slavers will like that. It will help his Overlords to see things our way when we need their ships later.”
Pael stopped pacing again, and searched Glendar for some sign that he had been paying attention. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he made for the tent flap. He had more pressing matters to attend to this day.
“Pael,” Glendar called, as the wizard was about to leave.
“What is it, boy? I have business elsewhere.”
King Glendar eyes found the ground somewhere between the two of them. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
“You’re welcome son,” Pael replied almost warmly. Then he disappeared out the tent flap.
Pael spent half of the day flying back to his tower in the form of a crow. He could have transformed himself into larger bird, an eagle or a condor, and made the trip in half the time, but he didn’t want to attract attention to himself. He wasn’t so much worried about the old and infirm, the wives, mothers, and small children who were all that was left inhabiting the Kingdom of Westland. It was more of a precaution, born of careful habits, and distrust of those that might try to detect his movements. He was certain that there were still plenty of enemies about. They would expect him to fly as something powerful and proud. None of them, he hoped, would question the flight of a common carrion bird, such as a lowly crow.
While he was flying, Pael thought about King Glendar. He wondered how the boy could’ve turned out so completely ignorant and pig-headed. He could just picture the fool stepping out of his Command Pavilion into a flurry of Wildermont long arrows because he had set the tent too close to the wall. He had to bite back the chirping cackle that passed for a crow’s laugh. As he neared his destination, his thoughts drifted towards Shaella’s last message. He hoped that he had enough time to properly prepare for what was to come. There was much to do.
Once he was in sight of Lion’s Lake and Lakeside Castle, he made for the gaping hole the demon Shokin had left in his tower wall. Inside, he returned to his human form, and took his lift down to the darkened library, where a dozen ancient texts were spread out across an old reading table. With a point of his finger, the lamp hanging from a brass wall hook, flared to life, and the dimness of the musty room abated. Grotesque forms of melted dripping wax spread away from tiny used-up candle nubs at the table’s corners.
Most of the last few days, Pael had been there gathering in every bit of knowledge he could find on the subject of binding a spectral demon. He had learned much, but not enough.
He made a note to himself to send for more candles, and not for the first time, found that he missed Inkling the imp. Having to seek out a lamp, after the candles had guttered out, while in the middle of reading an account of the Priests of Kraw, had been a great reminder of how the minute details of a thing can suddenly become paramount. He could’ve just cast a light spell, but then the forty-odd pages of the priests’ tediously scribbled writing that he had been committing to memory, would have to be reread. It was easier to snatch a lantern from the laboratory below. Now, he smiled at the wisdom of that decision. It had been far easier than traipsing through the castle in search of candles.
The Priests of Kraw were necromancers, and seemed to know all sorts of useful things about dealing with demons, devils and the undead. Why they had so carelessly let the journals and manuscripts, detailing some of their greater achievements, get out of their hands, Pael didn’t know. Once he had control of the Wardstone, and all the power that came with it, he would go to the Isle of Borinia, and ask them himself.
In the years that had passed since Pavreal created the Demon Seal, the Priests of Kraw had become nothing more than second rate cultists, but Pael wasn’t about to set foot on their island without enough power at his command to defend himself. As pitiful as they appeared to be now, he was far too wise to underestimate them. That was for another day though. What he needed from the priests was right before him.
Pael’s library shelves were many, and all of them were crowded with books, both new and old. The texts were from everywhere one could imagine, and from some places that defied what the untrained mind could fathom. Ancient volumes from the Dwarven Eminence, the journals of a dozen elven druids, and an entire shelf of manuscripts, that Pael couldn’t yet translate, that were supposedly from the lands beyond the Giant Mountains, took up only a corner of the room.
Pael had even collected, in his vast travels, a dedicated set of drawings that detailed Afdeon, the Giant King’s massive stronghold. The shelves along the library’s walls were crammed to the point of bowing. There was a set of calfskin volumes so old, that to open them without the aid of powerful protective spells would destroy the pages. There were also Pael’s spell books, immaculately bound and neatly scribed. His three compendia of arcane knowledge sat on a crate on the floor, looking like the other crudely stacked piles of forgotten texts. To touch them, without speaking the proper phrases, was to invite a most horrible death. Pael didn’t want those who tried to violate his precious secrets to die quickly. He wanted to be able to interrogate them while they withered.
The books he had out on the table, all referenced the Dragon Pact, Pavreal’s Seal, or the binding of spectral demons. Pael was searching for a way to keep Shokin’s dark, and mighty power under his control after he opened the Seal and released him. He needed a way to bind the demon to his will, to enslave its vast power, and control it for as long as he needed to. He would need the power to manipulate the Wardstone to its full potential, and the added might wouldn’t hurt when he returned to Castlemont to fulfill his promise to King Glendar.
He read on through the night, and through the next day, as well, until finally, he found what he had been looking for. A sorcerer from the wild and distant land of Harthgar had kept a diary. The Priests of Kraw had made a copy of it. Pael had obtained it years ago and now, after scouring it, he knew what he needed to know. With the Harthgarian sorcerer’s spell, and a human sacrifice to bind the deed, he could open the Seal, release Shokin, and make the demon’s will and power his own. He didn’t need to find a sacrifice though. One would be waiting for him when he got there. Shaella was going to send an excellent offering up into the dragon’s nest to do her bidding. Pael laughed merrily, because he couldn’t have planned it more perfectly.
Without regard for his need of sleep and sustenance, he excitedly began gathering the things he would need to perform the ceremony. He had no time to rest. His timing had to be just right. Too early, and Shaella would fail, too late, and the sacrifice would’ve come and gone.
He wasn’t feeling spell-weary, even though he had flown half of the day while holding a transformation spell on himself, so he took what he needed and made to position himself.
Exactly as Pael had predicted, the battle at Castlemont City slowly turned into a siege. Westland’s armored cavalry swept through the streets, swiftly and easily. Resistance was met in many places, and hundreds of Glendar’s men died.
The Redwolf soldiers lived up to their reputation and fought hard for every inch of ground, but it hadn’t been enough. In the end, Westland’s overwhelming numbers, and the suddenness of the attack, allowed young King Glendar’s army to gain control of everything outside of the castle’s massive outer walls. Siege engines were in place now, and once unleashed, the mighty Wolf King would have to retreat behind the castle’s formidable secondary wall. The lay of the mountain would be in King Jarrek’s favor after that. New siege engines would have to be built, because there was no way to get anything larger than a wagon through the steep crowded lanes between the two walls. Glendar didn’t care though: he was confident that his wizard would come soon.
There was plenty to do to keep his men busy until Pael came to crumble the castle for him. After ordering Lord Brach to take his troops and carve a path to Dreen through the Wilder Mountains, he ordered another group of his soldiers to begin gathering and herding the innocent folk of Wildermont into pens. Later, he would have them escorted south to O’Dakahn and give them to King Ra’Gren, but for now he would go pick out a few of the prettier women and make them service him while he waited on Pael. After all, the King of Westland, if anyone, was due his share of the spoils of war.
Chapter 27
Gerard Skyler was scared, but not of the climb he was about to make. He was comfortable with that. He was also comfortable with the plan they had come up with – at least he was comfortable with it after he had removed all of the Geka lizards, rope ladders and pulley wheels from the proposal, and then simplified it.
The Zard weren’t the smartest of creatures, Gerard decided, after hearing what they had originally been planning to do. And as reptiles they were instinctually afraid of the dragon’s lair. At the moment though, all Gerard could do was tremble, and pray to the goddess that Flick was capable of keeping the huge creatures swimming in
