"QUICKLY! We have roused some spirit of the Obelisk!" Gwineval hissed at incredible volume.
Safreon and Hemlock both rose and followed Gwineval as he ran for the edge of the summit in the direction of the Tanna Varran town.
Chapter Eleven
As the trio of runners began a hasty descent down the rough terrain of the hillside (with Merit being carried by Gwineval), they heard the Creature’s wings beating behind them as its dark form took flight. Hemlock, Safreon and Gwineval looked over their shoulders as they scrambled down, making for the canopy of trees which lay several yards ahead, and which promised to provide some cover against an aerial attack by the Creature.
The Beast cried out as it perceived them, and with a few beats of its wings, crashed to the ground before the line of trees toward which the group had been running.
Gwineval dropped Merit and began to trace patterns in the air with his hands. Hemlock rushed toward the right side of the Creature with Safreon flanking her.
The Creature lumbered forward, brandishing dark claws and braying with a furious bird–like cry.
Suddenly the dark form of the monster was enclosed in a shimmering field of blue energy. Hemlock and Safreon halted their charge.
"Make for the tree line!" yelled Gwineval as he picked up Merit and resumed his dash, running toward the left side of the Creature and going around it.
As they passed, the Creature flailed against the blue energy field and the field crackled under the strain. Hemlock noted that parts of the Creature’s dark limbs seemed to disintegrate into small wisps as the limbs struck the barrier. These dark, insubstantial particles fluttered about before fading away. Looking back as she ran, Hemlock could see that the energy field had dimmed noticeably as the quartet reached the shelter of the trees and continued to run away.
"Can we fight it?" Hemlock asked between breaths as she vaulted a fallen tree.
"I don't know," replied Safreon.
"I think we'd be hard pressed," hissed Gwineval. "It appears to be almost purely magical – and it’s an unfamiliar magic."
Hemlock had a moment to reflect on her sensory impressions of the Creature as they ran. It seemed to her that Gwineval was correct. She had sensed a strong aura of magic emanating from it. The closest thing that she could compare it to was either the feeling that she had experienced on the dark stair leading to the atrium of the Wizard Tower, or perhaps the feeling of the magical Gate of Despair, but this was a wilder, more chaotic magic.
Her first instinct when faced with this Creature had been flight, and that was a very rare impulse for her.
After they had taken no more than a few score of strides into the woods, there came a great popping explosion from behind them and an enraged baying from the Creature.
"It’s free already! It must have great power!" noted Safreon. Gwineval hissed in assent.
They soon heard the great wings beating overhead.
"We should keep several yards between us as we run," yelled Safreon. They fanned out.
With a great tumult of falling branches, the Beast smashed through the tree canopy and crashed to the rocky floor of the forest nearest to Safreon, who was running between Hemlock and Gwineval. It didn't land directly in front of him, so Safreon darted to his right through the trees to avoid the Creature. Its bulk gave it trouble navigating through the intervening stumps, tree trunks and brush.
As the Creature lagged behind the four runners, it gave another cry and again took flight; ascending above the forest canopy.
The trio of runners and the frightened mechanical gnome frantically descended through the hillside forest toward the Tanna Varran town. The Creature continued to stalk them overhead, crashing through the trees when it spotted one of them. It had attacked more than ten times within just as many minutes and showed no signs of tiring. The trio were not faring as well however, as they were falling frequently during the headlong run and each of them had to spend a great deal of energy to evade the creature.
"We can’t keep this up forever," yelled Safreon twice, for he now had to yell to both sides so that both Gwineval and Hemlock could hear over the intervening distance between them.
"There was a cave – a few minutes ahead," yelled Gwineval in an odd hoarse hiss which was clearly audible to Hemlock, some fifty yards distant. "Shall we make for that?"
"We make for the cave ahead," agreed Safreon, repeating the same to Hemlock on his other side.
It didn't take them long to spot the cave. It had a large entrance and was visible from the slope above as a wide outcropping in the rock. It had a small tributary of water emerging from it, running down the hillside. Hemlock now remembered the cave’s wide but low entrance when they had encountered it during the climb. Fortunately, Gwineval had taken a moment to step inside during the earlier ascent, and had commented that he was able to tell by the scent of the air that it led to a deep network of caves.
Hemlock was the first to reach the mouth of the cave.
Just as she did so, the Creature, seeing the group through a break in the trees, descended with a cruel shriek, landing on the rocks atop the very entrance which the group now sought.
As Gwineval (who still carried Merit) and Safreon rounded the cave entrance behind Hemlock, the Creature shuddered and drew back for a moment.
All four of the group scattered as the Creature breathed a foul cloud of billowing darkness, which corrupted the spot where Hemlock had been standing with dark energy. The creature shrieked and roared again as the dark cloud dissipated.
Hemlock leapt to her right desperately, avoiding most of the blast. She breathed in some of the dark mist though, and her senses dimmed. The world seemed darker to her; her vision and hearing seemed distant and disconnected. Her nose, mouth and lungs burned.
The force of an explosion rocked her onto her back. The shock helped her regain some alertness.
She saw Safreon to her left, wheeling back to throw a glass vial of an explosive tincture.
Gwineval had apparently dropped Merit and was now flinging a scintillating ray from his hands, scorching the shadowy creature and causing it to cry out in pain.
"Miss Megan, can you get up?" Merit asked, appearing unexpectedly behind her.
"Merit, get back," replied Hemlock as she struggled to her feet. The diminutive automaton helped her up as much as it could.
"Don’t call me Megan, either. My real name is Hemlock," she continued through gritted teeth, as she vented some of her frustration at her seeming inability to combat this creature.
The Creature breathed again at Safreon and Gwineval, but they were lucky enough to escape the blast area.
Taking this as an opening, Hemlock bounded up the rocky outcropping unsteadily and lunged at the creature, her twin sabres slashing into its left flank. She watched as the sabres passed through the insubstantial creature without any apparent effect.
She jumped away then, catlike, as the creature swatted at her with its dark tail.
"Hemlock, enter the cave!" cried Gwineval.
"You can’t harm it!" added Safreon.
Both of her comrades had regained their footing.
Hemlock noted that Merit was still standing where she had left him. She dashed toward him and picked him up as a roar sounded behind her. She heard a crash that made the ground shudder as the Creature struck at her a moment after she moved away.
She felt the familiar crackle of magical energy as she ran hard with Merit in her arms. She saw that Gwineval cast another barrier spell.
Safreon and Gwineval were motioning to her and running toward the mouth of the cave. Above, the shadowy beast was again imprisoned in a blue magical field, but the field already appeared to be weakening.
They all had enough time, however, to sprint into the cave. They didn’t stop running for several minutes, led by a light which Safreon conjured from another potion vial that he carried.
Behind them, they heard the magical barrier shatter and then they heard the sounds of the renewed rage of
the creature. It roared into the cave mouth and they heard it shower the entrance with its deadly breath weapon.
But the group had gone far enough into the cave to be unaffected. Feeling secure for the first time since encountering the creature, they halted in a small cavern.
…
Safreon had waited in the evening shadows until he had observed the wealthy Merchant entering his home. Safreon had been crouched in a deep, shadowy doorway in the elite district of the City. White washed walls adorned with hanging floral baskets had surrounded him.
Safreon, being a resident of the Warrens, was not permitted to enter the Elite district. He pondered this as he noted a pair of patrolmen making their way down the lane in which he crouched. The patrolmen wore chain armor, over which fine white robes were draped. They also wore polished iron helms which were topped with long white feathers. Safreon knew that their sight was enchanted to see emanations in a certain magical dimension. The robes of elite citizens had also been enchanted so that they emanated a visible aura to the patrolmen. Any intruders would be easily detected by the absence of this aura.
He had enchanted himself by using the Wand of the Imperator to bind a concealment magic to himself. This would prevent his visual detection, provided that he could remain relatively hidden from sight.
Safreon knew that if his mission in the Elite district was successful, that he would soon wear one of those enchanted robes himself.
He had embarked on his mission because he decided that he needed to attend a meeting of the City Senate, which was scheduled to meet a few hours past sunrise on the following morning. The Wizard Guild was scheduled to address the Senate in order to present a status report. Safreon felt that he needed to observe how the Senate and the Wizard Guild were interacting. He planned to be there to witness it firsthand.
As the patrolmen moved down the lane and past his position, Safreon was relieved. He felt fairly certain that his enchanted concealment had been effective, but if those patrolmen had been bound for the door where he was currently crouched, he judged that he certainly would have been detected.
His thoughts then turned back to the Merchant that he was targeting. Safreon knew that this man lived alone. As a prominent business owner, the Merchant was entitled to attend Senate meetings as an observer, but Safreon had asked around and had learned that the Merchant had never shown an inclination to attend. It had seemed to Safreon that this man was a perfect target for his plan, which was to take one of the man's robes and also to magically bind the illusion of the man's appearance to his own form.
Safreon had decided to wait until the late evening when he hoped that the Merchant would be asleep. Safreon had watched the man’s habits for several nights, and knew that, given the hour, the Merchant had likely retired to bed.
He darted from his position in the doorway to another doorway farther up the road, in the direction that the watchmen had traveled. He then skirted a corner to his right and grasped onto a drainage pipe. The pipe ran all the way up to the roof of the three story stone building that contained the apartment of his target.
He scaled the pipe with some effort and emerged onto the roof of the building. The view of the Elite district at night never failed to impress him. The neat, whitewashed buildings stretched in every direction, dotted at regular intervals with radiant lanterns. Different neighborhoods had different floral themes, so each block was accented with a splash of unique color. Though the buildings shared a white washed appearance, their styles did vary. Some were fronted by stately columns which rose several stories to angular roofs. Others featured a series of elegant dormers extending up multiple stories. Everything was white, clean and orderly. This was quite a contrast to his home, and seemed completely incongruous with the wretched conditions in the Warren’s worst districts.
Safreon, in recent years, had become increasingly conscious of the political landscape in the City. Within the past year, he had detected a growing rift between the Elites and the Wizard Guild. The disagreement seemed to be centered around the use of magical spells by people who were not members of the Wizard Guild. The Wizard Guild had recently reclassified a number of types of magic from the unregulated class of "lesser magic," to the regulated class of "greater magic." This had met with some grumbling from the Elites, some of whom were accomplished magic users, but did not want the reclusive life of a guild wizard.
He was primarily concerned with the welfare of the Warrens. Few in the Warrens practiced the spells that were reclassified as greater magic by the Guild, with the exception of himself. The newly restricted spell types included divination and illusion. The Elites were now required to purchase potions from the Wizard Guild in order to achieve these widely used spell effects. Safreon was concerned that that could increase the price for the lesser potions, which were in widespread use in the Warrens.
Safreon, who had moved into position on the roof near the Merchant’s apartment, saw lights flicker and dim through a glass skylight that he knew was above the bedroom of his target. He had been on this roof for several nights over the past few weeks watching the patterns of the merchant and his neighbors. He knew that the Merchant would next take to his bed, which was very close to the skylight. Safreon was sure that the skylight was magically warded, so he had brought along some potions that he had distilled with a purpose of dispelling the magical wards.
He had taken great pains to conceal his magical activities from the Wizard Guild. The wizards had frequently swept neighborhoods in an attempt to detect unauthorized magic use. Safreon had grown skilled at using the powerful artifact which he possessed, the Wand of the Imperator, to conceal his magical and alchemical activities. So far it had been successful. The same dweomer which he was currently using to conceal his physical presence also had the property of dampening the emission of magical energies. Despite these protections, he was still worried that some Wizard Guild agents might happen to be scanning in the Merchant's neighborhood that night. He was on edge because of that constant danger.
He drew a piece of charcoal from his pocket and began to sketch out a pattern of glyphs around the Merchant’s skylight. Once he had done this, and after a check of his surroundings, he drew out a potion from his cloak, uncorked it, and skillfully poured a black liquid along the lines of a graceful curve which he had drawn at intervals around the window. There was a fetid odor in the air from the liquid, and the glyph pattern that he had drawn slowly began to glow and pulsate.
Safreon was able to perceive the flow of magical energy from the skylight into the glyph that he had drawn, because the brightness of the glyph increased. After a minute or two, the glyph seemed to be glowing steadily and had not increased in brilliance any further. Satisfied that the magical wards were neutralized, Safreon moved toward the skylight and threw a handful of sand from the rooftop over the glyph. As the sand fell, the energy from the glyph dissipated with a soft crackling sound.
This was the riskiest part of the operation for Safreon. If the Merchant or a neighbor heard those crackling noises, he would be compromised. As it was, however, the Merchant did not seem to stir, and Safreon was able to cast a minor spell to unlatch the window from the inside, as he watched the Merchant, seemingly sound in sleep, below.
Once this was complete, Safreon gently opened the skylight and cast a minor sleep spell on the Merchant. Safreon knew that this spell would keep the Merchant asleep all evening and well into the next morning, so he didn't have to worry about the risk of being in the same place with the unsuspecting man, should he, if left awake, uncharacteristically decide to attend the impending Senate meeting.
Safreon tied a rope to a nearby chimney and lowered himself into the Merchant’s apartment. It was finely furnished with a dramatic interior that opened up onto a three story foyer.
He looked at the sleeping Merchant.
Something stirred inside him in that moment; something that had lain dormant for many months. His posture changed gradually: his back straightened and his jaw thrust upward. S
afreon had a vision of himself assuming this man's identity permanently. Certainly, there would be social and magical challenges to be faced while posing as the Merchant, but Safreon knew that he was cunning enough to pull off the deception. Safreon reflected on his years of self-sacrifice and service to the City. Had it been enough? Could he set aside the vow of service that he had made many years ago, a vow made in repentance for what he had considered to be a mortal sin?
Safreon recoiled from these surprising feelings. It wasn't that he was surprised at having the feelings, it was just that they always seemed to wash over him without any forewarning.
He thought about what he had done prior to making his vow, and the self-loathing that he felt in reaction to his memories quickly overpowered his selfish feelings. His shoulders slumped and drooped forward subtly. Safreon knew that he had passed the test. He knew that he would remain Safreon: rogue, outlaw wizard, and crusader for the Warrens.
Safreon located the Merchant's linen closet. The Merchant was a rich man and there were at least forty fine robes in the closet. Safreon took one, folded it, and placed it under his cloak. He then went to the bedside and rolled the sleeping Merchant onto his back.
Studying the man's features, Safreon took a small vial from his pocket and drank it as he placed one hand on the man's face. Safreon experienced a wracking pain and then he gasped and almost dropped to his knees; he was restrained from falling to the floor in agony only by his knowledge of the spell's need for him to maintain contact with the Merchant's face.
Soon the pain subsided and Safreon walked to a dressing table to behold his image in the mirror. It was quite different than it had been moments before.
Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) Page 15