The Sword and the Sorcerer

by John Phythyon

  “No,” Calibot said quietly.

  Zod snapped his head back around to Calibot. His expression was a mixture of shock and fury.

  “What did you say to me?” he whispered.

  “I said, ‘No’,” Calibot replied.

  He got slowly to his feet and drew himself up to his full height. Zod adopted a threatening stance. Calibot could hardly believe what he was doing. He barely knew what he was doing.

  “Liliana did not steal the sword,” he continued. “Upon Father’s death, she received a message from him instructing her to find me in Dalasport. She was to bring me a special case only I could open, and she was to tell me to recover his body in Eldenberg.

  “She fulfilled his instructions faithfully. She had no idea what was in the case until I opened it and discovered Wyrmblade inside.

  “I don’t know why Father gave it to me. I don’t want it. I never wanted anything of his. In fact, I just want to be done with this whole business.”

  “Then give it to me,” Zod said. “Give me the sword, Calibot. We’ll scatter your father’s ashes, and you can go back to your quiet life as a poet.”

  “I’d love that,” Calibot said. “But Father left explicit instructions for me to have Wyrmblade and for me to cremate his body and scatter his ashes. He left no instructions for you that we know of, Uncle.

  “Since I acquired the sword, we’ve discovered he has given it extra powers that seem to have specific purposes. The sword flames when it is drawn and I am passionate. We used its fires to cremate him in Eldenberg, and he was completely consumed in seconds. It was clear he arranged for it to happen that way.

  “I believe Father knew he would be murdered when he went to Eldenberg, Uncle Zod. I believe he had a plan to deal with that after his death. It is unfolding before our eyes, and each of us has a role to play. For reasons he has not yet divulged, he gave the sword to me. Until I see something that instructs me to give it to you, I’ll not be parting with it.”

  Despite his obvious anger, Zod looked astonished. Calibot could well imagine his feelings. No one ever spoke to him that, especially his nephew, the poet. Moreover, he had to be feeling betrayed. Gothemus had promised the sword to him, not Calibot. Why would he give it to his son, the courtier, instead of his brother, the warrior? Calibot was as confused about that as his uncle.

  “Now,” Calibot said, “Liliana says you have a key to the tower, and you mentioned trying to get in when you were telling us about Elmanax. I gather you were unsuccessful. What happened?”

  Zod continued to stare at him. Calibot saw his jaw working. His uncle ground his teeth as possibilities played across his mind. Then, all the fury drained from his face. His shoulders sagged again, and he returned to looking old and haunted.

  “I attempted to enter the tower when we first got here a few days ago,” Zod said, pacing around the tent. “But the key wouldn’t work. Some sort of spell not only prevented me from opening the door but also hit me with a blast of energy that threw me off the steps.”

  Liliana’s eyes widened at that revelation. It was clearly news to her, but Calibot turned to her anyway.

  “Is that something you did,” he asked her.

  “No,” she said, sounding amazed. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  “Then,” Calibot continued, “we have to assume it is more of Father’s posthumous magic. Once Liliana left the tower, it became locked magically, so no one could enter. No doubt this was done to prevent Elmanax from stealing back the Eye of the Dragon after Father was killed.”

  “Do we know that for sure?” Devon said.

  “I think so,” Zod replied. “Elmanax attacked me after I couldn’t get in. He said something to me. What was it? Oh, yes! He said Gothemus must not have wanted me poking around in his home either.”

  “That would seem to indicate Elmanax tried breaking in before you arrived and failed,” Calibot said.

  “And that he was hoping Zod’s key would work,” Devon added. “That’s probably why he didn’t confront you until after you couldn’t get in.”

  They all nodded. Calibot admired the genius of his father’s plan. It seemed likely he knew he would be murdered, and it seemed equally likely he knew Elmanax was behind it. Thus, he put safeguards into place to prevent the gnome from getting what he wanted. Calibot wasn’t sure his father had planned to die, but he had made certain there was a contingency if he did.

  “So now what,” Liliana asked.

  “Now we scatter Father’s ashes as he requested,” Calibot said. “And then, hopefully, this whole business will be done.”

  “But what about the Eye of the Dragon?” she said.

  “It’s locked away in Father’s tower,” Calibot replied. “Elmanax can’t get at it. Neither can anyone else. It’s safe there. We leave it.”

  “You can’t do that!” Zod protested.

  “Why not?”

  “Because the Wild Lands are no longer safe,” Zod said. “Since Gothemus died, they’ve returned to their former state. In fact, they’re worse. I’ve got to get them back under control if I’m to resume my business.”

  “There’s no need to continue your business, Uncle.”

  “What!” Zod was apoplectic. “How will the rest of the world get its iron? How will I live?”

  “You’re already rich, Uncle Zod,” Calibot said. He put a sympathetic tone in his voice. “There’s no need for you to continue your business. You have no heirs to provide for. Return to your fortress and live out your days in comfort. Or take your riches and adventure until you can’t. There’s no need for you to be ironmonger to the Known World.

  “If no one possesses the Eye of the Dragon, the balance of power doesn’t change. You just get cut out of the equation. And, since you have no worldly needs, that’s no hardship to you.”

  Both Zod and Devon gaped at him. He thought he detected a gleam of admiration in Devon’s eyes. He smiled a little, a rare thing since learning of his father’s death.

  “An elegant solution,” Devon commented.

  Zod glared at him, but he didn’t rebuke him. After a moment, he sighed, walked back to his chair, and slumped into it.

  “Fine, Calibot,” he said. “Have it your way. We leave the Eye . . . for now. But if circumstances change, I’m getting it.”

  Calibot didn’t know why, but he knew that was never going to happen. The knowledge just popped into his head. Whether the circumstances changed or not, Zod the Fearless’s days as powerful warlord were over.

  “Come,” Calibot said. “Let’s go scatter Father’s ashes. I want to put this business behind me as quickly as possible.”

  Zod rose, and the four of them went out. Calibot prayed this would be the end.

  Chapter 23: Plans

  Zod scowled at his nephew behind his back. The little bastard had definitely changed; Zod had been right about that.

  It wasn’t a good change, though. Before, he’d been a simpering, little milquetoast. He whined about his poetry and about how he didn’t want to study magic and about how much he hated his father. He’d done Gothemus a favor by running off to Dalasport and sleeping his way up the ladder of Duke Boordin’s court. Gothemus no longer had to listen to him or see what a disappointment he was.

  Now, though, Calibot was prancing around, giving orders and behaving like he had some right to act like he was in charge. He seemed to think having his father’s ashes and a magic sword made him someone important.

  Zod was disgusted. Why the hell would Gothemus give his useless whelp Wyrmblade? Calibot’s only skills were crafting pretty words and providing Devon Middleton with someone to screw, and Zod was dubious about how good his nephew was at either job. What did he need with Wyrmblade? He certainly couldn’t wield it.

  More importantly, Gothemus had promised the sword to Zod. Why had he betrayed him this way? Zod was going to become King of the Known World. Wyrmblade and Gothemus’s magic would have made that possible. Once he had established himself, he wouldn’t need Gothemus anymo
re.

  But that wasn’t the point. They were supposed to be doing this together. That’s the way it had always been. Gothemus provided brains, Zod muscle, and they conquered anyone and anything that got in their way. They were inches away from conquering the whole damned world!

  And then Gothemus had gone and gotten himself murdered and given the sword to the ungrateful bastard he’d sired, who cared nothing for Gothemus, Zod, or their ambitions. Damn Gothemus for making this mess and damn his little-shit nephew for not doing the right thing and just handing over the sword.

  He left the tent and started towards the lake, following Calibot and his friends disconsolately. He’d taken only a few steps when Alistair emerged from behind the tent and signaled to him.

  “Go on ahead, Calibot,” Zod called. “I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”

  The three of them stopped and turned towards him when he spoke. They all stared for a minute. Devon, in particular, scrutinized him carefully. He was trouble, that one. He was smarter and more experienced than the others. If it came down to a fight with Calibot, Zod would need to take care of Devon first.

  He put a weak smile on his face to appease them. After a moment, they turned as one and moved off towards the lake. Zod scowled and strode over to his advisor.

  “What news?” Alistair said as soon as Zod drew even with him.

  “The little shit has Wyrmblade,” Zod spat.

  “Who? Calibot?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how did he get it?”

  “The bitch, Liliana, gave it to him,” Zod answered. “They claim she didn’t know she was doing it. She got a message from Gothemus to deliver a case without knowing what was in it.”

  Alistair pursed his lips and thought about it. He rubbed his head and nodded.

  “Well, that’s certainly plausible, knowing what we do about her . . . talent,” he said.

  Zod spat and kicked the dirt. He gripped his sword and tried not to think about the fact that it should be Wyrmblade.

  “She’s an idiot,” he said. “She could barely tell you what color the sky is. But that’s hardly the problem. Not only does Calibot have the sword, he wants to leave the Eye where it is.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Elmanax can’t get to it. He figures it’s safer there.”

  Zod watched Alistair turn that idea over in his head. He felt bile come up in his throat. He was getting the urge to just kill the three of them and then sort out what to do next.

  “Was Calibot in contact with his father before he was murdered,” Alistair asked.

  Zod looked at him curiously. He hadn’t thought about that.

  “Not that he said,” Zod replied. “I didn’t ask, but I didn’t get the impression he had spoken to Gothemus. Why?”

  “Well,” Alistair said, “Calibot has Wyrmblade, which was promised to you. He advocates leaving the Eye of the Dragon locked away in Gothemus’s tower, where it is of no use to anyone. I’m wondering if this isn’t some sort of play to strip you of your power.”

  “What?”

  “The two most powerful artifacts in Gothemus’s possession are in Calibot’s control,” Alistair said. “Prior to his death, your brother gave the sword he promised you to his son and locked the Eye away in his tower, making it impossible for you to enter. Are you certain all was well between you and Gothemus before his death? It feels like you’re being double-crossed.”

  Zod’s eyes flew open at the suggestion. Was he serious?

  “Preposterous!” Zod almost shouted. Several heads turned in their direction. He lowered his voice. “Gothemus wouldn’t do that to me. Our trust with each other was complete. It would be unthinkable for him to betray me.”

  “If you say so,” Alistair said. “The circumstances are just strange, and he’s not here to explain himself. Perhaps he had some other plan, and he was murdered before he could execute it.”

  Zod nodded. He wanted to believe that, but it would have been very unlike Gothemus. He planned everything. He had all the details accounted for. It was hard to imagine him being unexpectedly killed in the middle of an operation. Maybe Fate had finally caught up with him, but it just seemed so extraordinary.

  And then there was this whole business about Liliana receiving a message from Gothemus from beyond the grave. It suggested he did have a plan and that his murder was a part of it. It was possible that Liliana had lied about getting her instructions after Gothemus died, but that was as hard to imagine as Gothemus betraying Zod. She was so colossally stupid it didn’t seem possible for her to lie about something like that.

  Damn Alistair anyway. He was making Zod suspicious. Gothemus wouldn’t betray him; he wouldn’t! So why did Calibot have Wyrmblade? Why didn’t Zod’s key to the tower work?

  “We’d better get going,” Zod said. “The brat wants to scatter the ashes and be done with his business here.”

  “And then what?” Alistair said.

  “Then we persuade him to give me the sword,” Zod said. “If he wants to go back to Dalasport and resume entertaining the duke with his insipid poetry, that’s his business. But he’s not taking my sword with him.”

  “And if he has different plans?” Alistair said.

  “Then we’ll judge them on the merit of how well they align with mine,” Zod said. “And if I don’t like the result, then poor, little Calibot will be joining his father in the grave. Let them reconcile after the gods have judged them.

  “Make no mistake, Alistair, I’m going to be king. If Gothemus is unable to be the magician that assists me, it can be you, but I won’t be thwarted, especially by that spineless sap, Calibot. He does what I want, or he dies.”

  Chapter 24: Gothemus’s Last Bit of Magic

  Calibot stared out over Silver Lake feeling irritated. This was it. This was the big moment. It was time to finally lay his father to rest and to put this ugly matter behind him.

  So why wasn’t he happy? Why wasn’t he looking forward to it?

  Because it wasn’t just the distasteful business of burying his father and trying to get back to Dalasport with their lives. It was putting the whole matter of his unfulfilled relationship with his father behind. Once the ashes were scattered, Gothemus would truly be gone. There would be no way to hope for some sort of reconciliation or approval.

  He supposed, though, that his father had been dead for a long time. In fact, so far as Calibot could tell, he’d never known him. Calibot came to live with him at the age of five after his mother died. He was already the greatest sorcerer in the Known World by then. He was never a kindly man. He never showed any warmth or compassion or anything else one would normally expect from a father. He was just the man who created and maintained the balance of power in the world. He was just the obsessive academic poking his mind into the dark corners of the unknown, seeking knowledge and enlightenment.

  As far as Calibot was concerned, he’d never had a father. Why, then, should he be upset about scattering this intimate stranger’s ashes over water?

  Because he’d wanted a father. Instead, he got Gothemus – a man who understood everything except how to be a parent. A man too powerful to really love a child.

  Clouds crowded the sky, turning the color of the water to slate grey. The breeze off the lake chilled him. It would be winter soon. He needed to be done with this business and back to Dalasport, where he would be warm again.

  Devon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Calibot appreciated the gesture, and he turned to his love and gave him a tight smile as a thanks. But the sentiment didn’t reach him. Devon was doing the best he could, but he was no match for the sense of grief and frustration Calibot felt.

  Absently, he gripped the pommel of Wyrmblade and felt its quiet charge of energy shoot up his arm. This comforted him more than Devon’s love at the moment. In the back of his mind, that disturbed him. He had no mental room for those kinds of worries right now, though. His conscious thought was dedicated to the task before him, and his subconscious
contemplated the mysteries of the political situation he found himself in and chewed on possible solutions.

  “Are you ready?” Devon said.

  “We need to wait for my uncle,” Calibot replied.

  They didn’t, actually. He got no signal from Wyrmblade that Zod was a necessary part of this ceremony. But enough of Calibot’s original soul remained that he wanted to be decent to his uncle.

  Devon nodded. He took his hand away and stood patiently, staring out over the grey waters.

  “Gothemus liked the lake,” Liliana said. “Sometimes I would catch him staring at it out the window. It’s not very pretty today, but, when the sun shines on it, it’s glorious. It sparkles like a giant, silver plate. Gothemus liked that.”

  Calibot wanted to scream at her. He didn’t give a damn what his father liked and what he didn’t. If he’d wanted Calibot to know what his pleasures were, he could have said something himself.

  But, as was becoming usual, his gaze remained placid. Some enchantment from the magical sword helped him keep his emotions in check – at least on his face.

  A moment later, he heard the ground crunching behind him. He turned and saw Zod and his assistant – What was his name? Alistair? – approaching.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Zod said. “Urgent business.”

  “Of course,” Calibot replied. “Are you ready?”

  “No,” Zod said. “But I never will be.”

  Calibot nodded. He felt the same, albeit for altogether different reasons.

  “Liliana?” he said.

  “Yes?”

  She looked confused. With an effort, Calibot managed not to sigh.

  “You have the ashes,” he prompted.

  “Oh, right!” she said.

  She turned and dug around in her satchel until she had the black sack she’d scraped them into back in Eldenberg. She came forward and handed them to Calibot. Then she stepped back and stared at him expectantly. This time he did sigh.

  “Were there any instructions,” he asked.