The Wizard's Council (5 page)

Kreagor slammed his shield into the man’s torso, but the massive Carmalian wasn’t affected by the blow. His nearly seven-foot frame didn’t even tremble from the blow. Slightly unnerved by his unsuccessful attack, Kreagor coiled back and waited for the right moment to strike. The larger combatant lunged forward, swinging his war hammer at the knight’s head. Several Galimdorians moved to surround him, but a giant swing from his hammer cleared them out. Kreagor raised his shield to block an overhead strike. The blow split the shield in two and cracked the bones in Kreagor’s left arm. He fell onto his back and threw his arms over his face.

The blow from the giant of a man never came. Field Marshall Farin had positioned himself in between the two combatants. He thrust his spear into the larger man’s chest, delivering a fatal blow. The Field Marshall turned and helped Kreagor off the floor. They stood in frustration as one of their soldiers reported to them that both the catapults had been damaged in the attack. Kreagor spotted Jerek still writhing in pain on the ground and walked over to meet him. The Knight-Commander had the
Captain thrown into chains and sent back to Galimdor with the three other surviving Carmalian soldiers.

“Never underestimate the strength of the rural towns, Kreagor,” Farin said as the two entered the war tent to plan a new attack.

“Nor should one underestimate the power of flames,” Kreagor replied, looking to the torches that lit the war tent.

*

“Keep your bows steady. All of you will need to start getting used to pulling back a bow while moving.” Sev walked back and forth, examining the line of Rangers that were practicing their bow skills.

             
The students nodded and brought their bows back down to their sides. They followed Sev’s orders and tried holding the bow steady as they slowly crept forward. He approached them one by one, correcting each one that he came across. Some held their bow too high, others too low. Some were stepping too loudly, others weren’t moving fast enough. It was never fun to instruct the cadets, but the Druids felt it was appropriate for Sev to do so. They wanted to ensure that the students were in perfect form in case the Conclaves needed assistance.

“Any questions?” Sev asked as he took his place in front of the students.

“When do we get to learn magic?” One of the younger students asked.

“That would be the Druid’s specialty, not mine. I am a Ranger.”

“We heard that you possess powerful magic.”

“It isn’t what you think. I don’t cast fireballs or change the weather. I can just see and hear things that others cannot. It isn’t really magic, it has more to do with my half-elven heritage.”

“I’ve heard otherwise.” A cloaked man stepped out of the shadows of the forest and nodded to the students.

“Is that so? And who is it that so boldly enters the domain of the forest protectors?” Sev’s hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword.

“I am called Septimus. I am a member of the Warlocks and we wanted to approach the Druids with a proposal of sort. The talk of the town is that your magic kept you alive when you faced off against those trolls.”

“As I said before, I don’t possess any real magic. My strengths lie in the fact that I have the best traits of the
human race and the best traits of the elven race.”

“Your speed, your perception, your strength. All these things are augmented by your propensity for magic. The Warlocks are always looking for new recruits. You would fit in well. If you ever have any questions, feel free to look me up.” Septimus handed Sev a small pamphlet before disappearing into thin air.

              Sev ignored the Warlock and turned back to his students. He drew his sword and positioned himself in a defensive position. After instructing them to spread out, he showed them various motions that could be used as attacks, parries, or feints. He walked around the group looking for mistakes to correct. It wasn’t the most adventurous job, but it was beginning to grow on him. The looks on the faces of the students when he executed the moves were a bit exciting at times. A long time had passed since he felt that others listened to him. He knew deep down that the elders had his best in mind, but it still irked him that they tried to shelter him so.

“They’ve burned Dorensted to the ground!” A messenger yelled as he burst into the great hall.

              “Calm down, explain it to us as best you can.” Rolin was the first one to reach the messenger.

“The Galimdorians, they attacked Dorensted and burned it to the ground. Many good men gave their lives so that the majority of the citizens could get out alive.”

“This news is most grave. Do the Carmalians stand a chance against Galimdor?”

“If we could unite the southern kingdoms against Galimdor, we might be able to defeat them.”

Rolin nodded and motioned for some of the students to give the messenger food and drink. Emily had only seen Rolin like this once before. When she was younger, Carmalia and Cardinia went to war against each other. The Archwizard took it upon himself to try to bring peace to the two kingdoms. Emily could tell that he was desperately searching for a way to avoid war. She wanted to help, but she knew he would ask for assistance when he was ready for it. The majority of those gathered for breakfast in the great hall were paying more attention to their meals than what was going on around them.

“What troubles you, young one?” Ector asked.

“I think it is foolish for me to be a member of the Council. As Owyn’s apprentice, I was a Junior Archwizard, but I’ve never known the level of skill that any of you wield,” Emily replied, looking down at her plate.

“Rolin is many things, but foolish is not one of them. You are Owyn’s only surviving student. Though you may not realize it, you know more of his knowledge than any of us. Many of us, Rolin included, believed him to be the wisest of the
Archwizards. We look to you for some semblance of that knowledge. One day you will come into your own as a magic user and we can guide you in that respect. It is a mutually beneficial appointment.”

“I don’t have some secret knowledge that nobody else knows about. My skills aren’t up to the task. Why not choose Paul, I’ve never seen anyone use magic on a level that he can,” Emily shoved her plate away as she spoke.

“You do yourself a disservice talking like that. My skills do not compare with Thanos or James, but I am on the Council. Cormac and Janessa aren’t the most skilled magic users, but they are welcomed among us. The Council is more than just a group of powerful Magicians. We each bring something to the table. Let us imagine, for a moment, that the Council only accepted Wizards of the highest magical skills. There would be no balance against their ruling style. Instead, we introduce people of varying backgrounds, and we end up with experts in power, wisdom, knowledge, politics, and even ethics. All these things go hand in hand to bring forth the best decisions from the Council. Without James and Thanos, the Council would be rife with inaction. If Janessa and Melissa were not on the Council, we would lack the female perspective on matters. That is why your inclusion is important. You have a different worldview than the rest of us. Your strengths are in areas where the Council lacks. Though you may not accept it, you are greatly influential as both a Princess and the only surviving Apprentice of Owyn.”

Emily took in the words as she glanced around the great hall. She had never thought about the various factors other than age. The student’s ages ranged from as young as seven to as old as late twenties. None of the other teachers were in their twenties. It was significantly easier for Emily to relate to the students than the teachers. However, when she considered the situation in conjunction with Ector’s word, she began to see how different the others were.  They embraced their youth, something that Emily had always had trouble doing. Her father had impressed upon her at a young age the importance of acting like a noble. None of the other students had ever
questioned the teachers as she did. Her transition from student to teacher almost seemed natural.

*

“They fail to recognize the importance of allies. It is this kind of behavior that forces us to act.” Septimus stood before a small group of his finest Warlocks, the red glow in his eyes intensifying as he spoke. “They may not agree with our use of some of the darker magic, but they are not all that different from us. We all seek to gain knowledge and power. Even the Druids pursue knowledge and power. That is why we must intervene. We must deal a blow to Galimdor that they will not soon forget!” Septimus raised his arms in the air and flames burst from his hands as he delivered the end of his speech.

             
The small crowd of Warlocks erupted in applause at the short, but exhilarating speech. It was rare to draw such a response from them. They were accustomed to hiding in the shadows and staying out of the attention of the world, but now was their time to come to the forefront. Not even the Holy Order could stop them now. Septimus was prepared to fight the Galimdorians as well as the Holy Order or any other allies they were able to muster. He had little patience for those who hunted magic users. The Wizards would get the backing of the Warlocks whether they wanted it or not.

“William, we must gather together our forces. Our numbers are few, but our power is great. If necessary, we will recruit mercenaries
, as well. I would prefer that we find allies instead, but we will do what we must. Use this to gather people to our cause.” He handed William a letter.

             
The young Warlock bowed low, his long black hair covering his face. He exited the tent with a smile. His master had never given him a task like this before. It was time to prove that he could accomplish more than Septimus could imagine. The two had become like brothers during the short apprenticeship. They already looked similar, both having dark hair and features. William was taller than Septimus, standing more than six feet in height. His master was built much less like a mage and more like a warrior.  William mounted his horse and began the hour ride to the refugee city of Alamor. The town was a hotbed for people who didn’t want to be found. This was the perfect place for William to gather information about potential allies and enemies.

             
Formerly the location of a great castle, Alamor was transformed into a town for refugees. It was done so long ago that the people have since forgotten the history behind the town itself. William, however, knew it well. For it was the Warlocks that first came forward with the idea of a refuge town. It was a place where a person’s past was not brought into question, a valuable thing for the level of secrecy among the Warlocks. They didn’t care what you did outside of the town as long as you abided by the rules when you entered the town.

             
Long since had the Warlocks given up control of the town. Owning the town brought too much attention from the Holy Order. As long as they didn’t show that they could muster an army, the Holy Order focused on other enemies. They felt that the Warlocks use of dark magic made them an abomination to all things good. This view was also held by the general populace of Canai. Only the Wizards and the Druids knew that not all Warlocks were as evil as the Holy Order wanted everyone to believe. If not for the various other groups that practiced the shunned magic, the Holy Order would have already attempted to exterminate the Warlocks. This became a moot point once the Galimdorians made their move to capture the southern kingdoms. In doing so, Galimdor opened the floodgates of war.

             
William stopped his horse as he rode up closer to the town. It was unlike any of the other towns he had visited. Most were too small to have their own castle, but those that were fortunate to have their own castle were among the largest towns. The castles were often the crown jewel of the kingdom. Alamor, however, was quite different. Whether by lack of funding, lack of care, or lack of direction, the Alamorians had been unable to expand their castle. Instead, they took apart some of the castle and used the materials to build a wall around the more vulnerable parts of the city. More recently, some of the larger factions within the city brought in their own materials to make headquarters that were worthy of how far the factions had progressed. These renovations and a history rife with invasions and war led to Alamor’s strange reputation and look.

The young Warlock took in the sight of the city from afar as he slowly rode toward Alamor. Several buildings stood out along with the partially destroyed keep. A large tower in the northern section of the city was connected with a group of mages who were known as the Wielders. William knew little about them. The Hall of Fighters had been built as an extension of the previously unused keep. Rather than repairing the disheveled side of the massive castle, the Mercenaries of Alamor added a few large rooms to the other side of the building. They had taken their place as the de facto leaders of the town. The last of the prominent buildings was a large cathedral. Though small in comparison to some of the Holy Order’s cathedrals, this one was nothing to scoff at. Something about the building didn’t sit right with William. Alamor was not known for being a religious city.

As he approached the town, William noticed several guards standing outside the main gate. Septimus had instructed him to approach only the main gate and none of the others. The young Warlock spurred his horse toward the gate. Unbeknownst to him, the guards at the main gate were employed by Septimus. They pointed him to the nearest tavern and wished him well on his journey. The tavern was the Swollen Swine. Many of the city-goers avoided the tavern due to its sordid reputation. William knew that it was his best bet for gathering rumors about the city and the surrounding areas. As it was his first time in the town, he decided that this would be the first of many stops.

“Can I get you something?” The barkeep asked as William entered the tavern.

“Ale would be good. If you can manage to save me a room for the week, It’d be much appreciated.” William placed several gold coins on the counter.

“Of course, sir. Will you be needing anything else?” The barkeep smiled as he grabbed the coins.

“Not for the moment. I trust that those will cover my meals and lodging?”

“That they will, I’ll get you your change at the end of the week.”

“That won’t be necessary.” William took his ale and found a seat in the corner.

             
The main room was large and fairly busy. William instantly spotted three men that he wanted to approach for striking up an Alliance. He sat at his seat, observing those he had pegged as important, for the better part of an hour. There was a grizzled looking man with a sword at his side and three other men sitting at his table. William noted that nobody talked to the man directly, but rather they spoke to one of the other three. On the far side of the room sat a man with a hooded cloak. Throughout the night, various people approached him and traded packages or papers for money. Finally, there was also a man in Wizard garb that was sitting in the middle of the room. He was the only man who was undisturbed by any of the inn’s many visitors.

“Excuse me, sir, but I couldn’t help but notice that you are wearing the attire
of a mage. Might I ask what order you are a part of?” William sat at the open chair across from the man.

“You are a m
agician, of that I am certain. But, if you really want to know who I am, you’ll have to do something for me.” The man’s piercing red eyes were hard to look away from.

“What would you need from me, sir?”

“I seek a book of knowledge. Perhaps you have heard of it? It is called the tome of destruction. The book is scheduled to be transported from somewhere south of here to the Holy Fortress. It is imperative that you stop the book from reaching there.” The man placed a small stone on the table and then stood up to leave.

             
William picked up the stone and placed it in his pocket. The other man was taller than he looked, he must have been at least six and a half feet when he stood. His thin frame looked like that of the typical Wizard, but William could tell there was something different about this man. It was as though he could feel the power emanating from the man. He could tell how the man had managed to sit in the center of the inn for nearly an hour without being bothered. Septimus was the only other person whom he had met that commanded such a respect from a room full of strangers. The mage exited the tavern, and William turned to the hooded man in the corner. He took a deep breath before approaching the table.

“Speak fast, your next move could be your last.” The hooded man had a crossbow under the table aimed at William.

“No need for that, sir. I am just an emissary for the Warlocks. We are trying to stop the Galimdorians from taking the southern kingdoms.” William took a seat across from the man.

“Why do I care?” The man asked.

“There could be a lot of opportunity in this for my master and I.”

“What’s in it for us?”

“Well, the way we see it. If we are able to come to the rescue of the Wizards and their southern kingdom allies, then we can gain a foothold in their cities. If we gain a foothold in their cities, our friends and allies can establish a base of operations with relative ease.” William placed a bag on the table and slid it over toward the man.

“What’s this for?” He asked as he took the bag from William.

“Think of it as sweetening the pot. There is more where that came from if you can help me acquire a book from the Holy Order.”

“I know of what you speak. We were going to take it for ourselves, but that should be enough payment for us to help you get it. Be there and make sure you are on time.” The man slid a piece of paper to William and motioned for him to leave.