Tryal's Curse 13.0

Chapter 13: 
Durthnõt

'It's not like the Meare at all,' Garnet said, her eyes widening as the royal carriage trundled past the silver gates. 'It's much ... bigger. Even the horses...' she trailed off, shaking her head as she drank in the sight of the sprawling city. Kelm nodded absentmindedly at her, exchanging a quick glance with Malkolm, whose own eyes kept darting from the window towards Elborn. Elborn had been distraught ever since their arrival, but refused to speak. Even now he sat twisting his hands in his lap, his eyes glassy as he stared at his feet.

Donovan Smeth, the tall man who had joined them at the city gates, cleared his throat. 'It's good to see you, Kelm,' he said, in his quiet, clear voice. He looked like a professor, not a man who was capable of leading an army—had led an army until he had been demoted to position of Legal Advisor a year ago. Malkolm had seen his face on pamphlets and newsreels, and he was well-aware of this man's numerous victories against the Vampire armies fifty years ago, when King Trent has first ascended the throne. His face was unlined, his eyes as young and piercing and ever—the only thing that gave his age away was his hair, a shock of iron-grey, turning white at the temples.

'And you, old friend. It has been a long time,' Kelm said, smiling. He had greeted Donovan with much enthusiasm at the gates and had at once been whisked away into conversation by him, pausing only when the royal carriage arrived in all its purple-and-gold glory. It was considerably smaller than Elborn's WAGON prototype, and much more comfortable.

Malkolm leaned back in his seat, his head still filled with Arlene's screaming. He kept on sending incantations her way, but he could not cast any major spells until he was alone. He was unwilling to do magic in front of Donovan Smeth. He had a feeling he could not trust him.

'It is also good to see you, Ixister Malkolm,' Donovan continued, nodding at him. 'I am surprised, Kelm, that you have brought your region's Meka along, as well as the new Ixister. I think I made it quite clear in the letter that your position has been revoked, for reasons that you well know. There was no need...'

'On the contrary,' Malkolm interrupted, 'there was plenty of need, Legal Advisor Smeth. Kelm has made ... a deal with me.' He leaned forward and straightened his robes, which were now dusty from the journey.

'A deal?' Donovan said sharply. 'Kelm mentioned that you have uncovered a prophecy, but there was no mention of a deal.'

'Yes,' Kelm said heavily. 'Malkolm will be taking my position as healer, while I retain my powers as Ixister. This was the deal. Of course'—he twisted his beard around his wrist as his gaze shifted back to Malkolm—'the prophecy has changed things quite a bit. How far has Arlene's progress come, Malkolm?'

'Arlene?' Donovan asked. Malkolm ignored him.

As he had clambered into the carriage, Malkolm had wondered if Kelm had told Donovan Smeth of their deal, and that he would be taking the position at the castle instead. He had not had the chance to discuss the technicalities of the deal with Kelm, in the chaos of the journey and the discovery that Arlene had set a certain prophecy into motion. But he had a feeling that the initial demands he had made would not apply.

'Arlene is inside the Meargro caves. She has ... fallen into a magical hole.' Here, Malkolm cast Elborn a quick look, and the man looked up from his feet, his eyes wild. Malkolm saw his fists clench in his lap. 'I'm doing all I can to help, but it'd be better for me to cut down distance between myself and her current location—my magic is more effective the closer I am to the Meare. The deal...' He hesitated slightly, and shrugged. 'A protection enchantment is binding. If we were to make a power-shift back to Kelm, the enchantment will either break, or it will implode. I'm pretty sure we don't want to risk an Implosion,' he tagged on sarcastically, 'so I will have to return to the Meare with this dratted screaming in my head, while Kelm stays here.' Aware that he now held the attentive audience of the entire carriage, Malkolm stiffened in his seat, muttering under his breath as a particularly loud sense of fear coursed through Arlene's brain. His head throbbed, and he scowled.

'You must leave at once,' said Kelm, and Malkolm was surprised to see that his face was not sporting a wry grin as he had expected; in fact, several new lines graced his forehead, and his mouth was twisted into a scowl rivalling Malkolm's own. 'The deal will still apply for when you return and Arlene is safe, if that'll help you get back to the Meare faster, with a peace of mind ... but you must go. Right now.'

'I need a tower. And the carriage we arrived in, if you please.' Malkolm rubbed his temple. Donovan Smeth leaned out of the window and yelled an order to one of the footmen, who ran back towards the city entrance.

'I'm so sorry for the inconvenience,' Donovan said, once he was seated again. 'I'm trying to take security up a notch, despite my having close to no power.' He sounded frustrated. 'It's not classified information anymore, really, that the Blacksmiths are gaining power once more. But no one is aware of ... the true extent of their influence. It doesn't help that half the Inspektors are acting as spies for the new Blacksmith Centurion either—' With a deft hand, Donovan pulled the window closed, flicking the latch shut. 'Gairon, his name is. Their troops are moving closer to Durthnõt every day. Last burned a town down on the west coast. They haven't made such a blatant advancement in years, not since the last Blacksmith disappeared.'

'Trebon,' Malkolm said automatically. 'History texts,' he added, by way of explanation, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart as Arlene's sense of panic filled him. She was still falling; there appeared to be no bottom to Quixa's pit.

'Yes. Trebon.' Donovan cracked his knuckles, looking out the window at the cobbled paths, ignoring the inquisitive looks people were throwing at the carriage. 'Gairon is his grandson, it appears. And from the rumours that've been filtering through, he's looking for some sort of weapon. He doesn't need to fear the king, there are already enough cracks in the system for him to take over, but the Ixisters' Council is an entirely different story.'

'The Council is aware of King Trent's condition?' Garnet asked. She had clasped Elborn's trembling hands in her own now. She looked worried, her round cheeks flushed, her lips pressed together.

Donovan laughed bitterly. 'They have tried to cure it, but it appears as if the curse is taking its toll on him.'

'Curse?' Garnet's eyes widened and Kelm shook his head at her.

'It is not information that has been disclosed to the public,' he said. 'But Prince Wallace's running away was not entirely coincidental. You heard of it, it blew up the newsreels and kept the higher-ups in Syti busy for days. This is not the best place to discuss its details, but it has long since been known to us that the kingdom would crumble.'

A half-smile flitted across Kelm's face. 'We've taken to calling it Tryal's Curse.'

The rest of their journey, up towards the castle, passed in silence.

*

King Trent's castle was built on a ridge overlooking Durthnõt, giving the impression of a royal crown perched precariously atop a misshapen head. The city itself was built in a half-moon around the castle, a mishmash of modern steel houses and older, rugged looking buildings from the Vampire ages; some were solid structures of white cement gone grey, while others were fossils gone awry, their remains thin shells, almost like paper.

The castle was an odd assemblage of gleaming stone and roughly hewn blocks of granite, but from below, it looked absolutely incredible. The sun was high in the sky now, and the turrets glinted gold in the brilliant light, their red tops appearing to cut straight through the clouds.

When they got off the carriage, Kelm took Malkolm aside to speak to him.

'A tower? The carriage? Just what are you planning to do?' he whispered urgently, his grey eyebrow flaring again.

Malkolm kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. His headache was growing significantly worse.

'It's a huge risk, but I'm going to fly.'