Renegades Of Wolfenvald, Book Two of The Adventures of Sarah Coppernick

by SJB Gilmour

  Oliver pursed his lips. ‘That’s very fair-minded of you. But, I guess I should expect no less from a werewolf.’ He faced the others. ‘It’s true I’ve been tempted by the odd demon here and there.’ He nodded at James. ‘You know what it’s like. A demon’s as hard to resist as some of your plants.’

  ‘For some,’ Angela murmured.

  ‘Anyway,’ Oliver continued. He tapped the side of his head. ‘All it takes is enough willpower to resist them. However, I’m mostly retired now. I just stick to the basics.’

  ‘Just one thing,’ James ventured. ‘We’ve been declared renegade. If Marzdane finds out you’re involved with us, he’ll probably do the same to you.’

  ‘Bah!’ Oliver scoffed. ‘I’ll cross that kettle of fish when they hatch.’

  Sarah was beginning to think this sorcerer was quite mad. Then she thought about it and she realised that her friend Master James Isaacs appeared mad at first too. She concluded she had mistaken brilliance, and the constant need to make a joke out of everything, for insanity once, and she should give this odd sorcerer a bit more time before she decided he was crazy.

  ‘The first thing anyone has to teach this cub is how to shield her thoughts,’ Oliver told them abruptly. He stared into Sarah’s golden eyes. ‘You’re right,’ he told her. ‘Isaacs over there is quite brilliant. That kind of intelligence is often mistaken for madness. I’ve been accused of the same sort of thing for thousands of years.’ He buffed the nails of one hand on his robe. ‘That’s actually come in handy a few times. If an opponent thinks you’re inferior, he’s more likely to make a mistake.’ Then he looked up at Benjamin. ‘If I was possessed by a demon or a devil, don’t you think it would have been obvious by now?’

  Angela stepped forward with a large needle in her hand.

  ‘There’s one way to find out,’ she said and pricked Oliver’s hand with the needle. He scowled at her and watched a large drop of red blood ooze out.

  ‘Satisfied?’

  Angela smiled suspiciously. ‘Not entirely,’ she said. ‘But it will do for now.’

  ‘Good. Sit back down all of you. We’ll talk for a while.’ He rose and crossed to one of the couches, rubbing the back of his hand ruefully. He settled in it and clicked his fingers. A large jug of wine and a dozen glasses appeared on the coffee table between the couches and the fire. ‘Help yourselves,’ he told them. Another enormous, shallow earthenware tub full of water also appeared on the floor. Robert and Roberta immediately took a long drink. Like Benjamin had done in the dining hall, Robert placed both his front paws in the water and splashed them about until Roberta nudged him to stop.

  ‘You’re making a mess,’ she chided him.

  ‘Let him go,’ Oliver told Roberta. ‘I’ve always wondered why wolves do that.’

  Robert grinned at him. ‘It’s just nice to wash one’s paws every now and then,’ he replied.

  ‘So it’s a cleanliness thing then?’

  Robert shook his head, sending a spray of water (and quite a bit of drool) in a wide circle around him.

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said, licking his chops. ‘Sometimes it’s just fun to splash about a bit.’ He grinned. ‘No offence to your butler, but he seems so serious. I can’t help but tease him a bit.’

  Oliver grinned mischievously back at Robert. ‘I know,’ he confessed, ‘it’s just too easy. Teasing José is like taking candy from a baby.’

  Sarah and Mel looked at each other and shrugged. Mel clicked her fingers and a slightly smaller jug appeared. From it wafted the unmistakable smell of hot chocolate. She clicked her fingers again and two mugs appeared.

  ‘Show off,’ Sarah muttered.

  Mel threw her a quick grin.

  Sarah waited for the adults to pour the wine for themselves then poured out two mugs of hot chocolate for Mel and herself.

  Oliver, Ronny and Angela settled back on a couch opposite Sarah and Mel while the werewolves curled up in various spots on the floor. Oliver looked shrewdly at Angela.

  ‘So you’re going to hang around, close to these two?’ he asked.

  Angela nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll be about to give them their normal lessons and to make sure you don’t turn them into complete savages,’ she told him meaningfully.

  Oliver turned to Sarah and Mel. ‘Ladies, since no-one else is going to do it, I might as well introduce myself,’ he told them. ‘I am Oliver Samuel Jacob Cromwell,’ he said, nodding at them. ‘I’m a Master Necromancer, tactical expert and I probably know more about Conundrum than any other living soul. I’ve guided kings and conquerors alike to victory. I’m also something of a chef. If you’re going to stay here and learn from me, then it means you’ll probably be here for the next couple of years.’ He looked at the others. ‘While I’m training these two,’ he said then, as if the matter had already been decided, ‘you three and the Browns over there will be stirring up as much trouble as you can to divert old Marzdane and Mautallius, right?’

  Benjamin chuckled.

  ‘What?’ Oliver demanded. ‘You didn’t expect me to not know that you lot are planning to overthrow Marzdane? He and Mautallius are talking of nothing else.’

  Benjamin’s head was cocked. ‘Okay, so how much do you know?’

  Oliver looked at the ceiling for a moment. ‘I know the Hazelwoods are stirring up sedition against The Guild. I know that you’ve either found or are about to find the missing pieces of The Star of Planes—’

  Sarah gave an involuntary start at the mention of the amulet.

  ‘Good luck with that by the way,’ Oliver told her sourly. ‘I could never get the damned thing to work, even with the help of a god.’ He turned back to Benjamin. ‘And I know that young Troy over there is prophesied left right and centre as The Last, Coppernick here is The First and Hardingleflass over there is The Marked One. How’s that?’

  Melanie glared at him. ‘It’s Hazelwood,’ she muttered.

  Cromwell blinked at her. ‘Phooey. I’ve never met a woman more like Cassandra in all my life. Sure you’ve not got all her physical attributes—’ he smirked unpleasantly, ‘—yet, but you’ve certainly got her temper. You’re Troy through and through.’

  James held up a warning hand to her. ‘Calm down. He’s not the first to make that observation.’

  ‘I can help train them,’ Angela told him. ‘I’ve been teaching the girls some theory already.’

  Oliver nodded. ‘Good. If I were you, I’d concentrate on mathematics, alchemy and prophetic scripture.’ He gave her an appraising look. ‘A bit of martial training wouldn’t hurt either. I’m sure you know how to do that.’

  ‘All in good time. I trust you have all the necessary tomes and literature?’

  ‘It’s all in the library…’ Then his eyes narrowed at her. ‘Oh, I see,’ he murmured. ‘You want to see if there’re any more prophecies about mentioning you all. Well, go ahead. You could spend years doing that and still not get anywhere. To save time, you might want to talk to my oracle Bruce. He’s a bit mad, I’m afraid. Most oracles are, but he’s come in handy a few times.’ He looked about the room. ‘It’s getting late,’ he told them, suddenly putting on a show of being very weary. ‘We’ll talk with Bruce tomorrow.’ He clicked his fingers and vanished again.

  Sarah looked about the room in surprise. ‘Is he going to bed?’ she asked.

  James snorted. ‘He doesn’t sleep. I bet he hasn’t even got a bed. He’s still in here somewhere.’ He glared about the room. ‘He’s going to work on something and he doesn’t want us disturbing him while he’s at it. Let’s go.’ He drained his glass of wine and stood up. The others followed and they walked towards the door.

  As she walked through, Sarah turned to the seemingly empty room.

  ‘Good night, Master Cromwell,’ she called. ‘Thank you.’

  A wry chuckle came from the room. ‘You may not be the brightest sparkle in the sky, Coppernick, but at least you’ve got a decent set of manners. Thank-you and goodnight.’ The door closed behi
nd her.

  Sarah stopped and listened for a moment. She heard several loud scraping sounds, as if all the furniture was moving at once, then a bright light streaked through the gap under the door.

  Mel grabbed her by the arm and hauled her away. The Master sorcerer’s comments about her had disturbed Mel for some reason. Her face was pale and her usual confident and rebellious mood was shaken.

  James was shaking his head in disgust. ‘He’s crazy,’ he muttered as they walked back to their rooms.

  ‘You can talk,’ Mel flared, trying to get her mood back to normal, though her dark green eyes were still haunted.

  James laughed. ‘Of course I can,’ he chortled. ‘I open my mouth and words come out.’

  ‘Sometimes in order!’ Robert teased the Master of Flora.

  The following day, Sarah woke early. As she usually did when she was alone, she adopted her golden haired werewolf form. She quietly padded out of the palace and into the yard surrounding the building. Dawn was just breaking and the world around her seemed to have no colour. Rather, it was a multitude of shades of grey. The air was fresh and cool and Sarah was overcome with a strong desire to run and to discover the layout of the strange place. She ran past stables and barns, startling a small herd of odd-looking goats. Ducks and geese squawked and cackled as they scurried out of her way.

  A rich smell of the sea blew up from the shore. The salt air was thick in her nostrils. She smelled the sea and the sand and all manner of things. She smelled seaweed and the scents of dead sea-creatures that had washed up on the shore. Ignoring the strong scent of rabbits nearby, she loped through the trees to the beach.

  A light breeze was blowing off the still ocean surrounding the island. Sarah bounded over the sand, relishing the feel of it between her claws. She had never run on sand before. Her silky golden mane flowed as she ran. She reached the shore and ran along the edge as waves broke gently. The sun was rising slowly and she could feel the warmth of its first rays breathing life into the land. As she ran, she realised the sea was alive with its own energy. Day and night meant little to it. She realised it was all one and that somewhere, the sun always shone down on its glistening surface.

  An ageless consciousness was there. She could feel the life of the sea! She wondered why she hadn’t felt it while she had been on Captain Thunder’s ship. Then it dawned on her that she had been human for nearly the entirety of the voyage. Her senses were much, much more acute when she was a wolf. She stopped by the shore and sat just ahead of the gentle waves that lapped at the sand. She faced out and watched the sun rise. Even though she could not feel the direction, she knew she had to be facing the east, and that made her feel a little more at ease.

  Then, she felt she was not alone. Benjamin was nearby. He was close. She could feel him.

  ‘Creeping up on me, uncle?’ she cast the thought out behind her.

  ‘You know I’ll always be watching you, cub,’ he replied. He padded up to sit beside her.

  ‘I’m not a cub any more,’ she told him.

  He turned and fixed her with his steel grey eyes. ‘I know,’ he said, smiling with his tongue hanging out. ‘But I’ll always be looking out for you. You’re an exciting wolf to be around, and all wolves love excitement.’ He gently nuzzled her then looked out at the sea. ‘It’s always strange for a wolf to be near the sea,’ he told her. ‘We’re forest dwellers.’

  ‘It’s alive,’ she murmured, also staring out at the sea.

  ‘It has its own awareness,’ Benjamin agreed.

  ‘Has it ever spoken to you?’

  Benjamin cocked his head to the side. ‘Now that you mention it,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t think it has.’ He looked up at the water. ‘Good Morning,’ he said to the sea.

  Moments passed with no response. Sarah also cast out her greeting.

  ‘Morning,’ she echoed her uncle.

  Finally, a distant hushed voice came to them through the waves. They heard it in their minds more than their ears, much the same way the voices of Wolfenvald spoke to them.

  ‘And good morn to thee of Wolfenvald.’

  The sea’s dialect was ancient and its words seemed to be sung rather than spoken. Sarah sensed a wisdom in that voice that seemed even older than the presence she felt in the only place she ever felt at home. Wolfenvald was in her veins and the power and knowledge of that ancient forest was growing within her. The sea, she realised, was more powerful than anything she had ever felt before.

  ‘Awesome!’ she breathed.

  ‘Yes,’ Benjamin replied, his eyes a mystery. ‘Come, young wolf,’ he said to her then. ‘It’s time to hunt.’

  Sarah joined her uncle as the two loped easily over the sand to the trees. Soon, Robert and Roberta joined them. The close-knit pack hunted as one, soon finding their prey. Rabbits aplenty provided them with their breakfast. After an hour or so, the four werewolves made their way back to the palace.

  Oliver Cromwell and Angela greeted them at the entrance. Mel, along with Ronny and James, were all standing off to one side. Their expressions were worried.

  ‘I hope you enjoyed your breakfast,’ Oliver observed shortly. ‘It’s probably going to be the most pleasurable part of the day, I’m afraid.’

  Robert and Roberta looked at each other with their huge brown eyes. The normally playful Brown Coat werewolves sensed that something was quite wrong and it was not a time for their usual jokes. Roberta whined quietly.

  ‘Oh shush,’ James chided. ‘It’s not that bad. In fact, we should think of it as a sign that everything is going as we hope.’

  ‘Why?’ Sarah asked Cromwell nervously. ‘What happened?’ She was mindful that the strange sorcerer had implied she wasn’t too bright and didn’t want to do anything to encourage that view. She looked at James and her aunt and uncle. ‘What’s going on?’

  Cromwell smiled coldly. ‘Last night, your old friends, Mautallius and that drip Marzdane, showed some of their hand.’

  ‘What did they do?’ Uncle Robert asked, changing form. Sarah and the others followed suit.

  Oliver withdrew a copy of Spellcaster Monthly and handed it to Sarah. She held it out so everyone could read it.

  Chairman sues!

  Marzdane has denied having any links to Mautallius and has levelled charges within The Sorcerers’ Guild Court to have Spellcaster Monthly shut down. In an unrelated matter, The Sorcerer’s Guild has released a list of those sorcerers it has declared renegade. Sheila Freeman, David Crocket, Freddrix Stewart, Marcus Benedict, Oliver Cromwell Senior…

  ‘It seems he anticipated your move to find me,’ Oliver told them. ‘I’ve been declared renegade.’

  Sarah handed the paper to her uncle Benjamin.

  ‘This is stupid,’ Benjamin remarked, scanning the list. ‘Half of these guys aren’t even alive any more. Who leaked these names to the paper, I wonder?’

  ‘Renegade,’ Oliver muttered sourly. ‘I can’t believe I’m a renegade.’

  ‘Hah!’ scoffed James. ‘You’ll get used to it. Besides,’ he added. ‘The Guild isn’t all-powerful, you know. It’s not like they actually have the power to tell you what you can and can’t do is it? You do what you want regardless. Their only strength is when they’re all combined to one purpose.’ He shrugged. ‘And if you’re that upset by it, once the smoke has cleared, have a chat to Dolf in the Secretary’s office. It’ll cost you, but he’ll get you back in.’

  Oliver scowled at the bald botanist. ‘I helped build that Guild and now it’s being run by a petty little pipsqueak and his demon loving chum. I shouldn’t have to buy my way back in when I shouldn’t have been kicked out in the first place!’

  The master necromancer was very angry. The air around him shimmered and sparked. Unlike the strange phenomenon that also gave evidence when other sorcerers were foul tempered, the shimmering air around Oliver Cromwell was dark and the grass beneath his feet sizzled and turned black.

  Angela stepped up to him. ‘Never mind all that for now,’ she
told him. ‘Why don’t we go and see this Bruce of yours? Where is he?’

  Cromwell shrugged. ‘Alright,’ he muttered. ‘He’s in the west wing basement.’ He clicked his fingers. Instantly, he and the entire group were inside a smoky, stonewalled cavern. Burning torches hung from the walls and somewhere water was dripping.

  They appeared to be very deep underground. Sarah looked about. The room was large and rectangular. The floor was bare save for a few mouldy-looking rugs. At one end was a large stone altar surrounded by several burning torches. There was no door in or out. At the ceiling along regular intervals were small air vents. These vents, it seemed, did little to freshen the air. The cavern reeked of smoke and filth. Ronny was shaking his head in confusion.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Mel whispered to him.

  ‘My bump-of-uppses,’ he told her, tapping his head. ‘This place is weird.’

  Instinctively, Sarah changed form back to that of her Golden Mane werewolf shape and immediately wished she hadn’t. The air certainly smelled far worse now. She padded over to the altar. There in the shadows behind it was a small huddled figure. She crouched low and inched forward. The muck on the floor felt quite awful. She lifted one paw and shook it a few times then gave up. Baring her teeth at the unpleasantness, she inched through the muck.

  The crouched figure gave a sudden howl and erupted in a flurry of filthy rags and mud. Sarah stopped. Her ears were flat and her tail was down.

  Though the rags and dirt hid most of the figure’s face and body, Sarah could see it was a very scrawny man. His eyes were enormous and appeared to be all pupils. His hair was lank and matted with dirt and bits of straw. After a moment, the strange fellow calmed himself and stepped forward.

  ‘Hullo,’ he said finally. ‘I’m Bruce.’

  Master Cromwell nodded at the odd fellow. ‘I’ve brought you some visitors, Bruce.’

  Bruce cocked his head sideways. ‘Of course you have,’ he snapped. ‘Any fool can smell that.’ He began capering around on the floor, muttering madly to himself.

  Sarah realised the dirt-covered man was blind. She also wondered just how he could smell anything over his own fetid odour.