The Treachery Of A Weasel

by Robert Blanchard

  Two guards greeted us at the entrance. “Good evening, travelers,” one of them said.

  “Greetings,” Derrick said. “We have business with the Senate.”

  “You’re just in time,” the guard said. “The Senate’s business hours are almost through.”

  “You may pass,” the other guard said.

  “No inquiries as to our business or even who we are?” I questioned as soon as the doors closed behind us.

  “Their security is a bit lax,” Derrick understated with a shrug.

  We didn’t have to walk very far; the building wasn’t very large, and after we passed through the first room (which seemed to serve as a lobby), a much larger room followed, where thirteen men and women were seated in thirteen elegant, wooden chairs, the chair in the middle larger and more stylish than the rest. A man sat there, with dark brown skin and black hair. He was dressed in red robes of state, while the others wore white.

  “Greetings, travelers,” he said warmly, smiling as he saw us approaching. “We were about to adjourn for the evening—what can we help you with?”

  “Greetings, High Senator Lokesh,” Derrick said, bowing. The rest of us followed suit.

  “Ah, Sir Derrick of Delmar,” Lokesh said, recognizing the brawny warrior. “It is pleasant to see you again. How are things in Delmar after the Ther-lor crisis?” I could have sworn he seemed amused at this notion. Then he turned his head slightly, and his face brightened even more. “Lady Mirabelle! What an honor it is to have two great knights in our very presence!”

  Lady Mirabelle bowed respectively, and Derrick nodded. “They are improving, day by day. Thank you for asking, Senator. As to the Ther-lor crisis, the day will come when we must face Sirak head-on, and we may be calling for help from other countries, including yours.”

  “And why would we rush to the aid of any other country?” a woman sitting all the way on the end of the row of chairs smirked, with a look of arrogant distain on her face. She was a large woman, and she had hair that was so blond that it almost seemed to blend in with her white robes. “Because of the behavior of our two infantile princes, all of the other countries in this land look down on us, like we are crushed grass beneath their boots. I see no need to stick our necks out to help anyone with their little problems.”

  “Now, now, Tawnya,” Senator Lokesh said, his head slightly cocked. “Let us hear their plight, that we might see how it affects us.”

  “It does affect you,” I said, stepping forward. “It affects you, us, every city, every race.”

  Senator Lokesh frowned. “Who—” Then he stopped dead in the middle of his question, his eyes widening in surprise, and maybe a little fear. “It’s the scar—you are Lord Aidan, aren’t you? We had heard rumors that you had returned … from the dead …” His voice faded as he seemed to lose the ability to speak.

  “Where I have come from doesn’t matter,” I answered evenly. I was somewhat irritated that Senators Lokesh and Tawnya didn’t seem to be even trying to take us seriously. “What does matter is that there is a cancer in this land, once born in Delmar, now growing in Dalanthia. Before long, it will spread out to the rest of the land, and this world will never recover from this sickness. The world has never seen a threat like this, not even in the Mage Wars of the Second Age or the Minotaur Wars of the Third Age.”

  Senator Tawnya snorted. “And how could you possibly know this?”

  I glared at her, eyes narrowed. “Because I have seen it.”

  Senator Tawnya broke out in hysterical, high-pitched laughter. My face burned slightly, but my determination burned brighter, and stronger. “Laugh if you will, Senator Tawnya—but in the future I saw, mankind was almost completely eradicated. Only the elves remained, and even they had been forced from their homeland into the mountains.”

  Tawnya was still snickering, but Derrick took up the charge, ignoring her. “It is true, Senator Lokesh—he has seen it. So has Iskandor the dragon—” Derrick gestured toward him— “and Timor the wizard, who is not here presently.”

  “Iskandor … the dragon?” Lokesh whispered. He seemed even more at a loss for words, if that was possible.

  And so we launched into our tale, all the way through to the saving of Delmar … and that was where Senator Tawnya cut us off.

  “So if you can reverse this ‘Sol-haleth’ ritual, why have we not already done this in Min Lenoras? Why do we have to get involved in this?”

  “Reversing the ritual is no simple endeavor, Senator Tawnya,” I responded, trying with all my might to keep my rising anger under control. “We need to know first where he is keeping the souls of the people of Min Lenoras. I’m positive Sirak has no plans on revealing this information.”

  “So we should have our soldiers stick their necks out until you find whatever it is you’re looking for?” Senator Tawnya smirked incredulously.

  “This is a very serious situation, Senator Tawnya,” Lokesh said in a low voice.

  “Oh, please, Lokesh!” Tawnya exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Look at them! They are a ragtag outfit—a bunch of dishonored knights, a dragon, and if my eyes are seeing correctly, a thief.” Tawnya looked down on Kirra with disgust. “What need to we have to assist this bunch of … outcasts?”

  The room was silent for a moment, and behind me, I could hear Kirra’s fast-paced breathing … the breathing of someone seething with anger.

  Tawnya pointed at Iskandor. “He’s a dragon, right? Why can’t he call his dragon friends to help us?”

  None of us knew how to react to that question. We all looked over at Iskandor, who looked … distraught. It was a reaction I wasn’t expecting—I took a mental note.

  “We will consider this matter very seriously,” Lokesh said, with a sideways glance at Tawnya. “Thank you for visiting with us. I know you have important business to attend to, and the mages don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Derrick and I nodded, and Derrick said, “Thank you, Senators.” We then turned and left the room. As we left, I said to Derrick, “This is it … our future depends on this.”

  Derrick nodded. “As you could see at the beginning, Senator Lokesh is a man who is a bit full of himself, after reaching the position that he has. But as you also saw, he is not above reason.”

  “I hope not,” I responded, “because our task will be difficult enough to achieve, even with their help.”

  We had just left the Senate building, walking down the street as the moon began to rise in the distance, when Kirra said, “I just remembered—I have something I need to take care of.” Then she broke off from our group, jogging in the opposite direction. “I’ll catch up with you guys later!” she called over her shoulder.

  “Where—ah, forget it,” Derrick mumbled.

  “What was that all about?” I asked quietly.

  “Who knows with her?” Derrick answered with a shake of his head.

  The group (minus Kirra) then made our way west to the Mage’s Tower. The name implies one tower, but in actuality, the building was made up of three connected cylindrical towers—the center was the tallest, then the left hand one, then the right. The tower was outside the walls of the city, a separate entity, and we had to pass through the western gates in order to reach it.

  As the guard let us through the heavy wooden doors (adding a chipper ‘enjoy your day!’ as we passed), the atmosphere quickly changed from cheerful and raucous to angry and defiant. Protesters from all lands had gathered outside the walls of the tower, chanting and yelling for the mages to do something about the Ther-lor threat. The whole world was in a state of fear, and it wasn’t hard to see why.

  As we approached, everyone stopped to stare. I saw looks of wonder, shock, fear, and disgust. Each look was understandable—I couldn’t blame anyone for feeling they way they felt. Sirak’s scheme had succeeded at one thing—the world was divided, and even if we were able to defeat Sirak and stop his evil intentions, it would take the world many, many years to heal.

  Thanks so m
uch for that, Sirak.

  The mass of people parted as we walked through. There were some curious whispers, and also the usual things I would hear from time to time—“freak”, “demon”, and the like. But also, there were a lot of people yelling—

  “Save us, Aidan!”

  “Hero!”

  “Bring down Sirak!”

  I was encouraged by that kind of support. As long as there were people who could look past my appearance and judge me by my actions, I could deal with the naysayers.

  Finally we passed the crowd and entered the tower. No one met us at the door—not much need for security when the entire building is full of people who can burn you to a crisp at the blink of an eye.

  A young female apprentice walked up to us. “Follow me, please.”

  “Well, that was easy,” Derrick said in a low voice.

  So we followed the apprentice through the tower. The interior was beautiful, with tapestries of what I could only assume were magical symbols lining the walls, along with statues of famous mages. Gorgeous, obviously expensive rugs lay in places over the stone floors. People of all races and colors were scattered about, all dressed in various colors and styles of mage’s robes.

  The apprentice led us to a large circular platform. “Stand here, please.”

  Derrick looked at her like she had three lizard heads. “Why?”

  Iskandor walked past him to the platform. “It is a place of magic, Derrick. Do as she says.”

  The rest of us followed suit, Derrick following last, still clearly confused. Once we were all up there, the apprentice closed her eyes and move her hands about, chanting words of magic. Next thing I knew, there was a flash, and we were in a completely different room in the tower.

  “Whoa! What the—” Derrick looked as if his heart might stop.

  “You are in the hall of the Mage’s Council,” came a voice at the back of the circular room.

  In the back of the giant hall, there were seven mages of varying races and genders seated in large chairs, the center one larger than the others. As we approached, the mage in the center chair stood. Even from this distance, she was clearly taller than average, her black hair with gray streaks tied in a tight bun. Her eyes were a bit slanted, indicating an Easterner heritage. There was a presence about her—a foundation of strength, courage, and leadership.

  “Welcome to the Tower of Magic,” she said in a soft voice. “I am Narissara, head of the council.” Her gaze slowly swept over us as she smiled lightly. “It has been a long time since we’ve been graced with such honored company.” She turned to Iskandor. “And it is an extra special privilege to have a dragon in our midst. I am honored by your presence.”

  Iskandor bowed to her in response, as we all did, showing the proper respect. “It is an honor, Narissara,” I said. “I am Aidan of Delmar.”

  She smiled again. “I know who all of you are—your names sweep across this land like a refreshing ocean breeze. Through your deeds, you have given people hope. The Knights of Iskandor should be proud of what they have accomplished in such a short period of time.”

  I bowed again, honored by her words. No matter what my feelings on magic, I would help this woman any way I possibly could.

  “However,” she continued, “we each have dilemmas in front of us.”

  I nodded. “Indeed. I believe you have had an encounter with a friend of mine.”

  Narissara nodded in agreement, and we launched into our tale—unlike at the Senate, I didn’t dread retelling the tale to Narissara. She was clearly open-minded and respectful, and it was likely she would have a better understanding of what had happened without judging.

  Iskandor and I began, starting with when I woke up three thousand years in the future following my death. Derrick and Mirabelle chimed in when the story moved back to the present time. In telling the story, we also included what we knew about the Sol-haleth ritual, and what we did to stop Sirak in Delmar. Narissara listened intently, her expression neutral.

  Finally, we finished. After a short silence, Narissara spoke. “Well, you all have been put through quite the trial. You all have survived, and come out stronger on the other side. That is commendable.”

  The sorceress then turned to me. “You must understand that under the circumstances, and given the fantastic nature of Timor’s tale, we weren’t sure what to believe. Notwithstanding the fact that time travel is illegal in the laws of magic. We would have to persecute you, your friend, and even the dragon.”

  That blow hit me stiffly in the chest. We had come here to clear Timor’s name—the last thing I expected was to face a trial for breaking the laws of magic. The bit about time travel being illegal came as a mild shock, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

  “But given the extraordinary circumstances,” Narissara went on, “the Council is more than willing to overlook this transgression. If we were to convict you, we would be robbing the world of its would-be saviors. And not only that, any sentence we would give you would likely pale in comparison to the trials you will face in saving our world.”

  I sighed deeply and inwardly—Narissara certainly spoke the truth there.

  “I am sorry that your friend didn’t stay long enough for us to resolve this matter. If and when you see him again, please inform him that he is welcome to return to the tower. We will reinstate him and continue his training. At that time, he can choose what type of magic he’d like to study and we’ll set him up with a mage he can learn from.”

  I bowed gratefully. “Thank you, Narissara.”

  “In the meantime,” Narissara went on, “the threat of Sirak has put this world on the edge of a razor. Fear, doubt, and contempt are spewing from the pores of this land. As you have seen, the people are at our doorstep, asking for help—or demanding our heads. But we know so little of Sirak and the Dyn’osi, and so I ask you—what can we do to help the people of this land?”

  “As we said in the story,” I responded, “Sirak kept the souls of the people of Delmar in a magical container in the cathedral. If we break the container, the souls will return to the people and bring them back to life.”

  One of the mages spoke up from the darkness. “So we find the cathedral in Min Lenoras and destroy the container.”

  “I doubt it will be that easy,” Iskandor said. “Sirak will most likely keep the souls in a different place, knowing that we know where the souls were kept last time.”

  “Why can’t the White Army fight their way into Min Lenoras and find where the souls are being kept?” Another mage asked.

  That statement really made me angry, but Mirabelle unknowingly saved me from telling the mage off. “The Ther-lor are ruthless, unfeeling, and many times more difficult to kill than a normal person. Even with the might of the White Army, sending them in by themselves is suicide.”

  “I am quite sure the White Army—” the mage continued, but Narissara stopped him with a lift of her hand.

  “Enough, Nargo,” she said quietly, but her voice carried enough authority that the entire room was silent for several moments. “Lady Mirabelle is right. If you had been listening to their story, you would know that this force is more formidable than anything that has been seen in this world in centuries.”

  The mage fell silent. Narissara’s strength and authority were pretty clear at that point.

  Narissara fell silent and began pacing for several moments. Finally, she stopped and looked at us thoughtfully.

  “You say that when Sirak and the Dyn’osi perform this Sol-haleth ritual, it steals the souls of everyone in the area?”

  I nodded.

  “So, essentially, the Ther-lor are undead—only more intelligent. This is a form of necromancy.”

  I nodded again.

  The sorceress was silent for another moment, and then she said, “I think I know someone who can help you. It is very unorthodox, but I think you’ll find her useful.” She once again turned to the mages behind her. “Find Aurora for me, please.”


  Another silence while she sorted out her thoughts, then she continued. “In a perfect world, I would send a team of necromancers with you that could help you against the Ther-lor. Of course, necromancy is illegal, and most of the mages who practice the art are in hiding. Besides which, necromancers are evil and not to be trusted, thus they are not very good teammates.”

  At that moment, the two mages returned, and a girl who may have been no more than twelve years of age followed them. I waited to hear word on when this “Aurora” would be joining us.

  “Honored guests,” Narissara said, “meet Aurora.”

  I looked around, trying to see if I missed someone’s arrival. “Where?”

  Narissara gestured toward the young girl.

  I couldn’t believe it! Was Narissara serious? I was at a loss for words. My companions around me were just as silent, probably thinking the same things I was.

  I took a couple steps toward the young girl. “Aurora, is it?”

  The girl nodded.

  “She doesn’t speak,” Narissara added behind us.

  She looked so innocent and fragile—I could imagine Derrick jumping out at her as a joke, trying to scare her, and Aurora screaming and crying and hiding under a bed or something. Her eyes were amber and wide with wonder, and her light brown hair was tied in a neat ponytail behind her head. She was dressed in lavender robes that may as well have been adorned with little flowers.

  And we were going to take her into battle?

  I tried to manage a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Aurora.” Then I turned to Narissara, speaking before my mind had a chance to stop me. “Are you serious?”

  Realizing the girl was still there, I turned back to her. “No offense.”

  “I understand your confusion,” Narissara said calmly. “As I said before, I understand this is a bit unorthodox—”