Darkness Rising 1: Chained

  ***

  As Emelia’s breathing changed Jem and Hunor sat looking at one another in silence. Sir Unhert had risen and was talking to a second knight, Sir Robert, as he ate his meal.

  “So what are your musings on this blue crystal, mate?” Hunor asked, his voice a whisper. “I knew it was worth a bit of coin but nothing to warrant this business.”

  Jem glanced at the two chatting knights then shuffled nearer Hunor, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “I’ll concur—it’s a mystery. I could sense magical power within it back in Coonor but nothing that exceeded a minor enchantment. It would appear that its true value has only become apparent after we stole it.”

  “Aye, it’s a meaty response all right. Quoting treaties and proclamations at us—thought they were going to bore me into a confession.”

  “Any word of more than three syllables is likely to do that, Hunor. Personally I think the response is disproportionately small.”

  “Come again?”

  “Well if this item is so valuable as to warrant the High Commander’s ‘anything goes’ approach that nearly cost Emelia her head, then why send such a small group of Eerians? And why the mixture of knights and mage? Three air mages would be a more subtle and effective force.”

  Hunor stretched his arms against the ropes and shifted to get comfortable. The two knights were still chatting.

  “Well perhaps when they set out they were uncertain where they would end up. Three baldy wizards are little use if the crystal was tucked away in an Archbishop’s cupboard in Goldoria.”

  “Indeed,” Jem said. “With the talk of treaties and so forth I wonder whether this crystal is of such value that they do not want the rulers of whichever nation it has ended up in to be aware of its presence.”

  “So this is a covert mission? Jem, you’ve got the eyesight of the much feared mole demon of darkest Foom, a creature so visually ignorant as to lose its way in its own infernal burrow. They’re Knights of the Air—they wear plate armour and ride griffons.”

  “Pyrian witticisms aside, I do agree to a point,” Jem said tartly. “But the griffons allow them to travel at a rate that only magic can emulate. They can snatch the crystal and make good their escape without being long enough in a nation for an international incident.”

  “Aye, I see that now. The diplomats can then spin some choice yarn and smooth over the snatch in keeping with whatever treaty is in place. And whoever had the crystal—assuming the knights don’t kill ‘em—would be most unlikely to make a fuss over something they’ve stolen in the first place.”

  “Indeed. This mixture of mage and knight indicates some compromise in evidence at the higher levels of Eerian politics. I don’t sense they are content bedfellows either.”

  “All good for us then, mate.”

  Jem was silent for a minute. The distant flicker of the knights’ fire twinkled in his eyes. Unhert had finished his food and was returning to his duty.

  “We cannot underestimate them again, Hunor. They are extremely well equipped. Goldorian Pure Water comes at a significant price. We are clearly vital to their mission but let us not overplay that hand.”

  “Well we are. Emelia doesn’t seem to enjoy the same privilege.”

  “Her safety is essential to me,” Jem said, his voice rising. “That’s a given.”

  Hunor looked past Jem’s shoulder, his gaze flitting like an excited moth.

  “Emelia can’t replace her, Jem. You do realise that?”

  Jem stiffened in surprise. “That is an outrageous thing to say. I am the girl’s tutor and her mentor. Dragging your mind away from the sort of women you entertain for just an instant would allow you a realisation that that is not how it works. Not for a teacher and pupil.”

  “How would you know that though? Exactly?”

  “I’m not sure I follow your odd line of thought,” Jem sighed.

  “Well your mentor and tutor was a four foot Galvorian monk currently living in a cave in the Silver Mountains. That’s not quite the same as a six foot blonde protégé is it?”

  Jem flushed a deep scarlet. “Damn it, Hunor, you are totally off the mark here. For a start he doesn’t live in a cave. And for another thing perhaps you should focus on one of your famed escape plans rather than idiotic speculation about what you think, erroneously I shall emphasise a last time, is going on in my patronage of Emelia.”

  Hunor began to reply then hesitated, seeing the steely glint in Jem’s eyes.

  “We will not have this talk again. Am I clear on that?” Jem said, glancing at both Sir Unhert and Emelia. Hunor nodded in acknowledgement and then turned to try get some rest, shading his eyes from the glare of the camp fire behind a moss-coated stone.