“That is unfortunate. I rather liked the young man. He seemed a decent sort.”
“He was a rather dangerous sort, General. Particularly to those he thought had wronged him.”
Baneford drained his glass with a final gulp, set it back onto the tabletop, and leaned back in his chair. “So where does that leave us? I assume you’ll be wanting your payment back at the least.”
Krendall tapped the rim of his glass as he thought. “I think I will return to the tower for the moment. As you can see, I can find you at my leisure no matter how hard you try to avoid me. I will suggest to my associates that you keep the arms, armor, and your lives as a sort of investment for future needs. You never know when one might need a good band of sword swingers, and it is not as though we at the Tower have much use for the sort of things I gave you.”
General Baneford let out a long breath he did not even realize he was holding as conflicting emotions warred inside his head. He was glad that any retribution for his failure was at the least delayed if not averted but despised being beholden to a group of rather shady wizards—as if there were any other kind.
“Well then, General, I see you are deep in thought and properly aware of your tenuous situation. I had best be going and report this change in plans to the Tower.”
Krendall conjured forth a rent in the air and stepped through, taking him to where his horse awaited his return behind a large rock formation several hundred yards away.
As he rode back toward the Tower he conjectured, as he had nearly every waking minute since leaving, what the status of the Tower’s hierarchy now was. Had Shakrill failed, it could be unchanged or really bad. If she succeeded, it was certainly bad.
It was no secret that he disliked Shakrill, but he had always maintained a general neutrality toward all Tower members, neither seeking favor nor making enemies. In an environment like the Tower, power could shift rather abruptly, and you did not want to be on the opposing side when it did.
Despite this, if Shakrill was now in charge, particularly with control of the demon lord, this was certainly the last time he would return to the Tower. Ballizarr was not the most pleasant of people, but he was tolerable as the master of the Tower.
How Shakrill ever coerced him into actually helping her summon the demon he would never know. Certainly, the man was not so foolish that he could not see that if the woman succeeded in her audacious scheme he would be the first to go.
Perhaps she had kept the full details from the Tower master. Maybe he knew and sabotaged the ritual and destroyed the power-hungry magus. Krendall did not know and only cared to the point that affected his own wellbeing. He put these ponderings aside as he finally reached the edge of Rapture after several days of uncomfortable riding.
His concern returned as people fled the streets at his approach or watched warily from behind shuttered windows and doorframes. The people of Rapture always avoided the dangerous wizards but not with this kind of open fear. Something had certainly gone wrong, but the question was for whom.
Another thought absently nagging at the back of his mind finally broke to the fore. He could not see the tower rising above the hovels and decrepit building of the decaying town. Now this was interesting. He slid off his mount at the edge of the square where the tower once stood and surveyed the absolute destruction as he absently picked through the rubble that was once the Black Tower.
The people of Rapture watched the wizard as he studied the ruins, waiting for him unleash his arcane powers in a fit of rage upon everything and everyone nearby.
As Krendall finally put the last piece of the puzzle together, he did the last thing anyone expected—he laughed. He laughed long and he laughed hard, throwing his head back as if guffawing at the gods themselves.
The wizard knew that Shakrill must have failed, and at first he thought that the demon had gotten free and destroyed the tower. However, had that been the case, the abyssal spawn would not have stopped there. The fact that the entire town was still standing and not littered with the shredded remains of its inhabitants indicated that it was not the demon prince that was responsible.
The only other being that would hold such fury and hatred for the Tower was a certain young sorcerer. How he was able to destroy the entire tower Krendall did not know nor did he care to find out—especially firsthand.
The archmage reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his black speaking stones. “General, I suddenly find myself without employment. You would not happen to require the services of a wizard of respectable talent would you?”
Just days ago, General Baneford thought that his life had come to an abrupt end, but now, in a strange twist of events, the very wizard he thought was going to kill him was asking to join him. Priding himself on being a man capable of thinking on his feet, he seized the opportunity. He was glad he found the wizard reasonably agreeable despite his vocation.
“I suppose I could use a man of your talents, but we would have to set up some ground rules and such. First and foremost, I am in charge. I listen to my officers and, given your obvious education and strengths, I would count you among them and welcome your council, but when orders are given they must be followed, or the entire machine falls apart. Equally important is the high standards of conduct I require from all who serve with me. I am afraid that given your previous associations, I have some concern here.”
Krendall smiled at the stone in his hand as he heard the General’s words. “I am a practical man, General, with practical ambitions. It is why I am still alive and my previous associates are most likely enjoying a long stay at one of the several circles of the abyss. I will not say that I am a good man, but neither do I consider myself needlessly cruel. I find those kinds to be fools who often bring about their own demise. I intend to live a long, if boringly subtle life.”
“Well, I suppose I can find a use for you then. Welcome to Baneford’s Brood. Now that I no longer have to duck you and your former friends, we can get back to doing something constructive. I have been eyeing this nice little town in Sumara that could really use a change in leadership.”
***
Aggie strode up the newly cobbled road toward the tower nestled against the dark grey backdrop of the Northern Range. She whistled a jaunty tune that would have made a sailor blush if she had sung the words. She abruptly cut the tune off and called into the woods.
“It’s not polite to spy on folks, ya know. Come on out and greet me properly.”
Wolf and Ghost slipped noiselessly through the brush and stepped out onto the road. “I can’t believe you saw me. Nobody ever sees me!” Wolf complained with his wide smile plastered across his face.
“I didn’t have to see you; I could smell you a mile away.”
Wolf sniffed under an armpit and shrugged. “I’m Wolf and this is Ghost.”
“I’m Agatha but my friends call me Aggie. Nice to meet you both. Do you live in the keep up there?”
Wolf gave her a scathing look. “Pfft, no way. I live in the woods and do what I want; at least until it gets really cold then Ghost and I gift them with our company.”
“I see, but you know what goes on up there, you know some of the people who live there?”
“Oh yeah, mostly a bunch of kids reading books or whacking each other with sticks. I know Azerick, who thinks he’s in charge and a few of the other old people. They’re all right for the most part even if they are boring. So where did you come from, North Haven? You look too old to have walked very far.”
Aggie laughed at Wolf’s refreshingly direct manner. “Oh, I get around rather well, even for an old broad. I suppose I will have to bestow my presence upon those in the tower for a spell as well. Maybe I can help loosen them up a bit.”
Wolf slapped his knee and laughed. “I like you; you’re funny for an old person. Maybe you can teach Azerick to have a sense of humor. He needs it. Have fun, it’s about lunch time, and I saw some rabbits yesterday that looked tasty!”
Aggie laughed along with Wolf
and waved as the boy and his wolf disappeared back into the forest. The first thing she noticed as she neared the keep was that it looked more like an armed camp preparing for a siege than the school she had heard about. Men and boys manned the walls wearing armor and carrying swords and crossbows. The gates were firmly shut and looked less than inviting of strangers.
“Halt, who are you and what is your purpose!” a large boy of perhaps fifteen called down from his place just above the gate.
Aggie looked up at the beardless youth with a scowl. “I’m an ogre and I have come to eat the children, you big lout! What do you think I want?”
The serious-looking young man turned red. “I don’t know, looking at you I would say someone to pre-chew your food for you!”
He was big but he was sharp, Aggie thought to herself. “I heard you were looking for teachers. I thought I would come and apply for a job.”
“Gods, not arms trainer I hope. Master Ewen is mean enough,” the youth mumbled none too quietly, which got a grin out of Aggie.
The boy motioned to someone on the inside, and the postern gate opened to allow her entrance. She walked into the compound and looked in wonder. The only building visible above the walls other than the keep was the Church. She gawked at the blacksmith, fletchers, carpenter shops, and what looked to be billets and other living quarters. Over half the structures were made of solid logs and timber, although all had slate or clay roofs.
The other thing that amazed her was the number of children she saw, which she was certain did not nearly represent the whole. She turned toward the sound of battle and saw at least sixty youths in three different groups going through battle drills and arms training. A bell rang and dozens of book-toting children came running out of several of the log buildings that must have been classrooms and ran into another.
The Black Tower had at most twenty students from novice to adept, and only two or three of them were likely to graduate to full wizard. Aggie focused upon the children with her wizard sight as they scampered about the grounds. She identified at least three dozen children with respectable magical potential.
Aggie strode down the wide avenue leading to the keep. The cobbled street did not lead directly there, it doglegged twice to curve around a few stout, stone buildings and, given the look of their recent construction, she seriously doubted that their placement had been accidental. She noticed that most of the stone buildings inside the expansive walls were built along this one wide avenue. Each had a flat roof and sported low crenellations from where archers could set up and wreak havoc on any enemy that got through the gates.
The obvious militancy of this Orphans’ Academy gave her serious pause and concern for her children that were likely to arrive soon on the ship they managed to get a berth on in Lesser Langdon’s Crossing. She hoped she had not made the mistake of trading one subservient school for another.
She stepped into the portico of the keep and knocked loudly on the sturdy wood and iron door. After waiting perhaps a minute, the door swung in and a beautiful young woman holding an equally beautiful baby girl greeted her.
“Good day, madam, I am Colleen, how can I help you?” Colleen asked warmly.
“I heard you were looking for some teachers and hoped I might convince you to take me on. I know I’m not much to look at, but my mind is still sharp, and I’m sure I have a few good years left in me.”
Colleen gave a kind, soft laugh and made room for the older woman to pass. “You will have to speak with my husband, Franklin, about that, but I am sure we would be glad to have you. We are so busy, especially since the twins came and I had to set aside my own teachings for a time.”
Colleen led Aggie into the main hall and bade her sit on one of the padded sofa’s that adorned the room. “So what do you teach…I’m sorry, I did not catch your name.”
“Agatha, but most folks call me Aggie.”
“What do you teach, Aggie?”
“Oh, I have become a good hand in just about everything over the years. I even have a little skill in the dabbling of magic.”
“That would be wonderful! We are so short on magus instructors. Rusty will be thrilled to have you. I think I hear them coming down the stairs now. We are just breaking for lunch, you must join us,” Colleen insisted.
Rusty and Allister came down the stairs and into the hall where Colleen and her guest were waiting for them. Colleen and Aggie stood up, the former about to introduce the latter, when Aggie spoke out.
“Hey there, sailor, care to buy a lady a drink?” Aggie called up to them.
Magus Allister’s eyes went wide and nearly fell down the stairs when he saw the woman standing below him, but he quickly recovered his composure.
“Sorry, Colleen does not drink since she is still nursing, and I don’t see anyone else around here that would qualify as a lady,” Allister growled.
Aggie smiled at the insult. “I wasn’t talking to you, you old windbag, I was talking to the handsome young hunk next to you that actually looks healthy enough to handle me.”
Rusty’s face burned as red as his hair at being dragged into the two older people’s verbal sparring.
“By the gods, Aggie, it is you! I thought you were dead by now!” Allister exclaimed as he hurried down the stairs.
Aggie raised her hands above her head and shook her hips. “Far from it tall, grey, and handsome.”
“Uh, you two know each other?” Rusty asked as the old mage embraced the woman.
Allister turned toward Rusty and Colleen, keeping one arm wrapped around Aggie’s trim waist.
“Aggie and I go way back,” Allister replied with a broad smile.
“Don’t tell them how far, Al, a girl has her pride,” Aggie warned him with a soft elbow in his side.
“So is she a wizard as well?” Colleen asked.
“One of the best; I taught her everything I know,” Allister answered with a wink.
“And then we made out for the rest of the afternoon. He certainly had nothing to teach me there.”
“Despite her low morals and crass personality, she is nearly equal to me when it comes to mage craft.”
It was Aggie’s turn to look at Allister with a scowl. “I seem to remember being the one that put you out after you set your robes on fire in class! I would have to have a stroke to be almost your equal, you old windbag.”
“Were you two students at The Academy together?” Rusty asked.
“Hardly, I was his applied magic teacher when he almost burnt down the school trying to impress me,” Aggie told them, this time setting Allister’s ears glowing.
“So, other than humiliating me, what brings you here?” Allister asked.
Aggie became serious as she explained. “I have a number of my more decent children, the ones that were not hopelessly corrupted by those Black Tower fools, coming in on a ship, and I wanted to make sure they would be treated right this time. I couldn’t do much for them at the tower, but I’ll be damned if I’ll watch it happen again! Seeing this old windbag here makes me feel a little better about my decision. Seeing the place geared for war had me concerned.”
“I will explain all that later,” Allister said. “So what happened? I take it you broke away from the Black Tower.”
“More like the tower broke away from me—and everybody else for that matter.” Allister gave her a quizzical look. “A polite young man came in and cleaned house before demolishing the entire thing. He told most of the students to get to North Haven and check in here. I suspect they will be here in a day or two on a ship I think I heard belonged to the young man who started this place.”
“You saw Azerick? Was he all right? What happened?” everyone exclaimed at once.
“He created quite a stir, and some of the archmages got a hold of him, but he got free and let them know in no uncertain terms how he felt about that. He sent the whole tower crashing to the ground last I saw of him. I am sure he is alive, but is he all right is the real question, and that will only be answered in time.
”
“Why, what happened to him?” Rusty asked.
“I think that is best left to him to talk about in his own time, young man. I imagine he will be back here soon enough and will need your love and support to keep his spirit bright.”
“He has had a difficult past. We understand he falls into episodes of gloom and bitterness at times if that is what you are speaking of,” Allister told the wizard.
“I am sure he will be fine with friends like this. Someone said something about lunch. Do you have any salami and onions?”
“We need to find you a place to stay,” Colleen said abruptly, not sure where to house the esteemed wizard.
Aggie waved the thought away. “Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart. I figured I would just shack up with this old goat again, if he thinks he can handle it.”
Allister turned beet red and tried to sputter a reply but failed to form a coherent sentence. Everyone laughed at the archmage as they all made their way to the kitchens.
CHAPTER 17
Azerick watched the still pouting sand dragon sitting across from him on the other side of the small fire he made from the dry, scrubby plants that often blew across the desert, driven along by the winds like a herd of antelope.
Sandy had not spoken to him since their disagreement earlier that day, preferring to trot alongside or just ahead of Azerick and Horse. The sorcerer was astounded at the little dragon’s stamina. Despite her awkward gait, she never asked to stop and rest and never lagged behind Horse, even at a trot.
“Sandy, I have been thinking about what you said, about your instincts, and I think you may be right. It was unfair of me to judge you so harshly knowing that you are descended of the mightiest predators in the land,” Azerick conceded. “However, you must overcome those instincts at times for the sake of safety and discretion.”
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 129