The Wizard's Council (3 page)

“Hail friend. What brings you to the gates of the Holy Order?” The man asked.

“I seek an audience with your leader on behalf of Galimdor and its King.” Arcantos bowed after he spoke.

“Ah yes, your King sent a messenger not too long ago. I don’t believe we were properly introduced, I am Brother
Timothy.” The monk extended his hand to Arcantos.

“I am Arcantos, advisor to the King.
It is a pleasure to meet you.” Arcantos could barely bring himself to shake the man’s hand.

The two exchanged small talk as they entered the courtyard of the Holy Order’s stronghold. It was unlike an
ything Arcantos had seen. From outside, the fortress looked large, but its true size was lost on anyone who had not seen it from the inside. The fifty foot tall, twenty foot deep, outer wall was dwarfed by the inner wall. Arcantos estimated it to be at least seventy-five feet in height. This wall was even smaller than the massive keep at the center of the complex. The height of which was well over one hundred feet. Just the keep by itself was larger than most of the towns in the Southern Kingdoms. Only Galimdor could compare to the Holy Order’s fortress. The differences in the two castles were startling. Where Galimdor housed a Wizard’s Conclave, The Fortress of the Light housed the largest cathedral that Arcantos had ever laid eyes upon. Galimdor was a town within a castle, but the Fortress was a bastion of strength. Within the fortress, there were no houses and exceedingly few shops. The Fortress housed numerous barracks, seven cathedrals, ten blacksmith shops, a larger grocer, and a bazaar.

“I had not heard there was a bazaar in the Fortress of Light. This surprises me,” Arcantos said as they passed through the stalls.

“The bazaar is the only area in which the Holy Order permits outsiders to stay, except for special guests and diplomats, of course. We must spread our light to the world somehow, Arcantos. We find that the best manner in which to do so is to let others examine us in our everyday lives. The bazaar brings people from all across the continent, it is our hope that the light stays with them when they leave.” The monk seemed to be aiming his words at Arcantos, as opposed to those who visited the bazaar.

The reply made Arcantos even more uncomfortable. He knew the King had sent him as a showing of power. As leader of the Knights of Doom, being sent on such an assignment showed that they still bowed to his will. Even in such matters as dealing with one of their sworn enemies. The keep in the center of the stronghold was even more imposing than it looked from far. It was, however, the cathedral that fueled
Arcantos’ fear. The Crusaders of Hope, a smaller group within the Holy Order, was dedicated to stamping out the Knights of Doom. Their name and sole purpose both came as a direct result of the actions of the Knights of Doom some years ago. He let out of sigh of relief as they entered the keep.

Inside the keep was more impressive than outside the keep. The entry led directly to the Holy Order’s version of a throne room. As it was not a monarchy, there was not a King. They had two heads of their faction: the Grand
Cleric and the Grand Crusader, together they came up with the rules by which the order operated. On either side of the two were the Grand Champions. Each one of them decked out in gold-plated armor. Neither the Grand Cleric nor the Grand Crusader wore armor while in the keep except when it came under attack. They differentiated themselves in action and in the way they dressed. Though not as regal as the Kings of other Kingdoms, they still dressed as many nobles would. The Grand Cleric rose to greet Arcantos.

“Greetings, servant of Galimdor. The Grand Cleric and I welcome you to our stronghold,” The Grand Crusader rose and accompanied the Cleric to greet their guest.

“It is an honor, your greatness. I am but a humble servant of the King and his people. We wish to strike an alliance with you against the evil magic using Southern Kingdoms.” A majority of the onlookers turned their attention to Arcantos as he spoke.

“Does not the Kingdom of Galimdor have a Conclave of their own? Does not the Kingdom of Galimdor consort with the Knights of Doom?” The Grand Cleric asked.

“Archwizard Owyn attempted to assassinate the King, and we dealt with his assault appropriately. The Conclave has now been outlawed in Galimdor. As for the Knights of Doom, the King does not admit to having anything to do with them. They may claim to be fighting for Galimdor, but we have no ties to them.” The intricate web of lies woven by Arcantos was so masterfully delivered that those listening instantly found themselves believing him.

“You have already dealt with the mages in question, I do not see why you rush to attack the other Conclaves. It would be much wiser for us to send our inquisitors to inspect them on a case by case basis. We excel at finding mages who abuse their gift.” The Cleric’s eyes narrowed as he approached Arcantos.

“One of the Galimdorian mages escaped. She is highly dangerous, and we expect she will seek the other Conclaves for assistance and asylum. We cannot allow this. If she were to return to Galimdor, a large portion of the people would side with her. Our people deserve better.”

“We shall send out troops to assist you, but know that we will be dealing with the magic users as we see fit.” The Grand Crusader gave Arcantos a stern look.

“I accept your terms. Though it is not what we had hoped for, we will defer to you when it comes to the magicians. I’m afraid that I must take my leave of you. The King will want to hear the good news.” Arcantos bowed to the two menacing figures.

*

              Sev crouched low and scanned the ground. Sweat dripped off his forehead as he examined the footprint.  The imprint made by the foot was an inch or so deeper than his own and at least five inches longer as well as two inches wider.
A troll
, he thought as he pulled out a knife with his left hand. The footprint was fresh, less than an hour old. It was a lone footprint in an area of lush grass, whoever was traveling with the troll, if anyone, had some way of concealing their trail. Sev’s half-elven heritage allowed him to pick up on things that neither race could manage. The other two hunters, one elf and one human, stared at him as he placed the knife back at his belt and drew a sword with his right hand. One of them tried to speak, but he raised a finger to his lips and then pointed to the edge of the clearing.

             
A small patch of flowers crumbled as if it had been stepped on. Only seconds later, the flowers sprung back up as they were before. Sev knew instantly what was going on. He pulled out a small knife, designed for throwing, from his belt and sprinted for the edge of the clearing. His hand flashed forward, and the knife flew at the spot where the flowers were wavering back and forth. A loud cry sounded and, blood began to drip out of thin air. Several trolls came crashing out of the trees to see what was going on. Sev soon found himself surrounded by a troll hunting party. His concentration broken, a man in a robe appeared, holding his side where the half-elf’s knife had struck.

“Kill him!” The robed man shouted as he pointed at Sev.

              A curved smile formed on Sev’s face as he pulled a short sword from his side and wielded his two weapons as the first of the trolls came at him. The beastly humanoid charged at him with a lowered shoulder as two more drew their weapons, one a massive club and the other a spear. Sev dropped onto his back and shifted his weight back onto his shoulders. As the troll came close, he sprung over the troll’s head and pushed off his back, using his own weight against him. The troll stumbled to the ground, and Sev rolled to his side, making sure the other trolls were out of reach. He spun to face the others, expecting them to all to be charging at once. Much to his surprise, only one troll was coming after him. He jumped backward as the troll swung one of his massive arms at the tiny opponent. Sev stepped back and allowed himself to fall, faking tripping over a rock. The troll sprung forward, ready to pounce on his downed opponent. Sev bent his legs at the knees and then threw his body back over his head in a somersault, his knees slammed into the trolls face. The resounding crunch caused a couple of the trolls to hesitate.

             
The troll with the club was unfazed and attacked first. Raising his club up above his head, he lunged forward. Sev stepped to the side and jabbed his short sword into the troll’s ribcage. The other troll thrust her spear toward Sev, who used his now free hand to redirect it into the ground. She struggled to pull the spear free as Sev used it as a stepping-stone. He vaulted from the spear onto the short sword that was still inside the other troll’s ribcage. He slammed his knee into the troll’s head and then applied as much pressure to the blade as possible as he used it to jump and kick the other troll square in the nose. The troll yelped in pain as the sword slid lower, breaking several ribs in the process. His partner staggered backward, blood pouring from her now shattered nose.

“Kill that man!” The robed man yelled as he disappeared deeper into the forest.

              The remaining five trolls looked at one another in hesitation. This was just the opening that Sev needed. He leaped forward and dug his sword into the closest troll’s arm. His left arm sprung out towards the next troll and a small throwing knife dug into its shoulder just next to the neck. Satisfied with the damage he had dealt to the first two, Sev turned to the next. He swung his forearm at the troll’s knee. As they were about to connect, he twisted his arm to the side, and the sharp end of his bracer sliced through the troll’s kneecap.  Another troll stepped forward and swung at Sev with his massive fist. The half-elf ducked the blow and backhanded the troll in the face, his spiked gloves drawing blood. It let out a loud bellow and lunged forward. Sev tried to scramble away, but the troll was too fast. He grabbed his smaller opponent in a great bear hug and tried to squeeze the life out of him.

             
Sev lowered his head and slammed it into the troll’s nose. His helmet dented slightly as it connected with the troll’s face. Unable to hold the sly Ranger, the troll stumbled backward in retreat. Sev threw his last throwing knife into the troll’s throat as he tried to turn and run. The remaining troll stood waiting for Sev to face him. He turned to the final troll. Standing at nearly eight feet tall, it was a full head taller than the other trolls. Crooked teeth met with Sev gaze as the troll laughed at the smaller opponent. Sev grabbed a dagger from his boot and lunged forward, attempting to slice the troll’s chest. The dagger connected with its mark, but the troll didn’t seem to care. He punched at Sev and connected with the right shoulder, sending the smaller combatant careening to the floor.

             
Pain shot through Sev’s body as he hit the floor. The force of the impact nearly shattered a rib or two. With a loud grunt, Sev jumped to his feet and faced the troll yet again. The troll lunged at him again, trying to break his already battered and bruised body. Sev sidestepped and turned. He found himself looking at the troll’s outstretched arm. Taking the troll’s wrist with his right hand, he punched the elbow with his left hand and then sidestepped again. The troll’s exposed side became a punching bag for Sev. He managed to connect with three hits before the troll tried to backhand him. A smile formed on his face as he ducked under the blow and threw an uppercut into the troll’s chin. It staggered backward and then pushed one of the wounded trolls in between itself and Sev.

             
By the time he had pushed the massive creature out of the way, the other troll had escaped. He turned to see the other two Rangers at the edge of the clearing staring in disbelief. They had heard the stories of old about how the great hunters would challenge trolls in combat, but they never believed it could be accomplished. Sev retrieved his weapons and waved the two over. He was battered, aching, bruised, and even bleeding, but not beaten.

“We must warn the others. The
trolls have never been this brazen, nor have they ever enlisted the help of a mage.”

Emily stood in the middle of the ceremonial chamber, waiting for the others to instruct her on what to do next.
I hope I get it right
, she thought as she watched Paul making his way toward the center of the room. He was wearing a dark-blue robe, significant of a Wizard. As per Rolin’s teachings, Apprentices were the lowest level of magic users, Mages were the second-tier, and Wizards were the third-tier. Everything above Wizard was a special position, worthy of only the best magicians in the realm. Emily’s own green robe signified that she was a junior Archwizard. This allowed her access to the council meetings, but no vote. Paul shrugged as he got closer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the newest member of our order of Conclaves. Paul, Wizard of Carmalia.” Emily motioned toward Paul.

“As is customary, the Archwizard of the Conclave is supposed to give something of a blessing to the new recruit. I had something a little different in mind, as our newest pupil has already shown a remarkable control of magic. I shall not only grant him my blessing, but I shall take him under my wing and teach him personally.” Rolin placed his hand on Paul’s shoulder.

The crowd erupted in applause
, and the ceremony continued. Paul was presented with his own staff and a book for taking notes on magic. A few other magicians explained the significance of accepting Paul and of Paul’s skill. As with most initiation ceremonies, it was long and somewhat confusing for the one being initiated. The traditions that held such weight among the magic users were new and, in some cases, seemingly unnecessary. There was nothing that could be changed about it now, he had chosen his fate. Emily congratulated Paul and was about to head with him to the table to take a seat when Rolin stopped her.

“Now, there is one more announcement that needs to be made. As we all know, Owyn, the Archwizard of Galimdor, was murdered not so long ago. The council took upon itself the decision to promote another of our own to replace him. It is with both honor and pleasure that I present to you, Emily, Archwizard of Galimdor.” Rolin started the applause and the room joined in.

“I don’t know what to say,” Emily replied.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

The festivities continued for several hours. Though not known for banquets or events, the Carmalian magicians were no strangers to having a good time. After the dancing and mingling died down, people began to return to their seats. Rolin stood up and instructed everyone to congratulate not only Paul and Emily, but themselves, as well. It had been a particularly good year at the Carmalian Conclave, and Rolin wanted the others to know that he recognized it as such. After his speech, he dismissed everyone and then informed the Archwizards that the council would be in session the next day.

*

The King listened intently as Arcantos reported back what he had done. Arcantos kept his gaze on the King, trying to find some reaction as he recounted his dismal showing with the Barbarians. There was no reaction from the King, he just continued to eat his food. This in itself was enough to unnerve Arcantos, but he had no choice except to continue the story. As he got to the part where he and the Barbarian Chieftain had nearly resorted to shouting at one another, he paused. The King continued to eat his food, seemingly unaffected by the news.

“They are Barbarians, you know,” he said, breaking the several seconds of silence.

“Of course, your majesty. I had just hoped I would have been more successful in garnering their support.” Arcantos was somewhat relieved at the King’s response.

“It is just us, my friend. Call me by my name. I am tired of all the impersonal conversations that I have day in and day out.”

“My apologies, Francis. I will do as you wish. Not as your subject, but as your friend.”

“Good, tell me of the Holy Order.” The King continued eating, not even caring about speaking with his mouth full.

“They seemed slightly suspicious of our motives, but it gives them an excuse to look into the magic users of the southern kingdoms. I believe that is what pushed them into helping us. It is not something that I know for certain though.”

King Francis nodded in agreement as he finished the last of his meal. Arcantos had rarely seen the King interact in such a way. He couldn’t help but wonder if his plan was finally paying off. For years, he had pitted the King against his most trusted advisors. Whispering lies in the right ears at the right times. Countless had fallen to the schemes of Arcantos. After some time, it became easy. The King put all of his trust in Arcantos and his Knights of Doom. The last obstacle had been Emily and the fact that she still lived could cause him problems in the future.

“Your highness, I know you do not like to speak of this, but what of your daughter?”

“What would you have me do?” The King looked up at Arcantos, his eyes welling with tears.

“I may not be a family man, but I do know that there comes a point in time when your children are old enough to make their own choices. Once they reach that point, you can only do so much to protect them.  At the risk of sounding cruel and heartless, I must press upon you the importance of letting her pay for her actions. Emily has embraced her fate, it is time for you to do so as well.”

“We can cover it up, we have the resources!” The King slammed his hand on the table.

“It is time that you remember your place. You are the King of Galimdor. Your choices influence an entire Kingdom, not just your family. Think of the lives taken by the Conclave mages, what will they think when this becomes about you and your daughter?” Arcantos unrelenting stare was enough to unnerve even the King.

“What am I to do? I cannot stand by and let my daughter be killed.”

“I think I may have come up with a solution for all this. Quickly, grab your sword and seal!”

Arcantos grabbed the quill from the King’s desk and started writing something on a piece of paper. The King did a he asked and rushed to get his sword and royal seal. He dipped the seal in a bowl of wax that the Wizard had prepared and pressed it on the bottom of the parchment. Arcantos pulled the paper away before the King could read it and finished the letter. He placed them aside and took hold of the hilt on King Francis’ sword. The King started to protest, but Arcantos ignored him. Taking a deep breath, the Wizard relaxed himself before ripping the sword out of his King’s hand and plunging it into the King’s chest. Francis began gasping for air as Arcantos slowly walked him back to his bed and laid him down on the bed.

“I’m afraid it was the only way.” The twinkle in Arcantos eye was the last thing that the King saw.

The leader of the Knights of Doom glanced around the room to ensure he did not leave any evidence behind. He once more looked at the letter he penned and then smiled. Satisfied that nobody would be able to identify him as the murderer, Arcantos straightened his cloak and headed for the door. One of the King’s many servants was attempting to enter as the
mage was exiting. The man tried to get to the door, but Arcantos placed his hand on the man’s chest. He brought a finger up to his lips and then motioned for the assistant to follow him.

“The King wishes to be alone for the rest of the evening. Can I count on you to ensure that happens?” Arcantos asked as soon as they got several feet from the door.

“I don’t understand, why can’t the King tell me that himself?”

“He would be too proud to ask for your assistance. You see, he is
quite weary. Just see to it that nobody enters that room, yourself included.” The magician patted the man on the back.

*

“How many of you can tell me the two different types of transmutation?” Emily held up two fingers as the asked the class her question.

“Direct and Indirect,” One of the students answered.

“Very good. Who can tell me the difference between the two?”

“Direct applies to things you directly turn into things and indirect applies to things indirectly turned into other things,” Another student chimed in.

“Not exactly, direct refers to transforming your own body, and indirect refers to transforming things other than your own body. Do I have any volunteers who wish to demonstrate?”

“Do you mind if I give it a go?” Paul asked, leaning against the doorway.

“I didn’t notice you there. Of course, we would be honored.” Emily could barely contain her excitement.

Paul stepped into the center of the classroom and held up his left hand. He twirled it in the air several times and then tapped the nearest student’s desk. Starting at the spot he touched, the desk slowly turned to stone. The classroom erupted in applause, but Paul held up his hand to stop them. His fingers started to combine together
, and his body began to shrink. He fell down onto his hands and knees as his nose and mouth began to protrude from his face. His ears became pointy, and hair began to sprout out of his skin. Paul completed his transformation into a wolf and began running around the classroom, snapping and howling at various students. Emily gave him a stern look, and he returned to the middle of the classroom.

His arms and legs began to grow in size along with the rest of his body. He stayed on all fours
, and the hair on his body changed ever so slightly. The previous wolf form had given way to a bear form. This transformation didn’t last long. He soon began to shrink down to an even smaller size. His hair was replaced with feathers. The claws on his feet were replaced with talons. A large beak had replaced his snout. He flew around the room several times in bird form before heading back to the center. As he was going in for a landing, he transformed back into a man. He took a low bow before walking back and leaning against the wall behind Emily. The entire classroom was hooting and hollering at the display they had just witness.

“Are there any question?” Emily asked, raising her voice about the ruckus.

“Can we see him do it again?” Several students asked at once.

“Not today, our lesson is over for now. We will reconvene at a later date. I shall send you all a message telling you when the next session will be. Keep in mind that I may not be teaching next time you come to class. Dismissed!”

“I’m surprised they’ve already got you teaching,” Paul said as the students exited the classroom.

“They don’t have a Conclave for me to take over. The Council has expressed interest as using me as a liaison between Conclaves. Part of that job would have me teaching various subjects on a month-by-month basis.” Emily began clearing her desk.

“Sounds like a lot of work. Is it something you want to do with your life?” Paul asked as he helped her clean the room.

“I don’t know, Paul. Everything is happening so fast. I have trouble knowing what to say yes to and what to say no to.”

“I’m far from being an expert on anything to do with these Conclaves, teaching of magic, or magical theories, but I am here if you need anyone to talk to.” Paul placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. My entire life has been turned upside down
, and you are the first person to show any real care in how I feel,” She reached up and squeezed his hand as she spoke.

Paul smiled and held his hand there for a few more seconds before pulling it away. They had to get to the council chambers and didn’t have time to further delve into her
feelings. She smiled as he held open the door to the classroom for her.
Such an intriguing man
, she thought as they headed for the air chamber. Two other Archwizards joined them as they entered the air chamber. Emily could tell by the look on Paul’s face that he couldn’t remember their names. She smiled and nodded to each of them. Rolin’s customary start to any meeting of the Archwizards was to introduce any new members. Though Emily had attended several meetings as Junior Archwizard, Rolin would still find it customary to introduce her and Paul to everyone.

The chamber shot them up to the top floor before shuttling them inside a large meeting chamber. Rolin was already in a heated discussion with one of the other Mages. They both turned and greeted the newcomers before taking their seats at the round table in the center of the room. Emily had seen a similar chamber in the Galimdorian Conclave. The room had little in the way of decorations. There were three banners, one on each of the other walls, which bore the insignia of the Conclaves. She knew it well, but Paul had never seen it before.  He looked to her for an interpretation of what the banner meant.

“Each element is represented in the background of the banner. Lightning for air magic, a tidal wave for water magic, a rock barrier for earth magic, and the flames signify fire magic. They surround a large tower that represents the Wizard’s tower in each Conclave. There are other small details that depict the various other forms of magic. The sundial for time manipulation magic, the tree for nature magic, the chameleon for illusion magic, the skull for death magic, and the ray of light for life magic. At the top of the tower stands a Wizard, if you look closely, you can see a small strand of thread traveling from each type of magic up toward the Wizard. Our entire order is founded on the principle that all forms of magic are equal for a magic user,” Emily explained as the other Archwizards were finding their seats.

“Well put, Emily. You see, Paul, our order prides itself on being one of the few that accept Magicians from any school of magic. The Holy Order focuses on life magic, the Druids seek to master nature magic, the Elementalists seek to perfect the four elements and their subcategories, and the Necromancers specialize in death magic.” Rolin interjected.