Erich's Plea: Book One of the Witchcraft Wars

by Tracey Alley

stables, near the main entrance to the Palace the Grand Knight felt sick to his stomach, disgusted with Ulrich's duplicity and revolted by the evidence of his growing tyranny.

  Bjorn and Gunnar, along with a score of soldiers, moved in front of Michael, another score of guards taking up a position behind and beside him, as if they were still waiting for him to attempt an escape. In this tight formation they all marched through the wide Palace doors. Once inside Michael's guards had to assume an even closer perimeter around him as they marched him towards the reception hall.

  High King Erich’s elegant reception hall was a large and airy room easily fifty feet in diameter and paneled with dark maple imported from the Kingdom of Kodeshka. It had graceful marble pillars, made by the mountain dwarves of Laxdale, both functional, supporting the weight of the high vaulted ceiling and beautiful lining the sides of the rectangular room. The hall boasted two long tables carved in the same dark maple, with comfortable high backed chairs padded with soft fur cushions. At the back of the room had once stood the five thrones for the royal family, although Michael noted sourly that Ulrich had removed them all, except for the High Throne.

  The Hand of Witchcraft

  “Michael,” Ulrich said looking down at the knight from his position on the High Throne, “so nice of you to join me.”

  “Ulrich,” Michael answered, ignoring the hard shove in his back indicating he should kneel.

  “You will address the High King as ‘His Majesty’,” Bjorn hissed in Michael's ear, pushing hard on his shoulder in an attempt to force the knight to kneel. Without conscious thought Michael opened himself up to the power of Belenus, feeling the rush of almost electrical power course through his body, forcing away Bjorn’s hand and knocking the young soldier to the ground in the process.

  The surrounding soldiers jumped back, uttering little yelps and gasps in fear. He realized that they had, quite simply, forgotten the power at the Grand Knight’s disposal. It was not in his nature to wish to bring harm to anyone for any reason but he also knew sometimes a display of force or power, even to the point of causing pain or death, was the only way.

  “I see the god favors you still, Michael,” Ulrich said quietly, although the knight was pleased to note that the would-be king’s face was a little pale.

  “A Knight retains the favor of Belenus as long as he serves the will of the Crying God. You should know that Ulrich, you were once trained in the ways of the Knighthood, in fact I taught you myself.”

  “Oh I remember, Michael. I simply no longer claim any allegiance to, nor deference of Belenus. There is no longer any need.”

  “I see, you hold yourself and your actions above the gods, above the chief of all the gods?”

  “I hold all men above the gods. The gods and their petty powers are no longer of any importance,” Ulrich answered with a small smirk before turning to one of his attending guards and giving a whispered instruction.

  Michael kept his face impassive although he felt a sinking sense of foreboding. He believed he knew the nature of Ulrich's whispered instruction and was certain it would provide the answer to his arrogance, his usurpation of his father’s throne and his renunciation of Kaynos’ gods. After a brief wait the guard returned, alone. This surprised Michael; he had been expecting the guard to summon the elven witch, Shallendara. Instead the young guard handed Ulrich a small, wooden box and resumed his former position.

  “You see Michael, inside this box lies the answer to the questions I know must be burning within you. I hold here in my hand,” Ulrich’s voice was taunting as he caressed the small box, “more power than you have dreamed of and far, far more power than the gods ever granted to any being. This,” Ulrich held the box up slightly allowing Michael to see there was a symbol of some sort carved into the lid of the box, “has granted me, and those who choose to be loyal to me, freedom from the tyranny imposed by Belenus and all his kind. No longer do we have to debase ourselves, giving up our treasures, making continual sacrifices in the hopes of petty blessings. Now we are free to keep all our treasures, dispense with the sacrifices and bring about our own blessings. What say you to that Michael?”

  “I say Ulrich you mock the gods, any of the gods, at your own peril. Whatever power you think you have discovered lies under the command and control of the gods of Kaynos. It is not yours.”

  “Somehow I knew you would say that,” Ulrich said laughing loudly, “and yet, you will see Michael. You may leave us now,” Ulrich said to Bjorn and the accompanying guards, who left reluctantly as though they did not trust the score of guards remaining in the reception hall.

  “Now Michael, I would like you to tell me where you have been this past month,” Ulrich asked silkily.

  “I’m sure that you would Ulrich, however, I have no intention of telling you anything. Whether or not you choose to trample the traditions of Saxenburg and deny the gods is your own affair. However, the running of the Knights of Belenus is my affair and its business is between myself and my god.”

  “I would have expected no other answer from you Michael. But despite your reluctance,” Ulrich said as he slowly opened the carved box, “you will tell me everything I need to know. You will have no choice, and no protection.”

  Ulrich’s laugh was high-pitched, almost girlish in his anticipation of using whatever was contained within the box. Michael watched warily as Ulrich withdrew a large chunk of crystal, roughly the size of a man’s fist and clear, yet with hints of many color’s within its depths. The would-be High King stood up and held the chunk of crystal to his chest. Michael’s sense of foreboding grew as Ulrich began to walk towards him.

  Suddenly Michael’s mind felt clouded, as though he were drunk on mead or wine. He tried to pray, to appeal to Belenus to aid him, but found he could not form the words, even in his mind. Standing there he watched Ulrich approaching him, drawing closer and closer. Michael could feel his body swaying beyond his ability to stop. Something about the crystal was wiping his mind clean, stripping him of his memories and emotions, leaving him an empty vessel. The only rational thought or feeling Michael retained was a growing sense of fear; he could not fight this power and the god either could not, or would not assist him.

  “Now Michael, you are going to tell me everything I want to know. Where you have been, who you have seen and why,” Ulrich asked again.

  Michael tried to fight the fog in his mind, tried to resist the urge to simply answer Ulrich's question but he was powerless. It was as though he stood outside of himself, watching a stranger. He could hear his own voice answering, telling Ulrich everything of his journey to The Republic of Malerok, his meeting with Nexus and their plans to stop the coming war. How long he stood there answering Ulrich's questions Michael did not know. His mind so clouded it seemed to last both an instant and an eternity. Eventually the fog began to clear; Michael felt his wits slowly return to him as if he had woken from a dream. Ulrich once more sat on the High Throne and had replaced the clear crystal within its box once more.

  “Thank you Michael,” Ulrich said, his voice smug with triumph, “I suspected as much but it is nice to have it confirmed. It is also nice to demonstrate the power available to me. I suggest that you and your traitorous friends think long and hard about the power we possess before you decide to fight against us. You know now with this power, Shallendara and those who have allied themselves with her, myself included, must surely win.”

  “I concede nothing Ulrich, for your tricks, and that is all they are will ultimately be exposed and defeated,” Michael responded heatedly.

  “Believe what you will Michael, it matters very little to me. So little that I have decided that I do not need to have you killed. As High King I could have you executed for treason, however, I hereby pronounce you exiled instead. You have until sunset tomorrow. I want you and all your Knights out of Anglia and out of Saxenburg.” Ulrich stood up and said casually over his shoulder, “Do not return, for I will not b
e so generous should I see you again Michael.”

  Michael stormed out of the palace. His mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, a towering rage at Ulrich's arrogance and treachery, a burning sense of humiliation, but underneath it all was a very real thread of true fear. The powerlessness he had felt under the effects of Ulrich's crystal would not soon leave him.

  What he did not understand was how Shallendara had managed to imbue the crystal with witch-type powers. While it was true that traditional forms of magic, both arcane and divine, often used inanimate objects, such as a wizard’s staff or a priest’s talisman, as a receptacle for certain spells they could only be used by the original caster of the spell, or by a more powerful spellcaster. Michael knew that Ulrich possessed no magical talent whatsoever so how was it possible that he had been able to use the crystal to perform witchcraft? If Shallendara was capable of creating objects that allowed anyone to work magic then the war was going to be far more difficult to fight than he could ever have believed.

  Michael ignored Ulrich’s order of immediate exile and went instead to call upon the monks of the Black Lotus at their library located adjacent to the city’s main temple to Belenus. The temple stood on a