackle them like you would a banquet. Cut it up into small pieces and devour each small piece a bit at a time and soon the whole table will be empty. Jonderill smiled at the thought of his master and wondered if he would be feeling hungry in his sleep.

  For the rest of the day Jonderill walked alone through the forest towards his destination, stopping at noon by a small stream and lighting a fire with just enough twigs to make some herb tea. He ate the few berries and nuts he’d collected on his way and a cold coolly bird leg saved from last night's meal. It wasn’t very filling but it would keep him going until Perguine caught up with him, hopefully with the day's catch. The forest was silent all around him and he supposed the animals and sky flyers had all gone after being alarmed by his rustling through the leaves on the forest floor. Once he thought he had heard the high-pitched challenge of an angry horse and had stopped to listen but after a few moments everything settled down again and the forest returned to its usual quiet.

  As the sun set and darkness fell it became difficult to follow the pathway through the woodlands so he stopped and made camp in a small clearing. He collected wood for the fire, leaves for the beds and water from the stream and then waited for Perguine. After a while he lit the fire and made some herb tea but by the time the moon had risen over the tops of the trees the small hunter still hadn’t arrived so Jonderill stoically settled down with an empty stomach, which rumbled uncomfortably.

  He’d been a fool to rely so much on a man who he didn’t know well. He supposed Perguine had finally come
to his senses and decided that the rescue of a complete stranger from the horrors of a mad magician's dungeon was more excitement than he needed. Jonderill could understand how he felt but he had to go on if he wanted to rescue the Princess so he curled up in his cloak, pulled the leaves he had gathered for Perguine’s bed over him and was mercifully asleep in moments.

  Hunger woke him with the first light of dawn and with nothing to cook except the last of his herb tea he was back on the pathway before the sun had touched the green canopy. As he walked he ate what nuts and berries he could find, although it was the wrong time of year for them to be plentiful. He also gathered a few wild mushrooms and onion root which would provide him with a tasty, if thin soup, later in the day. The idea of setting some snares crossed his mind but as he would have to wait at least until dark for any results he decided against it.

  Tonight he would be at his destination and having meat in his soup would be unimportant. Around noon, when the sun was high in the sky, he stopped to drink from a stream and had the strangest feeling that someone was watching him although he could see no one hiding in the trees. When he continued on his way he listened carefully to the muted sounds around him and twice more he was certain he heard footfalls but when he turned around there was no one there. He cursed himself for being a nervous fool and after that hummed or whistled to take his mind off whom or what might be following him.

  Then, just before sunset when his stomach was starting to complain loudly at the lack of food, he picked up the wonderful smell on the slight breeze. It was faint at first and intermittent and then stronger and more alluring. He knew he should be cautious but he couldn’t help quickening his pace, his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering at the promise of roast meat.

  Forgetting caution completely he almost ran into the clearing just before the trees began to thin at the edge of the forest and there sat Perguine, with a skewered suckling grunter roasting over an open fire. He looked up and grinned at Jonderill in his sly, discomforting way and held out a large flask of sweet berry wine.

  "Yer a little bit early, I guessed it would take yer 'till sundown to get 'ere so the grub's not done yet, won't be long though."

  Jonderill stared at him with his hands on his hips not sure whether he should feel pleased or put out by Perguine's sudden but belated appearance. He was grateful for the wine and the food but as usual there was something not quite right. Where had the grunter come from, not to mention the wine? He stared at the wine and then at Perguine and waited for an explanation.

  “Don’t yer mind ‘bout that; the owner went to the privy an’ left it unattended. In any case ‘e can afford ter buy anuver.”

  Jonderill wanted to ask if he had stolen the grunter as well but instead he looked up at the spiralling smoke and scowled.

  "It's all right old son, I've 'ad a look an yer can't see or smell owt at the forest edge. Now 'ows about a nice piece of 'ot grunter an' you tellin' me 'ow we’re goin' to get into that there tower."

  Jonderill couldn't resist the peace offering and took the proffered skewer of succulent meat pushing his misgivings to one side. He sat heavily on the stump of a felled tree and told Perguine of his plan whilst the juices of the meat ran down his fingers. When he finished the skewer he took a long pull at the flask of sweet red wine and then started on a second skewer, the fat hot and crisp. With his mood improving by the minute he finished outlining his plan.

  "So that's it," concluded Jonderill, licking the last of the meat juices from his sticky fingers.

  "That there aint much of a plan is it?" remarked Perguine disparagingly."I suppose not but it was the best I could come up with. The problem is not so much getting up to the tower without being seen, the real difficulty is going to be getting inside the tower through locked doors."

  "Yer jus' leave that ter me, I's got a talent for that sort of thing."

  "You're coming with me then?"

  "Of course I is. I aint come all this way for nowt now 'ave I?”

  "But why? What's in the tower for you?"

  Perguine gave him a sly look. "Let's jus' say it's me natural curiosity an' leave it at that."

  Jonderill gave a sigh of frustration but let the matter rest as he guessed it was the best answer he was likely to get. He concentrated on clearing up the camp and fixing the old metal sword into his belt next to his axe. Perguine was already waiting to go by the time he was ready, standing with his hand on his hips and looking impatient.

  "I knows yer jus' mean to walk up to that there tower an 'elps yourself to lover boy but what 'appens if 'e's guarded?"

  Jonderill shrugged. "I've got this.” He clutched the hilt of the battered sword.

  "That thing's seen better days an' that's fer sure. Yer ever used it?"

  "I used to practise with one like it but I've never used one against a man before."

  "Gawd 'elp us," Perguine said, turning away from Jonderill and walking towards the edge of the forest.

  Jonderill ran to catch him up and together they walked between the widely spaced trees for what seemed to be an age. He thought that the forest would never end and an uneasy feeling nagged at his mind telling him that the woodland had never encroached so closely up to Maladran's tower before. When he was about to say as much to his silent companion they emerged from the forest in the last minutes of daylight. Jonderill gave a cry of shock, stopped dead and staggered back against the supporting trunk of a large everleaf, unable to believe what he saw. Perguine looked at the tower and then back at Jonderill, a sour look on his face.

  "It's changed," whispered Jonderill through his shock.

  "Yer tellin' me. What 'appened to the grassy bank an' the garden wiv the 'edge 'round it? The blasted place looks more like a fortress than the ‘appy ‘ome of yer magician friend."

  "It's Maladran. Somehow his magic must have corrupted the place. What sort of powers must he be calling on to do this terrible thing to the land?"

  Jonderill continued to stare at the place which had once been his home. The grassy bank on which he’d sat and first produced elemental fire was gone, replaced by jagged black rock, barren of all life and reaching up to the pinnacle on which the ancient tower perched. Gone were the leafy vines which crept up the tower to soften its outline. Instead the tower stood out starkly against the evening sky, a twisted column of tortured stone battered and scarred by hideous carvings of fanged demons. The tower was black and brooding and looked to be deserted, apart from the flickering light which shone dimly from the highest window.

  "'Spect it's the same power which brought those stone critters to life, an' that aint a good fing fer us or yer plan." Jonderill didn't reply but continued to stare at the jagged black rock which surrounded the menacing tower. "'Ow many of those stone critters does yer magician 'ave?"

  "I don't know, there used to be just a couple I think. They were just carvings, not alive."

  "Well I 'opes they aint been breedin’ or ‘e’s got them lookin' out fer us 'cause we won't be able to pick'em out ‘gainst that there black rock."

  "He won't. Whatever gives them life takes a lot of power and Maladran won’t waste it. All the time he thinks he's safe inside his tower the creatures will remain inactive." Jonderill took a deep breath and suddenly felt a bit more confident. He gave Perguine a cheerful grin. "Come on then. I think the changes Maladran has made may have done us a favour."

  Without waiting to see if Perguine was following, Jonderill left the forest edge and made a quick dash for the base of the jagged outcrop, darting into the shadows of the first vertical rock face just as the moon appeared from behind the wind-swept clouds. The sudden light was sufficient for him to gain a close up view of what he had to climb before the moon was gone again, hidden behind the fleeting clouds.

  Keeping the picture in his mind of what he had to cross he began to climb, carefully at first, relying on the roughness of the rock to provide him with hand holds. He tested the rock’s stability and then moved faster as hand holds turned into ledges and t
heir edges became less jagged. When he reached the top of the first rock face he stopped to rest and take his bearings. They had moved to the right of the tower but they were that much closer now so that only its top two storeys could be seen above the jagged rocks. The elemental light still glowed from the topmost window but the rest of the tower remained in darkness.

  Jonderill waited for Perguine to clamber onto the ledge beside him and then set off again, following the ledge upwards and keeping his body pressed to the rock face when it became less than a hand span wide. He could hear Perguine breathing hard behind him, his rasping breath ragged with fear rather than gasps of exhaustion. Once, when they stopped to catch their breath, he even caught the thief muttering something about not being a mountain goat. Jonderill smiled to himself but said nothing, finding it gratifying that the supremely self-confident little man should at last have found something which unsettled him.

  Before they reached the far end of the ledge they came to a steep gully, littered with stones, dead bushes and an assortment of old bones. The narrow gulley, which was just wide enough to take a man sideways on led back towards the tower. It was what Jonderill was looking for and made him feel more confident than he’d been since they had started out on the climb. He slipped once or twice on the loose stones and grazed his shin but he steadied himself each time and continued on until he reached the end of the gully where a wall of smooth stone, split in two like a chimney and twice the height of a man blocked their path. At the top of the vertical wall he could just make out a bush of thorny scrub and just beyond that he was certain he would find the huge, blackened stone blocks with which the magician's tower was built.

  "'Ow's yer goin' to get up there then? Bein' a mountain goat's one thing but I aint no sky flyer."

  Jonderill slipped the roll of blankets from his back and the sword and axe from his belt, pushed his shoulders against one rock wall and his legs against another and with alternating movements of back and legs began to work his way up the chimney. It was a skill he’d learned as a small boy during his time in the kingsward compound. Climbing up in a tight crevice between two adjoining walls he could hide from the men who came to select boys for their pleasures and he’d never forgotten the technique.