by Sam Ferguson
“Take the offer, Malek,” another young man said. “It would be good to have you at our head.”
Malek stood there silently for a moment before finally nodding. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
A cheer went through the crowd.
“Good,” Gilifan said. “The offer still stands, however.” He looked to the rest of the people. “Any who wish to leave the island may do so. The king’s men came by boats, which are docked to the west of here. We will take their dead back to the boats and bury them at sea. Those of you who wish to leave the island may use the left over boats.” Gilifan waited as some of the gathered people chattered amongst themselves. Then he cleared his throat. “Those who wish to stay, if any of you are able to assist my men with cleaning the ground, I would appreciate it. However, I understand it has been a tragic day, and if you would prefer to go and rest, please feel free to do so.” He turned to one of his men. “Put the king’s dead men on their horses so we can take them back to the boats. We will also help the townsfolk bury their dead. Send a rider back to the keep and get a covered wagon. We will take the dead townsfolk to the hills to the south and give them a proper burial.”
“We have a cemetery here,” someone called out.
“Yes, but I intend to erect a monument to the fallen of the day,” Gilifan said gallantly. “Let all those who look upon it know of the tragedy that has befallen our island, and the catalyst for our independence from the king.” He turned back to his officer. “Go and see that it is done.”
The officer nodded and began shouting orders to the others under Hischurn’s banner.
A woman came up and grabbed Gilifan’s leg. “Thank you, kind sir, thank you,” she said.
Gilifan forced a smile onto his face. “But of course, my dear woman, don’t mention it.” He looked out to the appeased crowd one last time and then pulled the reins out to his right and trotted his horse out toward the south. As soon as he was out of the town his smile disappeared. “Oh the things I do to make them happy,” he grumbled to himself. “Then again, a willing crone is better than a mindless zombie.” He kicked his horse into a run. He would meet his men in the south.
It was some time before he saw the banners of his men. The sun hung low in the sky. A cool, gentle breeze wafted over the waving grass on the hills. Gilifan knew there was not enough daylight left to bury the fallen townspeople, but that had never been his intent anyway. He pulled his amulet out from under his clothing and kissed the warm, buzzing stone. His men drew the wagon in close and uncovered it before the necromancer. The others halted their horses behind the wagon.
“What of the others?” Gilifan asked.
The lieutenant rode forward and clapped a fist over his heart. “We have taken the other dead and laid them in the barges as planned, master.”
Gilifan nodded. “Did any townsfolk go with you?” he asked.
“Yes,” the lieutenant said with a nod. There were slightly more than a score who wished to return to the mainland.”
“And?” Gilifan pressed.
“As you instructed us yesterday, we led them to the barges, killed them on site, and laid their bodies in the barges with the others. Six of my men are steering the barges back around the island toward the docks near Hischurn Keep.”
“And what of B’dargen?” the necromancer asked.
“The men have orders to drop his body into the sea, as you instructed me,” the lieutenant said with a slight bow of the head.
“Good,” Gilifan said. “He has served his purpose. Did you bring the monument?”
The lieutenant nodded. “It is already in the wagon, underneath the bodies.”
Gilifan slipped his amulet up over his head and held it out in his right hand. “Well then, let’s bring our new brethren back from the dead. Take the others now and set the monument up on the hill over there. After it is erected and these new recruits are raised, we will go back to the keep.”
Somewhere behind him, Gilifan sensed movement. He turned around, but could only faintly see a depression in the grass. He narrowed his eyes, trying to scan the area for his stalker, but he could find no discernable trace.
“What are you after?” Gilifan mumbled.
*****
Gondok’hr exited the courtyard, leaving his assembled army standing in the cold, evening rain. He wrung his hands and shook the water from his robes. He reached up and wiped a pesky droplet from his brow and stormed through the halls until he reached his chamber. He looked to the scrying pool and went straightway to it. He waved a hand over it and whispered a name into the water. “Djekk, can you hear me?”
The pool reflected his confused, glistening face against the dark liquid. No answer came.
“Where is he?” Gondok’hr grumbled. He reached his left hand into a pocket and pulled out an old, warped copper coin. He tossed it into the scrying pool.
The coin plitted into the water and sank, swaying side to side until it vanished in the dark liquid. A few bubbles rose to the top and disrupted the surface. A purple glow emanated from the bottom of the bowl and fine, white bubbles rapidly formed around the light and then sailed to the top of the liquid. Soon the whole bowl was alive with bubbles sizzling up and bursting as they tore through the turbulent surface. The purple haze turned gray and then a silver mist rose from the depths of the scrying pool. The mist ascended up a few inches out of the bowl and then formed an oblong sphere, roughly the size of a man’s head.
“You have need of me?” a voice asked from within the mist.
“I do,” Gondok’hr replied sternly. “Are you free to appear?”
“I am,” the voice replied softly.
Gondok’hr waved his hand and the door to his room slammed shut and the bolt slid into place. Then he looked back to the mist. “Hairen, come now,” he said simply. He uttered a few arcane words and the mist floated out to the side of the scrying table. It grew and took the form of an old, slightly hunch-backed woman.
“What can I do for you?” Hairen asked as the mist dissipated to reveal her full form.
“How is our prodigy?” Gondok’hr asked.
Hairen scoffed. “He is proud, and I fear that Silvi’s hypnotism may not be enough to hold him.”
Gondok’hr gestured for the old witch to take a seat in a chair next to the desk against the wall. She nodded her thanks and went to the chair. “But she holds him for now?” Gondok’hr asked.
Hairen nodded. “She does,” the old witch said. “He wishes to dissociate himself from his house. He fears what his mother would think.”
Gondok’hr folded his arms. “Do you?”
Hairen shrugged. “She was always powerful,” she said. “But I think I could handle her if she presents a problem.”
Gondok’hr raised a hand. “No, she must not be hurt. If she is harmed then Eldrik will not go along with us no matter what kind of spells Silvi uses.”
“His name is Aparen now,” Hairen put in sarcastically.
Gondok’hr sniggered. “Interesting choice,” he said. “In any case, for our plan to work he must be known for who he is. House Cedreau must join forces with Senator Bracken. It won’t take long for word to spread about the senate hall. Soon, all of the noble houses will know of it, and they will start choosing sides. It is vital that all know House Cedreau aligned itself with Senator Bracken.”
“Will that be enough?” Hairen asked.
Gondok’hr nodded, though he wasn’t sure it was. “So long as Erik Lokton dies, I only need the nobles to fear the name Bracken. That should help stir the pot a bit while I make my exit.”
“But, master, what of the coven?”
Gondok’hr sneered. “The coven can see to itself,” he said. “You existed long before I came along.”
“True, but it was you who had the prophecy about Leanor and Lord Cedreau. Without your foresight, we may have missed our chance to protect ourselves.”
“Given the family’s past with the coven, I am sure you would have thought of it,” Gondok’hr said.
Hairen shrugged. “Perhaps,” she admitted. “Either way, we have always needed a warlock to lead us. It is the way our order functions. Without the additional ability to see into the future, we will be weakened.”
Gondok’hr waved the notion off. “Then train your new master, Eldrik.”
“He has potential, it’s true,” she started. “But he does not have your capacity.”
“I told you long ago what my goals were,” Gondok’hr reminded her. “I have no care to remain with the coven. I never have. Besides, you have turned the boy into a shadowfiend. That has potential greater than that of a mere warlock.”
Hairen nodded sullenly. “I suppose it matters little, if Tu’luh is coming.”
Gondok’hr nodded. “He will subject all to his rule,” he said.
“When you came to us, you were not unlike Eldrik,” Hairen commented. “Older, of course, but still driven in much the same way.”
“Family is a powerful motivator,” Gondok’hr said. “That is why you should not meddle with Eldrik’s mother.”
“What would you have me do, as your final command?”
“Get the boy to openly commit House Cedreau to Senator Bracken. Tell him that Bracken orders Lokton Manor destroyed, as the family has been declared traitors to the crown. Ply him with promises of glory and prosperity.”
“If he doesn’t want to go along with it?” Hairen asked.
“Convince him,” Gondok’hr said. “Just get him there. After Erik is dead, then place him up as the true head of the order.”
“The other warlocks may not like that,” she put in. “They have gone along with the ruse so far, because you ordered it, but to truly pledge themselves to his service is another matter. I doubt that they will feel comfortable telling their true names to an unseasoned boy who can barely shave.”
“Tell them I command it, as my final wish. If any object, then inform me of their names and I will deal with them personally.”
Hairen stiffened. “I understand,” she said.
“One more thing,” Gondok’hr said with a raised finger. “I doubt his mother would take kindly to our interference. So, make sure Eldrik does not speak of the coven.”
“How should he convince his house to march against House Lokton so soon after their defeat?”
“Just have him say that while in Drakei Glazei he was proclaimed a hero after he helped me apprehend Lord Lokton. I will create an official letter with my personal thanks, in Bracken’s name of course. Then it should be simple for him to convince his house to ally with a senator and go to war with House Lokton.”
“His mother may see through it,” Hairen pointed out.
Gondok’hr nodded. “It is the best option we have at our disposal.”
“Agreed,” she said. “It was fortuitous, you sending Merriam to tell Eldrik where to find Lord Lokton.”
“It would have been fortuitous if I could have foreseen the attack at the senate,” Gondok’hr growled. “But I suppose we may yet turn this to our advantage.”
“Why didn’t you see it?” Hairen asked.
Gondok’hr bristled. “Those of my order have not ever been able to decipher the future regarding the Keeper of Secrets. Somehow it is hidden from our sight.” The warlock kept silent about the fact that it was actually Erik who had attacked.
“But you have been able to see events with Erik, the boy who we are to kill?”
“In the past,” Gondok’hr said with a nod. “That is how Tukai was able to stir up turmoil in House Lokton.”
“What about now?” she asked.
Gondok’hr turned a keen eye on her. “As I said, deciphering events with the Keeper has been beyond our grasp.” He was not about to disclose the truth that none of his order had ever been able to see Erik’s future accurately. He would prefer she think it was some magical barrier around Lepkin, rather than risk her losing the courage to go after Erik.
“And he travels with the Keeper,” Hairen said with a sigh. “Well then, the sooner I go, the better we can prepare.”
Gondok’hr nodded. “You are released,” he said with a wave of his hand.
Another ball of mist emerged from the scrying bowl and moved toward the old witch. It grew in size and opened, as if it were a great beast swallowing the lady whole. As it closed around her body she vanished into the mist and the silver haze shrank away into nothing, leaving only a copper coin on the chair she had been sitting in.
Gondok’hr stood there, staring at the copper coin silently. He replayed the conversation in his head. Hairen would handle the boy. That much he was sure of. It was that which he couldn’t see that plagued him now. He went to the center of the room and sat cross-legged on the floor. He snapped his fingers and produced a stick of green chalk from thin air. He took the chalk and drew three runes on the floor in front of him. They were arcane symbols, from a tongue almost as old as the language of the elves. The rune on his left was the symbol for the past. The rune in front of him was the symbol for the present. The symbol on his right represented the future. Upon completing the last line of the third rune he quickly turned back to draw the symbol of an eye enclosed by a triangle over the middle symbol. Then he took the chalk and pressed it to the center of his forehead. He dragged the chalk straight down to the end of his nose. He could smell the bit of dust that fell as he pulled the chalk away.
Gondok’hr closed his eyes and dropped the chalk on the floor in front of him. He then extended his hands out over the symbols for the past and the future. He sat silently, focusing hard on the moment he wanted to see. He used his mind’s eye to cover the distance between Kuldiga Academy and Lokton Manor. He had been there before, so it was easy to conjure the image in his mind. He recalled his most recent memory, when he arrested Lord Lokton. His left hand grew warm as an invisible conduit connected him the symbol on his left.
The warlock groaned as the warmth passed through his body, inviting him to step into the memory and relive the past, but that is not what he was here for today. He wanted to see that which was yet to come. He shifted his thoughts, concentrating on the manor and propelling time forward in his mind. As he did so, the warmth shifted to his right arm and emerged through his right hand until it connected with the symbol of the future drawn on the floor.
He could feel the inviting pull. In his mind the manor became hazy, as if covered by a sheet of murky water. His body, on the other hand, felt the gravitational pull of the rune. Gondok’hr took a deep breath and allowed the spell to pull him in. A sudden rush of wind encircled him and he felt as though he were falling down into a cool, damp shaft leading deep into the ground. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the sensation was gone and he found himself standing in an open field in front of Lokton Manor.
He was not really there, he knew. He had looked into the future enough times to know that the spell only transported his consciousness, leaving his body behind with the symbols on the floor while the essence of his soul was free to wander in a world that had not yet taken form in the present. Yet, despite this, everything felt as real as anything he had ever experienced. The flowers in the field bowed and swayed in the gentle breeze as their sweet scent wafted up into the air. A pair of swallows chased each other overhead, diving and circling this way and that until they disappeared from view over the trees to the east. There were many men about the manor.
Gondok’hr walked forward to get a better look. Many men labored in the afternoon sun. He could tell they had been working for some time. None of them wore their shirts anymore, and their glistening skin was caked with dirt. He examined the trenches they dug with interest. “So you are preparing well,” Gondok’hr commented. He walked along the trench, noting that several wooden pikes had been set in place as an additional barrier. “This will not protect you from magic,” he promised. One of the workers slung a shovelful of dirt right at the warlock. The dirt passed harmlessly through him and spread onto the ground beyond.
Unimpressed, the warlock walked back to the front of the
manor. He passed through a waist-high stone wall and walked toward the main house looking for other signs of defense preparations. Suddenly the front door opened and Master Lepkin and Braun emerged. Only, Gondok’hr knew it wasn’t Master Lepkin. He didn’t know how, but he knew it was really the boy inside of Lepkin’s body. He froze in place, afraid to disturb the spell. This was the closest he had ever seen a future event that included Erik. All of his previous attempts had been unsuccessful.
“I told them to be ready,” Braun shouted.
“Then why are there no wagons?” Erik retorted.
Gondok’hr looked around and saw that except for the men preparing the trench, there was no one else about. Who could Erik be talking about?
“I instructed them to prepare to evacuate, but they don’t want to leave. They want to stay and fight,” Braun said.
Erik wheeled around and thunked Braun in the chest with an angry finger. “The women and children cannot fight!” he hissed. “They need to leave before the enemy arrives.”
“I can’t force them to go,” Braun quipped. “This is their home.”
“You can!” Erik snipped.
“I have too much else to do preparing the field for battle,” Braun said. The big man crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head with an exasperated sigh.”
“We can’t fight with them here,” Erik said. “We don’t have the capacity to protect everyone.”
Gondok’hr sneered and he knew what he had to do. He turned back to face the field. He broke off the spell and pulled himself back in between the future and the present. As before a rush of wind came upon him, but he didn’t allow himself to fully return to his body. He kept himself in that space between reality and the future, just long enough to peer into an alternate future. He wanted to know what would happen if he left immediately.
