The Azure Wizard (21 page)

As they neared the closest of the numerous stone bridges that spanned the expanse of slow-moving water the number of people diminished, and the sounds of the city were a distant murmur when they stepped onto the beautiful, old bridge. As the churning whisper of the water beneath them danced in their ears they beheld their destination before them, the massive white Castle of Greenwell. It consisted of a very large central keep built in a circle so it appeared as a thick cylinder. High parapet-lined walls stretched out from the main keep at equal intervals in five different directions. After a couple hundred yards each wall came to a stop about a third of the way up a tall, thin white tower topped by a green conical turret. This meant that two of the five connecting towers actually rose from the shallow waters of the Three Baronies River on either side of the end of the bridge that Ethan and May now walked upon. It was a marvelous structure and a unique feat of engineering.

The two Foresters nodded to a middle-aged woman and man, both in colorful summer silks, which they passed on the wide bridge, and continued on towards the castle. “May,” Ethan began, finally breaking the calm silence of their walk, “we will be stopping somewhere else before we go to Lumberwall or Taedroke.”

“Where are we stopping, and will we have time?” she asked, a shadow of concern playing across her face in the bright summer day.

“Yeah, we have time. I need to see Férfa, O’Dell’s Woodfolk wife, and let her know what happened to her husband,” answered Ethan.

His own face darkened at the memory of what the Troll had told him about its stalking of O’Dell in the east side of Greenwell City. It made Ethan clench his free hand in anger. May nodded at his answer, but upon seeing the grave look in his face she said, “I think we’ll mourn for O’Dell and Kraegovich for quite some time.”

Ethan nodded in agreement but then responded, “I’m worried about the Troll, May. It could easily reach Greenwell City by tomorrow morning, and I fear for the safety of your mother and the other Foresters.”

May squeezed his hand in reassurance and replied, “It will be fine. We’ll ask Baron Fernhollow to send some of his knights to the Compound.”

“Yeah, but then what about after that? I mean, this thing is going to always be there, a lurking shadow in the backs of our minds that constantly plagues us with paranoia and fear.”

“So it needs to be killed,” returned May in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It told me itself that Wizardcraft was the only way to defeat it, but I can’t think of a way that I could hurt the thing with the Wizardcraft that I know. I know I can use transportation Wizardcraft, and upon receiving this power I had that slight visionary power, but no sort of offensive Wizardcraft. I just wish that there were some other people out there somewhere in the Three Baronies could use Wizardcraft now, and they knew some damaging spells that could harm the Troll. But still I feel for some reason that I am the only one, though the Ancestors know I don’t want to be,” explained the storyteller as he scratched his beard.

Moments later the towering Castle of Greenwell loomed over them like a sheer mountain of white gleaming stone. Ethan looked up as they drew underneath the first yawning portcullis of the main entrance, and he saw a distant flock of Dawn Heralds ascending the length of the mighty wall of the keep above him. Now the two Foresters noticed many visitors to the castle leaving in a rush, some crying, some red-faced and angered, some white-faced and dreadfully forlorn. Others were entering with the Foresters, pursuing an audience with the Baron of Greenwell.

Greenwellian Knights were always in sight, adorned in their dark green velvet tabards and chain mail. They frequently wore panicked or grim expressions, and often were exchanging dreadful news of obviously great import in rushed serious tones. “News is beginning to come in about the carnage outside the walls of the city,” May observed as she looked at the crowds of people that grew thicker around them as they entered the keep.

These people appeared to primarily be landowners or nobles that owned or at least were related to rural investments. Also numerous merchants and shopkeepers in a distressed demeanor were paying the Baron a visit for their wares were most-likely laying piled along the Three Baronies Road somewhere after their caravans were attacked by Wizardcraft-warped beasts. The mood in the Great Hall was one of overall anxiety, frustration, and panic.
Well, at least brigands will cease to pose as a threat
, Ethan mused to himself.

The Great Hall of the Castle of Greenwell was a very wide circular chamber. So huge, in fact, that it comprised about all of the castle’s ground floor. The castle didn’t collapse due to the hall’s brilliant architectural engineering. Arrayed from the center of the chamber, where the throne of the Baron was placed, very thick white stone pillars spiraled outward to the wall and rose into the ceiling of the lofty vaulted hall. Wrapped around the base of each pillar was a massive dark green banner proudly emblazoned with the rearing stag symbol of the Barony of Greenwell in silvery-white thread.

The crowds of visitors swarmed around the throne like flies on a corpse, and they were being loosely organized to voice their complaints or predicaments to the Baron by his personal guard of Greenwellian Knights. These special knights almost wore the exact same uniforms of the standard Greenwellian Knights, but were recognizable by their visor-faced helms crowned in dark green plumage and the long spears of dark, strong wood and razor-sharp silver spearheads that they wielded. On the shaft of the weapon immediately behind the spearhead dangled green triangular banners displaying the symbol of the Barony of Greenwell.

Ethan sighed in exasperation as he began to prepare himself for a very long wait in a crowded humid room, but abruptly May, still holding him firmly by the hand, yanked him forward with her through the crowds. They received a handful of threats and their fair share of scowls from the Baron’s other visitors as they shouldered their way through the throng, but still May kept marching. They reached the barricade of Greenwellian Knights at the base of the dais and were immediately ordered to back up and calm down. May, though, grabbed the chain sleeve of the nearest knight and growled at him, “We are Foresters of the Three Baronies sent by the grandmaster herself to seek immediate counsel with Baron Fernhollow about urgent diplomatic matters that take precedence over all the businessmen here!”

As the knight nodded sheepishly and relayed her command to the figure on the throne behind him Ethan looked at May with wide eyes and a slack jaw. May returned the stare in jest and said, “What is it, love?”

“Do all Foresters learn to speak like that?”

“Not all, but what else was I going to learn with my mother imprisoning me safe and sound within the city limits. I had to become skilled at something so I learned to speak like nobility,” answered May with a shrug and a smirk, “amongst other things.”

Ethan looked impressed and nodded humbly. The knight ushered the two Foresters forward to the foot of the dais, and they looked up at their host, the Baron of the Barony of Greenwell. On the throne of intricately-carved and polished wood sat a middle-aged man with the body and demeanor of a knight. He had a bit of girth about him in his later years and his long gray and black hair was pulled into a ponytail on the back of his head. The Baron wore a dark green velvet tunic, black trousers, and a black scarf that hung loosely about his neck.

“You were sent by Grandmaster Kinsley?” he asked in his deep raspy voice, ragged from years of barking orders.

“Yes, lord,” replied May with a slight bow of her head which Ethan immediately mimicked.

“What is this about? As you can see I am very busy and our barony is in a state of emergency. So if you could be so kind, would you please make it quick,” stated Baron Fernhollow impatiently.

May answered with an inquiry of her own, “What do you know of what is happening out in the wilds?”

The Baron flushed at being questioned by some impertinent young Forester and he growled, “I know enough, lass.”

“Did you know, lord, that Wizardcraft has returned to the Three Baronies?” she snapped.

He smiled as though a shadow of fear wasn’t playing across his features and he returned, “I’m sorry, little girl, but I have absolutely no time for myths. Good day.”

Ethan came abruptly forward, moving his companion out of the way. Knights grasped their spears horizontally and slammed them against the Forester to keep him away from the dais. Ethan, though, continued to struggle against the barrier that the knights created as he began to yank the sleeves up on his tight-fitting wool shirt. The crowds immediately around erupted in turmoil, and the Baron grasped the hilt of a gold-gilded blade that leaned against his throne as he stood tall and angry above the visitors of the hall.

“Do you see this, Baron of Greenwell? Do you see?” Ethan cried over the noise in the hall.

All eyes around the Foresters, including the Baron’s, beheld the exotic azure blue tattoos that snaked up Ethan’s forearms. As confused murmuring returned to the crowds Ethan explained, “I have these sigils all over my arms, chest, and back! And they continue to spread across my body each time I use Wizardcraft!”

He continued turning around so he could explain to all present, “Magic has indeed returned to the Three Baronies, and I was chosen to be the poor son of a bitch that would bring it! All the beastly attacks and violence throughout our land is happening in all of the Baronies because when I brought Wizardcraft back into our land it also warped the minds and bodies of the Three Baronies’ most dangerous and powerful beasts! They now have no fear or anxieties about approaching humans and slaying them, and we think that they seek to reclaim their land from us! In your own land of Greenwell the Deep Wolves, Emerald Wurms, and the Sea Wurms of the coasts have been imbued with Wizardcraft, and are now far more fearsome and deadly than we could ever imagine!”

“Hang him!”

“This is the Vharian’s doing!”

Threatening shouts continued to crash into the Forester, but he ignored them and he shouted, “None of this was of my choosing! It is a curse to me! The Wizardcraft I have been given deals only with transporting me and others across the distances in the Three Baronies in an instant! It is not offensive in any way!”

The threats continued to come, albeit a bit quieter and Baron Fernhollow shouted out, “Silent, all in my chamber!”

He then looked down at Ethan, who stood firm in resistance to the pushing of the Greenwellian Knights, and he ordered, “If you say that you are a Wizard of old than prove it! Show all present here your Wizardcraft!”

The hall was silent in agreement and Ethan looked nervously at May, beyond the handful of knights that had separated them. He looked down and sighed, but then he looked up into the face of the Baron with his focused yellow stare. Ethan nodded and the Baron slowly sat down never once taking his dark green gaze from the storyteller. Ethan spread his arms out and arched his back.

His eyes began to shed blue light and all present gasped in shock. Then, in a sudden blue flash that connected the ceiling of the hall with the floor in a bright column of radiance, Ethan was gone. The knights nearest to where he was cried out in alarm and retreated against the dais as the Baron and his visitors were bewildered with awe. Confusion plagued the crowds and excited chattering was initiated like wildfire. May bit her bottom lip and looked around nervously.

“Over here!” shouted Ethan’s familiar voice from the west entrance to the Great Hall that he and May had recently entered through.

The crowds turned suddenly as one, and the Baron stood once again before his throne. Ethan stood casually in the wide entryway with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall. He replied to their cries of excitement and wonder with a short curt wave. Then the Forester came forward, marching determinedly towards the dais. The crowds parted before him as though he was a hot blade slicing through butter until he stood directly before the throne with knights on either side of him. May came forward and wrapped her arms around one of his arms and they both looked fiercely at the Baron.

“What should I do?” stammered the Baron as he fell to his knees before the Foresters, releasing anxiety and fear that he had been locked away in his powerful form.

Ethan didn’t allow himself to be taken aback by the Baron’s actions but instead he replied sharply, “You should return to your throne and continue to be a leader to your people. And you shouldn’t ask my advice. I am naught but a simple storyteller of the north. In heart, I feel as though I am no Forester of the Three Baronies, and I am certainly no Wizard. All that I can do is to offer you suggestions.”

The Baron nodded sheepishly and crept back into his wooden throne. “Then what do you suggest, storyteller?”

“I would urge you to evacuate all of Greenwell City’s outlying districts into the walled Old District and once again drop those ancient gates. I would do this until contact is made among you rulers of the Three Baronies and stability is once again restored to the wilds and the countryside. Also I would urge you to send a substantial amount of your knights to the north and south along the Three Baronies Road in order to ensure the safety of Greenwell’s other towns and villages, and tell them of what has happened in our land.”

“And what will the Foresters of the Three Baronies be doing?” asked the Baron humbly.

Ethan responded, “Milord, this is the last assignment of the Foresters of the Three Baronies. Far too many of us have been slain these past few days to hold the order together and our services are now useless to those of a retinue of your armed soldiers. Also, our order is being hunted to the last member by a shape-shifting beast of the Ancient Age known as the Troll. This creature should reach the Headquarters of the Foresters of the Three Baronies tonight or in the morning to finish its grim work. So I plead with you to evacuate the city into the Old District so that this thing can easily be kept away from your people.”

“What will you do?” whispered the middle-aged man.