Authors: Greg Curtis
White Tail went flying backwards, and when he hit the ground he didn't move a lot. He just lay there, trying to breathe and far too lost in his personal battle for air to notice anything else.
Anything like Harl stepping forward once more and kicking him in the head.
After that the battle was over. The Circle wizard was unconscious, and Harl's charm cooled. But he knew the wizard wasn't dead. He wanted him to be, but he also knew from Alenda Goldeneyes' death that that would be a dangerous thing to happen. White Tail would get up again in time, and the moment he did and opened his mouth he would be dangerous. And so Harl quickly found a bunch of leaves from the side of the road, rolled them up into a ball, and then forced them into White Tail's mouth. Then he tied them in place with a strip of cloth he tore from the wizard's own robes.
Finally he tore a few more strips from the wizard's robes and began tying him up. Binding him securely, and even blindfolding him. If the wizard couldn't talk or move, or even see anything than he would be close to helpless. It would be even better if he was unconscious. And so Harl decided that every time the Circle wizard made any sort of noise or even twitched a finger, he was going to smash him in the head. It wasn't honourable, and it was probably cruel. But the faun was
not
going to wake up. Not until he had drunk at least a few gallons of the tea and been completely restrained.
Of course after that came the hard part. Just how was he to carry White Tail to the fort where he could be properly locked up? It was a long walk, even by himself. Dragging an unconscious wizard along with him all that way would make it much harder.
But suddenly Harl felt strong. Especially when he realised that it was White Tail who had sent the fury after him. Who else would come after him personally when his pet had failed? Who else but the fury's master and someone who believed he was far more dangerous than any mere pet? And White Tail did believe he was that.
So he ripped a low hanging branch down from one of the trees on the side of the track, pulled White Tail on to it and then started dragging him along the track. It might take a few hours but he would get his prisoner to the fort.
An unexpected thought struck him just as he was just starting to settle into his effort, mostly because he had to repeatedly check that the wizard was fully on the branch and each time he did he remembered White Tail's magic. And it was something that should have occurred to him before. Long before when Nyma had first come to him with the strange tale of the wizards in Inel Ison suddenly becoming overcome with grief and shame for what they had done.
At the time he hadn't paid her tale a lot of attention. While it had seemed odd to him that it should happen – always assuming it wasn't some ruse – it had also seemed proper. They
should
feel those emotions for what they'd done. And as for her fear for him, well, he felt the same guilt and shame he had lived with for five long years, simply for his failure to protect his family and friends. He always would. But it was no worse than before. And truthfully while it had been nice having a pretty woman make a fuss over him about it, his thoughts had been elsewhere at the time. As they were every time Nyma was around.
Nyma had said that Dina's thought was that it might be something to do with the binding, or with being removed from the demon king's influence for so long. It could be he guessed. But as he dragged the unconscious Circle wizard behind him, it occurred to him that it could actually be something else. It could also be the result of having emerged from under one of the spells placed by a wizard of the mind. He had seen others emerge from what White Tail had done to them. They had been a study in confusion as they not only returned to their normal ways of thinking, but then tried to reconcile what they had done with who they were. Guilt and shame were normal.
Could someone have placed the wizards under some sort of spell? It would explain the madness of their actions. Their complete disregard for things that they had once held so dear. Or that they had at least claimed to hold so dear. And in his mind at least something had to explain their actions because he couldn't. Nothing of what they had done had made sense.
But there was a problem with the theory. White Tail was one of the most powerful wizards of the mind known and his spells wore off in a matter of days. Yet it was six months since the wizards had been captured. To twist someone's thoughts for six months or more was something surely beyond White Tail's ability.
Still, he thought, it was a question that needed to be asked – once the wizard was properly restrained and completely harmless.
An hour later perhaps, having spent all that time lost in thought and straining at the branch, Harl heard the sound of hoof beats on the trail. He looked up to see Nyma riding his way and for a moment he smiled happily. But then he sighed, remembering that he was going to have some explaining to do. Probably a lot since she didn't yet know about the fury he'd killed let alone the unconscious Circle wizard he was dragging along the road.
“Well met my love.” He greeted her as warmly as he knew how and tried desperately to think of something to say that would make all of this seem right. Or at least not his fault.
“I brought you a present!”
Chapter Forty
The cells under the old fort would probably officially have been called a dungeon. But they weren't really. The fort was too small to have a dungeon, and in any case, it was made of wood and dirt. The traditional dungeon with its moss covered damp stone walls, water dripping everywhere and sewers running nearby was a world away from what they were standing in. All it was really, was half a dozen cells and a short corridor dug into the earth beneath the main building. And in place of stone there was just rammed earth and thick wooden posts for walls which had heavy oak doors set into them. The only metal in the entire facility were the heavy iron bars in the windows in the doors. There were no guards or torturers either and instead a pair of soldiers stood watch at the top of the stairs. The place didn't even smell.
Harl guessed that the cells were mostly used for soldiers caught breaking the rules rather than for holding criminals. But they were the only cells Whitebrook had. The commander wasn't happy about it of course. She had a fort to run, soldiers to train and war machines to build. Diverting some of her soldiers from their duties to watch over a dangerous prisoner was an inconvenience. She also didn't want to be anywhere near Harl. Still, Marni had done everything he'd asked without protest. A pigeon had been sent to the High Priestess. And Harl had been charged with making certain that White Tail couldn't escape. Which was why he'd been stuck here for three days waiting for someone to arrive and take the prisoner away. That unfortunately meant that he'd been stuck underground with the prisoner for those three days. Three very long days.
But at least White Tail had proved to be no problem. He was still bound, though the gag had been removed that morning so he could answer questions. He had drunk the tea every hour from the moment he had finally awoken. Harl had also enchanted some special manacles for him to bind his power and enchanted a gate spell in the cell floor in which White Tail was locked. All it would take was the High Priestess' blessing and the Circle wizard would be gone for good.
Meanwhile Harl was the only other person down there. He had made sure of that. The guards were stationed at the top of the stairs and had been given orders not to come down. If White Tail somehow got free they would be no of use at all, even with the wards he'd made them wear. He too was wearing the wards he'd crafted but he wasn't confident of how much use they would be against a Circle wizard on their own.
Meanwhile Nyma was upstairs. She'd been staying at the fort for the previous few days, no doubt worried that he was getting himself into more trouble. Unfortunately she had been unable to see him while he remained below ground. The rule was that no one else could come down. So she was above ground while he was stuck below. They spoke from the stairs sometimes, while the guards stationed there heard every word. But they'd done no more – and that was incredibly frustrating. After a month apart there were no words to describe just how frustrating it was.
So when he'd first received word that they had visitors coming, he had been very grateful. It was about time.
When Dina Windstrider had turned up he hadn't been surprised, though he had been a little taken aback by her means of travel. He'd heard that she could fly of course, letting spinning columns of air support her and carry her across the lands. But he'd never actually seen it. He had to admit it had been quite impressive watching the whirlwind gently set her and her companion on the ground just beside the fort.
Obviously White Tail's capture was considered an important event in the war. Important enough for the High Priestess to come so quickly while in the middle of running a war. That made him nervous.
He was just an arcane smith. He liked being that. But now the Circle wizards were trying to kill him while another Circle wizard and the High Priestess were taking time out of their war to visit him. Even the gods sometimes seemed to be visiting him in his dreams, though he suspected that was just his fear running wild.
He wanted none of this. Instead he just wanted to return to his normal life. To craft what was needed for the war and help the rebels win it. And then eventually after it was won, he would think about going home and finding the remains of his family and burying them. His dreams were small. They always had been. For a time they had been so small that they had centred solely on survival.
Still, he kept his thoughts to himself as he greeted the visitors at the top of the stairs and led them to the cell. His role in this was done. And with a little luck that would be the end of it. Maybe a lot of luck. Especially since Nyma had told him that she'd informed her sister that they were lovers.
Nyma was lucky he thought. Erislee would always be her little sister to her. Never a High Priestess. Harl on the other hand would always be the man who'd tried to kill her. Erislee was never going to accept him as being good enough for her big sister.
He and Nyma had spoken at length after she had told him of their conversation, and she'd promised him that the High Priestess at least wasn't overwhelmed with anger for his consorting with her big sister. There had been no outbursts about how she was consorting with an upstart wizard who'd tried to kill her. But then Erislee wouldn't say that to her. Her upset would surely be reserved solely for him.
Still, from the top of the stairs when he'd watched the two of them greeting when Erislee had arrived, he could see that they were close. They'd shared an embrace and a few words. Both their faces were wreathed in smiles. Surely if the High Priestess had been planning on saying something to him, things would not have been so relaxed?
For the moment though Nyma was upstairs training some of the recruits, while he was left to speak with Dina and Erislee. He dreaded to think what she might say when the business with White Tail was concluded and the faun was safely condemned to Tartarus. In fact he hoped to be gone long before that happened.
“He's drunk the tea?” The wizard asked what was probably the most important question of all. He nodded grimly.
Dina sounded nervous as they approached the cell, and with good reason. A wizard of the mind was a dangerous foe. He was in fact probably the most dangerous of them all. He was the one wizard who could undo the gifts of all the others. Against him they were all vulnerable. Maybe even the High Priestess as well. The sages said that no wizard was ever completely invulnerable to the magic of another, but a wizard of the mind if he used his magic carefully, was very close simply because he could so easily turn another's power against him.
“He's drunk the tea and he's been collared. I crafted one especially for him in Yarl's pit. His guards have wards they wear around their necks as do I. And for three days they haven't even got warm. On top of that he's blindfolded, chained and locked in a warded dungeon where no one can hear him. He was gagged too until this morning. I've given him no chance to unleash his magic.”
Normally Harl would have been pleased with his precautions. Mostly though he was just relieved that they hadn't been breached – as far as he knew. White Tail was a very dangerous wizard.
“You have wards around their necks?”
“Charms.” Harl handed the wizard one of them on a leather strap that she could loop around her neck. He was actually quite proud of the little charms. He watched as Dina first studied it carefully and then put it on before she took the other from his hand and gave it to Erislee. She actually seemed quite satisfied with his work, which was new. He was more familiar with being lectured by her about his limitations.
“Your skills are growing boy.”
“Thank you.” He knew they were. They had been growing at pace ever since he had crafted the bow. But he was surprised that Dina had said it. He didn't remember her ever being complimentary about his skills. In fact mostly she'd simply described his abilities as adequate. That was all she ever described anyone's skills as – unless she was being critical.
Still, that gave him an opening to ask her the question he had been holding in and mulling over for days.
“Dina, we have here a wizard of the mind. And Nyma says that the wizards in Inel Ison have become rational again. That they have discovered guilt and shame for what they've done. But also confusion as if they don't know why they did it. It's almost as if they had escaped from under a spell such as a wizard like White Tail could have placed on them.”
“And you think I haven't considered that boy?” Dina sounded less than impressed by his question. “That I haven't wondered that as part of the binding there wasn't also a magic of the mind to make many more susceptible to the deal?”
Harl made a non committal sound as he tried to work out whether to agree that she would surely have thought of such things, or disagree that he imagined she wouldn't have.
“I have. Many times. But always I come back to the basic issues. Two of them. The first, that it makes no difference to our war. We must still kill them. Whether they are controlled or not, we have no choice when they will try to kill us. And the second, a question. Is it that I can truly believe this is possible? Or is it simply that I truly want to?”
The wizard looked straight at him but he knew just then that she wasn't really seeing him. She was looking a long way past him, haunted perhaps by the thought of what they were doing. Trapped in an underworld of doubt and recriminations. It might have been the torchlight, but he thought just then that she looked very old. Much older than her sixty something years.
“You're sure it's him?”
Erislee asked the question somewhat nervously. But when facing a wizard like White Tail maybe even she had every reason to be worried. He wasn't sure if she was vulnerable to his magic. A High Priestess in contact with her deity was probably immune to magic of the mind at least. But he guessed that she wasn't completely sure either. It wasn't something that had been tested often.
Then again she too looked tired he thought. Running a war was no small undertaking and the responsibility probably sat heavy on her shoulders. Especially when she wasn't a soldier. It was also only a short while before that she and her entire army had been staring into the face of defeat and death. Though the bards sang songs of the massive victory and the complete destruction of the false temple's army, Harl was certain it had been a close run thing. They had been caught in the teeth of a trap and only luck, speed and the actions of her Goddess had saved them. Despite what the bards sang, it had been no master stroke of strategy luring the enemy into a trap so that they could be destroyed. That had to weigh on her mind.
“Yes. I saw him only a couple of times in Lion's Crest, and the last was when I was scarcely fifteen. But I remember that smug grin of his perfectly. It's him. But even if you doubt that, when he ran into me he tried to control me. Only the charm saved me from becoming his slave and walking off into the forest to become eternally lost. He is a wizard of the mind and a powerful one at that.”
“I Erislee do know him well,” added Dina. “Rest assured of that. I know the face of that nasty little faun perfectly. When we see him I'll be able to tell you if it's him.”
“Then look through the bars.” Harl opened the little wooden hatch that covered the bars, to allow her to peer into the cell.
Of course it was dark inside. It would probably take her a moment for her eyes to adjust. And then he was wearing a blindfold which would have obscured some of his face. It took her a little bit to make the call. But eventually she nodded to them.
“White Tail you've been named.” Harl gave him the good news, happy to be able to.
“I keep telling you soldier I'm not this White Tail. I've done nothing. All I was doing was walking along the southern road when you attacked me.”
He sounded convincing. And he was trying to use his magic to add to his conviction, which was why Harl's charm was glowing a little bit. The prisoner didn't know that of course. He was probably still trying to work out why his magic kept failing.
“It's you that should be in this cell soldier. Attacking an innocent faun. But let me out and we'll forget this entire thing.”
“Innocent? You sent a fury after me!”
Strangely Harl wasn't bothered by that any more. After all the fury was dead and the wizard would soon follow her to the underworld. He also wasn't bothered that the prisoner should finally know who he was.
“I sent -?” White Tail stopped and stared in surprise at him through the bars of his prison door. Then his voice suddenly lowered as he understood, and in that same moment surely understood how he'd been recognised. By a fellow wizard who knew him. “You're the arcane smith.”