Mage Prime (Book 2)

by B. J. Beach

  Quietly telling her to attend in another room, Mordas took the under-shirt from the orderly’s trembling hand. Closing the door on her retreating form, the tall physician-mage looked down at Symon’s tousled head. “I strongly advise against your going anywhere at the moment. I have had the full story from Captain Vintar who was also heavily involved. I am also quite confident that our young magician is in no danger, just totally exhausted. He hardly had time to recoup his power before using another powerful spell which has completely drained him.”

  Symon cocked his head to one side and impatiently raised his bandaged hands. “Tell me, what spell did he use?”

  Mordas shook her head. “He didn’t say. He seemed reluctant to talk about it at all. From what Vintar told me, I would guess that Karryl inverted a spell of suspension then smothered the creature in its own poisonous black fluid.”

  Symon grinned then winced as he inadvertently patted his bandaged hands together. “Good thinking. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” He stood pondering for a while, his gaze centred somewhere in the middle distance, then snapped back to the present. “Just the same, there are things I have to do. No doubt Vailin will be wanting to see me along with his other ministers. There’s now also another grelfon corpse to be disposed of. Do you know if the customary morbidly curious are being kept away?”

  Mordas smiled as she settled herself on the foot of the bed. “Well, as it happened within palace boundaries and not all that far from the barracks, the only ones who would be able to get anywhere near it would be the kitchen and domestic staff, and they’ll be too busy preparing extra refreshments for anyone who’s been kept from their bed, which is not necessarily you.”

  Symon gave a disgruntled growl, and went to look out of the window. It had been the sudden appearance of dozens of torches adding their light to the efforts of a week-old moon which had earlier alerted him to the fact that something else was happening. Now those torches burned steadily in their sconces, revealing everything around them and throwing criss-crossed shadows along the ground. Turning away from the window, Symon gave an almost petulant sigh as he watched Mordas returning his undershirt and robe to the chest. A sharp tapping on the door made them both turn. It was thrust open and Magnor, accompanied by another identically clad elder, strode into the room.

  Trying as hard as he could to look dignified in the pale blue infirmary nightshirt, Symon raised a quizzical eye-brow. “Is this visit the result of some kind of precognition?”

  Magnor slipped his hands into the sleeves of his silver-grey robe as he exchanged a glance with his companion. “Not at all, though that is not beyond the bounds of possibility. It was young Master Karryl who contacted us, although I’m at a loss to understand how he did it. The crux of the matter is, we have to discover the reason for the sudden arrival in Vellethen of these malconceived creatures. One thing we have already managed to discover is their place of origin.”

  A knowing glint appeared in Symon’s grey eyes. “I have a feeling that Naboria might have something to do with it. Am I right?”

  Once again Magnor exchanged a glance with his companion. “That’s very astute of you, Master Symon. However, my colleague Agmar has brought all his considerable powers to bear on this matter. The result is not encouraging. I will let Agmar tell you.”

  Making a slight but respectful bow in Symon’s direction, the tall grey-haired elder fingered the blue jewel which hung at his chest. “Such a venerable and widely travelled man as your self will no doubt be aware of the myth concerning a hidden city far out in the Naborian desert. It is no longer myth but fact. The city is called Vedra, by implication the source of the evil and forbidden Vedric discipline of magic. This dark, sparsely inhabited city has become the well-head of this new breed of grelfon.”

  Mordas stepped forward, her expression resolute as she folded her arms. “Then it seems we must combine forces and locate this city and destroy it, along with the denizens of evil who inhabit it.”

  Agmar raised an admonishing finger. “That would be like poking a stick into a hornets’ nest. Those who suffer least are the hornets. No, first we have to establish the reason for the resurrection of these creatures, although it seems fairly certain that the city of Vellethen is their prime target. Why, we are not certain, as yet.”

  “I think I know why.”

  The four occupants of the room turned towards the direction of the voice. They had not heard the door being opened. To their surprise, Karryl, white-faced and weary, leaned with one hand on the doorpost.

  Mordas hurried forward and guided him to the chair which stood by the bed. She scolded him gently. “You should be resting in your room. We were going to come and see you.”

  Karryl ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. “You’re probably right, but I wanted to see Symon.” He looked around and gave a little lopsided grin. “I didn’t know you were having a party.”

  Magnor stepped forward and looked down at the exhausted young magician. “Your visit is most opportune and welcome, especially as it seems you may have some answers to our questions.”

  Karryl nodded and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He still wore his normal clothes. Small rips in his trousers along with the scrapes and scuffs on his boots, all bore witness to the strenuousness of his earlier efforts.

  He pressed his knuckles against stinging eyes. “I’m pretty certain they’re after me, or something I’ve got, or even both.” Pulling his feet back he tucked them under the chair then leaned forward, elbows on knees. “A few years ago, when I’d just started my apprenticeship with Master Symon, my best friend Joel’s older brother Ghian set off back to Naboria. We saw him in the scrying bowl, being given something wrapped in a cloth but we couldn’t see what it was. I’m almost certain that the man who gave it to him was the same one who tricked our friend Dhoum into handing over the medallion at the City Museum. My guess is that Ghian now has it.”

  Agmar clasped his hands behind his back and moved to stand beside Magnor. “So, what is the significance of this medallion?”

  Karryl rubbed his hands over his dark-stubbled face, as if even thinking was an effort. “It’s one that Master Symon found during a part excavation of the old city by University archaeologists some years ago. No-one could understand the symbols on it, and as there were nine of them, superstition dictated it should be put away for safe keeping.” He leaned back and took a deep shuddering breath.

  Magnor reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps Master Symon can tell us the rest?”

  Karryl raised a hand. “No, I’m all right. I’m beginning to feel a bit better now; my head’s beginning to clear. One particular thing about this is that the medallion belongs with the book. It’s of no use without it, and without the medallion the book is just a very interesting lesson in spell-making and ancient history.”

  Throwing propriety to the wind Agmar sat on the side of the bed. As Mordas was already sitting on the clothes chest, Symon gave a puff of resignation and sat himself down beside Agmar.

  The grey-haired elder gave a slight frown. “Forgive my ignorance, but to what book are you referring?”

  Karryl flapped a hand. “Oh! Sorry. Of course. It’s a very old book, quite heavy, bound in grelfon skin. I found it when I crossed the stream to explore an old cottage that Symon says wasn’t really there.” He gave Symon a reproachful sidelong glance. “It was when I was coming back with the book that I had my accident, which gave me this very retentive and analytical brain that I now have.”

  The two elders touched their fingers to the blue jewels they wore and exchanged meaningful glances. Agmar spoke first. “This could well be the book spoken of in legend. If this is the case, I believe there is something more you have to tell us.”

  Karryl nodded and gave Symon an apologetic look. “I only discovered this just a short while ago, even though I’ve been studying it all this time. I’m afraid I haven’t even told Master Symon about it yet.”

  The little mag
ician shot his apprentice an accusing glance. By way of apology Karryl shrugged. “You were out at the time and I never seemed to get round to it. Anyway, what it boils down to is, that the last dozen or so pages of the book are unreadable. The writing is quite clear but the language is different to the rest of the book. I could understand everything in it up to there. I came to the conclusion that it’s only by using the medallion in some way that those pages can be read. That’s when I made the discovery.”

  The air of expectancy which filled the room was almost palpable as Karryl looked around, his brow slightly furrowed. “Could someone put a ward of silence round us? I don’t think I’ve even got that left at the moment.”

  Karryl frowned as yet again he failed to grasp the recognition stirred by Magnor’s rumbling chuckle. “I did that as soon as you sat down. No-one will be able to make out anything except the murmur of voices. Now, please go on.”

  Taking a deep breath Karryl wriggled into a more comfortable position. “Well, I was staring at those pages, turning them this way and that, hoping I’d see something. And I did. If you hold the pages against the light at a certain angle you can make out a perfect circle within the spaces between the words. Looking down at the page as you do when you’re reading normally, you can’t see it. I think that circle is probably the exact same size as the medallion. If it’s placed in that circle it’s a fair bet it will be possible to read the rest of the pages.”

  Placing his forefingers together, Agmar tapped them against pursed lips. “So that’s what they’re after. But how do they know you’ve recovered the book? Have you spoken to anyone about it?”

  Karryl didn’t answer for a while then his eyes widened as he was struck by a chilling thought. “Oh! No! He wouldn’t have!”

  He looked round at each of them in turn, disbelief and anguish contorting his clean-cut features. “I told Joel about it a few days after I’d recovered from the accident! But he’s my best friend!”

  Symon stood up and leaned towards his young apprentice. “He’s also Ghian’s brother.”

  Karryl slumped dejectedly back in his chair. “If I’d known then what I know now I wouldn’t have said a word, but at the time Ghian was here in Vellethen. There didn’t seem to be any connection.”

  Magnor’s tone was sympathetic. “We often see things more clearly in retrospect. Where has the book been kept all this time?”

  Looking at Symon who was sitting on the bed again, Karryl flapped a listless hand towards him but said nothing.

  The little magician, while trying to find somewhere comfortable to put his own hands, looked up. “I have a little cupboard sitting in a dimensional shift. When one of us is present, the cupboard is quite accessible and the book is kept inside. Needless to say, the cupboard is constantly warded.”

  The two elders nodded tacit approval, turning to Karryl just in time to see him grin widely. “I’ve just had a thought. Somehow, the book is only attuned to me. In a way I can communicate with it as Symon has seen. It doesn’t take kindly to anyone else. So, even if Ghian or whoever it is gets hold of the book, it’s not going to let them work with it, is it?”

  Symon poured cold water on that too. “Not unless they have the medallion and know what to do with it.”

  Karryl slumped again, and sat picking at a rip in his trousers.

  Agmar stood and looked down at the disconsolate young magician. “Don’t worry unduly at this stage. Thanks to you we have a lot more to work with, although time may be running short. The grelfons that were killed inside the palace were indeed young ones, we estimate about one third grown. We calculate they would not have been fully mature and in possession of their powers for about a year.”

  Karryl shook his head. “I’m sure the one we killed on the slope behind the palace was bigger.”

  Agmar turned towards the door. “We shall go and view the corpse then dispose of it as we did the others.”

  With a lightly restraining hand on Agmar’s arm, Magnor looked down at Karryl still slumped in his seat. “How did you manage to summon me so quickly? I don’t recall telling you how.”

  The young magician gave a self-conscious little smile. “It could have been my old ‘wilder’ power coming to the surface. I don’t really know. Everything was happening all at once. I seem to remember, I think it was just after I’d inverted the spell, that I wished you could be here to see this other grelfon. I didn’t deliberately summon you though.”

  Magnor raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Someday soon I will have to show you how to refine what you seem to be able to do quite naturally. Now we must be on our way. Lady Mordas, I would graciously ask that you care for these two rags of humanity until such time as you deem them fit to rejoin those of us of like persuasion.”

  Symon and Karryl each managed to force a laugh, but Mordas’s light giggle was quite genuine. Bidding the two elders goodnight, although it was very nearly morning, she closed the door behind them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Two weeks later Symon’s hands had healed naturally, sufficiently for Mordas to weave a healing spell over the remaining superficial damage. Symon’s brave and selfless act in trying to get the badly burned soldier to healing had nevertheless left a permanent legacy. The palms of his hands now bore a pattern of black marbling etched into his skin by the hot stinking fluid ejected from the grelfon’s throat. The irrepressible little magician assured everyone that it was of no consequence. After a couple of days back at the apartment during which he gave the impression of not doing very much, he insisted things get back to normal. He felt his first duty was to make as full a report as possible to King Vailin, who had sent him an encouraging little note. To that end he took Karryl along with him.

  It was an hour after sunrise on a cool but pleasant early spring morning. A few old dry winter-brown leaves swirled in busy little eddies around their feet as they took the long way round, through the palace grounds, to the Royal apartments. Symon was dressed in a pale grey robe of soft wool, a simple thick cord of twisted blue cotton around his waist, and his usual thick-soled sandals. Not having taken the final examinations which would confirm him as a fully qualified magician, Karryl was not yet entitled to wear a robe. Instead he had chosen dark green slim-fitting trousers tucked into brown leather calf-length boots, and a cap-shouldered russet tunic fastened up the front with black lacings. He was not oblivious to the admiring and wistful glances from the occasional maid-servant or kitchen wench seizing the opportunity for some fresh air as they went about their early morning duties. He wondered, smiling to himself, whether they would be as interested if he were wearing the distinctive robe which would mark him out as a magician.

  His pleasant reverie was abruptly interrupted by his master and mentor scurrying along trying to keep up with the long-paced stride of his apprentice. “I think it’s about time you began to learn that there’s more to being a Court Magician than casting a few spells as and when required. And before you start to protest, the remarkable things you have done both recently and in the past have not gone unnoticed. Now the furore has died down, even if only temporarily, people have moved on to other things. However, we as Court Magicians have a potential situation on our hands and we have to consider how best to deal with it. Look, can you ease up just a bit? My little legs are going like bees’ wings!”

  Karryl’s face split in a wide grin and he obligingly reduced his long-legged pace to a saunter. “So, are we intending to discuss battle tactics with King Vailin, or do you have something more devious in mind?”

  Symon gave his apprentice a side-long glance. “Certainly we’re going to discuss tactics, and not only with His Majesty. This is going to be a full-blown council. Every minister, both governmental and religious will all be expecting to have their say.”

  Karryl frowned as he returned his mentor’s glance. “So, what are we going to be there for? Advisors? Eyewitnesses?”

  Symon nodded vigorously. “Both, most definitely. I would however, ask one thing
as a favour to me.”

  “Of course. You only have to name it.”

  Symon made a doubtful sounding noise in his throat. “Please, don’t speak until you’re asked to. Hopefully this will be a properly conducted council, not a free-for-all shouting match.”

  The little magician stopped and looked up at his tall apprentice. “Mind you, I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if that’s how it ended up. Now, if we cut down that little path just there, we can come out by the gate in front of the Mages’ Entrance.”

  * * *

  As they approached the heavily gilded door to the Council Room, Karryl recognised one of the guards from the squad which had accompanied him on the night they had killed the third grelfon. With a perfectly straight face the guard gave Karryl a slow wink before coming to attention, his halberd upright and central to his body. The young magician gave the man a brief nod of acknowledgement as Symon flicked his hand in the direction of the doors. Preceded by a soft click, the doors swung ponderously open and the two magicians entered the Council Chamber. Silence fell over the room like a shroud as they made their way towards the front. As Court Magician, Symon was automatically given a place close to the King. It was to this that he headed, barely pausing to respond to the few greetings he received. Karryl also offered little more than a smile and a nod. In a minute or two they had taken their places on the high dais, close to what King Vailin light-heartedly called his ‘bargaining throne’. Once they had settled the hubbub of voices returned. Of momentary interest, their arrival was soon passed over for other topics of conversation. From his elevated position Karryl was able to see everyone in the room and began scrutinising the small number of faces he recognised, hoping to gauge their mood.