The Tomes Of Magic

by Cody J. Sherer

  “We were unaware that anyone was being sent here. Had we known, we would have prepared a better welcome. Xander is currently busy, but I can show you where you will be staying,” the guard said.

  “Bartholomew sent me here. Things are not quite what either of us expected. I will need to have an audience with the Grand Crusader as soon as he is available,” Serith replied.

  “That will likely have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “No, you will take me to him as soon as you have shown us where we will be staying.”

  The guard began to say something, but Serith's glare stopped him. He nodded and then led them into the fortress. Xander’s touch could be seen in every aspect of the castle’s construction. Gareth had always been more focused on effectiveness and efficiency than his successor. The new Grand Crusader shared Bartholomew’s love for the grandiose, but not his cunning. Each of the three had their distinct style. Xander wanted to give off the impression that he was something special. There was little or no sense of utility in his castle. It was superfluous and excessive. Serith felt that only a rival King would feel outdone by it. Bartholomew’s additions to the Fortress of Light were equally grand, yet they had an intimidating feel about them as well as being full of ambush spots. When one entered the areas that he renovated, they felt wholly outmatched. The gold and jewels accentuated the power of the Grand Cleric, whereas Xander’s fortress looked gaudy and strangely boorish. Though there were few of them, the sections of the Fortress of Light that Gareth supervised were streamlined and formidable.

  “Who is in charge of building this castle?” Serith asked.

  “Xander has been actively involved in all the decisions,” the guard replied.

  “I hope he is a better commander than designer, this place looks atrocious.”

  “You’ve really caught us at a bad time. I will let the Grand Crusader explain it to you, but know that he has recently faced a very difficult situation.”

  “We will see. Bartholomew has given me a fair amount of authority in this situation. I am willing take the situation into consideration, but things do not look good for Xander.”

  Serith instructed her troops that they could take some time to recover from the trip, but that she wanted them to be prepared in case another attack happened. They saluted their commander and then entered the barracks that had been set aside for them. The Crusader followed the guard to the keep. She shook her head as they entered into the Holy Order’s equivalent of a throne room. It was even more extravagant than the other areas of the Fortress of Exaltation. Xander paced back and forth in front of the throne. He had some documents that he kept looking back down at. Before the guard could announce Serith’s presence, the Grand Crusader threw the papers all around the room in frustration.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” Serith said as she waved the guards off.

  “I didn’t realize that we were having visitors. Serith, isn’t it? How can assist?” Xander asked.

  “Actually, the reason that I am here is to make sure everything is running smoothly. I shall be the one assisting you.”

  “That won’t be necessary, I have everything under control.”

  “I’m not sure you quite understand. Bartholomew has sent me to keep you in line. If you stay from his instructions, I will be taking control of the fortress.”

  *

  Zeltos looked over his shoulder as he continued on the path. He had lost track of his location, but he was confident that he had crossed over into Sardinia. That mattered far less than whether or not he was being pursued. The assassin was unsure of exactly what he should do next. He was sure that the Grand Cleric had plans for him, but neither of them had expected a Wizard to witness the assassination of the King. There was a far greater chance of him being identified now. He’ll understand if I need to lay low, Zeltos thought as he quickened his pace. The road wound around until it came to a small town near the outskirts of the Old Forest. It was a quaint town with not much population and only a handful of militia. The assassin could easily stay without causing any suspicion.

  “Welcome to Charsford, will you be needing a place to stay?” One of the militia asked.

  “I will. Would it be possible for you to direct me?” Zeltos asked.

  “The tall building in the middle of town. Ask for Ogdan.”

  “Thank you for your assistance.”

  The assassin bowed before heading into the town. Charsford was a small farming town that augmented its economy with woodworking. The proximity to the Old Forest allowed them an abundance of wood. Zeltos was unsure of how they would react to the Holy Order, but he saw nothing that would make him think they would be openly hostile. In fact, the city seemed to thrive on pacifism. Can’t let them know they have an assassin in their midst, he thought to himself. None of the militia members carried weapons. Zeltos took a moment to ensure that his own weapons were concealed before entering the inn. It was small by anyone’s standards, but it would serve his needs. The innkeeper, a man named Ogdan, offered a room, entertainment, and a fresh meal. Zeltos tossed him a small bag of gold coins and took one of the tables near the corner.

  “Your meal and drink,” Ogdan said as he put the plate and mug down on the table.

  “Thank you, my good man. Do you have a moment?” Zeltos asked.

  “I can spare some time.”

  “Do you get many travelers in these parts?”

  “We used to get a fair amount of elves visiting. Sometimes the Sardinian nobles come out this way, but they don’t much like Charsford. We haven’t had any visitors from Cardinia or Carmalia for half a year. I don’t much know what is happening around the world, but it seems as though dark times are upon us.”

  “You have been most helpful.”

  Ogdan patted him on the back before leaving. Dark times, indeed, Zeltos thought as he took a bite out of the turkey leg. It was quite tasty and the entertainment show was better than he had expected. A smaller man with a lute was singing about the history of Charsford. The Holy Order assassin took comfort in the innocent entertainment they offered. Too often the inns would have scandalously dressed women dancing provocatively. On more than one occasion, he had seen the Grand Cleric storm out of what he called “dens of sin.” In more recent years, Bartholomew and Gareth had even ousted several innkeepers within the Holy Order lands. Zeltos sighed as he thought about how the two had parted ways. When they had first partnered together, he thought that it would usher in a new era for the Holy Order. He had been correct, but now things would undoubtedly change. The Swords of Justice had always looked up to Gareth far more than Xander. Had the choice been up to Zeltos, he would have chosen Serith.

  “The kind people of Charsford will be rewarded when the Holy Order rules Canai,” the assassin muttered.

  *

  Ector sighed as he rose from his prayers. He wasn’t the most religious of elves, but the death of Cormac had struck a chord. The Archwizard reached out with his mind to see if he could sense any of the other Wizards. Ever since the separation of the Wizard’s Council, Ector had trouble contacting his brethren. Rolin had once taught him a spell that allowed the caster to sense other magic users. The stronger the bond between the magicians, the easier to detect each other. Ector could feel James and Paul’s presence, they were significantly closer than all the others. There were others that he could sense as well, but only one was close enough to identify. Sev? That’s not possible, he thought as he opened his eyes. The young half-elf had registered as a magician. Ector burst out of his tent in search of the Ranger.

  “Gareth, have you seen Sev?” The Archwizard asked.

  “He is around here somewhere. We are preparing to march toward the cave,” Gareth replied.

  “There is no need. Whether Caitlyn and Leniya succeed, the fairies will send them back to my position.”

  “So you do know more about them than you let on,” Kervos said as he approached, noticeably annoyed.

  “Now is not the time,” Sev said stepping in between th
e two.

  “I will address that later, Kervos. Sev and I need to speak immediately,” Ector said as he grabbed hold of the Ranger’s arm.

  “What is so important that we must discuss it now?” Sev asked.

  “You have the gift of magic. That trick that you do in battle, that is magic. Rolin once taught me how to detect magic users and when I was using his spell, you were one of the people I detected. That is not all, though. I do not think Cormac is the only Archwizard to have been killed. Paul and James are safe, not too far away either. The others were too far to identify, but I believe two of them to be dead.”

  “Two? More than just these naga can kill an Archwizard?”

  “There are a great many things that can kill an Archwizard, Sev. Together we are formidable, but apart we can be vulnerable. It would require something powerful and this could mean that we have more enemies than we realized.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to get moving. The army is ready to march,” Gareth said as he approached the two.

  “We are ready to move. Are we settled on dealing with the dragons and not the Holy Order?” Ector asked.

  “Yes, the Holy Order does not see us as a threat. We may have to deal with them in the future, but at the moment they are after the dragons and the Wizards, Ector excluded.”

  “You are certain of this?”

  “Absolutely, I know Bartholomew better than most. There is a good chance we will have to deal with him in the future, but the dragons are a bigger threat. We should have time to prepare for a war with the Holy Order after we take down the dragons.”

  They discussed the matter while waiting for the others to join them. Their force consisted of the majority of the dwarven and elven armies. Ector worried that it would not be enough to take down the dragons. There were few who had actually faced the dragons and it didn’t seem like there was a lot an army could do to fight them. Let us hope we can find a weakness, Ector thought as he took the lead. He hoped that the other Archwizards would be willing to join in the battle, but he would have to wait and see. Contacting James and Paul would be simple, but he didn’t even know which of the others were still alive. He knew that both the dragons and the Holy Order needed to be destroyed, he just hoped that his former allies would see it the same way that he saw it.

  *

  Janessa watched as Uryk cast several spells. The elderly magician had attempted to confuse those following them, but it had only slowed their advance. As soon as Janessa saw Rodric’s banner, she knew that they were hostile and informed him. The riders spurred their horses onward only to find themselves caught up in a tangle of vines. They hacked through the vines and were confronted by Uryk’s next trap. Several boulders uprooted from the ground and flew at them. Their close formation made it impossible to dodge the oncoming rocks and a handful of riders were thrown from their horses and crushed beneath the boulders. The magician unleashed a flurry of icicles at the remaining horsemen. He followed it up with a massive fireball. The remaining riders fortified their courage and charged. Janessa joined in against the final batch of horseman. She created a massive wave that engulfed the attackers, allowing Uryk’s lightning bolts to cause even more damage.

  “That should slow them down for a bit,” Uryk said as he sat back down.

  “I never imagined Rodric would be so adamant about my death. Your help has been more than I could ever ask for, but I must hurry on,” Janessa said as she gathered her things.

  “Must you leave so soon?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. My own troops will know to meet me at my hometown. I must be there for when they arrive. We wanted to unite the Gloomvale Isles and instead we have started a war.”

  “If ever your journey leads you back into these parts, you know where to find me.”

  “I may not survive the war, but if I do I will return and assist you in freeing these isles of their malaise.”

  Uryk smiled as he waved good-bye to Janessa. She felt a tinge of sadness in leaving the old hermit, but hoped that she would get a chance to visit him again. As much as the isles would benefit from removing the gloom, they needed her leadership more. She worried about what her people would think if she went off hunting dragons after working things out with Rodric. They deserve someone who can lead them in every situation, she thought. Rodric’s betrayal had shaken her confidence and, now that she was no longer preoccupied with Uryk’s stories, it began to bother her again. She smiled when she saw her hometown of Alonshire come into view. It was larger than she remembered, but still much smaller than most of the towns on the isles. Alonshire was one of the many fishing towns that provided sustenance for the Gloomvale Isles. The elderly watchmen opened the gate and stood in the middle of the road with his hands on his hips.

  “That can’t be who I think it is,” he said.

  “I have returned, Hayden,” Janessa replied.

  “That you have, Miss Janessa. Good to see you again. Will you be staying long?”

  “It is complicated, is the mayoral council awake?”

  “Aye, I will send the lads to gather them up. I take it things aren’t going well, anything I can do to help?”

  “Yes, come with me to address the council. I will explain everything as soon as they are gathered. In the meantime, let the other sentries know that we are expecting company.”

  “Good company or rotten company?” Hayden asked.

  “Both, I fear.”

  *

  Leoth leaned back in his chair. He sighed as the guards left the room. Getting the Warlords to agree to serve him had been easy, but convincing them to offer their armies for an immediate conquest in the west had taken all of their skill. He looked at Cassandra and smiled. It had been quite some time since the two of them had embarked on such an adventure. Neither of them had realized how much they missed the excitement of it all. The life of a Warlord was supposed to be filled with action, adventure, carnage, glory, and all manner of excitement. In truth, his life had resembled one of a King trying his best to appease the populace while staying powerful enough to remain unthreatened by his neighbors. Now, as Emperor, he could flex his might in a display that would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that he truly deserved the title. Canai had always been a target for the Valorian Isles, but the Warlords had been caught in too many petty squabbles to present a real threat to the continent.

  “What are you thinking, my love?” Cassandra asked as she looked over at her husband.

  “I am looking forward to the coming adventure. We have gotten caught up in the intricacies of running a country. That has never been something I’ve relished. I long for battle,” He replied.

  “You are unlike anyone I have ever known. The barbarism of war is not what draws you to it, is it?”

  “I revel in the glory it brings. To stand atop the ramparts of mine enemies and declare my people victorious. To bring pride to my father and grandfather. To travel the world and challenge the strongest champions and smartest tacticians. These are the things that I long for. Battle is not about slaughter, death, combat, or killing. It is about earning your right to call a land yours. It is about claiming lands for your people. It is about ensuring that your people will always have a home. It is about proving your people are the strongest. To show others they cannot take things from your people. Some may call it barbaric and evil, but there are few things that bring about a person’s true spirit. Battle is one of those things.”

  “It sounds strange to hear you say these things. My people see battle as a way to improve their standing. It isn’t about the collective, but the individual. They do not seek glory for their people, but glory for their own pleasure. It seems so wrong.”

  “What right does any of us have to claim our views are correct? There are certain things that we all know to be good or evil, but how often is the world truly a place of black and white? Is it so wrong to kill a man when he is bringing unspeakable horrors onto the world? Is that same man truly a horrible man if he provides for his family and for others
? Questions better left for others, I say. We make our choices based on our lifestyle, upbringing, and circumstances. No two of us are equal in those things, so how then shall we call ourselves right and others wrong?”

  “You pose questions that I cannot answer, my darling,” Cassandra replied.

  “Nor can I, my dearest. Such questions may never have an answer, but that does not mean we should not ask them. Are we right to conquest Canai? I do not know, but our circumstances give us a chance to do so in the name of stopping what some see as two evils. Perhaps history shall judge us as a third evil, but that is for history to judge. We must do what we feel is right knowing what we know.”

  “How did we get on such difficult topics?”

  “You married a man who is more than just a Warlord. I have always found such questions to be fascinating. Perhaps it is because my father always told me to act only when I know my actions are required. We act knowing what we know and upon acting, we should not worry about that which we do not know.”

  “Come, let us end this talk and prepare for our journey.”

  Leoth nodded before downing the last of his drink. He found himself going back to his father’s teachings more and more these days. Perhaps none of us were meant to be Warlords, he thought as he remembered his lineage. His line had always been known for trying to bring more to the life of a Warlord. It was not enough to be a great warrior, they wanted to be great leaders, great advisers, and great thinkers. His own lineage always served to remind him that greatness could come from anyone, no matter their upbringing, status, race, culture, or ethos. He stood up from his chair and followed his wife into their bedroom. She was already packing up what she needed for the trip. He joined her and assisted in finishing packing their things. It was a strange feeling to know that they would be leaving the isles where he had spent his entire life. His emotions were a mixture of fear and excitement.