Peter knew nothing about wine but was unable to resist looking at some of the bottles. Merely glancing at the expensive-looking labels made him realize there was a fortune in wine stored there.
Just as he was about to put down one bottle and pick up another, something behind called out to him, as a magnet calls to a pin on the floor. Involuntarily, he put the bottle back and turned away from the racks of wine.
In the middle of the floor a table stood on its own, and in the center of the table was the black box that was beckoning to him. He walked over to it. He had no need to ask questions but leaned the wizard's staff against the table edge and he put his hands over the box, letting them hover there. The Power of Obsidian made this to be its own prison. Somehow the idea hurt terribly. I would hate to have to build my own prison. He remembered something the Essence of Obsidian said on their first meeting: “I may not be human, but I have knowledge of emotion." He placed his hands on the box, and the pain of its making surged out at him. His hands shook with sudden fury. I'll get vengeance for you, I promise. But how, he wondered, was he supposed to fulfill so rash a vow, for Sujad was dead?
Peter lifted the box from the table.
"Quick! Hurry! Open it!"
He started at the urgency in the Power of Obsidian's normally slow voice. He had all but forgotten he wasn't alone. Hastily he made to open the lid. He fumbled and knocked the box out of his hand. His mind heard the crash even as his hands reached out to grab. He caught the box and nearly dropped it again. Just as his hands secured it, he felt the presence of evil. He had time to shout one word. But he was too late. Blue light shot out of the gloom at him. It hit the casket. This time it was his ears that heard the crash. The box exploded into a thousand pieces. The pieces flew into the racks of wine. Bottles shattered in an echoing explosion and wine poured everywhere....
...and Peter looked up into the face of Sujad Cariotis.
Chapter 2
The First Day
EVERY HAIR on Peter's body stood on end. He picked up the willow light and held it towards the advancing spectral figure. It appeared to be solid, for he couldn't see through it. But then Giddeon's spirit had looked real, too. Only when he tried to touch the Leader of the Reborn had he realized he was looking at a ghost.
"Who are you?” His voice sounded strangely bold and angry.
"Well, who do I look like?"
The apparition was clad in the intricately designed, flowing black robes Sujad had worn as Lord of Obsidian. Their design and grandeur made him appear taller and broader than he really was.
"You're dead. I saw your body. Your master, the Evil One, killed you."
The other's face twisted briefly. Peter's probing mind detected so many different emotions emanating from the specter that he couldn't determine which one caused the grimace.
"You shouldn't accept as true everything you see.” Sujad now stood little more than a meter from Peter. Only the table separated them. “If you don't believe I'm real, feel me."
He extended his right arm towards Peter. At the same time he showed the perfection of his teeth in the evil grin Peter knew only too well. Peter's instincts screamed at him that to touch the hand held out to him would be perilous. Involuntarily, he stepped backwards, his boots crunching on broken glass. The sound made him remember that amongst all the smashed bottles were the fragments of the box Sujad had just shattered. Almost before Peter had time to feel uneasy, however, the Power of Obsidian spoke to him, its usually slow voice as fast as thought. “They're safe,” was all it told him.
However, it wasn't fast enough to evade the senses of the apparition calling itself Sujad Cariotis. Although unable to hear the Essence of Obsidian's voice, which never communicated with the Lord of Obsidian in speech, the man clearly felt the presence of its power.
"The Power of Obsidian! How ... ?” Fury and frustration suffused the handsome features, turning them ugly.
Uneasiness flooded Peter at the realization that the specter so easily sensed the presence of the Essence of Obsidian. However, he tried not to let the other see his alarm.
"I have the Obsidian Orb—and now, also, the Book of Obsidian,” he said as calmly as he could, though his heart raced. “Whoever you are, you can't harm me.” He forced his voice to ring out confidently.
"I am Sujad the Great,” the apparition ground out. Its black eyes flashed. “I was once Lord of Obsidian and shall be Lord of Obsidian again."
"Over my dead body,” Peter said with quiet menace.
The other gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “If necessary. I should indeed prefer it that way. You said you have the Book of Obsidian. You lie. I've just destroyed it along with the box I made to keep it safe."
"Well, that's something I have to thank you for. At least it's beyond your reach,” Peter replied coolly.
He felt the man calling himself Sujad the Great reach into his mind. Instantly—furiously—he threw up a barrier of resistance. A grudging glint of respect entered the black eyes.
"Oh, very good, Pukling. Your skills and reflexes are growing apace.” The glint turned to fury. “But you'll soon find you're still no match for me." The words were hissed through bared teeth.
Peter stared at him with deliberately cold, narrowed eyes.
"Essence of Obsidian,” he said in mind-speech, keeping the barrier of resistance in place, “is this creature real or just a ghost?"
"I'm afraid he seems very real, Peter,” the Power of Obsidian said apologetically. “What's more, it would appear that he really is who he says he is."
"What do you mean ‘he seems', ‘it would appear'? Aren't you sure?” Peter's mind-voice was unintentionally sharp.
"I'm sorry. That's all I can establish.” The Essence of Obsidian sounded concerned at being unable to discover more.
Peter sighed. “No, I'm the one who should be apologizing—for being rude."
"Apologies are not needed, Peter. You're the master and I'm your servant."
"That's no excuse for rudeness on my part. And I'd rather we were friends than master and servant—like we were before."
"Thank you, Peter. I'm glad you saw it that way. I think it was intended at the time that we be teacher and pupil rather than friends. But the pupil is now fully fledged and I should be honored to be his friend."
Sujad broke in before Peter could reply.
"What's going on?” He looked around wildly. “How is the Power of Obsidian communicating with you? You need the Book of Obsidian for that, and I've just destroyed it."
"A very foolish thing to do if you want to be Lord of Obsidian again, surely?"
The taunt was too much for the appearance of Sujad. It flung out its right arm to blast Peter with the blue fire that had destroyed the box of obsidian. Peter, trusting in the Essence of Obsidian, forced himself not to flinch. He couldn't help a surge of complacency as the blue fire rebounded and hit its creator. The fire seemed to do little harm, but the man's face twisted into a snarl of rage and frustration.
"I'll get you, Pukling!" he shrieked as he abruptly vanished. “It's not me you have to deal with now. It's my master. He's more terrifying than I ever was!"
The voice faded into the distance. Peter found himself looking down at the Book of Obsidian in his left hand, covered with the remains of the box that had housed it. Over the pieces of obsidian he whispered a few words that seemed to come to him from nowhere, and the pieces disappeared. A few more quick words made the Book of Obsidian vanish, too.
"Okay, Spirit of Obsidian,” he said in mind-speech. “I have both the Obsidian Orb and the Book of Obsidian hidden on me now. You should have no problem communicating with me whenever the Earthlight needs me."
"Very good, Peter. Now let's get you back to bed. It's your first day at a new college tomorrow."
Peter felt as though his heart plummeted into his boots.
"But I'd like to do some exploring first.” He remembered the small building that looked like a cemetery vault emerging from the floor of the dungeon
s. It had seemed to possess an unusual power. Although it resolutely opposed his approach, a strange yearning within him had drawn him to it.
"It isn't safe. Remember you and I drained a lot of power from the walls of the dungeons. Besides, the halls above may still be occupied."
Peter sent his mind probing upwards, finding the action as natural as breathing. He could sense nothing. “They aren't. With Sujad's death, how many of his slaves would want to stay anyway? His death would have freed them."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that. In any case, Peter, as your friend I strongly advise you to go straight back to bed."
Peter sighed. “Very well,” he said reluctantly, and instantly felt the spinning sensation engulf him.
Next moment he was back in bed looking at the moon shining on the gleaming surface of the Obsidian Orb, and the moon hadn't moved at all.
He lay on his back for a long time with his hands behind his head, looking at the orb and thinking. Then he sat up and reversed the spell on the Book of Obsidian. As soon as it appeared in his hands, he sighed with relief, returned the spell and settled down.
When he fell asleep he kept dreaming the same dream. In it he walked down what appeared at first to be an avenue of deciduous trees. With everything being hazy, he couldn't tell what species they were. There was no footpath and Peter realized he must be walking down a drive. In some of the dreams the drive was long and winding and occasionally he saw a large, imposing house looming out of misty surroundings; in others the way appeared to be straight. Despite the straightness of the road he couldn't see the building at the end of it. In fact, he never reached the end of the drive. The dream always switched direction before he was little more than halfway along.
In one dream he walked down the straight way between the trees, wondering where he was, when he heard a light step behind him.
"Hello,” a cheerful voice said—a girl's voice. “You're new here, aren't you?"
Peter turned. “New where?” he wanted to ask. Instead, he found himself saying, “Yes."
He was looking at a girl of about his own age. A smooth fountain of bright red hair hung down her back in a ponytail and she was very pretty with pale ivory skin and the merest hint of freckles on her nose. Her mouth was split into a friendly, disarming grin.
"You must be Simon Peter FitzArthur.” Peter's skin crawled. Very few people knew him as Simon Peter; it complicated things too much. “You're the First Chosen of the Earthlight, aren't you?” She added quickly, as though sensing Peter's alarm, “I'm a cousin of Jamie and John Evans so I know all about you."
This only served to deepen Peter's alarm. Jamie and John were sworn to silence like himself. “What have they been saying?"
She laughed merrily. Her eyes danced. “Nothing uncomplimentary. But they talked about you so much at Christmas I've been dying to meet you. I'm in your class, too, so we should see quite a bit of each other. I'd like that."
Peter relaxed. Maybe the change of schools was going to be an even better move than he had thought. “What's your name?"
"Eleanor Le Grud."
Peter suddenly found it difficult to breathe. How could this lovely girl bear the surname of one of the Lords of Corruption and yet be cousin to Jamie and John? Then two dark figures abruptly appeared behind her. Hooded and shapeless, they reared up—huge, faceless. It was a few moments before Peter realized why: they were mere shadows. Like great bats, they spread themselves up and over the girlish figure, blotting out all the light. She looked over her shoulder and gasped. He saw her eyes widen in alarm. Then she, too, took on the appearance of a bat and shot into the sky. The two bat-shadows sped after her. Peter never saw the outcome. The trees started spinning. He woke up to find the duvet pulled over his head, its surface clinging to his face. His forehead was damp with sweat.
I guess I'm just nervous about starting at a new school, the same as I was when I started college in Wellington, he told himself. He turned over so he could look up at the Obsidian Orb, but was invisible. He'd forgotten he'd left it spelled. It really shouldn't be invisible when it wasn't necessary. Quickly he reversed the spell. The orb's polished surface no longer reflected the moonlight. Instead, it showed black against the lesser darkness of the room. He stared hard at it until it started glowing faintly and the glow reached out soothingly to him.
Now go to sleep, he told himself sternly. The orb stopped glowing. With the return of the spell of invisibility, the horror of the dream disappeared into the depths of Peter's subconscious mind and he went straight back to sleep.
* * * *
NEXT MORNING, Peter and his stepfather were breakfasted and ready to go a full half-hour too soon, despite taking their time over the meal.
"Never mind,” Mr. Edwards said cheerfully. “It's usually like that when you start a new school or a new job. Go and give Dreyfus a run around the property. He'll have to stay inside while we're away until we get a kennel and the fencing is up. Your Uncle Paul has found a fencing contractor and the kennel's arriving this afternoon."
Until it was time to leave, Peter rode his bike up and down the grassed area of the property with Dreyfus happily running beside him. He tried hard not to let the dog see how he felt when he had to leave. He was secretly dreading having to go through the apprehension of a new school year all over again.
When he turned into the school gates his mind was miles away. The shock caused by the sight of a long drive with oak trees on either side made him wobble and almost fall off. He stopped just in time.
"Hoy! Watch out!” an indignant voice behind him said. “If you can't ride that thing you shouldn't bring it to school."
Peter turned quickly. He found himself looking into the face of a dark-eyed boy of about his own age with a pale olive complexion. He, too, rode a bicycle.
Peter grinned apologetically. “Sorry. This is my first day and I'm a bit nervous so I guess my mind was wandering."
At sight of Peter's face, the scowl was instantly replaced by a smile. “Yeah, I guess the first day at a new school's rough enough without it being in the middle of the year. Why are you changing schools?"
The boy's open inquisitiveness was unnerving. Peter hoped he wouldn't be asked too many questions.
"Dad's job brought him to Auckland,” he said, trying not to sound too curt.
His new acquaintance appeared satisfied with this and immediately seemed to lose interest. He took off his cycling helmet, revealing a head of glossy dark hair, and held out his hand. “They call me Justin. Justin Sadra."
Peter took off his own helmet and shook hands cheerfully. “I'm Peter—Peter FitzArthur."
Justin had no time to say anything else. A girl's voice spoke from behind him. “Who's your new friend, Justin?"
Peter looked up into light blue eyes framed in heavy spectacles and set in a pale oval face heavily sprinkled with freckles and topped by a cloud of frizzy red hair. She wore a brace on her top teeth and held her cycling helmet in one hand. Poor girl, he thought briefly. Having to wear thick glasses is bad enough without a brace as well.
Justin introduced the girl to Peter as Norah Lahood. Once again he shook hands.
"I hope you like it here.” She tried to smile without showing her brace.
"Thank you,” Peter said rather formally.
"We'll show you the ropes and look after you,” Justin said, and if his tone tended to be pompous and patronizing Peter chose to ignore it. “First let's put our bikes away."
When they entered the bicycle shed two boys were already securing their bikes at the stands. They turned at the sound of voices and Peter's heart gave a leap as he recognized them. At the same time Jamie and John saw him.
"Hi, Peter,” Jamie called brightly. “You're early. John and I were going to go back to meet you at the gate."
"Hi, Jamie. Hi, John. It doesn't matter. Justin very kindly offered to show me where to put my bike."
Jamie looked at Peter's companions without enthusiasm. Justin's patronizing manner tended to irri
tate him and, like most boys of his age, he regarded girls who wore spectacles as dull and plain, especially when the lenses were as thick as Norah's. Girls who wore braces as well were doubly plain. Justin seemed to be the only boy who bothered with Norah. Perhaps it was because most other girls found Justin's superior manner offensive and tended to avoid him, despite his good looks. Norah's attitude was almost one of hero-worship and she appeared suitably grateful for Justin's friendship.
Justin looked at Jamie and John in surprise. “Oh! You already know Peter?"
Jamie's look was very pointed. He would rather not have anything to do with Justin. “Peter's an old friend of ours. We spent the last holidays with him and his uncle on another friend's farm."
"Oh!” Justin seemed to take a moment to think this over. “Well, in that case I'll leave you to it.” He turned to Peter. “I didn't realize you already had friends here. But if there's anything I can do or if there's anything you need, just let me know."
He turned his attention to securing his own bicycle, did Norah's for her and they both left, ostentatiously arm in arm.
"Don't know what those two see in each other,” John—normally not given to voicing his opinions so freely—muttered as they disappeared.
Jamie frowned after them. “Justin's very brainy and Norah's pretty smart, too. I think that's the main attraction, at least until they find themselves in competition for the honor of being top in the class.” He turned to Peter. “Justin can be a bit of a bully. He was at our last school. Mind you, like most bullies he tended to go for the smaller, younger ones. This year he is one of the younger ones, so his only targets are the more timid boys.” He grinned broadly. Peter grinned back. He knew the type only too well.
As they strolled out of the shed other pupils hailed Jamie and John, and Peter was duly introduced to them. The twins seemed to be popular. Peter found himself looking continually for the girl from his dream, but was disappointed. I think she must have been a psychological combination of the witch Morgause and the first Lord of Corruption, he decided. Dreams can be an awful muddle of what's going on in the subconscious mind.
The Third Age of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book Three] Page 2