by Jem I Kelley
The Two Artefacts – Azabar's Icicle Part 1
Jem I. Kelley Kindle Edition
Copyright 2015
Amazon Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Kelley, Jem I.(2015-July). The Two Artefacts, UK English Edition (Part 1 of Azabar's Icicle)
With extra thanks to Troy Therkilsen for eagle eyed proofreading.
This book is suitable for ages middle grade to adult, especially those who like books similar to Harry Potter, or books like Percy Jackson, Inkheart & Charlie Bone, etc.
AZABAR’s ICICLE
The Two Artefact-Discs
Chapter 1 – The Threat to Haverland
A howling wind screamed into the city. An unearthly wailing that leaped up from the desert, assaulted the grim walls and spires of the prison, and then whistled through the lanes of the Dazarian capital city before rocking the ships in harbour and dissipating out at sea.
Aden Green carried a golden tray upon which sat a mini feast of a meal. Bowls fashioned from that rare thing, glass, held soups and fruits. Next to the bowls, glass goblets of fine wine nestled around a glass plate holding tasty meats. The meal was for the prison Governor, Tanest, and was to be delivered to his chamber at the top of the tower.
Aden glanced back at his best friend, Bliss. She trudged behind him with a similar tray and feast. It had been her gruff humour and simple friendship that had helped him survive the years they had been incarcerated in the prison.
Aden adjusted the tray, sensing in the dark that one edge had dipped. Being a 'trustee' prisoner wouldn’t protect him from the consequences if he dropped the food.
The wind that wailed in from the desert brought with it a storm of sand. The noise as the sand particles hit the wooden shutters of the tower, could have drowned out the cry of a troop of ogres.
Aden reached the top of the stairs half deafened by this noise, and waited for Bliss to join him. They were to place the meals on the floor beside the door, knock hard three times and depart. They’d both brought meals to Tanest and his guests before, and so understood the routine. Knock hard three times and leave. Only this time something occurred to make the children pause. Just as the noise of the storm eased, a bright crack of light appeared before them - the door to Tanest's quarters was opening.
It only opened a fraction, perhaps enough for a foot to squeeze through, or an eye to peer; but enough to give the children pause. As the door opened, Aden felt an unnatural wave of chill air roll past him. Then he heard a voice from within.
“Wait! Come and sit back down. I order it. We will discuss this. Are we not on the same side?” It was Tanest’s voice.
“As you wish, but do not expect me to change my mind,” came the curt reply, from the other side of the door.
“Good,” said Tanest. “Sit, let us talk.”
The sound of the man talking to Tanest could be heard moving away from the open door. Aden glanced at Bliss, but couldn’t see her expression in the shadows. He lowered the tray of food to the floor, getting ready to knock three times upon the door if the man approached again. In the gloom at the top of the stairs Aden could just make out Bliss copy his actions.
“This scheme,” Aden heard Tanest say, straining hard at the door-crack to listen, “will bring catastrophe on Haverland and great rewards for us. At the very least we will obtain their Disc-Artefacts. If our new ally’s armies prove effective, as they will under his leadership, then Haverland and the other middle kingdoms will fall under our heel too. Imagine that, Sardohan, a fat green country like Haverland under Lord Kesskran’s rule. He’ll require an administrator. You will be that man.”
“I am tempted by the possibilities, my dear Tanest. But I am aware of the dangers which, and please be not offended, you seem blind too.”
Wind-borne sand hit the nearby wooden shutters, preventing Aden from hearing some of the exchange. As the sand eased again, he managed to hear more.
“I believe our ally will bear significant risks too, Sardohan, yet you speak true. Amongst our people you and Gnashlok are the ones who risk most – your lives perhaps. But you also are the ones in the position to implement this thing. In years past there have been times when I, Kesskran, or others have taken the dangers and you have savoured the gains. Your courage does not fail you, I hope?”
There was a pause before the man called Sardohan, in something of a petulant tone, said: “This was the vessel that started it all? It appears quite normal to me.”
“Yes that is the urn, it appears a normal urn, fashioned by normal means and fired in a normal kiln. The runes once held power, though.”
“It has survived a long time.”
“Indeed. But enough of this…”
Tanest’s reply was lost as the storm increased in fury again and the noise of sand hitting the tower's wooden shutters drowned out all else.
Aden was in shock by what he'd heard. My homeland, Haverland, is under threat, but in what way?
Bliss’s expression was lost still in the shadows, but she must have heard what he had, for she put her hand on his shoulder and brought her mouth close to his ear. “That half-ogre Gnashlok is a maniac!” She said. “This is not good.”
Aden nodded solemnly. Only yesterday the half-ogre had ripped a lizard-man prisoner in two in a fight over food, the day before he’d pushed a human trustee so hard the man died upon hitting the wall. The creature’s strength would serve him well in any plot against Haverland.
“Who is the man with Tanest?” whispered Aden into Bliss’s ear.
“Dunno,” came the reply.
“We’ll have to tell someone important about this when we get home,” said Aden.
Bliss nodded and put her mouth back beside Aden's ear. “Not long now.”
A mere matter of weeks in fact, before the day of their release from the prison. Then, an ocean sailing voyage and they would be back home: to a place where autumn rain fell on cobbles, blankets of snow wrapped the roofs in winter and where grass grew lush in spring. How had he ever moaned at the weather for being wet or cold, he thought? What he would give for a bit of either now instead of the constant heat of this forsaken place.
He heard steps approach from inside the room and instantly knocked on the door as was expected of those who brought meals here. He’d made the third knock as the door swung open and a grim looking man stood before him. It was Tanest: short iron grey hair framing a brutal stare, grey stubble covering a grim jaw. He stared down at the children with suspicion.
“Where have you been? I expected the food before now!”
“We were delayed by the storm, Sir,” said Aden, “We didn’t want the sand to get into the food.”
Tanest stared from one child to the other, searching their faces, before bending and lifting each tray deftly.
“Go,” he said.
Aden turned and followed Bliss down the steps with his hand trailing the wall to help guide him through the gloom. Halfway down he tugged at Bliss’s jacket. “Wait.”
He brought himself level with his friend on the circular staircase at a place where he could see her clearly in the light from a hanging lamp. “Let’s go back. We can listen through the keyhole.”
“No way.”
“We could learn more about what’s going on,” pressed Aden.
Bliss shook her head causing the curls of her hair to bounce.
“It’s too dangerous. If we’re c
aught on these steps now, we’re dead. Mareek or another guard might come up here any moment.”
Aden winced. The staircase exited at the bottom of the tower, which also happened to connect to the guard's mess room. What Bliss said was true, someone could appear at any moment. He sighed and said. “Okay we won’t risk it. What about we go to Mareek now and volunteer to fetch the laundry and hand it out to the prisoners? It’ll give us a chance to speak to Mr Savernake about all this.”
Bliss’s face lit. “Yes, Savernake will know what to do.”
Chapter 2 – Mr Savernake and Snattit
Torches lit the area of the laundry room that were near the stairwell, but the outer reaches of this prison cellar were shrouded in gloom for the the barred portals at the top of the room opened onto nothing but the darkness of the storm.
Near the stairwell wooden vats squeezed together, and around these bubbling pools of sud and cloth, goblins scurried, worked hard and swatted at flies. Overlooking their work stood Mr Savernake.
Before the man’s imprisonment it was said the state of the clothing was worse after washing than it was before. Not so now.
Savernake stood with arms folded, watching his goblins rush with an order alien to their species. Yellow hands pounded soapy fabric, yellow arms strained at mangles and red eyes searched for creases in ironed cloth.
Savernake stood stiffly in starched clothing, his suit fashioned from sack canvas, yet cut with such skill it appeared a purchase from a tailor of repute.
Savernake’s presence chased away the worries clawing at Aden. In a moment he found himself at ease. Bliss stood tall now too, her expression relaxing. Savernake was a friend and the laundry in the cellar one of the few places the children needn't be alert to danger in the prison.
The man noticed them arrive. “Be with you shortly,” he barked, continuing his direction of the goblins. Commands followed and a group of the creatures scrubbing prison shirts eased from their task. They swarmed upon a mountain of ironed clothes next and in minutes re-assembled them into two neat piles – trousers and jackets.
Savernake turned to the children and raised an eyebrow, indicating an explanation of their presence. Aden told Savernake that he and Bliss had volunteered to fetch the washed and ironed clothes. Why? Because they had something important to pass on.
The man smiled causing the prominent lines in his cheeks to deepen. “The clothes are ready for your distribution, but let there be no hurry if you have important news. Come, take a seat and tell me.”
He led them to his make-do office, once a coal storage room now filled with furniture made from scraps and scavenged goods. A skewed bed sat beside a crooked shelf of books, alongside a pockmarked table. Mr Savernake shut the door and the noise of the goblins outside eased.
Before he could speak, a knock came at the door and Savernake paused as it opened. A muscular goblin dragged in a small puny goblin. The muscular goblin pushed the other to the floor and totally ignoring the children shouted. “Kneel in front of Mister Savernake, ya scrag.”
Savernake inspected the creature. “Brict? What’s this?”
“Caught Snattit stealing, I did, Mr Savernake, Sir!” barked the muscular goblin continuing to act as if the children weren’t there. The other goblin cringed and his face slumped.
“Stealing what?”
Brict produced an object and gave it to Savernake who examined it before putting it into his pocket. Savernake’s unbroken stare sharpened. “Where did he obtain this?”
Brict leaned forward and whispered in Savernake’s ear causing the man to sigh and look down at Snattit with concern. “Is this true?”
Snattit mumbled and found a spot on the floor interesting to look at.
“What can we do with you, eh?”
Snattit shrugged. He glanced shyly at Bliss, and tried to arrange the rags around him into neatness, but failed.
Brict grabbed Snattit’s right arm and thrust it before his leader. “Arm ‘acked off wiv a rusty blade and da wound dipped in salt, that’s the goblin way, if it pleases ya honourableness?”
Mr Savernake shook his head - no.
Brict looked disappointed, he grabbed Snattit’s right hand. “Ow’s about I stamps hard on dis a few times, Sir? Just so ‘ee don’t use it again for a bit? Do ‘im a power of good it will, Sir.”
Savernake sighed. “No, I think I have a more fitting punishment, Supervisor Brict. Please stand motionless. Snattit, you must have fine dexterity to steal what you did?”
Snattit looked at Savernake under hooded lids and stayed silent.
“On Supervisor Brict’s nose a fly has landed. I want you to snatch the fly without disturbing him. Can you do that?”
Snattit glanced from Savernake to Brict. In a stroke, the fly had gone. Snattit held his clenched fist before all. He opened his hand and within was the crushed insect.
“Did you feel anything, Brict?”
“No, Mister Savernake, Sir!” replied Brict, looking down at his nose in surprise.
“Good show. I want Snattit locked in ball and chain at night for a hundred days so he can’t get up to mischief. During the day, Snattit, I want you to keep this place free of flies, but not disturb anyone in the process. Do so for a hundred days and you get to keep your arm.”
“Excellent idea, yer worthiness!” snarled Brict. “Thank ‘is nobleness you pathetic pile of filth!” He added, giving Snattit a clip to the head before marching him from the room not once ever having looked at the children.
Savernake went to the door, glanced around it to make sure no goblin tarried near, and then eased it shut. He returned to the table and took a seat opposite the two children.
“A loyal fellow is Brict, though a touch harsh. Now,” he said, with eyes full of curiosity, “what is it you wish to tell me?”
Chapter 3 – The Threat to Haverland
“We think Haverland’s going to be invaded,” said Bliss, coming straight to the point.
Savernake frowned. He unbuttoned his tight-fitting waistcoat and then leaned back in his chair, though this hardly made him look relaxed. In fact, Aden could not recall ever seeing Savernake relax: the man was as stiff as cardboard. Old fashioned and reliable, the two qualities seemed complementary in Aden’s eyes.
“Tell me everything you’ve heard about this threat,” Said Savernake, and put his hand to his chin as he listened to the children retell what they had overheard in the tower and their speculation that Haverland would be invaded soon. Then he sighed and flexed his fingers. “Any threat is not imminent, that much is certain. It will be at least a month before this Sardohan could set foot in Haverland. More likely it will be two, unless he catches a sailing ship soon and the wind is both northerly and bold.”
Savernake paused.
“You say they spoke of an urn?”
“With runes on,” said Aden.
“But they gave no hint of how it figured in their plans?”
“Not that we heard.”
“Bizarre.”
Bliss said. “I don’t understand the urn, but I think the Dazarians are going to invade Haverland. It’s as simple as that. They’ve been dying to get their hands on the artefacts for years.”
An expression of sureness returned to Savernake's face. “There your logic founders, young Bliss. The Haverland armies are too strong a force for Lord Kesskran’s legions.”
“Perhaps Kesskran has found another army?”
“But they’d still have to ferry such legions to Haverland and to do that they would find the elite Haverland navy waiting for them.”
Bliss scowled. “Whatever! When we get home I’ll tell someone in charge what we heard and let them work out what the threat to the city might be.”
Savernake looked at the children. He bit his lips as if deciding whether to speak. Then he withdrew an object from his pocket and placed it on the table before them. It was a shell no larger than his thumb. The shell’s surface was as smooth as polished wood and patterned with spots.
&n
bsp; “This is the object Snattit stole. Nothing but a shell, however, a shell is rare in a place like this and it’s surprising how prisoners can become attached to their keepsakes. I’ll discover the owner and have it returned.”
Aden didn’t know why Savernake had suddenly returned the conversation to Snattit, but, looking at the rising sense of excitement in the man’s eyes, he guessed the revelation of the shell was a forerunner to some even greater topic the man wished to discuss. Exchanging a puzzled glance with Bliss, Aden waited intently for what would come next.
Chapter 4 – Mr Savernake and the Diary Ledger
Savernake asked the children to stand back from the table. When they’d done so he hauled it to one side unscrewed a cap at the end of one leg and pulled forth a rolled parchment from the hollow there. He re-screwed the cap lifted the table back into place and unrolled the parchment on the table.
Aden stared at the diagram on the parchment. A plan drawing of the Dazarian prison laid before him, very much a fortress to look at, with imposing buildings that stood like keeps, and towers that rose high.
To Aden’s surprise Savernake ignored the diagram and returned the conversation to Haverland. “Tanest will know what the threat to Haverland is.”
Aden pulled his head back from the parchment to stare at Savernake. “Obviously, he’s behind it.”
Savernake leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table so his face was close to Aden’s. “When I became a prisoner one and a half years ago, Tanest became aware a man of learning had entered his establishment. He invited me to converse with him occasionally. I agreed, but asked whether I could be given a ‘trustee’ job to prevent myself falling into gloom. This is how my management of the laundry began.
Our conversations have covered many subjects over the months including the artefacts, the artefact worlds, Haverland, Dazarian and much more besides. During that time he told me he has the ear of Lord Kesskran himself and is involved in some of the tyrant’s schemes. What you overheard in the tower appears to prove his claims. Once as we debated in his chamber Tanest tapped a dark ledger which rested on his writing bureau and suggested it was something of a diary.”
