“I didn’t say anything. I just thought about the need to get to my room and now I am here. I guess I don’t need to speak the words anymore,” Michael voiced his thoughts to the empty room.
He shrugged his shoulders and removed his sash. He folded it neatly and laid it at the foot of his bed. He removed the purple robe, folded it as well, placing it next to the sash. Shivering, he went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and removed the clothes Joshua had helped him pick out before he came to this world. Thinking of that time made him think also of Karin.
He felt guilty because he had not thought of her in a while. Michael was surprised that thinking of her did not bring the expected tears this time. The pain of her loss was still there just not as poignant. He pushed thoughts of her aside and began dressing in black pants and the dark green shirt. After putting on a thick pair of socks, he pulled on the black leather boots.
Diving into the trunk again, Michael pulled out his sword belt and the sword and dagger Micah had given him. He ran his right hand over the sheathed sword. It was a gift from his Lord, a gift that somehow meant more to him now than he could have foreseen. He pulled out the short sword Branik had given him to practice with and attached it to the belt as well, then he buckled the belt around his waist. He had to draw it tighter than he remembered. All the training Branik and Reek had put him through had leaned and toned his frame. He adjusted the swords at his sides and slipped the dagger around to the small of his back.
Going over to the wardrobe, Michael removed one of the shorter, heavier apprentice robes and held it up before his eyes. He was unsure of how cold it would be in The Slot this time of year, but it was cold enough here that he missed having his heavy winter coat. He contemplated the robe for a few seconds and decided to try an experiment. He thought of the robe as a medium length cloak.
“Verto,” Michael spoke out loud and had the satisfaction of seeing the material shift, reforming into the cloak he saw in his mind.
With a huge smile on his face he spun the cloak around his shoulders and tied it at the neck. He ran his fingers through his hair and decided he would try to teleport down to the elven camp the same way he got to his room. He thought of the camp and wanting to be there. After a few seconds, nothing had happened; he was still standing in his room. Realizing he did not have time to waste on figuring it out, he spoke the words of transport.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mortow had called a halt just after sunset. His army had made incredibly good time. The Weres never seemed to tire and the ogres and trolls, because of their size, covered a great distance in minimal time. His feet had just hit the ground from dismounting his horse when Mieka appeared before him. Her face, though difficult to see in the fading light, did not look pleased.
“What is it?” Mortow demanded.
“I went to deliver Rydon as you commanded, but he and the other elders were dead. I then went to check on your guest, and he was gone. I could not find Mael anywhere. I even tried scrying for him with no luck,” Mieka explained.
Mortow’s fists clenched in anger and Mieka could hear the popping of the tendons in his massive hands. “Stay here,” Mortow commanded in a low rumbling voice. Speaking the words of transport, Mortow disappeared.
Mieka looked around and saw that the army was just starting to setup camp. A troll only seven foot in height and a little scrawny, approached, took the reins of Mortow’s horse and led it off. Another one began setting up a tent very close by. These two would be of a lower rank due to their size. The trolls looked upon size and strength as symbols of status. That was probably the main reason the lesser organized ogres had been able to hold their own against them. Size and strength did not equate to intelligence and therein lay the troll’s greatest weakness. A weakness now erased by the fact that Mortow lead them.
Mortow did not divulge all of his plans, but Mieka was sure that the death of the elders was not a part of it. She saw Maklin standing over by Mortow’s tent, so she walked over to him.
“How are things going on the march?” Mieka asked casually.
Maklin cut his eyes in her direction, but immediately looked back upon the army making camp. “They go as planned,” Maklin replied curtly.
“Apparently everything is not going as planned,” Mieka shot back.
“I suppose we have you to thank for that?”
Mieka was used to Maklin’s arrogant nature, but the accusation took her completely by surprise.
“Whatever do you mean? I did not kill the elders. And, if I were you, I would mind what came out of my mouth. We wouldn’t want Mortow to be short another wizard just before the war,” Mieka threatened then turned and walked into Mortow’s tent.
Mortow returned immediately to Joshua’s room only to find it empty. He stormed to the door and nearly tore it from its hinges as he threw it open. Scanning the empty hall he saw the ash on the floor and knew what had happened. Mortow teleported himself down to the magic proofed room and saw that all of the elven elders were, indeed, dead. They had no visible marks. Each had simply fallen or slumped over where they had been. Looking around, Mortow saw a water bucket and a ladle; he snatched up the ladle and sniffed it cautiously. There was no odor or odd coloration.
“Fateor,” Mortow barked out and saw a faint outline of a cailus root appear above the water.
“Cailus. That was how it was done. The druids would not have been able to detect it, and I only know two people adept enough to mix it properly. Mael! That sniveling little worm has betrayed me! What can he hope to gain from siding with Kantwell? Mael is drawn to power and…He thinks to side with Michael; to learn from someone he feels is more powerful than me. First and last mistake worm,” Mortow thought out loud.
Mortow spoke the words of transport and reappeared at his starting point at the army camp. He strode to his tent and entered, ignoring Maklin and the trolls standing nearby. Inside, he found Mieka sitting in a chair at the table in the center of the tent.
“Well, what did you find out?” Mieka inquired.
“The elders were poisoned with cailus root, and the troll guards outside Joshua’s room were incinerated,” Mortow recounted calmly.
Mieka nodded her head knowingly. “That was what I concluded as well. So, Mael has turned traitor. Not entirely surprising, but I just cannot see him siding with Uncle Merric,” Mieka commented.
“If you knew these things, why did you not tell me?” Mortow demanded angrily.
“You did not give me time. Besides, you would not have been satisfied until you verified the facts yourself,” Mieka answered.
Mortow scowled at Mieka.
“Does this somehow change things? You never leave circumstances to chance. You must have planned for this,” Mieka inquired.
“Of course I have planned for this, but it will later make things harder. The surviving elves will now be under the leadership of Ataum, and he has sided with my dear father. Not that they will be that much of a threat with their numbers culled as they have been. The more bothersome issue is with the Avari Lord. Without the leverage of his nephew, there is nothing to stop him from leveling the full force of the Avari against us. That could prove to be quite costly,” Mortow explained.
“Anything I can do?”
Mortow’s scowl turned into a menacing grin. “I have sent two of the Garoliths to find the Avari Lord. Find them and see if you can aid in their search, but be back by tomorrow at this time,” Mortow instructed.
“Alright. When we find the Avari Lord, what is it you wish done with him? I assume, since you sent the Garoliths, he is to be killed?”
“You are not to engage him. Let the Garoliths handle the matter. If he proves capable of handling two of those beasts, then I don’t want to run the risk of losing you as well. If he cannot handle them, then there is nothing further to worry about.”
“As you wish,” Mieka bowed then spoke the words of transport and vanished from the tent.
Mortow called out to the sentry outside his tent. A trol
l barely taller than himself entered, carrying a tray with a cup and several pieces of fruit on it. Mortow motioned for the troll to place the tray on the table. “Hagan, go and summon my Captains,” Mortow ordered quietly.
“As you command, Magika,” Hagan replied, bowing as he backed out of the tent.
Mortow felt sorry for Hagan and his brother Fanis. As trolls went, they were extremely small and gangly therefore, they were viewed with disdain by their brethren. Both were barely taller than Mortow himself and not nearly as muscled. All his life, Mortow had not fit in with his peers because of his larger size. He was either viewed with fear or ignored. He could sympathize with the brothers. That was the reason he had given them the job of caring for his tent. Both had shown a higher than average intelligence for trolls and neither would have been accorded any place of station within the troll ranks, so he had recruited them as personal valets. Fanis had proven himself the quicker of the two, both mentally and physically. Therefore, Mortow used him for other jobs as well.
“Fanis, would you come here please?” Mortow called out.
Fanis pulled back the tent flap and entered. He was just over seven feet tall and had long coarse black hair that was tied back with a red cord. Fanis’s skin was a mottled green and black and he wore a coat of black chainmail that covered his upper body, extended down his arms to the elbows and fell to mid-thigh. He had black iron bracers covering his forearms and matching greaves covering his shins. At his red belt, Fanis wore two long, curved, heavy daggers. His black eyes shown with a hunger that Mortow fully understood. Other than the eyes, he was an identical match to his brother. The red cords and belts they wore were symbols of their station with Mortow. He had given both these symbols so everyone would know they were his personal guards.
“Yes, Magika? What do you require?” Fanis asked.
“I have a special assignment for you,” Mortow told him stepping forward to hand Fanis something.
Fanis held out his hand, and Mortow placed a small stone in his outstretched palm. Fanis looked at the stone, the size of a hen’s egg, then looked questioningly at Mortow.
“The stone is magic. It will help you achieve the goal I have for you. When the battle begins, I want you to skirt around the fighting and get in close to the entrance to The Slot. Look for the wizard Mael. Get close to him, but not too close, and throw the stone at him. It should take down his defensive shield. When it does, chances are he will be weakened greatly. When you see he is weakened…” Mortow drew a finger across his throat.
Fanis smiled broadly showing his cracked yellow teeth. “As you command, Magika.”
“Here, you will need this as well,” Mortow said handing Fanis a long gray cloak.
“The cloak will help hide you. Simply concentrate on blending in with your surroundings, but use it sparingly and only when you must. I cannot maintain the spell over distance for long periods of time. You will have no more than a minute or two at best,” Mortow informed Fanis.
Fanis flung the cloak around his shoulders and fastened it at his throat. He looked around and then back at Mortow, his image began to fade and shadow until he was one with the darkness in the tent.
“Very good,” Mortow commented.
“The deed is only as good as the magic behind it, Magika, and your magic is very good indeed,” Fanis said, letting his concentration slip so that he was no longer concealed.
Mortow raised an eyebrow at the comment. “I did not think you were one given to flattery, Fanis.”
“Is it flattery when it is the truth, Magika?”
Mortow chuckled, a low rumbling sound that caused the cup on the tray to vibrate. “Yes it can still be flattery, but it is not hollow when it is the truth,” Mortow replied waving a dismissive hand at Fanis.
Fanis drew the cloak around him, bowed to Mortow, and walked from the tent.
Mieka was unsure as to the whereabouts of the Garoliths Mortow had sent after the Avari Lord, so she had teleported back to her room in Gratton. Even though it was her room, she had spent very little time here. Kantwell had always been her home and she was comfortable there. The stone of Gratton was much darker than that of Kantwell and gave it a more shadowed and sinister pall. That, more than anything, was why she spent so little time within its walls.
Raising a small polished silver mirror from a nightstand, Mieka held it up before her eyes. “Ostendo.”
The mirror turned black and the darkness began to swirl and shift. As the image clarified, Mieka could see two of the creatures moving down a mountain. Their snake bodies allowing them to navigate terrain a human would find completely impassable. Since they moved in darkness, she was unsure as to their whereabouts; one mountain looked pretty much the same as any other in the dark.
Mieka watched them for a few minutes and realized they were moving very quickly, much faster than would be physically possible for her even had the terrain been easy to navigate. She drew back on her vision so as to gage just how far they had to go to get out of the mountains. She estimated, at their present pace, they would leave the mountain behind in less than an hour.
Mieka scried ahead and found a spot to her liking just at the base of the mountain before it turned to forest. Letting her concentration go, she placed the mirror back on the nightstand and spoke the words of transport that would take her there. When she materialized, Mieka looked at her surroundings. The mountain before her was high and jagged, the forest to her back was very dark and thick. The moon and stars lit the night sky spectacularly and, off in the distance, she could just see the two Garoliths moving down the mountainside.
The Garoliths, sensing a magical being ahead of them, quickened their descent. Scanning the way before them, they saw the wizard standing in their path at the forest's edge. Both raised their upper bodies and pulled the scythes from their backs as they reached the base of the mountain.
Mieka, seeing their reaction, experienced a chill running down her spine. She had not figured on them attacking her. She quickly spoke the words that would raise her defensive shield. “Hold! I am sent by Mortow,” Mieka shouted at the fast approaching figures.
The Garoliths, seeing the black sash with red stripes at the wizard’s waist, slowed and lowered their scythes. Both came to a stop before Mieka, looming over twice her height above her.
“What brings the little wizard from her master’s side?” One of the Garoliths hissed.
“You were charged by Mortow to find and destroy the Avari Lord, yes?” Mieka asked, mustering as much authority into her voice as she could.
“Yesss.”
“I have been commanded to aid you in finding him,” Mieka informed them.
Both Garoliths placed their scythes on their backs once again.
“The little wizard knows where he can be found?”
“The ‘little wizard’ has a name. I am Mieka, and yes, I know where he dwells most of the time.”
“Tell us and we will find him and kill him.”
“You know of the Oakkrin?” Mieka asked.
“Yes, we know of the ancient trees,” One of the Garoliths hissed.
“Forbidden place,” the other Garolith hissed softly to his companion.
“To the southeast of their grove is a small stone house. It is there that the Avari Lord resides when he is not abroad.”
The two Garoliths eyed one another.
“That is forbidden place,” one Garolith repeated softly.
“No, only the grove is forbidden and much time has passed. Perhaps it has changed,” the other Garolith answered.
Mieka was not sure what it had meant when it said ‘forbidden place’. She had been to the grove a couple of times with Uncle Merric when she was young; and once to the Avari Lord’s house though she never got to go in as he was away when she visited. Secretly, she was glad the grove seemed to be a place the Garoliths would avoid. Such a peaceful place should not be desecrated by their presence.
“I can teleport us there if need be,” Mieka told the creatures.
“Little wizard cannot teleport us. Your magic does not work on us.”
That answered one of the questions that had been rolling around in Mieka’s mind. It wasn’t just offensive magic that was useless against them, but all magic. Well, all magic that was available to her anyway.
“As I have no intentions of walking all the way to the Grove of the Oakkrin, and I have done as I was commanded, I will leave you to fulfill your part,” Mieka informed them. Without waiting for a response, Mieka quickly spoke the words of transport.
Mieka stood in the center of an ancient grove of trees. Even seeing it in the moonlight, she could tell that nothing had changed in the nearly thirty years since her last visit. As she scanned the grove, Mieka detected movement in the surrounding forest. With great stealth, ten huge wolves entered the grove, surrounding her. Each one had its head down and ears flattened back. Even with their heads down as they were, Mieka had to look up to meet their eyes. All of the wolves kept their distance, but were no less threatening for it.
A wind stirred the leaves overhead and one of the wolves cautiously approached her. When it got within five feet of her, it stopped and began sniffing the air. After a couple of sniffs its lips raised, displaying teeth the size of daggers and it began to growl ominously. Intimidated as she felt by the wolf, Mieka let no sign of her fear show.
“I am sorry I intruded upon your domain. I will leave now,” Mieka said addressing the forest in general.
The wind stirred the leaves again, but this time Mieka heard a voice in the breeze.
“Why have you come, child of deceit?” The Oakkrin asked.
“Why would you call me such a name?” Mieka asked taken aback.
“We know you, Wizard Mieka, but when last we saw you, you were clinging to Wizard Merric’s leg. Now you come to us as an ally to an enemy. The Grove Wolves can sense your Master on you.”
Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) Page 30