The Sorcerer of Wands: Azabar's Icicle Part 2

by Jem I Kelley

  In the afternoon, Martha brought books about Disc-Worlds which granddad Todd had borrowed from the Haverland library, too and a tiny letter from his parents that had arrived by Royal Haverland carrier pigeon. Aden opened the letter eagerly.

  ‘My Dearest Aden,

  I hope you are well, and have recovered from your ordeal in that awful prison.

  You will know of our predicament now, and I must ask you not to worry about us.

  Your father and I feel well and safe. The beasts that besiege Novogorad have immense physical strength; but, they lack siege engines and the wherewithal to build them. The creatures simply can’t breach the city walls.

  We have ample stockpiles of food and water. The bugbears; however, must send hunting parties farther for game: I don’t think they can maintain the siege for more than another month.

  Your father and I are busy raising the morale of the more timid members of the Embassy.

  There are scant messenger-pigeons left so I might not be able to write again, until the siege lifts.

  As soon as this trouble clears, we will visit and learn of your trials over the last two years.

  Lots of love,

  Mum (and Dad!)

  Aden folded the letter, and put it back in the envelope.

  He sat staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the lump that had formed in his throat, when he thought of his parents. If the bugbears did somehow obtain siege engines, then the people inside Novogorad would be in more trouble than they thought. If the bugbears managed to find lots of food then the siege would last a lot longer than anyone expected. Lots of Ifs and Buts swirled around inside his head.

  On the Wall it had said there was widespread panic in the Novogorad city and soldiers were struggling to keep control. He knew that was probably wild exaggeration. Unfortunately, when one’s own parents are in such circumstances it becomes difficult to ignore even the most blatant gossip.

  To take his mind off his parents, he looked at the books granddad Todd brought from the library. One detailed the adventures of Kurt Hardcastle, one the adventures of Sally Blaine, and one described aspects of the known worlds. The last book was published ten years ago and so recently discovered worlds weren’t in it.

  Aden flicked through the books. He searched for mention of a world with a huge sun, like his desert disc-world. He found none. He looked for tips on desert expeditions and found plenty. Both Kurt and Sally had made desert trips.

  He soon learnt the equipment requirements for the forthcoming trip to the green squares. First, a wide brimmed hat otherwise one’d get sunstroke. Aden thought Roger Simms hunting stall in the market would sell hats. Second, he’d need water flasks to prevent dehydration. Salt, because people lose it from their bodies when they sweat a lot. Iodine crystals, to stop the water going foul; plus, a haversack, food, comfortable shoes, bandages, note pad and pencil.

  The books mentioned using smoked glass to protect the eyes from the sun. Aden didn’t know if he could get this, glass being as expensive as it was, but thought hats would do as long as the brims were real wide. Since being sunburnt, Kurt had made sure clothing covered him head-to-foot when he entered deserts, so Aden added thin gloves and long sleeved shirts to the list.

  By time he’d finished reading the books, he knew what he needed to buy and guessed a silver coin would pay for the lot. He also felt a growing sense of anticipation within.

  Deserts weren’t just large hot empty places, he’d discovered. Kurt and Sally both described desert encounters with creatures just as fabulous as one could hope for in the best of adventures.

  Aden was particularly impressed with the Boulder Beebles, the Explosive Knutts and the Boo-Slang Blimps.

  Boulder Beebles looked like real boulders; but, were in fact giant beetles with grey shells that fully encompassed the body when closed. Anyone straying too close… SNAP, the shell opened and the carnivorous insect would have your leg before you could blink.

  Kurt explained in a footnote the beetles were more uniformly round than real boulders, and a person aware of their surroundings, would notice the creatures before getting too close to them.

  Kurt also encountered Boo-Slang Blimps: house-sized inflated skins, sporting eyes and limbs on their base. The Boo-Slangs altered altitude by manipulating the gas in their skin-sack. They carried rocks the size of a person’s head and would glide along in flocks dropping these rocks on creatures they spotted; smashing them as would a crow drop a snail to crush it. Then they’d deflate, land, and scrabble back along the ground to feed on the battered remains.

  Kurt noted in his book that as Boo-Slangs were slaves to the direction of the prevailing wind one could avoid them if a lookout kept watch of the skies.

  The final creature to stir Aden’s imagination was the Explosive Knutt, detailed in Sally’s autobiography. The Explosive Knutt, she explained, is an oasis palm tree. It differed from normal palm trees, in that it dropped nuts that exploded on contact with the ground, killing nearby creatures. Sally’s hypothesis was the decomposing creatures gave goodness back to the soil, and thus, to the palm, even if the tree did tend to batter itself in the process.

  The palm’s nuts sported distinctive thorns, easily spotted yards away. An observant explorer had nothing to fear from them, said Sally.

  Many people would be discouraged from exploring after reading of such fearful monsters, but not Aden. For him, fabulous creatures were part of what adventuring was all about and the cautious explorer would survive such encounters.

  As sleep came upon him and his eyes blinked, then closed, dreams came easy. He strode towards green squares. Dust swirled around his feet; the air swam hot and dry, bizarre creatures lunged towards him and exotic structures loomed up out of the desert…

  Chapter 41: the Ambassador’s Garden Party

  Sunday morning arrived and Aden woke brightly: physical and mental energies restored by the days rest. He pushed back the covers and raced downstairs to find Bliss, who’d been forced to sleep in the living room to prevent disturbing her friend’s recovery.

  “Everyone’s heard about you getting knocked out,” said Bliss looking up from her breakfast, and brushing her dark curly locks from her eyes. “...and about Grimus Spalding being a crook too, of course. That’s all anyone talked about yesterday. I expect you’ll get it in the neck today.”

  Aden reached for the butter, and spread it thick on a slice of bread. Bliss finished a glass of milk.

  “You feeling all right now then?”

  “Jaw’s a bit achy; but, not too bad. Have you spoken to Saib?”

  Bliss nodded.

  “He’s been a grokkin great sport. When I explained everything, he said he understood how we'd added two and two together, and made eight. I tried some of that turmeric stuff of his, too. It’s hot on the tongue like nothing else.”

  “Anything else happen?”

  “Oh Alicia came by and tried that ‘slow’ stuff; but, I just shrugged it off. No-one else is saying it, they all think we’re heroes now. No ones worried Sardohan gave us those coins, anymore. The Wall’s not saying anything bad about us or my mum; it’s all about how we defeated a dangerous drugs gang and stopped the Threat To The Kingdom. I know Grimus probably wasn’t really the ‘Threat’, but best not to mention it right now, Aden.

  “Anyway, I also gave the fishermen a gold coin like Hacknor told us too; but, Ernie Hobbs wouldn’t accept the other one saying his niece had a drug problem and anyone ‘who stopped those 'barstewards’' could have an Adventurine cod on him.

  “Hacknor’s made sarky comments about you needing rest. Marti, Hamble and a few others said they’d come and visit, until I told them mum was banning visitors and you’d be out and about today.”

  Aden finished off his piece of bread and sipped at his milk.

  “What about the garden party?”

  Bliss shrugged. “It’s pretty much set-up. A few more chairs to bring in and the food to be brought over. We have to be there by Eight, to finish before
it starts at Ten.”

  “Right,” said Aden, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, “What are we waiting for?”

  The Ambassadors Garden party was in the grounds of the Solant Embassy. Solant lay South of Novogorad, North of Haverland and neighboured the free cities of Ameria. As he passed through the gate into the Embassy grounds, Aden tried to remember what else he knew about Solant. He knew the air ran chilly, stone dwarves dwelt in its Eastern Mountains, it wasn’t at war with anyone; a large fishing fleet sailed from its ports and goat herds roamed its hills.

  Hacknor waited for them, his usual dour expression deepened as they sauntered across the lawn to meet him.

  “Almost Eight O’clock,” he said, looking at his watch.

  “You said be here by Eight.”

  “Although you didn’t have to be here until Eight, Miss Todd, the other porters managed to arrive about half an hour ago, because they realized there was plenty to do before the garden party opens. You and Detective Green here, get down to the docks. There are blocks of ice, for the grand marquee. The guests will want to chill their champagne.”

  There were two ice blocks; the friends took one each. The dockers gave them wisecracks about ‘looking out for shipping’ and ‘don’t sink anything on a Sunday’, referring to the children’s incident with the cod. The jibes were good humoured and the friends laughed at them. Within the hour they'd returned and deposited the ice in the grand marquee. They saw Plumbert but he talked to the Solant Ambassador and could only spare time to wave.

  Hacknor had them help the embassy staff by taking plates of food into the grand marquee from the mansion. Sausages on sticks, cheese on sticks, onions on sticks, cakes, pancakes, pastries, soups, jellies, pickles, chicken wings and much else. Aden and Bliss were not shy in checking all the food tasted fine, either.

  At Ten O’ clock, the garden party was ready.

  Smartly dressed guests filtered through the gates into the Embassy gardens and Hacknor told the porters they’d be needed again at Six O’clock in the evening to help clear up. If they wanted to stay, during the meantime, they could as long as they fetched red tunics from the Solant staff and helped out when asked.

  “Makes me look like a tomato,” said Bliss, adjusting her tunic.

  Aden tugged at his: “Mines a bit tight.”

  More guests arrived and the friends went to where the tug of war competition was starting. Bright ribbons cordoned off a section of freshly cut lawn and a crowd had gathered to watch the trial of strength. First round was Dazarian versus the Steppe Kingdom of Achbor. A length of rope as thick as a man’s forearm lay on the ground and two teams were limbering up under the warm early autumn sun.

  “Ah, my dear children,” said a voice, Aden turned to see Sardohan his three daughters and wife approach. Bliss groaned under her breath.

  The Dazarian Ambassador wore a grey suit with long coat tails. On his head sat a tall hat. He looked dapper; his stomach no longer swollen.

  The girls were dressed in flowery gowns, and so too Mrs Sardohan. This was Aden’s first sight of the ambassador’s wife; she stood tall, thin and held her nose at an upward angle. Like her husband and daughters there was a shade to her skin that was almost gray, and in turn her eyes held the barest tint of yellow.

  “These two fine children are Aden Green and Bliss Todd,” said Sardohan, to his wife. Mrs Sardohan stared at the two as if they were a pair of insects, and then found her nails more interesting of attention.

  Alicia’s eyes travelled from the red tunic Aden wore, to the working-man’s trousers and boots. Her lips curled.

  “My, what a fine pair of robins you are.”

  Her two sisters giggled.

  Bliss thrust her chin out; Aden noticed and spoke first.

  “Hello Ambassador. Do you think you stand much chance in the tug of war contest? The steppe people are good at sport.”

  Sardohan adjusted his cravat and creased his nose.

  “I dare say we’ll give it a go. Afraid a problem befell us, with one member of our team straining a muscle; managed to recruit our newest member of staff instead. Ah, here he is now.”

  Aden and Bliss turned and their jaws dropped. Gnashlok lumbered up the grassy slope wearing the Dazarian sport’s costume: desert yellow striped against black and a crow emblem dominating the whole. He didn’t notice the friends as his eyes were on the Dazarian Tug of war team. A head and shoulders above the other competitors, he grabbed the end of the rope and braced himself. The almond-eyed men of the steppes reacted with fury and mutterings, came from the spectators.

  Sardohan chuckled at the uproar.

  “How do you like my new member of staff? He was incarcerated in the same prison as you two, until recently. He’s a reformed character now. In fact I believe he always had an outstanding character, just fell on hard times. Don’t suppose you know him? Prisons are a large place.”

  The referee, a squat man with an oiled moustache and sporting a red striped jacket and cap, hurried up to Sardohan.

  “This isn’t fair, you can’t include him in your team.”

  “Why ever not, my dear chap?”

  The man’s moustache twitched.

  “It won’t be a balanced contest.”

  “Five human players on each side, that’s the rub of the rules isn’t it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well what’s your problem, dear man?”

  “He doesn’t look… well you know I don’t think he’s totally...”

  Sardohan’s smile was indulgent.

  “Ah heritage is it? Gnashlok’s father was half-Ogre, his mother, bless her soul, a human. It makes him more human than not, even if perhaps he does tend to favour his father’s side more. You’re not going to rule against a quarter ogre are you? He is a member of my staff.”

  The referee quibbled.

  “Hmm, ha...”

  Sardohan put is hands to his hips and brought full ambassadorial outrage to bear.

  “Bad form this. His mixed parentage has caused the poor fellow no end of trouble and now he gets people like you barring him from sport.”

  Aden didn’t think the problem was Gnashlok’s mixed heritage as such, it was the fact the mixed heritage included ogre stock: adding ogre strength to a team of humans involved in a game of strength, wasn’t sportsmanlike. He willed the referee not too buckle.

  The referee and Sardohan stared at each other for a few moments in a trial of wills, then the referee tore his eyes away.

  “Oh, all right,” he snapped, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead under Sardohan’s glare. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed them. “You can include him.”

  Aden glanced at Bliss, who rolled her eyes.

  Sardohan tipped his hat: “You’re a gentleman, Sir, I have no doubt.

  The referee stomped off to start the match.

  Sardohan leaned in towards the friends and his eyes twinkled.

  “By the way, good detective job on Grimus Spalding. To think the man was a rank smuggler! Who’d have thought it, eh?”

  Aden would have replied; but, a whistle blew, and the tug-of-war match began. The teams grimaced as the rope sprang taught, bringing a cheer from the crowd. At first, the coloured scarf tied to the rope’s centre moved to neither the left nor right. But, the Achborians shouted encouragements to amongst themselves and Aden saw the scarf flicker an inch towards their line. Gnashlok, he thought, didn’t appear to be trying.

  “I hope the gold coins I sent you made amends for my outrageous behaviour?” said Sardohan.

  Aden was wondering whether Gnashlok deliberately took the tug of war contest easy.

  “Very kind of you,” he replied, tightly.

  Sardohan chuckled.

  “I gather my recompense has caused friction between you and your fellows on the market. Dreadfully sorry about that, people start such outrageous rumours.”

  Aden turned to the ambassador.

  “Yes,” he said. “I can see your upset.”

  Sardohan
put on a reasonably believable show of sympathy, and then patted his daughter on the head, a gesture which brought a scowl from her.

  “And my little petal became involved in a misunderstanding with you and Bliss which led to the cod incident. I’m sure you’re quite annoyed with me and my family, eh? One unfortunate incident after another.”

  He thrust forward his hand.

  “Let’s put all this behind us.”

  Bliss turned away from the tug-of-war at Sardohan’s words, and both friends stared at the hand proffered them. Aden was stunned by Sardohan’s actions and didn’t know how to react.

  “Come on,” chided Sardohan, “There’s too much trouble in this dire world of ours, without us forging more.”

  Aden glanced at Bliss looking for some kind of signal.

  Bliss shrugged and so Aden put his hand out and clasped Sardohan’s. He found a strong, cold grip as Sardohan shook both arms up and down before detaching and doing likewise with Bliss.

  “Hello Aden, Bliss,” said a plodding voice into the strained atmosphere. Both groups turned towards the parting crowd. Hamble in his green suit came hobbling towards them leaving deep handprints in the lawn. Molly May, her hair in a bun, accompanied him. A man wearing brown robes, sandals on feet and a sickle fastened to the rope belt at his waist formed the third member of the group.

  Alicia whispered a comment, and her sisters smirked.

  “How are you, Aden?” asked the wood golem, his face creaking as it formed into an expression of concern. “I’ve heard about you being knocked out and though I can’t be knocked out, I know it must be painful because you have to be hit hard to be knocked out.”

  Aden smiled.

  “It only hurts if I laugh.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Hamble