The Wizard of the North

by Richard Stephens

  Olmar lumbered toward the door, his long strides overtaking Sadyra. He reached down, hoisting her off her feet. Catching sight of Alhena and Larina, he bellowed, “Run!”

  Larina stepped into the middle of the tunnel and aimed. Her bolt should’ve flown true, but the beast reappeared unharmed on the opposite side of the aisle. The bolt took a beefy militiaman in the throat, dropping him instantly—several others crashed to the ground over the unfortunate guard.

  The dimly lit tunnel flared to life. Beside Larina, Alhena’s staff pulsed. She nearly dropped the quarrel she was slamming home in preparation for a second shot when the top of Alhena’s staff recoiled, sending a fist-sized fireball sizzling over Olmar—just missing the beast as it winked out and reappeared across the aisle. The fireball impacted harmlessly against the stage beside the steps.

  Alhena grabbed Larina’s wrist. “When I tell you, fire!” He let her go.

  She watched in horror as Olmar slipped and overbalanced, dropping Sadyra who lurched and flailed her arms to keep from falling.

  Behind them, the scaly monstrosity roared and leaped.

  “Now!” Alhena’s staff pulsed bright.

  Larina let her bolt fly, the snick of her crossbow jettisoning its missile corresponded with the hiss of Alhena’s magical blast.

  The southern lip of the scrying bowl shimmered, the subsequent ripples rolling into the centre of the enchanted vessel.

  Helleden held his hands over the bowl. It was happening. His rings flared to life, capturing the theurgical essence radiating toward the centre of the chamber from the eight tall panes of enchanted glass.

  A second vibration roiled the liquid along the scrying bowl’s southern edge, this one more pronounced.

  Incanting the words of a long dead language, Helleden siphoned energy from the magical responses of the two Wizard’s of the North—blending their power to orchestrate the final firestorm he required to destroy Zephyr.

  The wizards unwittingly fueled the instrument of their demise.

  Mister Keen

  Karvus leapt high, swinging his mighty battle-axe over his head and brought it down with a furious chop, its razor’s edge severing one of the serpent’s toes clinging to the edge of the shelf. He needed to get his hands on the wizard’s staff before the serpent destroyed it.

  Tygra sidestepped around him, almost knocking Karvus over the brink. Delivering his own crushing blow, his warhammer broke another one of the serpent’s toes.

  The leviathan screeched, turning its head their way. Its eyes locked on their position as it struggled to maintain its precarious grip on the ledge with a single claw.

  Karvus raised his axe, his shoulder driving Tygra out of the way, and swung at the final clawed toe, but he was too late.

  A fireball took the creature in the eye. It lost its grip on the ledge, its last claw gouging out a chunk of rock that clattered down the wall to the cavern floor more than two hundred feet below. Its colossal weight was now only supported by its slipping grip on the thin bridge span as it swayed in half circles, desperately trying to regain purchase on the wall with its injured foot. It screeched its displeasure.

  The wizard’s companion stood atop the pillar, an egg-shaped object by his feet. He started to make his way across the span, leery of the serpent’s claws wrapped around the narrow structure, but a resounding crack stopped him. The serpent’s weight was too much for the bridge.

  The centre of the arch broke away from its edges and tumbled after the flailing beast.

  The serpent landed with a resounding thud at the base of the pillar, the impact felt throughout the cavern. If the fall hadn’t killed it, Karvus was sure the massive chunk of broken bridge that landed on top of it, did.

  Other than the patter of debris sifting down the wall in the wake of the bridge’s collapse, the cavern became deafeningly quiet.

  “The wizard.” Tygra’s voice broke through his befuddlement.

  Blinking several times, Karvus turned his attention on the wizard.

  Tygra attempted to push past him but Karvus stood his ground in the middle of the narrow path.

  The wizard, several paces up the ledge, had his back against the wall where the ledge ended and the remains of the broken span shot outward. Karvus’ first instinct was to strike quickly. If he could get to the wizard before the magic user had time to evoke another charge from his staff, he stood a good chance of ending the battle quickly. Caution held him back. Who knew how fast wizards enacted spells? If he proved too slow, the battle would be over before it started. Of all the ways he could think of dying, burning alive wasn’t high on his list.

  Left with no real alternative, he prepared to charge, but something about the wizard gave him pause. His eyes? His nose? The hair escaping from the sides of his cowl? It was hard to see in the peculiar light emanating from the pillar’s top combined with the orangey radiance of his staff.

  “Mel! Those are Kraidic warriors! Kill them before they kill you!” the longhaired man atop the pillar shouted. “Mel! Do you hear me? Don’t trust them!”

  “I hear you,” the wizard responded in an uncertain voice. A high-pitched voice. Not one of fright, but one that suspiciously sounded like a woman. Karvus shook his head. He must’ve imagined it. A woman, the Wizard of the North? Judging by the puzzled look on Tygra’s face, he hadn’t imagined anything.

  Karvus lowered his battle-axe. If the wizard released a fireball, they were dead—they had nowhere to go. The man on the platform didn’t look to be carrying a bow—that was good. The black head of Tygra’s warhammer caught the corner of his eye. Barely moving his lips, Karvus muttered as loud as he dared without alerting the wizard, “Put your hammer down. We need to get close to the…witch.”

  Tygra’s hammerhead crunched the shale at their feet.

  “We come in peace,” Karvus lied. “We mean you no harm.”

  “Mel, don’t trust him!”

  Karvus glared at the man stranded on the platform. His gaze returned to the female spell caster. “I assure you, we only wish to help.” He jutted his chin toward the dead serpent lying far below. “I daresay you would both be dead had we not arrived, witch.”

  “Wizard, thank you very much.” The wizard’s eyes narrowed, her staff increasing in brightness.

  Karvus held up his free hand, palm out. “Whoa, whoa. Wizard then. Whatever you wish to call yourself. I’ve never heard of a female wizard is all.”

  The staff’s glow diminished. “Wizard of the North, to you.”

  “Wizard of the North, of course.” Karvus nodded. “Forgive me, I should’ve known.”

  “And you are?”

  That gave Karvus pause. “We have travelled from Zephyr, looking for you,” he said, trying to buy time to debate the merits of providing the wizard with his true identity. He hadn’t known many magic users in his time, but felt he better stick to the truth as much as possible. One never knew the extent of a wizard’s power. He took a tentative step up the ledge.

  “Looking for me?”

  “Mel, don’t listen to him. He’ll say anything to get close to you,” Silurian’s voice rang out.

  The wizard’s staff flared brighter. “Stay where you are.”

  Karvus stopped, his hand held up. At the moment, he would’ve given a castle to anyone with a bow to shut the wizard’s companion up. “Easy. Your friend’s words are pretty harsh considering my friend Tygra and I have just saved you from your fate, don’t you think?”

  The wizard considered his words. “Your intervention was timely,” her green eyes flicked to her companion, “though now we have another problem.”

  Karvus smiled. This was the break he needed. “Your friend there? Aye, ‘tis a mighty leap he’ll be needing if he wishes to come back this way. Perhaps we may be of further assistance?” He took another step—Tygra matching him.

  The wizard’s staff flared again.

  “Hey, we want to help you. Your companion over there, what’s his name?”

  The wizard sai
d nothing, but her staff’s glare increased.

  “As luck would have it,” Karvus said in a placating tone, “My friend has a length of rope. Show the nice wizard your rope, Tygra.”

  While Tygra took off his cloak and pulled a small coil of rope from over his shoulder, Karvus said, “Mel, is it? Your name?”

  The wizard didn’t respond. She seemed unsure how to react to his questioning, which was a good thing. If Karvus could take advantage of her indecision he might be able to get close enough to steal her staff. “Seems I have lost track of who the Wizard of the North is.” He advanced slowly as he talked. “I was under the impression that Fa…um, Phase…”

  “Phazarus?”

  “Yes. That’s it. Last I heard, Phazarus was Wizard of the North. I am obviously mistaken, for although I’ve never met him myself, he most assuredly was not a pretty, young lady. When did he, ah, stop being the head wizard, if that’s what you call it?”

  The wizard stared at him, about to respond, but a shout from her companion made her staff flare brighter.

  “Mel, stop him! He’s sneaking up on you!”

  Her staff pulsed.

  Karvus flinched and fell back a couple steps. “Whoa, easy with that stick, lady. Your friend over there is the one requiring our help. Or does he think he can jump the gap?”

  “My name is Melody,” the wizard stated. “I’m no lady. I’m the Wizard of the North. If you desire to breathe again, I suggest you don’t get any closer.”

  Karvus swallowed. Three quick steps and he had her but he couldn’t count on the fact that this wizard, as unsure as she seemed, wouldn’t discharge her staff in time. He sensed Tygra behind him.

  “Melody it is. My apologies to the almighty wizard.”

  “Don’t mock me,” the wizard growled, her fair eyebrows coming together.

  “Again, my apologies. I merely offer you the praise deserving a wizard of your stature.” Seeing that Tygra was ready, Karvus added, “Well, it seems as if we are at an impasse. You don’t trust us, and we are leery of you. Your doubting friend over there has a great conundrum facing him. I find it highly implausible for him to descend that pillar the same way our dearly departed beastie climbed it, hmm?”

  The wizard ignored his words. Instead, she called to her companion. “Where’s your sword? Did it work?”

  The man lowered his head, slumping. He pointed toward the fallen serpent. “It’s down there somewhere.”

  “What?” the wizard’s voice squeaked.

  “I dropped it trying to get the damned egg out.”

  Egg? Ah, the object at his feet, Karvus thought and nodded to himself. Even better. He’s not armed.

  The wizard looked straight at him. “I have a proposition for you. What did you say your name was?”

  If he mentioned his real name, Karvus was sure the only thing that would remain of him would be his smoking boots. “Keen. They call me Keen.”

  Tygra shot him a look.

  “Mister Keen, then. I’ll make you a deal. If you’re so eager to assist us, I need you to go down there and retrieve Silurian’s sword.”

  Silurian? An odd name. So odd that he knew he’d heard it before. Recently, in fact, but where? Something his father had said? He envisioned his father pacing about the royal pavilion the day before Helleden’s pet had killed him, fretting over the sorcerer’s demands. No, it wasn’t his father who had mentioned it.

  His eyes widened. Yes! Yes, it was. His father had mentioned the name. Years ago. Karvus had been a wee child when Helleden had come close to conquering Zephyr. If he remembered his father’s words correctly, a man, whose name escaped Karvus at the moment, had led the Band of Five, or whatever they called themselves, onto a battlefield. One of them had banished the sorcerer to another realm. Karvus was certain his father mentioned the name Silurian. He wasn’t sure whether his father had spoken Silurian’s last name, but the first name rung true.

  Could it really be the same man? He studied the long-haired wretch standing dejected upon the platform. He didn’t appear fearsome, although Karvus knew appearances were false illusions at the best of times. The man looked old enough to have fought twenty years ago. How many Silurians could there be?

  “Well?” The wizard’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

  “Okay. Fair enough, Wizard of the North Melody. I will send Tygra, here, to fetch the sword, though if it’s under the monster, it may be difficult to retrieve.” He indicated with his forehead for Tygra to do as he suggested.

  Without a word, Tygra slipped and slid down the narrow trail, his passage dislodging loose bits of shale that fell away with a clatter.

  “Are you crazy, Mel?” Silurian stood at the edge of the break and leaned out over the gap, his baleful stare directed at Melody. “You can’t let them have my sword. Blast them and grab the rope.”

  Tygra was already more than half way around the cavern wall. Everyone watched him leap the small break in the trail the serpent had inflicted.

  The wizard’s next question made Karvus swallow. “How come you aren’t with Emperor Krakus’ army in northern Zephyr?”

  Karvus stared open mouthed.

  “Oh yes. I know all about the emperor’s movements. I’m not the Wizard of the North for nothing. You said you were sent to find me. How come? And how did you know where to find me?”

  Karvus’ lips turned up as he lowered his head in mock shame. He looked up to the wizard with downcast eyes. “You mostly have the right of it, oh mighty wizard Melody. Tygra and I fled eastward, fearing the sorcerer Helleden’s wrath. The emperor seeks your help, and thus we have been sent to find you.” He left it at that. No sense spreading his words too thin. If the wizard sensed treachery, he and Tygra were finished.

  The clump of Tygra’s boots impacting the cavern floor drew everyone’s attention. They watched him search the floor around the serpent’s body, moving small chunks of rock with the toe of his boot. He walked around the head of the serpent, stooping to peer closely at the beast’s face. He stood up again and continued toward the base of the pillar, his pace suddenly increasing. He leaned his warhammer against the pillar and bent down to push aside a pile of debris. Standing straight again, he held a sword in his hands. “I got it,” his voice echoed up to them.

  “There. You see? We want to help.”

  The wizard nodded, but Karvus could tell she regarded him with skepticism.

  “Krakus wants my help? Then why has he joined with Helleden?”

  He considered his response. It had to be genuine. “Emperor Krakus believed…” He cringed at the slip up. If he read the situation correctly, the wizard was still under the belief that Krakus led the Kraidic Empire. A cold feeling tingled his skin. He was the emperor. Skulking about a slimy, foul smelling hole on the whim of a tyrant. His hackles rose. What was he doing? His unspoken criticism of his father’s cowardice thundered through him.

  He cleared his throat. “The emperor believed the only way to the Ivory Throne lay in Helleden’s ability to manipulate the skies. It’s no secret our people covet Zephyr’s rich soils and limitless resources. Recently, however, I sense the Kraidic Empire evolving. Our ultimate ambition is to provide a more hospitable climate for our people. At least I thought so until Helleden happened along. The sorcerer’s promise of spoils has regressed the thinking of the Kraidic hierarchy—”

  “You seem to know a lot about Kraidic nobility.” Silurian’s bitter words curtailed Karvus’ explanation. “Don’t trust him, Mel. There’s more to him than he’s telling us.”

  Karvus threw his free hand up in mock frustration. “I’m not sure how else to explain my people’s desire.”

  “Why not just trade openly with us?” Silurian spoke before Melody could. “Murdering our families for no better reason than coveting our land doesn’t lend itself to sit lightly with my people.”

  Karvus bowed his head in mock obedience. “Your people? Forgive me, I had no idea you’re related to King Malcolm.”

  Silurian mut
tered something that Karvus could barely make out—something like, “If you only knew the half of it.”

  Shale crumbled and clattered far below. Tygra struggled to gain the ledge trail, his boots scrambling for purchase on the wall to help him hoist his large frame over the lip.

  The wizard’s voice pulled Karvus’ attention back, her tone sounding like an effort to mollify the angst rising between her companion and him. “You still haven’t explained why you seek me. The Kraidic Empire has openly vowed to exterminate magic from the world. What would Emperor Krakus want, other than to kill me?”

  Karvus was hard put not to swallow. The wizard had the right of it. Thankful to be a gifted liar, he said, “The emperor and his army had sought an alliance with Helleden, but Emperor Krakus sees the folly in that course of action. Unfortunately, the Kraidic army is under Helleden’s control. We need your staff to help us deal with the sorcerer.”

  Melody stared hard at him. It was hard to tell whether she saw through his half truths or not. At least her staff only retained a soft glow.

  Tygra’s footfalls came up behind him, his breathing laboured.

  “Allow Tygra to cast your friend the rope,” Karvus said. When the wizard turned to regard her companion, Karvus muttered under his breath so that only Tygra could hear him, “Be sure not to secure the anchor knot.”

  “First, throw the sword over,” the wizard directed.

  Karvus dipped his head, “Of course.” It wasn’t what he’d prefer, but what could Silurian do, trapped on the far side of the gap? “If you’ll allow my friend here to approach?”

  Not waiting for an answer, Karvus pressed himself against the cavern wall so that Tygra could sidle past him, a magnificent sword in one hand and his warhammer clutched in his other.

  “Leave your weapon with mister Keen.” The wizard’s words momentarily confused Tygra Keen.

  Karvus released his breath as Tygra comprehended the situation. He propped his warhammer against the wall before striding up to the wizard.