by Andy Boot
Jenna was at his side to stop him falling. Anxiously she looked over her shoulder as the Varn magic began to gain ascendancy. Then she looked at Simeon. She promised herself that she'd never compare him to one of her pets again. But if they didn't move, she'd never have the chance to put that promise into action.
"Sim, come on," she urged, leading him further into the keep. He followed, regaining himself with every step by force of will. Now they were here, what was next? Where, in the name of the Gods, was Ramus-Bey? How would they find him?
They stumbled through the vast, echoing stone of the vestibule, and through a set of double doors of lesser thickness and height than those to the outside. What they saw stopped them dead. Before them were the wizards and adepts of the Varn Institute, each absorbed in their own internal worlds. Their hands moved in complex patterns, pirouettes of design that effected charms. Each was looking inwards yet watching the world outside, winning the battle against the Bethelian wizards.
"Wrong room," Jenna muttered, backing up and pulling the still dazed Simeon with her. Or rather, she would have backed up if some unknown force had not rooted her to the spot. She stared ahead at the wizard responsible. He smiled grimly, as was about to make a pass that she could only assume would deal with them permanently when he froze, staring behind her.
Vixel had entered. It was as though he had materialised from nowhere, though in truth he had probably just walked in without her hearing him. She found herself released from the magical bonds. Simeon, too, as she felt him slump against her.
"You've done very well, I will grant you that," Vixel said. "Perhaps it says more about our own forces than it does you. Just for that, I cannot have you terminated just yet. Oh no, that must be in public view. To prove our point."
"That we cannot be subjected to unwarranted attack," affirmed the wizard who had come close to snuffing them out, with some triumph in his voice.
"Unwarranted? I came to get Ramus-Bey back!" Simeon shouted.
"We don't have him, you of all people should know that," the wizard snapped in reply. "It was your people that sought to throw blame upon us and stir up war again!"
"You cretin! You think I would do all this for no reason other than to throw blame on you?" Simeon hissed, wincing at the pain that was starting to throb through him. He realised that there were some positive points to being hit so hard that you were numbed. Nonetheless, he attempted to focus. "My government seeks to blame me for their own ends. What your government wants is none of my concern. I just want to put things right."
"But he is not here," the wizard insisted. "We are only defending ourselves from attack."
"If he is not here, then why has our own magic traced him here?" Simeon insisted.
"Because..."
"Because I am here!" Ramus-Bey said.
Vixel turned, furious at the way things were going. His best-laid plans were coming apart and mostly because this old fool wouldn't do as he was told.
"What are you doing? I told you..."
"I should always do what you wish?" Ramus-Bey answered mildly. "It would seem churlish not to come and meet those who would seek to save me."
The Bethel Mage strode past Vixel, and laid hands on Simeon. The exhausted, injured man would have expected a surge of light within him. Instead he got a feeble pulse. It was, for him, a confirmation of something he had feared. Which made what happened next less than re-assuring.
"You did not know I was here?" Ramus asked of the assembled Varn wizards and adepts. Their astonished expressions gave him answer. "You will not object, then, to my leaving with this man and this woman?"
"You will do no such thing..." Vixel began, but was cut short by the uproar from his staff. In the confusion, they had let their magic cease, and the warrior hordes could be heard approaching. A few passes from one wizard, and once more these men were held at bay, if for a different reason.
"We shall do nothing more to help you, Vixel," this wizard said. "I believe I speak for all when I say that this is not why we study. We do not wish to sink to this level. We are appalled at our Mage doing likewise. We are ashamed to realise what we have become entangled in."
"You utter imbeciles! You do not understand..." Vixel turned to Ramus-Bey, Simeon and Jenna. "I shall not permit you to leave. I have the power!"
"You forget, it seems, that I too am a Mage," Bey interrupted. "Do you really want to match your power against mine? Especially when I find your 'impenetrable' cell so easy to negotiate"
Vixel laughed. "You old fool. You really want me to say what I think of your abilities?"
Ramus-Bey fixed him with an ice-cold stare, perfected over many years of card play during the long winter evenings at the Institute.
"Do you really want to put it to the test?"
He held Vixel's stare. He believed he knew the nature of people well enough to judge that the Varn Mage was an arrogant man whose arrogance was built on cowardice. Would he take a risk on an uncertainty?
"Very well, do as you must," Vixel spat. "It does not matter if I do not use magic, or if none of these fools do. You shall never get back to Bethel without being stopped by the military. I shall be surprised if you get as far as the gates before you are wiped from the face of Inan."
Vixel turned his back on them and stalked out of the hall. The wizards and adepts seemed at a loss, not knowing what to do now that their Mage had shown himself to be unworthy. For them, this was deeper than the immediate future of one Mage. It was their whole calling that was being brought into question.
They were not the only ones who were unsure of their next move. Ramus-Bey, Simeon and Jenna stood apart from the Institute staff, feeling safe in their presence, but as yet unsure which path to take when the time came to take their leave.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Year Zero - Period Three
There was a phrase that rose into Simeon's mind. Something he had read long ago in one of his story pamphlets. It went something like: "it was the best of all possible times, yet paradoxically the very worst, if such a thing be possible in itself." A wordy phrase, perhaps understandable as he had heard that the writers of such pamphlets were paid by the word, but one that he could pare down easily. He had wanted to write such pamphlets at one time. A simple enough ambition, scuppered by his inability to think with any originality. So he had become a warrior, like his father before him, and look where that had got him.
It was strange how such seemingly unconnected thoughts went through his head as he stood in the hall of the Varn Institute. Yet they did, in their own way, make sense. In the first instance, it was both the best and worst of times as he had found Ramus-Bey, and the old man was alive and well. Yet, he had located him deep in the heart of enemy territory, and was now surrounded by more Varnian warriors than he would care to consider, kept at bay only by the good auspices of wizards who objected to their own nation state's actions. Simeon's lack of originality when it came to ideas had manifested itself all too well with his arrival in Varn and his entry to the Institute. Neither had been achieved with much subtlety.
Let's face it, he thought, if I had any ideas about getting out of here, then I wouldn't be standing around thinking about how I'm standing around thinking...
Time for some kind of action. He turned to the wizard who had led the revolt against Vixel.
"Sir, I am honoured by your action, and in your debt. Your decision to opt out of this fight has been of great assistance to us, and yet..."
"You are stranded," the wizard finished with a wry grin. "You realise that we cannot help you, of course. We may not wish to assist he who was our Mage," Simeon couldn't help but exchange a glance with Ramus-Bey at this indication that things would radically change in Varn, "but at the same time we do not wish, in all conscience, to assist those who are against our nation state."
"I understand this," Simeon replied, choosing his words with care, "yet you must surely be able to see that we are in a position that is considerably less than of our own making. We
did not wish to be in the middle of a foreign nation state, making a kind of war with its forces. We are only here because of the actions of others. I would not ask you to act against your own nation state, merely to consider the difficulties of our position. We seek to gain exit without conflict. Surely..."
He let the question remain unspoken. The Varn wizard's brow puckered in a frown as he considered this. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he spoke.
"You are correct. I... we..." he added, gesturing to the wizards and adepts who had been waiting in silence for his decision "...cannot in all conscience go against you for what you have done. I would only hope that, if we had a Mage worthy of such, we would also have a warrior with the fortitude and courage to do as you have. But such fine words are of no assistance to you. No - action of some kind is called for, even if it be the action of non-action."
Simeon and Jenna exchanged a puzzled look. It sounded good so far, but neither of them understood what constituted 'the action of non-action'. They were about to be enlightened.
The wizard continued: "At present, we are still keeping a magical barrier around the Institute, which prevents our warriors from gaining access. We must remove this. But," he raised a hand to forestall any protest, "at the same time this does not mean that we will raise any magical barriers to impede your exit, nor will we use our magic to follow you. That shall be entirely down to the military, and more physical means."
"You need say no more. We are indebted to you for your even-handed actions. If we fail to make it out of Ilvarn, then we shall know it is not by your hand. We could not ask for more." Simeon said.
Then the two men exchanged formal bows. An old, courtly gesture from another time, it was something rarely considered in this new age and yet, as she watched them, Jenna could not help but consider that this was an entirely appropriate gesture.
"Now go, and may the Gods assist the just," the wizard said after a moment's silence.
The first stage of the escape plan - although to dignify it with such a term was questionable - was simple enough. Knowing that no magic would stand in their way, a simple invisibility charm enabled Simeon, Jenna and Ramus-Bey to evade and pass through the Varnian warrior ranks that were now released from their own charm. Not that avoiding them was easy. It was a force large in numbers, fired up by the fury and humiliation of being bested by two people, and intent on bringing matters to a swift conclusion.
A large party entered the Institute, to be met by a body of wizards and adepts who were silent on all matters of question. It was only a matter of time before Vixel descended from his attitude of high dudgeon. When this happened, then there was no guarantee that they could continue to use the charm. With the courage of not having to look Bey in the eye, he may opt to use his powers.
So it was essential to get past this group of warriors. Out into the grounds, and the extent of their problem became apparent. The longer it had taken the Varn military to gain access, the more men they had poured into the operation, in hopes of breaking through. There were parties of warriors searching the grounds, and a cordon flung around the gates which, Simeon could only assume, would stretch beyond sight and around the walls of the Institute.
Instructing them to move quickly, stay together and follow his lead Simeon led them through the maze of warriors, and when they reached the gates he stayed them with a gesture before moving into his own invisibility field, recce'ing the forward position.
A vehicle was approaching, carrying representatives from the Ministry, presumably to speak to Vixel, and this gave the fugitives an unexpected break. Simeon considered that his planning may be poor, but so far his luck was holding.
He returned to where Jenna and Ramus were waiting. Whispering, he directed them to follow and wait for the guard to part in order to allow the vehicle access.
They hurried to the gates, barely reaching them in time to take advantage of the temporary parting of the cordon. Moving so close to the vehicle as it passed that they could hear the heated voices of the Ministry officials within, they were past the cordon before it had time to regroup.
Now they were out of the immediate danger zone. But, in truth, the danger was only just beginning.
Once outside things changed. As soon as it was known that they could have used magic to escape, there was every chance they could be tracked. Simeon had every faith in the intentions of the Institute, but no faith in either the disgraced Mage or the resolution of any adept when threatened. The attitude of the Varn Institute staff had made their cowed acquiescence to established order clear: they had momentarily stood up for their principles. But how long could Simeon rely on that being sustained?
It was time to make a switch. They must now use disguise and physical means to escape from Ilvarn.
For Jenna, this was simplified by the fact that she still wore the Varnian raiments they had taken to help gain access to the Institute. But Simeon had divested himself of these in order to fight with Vixel's bodyguard. Bey still wore the clothes in which he had been taken.
The first task was to get some appropriate disguises. Jenna, as the one who was already disguised, was despatched to steal some suitable attire.
While she was gone the two men conversed in hushed tones.
"I appreciate your actions, but I fail to see how you plan to get us out of here," Bey said.
Simeon grinned mirthlessly. "That makes two of us. We could get Jenna to cast a holoship and fly us home under the surveillance tech. It may take some time, but..."
"But they must now know that's how you got here," Bey finished.
"Right. I didn't think that one through. Conventional tech wouldn't see us, but all they'd have to do is launch their own holoship fleet, and then those bastards can track and engage."
"Correct. So what are we to do?"
Simeon looked the old man up and down. "You're the Mage. You can destroy us with a raise of the eyebrows, right? That's what you said once. So, in theory, one wink and we won't be here, we'll be back in Belthan." He paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. Eventually: "So is there something that you want to tell me?"
"Such as?"
"Such as you've lost the ability to cast charms and you've been hiding it? I felt hardly any power off of you when you touched me in the castle."
Ramus-Bey grimaced. "I wish I could say to you that it was as simple as knowing or not knowing, but it isn't. I have, for some time, been in turmoil over this. The problem is that it becomes a contentious matter to resolve. While I was studying, I refrained from practice above a certain level because I did not believe that the wielding of such force was becoming with the spiritual path that was the true purpose of such learning. Yet this was not without cost. Without practice, I had no way to test the power that I was supposedly accumulating. How strong was it? How could I control it? Was there, in fact, anything there? I had no way of knowing without flexing that power. What if I could not control it?"
Suddenly, Simeon could see what had happened. Bey was unwilling to attempt to use his power for fear that he would either be unable to reign in that which he released, or that he would find nothing there, and his studies would have been for nothing.
"This is not the time for us to take risks," Simeon said decisively. "We shall use physical means. Magic would be too easily tracked."
It was obvious to both men that he was saying this to appease Ramus-Bey, but both could acknowledge that this was a necessity if they were to move. To become embroiled in a great philosophic debate at this moment would be at best pointless, at worst an open invitation to be captured.
The sooner Jenna returned, the better.
While the two men talked, Jenna ventured into the heart of Ilvarn. She could feel her stomach turn over with a mix of excitement and fear with each step. She couldn't help feeling that the Gods had been smiling upon them, as by rights they should not have been able to escape the castle with such ease. Even if she could snatch some clothes for the two men, it seemed to her that without a p
lan of some kind, they were doomed to capture.
The streets of Ilvarn were awash in colour, teeming with people who were either trying to make their way into the cordoned off area around the Institute to see what was going on, or trying to go about their everyday business regardless of what was occurring. While this made it easy for Jenna to hide herself in the crowds, it also decreased the chances of being able to steal without being seen. Jenna wandered in the alien crowds, jostled by those who moved around her. She needed to be swift, but was hindered by having no knowledge of the locale. She needed to steal clothes for two men. One set to fit a tall, muscular man, the other to fit a wizened old man.
It was then, watching the crowds move about her, that inspiration struck. She noticed that many of the older women wore veiled headdresses to shield them against the sun that beat down. If she could take old women's clothes for the Mage, then who would suspect two Varnians taking their aged female relative for a stroll?
It wasn't the greatest plan ever hatched, but it would have to do. With a renewed enthusiasm, she went about her task.
As she did, keeping an eye out for any opportunity, she pondered their situation. A holoship was out of the question. It would be too slow, given that word of their escape would soon spread - perhaps already had - and would escalate the war footing between Varn and Bethel. Moreover, just as Simeon and Bay had reasoned, she knew that the Peta would be easily tracked by other holoships.
By foot and by vehicle. That was the only way. But as yet she hadn't managed to work it out beyond that. She hoped to the Gods that Simeon had made better progress.
It was then that the opportunity presented itself, so suddenly that she almost missed it.
A clothing store. A delivery vehicle with the rear doors left open, the driver occupied in transferring stock from the rear to the store. A jostling crowd against which he had to push. With the heaving throng moving against him it was an almost impossible task, particularly when a small, furry pet on a leash tangled itself around his legs, causing him to tread on the tail and solicit a yelp. Add an outraged owner trying to hit him, and the stuff of domestic comedy becomes written on the streets.