Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) (9 page)

Micha
el breathed in the cool air.  "If I choose to take the oath, I will return to this place," he said boldly into the night.  He waited a few minutes to see if there would be any response.  Only the wind and the gentle lapping of the lake intruded upon the silence.  Michael nodded once to himself and spoke the words that would return him to Kantwell.

Chapter Ten

Mortow hurled the book at the wall.  Mael stood in the background and watched.  The sudden display of rage was even more fierce since it was totally silent.

"
How did he accomplish this?  There is nothing in the books that tell of this power," Mortow said seething.

"
If one such as you cannot figure it out, it is beyond my reckoning, Master," Mael replied with deference.

Mortow turned to face the slight wizard, his face suddenly calm.  He waved
a hand at Mael apologetically.  "Forgive me, Mael.  Anger leads to no solutions.  Do you have any insight into this that I cannot see?"

"
Only the obvious, Master.  Those at Kantwell have uncovered magics that we know nothing about.  You studied there longer than I.  Could Merric have hidden things from you?"

"
Oh, I wouldn’t put it passed him, but I see no reason why he would have withheld anything to do with my training.  He had no cause at the time.  No, I feel this is something new, something to do with that boy.  Mieka said his powers were unlike anything she had ever seen."

"
Speaking of Mieka, what will you do now that you no longer have eyes and ears within Kantwell?  Surely Merric has banished her from its confines by now."

"
Maybe, maybe not.  His affection for her runs deep.  He would not want to believe his precious Mieka would turn against him."  Mortow fell silent.  After a few seconds he continued.  "However, my father is no fool.  No, we cannot risk sending her back.  We will need all of our strength to combat Michael.  The time for spying is done.  We know all we need to know of Kantwell.  They only have three wizards left to them.  The others are nothing to worry about.  We now have the advantage. We are almost twice their number and we now have something to neutralize the Avari."

"
And, how is he?  He was still unconscious when he was brought in.  If he dies, then we lose our hold on the Avari Lord," Mael inquired.

"
He was still unconscious the last time I looked in on him.  I have Master Stevens watching over him.  He assures me there is no lasting damage.  Fear not, he will live," Mortow assured him.

"
It is never fear that motivates me, Master, it is caution of action and consequence.  What would you have of me?"

Mortow visibly relaxed.  He smiled cunningly at Mael.

Seeing the change in his Master, Mael smiled back.

Noting
the smile on Mael’s face, a smile completely devoid of any emotion save malice, Mortow was again reminded that Mael was the only one that did not follow him out of fear.  Fear was not the sole driving force in the others, but it was always there.  He could always feel it in the others, just below the surface; but Mael seemed immune to it.  Looking at the seven red stripes on Mael’s sash, Mortow thought, it was well that Mael was not as powerful as the others. With more power at his command, he would challenge me, and that would be the death of one of us.  Mortow finally looked away and began to pace in a slow circle with his hands clasped behind his back.

"
I believe it is time to let the Avari Lord," Mortow said the title with scorn, "know his charge is now our guest.  I would like for you to see to it that word is sent to Kantwell.  They will inform him for us.  Give them my terms and then return."

"
As you wish, Master."  Mael folded his arms into his sleeves and bowed deeply to Mortow. As he straightened, he vanished with the whispering of a spell.

Mortow stood for a moment regarding the empty space that Mael had just
occupied. He absently muttered a phrase and flicked his hand over his shoulder.  The book lying on the floor, righted itself, closed and glided to its place on the shelf.  Mortow left the room and walked across the platform that encircled the inner part of the tower to the central stairs.

The walls were blocked and the floor was tiled in grayish
-green granite.  The central spiral stair was formed from the same stone.  It was wide enough to allow two people to walk abreast upon it.  Glowing glass spheres, set in wall cups around the platform, gave off a pure white light causing crystals in the stone blocks to reflect like stars wherever one set his eyes.  The stairs had more spheres mounted at evenly spaced intervals along the inner hand rail.

Mortow
needed more time to think.  He began to ascend the stairs to his study, taking his time and gathering his thoughts.  He'd been chipping away at the elves and dwarves long enough.  Branna had been shown that they were not impervious to attack.  Its citizens cowered in fear, jumping at shadows.  It was time to bring the shadows to life.  Mortow smiled to himself.

All those arrogant fools
, who believed it was their right to command him, would soon feel the edge of his wrath.  It was time to begin.  In the grand scheme of things, Michael would amount to nothing.  Mortow had the entire troll nation, most of the ogre tribes, all of the lower caste Weres, and the Garoliths at his command.

"
Singly, the Garoliths may be no match for Michael, but let us see how he fares against a number of them.  Now, I have a neutralizer for the Avari as well." Mortow stopped on the stairs.  "Yes it is time to begin."  The echo of his voice rumbled through the stone.  He spoke the words of transport and vanished from the stair.

Materializing at the head of a heavy wooden table, Mortow surveyed his officers
gathered in the war room.

Three trolls
stood to his right, their gray-green mottled skin almost blending with the rock of the walls; Overlord Traug, and his two generals, Dras and Slig.  They stood around nine feet tall and, though heavily muscled, were far leaner than the three ogre chieftains that stood opposite them.  Oreg, the biggest ogre Mortow had ever seen, stood almost twice Mortow’s height and a full head above the two other chieftains, was rumbling and gesturing vehemently at the map spread out on the table.  Dascus and Hirtov, two representatives of the Were clans, sat at the far end of the table, pointedly ignoring the heated debate between Oreg and Traug.

None of the
group were surprised by Mortow's sudden appearance.  They had become accustom to his abrupt manner of coming and going.  All eyes turned to his as silence fell over the room.

Mortow took the time to meet each
of their eyes before breaking the silence.  "We have waited long enough.  It is time to begin this war in earnest."  Mortow could see faint smiles alight on the faces of the trolls and Weres.  "At dawn two days hence, we march," Mortow said in his deep voice.  He knew what the two had been arguing over and cared little about it.  They would follow his plans or he would replace them.  "Have your people ready.  And Oreg," Mortow paused.

"
Yes, Wizard Mortow?"  Oreg replied still scowling.

"
Do you have your team assembled?"

At this, Oreg grinned.
  "Aye, they are ready and eager to begin."

"
Excellent.  Have them meet in the court yard in an hour.  Maklin and Megan will be taking them through.  There will be no restrictions this time.  Tell your men to do as they please."

Oreg’s grin stretched wider across his heavy features.
  "That is good.  They will be there as you command."

Mortow
turned his eyes toward Traug.  "You and your men will march straight to The Slot."  Turning his gaze to the Weres at the other end of the table, he continued.  "Dascus, your ships should be landing by week's end.  Is your company prepared as well?"

Dascus stood.  The simple black shift he wore contrasted glaringly against the pallor of his skin and his flaming orange hair.  The feral glint in his eyes reflected redly the light fr
om the globes around the room.

"
We are eager to begin as well.  Long have the leaf dwellers been our enemies, and long has it been since we smelled their fear and tasted their blood."

Mortow smiled as well.
  "You and your people remember your orders?  Rydon and the council are to be brought back alive.  I care not what condition they are in as long as you do not imperil their lives."

"
It shall be as you command, Magika.  We all know your wishes," Dascus replied evenly.

"
Good.  You may leave as soon as Mael returns. I will send him to you," Mortow informed Dascus.

Dascus bowed and returned to his seat
, but the look of boredom was gone from his visage.

"
That is all.  Go.  Prepare your armies," Mortow told them.  He smiled in satisfaction.  After years of planning and building, his time was finally here.  His pulse raced at the thought of the battles to come.  He would see Kantwell’s defenders destroyed, and then Kantwell itself would be razed.  Gratton would become the seat of power on Thelona, and Mortow would sit on its throne.  It was time to inform Maklin and Megan of their duties.  Speaking the words of transport, Mortow vanished from the war room.

Mael appeared on a hill south of Kantwell, overlooking
the elvish encampment.  He knew he would be spotted almost immediately, so he made no move to conceal himself.  He'd cast out with his power the instant he arrived and could tell where the elven guards were hidden close by.  He muttered an incantation to bring up his wizard’s shield then called out into the night.

"
I am Mael.  I bring tidings from Mortow of Gratton to Merric of Kantwell."

To each side of him an elven guard rose from the concealment of the tall grass.  Each had an arrow knocked in his bow and fully drawn.

Mael had known exactly where both were hidden, even if he could not detect them with his eyes.  He waited with his arms relaxed at his sides.  "I come as an envoy from Mortow.  I assume you still grant courtesy to envoys."

The closer of the two elves released some of the tension on his bow and directed his arrow downward
, but didn’t remove his hand from the string.  "Aye, we still observe the strictures of war even if Mortow does not.  I am Kline of the Forest Guard.  Adhere to the conduct of an envoy, and you will not be harmed."

Mael’s lip t
witched into a malicious grin.  "I have no intention of overstepping the bounds of diplomacy at this time.  My intent is only to deliver my Master’s message and terms."

Kline
grimly nodded  once.  "Then if you would follow me to yonder camp, I will send a runner to Kantwell."  Kline turned without waiting for a response from Mael and gave three short whistles.

Mael
watched as six more elves ran up to flank him, three on each side.  Kline started walking toward the camp.  All of the elves held their bows at the ready but did not threaten him.  They appeared relaxed and aloof.  It was a display that Mael could appreciate.  Confidence inspired by arrogance.  Thoughts of the elven elder Rydon, writhing on the floor at Mael’s feet flashed through his mind.  He embraced those visions.  The pain and the begging that Mael had extracted from Rydon gave him a feeling of ecstasy almost as strong as the magic flowing through his veins invoked.

Several of the elves flanking Mael saw the look on his face and involuntarily increased their distance from him
, clenching their bows tighter.  One of them made a warding gesture against evil with his hand.

Mael had to consciously control himself to keep from laughing.  They feared him. 
That was only as it should be.  He wondered again what that particular emotion felt like. They walked down the hill and across the valley to the elven encampment.  As they walked through the camp, more elves came to surround Mael.  He chuckled out loud.  The elves, hearing his mirth, tightened their ring.

Kline led Mael to a tent and bade him to enter, holding the flap aside.  After Mael walked passed him, Kline gave orders to one of the guards near him to inform Merric of Mael’s presence and purpose
and to bring Ataum immediately, and then he followed Mael into the tent.

The lightweight fabric of the tent rippled in the breeze blowing through the camp.  Mael walked around the small table in the middle and seated himself fac
ing the entrance.  He sat straight backed on the three legged stool and placed his hands precisely before him on the table, palms down, where Kline could see them.  He sat as still as a statue and waited, staring at the tent entrance.  His gaze caused Kline to shift uneasily.  A few minutes later Mael heard voices outside, and he saw Kline visibly relax. 

The tent flap was pulled aside and a tall blonde elf entered.  He was slightly taller than Kline and similarly garbed
, except that the crest of the forest guard on his left shoulder was flourished with gold leaves, marking him as their captain.  He was followed by a female in deep green robes.

Ataum stepped into the tent and
observed the wizard sitting at the table.  The incongruity of his black robes disturbed Ataum.  It gave the impression of power without mercy.  He much preferred the cooler blue he had come to associate with the wizards of Kantwell.  This wizard’s eyes seem to devour all the details they beheld without giving anything back.  Ataum forced his gaze away from the wizard and turned to Kline.