The Warlock Senator (Book 2)

by Sam Ferguson

  “But the letter says she was killed by an attack,” Erik pointed out.

  Gildrin shrugged. “I have heard a version where Randal kills the wizard’s wife because she will not leave her husband, but never have I heard a version that fits with the letter you just read.”

  “So, perhaps our warlock was this wizard you heard of,” Erik mused.

  “To what end?” Braun asked. “If those stories are true, then why would the wizard become a warlock?”

  Gildrin snapped his fingers and pointed excitedly to the bookshelf Braun stood next to. “Turn around,” he told Braun. “What kind of books do you see?”

  Braun turned and pulled a few of them from the shelf. “I can’t read most of these,” he said. “They are written in strange languages.” He pulled a green book from the shelf and opened it. “Wait, this one is in the common tongue.”

  “It is a book about necromancy, is it not?” Gildrin asked.

  Braun turned and nodded slowly. Then he scanned the other books on the shelf. “Of the ones in common tongue, it looks like most of them deal with necromancy,” he said.

  “That’s it,” Gildrin said. “That’s why he began following the dark arts.” The two looked back to Gildrin. “Don’t you see? He wants to bring his family back to life.”

  Erik wheeled on Braun. “That is why he would join with the warlocks of the Order of the All Seeing Eye,” he said. “They seek the book.”

  Braun nodded. “And the book describes how to make an army by bringing the dead back to life.”

  “He didn’t want power,” Erik said. “He wanted to use the book to resurrect his family.”

  “Even so, he was willing to kill a lot of innocent people to get that power.”

  Erik nodded and sighed. “Not to mention the other powers that the book would unleash.”

  “What book?” Gildrin asked.

  “Nagar’s Secret,” Erik answered.

  The three were silent for a few moments. Erik stood, rereading the letter from Governor Randal and scanning through the other letters while Braun went back to the bookshelf. After Erik finished reading all of the letters he plopped them onto the desk.

  “I do believe that the warlock is the wizard in Gildrin’s story,” Erik said. He turned back to Gildrin. “How did you hear that story?” he asked.

  Gildrin shrugged. “I have been privy to a lot of meetings with senators and other officers of state. You would be surprised by the amount of story swapping they will do after a glass or two of ale.”

  “Master Lepkin, I have something,” Braun said suddenly. “There is a brass ring here behind these books.” He reached in and pulled it. The bookshelf swiveled away, scraping over the wooden floor and revealing another covered object. It stood slightly over four feet from the floor. The top was circular, though there were some angles and points seen beneath the covering.

  The two of them walked over to it and each took a corner of the purple silk cloth. They glanced to each other for a moment and then simultaneously ripped the covering away to reveal a black basin atop a pedestal of black bone.

  “What kind of bone do you think this is?” Braun asked.

  Erik inspected the thick, long bones and shrugged. “I couldn’t say.” Erik ran his fingers around the edge of the basin, studying the curious runes along the outside of the bowl.

  “Do you know what this is?” Braun asked.

  “I am not sure,” Erik said. “Maybe a wash basin?” He leaned over and looked into the liquid in the basin. The black, viscous contents shimmered back at him, mesmerizing him. He stared farther into the liquid, leaning down closer. He reached up with his hands and gripped the sides of the basin. A ball of silver appeared in the center of the black liquid that caught Erik’s gaze. Erik watched it grow into a cloud and disperse through the blackness. As the silver spread, an image formed in the center. The basin started to hum and vibrate. Erik wanted to pull back, but something held him fast to the object.

  “So, you have come,” a voice spoke from within the darkness. Erik’s heart quickened. His stomach knotted and flipped. Though he didn’t recognize the voice, he could feel its contempt for him as though it were a hand that had reach out and struck him across the gut. The silver cloud was now gone and a great, scaled face peered back at him through the liquid. Massive, downward curled horns pointed to a maw of thick, sharp teeth set inside the long snout under a pair of glowing, red eyes.

  “Who are you?” Erik asked, his voice barely sounding louder than the squeak of a mouse.

  A throaty, rumbling laugh answered him as the scaled lips parted to reveal the hot fire within the dragon’s throat. “You don’t know?” the dragon teased. Its eyes bored into Erik’s soul, stripping away his courage and leaving him weak in the knees. “The great champion has come, but he is not prepared.” Tendrils of smoke snaked out from the dragon’s nostrils as it sighed in delight. “You are not ready for what is coming.”

  “What is coming?” Erik asked.

  The dragon’s lips curled upward into a wicked smile that petrified Erik more than anything he had ever seen. “Come to Lokton Manor, and I shall give you a taste of things to come.” The dragon glared with its red hot eyes. “Come, and face your destiny!” The dragon opened its cavernous mouth and a blast of fire came out through the liquid and burst into a great fireball there in the library.

  The scrying pool shattered, spewing shards of bone all about. Erik felt the heat wrap around him, burning his entire being before he flew backward, spinning in the air end over end until he slammed into the wall near the dumbwaiter and slid down into the pile of rubble. The heat continued to sting and rip at him, but he was not aflame. He tried to push himself up, he knew he should be looking for something, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He slumped down and let his face fall upon an old book. His vision blurred and he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

  Moments later a pair of hands scooped under him and heaved him up. He could hear voices, but couldn’t understand what they were saying or who they belonged to. He passed through a small, dark hole and then was placed onto a soft, green bed. He moved his eyes around and slowly recognized where he was.

  “Braun?” Erik asked.

  “I am here, Master Lepkin,” Braun replied.

  Erik struggled to raise his head enough to see Braun standing at the foot of the bed. He could see a couple of rips in the man’s tunic. Bits of black bone clung to his clothes and some blood seeped out from where some of the shards had landed. After seeing that Braun appeared to be alright, Erik dropped back down and looked up to the other man standing over him.

  “Are you alright?” Gildrin asked.

  “Can you fetch him some water?” Braun asked. “I will check him for injuries.”

  Gildrin nodded and disappeared from view.

  “Are you hurt?” Braun asked.

  Erik tried to speak, but nothing came out. His lips, hands, and feet tingled and stung as though they were waking from a long numbness. A moment later a terrible sharp pain ripped through Erik’s shoulder. He reflexively turned his head and saw Braun’s bloody hands squeezing his shoulder.

  Braun looked up. “Your wound came open,” he said. “I can stop the bleeding though, it isn’t serious.” Braun tugged the sheet out from under Erik and tore it into strips. He quickly set about tying a new bandage onto Erik’s shoulder.

  “Is he hurt badly?” Gildrin asked when he returned.

  “This is an old wound,” Braun said. “But I am not sure how conscious he is at the moment.”

  “I’m fine,” Erik whispered hoarsely. “But my head hurts.”

  Braun finished tying the bandage and grabbed Erik’s head, turning it this way and that. “No signs of injury on the outside.” He then covered Erik’s eyes with his hands and then moved his hands abruptly, letting the daylight wash over him. “Pupils still react normally to light.”

  “What did you see?” Gildrin asked. “What did you see when you looked into that basin?”

/>   “I’m not sure,” Erik said. “It looked like…”

  “Like what?” Braun pressed. “What was it?”

  “It was a dragon,” Erik replied.

  The other two stole a glance at each other and then turned back to Erik. “Master Lepkin,” Braun started. “Are you sure it was a dragon?”

  Erik nodded. “I am positive.” He took the water from Gildrin and slowly sat up enough to drink the cool, refreshing liquid.

  “What did he say?” Gildrin asked.

  Erik closed his eyes and wiped his forehead with the back of his right hand. “I think he is going to attack Lokton Manor,” he said at last.

  “What?” Braun shouted. “How could a dragon attack Lokton Manor?”

  “And why?” Gildrin added.

  “I don’t know, but I do know that we have to get there first,” Erik said. “Help me up.”

  Gildrin put his arm under Erik’s armpit and helped him to his feet. “I have four horses at the stable down the street. We can take them.”

  “Hold a moment,” Braun said grimly. Erik spun his head to look at Braun, who was pointing down to Erik’s leg.

  Erik looked down and saw a patch of crimson over his thigh. The warm liquid leaked out of him quickly, expanding the red spot over his leg. “It’s nothing,” Erik said. Gildrin began pushing Erik back to the bed. “No, we have to go,” Erik said.

  “Go and fetch me some more bandages,” Braun ordered. He pulled a knife from his belt and cut a hole in Erik’s trousers. Then his massive fingers spread the cloth enough to work his hands inside so he could rip the material away. “This is bad,” Braun said.

  Erik looked down and saw that his leg had opened. Unlike his shoulder, the blood was pouring out quickly and Braun’s hands couldn’t apply enough pressure to make it stop.

  “Gildrin, hurry up!” Braun shouted.

  Erik’s lost control of his body. His head felt as though it were detached and floating away. He didn’t even notice when he fell back down. He muttered something about going home and then he slipped over the edge of consciousness, giving in to the welcoming darkness around him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Master Orres sat at his desk, nursing a bottle of ale and trying to clear his head. A slew of books were scattered in front of him. Two of them were histories of the southern border, which told of orc attacks and invasions over the last couple of centuries. Another was a chronology of House Finorel. He turned the roll of paper over in his hand, staring at the “G” at the bottom of the page.

  “This is pointless,” Orres told himself. “There is no mention of anyone in House Finorel with a name starting with ‘g’ and I can’t find anything in the history books to make sense of why B’dargen would be interested in orcs.”

  The sunlight coming through the window began to fade and turn colors, signaling the last few hours of the day before night would sweep in. He turned to look out the window and catch the sunset, but instead he saw a hawk descending to the perch outside Orres’ window. The bird quickly pulled on a red string with its sharp beak and the bell inside Orres’ office rang twice.

  Master Orres stood and went to the window. By the red and black ribbons tied to the hawk’s legs, he knew this bird had come from Drakai Glazei. He pressed the window open and reached out for the small paper rolled in a leather pouch on the hawk’s left leg. He unrolled the paper and his mouth fell open. He stumbled back and flopped into his chair, letting the paper drop to the ground. He sat silently, nervously tapping his fingers on his leg and looking back at the bird.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Come in,” Orres said.

  Master Wendal walked in and shook his head. “I have finished searching Janik’s office, but I didn’t find anything about orcs.”

  “What about any letters with the same signature?” Orres asked.

  Wendal shook his head. “No. I tossed the office very thoroughly too, looking in every nook and cranny, but there was nothing.”

  Orres took the bottle of ale from his desk. “I already figured we wouldn’t find anything,” Orres replied after a big gulp to finish off the bottle. “The man was clever enough to hide his true intentions for years. It was a long shot that he would have been careless enough to leave evidence in his office. I just wish I knew who he was working with.”

  “Well, if he was working with Master B’dargen or House Finorel, I couldn’t find any proof. What shall we do now?” Wendal asked.

  Orres dropped the bottle into a waste basket and shrugged. “I think we should close the academy.”

  Wendal’s mouth dropped open. “To what end?”

  Orres took in a breath and turned to the window behind him. He rose from his chair and crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest and sighed. “This hawk has just brought me a message from the king.” Orres bent over to pick up the note and read it again.

  “What does it say?” Wendal asked.

  “That I am to close the academy immediately, send the students back to their families and stand by for further instructions. All of the other masters are to remain here with me until further notice.”

  Master Wendal crossed the floor and held out his hand for the note. Master Orres gave it to him and waited for Wendal to read it. As the mage finished, his mouth fell open and he looked up to Orres with a blank stare.

  “That was my reaction too,” Orres said.

  Wendal shook his head and handed the note back. “It doesn’t say who attacked the senate hall, or even how many senators were killed,” Wendal noted. “Maybe we are too late?”

  Orres nodded and sighed. “That is possible, but we can’t know for sure. I need to send a response immediately. I will ask for more details, but I am not certain how long it will take for the king to respond.”

  “I can wait outside if you like,” Wendal said.

  Orres nodded. “You can wait in here if you like. I will need to decide how to proceed closing the academy as well. It would be good to have you here for that.” Wendal stepped back to take a seat on an old, yellow couch. Orres went back to his desk and pulled a small piece of paper out. He wrote a short response to the king’s message promising to do as the king instructed. He also asked for any additional details the king could offer.

  When he finished the note he turned it sideways in his large paws and began tightly crimping the paper over into tight folds that would fit into the leather pouch the hawk wore. Orres held the note in place with a large thumb and reached out for his green wax stick. He stuck the end into a nearby candle, melting then end until a small bit dribbled on the desk. Then he moved it over and pressed the soft end onto the paper, swirling the stick around to ensure a good amount of wax stuck to the paper when he pulled away. Next he took his hand and pressed the ring on his middle finger into the wax. He let it sit in the wax for just a moment before pulling it back and blowing on the wax to cool it.

  Satisfied that it was ready he stood and returned to the window. He reached over to a can and pulled a piece of dried rabbit meat out. He slid the note into the hawk’s pouch and looped the leather thong around a button to fasten the pouch closed. Then he gave the hawk the piece of meat and the bird flew off, bound for home.

  Orres turned back to Wendal and shook his head. We need to call a general council. Go and gather all of the masters into the Bellwood auditorium. I can speak with them there.

  Wendal rose from the couch and stopped just short of the door. “Have you heard from Lady Arkyn?”

  Orres shook his head. “No word from her yet.”

  Wendal nodded again and then exited the room, closing the door behind him. Orres went back to his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned back lazily and stretched out, trying to make sense of what was happening. He sat for several minutes, guessing whether it might have been Lady Arkyn or Master Lepkin who had stirred up the senate hall. Or, perhaps it was someone else altogether? He let his eyes close as his mind walked through the various scenarios.

  “Napping in t
he office?” a familiar voice said.

  Orres jumped a bit and looked to the door, Lady Arkyn smiled and pushed the door open the rest of the way before slipping in and closing it behind her. “When did you return?” Orres asked.

  “Only just a moment or two ago. I saw Master Wendal rushing down the hall, what was that about?”

  Orres eyed her warily. “Perhaps you should tell me about the senate hall first,” he said.

  Her smile vanished. “You heard about that?”

  Orres nodded and pointed to the empty perch outside his window. “A little birdie told me all about it.”

  “Right now I bet you are wondering whether I was too eager to use my bow,” she teased. Orres didn’t respond. “It wasn’t me,” she promised. “I didn’t even have my bow with me when I went to the senate hall.” She came in closer and stood in front of the desk.

  “Well then, what happened?”

  Lady Arkyn looked at Orres with sad eyes. “Let me start from the beginning. I think that will help you put it all into context.”

  Orres agreed with a slight nod of his head.

  “I went to the senate hall when I first arrived in Drakai Glazei. I thought if Bracken had any secrets, he might hide them at his office there, but I didn’t find anything. So, I went to his house and snuck inside.”

  “You broke into a senator’s house?” Orres asked.

  Lady Arkyn grinned slyly. “I wasn’t able to stay long, I was almost caught by the guard, but I did find something peculiar. I watched Senator Bracken unlock magical barriers on a door in his house, then he went into the room and started talking with someone.

  “Someone was locked inside the room?” Orres asked.

  Lady Arkyn shook her head. “I am not entirely sure, but I think he was using magic to converse with the other person. He addressed the other man as his ‘master’ and the two of them discussed whether Lord Lokton had decided to join them.”

  “Join who?”

  Lady Arkyn held up her finger. “I am not sure, but that is not the most interesting part,” she said.