Wizard's Conclave

by Douglas Niles

  He pulled himself back and staggered toward the stairs, growing stronger every minute. Lost in thought, he opened another dimension door in the stone wall. His next step brought him back to the anteroom.

  "Luthar! Bring me drink!" he called, his voice booming and echoing through the empty chamber and its towering adjacent hallways.

  "Yes—of course, Master!" Kalrakin heard footsteps from the direction of the kitchen and, moments later, Luthar hastened into view. He carried a crystal pitcher, the outside of it slick with condensation.

  "Chilled water," offered the short mage.

  Taking the pitcher with a swipe of his hand, Kalrakin leaned his head back and poured the ice-cold contents into his gaping mouth. He ignored the spillage, though in fact much of the water splashed through his beard, soaked his robe, and fell into a growing puddle on the floor. When the pitcher was empty, the mage sent it flying across the hall; it shattered against the stone hearth, and joined the wreckage on the floor.

  "Would you like something to eat?" asked Luthar.

  "Hah!" Kalrakin sneered at the very idea. "Wild magic is my breath, and the body of this tower is my bread! I have no need of sleep, and I have no need of food, not while this ancient totem still stands."

  "Dare I ask—how long will that be?" said the shorter mage somewhat wearily. "I am ready to go away from here, Master. There is a sense of doom about this place that allows me no peace."

  "We do not need peace, my friend-for we have power!"

  Magic sparked from Kalrakin's slender fingertips, arcing through the room in repeated, visible streams. The stone over the door began to melt, flowing like mud, seeping right across the wooden panel that had allowed access into and out of the tower. Pieces of black stone tumbled to the floor, sparking and flaming, rolling around the room, trailing plumes of thick smoke. Luthar cried out and fled from the room, though not before one of the rolling chunks of molten rock scorched the hem of his robe.

  Kalrakin took scant notice. He flexed his fist and his voice rose in a keening, bestial cry, and still the very substance of the Tower broke apart and flowed down and added to his magic. Deeper and deeper the molten stone piled, sludgy waves of darkness rolling down across already-cooling base elements. By the time he was finished, the door was gone, buried under a sheen of hard black stone.

  23

  Pathway and Guardian

  See how the forest is thick against the slope, there in the foothills?" Coryn asked, pointing toward the foot of the mountain.

  "Yes," agreed Jenna, pausing and leaning on the staff that she was carrying. Dalamar too came to a stop, resting on his haunches as they looked down the steep slope.

  "It wasn't there last night," the White Robe pointed out. "Last night that was a dry plain for as far as I could see."

  "Then Wayreth has, at last, come to us," Jenna said, with a surprising rush of relief. "We have no time to waste!"

  Coryn looked back at the lofty ridge they had descended. The summit itself was already out of sight behind the mountain's shoulder. She knew that they had negotiated the steepest parts of the descent, which had so far taken much of the Night of the Eye and half of the following day. The sun was slipping into the afternoon, and the air was growing more humid, and warmer, as they came down from the lofty elevation.

  Though they had gone without sleep for a whole day, none of the three had wanted to rest on the mountaintop. Now, the sight of the forest they sought, the wood that surrounded the Tower of High Sorcery, infused them with new energy. They worked their way down the slope as quickly as possible, stepping sideways, Jenna leaning heavily on her staff while the more agile Cory and Dalamar skidded ahead, waiting just long enough for the Red Robe to catch up.

  As they neared the ground, they could see the full vastness of the forest and smell the verdant wood-a mixture of pollen, foliage, and rot. Coryn recognized with certainty the forest that had provided her with a path to the Tower. The trees were tall, gnarled, and majestic. Those strands of moss still looked like beards, as if venerable old men formed a great congregation in the thick of the woods. Occasional birds hooted and cawed, though she did not hear the distinctive avian summons that marked her first visit. This time, though, she thought she imagined a layer of mist or vapor deep in the woods, lurking between the trees, collecting as a miasma in the hollows.

  A path became apparent as soon as they reached the edge of the wood. Jenna seemed to find a renewed sense of youth and vitality as she strolled along, and Coryn found she had to hurry to make sure she didn't fall behind.

  "How long has it been since we treaded these pathways?" mused the Red Robe, regarding Dalamar with an almost affectionate sidelong glance. "It feels as welcome and familiar as ever, I admit."

  "Certainly there were many times I felt we would never be here, never find this place again," Dalamar acknowledged. He smiled wryly. "Even as recently as a few days ago."

  Coryn was content to follow her two companions in reverent silence. Birds cried out familiarly in the depths of the woods. But that mist was an oppressive intruder, she sensed, growing thicker and ever more poisonous as the Master of the Tower lost his battle with the sorcerer Kalrakin.

  The trail was not long, and though it seemed to grow dark, that was only the effect of the dense canopy overhead. After perhaps an hour of steady progress, the wizards saw a brightening in the twilight murk. Another hundred steps brought them to the bright, sunlit clearing where the twin spires of the Tower of High Sorcery clawed their way into the afternoon sky."

  They saw at once that the Tower had suffered physically—was pocked and scarred in dozens of places—and even more, they felt its pain.

  "It's suffering—more than ever," Coryn said quietly, looking at the lofty structure. In several places balconies had been torn right off of the outer walls, leaving splintered remnants of beams and gashing, angry wounds in the smooth face of the black stone. In her mind's eye she saw the Tower trembling and shivering with agony.

  "Such appalling savagery!" Jenna said sadly. "And this tower has withstood the ravages of the world for thousands of years!"

  "It has been damaged badly since I took the Test," Coryn said.

  "The wild sorcerer is a tumor, rotting it from the inside," the Red Robe declared.

  "We must cut this tumor out," said Dalamar determinedly.

  Jenna took the lead, Coryn to her left and Dalamar to her right, as they strode purposefully into the clearing and approached the spiderweb glow of the magical gates, the golden and silver wires looking feeble and frail. Through the airy barrier they could see the foretower between the great spires. But something else was different, and with a gasp of surprise Cory realized what it was.

  "The door where I entered—it's not here anymore!"

  "It looks as though the stone of the foretower has been melted down to cover it up," Jenna observed through a tight, angry grimace. "That was the only door on the ground level of the Tower."

  "I will kill that sorcerous bastard, so help me Nuitari, if it's the last thing I do." Dalamar's words sent a shiver down Coryn's spine.

  She had a strong feeling they were being watched, and she glared up at the structure, scanning every aperture, looking for the brooding, hateful visage of Kalrakin.

  Instead, her attention was drawn to an ominous stone sculpture standing just off to the side, screened by the courtyard wall. All three gasped in unison as they realized they were looking at a giant-sized stone statue.

  "What is that?" she asked, feeling a stab of fear.

  "A golem—of stone. He made it from marble that he tore right from the body of the tower," Dalamar explained, his words clipped, his voice cold. "It is further blasphemy—if I could send that cursed sorcerer to the Abyss for ten thousand years, it would still be inadequate punishment!"

  "Be careful!" Jenna warned sharply as the dark elf strode forward.

  Dalamar didn't appear to hear; certainly, he took no heed of her warning. He raised both hands straight out before him, u
ttered a word of command, and spread his arms quickly to the sides. Immediately the feathery gates parted, opening the way into the Tower's courtyard.

  At the same time, the golem moved. Coryn could scarcely believe her eyes as the stone giant stepped forward with a smooth, fluid stride-just as if it were made of supple flesh and not rigid stone. The great arms swung easily, while the block of a head turned to regard them with impassive majesty, like the cliff of a mountainous summit acknowledging some puny, insolent climber. The overhanging brow shaded unseen eyes within twin caves underneath. Coryn could feel them boring into her, appraising and menacing.

  The dark elf, meanwhile, seemed undeterred; he had already advanced through the opened gate, with Coryn and Jenna scurrying after.

  "Spread out," Jenna urged Coryn, as soon as the two of them had entered the compound.

  The White Robe needed no urging. She sprinted to the side, casting through her mind for a spell, some incantation to smite this giant. Fire? Ice? She discarded these as useless-how could they hurt stone? Strangely, the next thing that came into her mind was mud-yet how would mud be helpful?

  Dalamar showed no hesitation. He was already spellcasting, his right hand extended like a pike, finger pointing at the golem's marble chest. In the next instant, a bolt of lightning crackled, sizzling outward from the dark elf, lancing into the body of the stone creature. Coryn smelled the acrid tang of charged air even before she saw the brilliant spear of light. She watched in awe as the bolt seemed to wrap itself around the guardian, tearing at the hard rock of its flesh, searing and burning with thunderous force.

  The golem took a step backward and shook itself, and just like that, the lightning bolt was gone. It had torn out a chunk of the monster's flank, leaving a black, smoking scar. But the magical creature was not visibly hurt-instead, it lowered its head and sprang toward the dark elf, landing with a ground-shaking thud right next to where Dalamar was standing.

  Except that now the Black Robe was a dozen paces away. He had used an instantaneous escape spell to buy himself a few seconds. Jenna-limping along the inner wall of the courtyard, moving away from her fellow wizards-took advantage of that interval to cast her own lightning spear.

  A violent explosion of fire engulfed the golem, knocking it back a step as the Red Robe's spell smashed home. The creature slumped to one knee, several shards of stone breaking from its rocky body. Again that acrid stench permeated the air, and the noise of the blast left everyone's ears ringing. Coryn shook her head to clear the buzz, saw Dalamar waving to her. The dark elf was pale, his face slick with sweat.

  "Your turn—now!" he shouted.

  Coryn raised her finger and pointed, remembering the words to one of the spells she had gained in the Test. The golem, lurching unsteadily, pushed itself up to a standing position, shedding several more large fragments of stone as it moved. The young sorceress aimed for its wound, felt the surge of magic, and cried the words of command that would unleash the spell.

  The magic flowed from her and assailed the giant-but it felt as though her power were being resisted by a strong barrier. She strained, her gut tightening under the effort, and the spell was reinforced; a bolt slammed into one of the giant's hands. Coryn grimaced, clenched her fists, concentrated, and felt the magic penetrate, turning the hard marble into dripping goo. The monster shook its great arm and the fist fell away, falling to the ground as globs of mud.

  But the stone creature seemed undaunted; it -was only a very small fraction of its total mass. The young White Robe slumped to the ground, gasping for breath, her face slicked with sweat. Never had the casting of a spell drained so much from her-and she had barely wounded the massive construct! She could sense the wild sorcery of the golem's maker, imbued in the stony body, actually gaining strength from their magical attacks.

  The golem took a step toward Dalamar, and the dark elf turned and ran toward the Tower, drawing the creature away from Jenna and Coryn.

  "Cast another spell—now!" cried the Red Robe.

  "I can't!" It was terrible, but true: Coryn had no spell ready, and could think of no magic with which to smite this lethal foe. Furthermore, she was too weary, too drained, even to think. She groaned aloud; then a spark flickered in her subconscious. Pushing herself to her knees, she struggled to recall the words to a certain spell, focusing on her hatred of the foul—blasphemous, Dalamar had said, and he was right—being before her.

  Her thoughts were gathering, as Dalamar turned to face the advancing golem. The dark elf raised his hands, twisted them through a pattern in the air as he chanted the words to a spell. With one of those great fists, the creature wrenched a piece of stone from its own wound, and hurled the missile at the Black Robe. Coryn gasped as she saw the rock, as big as a human skull, strike Dalamar and send him sprawling to the ground.

  Jenna, leaning on her staff with her left hand, gestured with her right as she called out a spell. The words boomed, reminding Coryn of the great cracks that periodically scored the Icewall and sent lingering echoes for miles across the tundra. At the sound the golem spun around with surprising agility, raising another block of stone to cast at the wizard- but the Red Robe's spell blasted outward before the creature could finish.

  A storm of ice assailed the stony giant, hailstones as big as fists smashing against the rocky visage in a whirlwind gale. Wind howled, chilling the entire area. The staccato pounding of the icy bombardment drummed like an avalanche, powerful enough to knock the golem off its feet. Great pellets of ice bashed and pounded, swelling in force and power.

  More and more hailstones piled up. Ice draped the frowning brow of the stone giant, gathered in white heaps in those cavelike eye sockets, limned the entire form in a cocoon of rigid frost. For many seconds Jenna kept up the bombardment, until the golem was nearly buried. Finally the storm ceased and the older woman slumped back against the courtyard wall, drawn and trembling from the exertion of the mighty casting.

  Coryn skirted around the now motionless, ice-caked guardian and raced to Dalamar. His face was utterly white, and his eyes were shut. He showed no sign of awareness as the White Robe leaned over him, gently probing at his scalp. He had lost a lot of blood, but she could only hope that his skull was not fractured. The elf's teeth chattered, and he cried out in pain when Cory gingerly touched his injured right shoulder. Suddenly he reached out and took her arm with his left hand, his fingers tightening like a vise around her. His eyes opened and came into focus, his gaze burning into the woman's with searing intensity as he pulled his head up from the ground.

  "Forget me! Destroy it!" he hissed, then released his grip and fell back. He drew a deep breath, and his eyes clouded. Coryn felt a horrible sense of helplessness. She turned, despairing at the sight of shuddering and slowly increasing movement within that massive drift of ice. Chunks of frost broke free as one marbled arm thrust upward; then the whole mound shivered and came apart as the golem forced itself slowly to its feet.

  But her lightning bolt spell was coiled and ready now. She pointed a finger and cried the words, the sound of her own voice strange to her, like the shrieking of a powerful storm. She felt a joyous release, watched as the electrical spear crackled outward, searing into the golem's face. Stones blasted loose and the creature took another step back, driven by the unusual force of the spell. Coryn leaped to her feet, still casting, forcing the lightning into her foe as if she were driving a blade deeper into its hateful flesh.

  But once again she felt a powerful barrier deflect much of the power of her magic. Her power was being sucked from her and then rechanneled into her enemy. Her hand began to burn. Coryn shouted in anguish, a pitiable sound lost in the shattering of ice and the groaning of the great rocky golem. It stood once again, shrugging off the mantle of frost that draped from its broad shoulders; its face, revealed as the lightning faded away, was pocked and scarred, but its sightless eyes once again focused on the wizards.

  In addition to the wounds on its face, one of the creature's arms had broken off, the
stub jutting upward like a small monolith in the slushy melt. But the golem displayed no real signs of hindrance. It turned slowly, those gaping sockets in its face falling upon the motionless black-robed wizard, and the young woman in white who stood before him. Coryn frantically looked for Jenna and saw the Red Robe drawing herself up again, leaning on her staff while forcing herself to stand. Her face was pale, and when she started to chant, her voice was so weak the younger woman couldn't discern the words.

  The golem heard the chanting, however, for it turned toward the Red Robe then smoothly reached down and pulled the remnant of its broken limb-which was still a pillar of marble some four feet long, and as big around as a man's torso-free. Raising the thing like a missile, it poised for a throw that would have crushed Jenna against the courtyard wall.

  "No!" Coryn cried-and that exclamation started her mind whirling again. She still had potentially powerful spells, vibrant and alive with white magic. Perhaps she could protect her friend. The young wizard stood, glaring at the back of the golem, and held her cupped hands before her face.

  "Palmis denni!"

  Immediately the form of a massive hand appeared, disembodied and translucent—right behind the golem. Coryn reached with her right hand and the huge magical apparition matched her gesture perfectly. The massive hand reached for the stone guardian with grasping fingers. She squeezed, and the magic image grasped the broken arm just in time to interfere with the stone giant's throw.

  Instead of flying toward Jenna, the chunk of marble simply shot to the side, pulled downward by Cory's spell, smashing ineffectually into the ground. With remarkable swiftness, the construct turned and took a long stride toward the white- and black-robed wizards, its gait incongruously supple and lifelike. Coryn held up her hand, palm outward, the universal gesture commanding stop even without any spoken word; and the massive magical hand interposed itself between the wizard and the golem, pressing against the marble torso and stopping the huge creature in its tracks.