Hederick the Theocrat v-4

by Ellen Dodge Severson

  The materbill roared again. The fire doubled, but Crealora felt little pain. She peered through the smoke with watering eyes and spied Tarscenian and Ancilla.

  The old woman was chanting and gesticulating. Lightning had erupted from her fingers and was roaring around the courtyard. A ring of temple guards had circled the spellcasting pair but appeared frozen in the act of trying to capture them. What was going on?

  The materbill snarled. Dimly, Crealora heard screams from the two men still seeking to secret themselves behind the allenwood trunk. Then the man called Tarscenian caught Crealora's gaze again, and continued to hold it. He was chanting, too. He hurled a handful of powder to the ground.

  New calm spread through Crealora. This was the end, then.

  The materbill roared once more.

  The witch of Zaygoth closed her eyes and died.

  Chapter 6

  "Your Worship!" Dahos called. "The woman has turned the guards to stone!"

  "I see that, you idiot!" Hederick raged. A dozen novitiates huddled underneath the platform, but Hederick refused to show any panic. "Send more guards against her, fool!"

  The high priest didn't move right away. Instead he stared in awe at the elderly mage. "What power!" he murmured. Then Dahos raised his voice to a level that could be heard by Hederick. "Your Worship, the woman has stopped two dozen guards. She hurls bolts of lightning around the courtyard like so many twigs. Yet she has harmed no one. Why should this be?"

  "She wants only me," Hederick shouted. "She would kill me if she could, but I am too strong for her! Double the forces, high priest!"

  Dahos looked from the bolt-hurling enchantress to the High Theocrat. Then he gestured curtly to the captain of Erolydon's guards. The chief guard put a horn to his lips and blew.

  The front entrance of the temple building crashed open, and six goblins, clad in leather armor and wielding maces and spears, hurtled through. Blinking against the painful light, they shoved the panic-stricken people aside, injuring more than one person in the process. Yellow Eyes dashed toward Ancilla and Tarscenian, his five comrades at his heels. "Endit the lady witch!" Yellow Eyes thundered. "Kill 'em!"

  The goblins did no better than the guards. Twenty paces from Ancilla and Tarscenian, they crashed into an invisible wall of magical origin and slid, senseless, to the cobblestones.

  "By Sauvay!" Hederick swore. The witch had never challenged him so directly before. He shoved his hand into the front of his robe and drew forth an object. Then Hederick thrust his hand toward Ancilla. Suddenly he and Dahos were bathed in glittery light. The device shone too brightly for any but Hederick to discern its subtle details. To most, it was a glowing ball, no more.

  "Leave off, witch!" Hederick bellowed. "My gods protect me, here as everywhere."

  "You must stop this evil, Hederick." Ancilla spoke in a normal tone, but her voice seemed to echo from the marble walls, the stones of the courtyard, and the iron of the gates. Lightning continued to ricochet around the area. The materbill, smeared with ashes and blood, snarled and dashed back to the door through which it had emerged. Responding to Hederick's command, a frightened novitiate frantically hauled on the rope, and the leonine creature disappeared safely into Erolydon's lower reaches.

  "Norvir tonwek." Ancilla's gravelly voice insinuated itself around Hederick like a noose.

  "You can't stop me, Ancilla," Hederick said.

  "Centinbil chuffhing, adon."

  "I'm well aware of your pathetic attempts to impede me," Hederick shouted. "You cannot harm me-not while I have the Diamond Dragon of my lord Sauvay." He held it aloft, exulting in the control it gave him. Let the masses see the power that their High Theocrat wielded!

  "Gatefil antogys adon."

  "What will it be this time, Ancilla? Will you again use magic to try to usurp my followers, my closest aides? They will not forsake me, witch. They cannot harm me, either, despite your wishes. My lord Sauvay made the Diamond Dragon too strong for simple subterfuge."

  Hederick taunted her, suddenly conscious of the stares of hundreds of awestruck Seeker converts. He could imagine their thoughts: The High Theocrat was single-handedly taking on a mage of the highest order-and clearly winning-without magic!

  "Surrender now, Ancilla," he coaxed. "I will make sure you and Tarscenian die quickly. I will not draw out the time of your deaths, even though you do not deserve my mercy. A mage and a false Seeker priest! Sauvay and Omalthea will rejoice at your deaths. They will rain their benefactions upon me and my followers." He turned to face the crowd, once again holding forth the Diamond Dragon, and cried, "Hear me, people of Solace!"

  Ancilla's hands could barely be seen, so quickly did they whirl in the air. Her eyes gleamed. "Gatefil antogys adon. Shiral." Magical powders gyrated around her, joining and separating to create rainbows of color. The High Theocrat had never seen such a display of magical power.

  But there was nothing here that the Diamond Dragon of Sauvay could not stop, Hederick was sure of that. He held the artifact higher, shifting it so that it threw off multitudinous sparkles in the midday sun. As always, the people appeared mesmerized-all but Ancilla and her unholy mate. Hederick's sister appeared to have thrown some sort of protective spell around Tarscenian, sheltering him from the effect of Sauvay's Diamond Dragon.

  Ancilla spoke. "If you will not cease this activity, Hederick, I will remove you from your beloved Erolydon."

  Hederick smiled disdainfully, confident that with the support of Sauvay he would prevail. The High Theocrat had nothing to fear.

  Ancilla's seamed face was implacable as she continued her warning. "Oh, I'll not send you too far away, Hederick," she said. "I would not deprive you of your temple. But you will be someplace where you can no longer harm the innocent."

  He laughed malevolently and once again displayed the Diamond Dragon.

  "Ghezhit."

  Hederick saw a purple cloud speed toward him. The front of the magical creation opened like a dragon's maw. The nimbus expanded, the vapor reforming until a purple lizard seemed to tower over him, nearly as large as the courtyard. Claws reached hungrily for the High Theocrat.

  Ancilla continued to chant, triumph apparent in her stance and in every syllable she uttered. Where had she accumulated such power? Hederick wondered.

  "Centinbil chuffhing, adon. Ghezhit. Gatefil antogys adon. Ghezhit."

  The lizard's nebulous mouth opened farther. The magical creature lunged.

  And Hederick turned the Diamond Dragon to face the magical wyrm it so closely resembled.

  A flash, and roiling smoke. Then the lizard recoiled in the sky above Erolydon, tail churning the air, front legs pawing at a slash in its vaporous belly. It wheeled about in midair.

  And charged back toward Ancilla and Tarscenian.

  "Sederai donitan!" Ancilla chanted. She shoved Tarscen-ian aside and stood alone against the monster's charge.

  The cloud creature swallowed her whole. Where Hed-erick's sister had stood only moments ago, now there was… nothing.

  Chaos prevailed for a few moments before the temple guards and Hederick's goblins regained their senses. By the time the High Theocraf s minions recovered and could begin forcing their way through the panicked people, Tarscenian was out the gate and racing toward the vallen-woods.

  Chapter 7

  The temple guards had no chance against Tarscenian's advantage of surprise, and his magic gave him even better odds of eluding them.

  The leather-clad goblins and the blue-and-yellow-arrayed guards raced after the sound of running feet that seemed to be pounding toward Solace. Thanks to an effective illusion on Tarscenian's part, the guards followed only sounds. His pursuers were certain they would catch up with their elusive quarry around each bend in the Solace road, only to find when they rounded a corner that he was still beyond their line of sight.

  Meanwhile, Tarscenian lay in an outcropping of ferns near the temple.

  Ancilla was dead.

  After five decades fighting Seekerism tog
ether, they had ultimately failed. Hederick was High Theocrat, and was fully convinced of his own divine destiny. He was stronger and more powerful than ever, seemingly invincible. Forty white-robed mages were doomed to slow deaths within the bark of as many vallenwoods. Worse, the people of Krynn now stood helpless against the evil of Hederick and his Seekers.

  "Farewell, my dear Ancilla," Tarscenian whispered. "I will never forget-"

  I am here, my love.

  Tarscenian leaped to his feet, drew his sword, and dropped into ready position. Then the realization came over him that he recognized the faint voice. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

  After more than fifty years with the female mage, one would think nothing could surprise him anymore.

  Tarscenian peered through the trees. "I feared the worst, Ancilla," he murmured. "I feared you were-" He stopped talking, surveyed the scene again curiously.

  There was no sign of anyone. And especially no sign of an eighty-year-old, white-robed wizard.

  The voice whispered again, and Tarscenian realized he heard it inside his head.

  Even with the powers of two score mages, I could not defeat him. The Diamond Dragon is stronger than I'd ever thought possible, Tarscenian. By Paladine! I thought forty mages would be enough. Now-

  "Ancilla," Tarscenian snapped impatiently, interrupting her. "Where in the reaches of the endless Abyss are you, woman?"

  I tried to place a binding spell on Hederick. I had the power of forty mages, after all. Have you heard of a binding spell, Tarscenian?

  Of course he had, although casting such a spell was far beyond his carnival-level powers. A binding spell could pluck something or someone out of one reality to be dropped at the whim of the spellcaster into another one.

  So now I'm right where I'd hoped to put Hederick. And the spell has left me too weak to reverse it myself. Not without the Diamond Dragon. I…

  "Where are you?" Tarscenian repeated. "I can barely hear you, Ancilla."

  Within the vallenwood trunk, back in the courtyard of the temple. lam trapped'.

  The old man sat back down in the ferns and contemplated this news. "Be calm, my love," he said at last. "At least you are alive. Thank Paladine for that."

  I will do what I can to help you from here, Tarscenian, but the battle, I fear, belongs to you now.

  "Must we use only magic?"

  What other means do you suggest we use? The Seeker "gods" have corrupted my brother's mind and confuse his thoughts; you know he will not listen-

  Tarscenian interrupted angrily. "Couldn't we simply wait until Hederick leaves the temple and waylay him? Let me do it, Ancilla. I am old but still strong. I assure you I would enjoy the task."

  We have argued about this before, Tarscenian.

  "Please. I can easily kill him if the opportunity presents itself. One quick thrust… I promise you he will not suffer."

  Stop! I will not have Hederick harmed. I made an oath-swore never to physically hurt him. If I cannot halt him here and now, his own greed and ambition will eventually take care of him-but I must stop him from doing irreparable harm to the world. Tarscenian, lam afraid.

  "He's dangerous. Let me…"

  He is dangerous because he is weak but believes himself strong. It is not his fault, Tarscenian; his wrongheadedness is born of pain. It could play powerfully into the wrong hands.

  "Ancilla…"

  I fear the evil goddess will make much use of Hederick.

  Nonetheless, Tarscenian, I swore an oath to my brother.

  "Hederick despises you, Ancilla. I could dispatch him with a quick thrust of steel. He'd not hesitate to do the same to you, you know that. For your sake, I'd make sure it was instantaneous, which is more than he'd grant you."

  No, Tarscenian. I cannot renege on such an oath.

  "Let me follow him, at least, and divine where he keeps the Diamond Dragon. I will try to steal it back for you."

  We have tried that. You are a crafty illusionist, my love, but you have no skills as a thief. And Hederick knows what you look like now.

  "I could hire a thief."

  We have tried that, too. Many times. But perhaps Solace thieves are more adept than those we have engaged in the past. Do that-hire one. It is something, anyway.

  Tarscenian's thoughts shifted. "We were not able to save the woman Crealora."

  We eased her passage to the next world. She felt little pain.

  "But she died!"

  The woman is with Paladine, my friend. She is away from the pain of this world. It is not our place to wish her back.

  Tarscenian did not reply. This time it was Ancilla's turn to offer comfort.

  Don't despair, my love. Lie low until the guards stop looking for you, and then find us a ring of thieves. I will do what I can from here. I still have a few ways to annoy my brother, never fear. Perhaps I cannot stop him permanently, but surely I can make his life miserable…as he has made mine.

  Chapter 8

  The high Theocrat changed into a fresh robe after the execution and turned his sullied garment over to a novitiate for burning. Then Hederick headed straight for the Great Chamber. He sent Dahos and the others away, then closeted himself to prepare for the evening revelations.

  He may have defeated one of the greatest mages ever, but routine was sacred. Seeker gods did not tolerate slop-piness.

  Everything in the Great Chamber was out of place today, of course. It always was this way, despite repeated punishment of his terrified aides. The incense holders, the ceremonial crystals, the holy parchments-all were only a hairsbreadth awry, but wrong nonetheless. Had no one else read the Praxis?

  Hederick resolved to speak once more with his high

  priest. Perhaps he would have to make an example of one of the novitiates before the rest applied themselves more dutifully. But now he busied himself setting things to rights in the pulpit. It wouldn't do to have the Greater and Lesser Pantheons gaze down on untidiness when he summoned them before hundreds of devout Seekers.

  Setting out the ritual implements according to intricate, century-old patterns was an exacting task, but Hederick had a passion for detail. He routinely caught lapses in Seeker protocol that far younger men missed.

  I may be well past sixty, but I have sharper faculties than most priests, he told himself. That's why I'm High Theocrat. The New Gods have blessed me. After all, they helped me defeat Ancilla.

  He stood a little straighter despite the cramp that had creased his back since the tussle with Mendis Vakon. Hederick frowned and moved the goblet of holy mead an inch to the right.

  Then he froze. Cold fire gripped the pit of his stomach. Sweat drenched him.

  He swept the room with a stare.

  Undeniably, Hederick was alone. But not alone.

  The High Theocrat stood quietly for a moment. Then he reached into the front of his robe and pulled out the Diamond Dragon. He removed the leather covering and shook the artifact onto his palm.

  The Diamond Dragon, as always, was warm to the touch and all aglitter. Hederick squinted and stared directly at it, even though that always made his head ache. If he concentrated enough, he could see the artifact's outline: jagged scales, wicked tail, and toothy maw of a tiny dragon. A lance grew from its midsection like some misplaced egg tooth.

  Crafted in precious steel, with ruby eyes and encrusted with diamonds all down its back, the thing was worth a fortune. Early in his Seeker career, when he had been poor enough to fear starvation, he was tempted to pawn it.

  But Sauvay, his god, had invested it with his blessing. The Diamond Dragon had protected Hederick more than once. The High Theocrat stroked the figurine, replaced it in the bag, and dropped the pendant inside his robe once more. The knot in his stomach eased.

  Then the fear hit full-force. He was being observed, and the observer was malevolent. Hederick maintained his emotionless mien and, as though it were an afternoon like any other, poured sanctified mead from a silver vase into a stemmed goblet of crystal, its tiny b
owl barely larger than a thimble.

  Hederick had performed this rite many times in his decades as a Seeker. So practiced were his actions that even now, with his pulse hammering, none of the sweet fluid dripped onto the altar cloth. The High Theocrat felt the hair prickle at the back of his neck. He carefully replaced the vase on the altar, then raised the chalice and quaffed the honey-colored beverage.

  "To you, Great Ones, I offer my fealty," he murmured. "I greet another evening with hope and passion, and I beseech you to punish this sacrilege of your holy chamber… for something threatens the peace of this place." He quickly poured another glass of mead and downed that one, too.

  As always with the potent beverage, Hederick's vision swirled, then snapped into focus. But unlike the other times, on this occasion he suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, so high above the floor of the Great Chamber. Vertigo assailed him, then faded away.

  Because of Hederick's lack of physical stature, he'd derived peculiar joy in ordering the builders of the temple Erolydon to construct the holy altar and pulpit at the top of four narrow flights of stairs. Each sunset, when Hederick passed on the revelations of the New Gods, he spoke down-down, he rejoiced-to the hushed worshipers that

  jammed the tiers of wooden benches. Special windows and mirrors allowed the blushing sunsets over Crystalmir Lake to pour into the room, bathing the priestly figure at the top of the chamber in glorious purples, pinks, and scarlets.

  Then, as now, the pulpit gave him an unobstructed view of everything within the Great Chamber.

  Hederick raised his head, gaze shifting around the cavernous amphitheater. There was no sign of an intruder, but he had the distinct feeling that somebody's eyes were upon him. Slowly the feeling grew, until he felt seared by what was happening, as if his skin was blistered and peeling away in charred strips. His free hand found its way back to his neck and again grasped the leather-swaddled dragon figurine.