The Sorcerer's Legacy (8 page)

The page ran down the hall, his soft leather shoes slapping a rapid cadence that echoed down the silent corridor. He came to a stop just outside the room of the man he was sent to fetch and adjusted his doublet before knocking sharply on the door.

“What is it?” Lord Alton demanded sharply.

“Milord, his grace requires your presence in the study immediately,” the page called through the door, relaying the duke’s orders.

The page leapt away as the elderly lord swung the door open with enough force to send it crashing against the wall and shoved past the startled underling. This was the first time that the duke had spoken to anyone since General Baneford’s betrayal. Alton hesitated outside the study for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing his way inside.

Duke Ulric was standing in front of the fireplace drinking a glass of chardonnay. Lord Alton had overseen the repair of library after the duke’s outburst but evidence of the destruction was still evident. Several of the bookshelves showed deep gouges and many of the shelves remained empty as a team of scribes continued to work diligently to repair the destroyed books. The walls were bare where tapestries once hung, pedestals that once displayed rare and expensive vases now stood empty, and the chairs had been replaced.

“Your Grace, you sent for me?” the chamberlain asked with trepidation.

“Yes, Alton, I have a mission for you. I need you to contact the Hell’s Legion mercenary company. Pay whatever price they demand,” Duke Ulric ordered.

“I assume they will be going after General Baneford and the other deserters,” Alton replied.

“No, I am not so petty a man that I would allow my own anger and ego to deflect me from my true desire. Hell’s Legion will go on a pillaging spree throughout the kingdom, looting the cities and towns that I designate. The people will cry out to their lords and the king, but they will not be able to protect them. My own men, gallantly displaying my colors, will ride in to their rescue. We will stage mock battles where my men and I will drive off the invaders in a series of glorious victories. The people will see how inept and impudent their king is and beg me to claim the throne, sacred artifact be damned!”

The duke’s eyes shown with a feral gleam as he detailed his plans to the chamberlain.

“It is a brilliant plan, Your Grace. I will see to the details immediately,” Alton assured his lord.

“Yes, I wish I had thought of it years ago and not wasted all this time on that fabled armor fool’s errand. Once I am king, then I can devote my energy and resources to see that Baneford receives the punishment he so richly deserves,” Duke Ulric swore.

Ulric swirled the chardonnay in glass, laughing evilly as he imagined the tortures he would inflict on his erstwhile general.

***

Ellyssa, Wolf, and Ghost sat around the large, flat-topped rock that served as Wolf’s dining table, licking the last of the apple filling from their fingers.

“I can’t believe we ate that whole pie,” Wolf said.

“I can’t believe you ate over half of it by yourself,” Ellyssa replied.

“It wasn’t that big of a pie and Ghost had a pretty big piece,” Wolf said defensively.

Ellyssa arched her eyebrows. “You ate half a chicken just before the pie!” she said accusingly.

“So, has Azerick taught you any useful magic yet?” Wolf asked the young apprentice mage, changing the subject of his eating habits.

Ellyssa’s face lit up at the chance to talk about magic. Wolf knew Ellyssa would drop just about anything for a chance to talk about the things she has learned about magic. Wolf often used it to get her to talk about something else when the current subject was distasteful to him.

“Oh yeah, watch this!” Ellyssa exclaimed eagerly.

She waved her hand, spoke some spidery words of magic, and the sticky filling and crumbs disappeared from her hands and face as if she had just washed.

“Pretty neat huh!” she asked excitedly.

Wolf looked at her completely unimpressed. “I asked if you knew any
useful
magic. You just made yourself clean. I hardly call that useful.”

“You wouldn’t but you could sure use it,” she told Wolf, wrinkling her nose at his filthy countenance. “Fine, you want to see some real magic, stand back!”

“I thought Azerick told you not to use magic without him being around,” Wolf reminded her, knowing how she got when she was riled up. Anything that made Wolf nervous was definitely a call for concern.

“Azerick is just a worrywart. It’s just a little snowball spell.”

 Ellyssa found a lone tree in the midst of the clearing and began casting her spell. With a shout, she whipped her arm forward as if she was throwing a rock. A flickering orange sphere the size of an apple flew from her hand straight at the base of the tree that stood ten yards in front of her.

The moment Ellyssa released her spell she knew something had gone wrong. Instead of the ball of ice that should have splattered harmlessly against the tree trunk, it burst into a bright flash of fire.

“Nice going, you set the tree on fire!” Wolf yelled accusingly.

“It was an accident! It was supposed to be a ball of ice!” Ellyssa shouted back.

“You are going to be in so much trouble when Azerick finds out.”

“You better not tell on me!”

Wolf crossed his arms defiantly. “Or what?”

Ellyssa glared evilly at the half-elf. “Or I’ll use my cleaning spell on you!”

Wolf’s jaw dropped open, aghast at the threat. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“And I’ll tell Azerick you started the fire cooking up some rat you caught.”

“I don’t eat rats and I don’t set trees on fire when I cook!”

Ellyssa crossed her arms and turned away petulantly. “He will believe me over you, I’m his apprentice not you,” she said and stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder.

“He’ll believe me because I saved his life once and he knows you are a big fat liar!” Wolf shouted at her back.

“No he doesn’t!”

“Yes he does, he told me. And he said you were ugly.”

Ellyssa spun around at glared at Wolf. “No he didn’t, now you’re lying!”

Now Wolf turned away and put his back to her. “Yep, he told me he bought you because he thought you were a monkey in a dress and it made him laugh.”

Wolf heard her shout some unintelligible words and felt a tingling all over his body. Frightened, he looked at his hands and bare arms and felt his face.

“You cleaned me!” he shouted in horror.

“You needed it. You smell worse than a midden heap,” Ellyssa said nastily.

“That’s it, I’m telling!” Wolf threatened and began running towards the tower, Ghost loping at his heels.

“You better not!” Ellyssa shouted, chasing after him.

The young wizard had no chance of catching the fleet footed half-elf, much less getting to the keep ahead of him. It did not matter. As Wolf ran past the wall, men were already running towards the fire, which was now a blazing inferno rising above the treetops, with shovels, pickaxes, and buckets of sand.

***

King Jarvin sat in his study, his highly agitated state obvious to his two senior advisors. The few years of his contentious reign was evident in every grey hair on his head and the deep creases in his face despite having just reached the dawn of his fortieth year.

“What news have we of the acquisition of Dundalor’s armor?” Jarvin asked his advisors.

  “Ours or theirs?” Bishop Caalendor asked his liege.

“Either!” the king barked in frustration.

“Your pet group of adventurers is still in the field and is not expected to report back for some weeks yet. I have received word from one of my more remote monasteries that a large contingent of armed men did indeed find and take the piece entrusted to them.”

King Jarvin’s face turned scarlet at his advisor’s revelation. “A piece was in one of YOUR abbeys and you did not tell me?” the king raged.

It was the portly head of the church’s turn to flush now. “Your Majesty, I did not know. Such information was never recorded, by the order of King Archibald himself when he ordered the pieces scattered. It is that fact that has us chasing after rumors. There simply is little else on which to go.”

“Then tell me how the blazes this man found out about it!”

The bishop simply shrugged his shoulders. “He had a better rumor.”

The king ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, flicking several loose strands to the floor. “Do we know who these men were; who led them?”

“Not with any certainty, Your Majesty. The description fits General Baneford, Duke Ulric’s man but I have not been able to confirm this.”

“Ulric again. That man is beyond contemptible. What of our men inside his castle, can they confirm anything? I would be loath to provoke a battle with the duke even with evidence. Without it, such is not even an option.”

The bishop shook his head again. “Our spies have reported nothing. The few correspondences they have seen have not even hinted at any attempt to recover the artifact. General Baneford has not been seen in Southport in several years so even if it were him seeking the pieces, Duke Ulric can easily deny any involvement. I imagine the general’s discharge papers were signed and placed on file long ago.”

The king turned addressed the other man in the room. “What of The Academy? Have any of the magi there been approached for aid in seeking out the armor?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Magus Illifan replied.

“Forgive my skepticism, Magus, but what kind of cooperation do you think I or one of my agents would get from The Academy, seeing as how it is under the thumb of the man most likely to oppose me?”

Magus Illifan cleared his throat before answering. “The Academy maintains its neutrality despite its location. It is an institution for all of Valaria after all.”

“As is the Church,” the bishop chimed in.

The king wheeled on the Bishop. “Speaking of the Church, some rather disturbing words have reached my ears.”

“What words would those be, Your Highness?”

“Tales of the dead rising and terrorizing my citizens, and if that weren’t bad enough, your church has been laying the blame at my feet! Explain that to me, Bishop.”

 The clergyman had the decency to look contrite before answering. “There are indeed dark tidings across the land, Your Majesty. The peasants are quick to place blame, largely following local superstitions.”

“They are repeating the words of your priests! They are claiming that my heritage is the cause!”

“The teachings of Solarian tell us that man is the blood of the world and if the blood of man is tainted so shall it taint the land. The king is the ultimate representative of the land. The priests may interpret Solarian’s word one way while the peasants may interpret the same word or even the words of the priests another.”

“And what do you say, Bishop? What do you counsel your flock and priests regarding my blood?”

“Your Majesty, I have been your faithful advisor since your coronation and your father’s for two decades before you,” Bishop Caalendor reminded his king.