The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (26 page)

Dozo shook out the cloth he had twisted into a tight ball, pushed back his shoulders and set off across the practice area. He didn’t know why he had brought the cloth along, Allowyn had already cleaned his weapons after his devotions so he didn’t need it, but it gave him an excuse to talk to the protector alone. Not that it was a problem; Allowyn always had time to talk to him. He had practiced what he was going to say a dozen times over, but as he came to a halt in front of his master all the good words disappeared and what came out wasn’t what he wanted to say at all.

“Master Allowyn, I would like to thank you for the time you have taken to teach the men how to use a sword and defend themselves.”

Allowyn raised his eyebrows at the formality. “They are doing very well considering that they have only been at it for a seven day, even the girls and the children.”

Dozo blushed at that. It had been Stanner’s idea to teach the women and older children how to defend themselves and he had supported her when some of the men objected. “I’m sorry about that; I know teaching self defence to non-combatants is below the honour of a protector.”

“Nonsense. In this land even the weakest need to know how to defend themselves. I’m just sorry that the knowledge that I have given them will probably be just enough to get them killed when they would be better off running away and hiding. What they need now is someone to help them progress and to teach them a few dirty tricks.”

Having given him an opening Allowyn waited whilst Dozo put his words in order. “That is why I wished to speak to you. The men have asked me to be the camp’s elder and lead them against Vorgret’s corrupt rule, and the women have asked me to teach them and their children how never to be helpless victims ever again.”

“And what have you told them?”

“I’ve told them that I’m bound in service to you as my master and in duty to Lord Callabris.”

Allowyn nodded in understanding. “What does your heart tell you is the right thing to do?”

To stay and make sure that these people never become slaves again and if possible, help others who are at the mercy of King Vorgret’s bullies.”

“And will you wed Stanner and be a father to Trad and Ennett?”

Dozo blushed again. “I will if she will have me.”

Allowyn smiled, sheathed the last of his knives and stood. “In that case, Master Dozo, I release you from your service to me and bind you to your new duties and hopefully to your new family too.”

He put his arm around Dozo’s shoulders and guided him across the practice area towards the front of the mine where he knew Callabris would be waiting, impatient to give his blessing and then to quickly leave to continue with the Goddess’s work. He would miss Dozo, and not just because most of the menial tasks that would once again fall on his shoulders. Conversations with Callabris were rarely easy and never exciting and whilst he loved and honoured his master, having someone to talk to about swordcraft and herb law and what you put in a stew to make it the best you have ever tasted had been a real pleasure. He wondered if either of them would live long enough to enjoy each other’s company again.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Awakenings

He had lost track of time. It could have been a few days that he had crouched there with the bars pressing down on him or it could have been a moon cycle. His cramped muscles and confined joints had stopped screaming for release some time ago and all he felt now was a terrible numbness as if his body had ceased to exist. Even his mind had become numb and the small flame that sustained his life barely flickered in the darkness of his mind. He tried to recall when Rothers had last brought him water, but all he could remember was the man speaking to him, pleading with him to hold on. Now he was slipping away, the smell of his own filth where he had soiled himself and the weeping sores on his skin beneath the robe meaningless.

They had starved and beaten him and destroyed his body and now there was nothing left they could do to him. The Goddess had been wrong. She had promised to be there with him in his darkest time, when all that he used to be had gone, but there was no light and no salvation, just eternal darkness. He took a shallow breath and slowly extinguished the last glimmer of light in his mind.

Then he heard it, the noise which had been absent since his return to the cage; the scratch-scratch of sharp claws and the rustle of naked tails drawn over the ground beneath him. Perhaps there were things they could still do to him. In his final moments the gnawers had returned. Even now he could feel the tug on the ropes which hung from his cage and could hear their excited squeaks as they climbed towards him, eager to reach their next meal of his rotting flesh. He was certain that the robe’s magic had gone, faded to nothing as his life flame died. In moments they would be on him, their sharp claws tearing at his flesh and their long teeth gnawing into him, violating him even before his spirit had passed on.

It was no way for a man to die and he wouldn’t stand for this last ignominy. He gathered what breath he had left and closed every part of his mind down, focusing on the tiny spark that was all that was left of his consciousness, and cursed the Goddess to the deepest halls of hellden for abandoning him. His mind exploded into a brilliant flash of light and for an instant he felt as if the sun had burst from within him.

Slowly the light subsided until the small, steady flame once again burned in his mind. He pulled in as much air as his cramped lungs would allow and with it the smell of singed hair and burnt flesh. There was silence around him and he knew for certain that the gnawers had gone, totally destroyed by his blast of power.

He didn’t know what had happened or where the power had come from only that his life had been at an end and now he was alive again. However, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He was still a prisoner and still held in this cage with his joints locked and his body rotting. Now, if he had Plantagenet’s old sword he could hold it to the door of his cage and the door would open for him. He laughed, slightly hysterically, to himself at the ludicrous thought; you needed hands to hold a sword, not burnt stumps. He tried to push the blackened things away from his body and gave a yelp of surprise as they pushed the door open and he tumbled out onto the floor.

It wasn’t far to fall but the sudden impact took the air from his lungs and the shock of being free pushed every other thought from his mind. He felt like a child being let out of lessons early and then not knowing what to do with the free time. As his thoughts came back into some sort of order he cursed himself for a fool; all the time he had been held a prisoner in the cage the door had been unlocked and all he had to do was push the door open and step out. Now he was free he needed to do something, but his body wasn’t responding well and despite his efforts he was unable to find the strength to unlock his joints or stretch his muscles. He desperately needed help or this one opportunity would be lost.

It was the girl who found him. She stood over him and scowled down and he knew that he was helpless to protect himself from whatever she wanted to do to him. He expected her to kick him or stamp on his exposed arms or even cut him with the knife she kept concealed in the tattered cloth around her waist that barely reached the tops of her thighs, but she didn’t. Instead she just stared at him, her pale green eyes never leaving his. She looked even worse than the last time he had seen her, dirtier and more ragged and with more bruises around her neck and arms.

Jonderill’s lips were cracked and his throat was parched but he needed to break the silence so he took a ragged breath and croaked out an explanation. “Door not locked, fell out.”

The girl shook her head in denial and continued to stare down at him as if she were in a trance or trying to remember something from long ago. She didn’t even move when Rothers came up beside her and gave a cry of surprise at seeing Jonderill on the floor. He knelt down and put his hand on Jonderill’s arm, almost as if he were checking to see if he was real.

Jonderill tried again. “Door not locked, fell out.”

Again the girl shook her head. “No. I felt your power and heard your call for help.”

Rothers looked blankly at the girl and then back at Jonderill and hesitantly moved closer to him so that he could whisper in his ear. “Lord, I don’t know what’s happening here but this is the chance we’ve been waiting for. Come; let’s get you on your feet.” He took hold of Jonderill’s shoulders and tried to pull him upright but stopped when Jonderill cried out with the pain. Rothers looked desperate. “Please, Lord, please try.”

He put both arms beneath Jonderill’s shoulders and tried to heave him upwards but Jonderill shouted for him to stop as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. Rothers looked desperately at the girl who hadn’t moved. “Please help him.”

Nyte hesitated for a moment and then nodded. She placed her cool hand on Jonderill’s arm and instantly the pain left him. He sighed with relief and allowed the two of them to raise him into a sitting position and then onto his feet. They helped him to one of the low tables and eased him down onto a pile of cushions, the girl never once taking her hand from his arm or her eyes from his. Rothers scurried around and found some water and a flask of wine and mixed them together in a gem-encrusted silver goblet and gave it to the girl to hold whilst Jonderill slowly drank the contents and he hurried away to search for food.

When he returned he held a small, stale loaf and a clay pot of red paste. He tore off a small piece of the bread, dipped it into the paste and held it out for Jonderill to eat. It was the first food that Jonderill had eaten since the day he had been taken prisoner and it was as much as he could do not to swallow the lumps of bread whole. Instead he chewed it slowly feeling the hot, spicy paste warm his mouth and throat and relieve his desperate hunger. He was about half way through the loaf when the girl looked up in alarm.

“He comes!”

She gave Rothers a warning look and removed her hand from Jonderill’s arm. Instantly the pain in his limbs returned joined with a new pain as his stomach cramped around the spicy food. He doubled over, retched and rolled onto the floor as Rothers removed his supporting hand. Frantically Rothers tried to hide the scraps of bread and the silver goblet beneath the cushions before bowing his head to the floor. Two guards pulled back the door coverings and Tallison strode into the pavilion shouting angrily at the two brotherlords who followed closely behind, accompanied by Tallison’s personal guards. He stopped suddenly at the scene before him but before his anger could explode Nyte stepped forward, her hands on her hips and outrage on her face.

“You fool, Tallison, you forgot to lock his cage! If it hadn’t been for me the magician would have escaped. As it is I have punished him for his audacity.” She kicked Jonderill in the back making him groan.

“What about him?” questioned Tallison, pointing at the bowed figure on the floor by the magician’s side. “What did he have to do with this?

“Nothing, but I will punish him too for being here.” She kicked Rothers in the side making him yelp.

Tallison still looked suspiciously at the three of them but then turned his attention back to the two brotherlords who stood to attention behind him. “It would seem that the magician has more life left in him than I thought, so we will postpone his final encounter with my people until another time. When that time comes I don’t want to hear any more arguments from you about not giving him to the mob. It’s the end I have promised him and them. Now do something useful and put him back into his cage.”

The two brotherlords obeyed, dragging him across the floor by his arms and ignoring his groans. Oraman lowered the cage whilst Tozaman pushed Jonderill inside, wrapping the robe around him for protection and trying to cause him the least pain he could whilst trying to look as if he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, magician,” he whispered. “If I could prevent this I would.”

Jonderill screamed as Tozaman pressed his knees tighter against his chest and not all of it was pretence. He gasped and caught enough breath to speak. “You are no freer to do as you wish than I am, friend.” He screamed again as Tozaman pushed on his arms and closed the door shut. “Tozaman, the girl, talk to her.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated all his thoughts on staying conscious. When he opened them again the brotherlords had gone and Tallison stood in front of his cage, a look of malicious joy on his face. He reached inside his tunic and pulled out a key on the long chain which he wore around his neck. With deliberate movements he placed it in the lock and turned it until the locking bar fell into place. Tallison laughed and placed the key back inside his tunic.

“Now you are mine again, Callistares, and the next time you leave that cage will be when I’m ready to give you to my people to tear you limb from limb. But that is not yet, Talis has still to enjoy your pain to the full.” He reached back and grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her forward. “You did well, Nyte, to recapture the magician. Perhaps I should reward you and let you use the knife that you think to keep hidden from me on him.”

His hand shot out and ripped the cloth off from around her waist letting the knife she had hidden there clatter to the floor. He waited until the cloth had followed and then pulled her half naked body closer to him. “On the other hand you criticised me in front of others and that deserves a different kind of reward.” He reached out and pulled away the binding which covered her breasts, leering at her and licking his lips. “Unfortunately I’m busy but these two will enjoy rewarding you.” 

Tallison pushed the girl back to where two of his guards waited, grinning in anticipation. One grabbed her arms and the other her legs and they disappeared from Jonderill’s sight.

“Think yourself fortunate, Callistares; if it wasn’t for their fear of your magic I would give you to them as well. Just ask the slave, he will tell you that they are not fussy who they whore.”