Return of the Wizard King

by Chad Corrie

  —Old halfling saying

  Rowan joined the others watching the yellow claws of flame tear the memory of a faded civilization into cindery rubble. The uneasy darkness that had risen earlier had faded, but the sky was darkening again with the ascending strands of greasy smoke. Now that they were a safe distance away, standing in the open area around the ancient walls, the sight filled him with a sense of joy.

  If they’d missed anything in their efforts, it would surely be destroyed. If the elves ever did make it here there would be nothing for them. Better still, they’d made it out safe and sound. Well, almost all of them. It looked like Vinder and Dugan would be all right. Their injuries weren’t as great as he’d first thought. If it were Rowan who’d been hurt, he would have at least offered a prayer of thanks to Panthora, but apparently neither held to any god.

  “A fiend and a skeleton?” Vinder wasn’t sure how to take what Alara had just told them. She stood beside Gilban, who was still keeping the chest tight under his right arm.

  “And if not for Rowan we might all have perished.”

  “Really?” The dwarf cast a curious eye his way. “You killed a fiend.”

  “I guess,” he replied. “I don’t remember all of it. One moment I was staring at him, and the next I was rushing him.” And that was the whole of it as best he knew it. Everything had happened so fast he still had trouble with any finer details.

  “You killed a fiend,” Vinder repeated.

  “Only by the grace of Panthora,” he said. “She must have been guiding my hand.”

  “And then the skeleton just vanished.” Dugan continued walking through the matter.

  “With Cadrissa,” Rowan added.

  “But not us,” said Vinder, making sure everything was still on his person. Once content it was, he asked, “So does that mean we’re done here?”

  “Our task is done.” The fire danced across Gilban’s mirror-like eyes. “We need only report back to the elucidator.”

  “But what about Cadrissa?” Rowan was amazed at the callous disregard of her fate until he remembered these were elves he was talking to.

  “We can’t help her,” Gilban responded dryly. “She could be anywhere.”

  “And maybe keeping company with some more fiends.” He wasn’t too surprised by Vinder’s reply, knowing how dwarves often sought their own interests over all others, but there was still one other human among them.

  “And what about you?” he asked Dugan.

  “I’m a free man with enough money for a new life.”

  “But what about Cadrissa?”

  “What about her?”

  He was amazed at Dugan’s lack of concern. “We need to help her.”

  “We?”

  “She’s a fellow human, and—”

  “I just gained a life,” Dugan growled. “And I’m not about to go throw it away.”

  “That’s it?” His tone turned indignant. “We risk our lives getting this information and lose one of our band in the process, and now you treat her like dirt?”

  “One of our band?” Vinder snorted. “That’s not how I remember your take on things earlier.”

  “Rowan . . .” Alara stepped hurriedly into the conversation. “We came here to complete a mission. We can’t—”

  “I’m not a mercenary. I’m a Knight of Valkoria—and I won’t have a human woman being held captive by that . . . thing that took her.”

  “Do you even have a plan on how to find her?” Alara softly inquired. “Like Gilban said, she could be anywhere.”

  “Or dead.”

  He ignored the dwarf’s dour comment. “I’ve heard talk of a wizard who lives in northern Frigia—maybe he could help.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” said Vinder.

  “Well, it’s better than just abandoning her.”

  “And what if the wizard doesn’t want to—or can’t—help you find her?” Alara’s question was like cold water on a dying fire.

  “And you have something better in mind?” He stared her down.

  “Don’t you have a duty to your superiors first?”

  And then it hit him like a fist to the face. “You’re right.” He sighed. “That ancient knowledge needs to be dealt with.”

  “And until we get it back to Rexatoius, it won’t be safe from the wrong hands,” Alara continued.

  “Wait. You’re taking back the information?”

  “Yes,” said Gilban.

  “But I need to bring it back to the grand champion.”

  “Oh boy.” Vinder ran a hand through his beard.

  “Worse than that, you’re elves,” he continued. “I was sent to keep the information from falling into elven hands.” He didn’t see Dugan and Vinder exchange questioning glances.

  “Elyelmic hands,” Alara carefully corrected. “And we’re going to keep it safe from them too.”

  “But what are you going to do with it?”

  “Keep it safe in the Great Library,” said Gilban.

  “Study it?” His hand fell on the pommel of his sword without even thinking. “You’re going to use it to build your own empire.”

  “Calm down.” Vinder stepped into the fray. “They got what they came for, everyone’s alive, and we got paid. Just leave it alone.”

  “Not everyone made it.”

  “All right, have it your way,” said Vinder, retreating a few steps. “I got paid. The job’s done. If you want to stay and duke it out with the folks who let you tag along, that’s your business.”

  “Tag along? I was already en route when—”

  “We joined forces,” Alara calmly interjected. “And we were successful.”

  “I came to keep that knowledge from falling into elven hands. I can’t in good conscience leave without it.” The uneasy silence that followed nearly strangled all present.

  “Let it go,” Dugan finally advised, but Rowan wasn’t going to have any of it. He was in the right. Panthora had led him, and he had his orders. If they couldn’t see that, it wasn’t any fault of his.

  “We can’t do both.” He kept his sights on the two elves, watching them closely. “Either that chest goes with me or—”

  “What if I went with you?” offered Alara.

  “What?”

  “What if I went with you—back to your superiors—to verify our goals are one and the same?”

  “Are you insane?” Vinder was obviously far from embracing the idea. “You don’t owe him anything.”

  “I know, but if it helps resolve the situation, then it’s worth it.”

  “You staying behind wasn’t part of the plan,” said Gilban.

  “I thought you said we needed to be prepared for some acts of free will.” She flashed him a small smile. “And we did invite him along, after all.”

  “Which he chose freely to accept,” said Gilban.

  “I know.” She sighed. “I just—I just feel it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I see. If that’s what really is in your heart, I won’t stand against it.”

  “You sure?” Apparently, Alara was expecting more resistance. “Are you going to be all right on your own?”

  “Who said I would be on my own?” Gilban’s eyes fell on Hadek. The goblin was standing a few yards from the others.

  “You’re still here?” Vinder frowned. “I’d thought you’d scurried away like the other cockroaches.”

  “Vinder!” Alara’s reprimand was as pointed as a knife. “He helped us escape. You can at least try and be civil.”

  “You do what you believe to be right, Alara,” said Gilban. “Saredhel has already seen to my needs. Come here, Hadek.” He motioned for the goblin to join him. “You shall be my eyes until we resolve matters in Rexatoius.”

  “You’re trusting a goblin?” Vinder was dumbfounded. “Worse still, you’re taking him with you?”

  “Great gifts sometimes come in unexpected packages. In fact, I sense he has yet a larger role to play in the days to come. There’s a heavy
weight upon him . . . a heavy hand that’s—” He stopped his musings, releasing the goblin from his penetrating stare.

  “You sure you want me along?” Hadek inquired sheepishly.

  “You can always stay here.”

  After a rapid assessment of his surroundings, he asked, “Where are you going?”

  “Rexatoius. The elucidator will want a prompt and accurate report.”

  “How far away is that?”

  “Farther than you know,” piped up Vinder. “Even longer with no horses.”

  “Actually, it’s not as long as you might think.” Gilban smiled another enigmatic grin, extending his hand to the goblin.

  “Okay.” Hadek accepted both it and the invitation.

  “Wait a minute.” Rowan narrowed the distance between them. “I’m not leaving without that chest.”

  “Rowan, we can work—”

  “No.” He brushed past Alara, keeping his right hand on the hilt of his sword. “Now hand it over.”

  Gilban stood calmly before him, his free hand gently fingering his necklace’s strange pendant. Hadek cringed, his attention fixed on Rowan’s still-unloosed sword. “Your destiny lies elsewhere, Rowan. And I won’t keep you from it.” Suddenly, Gilban and Hadek took on a lavender glow. “In fact,” he continued, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we crossed paths again.” Both the light and their bodies started to fade.

  “No!” Rowan rushed forward, trying to take hold of Gilban’s shoulder, but closing his fingers over empty air instead. The elf and goblin had vanished.

  “So they left for Rexatoius just like that.” Vinder contemplated the empty space.

  “The other priests blessed his pendant,” said Alara, “providing us with a way home once we found the information or if we found ourselves in need of a rapid escape.”

  “So you would get out but not us?” Vinder blurted. “And if you could move across whole oceans and continents, why’d we have to take all that time with horses and boats and—”

  “It was all part of the plan,” she returned. “Which you agreed to—you all did.”

  Vinder made himself take a calming breath. “Yeah. We did. And now it’s over. It’s all over.”

  “The pendant was merely a precaution—for all of us,” she continued, making sure everyone knew she was speaking the truth. “But thankfully, we didn’t have to use it, and now the information is back in Rexatoius.”

  “And I’ve failed.” Rowan’s head dropped into his chest.

  “Not yet,” said Alara. “We can still go to Valkoria and talk to your superiors. I can assure them the knowledge won’t fall into the wrong hands—we’ll keep it safe and use it for the benefit of many.”

  “And why would they believe an elf?” The melancholy was seeping into his voice.

  “You really are a thick one, aren’t you?” Vinder shook his head. “She’s willing to go all the way back with you to put in a good word for you. That’s more honor than most would show you.”

  “And what do you know of honor?” Rowan growled.

  “More than you might think,” Vinder flatly replied, resting a hand over his chest, close to his heart. Rowan barely noticed or cared. Everything was falling down around him—he was being handed defeat right after achieving a great victory. And on his very first mission, no less.

  “Where you headed?” Dugan asked Vinder.

  “Back to Elandor. I have a few things that need attending.”

  “You mind some company?”

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He took in the taller Telborian with a tolerant eye. “I won’t be much for conversation, but the extra sword arm could help till we get into more civilized lands.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dugan returned. “I’m not up for much talk either.”

  “If you want . . . ?” Vinder indicated Alara was free to join them, but she declined the offer.

  “Well, the sun will keep for a while longer, best use it while we can. Thank Drued that storm—or whatever it was—has passed.”

  “Thanks.” Dugan gave Alara a passing nod.

  “For what?”

  “Proving me wrong.” The small grin tracing his lips seemed almost alien on the normally serious terrain. “You’re the only elf I’ve ever met who was true to their word.”

  “I pray there are others. Enjoy your freedom, Dugan.”

  “You up for a jog?” asked Vinder. “The more space we can put between us and any lingering hobgoblins, the better.”

  “Fine by me,” said Dugan.

  “Money-hungry warriors,” Rowan muttered as he and Alara watched the two depart.

  “But they’re good men at heart,” she added. “As are you.” The comment caught him off guard, as did the sapphire eyes clearly showing she meant what she said.

  “I’m sorry for what happened with Gilban.” She spoke with such sincerity Rowan actually believed her. “It was for the best. I hope you’ll come to see that before this is all said and done.”

  “Well, I can’t do much about that now.” He observed the smoky columns rising from the ruins. The fire would most likely continue for some time—probably well into the night and maybe even beyond. “I suppose you can come with me if you want, but I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.” The words and the confidence with which they were spoken caught his attention.

  After realizing he’d been staring at her longer than he should, he ducked his head, pretending he was making some adjustments to his armor. “I suppose we should be off too, as long as we have some light. I figure we’ll just follow the trail back to Nalu’s camp,” he said, daring a return to those calm eyes. “We could get some rest and supplies, and see about finding a way out of here without having to go back through the marshes.”

  “You really don’t like those marshes, do you?” Alara teased.

  “Never did.” He found himself grinning for some reason.

  “And yet if we hadn’t gone through them, we’d never have found Nalu and been brought here.”

  “But we probably would have still had our horses and supplies.” He found himself sinking deeper into those sapphire pools.

  “So.” Alara quickly broke away from his stare. “How far is Valkoria?”

  “About a month’s journey by ship—less if the weather’s good.” He scratched the back of his head, momentarily staring at his boots. “But the travel arrangements have already been made. By the time we get to Elandor a boat will be waiting to take me home.”

  “Good. Then we shouldn’t have any trouble getting you back to your superiors.”

  “Why are you doing this?” he finally asked.

  “I already told you.”

  “No other reason?”

  “Should there be?”

  He held his tongue, unsure of how best to answer that, or even if he should.

  “Is there a problem with me coming along?”

  “No.” He spun on his heel, making for the same path Dugan and Vinder had traveled. “But if you change your mind along the way, I understand. You have an obligation to Gilban—to your people. Just like I do.” He started walking.

  “You really don’t mind me coming with you?” She’d come up alongside him.

  “I already told you it’s fine.” He kept his eyes forward, mind and body dedicated to navigating the path.

  “I just don’t want to—”

  “It’s fine.” His words fell flat. The silence would remain until they reached the Celetors’ camp.

  Chapter 32

  The more knowledge one gains, the less one often does with it.

  The tendency is to get more puffed up and proud

  than be of any real good to anyone—oneself included.

  Let it not be so with us.

  —The Great Book

  Cadrissa became fully aware while materializing. Gone were the dark chamber, the bodies of the corrupted hobgoblins, and the stench of death. Instead, she was surrounded by ancient trees loo
ming over serenely rolling green fields. It was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. But deep inside, she felt something else disturbing the stillness: a bone-numbing chill radiating from her right. Turning, she froze. No more than a few inches from her was what she quickly deduced was a lich. He smelled of dust and age, of old bones and rotting fabric. He said nothing, uncomfortably staring at her with empty sockets, flickering with twin tongues of azure flame.

  “Wh-where am I?” she asked, when finally able to speak.

  “My island.” Shivers raced up her spine as she watched the lich’s jaw open and close. She saw no tongue inside, just a hollow skull. Yet somehow he’d spoken, just as anyone else would, and though he lacked eyes, she was sure he was able to see quite clearly too.

  “Come. There’s much to do.” Cadrissa cringed as his bony hand clamped onto her forearm. It was colder than ice—a burning sort of cold. It flowed past her muscles and deep into her bones. She’d heard the cold was part of the process of becoming a lich—it helped preserve the flesh—but it was also a byproduct of the cosmic elements used in the spell’s creation.

  “And what if I refuse?” She tried sounding brave.

  He gave a firm tug, adding, “Then your bones will be for the birds.”

  She relented.

  In the distance came the sound of thunder, which hurried the lich’s step. All around them was the open wilderness, but if this was an island as he said, it couldn’t go on indefinitely. She held her tongue from seeking answers, not wanting to put herself into any more danger than she already found herself in.

  Together they moved through a meadow, fragrant with flowers of every color imaginable. The green leaves and manicured grass resembled the grounds of a temple more than wild countryside. The more they walked, the more she realized the land was still, quiet. Not even a leaf or blade of grass swayed, despite the rising breeze flowing through her hair. Another low rumble of thunder—this a little closer than before—summoned their gaze heavenward. It was thickening with thunderheads.

  “Quickly now.” The lich increased his pace, pulling her up a hill. She didn’t know how much more of his touch her arm could take. It’d already gone numb. Just looking at him made her sick with fear, but at the same time she could sense the great well of strength within him—power that had kept him from the grave.