“You know the arts and fighting, how is it so?” Sam asked.
“Archwizard Rolin says I have a lot of raw talent for magic, but to reach a greater level I would have to study it alone. They say that few in history can kill with a spell, but I have done so on rare occasions. I know little more than what I’ve heard from them, and they say it takes force of will as well as knowledge of the arcane arts. Knowledge of the arts is not my area of expertise.” Paul looked down at his sword. Until recently, most of his spells merely augmented his fighting abilities. His aptitude for combat magic was high, but the other forms of magic seemed to remain out of reach.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to wield magic,” Samuel said, his voice more dull than usual.
“You sound as though you don’t like the topic of magic. Most people are a lot more excited to think about wielding something so rare.” Paul’s eyes scanned the ridges along the road. Why haven’t we seen more pirates? He asked himself silently.
“When I was a youth,” Paul attempted to hold back a laugh when he heard the man of barely twenty years speak of youth. “I’m not much younger than you!” Sam nearly shouted.
“I’ve got around ten years on you,” Paul said.
Samuel stared at him in disbelief. As far as he could tell, Paul was no more than twenty-one years old, and that was mostly due to his beard. Paul chuckled and shrugged at Sam. They must be surprised by the looks of Wizards, he thought. It had been six years since anyone had asked him his age. He had never heard that those who practiced magic looked younger, but not many people discussed magic users. His fingers ran through his beard as he wondered how old he would look without it. They can’t possibly think I’m as young as he is, he thought, his mind wandering to the Wizard Council. He sighed as he remembered that Emily was the closest thing he had to a friend and he hadn’t seen her in weeks.
“You never finished your story,” Paul said, the silence finally getting to him.
“When I was ten, my village was visited by a band of traveling mages. Rejects from mage schooling really, they knew little more than cheap parlor tricks that would lose their luster on anyone past twelve. I was fascinated by what they did, always asking questions or trying to figure out their tricks. Eventually, after a month or so, they told me their secret. Each one owned a medallion that allowed them some control over illusion magic. One of them even claimed I could use it for other forms of magic if I trained hard enough. I paid my life’s savings for one, but it never worked. Even Illusion magic escaped me. They convinced me it would take three or four weeks before working. Of course, they were long gone before the three weeks ended.”
“Interesting, do you still have it?” Paul asked.
“I do not, my mother sold it as soon as she found somebody to buy it. Not a woman to be trifled with, my mother.” Samuel stared down at the dirt path.
“How much further?” Paul asked, having lost interest in the story after hearing the amulet was gone.
“Not much, hard to plot the hour here in the Gloomvale Isles, but I’d wager we’ll make it before what would normally be sundown.”
*
Janessa stumbled off the gangplank as if ready to collapse. Emily followed close behind, her head throbbing. They could only guess at the hour as the Gloomvale Isles were lit by an unnatural light. According to legend, the Isles had not always been covered in dark clouds. Some believed they came with the wars of attrition from the old days, others were convinced it was by a power hungry mage, but the most widely accepted tale was that of the two warriors. They were known as Cadrin, warrior of the light, and Damoth, warrior of the dark. Born in the same town on the same day in the same year, their futures were intertwined from birth. Each grew faster than the other boys in town, but the similarities ended there. Damoth was pale skinned with long blond hair and blue eyes while Cadrin had dark-brown skin, short black hair, and deep brown eyes. Where Damoth was thin and lacked strength, Cadrin was large and powerful.
Life was difficult for Cadrin, both his parents died before his tenth birthday. He was taken in by the local monastery and brought up learning the trade of a Paladin. Damoth’s life was equally difficult. His parents pushed him hard to do better than they had. Their constant disapproval drove him to seek refuge with a small group he quickly renamed the Blades of Damoth. The years passed and each boy, now a man, controlled one-half of the Gloomvale Isles. Neither one was willing to accept the other’s claim. Soon, the squabbles became all-out war. For seven days straight, the armies on both sides converged upon one another. Seven days of Gloomvale steel spilling Gloomvale blood. On the eight day, Cadrin and Damoth took the field. The two armies clashed as never before.
The sun stretched forth across the sky, spurring Cadrin’s men to near victory. As night fell over the Isles, Damoth’s men were renewed. By morning, only fragments of each army remained. The two pressed on, their men willing to give their lives for their respective leaders. Another day of fighting brought each army to collapse. In the cold wintery evening, just as the sun was setting, the two met in combat. They fought until both dropped with exhaustion after three days straight of fighting. Neither was willing to give an edge to the other, but both fell asleep against their own will. They awoke far sooner than would have been expected for the circumstance. A strange noise filled the air, and both put aside their grievances to find the source of the disturbance. They found their villages burning and their people slaughtered. The Gloomvale pirates had raided the towns in their absence and were mounting a second raid. That day an Unholy Alliance was formed between the two men who hated each other more than anything in the world. They set off into the night together to finish off the pirates. After twelve long days of hunting, they had all but eliminated the pirates. Upon their return, they were hailed Champions. One was put forth to rule the day and the other the night.
Their reign lasted thirty long and prosperous years. However, age began to creep up on them and one day Damoth found himself accosted by a group of bandits. What would have been an easy victory in his youth turned into a battle he would win, but at the cost of his life. Cadrin, hearing the news of Damoth’s death, burned with a righteous anger. He called together a militia and began to root out all the negative influences within the Gloomvale Isles. His band was able to deliver devastating blows to the numerous organized crime syndicates that inhabited the Isles, but whenever the sun fell below the horizon, he and his men were forced to return to their shelters and wait until morning for the light of the moon was no more. This went on for nearly two months, each day Cadrin swore on Damoth’s grave that he would end the evils that took his friend’s life. The toll of the fighting was too much for the aged Cadrin, he found himself weary of the fighting and laid his sword to rest. He visited the grave of his one-time rival and sat there for the entire night.
The sun never rose the next morning. Cadrin had been slain in his sleep by a group of bandits that was plotting to rob the grave of the Champion Damoth. For several days, the people mourned the loss of their favorite Champion. It would seem that the Gloomvale Isles and nature itself disagreed with the citizens. For neither the sun nor the moon ever rose after the death of the two Champions. They were considered equal to each other and to whatever controlled the weather of the Isles. A deep gloom covered the islands from that day forward, thus garnering them their name. For as long as people could remember, the Archipelago had stood somewhere in between day and night. This made it nearly impossible for outsiders to tell the time of day. The citizens had to develop a sense for that, and it was something that Emily felt she would never be used to. She sighed as she looked at Janessa and the small group of soldiers that survived. All fifteen of the surviving troops were injured, and both Wizards were exhausted.
“Where are we?” Emily asked as her eyes scanned the houses.
“The main isles of Gloomvale, somewhere on the southern coast,” Janessa answered.
The town was devoid of inhabitants, save for a few guards. They q
uickly informed Janessa that pirate raids had driven the inhabitants of the outlying towns to seek shelter near the center of the Isle. Emily looked at the troops that were accompanying her and Janessa. They can’t fight until they’ve rested, she thought. She looked at Janessa, wondering if her fellow council member felt that way, as well. Janessa was motionless, making Emily wonder if the water magic expert had pushed herself too hard during the voyage. Everyone stood silent as Emily looked from Janessa to the soldiers and then to the guards. The others were waiting for one of the Wizards to make a statement. Emily hesitated as she stepped in front of Janessa.
“This is a dire situation, Emily. I know our war lies in another place, but the Gloomvale Isles can muster little strength under the yoke of these pirate raids. If you desire to return, I can have a ship prepared for you. My place is here with my people,” Janessa spoke gravely, perhaps more so than Emily had ever seen her do.
“What of the villages, my lady? Are they not still in danger as we speak?” One of the guards asked.
“Draw everyone to the castles and forts, leave no weaknesses. Houses can be rebuilt, farms replanted, but no lives can be brought back from death.”
“It is hardly my business, but would it not be prudent to form parties of our own to combat the pirate raiders?” Emily asked.
“We stand no chance fighting them on their own terms. No offense, Wizardess, but that would lose us the war,” Another guard answered.
“Then how do you propose we defeat them? From inside of a castle? With a large army that they can maneuver around?” Emily’s face turned red as she realized her voice was louder than any others in the conversation.
“Emily is right, we’ll have to fight them on their own turf. We don’t have time to discuss it now. We need to move out.” Janessa seemed much sadder than Emily had seen before.
Emily could sense the frustration in Janessa too. What originally was to be a short tour for Emily followed by the triumphant rescue of Carmalia and the Conclaves had become a pirate hunt. Emily placed a hand on Janessa’s shoulder. The island native smiled at Emily before ordering the troops to move out. Emily desperately wanted to be a comforting sister to Janessa, but time and circumstances called for a different role. What a weight she carries, Emily thought, determined to see to it that she did not have to carry it alone. If she could not take on the part of supportive sister, she would instead take on the part of sister in battle. It was a concept that was altogether foreign to Emily. Fighting and battles were a far cry away from the books she had read growing up, but she had seen Paul fight like no other and knew that magic could help her in battle, as well.
The lack of a visible sun made it difficult for Emily to know how long they traveled. Their path took them through two more villages before arriving at Gloomvale Castle. Both of the villages had been deserted except for a few guards. Janessa ordered them to follow her to the castle. From there, Emily knew Janessa would be able to form a sound plan. The castle itself was vastly different from the castles that Emily was used to seeing. Its nearly black stones were a stark contrast to the white Conclave tower that sprung out of the north side of the castle. A massive keep stood in the middle of the castle, its stones at least five shades darker than the outer wall. The outer wall complex housed a plethora of shops, a large barracks, an equally large stable, and even a few small fields. Closer to the keep was the inner wall complex. Its nigh fifty foot high walls were twice that of the outer wall. The inner complex was significantly smaller, but no less important. It held houses, another barracks, and the castle’s main water source.
Even more impressive than either of the outer walls was the keep itself, whose height of nearly one hundred feet rivaled that of the Conclave. Inside the courtyard, much to the contrast of the harsh walls of the keep, was one of the most beautiful gardens Emily had ever visited. She counted more than fifty types of flowers in the short walk from the entrance of the courtyard to the keep itself. What a grand place, she thought, How I would love to explore it! The inside of the keep was majestic in its own right. All along the walls hung the banners of the Gloomvale rulers. On the sidewalls hung gold and black banners in remembrance of the two Champions of Gloomvale. The banners on the far side of the hall, behind the throne, were a mixture of blue and green. They were handpicked by Janessa to represent the swirling waters that gave lifeblood to the many isles that comprised the Gloomvale Archipelago. Each banner was rimmed with two borders, one of gold, and the other of black. Alongside the banners, were several tapestries that depicted various historical events. Emily was so enthralled by the display before her that she failed to notice the two men waiting inside the keep.
“Sam, on whose authority did you enter the keep?” Janessa asked.
“This man says he is a friend of yours!” Sam replied in protest, his voice sounding almost like groveling.
“Paul!” Emily ran to him as soon as she caught sight of him.
“Tis good to see you as well, Emily.” Paul couldn’t hold back his smile as she pulled him in for an embrace.
“Forgive me, that was undignified of me,” Emily’s cheek turned a bright red as she quickly backed away.
“Not at all, Emily, you merely took me by surprise. It truly is good to see you. Rolin and the others are good people, but you and I are closer than with any of the others,” Paul wished he had not spoken as he stared at the floor.
“If you two are quite finished, we have a lot of talking ahead of us,” Janessa’s stern voice pulled Emily back to the reality of the situation.
“I’ve not had a friend as true as Emily since,” Paul paused as if he were weighing whether or not to mention something from his past. “Well, she’s been much more a friend than any other Wizard I’ve met,” Paul snapped back at Janessa.
“My apologies, the situation has me on edge. The Gloomvale Isles are being threatened, and I have already failed them with my absence.” There was no question to Janessa’s words, it was as though her failure was complete, and the pirates had already won.
“Then we fight them. The Wizard Council can wait, what good can we do them anyway?” Emily spoke with conviction.
The Net Widens
James glanced back over his shoulder, the castle was a small form on the horizon. He could barely make out the torches of the Galimdorian soldiers all along the walls. They stayed their hand, though he knew not why. Perhaps they need to consult their King, he thought as he turned back to the path ahead of him. The road looked less inviting than usual. As it disappeared out of his sight and into the darkness, it seemed almost to end. He sighed and started walking forward, wondering if he’d ever see the others again. It was a foreboding thought that he couldn’t shake. Knowing he needed to make good time, James took on the form of a sand fox. Though larger than most sand foxes, there was little else to suggest he was anything but a member of the area wildlife.
He had covered a lot of ground by the time morning arrived. His current form would be easily spotted by hunters in the day, so he morphed again. His formerly sand colored fur turned red, and his ears shrunk a little. Now he was just slightly larger than the average foxes of the area. The morning light came with its own set of dangers. Hunters and their hounds, though easily outwitted, were not so easily outrun. James took to the forest so that he could take advantage of the cover provided by shrubs and bushes. He traveled several hundred yards through the trees before noticing anything out of the ordinary. There was a handful of silhouettes that he could make out amongst the trees. The orcs were traveling in the same direction that he was, but they were well away from their main encampments in the Old Forest.
He morphed back to human form, and a small fireball took shape in his right hand. His left hand drifted down to his dagger. By no means proficient with a melee weapon, James still found that it came in handy for blocking or deflecting blows. The ball of fire grew in his right hand as he closed in on the orcs. He could hear them mumbling something about an ambush on one of distant members of the royal f
amily of Cardinia. His right hand thrust forward, and the ball zoomed toward the nearest orc, growing in size as it got closer. The orc screamed in pain as the flames surrounded him and he caught on fire. His companions were startled by the commotion and chose to stand back from the burning orc. They drew their weapons as he ran toward them. Before he could get out the request for help, the leader of the pack lunged forward with his spear and killed him. By the time they noticed James attempting to stay out of sight in the trees, he had already launched two more fireballs at the pack.
Two of the five remaining orcs caught on fire and began screaming and thrashing about. One of them crashed into another orc, knocking them both to the floor. The leader and one of his companions lunged toward James. With a flick of his wrist, James shot a jet of flames at the two approaching orcs. The leader thrust his shield up just in time, but his compatriot was not so fortunate. James jumped backward and readied his knife, he knew the orc leader would come for him and didn’t have time to set up a spell to distract him. The two danced back and forth as James did his best to parry and dodge each of the orc’s attacks. His arm was getting tired from the deadly assault. He knew his stronger opponent would win if he didn’t even the odds. The larger orc pressed the attack, knocking James slightly off balance. James let out a cry of pain as his opponent’s sword slid off his dagger and his left arm just above the wrist. He jumped backward and his free hand shot out toward the ground in front of the orc, and a small vine began to wrap itself around each of the orc’s legs. The vine grew in size, tripping the orc as it lunged toward James. James dug his dagger into the orc’s back and then rolled backward.
Half of the remaining four orcs were injured, and all of them were stunned at the death of their leader. James swirled both of his hands toward the orcs, and a large figure made of flames formed just above the downed orc leader. It charged at the four orcs, swinging its massive flame sword at their heads. One of the orcs was cut down during the first blow, and another dropped to the ground in fear. The other two orcs lashed out at the flame warrior and found their swords to be utterly ineffective. One of the being’s large arms of flame grabbed one of the orcs and threw it to the floor. James noticed the orc that had dropped to the floor was now scurrying further into the forest and launched a fire arrow at him. It hit the orc square in the back, pinning him to the floor. The orc writhed in pain as the flame warrior finished off his two companions and turned toward him. James winced as the flame warrior drove its sword into the final orc.
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