A Wizard of the White Council

by Jonathan Moeller

  “It’s okay,” said Mary. She put her arm around Ally’s shoulders. “It’s okay.”

  Ally sniffled. “No, it’s not.” She stared at her parents. “What else happened? Tell me the rest.”

  Simon’s face was haggard and tired. “We didn’t know what to do with you. Conmager showed up the next morning. He told us who you were…well, at least Lithon.”

  “Lithon, honey,” said Katrina. “Your real name is Lithon Scepteris.”

  “You’re the heir to the throne of a kingdom called Carlisan, on Conmager’s world…your world as well, I suppose,” said Simon, fiddling with his napkin. “I suppose your real father is dead, which makes you the King of Carlisan.”

  Lithon seemed small in his chair. “But why would Marugon want to kill me?”

  “Conmager said that a Wizard named Alastarius made a Prophecy. He said that someday you would defeat Marugon, and you would find a way to bring Alastarius back from the dead.”

  “That’s silly,” said Lithon. “Dead people don’t come back.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe it means something else.”

  “Whatever it means,” said Simon, “Conmager believes it. And Marugon believed it as well, believed it enough that he tried to kill you and me and everyone else in this room except Mary. Conmager told us that we had to flee with you and Ally. Marugon was looking for you, he said. We had to hide. Marugon had sent a monster after you…”

  Ally stiffened, wiping the tears from her eyes. “A…lion, a black lion. I…remember that.”

  Simon shuddered. “Yes. It found us. Conmager killed it, but we had to run. Marugon sent the winged demons after us. I was hurt, Conmager was hurt…and your mom was hurt very badly. She had to spend months in hospital. They would have killed us, but Conmager…”

  “He broke his staff,” said Ally, remembering. “The tunnel. I remember a dark tunnel. Mom was hurt, bleeding. You were carrying her. I was carrying Lithon. Conmager broke his staff. The explosion…” She shivered. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “He killed himself to save us, didn’t he? And I forgot him, too.”

  “No,” said Simon. “Well, yes. We thought so at the time. But he didn’t die. He had a spell in his staff that transported him to a hospital in California. He recovered there. But his plan had worked. Marugon thought Lithon was dead, and he stopped looking.” Simon spread his hands. “And we were left with you kids. One of Katrina’s friends forged adoption papers for us…and life went on, I guess.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. The memories burned through Ally’s mind; Sir Liam fighting the shadow-things, the chase through Chicago, the fiery explosion of the staff.

  “Wow. Oh, wow,” said Mary. “You’re not making any of this up, are you?”

  “I wish we were,” said Katrina.

  “My God.” Mary shook her head, brown eyes wide. “I mean…just…my God.”

  “Why.” Ally shook her head, trying to get control of her voice. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  Simon sighed. “I don’t know. I suppose we were in denial. We thought it was all over. Conmager had killed himself and Marugon and Wycliffe thought you were dead. And I didn’t think you had forgotten. We only noticed it after a few years. And Lithon was so young he wouldn’t have remembered anything.”

  “I don’t,” said Lithon. “I don’t remember any of this. Well. Just bits and pieces.”

  Simon shrugged. “We thought it was over. But it wasn’t, not really. It was just…on hiatus.”

  “Hiatus?” said Ally. “Why are you telling us this now?”

  Katrina scowled. “You know Wycliffe won the election yesterday, right?”

  “But…I thought a guy named Jones won the election,” said Mary. “Old guy with silver hair. That’s what all the news shows said.”

  Katrina shook her head. “But Wycliffe’s the vice president. And I’d bet every dollar I have that Jones is just Wycliffe’s puppet. Or that Jones will die in an ‘accident’ after a few months. Guess who becomes president then? Wycliffe. Simon and I knew it was coming. We thought about getting out of the country, in case Wycliffe decided to come looking for us. You can’t hide from the government forever.”

  “And Conmager came back,” said Simon, “the day before the election. Ally. He told us that Marugon is looking for you.”

  Ally shivered. “What?”

  “Why?” said Mary. “I mean, I don’t understand all of this, but doesn’t this Marugon guy want to kill Lithon?”

  “Marugon must have seen you,” said Simon, “somewhere, somehow, I don’t know where. There’s something special about you, Ally. Conmager saw it, when he first met you. And Marugon must have seen it. He thinks you’re a threat to him. So he’s looking for you.” He swallowed. “Conmager has been protecting you, turning aside the creatures Marugon has sent after you. But he can’t do it forever. Sooner or later Marugon’s going to find you. And when he does, he might find out that Lithon’s still alive.” The muscles in Simon’s face tightened. “That would be bad.”

  “What are we going to do?” said Lithon, sounding very scared.

  “We’re going to have to run,” said Katrina, “as far and as fast as we can.”

  ###

  Dr. Francis knocked on Ally’s dorm room door.

  Nothing. No answer.

  “Ally?” called Dr. Francis.

  Still no answer. Perhaps she had gone home to visit her parents. Dr. Francis decided to try calling Simon’s home number.

  She had just turned to go when she heard the sound of breaking glass.

  ###

  Arran followed Conmager and Allard to a parking lot behind Ally’s dormitory. The lot lay empty and quiet, save for a gray van parked in the corner.

  “We’ll head for the Westers’ house,” said Conmager, pulling a ring of keys from his battered jacket. “Then we’ll get out of the city. With luck, it will take Marugon a few days to realize we’ve gone. By then he won’t be able to find us.”

  “Why not?” said Arran. “If he could send a seeking spirit across the worlds to find Lithon, what is to keep him from tracking us?”

  Conmager grinned. “Wards. I’ve put spells around my safe houses. They’ll turn aside any creature of the black magic Marugon sends for us, especially those damned changelings.”

  “And if the winged demons do find us?” said Arran.

  Conmager unlocked the back doors and threw them open. “Then I’m prepared. What did I tell you, Allard?”

  Allard grunted. “Um…forewarned is forearmed?”

  “Damn straight,” said Conmager.

  Arran stared at the van’s interior. “Indeed.”

  Wire shelves held several gleaming assault rifles, automatic pistols, gun parts, oil, and a bizarre assortment of machinery. Several boxes of bullets sat against the seats. A rack on the floor held several black spears, wires running from their barbed heads to metal boxes on their hafts.

  “You realize, of course,” said Arran, examining one of the rifles, “that bullets will do nothing more than irritate a winged demon.”

  “Yeah,” said Conmager. “It would take sixty or seventy shots to bring one down.” He pointed with his cane. “I modified those bullets myself, put a spell of the white magic over them. They exist partly in the material world and partly in the spiritual world, much like your Sacred Blade. They’ll hurt a winged demon. Not badly, but you could bring one down with ten to twelve shots.”

  “And what are those?” said Arran, pointing at the black spears.

  “These?” Conmager grinned and hefted one of the weapons. “Designed them myself.” He flipped a switch on the spear’s side. The weapon hummed, miniature arcs of blue-white lighting flaring around the spear’s point. He flipped the switch again and the lightning disappeared. “The wires connect to a battery.”

  “A what?” said Arran.

  “Um…a device that stores electricity. Lightning, you would say,” said Conmager. “I put another spell of the white magic over each of th
e spears. The lightning will stun a winged demon, even if you just brush one with the blade.” He cackled. “And if you spear one, run it through, the lighting will burn it away to ashes. Assuming the battery doesn’t die.”

  “Impressive,” said Arran. He thought of Khan-Mar-Dan and Baal-Mar-Dan. “I could have used some of these devices.”

  Conmager pointed at the sword hanging from Arran’s belt. “But a Sacred Blade is still the best weapon for fighting creatures of the black magic. You could not have come at a better time, Sir Arran. I think we shall need your Sacred Blade before all is said and done…”

  “I intend…” said Arran.

  His Sacred Blade jolted with power. Arran flinched and grabbed the hilt.

  “What?” said Conmager.

  “The black magic,” said Arran, sliding the sword free. Blue-white light glimmered around the stained crimson blade. “Something’s coming…”

  Conmager’s eyes got wide. “Get down!” He ducked behind the van. “And cover that light.” Arran slid his sword back into its scabbard and crouched besides Conmager. Allard dropped to one knee, pulling his gun free.

  A black shadow shot overhead.

  Conmager snarled. “Winged demons.” His hand tightened around his cane.

  Two more shadows shot past.

  “They’re flying so low,” whispered Allard. “They never fly so low, not even at night.”

  Arran craned his neck. The three winged demons circled over the dormitory, massive wings beating at the air. They wore the black armor he had seen so often, scimitars at their belts, heavy guns slung from harnesses over their armor.

  “Gods, they’ve heavily armed,” said Conmager. “Pistols, submachine guns, grenades…what are they doing?”

  One of the winged demons soared up higher, folded its wings, and dove. It crashed through one of the windows in a spray of glass, the two others following it. Arran heard the sounds breaking wood and crashing furniture. “What are they doing?”

  Conmager went rigid.

  “What?” said Arran. “What is it?”

  “That’s Ally’s room,” said Conmager.

  “But that’s impossible,” said Allard. “They wouldn’t come here unless…unless they…”

  “They’ve found her,” said Conmager, his voice hard and grim.

  ###

  Dr. Francis heard more smashing glass, heard a low growling from behind the door.

  “Ally!” said Dr. Francis, pounding on the door. “Ally! Are you in there?”

  She reached into her purse and picked up her phone, intending to dial 911.

  The door swung open.

  Dr. Francis stopped dialing, looked into the room.

  Red eyes glared out of the darkness.

  She barely had time to scream before the darkness took her.

  ###

  One of the winged demons exploded out of the window, its wings like a dark shadow against the night. The two others followed it. They circled the dorm once more, spun, and shot away at tremendous speed, vanishing into the darkness.

  “Conmager,” said Arran. “Where are they going?”

  “They’re going west,” said Conmager.

  “Oh my God,” said Allard. “The Westers’ house is that…”

  “Go!” Conmager leapt to his feet. “Go! Sir Arran, in the back. We must hurry!” Conmager threw open the van door and scrabbled inside. Allard ran over to the passenger door, and Arran sprinted around the back of the van and leapt inside just as the motor started with a roar. Conmager backed the van and spun it around with a screech of tires. Arran reached back, slammed the doors shut, and crawled to the front of the van as Conmager roared into the street.

  “They must’ve found her,” said Conmager, his voice taut with anger and fear. “Marugon sent the winged demons to her room. And since she’s not there, they’re going to her house.”

  Arran grabbed at the back of Allard’s seat. “Unless he split his forces, sent the winged demons to the university and...”

  “Damnation,” Conmager growled, “damn it, damn it, damn it. Hang on. This’ll get a little bumpy.” He gripped the wheel and slammed down on the pedal.

  The van shot forward like a bullet, engine roaring.

  ###

  “Go?” said Ally. “Where will we go?”

  “I don’t know,” said Simon. “Conmager will be here in a few hours. He has some safe houses.”

  “Wait, wait,” said Ally. “You can’t be serious. We’re just going to pack up and leave?”

  “We have to, Ally,” said Katrina. “We almost died the last time Marugon found us. We can’t risk staying here any longer.”

  “But…but…” Everything Arran had said matched with her parents’ story. But some small part of her mind refused to believe. This couldn’t be happening. Her world could not be crashing down around her ears. “It’s…this can’t really be happening, can it?”

  “Mom and Dad wouldn’t lie to us,” said Lithon.

  Ally scowled. “But they never told us, did they? They never told us.”

  “We thought it was for the best,” said Simon, his expression helpless.

  “And we have to run,” said Katrina. “We have to go with Conmager. You remember now, don’t you? You remember what happened when we found you?”

  Memories of machine gun fire and winged monsters flashed through Ally’s mind. “Yes.”

  “Then you know that we have to go,” said Katrina. “We can’t stay. Your Dad and I, our lives don’t matter very much, not really. Not next to you kids. Lithon’s a king. And you, Ally…you must be intended for something great, but I don’t know what. That’s why we have to go.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Mary.

  “You don’t have to,” said Ally.

  “No!” She sounded as serious as Ally had ever heard her. “No. I’m coming. You told me everything, too, so now I have to come. Ally’s my best friend. And you’ve treated me better than anyone I’ve ever met, even my own family. I have to come with you. And this is important. Really important. More important than anything I could ever do otherwise. I want to help. If I can.”

  Simon sighed. “We’ll ask Conmager. I doubt he’ll say no.”

  “Arran,” muttered Ally, “Arran. He was right all along. I…I should…”

  “Who?” said Simon. “Who’s Arran?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” She stood.

  Katrina frowned. “Where are you going?”

  Ally scrubbed her hand over her eyes. “I need to be alone for awhile.”

  Katrina nodded. “Okay. We’ll come get you when Conmager shows up. You might want to pack. And eat something, too. We’ll probably have a long drive ahead of us yet tonight.”

  “Okay.” Ally shuffled upstairs, went to her room, and shut the door. She sat down on the floor, tears trickling from her eyes. Grief flooded through her, the memories of Sir Liam’s sacrifice playing in her mind.

  How could she have forgotten?

  She crawled to her bed and buried her face in the covers. Mary had been right all along. The nightmares were not just bad dreams. They were something more.

  They were real.

  And that thought scared her more than anything.

  ###

  “How fast are we going?” said Arran, shouting over the roar of the van’s motor. He gripped at a gun rack to keep his balance.

  Conmager drove like a man possessed, darting through traffic, weaving and dodging oncoming cars. Horns blared and tires screeched, but Conmager ignored them all.

  “Um.” Allard had turned pale. “About ninety miles an hour. On a residential street. The speed limit’s twenty-five.”

  Conmager growled. “Idiot. I’d hit you but I need both hands to steer. Sir Arran! Look in the box behind my seat.”

  Arran went to one knee, the van’s floor bouncing and vibrating. A cardboard box sat on the floor, and he pushed it open. A vest of some thick black material lay inside. “What is it?”

  “Put it on,
quickly!” said Conmager. Arran shrugged out of his overcoat and pulled on the gray vest. “It’s called Kevlar. It will deflect most any sort of bullet.”

  Arran blinked. “You mean…armor against bullets?” He thought of the metal armor he had discarded years ago. The plate armor of a Knight could stop sword and arrow, but shredded like paper beneath a bullet.

  “Yes,” said Conmager, spinning the wheel as the van flew around a corner. “Now arm yourself. Take whatever you want.”

  Arran obliged, pulling a pair of Glocks from the rack. He loaded them with Conmager’s enhanced bullets and strapped their holsters around his waist, alongside his Sacred Blade. He pulled his overcoat back on and stuffed several grenades and ammunition cartridges into the pockets.

  “And pass a couple of the Uzis up here,” said Conmager. The van missed an oncoming bus by a few inches. “If we need to come out fighting, then by God we’re going to come out fighting.” Arran handed a pair of the weapons to Allard, who tucked them between the seats. Arran took one of the Kalashnikovs for himself, slinging the strap over his shoulder.

  “How much time do you think we have?” said Arran.

  Conmager shook his head. “I don’t know. There are sixty or seventy winged demons in Wycliffe’s compound, along with three or four hundred of the changelings.”

  “Changelings?”

  Conmager jerked his head at Allard. “You tell him, son.”

  Allard swallowed. “They’re…well, they look like devils. Gray skin, red eyes, pointed ears, long claws on their hands and feet…”