The Tomes Of Magic (3 page)

Talia looked down at the corpse that Thanos had taken hold of. Unlike the other or
cs, this one had already decayed. His entire attack had been some sort of decaying magic that sapped the life out of it. She shivered as she thought about the howl that it had let out when the Archwizard grabbed hold of it.
What sort of allies have you partnered us with?
she thought as she looked over at Septimus. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to her that a Warlock would side with whoever was necessary, but it still sent a chill down her spine. She had taken a gamble that Septimus would choose the side of good in the end, now she was beginning to wonder if it was a smart move. Her father had taught her not to gamble unless the results were able to be manipulated, but what strings would she have to pull to bring the Warlock onto the right path?

*

Paul pulled back on the dragon’s reins, ordering the majestic blue creature to slow down. He had been sent to scout out the town of Alamor. The Dragonwizard Council had received reports that the town was considering joining the Holy Order. Paul was the natural choice for such a mission. As the newest member of the Wizards, he was not seen as trustworthy as the others.
This better earn their trust
, he thought as he patted his dragon on the head. It gave a small roar and dove down closer to the city. Both the dragon and the Wizard scanned the city and its surroundings. The rider could feel the dragon’s thought creeping into his head, but he pushed them away. Unlike the others, Paul felt it best that each member of the mindmeld keep complete control. He continued to instruct his resistant dragon that speech was for normal circumstances and thought communication was best reserved for emergencies. The two had argued about it since their meld, but Paul was the more stubborn of the two.

“Never has a human resisted the will of a dragon so,”
Argos said in his slow rumbling voice.

“I am not a mere human like the others,” Paul replied before looking back toward the town.

It was strangely peaceful in Alamor. Unlike the Holy Order forces, the soldiers of Alamor paid little head when the dragons circled above.
We should teach them to fear us
, Argos’ thoughts poured into Paul’s mind. The Wizard grabbed hold of the dragon’s neck with both hands and sent an electric shot shooting through its body. Argos bellowed in pain. Paul’s hand slid back to the reins. He looked back down at the city one last time. His mind had been made up far before they had gotten this close. If the townsfolk hadn’t attacked them outright, then he would never figure out if they had sided with the Holy Order. His mission far from successful, an annoyed Paul commanded his dragon to return to the dragon tower. The name still annoyed Paul, even if the other Wizards didn’t seem to mind. He felt that it implied some sort of dominance over the Wizards. The Wizard looked up at the horizon as they flew south.

“Will I ever see her again, Argos?” He asked with a sigh.

“You humans are strange. If you wish to see her, what stops you?” The dragon asked.

Leoth stood outside the cave with a handful of his best warriors. His scouts had easily found the most likely spots for anyone to hide. The aspiring Emperor had already checked the other four spots and now the cave was the only one left. He wrinkled his nose as the scent of orc filled his nostrils.
Ugh,
he thought,
those foul creatures have returned
. His men cautiously moved toward the entrance of the cave, hoping Leoth would take the lead. He sighed and stepped forward as he pulled his hammer off his back. The others quickened their pace to keep up with him as he entered the cave. A loud screech echoed through the cave, sending his troops running. He turned after them and snarled before opening his mouth to yell at them. His words were cut short when he felt something against his back. With a quick turn, he was facing his opponent. The man before him fit the description of one of the three magicians from earlier.

“We have no quarrel with you, W
arlord. Leave us to our business and we shall leave you to yours,” Septimus said as he drew his staff back.

“Then you are not hostile?” Leoth asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Not unless you refuse us the tomes we are desperately searching for.”

“There are no tomes here that are worth my men’s lives. Do you seek a specific book?”

“We seek the Tomes of Magic and their trail led us here. Also, if you know of the whereabouts of the Staff of Kings, we are looking for that as well.”

“I know little of these tomes you speak of, but I have heard tales of the staff. It is possible that the books are located here, but the staff is not. You cannot take the staff without a sizable army, magician.”

Septimus let out a sigh and lowered his staff. Leoth glanced at the Warlock’s companions. The man with a half skeletal face gave him a shiver down his spine, but the female seemed out of place. He lowered his hammer to the floor as he considered the man’s words. It had not occurred to him that they were on the island for reasons other than trying to overthrow him.
I must find out more of these tomes
, he thought. The Warlock appeared to be weighing options in his mind. Leoth began to wish that Cassandra had come with him. He had always felt she had a cooler head for negotiations. At times, he wondered if she were more fit for leading than he. So much so that he had brought it up on more than one occasion. She always denied it, even though he knew it to be true.

“Perhaps we can work out a deal,” Leoth said.

“It is worth a try. We need an army, but what do you need?” Septimus asked.

“Not here, we will
go to the Hall of the Emperor.”

“If you plan on calling yourself an Emperor then you might want to build a fortress. Since you appear to be lacking one, your hall will do fine.”

Leoth was unsure whether to be grateful of his suggestion or annoyed by his latter comment. He thought it best to focus on the task at hand, though it did make sense to construct a fortress. The newly styled Emperor motioned for the others to follow him. His men pulled their weapons as he exited the cave with the magicians in tow. A quick glance from Leoth had them scrambling to get their weapons sheathed. He smiled as he led the entire group down the path to the hall. The path branched off as they got closer to Kellim. They took the road leading away from the town, which seemed to ease the nerves of the three magicians. For the most part, everyone kept to themselves. Leoth’s men were still wary of the outsiders and the others were lost in thought. The trek was slightly over an hour, but the silence did not end until the hall was in sight.

“That is your house?” Talia asked as she looked up what appeared to be an older style hall.

“Aye, that is where my wife and I live. It isn’t as glorious as it once was, but it has served our purposes well,” Leoth replied.

The others stayed silent as they got closer to the hall. It was
mostly made of wood with a small amount of stone to reinforce it. It had thatched roofing that needed to be replaced in numerous locations. As they entered he main hall, they noticed that there were two other rooms. Leoth paused for a moment to allow the others to take in their surroundings. He would have much preferred their visit even as much as a month ago. The state of his home was not on the top list of his worries, but he was still slightly embarrassed.
She’ll be here any moment
, he thought as he looked at the door on the far end. There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted something greater for both of them, but he was sure that this was far from what she wanted. He grimaced as the door slowly swung open. Cassandra exited the door with a smile and whisked the group over to the largest table in the room.

“I am Cassandra, Leoth and I have
been wanting to speak with the three of you,” She said as she took her seat next to her husband.

“Yes, your husband’s aspirations are quite surprising,” Talia replied.

“Even so, I do believe we can assist one another,” Septimus said as he extended his hand to Cassandra.

*

Sev unsheathed his long sword and joined Borfin at the front lines. The Dwarven Honorguard, a remnant of the dwarven army that had been cut off from the main dwarven strongholds, had joined up with the elves earlier that month. With Sev and Borfin at the head of their forces, the unified army of elves and dwarves had made significant progress against the orcs. The Old Forest had been cleared of orcs, goblins, and even trolls. Their task now brought them to the entrance of the cave system that held the dwarven strongholds as well as numerous orcs and goblins camps. The brunt of the workload would shift to the dwarves now. Elves, though proficient in nearly any climate, preferred to fight in the forests where they had lived for centuries. Their newly forged alliance with the dwarves even the odds when it came to subterranean fighting.

The half-elf looked forward to seeing the dwarves in action in the caverns. He had heard the tales of how dwarves had faced off against armies significantly more powerful than their own and had come away victorious. Many of the tales seemed to be stretching the truth, but the Ranger had no doubt that his dwarven companions were fierce combatants. He had seen them in action in the forests and they had not disappointed him. Their goal was a simple one, punch a hole through the orc forces and meet up with whatever remained of the dwarven kingdoms. Borfin had expressed on more than one occasion that he felt it would be simple once they had reunited with the rest of the dwarves. Sev disagreed, but dared not openly speak of it to the dwarf.

“We must be wary of an ambush, the crossroads would be the perfect spot for it,” Sev said as they approached the entrance to the network of underground tunnels.

“Orcs are nigh as good at tunneling as we. There is a good chance that we will find many an ambush spot in our journey. Let us hope their focus is on attack and not defense,” Borfin replied.

“Let us hope that we can find these orcs before they engage the dwarven kingdoms or Ector and his men.”

“It isn’t often that you hear somebody wishing that they were attacked instead of an Archwizard.”

“Ector is powerful, but he is no warrior, my friend.”

The half-elf didn’t wait for a reply as entered the caverns. His eyes adjusted to the dark almost immediately. It made him wonder about the words a Warlock had spoken to him once.
Perhaps magic is more complicated than any of us know
, he thought as he crept closer to the crossroads. If the orcs were waiting in ambush, they had masked their scent and were being much quieter than the norm. Yet, Sev remained unconvinced. Borfin and the dwarves strode forward, confident that they could defeat any orc they set eyes upon. The elves, being rather skeptical of their dwarven allies, looked to Sev for guidance. He gripped his sword tighter as he picked up his pace and overtook the dwarves. As he reached the first crossroads, he rolled forward and then pulled out his short sword. His assumption had proved to be true. The orcs were waiting in ambush and several of them unleashed spears and arrows at him the moment he came into view. His roll allowed him to dodge the already unskilled ranged attacks of the orcs.

Several orcs ran forward to attack him as he came out of the roll. He spun to his left and dug his short sword into the nearest orc’s calf. Another orc fell to a thrust from his long sword. The half-elf turned and backpedaled several feet. Orcs and goblins were quickly rushing toward him. His plan was working well, but it still required his allies to recognize that the enemy had left their flank open. He had no doubt that the elves would spring into action immediately, but their numbers might not be sufficient to take down the whole force of the enemy. His thoughts were interrupted as the first of the goblins got within range to attack him. It lashed out with its short spear and he easily deflected it to the side. Instincts took over as the half-elf counterattacked with near blinding speed. He darted to and fro, slicing and stabbing every orc and goblin that left an opening. His adrenaline pumped faster as more enemies
closed in on him. Both his swords worked in unison as he fought off the advancing opponents. With every enemy felled, another popped up in its place. As the battle raged on, his foes seemed to start moving in slow-motion.

The elves joined Sev in the fray as their dwarven allies crushed the remaining ranged attackers. Borfin ordered his men to mop up any survivors that were trying to flee from the ensuing bloodbath. It was a quick skirmish that ended in the destruction of the entire orcish ambush party. Sev stood in the midst of his allies, panting as he sheathed his sword. The world around him quickly returned to its normal pace as both the elves and dwarves began checking for dead and wounded. Much to their surprise, there were no friendly casualties. The elves and dwarves stared at Sev in awe when they discovered this revelation. He grinned and returned their stares with a look of confusion.
They’ve seen me fight before
, he thought,
this should be no real surprise for them
. Borfin joined him and waited for the others to disburse before speaking.

“What was that?” The dwarf asked.

“I suspected that they might have had a shaman covering their ambush.” Sev replied.

“So you turned into a whirlwind of cold steel?”

“I’m not much faster than most of these elves.”

“Not much faster? We thought there weren’t going to be any enemies left by the time we reached you. If all of your troops were even close to being that fast, you’d have emptied the Old Forest of foes a long time ago. Listen, lad, there was something very not normal about all this. If I could, I’d ask the Archwizard Council about this. Maybe Ector will know what to do.”

Sev nodded, he knew better than to bring up the Wizards to Borfin. Cormac’s disappearance had hit the dwarf hard, harder than any of the other losses the dwarves had sustained. Ector had tried to cheer up the dwarf, but Borfin would have none of it. The half-elf looked down at the fallen enemies as his dwarven companion walked off toward his troops. His eyes quickly picked up on the differences between his kills and the kills scored by others. Calling it deadly precision was an understatement. The best elves boasted about hitting vital areas about fifty percent of the time. Sev was having trouble finding any of his hits that had missed crippling or killing his opponents. A shiver ran down his spine as he surveyed the brutal efficiency with which he had downed so many orcs and goblins.

“Let’s move, we aren’t finished with our task,” he said as he shook off any lingering feelings.

Dwarves and elves alike jumped to follow his command. The Ranger couldn’t tell if it was a newfound respect or fear that caused them to comply quicker than usual. It bothered him that the others were looking at him as if he were some kind of emotionless killing machine.
I don’t feel any different
, he thought as he led the crew down the wide cavern. The next crossroad was less than one-hundred feet away, but somehow Sev knew that this one would be empty. He continued walking forward as the others slowed their pace in anticipation of an ambush. They had to quicken their pace to a near run to catch up to him. Borfin joined him at the head of the company and served as the navigator for the group. After several forks in their path, the dwarf ordered the company to halt. He pulled Sev aside so that they could speak in private.

“We’ve reached dwarven territory, they should have had sentries posted,” the dwarf said with a hint of worry in his voice.

“It is likely they had to retreat further into the mountains. Are there any places the dwarves would retreat to in times of trouble?” Sev asked.

“There is one such place.”

*

Bartholomew placed a jewel encrusted dagger on the table next to the parchment. He watched as the leader of the Swords of Justice, a man named Zeltos, picked up the parchment and studied it. The man slowly picked up the dagger and examined it before sliding it into an empty sheath on his belt. He looked back down at the parchment and read it one last time before crumpling it up and throwing it in the fire. The Grand Cleric watched as he walked back across the room and swung open the door. His men were waiting outside, but he knew better than to discuss the mission in the open. They fell in line as he took off down the corridor that led to their quarters. Even the battle-hardened Holy Order troops gave Zeltos and his men a wide berth. Though few of them were taller than six feet and many of them had smaller frames, they commanded the respect of those around them. Their exploits were well-known throughout the Holy Order. Especially those of Zeltos, whom they called the Hidden Blade. He had often chalked it up to his attire, but the Swords of Justice insisted that it was his deeds that earned him the title.