“I have a drawing of one back in my rooms,” Latva said. The old wizard looked so frail. Justan had never thought of him as frail before. Even the youthfulness in his eyes had faded. “I can show everyone later and we can plan out how to destroy it. Our first problem will be getting a force inside the shield. We can be sure that the enemy will keep behind it themselves.”
The hall erupted in discussion as the various leaders discussed certain ways it could be done. Justan was considering Hugh the Shadow’s plan for placing assassins high in the trees armed with explosive arrows when the prophet raised his voice.
“There is more!” John said and the hall quieted. “I was concerned about the increase in activity at the palace, so I entered unseen. I made my way to the throne room where we destroyed the Dark Prophet. As I stood over his remains I must say I was pleased to see that he hasn’t yet found a way to return. However, though his physical form is gone, his voice is still very much alive.”
“What did he say to you?” Fist asked. Wizard Randolf and a few of the others frowned at his interruption and the ogre looked down apologetically.
Ignore them, Fist, Justan sent. That was a good question. There had been some dispute about whether Fist should be allowed into the meeting, but the prophet had said all the bonding wizards were welcome, as were their bonded. Justan had brought Gwyrtha in as well, just to irk them. Squirrel sat on the rogue horse’s head shelling seeds as the meeting went on, cocking his head any time Randolf gave him a cross look.
“The Dark Prophet does like to taunt,” John said wryly. “The worship of the goblinoids has renewed his strength and he declared that he has a plan in place to return to us soon.”
“How soon?” Lenny asked. The dwarf was standing not too far from Justan. Bettie was at his side, his brother Chugk behind him.
“That is yet to be determined,” John said. “And we mustn’t forget that he is a master of deception. But I can tell you this. His threats were real. I left his palace to commune with my master and I saw many things. If you lose the battle here against the Dark Prophet’s servants, his rise will be very soon. If you are victorious, we should be able to delay it for some time. However, either way, he will return.”
There was a troubled silence in the hall at this statement.
“I tell you this because I want you to understand what I say to you next,” the prophet said. “You are crucial to our success. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not just talking about the people in this hall, but everyone within the walls of this school. You are the premier warriors and magic users in the land and each of you will be instrumental in fighting the Dark Prophet off when he does return. Every single one of you who dies here will be a major blow to that effort. And if you should be defeated, that war will be close to impossible to win.”
Justan felt chills as the gravity of the moment set in. He hadn’t been thinking past the immediacy of this fight. For the first time, he realized that this war could be the first of many.
“So what yer sayin’ is . . .” Lenny rubbed his chin as he thought how to phrase what he wanted to say.
“Don’t die,” Bettie finished.
“Yes,” the prophet said with a laugh and the tension broke as the rest of the room laughed with him. “Please don’t die. I am counting on you all to survive this.”
“Then fight with us,” said another voice. Everyone turned an uneasy glance to Wizard Nikoli. The council had decided to free him the night before. He had finally broken down and admitted his dealings with Mellinda after the raptoid attack and had been pleading to be allowed to help. With Wizard Munsey and Wizardess Landra dead, they needed someone of his power and experience helping in the fight, but it was only after the prophet spoke with him and gave his okay that Nikoli was allowed to be in the meeting.
The prophet shook his head sadly. “I wish that I could, Nikoli. But I am only allowed to do so much. I am here to balance out the damage that the Dark Prophet has done. I cannot take a direct part in the battle unless he does.”
There were several frowns at this statement and Justan couldn’t blame them. Surely if the prophet joined the fight, there was no way they could lose. It was hard to accept his speech about how important they were when he refused to fight along side them.
“What I can do is give you a warning,” John said firmly. “I saw a vision. Ewzad Vriil’s army will march here tomorrow and this siege will end one way or another. You have a day to prepare and you must be ready.”
The men nodded grimly. Faldon had already informed them of the deadline and they had been expecting this information. The prophet then turned the meeting over to the rest of the leaders. As they began discussing how to overcome the enemy’s new weapon, Justan saw him head quietly towards the back of the hall and slip out the door.
Justan made his way around the others and went through the door after him. It led into a small changing room, unadorned except for a privacy screen, a wardrobe and a few chairs. Justan was afraid the prophet would have already left through the door in the back, but the man was standing there, his back turned to Justan. He was trembling, his hands clenched into fists.
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” Justan said hesitantly, concerned that he had angered the prophet.
John’s hands unclenched and he took a deep breath. When he turned to face Justan he was composed. “Please don’t mistake my frustration for anger, Edge. Even after thousands of years following a rule, it’s not easy.”
“You wish you could fight with us,” Justan surmised.
“Oh I wish I could do a great many things, Edge,” John said. “I have spent so many years guiding all of you to this point . . . If the creator wished it, I could fight by your side. If he wished it, I could cause the very earth to swallow your enemies whole. But that isn’t my role to play.” He sighed and placed a hand on Justan’s shoulder. “I must trust you and the others to handle this situation without me.”
“Are you leaving?” Justan said with concern. “But even if you can’t fight, just having you here with us would give the men courage.”
“I know it is difficult to understand, but I must go. Please believe me when I say that what I go to do now is every bit as important as this battle. In fact your success depends on it.”
“Then you are fighting with us,” Justan said, giving him a reassuring smile. “You’re just doing it in your own way.”
The prophet smiled back at him. “I’m glad you can see it that way, Edge. For me it isn’t so easy.” He dropped his hand and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Justan said. “Before you go, can I ask you one more question?”
He paused. “I’ll answer if I can.”
“Why didn’t your prophesy about Artemus come true?” Justan asked. The question had been burning in his mind ever since that morning and for some reason it seemed crucially important that he know. “Why wasn’t he there at the end?”
“A lot of things didn’t turn out the way I expected at the end of that war. Some of it I didn’t discover until recently.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Think on this. Is the Dark Prophet truly destroyed? Is Artemus? I am afraid that prophecy now includes you.”
As John left the room, the ramifications of that statement weighed heavily on Justan’s mind.
Chapter Thirty Four
Months’ worth of defensive plans were put into motion during the night. Assassins Guild troops and wizards were sent around the outside perimeter of the school. The wizards dug trenches with earth magic, filling them with stone spikes and assisted as the assassins set traps, both physical and magical all through the forests and along the main road leading up to the gates.
The dwarves’ exclusive contract with the academy finally bore fruit. The other council leaders had been angry with Faldon’s decision, but they began to understand how good a thing their alliance would be, as under Lenny’s direction, the dwarves handed out the magic weapons they had been making in the forges since they had arrived at the school. Elementally char
ged swords, axes, and bows were given out according to rank, skill level, and need, while explosive arrows were passed out to the archers on the wall.
At dawn, the elves joined the academy graduates, advanced students, and retirees manning the walls. Interspersed with them were the mages and wizards that could use ranged attack spells. The newer students and trainees were kept back in reserve in case the ranks were thinned.
Healers were stationed all along the base of the wall under Matron Guernfeldt’s command. Captain Demetrius and his cavalry were mounted and ready to charge any creatures that should make it over the wall.
Lenny and his dwarves were also kept in reserve at a fall back defense post. If the walls were overcome, their job was to hold the enemy off while everyone else escaped to the safety of the Rune Tower. In the meantime, they would continue to fashion arrows and repair weapons and armor as needed.
Enormous trebuchets and catapults and other anti-siege weapons were brought up from storage deep in the bowels of the Rune Tower. Most of the weapons hadn’t seen daylight since the War of the Dark Prophet and some of them were so strange that wizards had to go into the library to look up how they worked.
The command center was placed on the school’s main road, half way between the main square and the outer gates. The leaders of the defensive effort stood behind a high table reading reports off large message stones and issuing orders via runners. Faldon, Oz the Dagger, Hugh the Shadow, and Stout Harley were there, along with Wizards Valtrek and Beehn and Elder Toiynt, speaker for the Silvertree Elves. Master Latva, feeling too weak to take part, was in the Rune Tower by an observation mirror where he could see the action happening all over the grounds and issue orders to the command center via message stone.
Justan was stationed on the front wall next to his mother and Fist. They watched as a large anti-siege machine was put into place over the main gate. Darlan had called it a lava bucket. It was attached to the outer edge of the wall and hung over so that it didn’t get in the way of the defenders while at the same time offering some protection to those directly behind it.
To Justan’s mind, it looked like a huge horse trough made of rock and black iron. Runes had been carved into nearly every piece of it and the thing was wide enough to cover the entire front gate. It had been designed to be run by two wizards, an earth wizard and a fire wizard, who had to charge it with their magic to get it going.
“Can I help make it work?” Fist asked. His fingers twitched and Justan knew he ached to try it. The ogre was wearing his latest gift from Bettie: a steel breastplate and chain greaves, runed with earth to make them strong and air to make them light. It made the already imposing ogre look truly frightening.
“It takes a subtle touch, dear,” Darlan replied. She placed her hand on a metal plate on the back of the machine and sent a tiny flow of fire magic into it. It made a clanking sound, as if a series of gears were turning inside. “It seems to be working fine. That’s good.”
“I can be subtle, Mistress Darlan,” the ogre pleaded.
“Fist, if one of the wizards operating it dies, you may get the chance,” she said, giving him a look that said she would have no arguments. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
“Please,” he said, trying to give his best winning smile.
“Can you at least show him how it works, mother?” Justan asked. “I don’t see how it could hurt.”
Darlan sighed. “Fine. Come here, Fist. Now place your hand on that metal plate.” The ogre had to hunch over a ways to do so. Darlan moved down to a similar plate a short distance away. “Justan, make sure the way is clear. I don’t intend to fire this thing off, but just in case, I don’t want to kill any of our people below.”
“Now what?” Fist asked.
“Focus on sending pure earth magic into the plate. Don’t try to form any particular kind of spell or anything, just pure earth. Understand?” she said. Fist smiled and the machine began making that clanking noise again. “Good, don’t try to use too much, just a slow steady stream. The machine will do the rest. Now when I add some fire from this plate . . .”
The clanking turned into whirring and a deep red glow began to issue from within the trough. Darlan let go and the whirring stopped, returning to the clanking sound and the red glow faded. Fist followed her lead and let go of the plate, though he did so somewhat reluctantly.
“There you are,” she said, giving the ogre a satisfied nod. “You did a fine job.”
“What would have happened?” Fist asked.
“The machine would have issued a steady flow of hot liquid rock onto any enemies below, stopping battering rams or just about any other attempt to break through the main gates.”
“Ooooh,” Fist said, grinning and Justan knew he wanted to put the thing into action.
I want to see. Gwyrtha complained. Can I come up?
“She can’t see what’s going on from down there,” Fist pointed out.
“I’m well aware of that, but it’s not a good idea,” Justan told him, then told Gwyrtha, I’m sorry sweetie. There is not enough room on the wall for you to come up here. You’re too big.
Fist is big, she pointed out.
Fist stands and can get out of the way easier if people need by, he explained.
I can be small. I can be fast.
“Thanks a lot for encouraging her, by the way,” Justan said, giving Fist a frown. The ogre shrugged and Justan sighed. Please understand. I need you down there, Gwyrtha. If something gets over the wall, we will need your help to fight. There’s not much you could do from up here.
I could fight, she insisted.
I need you to stay down there for now. Justan insisted.
“Justan, look!” Fist said pointing down to the command center below. Runners were streaming away from the table in all directions and the leaders were talking back and forth urgently.
Justan felt a vibration from the stone in his pocket. He fished it out and saw the message in his father’s terrible handwriting. Here they come! Justan couldn’t see anything to show the army’s approach. He focused his hearing to the outside of the wall and when he shut out the shouting and bustle of activity within the Mage School, he could hear the distant sound of falling trees. Ewzad was coming and he was bringing something big.
Justan shouted, his voice echoing along the wall. “They’re coming!”
“No-no! Send her back. I don’t want her here!” Ewzad Vriil shouted from his position high above his army. He swayed back and forth slowly as the giant crawled forward beneath him. His luxuriant chair had been mounted on the back of the Clench’s neck. The enormous giant that used to be Hamford crawled on its hands and knees at the rear of the army, its body too heavy for it to stand and walk. Ugly, with spiked protrusions on his skin, the guard looked nothing like his former self.
“She disobeys me, Envakfeer,” the Dark Voice said. “Once the heir is born I will have to punish her.”
“Please, Master,” Ewzad pleaded, “Yes, please forgive her. The children inside her make her rash. Yes-yes. Mellinda, she must be turned back to Dremald. Make her go.”
“She refuses to listen to anyone,” Mellinda said. “My mage has tried to stop her, but still Elise demands they come. They are already a day outside of Dremald and her labor could start at any moment.”
“A day? Blast! And why did you not tell me this sooner? That is not acceptable. No-no, it isn’t!” Ewzad fumed. If he didn’t need her, he would have destroyed Mellinda then and there.
“I tried to tell you, but you had set your attack plans in motion and you refused to listen. You even punished dear Arcon when he tried to tell you,” she said. “She should be okay. My mage assures me she is well protected. The royal guard is with her.”
“Good-good. If she will not return, make her safe, yes?” he demanded.
“The heir must not be harmed,” the Dark Voice agreed.
“Both children,” Ewzad added.
“Yes, masters,” Mellinda purred. “I will see
to the children. I have already sent someone else to make sure they both survive.”
“Good-good, yes. See that they do.” Ewzad snarled. He looked down at his forces below. The creatures of his own creation moved all around him, some of them small and quick, others enormous and ready to climb the Mage School walls if needed.
The Clench was big enough to stand and reach the top of the walls by himself. His thick skin would repel arrows and resist fire, but Ewzad didn’t intend for him to get that close. The giant was his steed, a fitting role for the thing that used to be Hamford. Its face was malformed and drooling. Its bulky body wore nothing but a loincloth, and only that because Ewzad tired of its nakedness.
The Clench hadn’t been that large when they started their journey, of course. It would have slowed them down too much. Hamford’s form when they left Dremald had been small enough to ride in a flat wagon. But once they arrived in Sampo, Ewzad had increased its size, wanting a truly awe inspiring mount. The sheer amount of power required to keep Hamford in his massive form was formidable, but Ewzad felt it was worth it. Once the Mage School was destroyed, he would give Hamford his wish and let him die. But not until he had crushed many wizards under his enormous hands.
“What of you, Kassy? Are you eager? Hmm?” he asked.
The black-skinned raptoid twisted her head to look back at him from her perch on the top of Hamford’s head and smiled, her full lips parting to expose her mouthful of razor teeth. She was the most beautiful of his new raptoids, the one he had patterned most after Talon. It was too bad that she was the only survivor. “Yesss, King Ewwie.”
“Well you shall get your turn soon enough. Yes-yes you will.” He would keep her at his side for now. But once he had broken through the walls and entered the mighty Rune Tower, she would lead the first wave of assassins to hunt down the survivors.
“Your men are approaching the gates,” Mellinda said. “My eyes show the glow of magic in the ground.”
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 40
