War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (8 page)

The two men shook hands. “Karryl! It’s good to see you again. I’d like to think that this was a social visit but my senses tell me otherwise.”

Karryl nodded and gestured towards the back of the shop. “Would you mind locking the door so that we can all go into the rear workshop?”

Slightly puzzled, Braen nevertheless locked the shop door and the three of them slipped behind the leather curtain. Three strides took Karryl across the room. He peered through the wide multi-paned window at a small walled courtyard with one heavily bolted and barred door at the far end. The room was not overlooked. Karryl reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out the small leather pouch.

He nodded towards the bench. “Can you find a clear space somewhere Braen? I’ve something I’d like you to do for me.’’

Head bowed and hands folded, the brown-robed servant stood behind his master, listening to his every word. Ghian was in full flow, the stirring tones of his harangue echoing and re-echoing around the high walls of the vast outdoor arena. Ever watchful, his queen grelfon loomed nearby. Far below him, bonded Grelfi stood close to their restive beasts, while those with no particular handler flapped and jostled in an adjoining compound. Having roused their fervour of loyalty to him and to their dark god, Ghian raised his arms high to accept the roars of approbation from the army of priests, Grelfi and armed guards amassed in the arena. Taking up a small decorated metal bowl, the brown-robed servant stepped forward and offered it to Ghian. Cradling it on the fingertips of both hands Ghian raised the bowl high in salutation. Once more those assembled below roared their approval. Bringing the bowl to his lips the Grelfine Lord, Master of Vedra drained the contents. After handing the empty bowl back to his servant, he dismissed him with a contemptuous flick of his hand. The servant bowed low, backed away from the platform and out of his master’s presence. As he hurried along a side alley towards the vast black temple his lips twisted in a grim smile. The grelfons would be flying soon and there was much to do.

The brown-robed servant silently materialised just inside Ghian’s apartment and quickly crossed his master’s study. Pulling aside a large woven wall-hanging he pushed his fingertips hard against one of the smooth dressed stones. A small section of the wall swung away revealing a dark cavity. Thrusting in his hand, he briefly groped around before lifting out a grey metal casket. The servant pushed the section of wall back into place and carefully straightened the wall hanging. Clutching the casket, he looked about him. From the top of the heavy dark-wood desk he removed four small objects and slipped them into the deep pocket of his robe. After one more glance round the room he shimmered and vanished. A servant no longer, but a warrior of the Jadhrahin, he would not be coming back. Not for a while anyway.

* * *

Lady Evalin and Mordas arrived at Symon’s apartment just as Symon and Karryl had finished a rather belated lunch. The tall physician-mage appeared to have fully recovered from her attempts to destroy the Wraith-infected crystal. Her eyes sparkled, her long auburn hair shone, and Karryl sensed something different about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

As Symon made himself comfortable in his fireside armchair, Evalin took his hand. “Well, my old friend, do you think you’re fit for a bit of travelling?”

The little magician inclined his head, his eyes twinkling as he frowned up at her in mock annoyance. “Not on a full stomach dear lady! I should like to sit for a while before we depart for wherever it is we’re going. Anyway, Karryl has something I think you should see.”

Crossing to the hearth, Karryl reached onto the mantelpiece and took down the box he had brought back from the house of Hieronymus Smeers. While Karryl was preparing lunch Symon had used vinegar to clean off the accumulated grease and grime. Now the images of the medallion and the third artefact carved into the rich golden-brown wood were clear and unmistakeable. The large and ornate bronze key was passed from hand to hand with much interest as Karryl related his experiences of that morning. Evalin placed the key back in the box and gently closed the lid.

She handed it to Karryl. “So, what do you plan to do now? Dig up the floor?”

Karryl shook his head as he returned the box to the mantelpiece. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I detected a warding over the flagstones of the pantry floor. Once that’s removed, I think, or rather I hope a way down will be revealed.”

Symon clasped his hands beneath his chin. “I do so wish I could come with you but it would seem that forces are conspiring to keep me out of the way.” He looked up at Evalin. “I have a small bag packed with a few essentials, so I think I’m ready now.”

Giving the diminutive magician a warm smile, Evalin nodded. Turning to Karryl and Mordas she placed a slender forefinger across her lips as she gave a knowing wink. Her hands clasped prayerfully in front of her, her expression softened as she gazed into the middle distance. Karryl felt the tell-tale prickling of his skin and raised an eyebrow at Mordas. She returned a little warning frown, and they waited.

A sparkling pale green oval shimmered just above the floor in front of them, the carefree sound of light-hearted laughter reached their ears, and a half dozen tiny people bounded lightly through. Karryl grinned as he recognised the wood sprites whose timely appearance had been so effective at that crucial council meeting. Their delicately featured faces bright with anticipation they ran forward and gathered round Symon, their excited chatter filling the room as their miniature fingers touched his face, hands and hair.

He seemed close to overwhelmed as he looked up at Karryl. “Would you mind fetching my bag? I appear to be otherwise engaged.”

Not wishing to miss more of this unique event than was absolutely necessary, Karryl dashed into Symon’s room, grabbed the bag from the floor at the foot of the bed and dashed back again. Holding the bag, he stood and watched as Symon pushed himself out of his chair. With two sprites holding each hand and two behind him, he moved slowly towards the sparkling portal. Stopping just in front of it, one of the sprites behind Symon skipped forward.

In a high lilting voice which betrayed some difficulty with human language, she addressed the three onlookers. “Master Symon may remain in our care for one cycle of your moon, then he must return. He will be our most honoured guest. Anything he desires it will be our pleasure to provide.”

Before any of them could respond the sprite sprang in front of Symon, craning her neck to look up into his face. “Have no fear. Walk as if through an open door.”

Beaming with delight Symon nodded and held out his hand to Karryl for his bag. “This is amazing, and most unexpected.” His eyes widened. “I may not even want to come back.”

With the bag clutched against his chest Symon stepped into the sparkling green oval, closely followed by his escort of wood sprites. A second later the portal winked out of sight, leaving Karryl, Evalin and Mordas gazing at empty air.

Although Hieronymus Smeers had told Karryl he would not be here, the cold dawn light coupled with the old man’s absence heightened the air of sad neglect within the house. The desolate atmosphere took the young Mage-Prime by surprise. From its perch on the kitchen windowsill the tortoiseshell cat with mismatched eyes glared at him. Karryl picked his way around the baskets and threaded through the mob of assorted cats and kittens.

He reached out and fondled the cat’s ears. “Hello puss. Remember me?”

“
Of course I do. It was only yesterday after all.”

The voice which entered Karryl’s mind was a warm, rolling baritone. He laughed out loud, delighted at this unexpected mental exchange.

“So, who are you really then?”

The sleek tortoiseshell blinked and yawned
. “I am Moonstone the one hundred and forty-third. Contrary to what you may have been thinking, I am simply a cat.”
Stretching his neck he appeared to smile as he closed his amber eye and regarded Karryl with the green one.
“Nevertheless a rather special cat, wouldn’t you agree?”

Gently scratching the top of Moonstone’s broad head Karryl nodded. “I would indeed.”

The large feline pushed his soft muzzle into Karryl’s hand and began to purr loudly.

“Would you like a cat? I’m not committed at the moment.”

Karryl chuckled and gave him a gentle tap on his flat brown nose. “I appreciate the offer but we have a cat who regularly visits, and she might feel a bit ruffled if I turned up with another one.”

Moonstone gave a paw a nonchalant lick
. “Ah. You mean Detelia. Not a problem. She and I are old friends. We get on very well.”

The tortoiseshell gazed up at him and adopted an appealing pose. Karryl grinned. “I suppose, when you put it like that …”

He didn’t have time to finish as Moonstone’s ears pricked up
. “A stranger comes; through the air.”

Karryl had just enough time to throw a glamour of ancient brickwork and peeling paint over the pantry door before a shimmering portal appeared above the centre of the floor. Unperturbed, the cat looked on as a black-clad figure stepped through, touched two fingers to forehead, lips and chest and bowed in Karryl’s direction.

His suspicions aroused Karryl frowned. “Areel? You’re the last person I expected to see here. How did you find me?”

Areel crouched down and pulled a basket containing a black and white cat and three assorted kittens away from the vicinity of the portal. “They would not survive very long in the desert.”

The portal vanished as Areel moved to stand in front of Karryl. “I have met with the Lady Evalin.” The desert warrior’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Her powers are remarkable. She has some very subtle ways of testing credibility. She told me you were probably here, after I had spoken with her and King Vailin and told them as much as I know.”

Karryl nodded and forced a little smile, although this was one of those rare occasions when he felt annoyed. What he had to do he wanted to do alone. The as yet unexplained arrival of Areel could complicate matters.

The warrior’s obsidian black eyes met Karryl’s dark brown ones. “It was necessary to warn you, and this was the quickest way. My thoughts may not have reached you.”

Unable to ignore the gravity of Areel’s tone, Karryl frowned. “Warn me of what?”

The desert warrior’s expression was troubled. “The same thing of which I have warned your king and the lady. Lord Ghian’s dark forces are gathering in Vedra. In a bid to recover the medallion along with the third artefact and so gain ascendancy, he has already instructed the Grelfi. A full-scale attack on this city is imminent. You must counter this threat before the city and its people are destroyed.”

Karryl’s mouth set in a grim line as he rapidly considered his options. “How soon do you think they’ll attack?”

Areel’s reply was immediate and positive. “I was present when Lord Ghian revealed his plan to the Grelfi, and also when he gave his rallying speech from the platform above the grelfon arena. The attack is scheduled for the night of the next full moon, but my master is not renowned for his patience.”

Karryl scowled. “The Wraith only gave us until then to return the artefacts to them, or there would be retributions.”

Areel looked at him askance. “And you expected a Vedran Wraith to keep its word? If that is what it told you, you may rest assured the attack will be sooner. Why were you visited by a Wraith?”

Karryl briefly related the events of the past few days while Areel listened intently. It was only when Karryl had finished that he spoke. “How close are you to recovering the third artefact?”

His suspicions aroused, the young Mage-Prime gave him a long look. “Why?”

Areel looked around the cold, grimy kitchen. “Is there a place more comfortable where we can talk? If you are close to recovering the Navigator I may be able to avert this impending disaster.”

It was only when Karryl was entering the drab sitting-room that Areel’s words registered. He spun round and glared at the desert warrior. “What did you call it?”

The Jadhra raised a narrow eyebrow. “The object which you call the third artefact is properly called the Navigator.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve known for quite a while. I also know what the medallion is called. But I didn’t expect you to know.”

As Karryl perched on the edge of a shabby chair, Areel pulled a cushion off another one onto the floor and seated himself cross-legged on it. “There is every reason for me to know. I am the last of a line of warrior chiefs whose tribe are the rightful owners of the artefacts. We also know the exact location of the fourth artefact, and it is that above all else that the Vedrans want.”

Moonstone wandered into the room and looked up at Karryl.
“He speaks the truth. You can trust him.”

Areel chuckled. “Thank you, little hunter. Your assessment of me is greatly valued.”

The tortoiseshell cat leapt up onto the arm of Karryl’s chair and glared at Areel.
“Not
so much of the ‘little’ if you please.”
The cat looked into Karryl’s face
. “There is one small
thing which is probably of no consequence. His name’s not Areel.”

Moonstone looked smug as only a cat can look smug, and Karryl raised a questioning eyebrow. “No doubt you heard what our companion just said, so perhaps you’d care to explain yourself.”

The Jadhra’s upper lip twitched in distaste as he looked round the dull and grimy room. “I will explain briefly, as much as is necessary. This room depresses me.”

Karryl leaned back in his chair. “Then the briefer the better. I have much to do. So, if you’re not called Areel, who are you?”

The black-clad desert warrior clasped his hands together and looked earnestly at Karryl. “My given name is Miqhal, and it is by that name I am known in Vedra. Had you or Magnor become captives of the Grelfi they would most certainly have tortured you to discover how you entered the city. They could not have learned of me from you. There is no Areel.”

Moonstone stepped over into Karryl’s lap, and he absently fondled the cat’s ears as he questioned Miqhal. “So why take the risk? You must have a pretty powerful reason.”

Miqhal gave a brief nod. “I take risks for the same reason you do. I live only to see the Navigator recovered and returned to where it belongs. To that end I have suffered much indignity to ensure that I became Lord Ghian’s most trusted body servant. As such, I could have stolen the Locator at any time, but it would have led me nowhere. My heart was joyful when you recovered it with your powers.”

Karryl was about to ask another question but Miqhal held up a hand. “Allow me to explain a little more, and then you will understand. Over hundreds of years the Vedrans have gradually lost their knowledge of the true purpose of the artefacts. They no longer understand their ancient writings or know what and where the fourth artefact is. They believe that only when they have possession of all four will they have limitless power with which to destroy your world. Once they have achieved this, they believe that their god Zo’ad will return them to their home world.”

Karryl was intrigued. “But…it was your world too, if I remember correctly.”

There was a glint in Miqhal’s dark deep-set eyes. “Indeed it was. We also believe we shall one day return. Unlike our rebellious brethren who craved supremacy over all and succumbed to the seductive power of evil, we the Jadhrahin have guarded our history. In our writings and by word of mouth it has been handed down from father to son. It is as fresh and clear in our mind as on the day we left Dahrian, our world.”

Karryl tilted his head in query. “Why didn’t you just go straight back there?”

Miqhal shook his head. “It was not possible. Time had turned against us. Our race found themselves doomed to a thousand years of life on this world. The malcontents among us, mainly renegade priests and some with certain special skills, soon left the freedom of the open desert to settle in an ancient and abandoned city. They rebuilt it and named it Vedra. There they embraced the teachings of a dark and evil god they called Zo’ad.

“They are no longer a proud and noble race of warriors. Their lives are dedicated to appeasing Zo’ad. In the past they frequently raided our camps, taking younger men and women for service in their dark temple. The breeding of the grelfons was the Vedrans’ ultimate act of evil, and their greatest success.”

The Jadhra warrior’s broad shoulders slumped, and Karryl sensed he would soon decide he had said enough. He gave him a little prompt. “So, what use are the artefacts to them if they are no longer aware of their true purpose? Not that I am, come to that.”

The corners of Miqhal’s mouth curved downward in a steely grimace. “They believe Lord Ghian is the one who will draw the true power from them and utter the words of the sacred writings. Then they can gain dominance over this world until such time as they find a way to leave and abandon us to our fate, while they return to conquer Dahrian.”

Mage and warrior sat in contemplative silence, lost in worlds of their own while everyday noises filtered in from the nearby street.

Eyes wide with sudden realisation, Karryl looked hard at Miqhal. “What happens if the Jadhrahin end up with all the artefacts? Are you just going to clear off and leave the Vedrans and their blasted grelfons for us to deal with?”

Miqhal gave Karryl a long-suffering look. “You misunderstand. When they learn that we have all four artefacts, it is believed the Vedrans will lose all hope. Our plan is to see the Grelfi and their beasts destroyed, and the Vedrans returned with us to Dahrian as our prisoners.

“As I have told you before, we are a dying race. When they built Vedra and began their evil practices. Zo’ad punished us all by making each generation less able to father children. Where we were thousands, now we are but a few hundred. The curse will be removed when we return to Dahrian. So it is vital that we have the Locator and the Navigator. Without them we will not know where we are going.”

Karryl gave Miqhal a long flat look. “I suppose you realise what will happen if I find the Navigator and hand the two artefacts over to you? An army of Wraiths will descend on Vellethen, intent on exacting revenge for the absolute death of one of their own.”

Miqhal held up a cautioning hand. “Once the Jadhrahin have the artefacts the Wraiths will pay no further attention to you or your people. They may even turn on the one they serve.”

Shocked, Karryl stared at Miqhal. “They would attack Ghian?” Just for a brief moment Karryl felt a misplaced kind of sympathy for someone he’d known since childhood. “That’s despicable!”

In one smooth movement the Jadhra rose effortlessly to his feet, his black clothes rippling against his firm lithe body. His voice was harshly mocking. “Such emotions serve no purpose. Ghian is beyond recovery. Should the Wraiths remain loyal to him, he will use them to destroy you. Do not lose sight of the fact that he is truly your enemy. He has an insatiable hunger for power, which makes him a very dangerous adversary indeed.

“Also he has his grelfon, but
only
his. He may be Master of the Grelfi but not of their beasts. They answer only to their bonded handlers. As you know, once the handler is killed the grelfon fails. However, it would take more than the power I possess to defeat Ghian and his beast. That will be up to you.” His mouth twisted with contempt as he glanced round the room. “Now I must depart. I shall be glad to leave this place. I would say you have at most seven days before the first attack, unless you have found the third artefact by then.”

Karryl got to his feet, dropping a disgruntled Moonstone on the cushion Miqhal had just vacated. He moved close to the Jadhra warrior. “I was just about to attempt retrieval of the Navigator when you arrived.”

Miqhal’s eyes widened. “It is here, in this house?”

Karryl shook his head as he led the way back into the kitchen. “No. But I think the entrance to its hiding place is.”

He turned round in time to see Miqhal place his palms together and bow his head. “I am most abject. I have dishonoured you by assuming incorrectly that this was your dwelling.”

Karryl placed his hand lightly on Miqhal’s black-clad shoulder. “A simple mistake easily made, but no harm done. Now come, and let me show you.”