by Lynn Hardy
Charles slices the fruit into quarters, popping a bite into his mouth. Talking around the mouthful, he summarizes, “Since you doubled the night watch with four men stationed at every guard station and at every midpoint, you weren’t betrayed from within. That leaves two options: an aerial attack taking out the sentries or magic.” He tilts his head, waiting patiently.
“You reasoned such with a limited amount of information?”
Charles nods.
Szames continues, “Merithin, it seems you have summoned us a powerful sorceress and a military strategist. He has deduced what we needed you to point out.” The prince adds, “The corporeal plain had been significantly disturbed in the area south of the attack. All reports of demon assaults have come from the southern duchies, and the skirmish was led on the southern wall. It stands to reason that a powerful sorcerer disguised their approach. None of the enemies we destroyed were human. That means it was either a demon with the ability to work magic”—Szames’s voice takes on a menacing growl—“or the sorcerer who performed the summoning is still working with the enemy.”
Charles turns to me. “Reba, the way I understand it the closer you are to something, the less power it takes to perform the spell?” I nod as Charles continues. “I’ll wager it was a sorcerer and he’s still out there.”
The harrumph Szames gives has definite approval in it. “I have the same feeling.”
“It’s illogical to waste a sorcerer powerful enough to disguise an invading force on a mission never intended to succeed. The fact that the demons were spotted a couple of hundred feet out indicates the sorcerer didn’t come very close to the castle, else he would have continued the spell until the sentries had been slain.” He pauses for emphasis. “No, I don’t think you were lucky enough to take out a magic-wielding demon. Our mysterious sorcerer is still out there, watching, waiting for another opportunity to probe for a weakness. This was a test to see how armor and swords will match up against claws and fangs. Unfortunately, Prince Szames, it isn’t a test you scored very high in.”
“A very perceptive analysis, Charles. Not many of my officers would have done as well. Have you led many troops, or has your knowledge of strategies been gained through book learning?”
“I have studied history and great wars.” Charles shrugs modestly. “But there’s very little practical experience to be had on this type of battlefield.”
“Lieutenant Craig, please assume point position with Charles,” Szames commands. “I believe he will be most interested in whatever details you may recall from the night of the attack.” With a hand on the back of my chair, he adds, “If we are going to make Westgate by nightfall, we had better get moving.”
“Merithin, if you would like to join Prince Szames and myself?” I ask as Harold and Craig move the table out of the way. “I’m interested in your assessment of the strength of the enemy sorcerer.”
“I would be delighted, Archmage Reba.” Merithin bows.
The sorcerer wastes no time. He launches into his findings as we continue the circuit of the city. “By the time I arrived, the battle was over. There were no reports of magic used in the attack except that which brought them unseen to our gates. A quick scrying helped me locate the residual power, which kept the demons from our sight. Fifty men accompanied me as I followed the trail of magic southward. Unfortunately I was unable to find the sorcerer who wove it. The spell was not a powerful one, but there was enough residue to make out a partial pattern. The energy signature seemed familiar. Until you asked about the summoning process, I failed to identify the magic insignia. Thinking about master level disciples helped jog my memory, though.”
“Merithin, are you saying you know who has unleashed these demons upon us?” Szames demands.
“I’m afraid so. The information I have is about twenty cycles outdated, but I believe the signature belongs to an old apprentice of mine, Gaakobah of Dunmore. The single absolute fact I know is that he had the capacity to become my equal.”
Szames interrupts again, “Your first apprentice? You trained our enemy? Merithin, we must have every detail you can recall of this sorcerer.”
“Yes, well, he may have been my apprentice, but he did not complete his training under me. I have no idea from whom he would have received further instruction, but I’ll tell you what I know.”
Merithin takes a deep breath before continuing. “As I said, he was my first apprentice many years ago, the son of a dear friend. Gaakobah was a quick learner and appeared to be the perfect student. He was very helpful, attentive even. After spending a couple years schooling him in the ways of magic, I began to realize Gaaki was not as stable as he outwardly appeared. Inexperienced, I was unsure how to handle my discovery. Having known Gaaki since he was a lad, instead of dismissing him, I convinced myself it wasn’t as serious as it seemed, that deep down he had a good heart.”
“No matter how I tried to reason out his odd behavior, I still felt uneasy about his mood swings. Months slid by. I lingered over journeymen skills and the basic spells he had already mastered. I scrutinized his behavior, hoping to find my suspicions were misplaced. They were not.”
“When his progress was stymied Gaaki became morose. His spell-working became unpredictable. Instead of focusing on the internal issues as I hoped he would, Gaaki’s depression grew.” The sorcerer’s gaze becomes distant, as if looking back through the ages.
“Now it’s not well known, but all apprentices are allowed to experiment on their own once a level of competency has been achieved. It takes time to build up a tolerance to corporeal energy, time for an aura to get the hang of sorting itself out. Although I had not granted permission for him to work unaccompanied, I had noted the lad’s experimentation in his free time some time back. When his behavior became erratic, I grew curious about what sort of work he was doing.”
I glance over at Merithin as he pauses. I feel sadness, regret, and fear washing through him.
“Searching for a reasonable explanation so I could continue his education, I sent for Gaaki’s father, hoping he could help shed some light on this perplexing problem. The afternoon Gaaki went into town to escort his father to the cottage was the perfect opportunity for an investigation. The memory of what I found still haunts me…” Though I sense no magic, Merithin’s tale comes alive before us.
~
The youthful master sorcerer glances around the room. Nothing seems amiss. Peering intently at the foot of the bed, he examines what seems to be the remnant of a light spell.
Pride washes over the plain features. The concealment spell and a dispersal spell are interwoven. Concealment is an advanced spell that Gaaki picked up on his own. Even more astounding, he figured out how to combine it with another enchantment.
“Pushed aside you will be; let me see what you hold inside of thee,” the master chants. Merithin spoke in English! It must be the language of magic!
Blue light streams from his fingertips surrounding a square object. The stronger magic penetrates the weaker spell, moving it aside. A sturdy chest is revealed. Corporeal magic emanates from the chest with a deep pulsing throb.
“Box who is revealed to me,
locked you will no longer be.”
The mantra ends. A loud click fills the dim room. Revulsion puckers the sorcerer’s lips as he removes the lid. Merithin’s pride curdles into disgust.
Two half-starved animals occupy the storage place. One of the pets is a black cat, not much older than a kitten barely weaned from its mother. The other is an ordinary kitchen rat. Both creatures have enlarged craniums despite their malnourishment. This can only be the result of the intense application of the increase intelligence spell Gaaki has mastered.
“But there must be more,” Merithin murmurs as he tries to separate the weaves of magic into a sensible pattern.
Suddenly the design and purpose of this monstrosity becomes clear. Horrified, the sorcerer takes an involuntary step back.
A magical barrier divides the large box in half. T
he enchantment is, once again, two spells interwoven: the look away and the aggressive instinct spell. The look away portion imprisons each animal in its half of the cage for now. The animals will perish from malnutrition or become desperate enough to break the barrier, encouraged by the aggressive instinct enchantment.
Once past the concealing enchantment, the enraged beast will slaughter the other victim, gorging itself on the remains of its fellow prisoner. Until then, both animals are experiencing horrendous mental anguish from the constant barrage of conflicting emotions.
The rat dashes toward a small hunk of cheese placed close to the shield. Merithin looks on as the true purpose of the atrocity is revealed.
“No!” The shouted plea escapes the master sorcerer unchecked, as loathing for the one who has lived with him for the past few years takes firm root.
Two piles of tattered rags, saturated in Gaaki’s aura, lay in opposite corners of the container. The cloth holds a third enchantment, aptly named dispel magic. The pain inflicted by the magical barrier is used to increase the violent tendencies of the animals. It is also forcing them to remain on their nests for relief. Gaaki’s aura becomes their sanctuary.
The youth’s passionate, almost fanatical, interest in Merithin’s familiar SwiftWing now makes sense. His apprentice is trying to force a one-way bonding!
Usually when a familiar is taken, each gives a part of himself to the other for the bonding. This exchange is what makes communication with an animal possible, but it also leaves the sorcerer vulnerable. When the familiar passes on, a piece of the master dies with the companion. It is like the death of a best friend and a brother all at once.
What Gaaki is attempting is an abomination; he is forcing a one-way bond. This will create an animal that will respond and do his bidding as a mindless slave to a master.
“Magic called by another, disperse.” Merithin recites one of the first enchantments a magic-user learns. He didn’t rhyme and it still worked? Maybe rhyming isn’t necessary. I’ve gotta remember that for later.
All the magic in the vicinity of the chest dissolves under the barrage of azure light coming from the sorcerer’s outstretched hand. Sitting on the end of the bed, he reaches to free the rat.
Mouth agape, long fangs lunge at his fingers. Merithin yanks back his hand. The kitten dodges injury by a hair’s breadth; the furry mass springs up onto the sorcerer’s lap. Startled by the playfulness, the kitten’s purr reassures the sorcerer that no permanent damage has been done to at least one of the victims.
~
Merithin gives an involuntary shiver at the vivid emotions the memory evokes. “Gaaki hid his inner self well. His outer portrayal of kindness, helpfulness, and the jovial nature covered his inner cruelty, ruthless ambition, and mental instability.”
The forest is closer, within plain sight. We pass Northgate. Engrossed in Merithin’s tale, I note in passing that some of the houses are little more than shacks. The few two-story buildings occupying this area are in such bad shape, I am amazed they are still standing. Odor permeates the walkway. The rank smell emanates from a long, single-story building equipped with eight smokestacks. A tannery?
“After finding some leftover chicken and feeding the kitten a small amount, I meditated on finding a way to tell my friend Goran that his son is a dangerous man. With his father’s permission, I would bring an end to Gaaki’s use of magic.”
“When Goran arrived, I invited him into my study while Gaaki saw to the horse and wagon. Amazingly enough, although Goran was disappointed by my findings, he wasn’t surprised. He often suspected more lay under his son’s cool exterior but was never able to ‘catch his hand in the hen’s nest,’ so to speak.”
I sense Merithin struggling with feelings rising up from the far corners of his being.
“After dinner we debated long into the night. Should we take Gaaki’s memory along with blocking his gift? Memory removal is chancy at best and could result in permanent damage.”
“We decided to see how Gaaki took the news of his dismissal and let that be the deciding factor. Perhaps if he could own up to his behavior, it would be a turning point in his life. How he handled criticism of his inner self would be the telling sign of what he was truly made.”
Looking up, I am shocked to see Westgate in view again. The sun is on the horizon, painting the western sky brilliant shades of pink, purple, and mauve. “How bad off was he? I expect he was pretty defensive when you confronted him.”
“We never got the chance.” Merithin shrugs. “The next day we awoke to find Gaaki gone. Goran left a few days later, promising to send word if he turned up in Dunmore. I figured the lad overheard part of our discussion and fled rather than face punishment.”
“Since I was on good terms with both of the master-level sorcerers, I let him go. I sent messages to the others of my guild with a description of Gaaki. When he failed to resurface, SwiftWing and I scouted the surrounding area. We spent the next several years investigating all reports of rogue sorcerers. Finding no sign of Gaaki, I assumed he must have fallen prey to bandits or some other peril of a solitary existence. I dismissed him so completely from my mind, I didn’t register the pattern of the energy signature until I was explaining to Reba the scarcity of master-level apprentices.” Merithin concludes his explanation with a resigned sigh.
“So you know little about Gaaki’s training,” Szames summarizes, “but we have learned that he is a quick study and as powerful as you, given the right training. It is more knowledge than we had two days ago.”
I turn to Merithin, but the bizarre view off to my right causes me to lose my train of thought. “Merithin, what do you make of that?” Everything is covered with a red haze.
“What?” Merithin queries. “I don’t see anything. Are you using magesight?”
“Yes, I am.” It never occurred to me to disengage it.
“Vision,” Merithin mutters with a heavy accent on the s, making it sound more like sh. “It’s a shield. It has the same energy pattern as the magic used in the attack. Let us see what is behind it…”
“Magic called by another, disperse.”
A deep azure light shoots out from his hand, encircling the haze. The crimson fog reacts like oil flooded by water, recoiling into round gobbets. Merithin’s magic surrounds the scarlet beads, penetrating them. In a flash of light, both energies disappear.
In the distance trumpets bleat out the alarm. Merithin collapses to his knees. The drain from the spell was too great. His aura is so faint, I can’t detect a single color variation.
A loud shriek arises from what Merithin has revealed. What in God’s green earth are those?
“Demons!” Szames swears under his breath.
“It is a quarter mark till dark.” Sunlight must not be fatal, merely painful.
The beasts have leathery skin and long beaks with oblong-shaped heads, like a pterodactyl, but their craniums are so large that their heads are more pearlike. They have thick legs like a bat. Two limbs support the tops of the wings, ending in clawed handlike extensions with four fingers. The wings are almost transparent.
A cross between a pterodactyl and a wyvern, the four creatures soar toward the battlement. Grasped in the winged demons’ hind talons is an enormous humanoid. Each flyer clutches a hair-covered appendage, carrying the orc closer with each beat of their wings.
“Craig, guard Merithin. Get him to Northgate.” Szames’s bellow is a shallow whisper to my ear as a flash, similar to the one that brought us here, tinges my vision.
The sky, bright just a second ago, is now the dark lavender of a newly fallen night. I choke as acrid smoke fills my nostrils. Turning to look at the city below, my jaw hangs slack. The pristine town is ablaze. Demons dive-bomb like sparrow hawks, taking humans in each run then dropping them down upon the troops filling the streets. Other monstrosities swarm over the walls like ants attacking a picnic table.
Again, light causes me to blink long and hard. This time I soar over a farming community. Ev
erywhere homes are ablaze. A certainty settles in me. This is happening all across this world.
A third flash blinds my vision once more. I force my eyes open, afraid of what I might see. The brightness of the day makes me squint, but I can make out Charles’s figure in front of us.
Deep inside, a knowing forms. My character’s high intuition points have given me a premonition. I have seen what our future holds if we continue on our present course. I turn to my escort. “Ready to make a run for it?” Szames nods and we match strides, sprinting for Westgate.
Our dash for safety comes to a skidding halt as wyverns swoop toward the battlement. The demon-bird emits a loud screech. The pair of fliers holding the legs of the orc releases him. Within seconds, the winged demons holding the arms of the giant free the towering humanoid. Intelligent beasts.
The monstrous foe drops the remaining ten feet to land solidly on the path before us. The giant humanoid swings its club, playfully taunting. The orc has blocked our route. He holds the wall midway between Westgate and Charles, who is in point position.
Mesmerized, I watch as the dark paladin draws his long sword. The shining blade looks like a rapier as he parries the spiked club the ten-foot orc wields.
Clank! The grime-covered hide of the orc flexes beneath a caveman type fur wrap. The humanoid monster counterattacks seconds after Charles deflects the latest blow. Although its forehead has a Neanderthal slope, its technique shows cunning.
A raucous screech breaks the paralysis tying down my limbs. I release Szames to give him full access to his sword. He transfers the blade from his other hand. Spinning more gracefully than a ballet dancer, the prince squares off with the wyvern plunging toward us.
Szames remains rock still in a crouched, defensive stance. The flier draws near. He leaps, straightening to his full length, slashing out with his sword. His blade slices the creature’s hind leg, causing it to let out a night-piercing shriek of rage.