by Beach, B. J.
His apprentice grimaced. “Just some wild power lying pretty deep. I could feel it rising when I was having that head to head with Qitzaqli.”
Symon looked at him askance. “That’s best left well alone for now. Come on, it’s time we got moving.”
With moonlight to show them where they were going, and the conjured light to see where they were putting their feet, the two magicians left the cave. The effects of the physical effort and mental stresses of the day’s events, coupled with the total depletion of his powers, were beginning to manifest themselves in Karryl’s mood. Lapsing into a brooding silence, shoulders hunched, he scuffled behind Symon down the narrow, winding stone-littered ledge. Dislodged by their questing feet, small rocks and boulders clattered and bounced down the mountainside, the noise seeming preternaturally loud in the still night air. After what seemed like hours, they reached a broad shelf overlooking the destruction fifty feet below. Snatching his pack from his shoulder, Karryl flung it to the ground. Sinister in the moonlight, his strong features drew into a sullen scowl.
He gestured back up the mountain. “Why did we have to go to all that trouble? Couldn’t you have taken us straight to where we’re going?”
Symon extinguished the light, tossing the rock to one side. His long-suffering expression and air of quiet patience did little to improve Karryl’s mood.
“I needed time to think”, was all he said.
Holding out his arm he nodded to Karryl. “Now, pick up your pack. With a bit of luck, this is the last time I shall have to do this for a while.”
Karryl reached down for the bedraggled pack and slung it ungraciously over his shoulder. As if to add a final act of perversity to an already overloaded catalogue, the goat-chewed strap broke. Halfway to the ground, the pack suddenly ceased its tumble to hang motionless in mid air. Karryl turned to see two slender fingers pointing rigidly from Symon’s outstretched hand.
The little magician glared at Karryl. “Grab it then. I can’t hold this all night.”
Flinging one arm round the magically suspended pack, Karryl held it close against his chest. Unable to suppress a grin, with his free hand he gripped the little magician’s arm. A swirl of dancing silver motes sparkled briefly in the moonlight and vanished.
* * *
A loud groan escaped Karryl’s parched lips. He held his arm up to shield his eyes. “Now what? I was really looking forward to a few hours sleep. Why is it daylight?”
He lowered his arm and squinted up at the cloudless blue sky. “And midday at that.”
Hearing no reply, Karryl looked round. His expression one of total bemusement, Symon was sitting on a nearby flat rock, his legs straight out in front of him. Karryl flopped down on the soft turf beside the rock and followed the little magician’s gaze.
Letting out another groan, he drew up his legs and rested his head on his knees. His muffled voice crawled tiredly over his thighs. “I don’t believe this. Tell me I didn’t just see a temple in a jungle.”
He glanced sidelong to see Symon looking intently at him, his grey eyes twinkling. “Fortunately, I can’t do that.”
Karryl lifted his head off his knees and scratched at his stubbly chin. “That word ‘fortunately’ tells me you’ve figured it out.”
Pushing himself to his feet, Symon patted his palms together. “I believe I have.”
Karryl raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
Symon chuckled. “I’ve been here before, but I came on it from another direction. This is the temple the local legends speak of. I had a pretty good idea where it would be. I found it while you were organising the rescue of the villagers.”
Karryl’s mouth gave a wry twist as he pulled up his trouser leg to examine an angry red scratch on his shin. “That was lucky. I suppose now you’re going to tell me we’re the only ones in the whole world who know where it is?”
Symon’s gaze returned to the small round white building, partially concealed by a luxuriant growth of twining lianas and broad green leaves. “Something like that.”
Karryl stood up. “Are we going in?”
With an enthusiastic nod of his head, Symon started forward. “Of course. I have to retrieve my pack.”
Karryl reaching out and grabbed the magician’s sleeve, bringing him up short. “Just a minute. Before we do that would you please explain why we left the mountain in the dead of night, and seconds later we arrive here at midday? Have we gone forwards…or backwards?”
Symon looked decidedly embarrassed. “Erm…I’m afraid I can’t say. I’m as mystified as you are.” He gestured towards the temple. “Perhaps we’ll find an explanation inside.”
Shaking his head, Karryl snugged his pack under his arm. “Come on then. I expect D’ta’s got something to do with it.”
Symon chuckled. “She usually does.”
* * *
The interior of the temple was dim and cool, a welcome relief from the blazing sunlight. Once his eyes had become accustomed to the dimness, Karryl began to look around. He had ventured into the somewhat larger temple to D’ta in Vellethen quite frequently, especially when he needed peace and quiet and the chance to clear his thoughts. This little temple was nothing like it.
Every inch of the curved walls was covered in complex reliefs. His eyes wide with amazement, Karryl slowly followed the walls round, hesitantly reaching out at intervals to touch the intricate carvings. He peered at strange creatures and birds, the like of which he never could have imagined. Exquisitely detailed wings seemed to flutter beneath his questing fingertips, while exotic blooms and foliage twined and twirled around incomprehensible geometric forms, incongruous amongst the sinuous beauty of their surroundings.
Arriving back at the entrance, his racing mind barely registered the sound of Symon’s voice. “Quite something, isn’t it?”
Forcing himself back to reality, Karryl swallowed hard, turned and nodded.
“I never expected anything like this. Are you sure it’s Dta’s Temple?”
Symon shook his head. “No. I’m not. And the more I look at it, the less certain I become. All I am certain of is that we were allowed to see this for a reason. Perhaps that reason will become clear in time.” Pointing a slender index finger towards the ceiling, Symon asked “Have you looked up?”
Surprised, Karryl tilted his head back. His breath caught in the back of his throat. The shallow dome of the ceiling was quite plain and unadorned. It was the broad collar which separated its expanse from the intricacy of the walls that held his eyes.
His response was a hoarse whisper. “Oh! Good grief!”
Reaching into a deeply shadowed niche just inside the entrance, Symon retrieved his pack and slung it onto his back. “Mmm. That’s what I thought when I first saw them.” He took a pace backwards. “D’you think you can memorise all that?”
Karryl nodded, turning on the spot as he let his eyes follow the deeply etched sinister alien glyphs which travelled the length of the collar. Ending his scanning at the deep lintel above the door, he swallowed hard again. As if to add finality, three more unbroken lines of closely spaced glyphs filled the width and depth of the pale grey and white striated stone.
Karryl’s head started to swim. The glyphs shimmered, seeming to take on a life of their own. The angles and curves writhed and reformed, joining, separating and rejoining. From somewhere a long way off, someone called his name. Unwilling and unable to avert his gaze, he swatted the air as if annoyed by some tiny buzzing insect.
“Karryl! Come away! Karryl!”
A stinging slap on the side of his face snapped the malevolent trance. Gasping, he stared down at the furious face of Symon. Without a backward or upward look he allowed the magician to drag him stumbling out into the bright sunlight. Just beyond the temple’s shadow, he crumpled slowly to the ground and lay unmoving. Seating himself cross-legged beside his motionless apprentice, Symon opened his pack, took out an apple and began to munch.
“What do you think he saw that you didn’t?”
The slender woman’s silver-grey robe swished softly as she moved to seat herself beside Symon. Her amethyst eyes regarded Karryl thoughtfully. “It may have been a mistake to let him do that.”
Symon scowled. “It may also prove to be the one thing on which everything else hinges.”
D’ta clasped her hands under her chin. “What did you see?”
Symon shrugged. “A glyph form I’ve never seen before, but the characters seemed quite benign. Nothing more than decoration. Now I’ll ask the same question of you.”
The ageless goddess shook her silver-haired head. “Nothing. I am forbidden entry.”
“So I was right to doubt. The temple is not blessed by you.”
“No. And I would ask that you allow me to erase Karryl’s memory of what he has seen. It may well be that the knowledge he has gleaned could prove to be disastrous. I tried to see through his mind, but my presence was quite violently evicted.”
Symon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can he do that? I thought his powers were totally drained.”
“It wasn’t Karryl.” She nodded towards the seemingly innocuous little temple. “Somebody’s home in there.”
Symon thought for a long moment, his head tilted to one side. “So, why did you bring us here? I visualised a spot I’d seen earlier today, with a cave to shelter in and a little spring of water; I’m never that far out.”
D’ta seemed to float to her feet. She looked down at Symon, her amethyst eyes darkening. “It was none of my doing. The place in which you intended to materialise is almost two miles from here. Which is why I ask once again that you allow me to erase Karryl’s memory of what he saw in the temple, before he wakes up.”
Suddenly numbed by the enormity of their situation, Symon nodded his assent. He watched intently as D’ta reached down and placed her slender hand across Karryl’s forehead, and closed her eyes. Shadows began to creep noticeably backwards. The shrieks, calls and whistles of jungle dwelling fauna became a cacophony of garbled background noises. Feeling decidedly disoriented, Symon too closed his eyes, just as Karryl moaned.
* * *
Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. “Master Symon. Wake up!”
The little magician’s eyes snapped open. It was almost dark. Karryl was crouched beside him, peering into his face. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep too.”
His dark eyes glinting he turned to look across at the temple, a faint pale shape glistening softly in the deep shadow. “Can you make a light? I need to take another look inside there. I seem to have one or two gaps in my memory.”
Symon’s heart lurched. Hitching up his pack he scrambled to his feet. “I don’t think so. It’s best we move away from here to somewhere more sheltered. Er…there are some creatures inhabiting these parts that would consider us a tasty morsel.”
Karryl looked about, listening to the evening’s chirring and whistling. “We could spend the night in the temple. That’s sheltered enough.”
Symon held Karryl’s arm in an almost vicious grip. “Absolutely not. Have you got your pack?”
With Symon still hanging on to his other arm, Karryl reached down beside his feet and retrieved the battered canvas bag. He barely had time to grasp it firmly before Symon initiated the translocation spell. Incorporeal eyes, and a force of phenomenal power and ferocious intensity observed their departure. There was still time. It settled into the dark recesses of another dimension to wait.
CHAPTER FIFTYFIVE
The flames of the little camp fire set long shadows dancing and flickering across the mouth of the cave. His stomach chilled from gulping cold water at the nearby spring, Karryl reached eagerly for the hot tea Symon had brewed. Hands clasped around the warmth of the boiled leather beaker, he slurped noisily.
His eyebrows rippled an immediate apology as he lowered the beaker. “Sorry. I really need this.” He took another couple of large sips. “Have we got anything left to eat?”
Symon shook his head. “Not even an apple.”
After taking another gulp of his rapidly cooling tea, Karryl placed the beaker on the floor of the cave. Holding out a hand, he gazed into his palm for a long moment. Nothing happened.
He stood up and shrugged his shoulders. “I’d have thought I’d have got something back by now.” Reaching down into his pack, he rummaged around, pulled something out and stuffed it into his pocket. He stepped out into the darkness and turned to Symon. “I’m going to catch us some supper. You coming with me?”
Reluctantly, the little magician pushed himself to his feet. “I suppose I’d better. We can’t have you stumbling about in the dark. I don’t know what you hope to catch though.”
Karryl gave him a mischievous grin. “You’d be surprised what you’ll eat when you’re really hungry.”
His expression dubious Symon picked up a small rock, gazing at it as he murmured a short phrase. A tiny glow steadily developed until it had become a fist-sized globe of soft white light.
Symon held it high. “I suppose this is one of those rare occasions when we should both be grateful for your experiences as a street-boy.”
Karryl grinned again. “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been grateful for that.”
Their path illuminated by a narrow shaft of magical light, the two magicians headed off towards a large clump of shrubs and trees, their silhouettes black against a deep blue, star-studded sky.
* * *
Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe, Symon leaned against the wall of the cave and released a decorous little belch. “Oh my! That’s much better. A bit strong, but certainly filling.”
Karryl nodded his agreement, nibbling the last of the dark meat off a short, thick bone, before he pitched it into the fire.
Licking his fingers, he jerked his head towards a dark bundle lying in the entrance. “D’you want to keep the skin as a souvenir?”
Symon eased himself up off his pack which he was using as a seat, and ambled over to the bundle. He picked it up and carefully unrolled it. “I suppose it would make an unusual winter hat. What is it?”
Karryl came to stand beside him. “I’m not sure. It was its resemblance to an oversized rat that decided me.” He gave Symon a sidelong glance. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve eaten rat. It did have something of the flavour, just a tad sweeter.”
Symon grimaced as he ran his fingers over the short, dark brown fur. “It will be a bit ripe by the time we get home.”
Karryl’s dark eyes shone in the firelight. “Not if we start for home in the morning.” He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and shuffled his feet. “To be quite honest, I’ve had enough of travelling, especially now I seem to have lost my powers.”
Symon murmured and waved a hand over the arm-long pelt, rolled it fur inwards and handed it to Karryl. “Don’t worry about your loss of power. It’s happened to me more than once. It will come back. It may take a while, a little at a time. Now, I think we should get some sleep. We’ll set off at sunrise.”
Karryl took out the length of twine he had used to snare their supper, and looped it around the pelt. “At least we’ve enough left for breakfast.”
* * *
Dawn was just beginning to colour the sky when Symon woke. In the gloom of the cave he could just make out Karryl, wrapped in the magician’s travelling cloak. Symon stretched and smiled to himself. The jungle’s dawn chorus was a far different sound to the gentle and melodious chirruping and twittering he often heard outside his tower. This was almost deafening. Shrieks, loud whistling calls, bell-like bongs and long monotonous whoops sent the night into rapid retreat.
Symon’s nose twitched. Uncertain of the source of the vaguely familiar scent, he lay very still, his eyes wide open. Even so, he almost missed it. A narrow ripple of deep violet light flickered briefly over Karryl’s slee
ping form and vanished, along with the fragrance which accompanied it.
The young magician mumbled, rolled over and woke up. “What? I thought … um …Symon, did you call me?”
“No, but it’s time you were awake anyway.” He stood up. “Will you make a fire while I go and fetch some water for the tea?”
Karryl rubbed his eyes, stretched, scrambled to his feet and folded the cloak. “Leave me your flint and tinder before you go, then.”
When Symon returned, his little kettle filled with fresh spring water, Karryl was warming his hands at a brightly blazing fire. His chipped tooth lent a certain roguishness to the wide grin he turned on Symon.
He jerked his head towards the blaze. “It would seem that some of my powers have returned.”
Affecting innocence, Symon raised an eyebrow as he hung the kettle on the tripod. “Really? That’s good. I told you they would. Now, let’s breakfast on the rest of that rat, have a cup of tea, then we’ll be off.”
CHAPTER FIFTYSIX
In a little less than two days, Symon’s extensive knowledge of the geography of Ingalia had taken them across country to within sight of a large town. It sprawled haphazardly near the banks of a wide, slow-moving river which bisected the broad Ingali Plains.
Karryl shielded his eyes with his hand. “Civilisation at last. Erm…where are we?”
Symon chuckled. “That is the ‘city’ of Naput. That sluggish red-brown artery is the River Koona. Whatever else you do while we’re here, don’t drink the water. I’d like to get back this year.”
The first thing Karryl noticed as they entered Naput was the smell. Some of the more pungent aromas were very familiar, fixed forever in the memory of a former street-boy. Mingled in were others, more exotic and mysterious.
Symon strode ahead. “Come on Karryl. We’ll find something to eat, then we’ll move on.”
There was a tone of discontent in Karryl’s reply. “I thought we could at least have a look round. There must be someone here who could mend this broken strap on my pack.”