Wizard Omega (Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles Book 4)

by Rodney Hartman

  First off, I’m a little hungry, Richard said. Snacking keeps the edge off. And secondly, I thought you told me eating keeps my body from having to use Power to keep it at baseline.

  Yes, I did, Nickelo agreed sounding a little reluctant to admit his wizard scout was correct. However, if you remember, I also specified eating in moderation.

  Whatever, Richard grumbled. I can’t win, can I?

  I’d say the fate of three galaxies is hoping you can, said Nickelo.

  Richard didn’t answer. He’d suddenly lost his interest in eating. Sometimes he hated his life.

  A dark window near the front of the hover-limo reduced the image of the chauffeur to a barely-visible dark shadow. With nothing better to do, Richard resigned himself to looking out the passenger window. He guessed they were flying about five hundred meters above the ground at a rapid pace. The hover-limo had long since left the city center. They were now in a much less populated area.

  Actually, we’re at five hundred and twenty-two meters AGL, and our speed is four hundred KPH, said Nickelo. We’re a hundred and twenty kilometers south of the city. According to my databanks, this area is reserved for the estates of various high-level politicians.

  The time was approaching early evening, but even so, Richard could make out the shapes of several large estate houses below him. As the sky turned to dusk, lights began popping on in many of the mansions and outbuildings all along the horizon. Richard toyed with the idea of putting on his battle helmet in order to see better, but he nixed the idea. He doubted it was considered good manners to show up at someone’s door wearing a battle helmet and carrying weapons.

  No doubt, agreed Nickelo. But, I calculate it would probably be good manners to change your uniform. The olfactory sensors your nephew, Brachia, installed in the battle helmet indicates you reek of smoke.

  Richard was embarrassed he hadn’t thought of the shape of his uniform before now. I should’ve changed before I left the planetary administration building.

  Shoulda, woulda, coulda, said Nickelo, but you didn’t. However, you still have time to rectify your error in judgment. The chauffeur hasn’t begun his descent yet.

  Removing his dimensional pack from his back, Richard pulled out a black wizard scout uniform. It looked new, and it was neatly pressed. The silver thread sparkled in the hover-limo’s cabin light. A shiny golden-dragon insignia was pinned to the left collar. Richard used the distance from the tip of his index finger to his first knuckle joint to measure the spacing of the insignia. It was center perfectly on the collar. Satisfied, Richard began stripping his dirty uniform off and replacing it with the new one.

  Somebody knows what they’re doing, Richard commented. Everything’s measured to Academy standards. Who maintains this stuff?

  A variety of races, said Nickelo. I doubt you’ll ever get a chance to meet them. Just be thankful they take pride in their work. Some of the gear you’re forced to use on your missions for ‘the One’ is hundreds of years old.

  Yeah, tell me about it, Richard said as he strapped on his utility belt and attached his phase rod to the belt’s left side. He was just thankful his phase rod and M63 were modern weapons. For some reason, ‘the One’ tended to force him to use older, antique equipment.

  Before Richard could start complaining about the unfairness of ‘the One’, the dark window behind the chauffeur rolled down.

  “We are three minutes out, sir,” said the chauffeur. “My instructions are to wait for you as long as necessary. When you’re ready, just inform one of the servants, and I’ll come back to the front door to pick you up.”

  “Thanks,” Richard said.

  Looking out the forward window, Richard saw the lights of several small bungalows ahead. He saw nothing which looked like it might belong to a respected member of the Imperial High Council.

  “Where’s Councilwoman Deluth’s house?” Richard asked as he began to get suspicious. He wondered if he’d meekly walked into a trap of some kind.

  “The councilwoman’s home is the one on the left,” said the chauffeur.

  “That little thing?” Richard exclaimed.

  The chauffeur started to laugh before he caught himself.

  “Forgive me, sir. You caught me by surprise. Councilwoman Deluth is not what you’d call pretentious. I was just imagining how she’d react if someone tried to force her to live in one of those monstrous estates we passed along the way here.”

  Richard gave his mother kudos for living a simple life.

  What’d you expect? said Nickelo. She’s a wizard scout and a time-commando to boot.

  Yeah, well, Richard said, I guess I figured as a councilmember she’d be wealthy. I thought all politicians were rich.

  Well, you thought wrong, said Nickelo. However, you’re right in the case of Councilwoman Deluth. She’s wealthy beyond anything you can imagine; as are you.

  Me? Richard said. Have you looked at my bank account lately? That overhaul we did on the Defiant four months ago pretty much wiped my account clean.

  Ha! laughed Nickelo. You continually surprise me with your naivety. You’ve got the wealth of an entire planet at your disposal. All you have to do is summon it through your dimensional pack. You want a handful of Ackmar diamonds? Just summon them out of your pack. You want a metric ton of gold bullion? Just pull it out of your pack. But, I’d recommend making sure you have somewhere to put it first.

  Richard hadn’t ever thought of doing anything like that before. He wasn’t sure he could. And, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Sure, he’d summoned a few local coins or small gems while on missions for ‘the One’ when in the magical dimension to pay the bills, but he always tried not to go overboard.

  Well, what are you waiting for? asked Nickelo with a strange tone to his voice. Summon some diamonds. Make them a gift to the councilwoman if you want.

  No, Richard said. I didn’t earn that stuff. There’s a difference between summoning something on a mission and just summoning it because I’m greedy.

  Yes, there is, said Nickelo. The strange tone was gone from his voice. I just wanted to make sure you knew it. I’ve no doubt the councilwoman does.

  By the councilwoman, you mean my mother, Richard said as a statement and not a question.

  Yes, said Nickelo, your mother.

  At that moment, the hover-limo touched down so lightly Richard barely noticed they were on the ground.

  “Once you get out, sir,” said the chauffeur, “I’ll be moving to another location in case someone else arrives. But I’ll be nearby when you need me.”

  “Thanks for the ride,” Richard said as he got out and stood in front of the bungalow.

  The councilwoman’s home was a tidy-looking place. Night was full on now, but small lights lit up the flower gardens lining both sides of the walkway leading up to the house. Richard strolled up to the door. He didn’t see a bell. Instead, an old brass knocker was attached to the wooden door. Richard pulled the knocker back three times and let it fall. The sound echoed from inside the house.

  Before long, the door opened. Richard assumed he’d be greeted by either a servant or Councilwoman Deluth. Richard assumed wrong. As the door opened, he saw a short, toad-faced man. The man was all too familiar. It was TAC Officer Gaston Myers.

  Chapter 13 – The Tree of Light

  _____________________________________

  Jeena snuggled deep into her soft, down-filled covers against the morning chill. In spite of her desire to sleep just a little bit longer she forced herself to open her eyes; albeit slowly.

  That’s what you get for staying up so late reading when you have an important meeting first thing in the morning, she thought.

  In spite of her self-chastisement, Jeena pulled the thick covers closer around her neck. It felt good to relax even if it was just a temporary relief from the grueling day Priestess Aldriss had scheduled for her.

  The morning was early enough to be still dark. But even so, Jeena saw everything clearly with her night vision. She
surveyed her surroundings. While her night vision didn’t see colors, the various shades of gray allowed her to detect even small details. Jeena took a moment to admire the intricate carvings in the wooden posters of her bed. The High Lord Carndador, her great grandfather fifty times over, had hand carved the bed himself. The bed had been in the family ever since. Over the generations, the bed had been carefully preserved by magic against rot and decay.

  The furnishings of her bedroom were sparse. But they were all beautifully designed and ancient beyond belief. Much of the furniture in her home had been in the Thoraxen clan since the time of her ancestors, High Priestess Shandristiathoraxen and her bondmate High Lord Carndador.

  A flash of pride in her family’s heritage passed over Jeena before she pushed it away and buried it deep inside her where such silly things belonged. Pride was too easy a trap to fall into. She’d been blessed by the Creator to be born into the Thoraxen clan. Jeena knew she’d done nothing to deserve the privilege herself. Her mother had often reminded her of the fact during her youth.

  “My name may be Jeehanathoraxen,” Jeena whispered into the night air, “but I’ve done nothing yet to add honor to the Thoraxen name. So get out of bed you lazy elf and get the day started or half the population of Silverton will be up before you. Oversleeping won’t impress the high priest.”

  Thus self-chided, Jeena eased the covers off her warm body and sat on the edge of the bed. She was careful not to knock over the scrolls and books piled all over her bed. She’d been so engrossed in the history of the elves last night she’d once again fallen asleep reading.

  Jeena had enjoyed reading ever since she could remember. Even for an elf still in her adolescence, that was a long time. Jeena’s thoughts drifted back to all the pleasant hours she’d spent in the library over the years. The library and its books had been her refuge during the dark times.

  “Best get moving, Acolyte Jeehanathoraxen,” Jeena said in a louder voice.

  The air was cold enough a puff of fog came out as she spoke.

  Jeena had always had a habit of talking to herself when no one else was around. Her adoptive mother, Lord Reale, said it was one of her quirks. Reale said everybody had quirks. According to her, some elves just kept them hidden better than others.

  Jeena found her slippers with her feet and put them on. The luxamar fur of the slippers quickly warmed her feet.

  They should, Jeena thought. I spent enough hours combing luxamars to get enough fur for the slippers.

  Jeena liked luxamars. They were small rodents about the size of a rabbit. When they shed, the luxamars used their soft fur to make dens for their young. Humans were known to kill luxamars for their hides. Elves on the other hand tended to wild luxamars who were not yet expecting by combing their fur during the summer months to help them stay cool. Jeena thought it was a win/win situation. The elves helped the luxamars stay cool in the summer, and the luxamars helped the elves stay warm in the winter by providing the fur to line the elves’ clothing. It was a natural balance.

  Jeena smiled. She liked balance. The relationship between the elves and the luxamars seemed balanced to her. The elves had many such relationships with the animals and plants of the forest.

  Before rising, Jeena glanced at the last scroll she’d been reading when she’d fallen asleep. It had disturbed her enough to cause nightmares. The story was a diary excerpt written by High Priestess Remozorz before she’d retired from her post with the elves. Even though she’d been a gnome, the High Priestess Remozorz had been one of the most devoted servants of the Lady of the Tree. Jeena didn’t mind telling people Remozorz was her heroine. When she was a child, Jeena had often imagined she’d been with High Priestess Remozorz on the Highlamar Plains fighting the necromancer and his Northern Mages. Jeena normally enjoyed reading the writings of Remozorz. However, the diary entries she’d been reading last night were much darker and foreboding than normal for the usually cheerful gnome.

  * * *

  High Priestess Log - The Year of the Tree 11115, the 23 third day of Spring.

  I am growing increasingly worried about Commander Kreathin. He has never been the same since the loss of his bondmate, Lillia. He is a good elf, and no one, least of all I, can find fault with the way he conducts his duties. Still, I sense a growing darkness within him. He blames the humans for the death of his bondmate. His hatred for them continues to grow and fester. He even blames my friend, Rick, for her death. I’m glad for Rick’s sake they will never meet again. I have discussed Kreathin with the Lady. She’s says for good or ill, it’s something he must work through on his own. I will continue to pray for him.

  High Priestess Log - The Year of the Tree 11116, the 4th day of Summer.

  Another elf has been killed in the forest. We found the bloodspot this time, but no trace of her body could be discovered. This is the third elf lost in the forest this year. Neither the Council of Light nor I believe it is an animal attack, although that is our official story. I fear it is something much darker. The trace of evil at the bloodspot was too powerful to ignore. I dread to say it, but it had the same evil taint I sensed when I fought the necromancer on the Highlamar Plains. Is there another necromancer within our midst? I do not know. I pray not. But, I recognized the same foul demon-stench that corrupted the aura of the necromancer. I will pray to the Lady for guidance. What else can I do?

  High Priestess Log - The Year of the Tree 11117, the 39th day of Fall.

  I continue to worry about my friend, Commander Kreathin. I have not written of him in a while, but he has not improved. If anything, he grows more distant with each passing day. I begged him last week to let me help. He just laughed and said he needed no help. I think differently. Others are beginning to talk as well. If he does not speak to me of his problem soon, I will take the matter to the Council of Light. Only they have the authority to force Kreathin to accept help. I do not wish to embarrass him, but I cannot continue to ignore the evidence. I fear it will come to no good if I do not intervene.

  High Priestess Log - The Year of the Tree 11117, the first day of Winter.

  I have only myself to blame. I waited too long. I should have forced Kreathin to accept my help, but I did not. Now he is gone, and it is too late. We followed Kreathin’s trail to a hidden chamber in the forest. What we found was too despicable to even think upon much less write. I would never have believed the horrible evil of the place could have been instigated by an elf. How could an elf have been converted to become a necromancer? Other elves have lost their bondmates and not fallen into such depths of depravity. Kreathin is gone now, vanished into thin air. I have lost my friend. Even if he is found, I have still lost him. It is more than I can bear. I will resign my position as high priestess. Would that I had died in battle on the Highlamar Plains rather than live with the memory of what my friend, Kreathin, has become. This is my last entry in the log. I only hope the Lady chooses someone better qualified than I to be my replacement. I will spend the remainder of my days praying Kreathin does no more harm. He has done so many foul things already.

  * * *

  Jeena rolled the scroll shut. It was a sad tale. She lived in the Year of the Tree 99844. The events of the diary had happened over eighty-eight thousand years ago. Still, the thought an elf could be turned to such evil did not set well with her. Jeena shoved her thoughts aside. She didn’t wish to dwell on such dark matters today. She resolutely stood up to find what the morning would hold. Jeena made her way to her home’s water room. She carefully weaved between the stacks of books and scrolls which seemed to cover every flat surface in her snug bungalow.

  Once inside the water room, Jeena said a word of magic and released a small amount of Power from her reserve. A piece of quartz in the ceiling flashed with a momentary brightness before settling down to a pleasant glow. Jeena touched the reflecting stone above the washbasin and said another word of magic. The dark stone shimmered and changed color until it formed an image of the room and her.

  Jeena allowed herse
lf a moment to look at her own reflection. As always, her eyes intrigued her. They went well with her long silver hair. Only a few of the Thoraxen clan over the years had inherited the eyes of their forebear, the High Priestess Shandristiathoraxen. Jeena and her brother, Ceril, bore their great grandmother’s features. As a child, Jeena had always enjoyed looking in the reflecting stone at her eyes. Their eternally-churning, molten silver seemed to hold all the answers if she could only find the right questions.

  Looking away from the reflecting stone, Jeena splashed warm water from the basin onto her face. She scrubbed hard to wash the night from her eyes. When she was satisfied, Jeena began combing her long, silver hair. She was careful to comb her hair in such a way to highlight the points of her ears. She was proud of her elven heritage. Jeena was sure her mother wouldn’t begrudge her this little flaw in character. She smiled at the thought of her mother. She missed her.

  Once satisfied with her combing, Jeena pinned her hair in place with two broaches; one of gold and one of silver. The broaches clipped together to form two dragons intertwined in such a way it was near impossible to tell where one started and the other ended. The gold and silver dragons meshed so perfectly they seemed to form a single creature.

  Glancing at the reflecting stone only long enough to survey the results, Jeena forced her eyes away. As a child, her mother had caught her looking into a reflecting stone admiring her own beauty. Her mother had drilled into her long ago that doing so was being vain. Her mother had said, “What the Creator has given as a blessing, he can easily take away.”

  Jeena had taken her mother’s words to heart. She’d been told so often by so many elves she was beautiful that she had come to accept it as fact. But, Jeena always reminded herself that her beauty was none of her own doing. It was a blessing from the Creator, and she’d done nothing to deserve the blessing.