Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) (44 page)

She was afraid, and cowered before the onslaught of crackling force.
 
But when it overcame her, she felt warm and then hot and then the force became so powerful, as it was channeled to her, that she f
elt like her spirit might burst
under the
strain.

Her attention was being pulled back to the external world, but she concentrated on trying to send some feelings of gratitude back over the tendrils to the
others
, of
whom she understood so little.

Her eyes snapped open and in an instant she was back in the Witch Crags, about to be slaughtered by the Witch who had led the vast demon horde which was now overrunning the
plain upon which she lay dying.

But in that moment she had ceased to simply be Hemlock and was now a composite of the many beings which had contributed some of their energy to help her.

Hemlock looked up and saw the Witch leering at her
and gloating
over her. 

Head outstretched, the Witch leaned
down toward Hemlock
and her great forked tongue undulated forth from her fanged mouth in triumph. 

Looking at the newly revealed ugliness of the Witch’s face closely, Hemlock focused on the forked tongue. 

Why has
this feature of the Witch’s face been monstrous all along, when the rest of her face h
as
been cast in a terrible beauty?

Hemlock
suddenly understood what she had to do and,
in that instant, mustered all of the force that her inner journey had conferred
upon
her. 

With a degree of spee
d that was little different than
teleportation, Hemlock bolted to her feet and slashed with her sabre at the o
utstretched tongue of the Witch;
rending
it,
and tearing it completely
from the Witch’s mouth
. 

As the ghostly
piece of
flesh fell to the ground the Witch was overcome by convulsions.  She tried to speak words of powe
r, but without her tongue, she couldn’t form the phrases that she sought.

The Witch moaned in agony and fell to her knees.  Dark cracks seemed to form on her face, emanating from her mouth, which was contorted in agony.

Hemlock was transfixed as she watched the cracks open up in expanding chasms of decay, and in a few moments, the Witch’s form disintegrated and a burst of un-light seemed to emanate from it.

As the Witch died
,
this
terrible energy washed over the
battle
field.  The other demons and spirits seemed energized by that energy for a few moments and fought more
vigorously; b
ut then, like a
proud
wave breaking
with suddenness upon ancient stone
,
the energy left them in
great confusion and fear swept over
them
.  They sensed that their leader was no more.  Broken, they ran off in a chaotic flight.

Hemlock’s vision faded to black.

Hemlock awoke.

She
could hear shouting around her
above a shrill ringing sensation in her ears
.
 
The last thing that she
could remember
was the strange vision that she had had
of the otherworldly space and the aid that she had received somehow from distant entities in that space
.
 
Then she r
emembered
her fatal strike on the Witch and the
malicious energy wave
that had resulted from the Witch's
destruction
.

The death of Taros Ranvok came back to her in a flash of pain and anguish. 
Wait…is
Tored still alive? I
s Safreon still
in control of
that demon?  And Gwineval… 
While his transformation had made her shudder, had he prevailed?

She then
became conscious of her surroundings and
realized that
the sounds of
frantic footfalls were all around her.
 
She
spat out
a mouth full of dirt
from a painful jaw and
lifted her head
to look around
.
  Her entire body felt weak, her joints were swollen and her muscles ached acutely.

Tanna
Varran
warriors were sprinting past her while a few kneeled down to tend to her.
 
She could hear reports that the
Witch's forces were in full retreat and being routed.

"You did it
!"
a Tanna Varran
exclaimed, "You killed the Witch!"

"Tored?
" she managed to ask.

"Alive and recovering,
"
the Warrior responded.

Hemlock heard a shrill, high pitched whine.
 
It seemed to be emanating from the direction of the Town, whose upper levels were visible to Hemlock from her prone position.

"Something is happening
,
" observed one of the Tanna
Varran
s, looking toward the noise.

Hemlock made to rise.

"Stay down," cautioned the Tanna
Varran
," you are too weak."

Ignoring him, Hemlock unsteadily rose and looked toward the town.

She immediately saw the chaotic mass of the creature that Safreon had been struggling with.  It had swelled to such a height that it was almost touching the bottom level of the Town.  The blue lattice of magical energy still enclosed it, but seemed to be weakening.

Hemlock saw the hideous mouths of the creature cry out in unison, producing the same high pitched whine that she had heard moments before.

As she began to run awkwardly toward the creature, intending to try and help Safreon but not entirely sure that she could, she wondered if Gwineval might be needed to battle this creature in addition to the Wizard Guild forces.

Looking toward the other side of the Town, she saw no sign of Gwineval’s hulking, magically transformed body.

She
considered using her wings to advance on the aberrant beast before her, but they felt odd on her back.  When she tried to take off, she realized that they had been damaged at some point during her recent fighting.  She unstrapped them as she ran.  Dropping them eased her burden somewhat, enabling her to run faster.  Still, she was struggling to maintain her balance, for she was greatly fatigued – more so than she could ever remember.

I must help Safreon
, she thought to herself over and over again, urging herself on through the pain.

She finally neared the bluff where she had last seen Safreon.  She could see the foul form of the creature more closely now.  She fought back an urge to vomit, for the sight of the creature, along with the sensations provided by her sense of its innate magic, were intensely revolting to her.

Tanna Varrans were running past Hemlock toward the front line that opposed the forces of the Wizard Guild.  Hemlock marveled at their apparent faith that she and Safreon would deal with the incredible creature which now was rising straight from the depths of some nether region and emerging right under their Town.  Hemlock admired their discipline, for the appearance of the creature was terrible indeed. 

She pushed forward through an assembling unit of Tanna Varran ground troops, and finally Safreon was visible.

Hemlock cried in alarm out when she saw him.

He was straining against some invisible force, which was drawing him slowly, but inexorably toward the blue magical barrier and the many gaping maws of the mysterious creature held within.  Safreon held the Wand of the Imperator extended before him, directed toward the creature; the Wand still emitted the blue lattice of energy which restrained the inchoate and undulating amalgamation of mismatched limbs and orifices. 

Safreon struggled against the Wand and pulled at it, attempting to resist whatever force it was that seemed to draw it toward the creature.  His
f
eatures were contorted in pain and
his face was like a choppy sea
,
awash in waves of anguish.  But Hemlock
detected
calmness about him as well, as if the pain was flowing over and through
him
, without perturbing some bastion of inner peace
.

Hemlock then saw that
Gwineval
was struggling beside Safreon.  He
had apparently returned to his more mundane form, and his
bared
muscles
(for he wore no clothing), awash in green scales,
flexed as he
grasped at the Wand and appeared to Hemlock to try to pull it toward himself
.

Hemlock approached the scene as quickly as she could, in what amounted to a half sprint, half stagger.

She saw Gwineval arch
his back
in effort as
he struggled
even
more mightily to wrest the Wand of the Imperator
away
from
the pull of the creature
.
  Safreon was pulled slightly toward Gwineval in the struggle and Hemlock could see his face even more clearly.  She also noticed that Safreon was still being drawn toward the thrashing creature that was held within the blue lattice even though Gwineval seemed to have slowed the progress of the Wand toward the giant creature.

"Gwineval, NO!
  HELP SAFREON!
" Hemlock shouted,
shocked to see that Gwineval seemed more interested in saving the Wand than Safreon.  B
ut she was too far
away
and the din of the battlefield
was
too great for
either of them
to hear
her cries
.

A single thought entered Hemlock's mind then, as she desperately tried to close the distance between her and her s
truggling
mentor, Safreon. 

Looking
at Gwineval she thought
one word:
Traitor.

Safreon slumped to his knees, somehow maintaining a hold on the Wand despite
the pull of the creature, against which his resistance seemed to falter.  He maintained his odd
outward
appearance of
intense pain mixed with stoic
d
etachment
. 

The blue energy
that
flowed out of the
Wand now seemed to lose focus.  It began to flow
around
and over
, and then behind Safreon,
enclosing him within
the magical blue force field.

She saw Gwineval yell something at Safreon and then he stretched his serpentine leg and placed it on Safreon's chest.

Why doesn't he resist?
Hemlock wondered
desperately
.

With a
great kick
, Gwineval wrested the Wand from Safreon, sending the
suffering Alchemist
tumbling backwards
into
the blue lattice and
finally
into the mass of the writhing creature of chaos.

"NO!" cried Hemlock.

Gwineval
had extended an arm
an
d
had
attempt
ed
to
grasp
Safreon, but
had
quickly cried out in pain and recoiled, as the blue fire burned him
badly
.

Hemlock could see that
Safreon was burning alive in that blue fire, yet he did not
move
.  He lay
completely
still
even
as the
burning
tendrils of the chaos beast
tore flesh from
his
own
burning body.

Gwineval raised his arms and the fire in the tip of the wand shone brightly.  The blue rays halted and yellow beams burst forth from the Wand and enveloped the blue lattice, and within that
,
the chaos creature and Safreon.

Slowly, under that dazzling light, the blue lattice and the two forms within it began to fade.  The creature cried its shrill whine several more times, each one sounding more disembodied.

Hemlock was getting closer
to Gwineval
, stressing her remaining endurance to the limits with her limping run.

"Gwineval, stop!" she cried.

Gwineval,
hearing
her, turned his head
toward her for a moment, but quickly returned his attention to directing the intense yellow rays of the Wand toward the blue lattice
.

And then the dazzling light faded with a resounding pop and the blue lattice was gone.  The chaos creature
and Safreon were
also gone.

Safreon is dead.

Some part of
her
mind
registered
this fact.  She
halted and
stood,
in a daze
, as
Tanna Varran
warriors
continued to rush
past her. 
Her mind
reeled under the impact of Safreon's death.

Her
consciousness
, clinging to violent impulses like a drowning man does a life raft, focused on Gwineval then.

Hemlock saw that he was on his knees, weakly trying to rise.

She
limped
forward.

"Gwineval, you are a
TRAITOR
!" she cried
as loudly as she could,
with a tinge of madness in her voice.

…

Falignus
leaned out of the window,
fully exposing
his face
to
the open air of the battlefield.
 
He could smell a scent of sulfur and ozone in the air
which resulted
from the
magical
torrents
of fire that
he had been directing for many minutes now.
 
He stood in the eye socket of the only remaining
Wizard Guild
Harvester.
 

The wind in his face felt oddly reassuring as he took stock of the
progress of the
battle.
 
The Witch had apparently perished and her ghostly horde had retreated in disarray.
 
Thus a long standing ambition of the Wizard Guild had been fulfilled.
 
Falignus had heard a rumor
pass through the ranks
that the Witch had been slain by the young girl named Hemlock.
 
Falignus found this
concept
both amazing and unsurprising at the same time.
 
He had suspected that
this girl
was descended from an ancient blood line
like the one
that he believed also ran in his veins.
 
 
His dark prescient rituals had convinced him of her power and great destiny
.  In any case, if she was responsible for the death of the Witch, Hemlock's action had unwitting
ly advanced the designs of the Seventh C
ircle
and by extension the Wizard Guild as a whole.

But,
weighing the import of his concerns
, Falignus considered that Gwineval had brought an incredible level of power to bear against the Guild
during the battle
.
 
While in his transformed state, he had destroyed three Guild harvesters and a great many
wizards
had died
by his hand
.
 
Many City forces had
also
perished, and worse yet, those that had survived had witnessed the inability of the Guild
to resist Gwineval's onslaught.