Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) (54 page)

"Why are you doing this?" Hemlock asked, still struggling in Falignus’ grasp.  She felt that she might be able to overcome the magical field if given enough time.  She determined that she would try to buy herself some time by talking. "Is it because of our night together?"

Falignus’ expression changed from anger to cold amusement. "So, it has come to this, has it?  You’ll say anything to try and get free now."

Hemlock’s heart sank as she realized that he would not be easily fooled.  It sank further as she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and then saw other wizards enter the room.

Falignus retreated into the hall, looking reflective, as she heard magical incantations being muttered by two voices beside her.  She saw the muscular brute, Siros, and the winged wizard, Kraven, looming over her.  They were strengthening the magical field which enclosed her.  Once they had completed their casting, they grasped Hemlock’s arms and forcibly returned her to her chair.  She did not resist.

Falignus strode even farther down the hall and then turned, strode back toward her and regarded her with a sideways glance. "Hemlock, I was uneasy last night and didn’t sleep.  As I lay in my bed, I realized that something was troubling me.  Earlier in the evening, as I had walked in the lower floors of the Tower, I had seen two of the small mechanical gnomes together.  This seemingly minor occurrence is actually highly unusual, and I made a note to mention it to Grubbins today, and thought no more of it.

But then, laying there, still unable to sleep, it hit me: hadn’t I seen one of these custodian gnomes enter the teleporter with you and Gwineval on the night of our first encounter?"

Hemlock knew she was in trouble.  She started to frantically consider things to say to Falignus.  But she knew that it wouldn’t help.  She knew that she had lost his confidence.

"I realized then how clever Gwineval was in taking that insignificant gnome.  He clearly must have sent it back to the Tower to bring some message to you.  His plan would have worked brilliantly, but for my chance observation," Falignus continued.

He looked at her and Hemlock did not try to conceal her disappointment and complicity.

Falignus nodded to himself as he saw the guilt play over her features.  "I was encouraged for one reason though.  I knew that this would give me a perfect opportunity to determine your loyalty–and at a critical time.  So I summoned you here today, hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst, as you can see.  Sadly, it seems that you are not loyal to me.  But you do have a chance to redeem yourself.  Tell me what message the reptile sent–give me information that will defeat him."

Hemlock decided to tell the truth, since it didn’t seem that it would affect anything.  She knew that Falignus would probably not believe her anyway. "The message he sent was nothing that you would understand.  It was a story about my friend, Safreon.  It was a story of how Safreon’s wife died."

Falignus’ hands met at his nose and Hemlock noticed that they started to tremble.  A rage came over Falignus and he lashed out in her direction, pointing at her violently.

"So you are telling me that he used this great advantage of his to deliver you a message in secret to tell you a tale of that old fool’s past?  Do you expect me to believe that?  Hemlock, it’s no secret that I’ve cared for you.  I never wanted to hurt you, but if you persist in this pointless deceit, I’ll throw you back in that hope forsaken prison of ours that I’m sure you remember well!"

A wave of terror came over Hemlock as she considered that prospect.  But she controlled it and replied as calmly as she could. "I knew you wouldn’t believe me.  It’s the truth though. It’s all I’ve got."

Falignus looked at her and this time she held his gaze.  His eyes were angry but also had a pleading quality to them.  When he saw that her expression was set, he shook his head in frustration.

"We’ll see how forthcoming you will be after a day in that cell," he said darkly.  He motioned to Kraven and Siros, who lifted Hemlock roughly from the chair and led her up the stairs and out of the room.

…

Gwineval motioned to his nearest accomplice to advance, as he walked through the streets of the Warrens and stopped in the shadows at the corner of a small shop.
 

He noted
that
the man, as he emerged from the shadows,
was
wearing a long dark cloak and moving with what Gwineval knew was
a practiced air of nonchalance.

Gwineval hoped that the network of Tanna
Varran
agents
,
which
Tored
had organized
over the past weeks,
were all mobilizing togeth
er at this instant: the hour and minute that had been chosen for
the attack on the Wizard Tower.
 
It wa
s a sleepy night in the Warrens since
it was the evening of the first workday after
a
three day
celebration of the Spring holiday of planting.

It had been several w
eeks since the battle of Tor Varn
os, where Safreon had fallen, Hemlock had been captured, and Gwineval had obtained the Wand of the Imperator.
 
Since that time, Gwineval had learned that Hemlock might be collaborating with the
wizards
and more specifically, that she bl
amed him for Safreon's death.
 

It is an understandable conclusion
,
he considered, as he saw two more Tanna
Varran
s cross the street to his left.
 
Gwineval
felt a
great deal
of guilt for
failing to save Safreon
, yet he knew, in his heart, that he had not intended for the
man
to die
, or to seize the Wand for himself by force
.

Three nights ago he had sent Merit to infiltrate the Tower and to deliver a message to Hemlock that he hoped she had understood and that he hoped would inspire her to regain her trust in him.  Gwineval knew that if Hemlock joined with Falignus, they would be nearly unstoppable.

The prior night, Gwineval’s agents had observed Falignus and a strong force of wizards leaving the Tower with the unassembled parts for one of their giant Oberon Harvesters, which they had transported on large carts.  Gwineval knew that they would assemble the Harvester outside of the City, and then march on the Witch Crags, for what Falignus probably believed would be a final campaign against the Tanna Varrans and Gwineval himself.

Gwineval felt the reassuring weight of the Tanna Varran wings on his back as he moved forward to a small bakery which was located in the final row of cottages short of the moat which surrounded the Wizard Tower.

He spotted the man behind him and to his left, and nodded to him.  The man began walking across the street, moving into position in the neighboring block.  Gwineval looked to the South and motioned to another figure, which also moved into position.

Gwineval then looked at the tower, which stood looking darkly majestic and imposing in silhouette against the night sky.  It was dimly lit from within, light emanating irregularly from the many heavy glass windows, some of which spanned multiple floors, giving the building a stately appearance.  He knew that those windows were magically impervious to nearly everything–stronger than the stone which surrounded them.  Looking to the top of the Tower and to the glass atrium, he considered its magical strength as well.  His entire plan hinged on a secondary mission that Merit had accomplished three nights ago–unlocking and disabling the wards on the upper doors of the atrium.

Gwineval knew that Hemlock had not been spotted with Falignus’ departing army.  This gave him a great hope that his message had worked and that she would no longer seek revenge against him.  But he still had doubts.  What if Hemlock had been left in command of the Tower in the absence of Falignus?

Gwineval grasped the warm length of the Wand firmly.  He hoped that he had mastered enough of its secrets to carry him through this night.

His plan was to take control of the Tower, cast out any Crimson Order sympathizers and then negotiate with the Senate, which had long hoped to one day emerge from under the shadow of the wizards.  If his plan succeeded, it would eliminate the supply lines for Falignus’ army.  If Falignus stayed in the Witch Crags, the Tanna Varrans were under orders to engage him in hit and run tactics and starve him out.  If Falignus returned to the City, he would have to face the combined forces of the wizards loyal to Gwineval and Miara as well as the Senate Knights and the small, but elite fighting unit of Tanna Varrans which now surrounded him, led by their general, Tored, who had no equal on the battlefield, save for the most potent of wizards.

Gwineval felt secure in his decisions, in this final moment before the attack.  He felt sure that the City would be a better place–a place of free magic and free people–if he succeeded.  If he failed, perhaps his actions would set an example for those that would come after him.  His magically altered features smiled a toothy grin as he considered how completely Safreon’s plans for him had been realized. 

His mind reached out to Safreon. 
Here I am, about to lead a coup against the Wizard Guild.  Congratulations
,
friend.  Maybe I’m just a puppet, and you are still pulling my strings from beyond the grave, but know this–I’m now a willing puppet.  I’m sorry that you had to lose your life before I realized how much you meant to me.

Gwineval stepped into the road that hugged the edge of the Wizard Tower moat.  He looked up and down the street and saw a hundred cloaked figures waiting.  He knew that one of them was Tored, and this brought him confidence.  He wished that their numbers were greater, but the need to remain undetected in the City and the demands of the magical enhancement required for each man to have a chance to survive the attack, had enforced a practical upper limit to the size of the force.

Gwineval turned back toward the Tower and raised his arms, the Wand showing brightly in his hand.  A low shuffling sound behind and beside him told him that the rest of the force had moved into position beside him in a semicircle, hugging the edge of the moat.

Gwineval closed his eyes and turned inward.  As he cast his spell, he interwove it with the flame in the head of the Wand, and he thrilled at the extra power that it gave to his incantation.

A dull glow sprang from each of the hundred beside Gwineval, enclosing them in a protective haze which had the side effect of making their features difficult to discern.

His spell now complete, Gwineval cast aside his cloak and unfurled his Tanna Varran wings.  He heard the sound of the scores beside him doing the same.

He looked to his left and right, over the ranks of warriors, who were the finest of the Tanna Varrans.  Then he hissed and hoarsely cried, "ATTACK!"

Gwineval leapt into the air under the power of his Tanna Varran wings, their magical energy disturbing the acidic waters of the moat below him, as he rose in the air and crossed it.

Almost immediately, stone gargoyles, which tipped the top of the Tower, began showering the attackers with lightning and fire, which emanated from their eyes and mouths.  The noise of that outburst of magical energy ripped through the silence of the night.  Gwineval was certain that nobody in the City would sleep through this attack.

He had reached about halfway up the height of the Tower before he took his first direct hit from a lightning bolt.  The power of the bolt crackled all around him, blinding him temporarily and leaving a burning taste on his tongue.  He cried out in pain, but the hazy magical shield that encircled him was revealed; he shared this magical protection with all of the attackers.  Though the wizard magic still wounded, the shields were holding and apparently protecting the attackers from serious injuries.

A small part of Gwineval relaxed then, knowing for certain that Falignus had not recalibrated the magical defenses of the Tower prior to leaving.  He now knew that the first phase of the attack would succeed.

Regaining his vision, he soared over the top of the Tower parapet and landed hard on the stone walkway surrounding the atrium.  He was relieved to see a great number of the attacking Tanna Varran warriors landing beside him, although it was impossible to tell whether some had perished during the ascent.

"The doors!" he shouted, as he ran for the nearest one.  He hoped that the other attackers around the circumference of the Tower recalled their mission briefing and were forcing their way into the door on the opposite side of the atrium.

Gwineval reached the door first and he didn’t allow himself time to contemplate whether Merit had been successful in his mission to disarm the door wards before turning the handle and wrenching the door open.  Again, relief pored over him as he ran into the atrium chamber, the many footsteps of those behind him echoing in the large, enclosed space.

Across from him, he could see the shadows of figures reaching the opposite door.  That door opened too, and he could see Tored was the first in.

Gwineval shouted again as he saw four First Circle wizards; two were rushing up the stairs and two were rushing in from a guard chamber within the atrium level.  Their tattoos blazed in the darkness as they formed a defensive line near the stairs.

"Attack!" he shouted as he prepared a potent counter spell for the death magic of the Emerald Stair, which he knew guarded the descent into lower levels of the Tower.

He saw one wizard fall quickly under the force of the Tanna Varran assault and the remaining three initiated a fighting retreat down the terrible stair.

He hoped that the training that he had given them would prevent any of the Tanna Varrans from descending that stair prior to the completion of his spell, for to do so would result in their deaths.

As Gwineval approached the stair, mostly consumed in concentration, he saw a shadowy, winged figure rise from a lower floor to hover beside the balcony of the Atrium, and then quickly descend.  This almost distracted him from his spell, but he recovered his concentration just in time.

A foolhardy Tanna Varran took flight and attempted to soar down over the Emerald Stair prematurely, but the evil field that emanated from the stairs below him drew him screaming to its unlight; and where there had once been a proud warrior, there soon was little but a whimpering shell of a man.

When the force of the purity spell which Gwineval had prepared rose to a level that he could no longer contain, he stepped to the front of the Tanna Varran battle line and unleashed the magical force at the oppressive stair.  The blast left the outstretched Wand of the Imperator in the form of a searing white beam.

There was a disembodied sound, almost like a primal cry, as the unearthly emerald darkness of the stair gave way under the power of that light. 

The Stair splintered with a great crack, which made Gwineval fear that the entire Tower might fall under the force of it.

But the Tower remained intact and the evil force of the stair was vanquished.  What remained was simply broken and scarred stone, which was difficult to navigate, but no longer had any supernatural properties.

As Gwineval descended with the Tanna Varrans, he wondered at the presence of that dark, winged figure, but the cries of wizard forces organizing on the seventh floor, soon demanded his attention.

…

Hemlock shrank into her mind, recoiling from the pain that burned at her senses, as she crouched in the dank cell.

She had little idea who she even was any longer, and little sense of anything that had happened in her life prior to her coming to this chamber, where her only experience had been pain.

She had a dim recollection that someone had visited her recently and had asked her some questions–questions that she did not have answers for.

Beyond that, her memory had simply stopped functioning.  She hoped that she would just fold into herself and cease to exist–that the pain would subside.  But it never did.

But suddenly something did change.  She noted, with surprise, that the pain was lessening.  Her head was also becoming clearer.

She started to remember recent events: her conflict with Falignus over Merit’s clandestine visit and her subsequent imprisonment in this cell.  She recalled that it had been Falignus who had visited her again and questioned her.  She knew that it had been relatively recent, although she had lost track of time.

Her senses continued to clear, and she noted that a figure stood at the mouth of the cell.

Though her throat was painfully dry, she managed to speak.  "Have you come to question me again?"

"Not exactly," replied an unfamiliar voice.

"Who is that?" asked Hemlock.

"I’m disappointed that you don’t recognize me–but time is short!  Come, get to your feet!  Leave the cell!"

Hemlock was confused, but she could not resist the thought of leaving that cell under any circumstances.  She crawled forward, and as she did so, the staggering lethargy that had weighed on her limbs began to recede.  She looked up after a while and tried to focus on the form before her.

Again the voice spoke,  "Hurry!"

She registered the voice as being male, but it was not Falignus.

Soon she reached the edge of the cell and her senses began to clear even further.

Rough hands grabbed her under the shoulders and lifted her to her feet, where she remained, though unsteadily.

Finally her eyes met those of her liberator.  They were dark, predatory and cruel eyes.

"You recognize me now, eh?  Oh the pleasures I would have with you.  But now, something different awaits us."

Hemlock saw the black cloak, the leering mouth and saw an unusual movement from the back of the figure.  She realized that it was the winged wizard known as Kraven.

"Yes, now you see.  Come, Gwineval is here!  You must help me to slay him!" Kraven said urgently.

As Hemlock felt strength returning to her body, she clenched her hands open and closed repeatedly.  She still stood in the mouth of the cell, Kraven’s form looming in front of her.

Hemlock saw Kraven take a staggering step back, after a deafening thunderclap raged like a fury over Hemlock’s beleaguered senses.

When she recovered from the shock, Hemlock saw that Kraven was lying motionless on the floor some ten feet distant, his wings splayed out awkwardly.  She could see the side of his head – or what was left of it – for a great cavity gaped in it, and it was charred and burnt like a piece of wood.

Hemlock’s battle instincts took over.  From the angle of Kraven’s fall and the roaring noise that had preceded it, he must have been impacted by magic from her left.

Thoughts raced through her mind as she slumped against the cell wall to her left and peered out into the jail chamber.

Gwineval is here?

She could see a slight form moving toward her in the chamber outside the cell – it was a female form.

Hemlock’s wits were still recovering, but when she saw the silhouette begin to make magical gestures, she reacted instinctively and leapt out of the cell.

She heard a sizzling release of force behind her and knew that she had narrowly avoided being imprisoned in the cell again.

"I… I don’t want to kill you," said a troubled female voice.

Hemlock had landed in a crouched position in the walkway and regarded the figure over her left shoulder.  Hemlock could see the gentle features on a familiar face, now trembling and shaking in an unfamiliar fashion.  It was the oft-shunned wizard, Miara, known as a former ally of Gwineval.

"Miara, what are you doing?  You’re not a killer!  Anyway, I no longer intend to kill Gwineval.  I want to talk to him."

"Oh Hemlock, I don’t trust you.  Falignus has gotten to you–no matter what type of falling out you may have had.  You’re an impetuous fool like him.  Move back to the cell."

Hemlock’s hearing registered sounds from outside of the room now.  She heard the loud crackles and explosions of battle magic, voices crying out in pain and agony, and the sound of steel on steel.

Hemlock knew what she had to do.

Judging that her reflexes were sufficiently recovered, she leapt violently toward the nearby wall between the cells before her, close to Miara.

Another thunderclap rang out and Hemlock felt a surge of heat close to her on her left and her vision had to endure a surge of light that temporarily obscured her vision.

But she reached the wall in mid-air and outstretched her leg, which bore her weight and coiled like a spring, before launching her off in the direction of Miara, who was trying to turn to defend herself.

Miara was too slow, though.  Hemlock smashed the side of her head with her fist, and Miara slumped to the ground.

Hemlock realized that her punch had been harder than she had intended, so she knelt to check that the wizard still lived.  She was relieved to feel a pulse, and then rose to exit the cellblock. 

The sounds of battle had receded, and now sounded dull and muted.

Hemlock realized that she still lacked a weapon, but she feared being imprisoned again and wanted desperately to exit the stifling room and leave behind the inchoate cries of the other inmates, who, if they had looked sane at all, Hemlock would have freed.

She made a note to herself to deal with them later, if possible, as she exited the room.

As she entered the hall, she heard the din of battle more clearly; it was now emanating from the lower floors.  She saw several bodies scattered about the hallway.

She
remembered this hallway from her first trip into the Tower.  On that trip she had gone up to the atrium level, now visible as an open chamber rising above her.

But the sounds of battle told her that she had to take a different, unfamiliar course.

She headed away from the direction of the Emerald Stair and down a hallway which ended in a corner, beyond which she could not see.

Before she turned that corner, she picked up a short sword from a fallen first circle Wizard, and then another from a nearby comrade of the first.

Both were impaled with Tanna Varran spears.

"It’s true, then! Gwineval must be here!" she thought excitedly, though she was still uncertain how she would react to the rogue wizard.

She turned the corner and saw that it led to a curved stair which wound down to the lower floors, curving with the angle of the outer Tower wall.  The stairs were soaked in blood, and she had to watch her footing as she dashed down them.

At the foot of the stair, she had to leap over a fallen Tanna Varran, whose torso had been slashed open by Wizard sword work.

Here the passage turned sharply, at a right angle to the outer wall, and Hemlock could see the open expanse of the central hall of the Tower, some yards distant.

The din of swordplay was still receding but suddenly there was a staccato blast of magical energy that shook the Tower.

Hemlock rushed away from the stair and emerged into the mahogany clad grandeur of the central hall.

She dashed down the central stairs, whose fine maroon carpeting was now burnt, torn and littered with the bodies of the gravely wounded, the corpses of the dead, and dismembered limbs and body parts.

"Now the violence that has been wrought indirectly from this Tower has come home to roost," Hemlock observed, as she rushed downward toward the front line of the battle.

She continued to descend on the main stair, which spanned the entire height of the tower.  As she neared the third floor, she could tell by the sounds that she heard that the battle was now likely being waged in the audience chamber, which she knew was on the first floor.

She unexpectedly smelled the fresh air of the Warrens as a cool breeze met her face.  Looking below, she saw that the wizards controlled the entryway to the tower and that they had opened the front gate which protected it.

As she reached the second floor, she saw that two score of Tanna Varrans were in battle with a squad of wizards on the landing at the top of the stairs leading down to the first floor.