War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (4 page)

While the group worked their way steadily through plates of cold meats, pickles and wedges of Symon’s delicious home-made bread, Karryl told them what he had so far discovered. By the time the meal was finished, various theories had been put forward regarding the way the medallion would finally reveal the secrets of Keril’s book. The subject of the Wraith and the intentions of its kind had been carefully avoided. As they cleared the table Karryl cast an occasional sidelong glance Symon, concerned that the magician was not being entirely truthful about how well he had recovered from the close encounter with the Wraith. It would not be too long before his niggling doubts were to prove justified.

With a quietly murmured phrase, Symon extinguished the merry blaze in the grate. Karryl placed a warding against entry on the door, and the four joined hands, Symon giving Evalin his most winning smile as she wrapped her long slender hand round his small one. Magnor took a firm grip on the other, then linked with Karryl. The Mage-Prime was more than a little surprised when Evalin gave his left hand a reassuring squeeze.

Magnor looked at each of them in turn. “Are we all ready?”

After receiving their reassurances Magnor uttered a short cantrip full of sibilants, and Karryl closed his eyes. He had counted to ten when he detected the clean crisp tang of mountain air and felt Magnor release his hand. When he saw where they were standing, Karryl immediately cast a warming spell, guessing that the others were doing the same. He looked around and up. Littered with huge rocks and jumbled boulders the broad, gently sloping snowfield nestled at the base of a jagged blue-black peak, its snow-capped summit glistening and majestic against a clear blue sky.

Karryl looked accusingly at Magnor. “I thought you said it was summertime here.”

The tall hunter gestured across the wide snowfield. “Down there in the valleys it is, but we’re three-quarters the way up a mountain. True summer rarely reaches these heights.”

Noticing that Symon had gone to lean against one of the larger boulders, Karryl trudged through the powdery snow to lean beside him.

Looking almost apologetic, the little magician gave him a wan smile. “If you have to go any further up, I think I’ll stay here. I’m finding the air a bit thin.”

After giving Symon’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze Karryl turned to call Magnor. There was no sign of him, and Evalin had wandered further down the snowfield to admire the view. Karryl had already had enough of snow to last him a lifetime. In an uncharacteristic display of exasperation, he kicked at the abundance of the stuff beneath his feet. Hearing a familiar rumbling chuckle close behind him, he spun round. Two pairs of amber eyes gazed back at him. His surprise was further compounded by the fact that Dhoum and his Grrybhñnös companion were clad only in their fur.

Never having seen him without a robe, Karryl’s eyebrows shot up as a wide grin appeared on his face. “Dhoum! Why haven’t you got any clothes on?”

The two Grrybhñnös shuffled through ankle-deep snow to stand beside him. Lifting his chin, Dhoum stroked his golden throat patch, which Karryl could now see extended across the greater part of his broad chest. “Don’t wear clothes here, not when we’re in normal form.”

He flicked a hand towards his pale-grey-furred companion. “This is Lhoura, my youngest. He’s come to observe.”

Lhoura took a step forward. His brown-flecked amber eyes sparkled with excitement as he found himself caught up in an enthusiastic round of introductions and handshaking, first with Karryl and Symon, then with Evalin who had picked her precarious way back up the snowfield to join them.

Introductions over, Evalin looked hard at Symon who had seated himself rather wearily on one of the smaller boulders. “I fancy you’re looking a bit peaky, Master Symon.” She turned to Dhoum, a flicker of consternation in her eyes. “I’m thinking it would be inadvisable for him to go any further up, if that’s what you were planning.”

Folding his arms, Dhoum looked at each of them in turn. “That was the idea, but …” He thought for a moment or two. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting here a while, I’ll see if I can change the plan. Lhoura will stay with you.”

After a brief discussion they all agreed. Dhoum set off alone up the snowfield, the little group watching until his rapid six-limbed gallop took him out of sight.

Lhoura moved across to Symon and crouched down beside him. “If you will permit me Master Symon, there is something I can do which will make you more comfortable.”

Symon’s hands rested limply on his knees, his grey eyes looking almost imploringly into Lhoura’s, which had changed to a soft violet-blue. “Anything would be most welcome right now.”

Beckoning Karryl and Evalin to move closer, Lhoura raised himself up on his hind legs and held his arms out to his sides at shoulder level, revealing a long, pure white blaze running from the middle of his chest and down his stomach. Fully upright, Lhoura stood at least a head taller than Karryl, and for the first time the Mage-Prime was able to see Grrybhñnös feet. He was not very surprised to find that they closely resembled those of a bear. It was then he decided that in its natural state a Grrybhñnös was a very impressive creature. The unmistakeable tingling of his skin told him Lhoura was weaving some kind of spell. He glanced at Evalin. Returning his glance she gave him a smile and a little wink, almost as if she knew what was going on.

Karryl’s nostrils caught the fresh tangy scent of ferns, just as Symon released a great sigh of relief. “Aah! That is so much better.”

Lhoura remained arms outstretched for a while longer as Karryl watched the colour return to the little magician’s cheeks. Even his own breathing became a little easier. The young Grrybhñnös lowered his arms and dropped down onto all fours.

He looked up to the spot about a hundred paces distant, where Dhoum had gone out of sight. “The spell will last for a few hours. As soon as all is done here, Dhoum will take you back to lower ground.”

Karryl edged himself onto the boulder beside Symon. “How long do you think he’ll be?”

In a perfect imitation of Dhoum, Lhoura stroked his throat. “Depends how long it takes him to find a Geffendrogger, if he finds one at all. Very elusive.”

They each sat with their own thoughts, Karryl occasionally following Lhoura’s gaze up towards the distant peak. After about half an hour the young Grrybhñnös’ large convoluted ears flicked forward.

He looked up towards the top of the snowfield. “Dhoum is returning.”

Karryl and Symon stood up. With Evalin they turned to look to where Lhoura was pointing, directly opposite the direction which Dhoum had first taken. He was not alone.

They tried not to stare as Dhoum and the strange creature which accompanied him drew nearer. Manlike in form, it towered above the Grrybhñnös, and Karryl estimated it to be at least eight feet tall. Set high on a wide domed head, small round tufted ears moved continually, the narrow nostrils of its long broad muzzle sniffing the air around it. Once again Karryl was reminded of a bear. Almost immediately that image shattered as he noticed the short tusks curving down from the upper jaw. The ursine image was further belied by long arms, four fingers and opposable thumbs on huge hands, which reached down almost to its knees. Heavy-thighed muscular legs lifted through the snow, revealing partially webbed, five-toed feet soled with a thick layer of dark brown fur, contrasting with the creamy white pelt with which the rest of its body was covered.

As the odd pair stopped about two paces away, Evalin gasped and murmured “Oh! My goodness!”

Karryl grinned, realising what had caused such a reaction. The lofty creature was also unclothed, its upright stance proudly revealing considerably more of its impressive anatomy than did the quadripedal Grrybhñnös. Its only other adornment was a leather pouch suspended from a necklace of small, yellowish teeth.

Dhoum took a step forward. “My friends. This brave and fearless Geffendrogger has agreed to meet with us and also to help us. His name is Podli.”

Stepping carefully through the soft snow, Symon held out his small slender hand. He tilted his head far back to look up into the Geffendrogger’s face. “Thank you Podli. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

To the surprise of both Karryl and Evalin, Podli ignored Symon’s out-stretched hand. Instead, he bent slowly down. With his tusked muzzle a scant inch away, he snuffled at the little magician from the top of his head to his shoulders. It was only then that he held out his own huge hand, briefly squeezing Symon’s before releasing it. As Symon stepped back, unable to disguise his amazement and delight, Dhoum beckoned to Lady Evalin. Her expression somewhat dubious, Evalin picked her way over to stand in front of Podli, the tension in her body evident. The Geffendrogger repeated the procedure but made no effort to take her hand. As he lifted his head and straightened up, she stepped quickly back and moved to stand behind Symon.

Dhoum’s shining fur rippled as he turned amber eyes on Karryl. “Master Karryl! You wanted to know what a Geffendrogger was. Come and meet Podli.”

At just over six feet tall, Karryl came within easy reach of Podli’s long, tusked muzzle. For a brief moment ice blue met dark hazel as the Geffendrogger lowered its head to snuffle round Karryl’s head, ears and shoulders. Almost without thinking and never quite sure afterwards why he did it, Karryl reached out and pushed his fingertips gently into the coarse thick fur of Podli’s shoulder. The snuffling ceased, and while the Geffendrogger remained perfectly still, their eyes met once again.

The voice which entered Karryl’s mind was deep and mellow, tinged, Karryl thought, with a little wistfulness. “No other besides Dhoum has ever willingly touched me. Do you not fear me?”

Karryl let his fingers remain in the fur while he held Podli’s gaze. “No, you intrigue me and you interest me, but I do not fear you.”

A kind of sadness glinted in the ice-blue eyes. “Long ago all creatures feared and respected us. The wise ones lived then. They understood the power we possessed. Then strangers came and hunted us. They fought with the wise ones who knew us and our ways. The wise ones defeated them with their powerful magic but even so, many of their number were killed. The few of us who remained retreated into the far heights where none could reach us. Before we left, the wise ones gave us a new power, to be used only in time of greatest need. The wise ones are long gone. We understand from Dhoum that this time of great need is fast approaching.”

Karryl wanted to answer, but his mind was locked in the Geffendrogger’s eyes. “Push both your hands into my fur, and bend your head forward.”

Unquestioning, Karryl sank his free hand into Podli’s warm fur and bowed his head. He felt the muscles of the broad shoulders move under his hands. Something rattled lightly as it passed his ears. The pouch on its necklace of teeth, which had once been hanging against Podli’s chest, now hung against his own. Keeping his hands in place, Karryl looked up and once more their eyes met.

Podli’s resonant tones entered his mind once again. “This is the last of the power that was given us. There will be no more. All that remains to us now is a simple magic that will keep us from harm but poses no threat. Take the power now, and let it work for those who will need it most. Return if you can when all is done, and tell us your story. As a race we all enjoy stories.”

Again, Karryl had no chance to reply. His huge hands resting on Karryl’s shoulders, Podli broke eye contact, bowed his head and placed his wide brow against Karryl’s own. The images which flooded into Karryl’s brain filled him with wonder, joy and sorrow. In a few short moments he experienced the entire history of the Geffendrogger race. In the space of a heart-beat he shared their hopes, their joys, their pain, their fears. He knew them. He also knew deep down that this amazing creature had given him their heritage.

The contact was broken. Podli released his grip and stepped back, leaving Karryl with his hands clutching cold, empty air. When he raised his head, Podli was already halfway up the snowfield, striding out and up towards the distant peaks. Feeling suddenly drained and wretched, Karryl sat down heavily on a nearby boulder and rubbed his hands over his face. Unable to fight it, he let loose a great coughing sob, allowing the tears which welled in his eyes to roll unhindered down his cold cheeks. He was vaguely aware of hands resting gently on his arms. Through bleary eyes he looked up to acknowledge his comforters. The snowfield was gone, the air around him rich with the scent of ferns. Wiping his hands across his eyes, he managed a weak smile as his gaze fell on the walls of the massive cavern he had first seen nearly five years before.

Dhoum crouched in front of him and peered into his face. “Do you want to go home now?”

Overnight the wind had changed. Karryl had his study window open to enjoy the air of an unusually warm and pleasant late winter day. The light lunch Symon had prepared for him lay unnoticed and untouched on the end of his desk. The slowly growing collection of apparently meaningless letters seemed to mock him as he gave his full attention to the process of untangling the message which lay within the pages of Keril’s book. As he looked once more at the fifty or so individual letters he had already noted down, he experienced a rare moment of self-doubt. As they stood, the letters made no sense and he was beginning to wonder whether he was going the right way about it. If he was, then he was faced with the monumental task of unscrambling an unbelievably long anagram.

A cup of tea in one hand and a small piece of parchment in the other, Symon elbowed his way through the half-open door and ambled across the room to stand beside him.

Accusation in his tone, he scowled towards Karryl’s plate. “You haven’t eaten your lunch.”

Karryl picked up the medallion and eyed it ruefully. “This confounded thing has taken away my appetite. Have you come up with anything?”

The piece of parchment which Symon placed on the desk bore a copy of the letters Karryl had gleaned that morning.

ebtsumtahwmorfpeekoteily

ehtwols ayfedse

Underneath, the little magician had written in alphabetical order a list of the words he had so far been able to make. “I first tried taking alternate letters but that seemed to be going nowhere. Now there are more words than there are letters, which I don’t think was Keril’s intention. I’ll add the letters you’ve found since and see if that makes a difference.”

Symon quickly copied the additional letters and hurried out of the room. Karryl picked up his cup and wandered over to the window. Sipping his tea he gazed at the bare, winter-dark stems of the rose bushes, the low sun making their shadows long across the neatly tended beds. On an impulse, he put down his teacup and strode out of the study, closing the door behind him. He crossed the sitting room, went down a little hallway and tapped on a door at the end.

Without waiting for it to be opened, he called out “I’m going for a walk.” and hurried away before Symon could come out and try to persuade him otherwise. Although he knew the fresh air out in the garden would do him more good, he had already decided that a stroll round the many seldom used corridors of this wing of the palace would be more interesting. Ignoring the porticoed cloister to his right, he carried straight on along the corridor which led from the apartment to the interior of the palace. Soon he was wandering through a veritable maze of interconnecting corridors and hallways, lost in thought as he pondered over the letters the medallion had so far revealed.

A voice, bright with surprise, brought him up short. “Master Karryl! Do you require any assistance?”

Dressed in the black knee-breeches and white ruffled shirt of a clerk, a figure stood in the light at the far end of the gloomy corridor.

Recognising Master Gibb, personal secretary to King Vailin, Karryl lengthened his stride. “Well met Master Gibb. You can probably tell me where I find myself, but as to the other problem, well, that has so far defeated me.”

The dapper secretary clasped his hands, steepled his forefingers and tapped his chin. “Perhaps then, I can help. Solving other people’s problems seems to be, without meaning to sound boastful, my speciality. Would you like me to try?”

Karryl looked to right and left, then behind him. Keeping his voice low he leaned towards Master Gibb. “Only if you think you can solve a fiendish word puzzle.”

Appreciative of Karryl’s apparent desire for secrecy, the secretary nodded. “I am on my way back to my office. If you would accompany me, I will give what help I can. As to where you find yourself; this is part of the original palace which now lies between your apartment, some other smaller apartments and offices, and the palace proper. I use this old corridor almost every day, as a short cut.”

After a quick glance down the corridor behind Karryl, Master Gibb marched importantly off along the adjoining one, at the same time regaling him with a potted history of the palace and whatever details of its layout he considered pertinent. By the time they arrived at Master Gibb’s office door, Karryl had learned more about the palace and its environs than he had during the five years he had been closely associated with it.

The secretary waved Karryl to a comfortable chair, and tugged on one of four corded silk bell-pulls behind his desk. “I’ve rung for refreshments Master Karryl. While we wait, perhaps you could show me this word puzzle that is causing you such concern. This seems to be the season for word puzzles. I am still pondering the prophecy with which His Majesty presented me a while ago.”

Karryl leaned back in his chair, stretched out his long legs and smiled. “Well, if you manage to solve them both, I think we shall all be indebted to you.” The young Mage-Prime’s smile changed to a frown. “I haven’t actually got anything to show you. I’ve been given what seems to be a random collection of single letters. All I can think of is that it’s a very complex anagram. The letters I’ve so far been given are all in my head.”

With a nod of approval, Master Gibb sat down behind his desk and prepared quill and parchment. “If you’ll tell me the letters I’ll see what, if anything, I can make of them.”

Karryl had just spoken the fifth letter when Jobling entered the office. The major-domo carefully set down a tray laden with pots, cups, a plate of savoury pastries, and cakes.

Turning to Karryl he made a brief but respectful bow. “Good afternoon Master Karryl. I hope everything will be to your liking. Shall I pour the tea?”

Impressed as always by Jobling’s uncanny ability to know who was where at any particular time, Karryl grinned. “Yes please Jobling. I was rather busy, and lunch got over-looked. Walking all the way up here has whetted my appetite.”

By the time Jobling had poured two cups of tea and left the office, Karryl was well into his second pastry. Between them he and Gibb cleared the plates. Suitably fortified, the pair prepared to return to the task in hand.

Before they resumed, Karryl indicated the sheaves of papers, parchments and half a dozen scrolls which lay on Gibb’s desk. “I hope I’m not holding up anything you have to do for His Majesty. It looks as though you have a lot of work here.”

Master Gibb patted one of the thick bundles as he sat down. “Loads, but I’ll work late. This little conundrum of yours promises to be far more interesting.”

Karryl began again, dictating each letter in the order he had discovered them. Before long Gibb had copied down all that Karryl had so far. The pair sat in silence, the royal secretary gazing intently at the long row of letters while Karryl went over them again in his mind. After a few minutes Master Gibb sighed. Moving from behind his desk, he picked up the piece of parchment bearing the letters.

Karryl’s brow furrowed. “Has it eluded you too?”

Standing beside Karryl’s chair, Gibb held out the parchment. He leaned forward, pointing to something as he murmured in Karryl’s ear.

Eyes wide with astonishment, the Mage-Prime looked from Gibb to the letters, then back at Gibb. “Why couldn’t Symon or I see that?”

Master Gibb smiled. “Your minds are far too complex, and you were too close, too involved. It simply needed a fresh pair of eyes and a more direct approach. You were looking for something that wasn’t there.”

Karryl sprang up from his chair and clapped Gibb enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Well done Master Gibb! I don’t think you realise just how much help you’ve been, but I will make certain that you do know in due course. Now, I must get back. There is much to be done.”

Stuffing the parchment in the pocket of his robe, Karryl hurried out of the office, almost colliding with Jobling who watched him stride purposefully down the corridor.

As the major-domo entered the office, Gibb gave him a wry smile. “I’d swear Master Karryl gets more like Symon every time I see him.”

Eyeing the empty cups and plates, Jobling picked up the tray. His only response was a barely audible “Quite” as he left the office.