Hemlock And The Dead God's Legacy (Book 2) (6 page)

Julius bit down the despair he felt rising within him.

“So this is your legacy, father?  So much for your law.  Now it is time for my law.”

Julius strode proudly toward the ruined City.

Chapter Four

Hemlock visited Gwineval the next day
in his chamber.  She picked a time that was between his magic classes and which was convenient for her, given the many meetings that she was forced to attend in order to smooth the preparations amongst the wizards for her impending absence.

He admitted her gruffly, and she strode in and sat down.  As she grew accustomed to the warm, salty air, she recalled how he had bound her to the very chair in which she now sat, when he had captured her during her incursion into the Tower.  Though that had happened only months prior, it felt like years had passed since then.

Gwineval paced back and forth before turning toward her. “First, you rashly announce that you are leaving the Tower with Tored, and then you confront Jalis and humiliate him and the rest of his allies in the council?  What has happened to you, Hemlock?”

“I’ve decided to take my life back.”

“When you agreed to lead the Wizard Guild, you committed yourself to us.  You are leaving the guild just as fractured by internal strife as when Falignus was still alive.  How is that fair and just?”

Hemlock felt her voice rising despite her wish to remain calm
. “I expected help though.  Instead, you leave all the work to me and spend all of your time researching.”

“I’ve spoken to you about the power of the Imperial magic.  You don’t understand how dramatic the results of my research have been.  Let me show you something.”

Gwineval stepped into the center of the room and drew a small bag from his robe.  He unloosed the string on the bag and began to pour its contents onto the stone slabs on the floor.  He poured it in a thin line, which he began to curve and weave back over itself.  Soon he had formed a complex rune and then he drew two concentric circles around it and connected them back to the rune in their center.

He stepped into the circle and then began to gesture and chant.
  A white glow formed around him and then transferred to the lines of sand, causing them to glow.  The crackling glow extended out from the circle in a line across the floor toward the wall of the chamber, where it turned upwards and rose until it intersected a thicker horizontal line which illuminated the entire inner wall of the room.

Gwineval’s feet left the ground, and he began to rise into the air.

Hemlock was surprised and impressed, but Gwineval’s triumphant look as he floated made her attempt to mute her visible reaction.

Gwineval frowned at her less than enthusiastic reaction.  He then
leaned forward, which caused him to float in that direction.  As soon as he passed above the outer circles, he fell several feet to the floor, landing hard on his webbed feet.

Hemlock rose and strode over to the pattern on the floor, which still glowed
along with the floor and the wall.  She glanced at Gwineval, and, encouraged by his not restraining her, stepped into the circle.  Nothing happened.

“The law I created says that I can fly.  But it doesn’t work for anyone else.  In fact, the way I’ve crafted it, it will actually prevent anyone else from flying within it.  The amazing thing about it is that that rune will last for many days without any additional magical energy.  Think about what that means, Hemlock.  Take Mercuria.  She could create a
rune in her apartment that would heal her whenever she stepped into it.  And this magic is easy to cast.  She could nearly manage it now, given her rather impressive talents.  This could free us from our dependence on natural magic!”

Hemlock pointed to the glowing line of energy on the floor and on the wall.  Using her power of magical attunement, she could see that magical energy was flowing from the large channel of power on the wall, down through the floor, and was sustaining the spell that was in force on the floor.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet, but these magical ley lines seem to run all through the Tower,” Gwineval replied.

The ley lines reminded Hemlock of the system of magical energy that she had seen in use in the tomb of Zaringer in the northern desert.

“It is impressive, but it seems almost too good to be true.  If this magic is so great, then why didn’t the Imperator’s culture survive?”

Gwineval ‘s countenance clouded as he turned away.  With a wave of his hand he extinguished the glowing runes and swept up the sand with a dustpan.

“I don’t know.  But I intend to find out.  I’d like to search the Seventh Circle chambers, with your approval.”

“Gwineval, do you hear yourself?  How do you think Falignus and his father got started with this magic?  Just like this!”

“But, Hemlock
, how can one shun a thing when one doesn’t understand it?  It’s not a rational decision if it’s made in ignorance!”

“Just look at the results
of others who’ve made the same decision, though!”

“The Seventh Circle
was corrupt!  Perhaps they corrupted the Imperial magic.”

“And, perhaps not!  I knew Falignus.  He wasn’t totally corrupt—there was good in him as well,” said Hemlock, pausing uncomfortably as she considered what she was concealing from Gwineval about her discoveries in Falignus’ chamber.

“Maybe, but I saw plenty of evil in him!”

Hemlock prepared to respond
, but her eye caught a glow from the far corner of the room.  There was another glowing pattern of sand that resembled the rune that Gwineval had just cleaned up, but it looked far more intricate.  Curiosity overtook her angry feelings.

“What does that one do?” she asked.

Gwineval looked taken aback for a moment, and he looked away from Hemlock.

“Well?” she pressed.

“It’s nothing.  Just something I’ve been working on.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…personal.”

She turned toward the door
. “See!  Already the secrets.  You do what you feel you must when I’m gone, but I don’t agree with you investigating the Seventh Circle.”

“Wait.”

Hemlock turned to face Gwineval.  He had an odd look on his face that she couldn’t identify.

“Follow me,” he finally said.

He approached the glowing rune and stood at its border.  Turning, he looked Hemlock straight in the eye as he faced her.  He stepped backward over the sand border of the rune.  As he did so, Hemlock beheld a startling transformation in his face and head.

His eyes shrank
, and the irises became round and brown.  His scales gave way to normal human flesh, and a generous head of brown hair bordered with gray sprang up on his head.  She instinctively knew that she was looking at Gwineval as he would have appeared if he had not undertaken his physical transformation into a lizard, many years prior.

Nothing was said for several moments.  Finally, Hemlock found her voice
. “Is it illusion?”

“No.  While I am inside this rune, this is my real head.”

Hemlock’s tone softened: “You love her, don’t you?”

Gwineval quickly stepped back outside of the circle and resumed his normal appearance.

“What?  This is just an exploration of…possibilities.  I’m not prone to bouts of uncontrolled emotion like some people around me seem to be.”

Hemlock started to reply, but stopped short.

If he hasn’t admitted it to himself, yet, then I won’t push him.

“Gwineval, go ahead and search the Seventh Circle chambers.  Just be careful!”

“Well, I…  Hemlock, I appreciate that.”

“Will you include Jalis and his lot?”

“Yes, I think I’ll have to.  Word would surely reach them, and I don’t want to give them another point of contention to use against us.”

“OK, but keep an eye on him.”

“Of course.”

Hemlock turned to leave, but Gwineval called after her.

“Hemlock?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck.”

She smiled at him and left his chamber, again experiencing some guilt for not revealing her and Merit’s discoveries in Falignus’ rooms.

Your secret is safe with me, my love.

She stopped in the hallway and t
ook stock of that thought.

Was he the love of my life?  And have I lost him forever?

She shook her head and continued toward Merit’s chamber.

She soon reached his doorway.  She didn’t want to arouse suspicion about the old tome that they had found, but her curiosity would not allow her to leave on her journey without getting his initial impressions of the contents of the book.

She knocked on the door, and heard a familiar heavy shuffling from inside.  Merit answered the door, and Hemlock thought that his mechanical countenance appeared to bear the expression of frustration.

“Merit, is everything al
l right?”

“Yes, Miss Hemlock, please come in.”

She entered and noticed that the other six automatons that tended to the Tower were present in the nearly empty room.  They were standing in a semi-circle and appeared to be waiting patiently.

Hemlock noticed the bookshelf in the corner of the small room, which Merit had had installed soon after their last adventure, when he had began his hobby of reading history books.  But a small mechanical clicking from one of the six automatons diverted her attention back to them.

“I’ve been trying to work with them,” said Merit.

“Yes, I know.  How’s it going?”

“It is going poorly.  Numbers Three and Five have shown some response to my attempts to engage them.  But as soon as they leave my immediate vicinity, they forget what we talked about.  The others have not responded at all.  It is quite disheartening.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hemlock said
, attempting to sound compassionate.  In reality, she was more interested in hearing about the book.

He’s your friend.  Be attentive!

She took the initiative. “Do you think they might be damaged?”

“No, I don’t believe so. 
And I’ve had you scan the magic of our bodies before, and you’ve never detected anything unusual.”

“True.”

“But something has occurred to me, Miss Hemlock.”

“What?”

“Lately I’ve felt like my body is constraining me somehow.  I have an odd yearning to be free of it.”

“Don’t say that, Merit.  It sounds like you are saying that you want to die!”

“No, I don’t want to die.  But I want to feel free.  Remember when we encountered that ghostly spider in the Witch Crags?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve had a new theory lately concerning that encounter.  My body was damaged by the spider’s magic, and it took the concentrated magic of the obelisk to start healing me.”

“I remember that.”

“I think that is the point when I started to feel more…human.”

“But you were there in the Atrium.  You decided to join us in the teleport cage.  That was a conscious decision, right?”

“I don’t remember, but I do know that I was in the Atrium in accordance with my scheduled duties.  Miss Hemlock, I think that when my body was damaged by the witch magic and later healed, some permanent damage was done.”

“Why?  Do you feel bad?  Do we need to have you examined?”

“Go ahead and examine me yourself.”

Hemlock focused her magical sensitivities and looked at Merit’s body.  The complex spells wound all around him, and infused the machinery of his body in a tangle of rune lines and auras.  No damage was apparent to her until she compared him with one of the other automatons.
  She noticed that some parts of the complex weave of magic were missing from Merit, and some others that were present were weaker, and even flickered on and off subtly.

She weighed how Merit might react to this information, but decided to tell him
. “Merit, I do see some damage.  You may be right.”

His small head swiveled up and down on his mechanical neck.  “It is as I thought
, then.  I believe that our bodies were constructed to keep us alive.  But I think they were also constructed to imprison us somehow.  I fear that my comrades will never recover as I have unless we can figure out some way to affect their bodies as mine has been affected.”

Hemlock approached Merit and clasped his small brass hands in hers.  “That sounds dangerous.  We could kill them in the process. 
Merit, promise me that you won’t do anything rash to them or yourself until I return.  I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Merit’s grip firmed slightly in her hands.  “I won’t, Miss Hemlock.  You need not worry.”

Hemlock smiled at him and then, after a few moments, withdrew a few paces and turned toward a bookshelf.

“So what of the book?”

Merit walked swiftly into her field of vision before responding in animated fashion.  “Miss Hemlock, it is a detailed memoir by Julius.  I’ve read about his life before he came to the City, and I’ve learned a little about the Imperator and his reign.  Shall I tell you in detail?”