Mage
By Heck
Chapter seven


Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

IT WAS LATE afternoon when the three travellers passed through the cleavage
between two rounded mounts, to emerge in a deep, bowl shaped valley surrounded
by nine smooth-sided, sheep-cropped hills. Clean white clouds scudded across
the bright sky, mirrored by the white sheep grazing the hillsides beneath.

The hills were nearly high enough to qualify as mountains and, even this late
in the year, the highest was still capped with snow. The path was bordered by
regiments of bracken and flanked by thorny broom and gorse bushes, while tall
thistles waved their whiskery heads above the green sward. Between two of the
hills, the sparkling glisten of the sea could just be seen.

At the bottom of the valley, like a baby bird nestling in a protective palm,
was the city. From this distance, it looked like a random collection of
children's multicoloured building blocks carelessly discarded on a green
carpet. It was unwalled, and was dominated by a larger block at the centre,
which Brenhya took to be the royal palace.

Gurghan had never seen a city before. At least, not one that he was not
trying, as part of a marauding horde, to raze to the ground.

Brenhya had only once visited a city, and that a dark, foreboding place, high
walled and filthy. So she was unprepared for the bright, welcoming appearance
of this one.

Oudreya had hunted these hills on occasion, and taken the odd sheep. She had
never actually been inside the conurbation, but had studied it from afar,
fascinated by the comings and goings, and was curious.

In the daylight, the were-tiger was a striking woman, Brenhya thought. She was
blessed with great facial beauty, her regular features forming angular planes
with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, and her blonde hair, with its
fascinating dark stripes, gave her an exotic look. She was tall, just an inch
or so under six feet, and was lithe and athletic, muscular and strong. Not in
Brenhya's league, but the warrior reckoned she was well above average in those
departments. Barefoot, and wearing a plain, homespun shift, she moved with a
fluid, feline grace.

But it was her eyes, with their vertically slitted pupils, bright amber
irises, and high arching brows that were, Brenhya considered, her most
remarkable feature. Filled with animal ferocity, those eyes could stare
unblinking, with an uncanny intensity, or gaze off into the distance,
unfocussed and empty, with the relaxed calmness of a fireside tabby.

"Tha's a big city", Gurghan observed. "Gurghan doesn't like the looks of it.
Place like that, man could loose hiss self".

"I'm no expert", Brenhya admitted. "But it seems to me that a city is nothing
more than a collection of villages, all piled up together".

Tiny flutterings in her belly told Oudreya that she was feeling nervous. Since
puberty, when what she thought of as her 'condition' came upon her, she had
spent her life avoiding contact with people, keeping strictly to her familiar
hills and crags. And here she was, about to enter a sizeable city, teeming
with the very beings she had shunned for all these years. The two people that
had brought her here had treated her kindly, the opposite to the reaction she
had expected. After their first day together, although she was still bound at
night, as much for her peace of mind as for the safety of her companions, they
had removed the rope tether and allowed her to walk alongside their horses.
Brenhya had even offered to let her ride behind her on Makaar, but although
the mare had been willing to accept the presence of what may look like a
woman, but smelled like a predator, walking where she could see her, she had
drawn the line at allowing physical contact. The magnificent horse had laid
back her ears and lunged with her teeth when the attempt was made.

Brenhya and Gurghan made sure that Oudreya never became hungry, so the hunting
urge, and thus the change, had not come upon her. Brenhya had spoken to her as
an equal, and there had been some friendly exchanges between the two from time
to time. Gurghan had remained wary, but had not scorned or mistreated her in
any way.

"There aren't any guards that I know of", Oudreya informed the others. "People
just seem to come and go as they please".

"Hmm. A lot different from the last city I visited", Brenhya said. "That was
surrounded by walls, with guards at every gate. Horrible, miserable place".

Gurghan grunted noncommittally. "I never visited a city, myself. Leastwise,
not one that woss not under siege at the time. From here, the houses look too
close together. Too crowded. A man needs space to breathe".

Brenhya laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You'll be OK", she grinned.
"Come on. We can get there before dark".

***********************************************

King Pabloth strode up and down impatiently. He was a tall, rangy man, close
to six and a half feet, with longish black hair, hawkishly handsome features,
and a swarthy complexion. His long legs were encased in tight red trousers
tucked into high black leather boots, topped off by a dark green shirt with
puffed sleeves. Around his head, he wore a gold circlet studded with a single
emerald.

But for all his foppish finery, he did not look comfortable in his clothes. He
lived in comfortable opulence but had the air of a man of action, and being
tied down by affairs of state in the palace did not sit well with him. He had
been king for almost eighteen months, now, since the death of his father after
a long illness, but had lived the life of an adventurer previously, and was
dismayed to find how sorely he missed it.

The royal bedchamber was richly furnished with heavy, exquisitely carved
pieces and a monstrous canopied bed. Plush tapestries hung on the polished
wood panelled walls, with heraldic banners hanging in the high, vaulted
ceiling.

Chewing worriedly at a ragged nail, a short, middle aged, thick waisted man
stood near the arched door. He was dressed in intricately patterned robes,
which he held tightly about him, and a close fitting knitted cap with ear
flaps tied under his chin.

"I know that, as your Chamberlain, it is my job to tell you such things", he
said. "But even so, I regret to be the bearer of such tidings, Sire".

Pabloth waved a hand dismissively. "Not your fault, Wallaw. You're only the
messenger. I can hardly believe it, though. I thought we'd taken all
precautions". He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Tell me again what
happened".

Wallaw shifted his feet uncomfortably. "The warriors were just ...gone. The
women took their breakfasts to the barracks, as usual, and they just
...weren't there". He spread his hands. "Gone in the night".

"I never did trust mercenaries", the King snorted. "I suppose they'd all fifty
deserted?"

"I don't know, Sire. The women said it was if they'd never been there".

"One damn thing after another". Pabloth let a deep sigh escape his lungs. "And
what was it you were saying about the other fellow".

"A giant, the women said. One of them thought he might be an ogre. Said he had
pointed teeth. They tried to run away, but he got between them and the door".

The King got up and started pacing again. "But he never harmed them, you say?"

"Apparently not, Sire. He just told them to leave all the food. He was feeling
peckish, it seems. And he gave them a message for you, Sire".

"Oh?" Pabloth stopped pacing, and turned to face the Chamberlain. "You didn't
mention that earlier. What was it?"

"He said, 'Tell young Pabloth I'm looking forward to meeting his champion'."

***************************************************

Anusol the country was tiny. It was good sheep country, and was largely
pastoral, but did not extend much beyond the circle of nine hills and the
short coastline.

Anusol the city, by contrast, was almost a sprawling metropolis. There were no
walls, good protection being afforded by the surrounding hills, and as a
result the clean but busy streets had encroached far beyond the natural city
limits.

Brenhya and Gurghan led the horses through the broad streets. Oudreya walked
between, plainly nervous and trying to use the horses as shields from the
curious stares of the populace. The construction of the buildings was all
along the same lines. Single storied, with low wattle and daub walls and steep
thatched roofs, with doors in the gable ends, the only variation was in size.
Some were obviously one roomed dwellings, while others were more lavish, but
all were colourfully and tastefully decorated with geometric designs. Those on
the outer fringes appeared to be housing, while the commercial and trade
emporia were congregated nearer the middle, and at the geometric centre was a
complex of civic buildings surrounding the palace.

Brenhya ducked her head to peer under Makaar's arching neck. "You OK?", she
asked Oudreya. "Not hungry, or anything?"

"No". The tiger-woman gave a small smile, showing long, sharp teeth. "But I've
never been among so many people before. It's a bit unsettling".

"Humph!" The male member of the party scowled his disapproval. "Gurghan knows
what you mean. Not natural, so many people in one place".

Brenhya purchased a rosy apple from a street vendor, and took a huge bite with
her strong teeth. The juices filled her mouth with an explosion of sweetness.
She took a moment to look about her, and was not surprised to find many eyes,
mainly male, on her. She was used to that, by now, and took little note. The
sight of a tall, muscular warrior woman was sufficiently unusual to draw
curious glances, and one of such stunning beauty was even rarer still.
However, she was gratified to find that, on this occasion, nearly as many eyes
were fixed on Oudreya.

"Here, Oudreya", she said, tossing the remaining half of the fruit. "Finish
this apple. Don't want you getting hungry, eh?"

Gurghan said, "Gurghan thinks the palace is this way".

"The road seems to lead to the centre of town", Brenhya agreed. "Lead on".

It was no more than ten minutes walk. The palace was built following the
pattern set by all the other buildings, the steep pitch of its roof slanting
close to the ground. The gable end, with its tall doors, was decorated with
runes and murals depicting heroic scenes.

There were no guards, and the three stepped uninvited between the doors. They
found themselves in a great hall, the high vaulted roof supported by massive
wooden pillars with branching cross-members, each one expertly carved with
simple designs, indicative of great age. A square, stone hearth squatted in
the centre of the room, filled with cold, grey ashes, directly beneath a hole
cut in the roof, through which smoke could escape. Straddling the hearth, a
big iron spit, stained with decades of grease, stood idle.

The room was lit by scores of ensconced candles, and down each side two
trestle tables extended almost the full length. Behind each stood a row of
chairs, their backs embroidered with coats of arms, with corresponding banners
hanging from the rafters above. And at the far end, on a raised dais, a heavy,
ornately carved table stood before a huge throne, flanked by two smaller
chairs.

Bustling among the furniture, a small, busy man was checking items off a list.
Brenhya cleared her throat loudly, and the man jumped as if stung.

"Oh!", he spluttered. "Excuse me. Didn't hear you come in. May I help you?"

"I'm Brenhya", the warrior announced. "These are my friends". Oudreya smiled
to herself as Brenhya included her in the term. "We've come to see King
Pabloth. And you are?"

"I am Wallaw, Lord Chamberlain to His Majesty King Pabloth III. I'm afraid His
Highness is a very busy man ..."

"He will see us", Brenhya interrupted. "He sent for us".

"Beg Pardon?", Wallaw asked. "Who did you say you were, again?"

Brenhya sighed. "My name is Brenhya. I'm the Equerry to the Sisters of
Themyra. The king sent for me, so I imagine he's expecting me".

"Themyra? Oh, Themyra! Yes, yes, of course". The little man was all smiles,
now. "Wait here, please. Make yourselves comfortable. I will inform His
Majesty of your arrival".

**********************************************

Pabloth stomped across the quadrangle to the barracks. He was angry, and
determined to find out all about this 'giant' that had apparently scared off
his warriors. However, he was not stupid, and when he reached the dormitory he
pushed open the door tentatively and stepped carefully into the low, bare room
lined by sturdy cots.

Pabloth was ready for any attack. His sword was in his hand, and he was tensed
to repel any assault. But he was not prepared for what met his gaze.

Sitting at the plain wooden table, occupying two chairs to accommodate his
bulk, an unfeasibly large man was finishing the last of a tray full of
breakfast plates. Other trays were carelessly discarded about him. Just one of
his massive legs was nearly as large as the king himself, and even sitting,
his shaven, top-knotted head nearly scraped the ceiling.

Everything about the man was simply big. Enormous shoulders, huge head,
gigantic arms, gargantuan pot belly. He was dressed in undyed leather pants
and a fleecy gilet that must have taken the hides from half a dozen sheep. A
sword that was almost as tall as Pabloth rested against his humungous thigh,
and his thick fingers played idly with a braided leather thong tied tightly
about his arm just above his huge biceps.

"You will be King Pabloth", the giant boomed. It was not a question. "I am
called Yan Chou. Where is your champion?"

Pabloth was careful not to let any expression cross his face. All the same, he
could not help feeling a flutter of anxiety, and his mouth went dry as he
beheld this behemoth. "I have no champion". His voice was steady and betrayed
no fear. "What are you doing here?"

The giant grinned evilly, showing a double row of sharp, pointed teeth. "I
have come to challenge your champion. That is all you need to know. Bring him
forth".

The king looked Yan Chou straight in the eye defiantly. "Like I said, I have
no champion. If you need to challenge someone, it'll have to be me".

The huge man exploded with laughter, slapping an enormous hand against his
meaty thigh. "Pardon me, Your Majesty". His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm
sure you are a mighty warrior. But I am not here to challenge you". He leaned
forward and raised his voice to a deafening roar. "Bring me your champion! Or
go and choose one!" He waved a dismissive hand. "Out!"

Pabloth raised his sword and took half a step forward. But the sword was the
royal ceremonial blade, a slender, delicate piece used mostly for bestowing
honours, and would be as much use against the giant as a toothpick.
Frustrated, he stormed out and returned to the palace with a face like
thunder, slamming the door to his private quarters furiously.

Cursing and swearing under his breath, he kicked futilely at a chair as he
stamped across the room to hurl open the door opposite. Wallaw stood in the
frame, pudgy fist raised as if about to knock.

"Ah!". The little man knew a brief moment of fright as his liege glowered down
at him. "I was just coming to find you. Your Majesty has visitors. Brenhya,
the Equerry of Themyra, and two friends".

"Brenhya?". The king's face brightened visibly and his anger vanished. He
hastily checked himself in a mirror, straightening his shirt. "She came!
Announce me. Get on, man! Quickly!"

*************************************************

The Great Hall was a fascinating place. Gurghan wandered about, hands clasped
behind his back as he scrutinised the fine tapestries and the workmanship of
the artisans that had built the High Table. By contrast, Oudreya stood close
to Brenhya, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Standing lightly on the balls of her feet, eyes focussed on a point in
infinity, Brenhya exercised a warrior's patience. A placid expression had
settled on her beautiful face, and she looked poised but totally relaxed with
her large hands resting on the pommel of her big broadsword.

Bustling through a door and around the big table, Wallaw appeared with a
suddenness that was almost amusing. He drew himself up and proclaimed loudly
in his tenor voice.

"All attend upon His Serene and Gracious Majesty King Pabloth the Third of
Anusol!"

Gurghan came to stand next to his companions, and all three faced the door
respectfully. Ducking his head slightly to pass under the lintel, Pabloth
entered and stepped on to the dais to sit on the big throne. His movements
were fluid and, even sitting in his royal splendour, managed to look rakish
and slightly wild.

Brenhya felt a catch in her throat, and her belly did a little flip as she saw
the man. Pabloth had a wicked gleam in his eye, and the corner of his mouth
lifted in a half-grin. The air between them all but crackled as their eyes met
and held each other.

"Your Majesty", Wallaw continued. "This is Brenhya, Equerry to the Sisters of
Themyra, and ...er ...friends".

The king nodded. "Thank you, Lord Chamberlain. I knew that". Brenhya thought
she caught a brief wink as he spoke.

"Your ...er ...Majesty", she said. "My Sisters send their compliments, in the
hope we can be of service". She inclined her head respectfully, though there
was nothing subservient in the gesture.

"Your timing is impeccable. The latest problem has just become apparent. In
fact, I was addressing it as you arrived". He went on to explain about Yan
Chou.

"You better take us to him, then". Brenhya's tone of voice was relaxed, but
there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she had taken charge of the
situation, and had just given the king an instruction. Wallaw looked outraged,
but a glance from Pabloth silenced him before he could even open his mouth.
Leaving the chamberlain to his own devices, the three followed the king to the
barracks. As they approached, Brenhya stepped in front and raised a staying
hand.

"Let me go in alone", she said. "If we go in together, we might provoke him
and he may attack before we're ready". What she did not say was that she was
anxious to avoid injury to both her friends and, more importantly, the king.

Pabloth looked as if he might argue, but Gurghan stood in front of him and
glared. He got the message. Brenhya's sword was still sheathed as she gripped
the handle and opened the door casually.

Yan Chou was still sitting on his two chairs, and frowned as the woman
entered. Brenhya had never seen a human this big, but if she was daunted by
the sight she did not let it show.

"Who are you?", the giant demanded.

"I am Brenhya. Can we talk?"

"Talk? I am not here to talk! Where is the king's champion?"

"Well, I guess that'd be me. But I'd rather talk. There's .."

"The king's champion? You? Where were you before, when I demanded your
presence?"

"I've been ...away. I just got back. But we don't have to fight. If you are
the one that's been causing all the problems hereabouts, we can discuss ..."

"I know nothing of any problems", he butted in. The corner of Brenhya's mouth
lifted sardonically. One thing with which she had no patience was being
interrupted. She placed her hands on her waist and cocked a hip.

"Then what do you want?"

"I have only one need. To challenge the king's champion. If that is you, there
is no more to say". Yan Chou heaved himself out of his chairs, bending low to
avoid the ceiling. "Outside".

Brenhya stepped out, gesturing urgently for her friends to get out of the way.
Yan Chou exited by the simple expedient of battering down the entire gable as
if it were built from paper. As he emerged from the cloud of dust, Brenhya had
to wonder how he had gotten into the barracks in the first place. She ducked
as the giant's huge sword swung ponderously at her head.

Brenhya's broadsword cleared the scabbard in one easy action. It was a big,
heavy weapon, almost five feet long, and serrated along half the length of the
upper edge, and was a tool for slashing and hacking rather than the finesse of
fencing. Most persons would have used it two-handed, but Brenhya could spin it
around and wield it with a single hand as if it weighed nothing. Next to the
massive blade that Yan Chou swung, however, it looked like a fruit knife. She
braced herself to meet his attack.

With a savage bellow, Yan Chou charged at the warrior. But before he reached
her, a sound like being inside a thunderclap split the air and, before three
pairs of amazed eyes, the two combatants vanished from the scene.

*****************************************

Lon's feet and calves were turning numb from crouching so long, his ear
pressed against the cold, hard wall. He shifted carefully, redistributing his
weight, easing the pins and needles, but he was unable to tear himself away.
His eyes started from his head and his mouth hung open as he listened to the
terrible sounds beyond.

He could no longer distinguish what the voice was actually saying. It had
merged with another, becoming a gravelly, hollow sound full of growls and
guttural utterings; a sound that seemed to well up from the deepest of the
Nine Hells. Lon knew real, gut wrenching fear as he listened, but was consumed
with fascination that would not allow him to retreat.

He shifted his feet again, raising a little cloud of dust. A few particles
entered his nostrils and irritated his nasal membranes. He slapped a hand
across his mouth and nose in a desperate attempt to stifle the inevitable
sneeze. His breath exploded against his hand, the muffled noise sounding like
a death knell in his ears.

On the other side of the wall, the voices fell silent. Lon froze in place,
every muscle tensed in expectation of ...he knew not what.

Ages passed. At least, it seemed so to the crouching apprentice, waiting for a
reaction to the disturbance he had made.

Nothing happened. He began to relax. Very, very carefully, he edged away from
the wall, relieved to be escaping unpunished.

A hand reached through the wall, passing through the fabric of the bricks, and
grasped him by the throat.