Magician’s End (31 page)

The magician looked up from a pile of books. He had been reading everything Pug had written down about weather magic.

‘I think I have an answer.’

‘Go on,’ said Ruffio.

‘You don’t have any weather-magicians here, right?’

‘It’s not a common area of study,’ said Ruffio. ‘More to my regret now than ever.’

‘It’s elf-magic, I’ve been told.’

‘They are the masters, but getting an elf here …’ Ruffio shrugged.

‘I know a captain who’s mad enough to risk this storm and he has the best weather-magician in the Kingdom on his ship.’

Ruffio’s eyes widened. ‘Reinman! Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Unless he’s running an errand for the prince, he should be in Krondor,’ said Brendan.

Ruffio said, ‘Whatever is blocking our magic isn’t always effective.’ He grabbed a quill and parchment and started writing. After a moment he said, ‘I’ll just keep trying to transport this until I’m successful.’

‘Where are you sending it?’

‘Stardock. I’ll have someone there who’s trusted in the palace take it there by hand. I have no confidence that a piece of parchment landing on the floor of a random room in the palace asking for the ship named the
Royal Messenger
to be sent to Sorcerer’s Island would be well received.’

He continued to write out detailed instructions, then sprinkled ponce over it and blew just for good measure to ensure the ink wouldn’t smear, rolled it up and tied a cord around it. He put it on the table and stared at it, and nothing happened.

For the next hour Amirantha, Brendan, and Sandreena watched Ruffio try to send the parchment to Stardock. Then, suddenly, the parchment vanished.

Ruffio sank back in his chair, perspiration running down his forehead. ‘That … was exhausting.’

‘But the interference is intermittent,’ said Sandreena.

‘Yes,’ answered Ruffio, rising. ‘I could do with a cup of wine. It may be days before we know anything.’

‘What do we do until then?’ asked Amirantha.

‘Hunker down, keep our wits together, and be ready for trouble,’ said Ruffio. ‘And drink some very good wine.’

‘You sure someone will find that parchment?’ asked Brendan.

Ruffio smiled. ‘We of the Conclave have a lot of friends still in Stardock. The moment that parchment appeared, a special signal sounded. Someone there is reading that message right now. I expect that person to be within the palace at Krondor, talking to another friend of the Conclave within another hour, and if Reinman’s in Krondor he’ll be departing at dawn tomorrow at the latest.

‘If Reinman’s in Krondor, he’ll be here in three days,’ said Brendan. He glanced at Amirantha, who was regarding him with what could only be called an approving expression. Brendan felt pleased at that, and then said, ‘About that wine?’

Captain Jason Reinman shouted over the wind to his first mate, ‘What do you make of that, Mr Williams?’

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ replied Noah Williams. ‘And I’ve been on the sea as long as you, Captain.’

‘Longer if you’d stop lying about your age.’ He grinned. ‘Got Bellard drunk yet?’

‘Just about,’ answered the first mate. ‘Didn’t need to force him, either. Whatever that other magician in Krondor said to him got him in the right mind.’

‘Well, he’d better be if we’re going to get through that and not end up on the rocks.’

‘That’ was the oddest weather either sailor had ever encountered. About a mile from where they should be seeing the magician’s tower of the Black Castle on the headlands of Sorcerer’s Island there stood a wall of weather. Reinman had ordered the ship to take a port tack, swinging wide of the visible storm, but noticed that there seemed to be something of a buffer of nasty wind before the fringe of the storm.

After sailing for a couple of hours he had determined that the storm was a perfect circle of weather starting perhaps a mile or more off the coast of Sorcerer’s Island. He summoned a magician named Xander, a Keshian by birth, but apparently trusted enough to be allowed aboard the Kingdom’s fastest warship. ‘Can you get a message through to whoever’s on that island?’

‘It may take a while,’ Xander said. ‘But I think so.’

‘Here’s what I need you to tell them. As far as we can tell, the centre of that storm is right over the middle of the island. I don’t know if Bellard can blunt it enough for us to come to shore, nor do I know what good that would do anyone. We’ll await their reply before we decide the next move.’

The magician headed below decks to compose his message. He and Ruffio had been selective in sending messages, but it was an erratic process, sometimes taking hours.

Reinman kept his ship away from the storm as best he could, moving off for miles on a south-eastern tack, before coming around to the south of the storm. After two hours he asked, ‘Mr Williams, is that storm getting larger?’

‘Hard to judge, Captain.’ He shouted aloft. ‘Lookout! Is the storm getting bigger?’

From above came the response, ‘Aye, Mr Williams. It appears to be getting larger, and stronger as well.’

‘Port your helm, Mr Hagan!’ he shouted to the helmsman. ‘Mr Williams, would you head below and inform Xander of the change? I think that might be important news to the island.’

‘Aye, sir,’ said the first mate, heading below.

Jason Reinman, who had the well-earned reputation of being the most reckless and daring captain on the Bitter Sea since Amos Trask, looked at the storm and thought that not all the gold in Kesh would make him try to sail through that mess.

Ruffio waited patiently in Pug’s office, distracting himself by doing as much research as he could, but mainly waiting for another communication from his agent from Stardock, Xander.

Two messages each way had got through, each taking at least a dozen tries before finding a gap in the blocking magic. The energy of the storm was the cause of his problems, he was now convinced, rather than any overt attempt at counter-magic. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but knew it would prove to be significant eventually, if they survived the storm, which seemed to be mounting in intensity, slowly, but steadily. Given the pounding the villa was taking, he was glad the rebuilt villa Pug had put up had such staunch walls.

Suddenly a parchment appeared before him and he quickly tore it open and read it. Then he shouted, ‘Brendan!’

Brendan was at that time in the common room, failing to charm Dilyna. The best he had managed to get from her was a shy giggle and he was coming to the conclusion that nice girls were a sight different than the ones he was used to flirting with. He heard his name called, said ‘Excuse me’ and hurried to Pug’s study.

He opened the door and said, ‘Yes?’

‘Get Sandreena, please, then both of you come back.’

Brendan did as was asked, found the sergeant-adamant in her quarters cleaning her armour and together they went to the study.

‘I have a task for you two if you’re willing,’ Ruffio said. ‘I’ve received intelligence from Captain Reinman and Xander that the storm is centred here on the island.’

Sandreena said, ‘I know little about weather-magic, but how can someone be sitting in the middle of your island throwing out magic of this power and not be seen by your magicians? It would be like shouting at the top of his lungs, wouldn’t it?’

‘Normally,’ said Ruffio. He rolled out a map of Sorcerer’s Isle, and put his finger in the middle. ‘If the spell originated here, we would have felt it. I think that attack by the sea demon was a distraction. I think two entities were dropped onto this island.’ He moved his hand to the south of the island. ‘If a storm was blown up from here, just enough to strike the southern part of the island, from the beach to the villa, and some flying entity – a magician or a summoned creature – carried that monster and dropped it in our midst, then another flyer could have reached the centre of our island undetected. Then,’ he drew a line with his finger, ‘imagine a ship out there somewhere, protected against the storm, but where the magic is being conjured. Here,’ he again pointed to the centre of the island, ‘a second magician waits. He doesn’t create magic, he merely anchors it.’

It was Brendan who said, ‘But he’s acting as the centre!’

Ruffio smiled. ‘Yes. Imagine a great engine of magic, a thing that can blow a storm out across a finite area, but it will simply blow in a straight line. If you want to confuse your opponent as to where it originates, have it circle around a different location.’

‘What do you want us to do?’ asked Sandreena.

Ruffio looked at Brendan like a teacher with a promising student.

‘We go find whoever it is and persuade them to stop doing what they’re doing, and then see what happens to this storm. I’ll go,’ said Brendan without hesitation.

‘You and Sandreena are the only two here with weapons and experience. I have no one else to send. I am sure I can find at least one young magician who will be willing to go with you, and protect you from any magic directed at you.’

‘Where do we look?’ asked Sandreena.

‘Out that door, turn right, and follow the hall to the last door on the left,’ said Ruffio. ‘Keep your bearings and go straight on without turning until you come to a small pond … by now it might be a big pond, given the rain. Circle to your left and get back on your original course and in a few hours you’ll come to some outcrops below three hills. Somewhere in those hills is where our unwelcome guest is likely to be.’

‘Caves?’ asked Sandreena.

‘No, so look for some sort of shelter, or magic against weather. Or a magician who doesn’t care how wet and cold he gets.’ He stood up and walked past them, beckoning for them to follow.

Ruffio walked through halls now dripping with water coming in through every crack and loose joint in the ceiling and walls until he reached a classroom currently occupied by half a dozen younger magicians trying to study despite the crashing chaos outside.

‘They’re researching weather-magic as well,’ said Ruffio. He turned to the group. ‘I have a favour to ask. I need someone to go out in the storm with Sandreena and Brendan to look for one or more magicians who may be hiding in the central hills of the island, to protect them from traps.’

Three of the six magicians instantly stood up and Ruffio said, ‘Donal, thank you.’

The magician was sandy-haired, fair-skinned, and wore a green robe with half sleeves. He nodded at Brendan and Sandreena and said, ‘We leave now?’

‘Sooner is better,’ said the sergeant-adamant.

‘We have some foul weather gear in the storage room,’ said Ruffio.

‘I’ll show you,’ said Donal.

Donal took them across an open expanse of grass where they were pummelled by rain so hard it soaked them to the skin before they reached the next building. ‘Seems a little pointless now,’ said Sandreena.

Brendan said, ‘No it’s not,’ as his teeth started to chatter.

Donal opened a large trunk and Brendan pulled out a heavily oiled canvas cloak, fleece-lined, with no seams. He pulled it on over his head, and stuck his arms through the sleeves. ‘It’s not the wet as much as the cold.’

‘I’ve fought in cold and wet before,’ said Sandreena.

Brendan grinned. ‘No doubt, but you know how it can rob your strength. And this is cold. I’ve been doused by storm-water coming out of the frozen north, and those winters are far worse than what should be normal here. This is worse than that ever was! Besides, we may be looking for a couple of hours before we have to fight.’ He turned and was surprised to see Ruffio donning gear. ‘I didn’t know you were coming as well.’

‘Two reasons,’ the magician said. ‘I can transport us back here quickly, should the need arise, and moreover, while Donal is protecting you from harm, I can be doling out harm myself.’

‘I feel better already,’ said Brendan, evincing a bravado he did not feel in the least.

Once dressed against the weather, they left the storage room and started walking towards the centre of the island.

Two hours later they came to a small plateau on top of a hillock. Brendan did not need Ruffio or Donal to tell him they’d found their goal. The energy put out by whoever was up there caused the hair on his arms to stand up, despite being wet. Ruffio moved slowly up a muddy, slippery path to where he could see, then signalled for the others to follow.

Now the storm was their ally, masking their approach. Brendan had lived his life in a coastal town and had seen monstrous storms coming out of the frozen north, rolling down the coast with bitter sleet and rain, but he had never seen one like this. The raindrops struck like rocks.

Half a dozen figures huddled under a sturdy lean-to which shielded them from the worst of the wind. Three of the figures were motionless, squatting on the rocks, while the other three stood upright, guarding the three on the ground. A small spindle of emerald flame rose from a point equidistant between the three squatting figures and from it emanated a sizzling, crackling shaft of green energy that shot into the sky.

Brendan came up behind Ruffio and his eyes widened. He had never seen the like of these creatures. They were lizard-featured, but three of them stood upright like men. One saw him and gave alarm in a hissing tongue, and suddenly battle was joined.

Donal incanted as Sandreena joined Brendan. All the lizard-men were unarmed, but the three guards quickly cast spells at the attackers.

A bolt of dark-purple energy exploded in Brendan’s face, but washed around it as if he had a perfectly clear shield of glass between the furious blast and his face. Feeling his hair almost dance from the discharge around his head, he was now very glad Donal was there. He didn’t hesitate but charged the caster, bowling him over with his shoulder and shield. The creature rolled over through the mud, hissing and baring pointed teeth. Brendan swung hard and his blade bounced off a protective ward of some sort.

‘Magic!’ he shouted, then instantly felt like an idiot; of course they were using magic. He quickly added, ‘Magic’s protecting them. How do I get past it?’

Ruffio shouted, ‘Duck!’ and Brendan hunkered down as a sizzling bolt of energy sped past him, illuminating the serpent-man as he tried to stand, knocking him backwards.