Hemlock and the Wizard Tower

  Chapter Sixteen

  The four wanderers returned to the communal living chamber, escorted by Taros Ranvok. The young Tanna Varran told them that Pan Taros was planning to address the Townsfolk to describe the newcomers to them and explain his decision regarding them. Taros Ranvok’s manner was solemn, and Hemlock could tell that he sought to make eye contact with her, but she avoided it.

  Taros Ranvok soon left the chamber. Many of the Tanna Varran townsfolk in the room were whispering amongst themselves and looking at the four outlanders. Their looks were neutral, seeming neither supportive nor angry. Hemlock wondered if this would still be the case after Pan Taros addressed them.

  Eventually, most of the Tanna Varrans left the hall to attend the address. Only a pair of guards remained at the door.

  Gwineval took his leave of the rest of the group to take a swim in the adjacent bath.  Hemlock sat down beside Safreon while Merit looked out the nearby window at the sky, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

  "Safreon, what will we do when we get back to the City?"

  "I have been thinking about that," he responded.  "I think that the wizards have addicted the entire City to Witch Crag magic.  But now we've seen where that magic comes from, and I, for one, have no desire to partake of it any longer."

  Hemlock nodded her agreement.  "It's disgusting.  But there are people like my sister who depend on it," she added.

  "That's an unfortunate truth.  We can't just stop using magic.  Some amount of magic is innate to the City, but the wizards have regulated all spell casting and have required people to use their potions.  We have to lead the fight against that regulation and in support of the restoration of natural magic."

  Hemlock considered that for a time and then responded,  "So we continue to fight the wizards."

  "Yes, I'm afraid so.  We lack the strength to confront the wizards directly. We have to try to aid Gwineval in returning to the Wizard Guild and retaining his position.  The only way I can see to do that is to let him go back to them with information about my Wand.  This information will make me even more of a marked man.  It will probably affect you as well.  It will be an extremely dangerous time for us both, Hemlock."

  "I don't fear the wizards," she responded.  Seeing Safreon's dark look in response, she added, "I respect their power, now more than ever.  But I do not fear them."

  Her statement seemed to placate Safreon somewhat. "Even if we manage to get Gwineval accepted back into the Wizard Guild, he will be under suspicion by Falignus.  He will be an ally, but we still need more power in order to oppose Falignus.  We will have to devise new ways to fight him.  We may have to take the fight to the Elites as well.  They are so addicted to Wizard magic that they will never willingly give it up.  They will support the Wizard Guild unless..."

  Safreon stopped speaking as he noticed Gwineval returning to their vicinity.  Safreon began to speak about Taros Ranvok, his father Pan Taros, and the meeting which was apparently about to take place.

  Hemlock rose and walked to the window, thinking to speak to Merit.  But Merit, sensing her approach, moved off into a corner and sat alone.

  Hemlock gave a slight shrug in Merit's direction and then gazed out the window herself.

  She mused about how her life had changed in the past several days. She thought about her sister, who now seemed a world away in the Warrens, even though it could be reached in only a few days on foot.

  Hemlock quietly cursed the day that her sister had joined her on her journey to the City. But then she thought of her step-father and that reaffirmed her opinion that her sister was better off in the City, even considering the physical maladies which she suffered from here. Hemlock took comfort in the fact that at least her sister’s spiritual life was pure in the City. That was a thought Hemlock cherished.

  As Hemlock gazed out over the Tanna Varran town, deep in her musings, she noticed a large building nearby, which was lit up with bright lanterns and torches. Most of the townspeople were filing through the doorway. This was, no doubt, the meeting hall where the King was about to deliver news of their group.

  Something caught her eye on the pitched roof of a building slightly above and adjacent to the larger meeting building. Hemlock perceived a ghostly figure crawling over the roof toward the meeting hall. It moved like an animal but it had a human appearance. Hemlock realized that it was the radiantly beautiful form of a woman. Hemlock was frozen for a moment as she watched the figure leap and soar across the divide between the rooftops. She was awed by the beauty of the creature, which seemed to exceed the measure of anything beautiful that she had previously experienced. She felt small and belittled by that beauty, yet she could not look away. The animalistic movements of the spirit also registered in Hemlock’s mind, providing a subtle undercurrent of loathing to the awe she felt as she beheld the comely form.

  Stopping beside a high window on an upper section of the two story meeting hall, the insubstantial woman froze. As Hemlock watched, she began to fade; her beautiful flowing hair morphed into a fine mist. Hemlock found herself struggling to focus on it. The entire figure dissolved into mist, still casting a slight unearthly glow, and then passed through the closed window and faded from view.

  Hemlock soon snapped out of whatever form of rapture had held her while she beheld the figure.

  "Safreon!" she cried.

  "What? What’s wrong?" asked Safreon, who had been sitting nearby speaking with Gwineval and Merit.

  "I don’t know, but I just saw something. It was the ghostly figure of a beautiful woman. It seemed to pass into the hall where Pan Taros is addressing the townspeople. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before; beautiful, but terrible. So terrible…"

  Safreon glanced at Gwineval and Merit, who had both risen to comfort Hemlock. He then directed his attention across the room toward the two guards which had been left at the door of the chamber.

  "I think we need to alert the Tanna Varrans. Your description sounds like the Witch that haunts these hills and valleys: the Master of that Mathi creature that we dispatched," replied Safreon.

  Gwineval nodded, while Hemlock was still trying to shake off the effects of her experience; though she was aware of her surroundings, she did not react to them.

  Hemlock watched, detached, as Safreon jogged across the hall, trying to balance the urgency of his message with a desire to avoid trampling the bedrolls of the absent townspeople.

  Soon, he returned with a Tanna Varran guard, who looked extremely grave. Hemlock was starting to feel a little better as Safreon spoke to her.

  "Hemlock, please repeat to this man what you told me about the figure you saw enter the meeting hall."

  "It was the ghostly figure of a beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman… person… that I have ever seen. She moved like a beast, but I still could not take my eyes off of her. She leapt from roof to roof and then dissipated into a mist which flowed into the meeting hall."

  Hemlock watched the color leave the face of the Tanna Varran guard. He paused for only a moment before crying out, "Quickly! We must alert Pan Taros and Tored! The Witch herself may be in that hall!"

  The guard made to grab Hemlock, but she easily avoided his grasp and gestured for him to lead them. The guard complied and set off in a swift run, looking back to make sure the rest followed. The others followed quickly behind, with Merit doing his best to keep up.

  They left the hall and emerged onto the wooden causeways of the town, which creaked under the weight of their footfalls. They ran as quickly as possible in the dark evening, making their way along walkways and stairs to the meeting hall, which was not too far from their quarters.

  As they ran, Hemlock looked at the rafters and roofs of the buildings around them, their queer angles seeming to accentuate the threat of seeing another ghostly figure. But she saw nothing but the characteristic stark angles of the Tanna Varran construction techniques.

  After a few minutes, they arrive
d at the hall.

  Hemlock glanced back for Merit, but she did not see him. The Tanna Varran guard would accept no delay as he ushered them into the hall, through broad double doors.

  They could see the assembled throng and feel the warmth within the hall.

  Hemlock saw Pan Taros speaking on a raised stage to the townspeople below. The King seemed to notice the motion of their group moving in the crowd and paused his melodic speech.

  Undaunted, the Tanna Varran guard took them to a stairway, beside which two warriors stood. The warriors would not let the group pass.

  "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" asked Pan Taros from the stage above, commandingly, and pointing in their direction.

  All eyes in the hall turned toward the group.

  The guard who had led them began to speak haltingly, but Safreon put a hand on his shoulder and the guard was silent. Safreon began to speak and his voice rang out clearly over crowd.

  "Pan Taros, we regret the intrusion, but my companion, Hemlock, saw the ghostly figure of a beautiful woman crawling on the rooftops and entering this hall not moments ago!"

  In response to this, a low murmur of alarm rose in the crowd.

  Hemlock noticed that Tored and Taros Ranvok, who had been seated in the shadows behind the podium above, bolted up out of their seats and arrived immediately at the King’s side. There was a quick consultation and then Pan Taros shrugged them off and addressed the crowd.

  "Silence! Silence!" he cried.

  Slowly the murmur of the crowd trailed off and there was silence.

  "Do not fear. We will determine what has happened and what, if anything, must be done," stated the King reassuringly.

  Pan Taros pointed down to Hemlock.

  "Now tell us what you have seen, and omit no detail," he commanded.

  Hemlock related her experience carefully, but quickly.

  Pan Taros seemed to shrink in stature for a moment as he heard Hemlock’s words, but then he rose straight again. Looking back at Tored, he turned back to face the crowd, which had again broken out into a charged murmuring.

  "Silence!" cried the King again.

  This time the hall was quickly silenced. Hemlock noticed that many in the crowd seemed to look at their companions with some alacrity.

  "It seems that we must return to the old ways in order to determine whether the words of this outlander are true. We all know the legend of the Witch. Seal the hall!" commanded the King.

  Warriors quickly moved to block the double doors through which the group had entered.

  "All women, please open your mouths and present your tongues, according to the old ways," commanded the King gravely.

  Hemlock looked around, confused, as the women in the room proceeded to do just that. Men quickly passed from woman to woman inspecting their mouths. It all seemed quite odd to Hemlock and her friends.

  The warrior who had escorted them to the hall stepped forcefully in front of Hemlock.

  "You must open your mouth. It is said that the Witch can possess women. When she does so, she is undetectable, save for her forked tongue. You must show me your tongue," instructed the Guard.

  Hemlock glanced to Safreon, shrugged her shoulders, and then opened her mouth.

  The Guard was quickly satisfied and moved to inspect another.

  Hemlock was about to comment on the absurdity of what she had just done, when a woman, in the middle of the crowd, surged into the air, writhing violently.

  "NO! It cannot be!" cried Pan Taros, the King, losing his composure.

  A smartly dressed woman levitated in agony over the crowd.

  "The Witch!" cried many voices.

  "The King’s sister, Marta!" cried others.

  "I AM LIGHTNING!" boomed out a voice from the levitating figure so loudly that Hemlock doubted that any noise in the world could have drowned it out.

  As those words were heard, two incredible things happened simultaneously: a searing bolt of energy thundered from the writhing body of the woman toward the ceiling–and her body, a frail vessel unable to remain intact under that level of force, tore apart into many pieces, showering blood, flesh, guts and smoldering fragments of her garments all over the crowd below.

  Hemlock put a hand to her sabre, but it was all over so quickly as to render the action moot. She looked up to the ceiling of the chamber and there was a hole burnt into it from the passing of the strange lightning. She could see the stars overhead, through the hole.

  Looking back to the stage above, she saw that the King, Pan Taros, had fallen into an inconsolable state. He was being dragged into the shadowy wings of the upper chamber by Tored. Taros Ranvok, tears streaming down his face, stood as if transfixed by the spectacle of what had just happened and the reaction of the crowd below, which was just starting to break its silence with screams and cries.

  His eyes happened to meet Hemlock’s. Many things passed between them as their eyes met–even over the intervening distance. His affection for her was naked in that glance, but the sympathy in her eyes was not intermingled with an amorous quality, and he clearly perceived that. His eyes became even sadder, if that was possible, but his expression changed to one of acceptance and he nodded to Hemlock kindly. She felt like her heart might burst from her chest with guilt.

  …

  Hemlock and Safreon sat together in the clock tower of a church located in the center of the Warrens.  Hemlock, who was just newly coming into her womanly figure, looked around her at the now non-working clock, and the bell, which had several long cracks in it and no longer rung true.  The church was still used, but no longer enjoyed a large or passionate group of followers and supporters.

  Hemlock scanned the streets below, looking for crime or other issues which would warrant a response from her and Safreon.  It was early evening, when most acts of mischief–or worse–tended to occur.

  Hemlock moved over a few rafters to peer from the eastern face of the tower.  In the distance loomed the Wizard Tower, an imposing looking edifice rising over the Warrens.  It featured a number of large windows that were flat at the bottom and curved to a peak at the top.  It was a wide tower; tall, but not delicate.  It covered a large area at the center of the City.

  "Safreon, did you ever wonder why the Wizard Tower is at the center of the City along with the Senate building?" she asked.

  Safreon took a moment to respond as he puffed on a pipe, then dumped the ash over the side of an opening in the wall of the tower. He watched the ashes flutter to the street below.

  "I've studied the history of the City, and before the reign of the Imperator, I believe that the Wizard Tower may have been the first building in the City, predating the Wizard Guild," he stated.

  "Really?  The Guild didn't build the Tower?" Hemlock asked, surprised.

  "No, I don't think that they did.  Surely they added to it by changing the interior, perhaps adding the protections and wards.  From what I can put together, and it's difficult, because the Imperator tried to destroy all traces of the written history of the City prior to his reign, there was a reclusive Wizard of great power who originally built the Tower.  Some believe that he created the special shifting properties of the land upon which he built it.  Others believe that he identified the unique properties of the land and managed to migrate here and found the City." Safreon packed his pipe with more tobacco.

  Hemlock noticed a group of First Circle wizards that were moving drunkenly through the Warrens.  Hemlock pointed them out to Safreon.  She thought that it had been unusual for them to emerge from the Tower in plain sight, as she had seen them do an hour earlier; but as the martial arm of the wizards, she figured that they must be allowed out to partake of certain indulgences which the other wizards did not.  After inspecting them for a time, and judging their actions to be relatively benign, Hemlock returned her attention to her conversation with Safreon.

  "Safreon, do you think the City is a good place or an evil place?" she asked.

&nbs
p; "Both, I would say," he responded lightly.

  "Well, you must be interested in this topic considering that you devote so much time to trying to combat evil."

  "I have given it some passing thought," he mused mysteriously.

  "Safreon...come on," Hemlock cooed in response.

  Putting his pipe down, Safreon turned to her.

  "We all have good and evil within us.  Therefore, the City, and in fact all places that I have experienced, are both good and evil, in direct measure to the people that exist there.  Good and evil are opposites; in fact they are measured against one another.  Good actions often require evil actions in order to be deemed good by comparison.  If there was only good, then good ... well it wouldn't really be good anymore–it would just ... be."

  Hemlock was silent as she thought about his words. 

  Safreon picked up his pipe and puffed theatrically.  "That being said, there are a lot of harmful actions in the City.  It's easy to despair and think that we live in an evil place.  But there is much good here that goes unnoticed:  the doting mother who struggles to feed her children and thinks only of them and not of herself, the Priest who carries on in this rundown Church even though he is little more than a pauper himself, yourself, trying to make the Warrens safer for your sister and others.  These are all people who commit acts of compassion and self-sacrifice that stand in contrast to the evil deeds that often occur here."

  "But what does it matter if there are good acts if the evil is stronger; if there are more acts of evil than there are good?" Hemlock countered.

  "Listen, I think that everyone is on a spiritual journey, whether they believe that or not.  The evil is harmful because it can distract people from a virtuous path.  But so-called goodness can be just as dangerous.  I've lived in places in times of plenty, before I came to the City.  So-called good places are often just as fertile a breeding ground for lack of virtue as evil places.  People become lazy, they become greedy, and they become insensitive to others when they do not need thing,s but simply want them. They become slaves of their desires."

  Hemlock grunted noncommittally.

  "You’re entitled to be skeptical – but I have seen this with my own eyes. Still, the actions that you and I take every day demonstrate that our mission is to attempt to reduce the harmful evil in the Warrens. Sometimes we commit violence and are forced to do terrible things. It is akin to a doctor who must remove a diseased limb. It is impossible to contain the damage without causing some harm to the body. But the hope is that the overall result will be positive. We try to make peace with our swords. My hope is that those who come after us will be able to make peace with their words."

  Hemlock nodded in agreement.

  "We should change the subject," he joked, "otherwise this clock tower may collapse under the weight of this conversation."

  Hemlock laughed girlishly, "Fine… we wouldn't want that to happen!"