Erich's Plea: Book One of the Witchcraft Wars

by Tracey Alley

Roulibard existed at all.

  “And you remember nothing?” Tares asked, fascinated and horrified at the same time.

  “About me? Practically nothing, but I’ve got pretty good, I suppose you’d call it ‘general knowledge’. I remember things about The Kingdoms, things about history, I know I practiced magic but I don’t really remember doing so but it’s like,” Roulibard looked away as he tried to find the right words, “I don’t know, like I can smell magic, taste it. I remember, or I think I do, how it feels but how to actually do it, the words of even the simplest spell, the most basic spell components? All gone. I assume that I must have a family somewhere; I mean everyone comes from somewhere but as to who they might be I remember nothing. I’m human and I can speak the Common tongue, I’m pretty pale skinned so it’s unlikely I come from Kemet or Brikenwald, yet I don’t get any sense of coming from Ixlan, Saxenburg or even Padyian. I think I must’ve been a good alchemist because I can remember and recognize herbs, plants, and stones but I can’t remember a thing about how to put them together. I don’t remember one single thing about me before I woke up,” Roulibard stopped abruptly, got up and walked away, slipping out of the small entrance. Tares could not be certain but he thought he heard the young mage softly crying but he decided to leave Roulibard in peace. Instead, with a deep sigh the minotaur priest stretched out next to Wulfstan and closed his eyes, within seconds he was asleep.

  Tares woke, after what felt like minutes but in reality had to have been at least an hour and possibly more, to the sounds of a heated argument between Wulfstan and Roulibard. As he rose to his feet, slightly unsteadily as he still felt the draining effects of his healing prayers, he was stunned to see how completely Wulfstan had been cured. The minotaur priest cast a curious glance at Trunk and then walked closer to the arguing pair until he was standing right behind Wulfstan, towering over the tall soldier.

  “I could’ve died you fool,” Wulfstan was shouting into Roulibard’s face.

  “I’m telling you I don’t know…” Roulibard tried to speak only to be cut off by Wulfstan, who by now was pushing the smaller man in the chest.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know, that’s all you’ve had to say for yourself. Wretched spellcasters never think for two straight seconds about the effects of what they’re doing.” Wulfstan stopped when he realized that he was surrounded by ‘wretched spellcasters’.

  “Wulfstan, that is more than enough,” Slade cut in commandingly, “Roulibard didn’t mean for you to get caught in the crossfire. He was doing his best to help, now forget it. Thanks to Tares you’re not dead, nor in any immediate danger of dying.”

  “Unless, of course he doesn’t shut up, in which case I may kill him myself,” Nikolai drawled quietly. Tares was not sure whether or not Wulfstan heard Nikolai’s comment but if he did the soldier obviously decided to ignore it. Turning away, disgust written all over his handsome face, Wulfstan thanked Tares gruffly before bending to pile equipment into a large, leather backpack.

  The Festival

  Lara and Darzan had evidently gone into the city and had acquired all the equipment that the necromancer had told them to obtain. Lara was still dressed in her own clothes. The necromancer was wearing a long, hooded black rode with the red tinged eyes that were Vadatajs’ symbol emblazoned on the back and the others were all dressed in grey, shapeless robes.

  Nikolai’s plan called for himself and Tares, disguised in the black hooded robes worn by the priests of Vadatajs, to lead the rest of the group in a long parade through the city. This was a highlight of the Sun Ascension Festival; leading the ‘chosen’ to the altars, which were situated on the two small hills on the eastern side of the city. Once there the ‘chosen’ ones would be subjected to some of the more sickening rites of Vadatajs’ worship before eventually being sacrificed on the rough stone altars.

  Tares did not like the idea of even pretending to participate in such a vile distortion of worship. He had been forced to agree with Nikolai that the plan gave them all a degree of anonymity it was unlikely they would achieve any other way. The ritual priests were reviled even by the worshippers of Vadatajs, making it unlikely that anyone would even look at them and those chosen for the rituals were typically viewed as objects of pity and revulsion, meaning that no one would look too closely at them either. The only difficulty in the plan was, of course, Lara. While the height of Trunk and Tares would likely go unremarked in the city, where there were many ogres and half-ogres residing within the walls, Lara’s lack of height made her an obvious halfling or a child and children were never used in these particular rituals.

  Nikolai had solved the difficulty by suggesting that Trunk carry the halfling woman, close to his chest with her legs dangling. It would not be a very comfortable journey for Lara, as the procession was designed to be a dancing kind of march, but it was the only possible solution. Lara, when told of the plan, had simply giggled and jokingly told Trunk not to drop her or she’d bite his feet. The rest of the necromancer’s plan was simpler; once the procession arrived at the location of the stone altars they would simply continue walking down the hill towards the harbor on the eastern side of the island. All of the altars were isolated from each other in order to allow plenty of privacy to implement the ritual. Apart from Diablis city itself the majority of Ixlan consisted of mostly small fishing villages. Many of which had now become pirate havens so it was unlikely they would encounter any guards or resistance during the procession. Once they arrived at Melion, the harbor village on the far eastern side of Ixlan, Nikolai had arranged for someone to meet them there so they could board a ship and set sail for Saxenburg.

  Although there had been some surprise at the elaborate nature of Nikolai’s idea the only one who truly seemed put out by the plan had been Darzan. The beautiful pirate had been hired by Tares and Lara to help facilitate the prison break and then to captain the ship that would get them away. The minotaur’s instinct would have been to simply allow Darzan to return to her ship, the pirate having already been paid; Nikolai had overruled Tares, insisting that they all stay together. Once Slade had supported the necromancer Darzan had no longer protested, except to state that her own ship and crew were closer and easier to get to than whatever arrangements Nikolai may have made.

  The dark-skinned pirate had raised the obvious question of how Nikolai had managed to make these elaborate plans if he had been confined in Diablis prison for the past three months. The necromancer had caustically replied that Ixlan was a place he was intimately familiar with and refused to answer any further questions. Slade had cut through their argument by pointing out they were wasting valuable time. After that Darzan had donned the grey robe without further comment.

  Traditionally the processional marches began once the sun had reached its zenith. Each line of marches originated from different points within the city and was timed to reach the various altars after the sun had fully set but before the Sapphire moon had begun its journey across the sky. Nikolai would be the first in line with a long black rope tying him to the first ‘chosen one’, who would be linked to the next and so on until finally reaching Tares who would be taking the rear position. With their hooded robes they were virtually invisible while being in plain sight. Tares had wondered at first how they would disguise the very obvious shape of his horns under the hood but the necromancer had already thought of that, and had instructed Lara to acquire several blankets, which he then wrapped around Tares’ horns, disguising them completely once the hood was raised.

  Diablis city was laid out as a roughly rectangular shape, the longest part running east-west. This was the route they would have to travel to get from where they were on the western side of the city to the altar Nikolai had chosen outside the eastern gates. It would normally take at least two hours to walk from one side of the city to the other. As the processional marches were intended to be travelled slowly it would likely take nearly twice as long. Picking up the small, round ceremonia
l drum Tares said a silent prayer to Belenus for their protection. Nikolai, with his own drum at the ready, walked quickly down the line, doing a final check to ensure that everyone was prepared and fully covered. Satisfied at last that they were as ready as they could ever be the necromancer led them all out, beginning immediately to measure out the slow and steady beat on the drum while they marched.

  Their procession through the outer part of Diablis towards the walls of the city proper helped Tares to slow his rapidly beating heart. Although everywhere he looked he saw poverty and desperation there were initially, no signs or symbols relating to the worship of Vadatajs. As the group moved through the city gates Tares saw that two enormous evergreen trees, representing the everlasting nature of Vadatajs, had been erected either side of the huge stone gates. There would be, he knew, a matching pair at each of the three other gates into the city. Underneath the trees the crowds gathered, already in an advanced state of drunkenness though there were still at least four hours till the setting of the sun.

  Although Tares tried to keep his eyes cast down he could not help himself