Dreamwielder (20 page)

After what seemed an interminably long time to Natarios, Wulfram finally walked from the throng of woman to join Natarios.

“Find who you are looking for?” Natarios asked.

“No. There are a few women of minor ability among them, but they are of little concern to us.”

“Shall I order their release, My Lord?” the captain of the archers asked, keeping his eyes averted toward Wulfram's feet.

“No,” Wulfram said without hesitation. “Have your men kill them all.”

The captain's mouth opened in protest, but the words choked back in his throat.

An emanation of danger prickled across Natarios's skin. He was no fool. He knew the captain and his men held no loyalty to Wulfram or the Emperor. They obeyed out of fear alone. “Master,” he said in a neutral tone, “there are children amongst the captives. Surely they pose no danger to us? Let us take them back to the dungeons, and then I'm sure the captain will have no reason to object to your commands. Isn't that right, Captain?”

“No,” Wulfram growled before the captain could respond. “I said kill them all.”

Wulfram's voice carried throughout the courtyard, and the archers and the captive women both heard his words. A handful of sobs and cries for help sprung from the crowd of women, and the archers shuffled uncomfortably as their eyes darted from one another to their captain to the panicked women. Already sweat had formed on the captain's brow, and he began to shake his head.

“I can't, I can't.”

“Have your men take aim and shoot,” Wulfram commanded.

“No,” the commander replied, stealing what courage he had left and standing straight.

“Have it your way then,” Wulfram said and he turned to face the women. His hand gesture was subtle, and few at first noticed the flames, but within seconds the fire spread from the feet of the captive women to climb up their skirts. The women screamed, at first only startled, but their yells quickly turned to cries of pain as the flames enveloped them. A few of the women at the edge of the fray tried to bolt, but they managed to make it no more than a few steps before tripping to writhe, burning on the ground.

“No!” the captain yelled, unable to stand it any longer. He rushed forward to aid the women in whatever way he could, but before he could take two steps, Wulfram swiped at him with wolf-like quickness and he fell dead, his throat rent open with four mortal gashes.

The cacophony of screaming was near deafening now, and smoke billowed up from the burning women. Around the courtyard, the archers turned away in shock. Some of them vomited at the smell of smoke and cooking flesh.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” Wulfram bellowed over the mayhem. “If you wish to show mercy to others then you will obey my orders without question.”

Natarios kept his eyes steadily on the scene of fiery horror before him, but he turned his mind to other thoughts to distract himself. It was a skill he had taught himself long ago to cope with the unsettling acts he was forced to watch. And sometimes perpetrate.

The screams one by one ended, and the women quit struggling as they slowly succumbed to their painful deaths. One girl only, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, continued to struggle after all the others. She had thrown herself to the ground and tried rolling, but the flames were unrelenting, and eventually she too came to a stop as her long blond hair burned away to nothing, and all but her bones were consumed by the flames.

“You have a message for me, I believe,” Wulfram said suddenly.

“What?” Natarios asked, realizing Wulfram was addressing him.

“The message from Col Sargoth.”

“Of course,” Natarios replied, scrambling to reach into his pockets and turn over the scroll. He had completely forgotten about it already.

Wulfram tore open the message and read it, then crumpled it and tossed it aside as it burst into flames. “I must return to Col Sargoth at once,” he said, striding away toward the main keep. “The prince has escaped.”

“But wait,” Natarios said, rushing after him. “What am I to do with the King?”

“Keep him locked up,” Wulfram said. “I will return before long.”

High in one of the five towers of Lightbringer's Keep, Lorentz retched on his own blood. His neck muscles strained to tilt his head forward, but like the rest of his limbs, it was lashed to the crossbeams of the rack, and he was forced to remain upright and let the blood and bile run over his chin and down his neck.

“Where has he gone?” the Emperor whispered again, leaning in close to Lorentz's ear. “Tell me.”

“I told you already. He means to rescue his father.”

“And I've told you, he's not passed along the south road. You think I would not expect him to flee for Kal Pyrthin? He has not gone that way. He is in league with sorcerers, I know. Tell me. Where are they? In Norgland? Golier? Valaróz?”

“I don't know,” Lorentz said.

The Emperor picked up his tongs again. “Don't make me pull out more teeth, my dear man. This will all be much easier on you when you tell me everything.”

Lorentz groaned but said nothing, and the Emperor reached toward him again.

Taera sat bolt upright in her bed and screamed. Across the stone chamber, Makarria jumped up in her own bed, startled by the sudden outburst.

“What's wrong?” Makarria asked when she gathered her wits and remembered where she was. The wick on their lantern had burned low in the night and all Makarria could make out was Taera's wide eyes and pale face from across the room. The bed, covers, and walls all were lost in the shadows. Makarria feared that someone or something had snuck into their room. “What is it, Taera?”

“I saw Lorentz. He was in pain. And dozens of women and girls screaming. They were dying, Makarria. They could have been us.”

Makarria let out a small sigh of relief, realizing the danger wasn't imminent. She threw her covers aside and toed her way across the cold floor to sit beside Taera. “It's alright, you just had one of your visions.”

Taera could only nod. She hadn't experienced a vision in days, and these new visions were not the manner in which she had hoped to rediscover her power. “I'm scared, Makarria,” she said, and she realized she was crying.

“I know,” Makarria said, hugging her. “Don't worry, I'll help you.”

The next morning in her training chamber, Taera said nothing of her visions to Roanna, but the sorceress too seemed perturbed. “You had a vision, yes?” she asked Taera.

“Yes.”

Roanna pursed her lips grimly. “I do not have the clarity of vision you do as a seer, Taera, but images still come to me on occasion. Last night… their faces were not clear to me, but I saw many women—some of them girls still—in great pain. And I saw enough of their killer to know it was
him
.”

“Him? Who?”

“Who else? Wulfram.” Roanna drew in closer to Taera, and spoke in almost a whisper. “Always, women with power have been feared. Even Vala, I imagine, was feared and hated by Sargoth, Pyrthin, Norg, and Golier when they came across the Spine to create the Five Kingdoms. In their greed and lust for dominion, men have always gone to great lengths to subjugate women. But at no time in the history of the Five Kingdoms or the Old World have we sorceresses been so hated as we are now, Taera. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because of the prophecy. When Thedric Guderian was still a boy, he was exiled in the Old World and a mighty seer came upon him. This seer foretold that a sorcerer with great power and the blood of one of the Five Monarchs would be the downfall of Guderian. Guderian and Wulfram have known this from the start, and for decades now they have toiled to root out all magic. People already feared sorcerers from the time of the Dreamwielder War, but Guderian and Wulfram declared a secret war on those with power, especially women. It was Wulfram himself who skulked into the villages and cities of the Five Kingdoms and performed the atrocities the Emperor then blamed on the sorcerer guilds. And when the last of the guilds were destroyed, and the great sorcerers killed—including Trumball, whose cave we now inhabit—Guderian and Wulfram continued to wage their war, particularly against women with power. And women of royal blood of course. King Larimore sacrificed his own daughter, who had some minor ability as a beastcharmer so as to appease the Emperor. She was only five.

“Certainly, plenty of male firewielders and beast charmers and stormwielders have been killed during the Emperor's reign, but always the focus has been on finding women with the power to wield magic. Why is this the case, I have always wondered. Is it merely because men fear women, or is it something more?”

Taera looked on at Roanna intently. “I don't know.”

“Nor do I for certain,” Roanna continued. “But I have my suspicions. Kadar does not share my belief, but could it be that there was more to the prophecy than we've heard? Possibly the mighty seer in Khail Sanctu foretold it would be a particular sort of sorcerer who would kill Guderian. Did you know, Taera, that it is dreamwielders who have always been the mightiest of sorcerers? Not firewielders or stormbringers. Dreamwielders. Of all the sorcerers, only dreamwielders use their power to create something rather than destroy it. And like with childbirth, only women are able to become dreamwielders. You did not know that, did you?”

Taera could only shake her head.

Roanna closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “Now you know why you are so important,” she said gravely. “Now you know why your work here is so important and why I must be stern with you. You are the one, Taera. We must delve into your powers and unleash your ability to wield dreams.”​

Caile and Talitha rode at a trot on the road heading northeast to Ulmstadt. Earlier that morning, Talitha had bartered her wagon and swaybacked horse in the Arnsfeld marketplace for the two horses which they now rode. They were shaggy horses typical of the northern realms and barely worthy of being pack animals in Caile's estimation, but they were nonetheless better suited to the impending cold weather and frozen terrain than Talitha's wagon would have been. Caile, too, had done some bartering in Arnsfeld, exchanging his boot knife for a dinged up arming sword, a careworn bow, and a half dozen arrows. His knife was easily worth five times as much as all the other weapons combined, but Caile could hardly explain to the merchant that the knife had been forged by Pyrthinia's royal armorer without arousing suspicion. As it was, he had no choice but to be content with the weapons and horses both. Talitha had been quick to remind him before leaving the inn that he was an outlaw now.

The Barrier Mountains rose ahead of them in the distance and to the left of the road, beyond the Sargothian River, was the great evergreen forest of Norgland. Talitha surmised they had five days of travel to reach Ulmstadt, and there the high road ended and they would seek the long abandoned forest tract leading into the mountains and the caverns of Issborg.

A few hours before noon, Talitha reigned her horse in and dismounted. “We've been pushing the horses hard enough for a while,” she said. “We'll walk for a bit, then stop for a brief rest.”

Caile dismounted and led his horse forward to walk beside her. “Do you think we're being followed?” he asked, stealing a glance behind them.

“It's not likely. The Emperor has no reason to suspect you would go this way, and he does not even know of my existence. Or so I hope.”

“What about Wulfram?”

“He is probably the mightiest sorcerer to walk the earth, but he has no ability as a seer. The both of them will think you are making for Kal Pyrthin as you yourself had intended. And once we reach the caves we seek, we will be shielded against detection from the scent-hounds even should I be forced to use my power. No, I don't think they will find us. We have more pressing foes to worry about for the time being.”

They walked in silence for a while as Caile silently weighed her words. “That sorceress you fought,” he said after a time, “she told me there used to be guilds of sorcerers, but that the Emperor destroyed them. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“I don't understand, then. If we have a common enemy, why aren't we allies? This sorcerer—Roanna—she has a whole underground following in Col Sargoth. They could help us. Why don't you trust her? And for that matter, why didn't she trust me? Why did she try to kill me?”

“The answer lies in your last question, Caile,” Talitha replied. “Why
did
she try to kill you?”

Caile threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don't know. That's why I'm asking you.”

Talitha smiled despite herself. “It's because that is the way of the sorcerer's guilds. Their only goal is to preserve themselves and gain power and influence over those without the ability to wield magic. If they had their way, they would lord over everything and everyone, and the Five Kingdoms would be no better off than they are now with the Emperor in charge. The Old World was plagued with the warring of such guilds. The mightiest of the guilds would put themselves in power, only to be overthrown by the next, and on and on, and the whole time the common people were left to suffer. That is why Sargoth Lightbringer left the Old World. He had seen the beauty of Tel Mathir. He saw the true role of the sorcerer as that of a guide in the ways of how we interact with nature, the mother of all things living and dead. Together with Vala, Pyrthin, Norg, and Golier, he crossed the Spine to create a new civilization, one that could live and prosper peacefully, in harmony with Tel Mathir.”

“They couldn't have all been that peaceful,” Caile remarked. “I've heard stories from tribesmen in the hills of Sevol, north of the Spine. They tell how the great chieftains of their ancestors were forced to bend their knee to the Five or be killed.”

“You are more right than you know,” Talitha conceded. “It is a mistake great rulers have made since the dawn of time, believing they can use force and violence to enforce peace. I do believe the intent of the Five was well meant, but they nonetheless set the precedent for sorcerers to have domain over the Five Kingdoms. There
was
a long age of peace and prosperity, but with the passage of time, people became lazy and those with the power of sorcery abandoned the ways of Tel Mathir and formed into guilds to exert their power and control the Five Kingdoms. They grew greedy and contentious, and when Col Sargoth was laid siege by the treachery of Lon Golier at the start of the Dreamwielder War, the guilds broke the ancient pact the Five had made hundreds of years before: the pact to never use their powers in war unless attacked by a force from beyond the Five Kingdoms. The guilds openly fought with one another, sold their services to whichever monarch bid the highest, and gladly created the creatures of war you have no doubt heard of. Creatures like Wulfram, though he was created by Queen Guderian, not the guilds. The only sorcerer of strength who still held to the ways of Tel Mathir was Trumball, but alone he could not stem the tide.”