Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1)

by B Throwsnaill

  "I trust the morning finds you well," asked Taros Ranvok formally.

  "As well as possible. Are we to leave the town now?" responded Safreon.

  "Not yet. Some minutes ago, a delegation of wizards arrived from the City."

  Hemlock, Safreon and Gwineval all looked at one another in alarm. Safreon gestured for calm. "I understand. What has come of their visit?" he asked.

  "I met with them and they asked about your presence. Deception is not in our nature. I apologize if you consider my candor with them inopportune," responded Taros Ranvok.

  "Inopportune!? Is that the best explanation that you can offer for condemning us to death?" hissed Gwineval angrily.

  "Gwineval, please!" answered Safreon.

  "The Wizard, one Malvert," continued Taros Ranvok ,"demanded that we transfer you into their custody."

  Gwineval furrowed his eyes and looked away in disgust.

  "We declined, for it was clear that his intent was hostile toward you. I told him that while you have been ordered to leave, that it will be as free people and not under their control. He became quite agitated at this remark. After conferring with his party, he asked that I tell Gwineval that the Head of the wizards, Falignus, would like to speak with him."

  "He means to communicate with me over a scrying session," Gwineval said to no one in particular.

  Safreon nodded, but turned back to Taros Ranvok. "Taros Ranvok, I thank you and your people for protecting us. I like to think that we have developed some friendship during these days we’ve spent together. You have served us well with your actions and we will not forget it."

  Taros Ranvok nodded in response.

  The outlanders were then led back to the ornate chamber of the King, where they had first had their audience with Pan Taros. When they arrived, they immediately saw the distinctively robed and tattooed wizards from the City standing at a respectful distance from the throne. The throne itself stood empty, although Tored stood behind it, clearly glaring at Malvert, the scarred, grizzled leader of the First Circle of wizards.

  Besides two score of additional Tanna Varran guards, the room was otherwise unoccupied.

  Taros Ranvok bid Safreon, Hemlock, Gwineval and Merit to stand some distance from Malvert, in front of the throne. Taros Ranvok did not take the throne, but stood in front of it authoritatively.

  Gwineval and Malvert locked eyes. Hemlock got the sense that they were openly taking the measure of one another as potential foes. Hemlock thought that Malvert looked far more menacing than Gwineval, with his muscled build, arcane tattooing and bald, scarred features. But she had fought against Gwineval and knew that his power was considerable. She wondered whether Malvert realized just how formidable Gwineval really was in hand to hand combat.

  Tored caught her eye. He looked like a beast ready to pounce on Malvert. Malvert ignored Tored, but the other two battle wizards with him kept a wary eye on the Tanna Varran. The two leaders looked like they were cut from the same violent cloth: men of few words who preferred the arts of war to those of diplomacy.

  Taros Ranvok broke the uneasy silence: "Malvert of the Wizard Guild, here are Gwineval and his companions. He has agreed to parlay with you."

  Malvert turned to each one of them in turn, addressing them in a deep and raspy voice. "Gwineval, Safreon, Hemlock, and…" He trailed off as he took note of Merit for the first time.

  "Merit, formerly number four maintenance slave," responded Merit, stressing that last word.

  Malvert looked nonplussed as he returned his attention to Gwineval. "I have spoken with these Tanna Varrans. They will not release you into our custody so that we can return you to the Tower. Please convince them that it is in your best interest for you and your companions to leave with us."

  He followed this up with a forceful stare at Gwineval.

  Gwineval did not delay in responding. "I will do absolutely no such thing."

  "So it’s true, then? You have gone renegade?"

  "I’ll discuss that with your master when the time comes. We will return to the City on our own terms. At that time, I will rejoin the Wizard Guild and explain my actions."

  "Unacceptable. I have my orders; you must return with us," insisted Malvert, the veins in his forehead beginning to bulge.

  "Your orders are inconsequential to me," replied Gwineval flatly.

  Malvert took a step toward Gwineval in anger.

  "Take one more step and you die," Tored’s voice rang out across the chamber.

  Malvert locked eyes with Tored. The two men seemed engaged in a battle of wills, as if they were mentally hacking each other to pieces with broadswords.

  Taros Ranvok stepped between them. "This is not a place of battle. Please, is there anything else to discuss here?" he asked.

  Malvert exhaled in resignation, and then replied, "The leader of the wizards, Falignus, wished to scry with Gwineval in the event negotiations broke down."

  "Yes, let us stop wasting time and get down to it," Gwineval replied acidly.

  "We will need a pool of water," stated Malvert.

  "Our cistern should do well. It is located on the lower levels. I will show you," replied Taros Ranvok.

  Hemlock followed as everyone in the room filed out. Tored and Malvert seemed to have settled into an uneasy coexistence for the time being, as the group wound through the populous pathways of the raised town.

  The group arrived in front of a small building in an out of the way part of the platform that supported the level they stood on. Hemlock noticed a lot of mercantile activity.

  Taros Ranvok opened the door and bid Gwineval and Malvert entry.

  "I will stand guard so that they do not foul the cistern," said Tored, stepping forward.

  "Impossible, this is a private matter," responded Malvert darkly, his facial scars coiling as if preparing to unleash a battle cry.

  "I will watch Malvert as he prepares the scry. Once that is done, he will join you out here. Your water will not be harmed," Gwineval assured the men.

  Taros Ranvok indicated his satisfaction with Gwineval’s assurance and Gwineval led Malvert into the building, closing the door behind them.

  …

  Gwineval was nervous as he entered the building. It consisted of a single open room, lit dimly by sunlight filtering through openings above the walls around the perimeter of the ceiling. There was a large brass cistern in the center of the room. Several gutters entered the building from various angles and fed into the cistern, the top of which was about shoulder level.

  "Why have you gone renegade? What can you gain by it?" asked Malvert as he withdrew potions from his cloak and drank them down in preparation for the scrying session.

  "You wouldn’t understand. I believe that I am acting in the best interests of the Guild, although I can see that the Guild is changing. Falignus now does away with even the pretense of autonomy amongst the wizards. Is this the Guild that you want to be a part of?"

  "I trust Falignus and the Seventh Circle. They know things–secrets–that we do not. It is said that some knowledge can break the weak. Perhaps we would not be able to live with this knowledge that they seek to harness the power of. In any case, I have pledged myself to the Guild and am governed by the Council – as are you. You should think on this carefully," responded Malvert, pausing in his spellcraft.

  Gwineval simply shook his head in response, as one would when scolding a child. Malvert reddened, but continued with the spell. He was gesturing over the cistern and then his eyes went blank and his head tilted to the side as if he might pass out.

  Malvert recovered himself quickly, and stood upright, glaring at Gwineval.

  The two wizards watched as a familiar unearthly mist began to emanate from the water in the cistern.

  "It is done," said Malvert.

  "You may go," replied Gwineval.

  Malvert stiffened, then turned abruptly and strode from the chamber, shutting the door forcefully behind him.

  Gwineval concentrated on the water and be
gan to feel lightheaded. Staring into the pool, he soon perceived the sharp features and piercing blue eyes of Falignus staring back at him.

  "What say you, Gwineval?" Falignus asked, his voice echoing supernaturally in Gwineval’s head.

  "Your dog has stirred up quite a ruckus here with the Tanna Varrans," replied Gwineval.

  "Yes. He’s sometimes a blunt instrument, but he has his uses. So what precisely is the reason you left the Tower in the company of these outlaws?" Falignus asked with a casual air.

  "I’m researching something – something that I’d rather not discuss under these circumstances. I understand that this is terribly unorthodox, Falignus. Please give me some time to work through this and then I assure you that I will explain everything to your complete satisfaction."

  "Gwineval?"

  "Yes, Falignus?"

  "When did you decide to start treating me like a fool?"

  "I…I don’t know what you mean."

  "Let’s drop this silly pretense of ignorance, shall we?"

  Gwineval became nervous in reaction to Falignus’ candor, and focused on trying to conceal it. He realized, to his horror, that his long lizard tongue was flicking back and forth rapidly. He quickly retracted it, but he feared that Falignus might have noticed it and perceived it as a sign of inner tension on his part.

  "I understand that you are suspicious," Gwineval started to explain.

  "I know about the Griffin and the force that it bears," Falignus interrupted.

  Gwineval’s blood froze in his cold veins. He did his best to maintain a collected demeanor, but wasn’t confident that he was achieving it.

  "Your paranoia is getting the better of you. It will become clear that my actions are in the best interest of the Guild, you just need to give me some time," Gwineval pleaded.

  "You’re not very convincing, Gwineval. I know about this Safreon person and his influence on you. I see his power now. I see everything and yet you persist in trying to pass off this charade that you are playing at like some child."

  Gwineval knew that he was now at a turning point. He knew that Falignus would perceive any delay in his response, but it was more important to carefully consider his response. Gwineval thought about Safreon and Hemlock–and considered that he owed them nothing.

  He continued to weigh the matter in his mind. I could return to the Guild and let Safreon and Hemlock be the renegades. I could work with Falignus to study the Wand. I could even join Malvert in preventing Safreon and Hemlock from escaping. But Falignus already knows so much, what value would my information be? And I would never be trusted by him after this. I can never go back now. My one hope lies in getting access to the Wand and then trading it, or information on it, back to Falignus in return for entry back into the Guild. But he knows too much now. I have no leverage.

  Gwineval responded and his tone took on a note of defiance. "I see there is no point in parlaying with you. You are a megalomaniac and are intent on turning the Guild into a dictatorship. I can see that you will move against me. I should have moved against you long ago."

  Falignus laughed, still maintaining a playful tone, which Gwineval found extremely irritating. "What will you do–go renegade and hide in the outer regions? We’ll find you and deal with you. You know this to be true. Will you leave the City altogether, trying your luck to cross the veil? Don’t be a fool. I give you one last chance to reconsider."

  "Refuse," responded Gwineval, dropping the scrying link.

  He stood there beside the cistern for a few moments, considering what had just transpired. He was now a renegade – forever shorn from the Wizard Guild.

  My life, my possessions, my research: all of it is gone now, except that which remains in my mind.

  But there was no other course, another part of his mind responded.

  Next he considered the extent of Falignus’ knowledge about him and his companions and their intentions.

  He even knows about the Wand, Gwineval thought as he grimaced to himself and lowered his head to the side of the cistern.

  …

  Hemlock stood outside the building Gwineval had entered, waiting for him to emerge. She made some small talk with Safreon, but everyone was on edge and wary of the presence of the wizards, and showed little appetite for conversation.

  As she waited, Hemlock suddenly felt an ache in her head. Turning, she locked eyes with one of the wizards that had come with the wizard, Malvert. This wizard was staring at her, and seemed mildly distracted – almost entranced. Hemlock became alarmed because she felt that some magic spell had been cast on her. Her eyes, which had lowered as she took stock of her sensation of the magic, bolted back to the Wizard. He looked away and was now chatting with a companion, seemingly oblivious.

  Hemlock analyzed the fading sensation of magic. It had been a magic of dreams. She felt sure of her identification of the spell. She surprised herself by not reacting with alarm to what had just transpired.

  Before she could consider why she felt no alarm, Hemlock saw Gwineval emerge from the building, looking grave. His eyes met Safreon’s and Gwineval nodded quickly from side to side. Safreon’s features darkened.

  Malvert, who had been having a private discussion with his advisors, strode over and stood expectantly before Gwineval.

  "Have you chosen to walk the path of prudence or of recklessness?"

  Gwineval did not respond, but stared at him cooly.

  "Fair enough, I shall find out myself," he grunted as he made toward the doorway of the building.

  Tored stood to block his way, but Taros Ranvok waved him aside saying, "Let him pass. There is no profit in preventing their communication."

  Hemlock noted that Tored did not look very convinced by this line of reasoning, but he stood aside.

  Malvert closed the door to the building.

  "What happened?" Safreon asked Gwineval.

  "I am a renegade, Falignus knows…everything," responded Gwineval in a hissed whisper.

  "How?" asked Safreon in a whisper, wanting to say more, but glancing anxiously toward the wizards, who stood some paces away.

  "I have some suspicions," responded Gwineval. "He must be using some forbidden form of divination. But I never imagined the extent to which he must be practicing the dark arts if he has been able to learn so much."

  Safreon gave another concerned look in response.

  Malvert soon emerged from the building, looking pleased. He gestured savagely at Hemlock, Gwineval and Safreon.

  "This lot are now officially enemies of the Wizard Guild and enemies of the City," he declared so viciously that he spit as he spoke.

  Hemlock tensed up, sizing up the other two wizards that had come with Malvert. She judged that they would fight like those that they had faced in the Tower atrium, days ago. She returned her eyes to Malvert; malice seemed to palpably emanate from him. He would clearly be another class of enemy.

  Malvert’s muscles bulged and tensed as he turned to Taros Ranvok and continued to speak. "We ask you one final time to release them into our custody. Failure to do so places this town and all of its inhabitants at risk of also being declared enemies of the Wizard Guild, with all of the negative consequences that could entail."

  Tored stepped forward and took his place next to Taros Ranvok. Hemlock noticed that Tored no longer seemed angry. She noticed his eyes, however. Something about them had changed. They were so dispassionate that they seemed to absorb the light around them – leaving them visible only as dark burning coals.

  "Our leader, Pan Taros, is in mourning, as I told you. I must interrupt him now, for only he can decide how to react to this ultimatum," Taros Ranvok responded. "You and your lot will wait outside the town for our answer," he concluded, pointing at the wizards.

  Malvert faced Tored as he approached to lead the wizards from the Town. Hemlock thought that it was like watching two storm fronts clashing in the sky as their gazes met.

  Hemlock was poised for violence to break out at any moment.

&
nbsp; The other Guild wizards approached and pulled at Malvert, and he turned to move, defusing the situation.

  The group descended through the walkways and ramps of the town. The townspeople gawked at the wizards, who returned their interested stares with dark looks. Hemlock heard the townspeople begin to grumble as the wizards left them in their wake to contemplate the meanings of those hostile stares.

  Eventually, they reached the lower sections of the town and the wizards descended a ramp and stood on the floor of the valley, waiting for an answer from the Tanna Varrans.

  Hemlock heard a commotion from the upper levels of the town and, looking upwards, she could see the brightly festooned figure of Pan Taros, King of the Tanna Varrans, descending to answer the Wizard’s ultimatum. The townspeople gathered behind the king and his retinue as they approached. Soon most of the town was gathered to hear the proceedings.

  Pan Taros, flanked by Taros Ranvok and Tored, stepped to the top of the ramp.

  Hemlock thought that the King looked terrible compared to how he had looked when she had first seen him.

  Pan Taros raised his hand to silence the crowd and then addressed the wizards. "You have come and made demands of my people. Your words – at first like olive branches – have now turned to swords. We are not a people that value swords. We have made an effort, under my reign, to turn our backs on violence. The path that violence took our people down in our past has been fraught with despair. Beware the path that you walk, wizards.

  "We practice compassion. I do not know the full import of the matters that lie between you and these four that you seek to have released as your prisoners. Nor do I feel that it is my role to intercede in this matter. Yet you have made it clear to me, through your innuendo, that I must choose either to commit an act of indirect violence against our visitors, since it will no doubt lead to violent results for them, or through inaction, risk incurring a potentially violent reaction from you. I choose the latter path, for I believe that it is better to risk violence through inaction than to take an indirect action that will result in violence. Violence in any form, in any scope, is abhorrent. It matters not to me that the target of the violence is my people rather than these four. We are all brothers under the sun and stars. In another lifetime or universe, these four are probably kin to me. All men and women should look upon themselves and others in this light. There is no difference between them and me. When you threaten them, you threaten me.