To Cast the First Spell Page 17

  Silence came suddenly and was as stark in contrast as a scream. Daniel scanned his surrounds, moving nothing but his eyes. Sprinter flattened his ears and stomped his feet and seemed as much ready to fight as run. Something large jumped toward the fire. The flickering light revealed a naked hairless man whose twisted face was made lopsided by a jaw bone that had been unnaturally bent to the right. His ribs, several of which had penetrated the skin and left festering wounds, were an uneven mangle of bone perverted in contrary directions. The poor soul had no toes and his legs were bowed outward, giving him the awkward gait. A hump on his back forced him to lean forward in a permanent state of bowing.

  Daniel rubbed his eyes and suddenly was not sure whether or not the wretched figure before him was even a man; there was nothing on his or her body that would indicate one way or the other. This was neither man nor woman, but one of the Condemned. Daniel remembered the description from the stories told by Orin Netless. The grumpy old man was accurate except this particular one had a long sharp knife in its gnarled hand. The Condemned jumped forward like a giant toad.

  Daniel summoned the potential and sent a streak of white hot flame at the leaping creature of Balen Tamm’s sick pleasure. The extreme heat burned the Condemned to ash in mid-hop. Daniel fortified his nerve for the unpleasant task ahead, and then went over and touched the cremated remains. Casting a find spell was the only way to be certain there were no more nightmare beasts scurrying about in the area. He summoned the potential and modified the melody to locate yetis as well. Nothing, not a single monster lurked within the radius of the spell. Five spans was as far as he dared scan, greater strength could send out detectable ripples and would surely draw unwanted attention. Apparently, this Condemned had been wandering the woodlands alone; perhaps all of Tarin Conn’s minions did so until being summoned.

  Daniel wiped his hands and sat down against the tree and listened to the returning sounds of the night. Crickets chirped and the hoot owl seemed interested to know who dared to interrupt the natural order. Or, who would fall asleep first? Or, maybe, who shares the neighboring oak? The possibilities were endless and only worth contemplating because falling asleep would definitely be a less than pleasant alternative.

  He should not have been able to modify that spell, Terroll said a spell would collapse if not done exact and without flaw. It would seem even a well trained and highly experienced Accomplished could be wrong. Or, only a six bolt Aakacarn could modify spells, which did not seem likely. The answers were not important, staying awake and alert was. He grabbed his guitarn and strummed a chord while wondering, why has the desert grown and what in the world is an Aakasear? He played, Riding the Wind, and the questions kept coming.

  Chapter Eleven: The Price of Failure

  Balen Tamm reclined on his bed and stared up at the mural of Tarin Conn painted on the ceiling. It was time to make his report to the great Master. Frustration grew. Cenni Quen should have returned with the information concerning the Tannakonna incident. Now it was time for the meeting and he had no answers. The idiot was making him look bad, such could not be tolerated. He closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

  Tarin Conn sat dressed in royal splendor on the crystal throne and his demeanor seemed far from pleased. Intense anger burned in his eyes and was etched in the contours of his scowling face. Each response made to him would have to be carefully weighed.

  “I have work for you,” the Supreme Maestro said in a deep and tightly controlled voice.

  Balen gave a deep bow. “How may I serve you, great Master?” he said, while hoping the subject of Tannakonna would not come up.

  Tarin Conn stood and walked down the marble steps, his face unreadable. What did he want? “Do you know of Daniel Benhannon?” he asked, with forced calm. The man, whoever he was, clearly meant a great deal to him.

  Balen pondered the question, that name had never been mentioned in any reports made to him by members of the guild. How frustrating, must he be aware of every person in the world? “Great Master, I have never heard of the man,” he confessed through gritted teeth, waiting tensely for a stinging rebuke, ignorance was not usually well received or tolerated by the ancient spell caster.

  Tarin Conn licked his lips like a predator and seemed on the verge of a smile. “I suspected as much. Cenni Quen has found the one responsible for casting the High Power spell. Evidently, he has failed to consult with you on the matter.”

  Anger boiled up from the depths of Balen’s soul and he struggled to keep the emotion in check. No one bypasses his authority and gets away unscathed. He swallowed his rage, saving it for a more appropriate time. “Great Master, you need not trouble yourself entering the dreams of such men. You have but to command and I will obey,” he replied, with all the finesse he could muster. The position of Maestro could well be hanging in the balance and fully dependant upon how well the statement was received. You will pay for this, Cenni Quen, he promised.

  Tarin Conn smiled. “Your loyalty is not in question,” he said, promptly, which could mean it was true.

  A disquieting question still remained. “Then why did you go directly to Cenni Quen?”

  “I did not go to him, he came to me,” Tarin Conn replied. “Now listen,” he demanded in a voice chilling enough to make an icehouse seem warm.

  Balen stiffened “Speak on, Master, your servant is listening,” he said, quickly.

  Tarin Conn glanced up toward the crystal throne, as if calling forth a memory. “Daniel Benhannon has been here in my presence. His potential is extraordinary. His first spell felt over a hundred spans from its starting point is proof enough of that. I want him in the guild. He can be a great asset to you.”

  This news could not be good. The Ancient One rarely took an interest in recruiting Aakacarns. However suspicious the reason, there was little choice but to obey. “I presume this man lives in Bashierwood,” Balen said, sure of himself.

  “Correct,” Tarin Conn said and affirmed with a nod. He returned to the throne and sat down. “The young man escaped your Accomplished and is heading back to his village. Send a legion of yetis to Bashierwood along with a squad of the Condemneds and members of the guild. Kill however many people as is necessary to insure his willing submission. It is an imperative this be done for he must learn to obey you. Keep a close rein on him, he cannot be trusted.”

  “Kelgotha is north, shouldn’t I send the legion there and have him brought to me?” Balen asked. The order simply did not make sense. Killing the villagers was no a big concern, but sending a legion to capture one man who is not even there seemed to be a colossal waste of power and resources. That and it would draw unwanted attention to the activities of the guild.

  The spark of anger reappeared in the eyes of Tarin Conn. “Do not question my judgment!” He shouted, adding a scowl that could send a yeti running away in terror.

  “Your will be done,” Balen blurted, dropping to his knees and sweating profusely.

  “Of course,” Tarin Conn replied, evenly, calm once again.

  Balen opened his eyes, wide awake, and sprang to his feet. His position as Maestro was still intact, although it may not remain so if Daniel Benhannon is not brought to heel. The task would have to be handled skillfully. The young man would need to be brought to the guild and then his loyalty or at least obedience would have to be secured, there were ways to bring this about. Tarin Conn decided to hold the village on Tannakonna as a ransom. Taking of the mountain could not be trusted to Cenni Quen, although he shall be a participant. That bungler nearly caused the last meeting to end in disaster.

  Balen grabbed the baton of Tarin Conn and marched straight into the throne room. As expected, Accomplisheds stood waiting for an audience. Three of them seemed nervous and the fourth hid most of his face under the hood of his silk cloak, which was one Aakacarn who could be standing alone in a quiet room for all the emotion he showed. The first man, having finally returned, appeared to be the most anxious of all, and with good reason. The stout fellow
with the large nose and bald head glistening with perspiration took a step forward and knelt on one knee.

  Balen took his place on the throne and smiled at the Accomplished before him. “Cenni Quen, make your report,” he said, calmly, outwardly, and fuming inwardly.

  The chubby Aakacarn stood up, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. “Maestro, I’ve learned the spell on Tannakonna was a memory spell, one that actually improves memory permanently,” he began, in a voice quivering with trepidation.

  The fool was not even competent enough to know there was no such memory spell, none that was long term. The blithering idiot would hang himself. All he needed was a little prodding. “I see. Who is responsible for casting this fantastic spell?” Balen encouraged, without blinking or giving any outward sign of his growing displeasure.

  Cenni Quen trembled anyway. “Daniel Benhannon, a newly raised Accomplished of the Sun Guild,” he answered, hands shaking so violently that he dropped the handkerchief and then had to scramble quickly to pick it up without looking down.

  Balen glanced at each of the guild members standing before him, licked his lips, and then focused his attention back on Cenni Quen. “Where is this man, he doesn’t seem to be in this chamber?”

  “I captured him, but he managed to escape,” the foolish Accomplished explained, his voice a mournful groan. He twisted his sweat soaked handkerchief and then mopped his brow again.

  “How and where?” Balen asked in an icy tone.

  The man, who could well be considered yeti bait; parts of him anyway, swallowed hard and took a step backward, nearly bumping into the fourth Accomplished. “I took him to the entrance of the Great Master’s shrine. He struck me with a sleep spell and was gone when I awakened. How was I to know he was a fast learner? Otherwise I never would have hummed the spell in his presence. After all, it took me weeks to learn that spell.”

  “I see,” Balen intoned, kindly, with sympathy and understanding, the nicest he could feign.

  Cenni Quen smiled as if relieved, as if he were off the hook. “I can track him down and bring him here. Just allow me to summon more yetis,” he stated, apparently misguided by the seemingly good will of his Maestro.

  “Oh, more yetis, what became of the thousand you led to Bashierwood?” Balen inquired, smoothly.

  “Daniel is quite adept at killing them,” replied the unsuspecting fool.

  A Melody came to mind. Balen summoned the potential, aiming the baton; he focused and cast the spell. A bright red beam shot forth from the diamond in the serpent’s mouth and struck Cenni Quen before the doomed Accomplished could raise a defense, frozen in place by sheer terror and the mind numbing affects of the spell. The silk garments flew off his body, leaving him stark naked. A second spell instantly followed the first, causing every hair fell to the floor, even his eyelashes.

  “I’ll start with the nose,” Balen stated, and then glanced at the three remaining Accomplished, wanting them to witness the price of failure.

  Cenni Quen shrieked as his nose ripped away from his face, leaving a large bloody hole. His forearms began to stretch while his legs shortened. Bones snapped and crackled, being reshaped, the sound echoing throughout the chamber, adding a macabre rhythm to the wailing protests. Soon, his knuckles were scraping the floor and his pelvic and hip bones split, writhing under the skin, and re-knitted. His ribs twisted and turned and finally mended in a grotesque parity of humanity. Torn body parts lay on the floor in a crimson puddle, leaving him neither male nor female.

  “You fool; I wanted the spell caster brought directly to me!” Balen shouted. “If you had done so, he would not have escaped. You stupid swine, that’s it, I’ll give you the mind of a pig.”

  He summoned the potential and cast the spell, causing the diamond to glow and flash, a red beam shot out, striking Cenni Quen. The pitiful excuse for an Accomplished grunted and sniffed the blood soaked floor, doomed to live out his life as one of the Condemned.

  Balen fixed his sternest gaze upon the Accomplished who had previously been the fourth and was now the third in the chamber. “Serin Gell,” he called, and pointed the baton at the man.

  “Yes, Maestro, how may I serve?” he replied, dispassionately, in a low scratchy voice that grated on the nerves. He took a step forward and bowed, taking obvious care to avoid the various body parts scattered on the floor.

  “I want Daniel Benhannon brought here to me, both conscious and coherent,” Balen commanded, lowering and resting the baton on his lap. “Go to Bashierwood and kill every villager until the Accomplished surrenders. Take a legion of yetis, capture the young man and bring him here, and then finish off the village. Am I making myself clear?”

  Serin Gell’s left eyebrow twitched, as if he was surprised by the scope of the orders given, not that his reaction was not unexpected. After all, it was not every day a force of that size is mobilized. In fact, the guild had not summoned an army in such numbers in over five centuries. He cleared his throat and the dead-pan look returned. “Maestro, shouldn’t I head north to capture him, he couldn’t have traveled far from Kelgotha?’ he replied, showing how closely he had paid attention to Cenni Quen’s final report.

  Balen was amused, seeing as it had also occurred to him, but he could not afford to share his mirth. “Do not question my orders!” he shouted, and watched as the normally calm Accomplished flinched at the sudden rebuke. Satisfied with the response, Balen continued the instructions, “Spare some of the villagers after Daniel surrenders so he can watch them die,” he paused, glancing at Cenni Quen, who was sniffing his former attire. “You know the price of failure.”

  Serin Gell smiled, apparently unaffected by the sight. “More than that, I know the rewards of success,” he replied, confidently, showing himself to be one to keep a close watch on.

  Balen pointed the serpent-shaped baton at the Condemned Aakacarn. “Take him and a squad of Condemneds along with any two Accomplisheds of your choosing. The fool has no mind of his own, but he can still summon potential if you guide him through a spell.”

  “Your will be done, Maestro,” Serin Gell replied, and then exited the chamber, followed closely by the grunting Cenni Quen.

  “Duroshur Beccar, you are to contact Landec Turner and Cellan Bane. They are in the Troas Mountains. Have them search the forest for the Accomplished, I doubt Daniel Benhannon could be much farther south at this point. They are only to locate and follow him, not make contact. He must reach Bashierwood,” Balen ordered.

  The Aakacarn bowed quickly. “Your will be done, Maestro,” he said, in a voice that quivered, and then made a speedy exist, clearly affected by witnessing the price of failure.

  Having dispensed with the Tannakonna business, Balen decided to focus on other pressing matters and particularly, the remaining Accomplished. “You, go back to Pentrosa. King Jarred mustn’t suspect you. If Efferin discovers where your true loyalty lies, he’ll Silence you and I will do worse,” he stated, and then watched the tall Aakacarn bow gracefully, reflecting a highly refined Serinian ancestry.

  The three-bolt Accomplished proudly displayed the serpent ring, worn only when at the guild. Beyond that, he appeared to be from Aakadon, wearing the traditional crimson and black silk garments and a golden pendant showing a silver bird of prey in flight. His square jaw and aristocratic poise gave him a distinction normally found among the nobility. “I shall depart at once, Maestro. As for being caught, no one suspects me,” he replied, with certainty in his voice. He turned, starting for the door.

  Balen smiled, amused at the haste in which his minion tried to exit. “One more thing, Vance Cummin, I want the trumpet of Tarin Conn, I must have it. Am I making myself clear?”

  He watched with pleasure as the Serinian nodded affirmatively before existing. The errand was still important even though the instrument would be useless against the spell holding the great Tarin Conn in the bowels of Kelgotha. The trumpet is one of the most powerful crescendos in the world, even greater than the baton Balen held firmly in his gra
sp. He stared at the golden serpent, having it made him stronger than Efferin Tames and possessing the trumpet would make him invincible. “Tarin Conn is fortunate to have me,” he told the empty chamber. “Without me, there is no Serpent Guild.” He smiled, feeling extremely pleased with himself.

  Chapter Twelve: A Quick Trip

  Daniel stared at the crystal throne and the evil Aakacarn sitting on it. The fight to stay awake had been lost and this was the price. There seemed to be no way to keep the Dark Maestro out of his dreams and the encounters were growing tedious.

  “Greetings, Daniel. I’ve been expecting you,” Tarin Conn said from his sparkling pinnacle of power. He appeared calm and supremely confident, a mood that could change swifter than a lighting strike. There had to be a way of using his towering ego against him. “Have you decided to revere and serve me, or do you need to see your village destroyed?”

  To show fear would be a grave mistake, Daniel was sure. He fixed his gaze on the Maestro and walked boldly up the marble steps, not stopping until he loomed over his adversary. “I’m not afraid of you or your miserable white fur balls. I’ll fight your followers and make you pay dearly for every inch of ground. My loyalty can’t be worth that much,” he said, firmly, feeling as though a huge melon was stuck in his throat.

  Tarin Conn stood up, evidently not liking the idea of being looked down upon. “Oh, but you are worth the price. Talents like ours come along once in a millennia, if that often. What is the loss of a few yetis in comparison? I have over twelve hundred years experience in spell casting and can teach you things no person today has ever dreamed of. Serve me and I’ll make you great,” he said, in dulcet tones.

  Serving the old Accomplished was not even a consideration and his promises of power were far from tempting. It was clear the lives of other people meant nothing to him. Daniel knew what needed to be done, fight for Bashierwood and do so with all of his might. All of the talk about special talents and power seemed insubstantial when weighed against the lives that would be lost. Silence filled the great chamber as the mighty Tarin Conn stood waiting with what appeared to be something akin to anticipation. How could the loyalty of one simple mountaineer matter to a person like him?