Mage Prime (Book 2) (14 page)

Tukrin lay unconscious, a single pace away from the gate. Directing the small orb of light slowly over the tutor’s head and body, Karryl could find no evidence of injury, and his breathing was steady. He let the light hover over Tukrin’s head, and knelt down to take one of his hands. It was ice cold. Holding it between his own warm ones, Karryl decided against attempting a spell of waking. If Tukrin had some kind of unseen injury, or worse still, had fallen victim to some malevolent casting, the spell could possibly do more harm than good. Karryl decided to try something else, uncertain of success. What he was certain of was that if it worked it would be the fastest way to get help for the unconscious tutor. Keeping Tukrin’s chilled hand between his own warm ones Karryl called up a mental picture of the vast concourse with its groups of students and tutors, where Dhoum had left him when he first arrived.

Opting for words rather than images which could prove frightening or confusing, Karryl sent out his thought, as clear and concise as he could make it.

“Tunnel. Tukrin needs help.”

He waited to hear a response inside his head, as had happened earlier with Tukrin by the gate. All he could hear were his own thoughts. Clearing his mind, he tried again with the same short message. There was still no response. Even though he wasn’t really expecting one, Karryl was unable to quell a little surge of disappointment.

Then, in a soft tone, hardly more than a whisper, the answer came.
“Wait. Someone comes.”

Slumping back on his heels, Karryl released a great sigh of relief. He rubbed Tukrin’s hand more vigorously. “It’ll be alright now Master Tukrin. Help is on its way.”

Lifting the Light of Perimus a couple of feet higher, Karryl directed it to hover just behind the heavy gate where he could still keep it under control. He strained his ears for the sound of voices and footsteps. For what seemed like an eternity, Karryl knelt by the still form of the mild-mannered tutor, chafing warmth into his hands and talking quietly to him.

A shout echoed along the tunnel. “Hallo-o-o-o! I see your light. Who’s there?”

Karryl allowed himself a tight mirthless smile as he recognised the voice. Briefly he wondered how this particular rescuer could have managed to get here so quickly.

His voice caught in his throat as he called out in answer. “Magnor! It’s me, Karryl. With Tukrin. Here, by the gate.”

The tall, heavily built form of Magnor strode up, clad not in his usual shimmering silver-grey pleated robes, but in sturdy boots and a forester’s brown and green clothing.

After taking a quick glance at Tukrin, he went to the iron gate and pushed at it. “It’s locked.” he rumbled.

As Karryl was about to scramble to his feet, Magnor passed his hand down the side of the gate. A sound like a long drawn out sigh was closely followed by a heavy click. The gate swung smoothly open. Magnor rapidly recrossed the few paces to stand looking down at Tukrin’s motionless form.

Despite the gravity of the moment, Karryl grinned up into Magnor’s face. “You’re the last person I expected to see, but I don’t think I could have wished for anyone better.”

Magnor jabbed a thumb backwards over his shoulder. “I was down in the lower levels when all the lights went out. Your mind-call reached me when I was about half-way back up.”

Crouching beside Tukrin he gently placed one of his hands on the top of the unconscious tutor’s head. He remained like that for a long moment, his eyes closed, deep in concentration. Opening his eyes he removed his hand, stood slowly and turned his concerned gaze on Karryl. For a split second, the young magician thought he saw fear in the steely blue eyes.

Lowering his voice, Magnor looked disconsolately down at Tukrin’s motionless body. “He has no physical injuries, but I detect some kind of alien casting. I fear that his mind has been stolen.”

His eyes stinging, Karryl felt an acid bitterness rising in his craw as he considered this unnecessary attack on such an inoffensive man.

Shifting himself into a sitting position, he reached under Tukrin’s shoulder, cradling the unconscious tutor’s head against his thigh. “Who would do such a thing …and how?”

Magnor shook his head. Seeing the anger registered in the young magician’s eyes, the tall elder felt an illogical fear for the unknown perpetrators. He also feared for Karryl. This was not the furious anger he had seen during the grelfon attack at King Vailin’s palace, but a more deep-seated, slow burning anger, the kind that had the potential for disaster if allowed to embed itself and slowly fester.

Hunkered down beside him, Magnor placed a steadying hand on Karryl’s shoulder, although he knew that it would do little to quell the fierce emotions which presently smouldered within the young magician. “Who did this I have no idea as yet, but the how is something known to me, although not in any great detail. It seems to me to have all the marks of the evil Vedric discipline. Despite its being outlawed, you can rest assured its vile practice still continues.”

Karryl gave no answer, just turned his head slowly to look at Magnor. Once again the older man feared for those who were responsible. Looking into Karryl’s dark eyes he watched resolve join forces with anger in formidable partnership.

In an attempt to remove some of the heat from the moment Magnor shifted the emphasis slightly. “I think you’ll find it’s all connected in some way to everything that has happened to you so far. If and when Master Tukrin comes round, he may be able to tell us something, but I doubt it. However, we mustn’t let this cloud our thinking. Healers are on their way. They will take him to the Healing Halls where he will be well cared for, and I will keep an eye on his progress.”

The tall elder gave a little nod as if satisfied with this decision then raised a questioning eyebrow. “Did you detect the use of magic while you were down there?”

Karryl eyed him warily. “Who told you I had that ability?”

Magnor folded his arms across his broad chest and gave a wry smile. “It wasn’t necessary for anyone to tell me. I realised quite some time ago that you had the gift. Now then, do you think you could answer my question?”

Looking slightly chagrined, Karryl nodded an affirmative then frowned. “It didn’t seem quite the same as it usually does though. Usually my skin tingles or prickles, as if I’m getting goose-bumps. This time was different, and when I come to think about it, rather unpleasant; a sort of crawling sensation under my skin. It happened pretty quickly too, although the lights did go dim before they finally went out altogether. That’s when I felt it. But why did they, whoever they were, attack Tukrin?”

Magnor thought for a long moment, his mouth set in a grim line. He looked hard at Karryl. “I’ll wager it wasn’t Master Tukrin they were after. They wanted you, but they went for the wrong person. You’d already gone ahead. Why was that?”

It was Karryl’s turn to be thoughtful. “I think Tukrin detected the magic before I did. He sent me ahead of him because he said I moved faster than him, but I reckon he knew something wasn’t right and held back to deal with it. By D’ta, let’s hope he’s not damaged too much.”

He looked around him, and up and down what he could see of the tunnel. “Are those healers going to be much longer? I could have materialised three times over while we’ve been waiting.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Speaking of which, I think I hear voices … and footsteps.”

Not trusting to mental capacity alone, he made a small curving gesture with his free hand. The light floated gently down towards the spot on the floor where he cradled Tukrin. Magnor strode forward, pushing the gate wide as the light of bobbing lanterns began to infiltrate the darkness beyond him. Just then Tukrin began to stir. Karryl looked closely into his face before placing a calming hand on his forehead. He looked up to see four figures hurrying towards him, each carrying a lantern, the golden light casting long deep shadows which dipped and fell across the rock floor in a silent and dramatic dance.

Uniformly clad in sky blue robes, the four healers slipped through the gate. Placing their lanterns on the floor they gathered round Karryl and Tukrin. The one woman among them knelt and placed two fingers of one hand against his throat. With the other she gently lifted each of his eyelids in turn. Seeming satisfied she looked up and nodded to the others. They each shrugged large knapsacks off their backs and began to delve inside, removing bundles of long tubes and lengths of strong canvas fabric which they laid out in practised sequence. Without a word being spoken they had soon assembled a strong lightweight stretcher which they set on the floor. In a perfectly co-ordinated move they transferred Tukrin smoothly to it and lifted him up. Still unspeaking they moved away, the two healers at the front of the stretcher each carrying a lantern in their free hand, leaving the two remaining lanterns on the floor beside Karryl. The young magician remained sitting on the floor, completely impressed by the smooth efficiency of the rescue. He watched them until they had rounded the curve in the tunnel and were out of sight.

Then he looked up at Magnor. “Where have they taken him?”

The tall elder looked thoughtfully along the empty tunnel. “To the Infirmary Hall at the College of Apothecaries and Healers. That is where he will be cared for.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “I’ve been wondering how whoever did this got in or out without being seen. You’d be hard put to convince me that anyone can materialise through all that rock, not even you.”

Almost at the instant the last word left his mouth, the Light of Perimus sank to the floor and winked out. The two lanterns on the floor beside them began to dim, their warm golden glow rapidly diminishing to a tiny orange purple-edged flame which flickered and popped half-heartedly along the top of the wick.

Karryl’s skin began to crawl. He scrambled hurriedly to his feet. “I think we’re about to find out.”

In the dim light afforded them by the dying lanterns, Karryl saw Magnor draw his sword and make a head gesture towards the tunnel wall a few feet to his right. Then he placed his forefinger across his lips for silence. Attempting to draw in power, Karryl was rewarded with a sharp clip on the ankle with the side of Magnor’s boot. The young magician made a grimace of protest then turned his attention to the wall. It appeared to be melting, the dark greys, blacks and muted browns flowing around and into each other. Imprisoned within the rock, tiny crystals of quartz swirled in a frenzy of freedom. With a final shimmer, the face of the rock wall vanished, leaving a perfect oval of moonlit star-strewn sky, inside which two men could have stood comfortably side by side.

“A shift-portal.” murmured Magnor.

He held out a restraining arm as Karryl started forward. “Stay back behind the tunnel gate until we see who or what comes through.”

He pulled the tunnel gate closed, shutting them behind the comparative safety of the ironwork. They did not have long to wait. Over the faintly iridescent lip of the oval stepped a tall, curiously clad figure. Silhouetted against the flaring colours of a sunset’s final moments, he looked directly at their sanctuary. Raising his arms out to his sides, showing empty hands, he took a pace forward.

His voice was clear and deep, his speech slightly accented. “You need have no fear. I wish you no harm. Indeed, I come as a friend. What has happened here should not have come to pass.”

With a smooth gesture, the stranger described a wide circle in the air above his head. The darkened tunnel lights flickered on one by one, until everything was bathed once again in soft, shadow-less light. Magnor sheathed his sword, pushed open the gate, and stepped through. Three paces distant he stopped and stood facing the stranger. After a little hesitation, Karryl moved to stand beside him and began to study their visitor. Karryl reckoned they matched height inch for inch, but the stranger was more slim and wiry, standing with the practised poise of one confident in himself and his abilities. Only his eyes were visible, his face being concealed by a length of dark cloth flowing down from within the complex folds of his head-dress. A dark, close-fitting long-sleeved tunic, open at the sides to the hip, reached to his knees. Under this, dark loose-fitting trousers were tucked into calf-length black leather, low-heeled boots.

As his brain registered each detail, Karryl gathered in as much of his power as he could summon, holding it ready to unleash should it prove necessary. His versatile mind also kept a spell of binding just a half-thought away.

A spark of humour lit the stranger’s dark, deep-set eyes. “Dispel your power, young magician. You will have no need of it. We are joined in the same cause. On the same side if you will.”

Magnor, a pugnacious set to his chin, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I think it would be a good idea if you identified yourself before you tell us what ‘side’ that might be. If, as you say, we are on the same side, perhaps you can tell us who is on the other?”

The curiously clad stranger briefly dipped his head in acknowledgment of the question. With a slim-fingered hand he pulled down the dark fabric to reveal his face. Even in the soft lights the features seemed hard, almost cruel. As the dark eyes caught the glimmer, Karryl was reminded of nothing less than a hawk eyeing its prey.

The new arrival looked at them both in turn, his gaze lingering for a long moment on Karryl as if to assess his worth. “I am called Areel, and I wish you no ill. The incident which occurred here was instigated by those who would see the world as you know it gone forever.”