Trials (20 page)

“Shut up, scum! Or would you rather we fetched the members of the Council? I’m sure they’d be delighted to know you’ve broken a direct order. Nobody’s allowed to handle that grimoire, you know it and we’ve just caught you in the act. I can’t wait to see the Grand Master’s face when we tell him.”

Sonea felt lost, and an overwhelming feeling of panic filled her chest. If those three crooks told what they had seen she would have no chance: the Council would not accept any excuse. The punishment would be severe, risking her expulsion from the Order of Knowledge. She would never get to be a Librarian, still less a Master Archivist, her dream, all she had wanted of life ever since she was a little girl. She looked at Rocol and his sycophants, and tears of impotence and rage came to her eyes.

“Go back where you came from!” she cried. “This is no concern of yours!”

“Everything you do is our concern, you leper,” said Uscor. “You contaminate everything you touch with your filth, and we can’t allow you to go on being a stain on this glorious institution. Luckily for all of us, we’ve just caught you in a serious offence which the Council certainly won’t forgive. Make no mistake about that.”

“Besides, when we tell them the facts, you can be sure you’ll be expelled,” said Rocol with an evil smile.

“What are you talking about? What are you going to say?”

“The words
forbidden magic
and
great danger of death for all
might just be mentioned…” said Rocol casually, with a sneering laugh.

“But that’s not true, you’re lying! Why can’t you leave me in peace?”

“Because a bastard like you has no place among the elite of Erenal. You aren’t worthy of belonging to this order. Only the privileged minds of the nobility should be accepted here. Your mere presence degrades us.”

“I’m more intelligent than the three of you together and you know it. That’s what you can’t accept.”

“You’re like a plague we have to eradicate before it spreads!” Rocol said, his face red with rage and his eyes distilling hate.

Sonea took a step back before the exaggerated rage of the young man.

“Hold the peasant, Isgor,” ordered Rocol.

Isgor took a step forward, moving his huge body towards the librarian.

Without thinking twice, Sonea kicked him in the groin.

“Arghhhh!” was all he managed to say before he doubled over in pain.

“You damned bitch!” Rocol was possessed by rage.

Uscor and Rocol lunged for the girl, who backed up to the desk. Uscor grabbed her by the arm, Sonea, frantic by now, gathered all her strength and punched him in the jaw. Uscor, surprised by the punch, fell backwards.

“Stupid weakling!” Rocol muttered to the thin youth. “She’s nothing but a woman, you good-for-nothing. I’ll take care of her.”

Sonea, was thoroughly scared by now. She turned and ran to the other side of the desk, using it as a barrier between her and Rocol.

“You won’t get away from me!” he said threateningly, waving a small sharp silver penknife.

Sonea was petrified. She knew Rocol was out of his mind and that he hated her irrationally, but she had never expected him to threaten her like that. Her life was in real danger and she had to do something fast ˗ but what?

Rocol lunged with a couple of thrusts from the other side of the desk, which Sonea avoided by bending back. The unusual sensation she had felt in her chest when she was handling the grimoire returned, this time more intensely, as if Rocol’s penknife had pricked her. Just the thought of that action made that inner void grow. She looked at the open book, shining under the light of the oil lamp and in that moment of panic she decided the best thing to do was grab the grimoire and run.

She reached for it.

“Don’t you dare touch it, you whore!” shouted Rocol, thrusting his knife at Sonea. He got her in the arm just as her hand touched the grimoire.

“Aaagh!” she cried when she felt the cut.

She looked at her arm, saw the blood on her tunic sleeve and then her hand on the volume, over one of the symbols: that of the Guardian.

Rocol thrust his knife again. He looked totally deranged.

Sonea closed her eyes and held on to the grimoire. She felt all that strange energy inside her which she did not understand. The symbol of the Guardian appeared in her mind, followed by other golden symbols which she was unable to interpret. Without any explanation on her part, that inner energy and the grimoire were working together. The penknife cut her again, and she was engulfed by the pain. Instinctively she raised her hand to protect herself from the next lunge.

And something incredible happened.

A whitish, sinuous energy, almost transparent, like vapor coming out of your mouth on a cold February morning, surged from her hand and enveloped Rocol’s head. The apprentice of the School of War ceased in his attack and began to scream. Sonea could feel the arcane vapor consuming Rocol’s life. It was emptying it and devouring it. The symbol of the Guardian filled Sonea’s mind again, and the strength of the spell became more tangible. The young man’s screams filled the hall as he crumpled to the floor.

“Stop it! For the Gods’ sake, stop it!” yelled Uscor.

But Sonea did not know how to stop it. It was not her controlling the spell but the Ilenian grimoire.

“You’re going to kill him!” shouted Isgor.

Sonea did not know how to stop the spell. She could see Rocol’s face beginning to age, drained of life, his hair turning white. In a matter of seconds he had aged fifteen years and he was screaming in agony. If she did not stop this immediately Rocol would die, and his death would be a weight on her, on her conscience, forever. She could not kill him, no matter how much she might despise that vile apprentice.

But how could she stop the spell? What could she do? What would stop the spell?

The grimoire!

She put her hands hastily under the golden covers and shut it.

Sonea looked at Rocol with fearful eyes. The spell vanished in a moment and the mysterious vapor disappeared. The aged face of the now white-haired apprentice of the School of War relaxed, and his screams stopped at last. Sonea sighed with relief. The whole experience had been so intense she had not realized that her blood was staining the floor from the two cuts Rocol had inflicted on her.

A deep, severe voice filled the hall.

“What’s all this to-do? Someone tell me immediately what’s going on here!”

Sonea turned round and saw the Grand Master followed by several members of the Council. Lugobrus’s face was contorted with rage.

Isgor hastily pointed at Sonea, accusingly. “It was her, Sonea laid her hands on the forbidden book!”

“She nearly killed Rocol with a spell!” said Uscor pointing at his friend’s face.

Sonea knew then that she was in really big trouble, and that the consequences would be disastrous for her.

The days after the incident with the crocodiles went by peacefully, with no more untoward events apart from the inevitable scrapes and scuffles of a vessel filled to the brim with people and goods.

Living on board the ship was turning out to be particularly pleasant for Komir. He liked sailing down that endless river, carried by the swaying waves. Not even the scorching sun bothered him much. His tormented spirit soared as he felt the ship cut the calm turquoise water. It was gratifying to his soul, and he enjoyed it.

He hoped the peace and quiet would not be broken again by any further incident, but mostly he hoped they would not be stopped by a Nocean patrol. They had seen several warships pass them by, carrying troops and supplies heading North. If they were discovered, they would be hanged on the spot as spies. So Kendas had assured him, and he was an expert in the methods of the Nocean army.

Captain Albatros kept order on his ship with punishing, iron-clad discipline. The slightest altercation ended with the perpetrator whipped at the mast. Two days previously he had ordered one of his sailors to be hanged for insubordination. Aliana had tried to intercede, but Captain Albatros had been deaf to the Healer’s pleas. He had the deck cleared, hen executed the man in front of everyone on board. Kendas had explained to the group that it was the law of the sea, relentless but necessary. It had to be respected by all, just like in the army. If the Captain had not hanged that sailor he would be risking a future mutiny through his own lack of determination. Discipline on a ship had to be exemplary, or else the ship was lost, and with it the passengers as well.

Nighttime fell, extending her endless black wings, speckled with thousands of lights, over the ship. The cool breath of the gods blessed the passengers, but Komir, deep in his own thoughts, did not notice. Lost within himself, he was at the prow watching the ship’s progress along the silent river, as beautiful as it was infinite.

A velvety voice whispered close to him: “It is impressive, isn’t it?” and his heart skipped a beat.

Komir turned and saw Aliana standing at his side to contemplate the landscape unfolding ahead. The light of the moon scattered with silver reflections over the deck to the delight of both. There, enveloped by the night breeze and under the glow of thousands of stars in the infinite sky, they felt they were in an idyllic setting. All worries had been erased from their minds: the war, the Nocean soldiers, the amphibian predators of the river, the bandits of the shores… everything was swept out of their minds.

“Yes, it’s an incredible landscape. I never thought I’d see anything like it… we’re certainly very far from the western lands…”

Aliana nodded slowly.

“True… our homes are far away, Komir,” she said. There was a touch of nostalgia in her voice.

“Hmmm…” agreed Komir, although he did not feel nostalgic at all. His painful past in his village would not allow that.

“On the other hand, it’s an exceptional experience I think we’ll never forget.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said as he looked at her. The Healer’s eyes were like the ocean, and the moonlight fell on her hair of burnished gold like a halo. Her lily-white face took his breath away and when she looked at him shyly, Komir felt ecstatic, wishing he could lose himself in her eyes and never return.

Aliana smiled an honest, sweet smile. Then she looked away and cleared her throat.

“Do you foresee… any more trouble?” she asked, bringing him back to earth. Komir was afraid his face had betrayed his feelings: Not really… well, at least not until we reach the first big Nocean cities of the South. Once we step on land… we’ll have problems. That’s what Kendas and Kayti have told me.”

Aliana nodded. “Nocean territory…”

“Yes, every day we’re going deeper into the wolf’s den. We have no safe-conduct to travel through the Empire, and without one no matter how well we disguise ourselves under Nocean clothes, we won’t be able to avoid the armies of the desert forever. Sooner or later they’ll find us or someone will give us away. There’s a war on and we’re from the opposing side. If they capture us they won’t show any mercy.”

She bent her head: his words had upset her.

“We might be lucky and manage to avoid them, though,” Komir added hastily, hoping to ease her mind a little.

“Perhaps…” she said, unconvinced.

Komir leaned on the rail, and his hand brushed Aliana’s. The Healer glanced down at their hands, and then at him. Komir was filled with an instant joy that spread throughout his whole body. He felt something else he had never felt before, something like butterflies dancing in his stomach: an unbelievable feeling he struggled to make sense of.

Aliana looked away, and he could have sworn she was blushing. Not wanting the moment to end, Komir put his hand over hers, gently caressing her silken skin.

She looked up at him and their eyes locked: the girl’s shy blue, the boy’s intense emerald. Komir felt passion rising inside him like a volcano. He could barely hold back. He wished to hold Aliana, feel her against him, kiss her honey lips and love her right there, on the starlit deck, with the moon as sole witness.

She looked at him, and in her eyes he read a silent plea, a mixture of desire and forbidding.

Komir bent over her, but she moved her head. He understood his advances were unwelcome, and felt his heart freeze. His soul filled with painful disappointment. He straightened up and looked ahead once more, trying to hide his embarrassment, wishing the river could swallow him so that he could disappear forever.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered.

“You don’t need to apologize…” he replied, not upset, but with a terrible sense of vulnerability.

“Let me explain, Komir…”

“You don’t need to… on the contrary, please forgive my behavior. I’m terribly sorry, I shouldn’t have… I have no right…”

The two of them got caught in one another’s gaze. The moon witnessed the tension between them. Desire was so strong that its scarlet aura was nearly visible. A desire that grew with every heartbeat and was on the point of bursting like a flooded dam.

Neither spoke: they remained like that, facing one another, afraid to move and thus break the magic moment. In the end Komir could hold back no more. He bent to kiss the Healer’s sweet lips, and this time she did not move away. Komir felt her lips open like a rose and his excitement grew.

A creak behind him made him stop.

He turned his head and saw a shadow moving where the noise had come from.

“What the …”

The shadow divided and several new ones fell onto the deck silently, moving among the sleeping passengers and sailors as if night itself had broken into a hundred dark silhouettes.

“What is it, Komir?” Aliana asked, alarmed.

“I don’t know, but I fear it’s nothing good. Stay here while I see what it is. If you see anything strange wake Hartz and the others.”

“All right…” she said uneasily.

Komir moved warily, sword in hand, to where he had seen the shadows. When he got to the spot he discovered several hooked ropes anchored on the rail. He looked down at the river and saw five barges close to their ship. Armed men were climbing the ropes in total silence.

They were being boarded!

Komir turned just in time to see two pirates leap on him.

He defended himself and shouted to Aliana: “Sound the alarm! We’re being boarded!”

With terror in her face, Aliana began to shout: “Danger! Alarm! We’re under attack!”

Komir fought the two men off while another six reached the deck. He swore and began to retreat in search of Hartz. But four pirates fell upon him, and he fended them off desperately.

With Aliana shouting her lungs out, all hell broke loose on board the ship. The pirates began to kill whoever got in their way. Captain Albatros, his first officers and several sailors appeared on the stern, formed a defensive line and began to repel the attack.

Hartz woke up and sprang to his feet. He unsheathed his big Ilenian sword and cried: “Come over here, you bunch of halfwits, come to me! I’m going to rip your guts open!”

When he heard his friend, Komir felt an enormous sense of relief.

Kendas armed himself and protected Asti as he deflected an attacker.

Chaos and fear spread over the deck. There were desperate screams, blood, men overboard, fighting everywhere. The pirates were river men, blood-thirsty and fierce, killing passengers and sailors alike. They wanted the ship and its cargo, and they knew exactly what they were doing. They were dressed in dark clothes, with their faces covered by scarves so that only their fierce eyes and tanned brows could be seen. They were trying to quell all resistance from the few who dared to stand in their way. The passengers fled in terror to whatever hiding-places they could find.

Hartz ran to help Komir.

“Hold on! I’m coming!” he yelled. At the same time he raised his two-handed Ilenian sword over his head.

Komir blocked a hissing thrust from his right, then twisted to deflect another from his left with his hunting knife. Behind him Aliana was searching for something to fight with. Her bow was out of reach, among her belongings. A curved sword swished by Komir’s head. He managed to duck at the last second. He had barely seen it coming: there were too many to defend themselves against. He heard a cry of rage in Nocean, and when he looked up he saw a raised arm wielding a huge scimitar. He tried to free his sword to parry the enemy’s stroke, but realized there was no way he could manage it in time.

The scimitar began to descend, the silver edge bringing bloody death with it.

Komir swallowed.

His enemy’s arm flew in an arc, amputated cleanly by Hartz’s sword.

“I’m here!” announced the huge Norriel. “Let’s finish off these little fresh-water pirates!” he shouted with overwhelming confidence.

Relieved and catching something of his friend’s enthusiasm, Komir felt his courage revive. The weapons of the two Norriel flew in deadly arcs, and the four pirates were neatly cut down.

Kayti and Kendas were fighting by the mast, protecting Asti and a handful of other passengers who had taken shelter behind them.

Captain Albatros, together with several of his men, had made a stronghold of the stern and were defending themselves desperately.

“We have to reach Kayti!” yelled Hartz as he impaled one of the pirates.

“Right, let’s go!” replied Komir, gesturing to Aliana to follow them.

The two Norriel began to move forward shoulder to shoulder, looking in all directions. The fighting around them was frantic: pure chaos, men fighting desperately, passengers trying to escape from death.

“Time to crush some skulls!” howled Hartz over the din of the fighting. He began to strike right and left at the attackers.

Unable to believe his friend’s daring, Komir shook his head and went to stand beside him. They were going deeper into the fray, and the last thing he wanted was to leave Hartz’s side unprotected. His huge friend taunted their assailants with insults, and challenges. Aliana, close behind them, was trying to steer any passenger they found still alive into safety. Hartz opened the way with great sweeping strokes, while Komir defended him from any treacherous lower attacks. The big warrior paid no attention to protecting himself. He was like a force of nature set loose upon the deck of the ship, driving off any opposition he met. But that particular fighting strategy could cost him his life, and Komir was well aware of the fact. A treacherous or simply unexpected stab in the side or back, and the mighty Norriel would fall without even knowing what had felled him.

“You’ve got to be more careful, Hartz! You fight as if you were immortal and I can assure you you’re not!” Komir scolded him. “Have you forgotten everything Master Warrior Gudin taught us in the Udag?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. But, what is there for me to be afraid of? Those ridiculous pirates?” He said while decapitating one of them with such a swift stroke that it almost seemed he hadn’t touched him. “I may not be immortal, but I’m certainly invincible as far as this puny rabble is concerned!”

Komir saw the flash of a knife-stroke aimed at his friend’s stomach and stopped it with a twist of his wrist. Something was happening to his friend: he was not himself. Hartz skewered a pirate with a two-handed stroke. As he watched, Komir realized that it was the Ilenian sword which was responsible for Hartz’s behavior. More and more, the bewitched sword possessed the great Norriel, poisoning his spirit with dangerous feelings of vain glory. “We must do something about that sword,” he thought with deep unease, “or else I’m really worried about what might happen to Hartz’s sanity.”

They made their way to the great mast amidships, where Kendas, Kayti and Asti were anxiously waiting for them. They had not moved from that post, and had been defending themselves as best they could.

“Will you please take some notice of your friend, you half-wit!” said Kayti as soon as he reached them.

“My, you have a temper! Aren’t you happy to see me safe and sound? Anyone would think you’re always waiting for a chance to get angry with me.”

“I’m at my wit’s end with you!” said the redhead, half-closing her eyes. “Be careful and pay attention to the battle, or we’ll end up having to attend a funeral at sea. Yours, bone-head!” she burst out, her eyes furious.