The Wizard's Council (4 page)

“I never knew there were so many different groups of Mages,” Paul said.

“There are significantly more than that, those are just the larger well-known ones,” Emily explained.

“Now that everyone is here, we shall begin.” The elderly magician commanded the room’s attention with ease. “As it is our tradition, we will all introduce ourselves when a new Archwizard is promoted. I am Archwizard Rolin of Carmalia. Though I am proficient in numerous forms of magic, Illusion magic is my specialty.” Rolin gave the room a warm smile after finishing his speech. He turned to the blonde on his left and motioned for her to speak next.

“I am Janessa, Archwizard of the Gloomvale Isles,” The Gloomvale Isles were off the Southern coast of Carmalia. Their name was rightfully given, as there were few days out of the year where the sun shined for more than an hour at a time. “As you might expect, Water magic is my specialty.” Other than Emily, Janessa was the youngest current Archwizard. Unlike the residents of most islands nations, Gloomvale inhabitants were fair skinned. Janessa was no exception. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw Emily. The two smiled and waved to each other.

“My name is James. I hail from the desert of Solitude.” His time in the desert gave him a weathered look. His black hair and beard were devoid of gray, but the wrinkles on his tanned skin made him look older than he was. “Our desert Conclave is small, but quite resilient. I specialize in Fire magic.” His singed robes backed up his claim of Fire magic specialization. Emily had met him before and heard his stories of life in the desert. It was a harsh climate that housed even harsher inhabitants.

“I am called Cormac, Archwizard of the Deep Halls.” He winked at Emily as he spoke. She always enjoyed hearing Cormac speak. His stories never ceased to entertain her. He was the only
dwarf on the Council and to her knowledge, one of only two non-humans in the history of the Council. “As you might expect, my specialty is Earth magic.” His appearance was much different from when Emily first met him. His short scraggly brown beard now surpassed Rolin’s in length.  Both his hair and beard had turned gray over the ten years since she had first met him.

“You may call me Melissa,” The last of the female Archwizards spoke. Her brown hair was beginning its slow transformation to gray. As with Cormac, the past ten years had changed Melissa. Her usual kind face was now sorrowful and wrinkled. “I am from neighboring Cardinia
, and I take pride in my Air magic expertise,” She spoke with the same dignity that Emily had always remembered from her. The wrinkles were nothing new to Emily, she had seen them slowly forming through the years. It was the sorrow that struck Emily. Owyn’s death had affected the two of them more than any of the others.

“I am Thanos, Death magic specialist and Archwizard of the Conclave in the Spire of the Dead.” Thanos had always been quick and to the point. His mastery of death magic made it nearly impossible to tell his age, but his impatience caused Emily to believe him to be significantly younger than Rolin. His pale skin and gaunt face had always left her with a sense of unease, bordering on fright. If that wasn’t enough, she was driven to steer clear of Thanos due to his skeletal hand and close relationship with the Necromancers who lived in the mountain range known as the Spire of the Dead.

“My name is Ector. It is truly an honor to be on the Council. My Conclave is located in the Old Forest. I know that some of you have heard it before, but to be the only elf on your Council is something that I can never repay you for. We elves specialize in Nature and Life magic.” The elf carried himself with an air of eloquence that was hard to find, even among the courts of Kings. His people, the wood elves, looked like a mixture of many of the other types of elves. Their facial features were harsh, like those of the mountain elves and their skin was tanned like the sea and river elves. Their hair was whitish blond, like that of their brethren from the plains. These similarities allowed them to serve as ambassadors between the different elven tribes. Ector’s levelheaded tendencies brought much needed grounding to the Archwizard’s Council.

“I am Leon. I hail from the Kingdom of Sardinia. Unlike the other Conclaves, we are an arm of the Sardinian Kingdom
, and we are beholden to their laws. Though this has come at a steep price in the past, our relationship with the current King has been a boon for both sides. I specialize in the Elemental forms of magic. We in Sardinia do not like to limit ourselves to one form of mastery.” Leon was the most regal looking of the Council members. His robes were handmade by the King’s own tailor, and he wore a small crown of silver.

It was Emily’s turn to speak next. Her hands were trembling as she cleared her throat. “Many of you have seen me before
, and some of you know me by name. Today marks something new. It is the first day that I have attended a Council meeting as an Archwizard. I am honored to be considered a part of your number. My name is Emily and, though I do not belong, you still welcomed me. I am only here because the Knights of Doom killed my mentor. He was a great man, and I can only hope to one day fill the position that was left empty by the atrocities of my own people,” Emily spoke with little passion. She felt as though there were only a few things worth living for since the attack on her Conclave.

“A quick note before our special guest introduces himself,” Rolin held up his hand toward Paul as he spoke. “Though Emily is not Owyn, it is imperative that we realize she is an excellent Wizard who is deserving of her spot on the Council. As such, she has been assigned to travel between the Councils and teach the knowledge that was imparted to her by Owyn.” Rolin nodded to Paul after he finished speaking.

“My name is Paul, and I have just recently been admitted into the Carmalian Conclave. I am from a small town that was on the edge of the Old Forest. It was destroyed more than ten years ago and ever since I have been hunting down those responsible. Our fates appear to be intertwined, for the same people I have been hunting are the ones who assaulted your Conclave in Galimdor. It is not my place to dictate what actions you take against the Galimdorians and the Knights of Doom, but I sincerely believe they will not stop with their attack on the Conclave in Galimdor. They will eventually come to every Conclave to eradicate us all. We must not let that happen.” Paul’s speech was a great contrast to Emily’s. He was full of fire as he spoke of the past actions of their enemies.

“Paul brings up a good point, Rolin. What if Galimdor decides to strike at us again?” Leon asked.

“We will be prepared if they try to hit us again. Our place is not to overthrow a King or group of cretins. Our place is in the Conclaves. We do not have the numbers to fight even a small war.” Emily had never seen Rolin look so defeated.

*

              Sev grimaced as he held his hand on his ribs. He had been waiting for a member of the Druid Council to meet with him for almost twenty minutes, and his ribs were still bothering him. The pain was worse now than it was the day before.
They aren’t joking when they say it’ll hurt in the morning
, he thought as he tenderly grabbed his shoulder. One of the Druids opened the flap to the tent and motioned for him to come inside. Sev stood up with a groan, moving still hurt his ribs from time to time.

“Are you hurt?” Sev instantly recognized the voice of Miriel.

“I’ll be fine.” Sev couldn’t help but smile.

             
“What brings you to the Druid Council today?” She asked, motioning for him to enter the large tent.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news that the Council needs to hear.”

The Druid Council was gathered around a table at the far end of the tent. Their numbers had been greatly dwindling over the years, and now only five remained. Ellesar was the eldest of the Druids as well as the only full elf. Miriel was the eldest of the human Druids and one of two females on the Council. Selena, the other female Druid, was the only halfling of the group. Tyric and Wyric were the twin sons of Miriel and Ellesar. Their family made up the majority of the Druid Council and was a necessary source of knowledge for what little Druids were left in the world. Tyric and Wyric had been promoted to the Council after they struck a deal that granted them protection under the Rangers of the Old Forest.

Sev approached the group slowly, not wanting to interfere with anything they were discussing. He waited for Miriel to finish talking with the others before he stepped forward to join them. They made no attempt to hide the maps that were strewn all over the table. Sev noticed several strange things on one of the maps. There was a small fire in the middle of the scale model of Galimdor
, and the forest between Galimdor and Carmalia had smoke rising from its center. He noticed that everyone was watching him, so he took a deep breath and bowed.

“I was out with a patrol of Rangers
, and we ran across several trolls and a mage. We overcame the trolls, but the mage was able to get away,” Sev spoke with urgency in his voice.

“It is worse than we feared,” Ellesar said, stroking his beard. “We had feared that our homeland would be dragged into the coming war, but we had not considered anyone would be brazen enough to bring the fight to us.” He grabbed one of the small figurines on the map and placed it in the Old Forest near the Druid camp.

“War? I’m not sure that I am following you.”

“We have received news that
Galimdor attacked the Wizard’s Conclave in their city and has been recruiting allies ever since. They have not approached us, so it is likely that they know of our relationship with the Conclaves.”

“What do you need of me?” Sev was always eager to strike against those whom he saw as a threat to the peace and prosperity of his people.

“We don’t think it wise to involve ourselves at this point. You can be sure to stand ready when we next receive news. If we act too soon, we may serve only to aggravate the problem. The Conclaves need to make the next move, not us,” Miriel spoke with a voice that solidified the knowledge in her response.

“I am willing and ready to serve the Council.” Sev bowed low before turning to leave.

*

             
The Dorensted guard lit the signal fire as soon as he saw the small pack of riders on the horizon. They were wearing full plate armor with the tabard of Galimdor draped over their breastplates. One of the lead knights flew the brown and turquoise Galimdor flag. The small town of Dorensted was just south of the Galimdor border, and they were the first line of defense against invasion from the north. Guards and soldiers ran to and from their positions as the alarm sounded. Captain Jerek was interrupted from his morning report by the sound of the alarm. He climbed to the top of the wooden walls as fast as his splinted left leg would allow him. The battle-hardened captain looked out at the approaching force. He estimated it to be at least three hundred strong, all on horses.

“Soldiers at the ready! This could be their advance force. We need to be prepared in case they have a full army.” Jerek held up the truce flag to see what reply he would get.

              The Galimdorians ignored the flag and continued to ride toward the town. Not far behind, a large troop of foot soldiers followed with siege engines. The archers scrambled up the walls as Jerek ordered them to ready their arrows for the charging knights. Captain Jerek knew that the makeshift wooden walls would hold back the knights only for so long. He grabbed a nearby crossbow and ordered the men to wait for his signal. The knights stopped just short of the range of the bowmen and waited for the siege engines.

“Alert the c
avalry, we need to take down those catapults!” Captain Jerek yelled as he dropped his crossbow and ran down the stairs of the rampart.

“The c
avalry is out on patrol, sir!” One of the soldiers yelled.

“We need to save the people. I need two groups of volunteers, one group to attack them head on with me
and another to guard the people while they retreat to the capital.” The Captain unsheathed his sword and held it high above his head as he spoke.

“Thirty of us stand at the ready. It is all we can spare and still hold the fort while we evacuate the town,” Sergeant Davis said as he joined the
Captain near the entrance to the town.

“With me, lads! Today we fight for the lives of our countrymen! Today we make our families proud! Today we show the Galimdorians that we won’t go down without a fight!” A roar erupted from the Carmalian soldiers as they followed their
captain into battle.

The Galimdorian Knight-Commander, Kreagor, laughed when he saw the small group charging out of the castle toward his men. He unsheathed his sword and spurred his horse forward to intercept the charging troops. His knights quickly followed suit
, and they were bearing down on the Carmalians within moments. Captain Jerek, slowed by his injured leg, attempted to dive to the side as Kreagor sliced at him with his sword. The blade cut through Jerek’s leather jerkin and left a small wound on his ribs. Davis bounded forward to Jerek’s side and unleashed an assault with his morning star. The blow took Kreagor in the gut and knocked him off his horse.

Several Galimdorians rushed in to defend their Knight-Commander. Davis knocked two more of the knights off their horses before being hit in the left arm with an arrow. He dropped the morning star and fell to his knees as another arrow struck him in the chest. The Carmalians surged forward and broke the circle surrounding the Galimdorian Knight-Commander. Kreagor shoved his shield into the face of the first soldier to break through. The resounding crunch unnerved the next soldier long enough to give Kreagor the advantage. He thrust his sword into the soldier’s gut and then turned to face his third opponent. This man fell as easily as the first two, but was quickly replaced by another.