“As we came down, I saw on the scanner another stretch of land across the water. Enter its co-ordinates into the pod’s guidance system; there is dense woodland some miles from the shore. Our child will be safe hidden amongst the undergrowth, even if Tobyn overcomes us and escapes.”
“She may be safe from Tobyn, but she will die of exposure or starvation alone in a forest,” he objected gently.
Ilanthia closed her eyes, silently mouthed a few words, and carefully removed an amulet from around her wrist, which, once free of her body, immediately shrank in size. The golden band was set with twelve main gemstones, each one a different shade of blue, from the colour of an early morning summer sky to the dark hue of midnight. Set round the blue stones were a further twelve gems, which flashed red, orange, green and yellow, as though flames danced in their depths. The inside of the band was engraved with tiny runes, which only Ilanthia could translate.
“Place this on our daughter’s arm; I have called upon the stones to respond only to her, the power they carry will keep her from harm. The amulet will grow with her body and she is the only one who can ever remove it. It can never be taken by force.
Set the hatch of the craft to open after it has landed, and to self-destruct once the child has been taken from it. There is a cottage near to the edge of the forest and the amulet will attract the people there and charge them with her safety.”
Ilanthia kissed her newly born child and with tears threatening to spill from her large eyes, which were the deep liquid colour of gold, she handed the screaming bundle to her equally distraught husband. Wrapping her lovingly in a silk shawl, Timius cradled his darling child tightly against his chest and hurried from the chamber. Heartbroken, he watched, as the small craft carrying its precious cargo bulleted from the launch bay and sped away from their ship like a firefly, disappearing from sight in the vault of blue that covered their New World.
Weak from childbirth, Ilanthia forced herself back on her feet, brushing aside her husband’s concern for her well-being, to resume her rightful position as the captain of her ship. She drew upon her supernatural abilities as the shields safeguarding the anteroom were tested. Timius did not possess any of her otherworldly powers; he was an ordinary mortal, who had been sentenced on his planet for leading a rebellion against a tyrannous dictator who had seized power in a coup, murdering the beneficent and fair-minded ruler of the planet in the process. Once taken aboard Ilanthia’s ship, he was, along with the other prisoners, to be transported to her home world, where a mind-altering chamber would reshape their brain patterns, removing any spirit of anarchy; following this process they would be sold into slavery.
Ilanthia did not approve of this part of the contract with the prisoners, but it was a rule endorsed by her beloved father and despite frequently voicing her misgivings to him, she would not go against his wishes or commands. That was until she had met Timius. During their voyage together, she had spent increasingly longer and more frequent periods of time sitting outside his cage, listening to his story. She realised that here was a true victim of injustice, and far from being dangerous he was in fact one of the gentlest sweetest men she had ever met. She liked him from the outset, and before much time had passed, her liking had blossomed into deep affection. The feeling was mutual, and the result of their burgeoning love was their baby girl.
Fortunately, the child was able to breathe the atmosphere of this strange world. But Ilanthia knew that she had also inherited a valuable gift from her: the ability to command the elements, and, as she grew older, to weave powerful protective wards around herself. If Ilanthia had been able to breathe the atmosphere, she could have left the craft and calmed the raging storm that had damaged it, but trapped inside the stricken ship, she had been powerless to control the elements.
Tobyn’s own powers had been increased a hundredfold by the time spent in the cramped regeneration chamber, and he was aware that nothing and no one could now withstand his enhanced strength and ability. He concentrated his thoughts on the bindings that prevented his only route of escape, and under the onslaught of his mind, with a series of loud reports, the doorway began to buckle. As it crumpled inwards, his allies combined their own strength with his, until finally the bulkhead gave way, Ilanthia and her crewmembers looked on in dismay and fear. The conflict beyond the barrier flickered, distorting the view as though it was being seen through a mist.
Tobyn’s followers rushed into the control room, where Ilanthia attempted to halt them with conjury, while the crew engaged them in hand-to-hand battle. The weapons stolen from the armoury spat deadly venom at their victims, and almost all the crew were killed. Ilanthia’s skills had at first been effective in pushing them back, but Tobyn chose that moment to make his entrance, casually brushing dust and specks of warped metal from his clothes. With one skeletal hand held high and a mere flick of his coal-black eyes, he destroyed Ilanthia’s protective wards, enabling his rabble to slaughter all the remaining crewmembers that stood against them. “Leave the witch to me,” he sneered.
The sorcerer and his captor battled each other with sorcery on more levels than one could encompass. Ilanthia knew Tobyn now had the advantage but there was more at stake than his escape, her failure to defeat him would be the damnation of all living creatures. He had to be stopped.
Energy battled energy: the blinding brilliance exploding from the strikes illuminated the chamber as though from a flashing strobe light. Equipment that might have been salvaged to assist in the ship’s salvation was damaged as the deflected force shattered panels and crushed controls. Driven back, Ilanthia clung to a chair for support; sweat drenched her face, hair and neck. Timius yanked his beloved Ilanthia into his shadow as Tobyn strode towards them. “Get away from her, you…” With a grimace halfway between a scowl of hatred and a smirk of amusement at such a show of pathetic gallantry, Tobyn hurled a glowing mass of blue light from his outspread fingers. It whistled across the room and struck Timius mid-chest. He had no time to cry out or to gaze once more upon his wife’s lovely face; he crumpled, dead before he hit the floor. With her hand, a stunned Ilanthia sketched a design in the air separating her from her husband’s assassin, her forefinger trailing a shimmering green fluorescence in its wake, which, when it reached a dazzling, almost unbearable brightness, she aimed at Tobyn. It connected with her enemy’s forehead, traced a sizzling path over his brow and ran down his cheek like liquid emerald fire. He recoiled, shocked and bewildered that she had managed to harm him when he had believed himself to be invincible. His raven eyes blazed with a barely controlled rage, as Ilanthia turned away from him, falling to her knees beside her dead love. She cradled his head against her shoulder, tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair, her tears dripping silently onto his pale cheek. She blinked up at Tobyn, the despair of loss in her eyes, first of her daughter and crew, and now her husband. She felt as though she had no further reason to live. “If you are going to kill me, go ahead. I will not defend myself again.” Instinctively Tobyn raised his hand, prepared to despatch a bolt of energy to destroy his Nemesis. But in the split second before he let fly the deadly arrow a more fitting punishment came into his mind. “I would love to see you as bereft of life as that husk you are holding, but I’ve just thought of something far better for you, my dear. You are the prisoner now; you can’t breathe this planet’s atmosphere, so I will allow you to live out your days trapped on board this ship, with only the rotting carcasses of your crew for company. Doesn’t that fill your little Baryllion heart with joy? You see, Ilanthia, I can be merciful.”
“I should have destroyed this ship when it landed,” hissed Ilanthia, “and all of us with it, if that meant you would never walk free again.”
“Such animosity doesn’t become your pretty face, Ilanthia,” Tobyn attempted a sweet smile, but his features, unused to such an expression, merely twisted into a grotesque parody of one. “Let me tell you this, madam. I will seek out your daughter wherever you have sent her and I will return her to you, in
small pieces. I will personally rip her half-breed heart from her chest and devour it while it’s still beating. I might bring her back here and let you watch, and if I’m not too hungry, I may even let you share. My unselfishness knows no bounds.”
Laughing uproariously, he turned on his heels and ducked through the buckled hatchway leaving Ilanthia crouched over Timius, as though beseeching him back to life. She could not bring herself to let go of the extraordinary man who had stolen her heart, and who had given his life for hers. To go on without him was unthinkable and she wished she could call Tobyn back so that she might goad him into taking her life too.
Her people were warriors, used by a federation to uphold law and order, and to bring to justice all those who fought under the flag of anarchy to instil chaos into their respective worlds. Although she was the king’s daughter, a position that effectively put her outside the realm of law enforcement, she had gained the respect of her father’s subjects by leaving behind her royal privileges and choosing to captain a prison ship. But Timius was not a warrior. He was, as she had discovered, a gentle loving man, who had brought her great happiness. Standing just short of six feet tall, he was slim and not over muscled. He wore his brown hair cropped, and often when she visited him had dark stubble on his chin where he hadn’t shaved that morning. But it was his eyes that told of his love for her, a soft hazel in colour that shone as he gazed upon her. But now all that remained of their love was a child that may now be lost to her forever. Grey-black streamers of smoke caught in her throat and left her choking for breath. Through tear-stung eyes she turned towards the sound of footsteps crunching through broken glass outside the control room, snapping her back to the present. A small band of prisoners hovered uncertainly in the doorway, no one speaking, until finally one of them stepped forward. “My lady, we have chosen to remain on board. The ones who have fled with Tobyn are a curse to us and we have no wish to ally ourselves with them. We mean no harm to the people on this planet, we can breathe the atmosphere here and we would like to make it our new home. You have treated us well during our journey, as a warden, and before we go, we’d like to think that if there is anyone on this planet who can repair this craft, we could return home.” Ilanthia studied each of the expectant faces in turn. “I am in no position to prevent you. You are right, if you can use whatever strengths and abilities you have to assist these people, perhaps one day their knowledge will equal our own and with their help, maybe we can repair the ship and return to our homes. As friends, not as the enemies we began this voyage.”
With one final kiss on his pale cold brow, Ilanthia allowed two of the aliens to gently carry Timius’ body from the ship and bury it in the rich earth outside, in the shade of a tree whose lush branches bent low over the grave, as though weeping for Ilanthia’s loss. From this window she could gaze on his final resting-place every day, possibly for the rest of her life; it was all she had left of him now.
All but one of the remaining aliens trailed after their companions. Ilanthia watched them as they stood together, some of them gesticulating in one direction and others along the opposite path, obviously deciding which way to travel. In the end six began to trudge towards the north, while the five who were in disagreement with this decision, set off along the shore to the south.
The remaining prisoner stayed close by Ilanthia’s side, staring out of the window until the last of the newly freed beings disappeared from view. “I choose to stay here with you,” the offer came, finally, “if my company would not displease you.”
Ilanthia looked at her former captive. A female of human shape, but with very obvious ophidian origins, her delicate pale green complexion, mottled with freckles of darker green, did not detract from her beauty. The smooth skin of her face segued into rougher reptilian scales over her forehead that winked with pinpoints of sparkling jet where they caught the light. The scales descended across the back of her head and disappeared into the collar of her prison suit. Her eyes were extraordinary, bright yellow with long black pupils. She had no eyelids, but every so often her eyes blinked, closing for a mere microsecond each time. Her nose was almost flush with her cheeks, with two small black nostrils that occasionally flared to sniff at the air. Underneath, two sensuous ivory lips smiled at Ilanthia, who found the pink forked tongue whipping in and out spasmodically, most disconcerting.
“As you like, it makes no difference to me. But why would you do that? You can breathe the atmosphere here and having travelled with you for two decades I know you are no threat to these people. Albeit a willing one, you will still be a prisoner if you stay with me.” “I am aware of that, but there is nothing out there for me. I left my mate behind on my home world and my species cannot interbreed. I can help you maintain the ship in the hope that one day it may fly again. Besides you never know when I might be useful, I am able to mind warp some creatures, a gift that might save our lives should we be attacked. I am called Eona, a derivation of the word used to describe time.” “Then I welcome your company, Eona, and you stay as my friend and equal, not as my prisoner. There is enough power in the ship’s cells to create and maintain a force field around it. It will hide us from anyone who might chance upon us.” They clasped hands in friendship, Ilanthia trying not to recoil from the cool skin of her new ally, and for the first time since losing her husband and daughter, allowed herself to feel a little hope.
Chapter 4
The King’s Sorcerer
Tobyn picked his way through the debris of fallen and crushed trees, wading through the swamp-like mud that surrounded the ship. The six creatures that followed kept pace with him knowing how he might retaliate if they angered him. When they reached dry land, Tobyn turned to study the ship’s crash site, noting in his mind the exact spot, so that he could keep his promise to the alien female who had mistakenly thought she could better him and at such a high price. In his robe he had secreted a pouch taken from the ship’s library, which had belonged to him and had been stolen when he was captured. In it was the key to many magic spells and enchantments which he could use, should the need arise to destroy all that stood against him. Before any of this could be put into practice, he needed more knowledge about this land and its inhabitants. He was not even sure of their appearance and wondered if he would be able to pass as one of them. It was not long before he got his first sighting.
In a clearing, not far ahead, Tobyn saw a group of creatures with resembling human features huddled round a campfire, and realised with relief that he could fit into this world. However, the six creatures accompanying him would not be able to mix quite as easily.
“I need to join that group,” whispered Tobyn, to his companions, “to find out more about this world and its ways. With your appearance you will be shunned, maybe even attacked; if you cannot disguise yourselves, you will have to find a place to hide until I can send for you.”
“We can place illusionary around ourselves, so to these creatures we will appear as they are. We will come with you, but should they suspect anything, we will kill them.” A lookout spotted the seven men making their way towards the camp, and sounded the alarm. The men gathered around the fires jumped to their feet, their swords and daggers to hand, ready for any hint of trouble. Tobyn lifted his hand in peaceful greeting and hailed them, asking for a warm fire and a place to rest for the night.
They were made welcome as they entered the camp, and Tobyn’s charm allayed any fears that the men might have felt.
“We have no money to purchase food,” said Tobyn, appearing embarrassed, “but I might be able to entertain you with feats of magic and if you think it worthy enough, perhaps you could spare a little food and drink.”
“So, you are one of us,” a young man clapped Tobyn on the back. “We travel the countryside entertaining to earn a living. We would enjoy seeing your conjuring tricks, and if you are good enough, you might like to join our troop.”
It was more than Tobyn had hoped, for not only would it enable him to blend into the background as he stu
died the land around him, he would also be able to gather knowledge about the people he intended to dominate.
As the tall figure before them threw back his hood, the entertainers sitting closest to him recoiled. Tobyn’s face, now that it was not cloaked in darkness, caused them to draw closer to the comforting firelight, although the malevolent chill emanating from his robes seemed to have sucked all the heat from the flames. His long tapering fingers appeared from the folds of his sleeves, and a dry papery whispering could be heard as he rubbed his hands seductively over the fire. He looked up at the men and smiled suddenly, a brief flicker of sardonic amusement playing across his thin cruel mouth and flaring nostrils at the end of his aristocratic aquiline nose. The men searched his eyes for an echo of that smile, and were startled to see graveyard-black orbs in his eye sockets, no coloured irises, and very little surrounding white. The deep jet glittering, reflecting the dancing flames. A long scar puckered his forehead and right eyebrow, scarlet and furious where it crossed his otherwise deathly pale face. As Tobyn caught them examining it, the men hastily averted their eyes with embarrassment. A bony finger traced the ridged tissue, remembering the promise he had made to the donor of such a fine present. His face was so gaunt, that his cheekbones protruded like sharp mountain escarpments over shadowed valleys beneath.
The Wolf and the Sorceress Page 6