Armen shot his master a look filled with annoyance at being dragged away from what was surely his ultimate dream. “Yes master,” came the dark tones of his voice as he bowed and scurried out of the room. Garias ignored the look. “Killing the man would serve no purpose, and it is much easier for me if the people in the city below believe that Armen was the fabled 'Witch Finder', of who children cried to sleep and even their fathers quailed. It means that I can pass through the city unseen and unchallenged.”
Presently, Armen returned, the wizard Caldar behind him.
“What do you require of me, Garias?” Caldar demanded in a voice that announced plain as day that this man expected to be treated as an equal, not a subordinate. Caldar looked around the room and as he saw Obrett his eyes widened. “What is he doing here?”
“I require you to find the source of the disturbance below.” Was his short and to the point answer. Garias turned to examine one of the texts he had removed from his library, and found Caldar still standing there. “Go.”
The wizard's eyes widened in anger. “How dare you talk to me like that? I am not some menial to be ordered around! I will not move until you answer my question.”
Garias did not reply, but closed his eyes. The Golem stumped over towards the wizard, who quailed, shrinking back. “Do not forget your place here. You might be the head of an order where you come from, but here you answer to me. If I give you a command, you will follow it to the letter. If you fail…” Garias indicated the creature looming over him. “Well, there are fates that you could not imagine if you fail me, and I am sure there are plenty waiting to succeed you as head of your order. Maybe even Obrett.” He said it so coldly, so quietly, that the rioting echoed in the background like a distant tremor.
Caldar's face paled, revealing him for the sneaking coward that Obrett had become used to dealing with, and backed out of the room.
The Golem remained where it had come to stand, still rocking as it absorbed the emotion from the very air. He looked up at it. The blank face was impassive as ever, and the dark eyes reflected the light as if they had been polished.
“I hope you are enjoying this,” Garias said, as if it would answer back. “The evil in the air is delicious, no? Of course, had you not hidden her from me, none of this would have been necessary. Now you will absorb it all until she has been found. You are the timer, and the sand will run out all too soon.”
The Golem carried on rocking in its trance-like state, ignoring all conversation.
“Guards!”
The door opened, and a guard leaned in, his leather helmet covering most of his face. “Sir?”
“I require the remaining prisoners. Accompany me.”
The guard straightened, slamming the butt of his spear onto the stone floor with a crack. “Sir!”
“Oh and guard?”
“Yes sir?”
Garias stared at Obrett. “Send word to unleash the army. Send that sorry chattel to their doom.”
The guard saluted smartly, and stepped into an antechamber to issue the orders.
“Even the guards do not know who you are.”
“Not yet. Just a man to be listened to at all times, and always obeyed without question was what Armen told them, and word filters quickly.” The guard appeared, and escorted them through the halls. The trophies and blood-red furnishings looked especially garish in the light of what was going to happen. “You are more creative than I had imagined. Blood will literally run in the streets and I will create another legend. All because of you.”
Obrett tried to remain impassive, but the pressure we straining him. He kept a tight grip on his focus stone and looked around as he was led through the treasure-filled halls of this city.
“Legends have been built here in the past, such as the capture of the tribesmen sent against me, and the great focus that had previously been the crowning achievement of my life. I can feel the ability to focus grow within me, and the feeling makes my skin crawl. Ever since I formed the focus that drew in wizards and commoners alike, I have not been able to focus. I abhor your type, relying on instruments to perform.”
This made Obrett think; The Witch Finder had lost his ability. Perhaps it was because he put too much of himself into the magic to give it that extra little kick, or perhaps it was because he hated to rely on himself when others would do. He unconsciously rubbed at his arms as he walked, the tingling of the Golem's evil almost making him itch. The mere thought that he would have to focus again was abhorrent given his present situation. He could feel it building within him though.
Garias started again. “I will create another legend on top of the man who sent thousands to a slaughtered death. I will gain the Tome of Law and bend it to my will, shaping the countryside and ridding it of the equalitarian rural folk. Once it is encased upon the dais I have prepared for it, thousands will gaze upon it and marvel at my vision. There is a new world over the horizon, and I am the explorer.”
“Exploiter is perhaps a closer word.” Was Obrett's glib reply. Even now he could feel the rumble of the gates beneath him, and knew that in mere moments the anger of the rabble below would turn to fear and panic as they were hewn down like wheat at harvest. That thought alone would have revolted him were he not painfully aware of the Golem. He knew how he would have felt. He knew that the Golem would rock in ecstasy when it fed off of the negative emotions only it could feel.
“As it always does, the splendour of this palace becomes plain and utilitarian as the hallways grow. I will not have it that way, and one day will live constantly surrounded by treasure and the oldest, most rare artefacts.”
“That is what your new law will gain you? Treasure? That is your grand scheme, to become rich.
“My plans stretch beyond anything you could imagine, wizard. Guard!”
“Sir,” the foremost guard snapped to attention.
“There is something different about this hallway. There is a breeze coming from the cells. Take yourself ahead and find out the cause.” Garias turned to Obrett. “There should be no way out from there. What have you done?”
Obrett remained silent, defiant.
“Bring him!” Garias commanded the Golem, and the creature shoved him along. He walked faster, moving tired old limbs long past their best as much as he could push them. It took an agonisingly long time. No hallway was short in this city. They were all longer and wider than in any other city he had visited. Vanity was one thing he had not had to live with in his guild. “If you can't intimidate with magic then you intimidate with size. There is a word for you, Witch Finder. Inferior.”
They arrived at the prison cells just as the slaughter began to reach its climax. As swords chopped through flesh and wood, and the screams rose to a fever pitch, Garias looked around the prison with an utter lack of comprehension.
“Three of the doors have been forced, evidently from the inside.”
“What have you done with the occupants of these cells?” Garias screamed.
“You will never find them. They are beyond your reach now.
“GUARDS!” Garias yelled down the hallway, bringing several running. “Something is not right.” Obrett watched as Garias looked first into the three cells that had no doors left, and saw the source of the draft. “A wall reduced to rubble, but the hole is too small for anybody to have escaped.”
He looked in the other cells. Three of the other prisoners were curled up in various parts of their cells, reacting to the Golem's presence. The fourth prisoner was different. He occupied the cell to the left of that which had been Obrett's home.
“Who is this?” Garias asked one of the guards.
“This prisoner is one that the Golem took in the forest to the South of the Nejita range.”
Obrett caught a glance of the man; He stood in the centre of his cell, arms hanging relaxed by his side, as if awaiting them. He was dressed in a rusty robe, and did not seem the least bit affected. He was calm, and he even smiled at Garias as he peered down through the bars
of his cell. “Why don't you invite me out?”
“I know your type.” Garias replied. “That scar down your cheek. I have seen it before. The fire guild, one of the sub-orders that worship Matsandrau the Sun Lord. They are small in number, but great in skill. Anything less than his prize tool would have failed to catch one of your kind. Yet here you stand, smiling slightly as if nothing were wrong. What have you got to smile about?” Garias demanded.
“Look in the cells down my row,” the wizard answered. “You might find something that surprises you, and therein lies the answer to your question. What have I got to smile about? Take a look and find out.”
Garias shot the man a look of pure annoyance and moved from his cell. Obrett shifted his stone as the focus moved away from him. He was running out of time. Soon the riot could well consume the entire city. A couple of cells down, Garias stopped. “Get this door open.” He commanded the guard that had accompanied him, who in turn nodded to one of the guards that had come running. The guard stepped forward with a set of long handled metal keys, using one to unlock the door. The door opened with a click of the lock and the squeal of protesting hinges filled with rust. Garias waited for the guard to step out of the way, and then entered the cell. Obrett tried to get a look without drawing attention to himself. The guard was still bound in the focus. Garias moved closely but cautiously around the guard within, being careful not to touch the man. The trapped guard was breathing, but the strain of trying to move showed on his face. Even his eyes could not move.
“Somebody has been performing a focus, here in the cell.” Garias mused as he appraised Obrett yet again.
The guards made warding signs, and moving steadily away. Garias took one more look, and then stalked out of the cell and back to the cell of the fire guildsman.
He was still stood directly in the centre of the cell, annoyingly at ease for his situation. “I can unlock the focus for you, but you must promise me one thing.”
“You are not in a position to bargain.” Garias sneered.
“The Law Guildsman's life and my freedom.” The wizard continued.
“Never!”
“Freedom to serve you.” He continued. “All of my order. They will follow my lead. But let me demonstrate my intentions by telling you what has been happening around here first.”
“How are you called?” Garias asked, suspicion in his voice.
“My name is Mohin, second wizard of the guild of fire, high servants of Holy Matsandrau, Lord of the Sun.”
Garias looked at the man coolly. “You are trying to lead me to believe that I have had the second most powerful wizard of the fire guild in my dungeon for the passing of several months and you have not once tried to escape or raise your hand against anyone?”
“What would I use?” Came the infuriatingly polite reply. “My guild relies on volcanic rock to perform focuses. There are none here, or I would be free.” Mohin turned away from him to study the wall. “I bide my time for my own reasons, but I and my guild will aid you. You will need our help, especially if all that you have to rely on are those ancients from the Law guild.”
“What do you mean?”
A snort of derision, and Mohin turned back around. “They use their skills for the most basal of motives: to keep themselves alive. They have no more power than what is needed to lift a paperweight. The Law Guild has forgotten more than you could ever hope to learn, and I believe that there are few that know anything about the lost skills. The only one of consequence was in the group that escaped from here, a wizard of considerable skill and immeasurable resource. He stands by you now.”
Garias signalled, and the guard with the keys, a bullish, heavyset fellow, unlocked the door.
Mohin stepped over the threshold. He bowed to Garias. “Your master is my master.” He said simply, but the look in his eye told Obrett that this Mohin was very dangerous. Mohin had knowledge of much more than he was saying. He then stepped into the cell. One quick look told him all he needed to know. “He is bound up with a water guild shield. A very good one at that. I cannot remove it, but it will dissipate in a couple of days. What you want to know is what happened here, well I can tell you. The four that have escaped altered the focus that drags those dregs you call people here from the wilder lands. They have made it so that the people rise up against you.”
“How would you know so much?”
Mohin smiled again, a smile that would make any lesser mortal shudder with discomfort, but had no effect on Garias whatsoever. “I listen, and observe. I have been in worse places than this. When they escaped, three of them blasted their doors open and the fourth did this to the guard. All four of them have power and skills, and I suggest you find the rest. They will be useful.”
“How do you know we don't already have the others?”
“Obrett here will not betray his friends.” Mohin stepped close to him and it was as if he could almost feel the heat that the man was used to wielding. “He will stay silent, but you should look everywhere nonetheless.”
“Do it,” Garias ordered the guards.
As the guards marched off, Caldar reappeared with one of his guildsmen, a grossly fat man who had stumps for legs, or so it seemed. It was hard to see the guards go, so big was the body that blocked the hallway. The fat man scowled, as if life had been a continual trial to him and it had the effect of making him look like a rather unfortunate gargoyle with short, curly orange hair. “This is Sandras, a trusted member of the Law guild. He has the answer to your problem.”
“We have already found the problem,” Mohin replied. “It is unlikely that a fat old fool could grunt his way through such an idea.”
“Really,” Caldar replied, drawing himself up to look important. “Well why don't you explain just what is going on then, prisoner?”
Mohin did just that, and as Obrett observed the man, he could see that Mohin was as good as his word, revealing their plan almost exactly as they had carried it out.
Caldar went increasingly red as he was put in his place. “Impossible!” He denounced. “Obrett is a gibbering fool and those other wizards would have taken his lead. Sandras has the reason easily explained.”
Obrett shrugged. “Just a fool.” He agreed.
Sandras stepped forward, grunting and making all manner of ungodly noises as he did so. He cleared his throat, which took several efforts. “I have it on very high authority that the unjust rebellion at your city gates is a direct result of starvation. This has been brought about by the surplus population and their apparent inability to feed themselves.”
Sandras carried on and on about food and its lack, walking around the room and ignoring everybody as he began to describe his favourite meals. Obrett lost all interest, since the man had never been able to look beyond his plate. He was torn from his contemplation when a piercing shriek split the air. Obrett looked on in revulsion as he watched Sandras grow fainter and fainter. The Golem shuddered with pleasure as it absorbed the guildsman.
The horror on Caldar's face was plain. The wailing faded, leaving only a trace of an echo against the backdrop of clashing weapons and horrified screams. “What have you done?”
“How dare you present me with this, wizard. If you think that is the best you can come up with, you will be sharing the same fate.
“Your creature feeds well tonight, master,” Mohin observed. The Golem was shuddering with pleasure. “The emotive magic is a rare thing.”
Caldar was still in shock, and stared at Mohin with rage in his eyes. “Why?”
“Therein lies your fate unless you prove to be more useful than that morsel.” Garias replied. “I hope that you have more skill with a stone than that waste of a life had with his voice. Mohin is correct, all you need to do is focus and see the truth.”
Caldar pulled out his stone, and threw his mind into the search. Obrett felt the focus, a weak affair. Definitely politics made the man and not ability, he decided.
“True enough, the focus is there as the prisoner describes,
and there is also a message implying rebellion.”
Sweat began to bead on Caldar's face.
“You can't let go,” Garias whispered in Caldar's ear. The focus has you trapped, and for every moment you are trapped, you became enmeshed further.”
Obrett began slowly to back away as all attention in the room was taken by his former guild head. One step at a time, he edged towards the nearest hidden passage, all the time keeping his eyes fixed on the event in front of him. Caldar was throwing all of his might into breaking free, but it did him no good.
“Will he be able to solve it?” Mohin asked.
The corner of Garias' mouth twitched up. “Serves him right if he can't, doesn't it? Mohin, I want you to go to your guild, and bring them to me.”
“To what end?”
“We are going to get the other guilds on side for this. They are going to find that they have a choice: Join us, or join with my creature.”
Mohin broke into a grin, a rictus of sadistic glee. “A simple choice indeed. What of the escaped wizards?”
“I'm really not concerned about them as a group, but the Law wizard Obrett is our little prize. We have a lot to get from him.”
Obrett saw his chance slipping away, and slammed a focus home using his stone. The walls bucked and the roof began to crumble in. He struggled to stay on his feet. Before anybody could react, Obrett three a bolt of force at the Golem, and then another at the wall behind which was the tunnel that led directly to the greater focus. The wall exploded, sending stone shrapnel scattering around the room. A stinging pain bit his arm, and there were yells from somewhere behind him. He ignored it all as he dashed to the tunnel.
“This is not the end of it, Law wizard!” Came a voice from behind him. “You cannot escape my city! You will be ground into meat before you feel the Golem's touch!”
“So be it.” Obrett hurled the words into Garias' head with such animosity that he felt the moment when his adversary dropped unconscious to the floor. For good measure he collapsed the walls behind him. The tower shuddered, and Obrett hurried down the narrow stairway. He never looked back, his purpose was ahead, drawing him on. He crossed hallways, traversing the city as he wound his way deeper into the labyrinth beneath, closer and closer to the greater focus that was the source of all that was wrong about Raessa. He did not need light, so strong was the compulsion that drew him on, and eventually it felt as if he were not alone. Obrett focussed in the darkness, and instantly the light emitted by his stone revealed his companions. They were frozen, looking straight ahead. Obrett knew what was there, and he dared not look. Instead he focussed a barrier of force around them, trusting to his ability to get the focus correct in confined space. As he erected the barrier, Jacob, Ispen and Brendan blinked as one.
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 26