Abbalar Tales ~ 18

 Abbalar Tales ~ 18 Return to Corvalen 

By Len Morgan

Wizomi made his way to Corvalen with all due haste, hot on the trail of Jazim and Genna.   Yes, they had been seen en route.   Four mounted men and a coach with two occupants.   One, a woman of obvious quality, the other may have been her maid but, nobody at any of their stops got more than a cursory glance at either.   He pressed hard to make up time, but he started seventeen hours behind them.   Not easy to make up that sort of time on a four-date journey.   He was confronted by heavy traffic as he entered the city and immediately realised the trail had gone cold.   But, he knew where they would be.   He entered the palace grounds, heading boldly for the main entrance.

"Yes!"   An officious courtier asked.

"I am here at the request of your master 'the Caliph' to tell stories at his court."

"Your summons pleases sir," his voice modified seamlessly, to suit Wizomi’s potentially elevated status.

Without hesitation, Wizomi removed a document from his body pouch, and looking the man straight in the eyes, said: "I think you will find these in order."

"Thank you, sir, that is fine," he replied handing the document back with a smile. 

 Wizomi walked past him without a backward glance.   Without hesitation, he walked along the main corridor, heading away from the main entrance.   He knew exactly where he was going, he had consulted with Aldor through the HM, and had a detailed map of the palace fixed firmly in his head.   It was unlikely that a young woman would be housed in the dungeons, so he needed to find either Jazim or one of her Huren escort.   He was heading for Jazims quarters; her two sons had been good friends of Ahlendores.   Unlike most of Endrochines wives, Ahlendor's mother had not treated Jazim as being of inferior status, because she was just a concubine, and the two women had become good friends.   Had Jazim known who they were tracking, she may not have been so willing to help Skaa and his band of bounty hunters.   She may indeed have been more sympathetic towards Genna, knowing that she was with Ahlendore.   Could be she would be more willing to co-operate with Wizomi to effect Genna's release.   As matters transpired, that was not to be.   She was not in her apartments; neither did her sons expect her back, anytime soon.   Changing tack, Wizomi decided instead to seek out Ahlendore's mother.   An hour or so later, he discovered she also had absented herself from the Palace.   In the emotive climate that now existed, she had decided upon a visit to her home in Pylodor, where her father still ruled as Caliph.   After a moments reflection, he realised it was the safest course of action for both her and her son.   In Pylodor she could not be used as a weapon against him.

His plan of action changed for a third time in as many hours.   He now needed to track down Jazim or the bounty hunters, preferably both.   No easy task in a city like Corvalen, even for one who is of 'the weirding caste'.   He would however give every effort to the task, he was not one to give up before he'd even started.   It may , however, take a further excursion into Aldor's experiences, to discover a link.   He was not able to discover any links to the group that had forcibly removed Ahlendore from the city.   However, he did discover the link between the Huren and Grym-Baal.   It was only a slim lead but, he was determined he would follow it up.   He took up post, watched the house of Grym.   He waited and watched for several days, allowing sufficient time for a situation to develop, during this time he noted the old vines had been grubbed up completely changing the profile of the house.   Day three was just a few hours old when he spied a familiar figure approaching the side entrance, through the infamous courtyard.

"Yes."   He whispered under his breath and settled down to see what happened.   He had about given up.  Dusk was falling, and there had been no further developments.   Only a thin blue crescent of Veinen was visible in the sky, as he waited, it cast soft blue light and a harsh shadow. 

 Ten minutes passed without further sign of activity.  Then, a light shone out from the room where Eldoriel had been murdered.   It burned dimly, it had been turned down low, and would only have been noticed by one who was expecting it.   For about fifteen minutes it was constant then abruptly extinguished.   A further five minutes passed before a man slipped out through the courtyard.   He turned right, heading swiftly down narrow and badly lit cobbled side streets.   His route had many twists and turns, most of the alleys he used did not appear on the map from Ahlendore's memory.   Only once did they cross a recognisable main road, so Wizomi took the opportunity to get his bearings.   Then, rounding a corner he realised the surroundings were very familiar, his hair became charged with static, and stood on end, he'd been led around in a circle, he backed away from the place immediately but, too late.    Heavy hemp netting was dropped over him from above.   Its weight alone bore him to the ground and a gang of men efficiently wound it around him, constricting his movements.   He was hit soundly on the head.   The inside of his skull momentarily became illuminated with light, then everything went black.

"Are you alright old friend?" somebody asked, with obvious concern; the voice was familiar and close at hand.   He continued to fake unconsciousness and carefully cracked opened one eye.   They were in a small stuffy windowless room, a pale yellowish luminescence emanated from the ceiling, enough to see by but no more.   On closer examination, the ceiling appeared to be completely covered with close-fitting perfectly symmetrical tiles.   He could smell her presence even before she spoke a second time.

"Wiz?   It's me…"

He opened his eyes and there standing before him was Genna.   "I found you, thank goodness," he said starting to rise.   His head spun, “oh!” he groaned.  That was some blow," he said rubbing his skull gingerly.   "What is your plan?" he asked of her.

"Plan?   I thought you were here to rescue me,” She answered.

"I was trying to find you, and since you've been here awhile I assumed you had made some notes on possible avenues of escape?"  

"I was originally held in a locked room, in another part of the house.   But, I managed to pick the lock and nearly escaped, that was when they brought me down here.   I've only been in this room for a few hours, the door is locked and there are no windows.   The air is stuffy but it not warm."

"Have you found anything?"

"Such as?"

"A key, weapons, food, drink, clothing, material, have you found anything?   What do you have on you apart from your clothes?   Flint, Tinder, knife, rope, a piece of steel wire, a nail?"

She laughed.   "I was thoroughly searched, and anything of use was taken long since.  There are shelves over here," she continued motioning towards the far wall.

"Good!   You search that side and the wall over by the door, while I search this side.   Be sure to investigate everything, leave nothing to chance."

There was a clinking sound.   "What was that," he asked.

"Bottles," she replied, then after a pause, "Ugh, Vinegar wine…"

"All of them?"   He asked.

There was another pause.  “There are five more but the others are all sealed, I can't open them.   Ah, this is interesting," she said tapping something that sounded metallic, ”a pipe," she said revealing her curiosity.   She tapped it again three times in quick succession, pause a while then repeated the same pattern, on the third attempt somebody echoed the pattern.

 

"We are not alone here," she said.   Wizomi didn't comment, instead, he blew into his cupped hands, rubbing them together vigorously as if trying to warm them up.   He removed his right hand, leaving the left upward facing, revealing a small bright orb of white light resting lightly in his palm.  He blew into his left palm and the orb rose above their heads taking up a stationary position above them, just below the ceiling.     By its light, they would be better able to explore the shadowy areas in their place of confinement.  

"Impressive," she said.

"Don't look directly at it," He warned, "it will spoil your night vision and fine discrimination."

Genna was first to spot the metal grill on the outside wall.   It was two feet long and eight inches wide, hidden beneath the bottom shelf, at ground level.   After closer examination, they decided it would be possible to crawl through the slot that would remain, if the grill were removed but, to do that they would need some rudimentary tools.   They tried, without success to pull it out using their fingernails, then looked around for something to use as a lever, there was nothing.   After five minutes, the globe began to fade.

 

Orden’s Cave

"Lovely work," said Orden, peering appreciatively over Aldor's shoulder.   He was admiring a jewel the young man was in the final stages of cutting by hand.   It was the culmination of a three-day self-imposed act of inspired creation.

"I was not aware that Gemmology was one of your talents."

"It was not when I first arrived.   My only prior experience with gems was, wearing them.   But, if you will recall you asked me to create something, that would concentrate my mind and this is it.   I spent some time studying, with a number of master craftsmen, through the HM.   You would I know have preferred me to craft a sword but, if I am to become the controller and diplomacy is to be my weapon, I must at least believe that I can become a good one."   He smiled briefly, accumulated tiredness showing in his eyes, "It is said that war is a failure of diplomacy.   If I attend negotiations with a sword at my side, it will only serve to increase the likelihood of failure.   There are other ways of showing strength, being confident enough to choose not to wear a weapon is but one."

"Well said sprout," Orden was barely able to disguise the pride in his voice.

The amulet was a thin band of white gold, a circlet with one perfect purple stone, an inch in diameter, on its outer rim.   The stone itself had a pale smoky lavender halo.   He tried it on his head with the stone resting on his brow, Orden nodded his approval.   Removing it Aldor stepped from the cavern, into the night.   The full grandeur of the bright blue orb of Veinen, contrasted with Vexen which revealed barely a third of its true glory.   Blue totally dominated the heavens; even the bright show of stars in the clear summer night could not compare, with its soft pastel hue that added stark highlights to discriminate the deep black shadows.   Orden remained within the cavern, this night was for Aldor alone. 

.-…-. 

He viewed the circlet critically, lovingly cleaned and polished.   He gazed up into the clear night sky, the stars seeming to draw closer, spinning in the firmament.   He raised his creation to the heavens, "See what we have created!" he cried aloud.   He chanted a litany in a strange unworldly tongue, words of power from the hive.  Reinforced by the humming of a tune with magic undertones and something else, something feral untamed, chosen carefully to unleash the fury of the elements.   As the echo of his final utterance died away certain stillness came over the land, as if it were holding its breath…   

Lightning burst, forth from the heavens, randomly striking and enveloping the creation and its creator.   He became like flotsam on a raging sea of living coloured filaments of flame.   Seductively fibrillating, caressing him and the artefact, binding them into one entity.    Great gouts of sinuous blue-green and white fire burst into existence, fed by successive bolts of lightning.   Licking tongues of flame assailing the insignificant but immutable figure, randomly lashing and binding him to his familiar, now indistinguishable from his brow.   The band had sunk beneath his flesh, becoming one with the bones of his cranium.   Now, only the stone remained visible in the centre of his forehead, though it too would become invisible to eyes of mere mortals, err the night was over.

"AAAAAAAH!"   His yell of defiance, hurled at the heavens, was a bestial primordial sound, silencing the elements at a single stroke.   The sky became silent and passive.  He fell to his knees head bowed, rolling slowly onto his side into a foetal position.   Orden went outside, sensing it was ended he removed his cape and draped it over the sleeping figure.   He sat beside his protégé, keeping vigil over him, for three days and nights, until he too finally slept.  

When he awoke he found his cape had been draped over his own sleeping form and the boy was gone.

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan