The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (25 page)

Stanner wasn’t sure which was more shocking; having a dead man sprawled across her naked body or seeing her young daughter with a knife in her hand looking pleased that she had just killed a man. She tried to move the dead man off her but she was shaking too much. “Can you get him off me?”

Ennett nodded, sheathed her knife and pulled the man off her mother. She rolled him onto the floor giving her mother enough time to wrap the blanket around herself before she looked back. “Are you all right?”

It was a daft question really. Of course she wasn’t all right but she nodded anyway. “When did you learn to kill a man?”

“Dozo taught me, said I needed to learn ‘ow to defend myself.” She looked anxiously at the door. “I think we ‘ad better go. I left Trad on guard and ‘e will be worried about us.”

Stanner pulled her blouse over her head and stared at her daughter in disbelief. Things were going from bad to worse. “You brought your little brother here with you? What were you thinking?”

“Trad’s not that little and anyway we ‘ad to come, we couldn’t let the magician come ‘ere by ‘imself, could we?”

“Callabris is here?”

Ennett nodded. “That’s ‘ow we got passed the guards.”

“Thank the Goddess, we might still be in time to help them.”

Dozo walked into the mine trying to look as if he had a reason to be there and hurried after the two guards. A light would have been helpful but he decided not to pick up one of the spare lanterns; there was no point in alerting the guards who were ahead of him that they were being followed. He passed the low cage where the slaves were trudging around in a circle pushing at their poles and noted that Pedron was amongst them; at least he was safe for the moment. The guard who watched the slaves and kept them moving by a flick of his whip nodded at Dozo as he passed and Dozo nodded back hoping that the guard didn’t think it was odd for him to be going into the mine without a light. That was a decision he started to regret as soon as the guards in front of him turned a corner and their dim light disappeared plunging him into darkness.

He stopped instantly, the total darkness wrapping around him like a blanket. In his mind he had a picture of his next half dozen steps but beyond that he would have no idea where he was going. The tunnel could be straight but for all he knew there could be other tunnels leading off the main one so that he would become lost and eventually die of thirst. Even worse there could be vertical shafts hidden in the darkness which dropped down to lower levels. The thought of dropping down a deep hole and lying helpless at the bottom with a broken back made him shudder. For a moment he thought of turning back and then the practical side of his nature took over and instead of peering into the darkness he closed his eyes and listened.

The mine was full of noises, most of them quiet, almost whispers but others were louder and more constant. Somewhere, close to his right foot, something creaked and groaned and he realised it must be the taut rope which pulled the ore carts from the mine. He listened harder and thought he could hear the crunch of wheels on loose rock and knew that if he followed those sounds he would eventually come to the place where the slaves worked. There were other sounds too; a constant knocking like a long-billed wood tapper on a dead tree and a quiet sighing which could have been made by the air in the tunnel, or by the slaves forced to work with no hope of reprieve. He listened for the sounds of voices but there were none.

Dozo set off again keeping the winch rope to his right and staring into the darkness searching for the first glimmer of light. He stopped once when he thought he heard footsteps and a scuffle but by the time he’d stilled his own noise the other sounds had gone. Once again he set off, testing every footfall before committing his weight and staring into the blackness until his eyes hurt and his thoughts were all about light. When the light came it was so sudden that he was stunned and dazzled at the same time. He thought that he’d heard a muffled cry of warning but before he could react two lanterns lit up the tunnel blinding him with their light. Instinctively he went for his sword but strong hands already had hold of his arms and when a cold knife touched his throat he gave up the struggle.

It took him a few moments to blink the tears from his stinging eyes and focus them in the bright light. He’d found Allowyn all right, both arms spread and manacled to the wall and both legs held in clamps. By the look of the stains on the wall, foot removal was not an uncommon practice. Even having been beaten and with his mouth gagged Allowyn still managed to look dangerous although to Dozo the situation appeared to be as grim as any he had ever seen. There were four guards, all heavily armed, and just the two of them; Allowyn chained to a wall and, within moments, him chained to a ring in the floor.

Two of the guards left and Dozo tried to catch Allowyn’s eye but the protector seemed to be concentrating on something else, perhaps building his courage for what was to come. When the guards returned they brought a dozen or so prisoners with them and chained them to the rings fastened to the floor. Dozo thought they must be fairly new to slavery as they still had a look of defiance about them. He guessed they were the audience, here to learn what happened to those who tried to escape.

The senior of the four guards, the wiry one with rotting teeth, stepped forwards with the axe in his hand and swept his eyes over the slaves until he had their attention. “It’s funny, every slave who comes ‘ere thinks ‘e’s only goin’ ter be ‘ere a few days an’ then someone is goin’ ter come an’ rescue ‘im. Well you’re the lucky ones. This one ‘ere,” he pointed to Allowyn with his axe. “’E’s come ter rescue yer only ‘e’s got ‘imself caught. Now I’m goin’ ter shows yer what ‘appens to the likes of ‘im so yer know that there aint no rescue an’ no escape. ‘E loses one foot fer commin’ ‘ere fer yer and t’other fer tryin’ ter escape and when I’ve done ‘im I’m goin’ ter do the same fer ‘is friend ‘ere.” He poked Dozo with the toe of his boot. “An’ as a special treat I’m goin’ ter take ‘is gag off so yer can ‘ear ‘im scream an’ know what it’s like ter ‘ave yer feet cut off.”

He nodded to the guard who removed Allowyn’s gag whilst he stepped into position with the axe held firmly in two hands. Dozo looked Allowyn in the eye and held him there whilst he prayed to the Goddess to give his friend strength.

Callabris walked to the entrance of the mine and stopped, every nerve, muscle and sinew screaming at him to turn back away from the darkness and the weight of the stone. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the darkness; he’d been in dark places before, even into his father’s tomb and nowhere could be as black as that. Neither was he afraid of enclosed spaces, although he tried to avoid them if he could. Unfortunately the combination of the two plus the weight of the stone pressing from all around completely unmanned him and as much as he wanted to go forward his feet would just not move.

He knew he wasn’t alone in feeling like this; all magicians feared being underground to some extent. In days past the Enclave had used it as a punishment for those who misused their magic, a terrible punishment which could sap a magician’s power and send him mad. It hadn’t been used as a punishment for a long time, his father had seen to that, but the fear was still there, ingrained within his kind whether they wore the black or the white or even the crimson for that matter. He had always hidden his fear from Allowyn. It did no good for a protector to know that their master was afraid of the dark, and Allowyn had always managed to complete those tasks which required him to go underground without his aid. He was certain that this occasion would be no exception.

There was another problem too; magic didn’t work well underground. Sometimes spells would rebound off the stone walls becoming stronger and causing massive devastation or sometimes they would bounce straight back at the caster in a vicious backlash. He had even heard of spells which had completely changed their nature resulting in unexpected consequences. Worst of all were the spells which were cast deep underground where the stone not only absorbed the power of the spell but sucked the caster dry until there was nothing left. It was a dangerous thing to use magic underground, and in any case it would be a waste of his time and energy; Allowyn had always been able to get himself out of difficult situations without his help.

Callabris took a step back and Stanner put a gentle hand on his arm. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Only Allowyn is a protector and he is trained to deal with situations like this. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him by offering my help when it wasn’t needed.”

Stanner looked at Callabris questioningly. Her father had taught her that you never questioned a magician because they are all powerful and know everything, but this didn’t seem right at all. “The squad leader had Master Allowyn’s knife and said something about his men teaching him a lesson. Don’t you think you should at least see if he needs our help?”

“No, my dear. Allowyn knows how to deal with these things, he will be fine.”

“Well Dozo aint no trained protector and I’m not going to just let ‘im die because you’re too much of a coward to go into the mine and ‘elp ‘im!” Ennett drew her knife and ran into the mine’s entrance.

“Me neither,” said Trad, waving the sword he’d taken from one of the guards Callabris had spelled and running after his sister.

Stanner was horrified. Where had her children learnt to be so rude, not to mention brave enough, to tell a magician he was a coward? But of course they were right. “I’m sorry, Callabris, for my children’s rudeness but I agree with them. We cannot just leave Allowyn and Dozo in there without trying to help them.”

She marched into the mine stopping only to pick up a lantern before disappearing into the darkness. Callabris watched them go; an angry woman and two ill mannered children who knew nothing about Allowyn and Dozo. He turned away, intending to sit and wait for them all to return, and stopped dead as an image of Allowyn’s battered face and desperate eyes flashed through his mind. Stanner was right, they did need help and Allowyn’s life was worth more than his fear of being underground. He turned back to the mine’s entrance and hurried inside, lighting up the darkness with a small ball of elemental fire.

He was nearly too late. Trad was already on his knees clutching his bleeding arm and Stanner was pressed against the wall trying to protect Ennett from the advancing guard who had a sword in one hand and a whip in the other. With the two women so close he dare not use his magic so he picked up a flat stone, bashed the guard over the head with it and prayed that the backlash wouldn’t be too bad. The guard went down without making a sound whilst Callabris clutched at his head as thunder and lightning flashed through it. He was still clutching his head when Stanner and Ennett grabbed an arm each and pulled him along the tunnel at a run, balls of elemental light dancing crazily ahead of them.

As he turned the corner of the tunnel the only thing he saw was the axe head, its blade reflecting the elemental light as it descended in a wide arc. Callabris had no time to think of the consequences as the spell exploded from him, impacting with the axe head and vaporising it into a fine mist. With a cry of alarm the guard who had been swinging the axe dropped the shaft and tripped over backwards as his belt and his breeches dropped around his ankles and every bit of metal he wore disappeared.

The spell raced onwards seeking out metal and drawing it in as it grew in strength. The manacles and clamps which held Allowyn in place disintegrated, dropping him to the stone floor whilst around him the chains which held Dozo and the other prisoners in place ceased to exist. Guards grabbed for their swords which were no longer there and before they could do anything else the prisoners were onto them.

Free from Callabris’s control the spell raced down the mine releasing the slaves as it went and only pausing once to turn the wheels of the ore wagons to vapour. Callabris, still clutching his head, sent elemental light after it so that the freed slaves could find their way out. They came in a flood, blinking in the light that many had not seen for moon cycles with the strongest helping those who were too weak to stand or the few who were missing a foot. Dozo helped Allowyn to stand and then, as if someone had shouted an order, everyone froze and listened. There was a new sound in the tunnel; an ominous creaking and groaning in the distance but coming closer as the props and shoring which held the tunnel up began to slip.

“Oh shit!” muttered Dozo under his breath as he realised what was happening. “The nails have gone! Run!”

*

Afterwards Allowyn had no idea how they had managed to get out of the mine in one piece before it collapsed with a thunderous roar and a belch of dust and rubble from the mine’s mouth. The guards were the only ones who didn’t make it; they were too badly beaten to stand and nobody felt inclined to help them. Outside the other guards were dead too, most of them nastily before he had the chance to protect them from the slaves’ revenge, but the last two he had killed cleanly by his own sword. They had originally planned to bury the bodies away from the mine so that they wouldn’t be found but in the end it had been decided to strip what they could from the mine and leave the bodies there as a warning.

He didn’t agree with the strategy but he couldn’t blame them; the villagers’ anger at the way their lives had been torn apart needed an outlet and in any case, the stores and supplies from the mine would keep their camp going for several moon cycles. In addition, if they were careful, the silver they had found would keep them going long after the supplies had run out. It had taken them a seven day to shift everything in the two carts they had found, a time of joy for the few who were reunited with loved ones and a time of sorrow for the rest. He had spent that time recovering from his beating, getting Callabris to promise he would never go underground again and watching Dozo and Stanner working together.

That had been a real pleasure. He had known Dozo for a long time, but he’d never seen the quiet, efficient armsman so happy. It wasn’t just Stanner’s presence that was the cause, it was as if he had at last found his place in the land. He knew how good that felt; it was the way he felt about being Callabris’s protector. Now he sat sharpening his weapons in preparation for their departure and watching Dozo standing hesitantly at the edge of the practice area twisting the cloth he held as if he was wringing the neck of a clucker. He knew what Dozo was going to ask him and had already discussed it with his master. They could have given it to Dozo without him having to ask, but Dozo needed to take it for himself if it was going to have lasting value.