Priestess of War (The Bowl of Souls Book 10), page 31
Fist placed a hand on his forehead. Now it made sense. They had used the mirror that Valtrek had with him on Justan’s first journey to the Mage School.
“Where is Mistress Sherl?” he asked.
“Indeed, where is Sherl?” Sarine asked, looking around. “I swear she was right behind us.”
“Oh. She said she forgot something,” said Faldon the Fierce, exiting the wagon. Justan’s father was dressed for war, wearing a full shirt of chainmail, the handle of his massive sword sticking up over his back. “She said she’d be right back.”
Behind Faldon came many of the most dangerous fighters in the Academy, including Hugh the Shadow and Stout Harley and a slew of other graduates.
“I don’t understand,” said Locksher. “I thought the matching mirror was out of the country.”
“I received it back from the Kingdom of Benador a few days before Beehn headed over to the Academy in his wind wagon. The timing was fortunate. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have been able to transfer it to the wagons before Bill and Lenui left,” Valtrek said.
Sarine snorted. “Is that why you delayed the decision to leave for so long?”
“It was a factor,” the Head Wizard admitted. “I had a backup plan, but fortunately it worked out.”
As more Academy soldiers continued to spill out of the wagon Locksher cocked his head. “I didn’t think your mirror could handle so many travelers.”
Valtrek walked over to him. “I have been boosting its magic, working to expand the number. Right now the mirror can handle perhaps up to a hundred before it becomes unstable. The only issue is that the same number of people have to return or the pathway stays open.”
“That is quite a gamble,” Locksher said.
Valtrek shrugged. “If we should lose some of our number, I am sure that there will be wizards or soldiers in the army below that need a swifter way home than by foot.”
“But . . . What if we should lose?” Charz asked. “Wouldn’t we be leaving an open portal right back to the Mage School?”
“I will be waiting on the other side myself. If anyone unapproved should attempt it, the mirror will be broken,” Valtrek replied. A smile appeared on his face. “But let’s not hope for that.”
“So you’re not going to be fighting with us, Head Wizard?” Fist asked.
Valtrek clasped his hands together. “Battle has never been my specialty. Once I see that everyone has come through safely, I will wait here for the results.”
The warriors finished their mass exodus from the wagon, sixty in all, every one of them elite. They were followed shortly by a stream of more wizards. Fist recognized most of them. Many were part time teachers of his.
Locksher’s eyebrows rose suddenly. “I just had a fantastic idea! There is something I must retrieve from my rooms. Do I have time?”
Valtrek nodded. “Wizardess Sherl isn’t here yet. So if you hurry.”
Sighing at the thought of all the stairs that awaited him, Locksher rushed inside.
He was gone for some time. The wizards approached the wall Cassandra had raised and debated the most efficient way to bore through it, while avoiding the possibility of alerting the enemy to their presence. Faldon and the Academy Council members took Fist and Crag aside to discuss the best ways to implement the ogres into an attack formation.
Fist spent the entire time with chills running down his back. This was it. The battle he had been dreaming about for months was finally going to happen. So much of his dream made sense now. Academy warriors and Mage School wizards were now intermixed with ogres and ready to go to war.
He began to worry about the snakes. Was he really going to be bitten? If it happened would it be just one big one like in the last dream he’d had or many small ones like he’d dreamed before?
I hope none, Rufus said, attempting to be helpful.
Me too, Fist agreed. Maybe the snakes were a . . . metaphor? Yes, he was pretty sure that was the word. It had been in his book of words several months back. But what would snakes be a metaphor for? Perhaps they represented his need to be faster.
He perked up. Or maybe that part of the dream had already come true. He’d had that feeling when he hadn’t been fast enough to stop Mog from being killed by the golem. It was a horrible thought, but maybe that part was over.
Or maybe you still get bit by snakes, Squirrel offered from within his pouch at Fist’s side.
“What are you frowning so deeply about?” Maryanne asked. The gnome had been over by the wagon speaking with Sarine. Their discussion had seemed surprisingly calm. Maryanne had even hugged the old woman.
“I was just thinking about my dream,” Fist said.
“Oh, the spirit dream you keep having?” She raised her hands ominously and said, “Don’t forget to ‘bend your knees and roll with the fall’. Right?”
Fist sighed. “Yes. That’s the dream.”
She threw her arm around his shoulder. “That just means it’s gonna be a pretty small fall, doesn’t it? Nothing to worry about. If the fall was gonna be too high it would just be like . . . ‘squish’.”
“Snakes,” Rufus reminded her.
“Ohh,” the gnome said, nodding in understanding. “That part. Well, that doesn’t mean necessarily that you’re gonna get bit. It could just be a . . .” She snapped her fingers. “What’s it called? When it’s not actually real, but a symbol for something else?”
“Why are you in such a good mood?” Fist asked.
She squeezed his shoulders. “Because it’s here! Now’s the time. No more thinkin’ about the day. We’re livin’ the day! We get to fight and I really hope I get the chance to put an arrow right between that witch’s black lips. Pin her tongue to the back of her mouth for Lyramoor. I think he’d like that.”
Fist couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe.”
A new swirl of mist rolled out of the wagon door. “Fist?”
Darlan strode out of the wagon, hopping down to the ground. She was wearing thick robes of red and black with flame-like runes emblazoned all over them. These were battle robes; the robes of a war wizard. Her eyes immediately found Fist.
She beckoned him towards her. “Fist! Hurry. Come here!”
Fist started towards her just as Charz cried out.
“It’s starting!” the giant said excitedly. “Alfred says it’s starting!”
Just then, the earth began to vibrate. Tremors rumbled under their feet. Dirt was shaken from the wall above them, falling in a haze. Loose rocks began to tumble down the mountainside.
There was a tremendous amount of earth magic being used right then. Fist could feel it in his teeth. It wasn’t being sent towards them, but somewhere to the south, near where the Academy army was approaching.
“Are you sure just one wizardess is doing that?” said one of the wizards in frightened amazement.
“Fist! Now! We don’t have much time,” Darlan insisted.
Fist walked up to her. “What do you need, Mistress?”
“I need you to come back to the Mage School with me,” she said. “Don’t worry. We’ll return quickly.”
“Sherl, there’s no time for that,” Valtrek said. “The battle has begun. The signal was given.”
“Then get started,” she said. “We’ll catch up. You don’t need me quite yet.”
“But Darlan!” said Faldon, his hands raised in frustration. “Fist is one of our commanders.”
“Use Qenzic,” Maryanne suggested. “The ogres will listen to him.”
“We’ll try to return before they finish tunneling through the wall,” Darlan said. She grabbed Fist’s hand and began pulling him towards the wagon.
Fist looked back at Maryanne and shrugged apologetically. She gave him a worried nod in return. He was beginning to realize that another part of his dream was coming true. Everyone was going to be streaming ahead past him. He was going to miss the start of the fight.
As they reached the wagon’s step, the mist swirled again and out ran Locksher, breathing heavily. He was carrying a bulky bag slung over his shoulder.
“Excuse me.” The wizard hopped down and stumbled, nearly losing his feet. “Lenui Firegobbler! I need your assistance! You too, Rufus!”
Darlan pulled him up the steps and Fist called out through the bond, Be safe, Rufus!
Ooh-! the rogue horse replied just as the wizardess yanked Fist through the mirror at the wagon’s rear wall.
Fist found himself standing in a shimmering tunnel. The floor glowed a soft blue and had a spongy feel to it. More of that fragrant mist bubbled up around his feet. The walls and the ceiling, however, were partially transparent letting him see out into an inky blackness only occasionally pierced by spots of light.
“Wait! Squirrel!” Fist said in a panic. “I didn’t tell him I was going.”
Darlan glanced back at him. “He’s standing on your shoulder. Now come on.”
Fist turned his head to see Squirrel standing next to him, wearing that leather vest he liked so much. When did you get there?
Squirrel shrugged. I was here the whole time.
“What is this place?” Fist wondered.
“A corridor through the world of dreams,” Darlan replied dismissively. “It’s best not to think about it. You’re safe as long as you don’t try to push your way out.”
Fist swallowed and tried not to get too close to any of the walls.
The journey was brief. Darlan quickly reached what looked like a solid wall of blue light that blocked their way. She walked into it and pulled Fist and Squirrel along with her.
Fist stepped out of a mirror identical to the one in the wagon. They were now in the middle of a stark gray room, windowless and bare, lit only by a few glowing orbs. Darlan let go of his hand and walked towards the room’s lone door.
Fist realized where they were. “This is the Magic Testing Center.”
“It was the safest place to put the mirror in case we lose this fight and get invaded,” she replied, opening the door.
He followed her into the hallway where Master Barthas and several Academy guards were standing by. Darlan rushed right by them without saying so much as hello. Fist jogged behind her. “Where are we going?”
His shield and mace made such a clatter on his back that she misheard what he said. “Because I made a mistake!”
Fist wanted to ask her what she meant, but Darlan burst through the front door and out into the school grounds. Fist was suddenly struck by the fact that he was running across the vibrant trimmed grass of the school. The sky was bright. The air was warm. Vibrant trees were planted in orderly rows along the pathways. The Rune tower dwarfed it all, rising to impossible heights overhead.
It was such a dreamlike experience. It seemed like ages since he had last been here and yet everything was as he had left it. He frowned as a thought occurred to him. Squirrel am I dreaming?
Maybe, Squirrel replied, having similar thoughts. He reached out and patted Fist’s face just to be sure. No. You’re real.
Darlan headed straight for the Rune Tower. She jogged by an elderly wizard who gave her a cheeky grin.
“Still in a hurry, Sherl?”
“Shut up, Perkins!” she snapped and Fist just caught a glimpse of his startled eyes before he had run past him too.
They headed across the bridge and inside the tower. The hallway was crowded by students coming in and out of the library. Oh how Fist missed that library. They neared the door and Fist thought he could just make out the lanky form of Vincent the librarian standing behind the desk in the center of the floor.
“Hi, Fist!” said a few students. Feeling completely out of place wearing his full armor and weaponry, he waved back at them.
“I didn’t know you were back,” said a student he didn’t know all that well, but shared a class with.
“He’s not stopping to talk to any of you!” Darlan yelled. “So step aside!”
The hallway parted as if she had cast a spell. They rushed through a door at the end of the hallway and into a wide staircase. They began to climb.
“Twice on these stairs,” she grumbled. “You may have to carry me on the way back down again. Ugh, and then I have that priestess to fight. Damn me and my stupid stubborn ways!”
“What are you talking about, Mistress?” Fist asked, grateful that the steps in this particular stairwell weren’t as narrow as many in the Rune Tower. “You said something about a mistake?”
“Yes! I admit it. I made many mistakes in my life, Fist,” she said bitterly. “Wasted so many years of my life putting things off. Do you know how long Faldon waited for me to finally quit this job and agree to marry him?”
“Uh, no,” he replied.
“Fifty years!” she said breathlessly. “We’d go on missions together. I’d see him in Reneul around testing time. I knew how we felt about each other. I even started sending him elf food to keep him young for me so that I could join him when I was done here.
“Do you know how much life we could have lived together? How many children we could have had?”
“In fifty years?” he said. His legs were really burning now. How far up were they going? “A lot?”
“Yes! Well, I’m not sure exactly how many. Elf magic slows everything down. Maybe six? I don’t know that I wanted six, but the point is, I wasted all that time! Justan is an only child all because I waited until I was 164 years old to get pregnant.”
Fist didn’t know how to respond to that. “Did you tell Justan this?”
Darlan let out a groan, stopping at a wide and ornate door. “Damn it, Fist! My fat mouth! He doesn’t know exactly, but he guesses. You’re going to tell him aren’t you?”
“So that means you’re . . . “
“Don’t do the math!” she said, but saw in his eyes that he already had. “Fine! Yes. I’m 184 blasted years old! And this is one of those days I’m feeling it too.”
Humans are old, Squirrel observed.
“You’re beautiful,” Fist said honestly. “I don’t exactly understand the way human women age, but you look like you could have many more children if you wanted to.”
Darlan sighed, cocking her head at him. “You really are sweet, Fist. And I am so sorry I got all tied in a knot over your relationship with Maryanne. It was none of my business and I’m sorry. I just see you and I get all these motherly feelings and I just kept thinking how young you were and how experienced that gnome is and I-I forgot my place.”
“It’s okay, Mistress,” Fist said.
“Sarine told me how angry Maryanne was about my interference and I don’t blame her.” She shook her head. “I felt bad about it and I realized that I was expecting you to do what I did. Wait for this. Wait for that-.” She paused. “I’m talking in circles, aren’t I?”
“Um . . . Aren’t we in a hurry?” he asked.
Darlan stomped her foot. “Yes! Dammit! Come on! And don’t you dare tell Justan how much I’ve been swearing!” She pushed open the heavy ornate door behind her and held out her left hand. Fist reached out to grasp it and stopped, his eyes widening. “Your hand!”
Darlan looked at the naming rune on her palm and blinked for a second. “Right. Sorry. That just happened. I forgot to mention it.”
“Just today?” Fist said.
“Mistress Dianne.” She held up her hand so that he could see the rune clearly. “It had been weighing on me for weeks. The Bowl wanted to name me. I knew it. I’ve been putting it off. I was standing there by that blasted mirror with everyone else, fretting about it and then I decided not to wait anymore.” She let out a short laugh. “I haven’t even told Faldon yet. You’re the only one who knows.”
“It’s close to your other name,” he said and tried it out. “Mistress Dianne.”
“Yeah,” she said, looking at her palm again. “Too close really. It might just confuse people.”
Fist looked down the hallway. He knew that hallway. He had just never been there through this entrance before. “That’s the way to the Hall of Majesty.”
Ooh! said Squirrel excitedly.
“Yes, Fist,” Darlan replied. “It was strange. When I was walking towards the Bowl, my mind was full of anxieties and varied thoughts. But while I was standing there with my dagger in the Bowl, my new name fresh off my lips . . . your face is what came into my mind. I knew right then that I needed to drag you up here because when you were raised to apprentice I didn’t let you go.
“Why, you may wonder? Because of propriety and stupid rules I’m against? That’s what I told you back then and it’s partly true, but mainly it was because I was scared. I didn’t want to get that close to the Bowl because I knew it wanted me.”
Fist grinned. “So I’m going now?”
“Yes! Yes. That’s why we’re here. Now get inside because this door is blasted heavy and my arm hurts from holding it open this long!”
Fist entered the hallway with its statues and paintings of named wizards and warriors of time gone by and felt an electric thrill. The last time he had been here it was just after the Academy had exploded and he had seen Tolivar named. Was that going to happen to him? Maybe it wouldn’t.
It suddenly occurred to Fist that maybe the Bowl wouldn’t want him and he would have wasted everyone’s time. His friends could be fighting right now. Maybe dying. Was this worth it?
Yes, said Squirrel confidently. It will choose you. You are Fist.
Darlan led him into the ornate waiting room at the end of the hallway, but did not stop. She opened the next set of doors and they stepped into the Hall of Majesty. It was huge and open and glimmering with unending tiers of crystal chandeliers hanging from the unseen ceiling high above. And there, standing alone, was the Bowl of Souls on a pedestal of marble.
His eyes were drawn to it. The Bowl was wide and golden. Plain, yet finely detailed. Fist’s heart began to thump in his chest.
He didn’t remember making the steps, but suddenly he was standing before it. A quiet chanting started somewhere in the corner of his mind. His heart beat louder. Without knowing it, he pulled his mace off of the harness on his back and lowered its spiked head into the waters of the bowl.
Uh, Fist? said Squirrel worriedly.
