by Wil Ogden
Lucian took a deep breath. “It is a measure of your potential. I thought I was the most powerful Wizard alive and I measure somewhere between green and blue. You are a ninth circle Wizard. Even when Wizards walked the land freely, the tenth circle has only survived to adulthood twice. Ninth are almost as rare. In your lifetime, there will not likely be a more powerful Wizard. We need to get you started on the calming classes lest you not only kill us all but bring a good portion of Melnith to the ground. I imagine if you exploded it would be a radius of hundreds of paces.”
“The destruction was about a league across,” Kehet said. “The crater itself was about a fifth of that.”
“And you survived?” Lucian asked Heather.
“I’ve kept a fire protection spell on my body since my forth summer,” Heather said.
“You mean you recast it every day before you use your magic?” Lucian said.
“No, it’s been on since that summer,” Heather said. “I cast it as a self-maintaining spell.”
“Such things would take so much power,” Lucian said. “I am near fifth circle, but at ninth you are more than ten times as potent as I. We must be careful with you. What about the man?” Lucian asked, looking at Kehet.
“He’s a Founder,” Izzy said with a shrug. “He’s not a Wizard, but Prince Kehet of the Unicorns. It seems our Wizard Supreme has friends in high places.”
“Will it be okay if I stay with Beldithe during my training?” Heather asked. Kehet noticed the impish tone in her voice. She was just adding to Izzy’s astonishment.
“Once initiation, mostly calming training, is complete, you will be free to come and go as you please,” Lucian said. “Most people master the calming techniques in less than a week.”
Heather grabbed Kehet’s hand and squeezed. “Why am I thinking that between the lines of what you’re saying is that I won’t be leaving this facility at all until then?”
“We take calming seriously, it saves lives,” Lucian said. “Apparently this is a concept you should understand. We’ll start your training as soon as Prince Kehet leaves. Take your time saying your goodbyes; it may be several days before you see him again.”
Heather kissed Kehet then said, “Tell Beldithe where I can find you.”
“That wasn’t a joke?” Izzy asked.
Kehet ignored the Matderi smith’s intrusion as did Heather. “I won’t be far.” He stepped away from Heather, still holding her hand until the distance between them was too great. He blew her a kiss and headed up the stairs. Izzy followed him.
“We don’t judge here,” Izzy said, “but do you mind me asking if there were any casualties when Heather lost control of her fire?”
“Blackstone,” Kehet said.
“Isn’t that the town Heather said she was from?” Izzy asked.
“She is from there,” Kehet said.
“Are you telling me she destroyed an entire town?” Izzy asked.
Kehet didn’t feel like answering. He just climbed the stairs and left the smithy. On the street Kehet looked each way and decided that there was nothing he needed back at Beldithe’s temple. He had more questions for the goddess, but wasn’t sure he cared about the answers at that moment. Maybe he could find a way out of town and run for a while.
CHAPTER 22: PANTROS
Until they’d arrived in Whisperwillow, they’d been sharing the Abvian Highway with other travelers; wagons and carriages often filled the road going in both directions as far as Pantros could see. News of the Vulak raids must have reached others at or near Whisperwillow. Since leaving the town they hadn’t seen anyone travelling the same direction as them and few travelling east.
By the morning of the sixth day, they had the road to themselves. They’d been forced to camp two nights when fresh horses couldn’t be found. Farms had been abandoned, but not all of them left their animals behind. As they rode into a large village, they heard the sounds of combat.
“I thought we’d be past the danger by now,” Pantros said.
“Me too,” Sheillene agreed. “But it seems we were wrong. It sounds like a small fight.
“We may be able to ride through,” Faren called back from the driver’s bench. “Should I push the horses to a gallop?”
David leaned out a window and said, “Not just yet, but be ready to.”
“I can see the fight, behind that building over there,” Faren said. “It’s a small force of Vulak. I can’t see who they’re fighting Do we stop to help?”
The sounds of combat grew louder. Pantros was shocked to hear the clash of steel interspersed with laughter, and he recognized the laughter. He called to Faren, “Stop!” He said back to Sheillene and the others near him, “That’s Bryan.” Without waiting for the carriage to come to a complete stop, he opened the door and leapt from the carriage and drew his sword.
Rushing between the village buildings, he emerged by a well. Sure enough, Bryan stood in the middle of the Vulak, swinging a huge sword. The Vulak were leaning forward then jumping back, afraid to close with Bryan. Pantros saw several wounded Vulak lying nearby. He started running to help Bryan when two Vulak carrying armfuls of whatever they’d just scrounged came out the back door of a building. They dropped their bundles and drew swords. The weapons were not pretty, but looked heavy and sharp. Pantros tried to flank around them so they couldn’t both swing at him. He swiped his rapier at the closest one’s calf, but the Vulak stepped back. These were not the brutish mindless monsters of the stories. The two were working together, making sure to not let Pantros flank them. He kept trying to get a better position, but one would wheel back while the other wheeled forward to keep them both facing him. When they did both face him they advanced until Pantros forced them to pivot again. Pantros found himself retreating more than circling them. He didn’t want to engage two at once. The few swipes he managed to attempt were knocked aside. When a Vulak swung at him, he dodged back.
Then the two separated a little, but maintained their position relating to him. They were circling him. He leapt toward one of them only to have the other close to his side. He managed to prick his blade into one’s thigh, but barely enough to draw blood, before he had to roll away.
Pantros saw two men rush up behind the Vulak, to keep the Vulak attention, he lunged at one. Before the other could swing at him, a large blade cut into it from behind, nearly splitting its torso. Sword blades also erupted from the other Vulak’s chest. The first Vulak fell silently while the other fell with a scream that stopped abruptly. Marc and Bryan stood behind them. They were admiring each other’s kills.
“Kidney and Heart,” Bryan said. “Just to make sure he died a quick, painful death?”
“A heart shot is risky,” Marc said. “Too many bones. The kidney was just to make sure the Vulak wouldn’t be willing to fight if the heart shot failed.”
“Bryan?” Pantros asked, not because he was unsure of his friend’s identity, but because he was unsure why his friend was there.
Bryan’s tone was the usual aloof when he said, “Right about now I’d be bragging about how I saved your life if Shelly hadn’t just saved mine.” Pantros looked over to where Bryan had been fighting to see two Vulak bodies had arrows protruding from them.
“Don’t think that’s a debt that can be paid to someone else,” Sheillene said. “And I don’t know why you insist on calling me ‘Shelly’. That’s just one of the things I didn’t miss about you on my last visit to the hedgehog. Only my sister calls me that. To you and everyone else I am Sheillene.”
“Okay, Shelly,” Bryan said. “I’ll call you Sheillene, Shelly.”
Sheillene growled. “Are there more around?”
“No,” Bryan said. “I found their camp last night and followed them until they started ransacking the town. They split up to each pick their own building to loot and I picked them off one by one. I’d killed six before the others caught on and started working together.”
“I like ‘Shelly’,” Marc said. “It’s a much cuter name. It tak
es the edge off. Someone like you could use a few soft edges.”
“Don’t go there,” Sheillene said. “I am plenty soft when I can be, but my lifestyle needs those edges for protection. I am not Shelly, I am Sheillene.”
“I’m just saying, ‘Shelly’ is friendlier.” Marc shrugged.
“Friendly is something a Hunter only pretends to be to get close to a bounty,” Sheillene said. “Friendly is not a reputation a Hunter can afford.”
“But it would be good for a bard,” Thomas said, walking up to the group. Tara was at his side, her sword still in her hand.
“Your sister’s husband came back?” Bryan asked Pantros.
That Bryan knew when he did not caught Pantros by surprise. “Um, yeah, kind of, anyway.”
*We should talk about your techniques when you are outnumbered.*
Pantros ignored his sword. Instead he asked Bryan, “Why are you here?”
“I got a letter that said you needed me,” Bryan said. “It said to meet you in Melnith. The letter said it was from you.”
“I didn’t write a letter,” Pantros said.
“It was probably me,” Thomas said. “The same me that left me the ring.”
Pantros nodded.
“How can one sentence make me so confused?” Bryan asked. He tore off part of one of the Vulak’s pants and wiped the blood off his sword. He then held the rag toward Pantros only to pull it away when Pantros reached for it. “Doesn’t look like you need this,” his friend said then tossed the rag to Marc.
“I drew blood,” Pantros pointed to the tip of his sword. “At least I didn’t get cut. You have a few scrapes.”
Sheillene examined a few cuts on Bryans arm. “Those need to be washed and wrapped,” she said. “Vulak do not clean their weapons.”
“I know,” Bryan said. “This wasn’t my first encounter with Vulak. I am The General Prime of the Novarran Army, you know.”
“In less than a year?” Sheillene said. “I’ve heard of General Bryan, I’d never have thought you and he were one and the same.”
“Okay, so it’s a purely honorary rank,” Bryan said. “Dane, it seems, was a retired Admiral in the Novarran Navy and some of Ignea’s pirates knew that. Thus he couldn’t sail on a private merchant vessel. So we had to go over land. They needed him there because the Proconsul trusted him and he put Dane in charge of all the Military. He had other friends on the Council who owed him and since they didn’t want to actually trust me with power, but they agreed to set me up with a pension. It seems making the trek through Wylde Woodlands is impressive enough to earn a respectful rank. I sit in on Dane’s planning sessions and meetings, but I don’t talk much.”
“You went through the Wylde Woodlands?” Sheillene asked. “No one makes it out of there.”
“We almost didn’t,” Bryan said. “I have quite the story to tell you, if you’ll hear it.”
Sheillene rolled her eyes and smiled. “I’m a bard, asking me if I want a new story is like asking a child if they want candied pastries. We have two or three days left to Melnith. But, we should get back in the carriage and be on our way.”
Bryan pointed at the piles of loot the Vulak had dropped on the ground. “Shouldn’t we see if they have any valuables?”
“Those belong to someone,” Sheillene said.
“They used to belong to whoever lived here,” Bryan said. “But then they were stolen by Vulak. I’m only thinking to see if the Vulak we killed can provide a spare penny or two.”
“No, Bryan, we don’t have time. No need to risk another attack by waiting around,” Pantros said. “There can be nothing we need there. I’m sure whoever lives here took the best stuff with them when they went to the city.”
“Alright,” Bryan said. “Let’s see this carriage of yours.”
CHAPTER 23: LADY GLACIA
“Murdread has twenty-four demons of significant rank down in the King’s Courtyard,” Kirvel said to Lady Glacia.
This time they were meeting in the basement of an abandoned part of Demia. A place where the lava pools encroaching made the surroundings uninhabitable. She didn’t want to risk exposing her best spy in Murdread’s service. Two of her biggest guards stood beside Glacia, fully covered in black steel armor and each carrying very large axes.
Only twenty-four? Glacia pondered. She never thought Murdread was a serious threat, but only twenty-four?
“I thought better of you, Kirvel,” she said.
“I am performing my duties and no one believes for an instant my loyalties lie elsewhere,” Kirvel said.
“If you were performing your duties well, I wouldn’t be surprised by how small Murdread’s force is. A hundred or so demonlings and only two dozen of significance? I should have been aware of those numbers long ago,” she said.
“Are you worried he will not have enough to fulfill your needs of his plans?” Kirvel asked.
“Your little mind is not capable of understanding my plans,” Glacia said. “Don’t be presumptuous enough to think I will explain anything I don’t want you to know. The intricacies of my plans are mine to know. Your duty, for which I have been rewarding you handsomely, is to accomplish the little tasks I assign you.”
“I just thought we were happy with Murdread succeeding,” Kirvel said.
Glacia reached out and took large axe from one of her guards. She spun the axe around in one hand, rolling the haft over the back of her hand a couple times, just for show. Sometimes the lesser demons required a show of physical strength, and her human-like feminine body belied her strength. When the weapon stopped spinning the axe blade rested against Kirvel’s neck.
“This is the second time I’ve had to remind you of your station,” Glacia said, speaking in a firm voice. “I almost never have to resort to threats to keep my loyal followers in line. If your rewards are insufficient to temper your curiosity, perhaps we need to re-evaluate our arrangement.”
Kirvel croaked, “I’m actually perfectly happy with the current arrangement. Don’t ask questions, I get that now. You won’t hear another question from me other than ‘What can I do to serve you, milady?’”
“Since you asked,” Glacia said as pulled the axe away and tossed it to the guard. She again used her usual seductive honey voice, “I need the name of Darien’s mortal. The one he is going to use in the final phases of his plans.”
“I’ll get that for you, milady,” Kirvel said. He bowed, took a step away, bowed again, and then scurried off.
The demonling’s value was quickly diminishing in Glacia’s eyes. She’d expected ambition when she’d recruited him. She’d underestimated not only his curiosity, but his ability to comprehend her complex manipulations. He’d been wrong in his assessments, but someday he might not be. She was sure his time in her service was coming to an end. She pondered what kind of end would be appropriate for Kirvel.
CHAPTER 24: PANTROS
The white spires of Melnith were a welcome sight a few days after they’d met up with Bryan. Pantros had missed Bryan, but two days of hearing his tales of surviving the Wylde Woodlands were more than enough to reacquaint him with his friend. It took them another day to reach the city. Several spires reached all the way into the clouds. Sheillene told him the entire city had been built with magic. The marble was shaped and sometimes even grown using magic.
If the stories were true, Melnith was over fifty thousand years old and it wasn’t the oldest of the Abvi cities.
“The main tower at the Sorcery College is almost a league tall,” Sheillene said. “They say the top levels can sway a hundred paces in the wind. Odd that they say it, since, being sorcerers, master of the element of air, they can control wind.”
“My baby sister is a teacher at the Sorcery College,” Thomas said.
“How?” Sheillene asked.
Thomas shrugged. “Well, she went there, learned for a while, and now she teaches.”
“No,” Sheillene said. “I mean if you’re a hundred and thirty, and she’s your baby sister, a
nd the Sorcerers don’t take Abvi students prior to a hundred and twenty-five, what you tell me is not possible. Is she not also Abvi?”
“She’s pure Abvi, but they took her when she was twenty five,” Thomas said. “She’d already taught herself basic Sorcery from a book. They take humans at twenty; it wasn’t that much of a stretch to take an Abvi that young. We mature as fast as humans, we just live forever and get far more mature.” Thomas’s eyes darted to the various humans in the carriage. No one reacted.
“We’re quite the crowd,” Tara said. “We have the King of Thieves, The Greatest Bard ever, a General who has yet to see twenty two summers, and you, Sheillene, who, as I understand it is not only the greatest archer alive, but you were born with an innate ability to play any instrument.”
“I only play strings,” Sheillene said. “I tried a flute once and a cat attacked me to make me stop. I took the hint and never touched one again.”
“Well we can’t be a collection of the greatest,” Norda said. “I’d never claim to be the best Knight, and which of Tara or Faren would be the best innkeeper? And unless biggest means best, I don’t know how to classify Marc.”
“Humility is the trait of a great knight,” Sheillene said.
“He’s the best knight I’ve known,” Tara said. “But we don’t get many knights or any knights in Ignea. Still, I’m a bit scared. What if this is something big that’s happening and fate is bringing us all together?”
“It’s not fate,” Sheillene said. “Thomas, the older Thomas, is behind much of this. And without trying to be mean, this Thomas is good, but it was the older Thomas who is the greatest bard ever, this one is not quite at that level yet.”
“And I’m retired,” Pantros said. He had been thinking about how to maintain his profession after the journey. His last theft had been such a mistake that he seriously questioned if he could rationalize the morality of burglary anymore. “I’m just going to go build my castle and enjoy the view, even if it’s on a scrap of land no one cares about.”