Chapter Eleven
My Father with his wives so near
Sought to see my splendor of fright
But in the distant destruction and death
Stood the lingering hint of night.
The Sorcerer sat meditating in the suite he had commandeered. It was lavish for this backwoods city. In the greatest of the Free Cities, Salastar, it would hardly suffice for a peasant. There were only two rooms to this suite, and it didn’t even have its own private jakes, just a chamber pot but it would do. The fireplace was placed on an inside wall to keep it warm. The luxurious red Federation rugs were made from the wool of the Claisdane sheep, down near Wolfsbane. It felt good on his old feet, and the down-filled bed gave him sufficient rest to recover his energy levels.
The siege had been going quite well up till two hours ago. He had been communicating with the Circle back in Salastar about preparation to set up a new council here after that fool Fredrick had done all the heavy lifting for him. That is when he felt an energy surge, unlike anything he had ever felt before and then a presence beyond the power of a mortal, even beyond the power of his great master, the immortal Lich Delver.
He had sent a thought quickly, before whoever it was to just that same person. Because as the name implied, Master Delver loved to dig for ancient knowledge and would know who this mysterious stranger was. Now all he had to do was wait. He had set aside the stuffy old robes that these dolts expected a sorcerer to be wearing and had put on his more comfortable rich blue doublet and lavender leggings. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the Symbol of Life patiently awaiting his Master’s reply.
He had cast his energy about to try to protect against scrying, but he could not guarantee he was not being watched against the power of this individual. Next to but a few, there were no mortals he feared, that was why the circle sent him. He was the most powerful mortal in a century. When battling the Purpose of Death, it was best not to send a novice. The Purpose of Death and Order was potent in the hands of the necromancers.
His master had been powerful, from a long line of magical inheritance. Magical inheritance was the practice of absorbing another’s soul into a body. With it, the promise of the power their soul contained. Depending on how long the line had continued would determine on power gained. It was the only way to increase one's power.
When he had absorbed his master's essence, he thought his mind would burst from the energy swell that took him. He lay comatose for two days afterward in his master’s study before he came back from the brink of insanity. The other soul had battled for control over the body and had he not come out on top; then his master would be sitting here, now on his third body. The younger sorcerer had won out, he was not warned but now knew if he were strong enough, he too would live another life in his apprentice. That is if he could find the person to be the first to inherit twelve souls.
The Circle glowed, and he sensed oncoming energies, and he concentrated to “feel” the owners signature. It was his master. He had projected his image. That was something that was very taxing, especially at this distance of nearly three hundred leagues away.
“Master come in,” He invited him into the Circle of protection, “I require your wisdom.”
A skeleton wearing a short coat with a tie and a short pair of pants tucked into a high pair of boots walked into the Circle. Master Delver, outside the Grim, was the oldest being known on this continent. It was rumored he had seen the star fall from the sky that created the Western Sea ten thousand years ago. The sorcerer bowed deeply to a knee and waited for the word to rise before his master.
“Rise Sedrick,” Master Delver commanded in a rasping voice that sounded like wind through dead leaves, “You were right to call for me. Although if what you felt was true, this little circle of yours will not stop the being you felt.”
“Who could contain such power? No Necromancer I know. They do not practice inheritance. To them it is blasphemy not to be reborn, to put off the Judgement.”
“It is the All-Father, The Grim. Both of us combined is of no match to him. He could end us with a twitch of a smile, for he combines both Purposes when he cast sorcery. No mortal may do that. We are not permitted to mix life and death, Order and Chaos.” The Lich paced back and forth in deep thought, “But we have him in the open. This is the first time in two centuries anyone has seen him or felt the Grim. Not even when we took the Free Cities and slaughtered his precious wives, did he show his face. We can’t let this opportunity slide.”
Sedrick slammed his fist into a waiting palm with a resounding fleshy crack, “Then we must capitalize on it.”
“Nor will we youngling, keep the siege going. I will provide you with a map that we took from this Temple in Salastar when we sacked it and a powerful incantation. It is difficult and might even sap too much energy and stop your heart, but it will surely collapse the Gatehouse where the Portal is located. The Portal itself cannot be destroyed; it is beyond your power. But we can bury it. The Grim will perish, for he cannot make another Portal in three days.” The Lich turned to stare at his sorcerer in his red eyes. Sedrick backed up, putting his hands forth as if to ward against the assignment.
“But Master surely there is another way, I don’t want to be the sacrament..” Sedrick stammered rapidly.
“Sedrick, always remember, I am the immortal because I feared death not. If you get the privilege someday to join me, you must prove you are ready to die first. To become a lich surely you must beat death itself, are you afraid?” The Lich taunted him, the green dots that were his eyes were following the lower sorcerer.
“Yes Master,” Sedrick sighed, his body wracked with tremors, “send them to me and let us finish this. The eons of fighting will be at the end finally.”
“Good look for me in the morning, put forth a Circle before dawn,” Master Delver gave a wave of his skeletal hand and disappeared.
Sedrick sighed and went to find Fredrick. He had to convince the imbecile to launch an offensive tomorrow morning. He needed as the Grim’s attention elsewhere when he tried his hand at whatever his Master had for him. He walked down the stairwell and found him sitting in the common room, already well on his way to being inebriated with the “Lady” Thewar. They had kicked back, with their boots upon the large table and a half-empty tankard in their hand. They had one ale barrel empty and a second broached. He waved Sedrick over and lifted him a bronze pot in salute to him.
“Sedrick, my friend,” Fredrick slurred, “We are drinking to our victory. Care for a glass or two?”
Sedrick gave a sniff in their general direction and steered towards another table and took a seat after brushing it off. He reached up a hand to smooth his goatee in irritation.
“Ahh don’t be such a sour puss over there dearie,” The Lady Thewar purred patting her ample lap, “Come over here and have some celebration, then later we’ll have more private celebrations. I have always loved a man with a goatee.”
She got up and stumbled over and pet his meticulously trimmed black goatee. He jerked away and caught her hand glaring at her. She looked offended at him and reached up to lift her breast.
“What you don’t prefer these. Well, I am sorry; there is no sausage in this factory.” She turned and looked at Fredrick waggling a finger at his crotch, “I guess he’s your customer tonight. Always thought he leaned that ways, especially with that shaved, shiny head. Stinking unechs.” Everyone in the room burst into drunken laughter except Fredrick and the sorcerer, who glared at each other.
The Sorcerer got up and took the tankards away from the two “leaders” of the army and threw the metal pots in the ale cask with a splash, the ale lapping over onto the floor in dark splotches.
“Hey you ruined the ale, now it will be no good.” The Lady pouted.
“I know,” Sedrick said, “This celebration is a little premature. There is a reason you brought me, remember. To warn you if a certain someone showed up when you attacked his house.” He left that to hang in the air for a few moments. He knew it would take their drunk minds a little time to process the information and then slowly one by one. He saw realization dawn on the people around the room.
Fredrick’s face went white as a shade, “I honestly thought he was just a myth! What can we do now?”
“We will execute the prisoners in the morning and attack a full out assault on that heap of rocks.--” Sedrick said from his seat across the room, a smug smile settled on his face as he got to remind them who was really calling the shots on this rebellion, “--I have already talked to the Sorcerer Council, and they are providing me with a layout of the Temple of Tharpe and an exceptional spell.”
“An all-out assault! Are you insane? Even in the worst of conditions, the defenders still hold an advantage. Every one man they have is as good as ten of ours. That means we need four thousand men to have an equal fight.” Fredrick bellowed, getting to his feet with a little weave. He was using his hands in exaggerated effort to get his point across. His eyes were as wild as his wispy grey hair, giving his protest a comic appearance.
“It is necessary to make a sacrifice for the diversion, so I have time for the spell. One day of an all-out assault for permanent freedom.” Sedrick said in rap elation, the importance of his Master’s task dawning on him.
“What does this spell do?” The Lady Thewar inquired curiously.
“We are going to kill the Grim” Sedrick said maliciously.
The Mother Matron came up beside Wallace on the battlements and looked out on the city, watching the smoke curl up from the remains of the houses that burned earlier that day. They just stood there quietly, neither needing to put to words the horror before them. The three prisoners stood against the cold brisk wind, in the smoke-filled street, shivering, visible only for the burning houses near them. Wallace then placed a hand on his General’s armored shoulder.
“Don’t worry Jen. I will get your nephew off that damn stake out there. I wanted to come up here and check on him. He has always been a close friend of mine. He looks rough.” Wallace whispered the informality quietly in her ear.
Jen’s shoulders gave a little heave as she tried to hold in the sobs; she wiped her green eyes and turned away. Wallace gave a small chuckle. Jen growled and turned back to put a finger in his nose.
“No offense intended General,” He said holding up his hands, “But it just occurred to me, if you happened to try to be human instead of above us, then maybe the Temple would be more popular.”
She smiled and gave a small husky laugh and patted him on the shoulder, “You know, I think you are right. I will try to do that in the future. You keep advising like this and I will have the first officer in the East. It would be a sin to waste such good talent elsewhere.”
“Nah, I am just a simple man nothing more.” He said waving off the suggestion, taking his vigil back up, looking at the prisoners out just beyond bow shot. They were illuminated by street lamps and had a complement of ten men guarding them.
“Often, it is simple men that turn the tide. Simple men think practically when everyone else has lost their wits. The ballista you ordered constructed is the perfect example--” She pointed back over her shoulder to the siege machine that stood ready for destruction. “--Even before you were more than a corporal, you made a bold move that none of the other Garrisons had made. That ballista may mean the difference between success and death tonight. Now I want that ballista to start hurling some of the firebombs we have out into that city.” She gave him a grin, baring her teeth with malice, pointing to some of the distant buildings.
He turned to her with a look of exaggerated envy, “I have been dying to try just that.--” then his face took on a sad look, “--So we start?”
“We do Master Sergeant.” Jen took a deep breath to steady herself for the long night, “Muster the troops, I want archers on the walls in five minutes, and I want a troop managing that ballista in ten.” She ordered.
“Aye General Mother,” He saluted and bowed and started for the stairs yelling orders at the top of his lungs, “All right archers to the walls and get those fire arrows. I want another thirty men up here with torches to light them. Let’s fire these bastards up.”
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