Rick Cook - The Wizardry Quested

She returned to the high-backed bench and Ian and Caitlin pressed back against her, seeking their own comfort. This deep in the castle they could not hear the keen of the wind, but they felt it just the same.

As she settled her bulk onto the bench she sighed and the children pressed closer. She put an arm around each and pulled them closer yet.

Shauna was a guardsman’s daughter and a guardsman’s wife and she had lived through the evil days of the Dark League’s ascendancy when human magic was puny and the Council of the North had faced constant ruin at the hands of foes human and non-human. For all that, she could not remember a more bleak evening. Malcolm, her husband, was eating soldier’s stew, taking the common meal in the guard room. Supper was done, the dishes washed and put away. Normally she would be gently hinting about bedtime by now, but no one was sleepy and, truth to tell, Shauna preferred their company.

"I wish daddy was here," Caitlin said without raising her head.

"Your daddy’s got duty," Shauna told her daughter, "special duty like half of ’em tonight."

"I want my daddy too," Ian added.

She stroked the boy’s ash-blond hair. "Hush. It will be all right. You’ll see. The Sparrow and your daddy and mommy have gone off to fix everything." Neither child said anything, but both seemed to snuggle even closer. For a bit they watched the flames in silence. "I wish Fluffy was here," Ian said finally.

"You’ll see him soon enough," she said. "Moira promised to stop by later." Ian looked up at her as if he would cry. "We can’t see Fluffy."

"He’s not Fluffy any more," Caitlin explained sadly into her mother’s bosom.

"He’s Moira."

"You were right, My Lord," the middle-aged man in the crystal sphere said to Bal-Simba. "The fog is not natural and it bears the mark of the Enemy’s magic."

"Is it dangerous?" Bal-Simba asked Juvian’s image.

The wizard frowned until the lines of his forehead nearly matched the angle of his widow’s peak "Not now.

But there are stirrings within. Perhaps it builds toward something. Shall I attempt to disperse it?"

It was Bal-Simba’s turn to frown. "I think not yet. Make sure that we are protected against it and continue to watch it carefully. Meanwhile, prepare spells to disperse it if need be. And report any changes to me."

"I shall, My Lord. I am not sure we can disperse it, but we will begin work on spells immediately. Merry part."

"Merry meet again," Bal-Simba replied and the image blinked out.

"On our very doorstep," Arianne said over Bal-Simba’s shoulder.

The big wizard turned to face his assistant. "Our enemy grows ever bolder ever more quickly. A bad sign, I think."

"Perhaps he will overreach himself."

Bal-Simba looked over at the dark window. "Perhaps. And if he does we must be ready."

Halfway down this stretch of tunnel there was a branch that ended after barely a dozen paces. Wiz sent the light globe floating in and examined it carefully before he motioned the others forward.

"Okay people, rest period."

Glandurg looked at him as though he was crazy. "We have barely begun." True, " Malkin said, " I do not think any of us are tired."

’The idea is not to get tired, " Wiz told them. " We don’t want to be worn out if we run into something nasty. Besides, " he added, seeing Malkin’s hesitation, " we can cover more ground if we rest regularly."

Malkin grunted and sank down next to the others. Glandurg ostentatiously remained standing, guarding the entrance.

Wiz sighed as the pack’s weight came off his shoulders. He wasn’t tired, exactly, but he found he was glad for the break. None of them was hungry, but they all took sips of water from their canteens.

"Well," Danny asked after several minutes. "Now what?"

Wiz shifted his pack. "Now we check in."

"Are you sure that’s safe?"

"No, but Bal-Simba insisted on regular reports or he’d have a gang of wizards haul us out of here."

"If we are to be scouts we must needs report," Malkin said quietly. Wiz noticed that even when she talked her eyes kept searching up and down the tunnel. He hefted the special communications crystal. "Besides there’s no sign our enemy understands spread demon communications, much less knows bow to tap into the signal."

This guy seems to understand an awful lot we didn’t think he does," Danny pointed out.

Wiz ignored him and whispered into the crystal. The crystal glowed more brightly as the spell within it came alive. Suddenly there were twenty small demons floating in the air in two ranks before them. They hung silent and motionless. Wiz paused, cocked his head and whispered into the crystal again. Again the crystal glowed but the demons did nothing. Wiz frowned and tried a third time.

"What’s wrong?" Danny asked.

"I’m not getting any response. It’s like there’s nothing there."

"Jamming?"

"No sign of it." He tried again.

"Maybe the demons got out of sync," Danny suggested.

Wiz considered. Unlike a normal communications crystal, the "spread demon" crystals used many pairs of demons with the message split into tiny parts and switching from demon to demon in an apparently random but carefully calculated pattern. The system depended on having each demon listening at the right time and in the right sequence.

"Have you ever known anything like that to happen?" Wiz asked.

Danny shook his head. "In our stuff? No."

Malkin had been watching them intently. "If it is not working we had best assume that it is the result of malign action."

Wiz nodded "Probably best." Then he dismissed the demons and motioned his companions close around him.

"Now we’ve got to make a decision. If we can’t communicate, do we poke around some more or head back right away?"

"We have barely arrived," Malkin pointed out "Nor have we encountered anything dangerous."

"Nor have we seen anything interesting," Glandurg said. The way he pronounced the last word left Wiz in no doubt that "interesting" translated into "liquid assets."

"We haven’t learned anything either," Danny added. June just grasped her husband’s arm.

Wiz considered and drew a deep breath. "All right then. We’re going on." There were smiles all around, but somehow Wiz didn’t feel quite that cheerful.

"Ah, Fortuna, it’s cold!" Elias the wizard exclaimed.

"I need no magic to tell me that, My Lord," Malcolm said, never taking his eyes from the darkness beyond the castle walls.

Dark as it was and muffled as they were in their cloaks the only obvious difference between them was size. The guardsman was a good half-head taller than the wizard. Their cloaks hid both his chain mail armor and the wizard’s robe of office. Malcolm’s soldiers reserve hid his opinion of his companion. Full wizard this Elias might be, but in Malcolm’s eyes he was still a youngster, and a bumptious one at that. The guardsman wished for a more experienced magician, one who didn’t chatter so. But the Mighty and most of the journeymen were tucked warmly away, preparing spells against this new enemy. For duty on the walls he’d nave to take what he could get.

Malcolm, who had tramped these walls for a goodly number of years, had never seen colder weather. However talking about it made it no warmer. Besides, he wasn’t going to give this stripling the pleasure of hearing him say that. So he only shrugged and the pair continued on their way.