by B. J. Beach
A wave of relief washed over the young Mage-Prime as he recognised the voice. “Yes Magnor, I can hear you. Where are you?”
The Grrybhñnös elder’s tone was firm. “Where I am isn’t important. Where are you?”
“I’m in a room in the south wing of the palace.”
Magnor sounded puzzled. “Which palace?”
Karryl sighed. “King Vailin’s palace of course. How many palaces are there in Vellethen?”
There was a tinge of irritation in Magnor’s reply. “There’s no need to get snippy. We searched the palace and the grounds, including the south wing and couldn’t find you.”
Karryl immediately realised that Magnor wasn’t aware of the true situation. “That’s because I’m not there. To tell you the truth I’m in a bit of a predicament.”
Not willing to take the chance of irritating Magnor even further, Karryl dispensed with mental speech and played the whole sequence of events through his mind. A long pause followed while he concentrated on the pattern on the rug beside the bed.
Magnor resumed the mental dialogue. “Nice pattern; and saying ‘a bit of a predicament’ is putting it mildly. So, let me get this straight. You arrived there at breakfast time on the day before the funeral of Vailin I?”
Rather unnecessarily, Karryl nodded. “Yes, and I think I’ve been here no more than a couple of hours.”
Magnor’s tone was adamant. “Stay put and don’t do anything or go anywhere until I contact you again. It may be an hour or two.”
The familiar hollow feeling in his head told Karryl that Magnor had broken contact. He waited for it to clear and was just about to lie down again when there was a gentle tapping on the door. Uncertain whether to go and answer it, the decision was made for him by one of the guards, who opened the door to admit a soberly dressed household maid carrying a fully laden breakfast tray.
She bobbed a little curtsey before carrying the tray across the room and placing it on the small table near the window. “The Lady Evalin asked that I bring you this sir, and said if you was wanting anything else you was to ask one of the guards. Thank you sir.”
Keeping her eyes lowered, she bobbed another curtsey then scurried back across the room. Karryl waited until the door had closed behind her before he ventured to see what Lady Evalin had sent him for breakfast.
* * *
He was gazing out of the window at nothing in particular when Magnor’s voice surged into his mind. “Karryl; are you still in the same room?”
The Mage-Prime’s reply was tinged with irony. “I don’t have a lot of choice. There are guards outside the door. Where else would I be?”
Magnor sounded surprised. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you!”
Out loud, Karryl gave a derisory chuckle before he replied. “That’s one risk I’m not prepared to take, as things are at the moment. Who knows where I might end up?”
There was a long pause, and Karryl got the sense of a number of people talking amongst themselves, but he was unable to make out what they were saying.
Magnor returned, the contact seeming clearer and not so distant. “Wherever you’re standing, stay there and don’t move.”
Mystified and his curiosity piqued, Karryl agreed. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his robe and stood gazing out of the window, hardly daring to breathe.
He heard Magnor’s voice say “I’ve got him!”
His view of the sun-drenched gardens rippled, tilted sideways, and he found himself in total darkness. He could see nothing and hear nothing. He didn’t dare move. For longer than he could realistically estimate he remained, seemingly suspended in a black cocoon and devoid of all outside sensory stimuli. There was one consolation and he smiled to himself despite his bizarre situation. He knew he wasn’t dead. His bladder was getting uncomfortably full. As if in response to his increasing discomfort, almost imperceptively the darkness began to disperse, reminding Karryl of a sunless dawn.
His skin prickled, cold bright daylight banished the darkness and he began to shiver. He looked down at the slushy snow surrounding his bare feet and wondered what had happened to his sandals. After one final look around to ensure that bowman Parry had indeed gone with Magnor and the huntsmen, and that no trace of the grelfons remained, the Mage-Prime transferred himself to the welcome warmth of the apartment he shared with Symon.
* * *
In a softly lit, fern-scented hexagonal cavern a group of Grrybhñnös elders sat quietly discussing recent events.
His eyes filled with concern, Magnor leaned forward. “Do you think he will remember?”
Agmar shook his head. “Considering the complexity and magnitude of our achievement, it is extremely unlikely. I think we can safely say that the Mage-Prime is back to his normal self.”
CHAPTER FIFTYNINE
Two weeks later, the beautiful city of Vellethen and its irrepressible inhabitants had returned to near normal, although constant watch was being kept for the sudden appearance of grelfons. The major topic of conversation everywhere was the instantaneous awakening of the children. Thankfully, the large majority seemed to have suffered no ill effects from their experience and, like children everywhere, were eagerly looking forward to the Winter Festival.
The one exception was Karryl’s young cousin Marcus. He had become more serious and pensive, as if, during his short time under the influence of the enchantment he had cast off childhood and entered a darker world. Questioned albeit gently, by his parents and Karryl, he insisted nothing was amiss. His demeanour was eventually ascribed by Harrel and Vana to the process of growing up, and the subject dropped. However, something about it niggled at Karryl and he was determined to get to the bottom of it, sooner rather than later.
Upon learning of the death of his only son, Alfric Peasemold had embarked on a tour of Vellethen’s taverns, proceeded to get blind, roaring drunk and stumbled into the River Lowen. His bloated body was discovered three days later, wedged under a half-submerged tree trunk. Rather than offering sympathy and support for a woman who had lost a husband and a son in the space of a week, the narrow-minded villagers of Mudlin closed ranks, telling all who would listen that the bereft widow Peasemold was cursed. Evicted from the rented farmstead where she had spent over half her life, she was only one day away from being reduced to crying charity, had not her predicament come to Vailin’s ears. Under instruction from his king, Master Gibb found her a position in the palace kitchens, and a little cottage to rent near the docks.
Captain Vintar’s platoon found themselves in great demand and enjoying a very profitable sideline in the telling of their tale. The cold and horror of that fateful day were temporarily forgotten as the tale flourished in the warmth and companionship of the local hostelries. Soon, grelfons as big as houses were considered to be the norm, and every man a hero. Bowman Parry, while not laying claim to any kind of heroism, swore that the cold had done him no end of good, as he had never felt fitter. Captain Vintar had his own thoughts on the subject but kept them to himself, while admitting at the same time that Parry did seem considerably sturdier of late.
The palace and its environs became a hive of activity during the short, brisk end of year days. Most of the long nights found Karryl and Symon deep in serious conversation with Vailin and Lady Evalin, their meetings lasting well into the small hours. It was during one of these protracted meetings, which on this particular occasion both Magnor and Agmar were attending, that Karryl stunned the little gathering into open-mouthed silence. He was recounting his experiences among the entities, describing ancient Vellethen, the young oak tree and the broad grassy hilltop where the palace would one day stand.
Pausing in his narrative, he looked thoughtfully at Vailin and gave him a wicked grin. “Oh! By the way, I think I’m going to have to dig up part of the palace floor.”
To his credit, Vailin recovered quickly. Leaning back in his chair he lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Was there any particular part you had in mind, or will it be wherever takes your fancy at
the time?”
Karryl laughed out loud, dispelling the humorous misconception with a flip of his hand. The rest of his companions visibly relaxed.
Glancing quickly at Magnor and Symon who both nodded, Karryl continued. “I shall have to do a bit of exploring and take some measurements; just to be sure it’s the right spot of course.”
Lady Evalin gave a long-suffering sigh. “The right spot for what Karryl?”
The young Mage-Prime feigned innocence. “Oh! Didn’t I say? I’ve located the hiding place of the third artefact.”
His pronouncement didn’t have quite the effect he was expecting. Everyone simply lapsed into a thoughtful and protracted silence, broken eventually by Symon. “It may not be necessary to go to such lengths. After all, we haven’t yet brought the medallion to the book. I was under the impression that instructions for locating the hiding place were hidden within its pages.”
Karryl nodded in agreement. “Yes, I believe they are, but the entities sent me to search for it. Would you believe they were too busy and left it to me? Anyway, I eventually found a place where the grass was discoloured as though someone had been digging and then restored it. Then D’ta confirmed that the artefact was deep below. I marked the position in my mind, so all we have to do is find it again and start digging. I thought that right after the Winter Festival would be a good time.”
Agmar moved away from the window, where he had been watching the rain falling on the gardens below. “You may have located the artefact Master Karryl, but I doubt very much whether Keril would have made reaching it that easy. I think you will find that the discoloured grass was nothing more than a blind. The artefact may well be deep below, but digging straight down will not be the way to reach it. You must consult Keril’s book, as was his original intention.
Folding his hands under his chin, Vailin gave a wry smile. “I’m sorry your plan to create mayhem in the palace has been thwarted, but I feel that Agmar has the truth of it. I agree with the timing, but as there are still two weeks to go before the holiday, I suggest you use some of that time to study Keril’s writings, and possibly begin a journal of your own. How does that sound? We will definitely discuss this matter further when you have discovered what Keril has told us.”
Never had a royal command been couched so reasonably. Karryl had no option but to agree, especially as there were more than enough very reliable witnesses. Vailin rang for refreshments. Turning aside, he listened attentively as Symon engaged him with one of his many anecdotes, while Agmar and Magnor moved to stand beside the window, their voices held at a barely audible murmur. Karryl crossed to sit in the empty chair beside Lady Evalin. She smiled warmly then her eyes narrowed slightly as she saw the concern registered on the young magician’s face.
He leaned towards her. “Can you spare me a few moments? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about… in private, if we could.”
Evalin nodded and stood up. “We’ll go into the ante-room. I’ll ask Vailin to have Jobling bring our refreshments in there. Apart from that we won’t be disturbed. You carry on and I’ll join you in a minute or two.”
Comfortably settled in the ante-room, the two chatted about things in general until Jobling had brought and served their tea. As he closed the door quietly behind him, Evalin surrounded herself and Karryl with a ward of silence.
She smiled as she handed Karryl a cup of tea. “There. Now we have total privacy. I sensed that something was troubling you, other than the locating of the artefact.” She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her tea. “How can I help?”
Karryl placed his tea un-tasted on the little occasional table between them, and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “It’s my cousin Marcus.”
Evalin sipped her tea and listened. She said nothing and asked no questions as Karryl told her the full story of how Marcus had been one of the last to succumb to the enchantment, and the manner in which his personality seemed to have undergone a complete change since he awoke.
When he had finished, Karryl looked up into Evalin’s deep blue eyes. “What do you think has happened? Is he still sick? It seems as if he hasn’t really recovered from the enchantment.”
Evalin placed her hand over that of the young Mage-Prime. “I can understand your concern, but I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about unduly. To be sure, he’s a strong boy and still growing, so I doubt there’s anything amiss. Have you spoken to him about this change?”
Karryl’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “He won’t talk to me about it. It’s almost as if he’s afraid of something.”
Evalin’s expression grew thoughtful and for a few moments she said nothing, her gaze fixed on some distant, unseen point.
Eventually she gave a little nod as if having come to a decision. “I’m thinking that perhaps it would do no harm for me to talk to him.” She gave Karryl a little smile. “Maybe you’re too close. He might feel more at ease with a comparative stranger. Shall I do that?”
Karryl nodded, returning the smile. “As you say, it’s probably nothing, but it would be good to know for certain, one way or the other.”
Their tea finished, the two returned to their companions who were by now busily engaged in bringing king Vailin up to date with all the events which had so far transpired. It was far into the night when aching bones and weariness overcame enthusiasm and sent everyone to their beds.
Since then, the first of the few days leading up to the Winter Festival had been filled with numerous activities which had nothing directly to do with magic. A series of visits to Bagshott and Eaves the royal couturiers, resulted in two new robes in more serviceable colours than Karryl’s pale cream one, which had not exactly come unscathed through the last grelfon encounter.
Although he and Symon spent a couple of days working with Keril’s book, the results were unremarkable and inconclusive and they both decided to return to it with fresh minds in the New Year.
In a sudden and inexplicable desire to be just plain and ordinary, Karryl exchanged the distinctive robe which marked his status for the comparative comfort of trousers, tunic and jerkin. Mindful of the fact that the year to come would make unprecedented demands on his time, he packed a small holdall, left the luxurious apartment he shared with Symon, and sauntered down through the city to spend the holiday with his family.
- - -
AND NOW
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTYONE
CHAPTER TWENTYTWO
CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE
CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR
CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE
CHAPTER TWENTYSIX
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTYNINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTYONE
CHAPTER THIRTYTWO
CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE
CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR
CHAPTER THIRTYFIVE
CHAPTER THIRTYSIX
CHAPTER THIRTYSEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTYEIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTYNINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTYONE
CHAPTER FORTYTWO
CHAPTER FORTYTHREE
CHAPTER FORTYFOUR
CHAPTER FORTYFIVE
CHAPTER FORTYSIX
CHAPTER FORTYSEVEN
CHAPTER FORTYEIGHT
CHAPTER FORTYNINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTYONE
CHAPTER FIFTYTWO
CHAPTER FIFTYTHREE
CHAPTER FIFTYFOUR
CHAPTER FIFTYFIVE
CHAPTER FIFTYSIX
CHAPTER FIFTYSEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTYEIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTYNINE
And now