Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe (30 page)

He was glad her rooms were on the ground floor of the
tower and not the top as managing stairs would be almost impossible, especially
as she was getting heavier and heavier and her knees had begun to buckle
beneath her. As he stood at the guarded door he was supporting nearly all her
weight with his arm around her waist and her arm over his shoulder. He pulled
her hood as far forward as he could to hide her face and opened the door.

Lowis turned around and gave Jonderill and his friend
a stern appraisal whilst Barrin looked away in disgust. "And where d’yer
think yer goin'?"

Jonderill grinned sheepishly and rested the weight of
the hooded princess against his knee. "The squire's drunk too much so I
thought I would take him outside to freshen him up a bit.

"'E looks like 'e's dead drunk to me. 'Ere let me
'ave a look at 'im."

Jonderill stepped back slightly and almost lost his
grip on the cloaked figure who slid nearly to the floor before he could retrieve
her. "He's shy." If his lord finds out his been with me he'll get a
thrashing or worse."

"Pity you didn't get one long ago, it might have
changed your ways," suggested Barrin, stepping closer.

"I'm going to be sick," groaned the princess
in a slurred, miserable voice.

"I think I’d better get the squire out of
here," said Jonderill, heaving the body back into his arms.

"Yer damned well better. It's bad enough having
the likes of you here with your perverted ways without him puking up all over
the place."

"Go on, get 'im out of 'ere," commanded
Lowis. "Take 'im to the stables and throw some water over ‘im, that will
bring 'im 'round."

"Aye and dunk yourself at the same time,"
sneered Barrin, "It might shrink your prick and save the squire from a
poking."

Lowis laughed at the comment and helped Jonderill and
the squire out of the tower with a none too gentle push and an obscene gesture.
Jonderill staggered under the dead weight of the princess, trying not to think
about Barrin's comment and made his way to the stable yard. Never before had
the distance seemed so far nor the courtyard so full of people taking the night
air. Each one stopped to ask after the magician's health and to give his
groaning friend an amused look but fortunately nobody bothered to ask who it
was. With considerable relief he manoeuvred himself and his burden to the top
of the stable yard steps and then with great difficulty lifted her down the
stone stairway, across the yard and into the stable where he collapsed into an
exhausted heap.

The stable was warm and peaceful and the air of
calmness and order eased Jonderill's ragged nerves as he regained his breath.
His arms and shoulders ached from carrying the weight of the princess and his
legs felt strangely wobbly as if they belonged to someone else and only half
obeyed his commands. Worst of all was his head which felt as if it were about
to float away. Thankfully he laid Daun carefully down in the straw, her golden
hair fanning out around her. He was pleased to see that she had succumbed to a
drunken stupor rather than being sick everywhere. Now all he had to do was to
get her on a horse, out of the castle, through the city and into the forest
without being recognised.

He muttered to himself about a hopeless task and made
his way down the stalls to the very end, praying that the king had not yet
carried out his terrible threat to kill all the grey horses in the kingdom.
Breathing a sigh of relief he saw Sansun waiting in his stall, his intelligent
eyes watching Jonderill's every move and his sharp ears listening for every
sound. He spoke to the horse softly, feeling strange at sharing his plans with
an animal and unbolted the stall door. Carefully he placed the halter over Sansun’s
head and began to lead the horse forward out of his stall.

"Yer takin' up 'orse theivin' now are yer lover
boy?" said Tarris suddenly from the darkness of the empty stall opposite.
He stepped forward into the light from the single lantern and gave Jonderill a
sneering look. "If it's a layin' yer want yer don't 'ave ter bugger the
'orses, I'll oblige yer."

"Let it be, Tarris," warned Jonderill.
"I'm here on business for the princess." He stepped to the other side
of the horse and began leading him down the aisle between the stalls.

"Yer are, are yer? Well what sort of business
could that be, I wonder? She don’t usually associate with the likes of you."
Tarris followed Jonderill and the horse until they came to the last stall with
the princess sprawled in the straw, her loosened golden hair instantly giving
her disguise away. Jonderill cursed his bad luck and turned to face Tarris. "Well,
what 'ave we got 'ere? Not only are yer the perverted pet of that damned
magician but yer a bloody kidnapper too."

"This has nothing to do with you, Tarris, just go
away and forget what you have seen."

"Nothin' to do wiv me? Now that's where yer
wrong, it's got everythin' to do wiv me. Sarrat's ordered yer dead as a lesson
to yer magician friend an' I'm goin' ter make sure yer die in the way yer
deserve." He laughed maliciously. "Now I can do me master's biddin’
an' become an 'ero’ at the same time, savin’ the princess from yer filthy
clutches an ‘avin’ some fun wiv yer too. Now boy, getcher breaches down an I'll
make it nice fer yer before I slit yer throat, else I'll cut yer up an ave yer
whilst yer yard’s layin' on the ground in front of yer nose. See, it don't make
no difference to me."

Tarris pulled a long knife from the sheath at his side
and Jonderill stepped away from Sansun, crouching slightly and ready to move.
He’d no weapon or any means of defence whilst his attacker was armed, a good
hand taller and well muscled.
 
What was
more Jonderill's head swam dizzily every time he moved it and his legs
threatened to collapse beneath him. He tried to remember what the Swordmaster
had taught him about defence, hoping that the same principles would apply to
this situation as they did to being armed with a sword. Slowly he circled
around Tarris, watching his eyes, at the same time keeping an eye out for a
possible weapon.

The first attack was easy to dodge as Tarris's scream
of enthusiasm gave ample warning of his intentions but Tarris learnt quickly
and the next attack came silently with a thrust towards Jonderill’s abdomen
which cut through his shirt and scored the skin beneath. Again they circled and
Tarris charged in, trying to use the advantage of his height to drive his blade
downwards through his opponent's shoulder. Jonderill anticipated the move and
blocked Tarris’s descending blade arm with his whilst countering with a
clenched fist to Tarris's unprotected stomach. The man was hard and muscular
from his work in the stables and the blow had little effect, except to separate
them once more.

The Stablemaster returned to his basic but effective
dart forward and slash tactic, cutting the air in front of Jonderill and
forcing him backwards until he stood trapped against the stable wall. Tarris's
final pass scored a line across Jonderill's chest, making him cry out and
drawing blood. Tarris stepped back a fraction and gave his victim a sadistic
leer.

"I've gotcha now boy an' I'm goin' ter cut yer up
real slow."

Jonderill was trapped between the knife and the wall
with no way out. He desperately looked for a weapon with which to defend
himself but there was nothing, only the great silver and black horse which had
passively watched the fight. Tarris lunged forward and sliced Jonderill's arm
from shoulder to elbow, laughing with pleasure as skin and muscle parted.

He felt the pain as an explosion in his mind and in
his agony he screamed something unintelligible. Sansun jumped as if he had been
cut with a whip and turned on Tarris, sinking his big yellow teeth into the
man's knife arm. Tarris dropped the knife as the horse yanked him backwards
away from Jonderill, his teeth ripping the Stablemaster’s flesh through to the
bone.

In an instant Jonderill dived to the floor and grabbed
the knife and with all his force plunged it into Tarris's back, passed his ribs
and into his lung. Tarris gave a gurgling scream as blood filled his mouth and
tried to turn on his attacker but Sansun still held him fast. Jonderill tore
the knife free and thrust it into Tarris's body again, severing the other lung.
Sansun released his grip and Tarris crumpled to his knees, choking on his own
blood before he fell to his face, his eyes blank and staring and blood pooling
on the floor around him.

Jonderill staggered backwards, clutching his bleeding
arm, horrified at what he had done. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, not even
Tarris. All he wanted to do was leave with the princess but now he was a
murderer, a felon with blood on his hands. He started to shake with the shock
of what he’d done and the pain in his arm but before he could bring some order
to the turmoil in his mind, the stable door opened and Barrin stood framed
against the darkness, the lantern lighting up his pale features. For a moment
Barrin froze in horrified silence whilst he tried to understand what was going
on and then he closed the door quietly behind him, dropped the latch and drew
his sword, resting its tip against Jonderill's chest, exactly in line with his
heart.

"Your story had better be good."

Jonderill didn’t flinch although he knew his life
would be forfeit if he couldn’t convince Barrin what he was doing was right and
best for the kingdom. He thought of telling a lie, that Tarris had plotted to
kill the princess and he’d saved her but he knew Barrin would know it was a lie
and would only accept the truth from him.

"I'm taking the princess away from here to where
she will be safe from Maladran's curse. Tarris was a spy for Sarrat and tried
to stop me so I killed him.

Barrin looked from Jonderill to the red-stained corpse.
Killing the Stablemaster was a crime he dismissed as unimportant, Tarris
probably deserved to die but what he was proposing to do with the princess was
different. "That's kidnapping."

"I have to do it, Barrin. If she stays here
Maladran can carry out his threat whenever he wants or whenever Sarrat tells
him to but hidden with the magicians, where Maladran cannot find her, she'll
have a chance."

Barrin hesitated, unsure of what to do. "Does the
king know about this?"

"No, or at least not yet. I have left a note from
Plantagenet so he’ll know in the morning. Please, Barrin, please let us
leave."

"Why didn't you ask him before you started this
thing?"

"We couldn't, Maladran might have been watching
using his scrying globe. It’s important that nobody knows where we have gone.
If they do Maladran will make them tell him what they know."

Barrin slowly let his sword drop and looked back to
the princess and once again to Jonderill. "Those things people are saying
about you, they aren't true are they?"

Jonderill shook his head. "No they’re not true.
They were all lies that Tarris's spread about me."

"That's why I followed you here, I had to find
out for myself but I didn't expect this. I would help you if I could but if I
let you go I will have committed treason against my lord and I can't do
that."

"What if you couldn't remember what you had done,
like you were under some sort of enchantment and couldn’t help yourself, would
you help me to save the princess from Maladran then?”

Barrin smiled and sheathed his sword. "You can do
that to me?"

Of course I can," lied Jonderill. "I'm a
magician."

~
   
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"I
tell you it won't work," argued Plantagenet loudly. "It doesn't look
anything like it does in the book, they’re all squashed together in a heap and
they should be stacked in a pyramid."

"Then the book's all wrong," retorted Animus
angrily. "It's just a case of putting the little pieces of wood at the
bottom and the bigger ones on top and then setting light to the whole thing.

"But the book says it needs air," insisted Plantagenet
in exasperation.

"Burn the book!" shouted Animus, brandishing
a sizeable log like a weapon, "I know what I'm doing."

Jonderill decided he couldn't feign sleep any longer
and opened his eyes to a scene of chaos and confusion. Animus stood in front of
a stone hearth jammed with logs, some of them green and still bearing leaves.
One hand defiantly rested on his hip whilst the other was wrapped around a
thick log which he held like a club. His usually cheerful features were
darkened by anger and beads of sweat covered his brow as he glared
threateningly at his life-long friend. Plantagenet held his ground, despite the
log, and glared back, jabbing a long finger at the page of the open book he
held in his other hand. His usually well groomed hair was dishevelled and
dotted with twigs and leaf mould and his placid face was twisted in a
disdainful sneer.

Books lay in a discarded heap around his feet as if
they had been quickly searched through and then carelessly dropped when they
proved unhelpful. Every flat surface was strewn with parchments, scrolls,
writing materials, jars of pickles, onions, vegetable peelings, cooking
utensils and a quantity of spilt flour. Clothes and pots and pans mingled with
more books standing in piles on the floor. There was even a chicken picking its
way through the mess and clucking loudly. Sunlight forced its way in through
dusty windows revealing the dilapidated state of the cottage.

When Animus had said he knew where there was a pretty
little cottage in the northern woods which no one used any more, he’d forgotten
to add that the place was falling down. It would take days to clean up the mess
the magicians had made and then as long again to make the place habitable. The
thought made Jonderill feel more tired than he already was and for a moment he
thought about closing his eyes again and pretending he was asleep.

"Why won't you listen to me you ignoramus? You
haven't a clue what you're doing," shouted Plantagenet as Animus tried to
jam more wood into the hearth.

"I won't listen to you because as usual you don't
know what you are talking about," screamed Animus.

"And you do? You fat, ignorant, bumptious toad!"

"Why you overgrown, mindless beanpole!
I'll......."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," interrupted
Jonderill a little hoarsely but unable to stifle a laugh at the comical sight
of the two magicians facing each other like a pair of fighting cocks. He pulled
himself up into a sitting position from the rough wooden pallet he was lying on
and winced at the sudden fire in his arm which had been carefully bandaged.
"This is no way to get a fire started, at least not one which will burn in
the hearth and heat water for our morning tea."

"Jonderill!" both magicians exclaimed at
once in surprise and pleasure. They dropped their battle implements and
hurriedly made their way to his side, stepping over the confusion on the floor
and chasing the clucking chicken away from an overturned sack of grain.

"We thought you were still asleep," said
Animus, by way of an apology. "So we were going to get everything ready
for when you woke up as a surprise. We’ve unloaded the cart and have brought
nearly everything inside and were just about to light the fire and make something
to eat."

"Only there isn't enough space to put everything
we brought with us and then we couldn't get the fire going. Everything is so
exceedingly difficult without our magic," Plantagenet finished rather
lamely.

Animus looked around the room and blushed slightly.
"Don't you think we could use our wands just this once, just to get the
fire going and get this mess cleaned up? It will only need a little bit of
magic."

It was a wonderful thought but impossible.
"No," replied Jonderill firmly, resisting the temptation. "No
magic. Remember we’re supposed to be just three ordinary men living ordinary
lives in a woodsman's cottage in the forest."

"But we don't know how to be ordinary," cut
in Animus.

"Then we’ll have to read and learn from what Plantagenet’s
books tell us, which includes how to lay a fire so it has enough air to
burn." Animus looked crestfallen whilst Plantagenet looked smug and was
about to say 'I told you so' when Jonderill continued. "You know what we
agreed. The only way to keep the Princess safe was to hide her from Maladran.
He’ll never think of looking for her in a poor woodsman's cottage but if we use
magic just once he’ll follow its trail and find us and the Princess Daun and
you know what’ll happen then."

"It's all right for you, you’re used to doing
everything like an ordinary person but for us it is very difficult, we've
always used our magic."

Jonderill knew it would be very difficult for the two
elderly magicians who had to be looked after all the time and even harder for
the Princess who had always had the finest of everything, not to mention
servants to do everything for her. As if his own thoughts had reminded him of
her existence, he looked rapidly around the room for her and then stood up in
alarm, his head throbbing painfully with the sudden movement.

Plantagenet stepped back at Jonderill’s sudden move.
“Be careful, boy, we’ve only just stitched that arm and it’ll all come undone
if you use it too much. Oh and don't worry about the Princess, she’s outside in
the sunshine making daisy chains."

Jonderill looked flabbergasted. "Daisy
chains!"

Animus laughed, his anger gone and his usual happy
self returned. "Yes. Daisy chains. I taught her and she's sitting outside
singing as sweetly and as cheerfully as a sky soarer in spring."

"But I taught her to sing," butted in Plantagenet,
eager to tell his part in the miraculous transformation.

Jonderill eased himself back into his pallet, his head
spinning and his vision slightly blurred.

"What did you do to her? You didn't use your
magic on her did you?"

"No, my boy, nothing like that," laughed
Animus. "Actually we were going to ask you what you’d done to her because
she’s been like that since we found you both in the forest."

"I didn't do anything, or at least nothing that I
can remember." Jonderill's stomach knotted as his memory started to return
and he closed his eyes as he recalled the badly mixed powders he’d emptied into
the honey mead and the amount of grain spirit he’d allowed the Princess to
drink. It wasn't the only recollection which came back to him as he remembered
the feel of plunging the knife into Tarris’s back making him feel suddenly
sick. He opened his eyes to see both the magicians looking at him anxiously.
"I don't remember much of what happened, does anyone else?"

"Not a thing," said Animus excitedly.
"The Princess doesn't remember who she was, or where she came from or even
her name."

"So we've called her Rosera after the rare,
delicate flower with the sweet fragrance," added Plantagenet seriously.
"She seems to like the name. We would have waited for you to wake before
naming her, only as you were hurt when we found you we gave you a sleeping
draft like the one you mixed for the maids and we didn't know how long you
would sleep for."

"Where did you find me? How did I get out of the
palace?"

"It was really all very strange," began Plantagenet,
moving a pile of books from a three-legged stool and sitting himself next to
Jonderill. "When you didn't return by noon-tide as you said you would we
thought something terrible must have happened to you so we tied up the pony
cart and Animus and I went back along the forest path just in case you were
lost. I wanted to stay with the cart thinking you would return there but Animus
insisted I went with him and it was a good thing I did."

"When we reached the forest edge there was no
sign of you so we thought we would wait a bit to see if you turned up,"
interrupted Animus excitedly. He sat on the pile of books Plantagenet had just
moved, making them wobble precariously under his weight. "We waited until
it was dark and I was just about to suggest we went back to the city to look
for you when this enormous silver creature burst through the woods nearly
scaring poor Plantagenet to death."

Plantagenet looked haughtily at his friend.
"Animus would have run away from the creature but before he could move the
animal grabbed him by his shirt sleeve and dragged him back along the path and
into the forest. Of course I followed with the intention of rescuing him as
soon as the beast let go of him."

"But the creature didn't let me go, instead it
dragged me into a small clearing and there you were! Both you and Rosera were
lying on the ground and you were covered in blood, lots of blood.”

"Animus thought the creature had killed you and
started jumping up and down trying to scare the beast away before it finished
eating you but it was quite plain to me that the creature was no more than a
large horse and you had been badly wounded, not half eaten."

Animus glared at his companion. "By the time Plantagenet
had recovered from the shock of seeing you both there on the forest floor I’d
set off to fetch the cart."

"He can't stand the sight of blood," put in Plantagenet
scornfully. "So by the time he’d found his way back to the clearing with
the assistance of that delightful horse, I’d sewn up your arm and made you both
comfortable."

"But I drove you back here," countered
Animus.

"And I made you better," concluded Plantagenet
with deft finality.

“I didn’t know you knew anything about tending to
wounds,” said Animus in sudden amazement.

“I haven’t always been a magician you know and there
are lots of things I know that you don’t know I know!”

Jonderill leant back against the wall, something nagging
unhappily at his mind as the two magicians argued with each other. "What
happened to Barrin, where is he?"

Plantagenet frowned and looked blankly at Animus. "As
far as I know Barrin is where he usually is, in the palace on guard or at his
father’s inn drinking ale.”

“You didn’t see him then, he wasn’t with Sansun or us or
standing nearby?”

“No, there was nobody there, only you and the Princess.
Is there something wrong?”

“Barrin helped us to get out of Alewinder; without him
we wouldn’t have escaped. He helped us to get out of the city gates and to the
edge of the forest where I told him he should stop and go back.” Jonderill
stopped for a moment feeling guilty about the way he’d lied to his friend.
 
“I’d told him that I could make him forget all
about helping us so he wouldn’t get into trouble when he went back to the city.
So when we reached the edge of the forest I tried to put an enchantment on him
but I felt all dizzy and I don’t remember anything else.”

“Well he’s obviously gone back to Alewinder or we
would have found him,” said Plantagenet with some certainty.

Animus nodded his head in agreement, “And if he’d told
anyone about where you and the Princess were the forest would be full of the
king’s guards by now, so I think we are safe.”

“But what about Barrin? What happens if he loses his
position in the guards because of me, or worse, what happens if they think he
was part of the plot and accuse him of being a traitor?”

“I don’t think that will happen,” said Plantagenet,
Barrin is a clever lad, he’ll know how to talk himself out of a tight corner.”

Jonderill shook his head. Plantagenet was right,
Barrin did know how to look after himself and in any case there was nothing he
could do for him now. "How long have I been asleep then?" He wished
he was back in that state again.

"Almost a day."

"And the Princess?"

"Oh, she woke up this morning with a terrible
headache and not remembering anything about last night," said Plantagenet
curiously. "At first we thought she’d been hurt and Maladran’s enchantment
had already worked, what with the silver horse being here but it hadn't of
course. I mixed up some powders to ease her poor head and then discovered that
she had no memory at all of her life as a princess.”

"But it's better than we could ever have hoped
for," interrupted the fat magician, knocking the pile of books over in his
excitement. "Not only can she not remember who she is but she can't
remember how unpleasant she used to be. Now she smiles and sings and sees
beauty in everything." Animus clapped his hands together and closed his
eyes whilst he beamed in pure delight.

"It's most perplexing though," mused Plantagenet
seriously. "I've never known that combination of powders to leave someone
with no memory at all and such a bad headache, it's almost as if the child had
been drinking. Now, boy, tell us what happened to you. You look as if you’ve
been in a battle."