Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) (14 page)

Her knife left her hand in a motion that seemed almost supernaturally fast.

The creature tracked it instantly
,
but the aim was too precise for it to dodge it altogether.  The best
that
it could do was to twist and take the blow in the shoulder instead of the torso.  Green blood jetted from the wound as the knife bit deep and Hemlock sprinted in for the kill, another knife from her left leg holster immediately in hand.

She slashed across her body and then as the creature faded back away from the slash
,
she caught it with a punch to the belly
,
which caused it to emit a hissing cry sounding much like one of the machines around which they fought.

She saw
its
right arm moving rhythmically then and felt the alignment of gathering magical energy.

Dropping hard to a knee
,
she thrust up and disrupted the motion and felt the gathering spell energy dissipate.

She saw fear in those inhuman eyes then.  She always saw that when the end was near for an opponent and it always made her try for a mercifully quick end when mortal force was required
–
as
she judged that
it would be in this situation.

The
creature began to attack then–slashing with its right claw–
but it was wounded already and while it may have been a match for her speed before
–
it was not in its current condition.

It used its tail effectively to slow her attacks down, but she was able to dodge it and she knew the creature was beginning to wear down under
the force of
her withering assault. 

Its robe was half covered in green blood now and pools of blood on the floor were becoming hazard
ou
s.

They traded attacks and defenses, parries and countermoves for several seconds.

As she feinted upwards and redirected a blow at the creature’s thigh, her eye caught the motion of the tail countering at an impossible angle.  It happened too quickly for her to fully register her surprise, but she tumbled to her right to avoid what she feared could be a stunning
blow from the tail and a
reversal to
her fortunes in
the combat.  She realized, too late, that the tail was no longer attached to the Wizard’s body and that a clawed fist was moving with tremendous force aimed irrevocably at her head.  She
reached a
final
conclusion
before a flash of white
exploded over her senses and then everything went black:
 

Somehow the creature has detached its tail from its body.

Safreon
turned his head slowly toward the other presence in his ramshackle workshop.  Amid the scattered boxes, glass jars, beakers and shelves full of moldering volumes and tomes stood a
man–sized
porcine figure with lolling eyes and a foaming
,
bestial mouth.

The creature
stood to its full seven feet of height,
fighting, as it did so, against the fatigue that it felt from
the great
volume of magical energy that had been drawn from it.  This energy had
powered the spell
that had
allow
ed
Safreon to
communicate with the w
izard Gwineval
,
despite the myriad
of
magical wards and defenses
that enshrouded
the Wizard Tower.

Safreon had a fleeting observation
:
that it was
fortunate that he had summoned
a creature as s
eemingly mindless as this demon, yet with enough magical power to allow him to weave
the intricate magecraft required to
accomplish
the message
. 
All d
emons were innately magical creatures,
but the most dangerous of them could harness their power and cast their own spells.

Safreon
ground
his teeth
anxiously as he waited for his spell of communication to fully dissipate and watched the Demon grow bolder as it regained its power.  Having reached the safe conclusion of the prior spell, Safreon delivered
a swift kick
toward a wooden stand which
released a metal peg at floor level that
was tied to a rope.  The rope rose toward the ceiling holding
a complex system of ropes and pulleys in
a suspended
stasis.

Now freed from the restraining force of the peg,
two
suspended
rings of
rope, upon which were tied an array of small jars, dropped from the ceiling.  S
ome careen
ed and shattered
off of the still oblivious demonic form
,
while others impacted
the floor and shatter
ed
with a violent impact
.
Most of the
pinkish
liquid content of the shattered jars ended up splattering over the body of the Demon
.

The creature squealed in pain,
and
alarm
.  Its cries then turned to
anger as it
instinctively
realized
that the spell forming would not allow it to take revenge on Safreon
. 
In moments the creature
was enclosed in a hazy
,
pink
,
shimmering globe from which it could not move or escape despite its
repeated and
enraged attempts.

Safreon looked on with satisfaction
, still conscious of his luck that t
his Demon didn’t appear
capable of casting
the spells required to break his magical snare
that would soon send the Demon back to its infernal home plane
.

Casting a wary eye toward the Demon periodically, Safreon quickly moved to a shelf and pulled out an iron shod chest
that was
about two feet
wide
.  He made a motion with his hand and uttered a single syllable and the chest opened with a click.

Behind him the Demon was
becoming even more twisted with rage as
the inside of the pinkish globe was alternatively filled with fire, lightning and even gushes of lava.  The Demon was so mindless in its rage that it had torn its own arm partially out of socket and the arm hung lamely from the beast
’s left side, as
it flailed in doomed agony.

Safreon placed the open chest on a work table and reached inside toward a vast number of small glass vi
als, each about the size of a m
an’s thumb.  Grasping one
and then opening it
, he drew it forth and held it, arm outstretched, toward the pinkish globe and the trapped demon.

He grabbed a flask from his pocket and opened it, dripping a small amount of a fizzling pink liquid into the small vial he held.

As he
finished,
the large pink sphere
containing the beast
began to swirl more violently
.  Safreon noted that a bright point of light shone out from within the large pink orb and the creature recoiled in terror from it.  The light seemed to draw part of the beast into it, and then with a loud popping sound, the entirety of the beast and the pink globe were drawn into the small, bright pink globe.  The small pink globe, shining brightly,
floated over to the small bottle
held by Safreon,
and slid into the neck of it
.

Safreon deftly corked the top of the bottle
and turned in a practiced motion and threw the
bottle
into the fireplace
,
where it burst with a loud
bang and emitted a foul smoke–
the majority of which mercifully floated up the open flue and into the chimney.

As he
completed
his work, Safreon reflected on the price of using the Wand of the Imperator
as a magical power source
.  The
risk of unleashing an uncontrolled demon was high,
unless
the Wand was expertly used
in controlled conditions.  When one used the Wand
as Safreon did,
it called
forth a d
emon to the mortal plane
which could be easily exploited for magical power during the period soon after its summoning, because the creature was weak and disoriented from the journey from its home plane
.  After
a time the demon would strengthen
,
and unless proper precautions were taken, it would then be
unleashed to wre
ak havoc upon mortals other than
the user of the Wand and those he directly protected
with special corollary spells
.  For those of evil inclination,
this rampaging demon
was merely a chaotic side effect of t
he Wand’s use.  B
ut for one who had devoted his life to ridding the world of evil
, this was something that
had to be avoided at all costs.

Safreon believed that he could use the Wand in relative safety as long as his luck
and skill
in
controlling
the
type of Demon that he
summoned held out
.  H
e
also counted on his ability to
control the environment
in which
the summoning
took place
.  He needed to have his intricate alchemical tools at his dis
posal to ensure his safety and
the safety of those around him
when he attempted to harness the
considerable power of the Wand.

His thoughts darkened as they turned to th
e bargain that he had made with the reptilian w
izard
,
Gwineval.  He had promised to deliver the Wand to him for inspection
in exchange for aid in rescuing Hemlock from the Wizard Tower
.  The exact terms of this
agreement
had not been discussed
,
but he assumed that Gwineval would dem
and access to the Wand–
at least temporarily
–
in exchange for Hemlock.  He believed that Gwineval was a well
-
intentioned being
.  But could he be trusted with that much power?
 
Safreon was briefly overcome by a dark thought:
w
ould Gwineval attempt to seize the Wand if it was shown to him?

As the
final traces of the foul smoke that had been emitted from the explosion of the jar in the fireplace dissipated,
Safreon
considered his path forward.  He
had to
go
to the Wizard Tower in
the hope that he could
gain the safe return of Hemlock.  What would happen
during the rescue
was not clear to him and he knew instinctively that no divination spell in his power would reveal the answer
to that question
.

…

Falignus strode slowly among the great iron spheres in the
chamber known as the
Room of Measurement
,
looking around in slow measured sweeps.  He knew
that
it was foolish to make such a visual inspection, but it was the only thing that he could think to do
–
because he had lost the trail of the young thief.

Again, he moved his arms in arcing motions from an extended position toward his eyes and muttered an incantation.  This simple detection spell should have revea
led her position quite easily–
especially since he now possessed the dirty rag which she had left in the Room of Meditation.

Some
thing
was preventing him from getting a reading.

Cursing under his breath, he considered his options. 
If she was captured by another w
izard or killed outright it would be regrettable.

Even though her capture or death would meet his political objectives of startling a complacent and ancient Guild out of what he considered an irresponsible withdrawal from the affairs of the outside world, it would mean the death of an individual who interested him more than any other
that he had ever met
.

Her powers were obviously impressive
despite the fact that
she was
so young.  If he could form an a
lliance
with this girl,
she would be the perfect person to run an intelligence organization for the Wizard Guild.

Falignus weighed whether the girl was important enough to risk his own reputation
in an attempt to secure her safety
. 
He knew that i
f he was observed trying to facilitate her concealment
that
it could be d
angerous for him.  Furthermore, he reasoned that it potentially could even
jeopardiz
e
the reputation
the Crimson Order
, the political faction which he led,
and perhaps ev
en his membership in the Wizard Guild itself–and by extension his very life
.  Of course, if he was discovered
,
there would be a good chance
that
he could
make it look
like he was in the process of subduing her.  But there
would still be
a slim chance that some uncontrolled occurrence could implicate
him.

The
thought
also entered his mind (and he was taken aback that he even considered it) that the girl might pose a real threat to the Guild.  She
appeared to be
very capable and her current immunity to detection
implied either that she was a w
izard herself or that she had magical help from some source.  He considered whether she could be an agent from the
City Senate, the
principal rival to the Wizard Guild
for power within the City
.

His hand grasped his prominent jaw line, descending and squeezing lightly
as his fingers moved down
toward
his
chin.

Desire.

The word reverberated through his mind. 

Despite the risks, and irrespective of his motives, h
e decided to try and find the girl.  The first step was a spell of major detection which many of the higher circle
wizards
might become aware of
,
depending on what they were doing at the time. 
He understood that this course of action c
ould set in motion a chain of events that
might
lead to confrontation
,
and
even direct conflict of some sort–potentially
involving him directly. 
He found himself feeling excited
at the thought
of that, and at the thought of her
.