Paul Collins - The Spell of Undoing

‘He went to his battle station. Watch out!’

Amelia magically deflected a thrown axe that would have split Tab's head in two.

‘This is madness!’ Tab screamed.

‘Look at that!’ Amelia said, shaking Tab.

Tab followed her pointing finger. A vast mushroom-shaped vortex turned ponderously in the distance. Livercoloured clouds broiled in its mouth, lightning crackled. It was more frightening than any vortex Tab had ever seen.

‘We're going into that?’ she whispered.

‘Well, if we stay here, we die,’ cried Amelia, pulling Tab to safety as two Tolrushians ran past.

Tab shivered. No one liked flying through a vortex. It felt too much like entering banned rift caves. She shook her head as she tried to focus on the task at hand: namely, stemming the airborne attack.

A three-lizard squad darted in low under the forward sail. As Tab watched, they flew between tall buildings and towers, down where the ranks of Verris’ archers could not assail them. As they swept past her, Tab recognised one of the riders on the middle beast: Kull Vladis.

The lizards landed in a small square and the Tolrushians quickly dismounted.

‘I can't see them!’ Tab cried, craning her neck. ‘Stay here,’ she told Amelia, then raced down the stairs.

Tab reached the square just in time to see the last of the Tolrushians disappear into a culvert at the base of a tower. Running lightly and quietly to the entrance, she peeked inside. She saw torches flaring in the distance, and bit her lip. Should she follow?

Quentaris was undermined by catacombs, but this tunnel had a carved look which meant that it was probably somebody's escape route. Only thieves and royalty had need of such tunnels. And Tab had an idea she knew just where this tunnel would lead.

Cursing herself for an idiot, Tab ducked inside and followed the distant lights, being careful to stay back as far as she could without losing sight of her quarry.

The tunnel twisted and turned, dropped steeply at one point into that maze-like underworld that existed beneath Quentaris, then thankfully started up again. And all the time Tab's heart hammered. If she lost sight of the torches, she would be marooned in the pitch dark: she would have no hope of finding her way out of here again.

With these chilling thoughts to keep her company, Tab hurried along in the Tolrushians’ rear, stumbling over unseen objects, barking her shins, and once bashing her head on a projecting beam. She nearly lost sight of the rear-most torch then and only the fact that the Tolrushian bearing it stopped to retie his sandal allowed her to catch up again.

Finally, Tab climbed stairs that led to a slightly open door. Pressing an ear to it, she could only see a tiny part of the room but what she saw made her catch her breath. Tolrushians… and Quentarans! Ruffians by the look of them. Thugs for hire.

Although those inside spoke in low tones, Tab could hear them clearly. And there was one voice that she recognised, aside from Kull's, that chilled her with instant fury.

‘Yes, yes, we've agreed to all this in principle,’ said an irritable Kull Vladis. ‘You shall be installed as Monarch of Quentaris.’

‘And you shall be Overlord,’ came Florian's fawning voice. ‘We will rule the rift planes like demi-gods!’

‘And your uncle?’ queried Kull.

‘Pah! He shall do as he's told else I'll have him whipped bare and thrown to the blood wasps.’

Kull laughed mirthlessly. ‘Family loyalty is so overrated.’

Tab rammed her hand in her mouth to gag it. The little monster!

Kull said, ‘And your engines? You've disabled them, as a greed?’

‘I have a magician in my pay. He will steal the icefire when he gets my signal. Without it, the engines will run for only a few minutes. And with this breeze… ’

Tab finished the sentence in her own mind: with this breeze, Quentaris would become a sitting duck.

‘A toast, then. To our combined good fortune,’ Kull rumbled.

Tab heard chinking goblets. The next moment something sniffed her leg. The same something uttered a loud and horrible growl.

Slowly Tab looked down. Kull's wolfhound, Sherma, met her gaze, revealing yellowed, saliva-dripping teeth.

‘Oh!’ Tab squealed, promptly lost her balance and tumbled down the stone steps.

Before she could pick herself up, the door above flew open. Someone shouted ‘Sherma!’ and the next moment she was lifted bodily and hauled up the steps. The guard rammed his foot in her backside and shoved her into the room.

Florian's sharp intake of breath was the most gratifying sound Tab had heard. This was followed by Kull's burst of laughter as Tab fell flat on her face.

‘Get up!’ someone growled.

Tab got to her feet slowly. As she did so, she saw a dumb waiter in the wall in front of her. It was used to send trays of food up and down a shaft to the other floors. The tray itself must be on a lower floor – all she could see were ropes drawn taut.

Without hesitating she threw herself into the cavity.

‘Get her!’ yelled a guard. His fingertips grabbed for Tab's pigtails but missed. A knife thudded into the wall, just missing her ear as she scrambled into the chute.

Up or down? she thought frantically.

Then she was straining to haul herself up the ropes. She was tempted to slide down but if they cut the ropes, she might have fallen to her death. And at this depth, there might only be a cellar – an instant death trap. So up it was.

‘Stop her!’ Kull roared.

The guards tried to obey their king but none could fit into the chute. One poked his sword at her but it fell short. Through all the yells and oaths, Tab heard Florian's squeaking exclamation: ‘I can fit! The rest of you – up those stairs. She can't get far!’

Sure enough, Florian squeezed into the shaft. Tab could hear the little toad's wheezing as he strained to follow her.

Tab climbed faster. She kicked at a panel on the next floor, but could hear the guards charging into the room on the other side. Up she went to the next floor, then the next. At that point she could go no further.

She booted open the dumb waiter's panel and found herself in a meeting hall. An arched window and balcony took up most of the north wall. Her arms aching, she swung out of the shaft and pulled a dagger from her boot.

Clasping the dumb waiter ropes with one hand, she started slicing.

‘No!’ Florian screamed. His whining voice echoed up the shaft.

Tab hesitated. Could she really kill someone in cold blood? The rope trembled in her hand. Florian had almost reached her.

‘Don't cut the rope!’ he wailed. ‘I'll give you anything. You can rule by my side!’

But Tab had hesitated too long. The chamber door shattered like kindling. A guard rolled across the lush carpet.

Kull Vladis strode into the room, looking slightly out of breath. ‘Back,’ he told his men. ‘I'll handle the riftling. Sit,’ he told his wolfhound as he drew his sword.

Tab tried mind-melding with the wolfhound, but it was too agitated and she flinched from its dark angry mind. Automatically she cast about for anything that might aid her. But there was nothing in the room. Outside, yes, a strange mind, long enslaved, welcomed the touch of her mind… and she sensed a kind of release…

‘Time to teach the meddler not to meddle,’ said Kull. He lunged for Tab.

Tab ducked, parrying. The blades clanged, but she had been lucky. A dagger was no match for a sword. Already her arm was numb and that was just the first blow. Unable to tightly grip the dagger with her injured hand, she flipped it to her other hand and threw it at Kull.

The boy-king, taken completely by surprise, instinctively brought his right hand up and howled as the dagger sliced through his forearm. He dropped his sword. ‘Kill her!’ he screamed. ‘Sherma!’