The Wizard's Council (9 page)

“I heard a thud at the front of the boat when I was up patrolling the deck.” Emily stirred the stew around her bowl.

“What was it?” Janessa asked.

“Whatever it was had left by the time I got to the bow. I don’t like the idea of sitting here and waiting. How much longer until we get under way again?”

“It is hard to say. The darkness seems to be getting thicker, which means we are closer. At the speed we are going, there is no telling how far we’ve gone or how much further we have to go. Had we been able to plot our course correctly, I would know where we are. After we finish, our dinner we can head up and try to get a better feel for our whereabouts.”

Cormac dismounted from his horse and pushed open the doors to the underground. His home was deep under the Kargil
l Mountains not far from the Old Forest. The dwarves rarely got visitors. On occasion, the human traders came to deal in ale, arms, or armor. Most of their contact was with the orcs and goblins that also called Kargill Mountains their home. Border skirmishes and raids were a part of life for the dwarves. The orcs and goblins rarely gained any ground against their tactically superior opponent. It was rare for the orcs or the goblins to attack without being pressured or accompanied by the trolls or the Ogres. Cormac was glad to be back home, but his task was not an easy one.

“Cormac!” One of the guards yelled.

“Borfin!” Cormac yelled back as they ran toward each other.

“You are a glad sight for the
dwarves,” Borfin said as the two shook hands.

“I haven’t been gone that long,” Cormac said, half-jokingly.

“Even a short period in these tumultuous times can be too much, old friend.”

“What is the problem?” Cormac asked, identifying Borfin’s serious tone.

“Orcs have cut off our deeper settlements. Goblins are swarming the tunnels. Trolls and ogres have been spotted, as well. Times are not good. A war is brewing, and we have few allies to turn to.”

Cormac listened intently as Borfin described the skirmishes that occurred in his absence. They continued discussing the matter as they traveled through Stonecrossroad. Borfin had been instructed to escort Cormac to the
King as soon as he arrived. It didn’t fall in line with Cormac’s plan, but the dwarves were in desperate need of him, and the Wizards would have to wait. The two dwarves traded jokes as they continued on the path to the stronghold at Stonecrossroad. Cormac remembered the stronghold from his youth. It was one of the oldest dwarven buildings that had survived the many wars he had seen in his lifetime. The stronghold was normally home to one of the five dwarven Kings that ruled under the dwarven Patriarch.

“How many cities are cut off by the
orcs?” Cormac asked as they entered the stronghold.

“Deep Halls, Stone Halls, and the Under Deep.” Borfin replied.

The dwarven mage stopped when he heard that his hometown was one of the cutoff cities. It was worse than he had imagined. Of the five dwarven towns, three were cut off from the surface. Cormac regained his composure and joined his companion in the keep. It was vastly different from the last time he had seen it. The great hall had been replaced by a large training area, and the planning area was twice the size that it had been.
One can never fault the dwarves for being unprepared for war
, Cormac thought as he examined the soldiers who were training in the great hall. The King was on the other side of the hall. He was meeting with his advisors. They were all gathered around the largest of the tables and seemed to be arguing about something.

“Your highness, Cormac has arrived from the surface.” Borfin bowed be
fore the King.

“This is the best news we have heard all day. Cormac, we don’t have much time. I need you and Borfin to take a small force and push back the
goblins. They’ve been harassing our patrols for a week now, and we need to be rid of them so we can focus on the orcs.” The King was much older than Cormac remembered. His beard was showing signs of graying, and his hands were weaker than they once had been.

“You can count on us, cousin Thr
alin. We won’t let you down.” Cormac shook his cousin’s hand vigorously.

“Before you go, I need to tell you that the Patriarch is refusing to ask for assistance from any of our neighbors. He believes we can handle this enemy on our own. I know you have allies all across the world, but the Patriarch is unwilling to get other races involved.”

“I will cross that path when it comes, cousin. As a member of the Wizard’s Council, I have other allegiances that guide my path. The dwarves are always my people, but I must do what I will to see to it that they survive. If my choice of friends upsets the Patriarch, then on my shoulders it shall be.”

Borfin shook his head before following Cormac back through the stronghold. A small group of
dwarves was waiting for them just outside the gates. Most of them were far younger than the enlistment age for the military, but the long-lived dwarves were not ones to shy away from war. In such times of war, their youth were considered a viable replacement for the veterans they usually conscripted. Cormac took a moment to make sure that none of them was younger than twenty years before taking on the role of their leader. He explained their mission as they made their way toward the infested tunnels. It had been several years since Cormac had gone to war, but the memories stuck with him.

“The first one to spot a
goblin gets a pint of ale on me!” Borfin yelled.

“The first one to kill a
goblin gets a barrel of ale on me!” Cormac yelled, poking Borfin in the ribs.

Cormac had never liked traveling the infested tunnels.
Goblins were significantly smaller in stature to dwarves, allowing them to move in places where the dwarves could never hope to fit.
This is why they sent me
, Cormac thought as he examined the walls. There were several pathways that were not marked on the dwarven maps. He immediately knew these to be the goblin roads. Using their size to their advantage, the goblins had created several paths that allowed for easier raids on the dwarven territories. Cormac’s earth magic expertise would allow him to do in moments what would normally take over one hundred dwarves the better part of a week to accomplish.

“Fall in behind me,” Cormac said as he raised his staff and knocked it against the wall of one of the smaller tunnels.

The tunnel grew so that it would fit at least three dwarves side by side. Whatever advantage the goblins had over the dwarves was counteracted by Cormac’s magic. He knew they still needed to be as stealthy as possible. They were still outnumbered by the goblin army that Cormac wished to avoid. His orders were to clear the infested tunnels, but he knew that systematically wiping out the goblin patrols before taking on their army was a better move. The dwarves wandered the tunnels for nearly an hour without finding the goblin camp or any of their patrols. Cormac stopped the group and waited for Borfin to join him at the front.

“Up ahead, a small
goblin patrol.” Cormac pointed to the two goblins that were arguing at the end of the tunnel.

“How do we take them by surprise?” Borfin asked.

“I’ll cast a spell, you get the men ready.”

Borfin nodded and pulled out his battle axe. The rest of the
dwarves followed his example and readied their weapons. Cormac raised his staff, creating the illusion of an empty cavern. His army slowly crept forward, confused as to why the goblins couldn’t see them approaching.
Dwarves never do seem to understand magic
, Cormac thought as they closed in on the unsuspecting sentries. Borfin and another dwarf each grabbed one of the goblins and slit its throat. The dwarven Wizard smiled, it had been a long time since he had seen the dwarves in action, and he had forgotten how efficient they could be. They hid the bodies in nearby alcoves and continued on toward the rest of the scouting party. There were thirty goblins in all. The majority of them were situated around a fire waiting for their food. Cormac’s twenty dwarves took up their positions around the camp and waited for the signal.

With the thrust of his staff
, Cormac snuffed out the large bonfire in the middle of the goblin camp. The goblins were engulfed in darkness and their eyes would take some time to readjust to the dark. Cormac’s men were able to see perfectly due to an enchantment that he had cast before putting out the flames. The goblins flailed around in the dark as the dwarves began to cut them down. Cormac watched as several of the goblins who tried to escape were cut down by dwarven throwing axes. Borfin had taken the lead in the assault and commanded the men in such a way that made it look as though they had been fighting together for several years. Borfin rejoined Cormac at the end of the tunnel and watched as the rest of the dwarves worked to clear the cave.

“What’s our next move?” Borfin asked.

“We can’t chase goblins all day, and we aren’t strong enough to take out their main force head on. We’ll need to use some sort of a diversion to distract them while we deal a crippling blow.” Cormac was already processing several different plans in his mind.

“How can we do that?”

“We’ll either need to take out their leader or their supplies. Those are the two things the goblins can’t do without. I’ll be providing the distraction, so it is up to you to choose which one is the better target.”

“That sounds dangerous. The
King wouldn’t want his cousin dying in battle, you can’t do this alone.” Borfin grabbed Cormac’s shoulder and held tightly.

“It isn’t negotiable. I will provide the diversion
, and you will lead the men to their target. You get in, get out, and get home. No matter what happens, don’t come back for me. I’ll do everything in my power to meet you back at the castle, but this is a job I must take on alone.” Cormac looked Borfin directly in the eyes.

Borfin nodded, not wanting to argue with Cormac. They both knew that only a mage could provide the kind of distraction needed to allow the
dwarves to deal a devastating blow to the goblins. The two rummaged through what little was left of the camp until they found a map of the goblin territory. They found two routes to the main goblin camp and then split up. Borfin took the small force and went via the smaller tunnel. Cormac went alone and took the larger tunnel. Each path was sure to have goblin sentries, so Borfin and his men gave Cormac a head start. The dwarven mage used the same illusion spell to mask himself from the goblins. He waited until he had entered the main portion of the camp and then he set one of the tents on fire. This alerted the goblins, but they still were unable to see him.

He raised his staff in the air and then slammed it down hard on the ground. A shockwave shot out of the bottom of his staff, knocking back hundreds of
goblins. As the shockwave dissipated, he dropped the illusion spell. All of the goblins in the large cave turned their attention toward him. The goblin leader began shouting orders, and Cormac started launching fireballs at the goblins around him. A jet of fire began spitting out of the end of his staff as he twirled it around at the goblins. Several of the goblins were seared by the flames and screamed in pain. The dwarf used the fiery staff to keep the goblins at bay as he slowly backed toward the tunnel from which he came. Furious at the intrusion, the goblin’s leader ordered his men to follow. The entire host of the goblin army took chase as Cormac continued down the passage.

He waited for the majority of the
goblin force to enter the tunnel before collapsing the end of it, cutting off the force from their camp and their leader. Borfin and his men rushed into the camp to find less than a hundred goblins. They engaged the stragglers and fought their way to the goblin leader. He was a particularly ugly goblin who wielded two swords. Borfin attacked the leader with everything he had. It would be a match of speed versus strength. The dwarf swung his axe in a wide sweep from left to right, trying to take off the goblin’s head. Their leader ducked the blow and thrust both of his swords at Borfin’s chest. The small swords ricocheted off the dwarf’s superior armor. Borfin swung his axe around a second time, catching the goblin in the shoulder. His smaller opponent howled in pain and dropped one of his swords. He flailed the other sword at the dwarf, but Borfin dodged the attack and brought his axe down on the goblin’s chest.

“Quickly, set the camp on fire and then get back to the castle!” Borfin yelled as he pulled his axe out of the
goblin carcass.

The
dwarves sprang into action, grabbing whatever torches and kindling they could find. They ran from tent to tent lighting everything they could on fire. Borfin smiled as he watched dwarven efficiency at its finest. Within a quarter of an hour, the entire camp was up in flames. The dwarves began to run back to the tunnel from which they came. Borfin waited for the last of the dwarves to exit the camp before leaving. He wanted to make sure that none of his men had been left behind. A smile formed on his face as he looked back over his shoulder and saw the flames rising from the tents and the smoke billowing through the passages.

*

Sev stumbled into the town of Riverton, still coughing from his fight with the Shaman. The town looked exactly as he had remembered it. There were several houses, a blacksmith shop, a town hall, a church, a tavern, a water mill, and a small bazaar. He shook his head as the pain began to return. The spell that the Shaman had used on him was still affecting him. His men followed cautiously behind him. Sev was the only Ranger that regularly visited any of the outlying towns. Between the Druids overbearing rules and the elves outrageous stories, extremely few Rangers ever expressed interest in the outside world. Sev had long ago figured out that the Druids and elves exaggerated in their tales of those from outside the Old Forest. He kept the information to himself so as not to undermine the Druid Council.

They made their way through the bazaar, stopping momentarily when Sev needed to. His injuries were more severe than he wanted to let on, but he wasn’t going to let it stop him from warning the townspeople. Several villagers recognized Sev and tried to help him, but he waved them off and continued struggling down the path toward the town hall. He spotted the mayor exiting the building and did his best to wave him over. The mayor was not the most reliable person, but Sev didn’t know who else to go to. Sev’s men greeted the mayor and began to explain the situation as their leader tried to gather himself.