Hemlock and the Dread Sorceress

by B Throwsnaill

  Chapter Eight

  Hemlock’s first instinct was to hug Falignus, but the thought simultaneously excited and repulsed her. The painful sensations of his recent embrace were still fresh in her mind.

  Falignus looked down and seemed to comprehend that he was kneeling over a corpse. His strained smile faded as he looked at the faces of the people around him. He struggled to stand as Hemlock looked on and felt unsure how to react.

  He lost his footing and stumbled forward then fell to the ground again. Hemlock rushed to his side as screams of alarm came from the courtyard.

  “The Shadow Man!” cried Tiffan, turning to flee.

  Next, a chorus of voices shouted, “Run! The Shadow Man is back!”

  Hemlock yelled to the townspeople to wait, but they didn’t listen. Soon, they had all fled. Fortunately, they had finished recovering the fallen wyverns prior to the calls of alarm.

  Hemlock helped Falignus to his feet. She saw Tored looking on with an air of disapproval about him that seemed to permeate his stoic exterior.

  Falignus’ flesh felt cool to the touch as Hemlock put an arm around him. She steadied him by holding his upper arm with her other hand. She then maneuvered him to a cluster of ruined stone blocks with a fragment large and flat enough for him to sit on.

  “It’s an amazing feeling to dwell among the living, again,” he said in a low voice. Then, looking at Hemlock, he continued, “What led you back to me?”

  “It’s complicated,” said Hemlock.

  Falignus nodded as Hemlock noticed Tored in her peripheral vision and remembered that the two had never met.

  “Falignus, this is Tored from Tanna Varra.”

  Falignus sat up erect and faced Tored. “So,” he began, “I meet the great tactician at last! The man who defeated my wizards in the recent campaign.”

  Tored didn’t respond.

  “You are a man of few words, it would seem,” added Falignus.

  “Hemlock feels you are necessary. So, in that regard, I am pleased you have been found,” said Tored.

  “I’ve heard a found tool regarded more warmly than that, but I won’t hold it against you. I’m sure I would feel the same if our roles were reversed.”

  Falignus turned back to Hemlock, cringing as if the movement caused him pain. “So, tell the tale that led you here.”

  “First, I want to hear about how the Sorceress enslaved you like that. That’s how it was, right?”

  Falignus sounded slightly bored as he spoke. “Of course. Fine. After you left me, I trekked across the desert hoping to die. I suppose I did die, but it didn’t turn out as I’d hoped it would. I was expecting some tunnel of light followed by an unburdening of all my worldly concerns and the like. Instead, I descended into a kind of near death state, but I couldn’t die. So, I kept walking and feeling worse and worse.

  “Eventually, I came upon a caravan. When they made camp for the evening, I descended on one of their scouts, and before I knew what was happening, I’d fed on him. It restored me, but that was little comfort. The anguish of un-death was replaced by the suffering of a wounded body with little protection from the elements. I feared to enter the camp after what I’d done to their comrade, so I buried his body, and retreated to a small dell I located near the camp.

  “I tried to follow them when they left the next morning, but the sun was too painful. I waited until night then followed their path. I never caught up to them, but I came to a small oasis with a deep well. There was another caravan camped there, and I was able to steal some provisions from them, and hide in a small ruin at the outskirts of the trees.

  “I stayed in this place for many weeks, stealing food from caravans where I could. After a while, I started to fade away again, so I fed on another poor soul. I was sighted a few times and forced to flee into the desert. I was killed again, but this just returned me to the un-death. After feeding the next night, my body was restored—though the remnant of the new wounds made me suffer greatly for several days until they faded.

  “Soon, the caravans became less frequent, and the fearful looks of those who did stop showed that word of my exploits was beginning to spread. I considered trying to move, but I feared being trapped in the desert and forced to endure the terrible pain of the un-dead existence for a long while.

  “Over the ensuing months, there were always enough travelers to satisfy my unique needs. So I existed in a state of mild discomfort like that, trying to plan what my next move would be. I realized that my magic only worked when I had recently fed and was well rested. As I got stronger, I managed to cast some illusions to give me better places to hide and make it easier to hunt and steal. I even managed to steal some Oberon and created a garden that was shielded by illusion so I could grow my own food. But, I found that nothing I planted would grow.

  “It was around this time that the Sorceress attacked me. She dispelled my illusions, and I was unable to hide from her as she circled on her bat in the air above me. I was still too weak to match her spells with my own. She set me on fire until I faded into un-death. Then her bat dropped that enchanted box you see over yonder, and she was able to command me to enter it by using her magic.

  “It didn’t take long for her to figure out how to exploit my feedings for her own benefit. She had a magical power source that I never figured out—though I judge from the condition of the stronghold that you destroyed it—whatever it was.”

  “So, what you did to the Sorceress was one of your feedings?” said Tored.

  “Yes,” said Falignus.

  “And you will continue to have to feed periodically?” said Tored.

  “Yes.”

  “Hemlock, how do you propose we satisfy his need? We’d have to execute someone or allow him to kill.”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to figure something out. There are plenty of rogue wizards to slay. And what about the Seekers?” said Hemlock.

  “The Seekers?” said Falignus. “I’ve told my story, now you tell me yours.”

  Hemlock exchanged a wary look with Tored before recounting events since she left Falignus in the desert. Falignus remained silent throughout her tale, though his eyes widened when she got to the part about Amarank, the earth spirit.

  “So Amarank still lived after all of these years? And she was guarding a Wand that was keeping her strange offspring alive?” said Falignus.

  “Yes. And it was her child that inspired me to find you.”

  “What could that child have to do with me?”

  “It was the child of Amarank, who was made by my father, the Red Mage, and Julius—a union of the two bloodlines. But it was crippled and never grew beyond an infant. Still, it had powers from both of our lines. It had the prescience of your line along with the perception of mine. It was aware of what was happening and what could happen. And, it said that I will need both bloodlines to defeat DuLoc.”

  “Interesting. So, you assumed that if you found me, I’d help you against this DuLoc?”

  “Yes. Will you?”

  Falignus hesitated. “I don’t know. I’ve only been human for less than an hour and here you are regaling me with tales and quests. I’m still re-learning how to breathe.”

  “Don’t assume you will continue to draw breath if you don’t make the right choice,” said Tored.

  “Tored, wait,” said Hemlock.

  “Ah, now I understand. Either I agree to help or you abandon me again?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Hemlock.

  Falignus stood unsteadily but waved off aid from Hemlock. “In that case, I agree to help.”

  “That’s not exactly convincing,” said Tored.

  “I will confront your enemies with magic and steel!” said Falignus sarcastically, deciding to sit again.

  “Look, I know you care about the City. DuLoc will destroy the City, remake it in his own image with him as supreme ruler, and his laws will reign over everything.”

  Falignus
considered this then replied, “And what makes his vision worse than either of ours? He’s just another person seeking control.”

  “He doesn’t want people to have choices. He wants laws for everything. You wanted power—but you wanted it to help people. Even though I don’t agree with your methods, at least your motives are the same as mine. DuLoc is different.”

  “Don’t you think he believes he’ll be helping people?”

  “If he does, he’s wrong.”

  “And what happens when we defeat DuLoc? Won’t that leave you and me in the same place we were before he came? How will we resolve our differences?”

  “I don’t know. I’m focused on DuLoc. We can worry about everything else when the time comes.”

  “I do love the City. And I…care…for you. If DuLoc is your enemy, I will fight at your side against him. But you have to accept what I am now. I’m not the same man I was before we fought in the desert. Part of me has been consumed by darkness and will never be the same. Some of my abilities are no longer available to me. Whether they will return is anyone’s guess.”

  “Maybe there’s a way to…”

  Falignus engaged her with a smoldering stare. “There’s no way back from this path. My father and his line spent a generation searching for a way to avoid paying the price of dark magic, but found nothing. You will have to accept me as I am. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” said Hemlock, feeling troubled, but remaining undeterred in her certainty she needed his help.

  “Then it’s decided,” said Falignus, pausing as something on the ground caught his eye. After a time, he pointed to a fragment of slate on the ground. It was only a foot wide, but it still bore the chalk writing that Tored had seen in the room with the cup.

  “I am feeling a bit weak. Can someone retrieve that flat stone for me?” said Falignus.

  Hemlock picked it up and puzzled at the strange writing. She knew of numbers, but had never seen them written amongst odd symbols like these. She looked at Tored as he approached.

  “This is a part of a great wall of writing that surrounded the magical cup I destroyed in the Sorceress’ stronghold,” he said.

  “Is that right? Please bring it here,” said Falignus.

  Tored grabbed Hemlock’s arm as she made to walk toward Falignus. She answered the questioning look he gave her by nodding and breaking free. She gave the piece of slate to Falignus.

  “What is it? Is it magic?” she asked.

  Falignus examined the writing for a full minute before responding. “In a sense, it is. But where magic bends the laws of the universe, these numbers attempt to describe the laws.”

  “Like the Imperial magic?”

  “No, this is different. If I am reading this fragment correctly, the Sorceress was exploring the nature of reality. Tored, can you describe exactly what you saw in the room with the cup?”

  “Hemlock, are you sure you can entrust him with this information? His loyalty is not yet clear,” said Tored.

  Hemlock shot Tored an annoyed look.

  “Fine,” said Tored, describing the room and what he had done to destroy the cup.

  “So, there was an hourglass and then another embedded in this pedestal?” said Falignus.

  “Yes.”

  “Fascinating. I believe the Sorceress was experimenting with the nature of time. It sounds like she was able to measure the relative passage of time at the different layers of the multiverse by teleporting the hourglass then comparing the passage of sand between the mounted one and the returned one. I wish I had realized she was engaged in important research. I might have tried to spare her life.”

  “If she was so smart, why was she so cruel to the people of Ogrun? She behaved like a ruffian. Look at her drawings,” said Hemlock, pointing to the obscene graffiti that covered the interior of the courtyard.

  “It is a mystery, but I have a suspicion. I was able to detect an air of fatalistic despair about her. I think she figured out this world is just an echo of the City, and that she herself was just an echo of something greater. As she discovered the multitude of worlds out there, it must have driven her mad,” said Falignus.

  “She didn’t care about anyone. But how could she see the same things I do and draw such a different conclusion. Every bit of the worlds, and the fire that links them, speaks of my father and his vision. She understood it and decided to destroy instead of heal. I don’t get it.”

  “But the Red Mage is your father, Hemlock. The Sorceress probably considered herself a god until she learned her true place in this existence. Perhaps I, more than anyone, can sympathize with her. How do you think it feels to be descended from a line that contravenes what appear to be the basic laws of existence? It makes you feel like an outcast, and it makes you resent the higher order that seems to be pressuring you to adhere to its laws. It makes you feel rebellious. Maybe this was what drove her.”

  “It’s troubling. Don’t you…I mean…you realize that there’s always time to change, right? My father’s vision was for everyone to be purified. That’s what this existence is all about.”

  “But who understands it? What are the rules?”

  “It’s all been lost. That’s what I’m trying to rebuild.”

  “Really? And when did you come to this realization?”

  “It’s been gradual.”

  “So, what are you? Some sort of self-styled messiah?”

  “You make it sound so arrogant. Remember, I was just another girl from the Warrens. I never asked for this. But it seems to be my destiny, and I’m not shying away from it now.”

  “So, I’m to follow in your messianic footsteps while you purify the world? I get to clean up the mess while you do whatever you see fit under the guise of destiny? Tored, are you actually buying into this?”

  “The reasons I follow Hemlock are my own,” said Tored.

  There were several moments of uneasy silence.

  Hemlock had a sudden recollection. “The Sorceress mentioned something else. She asked me whether I’ve seen the sea beyond time and space. In fact, she asked me twice. I wonder what she meant by that?”

  “A sea? Strange,” said Falignus.

  “What?”

  “Many of my prescient visions included images of a great sea populated with strange towers. But I could never connect those images with anything in our realm. They’ve always been a mystery to me.”

  Hemlock now wished as much as Falignus said he did that the Sorceress still lived. She had many questions, but knew neither Falignus, nor Tored, had the answers.

  “Please have someone gather those fragments,” said Falignus. “Is there somewhere I could rest?”

  “We will return to my mother’s home,” said Hemlock.

  Falignus looked curious, for Hemlock hadn’t mentioned her mother to him, but he didn’t ask any more questions. He simply nodded.

  Hemlock and Tored lifted Falignus and each placed one of his arms over their shoulders. Then they began the long walk back to Hemlock’s childhood home.

  They exited the courtyard and walked down the mountain path. When they reached the outskirts of Ogrun, they saw Tiffan and the man who Hemlock judged was her husband, Canthos, waiting for them. Both looked quite agitated when they saw Falignus.

  “It will take longer, but we should skirt the City,” said Hemlock. Then she remembered Tored’s shoulder injury. “How is your shoulder, Tored?”

  “It is fine. I was able to reset it,” said Tored. He was supporting Falignus with his uninjured shoulder, so while she suspected that he was still in pain, it seemed reasonable to Hemlock that he’d be able to endure the walk.

  They started to turn to the right, but Hemlock realized they would have to cross the river at some point. Tiffan and Canthos waited at the closest bridge in front of them. There were more distant bridges, but it seemed pointless to go out of their way to avoid the two townsfolk.

  “Let’s see wh
at they want,” said Hemlock.

  When they reached the edge of the bridge, Canthos took a step forward. He was a handsome man with a stalwart appearance, though his bearing didn’t suggest a life of labor.

  “We don’t want the Shadow Man in Ogrun,” he said.

  “That’s fine. We’ll go around the town. We’re returning to my mother’s house in yonder woods,” said Hemlock.

  “He looks like a man again,” said Tiffan. “Was he under some kind of spell from the Sorceress?”

  “Something like that,” said Hemlock.

  “We should let them pass, Canthos. He’s wounded and their walk will be difficult. Let’s fetch a cart for them,” said Tiffan.

  Canthos looked skeptical. “Things aren’t always what they appear to be, Tiffan. I think we’re safer if they stay out of Ogrun. But I see no reason not to give them a cart.”

  “That would be great. Thank you,” said Hemlock.

  Canthos jogged back into the town, though he appeared to be favoring one leg.

  “Esmeralda wants to say goodbye to you,” said Tiffan, eyeing Falignus warily. “Do you think it’s safe?”

  “Yes, it’s safe,” said Hemlock.

  “Alright. Canthos will never allow it, so I’ll tell her to meet you at the edge of the town as you walk. I don’t understand what you are doing with…him, but I trust you have good intentions. Please, just keep him away from us.”

  “We’ll be taking him far away from Ogrun. Don’t worry about it,” said Hemlock.

  Canthos soon returned with a small cart. They loaded Falignus into it, and Hemlock and Tored each grabbed one side of the bar on the front. After they exchanged another goodbye with Tiffan, they set off. But after a moment Hemlock stopped suddenly.

  Turning back to Tiffan and Canthos, she said, “I’m not mad about the burden you tried to place on me back there—but I don’t think it was right. After everything that Sorceress put you through, you should have accepted the duty of killing her yourselves. You need to think about that. There will be other threats to Ogrun, and I may never return. You need to learn to defend yourselves or you will end up under the heel of the next tyrant that comes along. Start a militia and learn to fight. You can’t remain free if you don’t accept that responsibility.”

  Canthos and Tiffan both nodded, and two great screeches rang out from overhead. Hemlock looked up and saw two wyverns wheeling above the couple. The pair both raised an arm and the wyverns descended and landed beside them. They waved and smiled and the wyverns screeched again. Hemlock got the impression the beasts were screeching their thanks as well, though she wasn’t sure what informed her opinion other than a hunch.

  Pulling the cart was nearly as much work as walking with Falignus, though it did go faster and was far easier on the weakened wizard. When they reached the halfway point of their journey and were nearing the edge of Ogrun, Hemlock saw Esmeralda running toward them along with a small wyvern.

  They set the cart down as the girl reached them. Esmeralda ran up to Hemlock and hugged her then did the same to Tored.

  “I want to come with you!” said the girl.

  “What? Are you kidding? Your parents would be devastated! Your place is here, Esmeralda,” said Hemlock.

  The girl looked despondent. “But I could go with you for a few weeks then come back. I want to have more adventures with you! I can learn to defeat sorcery like you do. Then I can protect Ogrun!”

  Hemlock smiled and held the girl’s hand. “I was like you when I was younger. I left my family to seek adventure. One thing I learned is you can never get back home once you leave. You may return, but it will never be the same. Take my word for it—stay here and grow into adulthood with your parents. Then you can decide what to do. Alright?”

  Esmeralda was tearing up, but she nodded affirmatively.

  “Now, run off before your father discovers where you are!”

  “Alright,” Esmeralda said. The thought of her father seemed to break the girl’s melancholy mood, and she dashed off yelling, “Goodbye! Thank you!” as she ran.

  Soon they reached the edge of the forest, and Hemlock turned back to regard Ogrun a final time. Though it was dark, she could still see the towers, and was able to imagine a future Ogrun healed from the blight the Sorceress had inflicted on it.

  Hemlock located the trail that led to her mother’s home and they were soon surrounded by trees and a gentle symphony of nocturnal insects. Falignus’ breathing turned shallow and regular, and Hemlock knew he had fallen asleep despite the rough ride he was getting due to the uneven surface of the path.

  “Have you considered how the wizard council will react to him?” said Tored.

  “Badly, I’m sure. We’ll keep him away from the Wizard Tower. He will stay with us in the Warrens.”

  Tored didn’t respond, so Hemlock turned toward him and saw a scowl on his face before he was able to conceal it.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find room somehow. And he’ll surely move on once he regains his strength,” she added half-heartedly. An image of Falignus’ abdominal muscles came to her mind, suddenly. She remembered how his white linen bedding had elegantly draped his midsection when they had lain together on that not-so-distant evening that now seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “And what will keep him away from the wizards, then?” said Tored.

  “I will. By then we should be fighting DuLoc. Once that’s over, maybe Falignus can find another world to live on. Or maybe he and the wizards will make friends again.”

  “And what of his ambitions? People don’t change overnight, Hemlock. I know he’s been through a lot, but I suspect the man will return to form once he is restored and rested.”

  “He’ll never be the same, Tored. He said it himself. He’ll have to figure out how to live with himself and with others.”

  A half hour later, they reached the clearing where they originally landed and left the griffin to rest. Penelope was back in the same resting place, and Mercuria knelt beside her, stroking her coat gently.

  “Hemlock!” said Mercuria, rising to meet them.

  Hemlock embraced her sister then noticed the griffin. Sections of her fur were blackened and patchy around her head and front paws. But she was sleeping and appeared to be comfortable.

  “How bad is Penelope?” said Hemlock.

  “She was in bad shape when she got back here. I’m surprised she was able to fly. But I helped her, and she will be alright. It’s just a matter of rest, now.”

  “I know this probably sounds insensitive, but when will she be able to travel?”

  “Hemlock, you have to let her rest. Remember how difficult the passage was for her.”

  “And now we have one more,” said Hemlock, pointing to the cart.

  Mercuria’s features darkened as she peered over the side of that cart at the slumbering form resting within. “So, you did it,” she said.

  “Yes. And now we need to return to the City as soon as possible. We have to make sure DuLoc hasn’t returned already.”

  “Can’t you tell that with your powers?”

  “No, I can’t detect people like I can in the observatory. Not yet, anyway.”

  Mercuria looked uncomfortable. “Well, we should go back to Mother’s house and let her know you’re safe.”

  “Alright,” said Hemlock, giving Mercuria an inquisitive look.

  Mercuria looked chagrined then spoke. “I wanted to wait until we got back to Mother’s, but I guess I can’t keep a secret. I’ve decided to stay here, Hemlock.”

  Hemlock felt a spectrum of emotions rising as she inspected the simultaneously conciliatory and appraising expression on her sister’s face. On one hand, she felt upset and betrayed because her sister had been with her for all her life. But there was relief also. If war was coming to the City, having her sister out of harm’s way would simplify things. Then a dark thought entered her mind.

  What if DuLoc has the sa
me abilities I do? What if he knows Mercuria is here and kills her while I’m in the City?

  But she remembered that she could only sense certain people with significant bloodlines in the observatory. And her sister didn’t share her unique paternal heritage.

  “That’s fine Mercuria—perhaps it’s for the best. If DuLoc attacks the City, I’d rather you be as far away from it as possible.”

  “You’re not upset?”

  “Of course I’m upset! But I realize it will also keep you safe. And we can reunite after the battle. I’m sure Mother is ecstatic. At least you can keep an eye on her, and Ogrun. I’m fond of the place after all of these years.”

  They decided to let the griffin rest and returned to Hemlock’s mother’s home. Once there, they unloaded Falignus and brought him into the house to rest. This displaced Hemlock from her old room, so she slept on the sofa in the common room since Tored insisted on sleeping on the floor. Hemlock and he agreed to sleep in shifts to keep an eye on Falignus during the night, but Hemlock doubted whether the old warrior slept at all.

  Hemlock was restless, too. The delay caused by the recovering griffin was a great concern to her. Now that she’d accomplished her goal of recovering Falignus, the risks of her choice had come to roost in her mind. She thought of Gwineval and Merit, and hoped her decision hadn’t compromised their safety.

  There was no clear transition, but at some point her awareness of the dark chill of the common room gave way to the sensation of sand underfoot and the undulations of a massive sea. Waves broke on the beach she now stood upon with regularity, and the accompanying sound soothed her. But her comfortable feeling was interrupted when she noticed clouds rolling in at supernatural speed and obscuring the light of three suns.

  Next, a fog rolled in and hung heavily over the surrounding sea, replacing the peaceful blue of the horizon with a hazy gray. And something loomed in the fog. Something she hadn’t seen—that hadn’t been there mere moments ago. And it was massive. A slender, tall form rendered insubstantial by the surrounding fog. It was easily ten times higher than the Wizard Tower. She noticed a wide shadow now fell on the beach.

  Her instinct was to run, but something about the form in the dark fog mesmerized her. There was a sense of danger, but it mingled with the promise of enlightenment.

  A gust of wind howled from her right, and the fog began to clear. The tall tower—for it was revealed to be a tower by the clearing fog—had the surface qualities of a natural stone peak, yet was clearly shaped by a guiding hand. It was covered by cascading water that poured from thousands of holes and gulleys along its surface. The water fell into a myriad of extending basins and also seeped into drainage holes that returned it to the interior of the structure. It was huge and imposing, created by a power she couldn’t comprehend―and it frightened her. She turned to run, but then the scene changed.

  She stood in the ruins of a house nestled in a valley high in a mountain range. Smoke rose from a recent fire that appeared to have destroyed nearly everything inside the structure, but a broad backed man knelt over something on the floor that was obscured from view by his bulk. Hemlock felt curious—something about the man was familiar. She approached him from the side, walking carefully through the debris.

  She heard the man sobbing and could see that he knelt over the body of a woman. The body had been badly charred by fire, but the man embraced the remains.

  “Hilda…” he muttered then took notice of Hemlock.

  When he looked up, Hemlock saw that part of his scalp was devoid of hair and badly scarred by an old wound. She immediately recognized his broad features and bulky build. He was the ghost that helped her through the caves near the Sorceress’ stronghold. But he now appeared as flesh and blood.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Who are you?”

  “He’ll pay for this.” The man sobbed, his face red with tears. He looked more terrible than pitiful in his grief. His muscles quivered with rage as he extended and clenched his fist.

  Hemlock was still confused. “What happened here?”

  “A massacre,” the man managed.

  “Was she…”

  “My wife? Yes. My children are in the other room. Their throats were cut in their beds,” he said, choking back fresh tears.

  “My goodness! Who did this?”

  The man calmed down and rose, turning toward her. “DuLoc. His name is DuLoc. I won’t rest until he’s dead. I’ll help you, but my power is weak in the open air. Look for me in the deep rock.”

  The charred walls of the house started to fade, and the figure of the man faded with it. His eyes, aflame with hatred, grief and determination, were the last thing she saw.

  Her eyes bolted open, and the old, pockmarked ceiling of her mother’s common room was above her again, comforting in its familiarity in the early morning light. The strange dreams were over, but Hemlock felt they were more than mere flights of fancy.

  Was that the sea the Sorceress spoke of? And what of the ghost? Was he among the slain miners in the eastern mountains?

  Tored, already awake, was pacing outside the door where Falignus had been put to rest.

  “We shouldn’t have closed this door. I want to check on him,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” said Hemlock.

  Tored turned the crude handle and the door creaked as he opened it.

  “He’s in there,” said Tored. “He appears to still be asleep.”

  Hemlock sighed as an attractive scent wafted into the room. She recognized it immediately.

  “My mother is making her hazelnut cakes. Are you hungry?”

  “I am.”

  “Let’s leave him to rest, and get some food.”

  Hemlock led Tored outside to a back porch where her mother tended a crude stove made of stacked rocks and topped with an iron plate. Two dozen cakes baked in a compartment inside the stove on an iron grate. The smell of the baking and the gentle creak of the slowly rotating water wheel filled Hemlock with a profound feeling of peace.

  “Good morning, Mother,” said Hemlock, noting her mother looked far better groomed than when she had first seen her two days prior.

  “Good morning. So, you made it back. I trust you defeated her—the Sorceress?”

  “Yes. Tored and I did.”

  “Was it a simple matter for you, then? Did your powers end up being as formidable as you thought?”

  “Yes…and no. I should have heeded your warnings better. In the end, it was Tored who saved me.”

  “Hmmm. It’s no matter that you didn’t listen. Since when have you ever listened to me?”

  Hemlock started to protest, but as she took a moment to consider, she had to concede that her mother was probably right. Hemlock turned to find a nearby chair when her mother spoke again.

  “Listen, Hemlock. I’m sorry that I brought a man into our home that made you uncomfortable. I guess I was blinded by a desperate love and didn’t want to see the truth. It’s difficult to admit it, but I’m sorry.”

  Hemlock was suddenly uncomfortable. Her mother had rarely apologized to her before. She took a step toward her mother, and the two of them embraced with awkward, but heartfelt, emotion.

  Hemlock sniffled and choked back happy tears.

  “Where’s Mercuria?” she asked.

  “She went to check on the griffin—should be back soon. Cakes are almost ready,” said her mother, placing a tea pot on the iron plate.

  Hemlock turned to Tored. He was looking at the surrounding woods and seemed remarkably relaxed.

  “Tored, you’ve seem different since we got back—more at peace with yourself.”

  “Yes, I guess that’s true. I had an… experience… inside the Sorceress’ stronghold. It helped me to understand some things about myself. I think I’ve put some old demons to rest.”

  “Thank goodness. You haven’t been the best company lately,” said Hemlock, smiling.

  Tored did
n’t respond, instead engaging her with a restrained smile. But a second later, it turned to a frown as the grating of a rusty hinge sounded from the door behind her.

  Hemlock turned and saw Mercuria leading Falignus onto the patio.

  “I found him clutching the mantle and trying to make his way out here,” said Mercuria, helping Falignus into a seat near the stove. The slender, pale wizard shielded his eyes from the low sun. When he sat, he turned his chair to face away from the light.

  “Thank you, young lady,” said Falignus. “I’m afraid my condition places me at a disadvantage and has impaired my manners. Thank you for welcoming me into your home,” he said to Hemlock’s mother.

  “You’re welcome, young wizard. My girls have told me a lot about you—some good and some bad. We prefer the former around here.”

  Falignus chuckled. “Well put. It’s a path I hope to follow in more ways than one,” he said, looking at Hemlock.

  She smiled then looked away, turning back to Tored.

  “Will you make him use Renevos’ device?” Tored asked Hemlock in a low voice as Falignus spoke with the two other women in a separate conversation.

  “I’ll ask him to, yes. I think he’ll agree. If he does, we’ll be lighter for Penelope to carry since Mercuria is staying. It could save us valuable time if Penelope can make the journey on less rest.”

  “Our course is set, then.”

  “Yes,” said Hemlock, looking at the aging warrior. A sudden idea came to her, then. “You could stay here—in Ogrun. You’re fond of Mercuria. You could be happy here. And you’ve done your part. Falignus can help me now.”

  Tored glanced at the woods again before answering. “A tempting offer, but I think I’ll stay the course. Besides, you’ll need me around when he goes mad again. You know he will, Hemlock. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “DuLoc has made sure we don’t have that. I don’t expect Falignus will have time to torment himself, provided he continues to help us. But, I’m glad you’re staying with me. Outside of my family and Merit, you’re the only true friend I have.”

  “This is my tribe now, and you are the head of it.”

  Mercuria approached them and held out a tray of steaming cakes. Hemlock and Tored shared a smile, and each removed a pastry from the tray. Then the five of them sat in the cool air of the morning and regarded one another as they ate. For Hemlock, it was a welcome respite before the beginning of what she judged would be her final quest. She regarded each of her companions—each was something of a quest seeker in their own right. Some now following her directly, and the others now dependent on her success.

  She’d always enjoyed eating the hazelnut cakes when she was a girl, but remembered they usually made her stomach feel queasy. That morning, for the first time, they went down without any discomfort.

  Afterward

  I hope you've enjoyed reading Book III!  I've been asked by some readers where the series stands and what additional books are likely to appear.  My estimate is that the current Hemlock story arc will conclude in either one full length book (>100K word count) or perhaps over two shorter volumes like Book III.  It's always possible it could go longer, but I wouldn't expect it to be much longer than 150k words.  Once this arc completes, there will be room for further tales set in this universe, but they would have to be a bit...different.

   

  If you are looking for some other indie fantasy to tide you over until my next book (wink, wink), look no further than the following two series.  The Bakkian Chronicles by Jeffrey M. Poole is a whimsical series of books about a contemporary couple who suddenly find themselves thrust into a fantasy world.  It's a lighthearted read and reminds me a bit of Xanth without the puns.  Demon Gates by Robert Day is a more traditional epic fantasy series that features great action sequences and an impressive sense of depth and character. It reminds me of a narrative account of the tales underpinning a superlative fantasy campaign setting--one that I wish was a role playing game I could get lost in.

  It would be remiss of me if I didn’t also mention the Indie Book Blog run by Scott Poe at https://indiebookblogger.blogspot.com/ . This is a great review site that specializes in reviewing Indie fantasy. Scott has been wonderfully supportive of many Indie fantasy authors—including myself. Please visit the site and become a member. You won’t regret it.

   

  I want to take a final moment to thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with me.  Every reader that obtains a copy of one of my books is providing wind in my sails that helps to keep me writing.  I only connect with readers over the internet and never see them face to face (except my beta readers).  I probably need to start going to local conventions and doing book signings--but that's another story.  In the meantime, the limited interactions I do have with readers online are very gratifying.  But even if you never contact me, know that your purchase of my book(s) has directly contributed to keeping my fire burning. Thank you, and keep your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds!

   

  Learn more about the author at https://www.wiztower.com.