“Yes. We agreed to allow them to install a magical tool outside the castle. Apparently it allows their golems to function, and they have offered the golems to help us work the fields more quickly and plant greater acreage.”
“Is he building a stone slab—an obelisk?”
“Built. Yes, he’s just completed it with his cohorts. In fact, we are scheduled to see a demonstration of the new golems tomorrow morning.”
Merit shook his head. He had hoped that Jalis hadn’t had time to complete an obelisk. Their mission had just become much more difficult. Merit glanced at Gwineval, and saw the strain on the wizard’s features. He hoped Jan Adaya wouldn’t notice it.
“Is it only the one obelisk? Or are there more?”
“It’s only the one. It took them quite a while to build it. They worked around the clock to complete it.”
“That’s because they plan to use it to control Castle Stargis and everyone in the area. It’s a base of power for them.”
Jan Adaya sat back in his chair, looking increasingly concerned—like Gwineval.
“What can they do with this thing?”
“Based on reports from the east, they can see and hear things that happen around it. And they can kill a man with it. Perhaps many men. We don’t totally understand what it can do.”
Jan Adaya reddened. “Those bold devils! Is this why there are reports of strife in the east? Is this what they did to the miners there?”
“Yes. And when some miners rose up against them, they killed them all. Men, women and children—entire settlements have been wiped out. This is what you are facing. You are in great peril!”
Jan Adaya’s skin tone returned to normal, and his eyes waxed philosophical as he looked into the air. The man beside him whispered something, but Jan Adaya bade him to be quiet.
“So, you’ve come here and inflamed us—told us that Jalis and his wizards are no less than agents of the ancient evil one. But it’s not like you City-folk have been great friends of ours. We’ve been alright because we’ve towed the line with you over the years. You’ve allowed us to run our own affairs, but we’ve always known you’ve done so because it’s been expedient for you. If our food production ever faltered, you would have destroyed our way of life and taken control yourselves.
“Now you have a rival, and they have offered us an alliance that will compromise your hold over us. If I were you and I wanted to destabilize things, I’d drum up a similar story and come here sowing seeds of doubt. Do you deny this?”
“Most assuredly! You’ve heard the reports from the east. Did we make them up?”
“Perhaps you orchestrated them, somehow. Perhaps there’s been battle between you and Jalis and that’s the source of the unrest.”
Merit saw Gwineval beginning to tense up. He feared the wizard’s temper would get the best of him. But Gwineval turned and pointed at Merit.
“This automaton is not just a machine. There is a man imprisoned within it. His kind have served us in the Wizard Tower for generations—since the days of the Imperator. It is only recently that we learned he is more than a mere machine. An injury revealed the man within the machine. He has become an expert in history since he was revealed to be a man. In this short time, he has read more books on Imperial history than any wizard I know. It’s all he does—and he doesn’t sleep. I’m going to let this man who had everything taken from him by the magic of the Imperator describe what these obelisks are, and what they’ve done in the past. Merit?”
Merit stood up uncertainly. He expected the voice inside of him to denounce him, but there was only a comforting silence in his head as he began to speak.
“In the time of Julius, there were obelisks throughout much of the City—remnants of the Great War that followed the death of the Imperator. At that time, they were used by leeching monsters to give them sustaining energy. The obelisks radiate magical laws. People who control the laws can harness the power of the obelisks. But people who disobey or simply don’t understand the laws can be attacked by the obelisks. The Imperator created the obelisks to control people. During his time, people’s lives were totally controlled by them. Do you know how they are made? The Imperator corrupted and trapped a bit of the Maker’s Fire and mounted it atop each obelisk. The laws enforced by these obelisks are based on a rejection of everything the Maker stood for.
“I’m not sure if Jalis has managed to build this type of obelisk, but I’m sure what he’s built is related to it. DuLoc was around during the time of the Imperator, and he understands how the original obelisks were built. I’m certain his intention is to subjugate you.”
As Merit struggled to regain his seat, he caught Jan Adaya’s eye. He saw a look of pity and wonder in the man’s face before Jan Adaya composed himself and returned his attention to Gwineval.
“I must admit to being somewhat convinced,” muttered the man.
“Then you’ll help us?” said Gwineval.
“No.”
Gwineval’s eyes flared, but Jan Adaya raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture as he continued. “But neither shall we hinder you. As I mentioned, there is a demonstration of the new golem planned for tomorrow. All the wizards will be in the valley outside the castle in the hour after dawn. At that time, you will appear atop the hill overlooking the valley. When we see this, the gates of Castle Stargis will be closed.”
Gwineval exchanged a grave look with Renevos before replying, “We only brought a small party to avoid being spotted by Jalis before we reached you. There are only ten of us plus our mechanical friend, Merit. If you don’t help us, we’ll be outnumbered.”
“There are only sixteen wizards with us, including Jalis, so your numbers are not that far from theirs. And you must be worth three or four of their lot yourself, Gwineval,” said Jan Adaya.
“It may be so, but they have their obelisk,” Gwineval grumbled, no longer concealing his derision.
Jan Adaya rose, and his men rose with him. “This is our offer,” he said. “If you do not appear above the valley within the hour after dawn has broken, we will consider our offer refused. If you attack after that, you can consider it an act of war which will force us to aid your enemy.”
“Why would you do this?” cried Gwineval. “They mean to destroy you!”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps living under their shadow would be little different than living under the shadow of the City. When our agents return from the east, we may learn more. But, in the meantime, I’ll not risk my kingdom to intervene in a quarrel between wizards,” said Jan Adaya, sticking his jaw out and looking inclined to brawl.
Gwineval shook his head but didn’t do more to inflame the southern lord. He rose and the wizards rose with him. Both groups filed out of the barn, and Jan Adaya led his men down the road to Castle Stargis without another word.
“Do we accept their offer to camp here?” said Renevos as they watched the departing men.
“Do we fear treachery from them?” said Otticus.
“No, I don’t think they’ll betray us. Jan Adaya is pig-headed, but I don’t think he’s that impulsive,” said Gwineval.
“But if they do intend to avenge years of feeling subjugated by the City, what better way to have their revenge? I think we should withdraw back to where we first met them. We’ll camp outdoors and post a watch,” said Renevos.
“Fifteen wizards and the obelisk—can we do it?” said Otticus.
Gwineval turned on him hotly. “We must do it! If we don’t, then who will? If we lose both the east and the south, the City will be choked off. And our best routes for river trade across the veil are through the south. We must hold this realm at all costs.”
Merit looked over the assembled wizards as the weight of Gwineval’s words sank in. Brannor, leader of the First Circle wizards, did not recoil. His lanky frame rippled with muscles that weren’t lessened by the shadows of his long robe. Merit knew he had trained for years for that moment. He had not been present at the battle of Tor Varnos, and was eager to prove hi
mself. Caetor, aging leader of the Fourth Circle, stood beside Brannor and looked far less certain. His graying mustache twitched with anxiety as he looked between Gwineval and Renevos. Otticus looked as eager as ever. Merit knew he just was very excited about trying his teleportation runes in battle. Renevos looked nervous. He, too, had never seen a battlefield, though his recent quest with Hemlock had proven his mettle in smaller combats. The handful of other wizards stood in the shadows and seemed to be hanging on every word spoken.
“We will withdraw as Renevos suggests. Otticus, I always find you lingering around the tower when you should be asleep. You will take the first watch,” said Gwineval.
The short warrior seemed to stand a bit taller upon receiving the order, and Merit thought he looked fearsome in his determination.
As they left the farm, Merit looked at the abundance of farmland surrounding the road for miles in every direction. It was a bounty that had sustained the City for centuries.
Gwineval is right. We can’t let DuLoc control this.
Merit didn’t know what his part in the upcoming battle would be, but he prepared himself to play whatever role he could.
The night passed without event. Merit stood with Otticus during his watch, but the young warrior wasn’t in the mood to talk. Gwineval took the next watch himself. Merit tried to start a conversation several times, but got the same reaction he had from Otticus—a gruff acknowledgement, and little else.
“I wish Hemlock were here,” Merit said after a time. As soon as he saw the look of consternation on Gwineval’s face, he immediately regretted saying it, though he knew the wizard shared his sentiment.
When the first bird song rang out, Gwineval had the wizards up and marching toward Castle Stargis. They marched in the dark for about forty minutes before the deep red of the impending dawn disturbed the dark sky ahead of them.
After another half hour, Otticus told the group to look above the trees ahead. Merit could barely make out the silhouette of the tapered towers of Castle Stargis in the distance. As they continued to walk for several more minutes, three towers rose before them. They were shaped like frozen drips of water, tapering to a point at the top and flaring steeply down into a broad egg-shaped bottom, met by conventional stone blocks. The tops were painted a bright red and tipped with a gold spire in the shape of a flame.
“Amazing,” said Merit. Nobody replied.
Soon, they reached a copse of trees and the road cut through it. Gwineval led them to the edge of the trees. They could see Castle Stargis to their right, though the sun rose directly behind it, making it difficult to see it in detail. The great gates were open.
“There,” said Gwineval, pointing to some tents at the top of a hill to their left. “It’s Jalis’ campsite. We’ll take Jan Adaya at his word that the rebels are in the valley, below.”
“The smoke is still rising from their cooking fire,” said Otticus.
“It’s what you’d expect,” said Gwineval, pointing to Renevos. “Take your men and fan out. We’ll pull Merit up to that campsite and leave him there during the battle.”
“Can’t we leave him in the woods?” asked Otticus.
“You are our reserve, Otticus. You will guard him!” snapped Gwineval. “Advance!”
Merit rarely regretted his lack of a mortal body, but he did in the ensuing moments. A feeling of hopelessness began to weigh on him as he watched his friends marching to face their foes.
In the distance, the gates of Castle Stargis closed with a gentle thump. Not a soul was seen moving within the Castle or on the walls. Merit didn’t doubt that many eyes were glued to the scene of the spectacle that was about to unfold, but they were careful to conceal their interest and maintain their air of neutrality.
They crested the hill and entered the small encampment. There was a cooking fire, several tents, and various sundries like trunks and a great cauldron. A quick search showed the camp to be empty. In the valley below, Merit saw Jalis and the rebel wizards. They were dressed in unusual garb that reminded Merit of the way Hemlock described DuLoc. They wore waistcoats with buttons down the middle and long tails, along with flared pants that looked ill-suited to the rigors of travel.
The rebel wizards were gathered around a stone golem that stood about ten feet tall. It was simply rendered in the form of a man, though it still managed to look vaguely fearsome despite the lack of detail. Beside the golem was the object they had come to destroy—an obelisk covered with glittering runes and topped with a glowing sphere. Merit immediately noticed something unusual about the obelisk. Everything he had read led him to expect the glow to be red, but it was blue. He wasn’t sure of the meaning of this difference.
Merit took his eyes off the valley and saw that Gwineval left Otticus and him alone in the camp. He realized Otticus was cursing sharply and continuously.
Down in the valley, Jalis and the rebels noticed the two groups of tower wizards on the hilltop. They yelled and pointed, and soon formed into a line behind the obelisk and to the side of the golem. In another moment, a shimmering blue shield appeared in front of their position.
Then a voice reverberated at a deafening volume over the valley, and Merit realized it was Jalis’ voice. “JAN ADAYA! PEOPLE OF THE SOUTH! RISE TO MEET THE INVADERS FROM THE CITY!”
Merit saw the flicker of blue shields from both friendly flanks, and knew the battle was about to be joined.
Jalis’ voice rang out once more. “RISE! INVADERS FROM THE CITY!” And, as if to accentuate the point, he conjured a great ball of fire that floated over Castle Stargis.
A great crackle echoed over the valley and a jagged bolt of lightning hit the rebel shield. It was the signal from Gwineval. Immediately, the tower wizards began to bombard the distant blue shield. Bolts of lightning seared the air, and sheets of fire dripped flames onto the intervening grass as they screamed toward their target and impacted the rebel shield with a massive display of pyrotechnics.
Then the rebel wizards answered with their own battle magic. All of their fire was directed at Gwineval’s detachment. Merit almost lost his footing as a cacophony of fire, lightning, ice and hail rained on their position. As the smoke and debris cleared, Merit’s spirit leapt as he saw the glittering blue of Gwineval’s shield had endured. Merit looked at Renevos, hoping to see him offering some aid to Gwineval. Instead, he saw Brannor and two other First Circle wizards had left the safety of Renevos’ blue shield and were charging the rebels, tattoos ablaze with magical force that gave the fighting wizards superhuman speed. Merit knew their tattoos would provide limited protection against battle magic, but he marveled at their courage, nonetheless.
“That should be my charge!” cried Otticus.
As if in answer, five First Circle battle wizards darted to the side of the rebel position and charged out to intercept Brannor and his two fighters.
Merit involuntarily covered his head as another round of massive explosions rocked the valley. The rebel shield still looked strong, but Gwineval’s was wavering. Then a massive flash dazzled Merit’s eyes, though they had seemingly become used to the incessant flashes of light. He saw a great bolt of lightning leave Renevos’ position then fork out into six separate bolts as it hit the rebel shield. There was a heartbeat’s worth of silence before the accompanying shockwave shook the valley. Nearby tents collapsed, and Merit feared Castle Stargis itself might crumble to ruins under the force of the blast.
The castle stood intact, but many of the rebels fell to the ground, although their shield held strong. Merit was shocked to see the rebel protection held. Then he remembered the obelisk that pulsated behind their shield and stood unscathed. All of the rebel wizards regained their footing, save one who lay unmoving. Merit strained to see if Jalis was the one who had fallen, but was unable to identify him.
Brannor, his men and the rebel fighting wizards joined in the melee. Sword swings and counter swings were exchanged so quickly that Merit could barely track them. Blazing tattoos and screams of exertion abounded, b
ut the outcome remained in doubt.
Merit saw the terrible snaking of Imperial magic lurching out along the ground from the obelisk. He saw a stout figure beside the stone slab and knew that Jalis himself was directing the runes. The glowing, blue runes advanced toward the fighting wizards in fits and starts, but they came quickly nonetheless.
Merit knew they had only moments. He tried to yell for Brannor as loudly as he could. What he ended up doing was overheating one of his boilers and causing a great shriek of escaping steam to resound across the grass. But it was enough to get Brannor’s attention, and he noticed the runes approaching. He yelled to his men to disengage and backpedaled in a fighting retreat. One of the tower fighters could not break free from an opponent’s grapple, though. In the next moment, the runes were washing over the unfortunate man. He barely had a moment to cry out before his body erupted with disintegrating flame and his smoldering skeleton fell to the ground.
Brannor had slain two of the rebel wizards, so his retreat was tenable, though his pace was desperate because of the advance of the runes. A smaller, blue shield appeared behind Brannor. As he and his companion passed through, it solidified and prevented the rebels from advancing. A rebel fighter took a fireball in the face as he struggled against the shield. The remaining rebels retreated to the shelter of the oncoming runes, which deflected additional spells from Renevos.
“Otticus, the runes will force Renevos to retreat. And Gwineval’s shield is almost down!” cried Merit.
The young wizard got a wild look in his eye. “I’ll take care of it!” he shouted, and ran off in the direction of Brannor.
“Otticus!” cried Merit as loudly as his depleted boilers would allow. But it was no use. In the next moment, the strange new tattoos on the young man’s arms flared, and he blinked away. Merit thought his eyes were deceiving him under the constant distraction of explosions and thunderclaps, but he remembered the new teleportation runes. He scanned the battlefield and found Otticus on the far side of the valley. He was near Castle Stargis, and outside the advancing Imperial runes. His tattoos flared again, and he ran down the hill, into the valley and toward the unprotected rebel flank.
Hemlock And The Dread Sorceress (Book 3) Page 15