by Clare Smith
“Tissian, has your master private company that you are sitting here outside his door?”
“No, Lord, my master has been considering the benefits of being at court and became tired of my company.”
Callabris smiled in understanding. “Ah, Tissian, it’s not a protector’s place to criticise their master, even when they are being foolish. However, I shouldn’t despair if I were you; it’s common for a king’s attention to go to a young man’s head when it first happens, but worry not, it won’t last for long. Now, I must see your master for a moment and Allowyn will stay here and tell you a story about a young white robe who made a complete fool of himself in the royal court of Tarbis many years ago.”
He knocked on the door of Jonderill’s apartments and let himself in, noticing the dark purple splashes on the walls and the remains of squashed wine berries on the floor. “Jonderill, the king has asked for you to attend him at once. I believe he has a task for you. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No, I’m quite capable of talking to the king by myself.” He stood and straightened his robe. “I suppose Tissian will have to tag along?”
“It would be unwise and unkind not to let him do his duty.”
Jonderill gave a grunt of displeasure and walked out of his rooms leaving Callabris to close the door behind him and Tissian to gather his things and hurry along the corridor after him. When he reached the king’s receiving room, Borman was waiting for him, a look of excitement on his face. He took Jonderill by the arm and hurried him over to the window.
“Look down there, Master Jonderill; it’s the maze that my father built. Can you see how the path twists and turns and cuts back on itself and how the side paths go nowhere but dead ends?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Can you follow the path through the maze to its centre where that white building stands?”
Jonderill followed the pathways for a short while until he had worked out how to reach the centre of the maze and then nodded.
“Good. Then you and I are going to walk the maze together. It was built by my father for his magician and it’s his remains which are interred in the building in the centre. My father told me that only he and those with magic could reach the centre, but Callabris has always declined to accompany me; I think the old fool’s magic is not powerful enough. But you will accompany me, won’t you Jonderill?”
Jonderill took another look at the maze; it looked simple enough. “Yes, Your Majesty, it would be an honour.”
“Excellent. Come, there are stairs that lead from this room directly to the entrance to the maze.”
Borman opened a door in one corner of the room, which Jonderill had taken to be the front of a book case, and led the way down a dark spiral staircase until they reached the ground floor, where he unlocked the door with a key hanging on a nearby peg. It wasn’t until they stepped through into the bright sunshine that Jonderill realised that the outer edge of the maze met the stone of the palace wall, making this the only way in and out of its twisting walkways. Jonderill stared up at the stone walls high above his head with which the maze was made, and tried to picture the course of the pathways he had seen from above. He took a deep breath, gave his protector a curt command to stay where he was and set off with an excited King Borman following closely behind.
It was pleasantly warm in the maze with the high sun warming the stone and lighting the way. Jonderill led them confidently along the path ignoring the turnings which he knew led to dead ends and turning down others, following the plan in his mind. When the sun reached its zenith, the heat increased, and they stopped whilst Borman removed his finely tooled leather jerkin and rolled back his sleeves. Jonderill wished that he had thought to bring something to drink, but he hadn’t thought it would take him so long to reach the centre; it certainly didn’t seem that far from above.
The sun had tipped over the tops of the wall sending early shadows across the pathway when they encountered the first dead end. Jonderill was surprised but not concerned as they retraced their steps back; he must have miscounted the side turns and gone one too far. When they reached the next opening they turned into it and continued along that path. As the sun disappeared from the maze and the shadows lengthened, dark clouds began to gather so they stopped for Borman to put his jerkin back on.
When they took the next turning, a blank wall met them. Borman muttered an oath under his breath and Jonderill started to feel concerned. He could still see the plan in his mind and to his calculations they should have reached the centre some time ago. Giving Borman an encouraging smile, he turned around and walked back the way they had come, reversing the moves so he could go back to the place where they had made the first wrong turn. He was almost certain of where they were until another dead end barred their way.
Overhead there was a rumble of thunder and large, cold drops of rain pattered down. Borman went to say something but his words were lost in the crash of thunder and the torrential downpour. They pressed themselves against the wall trying to get some shelter but the rain was coming straight down, pounding at their heads and soaking them through. Jonderill could have pulled his hood up but thought that it might infuriate the already angry king.
“You blundering idiot, you’ve got us lost!” yelled Borman above the sound of the storm. “Now get us out of here!”
Jonderill nodded and set off again, puddles of water splashing up his boots, and for the first time ever, rain making his robe sopping wet so it clung to him like an icy blanket. He picked up speed turning left and right and running into another blank wall. Becoming increasingly concerned he turned around and carefully retraced his steps but where before there had been an opening there was just a smooth continuous wall of stone. The realisation of what was going on hit him and his stomach dropped.
“It’s magic!”
“Of course it’s bloody well magic; you don’t think I brought you in here because I like your company do you? Now use your magic and get us out of here.”
Jonderill closed his eyes and desperately tried to concentrate. What sort of magic would be needed to get them out of this mess, and how was he going to conjure it up when the best he could do was to mend broken straps and chase squeakers out of the grain store. In a panic he fell back on the most basic of magic and produced a small ball of elemental fire which spluttered twice in the heavy rain and went out.
“Is that all you can bloody well do, you useless bastard?” Jonderill nodded miserably. “What about summoning your protector, can you at least manage that much?”
Jonderill didn’t bother replying as he wasn’t sure if he could even do that but he closed his eyes and thought of Tissian standing all day at the entrance to the maze worrying about him. He felt ashamed at the way he had treated his protector but at the same time a wave of relief washed over him as he felt a sudden warmth as if someone had put a blanket over his shoulders.
“He’s on his way, Your Majesty.”
“He’d better be or I’ll have your balls for this.”
The first sign that rescue was on its way was that the rain stopped, and shortly after that, Callabris appeared through one of the openings followed by Tissian and Allowyn carrying blankets. Borman grabbed the ones Allowyn was carrying and wrapped them around his shaking body.
“Get us out of here.”
Callabris bowed and led them back through the opening, along the pathway for half a dozen steps and then a right turn which brought them into the open where Borman’s servants waited ready to assist their master. Borman took the pot of steaming mulled wine one of them was holding and swallowed it down without stopping, before turning angrily on Jonderill. “If you were anything but a white robe I would have your head for this, in fact, I might still do that anyway. Now get out of my sight and stay out of it until you’ve learnt to wipe your own arse.”
He turned and went back into the palace leaving everyone else standing there.
*
Jonderill sat miserably in front of the f
ire feeling odd in the shirt and breeches he had borrowed from Allowyn. Dozo had taken his robe away to dry and Callabris had warned him that it would likely take several days before he could wear it again. At least he was warm now, although he wasn’t sure if that was due to the fire and the pot of mulled wine he had taken, or his embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Callabris, I’ve made a real fool of myself. I have been disrespectful to you and have looked like an idiot in front of the king.”
“You have no need to apologise to me; I was young and foolish once and know how easy it is to forget who you really are when temptation is put in your way. As for the king, he will get over it if you keep out of his way for a few days. If you want to apologise to anyone then it should be to Tissian. Treating him like a hound and then ordering him to stand outside the maze all day awaiting your return was unkind and thoughtless.”
“I know and I have apologised to him several times. I didn’t expect him to have to wait an entire day; I thought I could walk the maze in just a candle length. It seemed so easy; I don’t know where I went wrong.”
“Don’t you, Jonderill?”
Jonderill looked down at his hands and nodded. “Yes, of course I do. The maze is magic and is not meant to be walked, but I was too arrogant to seek advice and too eager to show off. There are just so many things that I don’t know and I don’t seem able to learn them quickly enough not to get myself in to trouble.”
“You only have to ask, Jonderill, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
Jonderill thought for a moment. There were so many things that he needed to know but there was only one question he could think to ask. “Who is Callistares?”
Callabris looked surprised. “Why do you ask?”
Jonderill hesitated for a moment. “It’s just a name I’ve heard.”
“Callistares was one of the most powerful magicians that has ever lived. For many years he wore the crimson robe, and was the High Master of the Enclave and most beloved of Federa. It was a time when magic thrived and the Enclave was the centre of the six kingdoms. Kings would travel there to worship at the goddess’s temple and seek her wisdom through the High Master. Then one day, King Brodine, that was Borman’s father, turned up at the temple, and when he left he took Callistares with him as his magician. They spent every waking moment together, and Borman was left to the none too tender mercies of a succession of tutors.
“Sadly, without the presence of the goddess’s temple to bind his power, Callistares was driven to madness. King Brodine asked for the temples help, but the new High Master refused to help Callistares, who he saw as a traitor. The king did whatever he could to aid and protect his friend and magician, but in the end Callistares became so dangerous that Brodine had to act. Together they built the maze that you walked today, and when it was done, the king took a sword to his friend and entombed the body in the centre of the maze. Brodine was never the same man, and died sad and bitter in the summer when Borman gained his majority. Some believe that the power of Callistares still remains at its centre, but the maze cannot be walked, as you have learnt.”
“Is that why King Borman tries, so he can take Callistares’ power for himself?”
“Yes. It’s partly that. I also think Borman is still trying to understand why his father rejected him in favour of Callistares.”
“He said that you wouldn’t go into the maze with him. I bet that made him angry.”
“Yes it did, but I told him the reasons why I cannot enter the maze, and he’s accepted it as part of the agreement between us.”
Jonderill frowned in puzzlement. “But you came into the maze today and rescued us and found the way out with no difficulty. If you are unable to enter the maze how did you do that?”
“Your protector asked for my help and I begged the goddess’s permission. Without Federa’s consent the maze is a very dangerous place.”
“And you used magic.”
“Yes, I used magic, but only because I had the goddess’s leave to do so. The maze does not allow magic to be used within its bounds, even if it’s a part of what we are.”
“It may be part of you, but I don’t think it’s part of me. I try so hard to do the things you have shown me, not because you have asked me to do them or because I want to do them to please you, although I do. I try because I want to do them, I want to be the white robe everyone tells me I am, but I just can’t do it. Nothing happens, nothing comes. Most of the time I cannot feel anything or touch anything, it’s as if there is nothing there.”
Jonderill wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and stared dejectedly into the fire.
“Jonderill, we have talked before about memory blocks and how it is possible that Maladran placed a block on your memory, so that bad things from your past remain hidden from you. It is possible that Maladran saw the potential of magic within you and blocked that too.”
Jonderill shook his head in denial. “He wouldn’t do that, he cared for me.”
“Perhaps that is the reason he did it. Sarrat was a demanding master who would stand no opposition or rivals. There were rumours of him killing Maladran’s apprentices, those children who should have been sent to the Enclave for training, although the High Master could never prove it. Maladran might have been trying to protect you from his king. Do you ever recall him entering your mind without your permission?”
Jonderill thought about it carefully before giving a hesitant answer. “No, he never did that but once he asked to test me, to see if I had any magic. I was in about my tenth summer and we were going to the High Lord of Leersland’s estates. He came into my mind like a brilliant white flame that burnt away every thought I had. When I couldn’t push the flame away, he told me I had no magic.” Jonderill was silent for a long while as he stared into the flames. “He lied to me didn’t he?”
“So it would seem.”
“Can you remove this block?”
“It is difficult for me to reverse a spell laid by such a powerful magician, especially after so long. It can only be done if you have something of his which has been imbued with his magic.”
Jonderill nodded and went to his sleeping room returning with a black silk bag which he held out for Callabris to take. The white robe took the bag, opened the draw string and emptied the torc into his hand. He gave a gasp of shock, dropped the torc as if he had been burned and stared at the glowing red eyes of the demon in horror.
“Where did you get this thing?”
Jonderill hesitated. “It was Maladran’s, his final gift to me.”
“Do you know what this is? Do you know the evil it contains?”
“Yes, High Master Razarin told me about it. It’s the device that controls the power of a black robe. It was made for Yarrin and then Maladran wore it. I suppose if it had been created earlier, Callistares might have been able to wear it too.”
“It’s all of that and much, much more. It’s the gateway to demon magic which is forbidden to all of us with Federa’s gift. It would have been better if it had disappeared when Maladran was destroyed.”
“Yes, I know, but it was given to me by Maladran just before he died so now I keep it safe. Can you use it to remove the block to my magic?”
“I can if that is your wish, although it is not without some danger. I can also release your memories of the past if you want me to.”
Jonderill thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m certain Maladran blocked them from me for a good reason, and I don’t think I’m ready yet to find out what it was that Maladran didn’t want me to see.”
“As you wish, although I think you are mistaken. One day you will have to deal with what’s hidden from you, and it may be better if it was now, whilst you are amongst friends, rather than wait until perhaps the wrong time and your past is used against you.” Jonderill shook his head. “Very well, I think this would be best done in your sleeping chamber and certainly away from the fire; removing a block can sometimes result in a violent reacti
on or a deep sleep.”
“If I’m going to get violent shouldn’t Tissian and Allowyn be there?”
“Definitely not Tissian, his bond with you would make this almost impossible, but if you allow it, I should like Allowyn to be present?”
Jonderill nodded his agreement and called Allowyn in from where he was standing guard outside the door. Callabris explained what they were going to do and together they went into Jonderill’s sleeping chamber where Jonderill lay on the bed and Callabris sat beside him. Allowyn took up position in front of the door where he could move quickly to his master’s aid if needed and where he could prevent anyone disturbing them.
Callabris placed the torc into Jonderill’s hands. “Jonderill, I want you to close your eyes and relax. I will hold the other side of the torc so that we’re connected and through that I will seek out the core of your magic. I’m not sure what you will feel, but if there is pain and it becomes too much, you must tell me to stop. Do you understand?”