He remembered crying out to Coal, begging him to return to his body, begging him to stay. He knew that his father heard him, but Coal hadn’t responded. He just held to Willum’s spirit tighter and Willum knew that Coal wasn’t going to be able to hold on for long.
Just as it seemed that Coal was about to fade away, there had been a bright light and though Willum couldn’t make anything out within the light, Coal had. Their father had released them and stood before the light conversing with someone or something within. Then Coal had turned back to them and Willum had heard his father’s voice for the last time.
Willum had felt the strangest sensation afterwards. It was an odd disconnect, as if his very soul had been removed from reality for a brief moment. Then when the sensation faded, Coal was gone. In his place, in the place where Coal had been since Willum was four, was a stranger. The spirit of the stranger was tattered and covered in great wounds.
The stranger had let out a piercing scream. There was a rushing sensation and their minds were joined. The stranger’s memories were forced through his mind and at the same time, Willum knew that this man was living his.
“You can stop there,” Tolivar said from the bed across from his, but Willum couldn’t stop.
He shivered as the stranger’s memories flooded his mind anew. They went by in a rush. He was Tamboor, son of Jarod, the young man eager to prove himself. Then he became the talented academy student making his name; then the confident warrior; the seasoned veteran leading the berserker guild; the legend fighting alongside Faldon the Fierce after the berserker guild was dissolved; then the academy retiree making a home in the mountains with his wife and children. Willum began to sweat. He tried to push away the part he knew was coming next. The terrifying event marched inevitably towards him.
He befriended the ogre, Fist. His children, his beautiful children, Cedric and Lina played around him as he worked the fields with his wife. Then came the outcry, the invasion of goblinoid troops, the frantic run towards his farm, only to find it was already surrounded. Then the wizard appeared-!
“Stop!” Tolivar commanded, both aloud and in Willum’s mind. Thankfully, the memories ended as quickly as if Tolivar had slapped them away. The man was leaning forward, his face pained, his arm outstretched. Willum could see the naming rune emblazoned on the palm of his left hand. “I’m sorry. I hope you never have to relive that again. I . . . wish you hadn’t seen it the first time.”
“How did you survive that?” Willum asked, a tear rolling down his cheek. “The pain . . .”
Tolivar’s hand shook and he dropped it into his lap. He stared at the rune as he spoke, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t survive it. John disagrees, but I tell you that the core of me died that day. That part went to hell and burned and screamed every second of every day over the last year. What was left inside this body . . .”
“Vengeance,” Willum finished. He had experienced that part too. He had felt Tamboor’s anguish and tenuous grip on reality. Over that year, the only time he had felt close to alive was when he was killing goblinoids.
“Perhaps. There was little else in my mind. I don’t know how I held on, but John appeared there at the end. He stopped me from plunging Meredith into the Bowl of Souls and making my final mistake. He pulled me from the brink,” Tamboor’s eyes moved up to meet Willum’s. “Then he used you all to tie those parts of me back together.” He closed his runed hand into a fist. “I still don’t know if it will take.”
At the mention of the others, Willum perked up. “Are they okay? Where are they?”
“They’re fine. Samson is at the stables with the other rogue horse, talking with . . .” He grimaced, his eyes closed. “With Captain Demetrius and someone else, I’m not sure who, about the feed conditions. As for Bettie, she is down at the forge arguing with her boyfriend again.”
“So I’m the last one to wake?” Willum said. “How long was I asleep?”
“Four days,” Tolivar said. “The rest of us were up in two.” He took something out of his bulging shirt pocket and tossed it to Willum. It was a bread roll, slightly crushed, and heavier than it looked. “The wizards said that you wouldn’t be hungry when you woke, but I brought it anyway.”
The wizards were right. He didn’t feel hungry. But as he raised the roll to his lips, Willum’s mouth watered at the yeasty scent. He bit into it to find that the center was filled with a soft spiced goat cheese. He devoured it quickly.
Tolivar gave a slight smile. “There’s more in the dining hall. They seem to keep a ready stock on hand for people to grab between meals.”
Willum swallowed the last bite and his eyes moved to the axe still stuck in the wall. “Where am I right now?”
“In the Mage School dormitories. All of their regular students were moved inside the Rune Tower to free up beds after we came through the portal.” His eyes followed Willum’s to the axe. “Bettie and Samson were worried at how long it was taking you to wake up, but the prophet told us you might need more time than the rest of us.”
“I had no idea how long I was in there,” Willum said. “That conniving little monster tricked me. Somehow he suppressed the memories of father’s death to keep me around. How could he do that?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but that creature has a powerful amount of spirit magic. It wasn’t easy for me to break through,” Tolivar replied.
Willum frowned. And he had thought they’d come to an understanding. He would have to deal with the imp later. He glanced back at his new bonding wizard. “And how did you do that? Break through, I mean.”
“I’m not quite sure how to explain it, actually,” Tolivar said with a slight shrug. “I looked through the bond, like Alfred has been teaching me, and in the place where your mind was supposed to be there was a block of some kind. From there I pretty much acted on instinct. I just pushed my way through.”
“I’m glad you did,” Willum said.
There was a bit of awkward silence then. Willum wasn’t sure what to say to Tolivar. The man was his bonding wizard now, but even though he knew more about Tolivar’s life than he ever knew about Coal’s, they had just barely met. Neither of them knew how this new relationship was supposed to work. Tolivar wasn’t going to replace Willum’s father and Willum wasn’t going to replace Tolivar’s lost children. So where did that leave them?
“We’ll figure this out sooner or later,” Tolivar said.
“Yeah,” Willum said encouragingly.
Tolivar slid off the bed and stood. “I’ll leave for now. The other academy students are probably out at the wall if you want to join them.” He walked towards the door, but stopped by the axe. “You might want to take this down. If you leave it there, people are going to stare.”
“Right,” Willum said.
Tolivar grabbed the handle and wrenched the blade from the wall, then looked at it for a moment. “Always did think Tad’s axe was mean looking. Didn’t know why he was so shy with it, though.” He smiled. “I used to tease him, ‘A man should never be afraid of his own weapon, Tad’. He never seemed to laugh.” He held the axe out to Willum, handle first.
Willum blinked in surprise. “So you’re just going to hand it to me after all that happened? You’re not going to lecture me about it?”
“You’re a grown man, Willum. Besides, we both know you have more experience with this spirit communication thing than I do.”
Willum took the axe from him carefully and was surprised when the imp didn’t speak up as soon as his hand touched it.
Tolivar grasped the door handle, but paused before opening it. “I should tell you one thing, though. You were reaching a dangerous moment when I walked into the imp’s room. He had a mass of spirit magic poised over you.”
“I knew something strange was happening,” Willum said, his eyes moving over the red painted runes on the axe’s blade. “He keeps trying to get me to give him a name. You know, it seems like such a small thing, but I’ve been hesitating. I’m not sure why it feels like a big
deal, but it does.”
“I don’t know much about imps,” Tolivar said. “But I’d suggest doing some research before you do what it wants. At least you’re here. The Mage School is probably the best place to find out. Let me know if it gets too out of hand.”
Willum nodded and Tolivar left. The moment the man shut the door behind him, the imp spoke up. “Willy! Listen, Willy, that man, he-!”
Willum dropped the axe on the bed and slipped out of the covers. He couldn’t talk to the imp. Not now. Tolivar was right. He needed to find out what the possible repercussions of giving it a name were. But who to ask?
At that point, he realized that he was standing there completely naked. Why couldn’t they have at least dressed him in his small clothes? He walked over to the dresser on unsteady feet and began opening the drawers. To his relief, his clothes were inside, cleaned and neatly folded. His scythes and sheathes had been laid in the bottom drawer all jumbled together as if whomever had put them in there didn’t know what to do with them.
As he dressed, Willum realized that everything he owned fit in that one dresser. He didn’t see his pack anywhere, so it must have been left somewhere on the battlefield. Everything he had left behind at the academy was gone for sure. The only things that remained were the few items he’d left behind at Coal’s Keep. The thought of home brought a lump in his throat.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. Poor Becca. She was sitting at home waiting for them. There was no way she could know that Coal was gone. Oh how he wished he could be with her right then.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Who is it?”
“Willum? Tam-, I mean, Tolivar told me you were awake. I was starting to wonder if you were alright.”
Willum recognized the voice. “Come in”
Sir Edge opened the door with a ready smile on his face. Much like Faldon the Fierce, he was an imposing figure of a man; tall, wide shouldered, and thickly muscled. He wore a dark cotton shirt and leather breeches and was fully armed, with a gray wooden bow slung across his shoulder, a bristling quiver, and the hilts of two strange looking swords jutting up from his back. He stuck out his hand, and as Willum shook it, he felt the leathery thickness of the naming rune on the back of his hand.
“What brings you to see me?” Willum asked.
“Well, first of all, I wanted to thank you for watching over my mother while the academy was under siege,” Edge said.
“I’m not actually sure that she needed much watching,” Willum replied. “She pretty much watched over me.”
Sir Edge chuckled at that. “Yeah, I know she seems that way, but she appreciated your help. She told me so.”
“Oh,” Willum said. He smiled a bit. He had grown fond of Darlan. “I’m glad I was of some help, then.”
“So, um . . . ” Edge scratched the back of his head.
“Would you like to sit?” Willum asked, pointing to the bed Tolivar had been sitting in earlier.
“Thanks,” Edge said and sat down. “So, have you talked with Bettie or Samson since you woke up?”
“I haven’t had the chance.” Willum said. “I don’t think Tolivar’s learned how to keep the bond open yet.”
“You should ask him. I can’t believe Bettie and Samson haven’t already done it,” Edge said, then winced. “Uh, sorry. It’s not really my business the way you do things.”
“No, you’re fine,” Willum said. “We still have a lot to work out with Tolivar.”
“Yeah, I guess you would.” Edge said, and Willum wondered why he was really there. Finally the man leaned forward. “Well, here’s the thing. I’m actually here to ask you a favor.”
Willum blinked. What could Sir Edge possibly want from him? “Well, I suppose. Anything I can do to help. But why me?”
“Because you’ve done this before. You see, I’ve been given a mission to watch out for the witch’s spies here at the school,” Edge explained. “And I’d like for you to help.”
Chapter Nine
“Willy! Willum, come now, you misunderstand what I did,” the imp protested.
Willum shoved the axe into the half sheath at his waist. We’ll discuss this later. He shuddered and followed Sir Edge into the hallway outside his room. “So how is the witch getting spies into the school? People come here as children.”
“I’m not sure how it happens, but it was likely the same way it happened at the academy,” said Sir Edge. “She had spies among the students when I was here at the school, but no one knew it at the time.” He paused at the outer door. “Now be careful when speaking about this. Valtrek thinks the witch is aware that we know she has spies here. She could have someone listening at any time.”
Willum nodded. “It was that way at the academy too.”
“Yeah, but here the spies will be using magic.” Edge opened the door into the bright sunlight. He paused and looked back at Willum. “Have you been to the Mage School before?”
“No, Father left the school before he found me.”
“It might be a bit of a shock.” He stepped out and Willum followed him through the door.
The grass outside the door was a verdant green and perfectly trimmed and the air smelled clean and sweetened by flowers. Willum stepped onto one of the stone pathways that crisscrossed the grass, leading to rows of finely constructed buildings. In the distance, he saw stable and a fenced-in pasture where horses grazed. Behind that rose a towering wall, higher even than the academy walls, that looked as if it was carved out of a single sheet of rock.
“Father showed me his memories, but it’s so much bigger than I thought,” he said, awed.
“Then look behind you,” Sir Edge said, a smile on his face.
Willum turned and stared. “By the gods!”
The Rune Tower was enormous, stretching into the heavens as far as he could see. Willum craned his neck and took several steps backward, trying to take it all in. Coal had talked about the Rune Tower often, but nothing his father had said or shown him had prepared Willum for this.
“I know. I was in awe the first time I saw it too,” Edge said. “All the staring upward gave me a sore neck. Come on. We have some time before we go to the meeting. I’ll show you around a bit.”
Willum kept pace with Edge as he walked down the pathway towards the center of the school where a clock tower rose up. It had several large faces and was tall enough that Willum was sure he could make out the time clearly from anywhere on the grounds.
“About this meeting,” Willum said. “Who is going to be there?” Sir Edge had been quite sketchy with the details.
“Just the people that need to be. Not much else was said to me,” Edge replied.
He led Willum down a pathway that led towards the clock tower. The pathways were crowded with refugees bustling here and there, heading in and out of buildings, while out-of-place-looking academy students and trainees walked about staring at everything.
“It all seems so calm,” Willum said. “I can’t even hear the army surrounding us.”
“Ewzad Vriil and the witch are handling this differently than the siege of the academy,” Edge explained. “If they had the wizards as tightly surrounded as they had the academy, their army would be bombarded by magical attack day and night. Instead, they have settled on a soft siege. Ewzad Vriil’s army has blocked the road to Sampo and the mother . . . No, we should call her by her real name. Mellinda has the forest areas and all other escape routes covered by moonrats, trolls, and whatever other monsters she can control.”
“So we’re not in immediate danger of attack, but we’re too outnumbered to leave,” Willum said.
“Exactly. It’s a perfect strategy for him. While all of his enemies sit here in one spot, waiting, he’s able to build his strength and wait for a favorable time to attack. In the meantime, he has full control of Dremaldria.”
Willum frowned. The beauty of his surroundings had suddenly lost their appeal. “How are we set up for supplies?”
; Edge shrugged. “The wizards say we’re fine. They produce enough food out of their own gardens and forests to supply the regular faculty and students year round. As for our additional numbers, all ten thousand of us, they say we could still hold out for years. They don’t understand it yet, but with the addition of honstule plants to the gardens, even longer, maybe indefinitely.”
“You brought honstule here?” Willum asked in surprise.
“My elf friend Qyxal made a thorough study of the plant while we were at Master Coal’s keep. We gave a bag of the seeds to the elves and they are all quite excited about it. They began planting them in the gardens and Mage School forest the day we arrived here.”
“There are elves here at the school?” Willum asked in surprise. Not thinking, he let his hand rest on the axe handle.
“Elves too? There’s already dwarves around and don’t think I didn’t notice the gnome! I’m surrounded by enemies! What’s next? Dragons? Willy, listen. Let’s get out of here! We could-!”
“You alright?” Edge asked, noticing Willum jerk his hand back.
“I’m fine. Really,” he replied, swallowing. How was he going to help Sir Edge with the search if he couldn’t trust the imp?
“Alright then. Yes, the Silvertree elves were given asylum here at the school after Mellinda’s children overran their homeland in the Tinny Woods,” Edge explained. “They’ve been staying in the Mage School forest on the far side of the Rune Tower from here.”
They walked into the center square and paused a moment to allow Willum to stare at the elaborate fountains surrounding the base of the clock tower. Multicolored arcs of water rose and fell in displays even more beautiful than the fountains Willum remembered seeing as a small boy around the Dremald Palace.
The square was packed with people but unlike at the academy where there was an undercurrent of fear, here there was laughter. The children ran around freely, some playing in the fountains. “So where are all the students and warriors?”
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 12