The Sword and the Sorcerer

by John Phythyon

  “What is it?” Calibot said.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I woke up with a scroll on my chest. It contained a message from Gothemus saying he’d been murdered in Eldenberg, that I was to bring this case to you in Dalasport, and that you were to go to Eldenberg to claim his body and bring it back to his tower for proper burial.”

  Calibot stared at her in wonder. His father had been murdered? It didn’t seem possible. Gothemus Draco was the most powerful wizard in the Known World. Who could possibly have murdered him? How could Gothemus have known he was murdered and sent instructions to . . . whomever Liliana was? There were so many questions.

  “Why me,” he asked.

  “I’ve no idea,” she replied. “I didn’t even know he had a son until I woke up with the scroll on my chest. I’d have thought he would charge me with handling these affairs. I’m his apprentice after all.

  “And if he wasn’t going to ask me, you’d at least have thought he’d ask his brother. They were really close.”

  “Does Zod know,” Devon asked, referring to Calibot’s uncle, a powerful warlord with a dangerous temper.

  “I’ve no idea,” Liliana said again. “I’m just doing what the scroll commanded. When I got the instructions, I went and found the case and then traveled here. I don’t know if Zod the Fearless woke up with a scroll on his chest too.”

  No one said anything for a moment. Calibot contemplated the details. The most powerful magician on Earth was dead, murdered. His brother, a vicious warlord with a sizeable army, might or might not know. If he did, he was likely marching this way, looking for blood.

  Calibot was no politician. He didn’t really understand the precarious balance of power that existed between the various city-states and warlords in the Known World. But he knew his father helped keep the peace by facilitating trade from Zod’s mines beyond the Wild Lands to the other major cities. He also knew his magic kept anyone from attempting to alter the arrangement by force. If someone murdered Gothemus Draco, it had to be for political reasons, and the resulting power vacuum could spark a major war. This was bad.

  “Calibot, maybe you should see what’s in the case,” Devon said, as if he could hear what Calibot was thinking.

  Calibot nodded. He drank a large draught of wine and handed the glass to Devon. Then he reached out and took the case from Liliana. Her expression did not change. She was completely businesslike. She seemed to have no curiosity whatsoever about what it was she was supposed to deliver. Maybe she had already looked.

  “You’re sure you don’t know what’s inside?” Calibot said.

  “If you’re Gothemus Draco’s son,” she said, “you must know how he was. If he didn’t want someone to get into something, they didn’t get into it. Even if I’d wanted to open the case, I couldn’t have. He cast all sorts of spells on it. My guess is you’re the only person who can open it.”

  She stared at him matter-of-factly. Calibot nodded. It had been a long time since he’d seen his father, let alone spoken to him. But he remembered growing up in that horrible tower. Doors his father didn’t want opened stayed shut.

  Carefully, he ran his fingers over the smooth wood. An unbidden thrill of excitement ran through him. He didn’t want anything from his father. The man had had years to reach out and give him something. Like his love perhaps. It was too late for gifts now.

  But he couldn’t help but wonder what was inside. What would his father possibly want him to have? He was no sorcerer.

  He sucked in a breath and flipped the clasp. It opened easily. His heart rate quickened. Carefully, he put his hands on the sides of the case and lifted the lid.

  What was inside both surprised him and took his breath away. The interior of the case was lined with red velvet. Lying in the soft cloth was the most amazing sword Calibot had ever seen.

  The blade gleamed as if it were made of polished silver. The hilt was plated in gold and fashioned to look like a dragon. The handle was its body, ending in a winding tail. The guards were its wings, and the blade protruded from its mouth as though it were fire blazing from its maw. It was absolutely beautiful, and Calibot was stunned at the sight of it.

  “By the gods,” Devon whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “Me either,” Calibot agreed.

  Unable to resist, he reached into the case, gripped the sword by its handle, and lifted it out. It was incredibly light. Calibot had no combat training, but the weapon felt perfect in his hand, and he believed somehow he could use it if someone threatened him.

  “Ah, so that’s what happened to it,” Liliana said.

  “Happened to what?” Devon replied.

  “Wyrmblade,” she said, as if that answered everything.

  “Wyrmblade?” Devon said as Calibot continued to admire the amazing weapon. “The legendary dragon sword?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Zod’s been asking about it. Gothemus told him it would be ready soon.”

  She fell silent, once again acting as though her half-answer told them everything they needed to know. Calibot had about a thousand questions for her, but he was completely entranced by the blade. Holding it made him feel good. It made him feel powerful.

  “So Gothemus was giving it to Zod?” Devon said.

  “Yes,” Liliana said. “But he was making some changes to it, making it more powerful somehow.”

  “And he wasn’t finished?” Devon prodded.

  “I don’t believe so,” she answered. “It was missing some key ingredient.”

  “Why me?” Calibot said again.

  “What do you mean?” she replied.

  “Why give it to me?”

  “Once again, I don’t know,” she answered. “I hadn’t seen it in awhile. I thought it was missing. I had no idea it was in this case until you opened it, just like I had no idea you existed until I was ordered to bring this to you and instruct you to claim your father’s body.”

  Calibot stared at the sword. The others gazed at him.

  “Liliana, could you give us a minute?” Devon said.

  “I am to accompany Calibot to Eldenberg,” she replied.

  “Be that as it may,” he said, “I need to speak to him alone for a moment. You can wait outside.”

  She shrugged. Without saying anything else, she picked up her belongings, slung them back over her shoulder, and went out the door without shutting it. Devon crossed the room and closed it behind her. Then he turned to Calibot.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  “Sure,” Calibot said, still focused on the sword. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Calibot,” Devon scolded. “A strange woman just came to you and told you your father has been murdered. That would throw anyone.”

  Something about his tone snapped Calibot out of his reverie. A series of conflicting emotions ran through him – love, grief, anger, loss. He put the sword back in its case and closed it.

  “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” he said.

  “Now that sounds like the Calibot I know.”

  Devon crossed back to the stand near the bed and poured himself a glass of wine. Then he handed Calibot’s back to him and drank from his own.

  “It’s so strange,” Calibot mused. “We were just talking about him.”

  Devon sat down on the bed and stroked Calibot’s back. Calibot sighed. None of this made any sense to him. His father couldn’t be dead. He was the most powerful man in the world. Who could kill such a person? And why would he ask for Calibot to retrieve his body? Liliana was right. It would have been more natural to choose her or Zod, not his estranged son. Finally, why would he give Calibot a sword he was making for Zod? There was just no sense behind any of this.

  “We should involve the duke right away,” Devon said.

  “Why,” Calibot asked, surprised.

  “We are members of his court and serve at his pleasure, Calibot. If we’re going to travel to Eldenberg to retrieve your father’s remains, we need to inform him and ask f
or leave.”

  “Who said we’re going to Eldenberg?”

  Devon searched Calibot’s eyes carefully. Calibot turned away, uncomfortable again with thoughts of his father.

  “Calibot,” Devon said at last, “I know you two didn’t get along, but the most powerful wizard in the Known World has been murdered. He sent you a special sword. He instructed you to claim his remains. He’s your father. Shouldn’t you honor his final wishes?”

  Calibot wanted to scream at him. No, he didn’t want to honor his father’s final wishes. He didn’t give a damn about a special sword for his uncle or Gothemus being the world’s most powerful magician or the political fallout from his assassination. He wanted to go back to being Duke Boordin’s favorite poet. He wanted to write the next canto of Drake and Drudger’s Journey. He wished his father was dead!

  He supposed that was the problem. Gothemus was dead. And now Calibot was expected to clean up the mess. He sighed again.

  “All right,” he said. “When are we leaving?”

  “It’ll take us almost a week to travel to Eldenberg even if the duke loans us horses,” Devon mused. “I see no reason to leave tonight. We should get some rest. We can ask him in the morning. I’m sure, once he knows who your father is, he’ll agree at once and give us everything we need.”

  Calibot nodded. Drake and Drudger would have to wait. It seemed the great Gothemus Draco was more important. Again.

  “Better tell Liliana,” he said. “She’ll need quarters for the night.”

  Devon nodded. He got up and went to the door, but he turned back before opening it.

  “Are you sure you’re all right,” he asked.

  “No,” Calibot answered. “I’m not.”

  Chapter 4: An Inexplicable Complication

  “What do you mean there’s been a complication?” Lord Vestran croaked.

  Vicia swallowed hard. She knew this wasn’t going to go well. She just had to stay calm and keep the Council from overreacting.

  But all of Vestran’s wrinkles seemed to be frowning at her. His ancient green eyes shone with an angry light that threatened to scorch her. He was clearly furious with her, and she needed to assuage that anger or everything was lost. The Council of Elders had always been dubious about the wisdom of her plan, and its president was the key to keeping everyone but Lord Hedron on her side. If Lord Vestran turned against her, she was finished.

  “I asked you a question, Lord Vicia!” Vestran snapped.

  She swallowed again. Then she took a deep breath.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” she said. “It’s as baffling to me as to you.”

  Hedron snorted derisively. She glanced in his direction, but she didn’t glare at him. She had to play this carefully. She couldn’t be arrogant. She also couldn’t appear weak. She made certain not to look scared or sorrowful.

  “Explain this baffling complication,” Vestran said.

  “I wish I could,” she said. “It defies reason.”

  “Incompetence is easily explained,” Hedron interrupted.

  “Please, Lord Hedron,” Lord Festria said. “That doesn’t help the matter. We can decide whether Lord Vicia is incompetent or malfeasant after she’s told us what exactly is wrong.”

  Vicia sighed. Festria was trying to be helpful, but Vicia didn’t like the implications of her saying they would decide whether she was incompetent or malfeasant as though those were the only choices.

  “Oh, very well,” Hedron spat. “Please, Lord Vicia. Give us your grave news. Have one last moment of glory.”

  This time she did glare. She needed the Council to believe he was behaving like an ass. She needed any advantage she could get.

  “As I mentioned,” she said, “there’s been an inexplicable complication. I was unable to acquire the Eye of the Dragon, because Gothemus Draco’s wards remain in place.”

  A collective gasp went through the Council. Even Hedron looked surprised before he recovered himself and returned to watching her with irritated skepticism.

  “What do you mean his wards remain in place?” Festria said.

  “All of the magical protections and spells surrounding Gothemus’s tower are still in force,” she answered.

  “Are you suggesting his magic has outlived him?” Vestran said.

  “Of course she isn’t,” Hedron said. “That isn’t possible. When a sorcerer dies, his magic perishes with him. This is established fact.”

  Vicia smiled grimly. Hedron was doing her a favor. By clinging stubbornly to accepted magical theory, he was helping her case. She decided to use his skepticism in her reply.

  “Lord Hedron is correct,” she said. “Current understanding of sorcery holds that a magician’s spells cannot outlive him. The great artifacts forged in the Golden Age somehow defy this established law. Perhaps ancient artificers knew enchantments that have been lost to time. Regardless, our knowledge of magic does not include the ability to cast spells beyond one’s lifetime.

  “But I am here to tell you this is exactly what Gothemus Draco has done.”

  A murmur went through the Council. The Elders all looked to one another in fear and worry.

  “I attempted to use my magic to bring the Eye forth from the tower and deliver it to the Council as promised,” she continued. “But I was unable to penetrate the tower’s defenses, and the reason is because Gothemus’s magic endures.”

  The other lords immediately began talking to each other, questioning what it could mean and wondering what they would do next. Only Lord Vestran and Lord Hedron remained silent. Vestran withdrew within himself. His venerable mind contemplated the mystery she’d presented him. Cold fury burned behind his eyes, but it was no longer aimed at Vicia; his ages-old rivalry with Gothemus was fueling his rage now.

  As for Hedron, he stared at the rest of the Council incredulously. He obviously didn’t believe Vicia, or, if he did, he wasn’t going to let anyone think so. He had his own power play to execute, and Vicia’s bid interfered.

  “My lords,” he said, cutting through the chatter. “Can we really believe this extraordinary claim?”

  Vicia watched as the other Elders looked at him with varying expressions of surprise and curiosity. He had their attention but not yet their understanding.

  “When last she addressed this body on the matter of Gothemus Draco,” Hedron continued, “Lord Vicia made the outrageous suggestion that she had magic the likes of which none of us had ever heard of – that she could find the Eye of the Dragon within Gothemus’s tower from a remote distance and teleport it here with the greatest of ease. Now, unsurprisingly, she cannot make good on that boast, so she returns to us with an even more ridiculous story – that Gothemus’s magic lives on after his death.

  “We are all master magicians. That is how we achieved our seats on the Council of Elders. We know sorcery does not outlast the one who cast it.

  “There is only one conclusion to draw from this ‘inexplicable complication’: Lord Vicia is lying. There never was any spell that could transport the Eye of the Dragon here. She has persuaded us to murder Gothemus Draco and put Eldenberg and the Council in peril. She should be stripped of her status as an Elder and imprisoned and tried for treason.”

  Lord Festria and several other lords gasped. The rivalry between Hedron and Vicia wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew they hated each other and would gladly see the other off the Council altogether. But for Hedron to actually accuse her of treason was an escalation. He’d upped the stakes considerably.

  Vicia drew in a breath through her nose. She wanted to sound insulted but calm. Hedron was a tactless fool. The reason her power play was working and his was not was that he didn’t understand the need for diplomacy. Vicia could manipulate the other Elders, especially Lord Vestran. Hedron was a brute who thought he could bully the others into line. Accusing her of treason made him look like an ass – as long as she could convince the others she hadn’t been lying.

  “What do you say to these charges, Lord Vicia,” Vestran ask
ed.

  She wished Elmanax were here. At nearly every other stage he’d been at her feet, whispering the right things to say to her through his magic. She would have liked his guidance now. But he’d been too injured at Gothemus’s tower to travel back to Eldenberg right away. He’d communicated with her only briefly, telling her what happened to him and instructing her to make sure Gothemus’s remains were preserved so he could study them when he got back.

  Still, she was confident she could pull this off. She knew how to speak to the Council. She knew how to convince Lord Vestran, and, as long as he was on her side, the other Elders wouldn’t oppose him – not on something this dangerous and important.

  “I understand, Lord Hedron’s feelings,” she answered. “First, I informed the Council I had access to unheard-of magic. Then I informed you Gothemus Draco has managed the previously impossible feat of postmortem sorcery. Given that these two things defy Lord Hedron’s knowledge of magic, it would certainly appear logical for me to be a liar.

  “However, I think none of us would be so presumptuous as to believe we understand everything there is to know about sorcery. As wizards, our very goal is to push back the frontiers of magical understanding. Thus, it does not seem logical that, just because I am presenting facts that stand in contrast to our prior understanding of nature, I am lying.

  “Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, I ask you all a simple question: What have I to gain by lying to you? Why would I claim to be able to perform a spell I could not? I would surely fail and be in this very position of having to tell you I could not do what I said I could. Why would I claim Gothemus’s magic yet lives when such a thing should not be possible and could easily be disproven? Finally, why would I put Eldenberg and the Council in danger of retribution from Zod the Fearless and anyone else who chose to attack us for murdering Gothemus? If Eldenberg falls, so do I. If I am revealed as the architect of this assassination plot, would I not be hunted as the most wanted criminal in the Known World? Would not you all turn on me for endangering you and the people we serve?