War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (43 page)

By now Karryl was getting used to being confronted by the unexpected. Biting back his initial frustration at finding the dungeon empty he turned away, allowing the tiny orb of light to sink and fade.

Hunkered down beside Dhoum in the deep shadow of the wall, his expression was grim. “I reckon Ghian moved him while we were on our way here. It must be obvious to him that with me running free, I’ll attempt a rescue. What’s the betting he’s using him to lure me into a trap?”

Dhoum concurred with a grunt and a brief nod. Planes and shadows cast by the sputtering torchlight accentuated Karryl’s sly grin as he stood and looked down at Dhoum. “You know Ghian thinks Symon is Mage-Prime?”

The Grrybhñnös eased himself onto four legs to give Karryl a prod in the chest with a scaly forefinger. “And if I know Symon he’s realised that too, and won’t say or do anything to make Ghian any the wiser.” He looked up and studied the sky for a moment before reaching out and grabbing a handful of Karryl’s sleeve. “Now, let’s get out of here. We don’t have much time and there’s too many bodies piling up for my liking.”

At the end of the alley, they paused to ensure the coast was clear. Dhoum flicked a finger in Karryl’s direction. “Better put that pendant out of sight. It’ll be strong Vedric magic holding Symon, and we need every chance we can get to detect it.”

Karryl fondled the pendant’s smooth silver surface, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So, where were you thinking of looking? If we go running about the place like spooked sheep we’ll only be wasting time that we haven’t got.” He dropped the pendant inside the front of his tunic. “In fact, I think I’ve a pretty good idea where Ghian has taken Symon, and also a rescue plan which should work if I know Ghian.”

Dhoum stroked his golden throat-patch. “Sounds promising. What’s the plan?”

Karryl nodded towards the small pack of wolves waiting quietly beside them. “I need you to ‘go wolf’ for a few moments, just to give them some instructions. Then wait here for me until I get back. I’m going to try and translocate to the grelfon tower. I want to mind-call Miqhal.”

The fur on Dhoum’s head rippled. “Can’t you do that from here? You’ve got the pendant.”

The Mage-Prime shook his head. “There’s too much Vedric influence in these streets and walls. I don’t want to risk the call being distorted or not getting through at all. If I can get to the King Tower, the highest point in the city, it’s possible the influence will be diminished. Anyway, I have to try.”

After telling Dhoum what he wanted the wolves to do, Karryl took out the pendant again and concentrated on his destination. He had no desire to watch Dhoum’s change from Grrybhñnös to wolf. Even the thought of it made him feel a little queasy.

Standing at the top of the King Tower, one hundred feet above the city, Karryl took a moment or two to look around. Most of Vedra’s squat bulk lay in darkness, the only lights visible a few widespread bobbing torches carried by searching guards. A little to the left of centre the Vedran temple’s huge mass loomed, a black beast lying in wait. Karryl turned his back on it and drew in deep breaths of the desert night’s chill air. Hands resting on the stone parapet, he focussed.

Five separate attempts had produced no response from Miqhal, and Karryl was beginning to feel the first flutters and pangs of desperation. He snatched a few valuable moments to place a calming spell. Its near immediate success told him there was little if no Vedric influence acting as a deterrent to his magic. His thoughts clear and his lungs filled with fresh air, he tried again.

‘Karryl, where are you? The time is near, and I cannot leave now.’

A gasp of relief escaped from Karryl’s mouth. Deciding to dispense with conversation, he formed a series of mental images, confident that Miqhal would understand and act on what Karryl had shown him. Miqhal’s own images returned to him, and Karryl smiled. Ash had been successful, and was no doubt on his way back to Vedra.

As the images faded, Miqhal’s voice entered Karryl’s mind. “All is clear now. I will discover what needs to be done with these, and I offer you my thanks and that of all our tribe. I fear we shall not meet again. Farewell.”

Stunned, Karryl was unable to frame a reply before the familiar hollow feeling in his head told him Miqhal had broken the connection. He tried another mind-call but the hollow sensation persisted. Realising how easy it would be to succumb to the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Karryl clutched the pendant and translocated to the alley where he had left Dhoum. The wolves had gone. Before Dhoum had chance to ask any questions, Karryl quickly explained his next move. Receiving no argument he grasped the Grrybhñnös’ forearm. Two heavily armed Vedran guards ran into the alley, seconds too late to see the blue and silver motes shimmer away into the night air. From somewhere out in the vast desert a wolf howled.

Dhoum glanced around the deeply shadowed confines of the tunnel. “This looks familiar. Are we where I think we are?”

Karryl pointed towards a dim glow a few yards ahead. “There’s the platform above the temple floor where Miqhal brought us shortly after we first met him. He said the knowledge might prove useful. He was right.”

With the pendant tucked once more inside his tunic, Karryl crept forward, Dhoum following close behind. The taint of Vedric magic was strong, and Karryl was not entirely certain they would be as well concealed as they had been on their previous visit. On that occasion they had Miqhal’s unique powers to help them.

Set in a minor key, the deep staccato chanting of the temple priests rose up into the incense-laden air. Even here, high above the central floor Karryl felt the tension, along with a deep sense of foreboding. With only a few feet to go he went on hands and knees, signalling Dhoum to do the same, then belly-crawled as close to the platform edge as he dared. From the corner of his eye he saw Dhoum do the same. Hardly daring to breathe Karryl slowly raised his head until he could see over the edge. The wave of relief at finding Symon soon turned to a tide of dismay. Appalled, Karryl stared at the scene which met his eyes.

Around the massive black altar stood a circle of red and black-robed priests, arms raised high. In front of them and facing the altar stood Ghian, arms held out to his sides. Leading the chant he kept his gaze fixed on Symon’s naked form, bound and gagged and out-stretched on his back on the altar’s blood-encrusted top. The tempo of the chant began to increase, becoming louder and more insistent. A priest stepped forward, a red enamelled bowl held forward at shoulder level. From somewhere in the deep shadow of the temple walls a horrendous ululating shriek briefly drowned the brain-numbing tones of the chant. The Grelfon queen was also observing. Silent and unmoving, Karryl forced himself to watch as his agile mind devised and discarded plan after rescue plan. His brain whirled as it tackled the enormity of a seemingly impossible task. After what seemed like many minutes, but was in reality only a few seconds, an audacious but potentially successful scheme presented itself. Karryl held it fast, momentarily stunned by the sudden emergence of the Grelfon queen.

Wings raised, she lumbered out of the shadows and stationed herself behind the circle of chanting priests. The one who held the bowl stepped forward and began to trickle a viscous golden liquid over Symon’s body. Karryl’s heart pounded. He felt Dhoum nudge his arm. As Karryl turned towards him, Dhoum reached out and pulled the pendant from inside Karryl’s robe. The jewel it contained was now spinning so rapidly it was almost invisible, a pink tinged blur. Dhoum gestured. Karryl frowned a question as he slipped the heavy chain over his head and handed the pendant to Dhoum. The Grrybhñnös indicated that Karryl should watch below.

The entire contents of the bowl had been emptied over Symon, from his head to his feet. As the priest stepped away, the circle of chanting priests parted and the grelfon approached the altar. The chant reached a crescendo. Arms raised high above his head Ghian roared a final supplication towards the temple’s high domed ceiling. The grelfon drew back its head to strike. Dhoum vanished.

A split second later he reappeared, standing astride Symon on the altar. Fore and central limbs outstretched, he towered at his full height of over seven feet. Sharp pointed teeth glinting in the torchlight he bellowed harsh phrases in a vile and alien language. As one, Ghian and the priests fell to their knees, foreheads pressed to the black stone floor. Symon’s bonds snapped. Ignoring the thrashing wings and enraged shrieks of the grelfon, Dhoum reached down and wrapped his forearms round Symon’s limp form. In a swirl of green and gold they were gone. A second later the heavy temple doors burst open. Heading straight for the priests and the disoriented grelfon, a dozen wolves charged in.

Karryl had seen enough. Using the opportunity provided by the inevitable furore, he turned and set off down the tunnel. Now that Symon was safe, his chief concern now was getting out of this tunnel system and locating Dhoum. A few minutes later it was no longer a problem. Ahead of him a ball of soft light bobbed and danced, melting the darkness. Karryl froze, his heart in his mouth.

“You goin’ to stay there all night?”

The Mage-Prime’s breath exploded from his lungs as he recognised the voice. The light drifted nearer to hover just above his shoulder as a hairy face was pushed close to his own.

Karryl grinned and gestured towards the softly glowing ball. “How did you get that to work down here?”

Dhoum’s muzzle rippled. “It would seem that the Grelfine Lord’s blanket magic-blocking spell is not effective in these tunnels, or the pendant is having some effect. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

At the foot of the steep flight of stairs leading up to the concealed door which opened onto the street, the Light of Perimus faded, gave an erratic jiggle sideways, and winked out.

Once again they were in total darkness.

Dhoum sniffed in disgust. “Rubbish timing. Don’t fancy scrambling up that lot using hands all the way. Let’s try dark-sight. As it’s personal it might work.”

To his surprise, Karryl had some success, although the familiar shades of purple and pale violet had been muted to dirty browns and fuzzy-edged greys. The stairs were visible, but only just, and Dhoum was a greyish-brown ill-defined blob in front of him.

Deciding that this was definitely better than nothing, Karryl gave the blob a nudge. “I can see enough. What can you see?’

Dhoum gave a non-committal grunt. “Enough, like you.”

He started off, his six limbs taking him at a rolling pace up the stairs. Karryl followed as close behind as he could manage, breathing the occasional quiet curse as the narrow stone treads caught him wrong-footed. The door at the top of the stairs was expertly concealed. No darker line, patch or mark was visible to give any indication of a means to open it. The section of wall in front of them was a grey featureless blank.

Karryl’s whisper seemed loud in the gloom. “Miqhal opened this from the other side. I think we should go back and find the tunnel which leads to the empty house.”

A bright white spot appeared in front of Dhoum’s chest, and waggled briefly as he moved close to Karryl. “If you’re willing to take the risk, this should hopefully help get us out and away from here.”

He lifted the pendant on its heavy chain over his head and slipped it over Karryl’s. As if to assure himself it was real, Karryl touched the glowing pendant. With some misgivings he nodded, placed both hands firmly on Dhoum’s outstretched arm and closed his eyes. When he opened them he was up to his ankles in sand, while a brisk and chill desert wind whipped his robes against his legs. In the far distance he could just make out the glimmer of flaring torches still bobbing and darting through Vedra’s darkened streets. Dhoum was crouched in a small depression at the side of a dune.

Karryl hauled his feet out of the sand and hunkered down beside him. “You know I can’t come with you don’t you?”

Dhoum’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. “I had a feeling that might be the case. That’s why I chose this spot. It’s outside the Vedric blanket.”

For a few minutes, Karryl said nothing, united with Dhoum in his contemplation of the distant city’s dark bulk and the tons of sand which still lay piled against the grelfon towers and filled half its streets.

It was only when the Grrybhñnös sat back on his haunches and began brushing sand out of his belly fur that Karryl spoke again. “I have to meet him face to face.”

“I know.”

“There isn’t much time.”

“I know.”

Karryl rose to his feet and stretched, feeling the wind tug at his robes and hair. He looked down at Dhoum. “You’ll be going back to Symon, will you?”

The Grrybhñnös stood on his hind legs and placed both hands on Karryl’s shoulders. “Yes. He’s quite safe, but there are still things I have to do. My role as your guide is over. Everything now depends on you.”

The Mage-Prime gazed across the vast expanse of wind-whipped sand towards the city. “It’s been a long journey, in more ways than one.”

Dhoum let his hands slide from Karryl’s shoulders and followed his gaze. “It has indeed.”

“Shall we meet again?”

“Depends how things turn out.”

Karryl took Dhoum’s scaly hand in his own and squeezed. “However they turn out, I couldn’t have got this far without you.”

Dhoum gave him a hefty pat on his arm. “We all did what we had to do, but it’s not over yet. Time to get going. I’m not going to wish you good luck ‘cos we all make our own.