Ethria 3: The Liberator

by Holloway, Aaron

  I made it to the landing, Tol’geth not far behind me, and sat down on the stone stairs back against the wall. Tol’geth remained standing, but we took a moment to catch our breath. After what felt like minutes but was only seconds as my internal HUD clock ticked down, I stood up again, breathing under control. Tol’geth had quieted as well.

  “You two better? Or should I call a nurse?” Traser asked. His grin and Ailsa’s giggling annoyed me and I grumbled. Traser turned with a flourish of his short, waist high cape and opened the door to our destination. “After you.” Tol’geth entered first, Ailsa riding on his shoulders, kicking her legs into the air as a girl might over a stream. I entered after Tol’geth, Traser closing the door behind us.

  The room we entered was massive, and part of a larger complex of rooms that ran through the entire layer of the tower. Book shelves were on every wall, filled with books, scrolls, and specimen cases. Every few bookcases there was a large tome that held writing that looked like block print. Someone had left those books open to what looked like an index page. The floor was a deep red carpet mixed with dark brown stained hardwood or clean swept stone around the fireplace. There were several seating arrangements where couches or chairs were drawn up against a table or around the fire. In one case it sat around one of the open books.

  The room was lit by a massive window that went from floor to ceiling, bathing the room in natural morning light. As the office faced southward, the sun would never directly blind anyone in the room. At the far end of the combined library, workshop, and office space sat a massive desk that wrapped around in a crescent moon. It was made of deep brown wood and stained darker. The outcome reminded me of mahogany. On the desk were several large stacks of books and papers, each in neat piles.

  “Welcome Wizard. Come and sit with us ...” Lana, the Master Water mage, sat on one of the couches that circled the fire. I easily spotted her weathered staff and bright blue robes amid the gentle hues of the room. Sitting next to her were two elderly men, each wearing similar robes, just with different colors. One man looked elderly, but healthy. His hair was brown, mixed with a peppering of white and gray. He wore a crimson robe that nearly blended in with the rest of the decor. The third man was hunched over, held up only by the lovely young woman who sat next to him. I couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep, but as we approached, he slowly moved his head to see us better. The young woman lent him her strength as best she could. His robes were yellow, almost gold, mixed with black around the edges. Visually he was the mirror opposite of the City Mage Jo’han that I had med just a few days ago in the market outside the tower gates.

  “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Pyromancer,” said the elderly man in the red robe. He stood to greet us and helped Lana do likewise. When she was on her feet, one of her apprentices was helping her. He turned back to us. “My name is Javik. I am the Master of Fire Magic for the northern duchy.” There was a bit of tension in the man’s voice as our eyes met. Tol’geth came between us on his way to take a seat on a couch and the moment was shattered. Fire encouraged people to impose their will on others, to spread one’s influence and power. It encouraged those who used it to be ambitious. I could only imagine what a lifetime of working with fire had done to the man’s psyche.

  As Traser then interposed himself, seeking his own seat, I gave the man the benefit of the doubt. Ambition in and of itself is not a bad thing, I thought as I took a seat in a small armchair. “So, where is the Count?” I asked. The Masters of the Tower each reacted differently to my question. Lana cracked a smile, Javik’s scowl deepened, and the nearly comatose man I assumed was the Light-Master Po’tak, perked up for just a moment looking around. When he didn’t see the count he went back to dozing against the shoulder of the tall woman sitting next to him. The woman sighed, and patted the elderly man’s hand, forcing a smile. Worry in her eyes.

  “He should be on his way soon. I sent word to Zed as well, though I don’t expect him to show up right now. He lost his entire orchard, and the spell withered his home down to nothing.” Lana said. Her voice a mix of affection for my supposed master, and sorrow at his predicament. “That was his wife’s home, you know. Amber had tended those woods for years until she was finally taken from us.”

  “Bah, I don’t see why you bother with the old fool, anyway.” Javik said dismissively. “He’s been crazy since long before Amber passed and you know it.”

  “My sister would have said something witty and kind to diffuse this situation, Javic, not me. Go shove it up your arse.” Javic looked more amused than insulted by the old woman’s words. “Zed is a master of this council, just like all our other members. Though a few are away, we constitute the authority and might of the Tower of the Magi’s in the whole duchy at the moment. As such, it is our responsibility to deal with the murder of one of our own.”

  “We don’t know that Jo’han is dead. He could be being held for ransom.” Javik’s argument was feeble, and I could see he knew it. It was more a plea than something he believed. Lana eased forward in her chair slightly and reached a hand out. She placed it atop one of Javik’s. It was a gesture that spoke of far more care than I had previously thought she had for the man.

  “Jo’han was like a son to all of us. We asked too much of him in dealing with the city’s problems, and yet he did just that. And he rose to the occasion more than once. He would not have allowed himself to be taken alive by the likes of that petty sorcerer. Caught unawares, perhaps. He was young and far too trusting of our own kind. But not taken prisoner.” After a moment, Javik nodded in agreement. “Good.” She patted his hand and sat back. “Now maybe I can get you to stop attacking Zed every time he comes up.” Javik opened his mouth to respond, but the elderly Po’tak lurched straight in his seat.

  “Zed?! Where is he? I told him he shouldn’t have messed with that pixie. Nasty business they are. Don’t know their own spells well enough… they... they don’t... don’t know their spells.“ He slowly settled back down as the young woman drew him in close, tears brimming slightly in her eyes.

  “I am sorry about my father.” The woman said, her voice sincere and melodic. “He might be here, but he often finds himself in other places and times. Often in the past with his friends.” Her father finished settling, and she whispered to the group. “My father and mother, and Zed and his wife, used to be close friends. Back in those days Zed was primarily a thaumaturge, someone who did experimental and theoretical magic. ” She explained for my benefit.

  “Though from what my father says, he was also a somewhat accomplished anti-mage. My father was often attending him, healing his burns and other injuries from failed experiments, or just Zeds own clumsiness. They became fast friends. At least, when I was younger that was the case.” She pulled her father, who was now snoring, down onto her lap. After a moment she began humming softly, her tone comforting and beautiful. The melody was in perfect pitch, and though her voice was not like one of the many perfect Elven voices I had heard since coming to Ethria, it was strikingly beautiful.

  I examined the woman more closely, purposefully not activating the Analyze ability but instead just looking at her with purpose. I was trying to understand who she was. Her hair was brown and fell well past her shoulders even as her father’s head was bald save for a crown of white wispy hair. Their skin tones matched, white, almost pale. Her eyes were blue, which seemed to match her fathers. She had a kind, soft face. She wasn’t a supermodel by the measure of Earth’s standards, but she was beautiful. She wore a simple brown robe, with a much more elegant and heavy traveling cloak draped across the back of the couch where they sat. The last thing I noticed as she shifted to accommodate her father better was a set of small pipes held on her hip. Wood, lacquered, and well taken care of. These were the instrument of someone who took the art seriously.

  “Pardon my asking but, are you a bard?” I asked. The room fell silent, and half grins swept over the faces of the other two conscious elderly magi. The woman slowly turned her face towa
rds me and met my eyes. She was clearly trying to determine if I was asking an inappropriate question or not. “Uh, I didn’t mean to pry as to your class or any characteristics or other private information. Bards from my homeland are more professional artists, a career or a calling rather than a class. They are well thought of, usually.” I had embarrassed myself enough on Ethria at this point that I had learned to cover simple social fops. Like inadvertently asking inappropriate questions.

  She smiled, understanding dawning on her face. “Ah, you are a foreigner. The term bard used to carry such meaning here, long ago. But in modern times here in Torish lands, particularly in the north, the term is one of great esteem. It denotes membership in a powerful guild. One must work countless hours at many tasks, and master many skills before they can be tested to join the lowest ranks of that powerful order. Only a handful have ever visited this far north.”

  “And yet there are two in this city as of yesterday morning, coming off the boats. And a third sits in this very room.” Lana chuckled, and the younger woman rolled her eyes. “Oh stop it, you might not technically be a member of that up-jumped performers guild, but you’re as skilled as any of the bards I’ve ever met. I’ve gone more than one round with those pumped up pansies. You’re my godchild, so if they cross you, they cross me. Something they have learned not to do lightly.” She honestly sounded like a Mafia boss.

  “Leave her alone Lana. She doesn’t want to be caught by the guild using that title without official membership. The consequences can be...” Javik was interrupted as the room’s door thundered open. Three men in armor walked in. The Count was suited in full plate mail. His armor radiated more power than the set he had worn the day before. The other two men practically glowed with how much energy and magic radiated off their gear. They flanked the Count, weapons sheathed at their belts as they carried various scrolls and accouterments.

  “Alright, yesterday’s fiasco will not be repeated today. We lost enough brave souls to that bastard’s machinations, and I won’t have more needless loss.” I winced internally, but kept my face as passive as I could. “Beyond that, I got word this morning that the Duke’s son died a few days ago. Which means my men need to be on high alert once the news spreads to the public. Long story short, we need this done today with as few casualties and as little fuss as possible.” Lana snorted a laugh, Javik grinned and shook his head, and the half asleep Po’tak jolted awake.

  “Wah!? Who is there? Where is Zed?” He asked, his voice as clear as daylight. The Count for his part didn’t look taken aback at the man’s antics. Though the knights looked slightly unsettled.

  “Right here!” Came a voice shouting from the stairs outside the room. “Just catching my breath!” Zed stumbled into the room, leaning heavily on his staff and wheezing like he had just run a marathon. “Why would you do that?” He asked, looking at the count. “You know I can’t keep up, I don’t have that fancy armor...” The count blinked, confused at the rapid pace of shifting conversation.

  “Wait, you were waiting for him? Not me?” The count asked. His voice hurt slightly. Lana stood and walked over to the large armored man before bringing her staff firmly down on his foot. “Ow!” The Count said as he shifted away from the master water mage. “What was that for?”

  “There is no reason for you to feel insecure. We were waiting for everyone, not just you, boy. And Zed there is a part of ‘everyone’.” The count had the good graces to look mildly chagrined.

  “Yes, well. It’s just that I haven’t been a part of things for a bit. Still getting caught back up with the day to day of things , you know. Just want to make sure i’m being accounted as part of the decision makers as is my responsibility.” He shifted slightly away from the powerful old woman.

  “Good to hear. Now, will you take a seat so we can get started?” Jovik said from where he sat. His voice was annoyed more than anything. “The sun has been up for a good hour, and I’d like to lay the groundwork for a containment spell that will nullify that upstart’s agility to wield magic for. What’s wrong with them?” I looked at where he was pointing. The two knights who had accompanied the count were listing back and forth slightly. Their eyes were glazed over and almost milky white, their faces had grown lax.

  “Someone catch them before they—” Tol’geth sprung from his seat and tackled the two men to the ground. With a loud clattering noise, he practically dented one man’s armor with a bare hand. He then held them both there. Their bodies twitched slightly. “They’re having seizures. Roll them on their sides and — catch the Count!” I yelled before he fell to the floor, thrashing. His eyes were milky white. Zed was there in an instant, pushing him over on his side and keeping him from hurting himself.

  As the three knights laid there, twitching and seeing heavens knew what I stood in the middle of the room. The mages, Zed, Tol’geth, and Ailsa, all paused, trying to gather their thoughts. Finally, I raised my voice. “What?!”

  Chapter 4: A Legal War

  "Legal Action is but Warfare Disguised" - Mike Klepper

  The Mage Tower, City of Sowers Vale, 3rd Novos, 2989 AoR

  We found whatever had felled the count had spread to virtually all the knights and squires in the city. Word came from every quarter, every noble house, and every knightly order sworn to the service of the kingdom, begging the tower of magi for help. In one case, the magical ailment felled nearly an entire family, including most of the women and children. The council thought it was an attack by the sorcerer at first. They had activated the magical defenses of the city, which includes among many other things a massive dome of force that crackled with lightning. The field emanated from the towers top and anchored at the city’s walls.

  After a few hours we realized it wasn’t an attack. Ailsa explained when I asked, “something like this is Tier 4 or higher magic. Like what you described your people having. A spell equivalent to a low yield nuke or a biological attack. That Death Magic spell had to have come from an item, and it was low-level, Tier 3. Covering maybe a few city blocks. The only reason it spread out as far as it did was because it was over generally flat ground, and was unopposed. So it went further than it should have. But no way that sorcerer could wield Tier 4 magic. Even an item of that strength would require several Master ranked mages to even attempt to use. The elves would have trouble with that.”

  The city was on virtual lockdown. Within the hour every street was empty, every home barred shut, and the city guard was out in force. They filled the battlements on the walls two men deep on the western side. Half that allotment manned the northern and southern walls, while scouts and watchers guarded the eastern wall. The river and mud on that side acted as a natural defense against any direct attackers.

  I saw all of this from the top of the tower. The platform I was on had a commanding view of virtually the entire city. Where we sat even saw the base of the wall on the far side of the palace. From the roof, which we made our way to, we could see practically everything. Only a small portion of the city was out of our line of sight. The area behind the Cathedral and the Palace or various small sections of wall that were patrolled by squads of the city watch.

  The harsh winter wind chilled me to the bone as I kept watch on the sorcerer’s tower, looming as it did a short way outside the western gate. I could clearly see the damage Jekkel had done. The entire southern portion of the logging forest had been desiccated. Though I was the only master ranked mage at the top of the tower, I did not stand my watch alone. Three journeyman magi representing the elderly masters below stood with me or sat as they wanted. Their masters were below, managing the active defenses of the city and trying to find the cause of the ailment that plagued the Torish knightly class. One of the enterprising teenagers had brought up a set of stools for us to use, and I had to admit, after walking up the seemingly endless stairs, I appreciated it.

  It was growing a little warmer as the sun rose to noon when a runner burst through the door to the roof. “Lord Wizard, Lord Wizard come quick. The
Count has awoken, they have all awoken!” The man was as red faced as I had been when I first reached the roof. Fighting back a wince, a laugh, and a sigh, I got off my duff and followed the man below.

  ---

  I walked into the room and found the Count and his two Knights, along with the several squires who had been on other floors running various errands, all dawning their armor. The heavy defensive gear had been removed so the mages could better ply their healing arts. They all looked exhausted, and yet they strapped on each piece of armor slowly, methodically. “So, what’s going on?” I asked, as I entered the room. Ailsa buzzed to my shoulder and sat there from where she had been resting on Zed’s head.

  A few people attempted to answer at once, but they all went quiet when the Count spoke up. “We go to war, young wizard.”

  “Uh, I thought we were kind of already going to be doing that?” I asked, confused. The count grinned a tired grin.

  “No, what we were going to do against that sorcerer was little more than law enforcement work. Removal of a scoundrel, a thief, and a murderer. Today me and my men march off to war. To the west at Gul-haven along the coast, the Duke has been slain. His children have been captured, and his wife murdered in the streets as she attempted to protect them. Undead now control the duchy’s capital. We march to free it.” I stood there, stunned for a moment.

  “Wait, what? How do you know this?” Several members of the group assembled tried to stop me from asking. It was impolite to question a Count in his own realm. I knew this. It was kind of obvious. But I needed the info, and he seemed like the quickest way to get it.

  The Count grinned his tired grin as he continued to don his armor, even as the rest of the assembled city leadership and my friends glared daggers at me. All but Tol’geth, who stood ominously in the corner. “A vision sent to us through our oaths. While we were comatose, we saw the capital sacked, the Duke murdered at his own son’s funeral, and many horrors that no mortal should ever have to bear witness to. And so, we march to war to fulfill our oaths. Today, as soon as possible.” I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of anything. I just stood there, watching as the handful of men and young grim faced boys strapped on blades, pieces of armor, or checked packs for what must have been the dozenth time.