by Shannah Jay
‘And of that wizard,’ Gwenna put in. ‘He’s the one with the real power, everyone knows that.’ She shivered.
‘I must work slowly, then, and build up resistance,’ Ronan said, thinking aloud.
‘Pardon me, sire, but I think you’re wrong. You must work swiftly. Give the evil one no chance to find out what’s happening or he’ll work his dark magic on you. To my mind, your best chance is to take them by surprise.’
‘Is that possible?’
Harrith smiled. ‘Oh, yes. It just so happens . . .’
***
In the city of Azaray Pavros raised his head suddenly and said, ‘Aaah!’ in a tone of deep satisfaction. The royal children had come out of the Shadows. He could sense that much, but they must have that cursed sword with them, for he couldn’t tell where they were, only that they had reappeared.
Well, that was a start.
He rose swiftly, donned his cloak and left the house without speaking to the apprentice, who shivered and let out a long breath of relief to have even an hour free of such a master.
At the palace gates, Pavros simply walked past the guards and made his way into the Great Hall, where Sevris was holding audience and hearing complaints against his tax gatherers.
‘Send them away!’ the wizard ordered, folding his arms and letting his cloak blow about him in a way that always made folk nervous. A simple trick, but effective.
Sevris stared at the grim expression on his companion’s face and waved one hand in dismissal.
‘But—’ began the man awaiting judgement.
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‘Go!’ thundered Pavros.
Everyone fled from the hall without further protest.
The wizard turned back to the king. ‘They’ve just come out of the Shadows.’
Sevris gasped. No need to ask who they were. ‘Do you know where they are?’
‘No, of course I don’t. They have the sword to conceal them.’
‘Then how do you—?’
‘I have my ways. And we know they’ll be coming to Azaray. Where else would they go? They have to try to get the throne back.’
Sevris cleared his throat. ‘Maybe now is the time to summon more wizards to help us?’
‘And maybe if you tried to do that, I would become very angry,’ Pavros said in a voice as soft as silk yet as threatening as a storm darkening the horizon.
‘Oh. Well. It was just a thought. You think you can handle the situation, then?’
‘Of course I can. And the first thing to do will be to lock up all the known malcontents so that they can’t rally to the brat’s side. See to it.’
‘Me? Can you not—’
‘ See to it! I have other things to do.’ The coming struggle would take all his energy. This time he intended to destroy the sword absolutely and them with it. Only by trickery and cunning could he do that.
And the cost would be high not only to himself, but to those who aided him, though he would not, of course, tell them that.
***
The big farm wagon rumbled along dirt tracks, dipping into hollows and crunching over stones. On it Kerril sat scowling, looking down, hating what they’d done to him. Fancy making him dress as a girl!
And dressing Ronan as an old man, with his hair greyed by powder. Mind you—he stole a glance sideways—Gwenna had done well with the disguises. Ronan really did look like an old man. The scowl returned to Kerril’s face—and he really did look like a girl.
The sword had changed itself as well, so that it now appeared to be a walking staff, something a poor elderly man like Ronan might need to use.
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Harrith was driving the wagon and Ronan was riding a bony horse behind it, a poor creature which seemed ready to drop dead of old age.
‘But she’s not that old,’ Harrith had assured them. ‘She’s just ugly, always has been, eh, my girl?’ He slapped the horse’s rump and she nuzzled him affectionately, then turned to stare at Ronan as if even she understood how important it was to carry him safely. Beside him rode Harrith’s friend Wistan, who was old enough to be Harrith’s father, but who had turned up the night after their arrival and as soon as he realised what was going on, insisted on joining them on this quest.
‘I’d rather die trying to get rid of that villain than die of boredom,’ Wistan had said. ‘My sword still has a sharp edge and my arm hasn’t lost all its strength.’
‘Wistan used to be the finest swordsman in the guards,’ Harrith had said. ‘No one could best him in those days.’
‘Used to be,’ the old man sighed, looking down at his scrawny arms. ‘But I can still hold a sword steady and still defeat most men because I’ve never stopped practising. The tax gatherers have never found this sword of mine, either, though they’ve tried.’ He cackled. ‘I’m not stupid and never have been.’
Then he turned serious and cocked an eye at Ronan. ‘Will you take me with you, sire? Will you let me swear allegiance?’
‘I’ll be happy to have your support.’
So Ronan let the two men kneel before him, place their hands in his and swear to serve him loyally.
It made a tear come into Kerril’s eyes to see how deeply they meant their words.
Gwenna was sitting beside Harrith on the plank seat of the cart, and Kerril was sitting on another plank seat with Shayla, behind their supposed parents. He glanced sideways at her, still surprised at how pretty she looked. The farmer’s wife had made him look pretty, too, though he’d rather have been an ugly girl.
Oh, how he hated the feel of the long skirts and the bonnet on his head, absolutely hated it!
Shayla nudged him. ‘Never mind! It’s all in a good cause.’
‘It’s all right for you. You are a girl. I’m not.’
‘But we must do whatever is necessary to save Azaray.’
He sighed. There was no answer to that.
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***
They were five nights on the road, travelling slowly and calling at houses where Harrith knew he would find loyal followers for his new king. He was only wrong once, where they were met with blank disbelief, then a refusal to become involved.
Kerril could see the calculation behind the sly glances. ‘They’re planning to betray you, Ronan,’ he said abruptly.
His brother turned to him. ‘How do you know?’
Kerril shrugged and spread out his hands, unable to explain. ‘I just—know. Like Shayla knows the way to Azaray. It’s one of my gifts, I think.’
‘You must kill them, then, sire,’ Harrith said abruptly, drawing his sword. ‘You dare not let them betray you.’
‘No!’ Ronan’s voice was sharp and full of determination. ‘No, I could never do that. I’m not following the same path as my uncle.’
‘Then how are you going to stop them running to Sevris and telling him you’re on the way?’
‘Um,’ Kerril coughed and when he had gained their attention, said, ‘I could put a spell on the doors and windows—well, I think I could. Then they wouldn’t open for a week or two. Well, I could try to do it.
We’d soon tell if it was working.’
He kept surprising himself at how many things he remembered from his reading in Lord Bezroll’s library, magic spells particularly. The details of these seemed to have engraved themselves on his brain.
Since his stay in the True Vale, he understood the reasons behind the spells and was starting to use them properly, though he was never quite sure how well they’d work. It would have been wonderful to be apprenticed to a decent wizard and learn things properly and in the correct order.
Harrith gathered up all the daggers and other things which could be used as weapons then slammed the door of the house on the family. ‘Go on, then! Try it!’ He folded his arms and stood there with disbelief written all over his face.
Kerril felt his own beliefs shaken. ‘Um—could you please go and stand somewhere else, Harrith?
You’re putting me off.’
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The old guard snorted and strode off towards the barn.
Kerril sighed in relief and began to concentrate. Then he frowned and turned to his brother and sister.
‘This one’s a bit hard. I wonder—would you just lay your hands on my shoulders? It sort of gives me more power.’
They did as he asked and immediately he felt stronger. He raised his hands, feeling a surge of something inside him and when the moment seemed ripe, he began to chant the spell. After he’d finished, there was a clap of thunder and the house took on a blurred look.
‘Hey, it worked!’ he said in a voice squeaky with surprise, then found himself collapsing suddenly and lying on the ground, too weak to stand up.
After that, Harrith treated him with more respect. Well, as much respect as Harrith could ever show, because he’d been a Sergeant in the Guards, it turned out, and he was just like the Sergeant at Sendalands: strict but firm, and certain he was always right, whoever you were, True King of Azaray or not.
The other people they contacted swore allegiance without any prompting, some of them weeping for joy at the mere sight of Ronan. They agreed to make their way to Azaray separately and to call in others to the cause, so Harrith’s wagon trundled on across the countryside alone, looking as if it had a load of vegetables for sale.
It was very boring travelling slowly, Kerril decided. Funny, that. All those years he’d longed to see the world and it had only taken a few days for him to get tired of travelling.
Only—he wasn’t sure he wanted to arrive in the city, either. Wasn’t sure what was going to happen there. He might even die! They all might. There was not only a wicked uncle to face, but a mighty wizard, and Kerril knew which one he feared most.
But for all his fears, he would do what was necessary. Better to die trying than let such men rule Azaray unchallenged.
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21 AZARAY
Azaray showed on the horizon long before they got there, because it was built on a group of low hills that stood in the middle of a fertile plain. Shayla thought it beautiful, as was the countryside they’d passed through to get there. But for all the richness of the soil and the lush crops growing in the fields, the people looked unhappy and downtrodden. Hungry, too, quite often. That made her feel angry. Why should anyone have to go hungry with so much farm land heavy with crops?
At one stage, a voice shouted at them to pull off the road. As they sat there, a group of tax gatherers rode by, looking plump and proud. Behind them were several heavily loaded wagons. They were accompanied by about twenty guards.
As she watched them with a frown, she heard Wistan murmur in Ronan’s ear, ‘They take more than they’re entitled to and sell it, then folk are left short of food. And if they protest, the guards kill them.
They have no mercy. That’s the sort of evil a bad king brings to the land.’
She could see that Ronan was very thoughtful for the rest of that day’s ride. Well, they all were. It showed they were right to pursue their quest, at whatever cost. It might even, she realised suddenly, cost her own life, too. Would she think it worth the sacrifice? Yes, if it got rid of Sevris and put Ronan on the throne.
When they got to the city gates they had to pay a toll to enter. Shayla hid a smile as Harrith grumbled and fussed, counting out the coins as if it hurt him to part with even that small sum.
While he was doing this, the guard came over to Shayla and put one hand under her chin, making her jump in shock.
‘She’s a pretty one. Where are you staying, farmer?’
She wanted to hit the hand away, but Harrith’s wife shook her head, warning her not to. When she saw Ronan spur his mount closer, as if ready to protect her, she bit back the angry words of protest and turned her eyes away from the hot gaze of the guard, as if very shy.
‘We’re staying in the Eastland Inn,’ Harrith said.
Shayla stared at him in horror, for she could read in the face of the guard that he meant her no good.
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‘I’ll see you there on my free night, girl!’ the guard breathed into her face. ‘You be waiting or your family will suffer!’
The guard didn’t even look at Kerril, just moved back and murmured something to his companion that made the other man laugh.
When they’d passed through the entrance and were driving slowly along a crowded street where there were more people than she had ever seen in her life before, Shayla turned to Harrith. ‘Why did you tell him where we were staying? He made my flesh crawl.’
‘No use angering him.’
‘But—’
‘Anyway, we’re staying at the Market Inn.’
She sagged back in relief.
‘But he’ll find us there eventually, and probably bring a friend or two with him, all in uniform.’
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘By then we’ll need a few spare uniforms to help us get into the palace.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, lass. It won’t take much to deal with a stupid fellow like him.’
She didn’t protest, but still felt uneasy. Then it occurred to her that the guard had hardly looked at Kerril and she turned to her brother. ‘Why did he leave you alone?’
‘When I saw what was happening, I cast a quick spell.’ He shuddered. ‘It’s bad enough to be dressed as a girl. I’m not going to flirt with anyone!’
‘I wasn’t flirting!’ she replied indignantly. ‘I didn’t even open my mouth.’
‘Well, he was flirting with you. And it’d be even worse if he tried to flirt with me.’
She glared at him, then gradually it sank in on her how casually he’d said that he’d cast a spell. ‘You seem to be doing more and more magic, Kerril.’
He hadn’t even thought of that, had just done it when the need arose. ‘I suppose I am. The small things seem quite easy now. But I couldn’t do anything hard without your support.’ He smiled. ‘I like working magic. It feels,’ he waved his arms around, trying to find the words to explain and failing, so saying THE MAGIC SWORD Shannah Jay 127
lamely, ‘it feels good.’ He paused to consider this, head on one side, ‘And you know what? It’s easier to do magic when the sword is nearby.’
Which made her so thoughtful she quite forgot to worry about the guard. She’d never learned the spells as Kerril had, though she had some gift for magic, she knew. One day she would seek training.
If you had a gift you should use it and she intended to do that. Much as she loved her brothers, she wasn’t going to spend her life in the shadow cast by Ronan when he became King.
***
Once inside the inn, Harrith allowed Kerril to put his own clothes on again, to the lad’s huge relief. Both Shayla and Ronan exchanged smiles as he reappeared dressed as a young man.
Even that made Shayla thoughtful, though. Kerril had grown quite a lot in the True Vale and was slightly taller than her now, his appearance no longer like a pale echo of his brother’s. His face was taking on its own expression, which was lessening the resemblance.
Have I changed as much as they have? she wondered. I suppose I must have. But I wish I had as strong a gift for magic as Kerril. We’re going to need all the help we can get to win back the throne. She knew her own magic was different from her brother’s and it sometimes felt as if she was still waiting for her gifts to develop.
But now was the time for them to serve Ronan, not their own needs—Ronan and Azaray. Unless the world was put to rights, they could none of them lead happy lives.
***
Pavros raised his head and concentrated on the sensations humming round the room. ‘Aaah! They’ve arrived in the city now.’
‘Who have, master?’ the apprentice asked, thinking he wanted a response.
‘Never you mind.’ Pavros sat listening for a minute or two longer, still smiling. He had set up a warning spell
and it was reacting in a way that showed all three had arrived in Azaray. What’s more, one of them had used magic since their arrival. Just a small spell, but enough to proclaim its presence loudly to a man like him. He realised his minion was still watching him and snapped, ‘Get on with sorting out those ingredients, fool!’
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‘Yes, master.’ The apprentice could guess to whom Pavros was referring, however, because the wizard often muttered to himself. It was a shame about those three children, a downright shame they couldn’t claim the throne and let the true king rule. He might be young and untried as a ruler, but he couldn’t be any worse than Sevris.
The apprentice sighed. The king’s children wouldn’t stand a chance against a man who had a wizard like Pavros helping him. No one would.
Just as the apprentice had stood no chance of resisting when the wizard was seeking a new assistant several years before and had come to the farm, demanding that a terrified child go back with him to the city.
Now, as the dread master smiled and made certain gestures with his hands, the apprentice guessed he’d set another trap. It was quite easy to guess what the old man was thinking and doing nowadays, because he’d grown slightly forgetful in the past year or two and started talking to himself.
You had to have some idea of what he was thinking if you wanted to stay alive. The difficulty was in deciding whether it was worth staying alive. It might not be if you had to go on living like this and serving an evil creature like him.
***
Those known to favour the old kind and his heirs had been hastily arrested for ‘plotting and treason’.
Because the cells at the guard house soon filled up, some of them had been locked in the palace cellars and storerooms. The imprisoned men were sullen, complaining and arguing with the guards that they’d done nothing to warrant this and were honest citizens, not rebels.