David Grace - The Accidental Magician

"Something is happening. I don't know what it is, but I want to get out of here. If you are all quite ready, can we leave?"

"Yes, I think we should go. Grantin, you and I can carry your uncle."

Grantin and Chom groaned and hoisted Greyhorn's dead weight between them.

"At this rate it is going to be a long and tiring trip home," Grantin commented before they had even reached the doorway.

"Aren't we going to travel by the spell of magnificent transport?" Mara asked.

"I would love to, except I don't know the incantation."

"I do. I heard the over-deacons recite it just before we left Cicero."

"Excellent! Perhaps we will travel in style at last. Come, Chom, let us get Uncle Greyhorn outside, pronounce the spell, and be gone from this place before it comes down around our ears."

Grantin and Chom picked up Greyhorn once more and began to maneuver his unwieldy body toward the doorway. They had almost reached the portal when, in the passage beyond, they heard the clear, ringing sounds of heavy boots tramping down the tunnel.

From their vantage point just beyond the ridge overlooking Grog Cup Mountain, Rupert and Yon Diggery had an excellent view of the battle. They rested prone on the ground, only their eyes peeking over the lip of the hill. Icy tingles rippled up and down their spines, but neither one would now turn back.

An hour after the fugitives entered the tunnel Rupert quested with his mind in an attempt to determine the situation within the mountain. The Gogol deacon was more than a little surprised when he could find no hint of activity.

"You sense nothing?"

"Nothing. No struggle, no spells. No energy being released, not even any conscious thoughts. You know what that means."

"If you're right. After all the trouble that Hartford has caused us, can our luck actually have turned this good? I don't know, Rupert. I don't like it. It might be a trap."

"A trap, bah! Stop being such an old woman, Diggery. They've killed each other off, and so much the better for us. Now, before someone else comes along or those guards down there wake up, let's get into the mine and fill our pockets."

Diggery's sixth sense told him that Rupert's answer was too pat, that there was something wrong, but he had no firm evidence for his conviction beyond the observation that in every free apple there is usually lurking at least one worm. With a rueful shake of his head Diggery relented. He and Rupert trotted down the slope and along the trail to Grog Cup Mountain.

Upon seeing the frozen bodies of Zaco's soldiers Rupert became elated, convinced beyond all doubt that his assessment of the situation was correct. Even Yon Diggery's innate suspicion evaporated as rank upon rank, level upon level, of guards was found immobilized. Swaggering, cheerful, and immensely pleased with himself, Rupert tramped into the main chamber, only to receive a rude surprise. There, not ten feet in front of him, stood Grantin and the Fanist, holding between them a frozen body and flanked on one side by an Ajaj and on the other by the girl whom Rupert recognized as the enchantress Mara.

Rupert's eyes bulged. "It can't be. Where is Hazar?"

Grantin inclined his head toward the place where Hazar's body lay. Rupert followed the direction of his gaze. The imbecilic Hartford had bested Lord Hazar? Impossible, but there lay the body.

Yon Diggery was anything but indecisive. The instant after passing through the doorway he drew his sword. Without conscious planning Grantin pointed his ring at the blade and visualized a white-hot plume of flame striking the metal. With a scream Diggery threw the weapon from him.

For perhaps a minute each group stared, unspeaking, at the other. Finally Grantin's numbed mind began to function. He lowered his arm and addressed the two bandits.

"Gentlemen, we seem to be at somewhat of a standoff here. I take it you have come for the stones?"

"That, and to see the color of your blood," Rupert answered.

"As you have already learned on more than one occasion, that's not an easy task. It's also an unprofitable one. Instead, let me propose an arrangement to our mutual satisfaction."

"What kind of arrangement?" Diggery asked through teeth clenched with the pain of his blistered hand.

"The best of all possible arrangements, one in which each side benefits. You get what you want, and I get what I want."

"Which is?"

"To be specific, you get the bloodstones and I get to leave."

"Why should you be willing to give us everything? What's in it for you?"

"Gentlemen, I already have a bloodstone. I certainly don't need two of them. Additionally, I have these two trusty associates to act as my personal bondsmen and this nubile beauty to keep me company. Together with the proof of my uncle's demise-this is he you see here, turned to stone-I will inherit all his lands, his properties, his wealth. What else could I want?"

"It does seem a not unreasonable proposition," Diggery said, greedily eyeing the bloodstones scattered about the floor.

"There's something wrong here," Rupert responded. "I don't like it. I don't know what game he's playing, but no one gives away this much wealth."

"Gentlemen, as you can see, I could easily destroy you. As you well know, I have powers beyond those of all other wizards. But I am weary. It has been a long day. Disposing of you two would be quite tiring. Besides, a stray bolt might injure one of my slaves, or perhaps scar my new mistress. In order to avoid these minor inconveniences I am willing to give you your life and the stones that remain. I assure you, I have more than enough wealth for my own purposes."

Instead of soothing Rupert's misgivings Grantin's speech only seemed to increase them. Against all logic he was certain that the young Hartford was practicing some great deception. Sensing Rupert's suspicions, Mara decided to add some color to Grantin's story.

"Oh, please, don't let him take me with him, I beg you. He's a beast! You don't know what he plans to do to me! His perversions are worse than Hazar's. I beg you, strike him down and free me. Look at those two," Mara said, indicating Castor and Chom. "He has turned them into mindless slaves. Even if he kills you, you must try. You can't allow an evil power like his loose on the world."

Grantin grabbed Mara's arm and roughly pulled her back from the doorway. He allowed a sneering smile to crease his lips.

"Well, what is it to be?" he asked with a nasty edge to his voice. "Are you going to sacrifice your lives to do the bidding of this enchantress? Make up your minds. Move aside or prepare to die." Grantin raised his left hand and pointed the bloodstone menacingly at Diggery and Rupert. The two bandits stood frozen in position for a moment then, by unspoken agreement, they slowly and carefully moved aside.

Grantin motioned to Chom and Castor. Trance-like, they picked up Greyhorn's body and carried it out the door. Mara followed stiffly behind, with Grantin bringing up the rear. Rupert and Diggery stood at the edge of the doorway, their muscles tensely coiled, waiting to spring. Grantin slipped by them and out into the hall. Once out of sight of the mine's main chamber, the fugitives raced through the passages. It was after the eighth hour but still light enough to put substantial distance between themselves and Grog Cup Mountain before sundown.

Castor and Chom deposited Greyhorn on the ground. While Mara waited to one side, the three followed the spell Mara had repeated and brought into being the bubble of magnificent transportation.

Ten minutes later they floated effortlessly a hundred feet above the countryside, making their way toward the northern pass through the Guardian Mountains. By sundown they had maneuvered through the first range of peaks. In a few more minutes sight of the Gogol empire would be lost.