Merit was shuffled to the rear of the loyalist line as the wizards arrayed themselves according to Miara’s instructions. Merit noted with dismay that there were only a few squads of First Circle wizards that had joined their side.
It’s too few!
Just as he felt the icy touch of despair engulfing him, he saw Gwineval rise from the floor as the last of the rune doors faded from view. Though Merit thought Gwineval’s complexion, which was normally a deep green, looked pale, there was a determination in the bearing of the serpentine wizard that restored his confidence.
Gwineval shuffled to the front of the line of wizards loyal to him just as the first squads of rebel wizards scurried through the far passage from the central stair.
“Hold!” cried Gwineval as a few incantations of battle magic were heard amongst the loyalist lines in reaction to the first sight of the enemy.
Soon no fewer than eight squads of First Circle wizards stood in the hall across from the loyalist lines. Jalis, Sychran, Colberth and Splintor strode into the room next—each meeting Gwineval’s stare with a defiant glare, and flanked by numerous wizards from their circles. Finally, a full company of brightly armored Senate knights entered the chamber, led by Samberlin, who looked incongruous in his Senate robes amongst the heavy armor.
When all were assembled, the two sides regarded each other. By Merit’s estimate, the loyalist forces were outnumbered by at least three to one odds.
Jalis stepped forward like a coiled snake, reveling in bearing his fangs. “So, our actions have not been conducted in the secrecy we hoped for. It is just as well. For look at the numbers on our side versus yours, Gwineval. It is clear that your influence no longer holds sway in this Tower. It is time for this wizard tower to be run by wizards again!”
Sychran, leader of the First Circle warrior wizards, raised his sword above his head and cried out in support of Jalis. His squads joined in with his cry, and many of the other wizards in the rebel lines joined in as well—although Merit thought that this latter group did so with less enthusiasm.
“So that is your justification for fomenting rebellion?” cried Gwineval as the rebel cries died down. “You insinuate that Hemlock has been in control—and that is true to a certain extent. But you can tell she tires of the role. And she only gained power because we wizards lost our way and allowed ourselves to become complacent in the face of the corrupted ambitions of the old Seventh Circle led by Zaringer and Falignus. Your aim is to take up the mantle of those two despots.”
Gwineval then turned his attention from Jalis and addressed the wizards behind him. “Don’t support another dictator. I have been too engrossed in my research and have not spent enough time directing the affairs of the guild. That will change now. You have my word on that. And if the council—our wizard council—would like to appoint another leader, then I welcome that. But not like this—not through intimidation and bloodshed. Jalis knows that he needs a crisis like this to assume power. Nobody in their right mind would agree to be led by him if given time to consider what that would mean!”
Jalis turned and faced the wizards behind him. “So, now, at the time of succession, we are given promises. Gwineval promises that Hemlock will step down—but where is Hemlock to agree to that? She has proven that she acts as her whims dictate. Maybe she would step down… or maybe she’d decide to destroy the Wizard Tower because some of us had the courage to stand forth and demand our rights! No, I’m not going to accept false promises and put myself at the mercy of this girl! We’re going to take back this Tower tonight!”
Again there were cries of support led by Sychran and the First Circle wizards.
Jalis turned back toward Gwineval. “So, will you subject these misguided souls behind you to a needless fight? Look at the forces arrayed against you. And just in case you have any lingering doubts, I’ve brought back an old friend to the Tower for a visit!”
A slight figure in a full length gray robe moved from out of the shadows behind Jalis. Merit wasn’t sure where it had come from, and was sure he would have noticed the figure in the crowd. The way the figure moved disturbed Merit. It seemed hunched over, as if from great age, but it scurried with a swiftness that belied this posture. It stopped beside Jalis and threw back the hood of its robe. A gaunt face with deep, hollow eye sockets and dry, desiccated skin was revealed. Its flesh had dried and shrank, creating the effect of a toothy grin on a mirthless face. Its limbs were similarly decayed as it revealed two swords in scabbards at its bony hips.
Gasps erupted from both lines.
“This is Usum, leader of The Seekers. Perhaps you recall their tale?” Jalis cooed.
As Gwineval beckoned Miara to his side, the robed figure raised his arms. The magical runes on the wall sparked and roared to life, hissing and popping with magical power. Each portal began to glow more intensely, and through the glow dark silhouettes began to appear. Soon forty of the robed figures stood in a line against the wall behind the wizards loyal to Gwineval.
Merit worried that the loyalist line might break in confusion, but Gwineval shouted words of encouragement.
“Steady!” he shouted in his distinctive voice, which had a power to carry over the din of the magic as it faded from hearing.
“We also have a revelation for you!” continued Gwineval, looking toward Samberlin pointedly.
Samberlin was impassive in response. The old Senator tilted his head to the side as he felt the attention of the room focused on him. Then he took a few steps forward. “The Senate is interested in stability and a path forward to continued prosperity for the City. We do not want a disruptive event to occur, which is why we are here to ease this transition. It is said that the most effective weapon is one that is never unsheathed from its scabbard. My hope is that we will resolve this transition with that in mind.”
Jalis smiled boldly and turned back to Gwineval. “And what of this revelation?”
Gwineval stared for a moment at Samberlin, who met his gaze unapologetically. Then he pointed an arm back toward the scores of corpse-like figures behind the loyalist lines.
“Have you noticed that I’ve kept our lines intact despite your surprise on our flank? Do you wonder why that is?” Gwineval asked Jalis in a loud voice.
“Enough of this foolishness! Usum, advance your ranks toward those misguided fools!” cried Jalis.
The leader of the robed figures drew his swords from their scabbards and held them over his head. Then he emitted a commanding sound which sounded like a mixture of a strong exhalation and a hiss. As the scores of figures behind the loyalists started to move, the runes that Gwineval had marked out at their feet sprang to life, engulfing them all in a waving blue field of magic that was punctuated by small flares of lightning that played across its surface. As the now enraged figures within the magical field struggled against it, their cries of anguish filled the chamber. They all stepped back from the field which entrapped them.
“You see, I’ve been practicing the old Imperial magic for several months,” cried Gwineval. “Some have cautioned me against this, and it’s true that the magic is very powerful and could be abused. But I believe there is great potential in it as well—and I intend to share this magic with all the wizards in the Tower,” said Gwineval.
Gwineval looked at Samberlin and Merit saw the Senator nod subtly in response. Gwineval then addressed Jalis and the other council members beside him. “Unfortunately, some wizards will be leaving the Tower tonight—within the hour, as a matter of fact.”
Jalis smiled and began to voice a retort until he noticed the Knights beside him shifting their alignment away from the loyalist lines toward the rebel lines.
“What is this treachery?” Jalis cried out.
“As I said, I serve the City and its interests, Jalis. And those interests are in a smooth transition of power and a steady supply of magic,” said Samberlin.
“But I would have brought back the Oberon and given you all the magic you would need!” said Jalis.
> “Perhaps you would have, at first. But surely your long term goals would not be so judicious. You’re like a child playing at a man’s game, Jalis. Your ambitions are transparent to me,” said Samberlin.
“You wizards who feared the continued rule of Hemlock over us have a choice to make. The statements I made before are still in effect. With the exception of the traitorous members of the wizard council, I offer each of you a chance to remain in the Tower in peace and according to the new bylaws which Miara will soon present. These bylaws will move much of the power from the wizard council and place it under the control of a general vote. Choose wisely, for you will not be given a chance to reenter the tower if you persist in following these fools,” said Gwineval.
Samberlin next laid out the conditions of peaceful surrender to Jalis and the council members that had opposed Gwineval. Over half of the wizards who had joined the rebellion elected to remain in the Tower under a new pledge of loyalty to the wizard council. The ejection of Jalis, Sychran, Colberth, Splintor and their followers was orderly and proceeded without violence, with the exception of the corpse-like Usum, who was bathed in fire and slain as his kind looked on hopelessly from their magical restraints. Jalis, for his part, seemed relieved to escape with his life.
On the Drawbridge of Ninety-Nine Tears, Jalis had a parting threat for the wizard guild: “You’ll regret this day! All of you!” Merit thought he was about to say more, but the presence of the Knights at his side, and the fact that his companions had been disarmed and forced to peacefully discharge their Oberon doses seemed to rein in his tongue.
Gwineval, Miara, Merit and Samberlin convened in the Meeting Chamber soon after.
“Did you have to let those…things… go?” asked Samberlin.
“Yes, I had no choice. My magic only had the power of binding, and its barrier was two-way. The only way I could dispel those portals gave those things an opportunity to escape,” said Gwineval. Merit noticed how Gwineval slumped in his chair. Age was hard to gauge, given the wizard’s appearance, but Merit thought he looked markedly older as a result of the evening’s exertions. Miara was close to his side, and she had to prevent him from falling over in his chair at one point.
Still, Samberlin pressed for information. “Jalis called Usum the leader of ‘The Seekers.’ Who are they?”
“We must get him some rest,” insisted Miara, but Gwineval waved her off.
“Soon. But I will respond as I have a few words of my own for the Senator. The Seekers were a group of wizards sent to the eastern mountains during the early part of Zaringer’s reign over the wizard council. It is rumored that he asked for volunteers, and that the wizards who did volunteer were never heard from again. It’s astonishing that they still live after all of these years—because Zaringer’s life span itself was unprecedented, and there were some intervening years under Falignus as well. They must be sustained by a similar magic to what Zaringer used, although its nature must be different, for they still have material forms, whereas according to Hemlock, Zaringer had been reduced to a wraith.”
“I wonder why they allied themselves with Jalis. And how did he find them? Or did they find him?”
“That is surprising. We will have to investigate that connection. I don’t like it.”
Gwineval paused as coughs wracked his body. Miara rose and pulled Gwineval to his feet. As they made to leave, Gwineval spoke. “Samberlin, would you really have allowed Jalis to occupy the Tower in our place if I had not been able to trap Tthe Seekers?”
“If he had agreed to the same terms as you offered him, I would have been forced to. We would have had to work together from outside of the Tower to clandestinely overthrow him.”
“Yes. So you say. So you say,” muttered Gwineval as Miara led him out.
Merit escorted Samberlin to the front gate, where a detachment of the knights remained.
Samberlin looked down at Merit as he departed. “Be sure to write all of this down as soon as possible, and do not neglect my role in it,” he said, with a playful glimmer in his eye.
Chapter Seven
Miara stood and remembered as the magically preserved carcass of the Dragon rolled awkwardly across the Drawbridge of Ninety-Nine Tears. It was supported by several large carts, which strained under the weight of the great, green, scaly body. It just barely fit, and the carts had to be adjusted several times by the small throng of First Circle wizards that were helping.
An expectant crowd had gathered around the Moat of Acid. The wizards had not announced the event, but word spread quickly through the City. Miara hoped that the process of removal and the small ritual she had planned would serve as another symbol of the restoration of honor to the wizard guild.
After some time the carts crossed the moat and entered the Warrens district. The wizards paused and waited.
There was a loud cry overhead and then a great shadow fell across the people. A murmur of excitement arose from the crowd. This was followed by a chorus of gasps as a proud Griffin landed beside the dead Dragon.
Miara gave a hand signal and an old man in black vestments walked to the side of the body with the aid of a cane.
“Welcome, wizards and people of the City,” announced the old Priest.
Miara had insisted that the priest be included, even though the wizards had persecuted those of his faith as recently as the reign of Zaringer. She had practiced the Essence Faith as a child before it had been outlawed. Seeing the Priest gave her some comfort as she felt a closeness to the events of that terrible morning that she had tried so hard to forget.
“This creature was slain unjustly many years ago. The wizards, who are in the midst of a renaissance of values, have decided to honor this fallen beast and return its remains to its mountain home. It will be carried there by its old friend—none other than the Griffin that sits beside me,” continued the Priest.
The Priest’s words carried Miara back to that traumatic day in the mountains when she had unwillingly been a part of the death of the Green Dragon. She knew so little about dragons and even less about this one. The Griffin had told her a few sparse details—but little else. Miara turned to the east and could just see the mountains in the distance.
“Would that the mountains themselves would speak the tale,” she mused.
The mountain breeze warmed her hindquarters as she opened an eye to gaze down at the creature that had just landed on the hard stone shelf of her aerie. It was a comparatively small and graceful creature with the body of a lion and the fore-section of an eagle. Its grace spoke to something deep inside of her she preferred to forget, and disturbed the peaceful mood she had been enjoying in the echoing solitude of the mountaintop.
She adjusted the position of her great, barbed tail, and lifted her massive, green head to better regard the Griffin.
“What brings you here, old friend?” she asked wordlessly.
“I would speak with you,” replied the voice of the Griffin in her mind. The voice was melodious and proud—and it assailed her senses just as the Griffin’s appearance did.
“You know it pains me.”
“And it pains me also, yet we must endure.”
“What would you speak of, then? Let us bring the matter to bear.”
“You must not associate with the wizards!”
She closed her eyelids and sighed, causing a small fiery burst in her throat that culminated in a belch of black smoke.
“Again you confront me with this, sister?” she asked, immediately regretting the sibling reference, which she considered long past relevance.
“Sister? So the old ways still bear memory?”
“A mistake of the tongue—nothing more.”
“Perhaps we should fly to the stars together, as in days of old.”
“When I fly, I soar as my greatness intended. I do not hop to a world and then descend into an ignoble exhaustion, as you must.”
“Yet what I do I can do on my own—without the suffering of others,” th
e Griffin said.
“What care have I for a few of the walkers? They are numerous where we are few.”
“We were meant to be their shepherds.”
“A belief that I no longer entertain.” The Dragon sniffed.
“Did the Betrayer convince you so completely?”
“And how did the Creator convince you? The Dead God exposed the Creator’s deceit.”
“It wasn’t deception—it was a following of philosophy.”
“The Dead God showed us a path to greater glory.”
“To an excess of glory that corrupted you.”The Griffin looked at the Dragon with accusation in her eyes.
“How many times have we argued thusly? And to what end?”
“If you recant, perhaps you would revert?”
“I’ll never recant while the stars soar above us.”
“But these wizards mean to harm you.”
She chortled at the notion of being harmed by a wizard as she used an outstretched claw the size of a man’s forearm to scratch her nose. “We have an agreement. The wizards will keep the peace,” she purred.
“Their power grows. They no longer fear me.”
“Am I not four times your size? Do I not breathe fire?”
“Their magic might offset your abilities.”
“I do not live in fear of what might be.”
“Yet you must learn to be cautious.”
“I am Draco—we fear nothing!”
“Then why do you give over your scales to them?”
She was getting angry now. Hot gases were fuming from her nostrils. She didn’t know how the Griffin had learned of her agreement with the wizards to exchange her scales for the delivery of the victims that she needed to fuel her ability to soar through the stars from world to world. She lived to scream unfettered through the great void. A few scales given from time to time seemed a small indignity to endure in order to preserve her easy life. The truth was that the wizards did scare her. Their hunting parties had caused her much suffering before she had negotiated her agreement with the head wizard known as Zaringer. But her pride would not allow her to own up to that fact. “I allow them to take a few scales. It is nothing.”
Hemlock And The Dead God's Legacy (Book 2) Page 13