Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) (37 page)

"
Th
is lot
are now officially
enemies of the Wizar
d 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 r
eact 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.

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 a
n
in
direct 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.
You have my answer and though it may displease and anger you, please consider my words.
 
Violence is not the answer and it never can be.
 
Violent acts are destructive to both the perpetrator and the victim
,
for there is no difference between either party.
 
The illusion of separateness in this life is the cause of much suffering.  Leave now and tell your leaders that our only wish is for peace.
"

Malvert did not respond to
Pan Taros
' words.
 
He simply turned and started to move away from the town a
t a brisk pace.
 
His companion w
izards quickly joined him.
As Hemlock watched, the tat
toos with which the retreating w
izards were covered began to glow.
 
Soon the trio were moving away at supernatural speed, although their gaits had
not changed.
 
After a time, the wizards
crested a distant hill and then passe
d out of view.

Hemlock heard the
townspeople muttering with disapproval
as she moved through them, following Safreon, who led the group upwards through the town toward Pan Taros and Taros Ranvok
.
 
Hemlock wasn't certain whether
the townspeople were mostly expressing
anger toward
the
wizards
or
despair
at the notion of having two enemies simultaneously.
 
She heard smatterings of
both points of view as she moved her attention from
one conversation
to
another
as she walked
.

Safreon reached the spot where the King stood and Hemlock, Gwineval and Merit filed in beside him.

"Thank you very much for that," Safreon said solemnly.

"I gave you nothing, but merely applied our moral code to the present situation," replied the King.

"Fair enough.  But we are still grateful," Safreon replied.

Pan Taros nodded distantly.

"We also wish to express our sympathy for your recent loss," Safreon continued.

The King looked down for a moment and then responded, "These are difficult times."

"I understand.  Taros Ranvok, can we meet with you at your convenience to determine our next course of action?" asked Safreon.

Leaving Safreon’s question unanswered, the group noticed a commotion below.  People were pointing toward the distant rise over which the wizards had recently departed.

Hemlock looked and saw a cloud of dust was rising over the crest of the rise.

"What is that?" she asked.

Nobody answered her and everyone seemed to be wondering the same thing.

People began to look up.  Hemlock saw that a Tanna Varran scout was flying overhead and appeared to be spiraling downward to land near the ramp.

The flying warrior landed hard, and Hemlock admired his skill in maintaining his footing.  He quickly folded his wings and ran up the ramp toward the King.

"Sir," he spoke breathlessly, "the wizards have entered their Oberon harvester and are now approaching the town."

The King’s features hardened.

Tored surged to the King’s side, his features
cast in sudden
alertness
, and a glimmer in his eyes. 
He seemed, in that moment,
like an old
tool, now dusted off and re-
sharpened.  He looked the equal of a hundred lesser men.

"Sir, they make to attack the Town.  Our spears and javelins cannot harm them in that armored beast.  We must bring the old ballista to bear.  It is our only weapon against them," counseled Tored.

The King nodded his agreement.  Hemlock noticed that he appeared frighteningly detached from the weight of the situation.  Taros Ranvok hurried him to the upper levels as warriors scrambled below to pull up the ramp from the Town to the valley floor.

"What should we do?" asked Hemlock, just as she saw a metallic figure in the distance, glinting in the mid-morning light playing over the far hill.

"Follow Tored," answered Safreon, fighting through the crowd.

The outlanders ascended the levels of the Town once more, where a great siege engine was being brought to bear.  It looked old and seldom used, with great clouds of dust and grime emitting from it as a team of warriors lifted and rolled it on creaking wheels toward the balustrade at the edge of the platform.

Hemlock watched nervously as the distant figure became fully visible.  She recognized the towering, slim figure from her adventure in the Wizard Tower, where she had seen a similar figure under construction.

"String the ballista!" cried Tored.

A group of men climbed around and on top of the great engine, stringing a heavy rope amongst its inner workings and finally straining to run the rope between the limbs of the machine, which resembled a giant crossbow.

"Load!" cried Tored.

Another group of men carried a great iron projectile on a wheeled cart toward the ballista.  When they reached the side of the siege engine, they gathered around and lifted it from the cart suspended on leather straps.  After a great effort, the projectile rested behind the great rope, which had been sprung under a tremendous load by the mechanisms of the contraption.  Hemlock nervously eyed the approach of the Harvester.

"It’s taking too long!" Hemlock shouted.

"No, it’s not," replied Tored evenly, "but we’ll only get one shot."

Pan Taros and Taros Ranvok arrived at the chaotic scene as Tored directed his men to position the ballista.

Taros Ranvok rushed over to Safreon
.
"Can you use your magic against it?"
Safreon looked dubious
.
Gwineval responded
,
"The harvester is designed with an anti
–
magic shield to protect against the Witches and their minions.
 
Our magic cannot harm it
either without hours to prepare the proper counterspells
."

Taros Ranvok nodded
grimly
in response.

"Tell Tored to aim for the seams in the iron
,
" Gwineval added.

"I will
,
" shouted Taros Ranvok.
 
He ra
n over to Tored and relayed
Gwineval
’s advice
.

A dozen warriors strained to move the weapon into position. 
The old siege engine creaked under the strain, but
Hemlock judged that it
had been built in the Tanna
Varran
way, with special
magical
angles and woodcraft.
 
The ropes were aged, but they held under the tremendous
forces that the siege engine wrought upon them
.
 

Hemlock turned back to the Harvester, still doubting that Tored would even get a single shot off before the hulking figure began to tear away at the Town.  She judged that it would smash through the wooden structure in no time.  The sculpted appearance of the Harvester, which was cast as a sneering, beautiful youth, lent an aspect of perversion to the threat that it posed.  She wondered whether she, Safreon, Gwineval and Merit could flee from the wreckage of the Town, and escape the wizards.

Or should we surrender?
She thought to herself, experiencing a cloud of doubt at their prospects of making it back to the City undetected.

"Fire!" cried Tored from behind, surprising her.

And
the projectile was released.
 
The
cast iron arrow sailed through the air
toward
the gargantuan
iron harvester
which
was now only a hundred yards or so from the Town
.
 

The great arrow’s flight lasted less than a second, but it felt much longer to Hemlock.

The projectile
struck the giant
iron
torso at
a seam of
the shoulder,
smashing
into several pieces, shearing the
great
arm off and leaving a huge impression in the
iron
shoulder where it
had
impacted.
 
The
great iron
arm fell to the earth with a thud, which reverberated through the
valley.

Furious
sparks of magical energy played over the torso of the
harvester
, and it suddenly went rigid.
 
Slowly, almost serenely, the
hulking
figure fell forward to the ground.
 
When it hit with a crash, it broke into several pieces, which hissed and burned as magical
energies were released.

Small robed figures
crawled forth from the ruined head, some limping and some dragging others who could not walk.
 
Th
e
y retreated toward the distant
rise
.
 
From the
top of the rise
,
two score
more figures descended in force
to meet the retreating wizards.

Tore
d looked to Taros Ranvok and asked,
"Shall we
slay or capture
them?"

Taros Ranvok looked conflicted. "I must discuss this with my Father first."

…

The
four outlanders returned to their lodgings in the great hall, which served as living quarters for the extended family of Taros Ranvok and the line of the King.  They soon were engaged in an animated discussion about what their next course of action would be.

"We need to get the W
and
,
" urged Gwineval
, looking toward Safreon.

"I know, but how do we
explain our actions to the Tanna Varrans without arousing their suspicion
?
 
Should we leave the Town and seek refuge in the caves
?" Safreon asked.

"These people are
now
facing the wrath
of the Witch and the wizards.  D
on't they
need our help?" asked Hemlock.

"Perhaps th
ey do.  But considering that we are now being hunted by the Wizard Guild, I think that we need the W
and in
order to help anyone,
" said Gwineval
.

"I agree
,
"
replied Safreon.
"
What if we
propose an alliance
to the Tanna Varrans?
 
With the power of the W
and
,
we should be able to repulse the Witch, should she attack, and
perhaps even
repel an attack by the Wizard Guild.
 
In exchange,
they
will
allow us to
stay here for a time and
prepare for our next move."

"That could be the start of a war," stated Gwineval.

"The Tanna
Varran
s must weigh their options.
 
From where I sit, they do not have a lot of them.
 
They have angered the two principal powers in these lands bound to the City and are at risk of being annihilated by
both
of them.
"  Safreon paused, directing his gaze inward. "
I believe that we are entering a time of battle, where the fate of the City
and the surrounding lands
will be decided for generations to come."

Hemlock considered Safreon’s words.  She was amazed that her life had changed so drastically in less than one week.  She had gone from being an idealistic rogue in the Warrens to being at the forefront of what Safreon had just described as a war for the fate of the entire world, as she knew it.

"Did I cause this?" she wondered aloud.

Safreon turned to her: "You may have been the catalyst that set these events in motion.  But these tensions have been building for many years, I think.  I believe that the Wizard Guild has been building their power in order to try and completely dominate the City.  It also seems to me that this Witch may have been using the same strategy against the Tanna Varrans."

Hemlock was comforted by his words.  Still, in the back of her mind, she felt responsible.  She thought back to the Badger Guild and all of the other people that she had slain in the Warrens; her thoughts even returned to the Mathi: the terrible beast which, in the end, had seemed so frail as it struggled for its life.  Hemlock wasn’t sure that it was even alive according to her understanding of the concept, but she still knew that she had taken something from the beast that day.

Still somewhat uneasy, she rose and entered the bath chamber.  It was a warm room, dominated by a thirty yard wooden pool which was tiled with earth-toned ceramics.  The water was warm and steam rose toward vents in the ceiling.

There were some townsfolk relaxing in the pool, talking softly amongst themselves.

Their conversation paused as Hemlock disrobed; she knew that her toned and well proportioned body was growing further into the fullness of womanhood with every passing day.  She was still getting used to the effect that this had on others.

She lowered herself into the pool, content to be alone in her thoughts, which, for the moment, had ceased to trouble her.

…