War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3)

by B. J. Beach

  His voice crawled up from his boots on a tight wire. “I can translocate. I don’t need to be anything different. Whatever you have in mind, I promise you I won’t like it.”

  Dhoum’s fur rippled from the top of his head all the way down his back. He dropped to all fours and turned to look down at the city. There was no sign of grelfons, but dozens of torches now burned in the dark canyons of Vedra’s streets.

  Karryl spoke from behind him. “We’d better get going and do what we have to do. It looks as if they’ve stopped searching for us, and time’s running out. Where are we going to wait for the wolves?”

  Dhoum did his owl thing with his head, and his eyes glinted. “Where the Vedrans least expect us. You ready?”

  Karryl sprang to his feet. Scrambling down off the dune, he brushed sand off his clothes then gripped the Grrybhñnös’ arm.

  He opened his eyes and stared, trying to shake off the feeling he was going round in circles. Only a couple of hours ago he had arrived in the same room by the same method. The only difference now was the company.

  He glanced at the closed door. “D’you know if there are any guards outside?”

  Dhoum padded over to the door, listened, and sniffed along its lower edge. Standing on his back legs, he reached for the latch and eased the door open. Cold air and two wolves drifted in. Wolves and Grrybhñnös made long eye contact and the wolves drifted out again.

  Karryl jammed his hands on his hips. “What?”

  Dhoum shook his head. “Nothing so far. Those two are going to continue their search.”

  “So, we wait here until every pair has been in?”

  The Grrybhñnös settled himself behind the half-open door. He gestured to Karryl, indicating he should move away from the middle of the room. “Don’t worry. If Symon’s in the city, the wolves will find him.”

  A wolf poked its head round the edge of the door. Catching sight of Karryl, the wolf slipped inside, closely followed by the one with half a tail that Karryl had noticed earlier. The long eye contact with Dhoum was repeated. This time Dhoum reached out his four-fingered hand and ruffled Half-tail’s fur. “They’ve found him. Time to go.”

  The odd quartet stepped out into the street and Dhoum pulled the door closed. Half-tail cocked his leg and urinated against the door, then moved along and sprinkled the nearby wall. The act reminded Karryl of the way messages had been left when he was with the street-boys, only they had used stones or secret marks. He could read this wolf-message. The first part said ‘We were here.’ The second said ‘We went this way.’

  With Half-tail leading, Karryl, Dhoum and the other wolf slipped into the deep shadows of a narrow, poorly lit side-street. Seconds later another pair of wolves followed them in. Street after broken street of looming buildings bore silent witness to their progress as they slunk through dark sand-piled alley-ways and dodged patrolling guards. Every so often Half-tail would stop, sniff the air and listen before moving on. At last, he led them down a high-walled alley, through a covered entry-way and into a semi-circular courtyard. By the flickering light of one wind-tossed torch flame ensconced in the far wall, Karryl could see enough to tell him this was a dead end. All that faced them was a low, outward curving wall set into the rear of a massive building and topped by a steeply sloping tiled roof.

  Karryl moved close to Dhoum. “We’re at the back of the temple. There’s no way out, except the way we came in.”

  Crouching on all fours, Dhoum looked up at him. “We’re in no immediate danger. Most of the pack are now behind us. They’ll guard the alley.” He jabbed a finger towards the protruding curved wall. “See that? It’s an underground dungeon. Symon’s in there. Those shutters just below the eaves are covering the windows, probably too small for anyone to get through.”

  Karryl looked up at the huge edifice towering above them. “I think this is the back wall of the temple. It might be easier to try and go through there. I don’t see any doors this side.”

  Dhoum grunted. “That’s ‘cos there aren’t any, not this side, not any side. More than likely Symon was translocated in, and that’s the only way we’ll get him out. But first, we’ve got to get in.”

  Snarls and a deep throaty growl echoed down the alley. The wolves sped away towards the sounds as Karryl and Dhoum ducked out of sight. A shout was cut short, and reduced to a long, low gurgle. All went quiet. Six pairs of eyes gleamed in the shadows of the alley.

  Dhoum jerked his head towards them. “Just a pair of guards wandering about. Bad idea.”

  Half a dozen long paces took Karryl to the dungeon’s curved wall. He bent low to look at the iron shutters over the windows. Slots in the shutters fitted over circular hasps set into the stonework. Through these, a long iron rod had been pushed and connected to the next one by a short chain. The rod moved easily, but whichever way it was pulled, it would jam before the shutter could be opened. Karryl and Dhoum exchanged glances. The Grrybhñnös stretched out his hand towards the chain. Karryl stood quite still and stared at it. Nothing happened.

  Dhoum grunted. “Shielded, inside and out. Try again, a bit harder?”

  Karryl nodded. Crouching down, he clamped his hand round the iron rod. Dhoum stretched out his hand. After ten seconds there still wasn’t so much as a tingle.

  Karryl took his hand off the rod as he ran the fingers of his other hand through his hair. “We can at least let him know we’re here.”

  Dhoum gave him one of his rare, slow blinks. “We start shouting, we’ll have every guard in the city down here.”

  Karryl shook his head but said nothing. Leaning on the wall, he reached down and pulled off his boot. With a firm grasp round the foot he struck the boot-heel against the iron shutter. Instead of the sharp clang he was expecting, the only noise was a dull, barely audible thud as the boot-heel rebounded.

  The fur rippled on Dhoum’s muzzle. “That is very powerful shielding. I think the time has come.”

  Karryl frowned. “The time’s come for what? Are we just going to go away and leave him?”

  Dhoum rose up onto his hind legs, reached inside the neck of Karryl’s tunic, and lifted out the silver ball pendant. The inner lattice was now spinning too fast to be visible, the stone inside glowing red with a steady pulse.

  The Grrybhñnös let the pendant rest on the front of Karryl’s jerkin. “Now try.”

  Karryl struck the shutter again. The result was a reverberating clang as the shutter shook.

  Dhoum dropped back onto all fours and pointed a finger at the chain which linked the rods. “Ready to try again?”

  Karryl nodded and also concentrated on the chain. With a noise like breaking glass the chain shattered into dozens of tiny pieces and jingled to the ground.

  Dhoum studied the metal shards for a few moments. “I think we over-cooked that one.”

  Hearing no answer, he looked up to see Karryl gazing at the pendant in the palm of his hand. His voice was quiet, his tone close to awed. “They all knew. They all knew this would neutralise Vedric magic; all except me.” Accusation filled his eyes as his gaze shifted to Dhoum. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m just surprised Symon never told you before this, if he knew, but he probably had his reasons. Anyway, we haven’t got time to go into that now. Try and pull that rod out. I’ll try this one.”

  After some concerted jiggling and twisting, the rods holding the shutters finally slipped free. Dhoum and Karryl crouched down and peered through the tiny windows. Nothing was visible. Not wanting to risk singing up the Light of Perimus, Karryl took a few seconds to form a smaller, softer ball of light, and sent it wafting through the bars to hover over the centre of the small circular cell. It was empty.

  66 - Hard Truths

  By now Karryl was getting used to being confronted by the unexpected. Biting back his initial frustration at finding the dungeon empty he turned away, allowing the tiny orb of light to sink and fade.

  Hunkered down beside Dhoum in the deep shadow of the wall, his expressi
on was grim. “I reckon Ghian moved him while we were on our way here. It must be obvious to him that with me running free, I’ll attempt a rescue. What’s the betting he’s using him to lure me into a trap?”

  Dhoum concurred with a grunt and a brief nod. Planes and shadows cast by the sputtering torchlight accentuated Karryl’s sly grin as he stood and looked down at Dhoum. “You know Ghian thinks Symon is Mage-Prime?”

  The Grrybhñnös eased himself onto four legs to give Karryl a prod in the chest with a scaly forefinger. “And if I know Symon he’s realised that too, and won’t say or do anything to make Ghian any the wiser.” He looked up and studied the sky for a moment before reaching out and grabbing a handful of Karryl’s sleeve. “Now, let’s get out of here. We don’t have much time and there’s too many bodies piling up for my liking.”

  At the end of the alley, they paused to ensure the coast was clear. Dhoum flicked a finger in Karryl’s direction. “Better put that pendant out of sight. It’ll be strong Vedric magic holding Symon, and we need every chance we can get to detect it.”

  Karryl fondled the pendant’s smooth silver surface, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So, where were you thinking of looking? If we go running about the place like spooked sheep we’ll only be wasting time that we haven’t got.” He dropped the pendant inside the front of his tunic. “In fact, I think I’ve a pretty good idea where Ghian has taken Symon, and also a rescue plan which should work if I know Ghian.”

  Dhoum stroked his golden throat-patch. “Sounds promising. What’s the plan?”

  Karryl nodded towards the small pack of wolves waiting quietly beside them. “I need you to ‘go wolf’ for a few moments, just to give them some instructions. Then wait here for me until I get back. I’m going to try and translocate to the grelfon tower. I want to mind-call Miqhal.”

  The fur on Dhoum’s head rippled. “Can’t you do that from here? You’ve got the pendant.”

  The Mage-Prime shook his head. “There’s too much Vedric influence in these streets and walls. I don’t want to risk the call being distorted or not getting through at all. If I can get to the King Tower, the highest point in the city, it’s possible the influence will be diminished. Anyway, I have to try.”

  After telling Dhoum what he wanted the wolves to do, Karryl took out the pendant again and concentrated on his destination. He had no desire to watch Dhoum’s change from Grrybhñnös to wolf. Even the thought of it made him feel a little queasy.

  Standing at the top of the King Tower, one hundred feet above the city, Karryl took a moment or two to look around. Most of Vedra’s squat bulk lay in darkness, the only lights visible a few widespread bobbing torches carried by searching guards. A little to the left of centre the Vedran temple’s huge mass loomed, a black beast lying in wait. Karryl turned his back on it and drew in deep breaths of the desert night’s chill air. Hands resting on the stone parapet, he focussed.

  Five separate attempts had produced no response from Miqhal, and Karryl was beginning to feel the first flutters and pangs of desperation. He snatched a few valuable moments to place a calming spell. Its near immediate success told him there was little if no Vedric influence acting as a deterrent to his magic. His thoughts clear and his lungs filled with fresh air, he tried again.

  ‘Karryl, where are you? The time is near, and I cannot leave now.’

  A gasp of relief escaped from Karryl’s mouth. Deciding to dispense with conversation, he formed a series of mental images, confident that Miqhal would understand and act on what Karryl had shown him. Miqhal’s own images returned to him, and Karryl smiled. Ash had been successful, and was no doubt on his way back to Vedra.

  As the images faded, Miqhal’s voice entered Karryl’s mind. “All is clear now. I will discover what needs to be done with these, and I offer you my thanks and that of all our tribe. I fear we shall not meet again. Farewell.”

  Stunned, Karryl was unable to frame a reply before the familiar hollow feeling in his head told him Miqhal had broken the connection. He tried another mind-call but the hollow sensation persisted. Realising how easy it would be to succumb to the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Karryl clutched the pendant and translocated to the alley where he had left Dhoum. The wolves had gone. Before Dhoum had chance to ask any questions, Karryl quickly explained his next move. Receiving no argument he grasped the Grrybhñnös’ forearm. Two heavily armed Vedran guards ran into the alley, seconds too late to see the blue and silver motes shimmer away into the night air. From somewhere out in the vast desert a wolf howled.

  Dhoum glanced around the deeply shadowed confines of the tunnel. “This looks familiar. Are we where I think we are?”

  Karryl pointed towards a dim glow a few yards ahead. “There’s the platform above the temple floor where Miqhal brought us shortly after we first met him. He said the knowledge might prove useful. He was right.”

  With the pendant tucked once more inside his tunic, Karryl crept forward, Dhoum following close behind. The taint of Vedric magic was strong, and Karryl was not entirely certain they would be as well concealed as they had been on their previous visit. On that occasion they had Miqhal’s unique powers to help them.

  Set in a minor key, the deep staccato chanting of the temple priests rose up into the incense-laden air. Even here, high above the central floor Karryl felt the tension, along with a deep sense of foreboding. With only a few feet to go he went on hands and knees, signalling Dhoum to do the same, then belly-crawled as close to the platform edge as he dared. From the corner of his eye he saw Dhoum do the same. Hardly daring to breathe Karryl slowly raised his head until he could see over the edge. The wave of relief at finding Symon soon turned to a tide of dismay. Appalled, Karryl stared at the scene which met his eyes.

  Around the massive black altar stood a circle of red and black-robed priests, arms raised high. In front of them and facing the altar stood Ghian, arms held out to his sides. Leading the chant he kept his gaze fixed on Symon’s naked form, bound and gagged and out-stretched on his back on the altar’s blood-encrusted top. The tempo of the chant began to increase, becoming louder and more insistent. A priest stepped forward, a red enamelled bowl held forward at shoulder level. From somewhere in the deep shadow of the temple walls a horrendous ululating shriek briefly drowned the brain-numbing tones of the chant. The Grelfon queen was also observing. Silent and unmoving, Karryl forced himself to watch as his agile mind devised and discarded plan after rescue plan. His brain whirled as it tackled the enormity of a seemingly impossible task. After what seemed like many minutes, but was in reality only a few seconds, an audacious but potentially successful scheme presented itself. Karryl held it fast, momentarily stunned by the sudden emergence of the Grelfon queen.

  Wings raised, she lumbered out of the shadows and stationed herself behind the circle of chanting priests. The one who held the bowl stepped forward and began to trickle a viscous golden liquid over Symon’s body. Karryl’s heart pounded. He felt Dhoum nudge his arm. As Karryl turned towards him, Dhoum reached out and pulled the pendant from inside Karryl’s robe. The jewel it contained was now spinning so rapidly it was almost invisible, a pink tinged blur. Dhoum gestured. Karryl frowned a question as he slipped the heavy chain over his head and handed the pendant to Dhoum. The Grrybhñnös indicated that Karryl should watch below.

  The entire contents of the bowl had been emptied over Symon, from his head to his feet. As the priest stepped away, the circle of chanting priests parted and the grelfon approached the altar. The chant reached a crescendo. Arms raised high above his head Ghian roared a final supplication towards the temple’s high domed ceiling. The grelfon drew back its head to strike. Dhoum vanished.

  A split second later he reappeared, standing astride Symon on the altar. Fore and central limbs outstretched, he towered at his full height of over seven feet. Sharp pointed teeth glinting in the torchlight he bellowed harsh phrases in a vile and alien language. As one, Ghian and the priests fell to their knees, foreheads pressed to the b
lack stone floor. Symon’s bonds snapped. Ignoring the thrashing wings and enraged shrieks of the grelfon, Dhoum reached down and wrapped his forearms round Symon’s limp form. In a swirl of green and gold they were gone. A second later the heavy temple doors burst open. Heading straight for the priests and the disoriented grelfon, a dozen wolves charged in.

  Karryl had seen enough. Using the opportunity provided by the inevitable furore, he turned and set off down the tunnel. Now that Symon was safe, his chief concern now was getting out of this tunnel system and locating Dhoum. A few minutes later it was no longer a problem. Ahead of him a ball of soft light bobbed and danced, melting the darkness. Karryl froze, his heart in his mouth.

  “You goin’ to stay there all night?”

  The Mage-Prime’s breath exploded from his lungs as he recognised the voice. The light drifted nearer to hover just above his shoulder as a hairy face was pushed close to his own.

  Karryl grinned and gestured towards the softly glowing ball. “How did you get that to work down here?”

  Dhoum’s muzzle rippled. “It would seem that the Grelfine Lord’s blanket magic-blocking spell is not effective in these tunnels, or the pendant is having some effect. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  At the foot of the steep flight of stairs leading up to the concealed door which opened onto the street, the Light of Perimus faded, gave an erratic jiggle sideways, and winked out.

  Once again they were in total darkness.

  Dhoum sniffed in disgust. “Rubbish timing. Don’t fancy scrambling up that lot using hands all the way. Let’s try dark-sight. As it’s personal it might work.”

  To his surprise, Karryl had some success, although the familiar shades of purple and pale violet had been muted to dirty browns and fuzzy-edged greys. The stairs were visible, but only just, and Dhoum was a greyish-brown ill-defined blob in front of him.