by Greg Curtis
Then his expression abruptly changed, concern suddenly appearing where contempt had been. He patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Don't you even worry yourself about it Child. They're here to find out about my discovery, but I won't tell them anything.”
Carrie didn't answer him. She couldn't. She'd tried so many times before, and absolutely nothing she said seemed to be able to reach him. Not anymore. Since the disaster in the magical realm, he'd grown far worse. To be sure, he was calmer than before. But his memory of that day’s events was lost to him. He was also unable to separate the real world from his own imaginings. And he still couldn't remember Edrick at all. Not even from one sentence to the next.
Instead of trying to answer him she concentrated on the backs of the horses as they pulled their buggy along, and prayed to every god she knew that he would survive. If they heard her they didn’t respond. Not the Father or the Mother. Not even Sirtis whose sigil her grandfather wore. But then the Lady of Light had never brought her much comfort.
Soon the town hall was in sight. It was the most imposing building in all of Coldwater, with its two story tall marble columns in front of its huge stone front, and the stairs leading up to it as wide as the building itself. The sight of it caused the burning lump of coal in her stomach to burn hotter. Why were they having the trial here, she asked herself for the thousandth time? This was supposed to be just a Guild hearing of one of their members. Not a meeting of the Town Council. Surely a room in an inn would have been more appropriate?
The answer to her question lay in the number of people who had gathered in front of the building. A large number of the townsfolk and the Argani stood outside the Hall. And all of them seemed united in one thing – they felt they had been wronged by her grandfather and were here to see justice done. And not just for Edrick's death. For all the recent disasters he'd caused. They didn't like her grandfather. Or rather, they didn’t like what her grandfather had done. But they also feared him which was why they had backed a little away to let the buggy approach.
The crowd was strangely silent as Carrie pulled the buggy up in front of the hall. Subdued and a little bit nervous she suspected. And they gave them plenty of space as she got out and then helped her grandfather down. There had never been a trial of a wizard before, and they didn't know what to expect. Neither did she. She didn't even know if it was a real trial. The Guild weren't in charge of determining the guilt or innocence of crimes. They were a guild. But everyone seemed to believe that it was the same thing. That he would be found guilty and punished. The fact that Lord Ironbelly seemed to be running things reinforced their expectations.
He was waiting for them at the top of the stairs with another noble. Why? This was a Guild matter and he was no part of the Guild of the Arcane. He was not a wizard. But he was staring angrily at her grandfather as they walked up the steps. Meanwhile her grandfather clearly had a different understanding of what was happening.
“See child, they all know my work is important! That it will change the world. Look! They've come out to support me.” He beamed brightly at the crowd and threw them another wave.
Carrie meanwhile had to resist simply burying her head in her hands and bursting into tears as she tried to guide him on.
Suddenly things grew worse. Her unspoken question about who the other man was, was answered.
“Is this him?!” The noble dressed man standing beside Lord Ironbelly asked in a loud, strong voice full of anger. “Is this the man who murdered my son?!”
Carrie stopped halfway up the stairs, her grandfather beside her as she realised who the man had to be. And as she understood the anger in his voice. This had to be Edrick's father, Lord Baraman. She hadn't guessed he would come. But seeing him on the steps beside Lord Ironbelly, she understood why the trial had been delayed for so long. The two weeks since the battle in Edrick's home had been to allow him time to attend.
“Lord Baraman, I'm so sorry –,” she began, only to be interrupted by her Grandfather..
“Murder?! Who are you knave that you should dare accuse me of such a thing!” Wilberton straightened his back and glared straight at the lord.
“I am –.”
“I don't care! Begone you foul tongued creature, before I turn you into a snake!” He shouted at the Lord as if he was trying to scare away a tramp. It wasn't well received.
“How dare –.”
“– I'm sorry Lord Baraman,” Carrie tried again as she did her best to quickly get between them so she could explain. “He doesn't remember what happened.”
“He killed my son!” The Lord's eyes almost flew out of his head as he yelled at her grandfather. And while he wasn't a large or particularly imposing man, right at that moment she found him intimidating.
“I'm so sorry, but he really doesn't know what he did.” She tried again. “He's not in his right mind.”
“Don't you dare try to defend him! He murdered my son! A Lord of the Realm! A Baraman!” Lord Baraman bellowed at her and her grandfather. “There can be no excuse!”
“Silence knave! Do not speak such lies in front of my granddaughter! Have you no decency?! No respect for your betters?!” Her grandfather responded in kind, his chest puffing out in righteous indignation.
“Sirtis help me!” Carrie grabbed her grandfather’s arm and started hurriedly leading him away from the two nobles and toward the safety of the hall's entrance. And she apologised profusely to the two of them with every step she took, while praying that they wouldn't follow them inside. Carrie had no idea what she could say to Lord Baraman, other than offering her sincerest regrets. She doubted he would accept them and anything else she said would sound like an excuse. Or worse, an uncaring slur on Edrick's name.
Her grandfather didn't make it easy, struggling to turn around in her grip to yell once again at his accuser. Still, she somehow managed to push him through the double doors into the entrance hall. If she could have after that she would have tried barricading the doors behind them.
Unfortunately events overtook her. Even as she was looking back at the doors, worried that they would burst open again behind them, her grandfather spotted something ahead that interested him and took off. He abruptly pushed through the next set of double doors standing open in front of them and burst into the main hall, practically dragging her along after him while she tried to work out what was happening. She would never have guessed he still had so much physical strength.
“You!” He yelled at Master Errans who he could see seated with the other members of Guild’s tribunal at the tables set up at the far end of the hall. “Thief!”
“Oh damn!” Carrie panicked as she realised she suddenly had a new problem on her hands. It looked like her grandfather was about to do the one thing she'd asked him not to. There was no hope! But still, she had to try. And then she felt his magic flowing.
Dread gripped her soul as she knew where his anger could lead. She had to get him out of there fast. Before everything went wrong again. How could he have become so angry again so fast? His feud with Edrick had lasted nearly ten years, growing only slowly until the end. His new feud with Master Errans had only been in existence for two weeks. And yet it was now at least as powerful as the one he’d had with Edrick.
“Grandfather!” She tried desperately to push him backwards and get him to leave. But he wouldn't move. Frail as he was, it seemed he still had the strength to resist her. In fact he didn't seem to even notice her efforts.
“What?!” Master Errans stood up, obviously angry. “You senile old –.”
“Brigand! Knave!” Her grandfather instantly shouted him down, and then somehow launched a blast of force that sent everyone in the entire hall flying backwards. It was so strong it blew out the windows. It sent Carrie flying backwards too, and she hit the wall behind her hard, before falling to the floor.
“Grandfather! No!” She screamed at him even as she tried to get up, seeing another disaster unfolding before her eyes and desperately trying to stop it. But
if he heard her he paid no notice, and before she could yell again some sort of force had picked her up and pinned her to the wall, driving the air from her lungs. Then her grandfather muttered another spell and an ice golem appeared and ran at the wizards. It was huge and cast in the shape of an ogre, and was made of frozen ice crystals. Despite its size it moved like the wind, intent on killing whatever it was directed at. Fortunately, those wizards still remaining in the hall had by then mustered a defence and the ogre shattered when it hit the invisible barrier they had erected.
After that it was insanity all over again, as her grandfather unleashed all his magical fury at Master Errans, and the wizards responded. Several younger wizards ran for Wilberton, trying to tackle him and bring him down, but a shield of orange fire suddenly encircled the wizard and the moment they touched it, it threw them backwards violently, screaming and trailing fire.
Even as they flew through the air Carrie suddenly found herself dropped to the floor. It gave her the ability to breathe again, something she had apparently forgotten how to do in the rush of battle. But though she tried to raise her hand and yell at everyone to stop, all that came out of her mouth was a futile gasp.
The others struck back and shortly there were blasts of lightning, wild animals and even a small drake loose in the hall, all of them battling furiously. The roof was lost a few seconds into the battle, torn off by a tornado that someone had created. The walls followed soon after as they were quickly reduced to kindling and stones. A few people were screaming and running. More were yelling in anger as the battle grew more intense. And all Carrie could do was sit there, collapsed against what remained of the wall and gasp for breath, wondering how once again things could have gone so wrong so quickly. And what would be left once it had ended.
A few moments later rocks and hail stones the size of horses came hurtling down from out of a clear blue sky, tearing through what little remained of the floor, and Carrie had an inkling of the answer. Not much. And it looked like the damage wasn’t going to be confined to just the town hall. The loss of the walls meant that Carrie could now see out into the town streets themselves. And what she saw was that they too were being pelted by the ice and stones. Nowhere was safe.
The crowd had started fleeing and she could see many of them running desperately for shelter. Not all of them made it to safety in time. Carrie saw the hail stones take down a couple as they fled. One moment they were there, fleeing for their lives; the next there was a pile of ice and blood where they'd been. And then the drake – now free from the confines of the hall – swooped down on the town, spewing out fire in broad swathes, and setting many of Coldwater’s buildings alight.
It was a disaster! Worse than anything her grandfather had done before. And as she stared at the town slowly being destroyed, she knew he would never be forgiven. Not for this. There would be no more talk of trying him. From here on out the wizards' focus would be on how to kill him. They were already trying.
And in the middle of all the chaos and death stood her grandfather, surrounded by a shield of orange fire, unleashing all the spells he knew. Terrible spells which no one should know. Staring at him though, Carrie noticed something strange. He didn’t appear to be casting at all! Certainly he wasn't speaking any words – save perhaps curse words. Nor was he using any gestures. The magic appeared to be streaming from him, almost completely wild. How? How could he do that?
Carrie’s attention was abruptly brought back to the drake which had just been struck by the tornado, causing it to scream with rage as it was spun around, spraying fire in all directions. Moments later the ground opened up in all directions. Giant chasms ripped through the streets and ran under houses and buildings alike. The chasms swallowed people whole and then closed over their heads again. Carrie knew that none of those people would get out.
“No grandfather! Please stop!” Carrie screamed at the top of her lungs. But if he heard her he didn’t respond. All she could see of him was his back; his tattered old robe flapping in the wind, and his white hair streaming out behind him. He had his arms outstretched as he unleashed yet more fury on the world. He was completely lost in his rage. As for the other wizards, she could no longer see them and feared they had all been killed. Certainly some of them had to have been killed.
“Stop! Please!” Carrie screamed again, putting all the strength she had into her cry. But he simply couldn't hear her over the fury of the magical storm. It wasn’t surprising. She was having trouble hearing her own voice.
Then a blast of force came rushing at her, breaking the remnant of the wall she had been leaning against, together with the hall itself and both she and it were suddenly airborne.
Carrie found herself flying along the road faster than a bullet, screaming in terror. The only thing keeping her from death or serious injury was the remains of the wall which she was desperately hanging on to. It was absorbing the impacts and the friction as she and it were continually lifted up and then dropped back down onto the road as they were blown along it. Others weren't so lucky, and she saw darker shapes bouncing and tumbling out of control, and knew they were people. People who weren't going to get up again.
But if she had hopes of it all being over once whatever had propelled her out of the town hall lost its power, they were dashed when the next spell hit. A hurricane. A massive jet stream of wind suddenly descended on the town and its surrounds, picking up everything in its wake. People, animals and even whole buildings; all of them were once again picked up and blown further again.
Carrie screamed and begged Sirtis for mercy. Not that it helped. Like everyone else she was completely helpless in the arms of the fierce winds as they picked her up – higher than she was before – and propelled her further onward. She could only pray that she would survive the eventual landing.
Thunder crashed as lightning lit up the sky. Strange sea creatures flew around with her in the winds, snapping at her with their needle like teeth. Soon she couldn't even see the ground. All she could see was dust streaming around her. All she could feel was the sensation of tumbling out of control.
Eventually her wild ride was stopped – by a tree. Carrie smashed into its branches, feeling things snap and break and didn't even know which cracks were her bones and which were the tree's branches. By then she was in too much pain, and too confused to be able to tell.
After that she didn't move. She just lay there, collapsed over a branch, bits and pieces of timber sticking into her. She was unable to see the ground through the dust and the pain was robbing her of her ability to concentrate. Still, she tried to make sense of what had happened.
But there was no sense to be found. What had happened was beyond understanding. It was madness. The level of destruction indicated power beyond anything she'd ever heard of. And wrath that was greater sill. Yet this was her kind, loving grandfather. He was wielding powers she once would have thought only the gods could have and he was completely out of control. What’s more, there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do. Not against that sort of magic.
This was war! The people would be baying for blood. They would come for him. Having seen the level of destruction Carrie doubted that anyone could go up against him directly. Still, with magic that didn’t need to happen. A spell cast from far away could do it. Then again, a bullet would achieve the same end, provided her grandfather was asleep when they fired the shot. Either of those would bring an end to her grandfather’s life.
Yet what could she do? What should she do? It seemed unthinkable to ask her fellow wizards not to respond in kind. Her grandfather had to be stopped. He was extremely powerful and quite unbalanced. Letting him live would present too great a danger to those living nearby. And even if she did beg for his life, they wouldn't listen. Not when so many were surely dead and injured.
But he was still her grandfather. She loved him. She couldn't let him die!
So as she lay there in the tree and hurt, she did the only thing she could do – she wept.
&
nbsp; Chapter Thirteen
It was good to be out in the steam wagon again. Edrick had missed the simple enjoyment of driving. The feel of the wind in his hair, the steady chugging of the steam engine behind him, and the sense of watching the ground disappear behind him as the wagon chewed up the leagues. He'd even missed the bouncing up and down in the seat, though maybe not quite as much as the rest. While it had only been just over two weeks since he had last driven it anywhere – since Wilberton had gone mad and attacked him – it felt like a lifetime. Until then he'd driven his steam wagon every few days at least. Not being able to had felt confining.
Of course, there were no roads here, and the wagon didn't do so well without them. So he had to limit his driving to the gently flowing grazing lands and dry days. Not that he had any set destination. He was just exploring. Finally doing what he probably should have done from the start.
But he'd been busy. Too busy to spend time simply exploring the land. Instead he’d been reading up on the spells he'd need. Designing the equipment that could help him find what he was looking for. He’d also taken the time to chop down and burn the plum tree he’d restored with his new spell. It was never going to be able to bear fruit that was edible again. In truth, he doubted it would ever have grown anything. Though it might look healthy, the tree was actually dead. All the beautiful green leaves rustling in the wind and all the bountiful fruit it bore, were dead. And the only sign that it had passed from the world was the little spots of mould that had started to appear on it. Obviously mould wasn't quite so choosy about what it fed on. And as with all dead things, he'd decided it should finally be allowed to rest. So he'd returned it to the soil.