by B. J. Beach
Leaving Karryl to read the disturbing letter again, Symon scurried off to give the runner his reply to Captain Vintar. Once he had left, the two magicians washed and dressed, then joined forces to prepare breakfast.
As they tucked into sausages and fried potatoes, Karryl gave voice to something which had been troubling him since Symon first mentioned the Wraith. “How did it manage to get past the double warding, or unlock the door for that matter?”
Symon placed his fork across the side of his plate and regarded Karryl from under bushy white eyebrows. “A warding such as the one we used would present no difficulties to such a creature. Although its deductive powers are limited, its magical dexterity would be extremely well developed. It would have considered the unravelling of that particular warding only a minor challenge. As for the door itself, it only required a basic spell of unlocking.”
Karryl chewed for a few moments while his agile brain devised and rejected numerous solutions. “Is there an accepted theory as to how these creatures can be incapacitated or destroyed?”
Symon gave a vigorous nod. “Oh! Indeed there is, not merely a theory but apparently proven. There are also a lot of traditional and totally misinformed ones, such as touching it with silver or dousing it in sea-water.”
Karryl gave a wry grin. “I doubt if anybody would live long enough to see the outcome if they managed to get close enough to do either of those. Anyway, just to be on the safe side I’ve decided to come with you to the tower. If there is any trace, maybe two heads will be better than one.”
Symon pushed his empty plate to one side and set about the business of pouring tea. “I won’t argue. I also have something else hidden away somewhere which is reputed to act as a defence against creatures of this ilk. When we’ve drunk our tea you can help me search for it.”
His fellow magician’s eyes lit up with interest. “What are we looking for exactly?”
Symon placed a mug of tea in front of him. “An amulet. Actually, two amulets. Very ancient, but hopefully still powerful. You’ll know what they are when you find them.”
With all the paraphernalia of breakfast cleared away, the two magicians headed for their store-room, a short walk back along the corridor which led to their apartment. Symon’s staff topped with its intricate silver ball, made sharp tapping sounds on the blue slate floor. A moment or two of delving in the deep pocket of his robe produced a large key, which he handed to Karryl. He then removed the ornately wrought silver ball from the top of his staff and quietly murmured a short cantrip. After removing a complex warding, Karryl unlocked the door and pushed it open. Symon replaced the now glowing ball on the top of his staff, ushered Karryl into the room, and wedged his staff securely through the handle of an old travelling trunk.
Karryl stared round in disbelief. “Gods! How did we manage to accumulate this lot? We’ll be here all day!”
The smile on Symon’s round face was almost beatific as his gaze took in the dozens of boxes and chests covering almost every available inch of floor space. Patting his palms together he gave Karryl a knowing wink. “I don’t think it will take us that long.”
He bent to pick up a box off the floor and piled it on top of another one, repeating the process until he had cleared a narrow pathway into the centre of the room.
He gestured towards the little sea of boxes which lay between himself and the far wall. “The amulets will more than likely be in one of those as they’re the oldest. I’ll take the ones on the right.”
The search began. Stacked three and four high in places, the wooden boxes varied in size from small ones a few inches square to very large ones almost as large as travelling trunks, and each one required a spell of opening. Karryl had checked three before he decided to speed up the process. Drawing in a little power, he cast a simultaneous opening spell. Hearing a “Hmmph!” from behind him, he looked round.
Fists jammed into his waist, Symon stood surveying the open boxes. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
Karryl chuckled and bent to examine the contents of a fourth box. It was while he was gazing ruefully at the jumbled miscellany of objects inside that Symon gave an “Aha!” of discovery. With a private sigh of relief Karryl picked his way round to join the little magician just as he was lifting a small leather pouch from the jumbled contents of a large and battered looking trunk. The moment the cord around its neck was unwound and the pouch pulled open, Karryl could sense that whatever it contained was still potent.
Holding the drab and wrinkled pouch upside down, Symon emptied its contents into his hand. Lying across his palm were two curved and pointed yellowish-white objects each about two inches long. About as thick as Karryl’s little finger at their base, they had been set into narrow gold caps. Attached to these were a small gold link and a short gold chain loop.
Karryl picked one up to examine it more closely. Seemingly of its own volition, the gold loop slipped over his middle finger, allowing the amulet to nestle in the centre of his palm.
He ran his forefinger gently along the object’s smooth curve. “This looks like some kind of claw, or perhaps a tooth. Where did you get them?”
Symon nodded. “You’re partly right. I was informed when I obtained them very many years ago that they are in fact the tusks of a fabulous creature which once lived high in the mountains above the snowline. The vendor, another magician, informed me they have the power to repulse as he put it ‘all kinds of Wraith, fetch and evil spirit.’
“According to him, the tusks as an amulet can unfortunately be used only once, although when still attached to the living creature it would seem that their powers of repulsion are infinite.”
Karryl gave a wry smile. “Sounds like a useful creature to have around. Did the magician give it a name?”
Ruefully, Symon shook his head. “Afraid not. Shortly after I took possession of the amulets I had every intention of travelling to the far north and trekking up into the mountains to try and find one of these creatures, but other things got in the way.”
Karryl slid the amulet off his finger and slipped it carefully into the pocket of his robe. “They’re probably extinct by now anyway. If such a creature still existed, I’m sure we would have heard about it. So, are we ready? The sooner we get there and back, the sooner I can get back to deciphering Keril’s book.”
Open boxes were quickly closed, a sealing spell cast and the room once again locked and warded. As the two magicians made their way back along the corridor towards their apartment, Symon cupped his hand over the silver ball atop his staff, extinguishing its soft blue-white glow. They had just turned into the porticoed cloister when Captain Vintar, Sergeant Darke and half a dozen of the palace guard marched to a halt in the courtyard, their breath clouding in the frosty air. Symon raised an eyebrow as he saw the little squad’s halberds and half-armour. Then he noticed bowman Wyke standing at the rear, his crossbow cradled against his shoulder.
The little magician chuckled. “Are you going into battle Vintar?”
The burly Captain threw up a smart salute. “As you expressed your intention to visit the tower Master Symon, I thought it best to provide you with an escort. These are troubled times and there’s no knowing what we might come across.”
Symon nodded as he leaned on his staff. “Indeed they are, and we appreciate your concern. Bear with us while we collect our cloaks, then we’ll be off.”
5 - Breath of the Wraith
By the time they reached the tower, the morning’s depressing grey cloud cover had broken, allowing a pale sun to shed its wintery light intermittently on the tower’s pyramidal roof and the naked branches of the great oak. Bowman Wyke took practice sightings from the edge of the parade ground, while the small squad spread themselves along the path in front of the tower.
Approaching the porch, which sheltered the heavy oak door, Symon held out his hand in front of him. “The wardings have indeed been broken.”
Karryl flipped his cloak back over his shoulders and pushed his hand into t
he deep pocket of his robe. He smiled with grim satisfaction as he felt the amulet slip over his middle finger. With Vintar and Darke standing close behind him, Symon produced two keys, opened the padlock then unlocked the door. He pushed the door open and stepped into the gloomy interior. Seconds later a few softly murmured words had once again brought light to his staff’s silver orb.
He held it high in the air before bringing it slowly down to shine on the floor at the foot of the stairs. “See how the dust is swirled about? Something has definitely happened here to disturb it. Let’s go up.”
Before Symon could take a step, Sergeant Darke pushed in front of him, short-sword drawn. “Allow me to go first sir. I’ll call down if anything seems amiss.”
He was one step away from the middle landing when Karryl and Symon exchanged glances as they felt an unmistakeable prickling on their skin. Lifting his staff high, Symon let the magical light shine through the balusters onto the landing.
In a low voice he called up. “Come back Sergeant. There is something there and your short-sword will be no defence against it.”
Darke hesitated, only turning with some reluctance when Vintar hissed “Get back man!”
As Darke regained the bottom of the stairs, Vintar stepped outside and beckoned two of the guards into the lower room. He came back in to see Karryl at the top of the stairs, Symon close behind him, his staff with its glowing orb held high in the air. The thought to follow had barely entered Vintar’s mind when he found his whole body held fast. Helpless, he could only watch as the comforting light gradually dimmed and went out.
Able to move only his eyes, Vintar could see by the pale light coming through the open doorway that Sergeant Darke was also immobilised, and guessed that the guards would also be similarly afflicted. Still able to move freely, the two magicians continued upwards and stepped onto the landing. Each with a hand held up, palm outwards, they looked intently towards the tall figure moving slowly and ominously down the stairs. A long, low hiss of derision filled the foetid air as it stopped in front of them. With a slithering, whispering rustle it folded long blue-black feathered wings across the front of its lean, dark-skinned and naked body.
A malevolent glow radiated from its slanted green eyes as the susurrus of its voice entered their minds. “Your protection is well chosen. I cannot harm you, but I give you a warning. Return what is rightfully ours by the time of the full moon. Failure to do so will have dire consequences. Although I must now cease to exist due to your magic, others will take my place.”
While allowing the Wraith’s words to enter part of his mind, Karryl was thinking very quickly with the rest. “Restore the men you attacked by mistake, and we’ll think about it.”
The Wraith’s hissing chuckle was evilly mocking. “You are in no position to bargain. They will recover naturally in time with no lasting effects. If I restore them now, they will be gibbering lunatics. The affliction must run its course. Remember my warning.”
Its wings open wide, the Wraith exposed the two magicians to the full glory of its magnificent physique. Chilling the bones of the two magicians with a last mocking laugh, it vanished. Finding themselves suddenly released from their enforced inertia, Vintar and Sergeant Darke bounded up the stairs, fully prepared to take on the intruder.
Karryl held up a hand. “It’s gone. The danger is passed for now.”
With an audible sigh of relief the soldiers sheathed their swords and hurried back down the stairs. Karryl looked at the amulet still looped around his finger. The gold cap and the little golden chain had turned black. As he touched them with a forefinger they crumbled into the palm of his hand, a small pile of minute, brittle flakes surrounding the darkened but otherwise undamaged tusk. Ruefully Karryl brushed the black dust to the floor, slipping the remains of the amulet into his pocket before following the soldiers and Symon down the stairs.
When he reached the bottom, he found Vintar gazing at Symon in silent bafflement. Moving round to discover the reason for the captain’s expression, Karryl was amazed to see a wistful little smile on Symon’s face.
Before he could say anything, the little magician looked up at him, his eyes glistening with emotion. “What a magnificent specimen. Such a shame it had to be destroyed.”
Karryl grasped his mentor by the shoulders and glared down into his glazed eyes. “That’s what it wanted you to think so that you’d have second thoughts before destroying another Wraith. Don’t you see?”
Symon nodded vaguely. “Mmm. I suppose you’re right.”
Rolling his eyes upwards, the young Mage-Prime raised his hands in despair. “This can’t be happening!”
He took a deep breath and let his mind flow through a calming spell. With his long slim fingers against Symon’s temples, he began searching for the vital area of the magician’s agile mind that had been compromised by the Wraith’s dark power. Time and again he broke off and began his search anew, knowing that the longer the insidious suggestion remained, the more difficult it would prove to dispel. Drops of perspiration gathered on his broad forehead as he probed for the elusive tell, all to no avail.
Despairing, disgusted but not discouraged, Karryl turned to Vintar. “I think it would be best if you escorted us back to the palace. I’m going to try something else, and I don’t want to do it here.”
Leading the murmuring magician outside, Karryl surrounded him with soldiers then quickly locked and warded the door of the tower while hurling a mental shout into the frosty air. As they made their way back Symon began chatting to Vintar. The little magician seemed to have recovered his normal self, but Karryl recognised the deception, made all the more obvious by the fact that Symon was deliberately ignoring him. His only hope was that the help he had called for would arrive in time, so it was with a great sense of relief that he turned into the courtyard ahead of the little squad to find Magnor leaning casually against one of the pillars of the portico. Amid much handshaking and back-slapping, with a nod to the metamorphosed Grrybhñnös, Karryl managed to persuade an uncharacteristically truculent Symon to accompany him into the apartment.
Once inside Symon headed for the kitchen, patting his palms together as if nothing was amiss. “Well, that all went rather well. I think I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.”
Karryl rolled his eyes in disbelief. He wandered back to the open door and popped his head round to see if Magnor was on his way in. The tall huntsman was striding purposefully along the corridor with, to Karryl’s surprise, the Lady Evalin hurrying along beside him. No sooner were they inside than the door was closed and bolted and a warding thrown across it.
Remaining for a moment in the entrance hall, Magnor’s blue eyes held Karryl’s dark brown ones. “That was one almighty shout. I was hard pressed to prevent a good half dozen others coming with me.”
Evalin nodded her agreement. “It most certainly was. Now, will you be after telling us the reason?”
As quickly as he could, Karryl related the events of the previous night and their experience in the tower that morning.
Just as he had finished, Symon called out. “Karryl! Your tea’s getting cold!”
Arching a dark high-arched eyebrow even higher, Evalin sauntered into the sitting room. After a brief exchange of knowing glances, Magnor and Karryl followed.
Soft clouds of blue smoke drifted lazily up to the rafters as Symon, feet resting against the fender, sat in his fireside chair and puffed contentedly at his pipe. His gaze a little out of focus he watched the trio as they crossed the room, then began a quiet murmuring.
Evalin’s tone was sharp. “What was that you said Symon? I didn’t quite catch it.”
The little magician gazed into the middle distance as though he were seeing a vision. “Ah! Lady Evalin. Such a pity to destroy such perfection, such strength and beauty. If only I could have…”
Evalin slapped him across the face. Like a child whose favourite toy has just been snatched away, Symon’s round face crumpled and he burst into tears.
L
eaving him sobbing in his chair, Evalin pushed the other two towards the table and calmly poured tea. “He’ll be alright when he’s done bawling.” She turned a reproachful gaze on a rather stunned Karryl. “It was Wraith-breath wasn’t it?”
Karryl turned to look at Symon, still sobbing but less hysterically. “I can’t think of a better explanation, unless it was some power of the Wraith’s mind. It was standing quite close, but…” Karryl’s tone changed to one of mild reproach. “Did you have to do that?”
Evalin raised a cautionary hand. “Indeed I did. It will likely be the saving of him. Close proximity is all a Wraith needs to influence a man’s mind beyond redemption. Fortunately, you and Symon went prepared. What kind of amulet did you use?”
Karryl delved into the pocket of his robe, pulled out the tusk and dropped it into Evalin’s outstretched hand. As she gently pushed the yellowed relic around her open palm, Magnor stepped forward.
Wide-eyed, he looked first at the tusk then at Karryl. “Good grief! Do you know what that is?”
Taken aback, Karryl frowned. “Yes I do. Symon said it’s the tusk of some probably extinct creature that used to live above the mountain snowline.”
Magnor glanced across at Symon, who was now sitting quietly, gazing into the dancing flames of the fire. “Has he got one as well?”
Karryl confirmed with a brief nod. “It’s a good thing we had them, otherwise I don’t think we’d be here right now.”
With a knowing smile, Magnor sat down at the table and rested his chin on his hand. “Do you still want to know what a Geffendrogger is?”