Hemlock And The Dread Sorceress (Book 3)

by B Throwsnaill

  “How is Tored?” Gwineval finally asked, breaking an apprehensive silence.

  Hemlock smiled. “He is well. I think the repetition of his duties reassures him. It was wise of you to have him deputized as a City guard.”

  Gwineval’s mouth loosened into a toothy smile. “I’m glad. But has he found peace?”

  Hemlock frowned. “No, I don’t think so. He’s found comfort but not peace. I talk to him every day and try to learn more about what torments him. So far, I’ve had no luck. It’s like he’s carrying some burden inside of him.”

  “I’ve tried to talk to him, too. But it’s really no use since I’m not friends with him like you are. He’s very difficult to get to know.”

  A wry smile came to Hemlock’s face as she thought of her reply. “You know who might know him the best, now? Mercuria. You can’t imagine it unless you see it, but she plays jokes on him almost every day. It’s the only time I see him smile. Her company has been good for him, even if nobody else’s has.”

  Hemlock felt a pang of sadness at her last statement.

  I want to be close to Tored, but whatever he is carrying around inside of him seems to separate us.

  An aerial speck on the horizon rescued Hemlock from further thought. The griffin approached rapidly with powerful beats of her wings. Hemlock noticed that beneath the deep yellows and browns of her plumage and fur, the beast clutched dragon eggs in her talons.

  Hemlock and Gwineval retreated from the baluster as the griffin reached the top of the tower. She drew up with great exertion of her twenty foot wing span and slowly descended, placing the eggs on the floor before thrusting upwards and landing beside them.

  Hemlock noticed missing feathers on the beast’s wings and several bloody wounds on her lower torso.

  “Penelope,” Hemlock cried, “you’re hurt! What happened?”

  The Seekers invaded my aerie. The rogue wizards aided them. I did not detect them until it was almost too late.

  Hemlock walked slowly around the bulk of the Griffin and placed a gentle hand on her matted, bloody fur.

  “I’m sorry, Penelope. I didn’t think Jalis would dare defy me,” said Hemlock.

  As I flew out, I spotted homes burning and there were bodies piled in a village market.

  “He’s moving to control the east! We must raise a force and confront them,” growled Gwineval. “I regret not killing them when we had the chance.”

  Hemlock started to sneer but caught herself. “Sometimes wisdom is clearer in hindsight,” she said.

  “Truly. You weren’t there when we fought for control of the Tower. Samberlin meant to betray us when it looked like we’d be overmatched by the Seekers. When my spell of warding was revealed, many loyalties were in question in those tense moments. I thought it best to take the high road and let those opposed to us leave in peace.”

  “No need to explain again. I understand. It’s just maddening to think that we gave Jalis this final chance and he’s betrayed us again.”

  “It’s not like I expected anything else from him, but I’d hoped we’d be more prepared for it when he moved against us. Hemlock, what have you been doing all these months? We’ve missed your presence in the Tower.”

  “Really? I’m shocked. You all seemed quite tired of me bossing you around.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we wanted you gone altogether. Yours is a valued and absent voice in our affairs. All of the wizards have said as much. We’d like you to sit on our council as an honorary member.”

  Hemlock bowed her head and kicked some debris off the edge of the Tower. She sighed and replied, “Alright. I suppose Jalis’ actions will force us to act in response. I need to be a part of it.”

  “Yes.”

  There is more news from the mountains.

  “Yes? Please tell us,” said Gwineval.

  I’ve seen DuLoc with the wizards. I sense his hand directing their efforts, and I feel a great power gathering. He will return soon. The wizards have built dark rocks throughout the valleys. Their magical law projects through these. It is all part of DuLoc’s plan. He appeared and asked me to join him. He believes he will become a great emperor and can create perfect laws. He intends to enslave us all.

  “Those sound like the obelisks that Merit read about in Julius’ journal. DuLoc must have taught Jalis how to make them. And the minerals in the mountains afforded him the perfect opportunity to build them. Curse Jalis and his machinations!” said Gwineval.

  Hemlock tried to give Gwineval a reassuring look, but the wizard’s eyes were downcast. Hemlock knew him well enough to recognize the outward signs of an internal process of self-flagellation. She figured it would be best to redirect the stubborn wizard’s thoughts before he sank into melancholy.

  “How do we fight DuLoc?” asked Hemlock, directing the question loudly toward the Griffin.

  I don’t know. He wove with the Red Mage at the dawn of time. He will be a terrible foe. And he can’t be reasoned with. But if anyone can resist him, it will be you.

  “Not very reassuring. My father must have had a plan for me but it’s all so confusing. That’s why I needed more time to think it through. But now there’s no more time.”

  Gwineval seemed to refocus on the conversation. “Time is running short, but DuLoc hasn’t returned yet. There is still time to consider our options. Come to the council meeting tomorrow and let’s talk it over.”

  “I will, but I want to see what they’re up to. Penelope could take me there now. Just to fly over and see it for myself,” Hemlock replied.

  “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “Flying over?”

  “Yes. You don’t know what Jalis and DuLoc have prepared for. And it’s just what I’d expect you to do if I were Jalis.”

  The final point made sense to Hemlock. She exhaled forcefully.

  “Fine. I’ll wait and join your council meeting tomorrow. But let’s figure out a plan that involves some action and not just wizardly debates.”

  Gwineval didn’t acknowledge her critical comment.

  She thought about returning to the Warrens, but the labored breath of the Griffin beside her reminded her of the unresolved issue at hand. They needed to determine Penelope’s fate now that she had been driven out of the mountains.

  “And what of Penelope?” she asked Gwineval.

  The small scales on Gwineval’s brow furrowed. “Well…” he stammered, clearly not anticipating the question.

  “She has to stay here for a while, right? It’s kind of like a mountain top up here on the Tower. Penelope, would you like to stay here?”

  Yes.

  Gwineval shot Hemlock a strong look, but his features softened. “Yes, it makes sense. And, Penelope, lest you think it’s charity, we’ll surely call upon you in the upcoming struggle.”

  I thought my role would be otherwise. But I will help protect your Tower.

  “Thank you,” said Gwineval, bowing. He turned to Hemlock. “Until tomorrow, then?”

  …

  Hemlock carefully navigated the morning market throng as she made for the apartment where she, Mercuria and Tored resided.

  An unlikely quartet walked erratically in front of her. A young man, dressed in the plain, durable robe common in the Warrens, had his arm around a young woman wearing a soiled white robe of the Elite district. Beside them was a similarly attired couple but reversed in role and gender—an Elite man with a young woman from the Warrens. Both men wore beards and long hair that were uncharacteristic of the City just a few months prior. Neither of the women wore the facial makeup that was customary in both neighborhoods. Collectively, they bore the hallmarks of the burgeoning “Cult of Cassandra,” the pleasure witch that Hemlock had given refuge to in the center of the City.

  The youths laughed despite the deep bags under their eyes—they were exhausted but jubilant. Hemlock admired them in a certain sense. Though she doubted the wisdom of their lifestyle, their air of freedom made her feel shackled by comparison.

 
; As Hemlock watched the four youths, who were little older than her but seeming like children living in a bubble of naiveté, they reminded her of the fate of Cassandra. The Senate—Samberlin in particular—were furious over the changes caused by the witch, and continually passed resolutions demanding the ouster of the controversial cult. But Hemlock had deferred any decision on the issue for six months. That milestone was rapidly approaching, but she anticipated deferring a decision again in light of the renewed threat of DuLoc. Whether the Senate would listen to her, in her new, diminished and poorly defined role, was not a certainty, however.

  The sight of a local ruffian pushing his way through the crowd distracted her attention from the issue of Cassandra. The young thug was known as Jasper, an ill-tempered sort who seemed to alternate between two states of being—criminal intent and incoherent intoxication, with success at the former typically followed by the latter.

  Hemlock was surprised to see a small vial of liquid in the cutpurse’s right hand. The liquid glowed in a way that was obviously magical.

  She approached Jasper to inquire about his unusual possession. As she neared him, he greeted her with a wide grin.

  “Hold up. What do you have there, Jasper?”

  “Just me morning draught,” the young man replied evasively. He quickly popped the cork on the vial and raised his hand in a mock toast.

  Hemlock considered knocking the vial from his grip, but the fact that no crime had been committed stayed her.

  A whistle sounded in the distance, and the youth guzzled the glowing tincture. Hemlock immediately sensed a magical radiance emanating from his body.

  She used her power of magical affinity to ascertain the effects of the small potion. It seemed to create concentric waves of energy that spread out over the market. No other effect was evident. But soon, Hemlock perceived other, similar waves of energy flowing into and meeting the waves emanating from Jasper. Using her sense, she followed these waves to their source as other wave sources intersected. Suddenly, she was in the midst of a cacophony of magical emanations with no apparent purpose.

  She looked to her right and noticed another known criminal several yards away. A glass vial, similar to Jaspar’s, dropped from his hand. Her eyes darted to her left and saw yet another participant in what she now feared was some sort of planned action.

  But what is the purpose?

  Jasper provided a clue by mocking her as Hemlock darted away in search of more information amongst the crowd—most of which seemed completely unaware that something very unusual was happening.

  “What’s wrong? Your second sight not seein’ too well, lass?” said Jasper.

  As she trotted away, she considered his words.

  Of course! They’ve blinded my magic sense. But why? What’s going on?

  She found another cutpurse who was radiating magic and grabbed her arm roughly. “Tessa, why did you drink from that vial?”

  The motley young girl affected her best impression of a blank stare and hissed through teeth yellowed by an excess of strong, intoxicating teas.

  “Answer or I’ll break your arm!” Hemlock growled.

  “That’s not very neighborly talk, is it? You bein’ part of the watch and all,” cried the girl as Hemlock tightened her grip.

  “Don’t make this hard on yourself, Tessa!” said Hemlock as she became aware of a crowd of onlookers gathering around her.

  Damn, if I don’t stop, word of this is sure to reach Samberlin.

  Hemlock released the girl. “Fine! I’ve seen no crime, though I think you’ve been involved in something I haven’t seen. I’ll discover the truth sooner or later. And then we’ll continue this conversation.”

  Hemlock had to concentrate on ignoring her magic sense as she walked the remaining blocks to her apartment. She skirted the market for several minutes, looking for any signs of misconduct, but saw nothing unusual outside of the distracting magic. In the process, she’d spotted no fewer than twelve youths that radiated the magical energy.

  Once she reached it, she was relieved to enter the apartment which was free of the emanations.

  Mercuria and Tored were seated at a breakfast table eating sweet bread and strawberries.

  “Back so soon, Hemlock?” Mercuria called out with an ethereal air to her voice.

  Hemlock knew her sister well enough to anticipate what was likely to happen. This was Mercuria’s mischievous voice.

  Suddenly, there was a small pop near Tored’s face.

  The comedy of the scene before her temporarily pushed the upset of Hemlock’s experience in the marketplace out of her mind.

  Tored sat stoically at the table as the juice of a burst strawberry dripped down his nose, along the deep creases in his cheeks and trickled onto his forearm.

  Mercuria was beside herself with warm laughter that filled the room. Hemlock couldn’t help herself and guffawed more loudly than she had meant to.

  Tored remained nearly still as he used a napkin to wipe his face. But as he did so, there was a gentle quivering at the corner of his mouth, and a small smile struggled into existence—disproving the notion that the old warrior’s face had been chiseled from granite rather than pliant flesh.

  “Misusing your magical talents, again? One day all debts shall be repaid, young lady.” It was the best he could manage as a retort, and this just made the sisters laugh anew.

  As the humorous moment passed, thoughts of the incident in the marketplace reasserted themselves.

  “Listen, something odd happened to me right before I got here. I need to tell you both about it,” said Hemlock. She quickly related what had happened.

  If the preceding incident had softened Tored’s perspective at all, it wasn’t evident in the grave reply he gave. “Someone is moving against you. And it’s someone with some cunning.”

  “Then, why didn’t they attack me?”

  “Perhaps it was just a test. The witches in my…” Tored paused for a moment as if recalling something unpleasant, “homeland would always send small patrols before large attacks. Perhaps the people who did this were testing whether their plan would block your magic sense.”

  “Well, it worked,” said Hemlock with a sigh.

  “And they know it.”

  Hemlock sat at the table and ate a strawberry. Its rich flavor comforted her.

  It’s good to be home, and it’s good to have a home again.

  “We should do extra patrols. Together,” said Tored.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But wait, I haven’t even gotten to the bigger news. DuLoc’s apparition has been sighted in the mountains. And Jalis has attacked the mining towns there. DuLoc is getting closer. Penelope the griffin is living at the top of the Wizard Tower, now. The Seekers attacked her with help from Jalis.”

  It took Tored several minutes to digest this latest information. Hemlock noticed his eyes searching out his ornate spears, which rested near the door.

  “Why is the world going crazy? Can’t it all just stop?” said Mercuria.

  “I feel the same way,” said Hemlock. “But crazy things keep happening no matter what I do.”

  “Life is like that,” said Tored.

  “Well, we never asked for this! Why should you be the one who has to stop it all, Hemlock?” cried Mercuria.

  “I…just am. I don’t know why, but it’s what I’m here for. I wish it weren’t so.”

  “Do you really?” asked Tored.

  Hemlock couldn’t delude herself. “You’re right, I guess. I love the power. I’ve always yearned for it—asked the Creator for it before I even knew anything about my life. I just never thought it would be so hard.”

  Mercuria reddened. “Well, I want to live my life for myself. I don’t want to be beholden to this insanity.”

  Hemlock hated to see her sister upset. It jarred something deep inside of her, and left her feeling out of balance. But she had a sudden idea. “Mercuria, what would you do now if you could do anything?”

  Mercuria was initially un
certain in the face of being challenged, but she seemed to arrive at a decision after only a few moments. “I’d go find Mother.”

  Hemlock didn’t hesitate. “Okay, we’ll do it.”

  “Hemlock, we should talk about this,” said Tored.

  “No, we’re going to do it. Gwineval said we have some time before DuLoc gets here, and my last stop at the observatory showed no change in his location,” replied Hemlock.

  “But what about the people in the mountains? What about Jalis?” said Tored.

  “Gwineval and the wizards can handle him. I’ll tell them as much tomorrow morning. Look, we could die when DuLoc returns. Mercuria and I deserve to see our mother before the end.”

  “I’ve never known you to be fatalistic, Hemlock. That sounds like an excuse.”

  “Penelope says he’s like a god from a past age.”

  “That’s what DuLoc said about that Earth Spirit, and we defeated her. We’ll defeat DuLoc, but we must respect him and take the time to prepare a strategy.”

  Hope burned in Mercuria’s eyes, but Tored’s exuded caution with an equal intensity. Still, Hemlock remembered Mercuria as she had been on that fateful day when they stowed away on the City merchant’s ship that took them away from their mother. She remembered holding the scared little girl and having to tell her she didn’t know when they would see their mommy again.

  Hemlock felt the resolve of a decision take hold. She had already used her new ability to see beyond the sky to search for her old world. It hadn’t been hard to find. It was located among the two score worlds in direct connection to the City via the strands of Maker’s Fire. Then she thought of the surprising discovery she made in the observatory, and that made her doubt her decision. She detected Falignus on that very same world.

  Am I making this decision for Mercuria or for my own interest in the fate of Falignus?

  She managed to quell this internal voice of opposition. If it was just about her feelings for Falignus, wouldn’t she have left as soon as she discovered his location? But she had to acknowledge that the fate of Falignus was a big part of her sudden decision. She had been thinking about him, and though she feared she was just indulging her own personal desires, a surety had been building inside her that Falignus could help her defeat DuLoc.