The Accidental sorcerer ra-1

by K. E. Mills

  After a lifetime of stairs they reached ground level and continued along a low-ceilinged, narrow-walled corridor of stone. On and on it unwound, sinuous as a snake. The temperature fell. Here and there the torchlight flickered on threads of moisture trickling down the dark, dank walls.

  He lost track of time and distance. Thought suspended, he just put one foot in front of the other, following Lional without question or hope of defiance. Eventually there was no more corridor so they stopped. Set into the rock wall before them was an ancient rough-hewn door. Ugly glyphs, crudely carved into the weathered timber, marred its splintered surface. The shape of them woke fresh dread, reminding him of the obscenity of Lional's fingers as he worked his will upon the servant Davenport.

  Humming again, Lional pulled a ring of keys from one of his pockets and began to sort through them. After a moment he turned, his shadow-flickered face grotesque with self-mockery. 'Aren't I a silly? You'd think I'd remember which one it is by now. Ah! Here we are… You know,' he added confidingly, a big brass key in his hand,'I could just as easily lock this with a spell but there's something so satisfying about a key' He fitted it into the door's lock and turned it. There was a click. Lional pushed and the door swung open. 'After you, Gerald.'

  The space beyond the open doorway was pitch black and cold. He felt loose dirt underfoot. Lional locked the door again and pocketed the keyring. There was a snap of fingers and a whispered word and the absolute darkness disappeared in a coruscation of light. Unable to shield his eyes Gerald squeezed them tight shut instead and saw the world as a blood-red shadow.

  'Come along now, Professor, don't be a spoilsport,' Lional's hateful voice reproved him. 'Don't you want to see your new home?'

  What he wanted was to wake up from this nightmare to find himself safe in his shoebox room at the Wizards' Club. He wanted to be nothing more exalted than a probationary compliance officer, answerable to Scunthorpe, despised by Errol Haythwaite and benignly bullied by Reg. Reg.

  Oh, lord. How long before she reached Ottosland and Monk? How long before she could raise the alarm?

  'GeraldV said Lional and slapped him, hard. 'Pay attention!' Cheek burning, he opened his eyes.

  He stood in a cave as large as a ballroom. It was lit like a ballroom, too, bobbing round lights clustered high beneath the rocky ceiling. Unlike most caves, this one had no mouth. The only way in or out was through the carved wooden door behind him.

  'Excellent!' said Lional. 'You know, Gerald, you'll find we'll get along very much better if you just do what you're told when you're told and how you're told to do it.'

  He tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. He heard himself grunt, an animal sound.

  Lional frowned. 'Oh dear. I think we'd best put you back the way you were, Professor, before you embarrass yourself Pulling a green stone out of one black silk trouser pocket he breathed on it, whispering, then held it up before his captive's eyes. 'Look deep now, Gerald.' Helpless, he looked.

  A rush of burning, as though the incant sunk through his flesh and bones had suddenly caught fire. A spinning dizziness, the feeling of being drawn swiftly upwards by an invisible thread. The ring on his finger flared, searing. He cried out in pain, another animal sound.

  And then he was free. He staggered backwards until his shoulder-blades met the unforgiving cave wall, ripped the signet ring from his finger and threw it into the dirt. 'Reg was right. You tried to kill me.'

  Lional considered him thoughtfully. 'Not… precisely. And really, is that any way to treat a present?' 'Fine. You tried to steal my power then kill me.'

  'Close enough,' Lional conceded. 'The goal was indeed to appropriate your magicali potentia, as I appropriated the potentias of the five wizards who came before you. Your death, like theirs, would've been a convenient side effect.'

  Gerald laughed, unwisely triumphant. 'But I'm not like those other wizards, am I? You failed… Your Majesty.'

  A muscle leapt along Lional's jaw. 'Don't get your hopes up, Gerald. I haven't failed yet.' His eyes lit with an inner fire and his aura ignited, crackling fiercely, silently, in a nimbus of purple and black. 'I am a wizard, after all.'

  Despite himself, he flinched. The malevolence radiating from Lional's display was choking. He felt befouled, nauseated.'You're no wizard. You're just a thief

  Lional's fist quenched the flare of power. The fire in his eyes dwindled to a pinprick of crimson light, flickering deep. 'Wrong, Gerald. I am unique!

  'What you are is stark staring bonkers. Raving lunacy on legs.'

  All of Lional's masculine beauty vanished. Twisted with hate and a brooding malice he took a step forward, fist raised. 'Don't push me, Gerald! I can be quite… vengeful… when I'm pushed.'

  'You've already been pushed, mate, right over the edge!'

  'InsolenceV hissed Lional. 'Hold your tongue, peasant! It's time for you to make me a dragon.'

  Gerald swallowed. Keep him talking. That was all he could do, keep the mad king talking and pray that Reg got back in time with Monk and the Department's cavalry. 'Are you deaf as well as insane?' he sneered. 'How many times do you need me to say it? I will never make you a dragon. And anyway, even if I did it, wouldn't do you any good. The Kallarapi aren't stupid. You just wish they were. Shugat won't buy your fake dragon any more than he bought Reg and Tavistock. He'll let loose his holy man powers on you and once you're dead the world will be a better place!'

  'Shugat?' Lional laughed, the sound raggedly bouncing from wall to wall. 'Shugat will burn! Zazoor will burn! Every last Kallarapi shall burn to ash and bone and their desert will be rnineV

  And that really was crazy. 'Yours? Why the hell do you want their desert?'

  An indrawn breath, then Lional stopped. The fury and rapacity wiped clean from his face, as though his features were made of fine pale sand and a smoothing hand had passed across them. He smiled politely, urbanity incarnate. 'AH in good time, Gerald.'

  He pushed away from the wall. 'I don't have good time. I'm leaving.'

  'I don't think so,' said Lional and clapped his hands.'Impedimentia implacatol

  Gerald's feet froze to the cave floor in mid-stride; he paddled the air frantically, trying not to fall over. Balance regained, he snapped his fingers. 'Nux nullimia!' Nothing happened.

  'You're wasting your time,' said Lional, eyes glinting with petty amusement. 'Ingeniously hidden in this cave is a lodestone, calibrated to suppress all thaumaturgical signatures except my own. A rather clever modification I designed, feel free to be impressed. Until I say otherwise, your formidable powers are completely inaccessible to you, Gerald. So you see? You have no choice but to help me.'

  A lodestone. Things just kept on getting better and better… 'I'll help you all right. All the way to a full tribunal hearing at the United Magical Nations and from there into a not too comfortable cell where you can spend the rest of your miserable, manipulative, criminal life!'

  'No, I can't say that's what I had in mind,' Lional mused. 'I was thinking more along the lines of us crushing the Kallarapi and ushering in New Ottosland's bigger, brighter future.'

  'Us?' Gerald laughed. Even to himself he sounded unsteady, on the edge. 'There's no us here. There's just me and a well-dressed murderer.'

  Lional pulled a face. 'Oh come now, Gerald, there's no need to be parochial. You're a wizard, man. You have to think beyond the mundane. Yes, some people have died. But it was in a good cause. New Ottosland's cause. Their sacrifices will be remembered, I promise. I'll put a plaque on a wall somewhere with all their names on it, how does that sound?' 'Insane,' he said grimly. 'Just like you.' Lional lifted a warning finger. 'Careful, Gerald.'

  He gasped as a bolt of pain shot through him. Blood trickled down the back of his throat. He swallowed, gagging at the metallic taste.

  Don't antagonise him, you fool. Keep him talking. He wants to boast. Show off. Encourage him, don't make him angry. Every minute he keeps talking is a minute that gets you closer to rescue. 'You put the kybosh on the crystal bal
l.'

  'I did,' said Lional, smiling complacently. 'I wasn't entirely convinced your memory was gone. Didn't want to risk you making any inconvenient calls. Polarised lightning! He laughed. 'I do wish I could've seen your face as I fed Melissande that rigmarole. I expect it was priceless!'

  Gerald felt his fingers clench into fists. 'You knew I was there.'

  The complacent smile returned.'Of course. The potentias of five wizards, remember? Why do you think I made up all that drivel in the first place? For Melissande? Hardly'

  'Well I'll give you this much, Lional. You may be crazy but you're not an idiot.'

  'No, Rupert's the idiot in my family,' said Lional, then raised a sharp finger. 'And I'd appreciate it, Gerald, if you addressed me with just a little more respect.'

  Another flaring bolt of pain. Another rush of blood down the back of his throat. Anchored to the floor by Lional's incant he dropped to his knees, nearly breaking both ankles. 'All right, all rightl I'm sorry, Your MajestyV Lional looked down at him. 'That's better.'

  'Fine. Now would you please release the impedimentia implacatcR You said it yourself, I can't hurt you in here and I think the blood's stopped flowing to my feet.'

  After a moment Lional nodded. 'Very well. Since you asked so nicely' He waved one hand and whispered under his breath.

  Gerald felt a tingle run through his legs. Moving carefully, he levered himself back onto his feet. Stamped them to get the feeling back. 'Thank you.' Lional's eyebrows lifted. 'Your Majesty' Keep him talking, keep him talking. 'I wonder… can I ask you something else?' 'If you must,' sighed Lional.

  'Rupert — His Highness — said you had no magical aptitude. If that's true how is any of this possible?'

  'Rupert said?' Lional frowned. 'Well, well. What a little rattle-tongue young Rupert is proving to be. I shall have to speak to him. Severely'

  Damn. 'Don't! Rupert's as harmless as one of his butterflies, you know he is. Leave him alone.'With an effort, he moderated his tone. 'Please, Your Majesty.'

  Lional considered him. 'Well… perhaps you're right.' He shrugged. 'And so is Rupert. I have no real natural metaphysical aptitude of my own.' 'Then how did you steal — ' 'You'd like me to explain?'

  'Yes. I would.' Because he really did want to know. Not just for himself but so — in the unlikely event he got out of this mess — he could tell the authorities. One Lional in the annals of thaumaturgy was one too many.

  Lional consulted his pocket watch. 'I suppose we've a few minutes before we must get down to business. Pull up a patch of dirt then, Professor, and I'll tell you my fascinating story.'

  He sat on the floor with his back against the rough cave wall and watched as Lional closed his eyes and raised one finger. A moment later an armchair appeared beside him; with a pleased smile, he sat in it.

  Gerald swallowed dismay. Oh, hell. A thought. He can translocate objects with a thought. And we must be miles from the palace, we walked for ages. He can translocate objects over miles with just a thought.

  His only consolation was that Lional was unable to steal his potentia. Why that was he didn't know or much care. So long as Lional couldn't rip it out of him, as he'd done to Bottomley and the others, there was still a chance of thwarting the mad king's plans.

  / don't know how, but there must be a chance. Because if I don't stop him people are going to die.

  Lional cleared his throat. 'Are you listening, Gerald?' he demanded, a distinct and razored edge to his voice.

  He wrapped his arms around his knees. Keep him talking, keep him talking. Wliatever you do, don't make him angry. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

  'Then in the tradition of all good fairy tales we shall begin with "Once Upon A Time",' said Lional, legs crossed, hands elegantly at ease, the epitome of genteel sophistication.'So. Once upon a time, the kings of New Ottosland were magically talented in their own right. As far as I can tell they never actually did anything with it, but nevertheless the talent was there. Unfortunately, over the ensuing generations and most likely due to indiscriminate breeding, our abilities became more and more diluted. In fact until recently we were good for little more than parlour tricks. I mean, Melissande's a dab hand with a crystal ball, Rupert can make butterflies land on his head and with a lot of effort and some nose bleeding / could levitate a pencil half an inch into the air.' He chuckled. 'I can do a trifle more than that now, of course.' Bastard. 'Only because you — ' 1 Manners]' Lional said sharply.

  Gerald winced as a frisson of fire whispered through him. Hating Lional so fiercely he could taste it he said,'Sorry, Your Majesty.'

  Lional nodded. 'Very well. But don't make me remind you again. Now, to continue. I've always known that to create the New Ottosland of my dreams I'd need power. Wizard power. My stupid father, may he rot in hell, wouldn't give me a wizard of my own, growing up. I had to wait till he died, which wasn't nearly soon enough. But die he did, at long, long last, and I lured Pomodoro Uffitzi into my employ. I wanted him to help me develop my meagre skills. I didn't believe those fools from your Department. I thought all I needed to become a powerful wizard was the proper training.'

  'AH the training in the world won't help you if you lack raw talent.'

  'Careful, Gerald.' Eyes narrowed, Lional shifted in the chair. 'Pomodoro considered himself the world's foremost thaumaturgical scholar. He had an extraordinary library of magical texts — but he refused to let me see it, can you imagine? Claimed there were books no eyes but his own were fit to look upon. But, like you, Uffitzi underestimated my… dedication.'

  He hated giving Lional the satisfaction but he had to know. 'What books, Your Majesty? What didn't he want you to see?'

  Lional gazed thoughtfully at the cave's ceiling. 'Well… there was Pygram's Pestilences — that one's fun. Lots of interesting plagues and things to play with in that one. Then there was The Ebony Staff. Some fabulous curses in there, Gerald, you'd be amazed. Hands turning into hooves. Noses falling off, not to mention other bits. Oh yes. Perfectly ingenious. Now, what else? Ah… of course. The most important book of all. The one that changed my life.' He released a slow, ecstatic sigh.'Grummen's Lexicon!

  Gerald bit his tongue so hard he drew blood. 'That's impossible. There are only two copies of that book in existence, neither of them intact. They've been split into seventeen sections and dispersed between six different countries, held in separate secret locations, bound by curse and key. You can't have one.'

  Lional smiled. 'I'm afraid whoever told you that was a trifle misinformed, Gerald. There are three copies of Grummen's Lexicon in existence. And I keep mine on the bedside table.'

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Shaken to sickness, Gerald tried to hide his horror. Saint Snodgrass save us all. Grummen's Lexicon? His belly churned with acid, with undigested food it wanted to reject. 'Yours? You mean Pomodoro Uffitzi's.'

  Another amused smile. 'Technically. I suppose. But you know what they say, Gerald. Finder's keepers.'

  With an effort he swallowed the scalding bile. Keep him talking. 'And it was the Lexicon that showed you how to strip another wizard's power from him and take it into yourself?'

  'Amongst other things,' Lional agreed. 'I'm not saying it was easy, mind you. It wasn't. I had to perform other tasks first, things to prod and provoke my own pathetic potentia into life.' He sighed theatrically, i suffered, Gerald. No-one can imagine how I suffered. But I didn't care. I was doing it for New Ottosland.'

  For New Ottosland? he wanted to shout. For yourself, you murdering madman] The more he heard, the more he realised just how dangerous Lional truly was. Powerful, ruthless… and armed with magics so foul, so evil, no sane wizard had ever risked the using of them.

  Except Lional's not sane, is he? And he's been studying Grummen's Lexicon. How the hell am I supposed to beat him?

  He took a deep steadying breath. 'So you killed Uffitzi and the others,' he said, careful not to sound accusing. 'Took their potentias. Then why try and take mine? You can't need it, you're already more powerful than an
y wizard in history'

  Lional shrugged. 'You'd think so, wouldn't you? Alas. All I can do is what they could do, Gerald. Better, admittedly. With more force, to be sure. But not one of them had the ability to turn Tavistock into a lion. Don't you know how rare that is? How special?'

  I do now. And I curse the day I ever thought of becoming a wizard.'I never thought about it…Your Majesty.'

  Leaning forward, face alight, Lional said, 'It's incredible. I tried to take your potentia three times. The third attempt nearly finished me. Why? What makes you impervious?'

  Gerald shook his head. 'I've no idea.' And even if I did I wouldn't tell you.

  Lional sat back, eyes glittering. 'I heard that, Gerald. I'll bet you would, you know. Eventually'

  It took everything he had but he didn't drop his gaze from Lional's face. 'You still haven't told me what's so important about Kallarap's desert.'

  'No. I haven't. And why do you care? Unless…' Lional thought for a moment then gasped. 'No! Surely you don't think you're going to escape and raise the alarm? Save the day? Be a hero? Oh, GeraldV

  He let Lional's mocking laughter wash over him. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but buying more time.

  'You're right, Your Majesty' he said, striving to sound hollow and beaten. 'You've won. I can't escape… and I'm no-one's idea of a hero.'

  'But you'd like to know what it's all about? Of course,' said Lional, mockingly sympathetic. 'And I'll tell you. I'm not an unreasonable man. If one is to die, one at least should know what one is dying for. That's only fair.'

  If one is to die… 'If I'm dead I can't make you a dragon, Your Majesty.'

  Lional's smile was lethal. 'I meant afterwards, naturally'

  Naturally. 'In which case what incentive do I have to obey you?'

  Again, the lethal smile. 'Trust me, Gerald. I can provide all the incentive you require. But we can discuss that later. You wanted to know about Kallarap s desert?'

  If he let himself think too closely about what Lional was implying he'd lose the last of his dwindling courage.'Yes, Your Majesty'