by Sam Ferguson
Erik grabbed another arrow and strung it as he back pedaled quickly to avoid the onslaught of arrows coming at him. He fired again, but this time he missed. Another pair of arrows sailed over Erik’s head from behind and down went two more Blacktongues.
Three Blacktongues remained. Erik set another arrow to the string and took a careful aim as the foes ran across the rooftops.
“Looks like we have them on the run!” Erik shouted. He jogged out to get a better angle just as two of the Blacktongues turned and fired their bows. Erik dove to the side, but the arrows were nowhere close to him. He heard something fall to the ground behind him.
“No, laddie!” Al shouted.
Erik turned to see Al’s apprentice lying in the street, wheezing and struggling for breath. Al rushed over and scooped up the crossbow. He worked the contraption furiously, loosing more than eight bolts in a matter of seconds. Erik gave a glance to Al’s apprentice before turning back to add his support to Al’s shots, but by the time he put another arrow to the string, all of the Blacktongues had several arrows protruding from their bodies.
It was over.
Erik dropped his bow and ran to Al.
“You got anything to stop the bleeding?” Al shouted to the wounded guard.
Erik dropped onto his knees and frantically searched for something to help. Al’s apprentice twitched and arched his back as he coughed.
“The arrows have pierced his lungs,” the wounded guard said.
“Well, don’t just sit there, do something,” Al shouted back.
The guard shook his head. “There is nothing to be done,” he said soberly.
“Sorry, Al,” his apprentice said.
“No, you can’t die, boy. I haven’t given you permission to do that. There is still work to be done!”
The apprentice forced a chuckle. “The shop is gone, there ain’t no work. Not anymore.”
“Don’t argue with me, laddie, it ain’t proper. We have plenty of work rebuilding the shop.”
“This is one argument I think I am going to win,” his apprentice shot back. He coughed again and jerked to the side. His eyes flinched a few times. “It was a pleasure to work with you, ya old grouch,” he jested.
“You were a fine apprentice,” Al replied.
“A compliment?” his apprentice coughed. “You feeling alright?”
Al chuckled a bit and wiped a tear from his eye. Then his apprentice jerked up and coughed for the final time before settling back down to rest. Al shook him and gently slapped his face. “No, laddie, don’t go.”
The guard put a hand on Erik’s shoulder and motioned for him to back away.
Al dropped his head. “No.”
Erik sighed and bowed his head. “He gave his life saving ours,” Erik offered. “He was a good man.”
Al remained silent.
Erik rose to his feet and turned back to the guard. “I trust you will see to his burial?”
“I will see to his burial,” Al growled.
“We don’t have time for that,” Erik said. Al shot him a threatening look, but Erik held his ground. “We were only supposed to stop for a few minutes to pick up some items. We have already lost much time.”
“Can you notify his mother?” Al asked the guard, ignoring Erik entirely.
The guard nodded.
“Have you forgotten about the summons?” Erik interjected. The words came out a lot harsher than he had meant them.
Al jumped to his feet and glowered at Erik. “Have you forgotten your humanity?” He pointed down to his apprentice. “He just saved us, and you would cast him off as quickly as the others lying in the dirt here. Where is your heart?”
Al’s words stung deep. The shame welled up inside Erik’s heart, yet he was unable to shake the feeling of urgency. He knew, and even agreed, that Al’s apprentice deserved a proper burial, but that would take time. Time to gather the family. Time to prepare the gravesite. Time to prepare the body and the casket. A proper funeral demanded a lot of time. It was time they simply didn’t have,
“We don’t have the time, Al,” Erik said after a few moments.
Al’s face turned sour and the dwarf looked away from Erik.
The sound of hoof beats alerted them all to a troop of guards coming toward them.
“I will handle this,” the wounded guard said. He stretched a hand out to Erik for some help and struggled to his feet. “They will be able to help us with cleaning the street. They can also see to it that your friend gets a proper burial,” he put in.
Al nodded and walked back to the alleyway.
Erik patted the guard’s back. “Thank you, for everything.”
The guard nodded, but he said nothing and averted his eyes from Erik’s.
Erik then followed after Al. He saw the dwarf leaning against the side of the inn with his face buried in the crook of his elbow. Erik wasn’t sure what to say, so he went up and put his hand on Al’s left shoulder.
Al wheeled around and socked Erik in the gut so hard that Erik doubled over and struggled for breath. Al then reached up and seized Erik’s throat with one of his meaty hands and pulled Erik’s eyes within a hair’s breadth of his own.
“You may be in Lepkin’s body, but you are not him!” Al growled. “How dare you order me around? Do you have any idea that other people have lives that don’t revolve around you?” Al jerked Erik’s head to the side. “Look at Garen’s body.” Al twisted his wrist enough to ensure Erik was looking directly at the dead apprentice. “He was the closest thing to a son I have ever known.”
Erik tried to wrestle free, but Al’s grip was like being stuck between two unmovable boulders. “Let me go,” Erik said.
“I have known his family for over a century. I have seen them develop into some of the finest people to ever walk this land. He selflessly gave his life for us, and you would be rid of him like a dead rat in the street!” Al tossed Erik back to slam into the wall behind him. “I would walk through hellfire for Lepkin, but you will have to regain my respect.”
Erik gasped for air and put his hands on his knees. “I didn’t mean…” he started to say between gasps.
Al shut him up with a swift, stinging backhanded slap. “When you rushed off to save your family, I stood by your side. I stand by you still. I demand the same in return.”
Erik nodded. “I will go and help the guards prepare the grave, but then I will go north. The summons will not wait for the funeral.”
Al turned his back on him. “Well then get on with it.”
CHAPTER TEN
Senator Bracken placed his gold ring onto his left index finger and twisted it until it rested comfortably. “Have the others been assembled?” he asked his servant.
“Yes, sir, the others have assembled in the audience hall and are waiting for you,” the servant responded.
“Very well, thank you,” Senator Bracken said. His servant bowed deeply and backed out through the open doorway, pulling the door closed after him. Senator Bracken looked into the mirror and straightened his thinning hair over his scalp.
The image in the mirror distorted and faded away, replaced by a darkness that swirled inside the pane of glass.
“Are we alone?” a voice from within the mirror called.
Senator Bracken bowed his head. “We are,” he replied. Senator Bracken raised his arm and in response the thick, iron bolt scraped shut across the door, locking out any would-be intruders. “What is your command?”
The darkness parted as if a wind blew a hole through a hazy black fog. Deep inside the glass a crimson, scaly face peered back at him. The dragon’s fangs hung low, sharp and menacing over his lower jaw. His mouth did not part, but rather his voice was heard inside Senator Bracken’s head telepathically. “Did your plan succeed?” the dragon asked.
“Yes, Master Tu’luh, the strategy worked. Lord Cedreau has been killed, and Lord Lokton has been arrested for treason. Lord Lokton has refused to join with me, as I expected, and he will not survive his tribunal.
”
“Are you certain that Lepkin will come to the trial?”
“Of course,” Bracken said slyly. “If he does not, then he will lose his authority and the king will be forced to denounce him. Unfortunately for Lepkin, he will miss the tribunal. I have secured the votes needed to expedite the trial.”
“It is vital that Lepkin be separated from the boy,” the dragon cautioned.
Senator Bracken nodded. “I know,” he said. “I am certain that after the recent battles, they will keep the boy at the temple. Lepkin will feel pressured to continue the boy’s training and will come to the trial alone.”
“You have foreseen this?” Tu’luh asked.
Senator Bracken nodded. “I have seen it. Lepkin will come to the tribunal without Erik. Sometimes I see him with the dwarf, but I do not see him with the boy.”
“Do not fail me,” Tu’luh warned. “We will only get one chance at this.”
“Have faith, my brother,” Senator Bracken said. “Everything I have foreseen has come to pass. Two noble houses are ruined and at each other’s throats, Lokton’s trial will draw Lepkin away from Erik, and then we will spring the trap.”
“What of Erthor? He was as confident as you are now, and look what it got him,” Tu’luh hissed.
“Erthor was impatient, and arrogant. He had neither the ability to foretell the future, nor the patience to work with me when I cautioned him against a premature attack on the temple.” Senator Bracken sighed. “He was foolish to attack while Dimwater, Lepkin, and Erik stood united.”
“Be careful that you do not fall into a similar trap,” Tu’luh warned.
“I have taken additional precautions,” Senator Bracken replied. “I have enlisted another warlock, and some assassins to throw at Lepkin along his journey.”
“Do not think him so easy to destroy,” Tu’luh said. “He is dragon born, chosen for his abilities.”
“I understand,” Bracken said. “Even if all it does is slow him down, it may be enough. The tribunal will be concluded a day earlier than Lepkin expects it to begin.” Bracken ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it back. “I have also spoken with Master Wizard Gilifan. He is aware of my plans and concurs that it should accomplish our goals.”
Tu’luh hissed. “I will contact you again shortly,” Tu’luh sad suddenly. The great dragon turned his head to look somewhere that Bracken could not see.
Bracken nodded. “I will stand by my scrying pool at my home after I am done here.”
“When will you make yourself known?” Bracken asked.
“The time is close, but not yet. I will reveal myself and strike only when the time is right. You and Gilifan would do well to keep that in mind.” Then, the mirror went dark again for a moment before clearing to reflect Bracken’s image.
Senator Bracken stood silently, contemplating Tu’luh’s words. He reconsidered his plans, checking them for weaknesses. He had not told Tu’luh that it had actually been Erik who had killed Erthor. Nor did he tell him that Lepkin had appeared to be unconscious after the battle was over. Senator Bracken had killed the Blacktongue who had returned from the battle. Partly out of wrath that Erthor had failed to even locate the book, but also in part out of frustration that the boy’s power had seemed to make a quantum leap beyond what any of the warlock’s had foreseen or thought possible.
He was beginning to question whether his order would succeed. Still, he was too close to turn back now. He waved a hand over the mirror and a new image formed from a silvery mist. Rounded, high cheekbones framed by fiery red hair greeted him from behind smiling, full lips. Dark, chocolate eyes twinkled as they connected with his.
“Kyra,” Bracken whispered to the mirror. He stepped close and put a hand on the glass. The beautiful face in the mirror continued to smile, but remained silent. Then the image shifted, showing Kyra walking through a flower garden with a baby in her arms and a toddler tugging at the back of her skirt. Bracken called out to them through the mirror, but none of them heard him. They were only mirages, illusions of a long lost memory. A tear slid down Bracken’s face and he waved the image away.
“You had better be able to deliver on your promise, Master Wizard Gilifan,” Bracken said aloud. The necromancer had promised to restore what was lost, what was taken from Bracken those decades ago. The additional rewards for the help of his order, the lure of an immortal life with infinite slaves to serve him were enticing as well, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the longing he felt to hold his beloved Kyra once more.
He walked to a nearby desk and pulled a folded parchment from a drawer. Upon opening it he examined the writing therein before he exited his writing chamber and walked down the long, broad hallway. He passed by white marble columns and bronze busts of senators past. Their eyes looked down upon him from their granite pedestals. He paid them no mind. He knew that most of them were no better during their lifetimes than he was, they simply lacked the power and the foresight to go after the kind of prize he sought.
The hallway opened into a large ante chamber. Mahogany benches lined the walls, and sat at the base of each gigantic corrugated column that held up the high, vaulted ceilings. Frescoes accented the walls, giving life to the history and myth of the kingdom. A couple of middle aged women mopped the gray floor near the grand entrance that allowed commoners access to this antechamber. In days past, many had come to congregate while the senate convened to discuss matters of state. Now the benches were empty.
Senator Bracken made his way across the chamber to the bronzed doors of the senate chamber. The two sentinel guards nodded respectfully upon his approach and turned to open the great doors. As they did so, a grand light poured into the antechamber with dazzling colors. Bracken looked up to the stained glass window that stood above the pulpit upon the dais. The symbol of the dragon fixed forever in the window to remind the senate of their heritage.
He grimaced sourly at the window. The sight of the ancient dragon’s image annoyed him. He entered the hall and went to the left to a smaller, Maplewood door. He opened the portal and walked into the narrow hallway that allowed him access to his seat, which was fixed inside a balcony raised above the floor of the senate hall.
“Ah, Senator Bracken,” someone called out. “I was waiting to see you.”
Bracken turned to see Senator Stigs. “Senator, how are you today,” Bracken greeted with a warm smile.
“I am well,” Stigs replied. “Have you given any consideration to my proposal?”
Bracken nodded. “I have, actually. It looks intriguing. We can discuss it at the banquet next week,” Bracken promised.
Stigs smiled, nodded, and raised a goblet in thanks before taking a drink and turning back to a young woman who shared his balcony.
Bracken quickened his pace, paying only as much attention to the others as proper etiquette required. He was adept at hiding his contempt for the others and making them like him. Had he not become a warlock, he might have made a good politician in his own right.
He parted the red velvet curtain to his balcony and found another man sitting in his chair. “Senator Mickelson,” Bracken guessed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The young, dark haired man turned, holding a charter in his hand. He reached forward and gripped Bracken’s outstretched right hand and gave it a solid shake. Bracken could feel the young man’s strength through the greeting, which was obviously Mickelson’s intent. Mickelson gave a final squeeze to drive the point home before releasing his grip.
“I was just reading the rules regarding tribunals,” Mickelson said. “I was wondering why we are being gathered together before the requisite senators have been able to respond to the summons.”
“We have a quorum,” Bracken replied soberly. “There is nothing in the charter that denies the senate a hearing before the tribunal.”
“Interesting,” Mickelson said with a huff. He dropped the charter on Bracken’s seat and started to walk out, but he stopped just next to Senator Bracken.
Bra
cken readied his left hand, just in case Mickelson tried to get physical.
Mickelson looked into Bracken’s eyes. “I won’t let you reach a verdict before the tribunal. Crimes of treason must be handled appropriately. That includes waiting for everyone to answer the summons.”
Bracken sneered. “You speak of Lepkin,” he guessed. “His presence will mean little once I show the senate the evidence against Trenton Lokton. Perhaps you should look to the future. The traditions of the past are fading.”
“Not while I am here,” Mickelson promised. He leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It is the corruption of the past that is fading. There are those among us that wish to see truth and honor triumph over the greed and selfishness that plagues the senators of last generation.”
“Be careful, Mickelson,” Bracken warned. “Such taunts and insults are not well tolerated. Men have been known to disappear for such words.”
“Is that a threat?” Mickelson asked.
“It is a fact,” Bracken replied. “Now run along to your seat, we are about to start the pre-tribunal hearing.”
Mickelson bristled, staring hard into Bracken’s eyes for a few seconds before disgustedly storming out through the red velvet curtain.
“The righteous pride of youth,” Bracken said to himself as he swept the charter to the floor and took his seat. He only had to wait for a few minutes until an old senator made his way slowly to the pulpit on the dais. It was Senator Desepp, the most senior senator.
“Welcome, brothers,” the old senator said. “We have gathered together today to hear the evidence Senator Bracken will provide in the upcoming tribunal.” Senator Desepp leaned on his thin, bony arms and gripped the sides of the pulpit. “As this is not an official gathering, we will dispense with the usual protocol that would normally accompany such an event.”
“Objection,” someone shouted from one of the balconies on the other side of the senate hall.
“Mickelson,” Bracken growled to himself under his breath. How he despised the meddling young fool.