Sinners of Magic (34 page)

‘
My woman’s
idea,’ said his host, sniffing the fragrance like a dog sniffs a
bone. ‘It’s supposed to help you stay calm and have a peaceful
night’s sleep.’

Bridgemear nodded, looking
unimpressed, and walked over to the window. He slid the thin, lace
curtain to one side and peered out into the street, watching the
world below bustle by at a swift pace. Nonhawk soldiers swarmed the
alleyways and streets, and the everyday folk were often seen pushed
aside in their haste. Bridgemear’s tension increased, feeling
unnerved by the huge mass of Nonhawk soldiers. He thought of
Forusian; perhaps he was now ready to invade his beloved Amella’s
lands? He shifted his gaze and rested it upon the keeper who was
still standing by the doorway, looking a little hesitant.
Bridgemear thought his stoop appeared to have worsened with
climbing the stairs. The creature caught his eye, lifting his
finger when he could see he had his full attention.

‘
By the way,
my name is Snitterby for anyone who has the desire to know it,’ he
told the mage, with a hint of mockery in his voice. ‘May I ask if
you require anything else before I leave you?’ he added, tilting
his head to one side as though straining to listen for a
reply.

‘
No, you may
go,’ Bridgemear answered, with a flurry of his hand, ‘I have
everything I need for the moment.’

‘
Very well,
sire, as you wish and when your friends arrive I will let you
know,’ he said, giving a slight bow.

‘
Yes, that
would be appreciated,’ Bridgemear assented; grateful the landlord
was finally leaving. On closing the door the magician made his way
across the room and turned the key in the lock, but on hearing it
click he found it didn’t ease the tension that crept up into his
shoulders. Something wasn’t right, it was as though he had been
expected and if that was the case then he doubted if he had much
time before he was placed under arrest or worse, if Forusian had
his way.

Bridgemear was right, as soon
as he was able to leave, Snitterby made his way as quickly as his
curved spine would allow, heading with haste straight to the king.
His feet sounded noisy when they hit the cobbled stones and he kept
glancing over his shoulder, convinced he was surely being followed
by the ill-tempered wizard. The streets were still crawling with
bustling citizens, concentrating on the activities of market day.
The air was heavy with desperate cries from the many traders, each
trying to tempt the ignorant passers-by with their mountain of
irresistible wares.

The keeper ignored them all,
trying not to catch anyone’s eye for fear of being recognised and
he slid like an unknown shadow through the busy main streets,
knowing how cruel the Nonhawk could be to him with him being
crippled, if the mood so took them.

Only a short time later his
nervous body stood waiting for an audience with King Forusian.
Sweat poured like rain from his clammy forehead and he wiped the
constant stream away with a long, trembling hand. His nervousness
grew whilst he waited and when the huge doors opened to allow him
entry, he couldn’t help shiver. A solitary guard brought him into
the Great Hall to where Forusian was sitting on his throne,
surrounded by his council.

‘
What news do
you bring?’ asked Forusian, staring at the ugly face standing
before him. ‘What stranger have you in your house?’

The keeper kept his eyes
focused on the floor and bowed.

‘
Your
excellence, I bring news of the wizard Bridgemear; he has entered
the castle walls.’ Forusian’s head almost snapped back when his
words perforated his brain and his eyes sharpened like broken
glass. He jumped from his throne, his withered legs almost causing
him to stumble, and he made his way to his spy’s side.

‘
Are you sure
it’s him?’ he asked, peering in his face, looking slightly
suspicious.

‘
Yes, sire,
it is he.’

‘
When did he
arrive?’

‘
Little more
than an hour ago, sire.’

‘
Is he
alone?’

‘
For the
moment, but he speaks of two others who will be joining
him.’

‘
Tell me,
what else?’

‘
There is
nothing more, my lord, your guard simply ordered me to come to you
the moment either Amella or Bridgemear were seen, but she is not
with him and the mage appears on edge.’

Forusian’s face broke into a
sly grin.

‘
And so he
should be,’ he said, unable to stop himself from
sneering.

He paced the hall with his
withered legs trembling. His council watched him with curious eyes,
their hands filled with unsigned papers and their mouths agape with
indignation from the unwelcome intrusion.

‘
Leave us!’
Forusian commanded the council, when he caught their penetrating
stares. ‘I will deal with those trivial matters later.’

Tight-lipped, the council
obeyed, but a look of distaste was flashed in Snitterby’s
direction.

‘
Damn
Bridgemear,’ Forusian spat, with malice. ‘He thinks I have the girl
and that is why he’s here.’

His eyes became hard like
pieces of flint, his once flamboyant characteristics no longer on
display, replaced with a chilling mask of resentment instead.

‘
I will have
to act quickly and try to kill him before the others arrive,’ he
stated, showing clear signs of agitation. He stopped pacing the
floor and stared into the unremarkable face of
Snitterby.

‘
Go back and
watch his every move. I want an hourly update,’ the king
insisted.

‘
As you wish,
my lord,’ said the keeper, bowing and making his leave.

He felt the doors close behind
him and Snitterby breathed a sigh of relief. He had no real loyalty
to the king and his allegiance had been cast through fear and my,
how he feared Forusian. Once he became calmer and his heart
quietened enough to ease the loud thumping noise within his ears,
he wasted no time in making his way back home.

Back in the seclusion of the
Great Hall, Snitterby was soon a distant memory in Forusian’s mind.
He thought only of his future and how close he was to reaching his
goal. He’d killed King Gamada to make way for himself on the throne
and he just had one more elf with royal blood to destroy; then, as
soon as he married Crystal, the elf realm and all its empire would
be legitimately his for the taking.

He retraced his steps back to
his throne. Now Bridgemear had arrived he felt the first sharp
prick of apprehension. He knew the sorcerer would not rest until
he’d killed the Nonhawk king and so time was of the essence; he
must act quickly. He knew what he had to do; he must kill
Bridgemear before this day came to a bloodthirsty end.

Chapter
22

Even though her eyes were
closed, bright light was able to penetrate through her lids.
Crystal raised her hands to protect her face and opening her eyes,
recoiled when she realised she still bore hooves. The spell was,
however, beginning to wear off and with it came the pain of the
transformation back into her human form. Crystal could see the
distinct colour of red behind her eyes and an unwelcome feeling of
nausea sloshed about inside her empty stomach. Her pulse throbbed
in her temple and she cursed, wondering how much longer she was
going to suffer the consequences of her naivety.

With some reluctance she opened
her eyes, unprepared for the bright light that hit her full force,
and she squinted, feeling white pain explode inside her brain and
making her cry out. She lay helpless on a cold stone floor for what
seemed like an age, the floor covered only with thin matting to
stop the damp from seeping through to her bones.

It took a while, but once the
pain subsided she sat upright and found herself to be tethered to a
wooden pole. She tugged at the rope fastened around her neck, but
she couldn’t get it to untie with still having hooves. Her brain
was fuzzy, but thankfully her body was almost back to normal now.
She stared down at her naked flesh and felt a huge wave of
embarrassment crash over her. Where the hell was Amella with her
clothes?

The room was in semi-darkness
with only one small window allowing in light. The light fell onto
Crystal’s trembling body and she was grateful for the slight warmth
it gave her cold skin.

Whilst her eyes adjusted to the
gloom she began to notice red stains upon the walls and a small
channel built into the ground to allow drainage to run the full
breadth of the butchery. The air was filled with a sickly, sweet
aroma which filled her nostrils and she was aware of the distinct
smell of fresh blood. She suffered a moment of panic when she
realised she’d been placed in an area used for the slaughter of
animals and a noise behind her caused her to freeze.

A huge shadow teased the cold
stone and Crystal’s throat tightened in fear. In desperation, she
swept her eyes along the ground in search of something she could
use as a weapon, but there was nothing she could hold on to; she
was helpless. She frantically tried to pull at the cord around her
neck, but she couldn’t get a grip and the rope dug deeper into her
flesh, causing her to wince in pain. She closed her eyes and
listened to the footsteps that were drawing near; they were soft,
almost undetectable, but Crystal didn’t miss a step. She knew she
must act quickly and use her powers to defend herself. But it was
too late; the sound was closing in on her and Crystal shrank back
in fright.

A distinct outline was growing
along the wall and Crystal turned, staring down at the hooves which
were barring her escape and she couldn’t help cowering, awaiting
the fatal blows to her head.

A cold hand touched her
shoulder and Crystal pulled away, screaming.

‘
Shut up, you
silly girl,’ snapped a sharp voice in her ear, and a hand came from
nowhere and covered her mouth.

Recognition ignited in
Crystal’s eyes and she let out a deep sob of relief.

‘
Oh, thank
god, it’s you!’ Crystal cried, when Amella dropped her hand away.
‘I thought you were the cook and you’d come to bash my brains in!’
She shuddered at the mere thought, thankful she had been rescued in
time, but her eyes still shone with anxiety. Amella untied the rope
from around her neck.

‘
We must get
out of here before we are caught,’ she said, throwing the rope to
the floor. She then placed a small bundle next to her feet and her
nimble fingers tore at the threads tied around it, revealing
Crystal’s clothes.

‘
Quickly, get
dressed,’ she ordered. ‘The cook
will
be here shortly and I don’t
want us to be anywhere near here when she arrives.’

Crystal did as she was told and
Amella took in her surroundings, and suffered a nauseating shiver.
Many a hand had placed their mark against the stone and the walls
were gnarled with violence.

‘
We must head
for the dungeons if we want to find your friend,’ Amella whispered,
glancing down and realising Crystal was struggling to get her
hooves through her sleeves.

‘
Your hands
should be back to normal very soon,’ she said, helping her to dress
and then examining Crystal’s hooves with her own hands.

‘
I don’t know
why, but that always seems to happen when I create a creature
spell,’ she said, appearing baffled.

‘
Do you have
any idea how frightened I was when I couldn’t undo the rope?’
Crystal hissed, pulling her hands from Amella’s tight
grasp.

‘
It couldn’t
be helped,’ Amella muttered, unperturbed by her furious tone. ‘But
at least I got you inside the castle.’

Crystal shook her head in
exasperation. Didn’t anyone born in the extraordinary world realise
when someone was angry with them? It was growing obvious to her
that they all appeared to possess rather thick skins.

Once dressed, Crystal and
Amella made their way out of the slaughterhouse, thankful to be
leaving behind the oppressive gloom and stench of death.

‘
I’ve got to
rest,’ said Crystal, when her legs buckled underneath her. ‘I feel
really weak and my legs are like jelly.’

‘
Shush!’
hissed Amella, placing a finger to her lips. ‘We can’t rest here,
it’s far too dangerous.’

Crystal was too weak to argue
and found herself sliding to the floor. The spell had finally given
her back her hands, but in return it had taken the rest of her
strength. The corridor they’d just entered was quiet, but plainly
accessible to the guards. Amella’s agitation showed in her face and
Crystal took a deep breath in order to try and stand.

A noise caught Amella’s
attention and she grabbed Crystal’s hands, pulling her to her feet.
In desperation she looked for somewhere to hide; Crystal noted the
look of panic in Amella’s eyes and pointed to a large painting
hanging on the wall to the left.

‘
Over there,
behind that picture, there’s a door which leads to Forusian’s
dressing room,’ Crystal gasped, still trying to stand on her own
two feet.

Strong hands dragged her to the
end of the corridor; Amella cautiously opened the dressing room
door and took a fleeting peek inside. The room was empty and with
one swift movement she dragged Crystal inside. Loud voices could be
heard approaching and both Crystal and Amella felt a wave of panic
as they glanced around for somewhere to hide. In one corner stood a
large satin screen and they rushed behind it, just in time to hear
the door open; both held their breath, not knowing if they had been
seen or not.