The Wizard's Tower 02

by Peter Last

  “Does that mean…?”

  “Yes,” Timothy interrupted him. Josiah cursed.

  “Cirro,” he said as he spun to face his friend. “Get the soldiers ready for battle. Levvy, you had better also get your men ready. Petra, take a message to anyone who will listen and tell them an attack is imminent.”

  “What is this about, Josiah?” Levvy rumbled.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Josiah answered. “We need to act immediately, or we won’t survive the day.”

  “What are you going to do?” Cirro asked Josiah.

  Suddenly Timothy pointed a finger at a massive tower near the city wall.

  “Up there?” Josiah asked. Timothy nodded.

  “I’m going to take care of some unfinished business,” Josiah told Cirro over his shoulder. “Make sure you get my soldiers ready.” Then he and Timothy were off, running toward the tower.

  Fourteen

  Senndra, William, Richard, and Alyss were relaxing in a park near the center of the city. Lydia was with them, having joined them earlier that day when she had happened to encounter the soldiers and recognize Senndra from their meeting in Saddun. The extended time apart had brought about significant changes in both girls, but they recognized each other almost immediately. Moments later Senndra discovered that Lydia was not doing anything in particular and immediately invited her to join her friends for the day. And so, the five young people found themselves enjoying the sunshine and relative peace for the first time in weeks.

  Senndra lay on her back in the grass. Her eyes were closed, and she was simply soaking in the sun, not thinking about the massive army camped outside the city walls. In her world, there was nothing to be afraid of, nobody to fight, and nothing to do but lay back and relax with her friends. She cracked one eye open and looked over to where Lydia and Alyss sat, talking in low voices. For the second time that day, she noticed how much Lydia had changed since they had first met in Saddun. Smiling to herself she remembered the shy girl who had talked to her on the ruined walls of that city and explored the library with her. The girl sitting before her now had matured so much since that time. She had lost her shyness, allowing her friendliness to show through. Senndra smiled as she remembered how Lydia had exchanged pleasantries with almost everyone that they met, as well as talking at length to another group of people when they reached the park.

  Senndra continued to smile as she lay back and closed her eyes again. Everything about her world was perfect now, and she wished it would stay that way, at least for the rest of the day. Her mind began to wander again, and for a time she thought of nothing evil or unpleasant. She was just beginning to drift off to sleep when the pounding of footsteps caused her to jerk her eyes open. Not twenty yards from her, two figures that she knew well were running across the park at top speed. She sat up to get a better look and determined they were indeed who she thought they were.

  “Timothy! Josiah!” she called, but the men must not have heard her because they continued to run at breakneck speed without hesitating even once.

  How odd, she thought to herself. There didn’t appear to be anyone else rushing anywhere, so it couldn’t be an attack. But if it wasn’t an attack, what on earth would possess someone to run that quickly anywhere? Maybe they’re just exercising, she told herself as she lay back down and closed her eyes. In any case, she wasn’t curious enough to find out for certain what was going on.

  ******

  Josiah followed Timothy as quickly as he could but already was beginning to tire. Despite the magic and medicine used on his wounds, they were beginning to throb and he estimated they were only about halfway to the tower. His armor had been designed to be comfortable while marching and fighting, but the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the ground had shaken the various pieces from their intended positions. Now they were digging painfully into his body. He pushed away the pain and lengthened his stride in order to keep up with the magician in front of him. The two men dashed out of the park and onto a road only partially filled with people. Nevertheless, their pace slowed considerably as they raced around and between the city’s citizens.

  Timothy suddenly turned off the street and into a crack between two buildings. Josiah followed him down the alley and out onto the lawn of another building. They sprinted across the grass and up the stairs of the building. They followed the portico around the building and leaped over a small wall and down onto another road. The street was deserted except for a horse here or a carriage there; by contrast, the sidewalks had considerably more traffic. Before Josiah knew what was happening, Timothy had angled off the sidewalk onto the street and was busting down it at full speed. Josiah followed, though his lungs and muscles screamed at him for a break. Down the street loomed their destination, so Josiah ignored his body and poured on a final burst of speed.

  By the time Josiah reached the tower, Timothy was already standing at the door, bending over and panting for breath. Josiah stood beside him and followed suit, sucking in long droughts of oxygen and waiting for his muscles to regain some of their strength.

  “How did you figure it out?” he asked Timothy when he could talk. “I thought you said you had already taken care of this problem.”

  “The picture and notes in the book were the beginning, but the goblins were what tipped me off,” Timothy answered between gasps.

  “How so?” Josiah asked in puzzlement.

  “Goblins were not descended from the original man and woman,” Timothy explained. “They are not really a race in their own right but were created by Molkekk. They don’t even have a will of their own, but are more of an extension of Molkekk’s consciousness.”

  “So if Molkekk had died, then all of the goblins should have died as well?” Josiah asked.

  “Exactly,” Timothy confirmed. “And since they aren’t dead that means…”

  “That Molkekk isn’t dead!” Josiah finished.

  “Precisely,” Timothy said. “And unless I miss my guess, which I don’t think I have, he’s at the top of this tower right now.”

  “Well, then let’s go up there and finish this thing once and for all,” Josiah said as he straightened and reached for the latch of the tower door.

  “I’m right behind you,” Timothy said, “but remember, Molkekk is a magician, and a strong one at that. Be careful when we reach him; he can probably kill you with a motion of his hand.”

  “On second thought, maybe you should go first,” Josiah said and stepped aside to allow Timothy to pass him.

  “You’re probably right,” Timothy replied, opening the tower door.

  The interior of the tower consisted of one large room. An odd smell filled the room, a smell that was almost sickeningly sweet. A large table with twenty chairs around it filled a significant portion of the room. The table still had food upon it, as though a meal was about to be eaten, and several of the chairs were occupied. Oddly the people were not partaking of the food but instead were slumped over onto the table and appeared to be sleeping. There were what looked like several large puddles under the table, and Josiah squinted, trying to get a better look at them. Timothy walked quietly to the table and tapped one of the men on the shoulder. There was no response, and he tapped the man again. Again there was no response, so he tapped the man again, this time a bit harder.

  “Hello, sir,” he said in a loud voice.

  “Timothy, be quiet,” Josiah hissed from his spot near the door. Timothy turned to look at him, and he simply pointed to the puddles beneath the table. Timothy bent down to examine them and stood back up an instant later.

  “Blood,” he said, but Josiah had already guessed that much. Quickly he crossed the room to the table and began to examine each of the dead men. All of their throats had been slit. Josiah looked across the table to see Timothy looking at him. As soon as he had Josiah’s attention, Timothy motioned to a staircase winding around the outer wall of the tower to the second level. Quietly both men walked to the stairs and started upward. Nineteen steps later, they were
directly under a trapdoor.

  “Get ready,” Timothy whispered to Josiah. Slowly Josiah drew his sword and nodded to Timothy. The magician planted his hand on the trap door and threw it open in one fluid motion. In a flash he had scaled the short ladder which allowed access to the second level and disappeared from Josiah’s view. Holding his sword above him, Josiah struggled up the ladder and planted his boots on the second floor. As he did so, his eyes scanned the room, and determined that it held no threats. Timothy stood in the middle of the room, sheathing his own blade, so Josiah slid his sword back into its scabbard.

  This floor appeared to be the sleeping quarters for roughly a dozen men. Cots lined the wall, each with a trunk at the foot. Weapons hung on racks attached to the walls, and armor was heaped in piles around the room. Presumably this was where the people below slept.

  Josiah and Timothy took the stairs in this room to the next floor which was also sleeping quarters. The floor after that was a work shop of sorts for repairing armor and weapons. Two more floors of sleeping quarters came next, and then another work shop.

  The eighth floor was different from any of the lower ones. Shelves filled the room, containing thousands of books. A small partitioned area contained a bed, but Josiah and Timothy ignored all of this and walked straight to the staircase. These stairs started in the middle of the room and ascended straight up. A door at the top was ajar. Timothy drew his sword and slowly began to ascend the stairs. One of the steps creaked, and Timothy froze instantly, but no noise came from the top of the stairs, so he continued his climb with Josiah close behind. Finally, they reached the door, and Timothy paused for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his shoulder and hit the door, slamming it open. In a single leap he cleared the last step and flew several feet into the room. Josiah dashed through the door a moment later and stopped short. This was his first look at the feared Molkekk, and the magician was not exactly what he had expected.

  ******

  Petra sprinted down the street toward the tower that Timothy had pointed at. After Levvy and Cirro had hurried off to muster as many soldiers as they could and left him standing alone, he realized that he really had nothing to do. After a moment of indecision, he had started off toward the tower, prepared to give Timothy and Josiah whatever assistance he could. He came to a park and dashed across it. As he ran, the sun dipped behind a cloud, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. The chill only made Petra push himself harder, and in moments he had gained the street on the other side of the park. He sprinted down the road at top speed, hoping against hope that he would arrive in time to help.

  ******

  Senndra awoke again to the sound of running feet. She opened her eyes to see another man running across the park. What in heaven’s name was going on? She glanced over at her friends, but they all appeared to be asleep. Shrugging, she climbed to her feet and started off after the man who had just cut across the park. She was not running very quickly, so he continued to put distance between himself and her. Shaking the last remnants of sleep, Senndra picked up her pace and started to shorten the distance to the person she was following.

  ******

  Nathan sat in the council chambers considering the grain of the table in front of him. The others in the room were still discussing the same thing they had been discussing half an hour ago, and they still hadn’t come to any decisions at all. Nathan was more a man of action and all of the talking was making him uncomfortable. Not to mention that he agreed with what Josiah had said before; he figured there was something he could be doing that would be a better use of his time. As he traced the wood of the table with his index finger, a faint warning began at the back of his mind. At first he was not sure if he actually felt it or not, but as the seconds passed, it became more and more distinct.

  Without knowing why, Nathan stood to his feet and started to work his way out of the room. The task wasn’t easy since many of the council members had their chairs pressed up against the wall, blocking the path to the door. The progress was maddeningly slow to Nathan, and still the feeling of urgency continued to grow. Finally he could stand it no longer and forsook the floor. With a single bound he jumped onto the table and sprinted across it to the door. The conversation had ended by this time, but he didn’t notice the silence as he vaulted the chair between him and the door. He flung open the door and dashed out past the stunned doorman. Moments later he was out of the building.

  ******

  Brandon awoke with a start and sat straight up on his cot. He glanced around the room, but there didn’t appear to be anything that would have pulled him from his slumber, so he lay back down. Only then did he feel the uneasiness stirring in his gut. He tried to shove it away, but instead it continued to grow until he felt he had to do something or he would burst. Quickly he pulled his boots on and stood to his feet, stretching a bit. He glanced down and spied his claymore sticking out from under the bed, and without knowing why, he reached down and retrieved it. He strapped the sheath onto his back as he left the building and stepped out into the sunshine. His gaze was strangely drawn to the north where a tower rose into the air near the city wall. Nothing about the tower impressed him, yet he still turned to walk toward it. His pace quickened until he was running as fast as he could toward the building.

  ******

  The man on the other side of the room was sitting in a chair and had his boots propped up on a table in front of him. He was drinking out of a goblet in his hand. Looking over the rim of his cup as the door opened, he considered the two men before him. Slowly he placed his cup back on the table and in measured movements took his feet from the table and rested them on the ground.

  “Molkekk,” Josiah said in a small voice.

  “Tiberius,” Timothy said at the same time. “You dastardly, misbegotten, flee-bitten mongrel.”

  “Both of you are right,” Molkekk said as he stood to his feet. “Tiberius was a form I took on for a time. In fact, I like it so much, I think I might stay this way.”

  “Yeah, you can stay that way for the next thirty seconds,” Timothy said as he started forward. “That’s about how long it’ll take me to kill you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Molkekk said, and with a wave of his hand Timothy stopped moving. “You aren’t nearly powerful enough to rival me, you untamed cur.”

  Josiah didn’t say anything, but instead dashed across the room, his sword extended toward Molkekk. Molkekk motioned toward Josiah who suddenly found himself unable to move. Molkekk gave a scornful laugh at the surprised look on Josiah’s face.

  “Did you really think you could kill me when your magician friend couldn’t?” he snorted derisively.

  Josiah strained to bring his sword around, but Molkekk motioned again, and his arms bent around until they were sticking straight out from his sides.

  “Let’s relieve you of that weapon before you hurt someone,” Molkekk said. Josiah struggled again as his fingers were forced open by an invisible force and watched helplessly as his sword clattered to the ground.

  “Now, to get back to you,” Molkekk growled and turned back to where he had left Timothy; but as he turned, a fist flew forward and smashed into his face. With Molkekk distracted by Josiah, Timothy had managed to work himself free of the spell holding him and was now on the offensive.

  Molkekk was caught off guard by the blow and staggered backward several steps. His nose was crooked and blood streamed from it, evidence of the damage that Timothy had caused. Molkekk looked up and drew his hand back, but before he could do anything to protect himself, he was hit by a spell so powerful that it flung him across the tower and into the wall on the far side.

  With a sidelong glance at his stunned enemy, Timothy turned to Josiah and quickly freed him from the spell holding him. Then he turned back to Molkekk, who was slowly rising to his feet, and blasted another spell at him.

  The wizard’s reflexes had been retarded from slamming into the wall, but he was able to erect a shield just as Timothy attacke
d him. Even in this weakened state, he was much more powerful than the magician in front of him. Molkekk dropped the shield and flung another spell at his opponent. Timothy dove to the side to avoid the attack, and a suit of armor behind him received the force of the spell. Instantly it shrank to a fraction of its normal height.

  After being freed from the spell that held him, Josiah had collapsed onto the ground, unable to move for the moment. Apparently the spell did more than restrain the victim because his whole body felt numb. In a few moments, feeling began to return to his extremities, and he rose to his hands and knees. His sword lay on the ground only a few feet away, and he crawled quickly to it and retrieved the weapon. He felt almost entirely revived by now and jumped to his feet. He began to advance on Molkekk, but the wizard gave him a disdainful look.

  “Let’s take care of that pig sticker, shall we,” he said and turned his attention to Timothy.

  The blade of Josiah’s sword glowed red and collapsed to the ground in a puddle. The pain hit Josiah a moment later, and he dropped the sword hilt like a hot potato. Almost as soon as it appeared, the pain was gone, and Josiah was left looking at his destroyed sword. He glanced up and saw Timothy and Molkekk engaged in some sort of duel, though what exactly they were doing he could not determine. In any case, it looked as if Timothy was losing, so Josiah sprung to his rescue. He leaped onto Molkekk’s back and rabbit-punched him. The wizard was stunned by the blow, but still retaliated with a stunning blow of his own. Josiah could not tell if the blow was physical or magical, but in either case it was strong enough to break the grip he had on the wizard’s neck and fling him to the side.

  Timothy took advantage of the distraction and leaped forward, slamming his shoulder into the wizard’s stomach. Molkekk flew backward and hit the floor with Timothy still on his chest. The magician landed a series of precise blows on the wizard’s face and throat before being flung off by a smashing strike of the wizard’s fist.