"Questor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Archibald Alaistair J.)

Chapter 6: The Battle

Grimm awoke refreshed, full of energy to face the new day and feeling more cheerful than he had for some time. He remembered the events of the night before, although they seemed somehow distant and unimportant, unconnected with his present good humour.

He washed and groomed himself with his customary fastidiousness. When he emerged from the marvellous bathroom, he saw a cold collation on a small table, laid out for his regalement, and he consumed it with gusto.

The large, square window in his room illuminated, and Armitage's face appeared on it by some marvel of Technology.

"Good morning, Questor Xylox, Questor Grimm," the Administrator's voice called from the glowing square. "Would you be so good as to join me in Test Lab Six? You'll find it at Section Brown Nine, room 115."

To Grimm, this seemed a reasonable and fair request. "I will be there shortly," he said to Armitage's avatar, which nodded.

"Redeemer, come to me!" he said. The black staff flew to his waiting hand, and he checked his reflection in the mirror. Since everything appeared in order, he left the room, to see Xylox exiting his own chamber.

"Good morning, Questor Xylox," Grimm said in a respectful tone.

"The same to you, Questor Grimm," the older mage replied, with a customary lack of warmth and companionship. Xylox seemed his usual, unfriendly self. "I believe that Brown sector is four corridors away from this one in an anticlockwise direction; we should not keep Armitage waiting."

"I suppose you are right." Grimm sighed.

He knew Xylox intended to put in a bad report about him on their eventual return to Arnor House, but he refused to let it spoil his good mood.

"What about the others?" he asked.

"Armitage did not invite them," the senior Questor intoned. "We will allow them to sleep on."

The door opened at Xylox's touch, and Grimm felt a broad smile spreading across his face at the sight of Administrator Armitage. Looking at his colleague, he saw Xylox's face wearing a similar but uncharacteristic smile, but this did not seem strange to Grimm; he knew he, too, felt overjoyed to be in the presence of this good-hearted humanitarian.

Behind Armitage towered a rack of boxes with black cables cascading over the floor. In the centre of the room stood a metal chair, with what looked like seaweed hanging over its back.

"Greetings, my dear friends; do come in," Armitage said, with a happy smile. As they entered the chamber, the door closed behind them with a soft hiss.

"I called you here because I wanted to ask a little favour from you both," the white-coated Technologist said. "Although I've met a few mages in the past, I've never encountered a Questor before. Would you be willing to demonstrate your powers for me, so I can study your magic?"

"Whilst I cannot pretend to be a lover of Technology," Xylox intoned, "I have no objection to showing proper gratitude to a generous host."

"I will also give any help that I can," Grimm said. "What do you want us to do?"

"Xylox, my friend, may I ask you to sit here?" the Administrator asked, indicating the iron chair.

"Thank you. Wait while I attach a few electrodes to your scalp. It'll only take a few moments, and I promise it won't hurt."

Xylox shrugged. "I have no objection."

Armitage took the 'seaweed' and combed it with his fingers into separate, slender tendrils. At the end of each tendril was a round metal pad, onto which the Administrator smeared a substance from a clear sachet before pressing it onto the mage's skull.

Grimm suppressed a smile as the severe, ascetic Questor began to look like some wild man, his hair standing on end. At any other time, the whole idea of the fanatical, Technology-hating thaumaturge assisting this arch-Technologist would have seemed incongruous in the extreme, but Grimm now saw nothing unusual about the situation.

When he had finished attaching the fine wires to the patient Xylox's head, Armitage moved behind a thick glass screen and sat at a small table. "When you're ready, Xylox, I'd like you to perform a small magical spell," he called, staring into a black metal box in front of him which cast an unearthly light on his face.

"What sort of spell?" the mage asked.

"I don't know; any sort of spell," Armitage said, shrugging. "Just don't aim it at me."

Xylox sat for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, before uttering the personal spell-word "K'saata". A tiny blue fireball, the size of a marble, shot from the end of his outstretched index finger and impacted the opposite wall; the whole room reverberated with a metallic ringing sound and a round black mark bore testament to the blue sphere's impact.

"Excellent, excellent," Armitage crowed. "Those theta waves are off the scale, and the dopamine levels are unbelievable!

"Do something else, Xylox: something a little more powerful, perhaps. Don't worry too much about the wall. I can always get it replaced."

"Very well, Armitage," Xylox said. "Let me try something different this time; matter creation. This is a very powerful spell indeed, although not very useful, and it may take me a little time to prepare for it."

"Take as long as you want, mage. Just remember, I'm expecting something pretty spectacular."

Xylox's brows descended, and the air seemed to turn misty and soupy around him, shimmering and turbid. A low moan came from him, and his eyes turned upwards until only the whites were visible. A definite air current began to move around him, and Grimm saw blue motes flickering around his fellow Questor's head.

The young mage heard an accelerating ticking noise from behind Armitage's glass screen, and the white-coated man's eyes looked as if they would leap from his head as he studied his little box.

A long, incoherent phrase spewed from Xylox's lips, the metal walls of the room bowed inwards with a sudden clang, and Grimm felt his ears pop with a sudden decrease in pressure. The temperature in the chamber dropped by a noticeable amount, and the young mage saw a subtle dusting of frost gleaming on the distorted walls.

In Xylox's open right hand rested a tiny piece of what looked like rock. Grimm felt unimpressed: had Xylox really expended all that energy just for a minute portion of worthless stone?

It was all Grimm could do to hide his contempt. However, Armitage leapt out from behind his screen to inspect the object.

"Is that really e-over-c-squared mass? Direct energy concentration?" the Haven man breathed.

"I have no idea what you mean, Armitage," Xylox replied. "I required rather more energy for the spell than I had within me, and so I needed to take some more from my staff, Nemesis."

Armitage looked a little concerned. "Does that mean you won't be able to perform any more magic?"

Xylox shook his head. "Give me a few minutes, Administrator," he said. "I have a goodly store of energy inside Nemesis. I will soon be ready to cast again."

Grimm gaped; he had never thought of storing magical energy in his staff, to be called upon when required, although the concept now seemed so obvious. Even so, he still could not see what all the fuss was about over a minute piece of gravel.

Armitage returned to his chair and his box, and he pressed a stud on his table. "Did you get all that, Terrence?"

A distorted, distant, voice issued from the table: "We certainly did, Administrator; fabulous, incredible data!"

"I'm glad to hear that, Terrence. I'll be doing a few more monitored experiments, and then we'll get onto the one-on-one. You might as well turn off the monitoring for that, but keep the video going, whatever you do."

"That's understood, Administrator."

"I am ready once more, Armitage," Xylox declared.

"Excellent!" the Administrator replied. "I'll just do a few more tests with you, and then perhaps we can try a few with you, Grimm."

"I'm glad to be of any assistance I can," the young mage replied.

Thribble cowered behind a mass of black cables. They were warm, which was good; otherwise he might have frozen during Xylox's Creation spell.

He began to think he had been wrong to trust the lecherous, corpulent Technician, Deeks. For three hours, Armitage had been playing Grimm and Xylox for fools, putting them through all kinds of tests and experiments. It sickened the demon to see two such proud and powerful thaumaturges reduced to eager performing animals, and Thribble began to worry that Deeks had succumbed to cowardice.

He hoped with all his heart he was wrong.

Now, Grimm sat in the chair, garlanded with the strange, silver tendrils, and a white-coated Technician had just brought in a rabbit in a cage, placing it on the floor in front of the magic-user. "Now, Grimm," Armitage called from the safety of his screen. "I want you to destroy this animal."

"Why, Armitage?" the mage asked. "It has done no harm to me."

Momentary hope surged within the demon at this brief flicker of polite opposition.

"For no reason other than the fact that I have asked you, mage," the Administrator replied in a stern voice. "Just do it."

Grimm's moment of defiance faded, and he shrugged. "Very well; I'm sorry, rabbit." He sighed.

The mage took a deep breath, extended his right hand and shrieked "Sh'kat'ya sh'yarai!" The metal cage exploded, sundered fragments bouncing across the floor and off the walls in a tinkling chorus. On the wall behind where it had stood was a wet, red stain; all that remained of the small, hapless animal it had so recently contained.

"Thank you, Grimm. That ends this series of tests. I wish to thank you both for your co-operation," the Administrator said, stripping the metal tendrils from Grimm's head. "I have one last little favour to ask of you, gentlemen. I will be leaving the room in a few moments. I want you to wait a few moments, and then I want you to attack each other."

Xylox looked shocked, Grimm no less. "This is my brother Guild Mage, Armitage. I have sworn an oath; I cannot in conscience attack him, even for you," the elder mage said, his face a mask of concern.

"Indeed, Administrator; Xylox and I are not friends, but we are Guildbrothers," Grimm gasped. "Don't ask this of us, I beg you. I would hate to have to disappoint you after all you have done for us."

Come on, Xylox, Grimm, fight! Thribble thought. Your fight is not with each other, but with your true enemy!

"Is this gratitude?" Armitage screamed.

The Questors flinched, as if the impact of his voice had driven them back.

"Very well; I'm not asking you anymore. I order you to fight to the death. Do as you are told!"

The two mages swayed, and each clutched his temples, his clenched teeth bared, as if his head were being crushed.

After long moments of inaction, Grimm spoke: "I don't want to, Armitage, but I will do it for you, and only for you."

"I am also prepared to fight," Xylox declared. "I will not allow this jejune stripling to attack me unopposed."

"I'm glad to hear it," the Haven man said. "I only have one further request; I don't want either of you ending up like that rabbit. There must be enough left of the loser for me to study. Is that clear?"

Both mages nodded.

Thribble could see that each man considered himself the stronger Questor, but one of them must be wrong.

Do it, Deeks! he urged inside his skull, as if the vehemence of the thought alone might rouse the portly Technician to action. Be quick!

Armitage left the room, and the two mages began to circle each other like a pair of wary tigers, each assessing the other's agility.

"You will be defeated, Afelnor," Xylox declared. "I will take no pleasure in it, but I do not intend to lose. I am the better Questor."

"I am young and strong," Grimm declared. "You are old and slow. I will win."

Xylox broke the deadlock, screaming the first spell. Grimm flinched and staggered back, twitching and shivering like a man possessed. He managed to gather his strength and throw off the spell, and he countered by swinging Redeemer at the older mage's head. Xylox barely parried the blow in time.

Blue sparks flew as each mage strained to force his staff past the other's guard for a few minutes, and then a cacophony of nonsensical spell-words began. Thribble hunched deeper under his protective cables, as the Questors wrought dire destruction on the room without either gaining a decisive advantage. Dazzling displays of light flew across the room, smashing furniture and equipment to pieces, blowing holes in the walls and ceiling as the battle raged.

Neither man remained unscathed. Each bore a profusion of cuts, contusions or burns on his skin, although none appeared of a disabling nature. However, Xylox had begun to pant, whilst Grimm seemed unfazed.

The younger man smiled, revealing red-stained teeth as he seemed to find a spell he liked: a mass of compressed air that pounded Xylox like a giant fist, over and over again.

At first, the older mage raised counter-spells, but the relentless hammering went on and on, and, after a few minutes' assault, Xylox slumped to the floor.

"You are beaten, Xylox!" Grimm screamed. "I have won!"

He closed in to stand over his fallen foe, drawing his hands above his head in preparation for some climactic spell. Xylox's staff swept out and took his overconfident younger colleague's feet from under him, and then impacted on the young man's chest, causing Grimm to draw back, his eyelids and teeth clenched in a rictus of pain.

The two men lay for a few minutes, breathing hard, before each staggered to his feet.

"I am almost sorry you will have to die, Questor Grimm," Xylox rumbled. "I still have plenty of energy to call on from my staff, while it seems that you lack this sleight."

"I don't need it, old man." Grimm gasped, his grey complexion giving the lie to his statement, as a trickle of blood ran from his lips. "I am stronger than you in any case."

The two mages squared up for what Thribble guessed must be the last time, when an amplified yell came from the corner of the room; the distorted but recognisable voice of Armitage.

"Stop what you are doing at once!" the voice screamed, and the thaumaturges stepped back from each other. "I am your despised enemy. You remember all that I have done to you, and you hate me for it. This order cannot be countermanded, and you will under no circumstances obey any other order of mine!"

The sheer volume of the metallic shout made the perforated walls reverberate with its power, and it seemed to stun the two magic-users for a moment.

"Are you… all right, Questor Xylox?" Grimm gasped.

"I have never felt better, Questor Grimm," the older man wheezed. "Do you need any strength from Nemesis? Some still remains."

"I could use some," Grimm replied, smiling as Xylox laid a restorative hand on his colleague's shoulder. "Do you need any Healing? I have some small talent in that area."

"Perhaps just a little," Xylox said.

For a few minutes, Grimm worked with salves and magic words on his fellow mage.

"That is much better," the senior Questor acknowledged. "What do you want to do now, Questor Grimm?"

"In my humble opinion," Grimm replied, "We should tear this stinking slave pen to pieces, rescue our companions and get back to our Quest."

"Agreed," Xylox said. "But we destroy Armitage first of all. Are you ready now?"

"I'm ready Xylox; let's do it. He won't know what he's unleashed. I almost feel sorry for him: almost, but not quite."

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