Hemlock and the Wizard Tower

by B Throwsnaill

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hemlock was sitting in the modest kitchen of the hovel that she and her sister Mercuria lived in, which was located deep in the Warrens district of the City.

  She felt an odd comfort as she surveyed many familiar objects. She looked over several well-worn cooking utensils: pots and pans, bowls, bottles and silverware. She had recently purchased replacements for these items using the coin she had obtained from her spoils of battle. Hemlock was quietly proud of that fact, and the feeling resurfaced as she surveyed the items. But oddly, the new items were not there any longer; the older ones, since discarded, were now back in their familiar places.

  On a nearby table rested a small painting, crudely framed. It was a rendering of Hemlock and her sister, done years ago by a street merchant for a few coppers. The likenesses were reasonably good, and Hemlock treasured the item. She gazed at the image of her sister, and Hemlock began to wonder where she might be.

  Hemlock rose, thinking to investigate, but her attention was diverted inexplicably to the street outside of the floor level apartment. A thin crowd moved along the street, as was common for midday in the Warrens.

  Hemlock noticed a figure in a dark cape lingering across the street. The figure turned to her, and with a start, Hemlock saw that the face of the figure was well-known to her, although she had only beheld it a few times.

  The stark, masculine and appealing features of the wizard, Falignus, cast in the shadow of his hood, regarded her intently from across the street.

  Hemlock felt an oddly compelling tincture of emotions at seeing Falignus. She felt intrigued, intruded upon, excited and apprehensive–all at the same time.

  Falignus began to move toward the door of her apartment, moving deftly through the crowd with an almost comic grace. As he moved, his eyes were locked with hers as she stood at the window.

  She realized then, with a start, that he had moved out of view and that he must now be waiting at the door.

  She strode over to the door, and there he stood, his tall form nearly obscuring the street scene behind him. The two of them stood there for a few moments, regarding one another through the glass window of the door. Hemlock decided to open the door and admit him as her curiosity overshadowed her caution.

  Falignus entered the room and Hemlock closed the door. She noted with some embarrassment that his fine attire contrasted with the humble effects of the apartment. He bowed to her with a grandiose flourish, and removed his hat and cape, which he rested on his arm. Hemlock gestured to take the garments, and Falignus handed them to her.

  "Hello, Hemlock, my name is Falignus," he said simply.

  "Hello," she replied, finding the situation strangely humorous.

  Noting her smile, he said, "I apologize for the circumstances of our conversation, I know they are a bit...unusual."

  Hemlock found, suddenly, that she had begun to float up toward the ceiling in a fashion reminiscent of her first encounter with Falignus in the weightless room within the Wizard Tower. Concentrating, she found that she was able to float back down to the floor. Oddly, this didn’t seem terribly strange to Hemlock, and she continued to speak with Falignus.

  "So we meet at last–and you're awake this time," she replied coyly, noting things about him like the line of his jaw and his strong eyebrows.

  "Yes, but you are not... How ironic," he replied with a smile.

  "Oh," she said with a reflective tone. "I suppose you're right. What is this? Some sort..."

  "...of magic. Yes," he interrupted. "There was no other way to speak with you at the moment. So I chose to use this method. One of my wizards cast a dream link spell on you during the meeting with the Tanna Varrans."

  Hemlock considered that.

  "And what if I object to this communication?" she asked with feigned gravity.

  "Then I'll end it, of course," responded Falignus with a mock bow.

  They were silent for a time and then Falignus spoke.

  "You and I are kindred spirits I think," he said.

  She responded, "Really? How so?”

  "We are the strongest of our kind, destined to shape events. We are confronted with choices concerning whether we will exercise our power or let others who are less capable guide the course of events," he said, taking on an almost academic tone as he paced around the room, inspecting it.

  "It seems that you have a high opinion of yourself," Hemlock countered.

  "It is true–hubris is often an unfortunate side effect of power and control. I do try to control it."

  "You say that we are the same. I am just a glorified pick-purse from the Warrens, and you are, apparently, the leader of the Wizard Guild. How does that make us alike?" she asked.

  "Hemlock, don’t play coy with me. Your reputation precedes you. This…handler… that you run with, Safreon, cannot dominate you forever. You must eventually realize your destiny."

  "My destiny? And what exactly is that?" she asked, annoyed at how he had referred to Safreon as her handler.

  "Who can say what your destiny is? But I can say that it will be far greater than anything that this Safreon can envision. You should not be so influenced by his counsel," Falignus cautioned.

  Hemlock was angry now. "If you knew Safreon, you’d know that he is a good man. He tries to mold me to be good and he has been like a father to me."

  "Ah, that explains it. Well, Hemlock, don’t allow your desire for a father figure to cloud your reasoning. He is not your father and never can be. You are like me, and many in this City. We are set adrift on our own, and must guide ourselves by our wits alone."

  "You’re wrong. I do share a bond with him."

  Falignus smiled benevolently. "I’ll say no more now on this topic."

  As he looked around the room, his eyes fell on the painting of Hemlock and her sister. He seemed to take note of it for a time and then his gaze moved on.

  "Hemlock, I’ve enjoyed talking to you. The spell force wears thin now."

  He moved closer to her and she looked up into his eyes. She saw undisguised desire in his gaze.

  "Do not come to me again in this way," she heard herself say, as she turned her back on him. Part of her railed against this course of action, but another part of her was still angry about what he had said to her.

  He lectures me like a child! And how dare he accuse Safreon of manipulating me!

  "As you wish," he responded with a tone of amusement, bowing again and retrieving his cloak and hat. "Perhaps we shall meet again in a more…natural setting."

  Hemlock turned to take a final look at him, but he was gone and then the room was gone.

  Her senses informed her of new surroundings. She suddenly smelled and tasted the humid air of the Tanna Varran bathing chamber.

  She had apparently dozed off as she sat in the calming waters of the pool.

  …

  Hemlock sat in a circle with Safreon, Gwineval, Taros Ranvok and Tored, in the meeting chamber of the King. She took a moment to take in the surroundings again–feeling less inhibited when not in the presence of the King–and noticed that the wall sconces were once again emitting a gentle smoke which carried a pleasant, musky aroma. To her right was the upper hall and to her left, the lower. The fine chairs near the King’s throne had been rearranged in a circular pattern for the meeting.

  She heard a familiar whine of machinery and became conscious of Merit, who stood at some distance behind her.

  He had not been offered a seat.

  Hemlock nudged Safreon, who appeared to be deep in thought on her left. Getting his attention, she gestured behind her toward Merit. Safreon glanced back over his shoulder, and then nodded toward Hemlock.

  Turning to Taros Ranvok, Safreon asked, "Can we have a seat for Merit as well?"

  Taros Ranvok rose. "Yes, please forgive me, Merit."

  Tored rose and adjusted his chair and a place was made for Merit between Tored and Gwineval, who sat to Hemlock’s right
.

  "Thank you," Merit said.

  Taros Ranvok cleared his throat. He picked up a small hand-held gong which had rested on the floor at the side of his chair, and struck it three times.

  "We meet to discuss our plans relative to you four, whom we refer to as outlanders as a matter of convenience and without any ill intent. Pan Taros has declined to participate in this meeting. He has entrusted the decisions in these matters to Tored and I," said Taros Ranvok, clearly and confidently.

  The young warrior and heir to the throne briefly locked eyes with Hemlock, and then shifted his attention to Safreon.

  "It appears that the fate of our people and you Outlanders may now be firmly intertwined. We now appear to have a mutual enemy in the Wizard Guild. My people also may be subject to hostile actions by the Witch; and since she is aware of your involvement in the slaying of her minion, she may also bear you ill will."

  Safreon grunted in agreement, Hemlock noted, nodding his head as he did so.

  "We feel that it may benefit all of us to form a temporary alliance in order to deal with these threats together. If you can help us to deal with the Witch, we may also be able to help you to deal with the Wizard Guild and return to the City."

  Taros Ranvok paused and looked toward Tored.

  "We propose this in the hope and belief that your magical powers are as significant as we believe them to be. Certainly, you impressed us with your slaying of the Mathi. We were surprised at your inability to deal with the Wizard Guild harvester, however. Do you feel that you can contribute to fighting the Wizard Guild? Or will you continue to be powerless against them? If they return with more of those iron golems, will we have a plan to deal with them? I fear that we had some measure of luck against them the first time. Now they will be aware of our ballista and they will prepare tactics for dealing with them. We have two more ballista that we can prepare, but we wonder whether they will be enough without some magical aid from you?" said Tored.

  Hemlock looked at Safreon expectantly. She saw that he looked tired, which worried her.

  Safreon looked at Gwineval, who nodded at him.

  "We have a plan to deal with the Wizard Guild. There is a magical item of great power which we need to retrieve. It is currently borne by a very unique creature which has been lingering at the borders of your land, waiting for a signal from me. It is a Griffin: half lion and half eagle. I believe that your patrols have been shadowing it?" Safreon asked.

  "It is so," replied Tored.

  "What is the nature of the item that it carries?" asked Taros Ranvok.

  "It is known as a Wand of the Imperator. It is a magical item which has a great power of magical permanence and magical amplification. Do you know the history of the City? Do you know anything about the Imperator?" asked Safreon.

  "Very little," responded Taros Ranvok.

  "He and his descendants ruled the City from what we now call the Wizard Tower, prior to the Wizard Guild. He was an ambitious man who had visions of pushing out the borders of the City and thereby increasing the reach of the veil which enshrouds those areas which are now bound to the City, as it travels through space and time."

  "He created several Wands which he gave to his henchmen. He sent them through the veil to seek out lands which could be bound to the City, using the power of the Wands. It was a dangerous mission, and many never returned. The Witch Crags, the northern Desert, the eastern Mountains and the southern Farmlands were all bound to the City in this way."

  Safreon paused then, letting the story take hold in the minds of the Tanna Varrans. Hemlock could see that Taros Ranvok and Tored were suitably impressed, seemingly having been unaware of this aspect of the history of the City.

  "So this item holds a power that could literally bind another land to the City?" asked Tored.

  "Correct," replied Gwineval.

  "Is that your intention?" asked Taros Ranvok.

  "No," replied Safreon. "I have learned to use the powers of the Wand in other ways. The Wand can be used as an amplifier of magic. You now see two Sorcerers before you: one Wizard and one amateur practitioner. If we have the wand, we will wield a power equal to twenty wizards or more. The Imperator recognized this characteristic of the wands, and it aided and protected his henchmen to some extent as they entered unknown territories."

  "Would it give us enough power to oppose the Wizard Guild?" asked Tored.

  "I think so," responded Gwineval. "Falignus, leader of the wizards, is aware that we have a powerful item or ally –and he may even know that it is a Wand of the Imperator. Still, Safreon has spent years researching the Wand and learning to use it. Falignus may not anticipate the extent to which we will be able to harness its power. I think we will have some element of surprise when and if we meet them in battle."

  Tored nodded in approval and Taros Ranvok followed suit.

  Tored broke the ensuing silence. "What do you know of the battle disposition of the wizards?"

  All eyes were on Gwineval. "The Wizard Guild has seven platoons of First Circle combat wizards. A minimum of two would typically remain at the Wizard Tower as a garrison. Circles two through six each can field a platoon in times of dire trouble. I do not expect Falignus to call these units up, as it would impact magical research, but it is possible.

  I was aware of five operational Oberon harvesters, one of which you just destroyed. That should leave four available for the battle, if Falignus commits them all. The City Senate also fields a battle force, some of whom are likely to accompany the wizards, as they are allies. There are four companies of Senate Knights, two of which are mounted, three companies of light infantry and two companies of archers. I am uncertain how much of the Senate force might be deployed."

  Hemlock watched Tored’s jaw stiffen as he seemed locked in thought. "We have sent runners to the nearby Towns. Fortunately, they seem to be ready to answer a call to battle, if that call should come. We should be able to field eight companies of our Flying Lancers. We will have another eight companies of foot soldiers," said Tored.

  "So that is sixteen companies on our side versus the Wizard Guild and maybe half of the Senate force? That should give us an advantage of several companies if the wizards do attack," observed Taros Ranvok, turning to face Tored.

  Tored looked at Safreon. "That assumes that you Outlanders, armed with this Wand, can counterbalance the full force of the wizards?"

  Safreon looked at Hemlock and then at Gwineval, before he responded. "I believe that it will be so. Gwineval and I have been planning. We have some ideas about how to maximize our magical power. It would not be an easy battle, by any means. But I believe that we will have a fighting chance."

  "Perhaps that is the best we can hope for," said Tored. "Let us consider the Witch," he continued. "She is thought to have a force of some five thousand demons. Two thousand are semi–insubstantial foot soldiers, slow moving and dim witted. Another two thousand are thought to be more like bestial men. There are several hundred large, brutish types, weighing several times a man and towering over us. Our Lancers are best matched against them. There are also a number of minor Witches with limited magical abilities. And she may also have some Mathi with her, which you are already familiar with. She is a formidable foe and wields a powerful force."

  "My goodness," exclaimed Gwineval, "they are so numerous!"

  "It is true," said Tored, "but they are often feckless and chaotic. They do not use tactics against us, for the Witch cannot control them well during battle. They can be routed easily. Our battle drill and technique help us to manage their numbers."

  "That is good. We will study your magic further. We may need to work with your craftsmen and loremasters in order to understand it as fully as possible. Gwineval and I will devise a strategy to maximize our magical power for use against them," said Safreon.

  Hemlock looked at Taros Ranvok and Tored. Her appraisal was that they liked what they heard. Hemlock thought that the me
eting was going well, although she was apprehensive about the possibility of war. She had been in many skirmishes and fights, but they had always been limited in scope and entered into with a clear purpose.

  The notion of being on a battlefield, with hundreds suffering and dying people all around her, scared her a little bit. She had no desire to see the peaceful Tanna Varrans suffer and die in great numbers. Yet she did not see any alternative to the plans being discussed. The Wizard Guild and the Witch had to be dealt with and it seemed to her like a fortuitous chance to ally with the Tanna Varrans to do just that.

  "We will brief Pan Taros on today’s proceedings. I believe that the word of Tored and I will make the decision for him. I will come to you in your chamber and let you know," said Taros Ranvok, ending the meeting.

  Everyone rose and bowed to one another, as was Tanna Varran custom. The Outlanders then returned to their lodgings to await the decision of Pan Taros.

  …

  Hemlock watched as a graceful creature descended to the floor of the valley.

  Earlier in the evening, Taros Ranvok had come to their chamber with an answer to the question of an alliance between them and the Tanna Varrans. The answer was yes.

  As soon as Safreon had heard this, he had insisted on rendezvousing with the Griffin and obtaining the Wand, which was now a cornerstone in their plans against the wizards and the Witch.

  Hemlock watched as the Griffin descended through the clear night. It had a great golden mane which extended from the back of its head to cover its hindquarters. It also had large, powerful wings covered in rich, golden feathers.

  The Griffin soared downwards, rearing up as it neared the ground, its huge wings beating furiously, as it landed on the valley turf.

  The head of the creature was that of an impossibly large Eagle. Hemlock immediately was drawn in by its piercing eyes which were an icy blue.

  The Griffin conducted itself with an air of nobility and with a grace which amazed Hemlock. It seemed to speak to the borders of her consciousness with a suggestion of a different time in a different realm.

  "Beautiful," was all that she uttered as she regarded the creature.

  Taros Ranvok, who stood beside her, was equally impressed.

  "It is like the stuff of dreams made real and rendered in flesh and bone," he said.

  Hemlock could see now that the Griffin clutched something in its front talon–something long which was almost engulfed by that large appendage.

  Safreon approached the Griffin and addressed the assembled group, which included Gwineval, Merit and Tored in addition to Hemlock and Taros Ranvok.

  "This is Penelope. She was trapped in our realm many years ago. I met her as I explored the mountains to the east of the City. I crafted a potion to communicate with her, and she has become a trusted friend and ally," said Safreon, as he strode up to the beast and gently stroked her mane.

  Hemlock was still taken with the beauty of the beast. "May I approach her?" she asked.

  "Certainly," responded Safreon.

  Hemlock strode forward until she was within an arm’s length of the great creature. It had an earthy but not unpleasant odor and its large blue eyes regarded her intently. Hemlock bowed to the creature, sensing immediately that it was intelligent.

  Hemlock felt Gwineval not far behind her. She could almost sense the rogue Wizard’s excitement, for she knew that he was desperately interested in the Wand of the Imperator, which was clutched in its right talon.

  Hemlock noticed that Safreon seemed to be concentrating.

  The Griffin made a clicking noise with her beak, and she lifted her right talon toward the unassuming rogue.

  Safreon bowed and accepted the Wand from the Griffin.

  Hemlock saw that the Wand was around two feet long and was fashioned from a black, rock-like substance. It was evidently fantastic in nature, since red tendrils of energy could be seen to undulate through its length in a way that Hemlock had never seen. At the tip of the wand, four intricately wrought golden struts extended and secured a faceted glass ball. Within the glass ball a piece of rock was suspended, as if floating. The rock was molten and fiery and seemed to be on the border between a solid and a liquid state. The Wand had a certain gravitas about it, eclipsing even the awe that Hemlock had just felt when she beheld the Griffin.

  She heard Gwineval hiss in wonder behind her.

  "It is true, then. It really does exist and it appears just as described in the ancient tomes," Gwineval stated reverently.

  "Quickly, let us get this Wand back to the safety of the Town," stated Safreon, moving at once at a brisk pace.

  The Griffin cried out once, and it was a great cry that echoed through the entire valley.

  Hemlock and her friends paused to watch the grace and power of the creature once more displayed as it climbed into the air with tremendous flaps of its wings.

  "Quickly," hollered Safreon, some distance ahead.

  Hemlock jogged off toward Safreon, trying to hold on to the image of the Griffin in her memory and afraid that her recollection of its beauty might fade over time.