Mage Prime (Book 2) by B.J. Beach Page A

apologies. In the light of the misfortune that has overtaken Minister Venson, and the personal distress of Minister Allyn, I respectfully request that the meeting be adjourned.”
    Vailin rested his elbows on the arms of his throne and leaned forward. The smile he gave his Prime Minister had all the warmth of a mid-winter blizzard. “Your apology is under consideration. As to adjourning the meeting, the answer is quite categorically in the negative, despite your obvious eagerness to do so. Ensure that your ministers maintain procedural etiquette for the remainder of the meeting, however long that may be, and rest assured you will be receiving a note from my office in the morning.”
    The Prime Minister’s deep chagrin was evident as he made his bow and turned to face the room. “Gentlemen, the meeting will continue. Assemble in your factions if you wish, but please maintain decorum and follow procedure.” To the accompaniment of several low murmurs of approval, the Prime Minister turned once again to face the dais. “We surrender the floor to the Crown.”
    He bowed once more and hurried back across to take his seat on the far side of the room. Karryl stepped nimbly up onto the dais and also resumed his seat.
    He turned to Symon and put his mouth close to the little magician’s ear. “I thought Venson was dead, but Lady Evalin didn’t seem to think so. Where do you think she’s taken him?”
    Symon gave him a sideways glance. “My guess would be the Infirmary, but it’s not really our concern. Now, sit quiet and listen.”
    As Symon leaned back in his chair, Vailin nodded to Agmar. The tall elder rose to his feet and stepped to the front of the dais. Up to now he had taken no part in the proceedings although he had obviously been listening to every word. Karryl rested his face on his hand, and thought what a daunting presence the man had. He hadn’t realised until now, how tall Agmar really was, his height further accentuated by the dozens of soft vertical pleats which fell from the yoke of his long silver-grey robe. Just at that moment, Karryl’s drawing was brought to the front of the room. The minister holding it gave a startled yelp. The sheet of paper twitched out of his hand and floated steadily upwards to a point where a surprised Karryl could pluck it out of the air. Agmar hadn’t moved.
    It was the turn of those on the dais to be startled when he spoke, his voice resonant with authority and menace. “Too many of you think that your comfortable and ordered lives will always be so. This is no longer true. The impending threat to your city, your people and your king, is far greater than any of you can imagine. It cannot, I repeat cannot be beaten with ordinary weapons.”
    A voice shrieked from the back of the room. “Yes it can! That magician Karryl told us that!”
    The owner of the voice suddenly found himself with his rear end on the floor. Those around looked down at him with singular disinterest.
    Agmar continued unperturbed. “The two creatures which were killed with blades were young ones; juveniles, about one third grown. They were lost and inexperienced. Even so, killing them cost the life of one of His Majesty’s loyal soldiers, and seriously injured Master Symon. The grelfon slain with magic was larger. Even though not full grown, it took all of Karryl’s strength to cast a spell powerful enough to be instrumental in its death.
    “Did you think that when these creatures come in force, as they most assuredly will, your puny non-magical efforts would have any effect? These creatures are evil, bred for one thing and one thing only; to kill anything or anybody that offers them resistance. They are in all probability, highly intelligent. Nevertheless, they are devoid of anything resembling conscience.
    “Unless your vote allows us to take whatever measures we deem necessary to fight against, and protect the city from these creatures, you are all doomed. Your comfortable lives and fine homes