The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (46 page)

Callabris replied as if Allowyn hadn’t spoken. “I’m scared, Allowyn. I’m scared of what is in there and the fate which awaits me. Every day for five moon cycles I’ve studied the maze until I know every twist and turn by heart and every stone which makes up the maze’s walls. Yet I know that once I step passed its threshold, that knowledge will be useless. I could die in the maze and never reach the centre and you will be able to do nothing to keep me safe.”

Allowyn shifted uncomfortably. “But surely if it is the Goddess’s will, she will guide you to the centre.”

“The Goddess’s will is not always easy to discern, but I hope you are right, for the time has come and I can delay no longer.”

He walked slowly to the door in the corner of the room, the one which looked like the front of a bookcase, and pressed lightly on one corner as he had seen Borman do. The door clicked and swung open revealing a flight of dark stairs. If he was going to turn back it would have to be now before he committed himself, but he knew there was no turning back; the Goddess had commanded him and he had to obey. He slipped into the darkness with Allowyn two steps behind.

At the bottom of the stairs he took the small key which hung on a hook high up on the wall and opened the door. It led into the courtyard in front of the maze. He had stood there many times as Borman had tried to walk the maze’s twisted pathways, but had only once stepped over the threshold. It had been the time when Jonderill and the King had become lost in one of the most violent thunder storms he’d ever seen. The Goddess had given him and Allowyn permission to enter the maze then and he wondered if she would do the same now.

Cautiously he stepped forward to the entrance and looked up at the capstone which spanned the gap between the maze’s solid walls. It was plain and unmarked, and carried none of the warnings of death and damnation which had been there on other occasions when he had stood on the threshold. He took it as a good omen and stepped beneath the capstone’s shadow. When he looked back Allowyn was following him looking pale but determined. It was a comfort having his protector close although he suspected that if they were attacked sharp steel would provide little defence.

Callabris hurried on, a plan of the maze clear in his mind. From above, the walls of the maze had seemed to be made of seamless white stone, but as he passed by, he could see that they were made of stone blocks resting one on top of the other. He had the strangest feeling that if he pushed them very hard they would tumble over and the whole thing would collapse like a child’s game of spotted tiles. Borman had told him once that when he had been trapped in a dead end, he had tried to push the stones over, but all that happened was he grazed his hands on the rough stone. The stone didn’t look rough to him, but things in the maze changed all the time.

He was still thinking about how the stones fitted together when he turned a corner and came to a dead end. It shouldn’t have been there, of that he was certain, but perhaps he’d missed the turning he’d been looking for a little further back. He stepped passed Allowyn and retraced his steps until he found the turning he was expecting, only this pathway turned left instead of right and after the third turning he found another dead end.

Callabris gave a sigh of frustration and retraced his steps again but the turning he’d used before had gone. He had no option but to follow the pathway in the opposite direction from where he wanted to go until another entrance appeared, but that one was on the wrong wall. Reluctantly he followed this, suspecting it would lead him to a dead end, and he wasn’t disappointed. It was no good; he was well and truly lost.

“Master, I have a map if that would help?”

Callabris looked at his protector in surprise. He hadn’t realised that Allowyn had been studying the maze. “Anything would be of help.”

Allowyn reached inside his leathers and pulled out a folded piece of parchment which he passed to his master. Callabris unfolded it eagerly and then just stared at it. If anything had at one time been drawn on it, it was gone now. He handed the parchment back to Allowyn and set off again keeping his hand on the left hand wall in the hope that the pathway would twist around itself and eventually lead to the centre. It didn’t work though. After a half dozen turns they came to a dead end. Callabris leant his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d no idea where they were in the tangle of pathways and his feet ached.

“Master, I think we need to find a way out of here as soon as we can.”

Callabris opened his eyes and looked at Allowyn who was studying the sky. When he looked up he could understand why Allowyn sounded so concerned. The sky, which had been a clear blue when they had entered the maze, was a bruised purple with streamers of ragged cloud swirling within it. A sudden gust of wind tugged at his robe and whipped his hair around his face. He went to respond to his protector but the howling wind took his words away, so instead he started back the way they had come trying to press himself against the wall to give him some protection from the gale.

When they had walked that way before, there had been turns every three or four paces, but now the pathway ran straight between the high walls, funnelling the wind from the storm above. They leaned into the gale and moved onwards with their eyes closed against the flying gritstone which battered against them, but the wind was too strong for them to make much progress. Allowyn could feel his master being pushed back towards him, his robe snapping around him like sails in a hurricane, and knew that he had to do something before the wind carried the magician away.

He bent his head further forward and with as much strength as he could muster pushed himself away from the wall and passed the magician so that he could stand in front of him, his body giving Callabris some protection. He reached back and grabbed his master’s hand and set off again hauling Callabris behind him. Now he was exposed to the full force of the wind and could feel the gritstone slicing into his skin like a thousand tiny blades. He raised his arm to protect his face, but then had to drop it again to stay in contact with the wall; if he missed a turning and the shelter it would give them, then they were both dead.

When his fingers curled around the edge of a stone block, he used the last of his strength to haul himself around the corner dragging Callabris with him. The relief was instantaneous, but then the wind changed direction, battering him in the side and flinging grit and small stones at him. It was all he could do to push Callabris to the ground and cover him with his own body to give him as much protection as he could. The wind tore at his clothes and howled like a demon from hellden’s halls and then, when it couldn’t move Allowyn from where he had braced himself, it stopped. Within moments everything had settled and the sun came out.

It took Allowyn some time before he moved and when he did he felt like he’d been beaten with a white bark broom. His shirt sleeves were in tatters from shoulder to bracer, and blood ran down his face from a myriad of tiny cuts. He wiped the blood onto his ragged sleeve and held his hand out to Callabris helping him to stand. At least he wasn’t injured, just badly shaken.

“I don’t think the maze was happy with me trying to drawing a map of it.”

Callabris raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Then we’d better not do anything else to anger it or next time it might be fatal.”

“You’re right there. I get the impression that it doesn’t want us in here so it might be a good idea if we try and find our way out and come back another day.”

Callabris nodded his agreement and started on his way again with Allowyn following behind. This time he kept his hand on the right hand wall hoping that this would bring them back to the entrance of the maze. He even felt quite optimistic as they walked for some way without finding a dead end. When he stumbled over a loose stone he put his left hand on the opposite wall and stopped for a moment to steady himself.

“Master, I think we have another problem.” Callabris looked back at the worried look on Allowyn’s face. “It’s the walls, they are closer together than they were when we came into this place.”

Allowyn was right. When they had entered the maze he couldn’t reach from one side to the other but now he could reach from side to side without stretching. They had to get out of there and quickly too. Callabris turned and ran but with every step he took the walls closed in. It was like looking at a roadway that disappears into a pinpoint in the distance, the only difference being that this was real and not an optical illusion. The faster they ran the closer the walls became, but even when they slowed to a walk the walls crept closer together, towering above them and blocking out the light. They tried to turn around and go back to where they knew the pathway was wider, but it had closed up behind them and when they turned back again, the walls pressed in on both sides.

Callabris stopped, his breath coming in ragged gasps from the exertion and fear, and did the only thing he could think of. He conjured a reversal spell and directed it at the wall. For all the good it did he might as well have saved his breath. The wall shimmered slightly and then crept forward again with the sound of grinding stone. Beside him Allowyn was running his hands over the stone blocks looking for hand holds so they could climb out, but the blocks had been replaced by a single smooth and even surface. He tried to estimate the height thinking that if Callabris stood on his shoulders he might be able to reach the top and climb up to where he would be safe, but even as he looked up the walls seemed to grow taller.

There was only one thing he could think to do and if that didn’t work they were both going to die, crushed to a bloody pulp between the stone walls. If he could just brace his legs and shoulders against opposite walls then perhaps his bones would be strong enough to hold the walls apart. He stood with his back firmly braced against one wall, lifted one leg straight and then the other and pushed with all his might.

When the top half of his body went straight through the stone, he gave a yelp of surprise and tumbled backwards through to the other side. Instantly he was on his feet and pushing back through the wall to where an astonished Callabris stood with his mouth open. Allowyn grabbed his hand and pulled, praying to the Goddess that the wall wouldn’t regain its solidity with them both halfway through it. With an urgent tug, he yanked Callabris through and they both fell in an undignified heap on the ground.

Callabris was the first to recover. He stood a little shakily brushing gritstone from his robe, and then looked around himself in amazement, not quite believing what he was seeing. The walls of the maze were still there, but now they formed the four sides of a square with them in the middle. It had to be the centre of the maze, or at least that is where he thought they were, as it looked very different to the centre he’d seen from the palace window.

The mausoleum was still there, its four white, fluted columns holding up the pointed portico, but it was huge, large enough to hold a king’s court rather than the last resting place of a single man. In front of the mausoleum stood a stone fountain, its water sparkling as it tumbled down the three shell-shaped basins into the wide dish at the bottom. There was a large stone bench to one side and several urns of impossibly bright flowers standing at the edge of a perfectly manicured lawn.

Allowyn picked himself off the ground, studied the surrounding walls of smooth stone and went to stand by his master’s side. “There’s no way out.” He was right; the walls surrounded them without a break or a doorway. “What do we do now?”

Callabris shrugged. The Goddess had told him to come here and protect his father’s tomb with his life until Callistares came again. It didn’t make sense to him but there again the Goddess’s words rarely did. “We make ourselves comfortable and wait until Callistares comes.”

*

Jonderill had told Rothers that it would be easy, but even he couldn’t believe how simple it had been. He’d anticipated having to make a demonstration of his power, perhaps by reducing one of the towers by the main gate to rubble, or even by wiping out a squad of the city guard to convince the people of Wallmore of Rother’s right to take control of the city. However, from the moment he and Rothers and their small guard of banner bearers had approached the city gates, every door had been opened to them and every head bowed in honour. It was as if the people were relieved to see them, to at last have someone of the royal line back in the palace, backed up by a magician, telling them what to do.

Of course Northshield was used to their king having a magician and the people of Wallmore were accustomed to the presence of a magician’s power but he had wondered how they would react to having a black robe in their city. He needn’t have concerned himself. The moment the guards recognised Lord Rothers’ banners, they had cleared the city gates of any other traffic to allow him and his magician through. After that the city guards formed an honour guard clearing the way through to the palace. It was a good thing too; word of their arrival went ahead of them so that by the time they reached the end of their journey, large crowds had turned out to welcome the lost heir to Northshield and his black robe. Outside the people were still celebrating.

Their entrance into the palace had been equally as simple. The palace guards had opened the doors and stood to attention whilst he and Rothers had walked in as if they had every right to be there. It had helped that they both knew the palace well and there were sufficient servants and officials who remembered Rothers from when he’d lived there, although quite a few were surprised at his changed appearance and newly found authority. There were many more who must have remembered Jonderill, but if any recognised him now none said. In fact most people cringed away from him. It was a bit like being a complete stranger, but having seen a detailed plan of the place and pictures of those who lived there.

At the sound of the door opening and then closing again, he turned away from the window and couldn’t help smiling as Rothers stood with his back to the door looking stunned but victorious. Clearly the meeting with the council had gone well. One of the first things they had done once they were settled into the palace was request a meeting with Lord Sallins of the Northern Reaches. When they found that he’d returned to his lands in the north, they had made the same request to the council who had been more than eager to meet with them.