Winged Warrior

by Richard S. Tuttle

  * * *

  A muted voice gave permission to enter the office. Garl opened the door and entered the room. He stood staring at Maraton and waited until the mage raised his head to acknowledge the Head Mage.

  “What is it, Garl?” Maraton asked with annoyance. “I am kind of busy here.”

  “You need to work on your manners,” Garl replied calmly. “I want you to come to the garden with me.”

  “Not today,” Maraton shook his head. “I am just too busy.”

  “A pity then,” shrugged Garl as he turned to leave. “Let history record that you were too busy today.”

  Maraton’s head snapped up with annoyance and confusion. “What do you mean history?” he asked.

  “I am an old man,” sighed Garl. “Surely, even you can see that? I will soon be asked to name my successor as Head Mage of the Society of Mages. I thought that I would be remiss in my duties not to include you in that list, but you are obviously too busy. Sorry to interrupt your work.”

  “Wait,” Maraton called out as he rose from his chair. “Why the garden? That is a strange place to hold interviews. Why not interview me right here? It would save time.”

  “An office is a poor place to discuss elven magic and all that it represents,” scoffed Garl. “I prefer to hold interviews in the midst of nature. I am too old to change my ways, even for you. Good day.”

  “Wait,” Maraton called again. “Go to the garden. I will be there in a minute. Just let me get my last thoughts down before I forget them.”

  Garl did not reply. He continued walking out of the office and headed for the large central garden. He inhaled deeply as he exited the building. He loved the smell of the flowers and the tree blossoms. With a smile on his face, Garl walked to the far end of the garden where the ivy ran rampant, climbing up the side of the building and covering the wall that formed the fourth side of the courtyard. He sat on a small stone bench facing the ivy and closed his eyes. His mind wandered back to the small village of Etta where he had spent close to twenty years in exile.

  “You aren’t sleeping, are you?” the voice shattered Garl’s daydream.

  Garl opened his eyes and saw Maraton standing before him. He smiled and shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I was just daydreaming of simpler days in Etta. Things were much less complicated there. There life in all of its forms was revered. I think I may return there before I die.”

  “That’s nice,” Maraton replied dryly, thinking the old man should hurry up and pack his bags while he could still find the way to Etta. “What do you need to know about me to determine my fitness to succeed you?”

  “I mostly need to know the level of your expertise in magic,” answered the Head Mage. “I also need to explore your moral fitness for the office.”

  “My moral fitness?” balked Maraton. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “A great deal,” replied Garl. “As you know, the Society of Mages is not a political institution. We try our best not to get involved in the politics of Elvangar, although at times there are exceptions. Still, the moral character of the Head Mage must be beyond reproach. As Head Mage, our leader must often interact with the nation’s leaders. Elvangar must be constantly assured that the Society of Mages will not threaten the monarchy. You can imagine the fear of our power if that were not so.”

  Maraton stood uncomfortably as the discussion came too close to the current situation in Elvangar. He wondered if the Head Mage might have stumbled upon his plans.

  “I have no interest in politics,” lied the mage. “Magic is my life, as it should be for every mage. The Head Mage should be chosen on raw power as it has been for centuries. Why are you changing the requirements?”

  “I don’t see the requirements as having been changed,” countered Garl. “The Head Mage has rarely been chosen by raw power. He has been chosen by effective power. There is a great difference between those two. For example, while you are extremely powerful with raw magic, I have little doubt that a lesser mage could effectively disarm you by using a far superior mental intellect.”

  “You are talking nonsense now,” Maraton shook his head. “Name a mage other than yourself who could defeat me.”

  “Princess Alahara,” smiled Garl. “While she may one day have far greater raw power than you do, she certainly does not possess it right now.”

  “Nor is she a match for me,” snapped Maraton as tried to turn to leave the meeting. “Enough of this nonsense.”

  Maraton frowned as his feet refused to obey him. He looked down and saw that the ivy had wrapped around his legs tightly. His eyes opened wide as he watched the ivy spiraling upward to encase his body.

  “I think you are wrong about her,” Garl continued as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “You see, Princess Alahara used her intellect to discover your little plot to destroy the Royal Family and crown the queen’s sister. In a sense, she has made the most effective use of her magic, although you had the greater raw power.”

  “You are mad,” shouted Maraton as his arm rose and pointed at Garl.

  Garl smiled sadly and shook his head. “Blast away with your most potent spells,” shrugged Garl. “I am completely shielded. You cannot harm me, and you know it. Spend your time to make peace with Kaltara.”

  Maraton frowned as he stared down at the ivy, which was growing at a frantic pace. He pointed his finger downward at the base of the ivy and blasted a hole in the plant with a fireball. The ivy reacted by growing even faster. Strands ran up Maraton’s back and encircled his throat. The mage’s hands ripped at the ivy, but new strands of the plant soon encased his hands along with his neck. His eyes narrowed with the realization that death was just moments away.

  “Why, Maraton?” asked Garl. “Why did you stray from the path of the righteous?”

  Maraton did not answer as the ivy had completely enclosed him. Garl shook his head sadly and rose from the bench. He went in search of the next wayward mage.

  * * *

  “I do not think this is a good idea,” frowned Queen Alycia as she stood at the railing of the throne room looking down at the new stage and the growing crowd of demonstrators. “If anything, you should have a larger contingent of soldiers surrounding you. You are being foolishly proud to go upon that stage with no guards.”

  “I do not see it as a foolish move,” countered King Avalar. “If the citizens are going to stone anyone, it should not be the soldiers of our nation. Their complaint is with me and my policies. I am not afraid to stand before our citizens and tell them the truth.”

  “Well I am afraid for you,” retorted the queen. “I lived without you for too long. I will not do so again. There will be soldiers guarding you today if I have to order them out there myself.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Avalar said sharply. “The first strategy of war is to do the unexpected, and that is what I intend to do. Make no mistake about this Alycia; we are at war here. While many of those protesters firmly believe in their cause, many others are down there to foment the destruction of our reign. I will not allow that to happen.”

  “Then I shall join you on that stage,” Alycia said stubbornly. “If you are to be stoned to death, I want to be by your side when it happens. Let them stone me as well.”

  King Avalar walked to the railing and put his arm around his wife. He kissed her gently and then leaned on the railing beside her and gazed downward at the protesters.

  “Do not fear for me,” he said softly. “There will be no stoning of the king this day. Our daughters are down there making sure that the stones are not thrown.”

  “Alahara and Alastasia?” questioned the queen. “Where are they?”

  Avalar pointed to the far edge of the mob. Alycia squinted and finally found Alahara.

  “What are they doing down there?” she asked. “Are you all mad? There is a plot to destroy the Royal Family and the three of you are wading into the public and inviting attacks? This is a nightmare. It can not be happening for real.�
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  “Everything is under control,” soothed Avalar. “There is only one loose end that we have not figured out how to address yet.”

  “And what is that?” Queen Alycia asked suspiciously.

  “Kanis,” Avalar replied softly. “Your sister is involved in this attempted coup.”

  “No,” Alycia shook her head with disbelief. “Kanis may be crude at times, but I cannot fathom her involvement in anything like this. You are wrong. You just don’t like her and find it convenient to attach her to the conspirators.”

  “I was very much afraid that you would react this way,” sighed the king. “I do not know how to convince you of your sister’s duplicity, but I know the truth of it. She has conspired with Maraton to become the new Queen of Elvangar.”

  “I do not believe it,” Alycia said adamantly. “Your sources are wrong. They do not know my sister.”

  “Three individuals that I would trust my life to disagree with you,” replied the king. “Alahara and Garl heard it with their own ears, and Tamar had Kanis followed last night. She met with Maraton at the Banyan Inn in a private room. It is not my own personal feelings for your sister that are determining her guilt. It is her own actions.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” Alycia shook her head as she turned from the railing and paced the floor of the throne room. “What will you do to her if it is true?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted the king. “I do not care much for Kanis, but she is your sister. It is a decision that I do not wish to make. I want you to think about it. We will talk about it later.”

  Chapter 12

  Protesting the War

  The area around the new stage was crowded. Thousands of elven citizens had gathered to hear the king. Mixed in with the crowd were hundreds of angry protesters. Many of the protesters carried signs demanding peace; others handed out red flowers to signify the elven blood that would flow should the king get his way and drag Elvangar into the human war.

  Princess Alahara and Princess Alastasia moved systematically through the crowd casting compulsion spells on protesters that carried pouches of rocks. After several hours of making the boys return the rocks to the river, the princesses thought the protest would be fairly tame. Suddenly, shouting drew the attention of Princess Alastasia. She turned and saw Levitor arguing with Kara. Being careful not to draw attention to herself, she made her way closer to find out what was going on.

  “I don’t control them,” yelled Kara. “I made all of the arrangements, but I cannot force them to act.”

  “Be quiet,” hushed Levitor as he grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him around the corner of a building and out of sight of the other protesters.

  Princess Alastasia moved cautiously along the front of the building until she had almost reached the corner. She stood with her back to the building and tried to listen to the conversation, which had dropped decidedly in volume.

  “Don’t ever raise your voice in my presence again,” warned Levitor.

  “How was I supposed to know that you are in this with Salfour,” argued the boy. “No one told me. I thought that someone had discovered my part in this.”

  “Well I am telling you now,” Levitor shot back. “The point is, no one is carrying stones. How do you expect to start a riot if you are the only one with stones.”

  “We delivered stones to everyone,” frowned Kara. “I saw them carrying them before. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Well you better find out, and fast,” threatened the mage. “The king will be coming out to speak soon. I want blood flowing in the streets.”

  “We have time,” argued the boy. “The soldiers have not even arrived yet. They will come out well before the king.”

  “So you are an expert on royal protocol now?” taunted the mage. “Just obey your orders and make sure that plenty of people have stones to throw. If this fails, I will have your hide. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” replied the boy.

  Unexpectedly, the mage cursed. Princess Alastasia frowned as she tried to imagine what was going on around the corner. She looked across the park and saw Garl marching towards her. She bit her lower lip and hoped the Head Mage would not give her away.

  “What is it?” asked the boy.

  “I have to go,” Levitor said. “Make sure that you don’t let us down.”

  Suddenly, Levitor emerged from around the corner. He tried to move quickly away from the protest, but Garl called loudly to him. Levitor stopped and turned to meet Garl.

  “Look at the crowd out here today,” Levitor said innocently. “Have you come to listen to the king speak, too?”

  “I do not have time for such things,” Garl replied gruffly. “I have been looking all over for you. Come with me to the Society. We must talk.”

  Princess Alastasia exhaled slowly as Garl’s eyes passed over her. She saw the look of recognition in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  “What about?” Levitor asked nervously. “I was hoping to hear the speech.”

  “You will hear nothing new in today’s speech,” replied the Head Mage. “I have spent time this morning thinking about my replacement as Head Mage. I need to talk to you in the garden of the Society.”

  “While I am flattered that you are considering me for such an august position,” replied Levitor, “I would prefer to talk about it here.”

  “I am not considering you for the position,” Garl replied. “There are others who are better qualified, but it is your services that I require right now.”

  “Perhaps later,” Levitor shook his head.

  “Now,” Garl said adamantly. “Or would you care for me to tell Maraton that you could not be bothered speaking to me?”

  “Maraton?” Levitor echoed, his voice showing a hint of fear. “Oh,” he continued more calmly, “now I understand. Yes, Maraton is an excellent choice. There is little more that I could add to that recommendation.”

  “Very well,” shrugged Garl as he turned to leave. “Maraton is waiting in the garden. I will tell him that you are too busy to attend. He will be disappointed by the lack of support for his application.”

  “I already gave my recommendation,” Levitor called after the Head Mage, but Garl ignored him.

  Levitor cursed again and ran after Garl. Kara came around the building and stood staring at the retreating mages. He turned and saw Princess Alastasia leaning against the building.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Resting,” smiled Alastasia. “Truthfully, I am a bit nervous about this afternoon.”

  “Nervous?” frowned Kara. “About what? It is not you who will address the people from the stage.”

  A boy walked by carrying his pouch of stones and heading for the river. Kara watched the boy curiously and then called him by name. The boy did not respond, and Kara appeared ready to run after the lad.

  “I guess he didn’t hear you,” smiled the princess. “What do you think the king will say today?”

  “What?” Kara asked in confusion as he was torn between running after the boy and hiding his involvement as one of the organizers.

  “The king,” Alastasia repeated. “What do you think he will say?”

  “How would I know?” snapped Kara as he turned to run after the boy.

  Princess Alastasia swiftly cast a spell of compulsion on Kara. The ringleader stopped suddenly and turned around. He walked over to the building and leaned against it.

  “Are you sick?” asked the princess.

  “What?” Kara said groggily. “I just feel weak.”

  “Then you should make sure that everyone’s stones are safely returned to the river,” smiled Alastasia. “That will make you feel better.”

  “Yes, it would,” Kara nodded enthusiastically. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You did think of it,” chuckled the princess.

  Alastasia watched Kara wander off into the crowd of protesters. She saw him tap a boy on the shoulder and point to the river
. The boy looked back with confusion on his face, but he complied and soon headed to the river to deposit his stones. Princess Alahara soon walked up to her sister and leaned against the building.

  “Taking a break?” asked Alahara. “There are still more stone-throwers out there.”

  “Not for long,” grinned Alastasia. “I found a more efficient way of getting rid of them. I ordered Kara to do it.”

  Princess Alahara laughed heartily as she turned to follow Kara’s progress.

  “Levitor was just threatening Kara,” informed Alastasia. “Then Garl appeared and demanded that he return to the Society of Mages. Do you know what the old man is up to?”

  “No,” Alahara shook her head, “but Avalar has faith in his uncle. That should be good enough for us.”

  “I suppose,” responded Alastasia. “Look. The Council of Elders is coming onto the stage. I guess things will be heating up real soon. We need to start worrying about the mages. They can make the difference this afternoon.”

  “You go to the Society of Mages and check up on them,” suggested Alahara. “I am going to keep close tabs on Kara and his friends. I will not let them start a riot.”

  Princess Alastasia nodded and ran off towards the home of the mages. Alahara scanned the crowd until she found Kara and then moved in to follow him. She did not stop him from ordering the boys to get rid of their stones, but she kept close to him while he did so.

  * * *

  The Council of Elders sat behind a long table on the newly built stage. They peered at the thousands of citizens before them. The crowd was quite noisy, and the citizens could not hear the elders speaking among themselves.

  “This is quite a protest,” remarked Amber. “There must be thousands of demonstrators here.”

  “It is hardly fair to call all of them demonstrators,” replied Volox. “Most of the people have gathered today to hear the king address the people. If it is protesters that you seek, look at the ones carrying the signs.”

  “Not all protesters are carrying signs,” retorted Amber. “Do not try to sway this council with false words.”