Mage Prime (Book 2)

by B. J. Beach

  To a man, the highly trained soldiers dropped to one knee, halberds forward and aslant. Still howling, the evil monstrosities stormed head on into the waiting soldiers. They held their ground, as a gleaming, wickedly sharp foot-long spike was thrust forcefully upwards through each terrifyingly hideous head. Slithering to a flailing, squelching stop, the obscene creatures voided their full quota of steaming black and viscous stomach contents, a hissing bubbling stream cascading over one unfortunate soldier who had ventured in too close. Screaming horribly he went down, black-mired arms thrashing against the stone floor, the vile acidic brew burning relentlessly through his steel half-armour and insinuating itself into the flesh beneath.

  With a stentorian roar Symon brought his power to bear and slammed down the Light of Perimus in incandescent fury on the twitching scaled-and-feathered bodies of the noxious creatures, sending them lurching upwards in one massive paroxysm. In a splattering shower of pungent mucus they flopped to their bellies, jerked once, and lay still. Caught off-balance and thrown to the floor by the horrendous impact, the two remaining soldiers scrambled to the solid safety of the stone wall where they lay, arms curled tight around their stomachs as they retched uncontrollably. A minute of appalled silence followed, before Symon stepped forward and glared down at the repugnant corpses.

  His face flushed with fury he turned to Karryl. With his thin forefinger he stabbed imperiously at the floor. “Stay here!”

  Quickly he knelt down beside the whimpering soldier. Oblivious to the smoking black mess which clung to the man’s body, he placed a hand on each shoulder and murmured rapidly for a few seconds. In a shifting shimmering swirl of pearlescent light, soldier and magician vanished.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Normally steady and level-headed, Vintar gazed, trembling and ashen faced at the ghastly pile near his feet. Karryl stumbled to where the two stinking, evil-conceived corpses lay and stared down at them in numbed disbelief.

  Giving the gruesome pile a wide berth, Vintar edged up to Karryl’s side. “Beg pardon sir, but… what just happened? And what are… er… were those bloody things?”

  Karryl shook his head in attempt to clear it. With eyes which seemed to have aged a lifetime he looked into Vintar’s own as he placed a comradely hand on the man’s shoulder. “Those, Sergeant, are almost assuredly grelfons; creatures of legend, and the epitome of evil. Not by any stretch of the imagination should they exist. Somehow, some malevolent power has resurrected them from the mists of legend and sent them here.”

  Drawing both hands down his sweat-streaked face, Karryl glanced at the malodorous corpses. “My guess is that the spell of transference and materialisation was miscast and they were discovered. I don’t think that was the intention. I also suspect that these particular specimens were juveniles. Had they been mature they would almost certainly have attacked me without hesitation. In that case I would not be standing here now.”

  The sergeant looked aghast and rubbed his hands over his own sweating face. “So they’re natural born killers then, sir?”

  Karryl’s face was thunderous. “Killers, yes. Natural born? No. Nothing could be further from the truth. When you and your men have had time to recover and made your reports, come to our apartments and I’ll show you what little information we have on these vile creatures.”

  They stood a while in silent communion, gazing with revulsion at the aberrant and lifeless forms. An acidic greenish-yellow blood oozed from the diabolically hideous heads, and down the shafts of the weapons on which they were impaled. Severely shaken, but otherwise none the worse for their terrifying encounter, the two remaining soldiers hauled themselves to their feet and came to stand beside their sergeant.

  Trying desperately to avoid looking at the loathsome corpses, one of the men gestured in their general direction. “Shall we get these cleared away, Sarge?”

  Vintar shook his head, looking at Karryl as if for corroboration. “Not yet. I think this matter is in Master Symon’s domain. Until he makes contact with us, we’ll remain on guard.” He forced a wry smile. “But I don’t think it would be out of order to move back along the corridor a pace or three. That stench is a mite intense.”

  The little group retreated, the lingering glow of the magical light fading away, leaving them to continue their vigil in a whisper-inducing darkness. With a small degree of uncertainty as to the amount of power remaining to him, Karryl held out his hand, palm up. To his relief, a small softly glowing orb appeared and hovered somewhat unsteadily above his hand. With a silent ‘Thank you’ Karryl released it into the air. After a couple of false starts it bobbed and jiggled, then floated serenely upwards, dispelling the darkness and bathing the corridor’s occupants in a comforting golden light. Putting his back against the wall, Karryl slid down to the floor, thinking rather incongruously that he had been here before, and very recently. His legs stretched out in front of him, he had just made himself something like comfortable when the rhythmic cadence of speed marching began to reverberate along the corridor. After pushing himself reluctantly back to his feet, Karryl joined Vintar and the guards in looking for the source of the sound.

  At the edge of the circle of soft light cast by the floating orb, a strangely clad figure appeared, closely followed by a small squad of stern-faced soldiers bristling with weapons, the golden light glinting on polished helms. Three paces from where Karryl stood, the figure raised a hand, bringing the squad to a precise and disciplined halt. The figure stepped forward, the full light revealing a solidly built, russet-haired man of medium height, resplendent in a wide-sleeved, silver-grey robe which fell in dozens of narrow pleats to his ankles. Embroidered at the neck and sleeve edges, Karryl could see unfamiliar symbols picked out in black. Around the stranger’s neck hung a large, multi-faceted ice-blue jewel supported by a thick gold chain. Making a slight bow, he regarded Karryl thoughtfully.

  His voice was a rumbling baritone. “Had a bit of a problem, I hear.”

  For a brief heart-stopping moment Karryl felt a flicker of recognition, but as fast as it came it vanished again. Letting it pass he gestured into the gloom down the corridor. “I think it’s only a matter of getting the bodies cleared away. We’re just waiting for Master Symon to get back.”

  Beckoning Karryl to follow, the stranger strode along to where the corpses lay. He stood looking down at them, his eyebrows gathered in a frown of deep consternation. “Master Symon is injured, although not seriously. He has asked that I handle the matter until such time as he is able to rejoin us.”

  Before Karryl could reply, the stranger leaned close and murmured in his ear. “Do you know if these were the only ones?”

  Karryl shook his head. “Not for certain, but I did get the distinct impression that they were alone. Why? Do you think there might be others, er… what do I call you?”

  The stranger’s hand went to the jewel which hung around his neck. “I am known by many names, but Magnor will do for now. I have to take these corpses to where they can be studied, in order to confirm that they are indeed grelfons, although there seems to be little doubt. Now, if you would go and dismiss the guards, then return to me, we have a little magical work to attend to.”

  Not too happy about leaving Karryl and Magnor alone, Vintar eventually persuaded the young magician to let him leave two guards stationed at the end of an adjoining corridor, out of sight but within earshot.

  Vintar and the squad departed, and Karryl rejoined Magnor. “What are you going to do? Dematerialise them?”

  Magnor stood with his fists jammed into his waist, his mouth pursed and his eyebrows in a flurry of activity. He turned a steely blue gaze on Karryl. “Not only them, but us as well. I hope you hadn’t got anything planned. The elders will want to hear every last detail. So, when we’ve dealt with these horrible things, I want you to try and remember everything you heard, smelt and saw during this little confrontation.”

  Karryl blew out his cheeks and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Well, I was hoping to s
ee Master Symon, but if, as you say, he’s not seriously injured, I suppose it can wait. What do you want me to do?”

  Magnor gave a satisfied little nod. “Go round to the other side of this pile, and stand facing me. First we will work a spell of enclosing then you can levitate the bundled bodies while I cast a cleansing spell. When that’s done I will dematerialise us all. How does that sound?”

  Karryl pulled thoughtfully at his earlobe. “All right, except that I’ve never actually done a spell of enclosing. I’ve seen it done and read it a few times though.” Magnor cocked his head to one side. Once again Karryl felt the flicker of recognition, but again it vanished as quickly as it came. “Can you remember what you read?”

  Karryl gave an assertive nod. “Oh. Yes; if you trust me. Which part shall I take?”

  Magnor told him. Leaning towards each other, the two magicians stretched out their arms until their fingertips were almost touching. Magnor began to intone, his deep rich voice reverberating through the acrid air around them. As he spoke the final word, skeins of silvery threads began to emanate from his fingertips, snaking forward until they connected with Karryl’s. Slowly spreading his arms wide, he nodded to Karryl who followed suit. The threads swirled and spun. Gradually they wove themselves into an opaque, iridescent film, stretching and spreading until there was enough of it to cover the bodies. With a shake of his arms and wrists as if he were spreading a bed-sheet, Magnor released the film. Slowly it floated downwards as he intoned the rest of the spell. At that moment Karryl held his arms out to his sides, palms downwards. Sinking down into a crouch, he closed his hands into fists and drew them together in front of him. He watched critically as the shimmering film touched the floor and began to edge slowly and smoothly beneath the corpses of the grelfons. Re-appearing on Magnor’s side, it formed an invisible join.

  Karryl slowly stood up, failing to suppress a grin as he saw Magnor glowering in his direction. “Sorry Magnor, I didn’t have time to tell you. I seem to have this ability to work spells without actually having to say or do anything.” His grin widened. “I suppose you could call it a gift. Symon seems to find it quite amusing; baffling but amusing.”

  Magnor rolled his eyes upwards. “It seems to me Symon spends much of his life in a state of amusement. And you’re right. It is a gift. Now then, let’s get this unsavoury parcel shifted. Can you dematerialise indoors?”

  “Well, I’ve always paired with Symon when I’ve done it, but now you mention it, I think we’ve always been outside. Why? Is there a difference?”

  The russet-haired magician gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “Not at all, but try telling that to Symon. I’m just wondering if, after all this time he’s now realised he can do it when he has to, wherever he is. Right, if you’re ready, let’s get this heap off the floor. I’ll have a quick clean round, then we’ll be off.”

  Karryl cast the spell of levitation, watching the misshapen and now unidentifiable bundle rise to hover about two feet above the floor. He held it there while, with a few staccato phrases, Magnor proceeded to clean the ichorous stains off the walls and floor, then cleansed the stale air about them with a steady and gentle humming. The stains began to fade until they were no more than barely discernible smudges on the stone floor, and the air was filled with a refreshing tang reminiscent of ferns and moist soil.

  Magnor moved to stand beside Karryl and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Bring that bundle up a bit higher and put a hand on it, then I’ll take us to where we have to go.”

  The air shimmered around them, strands of silver-grey and steely blue spiralling upwards in a gradually fading mist, until all trace of them had vanished.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was a breathtakingly massive cavern, a soft greenish light filtering down from an indefinable source high above Karryl’s head. He looked around him, turning slowly round on the spot where he stood, unable to take in everything in one glance. Everywhere he looked, huge ferns planted in massive earthenware pots swayed gently in a comfortably cool breeze, bringing with it an invigorating fragrance which defied all his attempts to identify.

  Feeling a hand fall gently on his shoulder, he turned to look into Magnor’s steely-blue eyes. “Where are we?”

  Magnor gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, and yet again Karryl lost his tenuous grasp on the flicker of recognition. “This is the entrance to the place where my people live.”

  Puzzled, Karryl frowned. “D’you mean you live underground?”

  Magnor smiled. “Indeed, no. Our country is very green and beautiful, the kind of place in which many people would give a fortune to live. Unfortunately I am not at liberty to show it to you; neither can I reveal its location. Not yet, anyway. Now, if you’ve finished gazing around I’ll take you to meet the rest of the elders.”

  Karryl took one more look around him. “Where’s… you know?”

  “Whisked away while you were gawping about. Quite safe. You won’t see those particular corpses again. Come on; this way.”

  Although he was unable to see any kind of doorway or portal, Karryl dutifully followed as Magnor strode towards a particularly massive and luxuriant fern. As they approached, the magician spoke a brief command, whereupon the fern and the appropriately large pot in which it was growing slid noiselessly to one side. Following Magnor through a narrow, arched and intriguingly decorated portal, Karryl found himself in another cave. However, this one was in complete contrast to the one in which he had first arrived. Here, there were no ferns, and the light was bright and golden. The walls were cut straight and smooth, the entire cavern fashioned in the shape of a hexagon. Against one wall about ten paces directly in front of him, five august and elderly men in robes identical to that which Magnor wore, sat at a long, polished wooden table. They all bore expressions of grave concern on their fatherly faces. The magician stepped forward and spoke to them in a throaty, slightly guttural language which Karryl failed to recognise.

  Magnor turned and beckoned Karryl forward. “Master Karryl, I have brought you before the elders of our people. Fear not to tell them of all that has transpired, and share with them your thoughts. As am I, they are fully conversant with your language.”

  Giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, Magnor moved around the table, brought out a chair to the front for Karryl, then took up the vacant sixth seat which Karryl had noticed.

  He smiled and nodded, gesturing for Karryl to be seated. “Hopefully, this won’t take long. Remember as much as you can, but don’t rush. If you’re unsure how to describe something, make a clear image in your mind. That will suffice.”

  Karryl gave each of the elders a dubious frown. “If you’re going to be reading my mind, which is what I assume you’re implying, isn’t that a sort of invasion of privacy? There might be something in there I don’t want you to see.”

  The elder in the centre leaned forward, hands clasped as he rested his arms on the table. His voice was deep and resonant, and seemed to Karryl to have a soothing quality. “We can be very selective, and will not venture to touch your mind unless you make a sign that you wish us to retrieve the images you are providing. It is merely a facility we are able to use, should you have difficulty.”

  Somewhat placated, Karryl gave a little smile. Leaning back, he rested his arms on the arms of the chair, quite ready to answer their questions regarding the horrendous event which had so recently befallen him. It turned out that Magnor was right. Before too long they had finished, and Karryl was being provided with refreshments, while one or other of the elders chatted amiably to him for a while about his work and about Symon.

  Eventually they each took their leave, and Magnor took him back to the cool ferny cavern. “Can you make your own way back? It’s quite a distance. I don’t know if you need to make adjustments.”

  Karryl shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’s probably the furthest I’ve travelled in this way, but I don’t think distance will affect the equation. You might wait here for a while though. I haven’t done it ver
y often. I might get it wrong and have to come back.”

  Magnor threw back his head and laughed. “I doubt that will happen, but I’ll wait anyway.” He held out a golden-skinned hand. “Tell Symon I’m glad to have been of service. As his injuries weren’t as severe as he first thought, you probably won’t be needing me for a while. If you do, he knows how to contact me. Now we have to get to work on investigating those vile corpses, and attempt to discover the reason why they were in King Vailin’s palace.”

  Just before he began the translocation spell, Karryl shook Magnor’s hand and looked into the magician’s steel-blue eyes. There was something in their expression that seemed so familiar, but again it eluded him. He left with the scent of ferns tickling his nostrils.

  * * *

  Assuming Symon would be in the Infirmary which lay close to the barracks, Karryl selected an arrival point just out of sight of the main entrance. To his surprise it was almost dark. He could see the lights gradually winking on in the streets of Vellethen below, as the lamplighter touched his flame to each one. After checking that he was as he should be, he strode round the end of the building and up to the infirmary door. He reached it just as Mordas was on her way out.

  Holding the door open for her, he gestured with a sideways flick of his head. “How is he then?”

  Her eyes were full of concern. “He’s not too badly hurt physically, although he’ll be doing nothing with his hands for a while, so he has to stay here, for the care.” Karryl nodded his head in understanding as Mordas went on. “It’s hard to say what’s going on in his mind though. He kept asking where you were, but we couldn’t tell him anything because we didn’t know either. We heard the full story from Sergeant Vintar. I tried everything in my power to save that poor soldier and failed. Vintar came to the mortuary with his commanding officer to formally identify the body. I get the impression that Master Symon is somehow blaming himself for what happened.”