Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe (31 page)

Jonderill looked down at his freshly bandaged arm and
the healing balms that covered the narrow cut on his chest. Again he remembered
the feel of the knife in his hand as he pushed the point through resisting
flesh and the grating feeling as it glanced off his victim's ribs and into
Tarris's lungs. He felt sick at the callousness of the deed. One thrust had been
enough to stop Tarris and save his own life but the second thrust had been for
vengeance and pleasure. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind deciding
not to tell the magician what he’d done.

"I'm not sure," he lied. "I made a mess
of mixing the powders and then I had difficulty persuading the Princess to
drink the brew so I had to prove it was safe by drinking some myself. I think
that's what made me so dizzy, because after that things became a bit hazy
although I do remember falling and banging my head and cutting my arm badly on
a sharp candle stand. I’m afraid everything else is blank.”

"It was a good job Barrin and that horse were
there to help you both escape otherwise you could still be lying there injured."

"Or in the palace dungeons," added Animus in
alarm.

"The problem is we’re now stuck with the horse,
he just refuses to go away and as he’s silver in colour Maladran’s evil
enchantment is just there waiting to happen. If we don’t do something about the
horse soon all our planning and the trouble we’ve gone to to protect the
Princess will amount to nothing."

"I know you’re very fond of him and he clearly
likes you but he’s very big and quite frightening, don't you think you could
make him go away?" pleaded Animus, wringing his hands together.

"May I go and see him?

"Of course, my boy, if you think it’ll help and,
whilst you are gone, Plantagenet and I will light the fire and clean this mess
up."

Plantagenet gave a small groan and looked at Jonderill
in despair.

"I've a better idea," suggested Jonderill,
taking the hint from Plantagenet’s look. "The sun is shining so why don't
we all eat outside like we do on summer solstice day. Whilst I go and see to
Sansun you can get some bread and cheese which is in a basket somewhere and
there is some wine over by the hearth. Perhaps I could find some ground nuts
too for our desert and some wild honey. How does that sound?"

Animus looked delighted but Plantagenet looked miserable,
holding his hands out to indicate the deplorable state of the cottage. “What
about this mess?”

"I know," put in Animus brightly, "Let's
sleep outside tonight, then the mess won't matter."

"That won’t get rid of the mess; it’ll still be
there when we wake up in the morning." complained Plantagenet.

"It's a wonderful idea," agreed Jonderill
with false enthusiasm. "You can study the path of the stars, as you’ve
been wanting to do for an age, and as for this mess, leave it to me to clean
up, that's the one thing I’m good at."

Animus and Plantagenet beamed at each other in
heartfelt agreement, completely missing the bitterness in Jonderill's voice. Their
past differences forgotten the two magicians began to search for dishes and
bowls, rummaging through boxes and adding to the chaos in the cottage. Jonderill
gingerly stood holding onto the rough wooden wall to stop himself swaying and
with his bare feet on the cold stone floor. He shook slightly from the effort
of moving and his legs felt wobbly whilst the gash on his arm burnt like fire.
Looking around the dusty room with its cobwebs trailing from ceiling to wall
his future didn’t seem particularly bright. Four summers of looking after two
helpless old men and a girl with no memory was not an exciting prospect.

True he’d looked after the two magicians since they
had taken him for their apprentice but at least then he had been their
apprentice. He’d had the chance to watch and learn about magic even if he
couldn’t do it for himself but here, hiding from Maladran, there would be no
chance to learn or practice magic. There wouldn’t be the opportunity to learn
swordcraft either or meet his friends for a drink and a game of stones. In fact
he would be nothing more than the bound servant which seemed to be his destiny.

For a moment he considered leaving but that would mean
the magicians would eventually have to use their magic to survive. Maladran
would find them and their plan would fail. Despite his own feelings they
deserved better from him than that. With a sigh of resignation he pulled on his
boots and made his way to the door of the cottage.

He heard the girl singing as soon as he opened the
door, a sweet gentle voice, and almost childlike but with a clarity that any minstrel
would envy. The sun was shining brightly and sky flyers were singing in the
trees. Jonderill gritted his teeth. “Damn!” The last thing he needed at that
moment was facing the girl he’d so unceremoniously kidnapped and then having to
listen to her being happy about it.

Instead he walked quickly to the rear of the cottage
where a broken fence enclosed an area of thin forest grass. Sansun raised his
head from where he was grazing and waited for Jonderill to come to his side and
rub his ears. "Thank you, I owe you my life and I won't forget it."
The horse whickered softly and rubbed its nose against Jonderill's arm.
"And now I have another task for you, my friend. I want you to turn to the
north and go far away from this place and never come back."

Sansun shook his head and neck in disagreement, making
his dark main shimmer against his silver coat.

"You must. You're a silver horse and your life
will be in danger here for as long as Maladran's enchantment remains. If anyone
finds you here they’ll take you back to Alewinder and the king will have you
killed." The stallion snorted disdainfully. "Please, Sansun, you must
go. Even if Maladran's curse or the thought of the king turning you into sly
hound meat doesn’t scare you, remember you are as much a fugitive from justice
as I am; you too made your mark on Tarris before he died."

Sansun stepped back and seemed to consider the
situation for a moment. "If you go north you’ll find Prince Pellum, he’s
always admired you and will give you a good home with a warm stable and oats to
eat but if you stay here all there is to eat is thin grass and dried leaves.
You don’t want to be stuck here like I am do you?”

Reluctantly the horse shook its head from side to side.
He whickered softly and gently rubbed his nose against Jonderill’s shoulder
before turning and slowly trotting away. Jonderill watched Sansun go until he
was out of sight, feeling a deep sense of loss, even though the horse had never
been his. He sighed and returned to the front of the cottage intending to go
inside and start cleaning up the mess the magicians had made. Instead he leaned
against the creaking doorpost and watched the golden-haired girl pick a
woodland daisy and carefully thread it on the chain with the others.

She still wore the clothes he’d dressed her in when
he’d taken her from her room except now she had removed her jacket showing her
pale arms. Jonderill wondered if Plantagenet’s skills went as far as making dresses
or whether that would be something else he would have to do. Rosera put a
circlet of yellow and white flowers on her head to match the one around her
neck and the bracelet on each arm and then carried on making another chain
which was already long enough for another adornment. Sensing Jonderill's
presence she put the flowers down on her lap and looked up and smiled with blue
eyes full of joy and laughter.

"Hello," she said brightly and without a
trace of grandeur or scorn. "I'm Rosera, who are you?"

"I'm Jonderill."

"Do you live here too with Animus and Plantagenet
and me?" she asked innocently. Then she held up the daisy chain for him to
see her handiwork. "Animus showed me how to make this, would you like
it?"

Jonderill pushed himself away from his place by the
doorpost and went to kneel at the girl's side made speechless by her beauty.
She put the daisy chain around his neck and smiled in pleasure.

"I love flowers but so few grow here and these
are very small."

"If you like I’ll help you make a garden in front
of the cottage which will brighten it up no end and then you can have big,
bright flowers all summer long," suggested Jonderill on impulse.

"Oh that would be wonderful." She threw her
arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss on his cheek, making him blush.
"What can I do in return?" she asked eagerly. "I know. I can
help you to straighten the cottage and look after Animus and Plantagenet; they
don’t seem to be able to look after themselves very well do they? And when we’ve
finished they can stay and read their books and we can go for long walks in the
forest, just you and me. Would you like that?"

Jonderill nodded, speechless. Perhaps the next four summers
weren’t going to be so bad after all.

*

"What do you mean you can't find them?"
screamed Sarrat, leaping from the chair his guest had offered him in Maladran’s
high tower room and advancing on the magician threateningly. "You’re meant
to be a master magician, the best there is, able to destroy a man's mind with
just a thought and yet you let a girl and two doddering old men challenge your
spell, elude all pursuit and make me look like a fool. I tell you, Maladran,
you may be content to let this matter rest but I‘m not. I’ll not be made to
look like the biggest fool in the six kingdoms. Do you understand?"

Maladran winced under the verbal tirade of his furious
king as he knelt on the stone floor in front of him. As soon as he’d returned
to his tower and had tried to use his scrying globe he knew that something was
wrong and now he was exhausted from futile hours of scrying that had badly
drained him of his powers. He didn’t know how Sarrat had found out so quickly
that the girl was missing and his spy was dead but the timing couldn’t have
been worse. His king’s unexpected arrival at his tower had caught him when he
was too exhausted to resist or respond to the king’s anger and too weak to
retaliate as his master reviled him in front of the sneering kingsguard.

"I told you, Maladran, if I couldn’t have her
then nobody would but instead of destroying her as I commanded and being done
with it you allowed two senile old men to usurp your power and preserve her life.
In a hundred summers, when I’m dead and gone, she’ll be free to mock me and all
because you let your own personal feelings to come before your duty to me."

The magician continued staring at the floor,
considering Sarrat's words. He’d done what his master had commanded and put a
death spell on the girl who’d chosen someone else instead of him. Deep inside
he knew he could have made the spell stronger, he could have made it
irrevocable and the girl would have died there and then. Instead he’d used his
powers with reluctance and secretly he’d been pleased at the course of events.

Even now with Sarrat ranting in front of him he didn’t
regret the grain of mercy he’d shown. He’d known that Sarrat wouldn’t be
pleased when he found out that the girl would live until her sixteenth birthday
but that didn’t bother him. However, he’d seriously underestimated the ability
of Steppen’s two magicians to soften the enchantment and then whisk her away so
he couldn’t reverse what they’d done.

The loss of Sarrat’s spy in Vinmore was not helping
either. He’d seen the king's temper before when his plans had been thwarted and
knew what the likely outcome would be if he didn’t handle this situation
carefully. It had been his plan to put up some arcane resistance to limit
Sarrat's fury when he found out what had happened; something to subdue his
anger, but despite his efforts to empty his mind and focus his power, nothing
would come together. He was as helpless as a first day apprentice. So for now all
he he could do was bow his head and kneel in submission just biding his time
until his powers recovered and he could regain his focus.

"I've had enough of listening to your
advice," continued Sarrat, taking another step forward. "If it wasn't
for your schemes and plans I would have been master of Vinmore years ago, the
royal house would be no more and I could have had the princess whenever I
wanted her but you persuaded me to wait. Now I am going to act and do things my
way. When I am rid of Sandstrone’s nomads who dare to raid my borders I shall
dispose once and for all of the brigands and traitors who plague my kingdom.
After that I will invade Vinmore and make it my own."

He took a final threatening step towards the magician.
"Now listen to me, Maladran, and listen carefully, you have failed me for
the last time. I have the strongest army and the most swords in the six
kingdoms and that means I no longer need your advice or your useless spells.
You are an anachronism, the last of your kind and I don't need you anymore, I
denounce you as my magician and I no longer support you or protect you."

Maladran looked up from the stone floor in disbelief,
which changed rapidly to alarm at the look on Sarrat’s face. For the first time
in their long and stormy relationship Sarrat showed no fear of him, only
contempt. He gave a vicious laugh and indicated to the guards by the door to
approach. Maladran didn’t bother turning to watch them, there was no point, he
knew what they looked like in their studded leather uniforms and swords at their
sides but for all their weapons not one of them would dare to touch him. He
glared at Sarrat, his mind already contemplating his revenge when he’d regained
sufficient strength to call on his powers.