Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  The men hurried out of the shelter, nestled close to the hillside, and the two women joined them, making up a small group of five, who did their best to approach a run, but their physical condition was not what it had once been, which was why they had not gone on the expedition to Athrak in the first place, and they struggled.

  "Curse my aged legs," puffed Jackman, "If you others can run faster than me, then go!" but the legs that ran faster than all five belonged to Marny. Like the wind she had sped out of the shelter at the first realization of what was happening, and was already on her way to the flying field. And she was armed. Since the day she and Jazlyn were attacked, she had taken to wearing leggings, and a jerkin, and shadow-sparring with a short sword she had wheedled from one of the guardians who no longer used it. She had taken a vow never to be caught unprepared again, and now she ran, and her legs took wind as she felt the urgent need to reach Jazlyn and do something. No, she wasn't guardian trained, but she had sparred with her brothers for fun on their visits to Kinguard. She had practised alone in the woods when no-one found other chores for her to do, and she was angry. Not teenage girl angry but controlled and determined. She felt her resolve build in her with every step and the ground disappeared behind her as she sped on. There was the field! She could see three individuals, one of whom was already on a beast. Yes, it was Jazlyn, and she appeared to be bound to the saddle. Marny ran for all she was worth, recognizing Nya as the second, unmistakable shape, and she fought the tears of anger as he lightly mounted a flyer, and trotted off in preparation for the acceleration needed for take off, Jazlyn's beast following on behind, obviously tied to his. They would be airborne before she got there, but she didn't stop. There was a chance she would reach the third figure before he got away. She could see his back. It was a young, strong man, and she weighed her strength and ability against his, knowing she was lacking. But wait. She knew that stance, that hair, those mannerisms. All power went from her legs and she halted abruptly because the man mounting the third beast turned and looked at her, and she opened her mouth and let out the disbelief and pain she felt as she recognized him, and it escaped her in a scream.

  "Wes! No! Nooooooooooooooo!" but his beast was already trotting after those of Nya and Jazlyn, who were slowly rising into the air, and as she watched, it too launched itself off the ground and the three shapes flew off across the green hillsides.

  Jazlyn, who had heard the scream, looked back over her shoulder as the wind rushed past her, and saw the small form of Marny, sword in hand, but tip buried in the earth as she seemed to be using it to hold herself upright in the fast disappearing meadow.

  Chapter 28

  The Other Side

  Who did he think he was, this feeble little wizard? Just because they put a wand in his hand didn't make him King of the Hill, Oh no! And his so-called guardians; Ha! Babes and pimply-faced youths who blindly followed their Lord Menoneth and his precious Wandmaster! They would wet themselves at the first sight of his beautiful Akryd, all of them, but after they changed their pants, he would be able to use them all as a fresh supply of victims to increase his numbers of lo's! And the best thing was that they were coming straight to him! Into the spider's web my beautiful little flies! Ataxios is waiting to make you feel at home, and give you all an extra set of brains with which to do his bidding!

  "Oh yes! Free heads! An offer, not to be missed!" He laughed. His thoughts tumbled around inside his crazed head and he capered after them trying to pin them down, which caused him to have violent mood swings. He was either laughing hysterically, screaming with rage, or deeply depressed. The truth was that John's sudden appearance in the empty air above the Plain of Athrak, where Ataxios waited to watch the unfolding of events had pushed him further off his already unbalanced head. His furious screeching had resounded through the rocky passages and into all the caves and hollows in Athrak, inspiring a frenzied response from his army. It had been many years since you could have called him anything but totally insane, but burying himself in his hideaway down under the Athrak mountains meant that there were few who were in a position to judge. He festered and hated, schemed and watched the outside world with his seeing crystal from the subterranean temple, which also housed his crystal trove. Ataxios's skill allowed no light to enter; only the murk created by his own hand, an oily darker-than-black substance, which pooled around the altar and flowed across the temple floor defying all brightness and colour, so that when a lantern was introduced, its glow was dimmed and extinguished.

  Now, in this rare exodus from his lair, he had taken the essence of Athrak with him. His clothing and insectivorous helmet were made of the very stuff of darkness, and their touch was dank and moist, reminiscent of the clammy dripping walls of the kingdom he chose to rule. He had ventured out and unwittingly shown himself to the enemy, but did he think he was just going to sit around waiting for his guests to arrive for the party? His lo's and spindlies were more than ready for them, and he began to think it would be better if he were in his lovely tunnels near his beloved crystal trove. He could always watch events with his seeing orb. His scouts had tracked the expedition during most of its journey through his mountains, and he knew how few they were. He had no need to fear defeat. His only regret was that he might not see the process of making the Wandmaster into a lo, and all his little friends with him.

  "Oh what a shame, I will miss the fun!" and from his position on the small plateau of rock above the plain, Ataxios let out a ringing, hysterical giggle, and wrapped his arms around his torso in glee as he imagined the scene. He did not allow himself to admit that he had been shaken by the apparition of the Wandmaster with his bellowing voice and his 'light show' high in the sky above him, but his decision to return to Athrak now was not accidental. Even though he was revising his original plan, he could still organize things the way he wanted them.

  "Gnath!" he trilled, "Gnath, get over here, I want you!" The huge-bodied and strongly built lo had been close by, as he always tried to be, and within a few seconds, was kneeling before his master.

  "Gnath, I have decided to return to Athrak."

  Gnath had not only been granted the gift of speech by his master, but he still had the use of his logic, and he was now relieved to see that his master was using some of his own.

  "Whatever you decide will be wise, oh Lord of Darkness."

  "Of course it will! I don't need you to tell me that."

  "Lord," responded his Captain, whose white face was unusually large, like a flat china plate surrounded by spikes of black hair.

  "Get me my entourage. I need my carriers and my escorts. But I want you here, Gnath, to carry out my orders."

  "Yes, Lord."

  "And my orders are that you must bring the Wandmaster to me."

  "Of course, my lord, as soon as the Akryd has laid her larva into him, I will bring him to you."

  "No! No! I want to see it. You will bring him to me and we will watch it together!" Gnath knew better than to disagree with his master, but was sure beyond all doubt that it was a mistake to delay the process. First of all, it would mean that he would have to find some other way to contain the man's crystal magic, and that wasn't going to be easy without Ataxios, and secondly, the Akryd produced her best lo's at the first laying. If she laid into others first, the master's pet would not be such a good specimen.

  "Will we want the Akryd to lay first into the Wandmaster, Lord, in order to produce a good strong lo? Or shall we allow her to lay into the other guardians first and then bring her back to her lair for him?" Ataxios saw the flaw in his plan, and also saw that Gnath had, and that he was diplomatically pointing it out to him. His huge ego would not allow him to admit to it, but it was definitely a problem.

  "Don't bother me with details! Sort it out yourself! Why do you think I keep you alive?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Now, call me my carriers and get me out of here," he said sulkily. "The tunnels of Athrak are much more comfortable."

  "At once, Lord." And Gnath
stood, raising his head and moving it erratically on his scrawny neck, so that he issued a series of high pitched whines and clicks which reverberated off the rocks and reached a small group of lo's, unusually squat but brawny, who made up the carrying entourage. They scurried up immediately, carrying a cumbersome platform fitted with a soft bed of something reminiscent of fungus, and the great lord Ataxios eased himself on to it and closed dark curtains all around him so that he disappeared into blackness. A muffled voice came from within the booth.

  "Do not fail me!" it said. Watching the carrying party taking Ataxios off through the foothills, Gnath felt both relief and unease, and revealed his thoughts to the only recipient who he felt would understand.

  "Whatever happens, Head, we've got to be on our toes, because if anything goes wrong, we're for the chop." The second, once human head, which hung at chest height drooled and said, "Gharglargh arglgh glargh,' and out of habit, Gnath took an affectionate swipe at it, making it wobble on its own near-useless neck. "Glarghargle argh."

  The truth was that Gnath was very much on his own now and he knew it; he had no magic to use against the Wandmaster. His battle advantage was in sheer numbers and his lo's and spindlies were fierce, but they were no match for magic either. He would perform his duties, but there was no need for him to sacrifice his own life, he reasoned. He had other options, planted in his mind by the spindly Nya, it had to be said. Nya, who had at times been problematical in Athrak, was also exceptionally bright, and stood out from ‘the numbers' as he, himself called the other spindlies. It was rare for a spindly to develop into anything other than an obedient and subservient fighter. They were trained from a very young age to that purpose, and their intellect was dulled through lack of proper food and the use of potions to induce a state of semi-awareness. When they were needed in order to fight, their herbal brews were stopped, and their reliance on them emerged in directed aggression. Their fighting done, they were happy to return to their darkness and their drugged existence until next required. Nya was not one of these ‘numbers'. He despised them, and Gnath had once come across him skulking outside the subterranean Athrak temple. He had been talking half to himself and half to the crystals housed therein, and though he had no skill in think-working, Gnath was aware of its use. He had often watched his Lord at work when he peered into his seeing stone, and when he handled the crystals in the trove; there was a tension in the atmosphere, which was unmistakable. This Nya had been speaking under his breath and using some kind of crystal magic, Gnath was sure. He remembered the brief scene.

  "What are you doing here?" The spindly had been taken by surprise and gave a start, jumping to attention.

  "Nya just passing, great captain, just passing."

  "You have no business here,"

  "That is true, great Gnath, no business, just passing."

  "Who were you speaking to?"

  "Me, talking to me, great Gnath, no one else here, see?" Gnath remembered how Nya had shown the empty space around him with his gangly hands.

  "Go back to your quarters and don't let me see you here again."

  "Yes, Nya go."

  Gnath had stood and listened to the shuffling of the spindly's feet as he hurried back along the tunnel, which led away and towards the living quarters. He, himself had then stepped inside. He had no magic, and yet he could feel the crystals in the darkness, brooding. Rock, stone and crystal were all the same to him, but he knew it was not that way for his master, Ataxios. He had seen the oily darkness sliding around his master like a pet, and had heard him cackling away to himself as he followed the picture shows in his seeing–stone. There was an energy that flowed and pulsed through the caverns and halls of the underground kingdom, which called to certain minds. Ataxios had long since ceased to be a ‘mind' and had become part of that dark energy flow.

  Shortly after the meeting with Nya, there had been a raid into the Deepcleft area around Wandguard in an unsuccessful attempt to capture the new Wandmaster before he became too acclimatized, and Nya had been captured by the guardians. Gnath had assumed that the spindly was lost for good, but that was, surprisingly, not the case, and some time later, he had arrived once again in Athrak. He had sought Gnath out, and the two had talked but their conversation was completely different this time.

  Gnath remembered:

  He had been checking armaments in the storage and prison caves, and was sealing the door to the main entrance with his beetle-shaped key, which was slowly climbing up the door locking its separate mechanisms. Gnath was waiting for it to finish its work, when it would drop and he would feel its weight on the end of the chain at his waist, and pocket it.

  "Pretty little bug," said a nasal voice softly at his ear, and Gnath had started, taking a jump backwards causing the key to be dragged off the door and dangle from his chain.

  "Nya, darkness swallow you! Where have you been and what are you doing here now?"

  Nya reached down, picked up the mechanical insectivorous key and placed it on the door in roughly the same position from which it had dropped. As its scratchy metal legs once again proceeded to the next lock, he answered,

  "Go see Wandman. See many things, learn much. Now come back to see great Captain Gnath."

  "Continue."

  "You and me same and not same. Work for Great Magician Ataxios, but not just slaves like the ‘numbers', or like click-talkers. Great Gnath make fine ruler of Athrak," wheedled the sing-song voice. "Nya help Captain Gnath, yes, Nya help."

  "That's treason, and punishable by death!"

  "Got to catch me first," snorted the spindly with a derisive laugh, stepping back a pace or two, and carried on quietly, "Nya leave Athrak, Nya go Wandguard, Nya leave Wandguard, Nya come Athrak. Go-come, come-go."

  "I could call the guards and have you dead in no time. Cleverness is not an advantage here."

  "Yes, kill Nya, but then who help Captain Gnath?"

  "I don't need your help."

  "You know, the Wandman change one lo into not lo man again? He can change Gnath."

  "That's impossible!"

  "No, can happen. Nya saw. One guardian-soldier. Nya give to mighty Akryd, but he rescued by others and taken back again to Wandguard with lo-head. Click-talker! But in Wandguard, Nya see same guardian-soldier again. Good like before. Not lo! Nya listen, and learn. Wandman do this."

  "And what good would that do me? I have a high position here as things stand."

  "And if Wandman come and kill Ataxios? What then?"

  Gnath laughed. "If that happens it will be too late for all of us."

  "Maybe yes, maybe no."

  "Ataxios is invincible."

  "Maybe yes, maybe no. Wandman very invincible too. Nya know this. He coming." Gnath, despite himself, became thoughtful and turned to speak to Nya.

  "And what great plans have you got, Nya?" But the spindly was nowhere to be seen as a distant nasal reply reached him,

  "Gnath will see. Yes, Gnath will see."

  Now, as he recollected the scene, he pondered on the question of ‘what was in it for Nya?'

  What did the spindly hope to gain? He remembered catching him skulking around near the Temple. Could it have something to do with the Master's crystal trove? Did Nya see himself as the next keeper, as a new Ataxios, maybe? The thought was ludicrous, and Gnath laughed as he shook his lo-head. "What do you think, head?" and he pinched head's cheek affectionately.

  "Ghlargle hee,glarg,hee,hic, glarg" lolled the head in the closest it could come to merriment. Well, Gnath would see to it that Nya wouldn't become the next Ataxios, and started to believe that maybe he, Gnath, had a great future ahead if Ataxios should by some chance be defeated by the new Wandmaster.

  Now, standing in the Plain of Athrak with his spindlies, lo's and the Great Beast, he would play his part but he was going to survive, no matter what. He scanned the surrounding rocks and resolved to get himself out of there and back to Athrak somehow if things got out of control.

  Battle Plans

  Meanwh
ile, in the guardian camp on the eve of the pending battle, a meeting had been called. The bright stars and the silvery light of the moon painted the rocky canvas of the mountains in pale black and white, bleaching out the little colour offered by the stark environment. A glowing fire crackled in a hollow, fuelled by a few gnarled branches dropped by the shrubby bushes clinging to the sides of the rocks. Their sharp thorns made collection a risky business, but enough had been gathered in the end, and more than one guardian sucked his pricked fingers as a result. The cheerful amber of the blaze was warming and friendly, giving a point of focus to the group gathered around it.

  Sitting cross-legged on blankets, the inner circle was made up of Vilma, Menoneth, Gilladen, on behalf of the guardians, Jet, the Armsmaster, John, Gothrik, the Military strategist and Torrel, a priest selected from Wandguard to represent the missing Tyloren on the trip. Scattered around in a wider outer circle were the remainder of the Guardians, who were not empowered to speak at this gathering, but were permitted to listen.

  Menoneth, as the Lord of Wandguard opened the proceedings formally.

  "Honour to the Wandmaster," he delivered, in a loud clear voice.

  "Honour to the Wandmaster," chorused back the remainder of the company, and the strength of the collective voice was heartening.

  "Honour" returned John, and it reminded him that these people were his protectors, and would lay down their lives for him if necessary.

  Menoneth's deep, commanding voice began, "The deliberations will now begin, and anyone in the inner circle is entitled to speak. I ask the Guardians to witness this meeting in silence; Gilladen represents you here, by your own vote, so allow him to do just that." There was a low murmur of agreement, and then quiet fell. He continued, "We approach an end to this journey of ours, and we must take some decisions about how to bring about the result we desire. We have come far, and we are not on our home ground, which means we will be fighting at a disadvantage. We are also fewer, and our enemy is ruthless