“You are invisible, Your Majesty, and not through the use of our ability,” explained one of the Thedarians.
Faylore retraced her steps, and became visible to them again. “And now?” she asked.
“Visible, Your Majesty.”
“Magic,” Faylore deduced. “The whole area is hidden by magic. If we follow the direction of the tracks I am sure they will resume a little further on.”
With this, they followed her as she ventured forth once more. Ten yards further on, the tracks resumed. Simultaneously, they all took the initiative to use their chameleonic ability, becoming just a shimmering hue in the darkness whilst tracking their prey. A cave was now visible and so, at the foot of the ridge in which it was set, were the beasts. They were patient as they watched the beasts that now scrabbled around in the dirt, growling and snapping at one another.
Hours passed until, at last, Faylore saw what she had so desperately wanted… Karrak strolled out of the cave. She longed to draw her bow and put an arrow between his eyes or charge and run him through with her silver, curved sword, in revenge for the harm he had done to her friends. It was rare for a Thedarian to feel such intense emotion and for a few moments she was overwhelmed. Regaining her composure, she gestured toward the others, and they all retreated silently.
Passing beyond the border of Karrak’s magical shield, one of the group spoke. “Your Majesty, my understanding is that this Karrak and his animals are evil. Why do we not simply execute them?”
“It is not our place to condemn this sorcerer, regardless of his crimes,” Faylore replied. “We must make haste to Borell. Their king has a decision to make.”
They entered the gates of Borell Castle. As always, the reception committee consisted of her four companions, whose smiles quickly dissipated at the sight of Faylore’s serious expression. They stood, hesitant, awaiting the bad news.
“Faylore?” said Jared questioningly.
“I’ve found him… I’ve found Karrak.”
Hannock spun around, pointing at one of the guards, “You, ready my horse,” and turning to another guard, “you fetch my armour,” then to Faylore, “where is he?”
Jared grabbed Hannock by the arm, “Hannock, calm down, you can’t go alone. Faylore hasn’t even told us where he is yet.”
Hannock was close to rage, “I don’t care how far it is. He can be at the end of the world, it ends now. He took my eye, and now I’m going to take his life.”
“My, dear Captain, five of you could not beat him last time. Honestly, what chance do you think you would have alone?” The companions turned to face the voice, it was Emnor.
“Keep your nose out of this, wizard, this is none of your affair,” Hannock bellowed, “Trying to protect one of your own are you?”
Jared understood Hannock’s frustration, but felt that it was time to save him from himself. “That’s enough Captain,” he roared, “one more word from you and you’ll be cooling off in a cell, do I make myself clear?”
Hannock screamed at the top of his voice, took a deep breath and kicked the ground. “Sorry, Jared,” he said quietly. Looking at Emnor he bowed slightly, “My apologies, Master Emnor.”
Emnor had not risen to the insult. The scars on Hannock’s face and the loss of his eye meant that, Emnor felt, he need not apologise. Waving his hand in dismissal of the situation he merely said, “Stressful times, Hannock, we all need to blow off a little steam occasionally.”
Hannock was mortified that he had allowed himself to erupt in such a way, and felt ashamed at his unwarranted insult of the honourable Emnor.
Emnor spoke again, “Maybe we should adjourn to the throne room, Jared, I’m sure your father will want to hear the news.” Turning to the guards who, by order, had brought Hannock’s horse and armour, he dismissed them, “He won’t be needing those. Not yet anyway.”
As they entered the throne room, the king rose from his seat. “This can’t be good,” he said, “especially if the twins are here,” He looked between Jared and Hannock with an affectionate smile.
“It depends on your point of view, Father,” said Jared, “Faylore has discovered Karrak’s location.”
The king flopped back heavily onto his throne. “Well, he had to surface sooner or later I suppose,” he sighed.
Faylore explained how the discovery had been made, describing at length the presence of the transformed beasts, to make a point of Karrak’s unyielding sadism.
“So what now?” asked the king, “Send an army after him to ensure his death?”
Emnor, trying to be sympathetic to Tamor’s plight offered a suggestion. “Your Majesty, allow me to visit with Karrak alone. Perhaps I can reason with him. I know that neither I, nor anyone else, can turn him into the innocent he once was, but if we agree not to hunt him, on cessation of his practises, you could simply banish him?”
Tamor, slumped in his throne with his chin on his chest, raised his eyes to look at Emnor. “Banish? Simply? Do you think it so easy for a father to condemn his son?” he asked.
“I know it is not, Your Majesty, but it is better than the alternative.”
“And what is the alternative, Master Emnor?”
“Chop his bloody head off, like I said before,” Grubb answered, saving Emnor the trouble.
Jared stepped forward and took his father’s hand, “I know this is difficult for you, Father, but Grubb is right, if he can’t be stopped… he must be destroyed. Let Emnor try it his way and if he’s unsuccessful…”
“We can bury him and then execute the sorcerer that notched up another murder.” Grubb, although outspoken and abrupt was, of course, correct. The gathering turned to face Grubb. “If ye don’t like what I have to say, don’t ask me,” said Grubb.
“Nobody asked you anyway!” exclaimed Lodren. So far he had had nothing to offer the conversation, but Lodren had timed his comment perfectly. Grubb simply shrugged his shoulders.
“You do realise, Emnor, Karrak won’t like being threatened?” said Jared.
“Of course I do,” Emnor replied.
“But you’re still willing to face him, alone?” asked Hannock.
“He feels that his power is infinite and that a single wizard will not be a threat. If an army turns up to face him there can only be one of two results, one, he escapes again, or two, a lot of people die,” Emnor folded his arms as if to rest his case.
“Well let’s just hope he chooses to bugger off then,” and Grubb, mimicking Emnor, also folded his arms.
***
Harley was dismayed. Reiggan Fortress, the place he had called home for the last four years, had changed, and not for the better. The once-sedate and relaxing atmosphere in which to dwell, had become one of suspicion and rumour that seemed to physically darken the halls and passageways of the formerly, much revered institution. Unfortunately, now every member of their secretive community was perceived with doubt as to their motives, by all outsiders. Each day he recalled the escape of the prince, and Master Barden’s betrayal of the Administration.
Leaving his room, he headed along the passageways, nodding in acknowledgement as he passed others on the way to his destination. Looking furtively around, he quickly entered a room that was quite unremarkable. Dimly lit, Harley paused for a moment, to allow his sight to adjust. Approaching a bookcase at the far end, he glanced over his shoulder before reaching for a large tome and drawing it forward on the shelf by just a couple of inches. Suddenly there was a gentle scratching as the bookcase seemed to sink into the wall, before sliding to one side, revealing a narrow, dark passage. Stepping into the gloom, the bookcase slid back into place behind him, leaving Harley in pitch-black darkness. There was a click as, one by one, torches burst into flame along the walls as he walked along until he reached another door. Opening it, he blinked a few times, the light flooding the passageway as he entered the room. Benches were placed against the walls. Burners were placed on them, over which multi-coloured potions bubbled and steamed, producing incredible results. The steam fr
om one potion became crystalline as it left the flask, turning to ice; another produced sparks that crackled faintly; and a third produced a small, but intense, green flame.
“You’re late, Harley. You should have been here an hour ago.”
“Had a few tasks to complete, for Emnor,” Harley replied.
“That’s Master Emnor to you, Harley.”
Harley just looked at the young wizard, who had only meant it as a joke. Harley’s sense of humour wasn’t what it used to be, and he offered no response to the comment.
There were three young wizards present in the room, Harley being the fourth.
“So, have you made any progress?” asked Harley solemnly.
“Of course we have. We have gold, silver, platinum or copper.”
“Who in their right mind would use copper?” Harley asked.
“Apparently it’s the best thing to use if you’re dedicated to fire spells,” answered one of his fellow conspirators, a young wizard by the name of Xarran Althor, who also happened to be Harley’s closest friend.
The discussion they were having was, of course, regarding the most suitable metal from which to make a wand. Frowned upon by the senior wizards as being unnecessary, the younger generation had discovered that, with the right wand, one could concentrate a spell. Rather than blowing up a whole tree with a fire spell it was possible to direct a flame at a single bough and sever it as cleanly as one would with a blade, only much faster, and with even greater precision. Many experiments had been carried out by the four, even to the point of trying to make a wand from various woods, which was preposterous, as the minute one tried to use a fire spell, the wand would be incinerated.
The manufacture of the individual wand was more a love than an art. These were not just metal rods, but intricate filigrees of the purest of metals. Imbued with magic and encrusted with semi-precious stones they were not only beautiful, they were also virtually indestructible.
“The old fellows won’t like the idea of us making these you know. They’ll probably ban us from ever using them,” continued Xarran.
“You can’t refer to them as ‘the old boys’, Xarran. They are learned, senior wizards and have been perfecting their skills since long before we were born, don’t forget that,” snapped Harley.
“Don’t get me wrong, Harley, I have the utmost respect for our tutors, but they are so opposed to change that it just becomes a little frustrating at times. I tried to broach the subject of wands with Gambillon last week and he cut me dead, said they were for amateurs.”
“Do you realise how old he is, Xarran?” asked Harley.
“I’d say a little older than the mountain this fortress is set in, about half a million.”
Harley shook his head. He knew how talented a wizard Xarran was, and that one day he would be great, but he also knew how stubborn and dismissive he could be when the mood took him. As much so as the seniors he was denouncing, without him realising his own hypocrisy. To avoid what could become an unnecessarily lengthy debate, Harley returned to the subject of the manufacturing of wands and turned to the third attendee, a quiet, almost withdrawn individual, by the name of Alexander Hardman, a name that really didn’t suit his diminutive stature and submissive nature. He was though, in fact, the most intellectual of the group and his thoughts and ideas on the improvements that could be made to enhance the use of magic were revolutionary, it being his idea to investigate the use of wands and the materials that should be used in their manufacture. “So what’s your latest discovery, Alex?” he asked.
“It’s Alexander, not Alex,” he replied without looking up from his work, “And in answer to your question, I’ve deduced that gold is the best for earthbound spells, I should have realised that sooner.”
He gave no explanation for his deduction, and no-one ever questioned his reasoning. He was fairly touchy when it came to questions that delved too deeply, or criticism, his usual response being to simply leave the room and not come back for hours or sometimes days. However, when he was in attendance, he made a huge difference to their discoveries.
The fourth of the group was Maddleton Drake. At first, not appearing to be the brightest of students, Drake was with them for one simple reason. Known as Mad Drake, his name suited him perfectly. He would try anything, no test or dare was too great for him and he had the scars to prove it. As soon as a new wand was fashioned, Drake would be there, hand outstretched, ready for its inaugural test. One could say he was the stupid one of the four but compared to you or I he was still a borderline genius when it came to magic.
“How did you make your discovery then, Alexander?” Harley asked.
“That would be me,” said Drake, looking a little sheepish.
“Why, what happened?”
“Well, I was supposed to just move a stone across the room, and it went a little bit wrong.”
Xarran leaned against a bench and folded his arms. “Went a bit wrong? You took half the floor up and half the wall down, Drake.”
Drake smiled, seeing the funny side. “I can’t help being such a powerful wizard, can I?”
“But…” interrupted Alexander, “… it did prove that I was correct.”
“Oh it did that alright,” said Xarran, “I’m just amazed that nobody heard it, I was waiting for half of the Administration to come bursting through the door.”
Harley’s role within the group was not only to organise their dubious experiments but to offer security. He spent more and more prolonged periods in the company of Emnor, and although he would never divulge any sensitive or privileged information to his friends, it did allow them a little breathing room knowing who would be where, and when.
“I’ll leave you to it, I have to meet with Master Emnor,” said Harley “Make sure you’re out of here in the next hour.”
The others nodded, and Harley headed back down the dark passageway.
***
Reaching Emnor’s chambers, Harley knocked gently on the door, and entered when instructed to.
“Always prompt, Harley, I do so like that in a person,” said Emnor.
Harley nodded his head once in acknowledgement of Emnor’s admiration, but said nothing.
“I’ll get straight to the point, Harley. I think it time to take an apprentice, and I’d like it to be you.” Harley was surprised by this, and it showed in his face. “It’s not as bad as you think,” continued Emnor, “Your duties would be much the same as they are now, but I see great potential in you and after all, we old ones can’t live forever however good our longevity is. We need young blood in the Administration.” He sat forward and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Harley’s response.
“I really don’t know what to say, Master Emnor… yes?”
“Yes will do nicely for now. But as you’ve accepted, I hope your conversational skills increase dramatically in the future,” he smiled.
Harley relaxed a little and returned the smile. “Of course, Master Emnor.”
“Just one thing, Harley, before we go any further… you won’t be needing the Order of Corrodin anymore. I’ll take that from you now shall I?”
Harley’s heart began to pound, how did Emnor know? “I beg your pardon, Master Emnor?”
“The Order of Corrodin. It’s on a chain around your neck under your robes and has been for months, oh, and how are the wand-making sessions going, made any progress?” Harley’s mouth was moving but making no sound. “Are you alright, Harley? Why don’t you sit down? Oh don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts, you really would make a first class apprentice,” Emnor’s smile widened.
Harley, almost without thinking, placed his hand inside his robes. Removing the chain on which the Order of Corrodin was secured, he handed it to Emnor without saying a word.
“You see, after a while, Harley, you won’t always need to be able to read someone’s mind to know what’s going on in their head, and you definitely won’t need an amulet to stop others reading yours. Feeling better?”
“I never sto
le it, Master Emnor. At first I just put it on to keep it safe and then never thought to take it off again.”
“It’s a magic amulet, dear boy, makes you think you need to wear it to keep yourself safe from prying eyes and ears, it’s not your fault. You had a secret, or at least you thought you had, so it just fed on it.”
“About that, Master Emnor, it was all my idea, the others…” Harley began hurriedly.
“Calm down, Harley, I don’t care about your wand experiments, as a matter of fact I’m quite intrigued. I’d like to see how you’re progressing, I mean you’ve been at it for months now, you and your three friends that is.”
Harley was stumped. Emnor knew everything, but he had no idea how, as he sat there staring blankly into the eyes of the old wizard who was still smiling at him.
“Still interested in being my apprentice?” asked Emnor.
“Of course, Master Emnor, it would be an honour,” Harley was slightly shaken with how transparent he was to Emnor but had managed to compose himself just enough, in order to reply.
“Excellent,” said Emnor clapping his hands together.
“When will my instruction begin, Master?” asked Harley.
“Begin? Begin! We started months ago, Harley. I’ve drawn up the contract, you just need to sign it.” Emnor unrolled a scroll that was lying on his desk and, turning it toward Harley, handed him a quill. “Just sign it at the bottom, dear boy, administration rules, makes it official, just there above my own signature,” he said wagging his finger in the general direction of the scroll.
“Forgive me, Master… but, a contract?”
“Of course, stops all the nonsense at a later date should you get, oh I don’t know, incinerated, dismembered, crushed, that sort of thing.”
Dismembered… incinerated? thought Harley.
The Ascension of Karrak Page 22
