The curving, long wall of the foyer rose to form a balcony where it met the edge of the seventh floor. This balcony loomed above where they now stood, with a chain stretched along a series of ornate iron posts, representing the only restraint on the balcony that prevented onlookers from a nasty fall of over fifty feet.
Her eye caught motion to her left on the balcony above. A figure was coming out of the shadows from an arched portal that fed onto the edge of the balcony from an enclosed room.
"The Captain of the Crimson Guard!" hissed Gwineval. "Make yourself…" he ordered as he turned toward Hemlock, but she was no longer there.
From a position under cover of shadow, Hemlock watched Gwineval as he looked around for her frantically; he soon noticed her: lodged carefully against the wall of the balcony, concealed in the shadow of a support column.
Glancing upwards, Gwineval composed himself, turned to his right, and began to walk methodically forward.
Hemlock heard the footsteps above accelerate and then pass her hiding spot as Gwineval continued walking down the length of the foyer. She darted to the next support column as the guard above hailed Gwineval.
"Is that you, Gwineval?" called the voice with a tone of surprise mixed with an undercurrent of authority.
"Ah, yes. Well met, well met," responded Gwineval dismissively.
"Are you seeking access to the Atrium?" insisted the Captain.
Gwineval continued to walk briskly and Hemlock was forced to dart forward again silently in order to keep sight of him against the curvature of the wall. He was ignoring the Captain, who continued to accost him.
"Gwineval, you are not permitted to access the Atrium. If you don’t stop, I’ll be forced to notify Falignus," threatened the Captain, leaning over the balcony directly above Hemlock, the sleeves of his red robe hanging over her as she looked up.
Gwineval turned and responded to the Captain. "You’ll do no such thing!" he bellowed.
"You know that you are not permitted access to the seventh floor, Gwineval," replied the Captain stubbornly. Both he and Gwineval had stopped moving.
"Yes, but the pending Solstice requires me to…" Gwineval paused almost imperceptibly, and Hemlock immediately perceived that he was lying. "…reinforce certain spells in the Atrium. I’ve cleared it with Falignus, you fool! Now be gone!" continued Gwineval.
Gwineval began to walk again and Hemlock watched the hands of the Captain above her. They clenched the chain restraint for several moments, turning red with tension, and then withdrew from view. She heard the Captain’s footsteps withdrawing back toward the direction from which he came.
Hemlock dashed off toward Gwineval, who stood anxiously in front of an ornate double stairway which rose upward to the seventh floor balcony and was constructed with a dazzling, gemlike material which appeared to be translucent emerald. It was lit by a dance of inner lights which cast Gwineval in an eerie light.
Despite its beauty, the stairway filled Hemlock with dread, for it reeked of perverse magic. She could feel the pattern of death emanating from the light within it. There were spells of binding as well; spells that felt like they might be eternal in nature. The magic evoked feelings of awe and a certain moribund majesty, which she could only compare to how she had felt when she had first seen a mountain range as a small girl.
She became fully aware then of the sheer magnitude of the magical power which coursed through the stair. It was many, many times stronger than the already considerable magical dweomers which she had encountered during her intrusion into the Tower.
"Is there another way up?" she whispered through clenched teeth, as she struggled against an instinctive repulsion from the death aura of the stair. She felt like the death aura was leeching into her mind and affecting her senses.
"None we can take now," Gwineval responded, gesturing toward himself in a waving motion which encouraged Hemlock to proceed.
Hemlock moved toward him and then felt physically ill.
"It’s so vile! Another way!" she said in a muffed cry.
"Get a hold of yourself! It is part of the magic that preserves those that dwell in Shadow that is affecting you. I did not have time to ward you against it. It will not permanently harm you. You must resist it and climb the stair–it’s the only way!" hissed Gwineval more urgently.
Something within Hemlock heard his plea and she felt herself moving toward the stairway almost unconsciously. She was dimly aware of falling into Gwineval’s arms. Her consciousness then turned inward as she resisted the corruption of the baleful green glow of the stairway and climbed it step by torturous step.
She was only barely conscious as she reached the top of the stair. She felt Gwineval’s abrasive hands under her armpits supporting her, and then laying her down at the threshold of an open space where sounds echoed and were magnified. She heard the patter of a driving rain on glass and thunder rolling in the distance.
"Gwineval, what is going on!?" Hemlock was dimly aware of a strange voice calling suddenly from their left.
It was that of the Guard Captain.
She felt an abstract fear but was too incapacitated to react at all. All that she could do was listen impotently to the voice which she feared might be her and Gwineval’s undoing.
"You are violating the sanctity of the Seventh Circle without permission! There was no order from Lord Falignus to admit you!" cried the Captain.
Hemlock considered, that Gwineval was at a crossroads. She had trusted him reluctantly and within limits. He was now totally in control and she wondered, with a strange detached serenity, whether he would betray her and Safreon or (and she realized how insane and improbable the alternative sounded) whether he would instead betray the Wizard Guild.
She had her answer immediately as she managed to open her eyes in time to see twin bolts of white fire shine from Gwineval’s outstretched arms and bathe the Guard Captain in a dazzling light. The magic threw the Captain’s body back against an iron pillar and left him unconscious.
Hemlock lay there some minutes, slowly regaining her strength. She heard Gwineval pacing nervously and cursing from time to time.
Evidently his decision is causing him some anxiety, Hemlock thought.
As she regained her full faculties, she became aware of a dull electrical sound which pulsed to an irregular rhythm, as if a vessel of energy was building up and then discharging. When she finally felt that she could stand, she lifted herself onto all fours and Gwineval helped her up. Then she saw it: the object of her quest.
It was a tall machine with a large crystal base that was as wide as four men standing with arms outstretched. The crystal stretched upward in two halves and was anchored internally by two gently curving metal beams, which rose almost organically upward from the base of the crystal and stretched all the way to the high ceiling of the glass Atrium. The machine culminated in a long metal rod at the very top, which extended through the ceiling where a round trap door had been fashioned in the glass and left open to the elements. Rain poured in through the opening and over the machine, turning to steam each time the machine pulsed to life with an electrical burst.
Now that she stood before what she saw as a mechanized manifestation of the Wizard’s evil magic, Hemlock felt nothing. She was devoid of emotion.
After all of the effort that she had expended and all of the incalculable risks that she had taken, she had expected to feel some sense of triumph at this moment.
Instead she felt hollow, even as she perceived the magical aura of the device which was emitting magical power; and she experienced the effects of that power in stark contrast to the negative magic of the Emerald stair: this aura re–energized her, much to her surprise.
The mere thought of the stair made her shudder anew.
Gwineval moved and stood in front of her, casting a stern, contemplative gaze toward her. Behind him, Hemlock noticed an odd contraption. It looked like a large brass bird cage. It was big enough to hold several men, and a large bell, which was covered with run
es, hung from the top of the inside of the cage.
Hemlock started to ask Gwineval what the two strange contraptions were for when a disturbance on the exterior of the atrium diverted both of their attention.
The outside of the Atrium, which was entirely constructed in glass, with the exception of slim iron supports running through the glass at intervals, featured another balcony, the edge of which was bordered by a stone balustrade. A large winged form could be seen maneuvering to land on the outside balcony. Its hulking mass was evident through the distortion caused by the streaming water of the rain shower, which cascaded down over the glass walls.
"What is that?" Hemlock asked guardedly, with a hint of hope in her voice.
"I believe that is your method of escape," responded Gwineval, somewhat relieved.
"Gwineval! Once again I’ve underestimated you!" cried a deep and youthful voice from across the Atrium, startling Hemlock.
She turned to see a lone figure which stood against the wall across the Atrium from them, bathed in shadow as Hemlock and Gwineval spun toward his voice. The figure stepped forward into view: it was a lean and well-muscled figure wearing a loose fitting red robe. The figure was familiar to both Hemlock and Gwineval. The wizard known as Falignus, the leader of the merciless Crimson Order faction of the Wizard Guild, had found them.
No words were spoken as a moment of surprise and recognition quickly passed between all three. A doorway opened in the glass wall; the sounds of the storm outside were magnified, as was the smell of humidity over which a new, strong and bestial odor was detectable. A slightly portly human figure entered and pulled back his water laden hood, his features darkening as he noted the presence of Falignus.
Hemlock’s eyes widened as she recognized her mentor, Safreon. Even though he was expected, seeing him in this setting sent a wave of comfort and well-being through her–and she immediately cursed it, for she knew that she was by no means out of danger.
"Well, isn’t this quite the party? Gwineval, if I thought there could be some reasonable explanation for all of this I’d gladly pay a fortune to hear it. But I can see that your actions are clearly treasonous to the Wizard Guild," shouted Falignus from across the room.
Gwineval’s tail–now just a small stub after his fight with Hemlock–could be seen moving spasmodically back and forth under his robe as he answered.
"You jump to conclusions, Falignus! Do not interfere here. I will share the explanation of this peculiar chain of events with you in full if you will defer to my better judgment and leave this hall immediately."
Safreon, who had entered the Atrium at some distance from Gwineval and Hemlock, strode cautiously closer to them. Everyone else was still as the dialogue continued.
"Gwineval, I feared that someone else in the Tower had detected the girl–little did I expect that it would be you," said Falignus mockingly.
"Nor did I ever expect to find you embarked on such an irresponsible course of action as this. I certainly won’t leave you to play out whatever madness you have planned. I have called the soldiers and they will be here in moments. No doubt they will not take kindly to your treatment of their Captain or the presence of a traitor and his minions," continued Falignus gesturing first toward the unconscious Captain and then toward the trio.
Safreon had moved to Hemlock’s side and grasped her hand in a firm grip. He was pulling her slightly and they both began to move toward the door.
Gwineval began to hiss toward the pair, but Falignus noticed Safreon and Hemlock moving and shouted above Gwineval: "Do not move any further!"
A well-muscled and tattooed Wizard rushed up the Emerald stair. Behind him were four more men who looked similar to the first: wearing loose red robes which revealed similar exotic tattoos coursing over their well-honed frames. While the Captain had wielded a jeweled mace, each of the five robed soldiers held savage looking morning stars with long black handles ending in heavy chains, each of which suspended a cruelly spiked iron ball. All five of the wizard-soldiers looked back and forth between Falignus and Gwineval. They looked confused.
Gwineval spoke first. "Guards, hold your ground. You do not understand what is transpiring here."
"Do not be deceived," replied Falignus commandingly, "Gwineval is harboring fugitives within the Tower. You can see that he is in the process of aiding their escape!"
Hemlock glanced at Safreon. His look acknowledged that he shared her expectation that this exchange was not going to end peacefully. Their many months on the street had developed a rapport between them that allowed them to communicate non-verbally in tense situations.
Hemlock felt confident that she and Safreon, together with Gwineval, could handle the wizards.
"Lord Falignus, should we wait for the other council members to determine what needs to be done?" asked one of the wizards tentatively.
"Yes, let’s wait for the other wizards," responded Falignus gloatingly as he slowly began to walk toward Gwineval, Safreon and Hemlock. "Be mindful of this lot though, fellow wizards. Do not let them escape."
"This is overly dramatic, Falignus. Stop where you are before you do something foolish!" chided Gwineval in an angry hiss.
Falignus addressed the guards. "They will inevitably move to make their escape. You five must be ready to join me when that happens. You know Gwineval’s skills in battle and the girl may be his equal. Both are fast and deadly fighters. I have not faced the old man, but I would not underestimate him, considering his current company."
Hemlock and Safreon moved to Gwineval’s flanks forming a loose wedge with him as the five guard wizards advanced into the chamber toward them, following the advance of Falignus.
"Do not move! Any of you!" commanded the guard Wizard as he moved forward with his companions.
Suddenly Gwineval’s voice boomed in Hemlock’s mind: "WHEN I ACT, MAKE YOUR MOVE!"
In an instant, Hemlock met Safreon’s gaze and she could see that he had also heard Gwineval.
Suddenly there was a great flash and sparkling tendrils of energy erupted from Gwineval’s clawed hands, quickly spanning the length of the room and forming a shimmering barrier between them and Falignus. Gwineval stood in place and it looked to Hemlock like he had to concentrate on this spell in order to keep it in effect.
Where the barrier crossed the huge machine in the center of the room, there was a hissing and popping of magical energy but the machine did not appear to be damaged.
Hemlock sprinted backwards toward the door through which Safreon had entered the Atrium. She could hear Safreon moving as well. They both heard shouts coming from behind them and there were red flashes and the almost deafening roar of magical thunder. Time seemed to slow down under the oppressive weight of the magical energy now in the air.
Hemlock felt like she was running in molasses or heavy sand. Glancing back at Safreon, his face bore an expression of surprise as well.
When she reached the glass door, she grasped the handle and tried to fling it open.
But it did not open. The forward push that she gave the doorway seemed to make the entire glass wall stretch strangely outward, however, like the surface had gained some mysterious elasticity. Safreon, apparently not anticipating this failure, could not stop from bumping into Hemlock from behind. This thrust her against the door, further intensifying the strange stretching effect before it snapped backwards, and they both were thrust back toward the center of the Atrium and the strange melee that was unfolding there.
Hemlock was not sure that she could even fight under these conditions, yet it was now clear that she would have to, for the robed guard wizards were now forcing their way through shimmering seams that had been rent in the barrier that Gwineval had created. As she moved back toward Gwineval, she could see that the energy emanating from his hands was being met by similar discharges from Falignus on the other side of the barrier. But Falignus’ energy was focused on the areas through which the robed wizards now invaded. One guard-wizard had not committed himself to the battle,
looking to Hemlock like he was not sure about which side to aid.
Hemlock was reassured that her speed still seemed superior in relation to the wizard that pushed through the barrier first. He was running toward Gwineval and raising his morning star in preparation for a great strike. As he noticed Hemlock on an intercepting course, however, he refocused the strike toward her. Hemlock judged that she had little margin of error against him. If her speed failed her, then the first blow from that weapon would be a death blow.
She saw Safreon moving toward the breach in the barrier as another wizard burst through. Then her attention returned to her immediate foe–and the morning star that was descending toward her head.
Hemlock’s long knife was in her hand. She knew that the wizard’s heavy strike had forced him to commit himself. She hesitated on the commission of her own counter-strike, preferring to make sure that her opponent didn’t surprise her. Suddenly, the tattoos along the wizard’s body seemed to pulsate and she realized with only a moment to spare that the morning star was hurtling toward her at a magically enhanced speed. Her only option was to vault over the wizard; her momentum was such that to remain on the ground would result in her certain death. With a grunt, she thrust against the ground with all of her might and launched herself upwards.
As she sailed over the wizard, she kicked out her feet to strike his head, but the wizard was agile and he ducked under her kick, leaning back and toward the floor.
Still in mid–air, Hemlock then used her trailing arm to throw her knife, catching the wizard in the throat as she flew over him. She landed, crouched, some feet distant and close to the energy barrier. The energy from the barrier made her hair stand up from her scalp.
Hemlock drew her second knife and turned to take in the situation. Safreon was engaged with two of the wizards and a third was pushing through the barrier. One wizard was falling to the floor after a grapple with Safreon which had left the wizard’s shoulder badly dislocated and hanging at an odd angle. He shouted out in pain as he writhed to the floor. The other was in the process of swinging his morning star toward Safreon’s large frame. Hemlock feared that he might not be able to dodge the blow, but knew that she needed to intercept the next wizard.
Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) Page 10
