War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: B. J. Beach
before he handed over to Sergeant Darke, Vintar cradled his mug of tea between his palms and tried to concentrate on other things. He found it difficult, his mind constantly wrestling with trying to produce a rational explanation for the night’s events, all to no avail. Finally, he took his pouch of smoking leaf from inside his jacket and filled his pipe, ready for the few moments of contemplation he habitually took before he went off duty. He was about to set a taper to the leaf when the latch clattered. The door was flung open, admitting a miserable grey light and a few stray flakes of snow. The morning guard stamped in and briskly saluted Vintar.
Sergeant Darke blew on his hands and stretched them out towards the stove. “Good morning, sir. We heard there was a bit of an upset during the night.”
The rest of the guard crowded as close as they could around the stove and looked expectantly at their captain. Vintar had been expecting a barrage of questions but the silence hung heavily, as if they were waiting for him to tell what he would in his own words. The salute acknowledged, Vintar gave some consideration to the bowl of his unlit pipe then tucked it in his pocket.
Arms folded he regarded the assembled squad with a steady gaze. “The events that were reported to have occurred during the early hours of this morning are still a matter of conjecture.”
A few of the guards exchanged glances and Vintar heard a whispered “What’s that mean?”
He smiled to himself. Although some of his men were a bit low on candle power, their fitness, physical strength and courage were beyond reproach.
The captain cleared his throat and continued. “As you probably already know, the soldiers involved in the incident were Colm and Merthyn. At present they are both in the Infirmary under the care of physicians. Of the two, Colm’s condition seems to be the more serious. The area where the incident was reported to have taken place has been checked both by a replacement patrol and myself. Nothing untoward was discovered, and so far everything has been quiet, so all we can do now is to wait and keep alert. And I don’t want to hear any gossip or unfounded rumours. Is that understood?”
The men clustered round the stove responded with a feeble chorus of “Yes Sir!”
Vintar gave them a knowing grin. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find something else to talk to the girls about. Now, check daily orders, which you’ll find are a little different to normal, then disperse to your duties.”
As the guardroom gradually emptied, Vintar sat down on the stool by the stove and finally set a taper to his pipe, snatching a few moments of quiet enjoyment as he listened to Sergeant Darke’s parade ground roar fade into the distance.
4 - A Search for Amulets
Symon floated up from a very peculiar dream in which bells were ringing and drums beating. Not quite wide awake, he placed his hands behind his head and listened as the bells continued to ring. Only when he heard the distinctive sound of bolts being shot back, did it dawn on him that Karryl was answering the door. Someone had probably been knocking and ringing for some time. Symon tumbled out of bed, pushed his feet into slippers, threw on a dressing gown and scurried out to see who was calling at such an early hour. Bare-footed, be-gowned and looking slightly bemused, Karryl was leaning against the door jamb.
A young runner stared defiantly up at him as water dripped off his very wet cloak to pool around his feet. “I have my orders sir. This is only to be delivered into Master Symon’s hands and it’s very urgent.”
Looking past Karryl, the runner gave a little grimace of satisfaction. “Good morning, Master Symon. This is to be handed directly to you, from Captain Vintar. I’m to wait in case there’s a reply.”
As Symon took the sealed packet from him, the runner nodded,
Sergeant Darke blew on his hands and stretched them out towards the stove. “Good morning, sir. We heard there was a bit of an upset during the night.”
The rest of the guard crowded as close as they could around the stove and looked expectantly at their captain. Vintar had been expecting a barrage of questions but the silence hung heavily, as if they were waiting for him to tell what he would in his own words. The salute acknowledged, Vintar gave some consideration to the bowl of his unlit pipe then tucked it in his pocket.
Arms folded he regarded the assembled squad with a steady gaze. “The events that were reported to have occurred during the early hours of this morning are still a matter of conjecture.”
A few of the guards exchanged glances and Vintar heard a whispered “What’s that mean?”
He smiled to himself. Although some of his men were a bit low on candle power, their fitness, physical strength and courage were beyond reproach.
The captain cleared his throat and continued. “As you probably already know, the soldiers involved in the incident were Colm and Merthyn. At present they are both in the Infirmary under the care of physicians. Of the two, Colm’s condition seems to be the more serious. The area where the incident was reported to have taken place has been checked both by a replacement patrol and myself. Nothing untoward was discovered, and so far everything has been quiet, so all we can do now is to wait and keep alert. And I don’t want to hear any gossip or unfounded rumours. Is that understood?”
The men clustered round the stove responded with a feeble chorus of “Yes Sir!”
Vintar gave them a knowing grin. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find something else to talk to the girls about. Now, check daily orders, which you’ll find are a little different to normal, then disperse to your duties.”
As the guardroom gradually emptied, Vintar sat down on the stool by the stove and finally set a taper to his pipe, snatching a few moments of quiet enjoyment as he listened to Sergeant Darke’s parade ground roar fade into the distance.
4 - A Search for Amulets
Symon floated up from a very peculiar dream in which bells were ringing and drums beating. Not quite wide awake, he placed his hands behind his head and listened as the bells continued to ring. Only when he heard the distinctive sound of bolts being shot back, did it dawn on him that Karryl was answering the door. Someone had probably been knocking and ringing for some time. Symon tumbled out of bed, pushed his feet into slippers, threw on a dressing gown and scurried out to see who was calling at such an early hour. Bare-footed, be-gowned and looking slightly bemused, Karryl was leaning against the door jamb.
A young runner stared defiantly up at him as water dripped off his very wet cloak to pool around his feet. “I have my orders sir. This is only to be delivered into Master Symon’s hands and it’s very urgent.”
Looking past Karryl, the runner gave a little grimace of satisfaction. “Good morning, Master Symon. This is to be handed directly to you, from Captain Vintar. I’m to wait in case there’s a reply.”
As Symon took the sealed packet from him, the runner nodded,
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