None of the group were surprised by Mortow's sudden appearance. They had become accustom to his abrupt manner of coming and going. All eyes turned to his as silence fell over the room.
Mortow took the time to meet each of their eyes before breaking the silence. "We have waited long enough. It is time to begin this war in earnest." Mortow could see faint smiles alight on the faces of the trolls and Weres. "At dawn two days hence, we march," Mortow said in his deep voice. He knew what the two had been arguing over and cared little about it. They would follow his plans or he would replace them. "Have your people ready. And Oreg," Mortow paused.
"Yes, Wizard Mortow?" Oreg replied still scowling.
"Do you have your team assembled?"
At this, Oreg grinned. "Aye, they are ready and eager to begin."
"Excellent. Have them meet in the court yard in an hour. Maklin and Megan will be taking them through. There will be no restrictions this time. Tell your men to do as they please."
Oreg’s grin stretched wider across his heavy features. "That is good. They will be there as you command."
Mortow turned his eyes toward Traug. "You and your men will march straight to The Slot." Turning his gaze to the Weres at the other end of the table, he continued. "Dascus, your ships should be landing by week's end. Is your company prepared as well?"
Dascus stood. The simple black shift he wore contrasted glaringly against the pallor of his skin and his flaming orange hair. The feral glint in his eyes reflected redly the light from the globes around the room.
"We are eager to begin as well. Long have the leaf dwellers been our enemies, and long has it been since we smelled their fear and tasted their blood."
Mortow smiled as well. "You and your people remember your orders? Rydon and the council are to be brought back alive. I care not what condition they are in as long as you do not imperil their lives."
"It shall be as you command, Magika. We all know your wishes," Dascus replied evenly.
"Good. You may leave as soon as Mael returns. I will send him to you," Mortow informed Dascus.
Dascus bowed and returned to his seat, but the look of boredom was gone from his visage.
"That is all. Go. Prepare your armies," Mortow told them. He smiled in satisfaction. After years of planning and building, his time was finally here. His pulse raced at the thought of the battles to come. He would see Kantwell’s defenders destroyed, and then Kantwell itself would be razed. Gratton would become the seat of power on Thelona, and Mortow would sit on its throne. It was time to inform Maklin and Megan of their duties. Speaking the words of transport, Mortow vanished from the war room.
Mael appeared on a hill south of Kantwell, overlooking the elvish encampment. He knew he would be spotted almost immediately, so he made no move to conceal himself. He'd cast out with his power the instant he arrived and could tell where the elven guards were hidden close by. He muttered an incantation to bring up his wizard’s shield then called out into the night.
"I am Mael. I bring tidings from Mortow of Gratton to Merric of Kantwell."
To each side of him an elven guard rose from the concealment of the tall grass. Each had an arrow knocked in his bow and fully drawn.
Mael had known exactly where both were hidden, even if he could not detect them with his eyes. He waited with his arms relaxed at his sides. "I come as an envoy from Mortow. I assume you still grant courtesy to envoys."
The closer of the two elves released some of the tension on his bow and directed his arrow downward, but didn’t remove his hand from the string. "Aye, we still observe the strictures of war even if Mortow does not. I am Kline of the Forest Guard. Adhere to the conduct of an envoy, and you will not be harmed."
Mael’s lip twitched into a malicious grin. "I have no intention of overstepping the bounds of diplomacy at this time. My intent is only to deliver my Master’s message and terms."
Kline grimly nodded once. "Then if you would follow me to yonder camp, I will send a runner to Kantwell." Kline turned without waiting for a response from Mael and gave three short whistles.
Mael watched as six more elves ran up to flank him, three on each side. Kline started walking toward the camp. All of the elves held their bows at the ready but did not threaten him. They appeared relaxed and aloof. It was a display that Mael could appreciate. Confidence inspired by arrogance. Thoughts of the elven elder Rydon, writhing on the floor at Mael’s feet flashed through his mind. He embraced those visions. The pain and the begging that Mael had extracted from Rydon gave him a feeling of ecstasy almost as strong as the magic flowing through his veins invoked.
Several of the elves flanking Mael saw the look on his face and involuntarily increased their distance from him, clenching their bows tighter. One of them made a warding gesture against evil with his hand.
Mael had to consciously control himself to keep from laughing. They feared him. That was only as it should be. He wondered again what that particular emotion felt like. They walked down the hill and across the valley to the elven encampment. As they walked through the camp, more elves came to surround Mael. He chuckled out loud. The elves, hearing his mirth, tightened their ring.
Kline led Mael to a tent and bade him to enter, holding the flap aside. After Mael walked passed him, Kline gave orders to one of the guards near him to inform Merric of Mael’s presence and purpose and to bring Ataum immediately, and then he followed Mael into the tent.
The lightweight fabric of the tent rippled in the breeze blowing through the camp. Mael walked around the small table in the middle and seated himself facing the entrance. He sat straight backed on the three legged stool and placed his hands precisely before him on the table, palms down, where Kline could see them. He sat as still as a statue and waited, staring at the tent entrance. His gaze caused Kline to shift uneasily. A few minutes later Mael heard voices outside, and he saw Kline visibly relax.
The tent flap was pulled aside and a tall blonde elf entered. He was slightly taller than Kline and similarly garbed, except that the crest of the forest guard on his left shoulder was flourished with gold leaves, marking him as their captain. He was followed by a female in deep green robes.
Ataum stepped into the tent and observed the wizard sitting at the table. The incongruity of his black robes disturbed Ataum. It gave the impression of power without mercy. He much preferred the cooler blue he had come to associate with the wizards of Kantwell. This wizard’s eyes seem to devour all the details they beheld without giving anything back. Ataum forced his gaze away from the wizard and turned to Kline.
Kline immediately began to speak. "Captain, this is Wizard Mael of Gratton. He has come as an envoy to deliver a message to Merric. I have dispatched a runner to Kantwell."
"Thank you, Kline. That will be all.”
Kline bowed slightly and left the tent.
Ataum regarded Mael for a few seconds; then he seemed to realize that Mael sat empty handed.
"Forgive me for this less than cordial treatment, Wizard Mael. I am Ataum, Captain of the Forest Guard, and this is my wife Alissa. I see that you have been given no refreshment. What is your preference, wine, water, or mead?"
A slight twitch of a smile quirked at the corner of Mael’s mouth. "I see the prince still maintains the courtesy of the elves, even in exile." Mael grinned at the spasm of pain that quickly flashed across Ataum’s face. "You bring honor to your people and shame the Council of Elders." Mael rose slowly to his feet and stepped out from behind the table. He stopped a respectful distance from the two elves and bowed with courtly grace to Alissa. "And the rudeness of our surrounding can do nothing to diminish the beauty of the princess."
Alissa’s eyes narrowed, but as Mael had said, she was a princess of her people and bred to the practices and nuances of the court.
"I thank you for your words, Wizard Mael. It seems even in Mortow’s realm, the manners of the court are observed."
Drawing Mael’s attention off of Alissa, Ataum replied. "I thank you, also, for the c
ourtesy you have shown. Our runner should already be at Kantwell. Please allow us to offer you some refreshment while you wait."
"Very well, prince. Some wine would be delightful. It has been a long time since I have enjoyed the flavor of elven wine."
Ataum turned slightly to Alissa, but did not let his eyes leave Mael. "Alissa, please see to our guest's needs."
"Yes, my lord." Alissa inclined her head slightly to Ataum, then to Mael, and then left the tent.
"Please have a seat, Wizard Mael. Your wait will not be overly long. When word reaches Merric of your presence, I am sure he will make haste."
"On that, we can surely agree," Mael said, resuming his seat, placing his hands once again on the table, palms down, smirk still intact.
Ataum took the seat directly across from Mael and folded his hands together on the table. They waited in silence for a bit, then Alissa returned with another Forest Guard. He bore a wooden tray with goblets, a bottle of wine, and two bowls containing various fruits and nuts. He set the tray upon the table, then bowed to Alissa and left the tent. Alissa poured wine from the bottle into three of the four goblets and handed the first one to Mael. She handed the second one to Ataum and took a third for herself. Ataum took the first drink, demonstrating that the wine was not tainted, and placed his goblet back on the table.
Mael whispered a phrase under his breath and the contents of his goblet began to steam. Raising the goblet to his nose, he inhaled the aroma. "I find the elven vintages to be so much more pleasing when heated. The heat heightens the flavor." Mael took a small sip. "My compliments; it is as good as I remember it to be." As Mael set his goblet back on the table, they heard voices outside.
Ataum glanced at Alissa, and she went out of the tent. He heard her conversing with someone that Ataum recognized as Merric. "It seems your wait is at an end, Wizard Mael. Merric has arrived."
Rising from his seat, Ataum went to the tent flap and opened it. He saw Merric and the Avari Lord standing with Alissa. When they saw the tent flap open, both moved forward. Ataum held the flap open and stepped aside to allow them room to enter. Merric had to duck to go through the opening. Ataum heard a rustling behind him and turned to see that Mael had risen to his feet. Once Merric and Micah were in the tent, Ataum turned to Merric.
"Do you wish to converse in private, Wizard Merric?"
Merric opened his mouth to reply but Micah cut him off.
"Yes, please wait outside, Prince Ataum. You may disperse your men. We will have no further need of them."
Ataum inclined his head to Micah. "If you have need of anything, just call." He left the tent stiffly.
Merric gave Micah a questioning look, but Micah ignored him. "So Mael, we meet again."
Mael bowed deeply to Micah. "Lord Micah. I had not thought to see you this soon. This is fortuitous, as the message I bring concerns you."
"I know. How is my nephew? Has he been harmed?" Micah asked pointedly.
"He will be fine. I’m afraid he was roughed up a bit in the capture, but nothing more than was required to subdue him. He will mend," Mael assured him.
"He is being held in Gratton?"
"Aye, under heavy guard, but he is well. Mortow wishes him alive and in good health as leverage against your Avari. The only thing his death would accomplish is to assure the Avari would be at the forefront of this war and that they would carry it to the very gates of Gratton."
Merric spoke up. "How can we be sure he is alive? We have only your word that it is so. For all we know, Mortow could have had him killed to save himself the trouble, and then sent you to tell us differently." Merric turned to Micah. "How can you trust him? He is Mortow’s. I watched him nearly kill Mathis at the Purging."
"Ah, there is the key, Wizard Merric. It is as you say, I nearly killed Mathis. He is very good. It was difficult to protect myself against him while making it look like I was trying to kill him. He recovered though, did he not?" Mael asked flatly.
Merric was struck speechless. His mouth moved but he was unable to complete any thoughts.
Mael shook his head and smirked. "You never did trust me, Merric. I suppose I gave you little enough reason, but I never betrayed Kantwell. Ask the Avari Lord; he knows."
Merric looked at Micah. "Micah, what is he talking about?"
Micah looked outside the tent at the sky. The night was still quite dark. He turned back to the two wizards and spoke. "Alright. Mael came to me four years before the Purging occurred. As was his way, he was looking for knowledge of something, and through that knowledge, the acquisition of power. It had been a long time since anyone sought me out, so I allowed him entrance to my land. I answered his questions, I think, more out of boredom than courtesy. I was impressed by his lack of fear. He had come uninvited and unknown into my realm. It was only the second time in my long life that I had encountered someone from whom I could not smell fear. I was intrigued."
"Mael does not know fear," Merric commented.
"Regardless, Mael came to me many times in the years following, always seeking some bit of knowledge he could find nowhere else. One day he came to me without questions, but rather with a warning. Mortow was going to try to wrest the rulership of Kantwell from you. I gave Mael an item he had long been seeking. In return, he willing bound himself into my service for a period of time. You once asked how I knew how many magi Mortow had at his command." Micah gestured with his hand to Mael. "Now you know the source of that information."
The shocked look on Merric’s face made him look somehow younger. "He has been spying for you all this time and you never told me? Didn’t you ever think that was something you should have shared? Damn it, Micah! A spy within the enemy’s camp could have helped us from the beginning."
Mael stood watching Merric and Micah go back and forth with a complete look of disinterest on his face.
"And if I had told you, we could very well have lost Mael, for you surely would have told Mieka," Micah replied evenly.
Merric turned from Micah with his hands fisted at his sides. Visibly forcing himself under control, he turned back to face Micah again. "You are right. I would have told her. I detest all this secrecy and sneaking about," Merric said calmly.
Mael laughed out loud. It was a disturbing sound that ran chills down Merric’s spine. "You detest secrecy do you? And what of the secret you have been keeping from young Michael? The boy nearly fainted when Mortow told him that you were his father. You are as culpable as the rest of us."
Merric’s shoulders slumped. "Is Michael alright? Mortow didn’t hurt him did he?"
"Hurt is a relative term Merric. I am sure Mortow divulging that little bit of knowledge hurt him," Mael replied sarcastically.
"You know the meaning of what I ask, Mael. Is Michael ok?"
"How should I know? The boy left Gratton. I have no way of knowing his condition."
"You mean Mortow let him go? Let him walk away?" Merric asked incredulously.
"Let him go? No. Mortow didn’t let Michael do anything. From what I can piece together of Mortow’s rantings, the boy attacked him. He was able to shield himself against Mortow’s counter attack quite easily. Mortow fled with his tail tucked between his legs. When he returned with Maklin and Mieka, Michael was gone. I assumed he returned to Kantwell, but since you do not know his condition, I have no idea to wence he has flown."
Merric was at a loss for words. He looked at Micah.
"He is in Kantwell now. He is probably looking for you as we speak. Mael, you had better return to Gratton. Keep an eye on Joshua for me. If you get the chance, bring him here. Tell Mortow I am troubled and have gone to take steps to withdraw my men. That should buy us a bit of time."
"As you wish, Lord Micah." Turning to Merric, Mael asked, "Mind telling me how Michael managed to hold his own against a wizard of Mortow’s abilities?"
"I have no idea how the boy does what he does. He continually surprises me as well."
"More secrets, Merric?" Mael inquired.
Merric’
s eyebrows drew down. "No. Michael has abilities I have never seen before, and would have deemed impossible. I no more know how he did it than Mortow does," Merric said sternly.
"As you say, then. I will return with your message. Do you have anything further to add to what Lord Micah said?"
"Only that I wish Mortow would reconsider all of this, call off this war."
Mael laughed again. "'Ware the Garoliths, Merric. Mortow has freed them. I bid you gentlemen a good night. Transfero ut mi visum." And Mael vanished.
"Great Creation! He has freed the Garoliths."
"That is a worry for another time. Come Merric, we must go and find Michael. He will have many questions for us," Micah said softly.
"You don't understand Micah! The Garoliths are not something we can stop. All of the old texts say it took a ninth key wizard to imprison them. Nothing any lesser wizard did could ever affect them. It was as if they were immune to their magic."
"You forget, old friend, Michael is a ninth key. He will be able to affect them, and my Avari are not incapable of incredible feats. If magic cannot be used against them then we will simply have to fight them hand to hand," Micah assured him.
"Have you ever read about the Garoliths, Micah?" Merric asked agitated.
"I cannot say that I have. I have heard them described long ago, but stories have a way of being embellished with each telling down through the ages. I didn’t believe half of what I was told. Undead snake-men, taller than houses, wielding monster scythes; I mean, seriously Merric, undead. Have you ever seen one with your own eyes? Do not believe everything you read in dusty old tomes. I have been alive for over ten thousand years, and I have never seen any evidence of their existence."
"The Garoliths are very real, Micah, and they are an ancient evil to be feared. That Mortow has released them, and commands them, can only mean he has been lying all along. We are in greater danger than I thought. Mortow must be a nine key. There is no other way he could have unsealed their prison, and no other way he could control them. From what I have read of them, that control would have to be tenuous, at best."
Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) Page 8
