by David Yazel
"Sir, you are not authorized to call the Council," spoke the melodious voice from the air in front of him. The disembodied voice took on a lecturing quality, "Only senior level Mages can evoke an emergency session.
Braddok hissed in exasperation. Stupid rules again. "Look, Tennison instructed me to get the council together to deal with an emergency situation."
"If you like I can make an appointment for you to speak with..."
"I don’t have time to make appointments!" Braddok cut her off.
"I’m sorry, Sir, but that is the best that I can do." The insufferably snotty voice continued, "If you’d have Master Holyoak call me directly to confirm his request I’m sure we can clear this up.
"I can’t have him call you! He’s away trying to deal with this situation himself and needs backup!" Braddok seethed with frustration. Obviously this twice-cursed brethenna was not going to back down.
"Then connect me with Mage Silveral." Braddok waited.
"I’m sorry sir, but Mage Silveral is not taking calls this evening." The smug voice continued, "Would you like to leave a message?"
"No, tell me where she is located."
"Mage Silveral is in her quarters and is not to be disturbed."
With a curt gesture Braddok disconnected. If Renna was busy that was too bad. Unfortunately she was the only one he knew who could help. The very thought of dealing with her put his teeth on edge. He never could figure out what Tennison saw in that icy psychopath, but their on again, off again relationship was a whispered legend throughout the college. He knew that in some weird twisted way they both cared for each other.
He retraced his steps for several minutes before turning onto a dark hallway lit by a single lamp at the far end. Hurrying down the hall he came to a dark oaken door, bound with iron and set deeply into the stone wall.
He pushed the heavy door open and started down the dark, circular stairs. Whereas most of the senior mages lived in comfortable apartments in the upper levels of the college, Renna Silveral preferred the dark, damp and thoroughly disagreeable surroundings deep below.
Dimly lit by the occasional lamp, the stairway seemed to spiral endlessly downward. He finally came to the end and entered a short corridor hewn from black stone. At the end was another door, with hideous stone sculptures on either side.
As he went to knock on the door the statue to the right opened his eyes, "She’s busy right now."
Braddok hesitated, he hated these stone doormen. Leave it to Renna to make them as ugly as possible.
"It is very important that I see her right away," he said, keeping his voice level.
"Nope, its not going to happen." The door-golumn smiled, revealing a mouthful of large stone teeth. "Why don’t you come back later."
Braddok considered what to do. "Tell Renna that I have to see her right now."
The golumn’s eyes flared. "I don’t know who you are, but my instructions are clear. No one is to bother her. I don’t care if you are the Arch-Mage himself."
With that, the stone figure closed his eyes and became motionless again.
Braddok sighed and studied the door. It seemed massive enough, with several nasty looking runes inscribed along the edge. But every spell had its weakness and Braddok prided himself on always being able to figure them out.
He nodded to himself and then leaning forward to touch a particular spot, uttered a single Word of power. The runes on the door flared into life and started smoking.
He sensed more than saw the blow coming from his right and narrowly avoided being pulped by the guardian’s massive fist.
"That was a big mistake mageling," and with a grinding of stone upon stone the golumn stepped down from the pedestal.
Braddok licked his lips, in addition to making it ugly it seemed that Renna had added a few enhancements to her doorman.
The golumn lunged toward him with breathtaking speed. Braddok muttered a spell under his breath and met the golumn’s charge head on. The crashed to a standstill in the middle of the hallway. Braddok had the satisfaction of seeing surprise in those stony eyes before he picked up all two tons of thrashing stone statue and threw it through Renna’s still-smoking door.
Braddok straightened his clothes and brushed off his hands. The world would have to move on without that particular piece of art.
He chuckled and walked down the hallway, stepping gingerly through the shards of the once imposing door. No doubt Renna was not going to be happy about the damage. The room he found himself in was an antechamber of some kind. There were several dark tapestries which covered the walls, depicting scenes both erotic and violent. The room was lit by a single candelabra and the flickering flames seemed to add an element of depth and movement to the exquisitely rendered tapestries. In fact he could have sworn that the figure in the right most picture had just shifted slightly. He frowned and looked more closely.
The tapestry showed a nighttime scene from some ancient battle. The ground was littered with the bodies of dead and dying warriors, lit by a full moon and cloudless sky. The central tableau was that of two figures, locked in a deadly struggle admits a field of the fallen. One was a knight, wearing shattered armor of archaic design. His noble face was set in determination as he grappled with his opponent.
As Braddok shifted his gaze to that of the final figure he felt an odd resistance, as if it did not want to be seen. Then with shocking clarity he saw that knight’s mortal enemy was not human, but something else. It wore no armor, nor bore any weapon save wickedly shaped claws. The sleek body was covered in jet black fur, with rippling muscles bunched underneath. Yet it stood as a man, straining chest to chest with the knight, one hand holding off man’s sword arm, the other poised for a slash.
Suddenly the tapestry rippled from some unfelt breeze and seemed to change. The knight’s expression became predatory, twisted in hatred and loathing. The creature strove to protect its life, the knight to take it. For a split second it looked right at Braddok. Its eyes held such an ancient sadness that for a moment he could not bear to look away.
Braddok shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was wasting time and Tennison was depending on him. Giving the tapestry a final thoughtful look, he stepped away and continued.
"Renna?" he called out, the words breaking the oppressive stillness. When there was no response he moved to the end of the room and paused a moment before the door he found there.
He was starting to feel a little nervous about invading the mage’s rooms. Renna was reputed to have been raised by witches far to the north, brought to the College when she had reached the age of apprenticeship by a wandering mage. She was rarely seen by fellow practitioners in the college and took on only selected students as pupils. But one thing he was sure about, Renna Silveral was one of the most cold-blooded people he had ever met.
He clearly remembered an incident several years ago when Renna had "accidentally" killed another mage during the annual Games.
It was Mage Styling who had faced her that sunny day. Amid shouts of fans from the crowd he had stepped onto the hard-baked ground of the arena, waving to friends scattered here and there. This was the final round in a competition for a flawless emerald, valued for both its beauty and magical properties.
The battle lasted but an instant. No one was clear about what exactly happened because as soon as the round started Renna summoned a Sphere of Darkness, obscuring the entire stadium floor. When it cleared a minute later Styling was lying dead and Renna was standing over his shredded body, blood pooling around her feet. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Renna calmly walked over to the judges and held out her hand for the emerald.
Braddok had been sitting directly behind them and what he saw made him shiver in remembrance. As she had extended her hand to accept her prize, blood had dripped from her black lacquered fingernails, to splatter against the stark white of the judges table. In disbelief he had looked up into her face, shadowed by the heavy cowl she wore. Her expression was one of fierce exhilaration, as if ripping her opponent apart with her bare hands had been satisfying.
She had gripped the emerald in her hand and then walked out of the arena, her head held high. The crowd sat in silence as she left, mortified by what they had seen. For everyone knew that Renna had not just killed her opponent, she had killed her lover.
Thud.
Braddok saw stars as a something slammed against his temple. He lurched to the right but was not fast enough to avoid a second blow to his midriff.
Whuff, he gasped as the breath was driven forcibly from his body. He caught sight of the a figure before him, dressed darkly and wielding an iron shod staff.. "Renna!" he wheezed, "What are you doing? It’s me, Bra..." He was cut off as she launched another attack, her staff whistling around parallel to the ground and waist high. Braddok jumped straight up to avoid the blow and smoothly drew his sword on the landing.
He parried her next blow and the next, his strokes sure and steady. They fought silently for several moments, moving back and forth across the darkened room. Finally, seeing his opening, Braddok dropped his sword and stepped inside her swing. He locked his hands around her staff and wrenched it out of her hands. They stood glaring at each other, chests heaving from their recent exertion.
Renna was a petite woman of indeterminate age, with black hair that fell straight down her back. Her skin was white, completely leeched of any color. The creamy perfection of her face contrasted sharply with her blood red lips, which at this moment were shaped in a scowl.
"This had better be good, Braddok" she hissed. Her hands started to shape a spell and then paused.
"Renna, Tennison is in trouble. " He rushed on, "We have encountered some trouble to the north and he has gone to investigate. He told me to get the council together but they’re giving me the run-around." He finished out of breath and looked at her.
After a moment her expression softened, "Ten is quite capable of taking care of himself" she paused, "What’s going on?"
Braddok relaxed a fraction and then filled her in on what had been happening. "...Then he stepped into the transporter," he finished up, "I lost communication with him shortly after that".
Renna bit her lip and dropped her hands to her side. "Let me try to contact him." She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. "It is odd... I can feel him but I can’t get through to him. Its like there is some weird distortion all around him."
She opened her eyes and looked at Braddok. "OK, we’ll follow his instructions." She snapped her fingers and the wall sconces burst into flames, beating back the oppressive darkness of the high-ceilinged room.
He looked around with interest. This room was the first of Renna’s personal quarters and it’s tasteful, if somber, appearance spoke to a side of her that he had never before suspected.
"You say the trouble is to the north?" Renna moved in front of an enormous ornate mirror decorating the wall at the end of the room.
"Yes, Ten has a probe at the site." he moved to stand beside her.
She waved her hand and the mirror brightened and then turned cloudy, depicting swirling mists. "Ten probably instantiated the probe communications at his standard frequency," she murmured to herself as her hands flickered in an intricate pattern.
"There it is", she said and the mirror cleared to show the fire dominating the horizon. She studied it carefully and then made an adjustment to the mirror’s control. Writing in some script Braddok did not recognize started scrolling from right to left at the bottom of the mirror. Renna was reading the script when she gasped and clutched her hands to her chest.
Braddok looked at her. For a brief instant he saw what looked like a fierce expression of hope and excitement flood her face before it calmed and became expressionless once again.
"What is it?," he asked, and looked again at the unintelligible writing flashing by.
"The analysis is inconclusive." Renna waved her hand and the mirror went blank. "The magnitude of the energies involved startled me, that’s all." She did not meet his eyes.
She started to turn away and he grabbed her arm, swinging her back around. "Don’t give me that! You know something about this you’re not telling me!"
Renna’s face was inches from his own and he found himself starting directly into her eyes. For an instant he felt that we was looking into the eyes of a crazed animal, burning with hatred. "Don’t.. you.. ever.. touch me again," she hissed and then muscles in her arm writhed beneath his hand, pulling away effortlessly.
Surprised at her strength and shocked by the intensity of her words Braddok stepped back. Renna swung around and strode to an alcove in the wall, once again the picture of the cold enchantress. "How much time has elapsed since Tennison first entered the fire?" she asked over her shoulder.
Braddok considered, "About fifteen minutes."
"Good, then we haven’t wasted too much time. Let’s get going."
He stepped inside the alcove beside her and felt her trigger the transportation spell.
They materialized in a large oval-shaped room, dominated by a huge table. Cut from a single Great Oak the table sat twenty and was ringed with solid, high-backed chairs. There were no windows in the room, nor any doors. The only means of egress was by magic and that way was tightly controlled and closed to all but council members and their guests.
No one actually knew where the council chamber was physically located, although some speculated it was buried deep inside a distant mountain. The room had been constructed by the original council over twelve hundred years ago and then all records of its whereabouts destroyed.
Renna walked passed the table and proceeded to the far wall until she stood in front of a large set of chimes, hanging from the ceiling. Taking a mallet from a niche in the wall she paused and then struck a series of notes in quick succession.
She replaced the mallet and then walked to her place at the table. As she approached, the chair pulled itself smoothly from the table and waited until she stood in front of it before sliding back in. Even as she sat down other mages started materializing in the chamber.
First came Arch Mage Tomeral, the oldest mage on the council at over two hundred and fifty years old. Although his body had started to fail him, him mind remained as sharp as ever. He nodded gravely to Renna and she returned his look evenly.
Next came Mage Kurl, impeccably dressed in the latest fashion and with his hair carefully combed. He sported a thin black mustache which did nothing to hide his thin lips, set at the moment in an expression of irritation. Kurl was Tennison’s bitterest rival in the fermenting political climate surrounding the council as mages jockeyed for the prime position to succeed Tomeral.
Mage Iterial appeared beside his chair. His rotund body was offset by an excitable nature and he was well known for pontificating for hours on any subject. He sat down and steepled his fingers, glancing around the table and waiting in silence as the last of the mages trickled in.
After a few minutes all the chairs were filled except Tennison’s, which remained conspicuously empty.
Tomeral shakily stood and the room fell silent. "Who calls the council?" he asked the assemblage.
"Where’s Tennison?" The loud whisper carried the length of the table and heads turned to regard the youngest council member, Mage Quelton, who blushed red in embarrassment.
Renna stood. "I called the council and Tennison will not be joining us."
The was a flurry of whispers until Tomeral waved them to silence, "I yield the floor to Mage Silveral." He sat down heavily and gestured for Renna to continue.
"As some of you know there has been an unusually powerful magical disturbance to the north." she paused, "Its been measured at sixth order."
She waited as the resulting tumult died down. "The phenomenon has manifested itself as a huge column of fire and has subsequently ravaged the country side." She gestured liquidly and light in the room dropped. One wall suddenly disappeared and was replaced with the view from Tennison’s probe. Gasps filled the room as the magnitude of the fire penetrated.
"Mage Tennison is in the process of investigating and has asked that we immediately send relief for any survivors that are in the area."
Quelton was leaning forward intently, "It looks like its changing." Indeed, as everyone looked the pillar seemed to shrink in on itself, first slowly and then faster. In a few seconds it had been reduced to a fraction of its original size.
"Looks like the problem is taking care of itself" remarked a mage in the darkness. All of the sudden the pillar stopped shrinking and intensified to a white hot incandescence.
"Ah!" exclaimed Tomeral, cocking his head and squinting as if listening to something very faint and far away. The mages looked at each other and not hearing anything, shrugged.
Then they all felt it, a thrumming deep in the ether. It started as a subtle vibration and then grew in power until they felt like their minds were on fire. The pillar writhed and twisted and grew brighter. The air in the room seemed to tighten around the mages and one left the table to puke noisily in the corner.
Braddok turned at the smell of burning cloth and noticed Kurl beating ineffectively at something around his neck which was smoking and glowing red hot. He reacted quickly, jumping forward and drawing his sword. Kurl saw him coming and shrieked in sudden terror, flinging out his hands as if to ward him off. He ignored him and using the tip of his sword, flicked the amulet over Kurl’s head and into the probe interface, simultaneously activating transport.
The amulet materialized in the distant field, bounced twice and then exploded in fury.
The pillar was now as bright as the sun, wavering and indistinct in self-induced heat waves.
Once of the mages shouted, "We need to close down the connection to the probe, the magical backlash is going to kill us!" One by one the mage’s personal shields were flaring into place as energies streamed into the room from the distant conflagration.
"We can’t leave Tennison out there by himself!" Braddok shouted back.
"I’m shutting it down!" Kurl stood and started to gesture.
Quick as a cat Renna leapt forward struck Kurl in the temple. With a whimper he folded up and collapsed to the floor, his half completed spell flared and the probe connection started unraveling.
Braddok cursed and flung himself into the probe’s interface, Renna following quickly behind. The image on the wall flickered once and then died, leaving the council sitting in stunned silence.
