The Wizard's Council

by Cody J. Sherer

  He brushed himself off and turned to the fire warrior. It was standing there waiting for his next order. James shrugged and then clapped his hands, sending the warrior back to whence it came. I need to warn the King, he thought as he wrapped a small piece of cloth around the cut on his arm. It had been far too long since he had engaged in a proper fight and it showed. He took on the form of a fox once again and limped his way through the forest. It hurt to move, but taking on human form would only slow him down more. He grimaced through the pain as he continued on his path through the forest. The wildlife paid him no heed as he pushed his body and mind to their limits. His magical expertise was not in the field of fast travel, but he did what little he could to force his body to go faster. Before he knew it, darkness had yet again enveloped the land, and he stopped for a quick rest.

  *

  Sev sat motionless, staring at the dying embers of the fire. He had the first watch that night, which meant he would extend his watch past the predetermined time and get less sleep. Solin looked at him, but didn’t say a word. The two sat there for several minutes as everyone else was settling in for the night. Sev stood up and grabbed his bow, he always kept it with him when on watch. Solin followed him to the edge of camp, and the two stood for several more minutes. Though Sev was by no means considered a small man, when he stood next to Solin he felt like a dwarf. He wondered what it must feel like to be that large. The former Captain of the Guard was the closest to a troll’s size of any man that Sev had ever seen. His demeanor was much more docile than that of a troll, but nonetheless Sev never wanted to have a reason to fight the man.

  “Why’d you quit?” Sev asked as he stared off into the forest.

  “The Holy Order?” Solin asked.

  “Sure, start with that story and then we can move on to why you left Riverton.”

  “Have you ever interacted with the Holy Order?”

  “I can’t say that I have, they haven’t spoken to the Rangers or Druids in more than a hundred years, and I rarely get out of the Old Forest,” Sev shrugged as he spoke.

  “To explain why I left, I have to first explain something about the Holy Order. Their intentions, while mostly pure, are often misguided. They may not be the horrible organization that some make them out to be, but they are certainly not as virtuous as they would like everyone to believe. When I was still a part of the Order, we did more than just hunt down those who misused magic. We fought orcs, trolls, Necromancers, rogue Wizards, thieves, and pretty much anyone who was openly harming others. Our Grand Cleric led investigations into several organizations and groups to see if they were secretly harming others. When the Grand Crusader wasn’t leading attacks on the forces of evil, he was leading us to repair destroyed villages and bring food and shelter to those in need. We were truly befitting of the name that we were called. Our mission was to spread the light of God in places where the darkness reigned.” Solin paused and took a deep breath.

  “How many years ago was this?” Sev took advantage of the silence.

  “This was the ten year period that ended fifteen years ago. I was slightly younger than you at the time, and we were truly making a difference in the world. We were chasing down a group known as the Knights of Doom, and just as we were starting to gain some ground against them, the politicking came about. Galimdor used their political clout to threaten the Order to the point where we actually stopped going after the Knights of Doom. The very next day I went to the Grand Crusader, and I explained that I was leaving the Order to continue my hunt of the Knights of Doom. It was the Grand Cleric that was outraged by this, though I know not why. He often spoke of purging the land, but sometimes those who sound most zealous are not to be trusted. Zeal, like many things, can be used for ill purposes. When I left things began to slow down for the Holy Order. The Order of the Hand, a group of monks within the Holy Order, withdrew and formed their own group. By the end of the splintering, there were four or five new groups formed. A few years later, the Holy Order saw the error of their ways and agreed the Knights of Doom deserved death.”

  “Why didn’t you rejoin after that?”

  “I had already seen the Cleric’s true colors. It didn’t matter if Gareth was a good man or not, as long as he accepted counsel from Bartholomew, I would not follow him in battle. They didn’t dare to come after me, but I knew they were not happy with me. I spent the next year hunting down the Knights of Doom. It wasn’t long before I realized that it was not the hunting of evil that brought me to the Holy Order. No, I was drawn to the Holy Order because of their promise to spread good throughout the world. Even those who rejected the true God were still treated with respect and offered assistance. I eventually found myself at Riverton. They were in need of a Captain of the Guard, and I was in need of a job and place to stay. The situation was mutually beneficial for a time. Over time, the town grew more and more suspicious of outsiders. They trusted me because I had come before their fear reached its peak, but they didn’t trust any of the other outsiders. I was forced to convince them to allow the merchants to stay for the sake of the town.” Solin cut his explanation short as if not wanting to speak further ill of the townsfolk.

  “I can piece together the rest. Caitlyn must be something like a sister or a daughter to you, and when they tried to kick us out, you wouldn’t have any of it. An admirable thing, not many these days are willing to take a stand for what they believe.”

  “Speaking of beliefs, might I inquire if you believe in the true God?”

  “I do, though I am not as outspoken as you are. My faith is my own, and it is not something I share with people unless I consider them a friend. I know it is not a well-liked position among fellow believers, but I hold to it nonetheless.”

  “Now it is my turn to praise you. It is a commendable thing to hold your faith close to you. Not everyone is reachable by strangers, people like both of us are needed. As are those with other strengths as well.” For the first time since they met, Solin looked happy.

  “You are too kind, friend.”

  “A kindness that you deserve, but the mayor of Riverton prevented you from receiving. I fear that other cities are beginning to act in such ways. The world is changing ever so slightly. Where once there was love, kindness, patience, and openness, there is now a feeling of suspicion and hatred. Times have changed the people for the worse.”

  The two stopped speaking and stared out into the darkness. They didn’t have to discuss the matter, it was something they had both witnessed. Sev felt that the wars and conflicts were to blame, and Solin believed it was the lack of God’s light being spread into the darkness. Each of them knew the other would disagree and that they couldn’t prove their point, so they thought it better to leave their opinions unsaid. After a few minutes, Solin rose and bid Sev a good night. The Ranger looked out over the forest, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness. There was something comforting for Sev about the darkness of the Old Forest. When he had told the others this, it worried them. They wanted to know why he was at home with something that was often associated with being away from the true God. Solin understood though, he was one of the few that knew it wasn’t the darkness that made the half-elf feel at home. It was the lack of fear associated with that darkness. Unbeknownst to Sev, the former Paladin had not only picked up on his courage, but also approved of it.

  *

  Arcantos shoved open the double doors to the council chambers and stormed over to the table. He slammed his hand down on the table, getting the attention of all gathered as well as leaving a smoldering piece of paper for all to see. With a deep breath, he straightened up and then slowly made his way to the empty seat on the far side of the table. Insolent fools, he thought, can none of them appreciate a little political intrigue. He sat down in his chair and placed his hands together, the tips of his fingers were pressed against each other. There was silence in the room as he proceeded to examine those seated at the table. His gaze stopped for but a second or two on each member of the High Council. He could se
e the divisions had already formed around the table. There were five groups in all. One group felt the King had been an ineffective leader and cared little for who was responsible for his death. They only wanted to pass the blame off in a way that would give them more power.

  Another group agreed on the ineffectiveness of the King, but felt that was a poor excuse to have him killed. They too, didn’t care who was given blame as long as it kept the Kingdom strong. There was also a group of loyalists that felt the King was blameless, and his killer needed to be brought to justice. The fourth group was comprised of those close to the King, but not close enough to care about his death. They saw this as a way to further their own careers in an attempt to “honor the King’s wishes in his passing.” The final group was the smallest, but perhaps the most deadly. Much to the protest of the King’s advisors, he had brought on a vicious group of dwarves as a part of his court. They had promised the King to strengthen the fortifications across his Kingdom in exchange for gold. Arcantos knew not what they would do in this situation, except that they would choose whatever path they felt would bring them the most gold.

  “You bring me back from avenging our King for what? A political puppetry show? You bring out witnesses to testify about the most outrageous things, knowing full well that the public will agree with whatever decision the council makes.” Arcantos stopped in the middle of his rant and caught his breath. “My apologies, I overreacted. The King was a close friend of mine. His death drove me to rage, a rage that I have focused on the Wizards and those harboring them. Let us hear all sides of this story. Let us move forward with our prosecution of the guilty party.”

  “The guilty party is what we are here to investigate.” The majority of those gathered rolled their eyes or sighed in disgust as the Royal Inquisitor approached the table.

  “On whose authority is this swine present?” Arcantos stood from his chair and thrust an incriminating finger at the newcomer.

  “I was invited by the council. I have just as much right to be here as you do,” The man smiled a smile that made Arcantos skin crawl.

  “The Inquisitor was invited here because he holds information about the events that have previously gone unmentioned,” One of the councilmen said.

  “Indeed, information that places you arguing with the King the night before his death. Perhaps mere hours before. Perhaps mere seconds.” The Inquisitor leveled his attack directly at Arcantos.

  “Of course I was arguing with him. Would you not have argued with him had he shown you the letter?” Arcantos sat back down after asking the question.

  “What letter?” The Inquisitor asked.

  “The one that I conveniently had copied when I learned that you would attempt to burn it. I say ‘attempt’ because I have some knowledge of magic as well, I know a spell that protects against fire. Need I say more?” Arcantos fixed his gaze directly on the Inquisitor.

  “This is ridiculous, you have absolutely no proof of this.”

  “Or do I? Was it not this chamber in which you attempted to dispose of the letter? Why not? What better place to burn something than the council chambers were devious documents are often burned?” Arcantos snapped his fingers, and a small letter flew out of the nearby fire and into his hands.

  “I will not stand for this. This could be one of your cheap parlor tricks, Arcantos. What other proof can you offer that this man is the culprit?” One of the council members asked.

  “I am not the one to ask for proof, and the proof is not in identifying him as the culprit, but rather identifying him as conspiring against us to incriminate the wrong person.”

  “Arcantos speaks the truth about the Inquisitor trying to burn that letter. There were at least three of us here that day that saw it. I remember seeing the letter that he was trying to hide. He didn’t want us to know he was hiding it, so he held it in such a way that some of us couldn’t see it,” Another council member spoke.

  “You see? The Inquisitor seeks political gain by turning us against each other. This letter is quite clear in its intent. It has his own seal on it, in fact, they even wrote it to mimic his handwriting. There is only one group that could mimic his handwriting so easily, and there is only one group that could manage to mark it with his seal and then assassinate him that night. It is my belief that the Wizards collaborated with the Thieves Guild to murder our monarch. There is no doubt that both groups disliked the King, in fact, I’ve gotten a first-hand account of how ruthless the Wizards are. We cannot take this threat lightly. Our invasion of Carmalia goes well, the clearing of the sewers is nearly finished also. That leaves us with several Conclaves, some of which are already being dealt with. It is time we think about how to recover from this. Our enemies are already being punished. The important thing is consolidating our power in a way that does not leave Galimdor weak.” Arcantos spoke with an eloquence that hit home with most gathered.

  The council began to discuss the matter among its own and Arcantos asked his leave of them. He had done all that he could, and it would look suspicious if he tried to influence the council’s vote any further. It would be better if he left them to vote on their own. Any further influence would risk them seeing it as desperation on his part. The Royal Inquisitor would, without a doubt, try to press the case against him, but his absence would speak volumes to the council about his perceived innocence. Two of his trusted confidants would stay and make sure any accusations leveled against him would be deflected as well as possible. Arcantos had other plans he needed to check on. He didn’t enjoy sending others to do his bidding, but his plan was too widespread to take care of all the aspects himself. The Holy Order was moving on the Necromancers, the pirates were harassing the Gloomvale Isles, orcs and trolls were harassing the elves, the Warlocks and the Wielders were at odds with each other, but the Barbarians were still a threat.

  *

  Ector readied his spear as he spurred his horse forward. There had been numerous orc sightings in the area, and Ector was chosen to lead an expedition to lessen their numbers. It had been some time since he had led an expedition in battle, but the times were desperate, and he was willing to assist in whatever way possible. He would have preferred to leave the mission to someone like Sev, but they hadn’t heard from the half-elf in a few days. Ector’s squad consisted of a strange combination of Rangers, Druids, and Wizards. There were five from each group as well as Ector, making for a total of sixteen. The woods in that area were known as a hotspot for orc sightings, and the elves felt it was a direct threat to their livelihood. Ector was inclined to agree with them and wondered why they hadn’t built an outpost in the area long ago.

  None of that mattered now. It was his job to rid the area of orcs, and he resolved to do so to the best of his abilities. Their two-day search had led them to the base of the Skyrose mountains (though it was still considered part of the Kargill Mountains if you asked the dwarves), named for the rare flower that grew on their summits. The Pass of Kerdan was still a day’s travel away. By Ector’s estimation, the orcs were filtering through the pass and running amok in the Old Forest. There was a time when the pass could be used to traverse between the Old Forest and the Telmac Valley, but rockslides made it impossible to make the trek on horse or foot. Orcs and goblins were known for their tunneling skills, and the chances of them using a cave in what was now a forgotten pass were much stronger than that of a cave in the Old Forest. Though it wasn’t his mission to find out where the orcs had come from, Ector felt that route would garner the best search results. He sent three of the Rangers ahead to scout while the other two brought up the rear.

  “Merilian, you’ve shown some ability at speaking to animals, can you find out anything from them?” Ector asked one of the nearby Druids.

  “I can try, but I don’t expect success. The animals in this area are unusually skittish,” She answered.

  Ector nodded as he glanced at his surroundings. This isn’t the work of marauding orcs, he thought, too clean. The orcs cared little for trees, shrubs, or
even grass. This area showed no signs of being disturbed in the usual orcish manner. Ector remembered some of the raids from when he was younger, trees had been chopped or burned, trash was strewn all about where the orcs had made their encampments, and the grass was trampled and smashed by their heavy footsteps and siege engines. This time there was no sign of orcish movement throughout the area. Some of the grass looked as though it had been traveled on recently, but not enough to pinpoint orcs over any other race. Merillian stared at Ector as he surveyed the area. The rest of the group seemed to be equally aware of Ector’s perplexed look.

  “What is it?” Hamlin, one of the Rangers, asked.

  “There is no obvious trail left by the orcs. Something had come through here in the past couple of days, but nothing like what an orcish raiding party would leave behind. This goes beyond the orcs, they are working with someone that wants their presence to remain as unknown as possible.” Ector pointed to several areas where you could see that larger groups had traveled through recently.

  “I don’t see how that is a definite fact. What makes you think the orcs leave that much of a trail?” Hamlin asked.