Chronos and the Rogue Hunters

by Edward Eck

  Gollnick put on a smile and spoke as politely as he could muster. “My name is Goll—”

  “I know who you are. Speak your mind or be on your way.”

  Once again Gollnick did his best to be nice. “I wanted to discuss the sorcerer civil war in New York. In particular, if there might be a way to settle this in a peaceful manner.”

  Deustoff’s straight face and serious expression didn’t give Gollnick much hope.

  “Peaceful? Bring me Malcolm’s head on a pike and we can discuss it. While you’re at it, I’ll take your friend’s head as well. Vincent is as much to blame as Malcolm for my brother’s death. One way or another they will both pay.”

  Gollnick knew the circumstances of Vincent’s involvement. He also knew that Frederick and all the water automatons had been destroyed. What he didn’t know is whether Duestoff knew any of the details. “Malcolm’s more to blame than you may realize. While Vincent was present, he was under a binding spell. He had no choice but to follow orders…” When Duestoff rolled his eyes, Gollnick added, “but you already knew that.”

  “He was present and still to blame. They will both die.”

  Gollnick decided on a different approach. “Think about all the innocent people who might get hurt in the process.”

  “No one is truly innocent, especially in New York City. To cleanse this world, it must be purged of the unworthy. If a few thousand people die a little early, so what? You bore me. This conversation is over.” Duestoff waved a hand in front of the mirror and his image disappeared.

  Gollnick was not encouraged by this brief exchange. Actually, he was more convinced that Duestoff wanted the civil war. Maybe even a little too much. Gollnick couldn’t put his finger on it, but something seemed off. He could only hope that Vincent was having better luck with Francois LeRain.

  * * *

  Back in Vincent’s private chambers, he raised a small handheld mirror. The image it showed was of a dark room with only the slightest glimmer of light from the right side. He had been waiting for almost an hour when he heard voices in the background. Finally a person came into view. A man sat down on a chair in front of the mirror and leaned in close. “Vincent, is that you?” he whispered. “It is good to see you, my old friend. Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “Francois, what’s going on? Why so secret?”

  “Shh! You’ve called at a bad time. A group of Malcolm’s men are outside my location searching for me as we speak.”

  “Then it’s true, there is a sorcerer’s war going on in New York City.”

  “Yes, my friend. And at the moment, I’m not doing so well. Half my men have been captured or killed in the past few days. Where are you?”

  “Francois, I’ve left Malcolm. I’m with the Old Circle again.”

  “Then the rumors I’ve heard are true. You killed Frederick Von Woonst and freed Tiamat. But when you ordered her to attack New York City she abandoned you.”

  “Wow! That’s a story I haven’t heard before. No. I was under Malcolm’s binding spell. I was forced to serve him. When Frederick ordered Tiamat to do Malcolm’s bidding, she fried him and fled.”

  “You never truly believed in the dark sorcerer plan to remake the world?”

  “Sorry, but no. And this sorcerer civil war makes even less sense. Malcolm has told us a lot of innocent people are dying. Is this true?”

  “There are new rules, my friend. The time is fast approaching for the great global purge. It’s survival of the fittest now.”

  “The purge? That wasn’t supposed to happen for another two thousand years.”

  “On the contrary, we recently found out the great seal was created two thousand years earlier than believed. The purge is to happen in less than a year from now.”

  “Where did you come by this information?”

  “Malcolm has a source who provides him with valuable information. Information I need if I’m going to survive this war. Vincent, is there any way you can send aid? Maybe a hundred sorcerers? If I can eliminate Malcolm and gain control of his source, perhaps I may be able to spare your life at the time of the purge.”

  “There’s not going to be a purge. The combined power of the Old and New Circles won’t allow it.”

  “As I understand, there’s little left of the Old Circle and the new one is a bunch of inexperienced kids. I don’t see you putting up much of a fight.”

  Vincent studied Francois’ face for a moment. There was no evidence of tension, no sweat beading down his face. “Answer me this, Francois. You seem awfully calm for a man who is being hunted by Malcolm’s sorcerers. Why are you so willing to share a lot of information with someone who is your enemy?”

  “You were once my friend, Vincent. Does that not count for something?” Francois held Vincent’s gaze for a moment, then wavered. “I have to go,” he said, waving a hand in front of his mirror. The image disappeared.

  Vincent couldn’t help but wonder how truthful his friend had been. Francois never had the best poker face, but he was familiar with the plans for the great global purge. The fact Francois believed it to be at hand gave Vincent great cause for concern. He would need to discuss this with Gollnick.

  * * *

  Gollnick could tell by the somber face of Vincent things hadn’t gone as planned. His news would be no better. “I take it Francois didn’t provide much encouragement for a truce?”

  Vincent shook his head and sat at the kitchen table. “No. Any luck with Duestoff?”

  Gollnick hung his head. “No. However, he did seem a little off from what I had expected.”

  “How so?”

  Gollnick met Vincent’s eyes. “Duestoff sounded like he wanted the civil war with Malcolm. Oh, and he wants you dead, too. He blames you and Malcolm for his brother’s death.”

  “How did he even know I was there?”

  Gollnick tilted his head. “I was wondering that myself. When I reminded him of the binding, he dismissed the thought and moved on. It was almost like he didn’t know.”

  Vincent furrowed his brow. “Both Duestoff and Frederick knew I was under Malcolm’s control because of that blasted amulet. There’s no way it was a surprise for him.”

  Gollnick considered this information.

  “Francois seemed a little off to me as well,” Vincent added.

  Gollnick’s eyes widened. “Why do you say that?”

  “He claimed he was being hunted by Malcolm’s sorcerers. He was hiding from them at the time of our conversation. Yet, he took the time to talk with me. He appeared calm and willing to share a lot of information. Almost like the situation was staged.”

  Gollnick pursed his lips. “I’m beginning to think you’re right. This is a trap. I’m going to tell Malcolm, he’s on his own.”

  A few minutes later, Gollnick sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the Library then called out to the mirror in front of him, “Mirtor a mirtor tong-la Malcolm.”

  In seconds, the image of a dark room appeared. Gollnick could see paintings adorn the walls in the background with spotlights aimed at each one. The room appeared to be empty. “Hello? Anyone there?”

  “One second,” said a voice. Malcolm’s face appeared shortly afterward. “Ah, Gollnick. I take it you’ve come to a decision?”

  “We have.” Gollnick paused to gauge Malcolm’s level of interest, but the dark-skinned adversary said nothing. “We’ve decided not to aide you in this sorcerer civil war.”

  Now Malcolm’s eyes widened. “How can that be your decision? There are hundreds of innocent people here in New York City who will be impacted.”

  Gollnick made no physical response. “Your rivals gave us cause to hesitate. In addition, I’ve been checking the news. So far, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary about incidents in New York City. Either you’re doing a really good job at keeping the attacks quiet…” When Malcolm briefly looked away from the mirror before regaining eye contact, Gollnick continued, “…or there haven’t been any.”
>
  Malcolm pursed his lips. “I have sorcerers assigned to keep all attacks hidden and out of the news.”

  Gollnick smiled. “I doubt that. Only a week ago, you and Frederick were having a battle of your own. Other sorcerers had to get involved to make it look like a severe storm. Everyone I’ve talked with has said the rules have changed. Yet you expect me to believe you are now trying to keep these attacks a secret? Your adversaries don’t seem so concerned about keeping things quiet.”

  Malcolm’s face flushed red. His breathing became heavy. Gollnick was certain Malcolm was not enjoying the conversation.

  “You think you’ve figured everything out. What you don’t realize is, one way or another, I’ve been ordered to eliminate you as a nuisance from our plans.”

  Gollnick sat up a little straighter in his seat before leaning closer to the mirror, not so much from the threat, but the implied source of the threat. “Ordered? I thought you ran the show for all dark sorcerers?”

  Malcolm’s eyes widened once more. He stood and waved a hand in front of the mirror and his image disappeared.

  29 Searching For Answers

  After a brief stop at Ravenicon castle, Max, Taryn and Radimir had made their way to Asgard. Max looked around the great city and though he couldn’t remember specifics, he knew he had been there before. The place was in need of a great many repairs. Giant cracks wrecked the perfection of tall spires. Vegetation had overrun large sections of the city, and a few buildings had collapsed into rubble. The streets were covered in dirt and debris. Even the main spire of the city—the palace of the Asgardian king, Odin—had gaping holes. Shields, swords and spears lay strewn about, evidence of a mighty battle… Ragnarok, the fall of the Norse gods.

  Max moved deeper into the city with Taryn and Radimir close behind.

  As she attempted to keep pace, Taryn called, “Max, we’re going the wrong way. We need to get to Nidavellir and find the others. We don’t have time for sightseeing.”

  Without turning, Max pressed on. “We need to find Odin.”

  “Odin was a sorcerer from ancient times. He’s dead.”

  “No. Now that I’m here, I remember. Odin was one of the immortals. He lives.”

  With renewed vigor, the three of them continued their journey deeper into Asgard. Max led the way into the palace climbing over and around boulders and shattered walls, through gaping holes in defensive barriers and finally into the throne room. There, upon the crumbling remains of a once majestic throne, sat a withered old man. Mostly skin and bone with little muscle left, his armor hung from his thin limbs. A white unkempt beard covered most of his chest. His stare reached the heights of the audience chamber until their approach drew his attention.

  Even after thousands of years, Max recognized the withered old man—Odin, king of the Asgardians. Taryn and Radimir hung back.

  Odin pointed a shaky spear at Max and growled, “What are you doing here? I thought I left you with the ring, err the round thing.”

  “I am once again with the New Circle.”

  “Yes, the Circle. So what are you doing here? Haven’t I babysat you enough over the centuries? Now you come here and disturb my peace once again.”

  Max could tell Odin was not pleased to see him. “We’re looking for our friends. They came here in search of a way to create a new Gleipnir. The Fenris Wolf has escaped and is roaming Midgard.”

  “What? You fools let that monster escape? The last time it got out, he swallowed me whole. If it weren’t for my son Vidarr, I’d still be in the belly of that beast.”

  “It was the dark sorcerers who freed Fenrir.”

  Odin lowered his spear and gnashed his jaw as he looked around the floor of the throne room. “Why haven’t you put an end to their brutality? Don’t you remember what they’ve done to this world?”

  Max hesitated. “Actually, I don’t remember much of anything.”

  Odin slammed his spear onto the floor and it skidded away in an erratic pattern just missing Radimir. “You fool! You lost your memory again? Youth eternal, memory zilch, and powers; who knows? One day you can barely light a fire, the next you’ve ripped the universe in half. You are the most consistently inconsistent imbecile in all the nine realms.”

  Max looked over his shoulder at Radimir and then Taryn, who shrugged in response. Max regarded the aged Asgardian king once more. “Odin, we need your help. We’re searching for our friends, Cyrus, Amber and Meagan. They must have come this way.”

  “Well… three children were here the day before yesterday. Or was it yesterday? It could’ve been last week. I don’t think it was tomorrow. It must’ve been last month. Either way, I think they went to Nidavellir in search of the dwarves.” He stared at Max for a few seconds. “But you, you’re going to Giza.”

  “Giza?”

  “You must travel to Egypt and find Ra. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood to help you with your memories. Just get out of my city.”

  Max took a step forward. “But our friends, they need our help. They must find a new Gleipnir and re-imprison Fenrir.”

  Odin paced the dais of the throne room. “Fine! You go to Egypt and get out of my hair. I’ll aid your friends.”

  Max’s eyes widened before re-examining the elderly figure. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “Go!”

  With some enthusiasm Max questioned, “Okay. How do I find Ra?”

  “Start at the Giza Plateau. Find the tomb of Osiris. From there you’re on your own. See if there’s any memories left in that vacuum you call a mind.”

  Max, Taryn and Radimir made a hasty retreat from the Asgardian king. As they disappeared out of the throne room, Odin’s last words echoed… “Now what was I supposed to do?”

  30 Gather The Troops

  After a less than encouraging conversation with Gollnick, Malcolm paced behind the desk in his darkened office. The only glow was from the hundred video screens covering one wall. The darkness suited him right now as he wished to hide forever. His master would be furious with the outcome of the request for aid. His plan for destroying the Circle was quickly falling apart. If he were to save his own neck, he would need to move quickly to come up with an alternate plan, an all-out attack on Ravenicon Castle.

  Another man entered the room dressed all in black and wearing a trench coat. He approached within ten feet and waited. Malcolm paced a few more times before acknowledging his presence. A furrowed brow and harsh growl revealed his displeasure. “Call a truce with Deustoff and Francois immediately. I want them both here in one hour. We need to settle our differences if we are to destroy both Circles.”

  The man didn’t hesitate after receiving his orders. He turned and made a hasty retreat.

  Malcolm wasn’t sure how long he could conceal this failure from his master. How long until he was once again summoned to the depths of New York City? He knew he needed to implement his alternate plan as soon as possible. A way to accomplish his master’s task now that the trap had been revealed.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught some movement. He quickly looked in the direction of the motion, but saw nothing. He lowered his gaze once again, but this time when he spotted the peripheral movement, he saw a small demon-like figure darting from shadow to shadow. He recognized it as one of his master’s little pets. He quickly cast a spell, “Magna fir-tor loma.” The fireball shot with a quick snap of his wrist at the little demon, but the creature was too quick for his off the cuff aim. The figure no longer kept to the shadows, but made a mad dash for an air vent. It had disappeared before Malcolm could cast a second fireball.

  In frustration, Malcolm slid his arms across the surface of his desk, throwing everything onto the floor. The few pieces of paper he still grasped in his hands were torn to shreds as he continued his tirade.

  He was out of options and his master’s little spy was on its way to give a full report of his failure. His two would-be opponents were on their way to meet with him and he had no idea how to eliminate his greatest enem
y, Gollnick. Depleted of energy and drive, he flopped down in his chair and resigned himself to the fact he had finally proven himself useless to his master. And uselessness meant only one thing.

  An hour later, Malcolm was slouched in his leather chair, half awake with a nearly empty bottle of brandy in his hand. His black shirt hung open revealing a white t-shirt underneath. One side of it was still tucked into his black pants while the other hung free. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks were flushed.

  Deustoff and Francois entered, strolling in side by side, apparently without a care in the world. Deustoff was dressed all in black including his trench coat. Francois wore black pants, a white button-down shirt and a brown trench coat. Deustoff gave Francois a quick glance before returning his attention to his so-called leader. “We’re here as you requested… but I thought the master didn’t want us seen together.”

  Malcolm snapped his head toward the German. “You’ve been in contact with the master?”

  Francois replied, “He’s the one who instructed us to start an uprising against you. You didn’t know?”

  Malcolm straightened a bit. “Of course I knew.”

  Deustoff smiled. “Irrelevant. What are the master’s commands?”

  Malcolm chuckled. “Who knows? Probably to kill me. You two blundering idiots couldn’t talk your way out of a paper bag. Gollnick and Vincent saw right through you. Neither of you convinced them the civil war was real. They’ve turned down my request for aid and will not be coming to New York. Which means, I won’t be able to ambush them or kill them. We’ve failed. And make no mistake, if I’m going down for this, you two morons are going down with me.”

  Deustoff sneered as he looked to Francois. “I told you this game we were playing would never work. We can’t underestimate our enemies. If we wanted to kill them, then why not just do it? Why lure them here to spring a trap? I prefer the direct approach.”