Mage Prime (Book 2) (6 page)

Despite Evalin’s best efforts, the remainder of the meeting did not go exactly to plan. There were a few tense moments, together with some most un-gentlemanly behaviour which briefly threatened to bring proceedings to an untimely halt. One of the most memorable incidents involved the now gloriously buttoned Minister Allyn. Karryl had given the assembled ministers a full and uncensored report of the encounters with the grelfons. Not unexpectedly this had elicited the full gamut of reactions. The furore having died down, Karryl beckoned to the minister standing nearest the dais.

Reaching down, he handed him a drawing he had made of a grelfon. “Would you make sure every person in the room sees this?”

The worthy gentleman stared at the very life-like study. His eyes wide with horror he looked up at the young magician. “Is this…is it…is this a true image?”

Karryl grimaced and nodded his affirmation. “I’m afraid so. I was very close to all three of them. Nothing’s been left out, except the stench.”

His hands visibly trembling, the minister took another long look at the drawing, which was quite large, before handing it on to his neighbour. Karryl sat down again. As his drawing made its way from hand to hand he noted mixed reactions; some of horror, some of disgust, and naturally a few of disbelief. There was even a pause while a small group debated the merits of his artwork. The reaction which caused him greatest concern was the obvious complacency. Against his better nature, he felt anger and frustration welling up inside him. Keenly aware of what the consequences might be if he allowed his feelings to intensify, he drew an almost negligible amount of power and relaxed into the influence of a calming spell. After a moment or two he leaned across the arm of his chair towards Symon and Evalin, who had their heads together discussing something in low urgent tones.

Karryl interrupted. “What will it take to make some of these cloth-heads realise that this is a very real danger?”

Before either of them had chance to reply, the clear voice of the floor attendant rang out. “Minister Allyn has a question.”

Vailin was about to smile graciously then thought better of it. The behaviour of his ministers was beginning to jar more nerves than usual. He scowled instead. “We will hear Minister Allyn.”

With a spiteful glint in his pale eyes, the minister rudely pointed a bony finger in Karryl’s direction. “Do I recall him saying that our own Sergeant Vintar killed one of these things?”

Karryl’s scowl matched Vailin’s as he stood to answer. “That’s correct. But he couldn’t have done…”

“So, as it had already been proved to you that they can be killed with blades, why did you find it necessary to risk the use of magic?”

He gave a self-satisfied nod, and a couple of the more ardent dissenters deliberately crossed the room to pat him on the back. His glory was short-lived.

Venson, the minister whose fine buttons Allyn now sported on his drab waistcoat, stepped forward and planted his not inconsiderable fist squarely on Allyn’s nose. A great gasp filled the room. His face contorted with pain and shocked surprise, the almost skeletal form of Allyn toppled like a felled sapling into his little gang of cronies. As if to confirm an old adage concerning appearances, minister Allyn furiously disengaged himself from his supporters. Spattering blood everywhere, arms flailing, he flew at Venson. Such was the strength of his retaliation, his unexpected power-charge into Venson’s broad chest sent the pair of them hurtling two paces backwards through the air. The back of Venson’s head struck the floor with a resounding crack. Allyn sprawled across him in a scrabbling heap.

King Vailin leapt to his feet, his incensed roar reverberating across the room. “Prime Minister! Will you get your unruly house in order this instant!”

All at once it seemed as if the whole room was in motion. Karryl jumped down from the dais and pushed his way through to the side of the unmoving Venson. Eager hands pulled the gasping and dishevelled Allyn to his feet. From the far side of the chamber, where he had spent the entire meeting engaged in deep conversation, a portly red-faced balding man of middle height, escorted by two armed and helmed guards, elbowed his way through the circle of loudly protesting ministers.

Arriving at the site of the melee, he waved his pudgy arms around. “Get back, all of you. This is a disgraceful display! Call yourselves ministers of the crown? I’ll have you all removed from office!”

His voice like knives, Vailin called down from the dais. “Look to your own office, Prime Minister. We take a very dim view of this kind of behaviour.”

Karryl, who had been kneeling beside Venson, stood up slowly and looked up towards Evalin. With a glance towards the inscrutable Agmar, she left her seat on the dais and crossed the room to stand beside Karryl.

He looked into her deep blue eyes, his voice subdued and regretful. “I think Minister Venson is dead.”

Kneeling beside the fallen man, Evalin placed her fingers against his throat for a moment. She then gently lifted each eyelid in turn. Looking up over her shoulder at Karryl, she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and raised one eyebrow. Before anybody realised what was happening she had grasped each of Venson’s hands in her own and uttered a short phrase. Bands of violet and silver shimmered around them, the air itself seemed to quiver, and the pair vanished. A deathly hush fell over the chamber as stunned onlookers were left staring at a vacant space on the floor. Beads of perspiration glistening on his short upper lip and smooth, rounded forehead, the Prime Minister hurried to stand in front of the steps to the dais.

After bowing low, he addressed King Vailin. “Your Majesty. I deeply regret this incident and offer my most sincere apologies. In the light of the misfortune that has overtaken Minister Venson, and the personal distress of Minister Allyn, I respectfully request that the meeting be adjourned.”

Vailin rested his elbows on the arms of his throne and leaned forward. The smile he gave his Prime Minister had all the warmth of a mid-winter blizzard. “Your apology is under consideration. As to adjourning the meeting, the answer is quite categorically in the negative, despite your obvious eagerness to do so. Ensure that your ministers maintain procedural etiquette for the remainder of the meeting, however long that may be, and rest assured you will be receiving a note from my office in the morning.”

The Prime Minister’s deep chagrin was evident as he made his bow and turned to face the room. “Gentlemen, the meeting will continue. Assemble in your factions if you wish, but please maintain decorum and follow procedure.” To the accompaniment of several low murmurs of approval, the Prime Minister turned once again to face the dais. “We surrender the floor to the Crown.”

He bowed once more and hurried back across to take his seat on the far side of the room. Karryl stepped nimbly up onto the dais and also resumed his seat.

He turned to Symon and put his mouth close to the little magician’s ear. “I thought Venson was dead, but Lady Evalin didn’t seem to think so. Where do you think she’s taken him?”

Symon gave him a sideways glance. “My guess would be the Infirmary, but it’s not really our concern. Now, sit quiet and listen.”

As Symon leaned back in his chair, Vailin nodded to Agmar. The tall elder rose to his feet and stepped to the front of the dais. Up to now he had taken no part in the proceedings although he had obviously been listening to every word. Karryl rested his face on his hand, and thought what a daunting presence the man had. He hadn’t realised until now, how tall Agmar really was, his height further accentuated by the dozens of soft vertical pleats which fell from the yoke of his long silver-grey robe. Just at that moment, Karryl’s drawing was brought to the front of the room. The minister holding it gave a startled yelp. The sheet of paper twitched out of his hand and floated steadily upwards to a point where a surprised Karryl could pluck it out of the air. Agmar hadn’t moved.

It was the turn of those on the dais to be startled when he spoke, his voice resonant with authority and menace. “Too many of you think that your comfortable and ordered lives will always be so. This is no longer true. The impending threat to your city, your people and your king, is far greater than any of you can imagine. It cannot, I repeat cannot be beaten with ordinary weapons.”

A voice shrieked from the back of the room. “Yes it can! That magician Karryl told us that!”

The owner of the voice suddenly found himself with his rear end on the floor. Those around looked down at him with singular disinterest.

Agmar continued unperturbed. “The two creatures which were killed with blades were young ones; juveniles, about one third grown. They were lost and inexperienced. Even so, killing them cost the life of one of His Majesty’s loyal soldiers, and seriously injured Master Symon. The grelfon slain with magic was larger. Even though not full grown, it took all of Karryl’s strength to cast a spell powerful enough to be instrumental in its death.

“Did you think that when these creatures come in force, as they most assuredly will, your puny non-magical efforts would have any effect? These creatures are evil, bred for one thing and one thing only; to kill anything or anybody that offers them resistance. They are in all probability, highly intelligent. Nevertheless, they are devoid of anything resembling conscience.

“Unless your vote allows us to take whatever measures we deem necessary to fight against, and protect the city from these creatures, you are all doomed. Your comfortable lives and fine homes will, most assuredly, all be gone. Few, if any, will survive. Those that may will become slaves to the most unimaginable evil. The choice is yours.”

The tall mage turned and went back to his chair. Seating himself, he folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robe and fixed his steely gaze on the shuffling, muttering ministers.

The floor attendant raised his little flag. “Minister Thios of the Lower Temple has a question.”

There was a little ripple of applause as the Minister stepped forward. As Vailin acknowledged him, Symon casually put his hand over his own mouth to conceal a smile. To the best of his knowledge, Minister Thios was the only adult male in the whole of Vellethen and the surrounding districts who was shorter than he was. Even so, like Symon his short stature was far outweighed by his intellect and integrity. All those present knew that his question would be well considered and pertinent.

His expression was open and guileless as he folded his tiny hands over his ample stomach. “Why, of all the places in the world with seemingly far more to offer, has our dear city of Vellethen been singled out by these vile and godless creatures?”

There was another ripple of applause as Thios returned to his place on the floor. The tension began to mount as Vailin first looked thoughtfully at his ministers then quietly spoke to Agmar, Symon and Karryl in turn. Finally, after a nod from his king, Symon stood and walked slowly to the edge of the dais. Hands folded inside his sleeves, he looked down at the floor for a few moments as if reluctant to impart disturbing news. Not one person moved or spoke while they waited for him to gather his thoughts.

When he did speak, the diminutive magician’s voice was strong and vibrant. “Many scholars and mages have been hard at work of late, trying to answer that very question. We think we have determined most of the answer. It is our belief that the evil masters of the grelfons want something which lies deep below us in the original ancient city. Despite frequent attempts over hundreds of years, no-one has yet determined what that may be or has succeeded in reaching it. We fear they intend to attempt just that.”

A question was flagged up but Symon raised a cautionary hand. “Please, let me continue. At the time of the Battle of Power, a significant astral conjunction occurred. In sixteen months time that same conjunction will occur again, exactly one thousand years later. Before that time comes, the evil ones will try and obtain something we have that they believe they need.”

Without waiting for the attendant, one of the ministers called out to Symon. “Why have they left it so late?”

Symon gave a wry smile. “That’s a good question. The reason why they have waited so long is that they were anticipating the rise of a particular star. That star has now risen; one of flesh and blood. Unfortunately for them, we also have our own risen star, and it is for this reason we are certain that history is shortly to repeat itself.

“We have surmised that their objective will be the complete occupation of this land of Albita and possibly all of Teloria, after they have gained possession of a certain artefact which we now hold. Only after they have achieved this will they be in a position to gain access to the ancient city and retrieve whatever it may be that is so precious to them. Bearing in mind that all this must take place before the astral conjunction, we have very little time in which to prepare ourselves.”

Minister Thios stepped forward again and began to speak, as the attendant scurried across the room and rather waspishly raised his little flag. “Is there any possibility that whatever the ancient city conceals could be discovered and simply handed over? That way, perhaps a great deal of violence and conflict could be avoided.”

Symon turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at King Vailin. The young king rubbed his chin as he thought for a moment, then beckoned to his Prime Minister seated at the side of the room. The chubby man strutted importantly to the front of the dais. Like an overweight puppy eager to please, he stood looking up at Vailin. The king leaned forward and murmured something to him. The portly minister’s reply was an assertive nod. His mouth a narrow line of grim satisfaction, Vailin waved the minister away and gave a brief nod to Symon.