The High-Wizard's Hunt

Chapter 16

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Escape

Osric felt shackles around his wrists and ankles, and he could hear a muffled voice from his left. He could feel a cold, damp wall on his bare back as he opened his eyes. It was the dark, cold room they had attempted to flee. The table in the center of the room, and the candles mounted on the wall across from him, brought the scene from Kenneth’s vision fresh to his mind. He knew exactly what was going to happen next. He heard a cough to his left, and Osric turned toward the sound. Kenneth was stretched out on the wall only a few strides away. His face was swollen, and several cuts like those from a whip covered his abdomen. The gashes were fresh, and they must have occurred since he had lost consciousness when they had attempted to travel. Osric tried to call out, but his cry was stifled by the gag that had been replaced while he was out. Aron and the two hooded guards entered the room, just as Osric expected.

“Now, I think I have convinced you both that sarcasm will be met with pain,” Aron said as he looked at Kenneth’s unconscious body and then back at Osric. “I need you to tell me about your wand.”

As the guard removed his gag, sharp pain indicated that Osric’s nose had been broken by whatever kept them in the cell. Panic rose up inside of Osric until he realized that Aron was more impressed with the appearance of the wand than anything else. He looked at the wand with awe and caressed the bolt on the handle with a lust like quality; Osric wondered if he had used it yet, or just spent the night gawking at it like a child.

“What about it?” Osric tilted his head questioningly. “It’s a Gus wand, same as any other.”

Osric could sense the emotions emanating from Aron as he considered his prisoner. Confidence, anger, confusion, frustration, and curiosity swirled together, barraging Osric’s newly acquired Empath ability.

“Yes,” Aron answered in a drawn out, belittling tone, “but I suspect if you had made it out of this cell, you would have risked your life to retrieve it from me. Just how did you free yourselves from these chains?”

Osric hesitated, trying to manufacture a story that would allow him to free himself without having to give away any of the information about spoken spells. Grasping at every option he could imagine, he realized there was only one excuse that might satisfy Aron. Still, there was only a tenuous hope that the excuse would work.

“Your men did a poor job of securing us in the restraints, though they seem to have been much more thorough this time,” Osric looked defiantly at the guards. “Once I was able to free one hand, I picked our locks with a small shard of metal from the floor.”

Osric could feel Aron’s eyes drilling into him, searching his face for any sign of deception. Aron had witnessed the spoken spells at the Braya Volcano, but whether he believed everything he thought he saw them do was still a mystery. So far, Aron had not asked Osric about the magic he had performed at Braya, and he grasped at the hope that Aron would continue to live in ignorance of how he was defeated.

“And how did you get your filthy hands on a Gus wand?” Aron did not seem entirely convinced by the excuse, but to Osric’s great relief, he moved on anyway. “You do not have the means to afford a wand of this stature. Your sword,” he motioned to the table, “is yet another item that seems out of place for a man of your standing. They are both quite impressive. Half of the Ryhains in the realm do not own equipment of this quality.”

“Where are you going with this? You knew Gus was with us at Braya, or did you not realize it was that Gus?” Osric gazed at Aron, trying to gain control of the direction of the conversation. To his surprise, the tactic seemed to be working.

“Fine,” Aron lifted the sword from the table out of frustration, “and what is your excuse for this? I suppose the dragons gave it to you as a gift for the rescue at Braya?”

“Yes, actually. I just can’t seem to fool you.” Osric glared up at Aron defiantly. “You are really good at interrogations. You should look into doing it for a career.” He had pushed the Braya commander too far, and Aron unleashed his frustration with a backhand to Osric’s face as he dropped the sword. Osric cringed as Legati clamored to the stone.

“Well,” Aron rubbed his knuckles and paced the room, “you attempted an escape last night.” Aron returned his gaze to the wand, pondering his own words as he examined it. “We have a spell on the cells. I assumed you would know that since you once held the Contege post in Stanton.”

“I didn’t have your desire to watch people suffer, so I spent little time in the dungeons.” Osric’s first week as a recruit, he had heard of a criminal trying to sneak a small stone into the cells under his tongue. He remembered the veteran Vigiles laughing about the rudimentary communication device. It wasn’t like communicating with a wand, as a pair of stones could only relay brief messages over fairly short distances, but they were easily hidden from the guards. He silently cursed himself for not thinking about it. The Vigiles had been laughing about the prisoner whispering to the stone all night and nothing would ever get through. “But I suppose we did have some protection spells on the cells,” Osric answered.

“And what do you think those protection spells are for?” Aron’s eyes widened in a mocking expression. “They stop magic from penetrating the cells. Ours are just a bit stronger than you are used to. Even I can’t communicate without opening the door. I intend to discover whatever magical device you have hidden on your person, by any means necessary.”

“What makes you think I’m hiding something?” Regret coursed through Osric’s veins. He knew he should have been more careful; he hadn’t attempted to examine the cell with the Wand-Maker gift, and he should have known it was spelled. Though Aron’s conclusion was incorrect, it made sense that he would be searching for an item that channeled magic, as he had no knowledge of spoken spells.

“You used magic to try and escape.” He reached up and tapped Osric on the nose, causing his head to throb with the pain, and tears to streak his dirty cheeks. “Looks like it was a rather potent spell, too. So it has to be something small, yet powerful. Take him down, and make sure you search everywhere,” he instructed the guards. “By the way, the Kallegian have been ordered to round up and eliminate all of your former Vigiles. They will be executed in a few days. We don’t leave unfinished business, and they are becoming a nuisance.”

The door to the cell opened and a tall, slender man grinned maliciously as he walked into the small room. The dim candle light glinted off his long, silver braid, and the bottom of his black robe seemed to glide over the rank puddles on the stone floor. He paused at the table in the center of the room and glanced down at the accumulated weapons.

“Wait.” Power resonated in his command, although the inflection in his voice sounded odd and unfamiliar to Osric. “I am sure you have some wonderfully gruesome ideas to get information from them, so I will not delay you for long. Yet, I have a few things I want to discuss with these men myself.”

“Of course, Konsult Dredek, but you should let us search him before you come in. He has something magical on him, and it is apparently quite powerful.” Aron appeared to lose some of his fervor in Dredek’s presence. His voice wavered, and his stance was no longer as pompous as the moment before.

“He may indeed have something hidden on him, but that is for you to find at a later time.” He dismissed Aron’s concerns without a glance, and Osric sensed a deep, penetrating sorrow throbbing inside of Dredek. “Don’t worry, he has nothing that can harm me. You, in your infinite wisdom, decided to share my identity with this man. So, I see no harm in meeting him.”

Osric was overwhelmed by a sense of utter loathing that washed over him as Dredek stepped closer. It was not his own reaction to the man, but rather the emotion that seeped from every pore of the Konsult’s being. There were underlying tones of other emotions - sorrow, fear, rage, curiosity - but they were drowned out by the ferocious hatred he obviously felt for Osric. Osric wished he had more control over his new gifts so he could use the Empath ability to sort through the emotions, or perhaps block them out, so he could concentrate on escaping.

Dredek’s cold and calculating stare probed deep within him, leaving Osric feeling rather unsettled. The way the Konsult spoke in a strangely soothing tone added mystery and weight to his words. Osric could not break his gaze from the pallor of Dredek’s face; it was dim and colorless in the low light of the cell. The skin across his sharp features appeared damp and cold in the flicker of the flames. Dredek’s eyes were sunken behind high, sharp cheekbones, like two black ravens cowering in the shadows. Pale, silvery lips cut thin lines across an otherwise dull canvas.

“What do you want with me?” The Portentist ability thrummed vaguely in Osric’s mind as Dredek ran a gentle finger down the length of his sword. The signal from his gift was brief, yet powerful. Osric eyed Dredek closely, anticipating his response and pondering the extent of the man’s power.

“Merely to satisfy my curiosity.” Dredek licked the blood from his finger and turned to face his prisoner. “You have no idea how much I have wanted to meet you, but you are the source of a great deal of frustration for me.”

“I apologize if I caused you any discomfort, but I am sure the little you are experiencing does not compare to the pain that the dragons had to endure over the years of their captivity.” Osric was surprised to sense a shift in Dredek’s emotions. There was anger, likely at Osric’s sarcastic retort. Yet, deeper and more distressing was the sudden flood of sadness that Osric sensed from Dredek.

“You know nothing of pain.” His face was emotionless as he held Osric in his icy gaze. He took an unnaturally quick step toward Osric and changed the subject. “Your Portentist gift is a fascinating tool, and your command of that ability,” he dragged his eyes slowly to Kenneth and back, “is probably the reason you are still alive. I will admit, I was disappointed that I had to have you killed in the palace, but I see you managed to escape your fate.”

“I was lucky. Many others were not.” Osric met Dredek’s cold stare with his own.

“I want to know how you escaped that rubble, how you survived the battle at Braya, and how you escaped being captured in Stanton when I sent in the Kallegian.” Dredek’s expression shifted suddenly to a wide eyed, terrifying curiosity. “I have been a student of magic my entire life. Though it may not have taken much effort to defeat Aron’s incompetence, I hear stories that you tend to appear out of thin air. I suspect it is more than mere rumors, and I want to know how you do it.” Aron shifted uncomfortably at the belittling statement, but he kept any objection to himself.

“I told you, I have been lucky.” Osric thought quickly, attempting to ignore the insistent emotions he was picking up from Aron. The man was terrified and furious at the same time. Osric assumed it was because he was ignorant enough to say Dredek’s name out loud in front of himself and Kenneth. “You know about the palace, and the guards at Braya were drinking heavily.” Osric decided it wouldn’t do him any harm to direct Dredek’s anger at Aron further, rather than at himself.

“My men never drink on duty!” Aron defended himself weakly, but Dredek did not even acknowledge the attempt.

“That is how we beat him and his men outside of Rowain, as well. The dragons warned me about the Kallegian’s impending arrival and took me away. We heard news of the weapons shipment from the dwarves, so I came here to ask the Turgent if he knew they were ordered several months before the attack on the palace at Stanton. I didn’t know you were in charge or I would have asked to speak with you.”

“And why would you want to talk to me?”

“To warn you that someone on our side is trying to orchestrate a war. If this conflict is not resolved, it could result in more deaths than Archana has ever endured in battle.”

“Well, now you know that I am not surprised by this information.” Dredek’s eyes narrowed as he assessed his prisoner. “Yet, you have managed to cause the deaths of numerous humans by your own actions.”

“What are you talking about?” Osric was genuinely surprised by the accusation and the sudden flare of anger he felt radiating from Dredek.

“You set the dragons free. Now, they are refusing to transport my troops and delaying my plans. Ultimately, this inconvenience will result in the death of far more humans than I ever intended, and it is all your fault.”

“Why would you want to kill so many innocent people?”

“Reasons are irrelevant.” Dredek walked to the table with his hands clasped behind his back and examined their supplies. “Magic is a complex thing, don’t you think?”

Osric grew alarmed as Dredek’s gaze stopped again on Legati. He desperately needed to get to his wand and escape with Kenneth. He tried to keep his tone indifferent, but panic was welling up inside of him.

“Yes, it is,” he responded, reassured that his voice at least sounded steady.

“This is a beautiful sword, but it would not do you much good in a battle when magic is involved. It is amazing how our world has changed since wands appeared.” A curious yet sinister expression briefly crossed his cool features. “I will change it yet again.”

“Change it how?” Osric felt as though he was engaging in a one-sided conversation. Dredek barely seemed to register that Osric was speaking, in spite of answering his questions. The Konsult’s expression was cold, his tone indifferent, yet he held Osric’s attention raptly.

“Oh, I am sure you wish I were that foolish. Although it appears that you are not going to be with us long, I think I will withhold that information from you. Perhaps I would have told you, but now my focus is needed elsewhere. You are not as interesting as I had once imagined you to be.” Dredek turned towards the door, ignoring the fear filled expression of the guards. “Search him well. Bring me whatever he used. Then, see them delivered to the block. They will lose their heads for the trouble they caused me.” Dredek paused and turned again to look Osric in the eyes. “Kill his friend first, and make sure he has to watch.” Dredek’s emotionless stare forced the words to sink deep into Osric’s mind.

“Wait.” Osric’s plea halted Dredek’s departure, and the Konsult turned back with a curious expression. “At least tell me why you had to attack the palace in Stanton. You could have used any number of excuses to initiate conflict, but you chose to kill hundreds of innocent people. Why?”

“Men have a tendency to say one thing, but do another, and I am tired of witnessing the hypocrisy. The peace treaty embodied in the Ratification Ceremony was a blatant lie. I felt compelled to put it to an end. Men could never truly be peaceful with all the other races of Archana. I could not allow the false assumption to take hold, that war could be eradicated with a few waxen seals and a celebratory toast.”

“But you were the one initiating the war.” Osric glared at him in disbelief. “The races of Archana could have lived in peace if it were not for your actions.”

“Do not be a fool, Portentist,” Dredek hissed. “Men live short, meaningless lives full of conflict and deceit. Each man lives only long enough to make false promises, and then break them, before being slain by some greater creature of this world. There is no community, no shared memory from which to learn of the past and therefore the future. If you think the Human Realm could truly live at peace for more than a mere generation or two, you are not worth the effort of eliminating you.” Dredek spun away from Osric and walked out, emanating feelings of rage, frustration, disgust, and a deep sorrow.

Aron regained his confidence as the cell door clanged shut behind Dredek. Osric attempted to relax, preparing himself to appear cooperative. He knew that he needed to retrieve the wand and escape. He would have to move fast to keep them from realizing what he was doing and speak silently so they could not understand what he was saying. The wand was held loosely in Aron’s grasp as his cold eyes examined the intricate grain of the stick.

The two guards stood on either side of Osric, and their heavy, iron keys rattled at their belts. Osric hung his head in an act of surrender, lifting his chin enough to allow him to speak. This was the time to act; the time that would end with freedom or death. Osric forced all uncertainty out of his mind with a slow, inhaled breath. All tension drained from his mind as he focused his thoughts, and his sight, on the pale patch of stone in front of Aron. His Portentist gift flared, igniting his whole being with a sense of security, and he was certain it was time to act.

“Eo ire itum,” Osric whispered. He appeared with his hand on the weakly held wand, and pulled it away. Turning back, he thrust his elbow under Aron’s chin, spun the wand and cast two rapid stun spells in the guards’ direction.

Aron roared in anger as the hooded figures dropped to the floor. Osric rotated on his heels, feeling empowered with his wand and the spoken word working together. Aron drew a wand from somewhere on his hip as he rolled away to avoid the next spell Osric cast.

Spells erupted from both wands, invisible but severely damaging the stone walls after rebounding off a defensive shield or missing their moving target. An unnatural chill began to fill the room, and Osric could sense that Aron was responsible. He had to find a way to end the duel quickly or escape the confines of the room and return with more help, but he could not leave Kenneth.

Osric began to travel to random positions to try and catch Aron with a spell he did not see coming. Once, then twice, the spells were averted by a full shield. A few more rebounded off of objects Aron managed to throw in the path of the spells. Aron had began to panic in his defense and was hurling the candles, chairs, and anything within reach to hide his movements and deflect the spells.

“How are you doing that?” Aron screamed. Veins pulsed on his red face, and he cooled the room further. Aron looked exhausted and desperate. Osric felt confident that he would soon be victorious and able to escape with Kenneth in tow.

Aron looked at the door and scrambled toward it in an attempt to escape. Osric prepared himself to travel again in order to flee, and he gripped Kenneth by the arm. When Aron lifted the handle, Osric caught a glimpse of his father’s sword still laying on the table.

“Eo-” He hesitated for a moment, knowing that he could not reach the supplies and take Kenneth with him. “Ire-” A moment’s desperation filled him at the thought of his father’s sword being used by a man such as Aron. Osric stepped toward the table to grab the sword, memories of his father and the small town of Lothaine flashing in his mind. Just as he took a step, Osric heard Kenneth rouse with a painful cough. He wished he could just send Aron away, and Osric found his wand pointing at Aron as the door swung open and he completed the spoken spell. “Itum.”

Visible, blinding, white light shot from the wand in Osric’s outstretched arm. He felt the power surging out of his mouth and down his arm, joining with the power from the wand. Osric was stunned at the strength of the power at his command. Never before had he seen light stream from his wand when he cast the spell, but it brought back terrifying memories of the first time he had used the wand and bonded with it. Although he had cast a simple spell, the blast of power from the wand burned a hole straight through the stone that had collapsed on top of him in the palace in Stanton. Osric glanced momentarily in awe at the strands of magic, entwined in a brilliant stream of white light, strangely visible without the activation of his Wand-Maker ability. The light streaked toward Aron, twisting around him in a glorious coil and growing brighter with every heartbeat.

The light pulsed so brightly that Osric pulled his other arm back to shield his eyes. Ever so slowly, the light dimmed and Osric withdrew his arm to see that Aron was gone. The two unconscious guards were all that was left as evidence of the brief but ferocious battle between Aron and himself. Osric felt both amazed and concerned by what had happened to Aron, and he suspected the results could be catastrophic. Osric was suddenly terrified that he would not make his way back to Stanton before Aron figured out where the spell had sent him. Lothaine was too close to home for Osric’s comfort.

Osric turned quickly and unlocked Kenneth’s bonds. The room was warming rapidly without Aron there to fuel his Ice Elemental gift. He helped Kenneth step away from the wall and righted a chair so he could sit and recover briefly while Osric gathered their equipment.

“What in graves was that?” Kenneth spoke quietly.

“I don’t know, but I think I may have sent him to Lothaine,” Osric answered quickly. “We need to get back to Stanton and warn the Vigiles, fast!”

Osric heard clamoring footsteps headed down the hall toward their cell. He was not about to wait around to see who was headed in their direction. So, he pictured the living quarters at his home in Stanton and spoke the familiar words.