“How might I get an audience with this Aithen?”
“It is against my better judgment, but I will take you to him now.”
Cormac smiled and nodded graciously. The gnomes were much kinder than he had first envisioned them being. They treated their guest with honor and respect, expecting much of the same in return. Other than that, they requested nothing of him and asked only a few questions. It was comforting for the dwarf to see a trusting society. I can’t imagine they’d get along well with the dwarves, he thought as he followed Theros through the winding streets outside of Castle Raislor. The castle itself was one of the more peculiar things that Cormac had ever laid his eyes on. It appeared to him that the gnomes, not wanting to waste time constructing a complete castle, used large portions of the cavern as a foundation for their castle. His estimate was that only a third of the castle had been constructed, and the other two-thirds had been excavated. Due to this, the look of the castle was quite asymmetrical. The excavated portion of the castle was mostly formless, making the other part look out of place.
“His majesty will be glad to see you, even if he doesn’t approve of your request,” Theros said as they wound through the passages toward the throne room.
“For how reclusive you first seemed, your culture is a particularly welcoming one.”
“We’ve little choice on the matter. Our people have not been prospering since we cut off trade with the minotaurs. Dwarves could be our answer to this lack of trading partner. I sincerely hope that you at least try to see where we are coming from.”
“Like it or not, your viewpoint is influenced by fear. I do not share that same fear. If it will make the rest of you feel safer, I can scuttle the boat as soon as I land on the other shore.”
“What do you seek to accomplish?” Theros asked, stopping before the door to the throne room.
“The dwarven side of me seeks a way home, the Wizard side of me seeks knowledge of these creatures you spoke of. I suppose the melding of the two hopes that I can find an ally for both my people and yours.”
“I understand seeking allies for your people, but why mine?”
“Because then we can seek an alliance with you. The dwarves may not be willing to admit it, but the goblins and orcs have been getting too strong for us to face alone. I know the elf on the Wizard’s council would send assistance at the drop of a hat, but his people and my people have a strained relationship,” Cormac sighed heavily as he thought of his people’s stubbornness.
“It seems we may be able to help each other. Come, let us see the king.”
Theros swung open the throne room doors. Cormac followed him into the room and quickly noticed that it was as much a laboratory as it was a throne room. The King was poring over a set of documents while mumbling to himself. Next to his workbench there were four human sized figures. One of them was made out of iron, another of stone, one of wood, and the last of clay. A fifth figure, also made of iron, was sitting on top of what looked like a drilling machine. Cormac stepped forward to examine them closer, but Theros motioned for him to move toward the center of the room. The dwarf complied and joined him at the center of the room. Theros cleared his throat and waited for the King to turn and face them before speaking.
“Your majesty, this is Cormac, Archwizard and dwarf. He has been our guest for some time now, and I believe he may be able to help us in our endeavor.”
“I didn’t ask for you to bring him here, Theros. You are proficient at your assigned task, but an Archwizard is far beyond your capabilities. Let us hope that he deals with us fairly,” The King spoke as if Cormac was not even in the room.
“I cannot speak for the dwarves, but the Wizards can offer you an alliance. It may not mean much in the near future, but it is something,” Cormac said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
“That is a kind offer. The Wizards are known even to us deep under the ground. If your alliance comes with the ability to bring these figures to life, then we have a deal.”
“What are they lacking?” Cormac asked.
“They need a viable power source. We’ve tried several different approaches, but they all had the same results,” King Aithen replied.
“I’ll take a look at them. If I succeed, can I take one of them to the island of the naga with me?” The dwarf asked as he approached the iron warrior figure.
“If you succeed, you can take several hundred with you. The naga of history are said to be among the vilest of creatures a gnome has ever met. We would be glad to be rid of them.”
Cormac nodded as he continued to study the iron warrior. The innards were unlike anything he had ever seen before. It had cams, gears, cranks, ratchets, levers, pulleys, and springs. Each piece was built to move a different part of the machine. With its current layout, the iron warrior would have one singular job and nothing more. Cormac could tell that the gnomes had designed the figure for a specific purpose. However, with a few tweaks, he could easily change the machine into something to be controlled from afar. The dwarf reached inside the machine and rearranged the parts so that each limb was on its own system. He then grabbed a nearby pair of gloves and handed them to the king. Once Aithen had donned the gloves, Cormac raised his staff into the air. He tapped each of the gloves with his staff and then tapped the iron warrior. As the King began to move his finger, the machine came to life. Its moves corresponded with the movements of his fingers.
*
Gareth awoke to a different witch watching him. She was younger, but much more grotesque than the last one. He tried to ignore her, but she continued to inch her chair toward him ever so slowly. They’re trying to pressure you into their trap, he thought as he closed his eyes. He sat up in the bed and turned to face the witch. She stopped inching forward and just stared at him. Gareth clenched his fists, holding in his anger as he contemplated his next move. Her frame was thin, but he couldn’t tell how skilled in the magical arts she was. They both sat there silently staring at one another as he weighed his options. He slowly began to stand up so he could test his injured leg. The pain was bearable, but the witch wasn’t about to let him move. She lunged forward and slammed her palm against his chest, knocking him back onto the bed.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave,” She said in a raspy voice.
“Why do you care?” He asked.
“You know something about the others. They talked to you, we don’t know what about though. We’ll break you if we have to.”
Her words puzzled him. Could they have been speaking the truth? he asked himself as he looked closer at the witch. Her face was wrinkled beyond her years, and her skin was dried to the point of looking rather coarse. He gritted his teeth and began to stand up again. As she did before, the witch lunged forward. This time the Grand Crusader was ready for her. He dodged to his side and used her momentum to send her crashing into the wall on the other side of the bed. She rolled off the bed and staggered to her feet. His left fist shot out and caught her just above the chin. He stepped forward, pressing the attack with a jab from his right hand. The final stroke was an elbow to the temple with his left. He could hear footsteps on the other side of the door as she crumpled to the floor. There was nothing in the room for him to hide behind, so he took up a spot next to the door.
The door swung open in an outward fashion, giving Gareth nothing to hide behind. He grabbed at the first thing he saw come through the door. His hands clasped onto the shoulders of an older looking witch. The second witch was entering the room as he was trying to wrestle the first to the floor. She slammed her staff into his back, causing pain to course through his entire body. He let out a gasp of pain as he scrambled to get away from the staff. The other witch composed herself, and they both closed in on him with their staffs out in front of them. He grunted as he grabbed hold of the staffs, one in each hand. Pain shot through his body as he slowly pushed them toward one another. The witches realized too late what he was attempting to do. What little fight they were able to muster wasn’t enough. The
two staffs touched and each of the witches fell backward as if hit by a large shockwave.
“Quickly, come with us,” A voice from the other side of the room said.
Gareth looked up to see the elderly witch that had approached him earlier. She was standing next to a younger witch who, unlike the others that he had incapacitated, was quite attractive. He nodded and smiled at both of them as he jogged over to join them. The younger witch handed him his sword as the elder crept out into the hall outside the cell. Gareth unsheathed his sword and strode out into the hall. He knew that the other two would want to take the lead, but he didn’t fully trust them. The older witch motioned for him to take the lead down the hall. Several Cursed Ones were exiting from nearby rooms to investigate the disturbance. Gareth cut down two of them before they even knew what was coming. Another group of them began fighting among themselves when they saw that the Grand Crusader was being led by the elderly witch. Gareth fought and killed three more Cursed Ones before they came to an exit.
“Where do we go from here?” He asked as they exited the building and came to an open expanse.
“Leniya will lead you the rest of the way. I need to ensure as many of my people get out alive as I can manage,” The elderly witch replied.
“This way, we must move quickly,” Leniya said as she took the lead.
*
Leon slammed his fist down on the desk. The news had been the worst he had heard in some time. How can they have learned about this? he asked himself as he paced back and forth in his chambers. He stopped at his desk and sat down. The letter sitting on his desk sparked and began to flame as he glared at it. His hands shook as he reached out for a blank piece of parchment. He placed it down in front of him and grabbed the nearest quill. Leon took a deep breath to relax before he started writing. His quill moved furiously as he penned his response to the letter from the King of Cardinia. He addressed the issue that they raised of him trying to take over the kingdom. It was against his better judgment to admit to the accusation outright, so he formulated a story of how the King of Sardinia was trying to frame him for treason.
“That should do the trick,” he said as he folded the letter.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He stood up and put the letter into a small envelope. The door opened, and several of his trusted advisors entered the room. Leon motioned for them to take a seat at the table. He waited patiently as they all got into their places before placing the letter on the table. His chair slid out from the table as he pulled his hand backward. The others began to whisper to each other as he took his seat. They could tell that he was noticeably annoyed about something. He paused for a moment as he scanned the table of advisors. This is the best I’ve got? he asked himself as he shook his head. He took in a deep breath as he resigned to the fact that he would have to make do with the resources he had available. The others quickly gave him their attention as he cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen, as some of you already know, word has gotten out about my recent activities. Normally I would not let this bother me. However, the Wizards have decided that they want answers. It may seem as though I am afraid of my fellow Wizards, but I am not. I can assure you of that, but my plan requires a certain amount of finesse. This is not something I can accomplish with Archwizards meddling in my affairs!” Leon slammed his fist onto the letter.
“We must force the King to make a statement about this,” One of his advisors said.
“How does one force a stubborn King to do such a thing?” Leon asked, clenching his fists.
“There are ways that we have yet to consider,” Albrecht said.
“Why have I not heard of these ways? Am I not the one in charge here?” Leon’s level of annoyance was growing.
“You have not heard of these ways because Owyn forbade them a long time ago. With Owyn dead and Rolin nowhere to be found, I have a new sense of confidence when speaking on the matter,” Albrecht replied.
“Well, go on then.”
“Many many years ago, when Rolin and I were just young lads, we stumbled upon a spellbook. It was in the Wizard’s Library on the Isle of Magic. Supreme Wizard Kadegar informed us that it was a book on what was then known as tainted magic, the kind of magic that eats at the very user’s soul. Rolin, being the proper Wizard, immediately wanted to put it back. I convinced Kadegar that I wanted to examine it for academic purposes. It was written in a language that I could not understand, but I have since learned that language. If we could get our hands on the book, the power within would be ours for the taking!”
“That is quite thrilling, Albrecht. It really is, but where might we find this book?”
The answer to Leon’s question was interrupted by a knock at the door. Leon ordered the newcomer to enter the room. It was one of the apprentices, and he was looking rather worried. Albrecht and the others offered him a seat at the table. He began by spouting out a story on how he was training in the yard when he heard some of the king’s men discussing a stranger that had recently arrived in town. The story continued to play at Leon’s nerves as the teller was far from getting his point across. Those gathered could see their leader getting closer to his breaking point and encouraged the man to speed up his story. Leon stood and clenched his fists before addressing the man.
“Get a hold of yourself!” He yelled as he slammed his fists on the table.
“Yes, of course, sir,” The man replied, his voice shaking.
“Well, what is it that you want to tell us?” Leon asked.
“I overheard the guards talking about a peculiar man who was asking about you and the king. He specifically asked whether the two of you argued often. I asked the guard for a description, but neither of them seemed to remember exactly what he looked like.”
“So the old man seeks to question my authority. If it is a fight he wants, it is a fight he will get!” Leon grabbed his staff and slammed it against the table, causing the wood to break asunder.
Trimming the Insurgents
Thanos took a deep breath as he led his men toward the Necromancer’s staging area. The Necromancers had already gathered the brunt of their army and were waiting for the Holy Order to attack. Thanos could see the Holy Order’s army in the distance. It looked like a giant blob of shiny metal that bobbed back and forth along the countryside. The path they had taken through the Telmac Valley was easily traceable. They left a swath of destruction in their wake. Death and destruction in the name of good, the Archwizard thought as he shook his head in disgust. He could see the worried looks that some of the younger Wizards were giving to each other and ordered his men to stop. They had trouble keeping still, but that didn’t bother Thanos.
“I know that some of you are wondering why we are helping the Necromancers. The answer is simple, the Holy Order sees no difference between us and them. They see all death magic practitioners as an abomination. However, today I give each and every one of you a simple choice. You can stay with us and possibly die or you can leave, find another Wizard’s Conclave, and give up death magic. The choice is entirely up you. I will hold nothing against you if you choose to leave,” Thanos paused to let the others make their choice.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the Holy Order’s armor. They were slowly winding their way up the hills toward the Spire of the Dead. Let them come, he thought. Their numbers were much greater than those of the Necromancers, but Thanos was convinced that his skeletal trolls and the reanimated dragon would tip the scales in their favor. He had chosen not to mention the dragon to the others so as not to influence their decision. While he would bear no grudge against those who left, he only wanted the most loyal and confident Wizards to stay. He turned back to face his men and found that only three had elected to leave. They were saying their good-byes to the others. Each one approached him cautiously and offered a hand, which he shook vigorously. Once the three were on their way out, Thanos addressed the others again.
“Make no mistake, we are not here for the Necromancers. They have
treated us fairly over the years, but not well enough to throw our lot in with them. The coming battle is a strike against the overzealous Holy Order. We must send them the message that we are not to be trifled with. They need to know that we will not cave to their demands. We will rise out of this a stronger group,” The Wizards let out a cheer as their leader finished his speech.
Thanos led his men down to where the Necromancers had gathered. Fear gripped him as he glanced out at the vastness of the Holy Order’s army. He pushed away the fear and continued several feet past the others. His reanimated trolls were lurking in the forests below, waiting to ambush the unsuspecting crusaders. A smile crept onto his face as he heard some of the army below crying out in confusion. The trolls were too few to make a significant impact, but Thanos hoped that they would weaken, confuse, and frighten the enemy. His Necromancer allies looked at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged and then turned back toward the approaching army. The trolls had managed to slow down the side of the army, but the main force in the front was still advancing into the mountains at a heightened pace.
The death magic expert took a deep breath as he dropped down onto one knee. He dragged his right hand along the dirt, picking up a small bit of it before making a fist and slamming it into the ground. Small cracks formed along the ground where he hit. They began to branch out and expand toward the army far below. The cracks expanded into gaping holes as they closed in on the Holy Order’s army. Many of the troops, terrified of the ground threatening to swallow them whole, rushed back from the oncoming danger. Over a dozen of the attackers fell to their doom as the ground opened quicker than they could manage to escape. Thanos let out a chuckle and slammed his hands together, causing the giant cracks to close. He turned toward the Necromancers and raised his hands in the air in triumph.
“You fool, you’ve given up the element of surprise!” One of the Necromancers yelled.
The Wizard's Council Page 19
