Feynard (62 page)

There had to be
some way through this mess. All that was required was a little creative thinking. Like trying Zephyr’s horn in the lock! No, that gave no result. He handed the horn back to Alliathiune. Good God, had the blue crept a little further up his arm since last he checked? Kevin touched the transition between pink, healthy skin and royal blue disfigurement with queasy fascination. To think something as simple as a Key-Ring had caused this monstrosity! He pulled it out and compared the two. He worked the Key-Ring over his blue hand, in case something amazing might happen. But nothing did. Snatcher was right–the stone of the ring itself was very similar in composition to that of his hand and wrist. An Earth scientist would have a field day investigating it!

“Look how similar they are!” Alliathiune exclaimed, bending over his arm. “Your hand could almost be a key itself, wouldn’t you say?”

Kevin jumped. “What did you say?”

“I said your hand was like your Key-Ring, good
Kevin.”

“Yes
…” His eyes narrowed to catlike slits. “Oh–yes, Alliathiune, yes indeed!”

And he danced his second jig of the
lighttime.

The Dryad put her hands on her hips and regarded him in fond vexation. “Good
Kevin, are you feeling quite sane?”

“You are marvellous!” he crowed, grabbing her hands and kissing her palms in an excess of delight. “Amazing–that’s what you are, Alliathiune! Have I ever told you that?”

“No, but–”

“But–fiddlesticks! Watch this!”

He stepped up to the door and inserted his little finger into the keyhole. There was an audible click and the door slid slowly open, tearing itself loose from the creeper in the process. Her mouth described a perfect ‘o’ of surprise.

They peered in together, heads almost touching in the doorway.
They saw a small, circular cave with a sandy floor, which was lit by an unseen light-source. Right in the middle stood a pedestal about three feet in height, and upon this rested a magnificent, radiant blue gemstone about the size of Kevin’s two fists put together.

Alliathiune caught her breath in wonder. “By the Sacred Grove, we have found the
Magisoul!”

Kevin
did not trust himself to speak. Nor did he trust himself to consider by what chance his hand had been ruined at the Sacred Well by the Dark Apprentice, only for that selfsame hand to become the vital key. Life didn’t work like that–did it? It would be illogical. It would smack of divine meddling, and he was not about to truck with such a lame explanation.

B
ut it was odd.

Together, they stepped into the cave.

All of a sudden, they were plunged into a complete and profound darkness. And something moved within the cave. Something large.

“
K
evin?”

He
clutched Alliathiune’s hand. “I’ve a bad feeling about this.”

“Now who’s the doomsayer?”

“Do you see a pair of eyes over there?”

Alliathiune’s first rejoinder had been frivolous, but that vanished as swiftly as a shooting star. “I hate it when you say things like that
. Do you think it’s the Dragon of Shadow?”

“More like the
Dragon of midnight,” he joked, but in reality he was trying to stop his knees knocking together loudly enough to advertise his fear. “So, do we just go ahead and ask for the Magisoul?”

The Dryad muttered, “Unless you’ve
a better plan, Mighty High Wizard.”

“Wizard?” a voice hissed out of the darkness. “I hate wizards!”

Kevin bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Could she not have kept her mouth shut? Now look at what trouble they were in! He whispered, “I am no wizard, noble creature. Who are you?”

“Who am I? The very Dragon of Shadow you insulted but a moment ago!” There was a scraping noise to their right. “And do not attempt to deny your title, wizard, for I can smell the magic on you! The seal of wizardry lies thick upon your life.”

“I carry a few magical artefacts.”

“Liar!” the voice snarled, right behind him this time.
Kevin nearly jumped out of his skin. “You are a wizard. Is your name not written on the Roll of Initiation in the
Korahlia-tak-Tarna?
”

“Allegedly
.”

“Ah, finding our spine, are we?” A breath
of air trickled along Kevin’s neck. “You are angry about this, yes?”

“I was tricked.”

“But tricked
by whom?
Answer if you can.”

Kevin
frowned in the darkness, casting his mind back to that strange encounter with Amberthurn–who had been as surprised as him at the result of their challenge. No, it was not the Dragon-Magus. Could it have been Zephyr? But that would have been so out of character!

He became aware of a low, malicious snigger that built steadily into a full-throated crow of laughter. Insane laughter, he realised with a shiver that encased his lungs in ice. He struggled to breathe through a rush of numbing fear.

“Ah, you miserable ignoramus!” the invisible creature taunted him. “It was I who entered your name on the Roll! I thought I’d have a little fun with you! Poor sappy little Human, did you think it was that preposterous Unicorn who kept atoning for a life-debt that never was? Ah, Mylliandawn was so easily manipulated. A little suggestion here, a little persuasion there, and the secrets of the Unicorns were mine for the taking! How kind of her to provide useful experiments for my laboratories!”

“Zephyr’s parents?”
Kevin gasped.

“No, no, I perfected my methods long before your time, you short-lived buffoon! Death is for lesser creatures. I am immortal!” the creature snarled, somewhere before them now.
Alliathiune’s fingers gripped his arm like a vice. “No, no, they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fancy daring to investigate my tower! Interfering Tomalia. Their horns lie beneath the Magisoul, holding it clear of the naked stone.”

“Oh? What’s the purpose of that?”

Alliathiune’s breathing quickened. Kevin put his hand on hers, and silently willed the Dryad not to speak.

In reply, the creature loosed a howl that made
his head ring. It screamed, “To keep it from me! Mine, it was mine, that beautiful, precious stone and I cannot even touch it now! Mine, my treasure beyond compare! My Magisoul … all mine!”

The cries echoed away into silence.
The air stirred again behind them. Alliathiune said, as delicately as a wisp of silk, “I feel so bad for your pain. I can tell you’ve suffered unimaginably over many seasons.”

“Yes!” sniffed the creature. “Yes
, my little Dryad. You of all creatures know the power of compassion, for compassion is what quickens a Dryad’s soul–yes, this secret I know. You are pretty, like my Magisoul.”

“You’re too
kind, noble creature,” she simpered. “How is it that you inhabit this chamber yet cannot hold the treasure which is rightfully yours? Can we help you regain it?”

“Ah!” the creature moaned. “I was the most powerful creature in all Driadorn, no, in all Feynard! For a lifetime and beyond I laboured lighttime and darktime to wrest the secret of the
Magisoul’s last resting-place from the dusty tomes of history and the forgotten legends of Driadorn’s first wizards. Ah, what a mystery it was! But I found it, my beautiful love, resting in the Chambers of Creation beneath the
Korahlia-tak-Tarna
.” The shadow sounded more like a stuffy old lecturer now, meandering onto a favourite hobbyhorse. “The word ‘korahlia’ comes from an ancient form of the Unicorn tongue, from which we derive the term korialite, which describes the stone which is magic–or the magic which is stone. A receptacle of power beyond your wildest imaginings. How foolish of Elliadora to leave it where it might be found.”

It snuffled again. When the creature spoke once more, its voice was low with malice and lambent power. “Sweet words, my pretty petal, but I wonder at their motivation. I think you are here for one reason onl
y. You want my Magisoul.”

Alliathiune shook her head. “No, that was not our intention. We–”

“Liar! I can feel your lies, Dryad! Lies are the death of compassion.”

“Of course I have compassion!” she replied hotly.

“Ozark stole it from you, didn’t he?” Kevin asked softly, letting his gut jump to the conclusion. “That Dark Wizard stole–”

“Wizard? I hate wizards!”

The tone and inflection were a carbon copy of before, only this time they were accompanied by unseen fingers plucking Kevin’s cloak. “Ah, you are a clever one,” whispered the creature. “Clever boy. He came from nowhere, that Human styling himself Ozark, and for a hundred and fifty seasons laboured in my tower before I would accept him as my apprentice. He would not take ‘no’ for an answer. And such a grasp of magic he had. Oh, he mastered the basics as though chewing through a loaf of waycrust. And then he turned against me and stole it from me! Mine, my precious Magisoul, my beloved!”

It sobbed wildly, stirring the
air in an agony of remembrance.

“You are a disembodied spirit,”
Alliathiune blurted out. “Ozark left you down here to guard the Magisoul; to torture you with its proximity.”

“Inventive,” the creature managed between sobs. “He was always so inventive, that miserable, rotten beast of a man! It was he
who played the thief! He had studied the dark arts in secret and transformed me into an ever-living spirit and bound me here for time and eternity! Ah, but I tricked him too, you see.” Its laughter transformed the cavern into a bedlam of indescribably evil echoes, and then stopped as though excised with a scalpel. “No self-respecting wizard would let another steal his craft without imbuing it with a few … surprises!”

Kevin
and Alliathiune shuddered as one as the creature let his last word slither out like a poisonous snake coiling to strike.

It continued, patently delighting in their reactions to its tale, “He tried to neutralise the wards upon my staff, but my most cunning and subtle creations defeated his every artifice. Ozark was never the sharpest disciple, just the most determined. His lack of intelligence was always his
downfall. And so he took my staff, and the Magisoul, never realising that possession of the former would deny him mastery of the latter. He was corrupted before he realised it–and by then it was far too late. He is now constitutionally incapable of wielding my treasure or availing itself of its powers. Ha! What do you think of that? A most befitting revenge!”

“Amazing,”
Kevin muttered.

“Yes, little Human. You approve of my diabolical plan. I can see it in your eyes.”

“What happened to Ozark?”

“
Bitterness drove him to madness. Ozark became obsessed with the pursuit of power. He studied the dark arts and took the appellation ‘the Dark’ to announce his intentions to the outside world. Eager to ensure that if he could not master the Magisoul no creature should, he enslaved the Lurks and built Shadowmoon Keep atop the old fortress hiding the Magisoul, and constructed the Labyrinth with its creatures to hide it forever–that which is mine.” The voice became plaintive, childlike. “I had it first, don’t you agree? It’s mine, isn’t it?”

Allia
thiune whispered, “Clearly so.”

“Ozark turned to conquest
in search of other sources of power. He cast greedy eyes in the direction of Elliadora’s Well, thinking that a power which served the Seventy-Seven Hills could far better be employed to unlock the Magisoul’s secrets–and so the wars began. Many, many seasons of wars.”

Because of a petty squabble between wizards,
Kevin thought, enraged. Perhaps this creature was what remained of Omäirg, Ozark’s father in dark wizardry–but it clearly did not remember that much. Ozark had destroyed his humanity, leaving an angry, frustrated, and highly dangerous shell to guard the Magisoul. Amberthurn might have been wrong about an Elemental Dragon of Shadow guarding the prize, but he was not wrong about the danger.

“
Diabolical,” Alliathiune agreed, her voice thick with suppressed fury. “I admire your resolve. But there is something I am struggling to comprehend. Doubtless it is a trivial detail to one of your vast intellect and timeless grasp of magic’s lore.”

“Ask what you wish, little Dryad!”

“Why Unicorn horns?” she asked. “Why rest the Magisoul upon dead bones?”

“Because dehorned Tomalia are truly the living dead!” It sighed gustily, making unseen air currents again pluck
Kevin’s clothes. “The Magisoul is the essence of life; the very definition of Elliadora’s creative spirit. But when it touches the living dead, it takes on a different nature. Any mortal flesh or spirit that touches the stone in this state will crumble instantly and perish. The stone is worthless. Worse, its power cannot be harnessed. This was the ever-living torment Ozark, curse him to Shäyol, designed for my incarceration.”

When
Kevin felt Alliathiune’s body tense suddenly from head to toe, he realised she had reached a conclusion similar to his own. His mouth went dry.

“But you cannot take it,” the voice whined softly. “It is mine, my darling. Come here, my precious one. You are mine forever.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” said the Human, and pushed his wrist through the Key-Ring.

It was as though lightning had struck within the chamber.
Kevin absorbed what magic the creature had invoked in order to blind them, and his dazzling flash of light banished the darkness instantly. He rubbed his eyes.

“Wizard!” shrieked the voice. It became amplified, like a tornado screaming towards them. “MINE! MINE! YOU CANNOT HAVE
IT!”

Alliathi
une punched her fists toward the ceiling. “I command silence!”

The silence was so deep, it rang in Kevin’s ears
.

T
he creature laughed. “Ah, you foolish mortals. Use your magic, yes, use it again!”

A huge fireball arced across the chamber. Alliathiune slammed up a
column of water that made it fizzle and dissipate in a cloud of steam.

“Oh, yes my pretty Dryad! Keep fighting me!”

A shadow formed near the Magisoul, coalescing out of the air as the creature exploited her magic to begin to assume a physical form. It reached for the stone–but very carefully, seeking to grasp one of the Unicorn horns to tip it off the pedestal and thus break the contact with the matter it had termed the ‘living dead’. But its power was insufficient for this task, or the horn too securely set in place.

Kevin
lurched forward, dragging Alliathiune with him. “Quickly! He must not have the Magisoul!”

“Vile betrayer!” howled the creature, flinging fire into their path.

Alliathiune protected again, and then grimaced as the creature surged closer to full embodiment, now beginning in outline to resemble a man.

“Don’t shield!”
Kevin gasped, slowing as they approached the spirit creature. “Let me handle this.”

And he held out the Key-Ring to his right–with his good hand–dangling it before the Dragon of Shadows as though he
held a lollipop for a child.

The shadow turned eagerly. “Magic!”

“Yes–very much magic,” said Kevin. He was committed now, and there was neither time nor capacity in his mind sufficient to recognise his terror. “Enough, I would surmise, for you to assume your full form and take your precious Magisoul. As I told you, I don’t really want it.”

“Kevin?” gasped the Dryad.

“Much magic,” it pulsed greedily. “Oh, you devious Human, what are you thinking offering me something like that?”

He shrugged. “Come and get it.”

He tried to flip the Key-Ring across the chamber.

“What are you
doing?
” cried Alliathiune, leaping to catch the Key-Ring. It deflected off her fingers.