With the bone now exposed, Woden repeated the process on the skull. A crack appeared and made its way slowly downwards from the tips of the wizard’s fingers to just below his wrist, before turning at a ninety degree angle. The crack continued, changing direction twice more until meeting up with itself, forming an almost perfect rectangle.
Woden removed his hand, pulling the cut out section of the skull with it. “All yours,” he said to Ellen, smiling at the look of wonder on her face.
He moved out of her way, allowing her to take his seat. She peered forward and could clearly see the eggs clinging to the brain tissue. Taking a deep breath, she began to sing as she dipped a cloth in the water then proceeded to clean the infected area. She kept her touch as gentle as she could, not wishing to put any pressure on Grimmel’s brain, and a few of the offending objects were dislodged.
Taking a fresh cloth, she repeated the procedure, this time pressing a little harder. More eggs came away, but not all. Ellen washed the area once more, then raised her head to look at Nosmas. “The last few eggs are stuck,” she informed him.
“What can you do to remove them?” he asked. She glanced at the knife she had placed on the table beside the dwarf’s head.
Nosmas shuddered. “Is there another option?”
“Not that I know of,” she replied.
“Go ahead,” Nosmas reluctantly instructed. Woden was not the only one in the room who turned his head so he would not have to watch Ellen slice into Grimmel’s brain.
Chapter 23
“I have done all I can,” Ellen said as she wearily stood up. It had taken her over an hour to carefully cut away all of the remaining eggs and everyone in the room was tired.
“Will he live?” Woden asked as Nosmas took the seat that Ellen had just vacated. He replaced the piece of skull that Woden had removed and spoke a spell. The bone re-fused itself, hiding all evidence of the damage that had been inflicted on it. Next he reset the flap of skin that had been cut away to expose the skull and whispered another spell once he was satisfied it was laying smoothly. It was a spell that Ellen herself had used many times to heal wounds, so she was not surprised to see no sign of a scar.
“I think so,” she replied, “but I do not know if I have done any damage. There is only one way to find out.” She glanced meaningfully at Nosmas.
“Do you want River here when I wake him up?” the wizard asked.
Ellen shook her head. “It is best that we find out first if he is alright. If he is not, I will need some time to prepare myself before breaking the news to River.”
What she said made a lot of sense. Before Nosmas spoke the words that would reverse the spell which was keeping the dwarf unconscious, he asked Ansaldo to remove the spell he had placed on Grimmel’s heart. The old wizard did as requested, but kept his hand in place, checking that the pulse he had been monitoring during the entire operation did not falter. After a few minutes he nodded his head at Nosmas and stepped away from Grimmel’s inert body.
Next Messer went quiet. He had been repeating his spell continuously, making the dwarf’s lungs fill with air then deflate over and over again, though very shallowly, and was relieved when he could finally stop talking. He did not, however, take his eyes off Grimmel’s chest as he watched for the minute movements that indicated he was successfully breathing unassisted. Eventually he nodded his head and stood up, stretching his arms above his head as he did so.
Only then did Nosmas recite the spell that would bring Grimmel out of his induced coma. Everyone held their breaths as they stared at Grimmel’s chest and all exhaled loudly when it began to rhythmically rise and fall.
His eyelids began to flicker then open. He slowly turned his head and found himself looking at Ellen. “What happened?” he asked in a husky voice. He had drunk nothing while unconscious and his throat needed lubrication.
Nosmas helped him sit up and Ellen placed a cup of water to his lips. “Drink slowly,” she instructed. He obeyed, taking very small sips. While he drank, Ellen and Nosmas told him about the operation. “How do you feel?” she asked.
“My head hurts,” he informed her, “but the pain is bearable.”
“Do you feel up to standing and trying to walk?” With help from both Nosmas and Ellen, he managed to slide off the table and his legs supported his weight. He took a tentative step forward, then another. He released his arms, which his friends were holding for support, and took another few steps. Then he turned around and smiled at them.
“What is for dinner?” he asked.
He was led to the dining room, where a thin soup was waiting for him. He looked at it in disgust. “What is this crap?” he asked, dribbling the liquid from the spoon back into his bowl.
“He seems to be his normal self,” Nosmas observed. Ellen agreed and went in search of River. She found her sleeping on the sofa where she had left her, her head resting on Patrick’s thighs.
“How long has she been asleep?” Ellen asked.
“A while,” Patrick replied. “She cried herself to sleep. I think she is exhausted.”
“She is not the only one,” Ellen said as she collapsed onto the sofa beside them.
“How did it go?”
“I had to cut away part of his brain, but so far it does not seem to have affected him. Only time will tell.”
Patrick took her in his arms. “You need to get some rest. Do you want to stay here or shall I take you back to the inn?”
Before she could reply, River began to stir. She pushed herself away from Patrick and looked at Ellen, unable to ask the question she desperately needed answering. Ellen smiled at her. “He is in the dining room.”
This was all River needed to hear. She leapt off the sofa and ran out of the room, only to return a few seconds later to ask where the dining room was. Ellen could hardly keep her eyes open, so once she had told River where to go she requested that Patrick take her back to the inn. Knowing how much the healing would take out of Ellen, they had brought the wagon to the Chancellor’s house, so Patrick went to the dining room to let Nosmas know he was taking it back to the inn.
He returned to find Ellen already asleep, so he picked her up as gently as he could and carried her to the wagon. She stirred briefly when he laid her in the back and covered her over with a blanket, but did not open her eyes. Once they were back at the inn he carried her up to their room, placed her on the bed and lay down next to her. Putting one arm over her protectively, he cuddled up as closely as he could and fell asleep.
River ran into the room and threw herself at Grimmel, almost knocking him out of his chair. “Calm down,” he said, stroking her hair, when she burst into tears. “I am fine.”
“I have been so scared,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I do not know what I would do if I lost you.”
“Ssshhhh,” he said soothingly. “That is never going to happen.”
Nosmas cleared his throat loudly to attract their attention. “Sorry to interrupt, but your reunion will have to wait for a while. Grimmel has been unconscious for a long time and he needs to get more of that delicious soup into him before it goes cold.” He pulled out a chair next to Grimmel’s and indicated that River should sit in it. “I will allow you to stay with him on the condition that you encourage him to eat.”
River promised and Nosmas and the other wizards, including the Chancellor, left the room.
“Does this mean you have forgiven me?” Grimmel asked, looking towards River coyly. When Nosmas had, at his request, placed him in a coma, River still wanted nothing to do with him and her reaction to seeing him now strongly suggested that her feelings had changed.
“Eat,” was her only response.
He dutifully took another mouthful, then dropped the spoon back into the bowl. He stared at her as he remembered hearing her voice while he was unconscious. “You were by my side the whole time,” he said in wonder.
“I told Ellen you would hear me, but she did not believe me,” River said, taking his hand in hers.
/> “I love you,” he told her.
“I know. I love you too.”
A while later, Nosmas checked in on them and was pleased to see that Grimmel had eaten the entire bowl. The dwarf complained that his head still hurt, though nowhere near as much as it had, and Nosmas explained that it would for a while as his skull had been cracked open and part of his brain had to be removed.
“What!” River exclaimed. “Nobody told me you were planning on doing that.”
“That is because we were not,” Nosmas replied calmly. “Ellen was unable to remove all of the eggs and we decided that cutting the last few out was less of a risk than leaving them there.”
“But you could have killed him,” she shouted.
“Yes, we could have, but not removing the eggs would have definitely resulted in his death.”
“It is alright,” Grimmel said, placing his arm around River’s shoulders. “They did the right thing.” He reached up and scratched his head. It had fully healed, but it would take a while for his hair to grow back.
“That is the part of the skull that was removed in order to give us access to your brain,” Nosmas informed him. “It may itch for a while, as all wounds do when they heal, but there will be no lasting damage.”
Grimmel nodded. He did not care whether he was left with a scar or not. Nosmas had saved his life, what did it matter if there was a permanent reminder of it?
“The others have taken rooms at an inn,” the wizard continued. “Do you want me to take you there or would you prefer to stay here another night, in case there are complications.”
Grimmel shook his head. “No, I would rather be around friends.”
The Chancellor volunteered to drive the three of them to the inn in his carriage and stayed to share a glass of ale. All except Ellen, Patrick and Hawk, who was in his coffin, were in the taproom. They gave Grimmel a warm welcome, then annoyed him by refusing to let him have any ale.
“Water only for a few days,” Tor instructed. Grimmel grumbled, but did not argue. He had almost died and did not want to do anything that could put his life in danger once more.
Nosmas explained to the others what the surgery had entailed, then Grimmel was told about everything that had happened while he had been unconscious. They described the multiple attempts by the assassin to kill various members of the party, ending with his eventual capture.
“So what happens now?” Grimmel asked.
“We find Albian,” Tor told him. “Though I have no idea how.”
The Chancellor looked thoughtful. “Why does that name ring a bell?” he wondered out loud. Tor told all he knew about the man, but it was his description that finally jogged the Chancellor’s memory.
“I may be wrong, but I think he trained with us for a while. If it is the same man I am thinking of, he was expelled from the order for using black magic.”
“He definitely knows magic,” Seth confirmed.
The Chancellor drained his glass and put it back on the table. “Let me check the archives,” he said as he stood up. “We sometimes put a trace on a wizard when we fear he will cause trouble. If you are lucky, and I am indeed thinking of the right person, then we will be able to find him for you. I will be back in the morning with an answer.”
Nosmas could not help grinning. “It seems Grimmel’s near death experience was a spot of good fortune after all.”
True to his word, the next morning the Chancellor returned, accompanied by his son. He appeared to be excited as he placed some documents on the table Tor and his group were occupying.
“I was right,” he announced, taking a sheet of paper from the pile and holding it up. It was a sketch of a bald headed man dressed in a robe. The hood was raised, partially obscuring the face and Sam let out a small scream when she saw it. Brin looked at her in concern. He had not been told about the nightmares she had suffered towards the end of the quest and had never met Albian.
“I will explain later,” she told him as she manoeuvred her body under his arm. She had seen Albian in her dreams many times during that period and seeing his face again brought back memories she did not want to think about.
“That is him,” Tor confirmed.
“Then I have some very good news for you,” the Chancellor announced. “Not only does he have a trace on him, but he also has an inactive block that can be activated at any time.”
Olan grinned at the confused looks that greeted this statement. Though Nosmas had mentioned blocking of powers the last time they had entered the country, not all had been present and he had not gone into any detail. “A block,” Olan explained, “is designed to reduce, or completely eradicate, depending on the strength of it, a wizard’s ability to do magic. Magic is more than just saying spells. The wizard, or witch,” he added when he noticed Ellen was present, “has to have at least some natural affinity for magic within them. We have discovered a way to block their access to their inner core, either fully or partially, and therefore their ability to perform magic.”
Ellen stared at him. She had never heard of such a thing and was not sure how she felt about it. It obviously had its uses, like preventing rogue wizards and witches from doing great harm, but it was open to abuse. What was to prevent a magic user being blackmailed into doing something he or she thought wrong if that sort of threat could be made against them?
The Chancellor, seeing the look on her face, suspected the cause. The ability to block the use of magic was a closely guarded secret that few outside of the council knew about.
“There is no need to worry,” he assured her. “It cannot easily be misused and is only ever invoked in extreme circumstances.”
Ellen did not look convinced. “What is preventing you from using it as a form of punishment whenever you feel like it?” she asked.
“I understand your concern, but that could never happen,” the Chancellor said, irritated that he was being questioned by a woman. “The council would never allow it.”
“Let me explain,” Nosmas volunteered, seeing Ellen would not be put off. “The block is achieved by combining twenty different spells. No individual wizard is ever taught more than one of them, so if one wizard wanted to block another, he would need the co-operation of nineteen other wizards. On top of that, he would need to find out which wizards know which spells and that in itself is a closely guarded secret. Then there is the activation of the block, once it has been placed. A different ten spells are needed, each known by a different ten wizards.”
“So you are saying that it cannot be used by rogue wizards,” Ellen stated. Nosmas nodded his head. He was about to change the subject to the timing of when the block on Albian could be activated when Ellen continued. “But what is stopping the council doing it?” She saw the Chancellor glaring at her, but ignored him. “If you decide that all witches, for example, should be blocked, who would have the power to stop you?”
The Chancellor exploded. “How dare you question our integrity? You are in our country and should show us the respect we deserve.”
It was Olan who calmed him down. “She does have a point father. The council is made up of the strongest wizards, not necessarily the wisest or the most honest. To an outsider, it must look like the council could easily become corrupt. If, for example, you organised the blocking of any wizard that has strong potential, you could stay in power until you die.”
The Chancellor, who had stood up to shout at Ellen, collapsed into his seat. It had never occurred to him that such a thing would ever be considered, but now it had been pointed out to him, he understood where Ellen was coming from.
“It will never happen,” Nosmas stated. “All members of the council keep a close eye on each other. If any were suspected of even thinking about doing anything that was not for the good of the people, they would be expelled. Not only from the council, but from the country as well. Also, not all powerful wizards agree to join the council. Take my father, for instance. One of the reasons he stayed away from Thauma as much as possible was so that he
could keep an eye on what was happening without the risk of being caught up in it.”
“This is all very interesting,” Tor interrupted, “but it does not help us with the Albian situation. Could we finish this discussion later and get back to the matter in hand?”
Ellen and the Chancellor both blushed and mumbled apologies.
“I think this may get a little too complicated for us non-magic users,” Brin said. “Do we have your permission to explore the city while you discuss the finer points?”
Tor, Nosmas and the Chancellor all agreed that not everyone present would be able to provide any valuable input, so Brin and Seth took Sam and Dal sight-seeing. At Nosmas’s insistence, Quartilla joined them, as did River and Grimmel. The dwarf had been advised to remain in bed for the rest of the day, but argued that he had been doing nothing but lay down for weeks and his legs needed to be exercised. River promised to make him take it easy, so Ellen eventually agreed.
Ellen wished to listen in on the discussion, even if she was not able to take part, so Patrick stayed with her. Eventually his insistence on being constantly close to her would become irritating, but she knew the reasons behind it so did not object. It would take him a long time to get over what had happened to him and if taking on the role of protector helped him, she was not going to complain.
“You had better take this,” the Chancellor called out when he noticed Ria stand up and start to walk out with the others. He threw a small hand mirror, which Brin deftly caught.
“What is it?” Dal asked.
“A magic mirror,” Olan explained. “If any wizard causes you trouble, just hold it up to your face and call for the Chancellor. No matter where my father is, his face will appear and you will be able to speak with him.”
“Thanks,” Sam said and the group left the inn.
The discussion did not last long. It would take a while to assemble the ten wizards needed to activate Albian’s block and Tor did not want to wait around with nothing to do, so the Chancellor agreed to make all of the necessary arrangements to perform the spell at the next scheduled council meeting. In the meantime, Tor and his companions would track down Albian in the hope that the block would be in place by the time they found him.
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