The White Robe (52 page)

Malingar scowled at the threat, bowed and marched out of the room, his face white with anger. Callabris followed behind to give his instructions and returned a few moments later looking troubled.

“Is it done?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, he will be able to enter Newn’s prison and the Lady Tarraquin will be able to leave.”

“Good, now what about this boy of yours? Have you found out who he is yet as I commanded, and where has he been skulking all day? I haven’t seen him around and I expected him to be here to congratulate me on my conquest.”

Callabris hesitated and then went to answer but stopped at the sound of running feet outside of the king’s apartments. There was a loud knock on the outside door, raised voices and then a troop leader entered and bowed.”

“Your Majesty, the prisoners from the lower levels have escaped.”

“What!”

Rastor quickly stepped forward. It was one of his own men who bowed before the angry king; he certainly didn’t want that anger turned on him for being incompetent. “Report, soldier.”

The young troop leader took a deep breath. “We discovered that the outside door guards were missing at guard change and all the keys had gone as well, so we had to send for a locksmith to open the door. When we reached the first level, those guards had gone too, and as there’s only the one key, which the guard carries, we had to send for the locksmith again. We reached the lower level and found that the three prisoners had disappeared and the guards were locked in the cells. The keys to those cells were missing too, so it took us some time to get to them. When they were released they said they were attacked by a single guard carrying a blanket, but only one of them recalls seeing a weapon of any kind. The guards are still down there awaiting your pleasure whilst I’ve come to report what has happened.”

“Leave them there,” snapped Borman. “If you don’t recapture the prisoners they can take their place.”

“How long have they been gone?” questioned Rastor, ignoring his master’s anger.

“From the middle of last watch we think.” Rastor looked towards the window where darkness was just falling. “Why haven’t you rung the alarm bell?”

The soldier looked guilty. “I didn’t think of it, sir.”

“Bloody hellden, Rastor!” shouted the outraged king, “The man’s a fool and you’re totally incompetent. Get the blasted thing rung and then you and every able bodied man get after them.” Borman continued glaring at them until they had left the room and then turned his attention back to Callabris. “Tell me, magician. How do you think that four armed and experienced guards were overcome by a single man armed with a blanket?”

Callabris shrugged. “I have no idea, My Lord.”

“You may have no idea but I have. I want them back, Callabris. I can’t afford to have rebel leaders running free, stirring up trouble and telling everyone who it was helped them to escape. It would challenge my authority, and I would be forced to deal severely with the culprit. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, master.” Callabris bowed and backed towards the door.

“Oh, and Callabris, make sure he never does anything like that ever again.”

As the magician left the room, the alarm bell began to toll, and across Tarmin other bells joined in. Jonderill, hiding in an old weapons store, heard them too and clamped his hands firmly over his ears in an effort to block the sound out from his already ringing head. All the time he had been helping the prisoners to escape, he had managed to keep the effects of the magic’s backlash at bay, but once the need had gone, its effects had returned with a vengeance. He had lost his concentration, taken a wrong turning and had almost blundered into a troop of guards marching in the opposite direction. In desperation he had dived through the nearest doorway and had found himself in an old store room. It wasn’t until the door had shut behind him that he realised that it was a disused weapons store.

The effect was instantaneous, overwhelming him in a smothering blanket of dizziness and nausea until the ringing bells broke through his misery. He gripped his head in his hands and tried to crawl towards the door but he was shaking too much, so instead, he concentrated his jumbled thoughts on where he was hiding, and hoped that someone would come and find him. It seemed like an eternity before he heard tapping on the store’s door and the handle being tested.

“Master, it’s me. Open the door, I can’t get in.”

Jonderill pulled himself across the floor and banged the iron blade against the bottom of the door, releasing the lock. Tissian slipped through and took the blade from his shaking hand.

“Hellden’s balls, Jonderill. How did you get yourself trapped in here of all places?” Tissian pulled him up off the floor, propped him up with his shoulder and held him more or less straight with an arm around his waist. “We’re going to have to make a run for it. Every man and their hound are running around the place looking for escaped prisoners.”

Half carrying and half dragging him, Tissian guided them back to Jonderill’s room, miraculously missing the guards who had been around earlier. He stripped Jonderill’s vomit stained clothes off him, dumped him on the bed and then went to hide the clothes and fetch some water. When he returned, his master was looking a bit better.

“Thanks, Tissian. You’d better get back out on guard; I think we’re going to have visitors very shortly.”

Tissian nodded, straightened his weapons and left. He had barely taken up position outside of the door when Callabris and Allowyn marched around the corner, neither of them looking happy. He bowed to Callabris as he came to stand in front of him.

“Good evening, Lord, Master Allowyn.”

“Where’s Jonderill?”

“My master is asleep as he was two candle lengths ago when Master Allowyn last came to enquire about him.”

Callabris looked to Allowyn who nodded in confirmation. “I need to see your master, now.”

“I’m sorry, Lord. Jonderill is asleep and I have orders not to wake him.”

Allowyn stepped forward menacingly. “My master has made a request. You will let him in or I shall open the door for him.”

Tissian changed his stance in readiness to defend the door which suddenly opened behind him. Jonderill took in the scene looking bleary-eyed. “It’s all right, Tissian, I’m awake now. Please let them in.”

“Allowyn, stay here with Tissian,” ordered Callabris.  He stepped through the doorway closing it firmly behind him and looking Jonderill up and down. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said to you this morning, boy?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” replied Jonderill, trying to look innocent.

Don’t lie to me, Jonderill. You don’t get backlash from lying in your bed asleep.” He gave a sigh and shook his head. “Borman is a malicious and vengeful man. If he finds out for definite that it was you who set the prisoners free, he will not spare you just because you have some magic. Jonderill, listen to me. If you value your life and your freedom do nothing else to anger him. Please, just stay in your room and out of the way until all this has passed.” He turned back to the door.

“Callabris, I had to do it. One of them, Jarrul, was my friend. I couldn’t just stand by and let a friend die could I?”

Callabris sighed again but didn’t turn back. Instead he gripped his hands behind him,  flexed his fingers and muttered something under his breath. “You’re wrong, Jonderill, and one day, you’ll learn the lesson that a magician has no friends.”

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Deceptions

Vorgret preferred to eat alone. If you invited others to eat with you they expected you to converse with them, instead of concentrating on the task in hand, and invariably, they took the choicest cuts of meat, leaving you with the gristle. Sadrin was different of course; he always let his master have the best pieces and was content to have whatever was left, but Vorgret supposed it was his upbringing; when you have starved for most of your life any food is good food. Unfortunately it wasn’t Sadrin who sat opposite him, and the man had taken the very piece of meat that he’d had his eye on. He would have had the man thrown out if he could, but there were some people who even he, King of Essenland, could not afford to offend. He tried not to glower as High Master Razarin pushed his plate aside with the choice piece of meat untouched.

“Your Eminence, it’s an honour that you have come in person to offer your condolences on the death of my cousin, particularly as I understand that the High Master can never leave the Enclave without endangering themselves.”

For once Razarin was not wearing his crimson robes of office, but wore heavy wool travelling clothes, which made him look even more sallow than usual. His eyes were red and sore from the road dust kicked up by his small party of escorts, and too many nights made sleepless by his worries. If it hadn’t been so important he would have never left the safety and comfort of the Enclave, and would have sent someone else, but this was something which had to be done in person.

“It’s not prohibited, Your Majesty, just rarely done and then only when it’s a matter of the utmost importance or sensitivity which cannot be conveyed in writing.”

Vorgret raised his eyebrows in question and stabbed another piece of meat. “I know my cousin’s position as the next protector made his death of more consequence than most, but I wouldn’t class it as of the utmost importance to the future of the six kingdoms.”

“You are both correct and incorrect.” Razarin leaned across the table to emphasise his point. “Whilst Gellidan’s death is a sorrow to us both, he was just another young man with a sword. What is of critical importance is the demise of his position. I have reason to believe that Gellidan was not just the next protector in training, but the last that the Enclave will ever train.”

Vorgret scowled as he thought through the implications, slowly chewing the bit of gristle which had been disguised as meat by the sauce. He gave up on it and spat it out onto his plate. “If that is so, then who will protect the white robes, or are they going to learn to protect themselves?”

“Neither. There will be no white robes or black for that matter, I have been warned that their magic will disappear from the six kingdoms.”

The king sat back in shock. “Surely that cannot be! What of Federa and the Enclave? You’re not trying to tell me that they will no longer exist are you?”

Razarin shrugged.”It was the goddess herself who gave me this warning, and there’s more. The goddess warns that there is one who will not only be responsible for the demise of magic in our land, but will be the killer of kings as well, and because of him, the six kingdoms will be no more.”

Vorgret looked stunned and stared at the High Master in disbelief. “Are you sure of this? Can anything be done?”

The High Master sat back and took a long drink of wine, pleased at the impact his words had on the king. “I believe this can be prevented, which is why the goddess has given me a warning, and it’s why I have come to you. As you are aware, it’s not possible for me to leave the Enclave and the goddess’s temple for more than a few days; the effect on my magic would be disastrous, which means my ability to track down this killer of kings is limited.

“You, on the other hand, are a man of power with the resources of a kingdom behind you. If you were to find and slay this demon, then the Enclave, and all the other kingdoms would be saved, and everyone would be in your debt. Your deeds would put you above the other kings, and they would have to bend the knee to you. The reputation that your father and his father had before him, would be overshadowed by the glory of what you have done.”

Vorgret thought about what the High Master was offering him whilst he picked bits of meat from between his teeth with his dinner knife. The idea of him being greater than his grandfather, a revered hero of the six kingdoms, pleased him no end. “Do you know who this killer of kings is?”

Razarin shook his head trying to keep the look of satisfaction from his face. “Not as such. I had at first thought it might be a king who would destroy the six kingdoms through conquest, and this may still be so, although I think it is unlikely. It’s much more likely to be a powerful wielder of magic, who has not learnt the ways of the goddess, or had the benefit of worshiping at her temple.”

“You have someone in mind?”

There are two possibilities. There is Sadrin, who you hold in confinement in your deepest mines, and Jonderill, who was responsible for your cousin’s death and has no master to limit him.”

It was Vorgret’s turn to smile. Clearly the old fool had no idea that Sadrin was free and his servant to command. “I’ve heard of this Jonderill, but I didn’t realise he was a powerful magician.”

Razarin shook his head. “It’s hard to tell. He didn’t show much promise during the short time he was at the Enclave, but not so long ago the goddess showed an unexpected interest in the boy, so it’s just possible that he has some hidden talent within him that hasn’t yet matured.”

“I see. And what would you do with this Jonderill if I were to capture him and deliver him to you in chains?”

“It would be best for all concerned if he and Sadrin, if he still lives, were both to die as soon as possible rather than sending them to the Enclave. You will appreciate that, as High Master, I could take no part in their deaths. Failing that, if Jonderill were confined in the depths of your silver mines, as Sadrin was, and both died of natural causes, they wouldn’t be in a position to pose a threat to either of us.”

Vorgret pretended to consider the High Master’s proposition. “Should I do this it would, of course, place me at a serious disadvantage. My brother has the services of Plantagenet and Animus, and whilst they are inept and doddering, they’re still capable of concocting an enchantment between them. Then there is Borman. He has Callabris who, apart from you, is without a doubt the most powerful magician in the six kingdoms at this present time. You’ll understand my reluctance to leave myself so exposed based on something you believe might happen sometime in the future.”

Razarin scowled in irritation. He wasn’t used to his requests being denied, particularly when they concerned his right to regulate the use of magic in the six kingdoms. Knowing that Vorgret was vicious and not too bright, he had hoped that he would have jumped at the chance to slaughter two renegade magicians and to be hailed a hero for it, but perhaps he had underestimated him. He hadn’t wanted to show his hand if he could help it, but if he was to achieve what he had come to do, then there seemed to be no other option, although he could twist the truth slightly.

“There may be an alternative,” he said hesitantly. “Jonderill carries a torc with him, a device which was created by the goddess to control a black robe when their powers become too much for them to contain. If it were placed around the throat of a magician not yet come into his powers it would remove their ability to act for themselves but would still give them access to their magic to be used at your command.”

The king gave a feral grin and Razarin did his best not to shudder. “What happens when the torc is removed?”

“Removing the torc would have much the same effect as it does on a black robe except that when it’s removed it would destroy a white robe’s mind completely, instead of sending them into madness, as it does with a black. They would not be able to function and so the outcome for both is the same; if the torc is removed they would both die.”

“A formidable weapon, is it not?” Vorgret suddenly pushed himself away from the table and stood, taking Razarin by surprise. “High Master, you have given me much to think about and decisions to make which cannot be made overnight. I suggest you retire now so you may be on your way at first light; it would be unsafe for you to be away from the Enclave for longer than is absolutely necessary, in case your magic is diminished or the goddess wishes to reveal more about this matter to you.”

He opened the door in a clear act of dismissal. Razarin stood, irritated by being shown out in such a curt manner, but also relieved not to have to spend more time in Vorgret’s company than was necessary to obtain his cooperation. He bowed briefly and walked passed the king, barely clearing the door post before the door was slammed shut behind him.

Vorgret stared at the closed door for a moment and then returned to the table pushing his dirty plate out of the way and pulling a platter of sweet pastries towards himself. He licked the cream and the fruit compote off the top of the largest one and dropped the pastry into the congealing meat sauce. Behind him, a panel in the wall slid open and Sadrin stepped through, his slave pattering behind him. Vorgret looked at the girl with irritation; he had given the boy the slave to bed, not to follow him around like a lost hound, and it annoyed him that the magician still didn’t seem to know what his prick was for. If he’d had a fancy for the girl he would have shown him what to do, there and then on the table, but there was something about her which put him off. After all, that’s why he’d given her as a gift to Sadrin in the first place.

The young magician in his almost black robe bowed deeply and waited for his master to speak whilst the girl crept into a corner and curled into a small ball to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

“Did you hear what the High Master had to say?”

“Yes, master. He believes that I or this other one poses a danger to the six kingdoms, magic and the Enclave.”

“Do you?”

“No, My Lord, just to the High Master himself once you have given me leave to deal with him.”

Vorgret laughed. His young black robe was full of vengeance against Razarin for what the High Master and his cronies had done to him, but that would have to wait, he had other tasks for Sadrin.

“He also thinks that I still keep you confined in my silver mines; he would have a nasty surprise if he knew you were free and plotting his demise.” He pushed the platter of sweet pastries in Sadrin’s direction and poured them both some wine. “What do you think to his claim that someone will destroy the six kingdoms and its magic?”

Sadrin shrugged and sipped at his wine. Vorgret thought that he knew everything but perhaps it was time to open his eyes and show him what Razarin was really like. “I think the High Master fabricates stories to flush out those who will not grovel at his feet. He knows he has no power over you but tries to manipulate you into doing his dirty work for him. His promise to you that you’ll be revered by the other kings if you remove two magicians and save the six kingdoms are lies. Razarin knows that all it will achieve is to make King Borman more powerful than he is already. If you have no magic to support you but Borman does, then Razarin will side with him and together they’ll attack Essenland and take everything you have built from you.”

The king scowled and nodded. “You’re right; the man’s as slippery as a sand crawler, but what if I were to become more powerful than both of them? What if I had two magicians, you and Jonderill? A black and a white working together; what a combination that would be. With the two of you I would be the most powerful king in the six kingdoms; greater than my father and grandfather put together, then the other kings would have to bow down to me.” He swallowed back his drink, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Taking a white robe that does not wish to serve, without destroying him, will not be that easy, My Lord.”