“The council is in session,” barked the Clerk to the Elder, “all rise for the Elder of Elders.”
Llewellyn entered from his vestry behind his chair and took his place, the other elders then also sat.
“Bring in the prisoner!” shouted the Clerk.
“My dear clerk,” said Llewellyn, “the acoustics in the chamber are such that even a whisper may be heard by all, please keep your voice to a normal speaking level if at all possible.”
The table at the centre of the room then parted and folded backwards, an iron cage then rose from below, holding wizard Llewel Mathias Gaynor, former High Elder of Wrth y Môr, and the home city of Flintock. He was released from the cage and led into the dock.
“Why am I here? I have done no wrong,” he protested, “I was released by the High Elder fair and square. What he has decreed cannot be undone, you all know the law.”
“That is very true,” Llewellyn said, “but it is only the law if it is the High Elder who releases you, and not an impostor.”
“Well ask him yourselves, bring him back to the chamber and he will testify on my behalf I assure you,” Llewel whined.
“Llewel Mathias Gaynor,” Llewel winced as Llewellyn spoke his full name as he knew that anyone who knew someone's full name could then speak incantations against them. “Llewel Mathias Gaynor, we have spoken at length with the former High Elder, and not only did he not recommend your release, and you know it. He was, as it happens, away visiting his family at the time this took place. It was of course the Master, disguised as the Elder who arranged your premature release.”
“No! It was the Elder, ask the other High Elders, they will tell you. Stepanek was there, she’ll tell you.”
Aneta rose from her chair. “It is High Elder Aneta Stepanek of Goleuedigaeth you insolent little man, yes I was here, but, and I hate to admit it, we were all fooled.”
Llewellyn continued. “How did the Master get back into Trymyll? Many of us here now saw the portal sealed by the former Elder.”
“Well, I don’t know; how would I know? At the time of his arrival, in case you have forgotten, I would have still been below here in your stinking dungeon.”
“He didn’t tell you then?”
“Let’s call it the hand of fate that brought him back to Trymyll.” Llewel quipped, smiling at his humour. “Your stupid youngest son, in taking off the Master's hand, also left him with a new portal.”
“Do you have a wand?” Llewellyn asked as if out of interest.
“Of course not, I don’t apparate unless kidnapped by your wretched offspring, so how would I get to the Wand Tree and back in less than a day?”
“Well then, let’s test it shall we?”
“No, no, you have my word, I do not have a wand,” Llewel said almost pleading to be believed.
“Wand of Llewel Mathias Gaynor appear,” Llewellyn whispered in Llewel’s ear, just as he had done in the cave a few days ago. Llewel’s wand appeared, floating in the air in front of them. Llewel grabbed for it, but before he could Llewellyn’s wand was digging into Llewel’s neck. Llewellyn snatched the wand from Llewel’s grasp and walked back to his chair.
“Llewel Mathias Gaynor, you have lied to us again, you did have a wand after all.”
“Oh yes, sorry, I forgot, in all the excitement, the Master took me to the Wand Tree for a new wand. Please don’t destroy it, just place it in a cold iron box so I cannot call it back.”
Llewellyn floated the wand in front of Llewel and let him watch it burn before his eyes. “Oh, sorry, I missed your last little whine, did you not want me to do that?”
Llewellyn smiled a small but malevolent smile at Llewel. “Take him back down but before you go, listen carefully, even if I and all the High Elders of the land come down to the dungeons below, dressed in sackcloth and ashes, and, on bended knees, beg you to release Llewel Mathias Gaynor you are not to obey. Llewel shall remain a prisoner for the rest of time. If he ever sees the light of day again, it will be from his gallows. Do I make myself clear?”
The prison guard nodded but did not speak, more Nephilim than man, well over eight feet in height, he stood to take a very white-faced and trembling Llewel back to the dungeons, Llewel barely rose to the height of his belt, even Flintock, by far the tallest there would only be chest height. Llewel strained his neck to look up to his face, then resigned to his fate, stepped back into the iron cage which began its journey back to the dungeons with the guard holding the chain and standing on top of the cage as it descended. The chain then retreated magically into the ceiling, the table reassembled itself and folded together looking solid and without any sign of a join.
“Flintock, what news of the hand?”
I’m afraid it is as Llewel hinted, the Master has returned, using his severed hand as his portal. There is more news, but I need to talk with you separately about it, as it is of a personal nature.”
Llewellyn nodded to the Clerk, who then spoke softly to announce. “Council dismissed. Reconvene at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”
The High Elders left the Chamber leaving only Llewellyn and Flintock, with two soft pops, they apparated away and back to the Elders apartment below the castle.
“What was that all about?” Llewellyn asked.
“My great uncle is not the Master; my great uncle is.”
“What?”
“Unbeknown to me, I have two great uncles, Faraji Mwita Osei, who brought me out of Africa and eventually to Trymyll and a great uncle Muenda Mwita Osei, Faraji’s younger twin by seventeen minutes and his nemesis. Faraji has sought him secretly most of his life, aided by none other than Songhai Chen, our little Chinese friend who has been less than frank with us.”
“How do we know that the two of them are not working with Muenda or the Master as he prefers to be known.”
“No, I met them out at the Blue Mountains. While speaking to my Great Uncle Faraji, the Master put in a brief appearance, but he held a position some way off, almost as if he were scared to get too close. You could feel the disdain between them; the air almost crackled with hate.”
“Oh, I see,” Llewellyn said while thinking about his next move, “can we meet with Faraji? Either the two of us or even the full council?” He questioned, then added, “and Songhai Chen if possible.”
“I’m sure that at least Faraji would meet us, Chen seems to be more elusive and may or may not acquiesce, but there’s more to tell. I’m not sure that my great uncle is the answer to our problem. Both have had many opportunities to do away with the other but never carry through. Muenda says that this is because each hopes the other will change sides and either Faraji goes to the dark side or Muenda sees the error of his ways, repents, and joins Faraji for the greater good. Both know that neither of those scenarios will ever happen but live in hope. However, a more plausible explanation is self-preservation. They are not only bound by birth; they are also bound by magic. If one kills the other, both might die.”
“What if someone else kills Muenda? Will Faraji also die?” said Llewellyn asking the obvious question.
“That is something neither of them knows, and for obvious reasons, neither of them wishes to test the theory.”
“Well, I hope not, because, given the chance, it is a theory which we may have to test one way or another,” Llewellyn said solemnly, “can you call your great uncle here?”
“I am already here,” announced Faraji, “I have been here for some time as I followed my great nephew’s astral thread.”
“What!” exclaimed Llewellyn, “welcome Faraji Mwita Osei of the Yoruba people. I sensed that there was a presence here, but it was so faint, I thought I was mistaken. Pray to tell me, what is an astral thread?”
“It is magic known to few, some of your Wizard Guards know of it and one or two have even mastered it. When one moves or apparates from one place to another, there is a faint, almost indiscernible thread of magic that remains, sometimes for many days, from the point one leaves to the destination you appear in. That is an astral thread, a hint or trace of magic, as thin as gossamer. When the art is fully developed, one may even recognise the owner of the thread. A handy tool when seeking either an enemy or a friend,” he paused. “I am most surprised that you felt my presence, I was a hidden wizard for many years, the suppression of my inner aura was something I had honed to perfection. So, for you to sense my presence would be a great gift which you should develop further.”
“Thank you,” said Llewellyn, though he was not quite sure why he was thankful, “you have heard our discussion. I am convinced that you are not with your brother, but you must understand, if we must, we might destroy the Master as he calls himself. Is that a risk you are willing to take? It may mean that you too will die.”
“Or it may not. It is something I have lived with for many, many years. But for the greater good as you call it, whatever will be, will be. If I die, then I die, if I live, I live; but my life will not be much longer anyway as I will not see my ninetieth birthday again.”
“The same must be for your twin,” Llewellyn said as a question.
“Not necessarily, his power is greater, he and Songhai Chen, now bitter enemies, were once great friends. Songhai may have given him his own secret of longevity.”
“Now he is your friend, why has he not done the same for you?”
“Simple. In case, like Muenda, I too turn to the dark side. By dark, I do not mean like your own High Elder Asmodeus, compared to Muenda, he is almost an angel of light.”
“But has he not told you one way or the other?” asked Flintock.
“My dear great-nephew, have you not spoken with Songhai Chen? He speaks in riddles, evasions, half-lies which are always truths and half-truths which are also quite true, but you can never work out which, if either.”
“You almost sounded just like him then,” Llewellyn laughed.
“So, you get my point,” Faraji said with a smile.
Llewellyn then asked, “Can we have a meeting with him too?”
“Of course, I will summon him, but don’t expect any straight answers.”
Faraji then summoned his staff, placed his hand on the gem and concentrated for a moment. Songhai Chen appeared.
“Welcome Songhai Chen,” said Llewellyn, “please excuse us for the intrusion, we have much to discuss as we plan how we deal with the Master.”
“I will do my best to assist,” he said with a deep bow.
“First, a direct question, does Muenda know the secret of your longevity?”
“That we will not know until he either dies or lives.”
“But you must know whether you told him the secret or not.”
“Me telling him the secret, and him knowing the secret are two different things.”
“Have you told him the secret? Yes or no!” Llewellyn said with some frustration.
“Yes and no. We have, many years past discussed the possibility of long life and how it may be attained, but no one knows the secret, only the reality.”
“But you must know the secret, or you would not be over nine hundred years old.”
“No, I know the reality only. That reality was achieved, how it was achieved is not a secret.”
“Then how was it achieved?”
“That I cannot tell, for the achievement is not mine to share.”
“Why do you always talk in riddles!” Flintock said angrily.
“I do not talk in riddles. It is just that you do not understand.”
“Alright,” said Llewellyn, “let’s try a different approach, if Faraji kills his brother, will they both die?”
“That is simple, if one twin, linked by both birth and magic kills the other twin, they both will die and yet, one will live.”
“That is not simple at all,” Llewellyn said with some emotion, “we are learning nothing. I will try again, if another person, for instance, Flintock or I, were to kill the Master, would Faraji live or die?”
“Bloodlines and magic are from the same source. If you were to kill the Master, then he will die, if Flintock were to kill the Master, then he will die.”
“Who will die? The Master? Faraji? Flintock?”
“Yes.”
“So, if Faraji kills the Master, Faraji will die also, if Flintock kills the Master, Flintock would die also, yes?”
“No, that is not what I said. If one of them kill the Master, then all will die, and also live.”
“Well thank you for your time, it has been most helpful,” Llewellyn said with more than a hint of sarcasm, “Will you join us in the fight? Or would you also die?”
“All will die, and all will live, that is the reality I have been sharing.”
With that
last sentence hanging in the air, Songhai Chen vanished.
Llewellyn, Flintock and Faraji stood there looking at each other.
“Did anyone understand a word of that?” Llewellyn ventured to ask.
“Not a word,” they both replied.
“I did warn you,” Faraji continued, “the boy speaks in riddles.”
“What next?” Flintock asked.
“We had better get back to the council and report back.”
“Report what?” Flintock queried.
“Exactly,” said Llewellyn, “but I’ll think of something.”