The Wounded Guardian (24 page)

‘What?’ He stared around for a second before remembering. ‘Karia! Where are you?’

‘That was fun,’ she laughed, skipping out from behind the tree. ‘But don’t you think you’d better get Tomon through?’

Martil, about to admonish her for going through without him, turned to see he was still holding Tomon’s reins, although only the horse’s head was protruding out of the oak tree. Fortunately, he had kept hold of the staff and guided the horse out.

‘You should never go first. You should always wait for me. How did you know what was on the other side?’ he demanded.

‘I could see it was safe,’ she protested. He was just being silly. Anyone could see what that wizard had been doing!

‘I couldn’t! I was worried about you.’

Before she had time to answer, Conal walked through, leading Barrett’s horse and his donkey. Lastly Barrett staggered through, hauling himself along his staff as if it were some sort of handrail. He pulled his staff through afterwards then slumped to the ground.

‘Get me something to drink,’ he gasped.

Taking a waterskin from Conal, he drank greedily, water splashing down the front of his tunic.

‘Where are we?’ Martil wanted to know.

Looking around, he could see the oak tree stood by itself, surrounded by grass, but beyond the grass clearing, on all sides was seemingly solid trees.

‘We’re at the back of my garden in Norstalos City,’ Barrett wheezed. He had opened a pouch and was cramming what looked like honey sweetmeats into his mouth.

‘So where’s the house?’

‘Through there,’ Barrett said thickly. ‘I don’t like people knowing I have this tree. There are those who would realise its purpose and perhaps lie in wait for me when I return. And, as you can see, when you travel a long distance by this method, you finish it exhausted.’

‘Why oak trees? How does that work?’ Martil pressed his hands up against the tree, finding nothing more unusual than a few ants crawling up the surface.

‘I’ll explain another time. Accept that opening these gateways is an area I have studied carefully. I believe there are few who can match my skill at it,’ Barrett said, leaning against the tree, drinking from the waterskin.

‘So all the magic you do is found in nature,’ Karia said slowly.

‘That’s right. New magic is being learned all the time. If a plant, a fish, a bird or an animal can do something, we can take that ability and use it. Likewise the natural weather patterns can be altered, to bring in wind, rain, lightning, even fire.’ He licked the last of the honey off his thumb. ‘Now, enough questions. We must get to the house.’

Barrett pushed himself to his feet and then gestured at the thick trees in front of him. They instantly shrank into tiny seedlings, revealing a large stone house.

‘What if your house is being watched?’ Martil said suddenly.

Barrett shook his head. ‘I’d have felt it. I have protective wards around here. Help me.’

Leaning on his horse, Barrett led the way down the path to a more formal garden, with wide herb beds filled with flourishing plants, and beautiful flowers. Pressed gravel paths led through the raised beds, and he made his way through them to a large paved area at the back of the house, which was littered with long sticks.

‘I think you need to get some new servants. This place needs tidying up, wizard,’ Conal chuckled.

Barrett gave him a withering glance, then let the trees spring up again with a gesture. He pointed to the paved area and the sticks flew up, collecting themselves into a neat pile by a wall.

‘You didn’t need to do that on my behalf, wizard. I’m happy to live in a pigsty,’ Conal grinned.

‘Do you have a brain? Those were my wards,’ Barrett said caustically.

‘What, you’d hear if people trod on them?’

Barrett sighed. ‘I do not have the energy to waste on you. If you had tried to cross them, they would have entangled you. Now come on.’

Martil ignored the byplay, instead concentrating on the house. It was obviously for a high-ranking official; the beautiful stone walls and fine glass windows spoke of that. Two storeys tall, it seemed big enough to house a score of people, let alone one wizard.

There were several doors, none of which appeared to have visible locks or keyholes, but one opened as soon as Barrett placed his hand on it.

‘What about the horses?’ Conal asked.

‘The stables are out the front, but it is perhaps best not to make our presence too obvious. Hobble them and leave them here. You can bring out corn for them to eat later.’

Barrett, still leaning heavily on his staff, took them through a long hall, where their footsteps echoed on the marble floor, and they were stared at by beautiful portraits on the lime-washed walls. Rooms opened up to either side: a huge library, an even bigger dining room and several reception rooms, all of them lavishly furnished. Karia wandered around, her mouth open. She had thought the Crown and Sparrow inn was impressive but this was just amazing! Even Edil had not been able to think up a palace this magnificent for them to dream about.

‘I inherited the furnishings along with the house, when I took the position. It is not to my taste but, sadly, redecorating has been far down my list of priorities,’ Barrett shrugged. ‘I have servants usually, but I sent them away for a few days before I left. First I must check my house has not been disturbed. I was confronted here by three of Gello’s tame
wizards. I defeated them and the two that were left alive are unlikely to have tried to trespass here. Still, I need to be sure.’

So they waited while Barrett crept up to the front door, and peered out. The evidence of his battle with Tellite was gone, and there was no sign of the body, the other two wizards or more mundane guards. Even better, the magical lock he had placed on the door had not been touched. He breathed a sigh of relief. Probably Elong and Ackwal had told Gello that they had driven Barrett away, losing Tellite in the process. The Duke was notoriously vengeful to those who failed him, so they would have had to put the best possible face on things. As long as he was careful, he should be able to use the house as a base.

‘We’re all clear. Come on, let’s see what food is left in the kitchen,’ he invited.

It was a little messy, with the remains of his last, hurried, meal still on a table, but the massive kitchen, with huge fireplaces and an enormous pantry, had plenty to offer.

‘This place is more like an inn’s kitchen. How much do you eat, wizard?’ Conal gasped.

‘In times past, the Royal Magician entertained the royal court. But I would sooner swallow a dragon than have the likes of Gello in here,’ Barrett grunted. He aimed for a chair and only just made it. ‘Please, get me something to eat.’

The pantry yielded a fine ham, plenty of cheese and even some over-ripe fruit; predictably Karia was hungry, while Barrett gorged himself.

‘That must put a huge strain on you,’ Martil observed.

‘Well, I do not perform that sort of magic every day. Thankfully. It is one of the hardest things to
master. And I was still a little drained by my efforts yesterday. I travelled all around the border country, looking for evidence of the Sword—only to have it disturb me over dinner!’

Conal carved a slice of ham and stuffed it into his mouth. ‘I love to hear you talk, wizard, but I have no idea what you are saying sometimes,’ he said around the mouthful of meat.

‘I’m not speaking for your benefit, but for the girl’s. She might have to try that some day. You, on the other hand, have about as much chance of doing something magical as that ham does of raising a family of piglets.’

Conal stared at him for a second, before laughing and cutting another slice. ‘I like you, wizard,’ he announced.

‘Perhaps we should go looking for the Queen,’ Martil suggested hastily, seeing the dark look on Barrett’s face.

The wizard could feel his body recovering but it was still an effort to think. ‘Yes. But you should be careful. And you should also carry the Dragon Sword at all times.’

Martil held up the beautiful Sword. ‘How can I do that? It’ll be seen immediately. Not only is it more decorated than a palace flunky’s tunic, but you tell me every child knows what it looks like.’

Barrett sighed. He did not have the energy to be patient. ‘It’s also magical, and can be disguised. Take off one of your swords.’

Martil untied his sword belt and carefully took one scabbard off, replacing it with the Dragon Sword. ‘Now what?’ he asked.

‘Concentrate, and imagine it looks like your old sword.’

Martil did so, then opened his eyes to see it had not changed in the slightest.

‘That’s odd. Perhaps you need to hold the Sword.’ Barrett rubbed his head as he tried to remember all he knew about the Sword.

This time Martil clasped the hilt while he imagined it looking like his old sword. Again, nothing happened. Barrett stood and began to pace, even as he chewed on a chunk of cheese.

‘That doesn’t make sense. The Sword certainly has the power to change its appearance. And it is magical enough for even the most unmagical wielder to use it. I need to look in my library.’

This only reinforced Martil’s desire not to go marching out in the open, trying to rally men to the Sword.

They followed Barrett out of the kitchen and into a huge room lined with shelves. Books and scrolls filled the shelves, cascading over tables and chairs set all around.

‘Wow! Do you have lots of good stories for me to read?’ Karia breathed.

‘I’m not sure about that. But we do have a very fine collection of sagas, both in poetry and in prose.’ Barrett smiled at her.

‘I might have guessed,’ Martil muttered.

Barrett used a short ladder to reach up and pull down a book. He flicked through it, then dropped it onto the floor before selecting another. This one seemed to have something he wanted, because he gave a grunt of satisfaction as he read swiftly, turning pages rapidly.

‘It says here that the Sword’s powers are latent—that they will begin to act as soon as it is drawn from the scabbard. Whoever is allowed to use it will find
it makes him invincible in battle. But its more subtle power, the power to inspire other men, will not be so obvious.’

‘How do you tell if it’s working or not?’ Martil demanded.

‘I’m looking, I’m looking,’ Barrett snapped, flicking through pages, then he jabbed a finger down triumphantly. ‘It says here that the Sword will provide its own proof, a warning if you like, to the wielder, so he knows if he is living up to the Sword’s expectations. To know if its hidden magical powers are being invoked, you just need to look at the dragon on the hilt. Its eyes should sparkle with life and the body grow warm, almost as if it is alive.’

‘How is that possible? It’s a metal carving, with jewels stuck in where the eyes should go,’ Martil protested.

‘Just have a look,’ Barrett urged, clambering down from the ladder.

Martil held up the hilt but could see nothing. ‘I can’t tell,’ he admitted.

Barrett chewed his lip. ‘That can’t be right. If you’re not sure, then it mustn’t be working for you.’

Martil tried not to think about what that would mean. It made him feel sick. He sheathed the Sword, wishing he had never found it. ‘Well, I’ll leave it here. I need to go out and look around.’

‘If you’re going out, can I come too?’ Karia asked. ‘I like being with you.’

Martil could not help but smile. ‘I like having you around,’ he admitted. ‘You can come along. We’ll just be looking around, not doing anything dangerous.’

‘That’s all very well, but what about the Sword?’ Barrett grumbled. ‘I don’t like that it is not obeying you. Give it one more try.’

Martil concentrated once more, and opened his eyes when he heard Karia gasp in surprise.

‘I saw its eyes! They sparkled! As if it was looking at me!’ she screeched excitedly.

Martil glanced down, hoping to see it for himself but the Dragon Sword just looked exactly like one of his old swords now, although the hilt still felt like the finely-worked dragon, rather than the familiar old wood and leather it appeared to be.

‘Excellent! Perhaps you weren’t concentrating enough, the first times. It does help if you practise,’ Barrett said wisely. He knew that if he acted as though this was all a lesson, they would believe him. It was one of the first things he had been taught as a novice.

‘Hey, does it do any more tricks?’ Conal asked.

‘It is the Dragon Sword. It does amazing things. Now, I suggest you stand guard quietly, while I rest. I may be tired, but I have just enough energy to give you an unpleasant skin condition, should you disturb me further.’

Conal laughed. ‘I’ve already had most of them.’

Duke Gello bit back an angry comment as Count Cessor droned on about his plans for adding to his ancestral lands. He had been forced to listen to something similar from Earl Worick and he had had enough. He knew these same men had laughed at him, years ago, watched him run out of the throne room after being refused by the Dragon Sword. If he had his way, they would all be dead now. But his mother had been right—they had proved useful over the past few years. And luckily for them the country was barely in his grip and he still needed them. But as soon as the country was his, these men
would have outlived their usefulness. He would wipe out the shame of that day, wipe it out absolutely—and avenge himself on everyone who was there. He let that thought warm him as he let Cessor drone on. Not much longer, he told himself.

It was almost relaxing to wander the streets of the capital. And it was remarkably easy. Barrett’s directions had been simple enough—turn left and then just keep riding until you reach the palace. What surprised Martil was the lack of guards. After all, this was supposed to be a city under martial law. First it had concerned him, then he remembered where he was, riding through the streets of the upper classes. The patrols and the militia would ignore these streets, safe in the knowledge the rich would not cause trouble. Instead they would be thickly clustered around the Poor Quarter, heavy on the gates and keeping a close eye on the markets and other areas where the public would gather. Here the road was wide and well paved, the houses large and set back from the road in big gardens, protected by high fences and tall gates. These were the homes of the rich merchants, as well as the city houses of the nobility. Most of these, either at Duke Gello’s advice or by their own sense of self-preservation, were at their country estates, so all he and Karia saw was the odd carriage rattling past, and the occasional wagon, going to make some sort of delivery.

‘What are we doing?’ Karia asked, as they waved to one of the few people they saw.

‘Trying to blend in. We’re just out for an afternoon ride. But what we really want to do is find the Queen, so we can work out how to rescue her.’

‘How?’

‘I have no idea. I’m hoping the wizard can come up with something amazing,’ Martil shrugged.

He was expecting to see the palace soon—and thinking the first sign of it would probably be some guards—when they rode around a corner and found themselves in a huge open square, at the centre of which was the palace. In better times it was a meeting place, probably a market, Martil guessed, but now there were only a handful of people enjoying its flowerbeds, its seats and its beautiful paving. Perhaps because the day was overcast but more likely, Martil felt, because there were at least fifty guards patrolling in small groups, while another score or so were drawn up in a tight block at the palace gates.

He urged Tomon forward. Standing still would invite attention; they had to move slowly and cautiously. The guards were there to encourage people not to linger. And any who were not made uncomfortable by seeing soldiers march past all the time would no doubt receive closer inspection. Martil saw with relief that the nearest guards had decided they were just a father and daughter out for a nice ride in the afternoon and walked past without stopping them.

‘One day we’ll live in a palace like that,’ Karia declared, looking at the magnificent, marble-clad structure.

‘I couldn’t afford it. You’ll have to marry a nobleman,’ he joked.

‘No, you’ll have to marry the Queen,’ she told him.

Martil could not help but laugh, and their laughter got them past another patrol. The soldiers gave them a good look but, reassured by the banter, let them ride on. Bringing Karia had been a stroke of genius, Martil congratulated himself. There was no
way an armed man on a horse would have been allowed to get this close to the palace otherwise. He rode slowly around the square, trying to keep one eye on the palace and the other on the various guard patrols. He saw nothing but problems. There was only one gate to the palace and it was very well guarded. As for the walls, they were high, too high to even think about scaling—and they were also well watched. Everywhere he looked, there were guards staring down. Getting the Queen out of there would be near impossible. He completed his circuit of the square then steered Tomon over towards a patch of garden, which consisted of a small piece of lawn, several benches and some flowerbeds in full bloom. He had no idea what they would do if they saw the Queen; the guards were just too watchful. He guessed it would be even worse at night.