by Jason Kenyon
History was set in stone. So too was the future.
‘You are right, Sen,’ Bartell said, casting the quill aside and sitting up, feeling a lot more certain. ‘We can do this.’
‘The difficult part is past, Auber,’ Sen said. ‘You know this as well as I do. Distracting the King’s gaze was a risky business, but it has served us well. He and Orgus are well aware of the legend of Vortagenses, but they did not read the signs in time. They saw a meagre band of thieves and lapped it up. This will make sure they can’t get at us while we track down the key.’
‘I know that, Sen,’ Bartell said. ‘But such things are child’s play now, Sen, we have been playing at that since the beginning of time. We’ve tricked every bastard from here to Elgebra and I could do it again twice over without breaking a sweat.’ Bartell’s gaze shifted to the night sky beyond the windows, watched the vague blurs as bats and other night fliers flew past hunting for prey. ‘Tonight we cover new territory.’
‘Magic has been my territory for all of my life,’ Sen said.
A crash in the corridor made Bartell jump, but moments after the murmur of an apologetic boy wafted through the door and set him at ease. A serving boy had dropped something… nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Dark magic,’ Bartell said. ‘This is dark magic, Sen. The weapon of our enemies.’
‘Vortagenses was a noble man,’ Sen said. ‘He did not dabble in “dark magic”, Auber, so you can stop worrying about that at once.’
‘I’ve never seen good mages use such evil weapons,’ Bartell said. ‘That staff… the pieces I had sent over to you… they gave me the shivers. Reminded me of him. Of Tel Ariel.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Auber,’ Sen said. ‘Vortagenses had a tendency towards spectacle, towards grand acts and gestures. He wanted to intimidate his opponents and made himself a staff that was both impressive and fearsome. I am surprised after all we have been through that such a silly thing would frighten you.’
‘It did not frighten me!’ Bartell said. ‘It merely made me edgy.’
‘Everything is making you edgy at the moment,’ Sen said. ‘I hardly think it something to worry about. Look, you’ve been playing with enough magical powers yourself, Auber. You blew apart that base… I visited the ruins on my way here. And you think that some creepy decorations are more evil than the power to destroy vast swathes of land?’
Bartell sighed and offered a shrug. ‘Pardon me, Sen. But… well, Tel always enjoyed leaving his symbols about. His mark. It just reminded me of those days.’
‘Those days are long past!’ Sen said, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘We are about to bring an end to these days too! Of all the people I expected to give up on the threshold of the act I never believed you would.’
‘You twist my words, old friend,’ Bartell said. ‘I never said I was giving up, just… well, I mean, we’re about to send a tremor that could topple the whole kingdom! How can I simply nod and go with it?’
‘This is the easiest part,’ Sen said. ‘Now put on your finest clothes! The feast awaits, and we have much to do!’
Reluctantly Bartell nodded. ‘Very well. No going back now, eh?’
‘Indeed.’
*
Obdo’s eyes bulged as a huge slab of roast boar was placed delicately on his plate by a serving man whose motions were so automatic that Obdo suspected he would walk through guests if they happened to stray onto his pre-arranged route. Another serving man replaced the first and laid down various vegetables in a pretty pattern around the edges of his plate, and soon after a third fellow dropped about five potatoes in the middle, quickly followed by a red-faced apology for such an error.
‘Never mind, five’s good for me,’ Obdo said, noting that Archimegadon and Neurion had each received two.
‘But sir… we may not have enough…’
Obdo searched through his library of Archimegadon remarks and then waved a hand impatiently. ‘Off with you, sir. Before I grow angry.’
The serving man moved on to the next person in a rustle of educated disapproval.
‘Well, farmhand, you have certainly found your place in high society,’ Archimegadon said.
‘A homage to you, Sir Mage,’ Obdo said. ‘Kind of fun.’
‘You see?’ Archimegadon shovelled some vegetables into his mouth. ‘Manners are quite overrated.’
Obdo turned to his right and eyed the lord whose misfortune it had been to be placed next to Archimegadon’s little troupe. The lord poked at the solitary potato he had received and inspected it avidly in an attempt to ignore Obdo’s inconvenient presence.
‘So… uh… my lord,’ Obdo said, deciding to be polite. ‘I am Obdo, humble farmhand and… uh… well I helped capture Akarith the assassin.’
The lord peered over his formidable moustache at Obdo. ‘Is that so, sir? Well, I am Lord Aswiche, and I preside over five farms, a tailoring business and a number of trifling shops.’ The glitter of expensive rings on Aswiche’s fingers hinted that these shops were perhaps not quite so minor as suggested.
Upon reflection starting a conversation had been a mistake. Obdo wished there was some way to escape. ‘Uh… I used to work on a farm,’ he said.
‘You said you were a farmhand already, sir,’ Aswiche said.
‘Oh yes.’ Obdo shifted about and looked to Archimegadon for help, but the Mage for Hire was busy eating and looking in the other direction. ‘Well… uh… what’s it like running a farm? I… well, I know what it’s like on the other end of the… uh… the scale…’
Aswiche, from looking irritated and suspicious, suddenly seized on the opportunity to talk about himself and launched into an extremely detailed description of financial difficulties that arise around running several farms and the trouble with “lazy workforces”. Obdo was virtually comatose by the time Aswiche began his diatribe against farmhands so a disastrous argument was fortunately averted just in time.
‘These nobles do speak an awful lot of piffle,’ Archimegadon murmured to no one in particular.
‘I found it all very interesting,’ Neurion said. ‘Why, it sounds like quite the adventure!’
‘Fiddling about with paying this person the right amount of money and so forth?’ Archimegadon asked. ‘Pssh, sounds like a job to be delegated.’
‘Delegated?’ Neurion asked. ‘But if you delegated that, what would you spend your time doing?’
‘Lazing about and perhaps plaguing people lower than oneself by purchasing expensive clothes and flaunting them,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘Sounds ideal to me.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather go adventuring, though, Master Archimegadon?’ Neurion asked, his eyes growing misty. ‘Facing evil and bringing peace back to the land?’
‘Erm… well… no, not really,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘Where do you get these funny ideas?’
Neurion looked very disappointed indeed but said nothing further.
The tables had been set out in a fairly confusing mess that was supposed to be a semi-circle but had instead devolved into a sort of distorted spiral. Archimegadon stared across the great expanse to the far side of the room and saw Bartell and Delarian talking with each other. Neither of them had touched their food yet, from the look of things. The mage only hoped that the fact that Bartell had seated them as far away as possible did not indicate any sort of displeasure. After all, wasn’t this feast supposed to be in celebration of the defeat of the Dusk Alliance?
For that matter, nobody had mentioned their victory at all, aside from Obdo, who had been summarily ignored. In that flickering moment, for just an instant, Archimegadon felt a sudden urge to feign needing the toilet and make a swift exit from Castle Aldrack. Perhaps such a departure would have been wise, perhaps not… but either way, that would never be answered, for just as he was about to announce quietly to a serving man that he needed to locate the nearest loo Bartell stood up and cleared his throat loudly.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen all,’ Bartell said, once he had everyone’s at
tention. ‘As I presume you are mostly aware… although I fear some of you may not quite be right now, thanks to the most splendid wine we have this evening’ – there were a few blurry cheers at this – ‘this feast is in honour of the defeat of the Dusk Alliance, the band of notorious thieves who were recently plaguing our noble kingdom. Their trade in magical items was beginning to become a serious threat to the well-being of everyone in Aldrack, and could quite easily have escalated to bring fear to the whole of Valanthas.’
Archimegadon, thoughts of suspicion fading fast, now turned his thoughts to whether he should start posing here for the benefit of the nobility. Neurion was already quite by accident cutting a surprisingly heroic figure, despite looking rather weedy, since he was sitting up listening very intently. Obdo simply looked relieved that Lord Aswiche was no longer talking to him.
Bartell was quite stocky in his mature years, but as Lord of Aldrack he looked very impressive indeed standing there casting his shadow across the room. He had seated himself next to the fire, and while it gave him an intimidating silhouette effect he was actually now feeling uncomfortable indeed in all his finery next to the blazing flames.
‘Yes, the Dusk Alliance has been stopped, my people,’ Bartell went on. ‘Stopped, quite permanently, by myself.’
Archimegadon nodded for two seconds before his mind dragged back the memory of what Bartell had said and repeated it firmly to him. A vicious murmur of confusion blazed through the crowd.
‘Egh… bleh…’ Archimegadon said.
‘What is he talking about?’ Neurion asked. ‘I thought we were the ones…’
Obdo, who was eying the many now-glowing amulets and rings on Bartell’s person, formed the truth very quickly indeed. ‘Oh bugger,’ he said. ‘We’ve been royally had.’
‘That is right, my people,’ Bartell said, apparently gaining confidence from the three companions’ discomfiture. ‘These three con merchants would have you believe that they did this benevolent act, that they were the ones who single… well, triple-handedly cast down an army of thieves and mercenaries! The truth is they were on hand to kidnap the injured Akarith while I dismantled the Dusk Alliance myself.’
‘The army hasn’t moved in weeks,’ one of the lords said. ‘You mean to tell us you went there by yourself and attacked those ruffians?’
‘Time to go, I think,’ Obdo said.
‘For once I agree,’ Archimegadon muttered back, but just as they began to rise Bartell gave a quick hand signal and heavily-armoured knights appeared beside the companions and forcibly seated them again.
‘I do indeed mean I went by myself,’ Bartell said. ‘You see, I have grown tired of what passes for society these days. There is too much corruption, too great a number of thieves and liars running around, and too little force to stop it. I have decided, ladies and gentlemen, to put an end to it.’
Bartell raised a hand and Archimegadon felt a sudden wrench as an invisible force seized him and dragged him across the table. Food and drink crashed to the floor, and a candlestick clanged as it hit the cold stone floor, spatters of wax dotting across the room in the mage’s wake. Just as the Mage for Hire reached Bartell’s table the force changed and held him there, a couple of feet above the floor.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Archimegadon asked. ‘I brought you Akarith, did I not? This is foolishness! Unhand me or I will unveil the true extent of my power!’
‘What is going on, Bartell?’ one of the noblewomen asked.
Bartell ignored her and stared into Archimegadon’s eyes. The Lord of Aldrack’s eyes were hard and unrelenting, and though they forced the mage to look into them they repelled him at the same time. After a handful of seconds the mage looked away to one side.
‘This man before you has transgressed,’ Bartell replied. ‘And will be punished. In due time.’ He glanced at Sen Delarian, whose expression was lost in the deep shadows. ‘But I have shown you, dear ladies and gentlemen, some small part of the new powers I possess, powers which I shall be using to restore true peace to this kingdom, and peace which you all, in some way, have shunned.’
Normally there would have been a yell of outrage, and had previous people in Bartell’s position said such a thing to the entire nobility they would likely have been hung as a madman in short order. As it was Bartell seemed to hold some aura of power now that none had seen in him before, and Archimegadon floating there before him filled them with some nameless fear. This was not the usual silly magic they were used to seeing thanks to Alhamis’s Mage Schools.
‘Now then, I think we have eaten enough,’ Bartell said. ‘I have a surprise waiting for us all outside, so let us proceed up to the Northern Tower and have a look.’
The nobles glanced to each other, but not one spoke. Valanthas had seen few such moments in its history, when the most powerful and outspoken of people were suddenly rendered silent and helpless. Bartell might have been interested to know that Tel Ariel, his old adversary, had done this to the old Valanthian nobility when he had first come to the kingdom to declare war.
At another quick signal from Bartell a number of knights detached themselves from the walls and politely ushered the nobles from their seats.
‘There’d better be a good explanation for this,’ one of the nobles said at last, his voice contending weakly with the crackling fire for mastery of the hollow silence. ‘And see here, Bartell, I have soldiers here this very minute! Any attempt at trickery on your part will be costly.’
Lord Bartell smiled indulgently and nodded. ‘Of course. Of course. Everything shall be fine, I assure you. Go on ahead.’
The nobles were led out of the feast hall with Obdo and Neurion at their head, and as they passed great paintings of war and battle they had little idea that their own guards had already been done away with in the back rooms of the castle, along with members of Bartell’s personal army, the Order of Endless Skies, who had rejected the new direction of their master. Carrying out this slaughter were troops under the command of Elsim and Akarith, whose pardon had already been signed and sealed.
As for Obdo and Neurion, the former was working out a way of escaping from the guards in this huge crowd, while the latter was thinking that perhaps they were to receive just punishment for their lies. For the most part people did not really know what was going on, but they allowed themselves to be shepherded onwards, glad simply to walk away from Lord Bartell, who had as yet not left the feast hall.
‘That was easier than I expected,’ Bartell said.
‘People are still frightened of magic deep down,’ Sen said. ‘They remember what it can really be used for, despite the silly magic tricks that are on display wherever they go these days.’ He turned to Archimegadon. ‘Well, Ardon, looks like you got a little over-confident. Imagine asking me for a thousand relorans! And for a paltry delivery, too.’
‘I did not make the offer,’ Archimegadon said, determined to make these oafs see the errors of their ways. ‘Blame the clerk. In any case, I was tracked by mercenaries, it was hardly a cosy trip.’
‘My heart bleeds,’ Sen said.
‘You’re friends of Akarith, aren’t you?’ Archimegadon asked. ‘That’s what she said… that she knew you, at least.’ He nodded towards Bartell. ‘I presume you three “heroes” go together.’
‘You could say that,’ Bartell replied with some amusement.
‘I note that you all favour the same tactic of dealing with people you do not like,’ Archimegadon went on. ‘She tied me up and jabbered at me in much the same way. Who would have thought it, really… three heroes reduced to small-time villains.’
A slight smile sneaked onto Bartell’s face. ‘How wrong you have it, Forseld. But come! We will miss the festivities! Follow along, Forseld, do be a good fellow.’ He clicked his fingers and the immobile mage began to float along behind his two captors, and to anyone watching would have looked very comical indeed.
By the time they joined the others at the top of the tower everyone had settled into anoth
er messy attempt at a semi-circle, and Bartell, Sen and Archimegadon filled the empty space, which also included the metal rod that had been tied to the ramparts earlier on. The sound of festivities carried up from the streets of Aldrack and surrounded the nervous nobles, who did not look at all festive any more.
‘So. Here we are.’ Bartell surveyed his guests and drew forth a sheet of paper from a pocket. ‘I had a lengthy speech prepared, actually, but I fear it would be wasted on you all. So let’s have the abridged version.
‘Many years ago we fought a war with the necromancer Tel Ariel. Thanks to the efforts of our armies, as well as those adventurers we have come to regard as “heroes”, we were able to stop him and restore peace to the kingdom. All very nice and cosy, but what are we left with all this time later? A kingdom of thieves and liars, as I have said. A place where loyalty is money and life is money and everything is money.’ He patted Archimegadon on the shoulder. ‘What we have here is a mage from one of those Mage Schools. What do you teach prospective mages at Mage Schools, Sen?’
The great mage folded his arms. ‘Might as well be nothing. We are ordered to give them a magic staff, teach them a very basic spell and charge them the earth.’
‘Is that true, Master Archimegadon?’ Bartell asked.
‘I…’ Archimegadon fell silent.
‘The Mage Schools are nothing more than a cynical attempt to make money for an order of mages that is finding less and less use in a kingdom that is, for the moment, free of war,’ Bartell said. ‘But the problem is that they spawn worthless mercenary liars like our friend here, who believe that fleecing people in return for nothing is a respectable business.
‘But I say no. I did not fight in the war for this. Friends of mine did not die in the war to purchase a lie. Everyone is out for themselves. Well enough. The people have failed! I deem them unworthy of the right to choose and decide for themselves. Today, ladies and gentlemen, I shall begin the road to enlightenment, and the kingdom will be held to account for the crimes that have been committed in the name of relorans.’