Sword and the Spell 01: The Grey Robe (48 page)

Jonderill swallowed hard and held the iron broadsword
too tightly in his sweating hand whilst the other hung uselessly at his side.
His sword arm tingled with the presence of arcane power, the sensation growing
stronger as the red-eyed demon approached. He’d watched Sansun make his second
attack and had seen the creature torn by the horse’s teeth so he knew the demon
could be destroyed. He also knew that only a deep, penetrating strike to the
soft underside of the neck where it joined the body would do the job. Only that
way would a blade reach to where the heart was located. The problem was how to
reach there with the old iron blade when savage fangs and half a dozen strides
of armoured neck stood in the way. He took a nervous step away from the low
wall at the river’s edge and waited for the moment when he would close with the
beast.

At twenty paces Jonderill could smell the creature's
acidic blood dripping onto the ground and the stench of the corruption on its
breath. At a dozen paces he could see the terrible white fangs dripping with
saliva and the glowing red eyes, then, the demon screamed, neck outstretched
and mouth agape. Jonderill stood his ground and waited, a fear burning within
him like he’d never known before. The demon made a sudden, powerful surge
forward, its jaws snapping shut where Jonderill's head had been a moment before,
but he’d dived sideways at the last moment into a tight roll.

It would have been a good move if the creature’s scaly
body hadn’t collided with his arm sending the sword spinning from his hand.
With unexpected agility, the creature whipped around and lunged in for a second
attack before Jonderill had time to properly regain his feet. Breathlessly
Jonderill scuttled backwards until the sharp stone of the river wall stuck into
his back, blocking any further retreat. He looked around in desperation but the
iron sword lay more than an arm's reach from his feet.

The demon turned and let out a deafening roar of
triumph before moving in on his victim for the final time. At three paces it
reared up high above its prey, its jaws open ready to engulf Jonderill's head
and shoulders whilst its glowing, ruby red eyes locked on the pale green eyes of
the man beneath it. For a moment it faltered and then let out a tortured scream,
which could have been a name but Jonderill never heard it. In that instant of
hesitation, he lunged forward for his fallen sword, rolled upright onto his
feet and plunged it with all the might he possessed hilt deep into the demon's
chest. The creature’s scream turned to one of agony, taking on an almost human
tone.

Jonderill stood rooted to the spot, defenceless
against the rush of steaming blood or any immediate counter attack but, instead
of turning on him, the creature remained frozen. It towered motionless above
him for several heartbeats and then began to shimmer and fade. The massive
outline became hazy and clouded, losing all solidity as it swirled into mist
and evaporated into the night air. Within the mist a darker shape reformed and
out of it the black-cloaked Maladran took a faltering step forward, clutching
the hilt of the iron sword which penetrated his chest and protruded out of his
back.

The black depths of his eyes reached out and held
Jonderill's pale green eyes and a small smile lifted the edge of his mouth.
Emotions of warmth and care and affection flooded Jonderill’s senses as
Maladran stepped towards him. "Sarrat told me you were dead," whispered
the sorcerer. "If I’d only known you were alive it would never have come
to this but now it’s too late and I’m so sorry.”

Maladran closed his eyes to break the contact and the
black cloak and robe fell gently to the ground with a soft sigh of expelled
air, enfolding the golden torc and the bloody iron sword.

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True Love’s First Kiss

    
Jonderill
didn’t move but stared down at where the magician had stood only moments
before. A flood of emotions washed over him, turning the bitterness of
Maladran’s betrayal which he’d lived with for half of his life into a confused
mixture of love, loss and sorrow but, most of all, regret. Regret not only for
himself and all the summers that had been wasted unfairly hating Maladran but
regret for the magician whose humanity had been destroyed by Sarrat's lies and
his soul damned to hellden.

His vision blurred at the thought of Garrin and his
wife and Perguine and all the others who’d died horribly because Maladran
believed he was dead. Perhaps if he’d not given up so easily on the magician
and had kept faith in him, he would have sought out the truth instead of giving
in and then no one would have died.

As he heard Pellum approach he removed the gold torc
from the black garments and slid it into the inside of his shirt. Pellum
wouldn’t understand why he needed to take it and he didn’t care to explain. The
prince reached down and withdrew the old iron sword from the black robes, which
immediately fell to dust and were carried away by a sudden breeze. He sheathed
the sword and gave Jonderill a playful dig in the ribs with his elbow with a
huge grin of satisfaction on his face.

"That didn't turn out to be as bad as we thought it
would, did it? It was just a case of getting into position and letting the
creature fall on the sword. After all, it was only made of air and dust."

Jonderill looked up ready to make an angry retort but
the sight of Sansun standing at Pellum's side with no more injury than a coat
matted with dirt and twigs and a mane flecked with blood, turned his acidic
comment into a smile of relief which rapidly changed into a wince of pain as he
remembered his torn back.

"You're injured, boy. You'd better have that seen
to as soon as we reach the palace and do what needs to be done."

Pellum turned away and swung easily into the saddle,
urging Sansun into a trot so that Jonderill had to run to keep up his expected
position at the Prince's side. Sansun set off clearly favouring a front leg,
which he could barely put to the ground. "Sansun is injured, Your Highness,"
Jonderill gasped. "It would be better for him if you were to get down and
walk him."

Pellum looked down and scowled. "Don't presume to
tell me what is best for my horse, boy. He'll make it to the palace all right.
I can hardly arrive to claim my bride on foot like you, a common servant, now
can I?"

"I don't think anyone would notice, Your Highness,
they're all asleep."

“That's not the point. I will know and so will
you." Jonderill didn’t say any more, he was too tired and too sore to
argue and Sansun seemed to be bearing the burden of the arrogant prince more
stoically than he was.

As they approached the city gates Pellum slowed their
pace to a walk and they passed under the archway and along the silent streets
like two intruders. Sansun's hooves rang out clearly in the stillness, echoing
from wall to wall in counterpoint to Jonderill's soft tread. Citizens in a deep
sleep rested in chairs or slouched across tables outside inns and ale houses
whilst others sat on walls or leaned against doorposts, a look of peace and
tranquillity on their faces.

At first there were only a few people, mainly farmers
or vine workers, arriving at the city with the setting sun but, closer to the
palace, the crowds grew thicker and thicker until Pellum had to dismount to
pick his way through. Here people slept in the streets, leaning against each
other in contented, happy groups. Young lovers held each other in their arms
whilst families nursed children or carefully propped up ageing grandparents.
Baskets of food, untouched by decay, lay half eaten and flagons of wine, ale
and cider, fresh as the moment they were poured, lay everywhere, untouched but still
ready to drink at the celebration to come.

The scene inside the palace courtyard was almost the
same. Guards posted outside the tower doors leaned against its walls or on
halberds, breathing as gently as those asleep on the parapets. Two pages lay
curled up in a corner with a litter of soft puppies whilst a squire leaned
against his master's horse and snored loudly. Heralds rested on the parapets
with their horns clearly visible and a flock of skysoarers rested in the
topmost dish of the silent fountain.

"Well, where do we go from here?" asked
Pellum as he looked around him, his voice sounding coarse and overloud in the
silence.

"I'm not sure, Your Highness, but I would guess
the magicians’ tower might be a good place to start."

"Why on earth should it be? I'm looking for a
princess, you know, not a witch. We'll start in the royal apartments and then go
onto the Great Hall."

Jonderill shrugged slightly and then wished he hadn’t
as pain coursed through his shoulder and back. Reluctantly he followed Pellum
to where Lowis and Barrin stood in their accustomed place outside the door to
the royal apartments. He was glad to see Barrin there but was amazed at how
much he’d changed since that night in the stables four summers before. Still,
he supposed, he’d changed as well. Pellum eased passed them, not caring to
disturb them from their sleep and then thought better of it and stepped back
before he actually touched the door.

"You don't suppose Maladran has put a spell on
the door do you?"

Jonderill shook his head. "I don't think
so."

Pellum took another step back. "You’d better go
first and announce me; it wouldn't do for a visiting prince to go barging into
another king’s palace without the formalities being observed."

Jonderill eased passed the Prince and pushed the door
wide open. Inside the royal apartments were just as he remembered on the night
he’d last seen them except there were far more people around, albeit fast
asleep. Two pages dozed happily outside each door whilst guards in their best
ceremonial uniforms lined up against a wall ready to form a royal procession.
He led the way along the corridors until he found the Princess's rooms where
half a dozen maids sat in soft chairs fast asleep waiting to dress their
mistress when she returned.

The wedding dress, all cream and gold and covered with
pearl-encrusted lace, lay across the bed in readiness for the ceremony to come and
next to it lay a simple white night robe for after the marriage ceremony and
celebrations. Pellum picked up the night robe and ran the soft material through
his fingers. He wet his lips, giving Jonderill a wolfish grin of anticipation.

"It doesn’t appear as if she had reached this far,
Your Highness, perhaps she’s still in the magician's tower."

"Perhaps but let's go to the Great Hall
anyway."

Jonderill frowned. "She would have come here to
dress first."

"I know, boy, and don't argue with me. I'm
curious to see what they look like fast asleep, aren't you?" Jonderill
shook his head. "No, I suppose servants don’t have the intellect to be
curious. Lead the way."

Jonderill led the way along corridors he was only
vaguely familiar with until, eventually, they stumbled upon the Great Hall.
Like everywhere else, people either sat or lay asleep. Guards in the liveried
uniforms of Vinmore and Essenland stood behind the two kings, propped up on
halberds but still managing to look vaguely menacing. Pellum walked the length
of the hall and mounted the dais to stand in front of King Steppen.

"You know, boy, I have an elder brother who will
one day wear my father's crown and become King of Essenland but he's welcome to
it, I have my eyes on better things." He plucked the crown from Steppen's
head and placed it on his own. "There, how do you think that looks? When I
marry the Princess I will be heir to Vinmore and then its ruler, once I've
persuaded Steppen to abdicate that is.

“What do you think to that, boy? His Royal Majesty
King Pellum of Vinmore." Jonderill made no reply. "But first I have
to wake the Princess, isn't that what the enchantment says?" He carelessly
replaced the crown on Steppen's head, leaving it at an angle and walked
imperiously up the aisle of the Great Hall as if he were already king.

Pellum didn’t wait for Jonderill to catch up as they
left the main palace buildings but crossed the wide courtyard to the unguarded
magicians’ tower and pushed hard on the door to open it. With a cry of shock he
jumped back shaking his stinging hand and rubbing his numb arm. Jonderill tried
to hide a smile but failed and received a stern look from the prince.

"Enough of that, boy, open this door and be quick
about it!"

Jonderill did as he was commanded, pushing gently on
the door and easily dissipating the wards. He stepped back to allow Pellum to
pass into the tower but when Pellum didn’t move he led the way, feeling the
occasional tingle as other wards fell before him. Leaving the comfortable
living room undisturbed he climbed the spiral stairs passed the magicians’ own
room with Plantagenet’s books and the jumble of Animus's many investigations
which he’d somehow forgotten to finish.

Above that was the magician's work room and he remembered
all the futile hours he’d spent there trying to call on the power which was not
meant to be his. There was no sign of it having been disturbed since the
magicians had reluctantly left their treasures behind four summers previously
so Jonderill closed the door before Pellum could see inside and ridicule the
contents. He continued to lead the way upwards and paused at the door of the
guest room, feeling the presence of a double warding. He knew he’d found the
place where the Princess lay asleep.

"Is this it?" asked Pellum in a voice
strained with excitement. Jonderill nodded. "Open it then."

Jonderill hesitated. "I'm not sure if I should.
The warding is very strong and is likely to be harmful to anyone except the
person who is meant to break it."

Pellum stepped back slightly. "Nonsense, boy, you
were the magicians’ servant. They're not likely to stop you going from room to
room are they?"

Jonderill took a deep breath and held out his hand
towards the door. His fingertips tingled with the usual sensation of a double
ward collapsing and the door gently opened of its own accord. He took a step
inside with Pellum close behind. Plantagenet lay sprawled across a long couch,
his arms and legs dangling off the side and his silvery beard rippling gently to
his exhaled breath.

He stepped further into the room to see Animus curled
into a comfortable ball by the window, his ivory wand still clutched in his
chubby hand. Finally he turned to where the princess lay on the bed and his
breath caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen
and whatever happened next, he would always love her. He crossed to the side of
her bed to stand slightly behind Pellum who stood statue still, mesmerised by
the Princess's beauty.

"It's the girl in the forest," whispered
Pellum as if he were scared of breaking a spell.

"What girl?"

"Rosera. She was so beautiful I wanted her from
the moment I first saw her but I didn't know she was a princess." He
turned to Jonderill and gave him a smile of pure delight. "Now I have
everything I have ever wanted; the girl I desire most, a princess and a throne
as well."

Pellum turned back to the sleeping maiden and took a
step forward, dropping to his knee beside the bed. Jonderill watched with an
aching heart. He’d always known that it would come to this, that one day a
prince would come and take Daun for his wife. He’d even resigned himself to the
fact that the prince would be Pellum but secretly he’d hoped things would be
different. Now he knew they wouldn’t.

Jonderill watched as Pellum took Daun's slim hand in
his own, gently holding the fine fingers as he leaned over and pressed his lips
to the deep red ones of the Princess. He held the kiss for a moment, as if he
were savouring sweet wine and then sat back on his heel waiting for her eyes to
open. For the space of ten heartbeats he waited, absolutely still and then gave
Jonderill a quizzical look. Jonderill shrugged slightly, a spark of hope making
his heart beat faster. Pellum frowned and leaned forward again, kissing the
princess very firmly on the lips and holding the kiss there until there could
be no question he’d fulfilled his part of the enchantment breaking. He leaned
back and waited for the Princess to wake but still nothing happened.

"What in hellden's wrong?" he shouted,
jumping to his feet and carelessly dropping Daun’s hand off the edge of the bed.
“I've kissed her like she was a whore and still she doesn't wake!" He
looked back at the princess and then at Jonderill. "Here, boy, you have a
go."

Jonderill started as if he’d been hit. Even in his
wildest imaginings he’d never thought he would have the chance to show the Princess
his love for her, even if she were asleep. He knelt by her side as Pellum had
done and took her soft hand in his own callused one. Next to such delicate
beauty he felt coarse and dirty but that couldn’t stop him from hoping. He
leaned forward and gently kissed her soft lips and then slowly released her
hand and moved back to watch for any reaction.

For a moment there was none and then her lips parted
in a gentle sigh, as if she had been holding her breath. A delicate pink flush
bloomed on her cheeks and slowly, so very slowly, she opened her eyes. Vivid
blue, like sea sapphires, sparkled beneath long curled lashes and her lips
parted in the sweetest of smiles as she held out her hand in offering.