The Sword of Azaray Read online

  Kerril shrugged. ‘Let’s sleep, then.’

  Within a minute they were both fast asleep, breathing deeply and hardly stirring.

  Ronan’s sleep was untroubled, but Kerril kept feeling as though someone was trying to talk to him. He didn’t answer because he didn’t like the feel of that person. Somehow he knew he must keep his mind very quiet and still, as if he was asleep and didn’t know what was happening. After a while the strange feeling stopped.

  Magic! He could tell that instinctively. He was starting to sense a lot of things, and to understand the spells he had read about in the library at Sendalands Keep. Why were they coming back to him now? Did that—could it possibly mean he had a gift for the bigger sorts of magic? He hoped he did. It’d be an enormous help on this quest.

  But he probably didn’t. He wasn’t clever like Shayla or brave like Ronan.

  ***

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  In Azaray, Pavros thumped the table in anger and the magic mirror leaped up a little and settled back slightly out of place. Instead of righting it the wizard leaned back in his great carved chair and tried to work out what was going on. Outside thunder still rumbled occasionally, so he had given up trying to cast the new and extremely difficult spell, and was concentrating instead on spying out the troublemakers.

  Only that hadn’t worked, either.

  ‘Wherever they were was too dark to see anything,’ he muttered. ‘I could sense them—well, one of them, anyway—but I ought to have been able to see them. Why could I not? Where have they got to? And why can’t I follow their movements properly?’

  His apprentice said nothing, and he glanced quickly in her direction. The fool was afraid of angering him further. Rightly so.

  Pavros decided to abandon spell casting for the moment. He was too weary to think clearly. He was getting too old for all these troubles and had never quite regained the powers he’d had before he defeated the sword and helped kill Ronan. He hadn’t told King Sevris or any of the others that, however. After all, he was still stronger than any other living wizard, which meant he was strong enough to keep control of Azaray.

  He went to bed, hearing the apprentice sigh in relief as the door closed behind him. It was good to keep them on their toes. They worked harder that way.

  In the morning Pavros received an urgent message from the palace. King Sevris requested his presence immediately. The wizard sighed and got dressed, shouting for the apprentice to bring him some bread and honey.

  At the palace, he read the message brought by the carrier bird and found out exactly what had happened. When he’d read it a second time, he stood and thought hard before saying curtly, ‘Send messengers to Alvyna and Bezroll warning them about what’s going on. Those damned Halishi are involved again. They may be trying to put one of those children on the throne, but they’re not going to succeed.’

  ‘Will it be enough just to send messages?’ Sevris asked, chewing the tip of one finger. ‘Might it not be better for you to go there yourself and make sure the children are killed?’

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  The wizard shuddered at the thought of subjecting his old bones to several long, bumpy rides. ‘Of course it’ll be enough to send messages! Those three are only children. They’ve been lucky so far, but I shall strengthen the magic that protects the sword and they won’t be lucky again, believe me! There’s not much they can do with a scabbard, after all.’

  ‘Will your sister be prepared to kill the girl? She hasn’t got fond of her or anything, has she?’

  Pavros snorted with laughter. ‘Alvyna has found the girl useful, because she’s a hard worker and doesn’t need paying, but my sister isn’t fond of anyone except herself, believe me. She’ll kill any of those children as soon as look at them if she sees the need.’

  ‘But will she believe that it’s necessary?’ Sevris asked, not wanting to put into words the fact that Alvyna could sometimes be a law unto herself.

  ‘I’ll make sure she does,’ Pavros snapped. His sister was an irritating woman, always thinking she knew best what to do, just because she had some small gift for magic, but she would obey him in this. She enjoyed her rich lifestyle too much and would do anything to prevent it being taken away from her.

  ‘Alvyna won’t have gone far from Azaray yet,’ he told the king. ‘She hates travelling at night and will only have set off at first light. I’ll send a warning to her with full instructions about what to do.’ He flourished a bow and added sarcastically, ‘If your majesty will authorize the royal messengers to carry it?’

  Pavros was not as sure of himself as he pretended, however. He’d have sworn it was impossible for the three royal children to regain the scabbard, and how they’d managed it baffled him. What would they try next? How would they approach the hilt? What if Alvyna wasn’t able to stop them?

  Of course she’d stop them, he told himself as his quill pen scratched busily across a piece of parchment. It was a fluke that the children had regained the scabbard, and what use was a shabby old scabbard to them anyway? It was the whole sword which mattered, and they’d never manage to reunite the parts. He wasn’t even sure he could do it now.

  He’d make very sure that they failed. They were mere children. He was Pavros, the greatest wizard ever known.

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  15 WEYRIDGE HOUSE

  Ronan woke suddenly, sitting up in the darkness with his heart thumping. What had woken him? Had he heard something? He listened but could only sense his own heart pounding.

  What was wrong?

  He lay for a while longer, then decided to heed his feelings and shook Kerril.

  ‘Unh? What?’

  ‘Wake up. Something’s wrong. I know it.’

  Kerril was immediately wide awake.

  ‘You’re closest to the end. Go and find out if Shayla’s in her room. And check what time of day it is, too.’

  Kerril went to poke his head out of the panel, but could hear and see no one. From his crouching position, he glanced towards the window and saw how bright it was. ‘She’s not here and it’s the middle of the day, I think,’ he whispered over his shoulder.

  Ronan’s voice came through the darkness. ‘Let’s go and check the rest of the tunnel. We might be able to overhear something.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know why. I just know something is wrong.’

  Kerril hoped desperately that his brother was mistaken. If something was wrong it meant Shayla was in danger and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.

  ***

  Down on the ground floor all was bustle as the Lady Alvyna returned from Azaray. She looked sharply across the crowd of servants, saw her so-called foster daughter among them and smiled to herself. Pavros was worrying unnecessarily again. Where could the girl go from here? And how could such a stupid creature find the hilt?

  ‘Come here, you!’ she called, pointing at the girl.

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  Shayla set her face into the dull expression she wore when Lady Alvyna was in residence and went to bob a curtsey.

  ‘Go and wait for me in my rooms.’ Alvyna beckoned to the nearest guard. ‘Go with her. See that she doesn’t escape. Go straight there.’

  Alarm filled Shayla, though she hoped she hadn’t betrayed that. She bobbed another curtsey and followed the guard, a young fellow who had been more friendly than the others towards her.

  ‘Sounds like you’re in for trouble,’ he remarked as they walked up to the first floor.

  ‘I can’t think why,’ Shayla muttered, wondering how to warn her brothers.

  ‘Well, a beating is nothing,’ he said encouragingly. ‘The pain soon passes. Yell out good and loud, then she’ll feel satisfied more quickly.’ For Lady Alvyna seemed to enjoy having people beaten and nearly every servant in the house had felt her wrath at one time or another.

  ‘Could I just get a handkerchief from my room?’ Shayla asked.

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sp; He shook his head. ‘Better not. She said to go straight there.’ It was one thing to sympathize with a lass who reminded him a bit of his little sister, another thing altogether to disobey his mistress and get into trouble himself.

  They waited in the outer room of Lady Alvyna’s suite and presently heard the sounds of people approaching. The lord and lady came in alone and the other footsteps went away.

  ‘Go and wait outside, you!’ Alvyna snapped at the guard. She turned to stare at Shayla. The girl had been absent from supper, it seemed, and everyone had been worried, but she had been there in the morning. She’d said she felt ill and had been vomiting in the privy, so the fools had done nothing about it.

  The housekeeper would be soundly whipped for not checking everywhere inside the castle for her last night.

  Shayla clasped her hands in front of her, bowed her head and waited, her heart pounding.

  ‘Tie her to a chair,’ Alvyna ordered her husband.

  Beffris moved across to grab Shayla’s arm.

  She didn’t try to resist because he was a strong man, just asked, ‘What have I done, my lady? I don’t understand what I’ve done.’

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  Alvyna said nothing until the girl was tied securely to the chair, hands behind her, then asked, ‘Where are your brothers?’

  Shayla gaped stupidly to gain time. ‘But I don’t have any brothers. You’ve always told me I’m an orphan.’

  ‘We shall stop pretending!’ Alvyna waved one hand to focus a truth spell.

  Shayla stiffened and tried to resist the strange feeling in her head. For a moment she fought off the spell, then it began to gain control over her. She had a strong urge to open her mouth and tell everything.

  As she clamped her lips together, despair swept through her. She was helpless and tied up, on the verge of giving away her brothers.

  Suddenly she realized Alvyna was deliberately planting the despair in her mind, so fought the spell off again. Her head cleared and she stared at her tormenter, trying not to show any feelings whatsoever.

  Alvyna glared at her in outrage. ‘You dare to resist me!’ she exclaimed and made several passes with her hands, muttering something beneath her breath.

  Beffris stood waiting. He’d learned a long time ago not to interfere in his wife’s magic, though personally he’d have preferred to beat the truth out of the girl. She’d be screaming by now if he’d done this his way.

  Shayla felt the evil power increase again and a slimy feeling creep into her head. Then, just as she thought she couldn’t resist for one minute longer, something joined her, some power she hadn’t counted on. Her brothers! They must be close by—in the tunnel, perhaps. She opened her mind to them, seeking to join with them as she had before and finding it easier this time.

  ‘She’s had help to develop this resistance!’ Alvyna snapped. ‘Beat her, Beffris. Good and hard. She’ll not be able to think nearly as well if she’s in pain.’

  He immediately stepped forward, smiling, and clouted Shayla on the head, drawing back his hand for another blow.

  Neither he nor Alvyna had seen the cupboard door open behind them. Ronan crawled into the room, then leaped to his feet, followed by Kerril. ‘Let her go!’ he shouted.

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  ‘Ahh!’ breathed Alvyna, swinging round to confront them. This was the key to dealing with them. Hurt one and the others rushed to help. She watched scornfully as Ronan drew his sword and faced Beffris. A mere boy. He’d get nowhere with her husband. She folded her arms and prepared to enjoy watching his defeat.

  ‘Kill him!’ she ordered. ‘And quickly.’ She kept her eye on the other lad, who looked utterly terrified.

  Well, so he should. Within minutes, he’d be dead, too. They all would, Shayla included. Pavros was not the only one who could get things done.

  The man and boy moved to and fro across the room, crossing swords, testing each other out rather than fighting hard. Several times Alvyna tried to distract Ronan with a spell, impatient to speed matters up.

  Kerril and Shayla realized what was happening, exchanged quick glances and managed to foil Alvyna, even though Kerril was still at the other side of the room from his sister.

  The lady snarled a curse at them, using words more suited to the stables than a noble lady’s chamber.

  Gradually, the pace of the sword fight speeded up and Beffris began to look as if he was winning.

  Ronan began to pant and gasp, looking frightened now. Kerril wondered whether to try to help him, but couldn’t think how. It was as much as he could do to keep Alvyna’s spell at bay and Shayla was still tied to the chair, unable to move.

  Alvyna went over to stand next to the girl and pinched her arm so hard Shayla couldn’t help yelping.

  ‘You won’t win!’ the woman said viciously. ‘Beffris is a master swordsman. You—won’t—win!’

  Despair flooded through Shayla again and tears came into her eyes.

  ‘If you tell me everything now, I’ll save his life,’ said Alvyna softly.

  ‘She’s using magic on you!’ Kerril yelled from across the room. ‘Don’t let her get to you, Shayla!’

  The girl threw back her head and used all her mental powers to resist and gradually the feeling of despair ebbed again.

  Alvyna let out a growl of anger, but waited for her husband to finish off the lad.

  All now depended on Ronan, who appeared to be failing fast.

  Kerril looked round for something to use as a weapon, but before he could find one, Ronan pretended to stumble and grabbed a platter from the chest behind him. He hurled it at Beffris without a pause, a trick THE MAGIC SWORD Shannah Jay 81

  Tevis had taught him. Caught unawares, Beffris didn’t manage to dodge the heavy platter and it hit him squarely on the forehead. He grunted and fell to the floor unconscious.

  Alvyna shrieked with rage and snatched her dagger from her belt, raising it to thrust into Shayla.

  Kerril snatched another platter as he rushed round to stand between Lady Alvyna and his sister, holding it up like a shield. The minute he touched Shayla, he felt strength flow into him, courage too, and when Alvyna tried to muddle his mind, he laughed at her.

  She froze in shock, staring at Kerril as if he were demon born, then took a couple of steps backwards.

  ‘How did you do that?’

  He seized the opportunity to use his own dagger and slash Shayla’s bonds. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Fine. Watch out!’ Shayla picked up the nearest object, a candlestick with several lighted candles, and threw it at Lady Alvyna. It didn’t reach her, but she had to concentrate on turning it aside instead of yelling for help from the guards. By sheer chance one of the flames brushed against a frayed spot on the wall hangings where threads were hanging loose. A tiny flame flickered on one thread, then spread to another.

  Shayla dragged the table cover off and rushed across to Alvyna even before the candlestick had fallen to the ground.

  Kerril followed her, knowing instinctively what she wanted, and the two of them had the tablecloth over Alvyna’s head within seconds.

  The struggle which followed was more that of one magic against another than a physical fight. As Ronan tied up Beffris, the power ebbed and flowed between Alvyna and the two young people.

  The lady had confidently expected to overcome them and was still shocked to find how strong they were when working together. Once she realized she couldn’t stop them, she tried to call out for help, but by then her body was securely tied and the gag across her mouth let out only gurgling sounds. So she lay still and gathered her powers to send a mind-message to her brother, seeking his help.

  Pavros! Pavros! Why was he not answering? She poured all she had into the call. Pavros!

  Kerril clutched his ears. ‘She’s sending out a magic call for help. Ow, it’s hurting me it’s so loud.’

  ‘I can only feel a faint tingling.’ Shayla frowned at him. ‘Are you sure?’


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  ‘Very sure.’ He touched his head. ‘It hurts here.’

  Ronan finished tying up Lord Beffris and then noticed the wall hanging. ‘Look at the flames!’

  Kerril and Shayla both stared across the room. The oily wool of the wall hanging was burning fiercely now and heat was scorching the stones.

  ‘We can’t go without the hilt,’ Ronan said desperately. ‘We’ll never get another chance at it. Do you know where it is, Shayla?’

  ‘No. We must work together again to find it.’

  They moved to stand touching one another and concentrated hard, trying to sense the magic of the hilt, but only gaining a confused impression.

  ‘It’s not in here,’ Kerril said. ‘It’s somewhere else.’ He looked at the lady, lying quietly but still sending out mind messages that hurt his head. Smoke was acrid in his nostrils now, making him want to cough. ‘We can’t leave her here to burn.’

  ‘Surely the flames will go out on their own once the hanging’s burnt?’ Ronan said. ‘Stone can’t burn, after all.’

  They dragged the lady and her still unconscious husband out of the door into the anteroom, tying him up as well, then closed the solid wooden door on the flames.

  Shayla frowned round the outer room which she had dusted a thousand times. ‘I don’t think it can be in here, either.’

  The scabbard suddenly twitched against Ronan’s leg.

  He looked down in surprise, then realized it was trying to tell him something. ‘Concentrate on the scabbard!’ he said. ‘Concentrate.’

  ‘Hold hands over it!’ Shayla grabbed Kerril and drew him closer.

  When all three were touching it, they saw a ribbon of faint light begin to stream from the scabbard.

  ‘Follow it!’ Shayla said. ‘It can only lead to the hilt.’

  ‘How can we be seen with you?’ Ronan demanded. ‘They’ll know we don’t belong here, and anyway, they’ll soon notice the smell of burning.’