Hemlock and the Dread Sorceress

by B Throwsnaill

  Chapter One

  Hemlock stood atop the Wizard Tower and watched the sunrise. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned the distant sphere of Maker's Fire that people knew as their sun soaring silently through the void around the City. She took a moment to marvel at the daily traversal of that ball of fire. Every morning, some force of creation caused it to coalesce and separate from the huge mass of Maker's Fire that the City sailed upon. She looked down over the people that had already taken to the streets of the City on early business. How many of them appreciated the miracle of their sun?

  It’s too easy for them to be swept away in the day's illusion and ignore the mundane miracles around them. But I guess it’s a question of perspective.

  Hemlock was the only person she knew that could see directly into the vast and strange void that existed beyond the sky.

  What would the world be like if everyone could see what I see?

  She heard a whooshing sound as the heavy glass door to the atrium opened behind her. The door closed as soft footsteps approached her.

  “How are you this morning, Gwineval?” she asked without looking at him. The early morning activity of the City still held her attention.

  “I am well but somewhat troubled. First, these reports from the mountains arrive, and now this visit by the Griffin. I fear our old comrade, Jalis, has finally played his cards.”

  “He’s a fool, then. We’ll deal with him. Penelope has sought us out before. Perhaps she has news for us. Or, perhaps, she’s slain the fool wizard herself.”

  Even as the words left her mouth, Hemlock knew they wouldn’t turn out to be true. The adversary she’d hoped to avoid for a while longer again dominated her thoughts.

  Can’t I have a few more months of peace?

  “But Jalis understands the forces arrayed against him, Hemlock. He’s cowardly but not stupid. He must have a plan to deal with us if he’s openly moving against us. That’s what concerns me.”

  She considered confessing her fears to Gwineval, but suspected that DuLoc was on his mind as well. They hadn’t spoken of the threatening apparition since Gwineval decided to destroy the Wand of the Imperator that she found in the Witch Crags.

  “How is Tored?” Gwineval finally asked, breaking an apprehensive silence.

  Hemlock smiled. “He is well. I think the repetition of his duties reassures him. It was wise of you to have him deputized as a City guard.”

  Gwineval’s mouth loosened into a toothy smile. “I’m glad. But has he found peace?”

  Hemlock frowned. “No, I don’t think so. He’s found comfort but not peace. I talk to him every day and try to learn more about what torments him. So far, I’ve had no luck. It’s like he’s carrying some burden inside of him.”

  “I’ve tried to talk to him, too. But it’s really no use since I’m not friends with him like you are. He’s very difficult to get to know.”

  A wry smile came to Hemlock’s face as she thought of her reply. “You know who might know him the best, now? Mercuria. You can’t imagine it unless you see it, but she plays jokes on him almost every day. It’s the only time I see him smile. Her company has been good for him, even if nobody else’s has.”

  Hemlock felt a pang of sadness at her last statement.

  I want to be close to Tored, but whatever he is carrying around inside of him seems to separate us.

  An aerial speck on the horizon rescued Hemlock from further thought. The griffin approached rapidly with powerful beats of her wings. Hemlock noticed that beneath the deep yellows and browns of her plumage and fur, the beast clutched dragon eggs in her talons.

  Hemlock and Gwineval retreated from the baluster as the griffin reached the top of the tower. She drew up with great exertion of her twenty foot wing span and slowly descended, placing the eggs on the floor before thrusting upwards and landing beside them.

  Hemlock noticed missing feathers on the beast’s wings and several bloody wounds on her lower torso.

  “Penelope,” Hemlock cried, “you’re hurt! What happened?”

  The Seekers invaded my aerie. The rogue wizards aided them. I did not detect them until it was almost too late.

  Hemlock walked slowly around the bulk of the Griffin and placed a gentle hand on her matted, bloody fur.

  “I’m sorry, Penelope. I didn’t think Jalis would dare defy me,” said Hemlock.

  As I flew out, I spotted homes burning and there were bodies piled in a village market.

  “He’s moving to control the east! We must raise a force and confront them,” growled Gwineval. “I regret not killing them when we had the chance.”

  Hemlock started to sneer but caught herself. “Sometimes wisdom is clearer in hindsight,” she said.

  “Truly. You weren’t there when we fought for control of the Tower. Samberlin meant to betray us when it looked like we’d be overmatched by the Seekers. When my spell of warding was revealed, many loyalties were in question in those tense moments. I thought it best to take the high road and let those opposed to us leave in peace.”

  “No need to explain again. I understand. It’s just maddening to think that we gave Jalis this final chance and he’s betrayed us again.”

  “It’s not like I expected anything else from him, but I’d hoped we’d be more prepared for it when he moved against us. Hemlock, what have you been doing all these months? We’ve missed your presence in the Tower.”

  “Really? I’m shocked. You all seemed quite tired of me bossing you around.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we wanted you gone altogether. Yours is a valued and absent voice in our affairs. All of the wizards have said as much. We’d like you to sit on our council as an honorary member.”

  Hemlock bowed her head and kicked some debris off the edge of the Tower. She sighed and replied, “Alright. I suppose Jalis’ actions will force us to act in response. I need to be a part of it.”

  “Yes.”

  There is more news from the mountains.

  “Yes? Please tell us,” said Gwineval.

  I’ve seen DuLoc with the wizards. I sense his hand directing their efforts, and I feel a great power gathering. He will return soon. The wizards have built dark rocks throughout the valleys. Their magical law projects through these. It is all part of DuLoc’s plan. He appeared and asked me to join him. He believes he will become a great emperor and can create perfect laws. He intends to enslave us all.

  “Those sound like the obelisks that Merit read about in Julius’ journal. DuLoc must have taught Jalis how to make them. And the minerals in the mountains afforded him the perfect opportunity to build them. Curse Jalis and his machinations!” said Gwineval.

  Hemlock tried to give Gwineval a reassuring look, but the wizard’s eyes were downcast. Hemlock knew him well enough to recognize the outward signs of an internal process of self-flagellation. She figured it would be best to redirect the stubborn wizard’s thoughts before he sank into melancholy.

  “How do we fight DuLoc?” asked Hemlock, directing the question loudly toward the Griffin.

  I don’t know. He wove with the Red Mage at the dawn of time. He will be a terrible foe. And he can’t be reasoned with. But if anyone can resist him, it will be you.

  “Not very reassuring. My father must have had a plan for me but it’s all so confusing. That’s why I needed more time to think it through. But now there’s no more time.”

  Gwineval seemed to refocus on the conversation. “Time is running short, but DuLoc hasn’t returned yet. There is still time to consider our options. Come to the council meeting tomorrow and let’s talk it over.”

  “I will, but I want to see what they’re up to. Penelope could take me there now. Just to fly over and see it for myself,” Hemlock replied.

  “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “Flying over?”

  “Yes. You don’t know what Jalis and DuLoc have prepared for. And it’s just what I’d expec
t you to do if I were Jalis.”

  The final point made sense to Hemlock. She exhaled forcefully.

  “Fine. I’ll wait and join your council meeting tomorrow. But let’s figure out a plan that involves some action and not just wizardly debates.”

  Gwineval didn’t acknowledge her critical comment.

  She thought about returning to the Warrens, but the labored breath of the Griffin beside her reminded her of the unresolved issue at hand. They needed to determine Penelope’s fate now that she had been driven out of the mountains.

  “And what of Penelope?” she asked Gwineval.

  The small scales on Gwineval’s brow furrowed. “Well…” he stammered, clearly not anticipating the question.

  “She has to stay here for a while, right? It’s kind of like a mountain top up here on the Tower. Penelope, would you like to stay here?”

  Yes.

  Gwineval shot Hemlock a strong look, but his features softened. “Yes, it makes sense. And, Penelope, lest you think it’s charity, we’ll surely call upon you in the upcoming struggle.”

  I thought my role would be otherwise. But I will help protect your Tower.

  “Thank you,” said Gwineval, bowing. He turned to Hemlock. “Until tomorrow, then?”

  …

  Hemlock carefully navigated the morning market throng as she made for the apartment where she, Mercuria and Tored resided.

  An unlikely quartet walked erratically in front of her. A young man, dressed in the plain, durable robe common in the Warrens, had his arm around a young woman wearing a soiled white robe of the Elite district. Beside them was a similarly attired couple but reversed in role and gender—an Elite man with a young woman from the Warrens. Both men wore beards and long hair that were uncharacteristic of the City just a few months prior. Neither of the women wore the facial makeup that was customary in both neighborhoods. Collectively, they bore the hallmarks of the burgeoning “Cult of Cassandra,” the pleasure witch that Hemlock had given refuge to in the center of the City.

  The youths laughed despite the deep bags under their eyes—they were exhausted but jubilant. Hemlock admired them in a certain sense. Though she doubted the wisdom of their lifestyle, their air of freedom made her feel shackled by comparison.

  As Hemlock watched the four youths, who were little older than her but seeming like children living in a bubble of naiveté, they reminded her of the fate of Cassandra. The Senate—Samberlin in particular—were furious over the changes caused by the witch, and continually passed resolutions demanding the ouster of the controversial cult. But Hemlock had deferred any decision on the issue for six months. That milestone was rapidly approaching, but she anticipated deferring a decision again in light of the renewed threat of DuLoc. Whether the Senate would listen to her, in her new, diminished and poorly defined role, was not a certainty, however.

  The sight of a local ruffian pushing his way through the crowd distracted her attention from the issue of Cassandra. The young thug was known as Jasper, an ill-tempered sort who seemed to alternate between two states of being—criminal intent and incoherent intoxication, with success at the former typically followed by the latter.

  Hemlock was surprised to see a small vial of liquid in the cutpurse’s right hand. The liquid glowed in a way that was obviously magical.

  She approached Jasper to inquire about his unusual possession. As she neared him, he greeted her with a wide grin.

  “Hold up. What do you have there, Jasper?”

  “Just me morning draught,” the young man replied evasively. He quickly popped the cork on the vial and raised his hand in a mock toast.

  Hemlock considered knocking the vial from his grip, but the fact that no crime had been committed stayed her.

  A whistle sounded in the distance, and the youth guzzled the glowing tincture. Hemlock immediately sensed a magical radiance emanating from his body.

  She used her power of magical affinity to ascertain the effects of the small potion. It seemed to create concentric waves of energy that spread out over the market. No other effect was evident. But soon, Hemlock perceived other, similar waves of energy flowing into and meeting the waves emanating from Jasper. Using her sense, she followed these waves to their source as other wave sources intersected. Suddenly, she was in the midst of a cacophony of magical emanations with no apparent purpose.

  She looked to her right and noticed another known criminal several yards away. A glass vial, similar to Jaspar’s, dropped from his hand. Her eyes darted to her left and saw yet another participant in what she now feared was some sort of planned action.

  But what is the purpose?

  Jasper provided a clue by mocking her as Hemlock darted away in search of more information amongst the crowd—most of which seemed completely unaware that something very unusual was happening.

  “What’s wrong? Your second sight not seein’ too well, lass?” said Jasper.

  As she trotted away, she considered his words.

  Of course! They’ve blinded my magic sense. But why? What’s going on?

  She found another cutpurse who was radiating magic and grabbed her arm roughly. “Tessa, why did you drink from that vial?”

  The motley young girl affected her best impression of a blank stare and hissed through teeth yellowed by an excess of strong, intoxicating teas.

  “Answer or I’ll break your arm!” Hemlock growled.

  “That’s not very neighborly talk, is it? You bein’ part of the watch and all,” cried the girl as Hemlock tightened her grip.

  “Don’t make this hard on yourself, Tessa!” said Hemlock as she became aware of a crowd of onlookers gathering around her.

  Damn, if I don’t stop, word of this is sure to reach Samberlin.

  Hemlock released the girl. “Fine! I’ve seen no crime, though I think you’ve been involved in something I haven’t seen. I’ll discover the truth sooner or later. And then we’ll continue this conversation.”

  Hemlock had to concentrate on ignoring her magic sense as she walked the remaining blocks to her apartment. She skirted the market for several minutes, looking for any signs of misconduct, but saw nothing unusual outside of the distracting magic. In the process, she’d spotted no fewer than twelve youths that radiated the magical energy.

  Once she reached it, she was relieved to enter the apartment which was free of the emanations.

  Mercuria and Tored were seated at a breakfast table eating sweet bread and strawberries.

  “Back so soon, Hemlock?” Mercuria called out with an ethereal air to her voice.

  Hemlock knew her sister well enough to anticipate what was likely to happen. This was Mercuria’s mischievous voice.

  Suddenly, there was a small pop near Tored’s face.

  The comedy of the scene before her temporarily pushed the upset of Hemlock’s experience in the marketplace out of her mind.

  Tored sat stoically at the table as the juice of a burst strawberry dripped down his nose, along the deep creases in his cheeks and trickled onto his forearm.

  Mercuria was beside herself with warm laughter that filled the room. Hemlock couldn’t help herself and guffawed more loudly than she had meant to.

  Tored remained nearly still as he used a napkin to wipe his face. But as he did so, there was a gentle quivering at the corner of his mouth, and a small smile struggled into existence—disproving the notion that the old warrior’s face had been chiseled from granite rather than pliant flesh.

  “Misusing your magical talents, again? One day all debts shall be repaid, young lady.” It was the best he could manage as a retort, and this just made the sisters laugh anew.

  As the humorous moment passed, thoughts of the incident in the marketplace reasserted themselves.

  “Listen, something odd happened to me right before I got here. I need to tell you both about it,” said Hemlock. She quickly related what had happened.

  If the preceding incident had softene
d Tored’s perspective at all, it wasn’t evident in the grave reply he gave. “Someone is moving against you. And it’s someone with some cunning.”

  “Then, why didn’t they attack me?”

  “Perhaps it was just a test. The witches in my…” Tored paused for a moment as if recalling something unpleasant, “homeland would always send small patrols before large attacks. Perhaps the people who did this were testing whether their plan would block your magic sense.”

  “Well, it worked,” said Hemlock with a sigh.

  “And they know it.”

  Hemlock sat at the table and ate a strawberry. Its rich flavor comforted her.

  It’s good to be home, and it’s good to have a home again.

  “We should do extra patrols. Together,” said Tored.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But wait, I haven’t even gotten to the bigger news. DuLoc’s apparition has been sighted in the mountains. And Jalis has attacked the mining towns there. DuLoc is getting closer. Penelope the griffin is living at the top of the Wizard Tower, now. The Seekers attacked her with help from Jalis.”

  It took Tored several minutes to digest this latest information. Hemlock noticed his eyes searching out his ornate spears, which rested near the door.

  “Why is the world going crazy? Can’t it all just stop?” said Mercuria.

  “I feel the same way,” said Hemlock. “But crazy things keep happening no matter what I do.”

  “Life is like that,” said Tored.

  “Well, we never asked for this! Why should you be the one who has to stop it all, Hemlock?” cried Mercuria.

  “I…just am. I don’t know why, but it’s what I’m here for. I wish it weren’t so.”

  “Do you really?” asked Tored.

  Hemlock couldn’t delude herself. “You’re right, I guess. I love the power. I’ve always yearned for it—asked the Creator for it before I even knew anything about my life. I just never thought it would be so hard.”

  Mercuria reddened. “Well, I want to live my life for myself. I don’t want to be beholden to this insanity.”

  Hemlock hated to see her sister upset. It jarred something deep inside of her, and left her feeling out of balance. But she had a sudden idea. “Mercuria, what would you do now if you could do anything?”

  Mercuria was initially uncertain in the face of being challenged, but she seemed to arrive at a decision after only a few moments. “I’d go find Mother.”

  Hemlock didn’t hesitate. “Okay, we’ll do it.”

  “Hemlock, we should talk about this,” said Tored.

  “No, we’re going to do it. Gwineval said we have some time before DuLoc gets here, and my last stop at the observatory showed no change in his location,” replied Hemlock.

  “But what about the people in the mountains? What about Jalis?” said Tored.

  “Gwineval and the wizards can handle him. I’ll tell them as much tomorrow morning. Look, we could die when DuLoc returns. Mercuria and I deserve to see our mother before the end.”

  “I’ve never known you to be fatalistic, Hemlock. That sounds like an excuse.”

  “Penelope says he’s like a god from a past age.”

  “That’s what DuLoc said about that Earth Spirit, and we defeated her. We’ll defeat DuLoc, but we must respect him and take the time to prepare a strategy.”

  Hope burned in Mercuria’s eyes, but Tored’s exuded caution with an equal intensity. Still, Hemlock remembered Mercuria as she had been on that fateful day when they stowed away on the City merchant’s ship that took them away from their mother. She remembered holding the scared little girl and having to tell her she didn’t know when they would see their mommy again.

  Hemlock felt the resolve of a decision take hold. She had already used her new ability to see beyond the sky to search for her old world. It hadn’t been hard to find. It was located among the two score worlds in direct connection to the City via the strands of Maker’s Fire. Then she thought of the surprising discovery she made in the observatory, and that made her doubt her decision. She detected Falignus on that very same world.

  Am I making this decision for Mercuria or for my own interest in the fate of Falignus?

  She managed to quell this internal voice of opposition. If it was just about her feelings for Falignus, wouldn’t she have left as soon as she discovered his location? But she had to acknowledge that the fate of Falignus was a big part of her sudden decision. She had been thinking about him, and though she feared she was just indulging her own personal desires, a surety had been building inside her that Falignus could help her defeat DuLoc.

  With her internal balance restored, she announced her decision. “We’re going. “

  Mercuria squealed with glee then restrained herself when she noticed how upset Tored looked.

  “This is short-term thinking, Hemlock,” he said.

  “So you think. Nevertheless, I’ve made my decision.”

  A heavy silence ensued until Tored broke it. “How will you get there?”

  “According to what Merit told me, Penelope can fly between worlds. I’m sure I can convince her to take us.”

  “And how many do you think she can take?” he replied.

  “When I spoke to Merit, he said the old books refer to griffins carrying two people between worlds. And Mercuria is light.”

  “But I’m not,” Tored said softly.

  “You would join us even though you don’t like the plan?”

  “Yes. There is nothing here for me without the two of you.”

  Hemlock’s heart leapt at his words. “Fine! It’s decided, then. I’ll talk to Penelope about taking us three. It’s really like two and a half, if you think about it.”

  “That means you won’t be able to return with your mother.”

  “True. But if war is coming to the City, maybe that’s just as well.”

  With all of them in agreement, Tored rose to begin his daytime patrol. Hemlock decided to join him. They both hoped to resolve the mystery of the marketplace before their impending departure.

  …

  Hemlock considered the implications of the previous day’s events as she walked the still empty streets of the Warrens, shielding her eyes from the glare of the morning sun. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred there since her unusual experience in the marketplace the prior morning.

  She discussed the risks with Tored, but decided to attend the meeting of the Wizard Council to inform them of her plans to leave the City. She anticipated that Gwineval would react negatively to the news, but it still felt right to her.

  Gwineval should be able to contain Jalis until I return.

  A hooded figure caught her attention as it darted across her path several blocks away. She recognized something about it, and without thinking, she took off running at top speed toward the alleyway. She tried to be quiet as she took a wide turn into the shadowy, tight passage between two houses. But her speed caused her feet to skid a little on some soft sand, and the figure ahead of her turned its head sharply to the side.

  Hemlock was too quick for the figure as it reached for its knife. She had a sabre at its neck before it could draw. With a flick of her wrist, she used her other sabre to throw back the figure’s hood.

  “So, we meet again, Jasper,” Hemlock sneered as she recognized the face she revealed.

  “What are ye doin’? I’m headin’ back to me mum’s.”

  “Let’s see how the night was for you,” said Hemlock as she roughly patted him down.

  A dull copper cup fell and clanged as it hit a rock on the ground. Hemlock was about to give up when she felt something in his breast pocket. She withdrew a glass vial filled with a glowing liquid.

  “And what do we have here?” she asked.

  Jasper’s beady eyes darted around desperately. “I haven’t done nothin’,” he managed.

  “But you clearly intend to do something, again. You’d better start talking,
or I’m taking you to the watch station and you’ll be spending the day in a cell.”

  Hemlock had spent time in station cells in her youth and knew why Jasper’s eyes widened in fear at her threat. The City Watch were not kind to their prisoners—especially those from the Warrens. Jasper faced not mere imprisonment, but a sequence of fearful interludes between furious beatings.

  “Yer one of us! You can’t do that to me!”

  “Then tell me who gave you that vial and why.”

  “What good will it do? I’m just tryin’ to make some money for me mum.”

  “Right. For your mum. Not to drink yourself into a stupor?”

  “If she didn’t ride me like she does, mebbe I wouldn’t drink like I do. But it’s no matter. I’m just doin’ a job. No more.”

  “Tell me what you know!” Hemlock said, losing patience.

  “Okay, okay. A big guy gave me the vial. He hired me to drink it when the whistle blows today at the marketplace at sundown. That’s all I know.”

  “Come on. Who is this big guy?”

  “I don’t know his name. He’s from the district though—nice white robe and all. I asked him his name and he just laughed. I don’t see him around ‘cept for when this thing goes down. He’s always in the marketplace when it does, and I think it’s him that blows the whistle. That should give you the info you need.”

  Jasper looked around nervously as he saw and heard signs of increasing activity in the streets and the homes that surrounded them.

  “Look,” he continued, “I gave you what you need. You gotta let me go now before we’re seen together. Otherwise, people will figure out it’s me that squealed, and my goose will be cooked.”

  “Fine,” Hemlock said, letting go of his arm, “but you’d better keep your mouth shut. And show up at the marketplace tonight so people don’t suspect anything. I need to have a talk with this ‘big guy.’”

  Jasper hurriedly walked off without further comment, and Hemlock shook her head.

  The kid is more idiot than criminal. Hopefully he’ll survive long enough to figure things out.

  She exited the alley in the opposite direction she had entered and resumed her approach toward the Wizard Tower.

  As she neared the tower, its imposing height dwarfed her, but it struck her in a different way that morning. She realized that she could identify with the tower, and the thought surprised her. She now saw it as a symbol of resistance to DuLoc.

  But will it be strong enough?

  She continued to walk toward it. Soon, the Moat of Acid was visible along with the recently added iron fence that had been installed around it. The fence was not there to protect the tower but to protect the City-folk from accidentally falling into its destructive depths.

  As she walked along the curved road ringing the tower, she saw the Drawbridge of Ninety-Nine Tears. It was down and stood unguarded. And the pikes that once stood along its length had been removed.

  She reached the end of the drawbridge and began to walk across. Her mind returned to the night when she forced her way into the tower. The portcullis and magical gargoyles had also been removed in the months since that fateful evening.

  Hemlock gazed up at the top of the tower. The colored glass windows had been cleaned and gave the tower an uncharacteristically cheerful appearance. She was also aware that the defensive spells that once protected the heights of it from aerial attack had been dispelled.

  Have we totally defanged you? Do you have any secrets left to help us defeat DuLoc?

  Then she remembered the vision she had in the observatory. She found two other Wands located on a distant world and she had seen another tower there—her father’s tower. She looked up at the Wizard Tower again.

  Perhaps your time has passed, after all.

  Hemlock reached the heavy doors of the Wizard Tower and knocked softly.

  The great doors opened, and a familiar face excitedly greeted her.

  “Hemlock, welcome!”

  “Otticus, how are you? Still pulling guard duty, I see.”

  The young First Circle wizard seemed slightly embarrassed by her put-down but shrugged it off quickly.

  “Look!” he said, thrusting his bare shoulder toward her.

  Hemlock was surprised by his invasion of her space, and didn’t immediately understand what he was trying to show her. But as she was about to ask for clarification, something on his shoulder caught her eye. The normally monochrome tattoo he bore, typical of the First Circle, looked different. Now, there was blue and yellow scrollwork amongst the markings and some additional colored runes near the bottom of the bicep.

  “Huh. What’s that all about?” she asked, taking a step back involuntarily.

  “Something Renevos and I have been working on. Check it out!”

  As Otticus finished speaking, the colored tattoos on his arms flared, and suddenly he was gone.

  “Back here,” said a voice from behind her.

  She turned in a flash, hands going down toward her sabres, but the sight of a smiling Otticus calmed her nerves.

  “It’s the new teleporting magic Renevos has been researching ever since that encounter with the rainbow cat. He figured out how to enhance our tattoos with a low range version of the spell. I’m the first one to get it. It’s kind of a test. So far, it works great.”

  “That’s amazing,” Hemlock said. “You’ll be very difficult to fight with that power.”

  “Only drawback is it’s tiring to use. I can only do it so many times, and if I’m tired, it’s too much to use.”

  “Still, that’s an encouraging development. I hope things go well and all of the First Circle can use that power soon.”

  “Yea, me too,” said Otticus without sounding very convincing. It was clear to Hemlock that he was enjoying the distinction of being the sole bearer of the new tattoo.

  “Thanks for telling me about it. I have to go. See you soon.”

  “Bye, Hemlock,” said the young warrior, turning back toward the front doors.

  Hemlock considered taking the rear stairs up to the council chamber, but something held her back.

  It’s not my place to use those stairs, anymore.

  She slowly walked up the main stairs, pausing briefly at each floor to look around. She found herself experiencing a heretofore unappreciated affection for the tower and the wizards within it. An inner voice again raised concern about the fate of the wizards after she left for the distant world where her mother and Falignus awaited. But, again, she felt a wave of surety that it was the correct course of action, although the ambiguity of her own motivations still troubled her.

  What will I do when I find Falignus?

  She didn’t have an answer to that question.

  Soon, the council chamber door beckoned, and her thoughts turned to the matters at hand.

  The council members were seated around the large onyx table, awaiting her. A strong scent of soothing incense filled the air—no doubt at the behest of Gwineval, who had grown fond of the scent during his stay with the Tanna Varrans. There were no observers in the bleachers above the meeting floor. Apparently, it was a closed session.

  She looked at the friendly faces and took comfort in their apparent goodwill. Memories of Jalis and his plots were still fresh in her mind. In addition to her friends, Gwineval, Miara and Renevos, three newer faces greeted her. First was Brannor, the new leader of the First Circle combat wizards. He was known as a hardworking fighter who built his strength by tirelessly exercising until he was a match for any fighter in the tower. On one side of Gwineval sat Caetor, leader of the Fourth Circle. He was an expert in invisibility and other obscuring spells. On the other side of Gwineval was Lalpa, the leader of the Sixth Circle of magic. In contrast to the departed Colberth, Lalpa was a disorganized man, but possessed a brilliant analytical mind that eclipsed that of his predecessor.

  Gwineval’s serpentine eyes immediately caught Hemlock’s attention
as he moved to bring the meeting to order, though it was just a formality since the room had gone silent when Hemlock entered.

  “Welcome, Hemlock. Please sit,” he said, pointing toward a seat—Falignus’ old seat.

  “I’ve briefed the others on the information brought to us from the mountains.”

  They sat in silence for a moment then Gwineval continued. “I suppose I will start the discussion if nobody else has a suggestion about what must be done. I think we should marshal a force of wizards and set out to drive Jalis from the mountains.”

  “Do we care that much about the mountains?” Hemlock asked. “Or is the goal to destroy Jalis, the Seekers and the rest of the rogue wizards?”

  “Both goals are significant,” said Miara gravely. “The mountains provide vital mineral resources for our spells and economy. There is a store of these resources in the City, but it won’t last forever. We can’t afford to lose access to this region.”

  “Who will guard the tower if we leave to fight Jalis?” asked Renevos, fumbling for his glasses as they dislodged from his long, upturned nose.

  “We will leave a small force behind and rely on the Senate to back us up if there is a surprise attack,” said Gwineval.

  “Samberlin…” hissed Hemlock, Renevos and Miara nodded in agreement with Hemlock’s implied suspicion of the man.

  “I know, I know. But he’s cast his lot with us over Jalis already. Why would he change his mind?” said Gwineval.

  “Samberlin will do whatever he perceives to be in his best interest,” said Miara.

  “No,” said Gwineval, “he acts in the City’s best interest. I believe that.”

  “Not me,” said Hemlock.

  “It isn’t material, anyway. We will leave sufficient force behind to make the tower secure. And we will lock it down until the main force returns. Even Samberlin and his knights wouldn’t be able to siege the tower if so guarded.”

  “What about Samberlin and Jalis together?”

  “And how would they accomplish that when our march would cut off Jalis’ advance on the City? Hemlock, you can patrol in the air for us with Penelope. That should reveal any unexpected movements on Jalis’ part.”

  “Uh, let’s discuss my role in this. I, uh,” stuttered Hemlock, lowering her eyes.

  Hemlock heard a dull slap and knew that Gwineval had slapped his forehead in frustration. “Why do I know I won’t want to hear this?” he murmured.

  “I’m going to take Tored and my sister to find my mother on a nearby world. I won’t be able to join your attack.”

  She heard the groan of feet from a heavy chair as it thrust along the wooden planks of the floor. Gwineval, now standing, shouted at her, “Have you lost your mind? With all of our enemies on our doorstep, you would abandon us? Again!”

  Hemlock felt inflamed by the accusation and met Gwineval’s accusing stare. “I’ve decided to indulge my sister’s wish to see our mother one final time before the coming war.”

  “And what makes you certain that the war won’t be lost in the interim?”

  “Gwineval,” said Miara, motioning for him to sit, but Gwineval ignored her.

  “Remember the last time we stood in the cavern below the tower and you gave me a Wand? You asked me to choose between trusting you to lead us and taking my fate into my own hands with the Wand. I chose you, remember? I chose your leadership over my own. And this is how you repay me?”

  “That Wand wouldn’t have helped you. You know that!”

  “I most certainly do not know that! I took your word for it, but what value is your word when you seem to go back on it whenever it suits you?”

  Hemlock felt her anger rising to meet Gwineval’s, but she tried to control herself. A thought came to her, unbidden, and she gave voice to it without hesitation. “Remember the child of Amarank who we discovered in the chamber where we found that Wand? You never saw it, but Renevos was there.”

  “You mean that abomination kept alive by the magic of the Wand? Yes, I remember the tale. But what of it?”

  “The child spoke to me before it faded away. It told me to think about what had given it its power. It was the product of a union of the lines of the First Wizard and the Imperator.”

  “And?”

  “It implied that I needed to understand something about that union. And I think I do now. I need to do the same thing, I think. I need the power of the lines of the Imperator and the First Wizard to defeat DuLoc. Since the blood of the First Wizard runs in my veins, I only lack that of the Imperator. But we know one who descends from that line.”

  “No, Hemlock,” whispered Gwineval, “you can’t mean Falignus—he perished in the northern desert over a year ago?”

  “That’s the thing—he didn’t die. He changed somehow, but he still lives in the same realm that my mother does.”

  “So you mean to retrieve him?”

  “Yes.”

  Gwineval pounded the stone table. “This is absolute, utter madness!”

  Hemlock shook her head and looked away.

  Miara rose and Hemlock heard her speak calming words to Gwineval. Eventually, he was coaxed back into his chair and the discussion continued.

  “How would you accomplish the travel, Hemlock?” asked Miara.

  “Penelope the griffin can travel between worlds.”

  “But can she take three? And then four upon return?”

  Hemlock felt a wave of uncertainty. She was confident Penelope could carry three, for the griffin was large and Mercuria was very slightly built. But four seemed to be a stretch even for the great beast.

  “I don’t know about the return trip,” Hemlock said.

  “Hemlock, you have to understand the threat that Jalis now represents. When you left last time, he was just a possible threat. But now, with DuLoc directly aiding and guiding him, he might well defeat the City before you get back,” said Lalpa.

  “I doubt that will happen unless you wizards make a mistake. Tored and I estimate we’ll be gone for a few weeks of City time, at most. That will be a few days in the other realm.”

  “How do you know it won’t take longer to recover Falignus? What if he is unwilling to return? Or what if you’re wrong and he is dead?” said Gwineval.

  “I’m not wrong about him being alive. And I know he’ll return to me. He always loved the City and won’t want it to fall to DuLoc.”

  “Hemlock, what if Falignus joins with DuLoc? He was our enemy, remember?”

  “It’s complicated between us. Suffice it to say, I know he won’t betray me,” said Hemlock.

  “So, what would you have us do in your absence?” asked Renevos.

  “I don’t know. Do you think it still makes sense to attack?”

  “We must do what we must. If you leave, perhaps we should negotiate with Jalis and DuLoc,” said Gwineval.

  “Gwineval, I know you’re mad, but that’s just silly. You’d be playing right into their hands.”

  “Perhaps, but maybe we’d be better off falling in line than resisting. At least DuLoc seems to offer a well-orchestrated strategy, while we flail about according to your whims!”

  “We’re not allying with Jalis, Gwineval,” said Miara sternly. “Hemlock, why not join our attack on Jalis first then go on your expedition?”

  “I’m sorry, but so much of what I do is based on instinct. I realize it’s hard to have faith in me, but I just know that I need to leave now. There won’t be time to do it if I wait.”

  “It would only be a week or two!” said Gwineval.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t wait. It has to be now. It’s like we’re all part of a song. If some of the notes falter, the entire melody is lost. It feels like that when I think about the future. This has to be done immediately.”

  Hemlock wasn’t sure why she felt so strongly about the timing of her departure, since she had only come up with the idea the prior day, but she had a strong feeling about it and had never been mo
re certain about a choice in her life.

  “So, what should we do?” said Gwineval, sounding defeated.

  “I still think you should attack,” said Hemlock.

  “What would we be doing if we were Jalis?” said Renevos.

  “A good question. If I were him, I would be looking at the southern farmlands next. First, starve the City of raw materials then go after the food supply,” said Lalpa.

  “Yes,” said Miara, “there is logic in that. If Jalis has already fortified the mountains, he’d probably welcome an attack there. Especially if his forces were already on the move in the south, but with a less secure position there.”

  “Have we heard anything unusual from the south?” asked Gwineval.

  “No, but Jalis did a remarkable job of covering his tracks in the mountains before he struck. Perhaps we need to send a few smaller teams to investigate,” said Brannor.

  The ensuing moments were silent, though the tension in the room was unrelenting.

  When Gwineval rose, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes downcast. “Let us adjourn this meeting and consider the working plan. The plan sounds prudent to me given the unusual circumstances. We will meet again tomorrow, though I assume it will be without our would-be leader.”

  “I’m sorry, everyone. You’ll understand when I get back,” Hemlock said and left the room without looking at any of the wizards. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes.