by R J Hanson
The Blue Tower offered a much more liberal approach to the study of magic and arcane powers. The only true requirement the Blue Tower placed on its students was obedience during their studies and the benefit of examining whatever discoveries the students might make. However, due to the comparatively undisciplined attitude toward the availability of volatile topics, many did not survive their own curiosity. The few who did survive learned the virtue of patience when applied to experimentation.
It should also be said that not all mages and sorcerers of the Blue Tower condoned kidnapping and slavery. Some viewed it as necessary exploitation of a world that had rejected them. Some thought it distasteful, but not so much so as to jeopardize their position among their colleagues.
The students of the Blue Tower understood the significance of an invitation from a member of the ruling council held. Even if it were only to walk in the garden and discuss philosophy, the fortunate student would find himself with the opportunity to garner a mentor and find his reputation among his peers bolstered.
These two student mages were no different. They gladly hopped to the summoning gesture from Berje. Each student was eager to know why they had been so summoned, but neither was foolish enough to ask. They had been studying alongside another of their rank, Keellen, who had made the mistake of asking Eljen Unglau the direction of the nearest jakes. Keellen was now only able to communicate with his comrades by writing down his message on a chalk tablet he wore around his neck on a rope.
Berje, flanked by the two young hopefuls, walked down another seven flights of stairs, for today the dungeon was seven flights down and not nine or fourteen, to arrive at the great iron doors leading to the slaves’ quarters.
A watchman of the tower opened the door for them and stepped in behind them to accompany the three mages through the dungeon. Berje, with a minor wave of his hand, dismissed the watchman, and led the other two to the questioning chamber; the torture chamber. The door opened to reveal a much healthier Silas sitting at a table off to the side of the room; fork in one hand and knife in the other.
The watchman was alarmed to hear the screams coming from the torture chamber, for more than one man was screaming within even though only one prisoner was inside. However, this watchman, as all the watchmen of the Blue Tower, had no trouble minding his own business when it came to the affairs of wizards. The watchmen here lived a life of ease as well, and not a man among them sought to risk it by asking unwanted questions.
Three weeks later, Silas, adorned in all his former trappings and enjoying a full state of health, walked down the streets of Wodock. He also wore a new necklace, not unlike the necklace worn by Larkhill, the servant of A’Ilys.
Berje and Etern Garria levitated comfortably in their state of invisibility along the rooftops of Wodock almost one hundred yards behind Silas. The six watchmen from the Blue Tower loitered on the front porch of a tavern called Bloody George’s across the street from the warehouse where Berje and another had laid their trap.
The sun was high in the skies above Wodock and made the streets and alleys of the pirate city humid and claustrophobic. The humidity, mixed with the mud that seemed to find its way onto everything here, made the city seem in a state of subdued lament. The smells of stale rum and rotting meat permeated the air.
Silas stepped from the bright sunlight into the dark of the warehouse and knew at once he was not alone. He could smell oiled weapons, human sweat, and animal fur. This last smell confused him somewhat.
“General Verkial, we were not to meet for another hour yet,” Silas said, making a guess. “You have me at a loss.”
“You’re supposed to be at a loss, you foppish twit,” barked a harsh voice in the afternoon dark of the warehouse. “And its Warlord Verkial to you.”
A few moments passed as Silas allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the warehouse. The warehouse had been under surveillance for two days by the watchmen from the Blue Tower, yet Verkial and several of his men had made it inside unnoticed just the same. The speaker was a large man standing to Verkial’s right. Verkial was easy to identify.
Silas had heard much of Verkial of Tarborat. His physical presence did not disappoint. He was a Great Man of at least seven feet three inches in height, and Silas guessed his weight at about five hundred stone. He wore subdued black plate armor that did not overlap, allowing for silent and agile movement. In his right hand, he carried a Shrou-Hayn of cursed Roarkor that shined black in the dim light. He wore no helm, and Silas could see that his hair was as black as sin, and his eyes were the blue of a frozen corpse’s lips.
Next to him stood another huge soldier of remarkable size, the one who had insisted Silas refer to Verkial as Warlord. He was not as large as Verkial, but Silas did not discount how dangerous the Warlord’s lieutenant likely was. This fellow was clad in full plate armor and carried a battle hammer comprised entirely of mercshyeld. The large two-handed hammer was engraved with many runes and symbols of power and would have been difficult for most to lift, much less wield.
Behind Verkial and his lieutenant stood a dozen creatures Silas was unable to identify. They were half the height of ogres, closer to the stature of men. Most of them bore varying characteristics ranging from that of ogres to something more akin to human; however, a few had wolfish snouts while others possessed small rams’ horns that protruded from their temples. Their skin tones were uniform in that they were mottled green and black; however, some were covered in shaggy fur while others were hairless. These were armed and armored well toting black steel spears and wearing breastplates of fine alloy. Silas decided these specimens must be the bellik that Rogash mentioned.
“My goods are here,” Verkial said in a deep, rich voice. “Yet, no ship arrived to deliver them. I find that curious. My witch tells me there are entrapping runes and wards laid about the walls of this warehouse. I find that upsetting.”
Verkial’s words were reasonable, but his tone carried a deadly edge. Silas knew this part would be difficult, made even more so by Verkial’s early arrival and keen observations.
“I pray you’ll allow me to fully explain,” Silas said in his customarily confident tone. “What I have to say will also upset you to some degree; however, I assure you the circumstances were unavoidable.”
The sound of the lieutenant’s leather gauntlets squeezing the haft of his large battle hammer was loud in Silas’s ears. It seemed to be the only response from that quarter, so Silas decided to continue.
“I was captured, along with your goods, by the wizards of the Blue Tower,” Silas said.
Silas noticed the large soldier, Verkial’s lieutenant, immediately scan the room again with a worried look on his face. Apparently, this one did not like wizards.
“They have a grudge against my mistress and are angry that Moras has cut off trade to them,” Silas continued. “I convinced them to lay a trap here for my mistress and the pirates she preferred in trade.”
Verkial’s eyes narrowed, and he took in a great breath.
“It sounds like you misjudged me,” Verkial said. “It sounds like you will not be walking out of here. Whatever trap you hope to spring upon me, and my soldiers will only serve to raise my ire.”
Silas smiled and extended a hand, palm up.
“Please don’t misunderstand,” Silas said. “The trap is laid, but not for you. I have taken steps to ensure you will leave here with your goods and I will leave here with payment for same. The wizards of the Blue Tower will not be leaving here. Since the unfortunate nature of this situation is largely my fault, I ask you allow me to resolve it.”
“You intend to resolve a trap set by mages from the Blue Tower?” Verkial asked in his continued icy tone.
Silas noticed the lieutenant shift in his boots nervously, and the eyes of the creatures behind them continued to dart about and search the room and its dark corners.
“I do,” Silas said, his confidence still ringing resolute in his voice. “They are but two wizards and six watchmen
. They are waiting for your arrival or my signal. I have arranged for the wizards to be ambushed, after a fashion. Their six watchmen will be no trouble for me; in fact, I hope they will aid in our overall venture.”
“And the runes and wards?” Verkial asked, now becoming more curious than angry.
“Allow me to demonstrate,” Silas said.
Silas called upon his restored powers from Shezmu and brought Dreg Zylche, the scimitar of drake claw, forth. Verkial’s eyes narrowed even more, and his hand twitched toward his Shrou-Hayn. His large lieutenant’s eyes widened in stunned appreciation and perhaps a bit of envy when looking upon the powerful weapon.
Silas walked to the wall and touched the blade of his magical weapon to the warded boards. Dreg Zylche began to drink deeply from stored power in the runes, siphoning that energy directly into Shezmu’s inner reserves. Silas’s nerves tingled with the power drawn from such potent wards. The naked eye could not detect the flow of magical energy, but the smell of it was heavy on the air, much like the charge in the ether before a lightning storm.
The flesh provided to Silas by Berje had restored his health, and now his vigor overflowed with magical might.
“He’s up to something,” Etern Garria whispered. “I sense a power shift taking place in the warehouse. Prepare yourself. We move now.”
“Yes,” came from Berje’s mouth.
Both wizards began the complex incantations of powerful spells. Etern Garria began calling forth ropes of magical energy that would entwine themselves into nigh unbreakable nets. He could cast this spell with little to no preparation, of course, but used the extra time available to bolster the strength of the spell.
Next to him, Berje was also taking extra time to ensure accuracy and enhanced power. Too late did Etern Garria recognize that Berje was preparing a spell that would summon a blast of multiple lightning strikes.
“We are to capture…” Etern Garria began his command but found himself unable to finish.
Berje had been under the influence of Silas’s mental invasion since the moment he’d made the deadly mistake of entering the Chaos Lord’s mind. Berje had entered the mind-room to find exactly what he expected to find. He found the beaten and starving Steward of House Morosse cowering on the stone floor.
From the beginning, Berje’s questions had revealed a number of interesting facts to Silas. He began by asking Dru’s name, proving the limits of their information. Furthermore, he referred to Silas as the Steward of House Morosse, indicating that they knew nothing of the ritual Silas had undertaken to become something more than man and more than demon.
Silas assumed mental intrusion would be the easiest means for the wizards to learn anything from him; therefore, he deduced the torture was more for their enjoyment rather than expediency. Thus, he had to convince them that time was against them.
Due to such perceived time constraints, Berje decided on the direct approach and entered Silas’s mind, a place where Silas ruled supreme. As Berje approached the huddled figure in the middle of the room, he discovered it was nothing more than a complex image conjured by the wily young physician. Berje was ambushed at both flanks by a weakened, but prepared, Silas and Shezmu.
Chaos Lord and fallen champion worked in vicious concert to seize absolute control of the overconfident wizard. They worked swiftly, knowing that any disruption appearing in the physical world would jeopardize the entire plan. They forced Berje onto the table where Shezmu’s will had been broken. Silas worked quickly with conjured instruments to open Berje’s brain/mind and clamp those pathways that led to will and self-control. He tied one end of a mental conduit to those centers of Berje’s brain/mind and fastened the other to his own. Then Silas sent a portion of his consciousness through that conduit, and the coup against Berje’s will was complete.
Silas, working through Berje, had convinced the Blue Council to comply with his plan to get himself and Verkial’s delivery to Wodock. Silas had also arranged for Berje to feed him some of the Blue Tower’s more promising acolytes, which, in turn, restored his health at a fantastic rate.
Now, still under the control of Silas’s mental conduit, Berje blasted Etern Garria with a series of lightning strikes. The greater wizard, a true archmage of his time, was caught completely by surprise as the bolts of potent magical energy slammed against his few prepared defenses.
Although the initial barrage did not defeat the enchantments of Etern Garria’s fine mage’s robe, the sheer force of the blasts knocked him from his rooftop perch and slammed him to the ground far below. Etern Garria’s robe once again saved his wretched life as it absorbed the blow from the fall. The mighty wizard, now sprawled in the mud of the street, dropped his current spell of magical nets in lieu of something more offensive.
Etern Garria’s pride and anger flared brightly as he began the words for a bolt of darkfire energy; a difficult spell to master but devastating in its effects. He would have been better served with a spell of defense or perhaps even escape, yet he fell victim, as so many before him, to his own vanity.
The senior mage of the Blue Council assumed Berje would have to pause and begin another spell. What he failed to realize was Berje’s first spell was continuing to hurl bolts of lightning in a barrage rather than single fire.
The lightning bolts followed Etern Garria’s descent to the street, where they continued to pelt the mighty wizard. Bolt after bolt crashed against Etern Garria’s defenses until they were left blasted and tattered. In his last moments, the sage and powerful Etern Garria used his last words to lay a curse upon Berje. As the curse left his lips, his flesh was blown apart in blue flames and white spouts of magical energy.
Silas smiled as the tendrils of the curse tickled the Berje end of his mental conduit. His smile continued as he released his hold on the wizard to allow him to scream from the rooftops of Wodock. Silas knew what was happening to the wizard but wanted to view the sight with his own eyes.
Silas held up a hand to Verkial, who had started at the sounds of lightning blasts from the street outside. Silas calmly walked to the door and stepped out into the street. He took a moment to check the status of the watchmen. He was very satisfied to see they had witnessed the apparent betrayal of Berje and the death of Etern Garria. The eyes of every man among them were locked on the scene of Berje, none of them moving a single muscle. They were frozen by the horror they beheld. He hoped a few of them would survive the journey home to the Blue Tower to tell their tale.
Silas watched as the skin began to tear in ribbons around Berje’s mouth. The flesh peeled back from Berje’s teeth and then his jaw. The muscle and sinew then began to rip apart from bone as Berje’s screams became a high-pitched gurgling sound. Silas watched as the entire body of Berje of the Blue Council was slowly, very slowly, turned inside out. Silas made note of the curse, wondered if any orifice could be used or if it was limited to the mouth, and decided he must learn more about it. He rather liked it.
Silas heard footsteps on the boardwalk behind him. Footsteps so heavy they bowed the boards underfoot.
“You did that?” the lieutenant asked from behind him.
“I arranged it, yes,” Silas said.
“Boss, I like this guy,” the lieutenant said to Verkial with a chuckle in his voice.
“What of them?” Verkial calmly asked Silas.
Silas turned slightly to see Verkial jerk a thumb at the Blue Tower watchmen gathered about the scene in the street, a scene that was now drawing the attention of many from the shops and taverns nearby.
Now that Silas could see him in the light of day, he took a moment to marvel at the strong bones and commanding features of the man. Silas reflected it would likely break a man’s hand to punch such a face.
“They will flee,” Silas said. “With some luck, they will return to the Blue Tower to report how Berje turned on Etern Garria, and they killed each other on the streets of Wodock. Even if they do not, the gossip of this pirate port will spread enough for the Blue Council to learn someth
ing of what happened here.”
“You don’t want them to know it was your doing?” Verkial asked.
“No,” Silas said, turning now to fully face the Warlord. “Fearing me would have its advantages, no doubt. But I prefer my enemies underestimate me. Furthermore, now they must doubt their own ranks.”
“You will continue to represent Lady Evalynne’s interests?” Verkial asked.
“Perhaps we could discuss the rest of our business over a cup of coffee or a mug of ale?” Silas asked as he pointed to a tavern up the street.
“Boss, I do like this guy,” the lieutenant said, licking his lips.
Verkial nodded.
“Hallgrim, see that the bellik stay here and secure our supplies,” Verkial said. “Make sure they understand they are to remain out of sight. Once that’s done, you can join us.”
Hallgrim saluted and stepped back into the warehouse. Verkial turned those deadly eyes of his back to Silas.
“A drink, then,” Verkial said.
Three hours later, after the sun had set on the violent torrent that was the pirate city of Wodock, Silas, Verkial, Hallgrim, and Dru shared a corner table in one of the more peaceful taverns the city had to offer. There were over sixty dangerous men and women occupying the favorable tavern, Mariner’s Fair, but most seemed content to sip their drinks and dine quietly.
Smoke from many pipes competed with the odor of stale sweat. Silas was surprised to discover a variety of teas offered and availed himself of the broad selection. Dru sampled a red wine from time to time, and both Verkial and Hallgrim quaffed ale after ale.
“So, as you can see, Lady Evalynne’s role in our trading venture is a limited one,” Silas said in a low tone. “The goods you’ve received this day are primarily from our contacts. I don’t want to imply that Lady Evalynne will be cut out of any of our dealings, I just wish to make it clear that Lady Dru is your true partner across the sea.”
“You will continue to represent both ladies in our ventures?” Verkial asked pointedly.