Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins
Chapter 3

Methyndid not like what he was hearing, not one bit. The royal messengerstood in front of the two school masters wringing his hands. Methynsuspected that the boy did not fully comprehend the magnitude of thesituation he had been sent to alert them to and was, in fact, rathermore preoccupied with his current situation.

“Well this is apickle isn’t it?” Cartaisey’s voice rattled and wheezed fromslightly above him. Methyn had decided that it was probably best toignore the fact that his master had suspended himself and his chairupside-down from the ceiling. Ignoring the magical, and ofteninexplicable antics of the old coot had become almost second nature;although the long beard that was now brushing the tip of Methyn’sleft ear was becoming increasingly hard to overlook. Methyn foldedhis arms and subtly shifted his weight to the right.

“I’m afraid it’simpossible.” Methyn remained stone faced while a little voiceinside of him was quietly sobbing for his mother. He enjoyed arelatively peaceful existence at the school; when not stopping thestudents from trying to blow each other up, and did not wish for itto be jeopardised by involving himself in the affairs of the royalfamily. Besides, the whole thing sounded far too dangerous. How theKing expected Cartaisey to contribute, Methyn couldn’t fathom.Cartaisey’s unstable state was common knowledge; though he wasstill unquestionably the most powerful of Corthus’ Sorcerers. Theyoung messenger fidgeted.

“Impossible? How sodear boy?” Cartaisey gasped from above him, his chest rattled. HadMethyn not always known his master to be this way then he may havebeen more concerned- as it was he merely sidestepped from beneath himas Cartaisey succumbed to a prolonged coughing fit and fell promptlyonto a pile of cushions that Methyn was able to conjure in the nickof time.

“My point exactly.”Methyn replied once the coughing from beside him subsided. “MasterCartaisey is simply not well enough to accompany you back. Andcertainly not well enough to go off on any ridiculous quest toCortharen.”

The messenger had beenafraid that this may be the case. He was aware that The GreatCartaisey of Corthus had seen better days but he was not aware untilthat moment that the ‘better days’ had been last seen so long agothat everyone had given up hope of them ever being seen again. TheCartaisey that sat in front of him now, still coughing, was theepitome of frailty. Methyn was right, it was unlikely that ifCartaisey did accompany him that he would be able to make the longarduous journey to Cortharen; let alone be of any help if he gotthere in one piece.

“I s-s-see.” Hestammered. Methyn’s cold face was fixed on him in such a way thatmade him want to hide. The school master’s hard reputation precededhim and the effect that his carefully structured façade had on theboy in front of him was apparent. This pleased Methyn, with any luckthe boy would return to the King with his tail between his legs andhis peaceful life would remain just that.

Cartaisey had otherideas. “Now then, don’t stammer lad. It’s hard enough tounderstand you with my hearing.” Cartaisey wheezed from his pile ofcushions. He rocked back and forth as he tried to untangle his feetfrom his long beard. “There is no need to worry, I am sure we cancome to some sort of arrangement.” The two younger men held theirbreaths as Cartaisey slowly heaved himself up off the floor.

“With all due respectmaster you are in no fit state to travel to the palace, let alonetravel all the way to Cortharen. The trip is dangerous even for moreable bodied people…”

“Able bodied yousay?” Cartaisey fixed Methyn with a stern look. His face saggedaround the jaw and his brow was permanently creased, but time had noteffected his eyes which still held the sparkle of youth. Theyremained a sharp, bright blue.

“Well, yes sir.Surely you can agree that…”

“Able bodied? Likeyou?” Cartaisey’s eyes were unblinking. His face unreadable.

“Ah,” Methynglanced down at his now slightly protruding midriff, the podge ofmiddle-age had firmly established itself but he remained, for themost part a healthy man. “Yes? Though even for someone like myselfthe trip would be rather dangerous.”

“But doable?”Cartaisey slowly and deliberately raised an eyebrow, the sagging skinof his forehead crinkled ever more deeply.

“Certainly doable,but still…” Methyn did not like where this was going.

“Then it’ssettled.” Cartaisey clapped his hands together quickly and sharplyturned to face the young messenger. A smile had already formed on hisface. “Methyn will accompany you back.”

“Excuse me?”

“In my place ofcourse.” The old sorcerer continued to smile, both at the messengerand then at Methyn.

“Sir I don’t thinkI’m qualified to be your stand-in.” Methyn’s peaceful existencewas crumbling before his very eyes. He had not ventured into the maincity of Corthus for many years. The trip itself was a simple one butthe city itself was rife with danger. The crowded streets wereriddled with crime, or at least they would have been if any of the socalled criminals could replace the willpower to strike out and actuallymake something of themselves. Essentially all they ever accomplishedwas to ponder the idea of breaking the law. The mere thought oftenproved too taxing and thus nothing much was ever accomplished- butthe potential was there and this scared Methyn.

“Oh pish my boy. Youare my second at this school and as such are more than capable offilling in for me.” Methyn could not dispute this fact; especiallysince he had been practically running the establishment on his ownfor quite some time now. It was, for the most part, a thankless jobso it was a welcome change to be acknowledged. “You’re still inyour prime lad.”

Methyn hid a satisfiedgrin with a cough, “Well I suppose…”

“Able bodied.Wouldn’t you agree young man?” The messenger nodded emphaticallyin response. “Then you shall go in my place.”

“Ah, nowwait a moment.” Methyn desperately tried to buy himself some time,there had to be a way out of this one. Cartaisey couldn’t beallowed to go; not in his condition. He was a danger to himself, anda danger to those around him for that matter. An unexpected sneezefrom Cartaisey could cause half of the city to become some form ofprocessed cheese. And Methyn certainly couldn’t go. The King hadrequested Cartaisey specifically, no one else in Corthus wielded hiskind of magical ability- not even Methyn. Besides that, he really,really didn’t wantto go. In his own mind this was a good enough reason as any butprobably wouldn’t sound quite so persuasive to the other two men inthe room. Instead he settled for a different approach: “The Kingspecifically requested the presence of master Cartaisey, did he not?”He addressed the messenger directly who seemed unable to look him inthe eye.

“Yes s-s-sir.”

“And he would bequite disappointed if he was unable to meet with him, would he not?”

“Yes s-s-sir?”

“So hemight get quite… angry?” The messenger fidgeted and gulpedloudly, he sensed where Methyn was going with this. “Have you everheard of the phrase ‘don’t shootthe messenger’?”

“Now nowMethyn, don’t scare the poor boy.” Cartaisey smiled warmly.Methyn folded his arms in front of his chest. The messenger whimperedand wet himself a little. “You willgo in my place.” The warm smile remained on Cartaisey’s face buta stern edge had crept into his voice that neither man could ignore.Externally Methyn sighed and shrugged; internally he mourned for thesudden death of his comfortable existence and tried to preparehimself for what he was sure was going to be a rather painful demise.Cartaisey was not going to be swayed when he had set his mind tosomething. Physically he was as helpless as a child- mentally he wasas stubborn as an ox.

And so Methyn foundhimself getting ready to leave the Corthus Institution for the studyof Magic and Wonderment later that day. He took very little with himas he fully expected his bag to be stolen from him at some point whenthey reached the city- he would later come to realise that he hadgiven the criminals of Corthus far too much credit. The most he wasgoing to get were some half-arsed looks of intent. He packed onlysome spare clothes, a cloak, some sandwiches and a bundle of hisCortharen tea bags. The trip would take them the best part of a dayand he was sure that when the King saw that he was not, in fact, thegreat sorcerer that he had requested he would promptly be sent homeand would be back the following day in time for dinner. Methyn couldnot have known how wrong this presumption was; for he was not goingto see the institute again for quite some time.

Not only that, but hewas definitely going to run out of tea bags.