Chapter fifty-six

Epipelagia

 

John put down Hardacre’s letter and immediately shouted to the servant who cooked his meals.

‘Chios, I need you here now!’

The little elf came racing into the room with a look of confusion and apprehension on his face. Up to this point the human had been a model guest, as polite as any noble elf could have ever have hoped to be.

‘What is it, sir?’ he said, his voice trembling and a little higher than usual.

‘I need to talk to someone in authority and I need to do it as soon as is physically possible’

Chios looked confused.

‘I don’t really know what you mean sir…’

John picked up the letter and waved it in the servant’s face.

‘I mean this…’ his voice trailed off. He thought for a second.

‘I don’t need you’ he said, ‘I can walk to the Residency myself’

‘What Residency, sir?’ Chios asked, ‘are you feeling unwell?’

‘No, I’m not’ said John, ‘I’ve wasted so much time here and now things have gone terribly awry!’

‘awry?’ mouthed Chios, ‘I’m sorry sir, I don’t know that word’

‘Catastrophic’ he translated inelegantly, to no-one in particular. Chios looked even more puzzled.

‘I won’t be needing lunch today, Chios’ said John, gesturing for him to leave, ‘I’ll be eating at the palace’

Chios backed away so far that he ended up three rooms away. 

John picked up his cloak and stuffed the letter in one of the pockets. He strode out of the house, leaving the servants to close the door behind him. The sun was streaming through the cypress trees around the harbour, and the sea, as always, was a still, beautiful, green.  He was no longer interested.

He walked down past the harbour and into the old town. He was surrounded by the gigantic mansions of the nobles of Helios, buildings that made Eth City look like a shabby provincial backwater.  The facades were more beautiful, the sculptures more accomplished, and the towers taller, but John didn’t feel intimidated. He had two pressing needs – he had to find the Basileus, and he had to get home. Nothing could be allowed to get in the way.

The Basileus’s Palace was the largest of the mansions, and was on the highest point of the island, set in several acres of landscaped gardens and just next to the lighthouse, which was perched on a rock outcrop that projected into the sea.   The lighthouse was the most striking of all the buildings in Epipelagia – a white marble structure on three levels with a large tower at its summit. At night it shone out across the sea with a powerful white light, although John had only ever seen a few ships in the harbour.

John climbed up the hill to the main gates of the palace complex and examined the defences. The wall was high, but without spikes or jagged edges. There was a guardhouse – but there were no obvious guards.  He smiled to himself – maybe he’d be able to just walk straight in. He stood in front of the huge iron doors and whispered ‘agor’. The gates squeaked a little but refused to budge. As he studied the mechanism of the gates a nervous face appeared on the other side, belonging to a guard in the Helian military uniform of deep black and crimson red. He took one look at John and retreated rapidly, blowing a very annoying whistle.

‘Damn’ thought John, ‘now I’ll get some unwanted company’

A dozen guards poured out of the guardhouse from a door he hadn’t seen on the exterior of the complex. They had short swords and worried expressions. Their leader stepped in front of John and attempted to block his way, but his action was rather redundant as his way was already barred by the gates.

‘Stop!’ he said, ‘this is the Basileus’s area. It is not permitted to..ummm’ he thought for a second and then came up with ‘barbarikos’ in Archaic Elven.  John smiled sourly – he knew exactly what that word implied on elven lips. John narrowed his eyes.

‘This barbarian needs to see your Lord’ he said

The guard captain looked nervous but stood firm.

‘That is out of the question’ he said, ‘you must leave now or we will arrest you’

 John’s smile turned from sour to dangerously sweet.

‘I don’t think so’ he said. He looked at the iron barrier and said ‘thor’. The gates shivered slightly and then collapsed, falling backwards like a trooper fainting on a hot summer’s day.

‘Now’ said John, ‘I plan to walk in and find him’

The guards ran forward to stop him, determined but still clearly wary about using the points of their swords. John had to be quick – ‘ddraenog’ he commanded of himself. The air around him pulsed and turned strangely solid. The rapidly advancing guards were all stopped in their tracks by something in the hardening air. They pushed forward again but each one felt like the air had peaked into invisible spikes around the human. They jostled, poked and shuffled but they could get no closer.

‘Archers!’,the Captain shouted and John knew he had to hurry if he were to get anywhere – the spikes would slow an arrow but not stop it completely. He could see the palace two hundred yards ahead. He needed to reach it and find some shelter.

John rushed through the guards, who pinged away rather satisfyingly. He made his way up the long tree-lined path looking for the most likely door. He needed to guess which entrance would be easiest to open and closest to somewhere useful. In front of him was one of the main doors of the palace, but he was looking for something less obvious. Finally he saw an open scullery door a few yards to the left of the big entrance. He made for that.

‘Fire’ shouted a voice from behind him. He ran into the doorway just in front of the hail of arrows. ‘phaid’ he shouted to end the hedgehog spell. Then he sprinted through and kicked the door closed behind him. Where to go now? In front of him was a washroom with three bewildered female elves. They ran from him scattering their washboards and dirty clothes. Beyond them there was a corridor with small rooms off it – this was clearly the servants’ quarters – and at the end was a big wooden door painted with the Palaeologus crest. (He recognised the pattern from the front of numerous buildings in the city). He walked to the door and yanked it open. It lead into a large hall, which was milling with soldiers and distressed servants.  He looked around immediately for a suitable target.

John chose the guard who was furthest up the wide stairs that dominated the centre of the hall. He took a deep breath – this was the last thing he would probably have energy for, for the time being – and then whispered ‘chyfnewid’. There was a sudden jolt and he was standing on the huge staircase looking back at the guards converging on himself. He hated this spell – it was dizzying, painful and disorientating, and it put the other person at risk. The idea behind the spell was that it was a physical swap but that the essence of the person who was swapped stayed in the original location briefly, so that anyone looking thought that the original person was still there. The illusion lasted about ten seconds, but that was enough to give him a head start.

He leaped up the grand staircase, briefly disguised as the guard. The confusion behind him was redoubled, as everyone grabbed at the poor translocated guard. He made for the top of the stairs unhindered and on to the sumptuous state rooms beyond. The whole area was decorated beautifully with paintings and murals, but he had no time to admire them. He ran on, using a simple rule – go for the widest corridors and largest rooms, and hope.

The corridors were mostly empty and the few people that were in the rooms were given no time to react. John ran on until he came to massive doors embellished with an image of a giant winged serpent.  John stopped in his tracks. In front of the door stood a huge metal figure, taller than any man and much wider. It was roughly human-shaped but its whole body was articulated in steel. Its head was topped with a sharp metallic beak.  It held in its two hands a silver sword. John gulped – he had nothing much left to deal with this, and he knew automata were extreme hard to enchant.

John took a step back. The automaton lumbered forward, its bright red eyes fixed on him. He’d never seen anything like this before. The only marginally encouraging thing was that he was probably now in the right place.  Perhaps if he could deflect the blow somehow the metal creature would be too clumsy to be able to follow him. Summoning up all of his remaining energy, he waited for the inevitable strike. The automaton raised its blade and made to bring it down upon John’s head.

The door opened behind them.

‘No need for that Boris’ said the elderly elf who had appeared at the door. The automaton stopped in mid swing. The red light in its eyes dimmed and died.

‘I call him Boris because that seems like such a good barbarian name’ said the elf, ‘you’d know better than I, of course, Mr Ismay’

John smiled, despite himself. He bowed. 

‘My Lord – I have been trying to talk to you for several days’ he said ‘I was told that you were out of town’

The Basileus considered this.

‘I was’ he said gravely, ‘until you showed me exactly how keen you were to meet me’

He looked at John very carefully.

‘And now it seems.’ He said, ‘that I am definitely at home.’