Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1)

by B Throwsnaill

  "Would it give us enough power to oppose the Wizard Guild?" asked Tored.

  "I think so," responded Gwineval. "Falignus, leader of the wizards, is aware that we have a powerful item or ally –and he may even know that it is a Wand of the Imperator. Still, Safreon has spent years researching the Wand and learning to use it. Falignus may not anticipate the extent to which we will be able to harness its power. I think we will have some element of surprise when and if we meet them in battle."

  Tored nodded in approval and Taros Ranvok followed suit.

  Tored broke the ensuing silence. "What do you know of the battle disposition of the wizards?"

  All eyes were on Gwineval. "The Wizard Guild has seven platoons of First Circle combat wizards. A minimum of two would typically remain at the Wizard Tower as a garrison. Circles two through six each can field a platoon in times of dire trouble. I do not expect Falignus to call these units up, as it would impact magical research, but it is possible.

  I was aware of five operational Oberon harvesters, one of which you just destroyed. That should leave four available for the battle, if Falignus commits them all. The City Senate also fields a battle force, some of whom are likely to accompany the wizards, as they are allies. There are four companies of Senate Knights, two of which are mounted, three companies of light infantry and two companies of archers. I am uncertain how much of the Senate force might be deployed."

  Hemlock watched Tored’s jaw stiffen as he seemed locked in thought. "We have sent runners to the nearby Towns. Fortunately, they seem to be ready to answer a call to battle, if that call should come. We should be able to field eight companies of our Flying Lancers. We will have another eight companies of foot soldiers," said Tored.

  "So that is sixteen companies on our side versus the Wizard Guild and maybe half of the Senate force? That should give us an advantage of several companies if the wizards do attack," observed Taros Ranvok, turning to face Tored.

  Tored looked at Safreon. "That assumes that you Outlanders, armed with this Wand, can counterbalance the full force of the wizards?"

  Safreon looked at Hemlock and then at Gwineval, before he responded. "I believe that it will be so. Gwineval and I have been planning. We have some ideas about how to maximize our magical power. It would not be an easy battle, by any means. But I believe that we will have a fighting chance."

  "Perhaps that is the best we can hope for," said Tored. "Let us consider the Witch," he continued. "She is thought to have a force of some five thousand demons. Two thousand are semi–insubstantial foot soldiers, slow moving and dim witted. Another two thousand are thought to be more like bestial men. There are several hundred large, brutish types, weighing several times a man and towering over us. Our Lancers are best matched against them. There are also a number of minor Witches with limited magical abilities. And she may also have some Mathi with her, which you are already familiar with. She is a formidable foe and wields a powerful force."

  "My goodness," exclaimed Gwineval, "they are so numerous!"

  "It is true," said Tored, "but they are often feckless and chaotic. They do not use tactics against us, for the Witch cannot control them well during battle. They can be routed easily. Our battle drill and technique help us to manage their numbers."

  "That is good. We will study your magic further. We may need to work with your craftsmen and loremasters in order to understand it as fully as possible. Gwineval and I will devise a strategy to maximize our magical power for use against them," said Safreon.

  Hemlock looked at Taros Ranvok and Tored. Her appraisal was that they liked what they heard. Hemlock thought that the meeting was going well, although she was apprehensive about the possibility of war. She had been in many skirmishes and fights, but they had always been limited in scope and entered into with a clear purpose.

  The notion of being on a battlefield, with hundreds suffering and dying people all around her, scared her a little bit. She had no desire to see the peaceful Tanna Varrans suffer and die in great numbers. Yet she did not see any alternative to the plans being discussed. The Wizard Guild and the Witch had to be dealt with and it seemed to her like a fortuitous chance to ally with the Tanna Varrans to do just that.

  "We will brief Pan Taros on today’s proceedings. I believe that the word of Tored and I will make the decision for him. I will come to you in your chamber and let you know," said Taros Ranvok, ending the meeting.

  Everyone rose and bowed to one another, as was Tanna Varran custom. The Outlanders then returned to their lodgings to await the decision of Pan Taros.

  …

  Hemlock watched as a graceful creature descended to the floor of the valley.

  Earlier in the evening, Taros Ranvok had come to their chamber with an answer to the question of an alliance between them and the Tanna Varrans. The answer was yes.

  As soon as Safreon had heard this, he had insisted on rendezvousing with the Griffin and obtaining the Wand, which was now a cornerstone in their plans against the wizards and the Witch.

  Hemlock watched as the Griffin descended through the clear night. It had a great golden mane which extended from the back of its head to cover its hindquarters. It also had large, powerful wings covered in rich, golden feathers.

  The Griffin soared downwards, rearing up as it neared the ground, its huge wings beating furiously, as it landed on the valley turf.

  The head of the creature was that of an impossibly large Eagle. Hemlock immediately was drawn in by its piercing eyes which were an icy blue.

  The Griffin conducted itself with an air of nobility and with a grace which amazed Hemlock. It seemed to speak to the borders of her consciousness with a suggestion of a different time in a different realm.

  "Beautiful," was all that she uttered as she regarded the creature.

  Taros Ranvok, who stood beside her, was equally impressed.

  "It is like the stuff of dreams made real and rendered in flesh and bone," he said.

  Hemlock could see now that the Griffin clutched something in its front talon–something long which was almost engulfed by that large appendage.

  Safreon approached the Griffin and addressed the assembled group, which included Gwineval, Merit and Tored in addition to Hemlock and Taros Ranvok.

  "This is Penelope. She was trapped in our realm many years ago. I met her as I explored the mountains to the east of the City. I crafted a potion to communicate with her, and she has become a trusted friend and ally," said Safreon, as he strode up to the beast and gently stroked her mane.

  Hemlock was still taken with the beauty of the beast. "May I approach her?" she asked.

  "Certainly," responded Safreon.

  Hemlock strode forward until she was within an arm’s length of the great creature. It had an earthy but not unpleasant odor and its large blue eyes regarded her intently. Hemlock bowed to the creature, sensing immediately that it was intelligent.

  Hemlock felt Gwineval not far behind her. She could almost sense the rogue Wizard’s excitement, for she knew that he was desperately interested in the Wand of the Imperator, which was clutched in its right talon.

  Hemlock noticed that Safreon seemed to be concentrating.

  The Griffin made a clicking noise with her beak, and she lifted her right talon toward the unassuming rogue.

  Safreon bowed and accepted the Wand from the Griffin.

  Hemlock saw that the Wand was around two feet long and was fashioned from a black, rock-like substance. It was evidently fantastic in nature, since red tendrils of energy could be seen to undulate through its length in a way that Hemlock had never seen. At the tip of the wand, four intricately wrought golden struts extended and secured a faceted glass ball. Within the glass ball a piece of rock was suspended, as if floating. The rock was molten and fiery and seemed to be on the border between a solid and a liquid state. The Wand had a certain gravitas about it, eclipsing even the awe that Hemlock had just felt when she beheld the Griffin.

  She heard Gwineval hiss in wonder behind
her.

  "It is true, then. It really does exist and it appears just as described in the ancient tomes," Gwineval stated reverently.

  "Quickly, let us get this Wand back to the safety of the Town," stated Safreon, moving at once at a brisk pace.

  The Griffin cried out once, and it was a great cry that echoed through the entire valley.

  Hemlock and her friends paused to watch the grace and power of the creature once more displayed as it climbed into the air with tremendous flaps of its wings.

  "Quickly," hollered Safreon, some distance ahead.

  Hemlock jogged off toward Safreon, trying to hold on to the image of the Griffin in her memory and afraid that her recollection of its beauty might fade over time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gwineval stood in front of a workbench that was filled with urns, vials and glass bottles. There were also a few dusty tomes, which the Tanna Varrans had retrieved from their archives. The books detailed the Tanna Varran technique of craftsmanship, which was imbued with magical properties in a way that Gwineval had never encountered. It was a ritualistic magic, achieved in part by chanting and sometimes even dance.

  The workshop faced east, toward the City, and it was in this direction that Gwineval's thoughts soon turned. He considered his (former) life in the Wizard Guild and his research. He had enjoyed that life and would miss the vast store of magical knowledge and the other resources which the Wizard Guild had provided him. At least the new Tanna Varran magic proved to him that there were still things that he could learn without the help of the Wizard Guild.

  He then considered his body modifications. He had been respected in the Guild for changing his body irrevocably. Living in the Wizard Tower, he had never felt out of place, for wizards understood and respected the change to his appearance.

  How will I be treated outside of the Guild? As a freak?

  He reflected on how the Tanna Varrans had regarded him since he had arrived: always with hushed whispers and furtive glances.

  I will never truly fit in like I did in the Guild, Gwineval concluded with a melancholy thought.

  His eye strayed to a pair of Tanna Varran wings which hung on the wall of the workshop. They appeared to be in good working order.

  Without being conscious of doing it, he found that he had taken a step toward the wings. He glanced across the room where the Wand of the Imperator lay within an unlocked chest. It would not be difficult to escape the Town with the Wand, he realized.

  He had learned enough about the Wand already, under the instruction of Safreon, to know that he could use it to enchant almost any spell with permanence. That meant that he would likely be able to use the Tanna Varran wings to fly all the way to the City–and to do it faster than any Tanna Varran pursuer. He thought that even a magical creature like the Griffin would not be able to keep up with the boosted speed that he would enjoy by using the Wand.

  I could do it, he finally thought to himself, his scaled brow furrowing at the notion.

  But then he thought of Falignus and the Seventh Circle, and what the power of the Wand would mean for them. He knew that he would not be able to return to the City without having to deal with the Wizard Guild. He would have to return to them and he would have to bargain his way back into their membership by presenting the Wand to them. Falignus would be hegemonic with the Wand at his disposal. None would be able to oppose his will. This would mean, Gwineval reasoned, that whatever dark agenda that Falignus and the Seventh Circle had been working toward over the recent years would likely soon be fully realized.

  That notion was so distasteful to Gwineval that he turned away from the wings and his dreams of returning to the City.

  He wondered whether it was personal animosity or some larger sense of altruism that motivated his decision. He hoped it was the latter, but had to admit to himself that the former was clearly in play in the decision that he had reached.

  I will remain a renegade, working to destroy the Wizard Guild.

  Gwineval shook his head in a melancholy way. He still couldn’t believe the path that his life was now on.

  Sighing, he returned to the workbench.

  He was moderately excited about a line of research which he was following in conjunction with the Wand. He then eyed a small lizard which was sitting nonchalantly in a cage on the table.

  I need to get Safreon so that we can attempt the experiment, he thought, striding out of the room.

  …

  The clanging of the cymbals was deafening even in the open air of the night, which surrounded a high, open platform near the top of the Town. Hemlock rose and moved away from a large bonfire, noting that the Tanna Varrans around her seemed ecstatic. Throngs of warriors danced around the fire wildly, for once appearing out of doors without the blue chalk with which they normally covered themselves in order to conceal themselves from the undead.

  Hemlock was happy to be able to absorb the optimistic energy from the ceremony, yet she was experiencing an unshakable feeling of alienation from the Tanna Varrans which caused her to move away from them. She was too conscious of herself and had not been able to bond with the warriors through the ritual. She knew that her inability to join the ceremony didn't affect her motivation to fight, though. Her own basic motivation was quite strong: defeat the wizards. If this Witch and her minions stood in the way of achieving that goal, then they needed to be defeated as well.

  She climbed a slender stairway to an upper level where the Tanna Varran leaders observed the writhing masses of warriors on the lower platform. Concern was painted on their grim faces as Pan Taros, Tored, Gwineval and Safreon looked impassively down, with Taros Ranvok, alone, looking subtly confident. Merit stood quietly in the rear.

  "Look at our people roused for war for the first time in a hundred years," proclaimed Taros Ranvok, openly showing for the first time what Hemlock had perceived, a mild but unrestrained joy.

  "It's been a hundred years of stability," answered Pan Taros in a downtrodden monotone.

  "Perhaps," responded Taros Ranvok with a sideways glance, "but for what? We remain static while our enemies grow stronger? We can no longer stand by while the Witches gorge on souls and gain power without taking action to secure our future."

  Pan Taros responded angrily: "You don’t understand. You take the short view. This life that you now lead is not the end. How many souls will die in battle and lose their chance at enlightenment? It is better to die than to commit murder. I know the people’s will–they agree with you and Tored, and believe that it is a time for war. I know that I cannot alone oppose this sentiment. One day, you may realize the wisdom of my words, though–likely after much suffering and torment."

  "That may come to pass, Father," Taros Ranvok responded, "but I think that we may also achieve our enduring freedom through this battle. Then our people can return to their spiritual ways without the looming threat of the Witches. I respect your wisdom, but I see things differently than you do."

  Pan Taros did not respond.

  After many minutes passed, Hemlock saw Tored approach Safreon and Gwineval.

  "I have briefed my officers on the battle doctrine of the wizards. Have you finalized the spellcraft for dealing with the Harvesters? Our ballistae will not be able to hold them all off at once," he asked.

  "Yes, Gwineval has come up with an ingenious plan. We will meet the physical force of the Harvesters with an opposing physical force."

  Tored nodded, apparently content with the general explanation and needing no additional details.

  Hemlock then noticed flying Tanna Varran warriors circling in the sky over the Town, their silhouettes visible against the dark azure of the cloudless sky.

  Several of them grouped together in flight and seemed to be communicating. Two of them then broke off from the group and started a hasty descent toward the platform where the King and the rest of the group were standing.

  Hemlock had become familiar enough with the Tanna Varran wings in recent days that she could tell that
the two warriors were descending at an urgent speed.

  Something has happened.

  The warriors landed with impressive dexterity. Hemlock could see that they both wore many blue feathers on their chests, denoting their status as officers.

  "Come forward," instructed Taros Ranvok.

  "Sire, a Witch horde has been sighted in the west, approaching yonder hill. They will be on us within a day," one of the officers reported excitedly.

  "We must begin to deploy immediately," stated Tored loudly, turning to exit the platform.

  "Sire?" asked the other officer who had not spoken, also seeming very anxious.

  "Yes, is there more?" asked Taros Ranvok.

  "Four Wizard Guild Harvesters have been sighted in the east at the fore of an army from the City. They are also less than one day from the town," related the officer.

  Several sharp intakes of breath were heard in the intervening moments before Safreon broke the silence.

  "It seems that our opponents have joined forces," he said.

  "Impossible," said Gwineval "the wizards would never fight alongside the Witches. They are enemies."

  "It would seem that they have identified a common purpose in our destruction," observed Tored.

  Below the platform, the dances continued. Some had noticed the descent of the patrol officers and could see from the expressions on the faces of their leaders that something was amiss.

  Taros Ranvok halted the ceremony and called all of the commanders into a meeting to discuss tactics.

  Hemlock was nervous.

  Can we defeat both the wizards and the Witch together? She wasn’t feeling nearly as confident of victory as she had been prior to this latest news.

  …

  The Tanna Varran meeting hall was filled to capacity.

  Mixed in with the people from the capital town of Tor Varnos were warriors from other towns, called to serve their people in this time of crisis. The meeting chamber, apparently planned for large gatherings like this, had large, open windows on the first floor, which could be completely retracted, giving the building the feel of an open air hall, and allowing the people outside to still hear clearly if the speaker was strong of voice.