War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (14 page)

Once Keril had been translocated and settled as close to his original position as possible, Karryl took a moment to examine the few ragged fragments which were all that remained of the ancient mage’s cloak. As much as he respected and revered the memory of the ancient mage, Karryl wanted to get out of the tunnel, but felt reluctant to leave the ancient bones uncovered. To devise and weave a spell which would reassemble the pieces of Keril’s cloak, and also enhance the reconstruct with new materials would be a time-consuming task. It would be quicker and simpler to fabricate a new one. Unlike the bootlace he had made when he was in the sea-cave with Dhoum, the production of a cloak would be more complex, but even so, easier than performing a reconstruction.

Taking up a small piece of the ancient fabric, he decided that this would be one of those rare occasions when he would use a physical spell component. That way the resultant cloak would be a near perfect copy of the one that now lay in crumbling scraps. With the embroidered woollen remnant across the palm of his hand, Karryl gently closed his fingers over it and drew in power. Within the space of a few heartbeats he had projected and released the constructive spell. He shuffled hurriedly backwards as the steadily materialising cloak threatened to envelop his head and shoulders.

Sitting back on his heels he smiled as he considered the end result. The spell had worked almost too well. The actual construct of the cloak had been set within the spell itself, but it had also faithfully duplicated the woollen remnant throughout, complete with fur lining and embroidery. Carefully retrieved from the air in front of him, Karryl considered the lavishly embellished garment which now lay across his outstretched arms. Originally intended to be a substantial though plain and simple affair, this particular cloak was now elevated from the mundane to the uniquely spectacular.

Manoeuvring himself into a suitable position he draped the impressive cloak reverentially over the ancient bones and pulled the hood forward to conceal the empty face. Satisfied that such richness was a fitting tribute to the memory of the first Mage-Prime, he offered up another short prayer to D’ta, certain she would not be far away. Satisfied he had done all he could, he nodded a silent goodbye to Keril before shuffling back to the point where the spur met the main tunnel. Rather than lay a simple blanket ward to protect the ancient remains, Karryl felt that circumstances warranted something more appropriate. Retrieving the nuances and complexities of Keril’s pattern from his memory, he used them to weave an intricate lattice ward extending from side to side and floor to ceiling, effectively sealing the ancient Mage-Prime’s final resting place for all time.

With one last lingering look at the cloak enshrouded corpse, now having nothing to guard but an empty alcove, Karryl performed the awkward and undignified about turn. In the soft glow of the Light of Perimus, the second Mage-Prime began the long crawl back.

The artefacts sat side by side at the entrance of the tunnel. One hand resting on each, Miqhal crouched gazing at them in reverential awe. Still on hands and knees, Karryl released a deep sigh of relief.

He peered into the Jadhra warrior’s face. “I hope all this has been worth it. When you’ve done admiring them, perhaps you could move them so I can get out of this tunnel?”

Miqhal hardly seemed to have heard as he shifted from crouch to kneel. “Since I was a boy I have known that this would happen in my lifetime. Now I have laid hands on my peoples’ heritage, I feel as if I am in a dream. It is truly a wondrous achievement.”

His final stint in the tunnel over at last, Karryl was feeling tired, sticky and uncomfortable. His tone had an edge. “My sore knees and stinging eyes will testify to the fact that this is not a dream. Now, do you want to transport these up the steps, or shall I do it?”

Looking somewhat contrite, Miqhal backed up to the bottom of the steps and stood up. Seconds later, Karryl’s skin tingled briefly as the Navigator floated swiftly and sedately up the stone flight, closely followed by the box. Karryl scrambled forward and pushed himself to his feet. With a few sighs and groans he stretched each of his cramped limbs in turn before pushing past Miqhal and dashing up the steps. He just glimpsed the artefacts parked to one side of the kitchen floor as he hurried past on his way out to the privy.

He returned to find Miqhal sitting cross-legged on the cold stone-flagged floor, picking warily at the strange dark grey material which covered the Navigator. Moonstone sat as close to the object as he could get, looking on.

Karryl pulled up a chair and dropped onto it. “You’re not going to unwrap them here are you?”

Miqhal shook his head and turned away from the artefacts. “No. They must stay in their coverings until they are once more with my people. I was simply curious about this strange fabric. It does not have the appearance of something woven.”

He said nothing further, simply dropped his hands into his lap and seemed to be staring at nothing in particular.

Beginning to feel a little uneasy, Karryl rested his elbows on his knees and leaned towards Miqhal. “There’s something on your mind. Is there a problem with those?”

His mouth set in a grim line, eyes wide with misgiving, the Jadhra looked up at him. “They are larger and heavier than I anticipated. I do not have the power to transport them such a distance. Even if I exhausted myself to the edge of death, I fear that in the attempt they would be lost forever.”

Slightly alarmed, Karryl ran his fingers through his dark and now rather messy hair while he considered Miqhal’s problem. He frowned. “You managed alright with Jaknu and bowman Buller. Why…?”

He stopped as the answer to his unfinished question came to him. Miqhal had gone with them, a constant source of power, and bearing no extra weight.

Sitting bolt upright Karryl slapped a hand on his knee. “We can do a multiple casting! You, me and Bardeen should have more than enough power between us.”

Miqhal shook his head. “Only if we travelled with the artefacts, and that will not be possible.”

“And why, might I ask, is that?”

They both turned to see Bardeen standing by the kitchen door, Miqhal’s colourful long-tailed bird perched comfortably on his shoulder. The old magician moved further into the room. “Unless of course, there is something you are keeping from us.”

The Jadhra warrior rose effortlessly to his feet and folded his arms across his chest. An almost rebellious gleam in his jet-black eyes, he steadily regarded the two magicians. “All I keep from you is the location of the fourth artefact. If you were to accompany me, it would be necessary to reveal its secret. It is not yet safe for you to have that knowledge.” He looked down at the grey-wrapped objects. “Another way must be found to transport them safely.”

Bardeen pulled up another chair and sat down beside Karryl. His deep brow wrinkled and furrowed with concentration as he gazed at the artefacts. He raised a finger as an idea began to form in his mind. “We could take them by road to the north of the country, a short voyage across the strait, then overland in relays.”

Immediately Karryl shook his head. “It would take far too long. If we had unlimited time it would be ideal. In that case, a sea voyage would be even more direct. As it is, neither of those options is workable. We simply don’t have that kind of time.”

Bardeen folded his hands under his chin. “Forgive me if I seem a little dense, but why is time so important?”

Karryl and Miqhal exchanged a glance, and Karryl raised an eyebrow. “The last thing I’d call you is dense. It’s no fault of yours that we haven’t given you all the facts.”

Between them, Mage-Prime and Jadhra warrior filled in the gaps in Bardeen’s knowledge, explaining the threat made by the Assassin-Wraith, and the significance of the approaching astral conjunction.

Leaning back in his chair, Karryl folded his arms. “It’s only days to the full moon. If the artefacts aren’t away by then, we can expect a revenge attack by one or more Wraiths.”

Bardeen looked at Miqhal and frowned. “Can’t we just move them out of Vellethen to…anywhere?”

Miqhal began to pace. “It is not as simple as that. No matter to what place they are moved, the Vedrans will attack that place. That is why the Navigator must be moved to safety in the desert, and the Vedrans made to know that my people have it. They may then run the flesh off their bones if they wish, but they will never find it. Only when it is too late for them to act shall we reveal the whereabouts of the third and fourth artefacts.”

Bardeen stood up, crossed to the stove and pulled a large copper kettle onto the hot plate. Raising a hand to arrest Miqhal in his pacing, the magician tilted his head in a manner reminiscent of Symon. “If these Vedrans are so desperate to gain possession of the artefacts, surely they will attack your people instead.”

Karryl smiled as he watched Miqhal’s face. He had seen that wicked grin before.

The Jadhra placed his hands on Bardeen’s narrow shoulders. “Therein lies the beauty. They will be unable to find us until, as I have said, it is too late.” The grin faded as his gaze fell once more on the dark-wrapped shapes. “But that is not our present concern. These must be returned within days, in order that the Vedrans have no further interest in any person or part of this country.”

He resumed his pacing. Karryl wandered over to the window and gazed despondently out at the gathering dusk. Bardeen lit the oil lamps. Above the overgrown and tangled wilderness that had once been a large garden, the ghost-pale shape of an owl hovered on noiseless wings. Eyes focussed on the ground below, it sought its first meal of the night. Silently, Karryl wished the owl good hunting.

“Thank you, but I am usually successful here.”

Unwilling to disclose this surprising and unexpected contact, Karryl casually looked over his shoulder. Miqhal had stopped pacing and was gazing at one of the large brass oil lamps as if seeking inspiration. Bardeen was quietly and methodically setting the table for a meal. Neither of them appeared to have heard anything. Karryl returned to watching the owl.

The seed of an idea was beginning to germinate in the Mage-Prime’s mind. “Tell me, wise one, do you contact any others in this way?”

The bird tilted a broad wing against the breeze
. “I converse with others of my kind. Why do you ask?”

Karryl thought about his answer for a moment. “I need your help.”

He detected a note of perplexity in the owl’s reply
. “Are you not able to catch your own food?”

The young mage struggled but managed to stifle a chortle. “Not that kind of help. I need to send a message.”

The owl swooped, vanishing into the undergrowth. Seconds later it emerged, a plump vole squirming feebly in its long curved talons. The raptor’s voice carried back as it winged swiftly into the darkness.
“I will return.”

Bardeen joined Karryl at the window. “What are you looking at?”

Karryl shrugged. “Just watching an owl hunting. Amazing bird.”

Bardeen nodded. “Yes, indeed. They have a reputation for being very wise.”

The young mage gave a secretive little smile and turned away from the window. “No doubt a very well deserved one.”

The evening meal which Bardeen provided was simple and wholesome. Conversation was minimal and subdued. Despite the fact he was bubbling inside with the plan which had occurred to him, Karryl thought it better to keep it to himself until he was sure it had a chance of succeeding. The process of eating was almost mechanical as he delved deep into his store of accumulated knowledge, devising and rejecting one plan after the other at phenomenal speed. Occasionally his companions would glance at him, but neither was willing to interrupt the train of thought which had obviously transported him elsewhere.

By the time the meal was over, Karryl had returned to the present. Bardeen challenged him and Miqhal to a game of battle-stones, but Karryl declined, using the excuse that he wanted to think. As Jadhra and magician left the kitchen for the comfort of the sitting room, Karryl crossed to the window. Cupping his hands round his eyes he peered out into the darkness. The owl was perched on the tiled gable roof of the privy.

Softly, Karryl sent out his thought. “Thank you for coming back.”

The bird turned its broad heart-shaped face in his direction, drawing up one long-clawed foot and tucking it into the soft feathers of its underbelly
. “What is this message you wish to send, and who is to receive it?”

As succinctly as he could Karryl explained what he had in mind. The owl sat motionless for a short while before spreading its wings and lifting gracefully away from its perch on the roof
. “I can foresee no difficulty with the main plan, but the last part may prove tricky. However, I will leave the eagles to deal with that. Their realms are beyond my understanding.”

Before Karryl had time to respond, the owl had disappeared once more into the night. Sending out a hurried “Thank you”, he smiled as
“You’re welcome”
drifted into his mind.

Now there was nothing further he could do except convince Miqhal and Bardeen that the plan he had devised would, in all probability, work. With one more glance into the dark shroud of night, he turned and walked slowly across the kitchen. After casting a glamour of basketwork over the distinctive bulk of their current problem, he headed for the sitting room and looked around for Moonstone. There were a number of cats in the room, most of them curled up and sleeping. Karryl’s feline friend was also fast asleep in a basket near the warmth of the fire. Deciding not to disturb him, the young mage carefully lifted the blue-eyed white cat out of an armchair, sat down and let the cat settle on his lap.

Bardeen looked up at Karryl. “Have you come up with anything yet?”

Karryl nodded. “In theory I have. All that remains now is for us to wait and see if the steps I’ve taken so far have the desired effect.”

Not needing to question how Karryl could have set a plan in motion without leaving the house, Miqhal counted out gaming stones. “And that will take how long?”

Karryl shrugged and leaned back in the big comfortable chair. “Hopefully we will know something by morning. Until then there’s no point in worrying about it.”

Eyes closed he began to stroke the cat. In seconds, the cat was purring and Karryl was asleep.