Its voice drawing long over the “S” words, the scales said sharply, “You are supposed to be dead.”
“I don’t die so easily,” Xexial replied tartly. “What are you doing in my tower?”
The Maba-Heth turned, looking beyond Xexial briefly and then back to the wizard’s cerulean gaze. “This changes things significantly.”
Xexial didn’t let the words deter him. Sternly he stated, “You didn’t answer my question.” He wanted to know why the Seven had sent a hunter here. Something was not right. A knot of tension formed in his stomach.
Then the scales did something surprising. He nodded. “Yes. I will answer your questions. It will make things more palatable I hope.”
The Maba-Heth turned and raised his clawed hand as well. Xexial kept his own at the ready, power crackling and sizzling at his fingertips. All around Xexial the candles of the room flared to life. The Maba-Heth then turned his back to the wizard and walked to the throne, where he unceremoniously flopped down onto the hard stone seat. A long thick tail lounged off the side of one of the armrests.
Now in the light, Xexial could see the creature’s scaly skin was a reddish-brown. The frills were a set of semi-translucent membranes running from behind the scales eyes and fanning out behind his head and slightly to the sides. The membrane itself seemed almost to decipher the scales mood. Its color would shift from cold colors like blue or green when they were at ease to hot colors like red when they were beginning to get temperamental. Currently, the Maba-Heth’s frills were a greenish shade, slowly growing golden.
“I apologize for the melodramatics. I thought you might have been a looter or treasure hunter, that had managed to somehow overcome the wards of this place. I saw you enter with the small creature, but in your current state I am afraid I didn’t recognize you. Until I heard your voice. I remember your voice. It is very distinctive.” He put his clawed hand to his chest and bowed his head very slightly. “You may not remember me. I am Gavius Grind, Master Wizard of the Second Circle and Maba-Heth to the Seven. I was merely an apprentice when you last convened with the Seven.”
Xexial nodded, but did not lower his outstretched hand. He didn’t remember this wizard. “I appreciate the introduction, but you will pardon my lack of good manners in return as I find having a Maba-Heth in my tower a discourteous gesture of the Seven. I have done nothing to warrant an assassin.”
Grind shook his head, “I am not here for you, Master Bontain. I was told you were dead. I have only just arrived myself. I was seeking to confirm what the Seven had been informed about your demise.”
Xexial lowered his arm, “Ashyn.”
Grind nodded, “I am one of the quickest travelers. I can make exceptional time. I have a certain resilience to some of the harsher environments and can move at great speeds.”
Xexial knew the Maba-Heth was not boasting. Scales were known for their remarkable survivability in hostile environments like the deserts of Oganis, the Defiler’s Gates badlands, or even the Wasteland. Such a thing would afford them the benefit of not going around as he was going to, but heading directly through.
“As you can see, I am not dead. My apprentice was mistaken, though indeed I was very near to that door.” He kept his eyes on Grind. “Were you also here to investigate the Ferhym?”
Grind shook his head. “The Seven are looking into its validity. They held no stock in such an unbelievable story of an actual war on the wizards, until the truth of your death was revealed, and the recreant was brought to heel.”
Xexial’s ears perked up at the last part, “Recreant? You have a runner?”
Grind looked at him curiously. “I thought as much. You don’t know do you?”
The knot in his stomach tightened further. Something about the way he said it. Something about the whole situation struck him as odd. Wizards did not often have reason to lie, especially about something as big as the destruction of the Enclave at Czynsk or the attacks on wizards by the Wild Elves.
The Seven may take a long time to debate how far the elves could actually take the war or what its true impact would be on Kuldarr. Or if the wizards should get involved at all with it being a possibly contained matter. Same with the death of a master. If Ashyn reported Xexial dead, they would have no need to dispute such a thing. They were such a dying breed that no apprentice had tried to take a master’s life in thousands of winters. All of that could be discerned without sending a Maba-Heth. Regardless of how fast he was. Unless they were driven to believe it was something else. Misdirection, maybe?
“Where is my apprentice?” Xexial asked at last.
“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Grind replied. “I was hoping, seeing as you are alive, that he was with you, so we wouldn’t have to proceed with the… unpleasantness.”
The old wizard could tell right away from the scales’ demeanor that he loved hunting his own kind. Xexial squeezed the candle tightly and grit his teeth. “Well, he might have been delayed. He might still be on the way to the Tower of Seven.”
Xexial watched Grind shake his head again, his frill changing to an almost blue hue. “I doubt that very much.” The Maba-Heth reached into his robes and removed a worn, folded letter. “Four of these arrived to the tower, within days of each other, all by raven.”
He reached out, holding it in front of the aged wizard, but making no effort to leave his perch on the black throne. Xexial looked at him angrily before limping forward and snatching it out of the arrogant scales’ claws. As he did, he saw how easily those claws cut through the thick parchment by the fibers it left behind on the tips of Grind’s claws.
Xexial opened the letter immediately and was taken back by the flowing scrawl on the paper. It was definitely Ashyn’s handwriting.
To the Master Wizards Seven,
It is with great sorrow that I must humbly report the loss of my master and friend, Xexial Bontain. He perished on the forty-third day of the season of greening. His death was not a natural passing, but an egregious affront driven by hate and violence.
We were on our way to the Tower of Seven to report an urgent situation that needs immediate rectification. The Ferhym of the Shalis-Fey have begun a crusade against wizards.
I know how extreme this sounds, but it was clearly stated by two of their branch commanders on two separate occasions. In both instances there were deaths of innocents. Casualties caught in a conflict that should not have involved them.
On the first encounter with the Ferhym, they attacked the town of Czynsk, on the western borders of Fermania. There they took hostages and held them in the Jasian Enclave until we arrived. Upon arrival, it was deemed impossible to save them, and we withdrew to report our findings. The Ferhym burned the Jasian Cathedral and all hostages and clergy within. They ambushed us that evening, and as a result of our defense, we had to kill a good number of them.
The second encounter took place on the day Master Bontain fell. East of the Onyx Tower, within the lowlands, we were ambushed once again. We drove them away, but at great cost. Xexial sacrificed himself so that I may live.
The Council of Elm is mantling this crusade. I am not sure how wide spread it is amongst the other elves, or if it is relegated to just the Ferhym of the Shalis-Fey. I do know for fact that they have the support of the druids.
I was ordered to report this to you, in person, immediately. I assume the reason for a personal accounting is so you can then determine what is to be done with me. I, unfortunately, am caught up in a rather unique circumstance. I assume this has happened in the past, or perhaps it is common that the apprentice dies with the master in combat. Yet, I have survived.
I am aware of the one master, one apprentice system. No more, no others, no exceptions.
I respect and understand the need for this system as wizards. I, however, cannot be there in person as he wished. Instead, I have sent six parcels bearing six messages to the tower in hopes that one makes it. You must heed the warning of the war with the Ferhym. It is looming on the horizon, and from what I have seen, it will be ugly.
I must now choose my own path, and I know what that means. Not only do I betray the vow to a man that had become like a father to me, I must break the Wizards’ Covenant.
I do this for only one purpose, to rescue my sister. She is in the hands of the Ferhym, and she has already suffered tremendous horrors at their whims. When I have liberated her from her tormentors and ensured she is safe, I will turn myself over to the Seven and accept punishment for my actions.
I hope you can understand that I must do this. I hope there is enough humanity amongst you to recognize I did not come to such a decision lightly. However, I cannot, in good conscience, leave my sister in the hands of barbarous monsters. I have already lost too much to the Ferhym. I will lose no more. It has been an honor to count myself as one of your number.
-The Blood Wizard
Ashyn Rune
Xexial read the letter over again and again. After Ashyn’s signature he went on with a full accounting of the Ferhym’s battle tactics, strategies, magical uses, and exploitable weaknesses. It was thorough. Clearly the boy did everything he could to help the wizards, even while abandoning them. Abandoning him.
Xexial’s hands squeezed at the edges, threatening to puncture through the thick papyrus. His eyes welled up with tears of rage. Idiot boy! Stupid, idiot boy! He screamed in his mind. Did he know what he had done? Did he know what he had committed himself to? He told them! He flat out told them he was taking the path of the recreant! He shook his head in disgust. He had known, of course. Knew that this path weighed heavily on the boy’s mind. He knew how much Ashyn loved his sister. Still he did not think it would happen, not like this. He hoped Ashyn would have waited. Been patient and let the Seven respond to the threat. Let them aid his sister.
But no. He was impetuous and reckless. He had too much intelligence, but not enough wisdom to see what he had truly done. Ashyn betrayed Xexial. The thought of it made him rancorous because he understood the boy. He knew Ashyn’s motivations.
What made him so angry, aside from the betrayal, which stung bitterly, was that he was forgoing the scale of the situation for something much smaller. His sister was one woman. The Ferhym were legion, and if united could mean the untold deaths of so many.
Had Ashyn done as instructed, had he gone in person, they wouldn’t have sent the Maba-Heth, and they would have taken him at word. No one was going to take the complication of the Wild Elves seriously until it was too late. Their peace lasted for almost two decades. Those who remembered what the conflict had been like even knew that it was directed skirmish battles. The elves were burning towns to get at wizards now, and still Ashyn chose the life of a single, stupid girl.
Xexial shook his head in disgust. He trained the boy better than that. Now the scales was here, and Ashyn condemned himself. Xexial could see no returning from this unscathed.
He finally looked up at Grind, knowing why the Maba-Heth had truly come. “You will kill him.”
“Wizards do not suffer recreants among our numbers, regardless of how just the circumstance may seem. You know this. He should know this.”
Xexial nodded. “He does. This was his choice.”
The Maba-Heth stood and flexed his scaly muscles. “Then there is nothing much left to discuss is there? This so called Blood Wizard must die.” A sinister smile played about the creature’s caiman-like face, revealing even more of his wickedly pointed teeth. “Are you ready to do your duty? Are you ready to hunt Ashyn Rune?”
“No,” Xexial said honestly. Yet when he looked into the scales’ eyes, his expression became hard and cold. “But I will be.”