Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1)

by B Throwsnaill

  BOOK THREE

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Hemlock recalled that as she had lost consciousness, her world had faded to white. It had felt like she had been consumed by light and fullness. She had felt completely at peace–if only for a fleeting instant of time.

  But the white light had slowly taken on a painful hue. Her head had begun to throb. Her eyes had fluttered and then sprung open to a painful reality.

  She became aware that she lay prone on a padded bench and was bound securely. Through a window the setting sun was shining in her eyes as she tried to ascertain her surroundings. She was bound by magical bonds which sizzled with spell force and burned her skin where they came in contact with it. She attuned to the spells restraining her and recognized wizard magic. The spells were strong and she was not confident that she could break them in her current weakened condition.

  She then became conscious of a repeating, lurching motion which shook the entire chamber within which she lay; the walls of the chamber were oddly curved and she noted that the two windows were oddly shaped ovals. She recognized, after a time, that the oval windows were crafted in the shape of huge eyes and that the walls were the angles of a human face as it would appear if viewed from the inside.

  She realized with a start that she must be inside the head of a Wizard Guild harvester golem.

  A figure was seated at a control panel in front of her.

  "You awaken," stated the figure, and even in her painful condition she felt a connection with the voice that she heard. She recognized the voice; it was the voice of the wizard Falignus.

  Hemlock did not respond–her head was still swimming from the battle, her wounds, the betrayal of Gwineval, and the death of Safreon and Taros Ranvok.

  "We're returning to the City, Hemlock. You need not reply to me. I know that you are wounded," continued Falignus with an air of casual conversation.

  "You will stay with me as my guest for a time. I must spend some time with you. You were fortunate to survive your encounter with the Witch. Is it true that you killed her? No need to answer, again, but I know that it likely is true. And," here Falignus paused as if reflecting, "I suppose that it shows some measure of your power that you did survive. We must discuss at some length the way in which you killed the Witch. I had suspected that she had a vulnerability, and I venture to guess that you must have figured that out, too."

  Hemlock was in pain, but still she made the effort to speak. "Guest or Prisoner?" she said, managing to expel some air from her lungs with great effort.

  "Please Hemlock, don’t be rude," Falignus responded, sounding almost petulant.

  "Oh, and I’m sorry about the magical bonds. My wizards insisted on them over my objections. You have demonstrated great power, so I understand their concern for my safety," he continued, seemingly oblivious to Hemlock’s pointed question.

  Hemlock felt a crushing sensation of renewed fatigue and numbness wash over her. It was both emotional and physical in nature. She welcomed blackness as it descended over her, mercifully consuming her consciousness.

  All is lost, was her final thought.

  …

  The blackness faded, giving way to pain.

  Hemlock was cowering in the corner of a small chamber, the walls of which seemed to ooze around her, their stone and mortar contorting into terrifying nightmare images.

  Do I dream?

  She started to feel more alert, and the suspicion that she was dreaming started to dissipate.

  The nightmarish visions were soon replaced with some semblance of waking clarity, but her surroundings still twisted and contorted in a dreamlike way.

  On one end of the small chamber, there was a shimmering and scintillating wall of energy.

  She suddenly remembered her brief conversation with Falignus in the Harvester.

  I am in the Wizard Tower.

  After a while the strange environment started to weigh on Hemlock. She felt hazy and almost insubstantial in the dreamlike environment. She became aware of a loud noise that surrounded her and sounded like a slow heartbeat mixed with the steady rush of fluid. Recalling her prior trip through the Wizard Tower with Gwineval, she wondered if this was the noise of the Oberon pipeline which she knew ran alongside the prison chamber that they had briefly visited when she had escaped with Gwineval.

  Is that where I am – in the prison room?

  This sound, which might have been comforting on its own, was soon punctuated by cries of anguish and inchoate babbling. Some nearby voices muttered insane nonsense, while others made animalistic noises or spouted gibberish.

  The cumulative effect of these voices was nightmarish, made even more so by Hemlock's magical awareness. She knew that she was surrounded by magic that was crafted to be repressive and dispiriting. Even though she was aware of the nature of the magic, she was not immune from its effects.

  She began to despair and to wonder if Falignus would ever remove her from this terrible place. She also began to think thoughts that made her feel less than human. She was tempted to offer Falignus anything to escape a fate of living in this chamber. She wondered if she might turn into a feral animal like the other denizens, if left here long enough.

  She managed to sleep a little and found that waking in the same place again was even worse–for she had dreamt of the Warrens and of Safreon in happier times. She had dreamt of her old life. It made for a cruel awakening.

  Just as her despair seemed to be becoming unbearable, she perceived the distinct sound of a door opening and then she heard some footsteps approaching her.

  Hemlock saw Falignus approaching her cell, his elegance of form and the promise of relief of her suffering seeming like a symphony in which each of his steps was a movement. His gait seemed quixotic to her, rising to a crescendo as he stood before the wall of energy that separated them, and regarded her warmly.

  His face was illuminated by the energy field, and was striking in its contrast with the darkness of the hall behind him, which seemed like it was a hundred yards away to Hemlock, even though it was mere footsteps.

  "I’d like to get you out of this dismal place," he began.

  Hemlock did not respond, a sudden burst of pride restraining her desire to cry out for mercy.

  "We needed some time to prepare some," here he paused, "proper accommodations for you."

  "A suitable prison cell?" Hemlock responded with a rasping voice, her mouth painfully dry.

  Falignus shook his head with disappointment. "You persist in casting your visit in the most unpleasant light. Remember that only a few weeks ago you sought to enter here, and did so at great risk to yourself. Now you are here again and apparently wish to be gone." He chuckled. "It is ironic."

  The energy field spat out a lick of energy that burnt Hemlock as she began to move toward Falignus.

  Falignus waived his hand and the energy field was gone, along with much of the dispiriting effect.

  "Again, I apologize," he stated, entering into the cell to help Hemlock to rise.

  She did not resist his help, and soon was standing uncertainly.

  She looked into his eyes, so close to hers, and more substantial than they had been in her dream state where she had first spoken to him. They were a piercing blue with flecks of gold. She marveled at the fact that they were just like her own.

  He appeared to be studying her eyes as well.

  "Interesting," he muttered.

  Then grasping her more fully, he instructed her, "Come with me."

  She was happy to oblige, wanting nothing more at that moment than to leave that chamber. She remembered many things suddenly, many sorrows and worries. She had been so preoccupied with her torment, that she had found it easy to forget them. She realized that she was trading one form of torment for another.

  Still, she continued to shuffle along with Falignus; and they were soon joined by several other wizards, who escorted her past the other cells and the wails of the imprisoned, and out of the chamber.

  …
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  Hemlock awoke again in a more hospitable environment. She lay in a large four poster bed which was topped with an ornate upper panel. Fine white linens adorned the bed and were tethered to the posts in readiness to be extended to protect against drafts. The bed itself was skillfully beveled and contained drawers in the base for storage.

  The room was not large, but it was warmly accented with the same mahogany that she had first seen in the foyer of the Wizard Tower. Here, burgundy drapes and rugs helped to soften the look of the wood and contributed to the room’s comparatively inviting atmosphere.

  Hemlock only dimly remembered being led here by Falignus. A female Wizard had helped her with a bath and she had changed into a borrowed dress which fit her reasonably well.

  Hemlock looked down at the crème colored dress, and felt foolish. She had rarely worn a dress before, for she only owned a single one, and it was reserved for formal occasions.

  She wondered how long she had slept.

  Going to the window, she saw that it was early evening in the City. She was not surprised to see a detectable dweomer covering the surface of the window pane. Clearly the wizards had taken some precaution against her escape.

  Using her magical affinity, Hemlock felt resistance in a number of rapidly changing guises. They were changing so rapidly that she could not lock in on any particular one. She noted, chagrined, that this was an effective counter to her powers.

  Looking out the window and ignoring the faint haze of the magic spell that enclosed her, she noted that her room faced East and the view looked out toward the Senate building and Hemisphere Lake, the latter being the geographic center of the City. Beyond the Senate building, she could see the whitewashed buildings of the Elite district, bathed in a cozy glow from a myriad of torches, which were reflected attractively on the surface of the lake.

  Her body felt reasonably good, as if most of her wounds from the recent battle had been healed. Looking inward, she still felt numb from recent events.

  She wondered after her sister, with a pang of guilt.

  She had been so wrapped up in the drama of recent events, that she had spared precious little thought as to the well-being of her sibling.

  Her thoughts turned then to her mentor, Safreon, whom she had watched burn alive in the blue magical field. She still hadn’t fully registered the extent of her loss and could easily imagine that he might still be out there in the world, seeking to win her freedom from the Tower.

  He’s gone, she tried to reason to herself.

  But something inside of her simply would not let go of that lingering image of him as her rescuer.

  Thinking of Safreon, she began to sob quietly.

  "Why did Gwineval take the Wand from him and let him fall into the fire?" she raged, grasping at a post of the bed and pulling on it violently before gaining control of herself.

  Her thoughts were turning dark and she instinctively reached for her sabres–but her hands felt only the delicate fabric of her dress at her waist.

  Cursing, she sat down hard on the bed and brooded.

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Come in," she called, deciding against responding with only a recalcitrant silence.

  Falignus entered the room. Hemlock’s view was drawn again to his eyes, and their gold flecks. Her gaze then moved to his pronounced cheek bones and chin and his generous lips. Despite his slight pallor, he was very attractive and looked imperial in a long black cloak and gray pants, secured at the waist with a bright red sash.

  "I trust that you slept well," he inquired.

  "Yes, I did, quite well, compared to that dismal cell."

  "Yes, that was, as I said, an unfortunate necessity."

  "What of the magic that guards over me now, is that more of the same?" she asked darkly.

  "Indeed it is. I’m sure that if you put yourself in our shoes, that you would do the same. I trust that it is proving effective?"

  "I don’t know, I haven’t tried to escape yet," she countered.

  "Ah yes," he replied distractedly, "do let me know how that goes when you try it."

  Moving closer to her, he engaged her in direct eye contact, which she met defiantly.

  "I’d like to ask you about certain recent events, which might prove somewhat uncomfortable for you to recount."

  "Fine," she said, looking away.

  "Did you, in fact, kill the Witch?"

  "Yes."

  "If you don’t mind me asking, how did you kill her?"

  Hemlock was numb inside and saw no point in withholding the information that he asked for. Although she was in a black mood and almost didn’t care what she told Falignus, something inside of her restrained her from mentioning her out of body experience while battling the Witch.

  "I was broken and the Witch was gloating over me. As she leaned in close, her forked tongue was lolling about in triumph. I mustered enough strength to sever her tongue and it killed her."

  Falignus smiled and nodded.

  "Yes, I suspected as much. I always wondered why her tongue alone marred her perfect features. I think she became too enamored of her own voice and concentrated too much power in it and in her tongue. When you severed it, it destroyed that power and she could not maintain her form without it."

  Hemlock did not respond.

  Falignus, his good humor blunted by Hemlock’s impassive response, paused. "How do you feel about Gwineval?"

  "I intend to kill him," she replied.

  "Is that so? Is there a reason?"

  "Yes, my mentor and friend," here she paused, trying not to choke up with grief, "Safreon… Gwineval caused his death by stealing that Wand."

  "The Wand of the Imperator," Falignus stated.

  "Yes."

  "So your friend Safreon had the Wand of the Imperator?"

  "Apparently."

  "You say apparently. Didn’t you know?"

  "I knew once we got to that Tanna Varran town. Tor Varnos is what they call it. Anyway, I knew at that point. He never used it in my presence prior to that."

  A responsible part of Hemlock’s mind stirred and started to consider how much she should tell Falignus.

  But what does it matter now? She just didn’t care enough to conceal anything.

  I don’t care if the wizards kill every Tanna Varran alive, as long as I kill Gwineval, she thought and then felt guilty for thinking it. The Tanna Varrans had been fair and honorable, and she knew that they didn’t deserve to die.

  "Did this rogue wizard Safreon use the Wand of the Imperator to achieve the transformation that Gwineval used against us on the battlefield?"

  "Yes."

  Falignus was silent for a few minutes. He sat in an armchair and gestured for her to sit.

  She shook her head negatively, moved to the window, and looked out over the Elite district again.

  "Hemlock," he said, breaking the silence. Hemlock noted a certain weight to his voice that was different from before.

  Looking at him, she noted that he wore a self-deprecating smile.

  "Do you know that I find you enchanting?" he asked.

  A certain part of her, a downtrodden and careworn part, thrilled at his words. But she felt the weight of death on her shoulders–so many deaths.

  "It doesn’t matter."

  "Forgive me, you are in mourning. My remark was inappropriate," he replied formally, the weighty tone gone from his voice.

  "We will see to your needs here. Request anything that you wish," he said as he made for the door.

  "How long will you hold me here?" she asked, suddenly thinking about the future again.

  Falignus paused in stride. Not turning, he responded. "Until we both determine what path we will walk, and whether those paths will be the same or different."

  "I have a relative in the Warrens – could I get word to her?" Hemlock asked.

  Falignus turned. "If you refer to your sister, then relax in the knowledge that she is safe."

  Hemlock cast a questioning glance at
him.

  "In the dream, when I came to you, you had a portrait with her. I subsequently inquired after her and discovered that she was gravely ill. I have seen to it that she has received care and is now doing well."

  Hemlock was stunned. She was grateful, but realized that this gave him leverage over her.

  "You had no right to intrude," she ventured unconvincingly.

  "She would have died had I not."

  Hemlock turned to the window, as tears rolled down her cheek.

  She heard the door click closed behind her and knew that she was alone.

  It was clear to her that Falignus was attempting to get close to her. She welcomed it on some level, for she felt a primal bond with him and an undeniable attraction.

  But what are his ulterior motives?

  …

  The next day, again in the evening, Falignus returned to her. Knocking on the door, he entered at Hemlock’s response.

  "I’d like to take you on a tour of the Tower today," he informed her.

  "I’ve already seen it."

  "This time will be different; you won’t have to sneak around."

  "Sounds boring," she replied lightly, surprising herself with her tone, which she hadn’t intended to be playful, yet had sounded so to her ear.

  "Undoubtedly, but at least it will punctuate the boredom of remaining in this chamber all day."

  "True enough. I accept."

  "Good, then follow me, please."

  Hemlock found his formality oddly endearing.

  They exited into the hall, and Hemlock was surprised at the lack of escort.

  Falignus was quick to notice her observation. "Don’t worry, I’ve taken precautions."

  "Of course," she answered.

  He smiled at her and she was surprised at how becoming his smile was. His features were normally beautiful, but cold and cast in a slight pallor. When he smiled, however, it bathed his features in a pleasing warmth.

  He led her down a hall to an arched entry to a stairwell. They descended several floors and exited into another corridor.

  "We will follow a group of initiate wizards today, as they tour the Tower and receive their orientation," Falignus explained, as they walked down the corridor and entered an ornate audience chamber. It was a vaulted room finished in polished marble and granite, making an impression on Hemlock that it was designed to intimidate visitors. Support columns, which ran the length of the hall in two rows, were adorned with sculpted statues of wizards. Falignus and Hemlock had entered via a side entrance, but Hemlock saw that the visitor to the hall had to approach through a far door and walk forward between the two rows of statues and under the unseeing gaze of the stone wizards, who gave the illusion of standing guard like wizened sentinels.