Dlad City, a stark dissemblance from the crowning jewel of Ralloc, was rarely visited by Judas. Dlad, though smaller, increased every time he returned, and he marveled at the growth and development. Ralloc wallowed in its rigid ways whereas Dlad City adapted to change. Judas considered himself Rallocan by nature, and while he wasn’t as pretentious as most in the capital, he was more like them than he cared to admit. He found comfort with his choice, and like all Rallocans, lacked conformity during changing times. Private matters should remain in confidence.
Julie walked beside him, her eyes round, her head swiveling back and forth, taking in the sights. Dlad City was the first metropolitan area she’d visited and kept ogling at the size.
He smiled. If she only knew the size of Ralloc.
People moved from the capital to the flourishing urban areas. But for every family leaving Ralloc, ten more arrived, hoping to lay claim to a more prosperous life. Judas, with Julie in tow, walked down the main road and compared it to the opulent metropolis to the north; he noted the foot-traffic was scant.
Wide buildings of white stone and wood hedged the main thoroughfare, something else you wouldn’t witness in Ralloc. Lack of space required architects to build up not out. Light, merry music trembled through the early morning air, and clumping dirt churned in their wake, sticking to their boots. A few robes from his home fit Julie’s small frame, and he was glad she wasn’t as small as Meristal, but he’d need to buy her a few before the journey.
While Julie took in the sights, her head roving, he did, too, but searched for something else entirely. On the Other Side, he’d been tracked down and attacked, and someone either planted or let a sheol slip through. The surprise attack, in hindsight, was difficult for Judas to ward off; from lack of need, he hadn’t truly fought since the Wizard’s War. But they—whoever they were—managed to track him down in Ralloc, too. Arriving any later might’ve spelled doom for Julie if she was the intended target. In that regard, he was still unsure. To keep them both safe, they set to the road.
Off to the east side of town, Judas spied newer buildings in the distance, a progress proceeding at a crawling pace aimed at the center of town. The ingenuity of progress created many jobs for younger men of the city: a prosperous cycle.
The air was warmer than Ralloc’s, a city which snuggled against the Vikal Mountains, swathed in a constant, cool breeze coming down from snow-capped mountaintops. Judas’s stomach grumbled, the scent of breakfast reaching his nostrils. The aroma of eggs, bacon, bread, and various fruits like oranges and bananas caused Julie’s stomach to echo his.
“We’ll break our fast once we reach our destination,” he promised.
Julie smiled. “I can wait. I wish we were in Ralloc, and I could see it.”
“It may be some time before that happens,” he cautioned.
“Tell me about it.”
His eyes remained forward, locked on their destination. A few dozen people milled about through the street, ghosts for all it mattered. Judas, used to traveling through the packed streets of Ralloc, weaved through with ease.
“There’s a long, sloping street leading straight from the external gate to the front doors of the castle, home of the Kothlere Council. While a straight line forms from the inner gate to the castle, the gates can be closed between tiers, the outer roads and gates winding serpentine through the city. The entire city lies in a valley and against the Vikal Mountains. Over the years, as the city prospered, it stretched further up the mountain before turning its expansion into the valley. Every few legends, they construct a new exterior wall, sometimes as brief as half a dozen ages because Ralloc waxed beyond its borders.” He smiled and peeked over his shoulder. Julie walked behind him, her eyes on him, her expression a mix of interest and waiting. He turned to the front and continued.
“The original outer gate, which is now the innermost gate, leads directly to the castle. This wall represents a line, and about five to seven percent of the city’s current population lives enclosed by the inner wall, noble and minor noble houses. The outer limits of the city—relative to the castle—expand in a massive two hundred and seventy-degree arc, almost an entire sphere. It’s a sight to behold.”
“Sounds like a plague,” Julie snorted, derisive.
Judas chuckled at her dark sarcasm. An interesting perspective laced with a tinge of truth. The warlock heard the titters of women and glanced in that direction, aware that Julie mirrored him. Prostitutes waved at a younger gentleman walking in the street; he dipped his head, waved, and promised to frequent their establishment later. The beautiful, tantalizing ladies blew him kisses. The elder turned his face forward, a frown forming. Try as he might, he couldn’t help holding his nose up to the wenches, his pretentiousness creeping forward. He never understood how women could stoop so low, but as the adage went: prostitution was the first profession.
Judas continued with his recounting. “Ralloc’s a towering city with stacking shops, hotels, brothels, and apartments. An unfortunate side effect of rapid and continuous expansion required engineers to build up. The outer wall still lays incomplete, and with the culmination of the Wizard’s War, I doubt we’ll ever see it finished. You never realize how much two-thirds of a completed wall is an eyesore.”
They passed storefronts hugging the broad street to the left and right. Hammers clanked in the distance, pinging off armor or weapons. Shops of cloth, groceries and bakeries, and other outlets hedged Julie’s vision as she drank in every detail.
“Ralloc isn’t beautiful. Such a word would be unjust; it’s majestic. Steeple roofs and spires reached for the sky, daring to soar where the birds fly. Each spring, the few, daring and brave climb atop the spires and paint the clay shingles after the long, hard winters. You won’t find finer manicured lawns; the hired help turn gardening into impeccable artistry. Stained glass was all the rave two ages ago, and you’ll find many colored windows. The Ralloc Library is massive; a monolith seemingly chiseled out of one piece of marble, a vast distinction to the rest of the sweeping city.
Judas glanced back at Julie, her eyes intent as she painted the picture in her mind, marveling at the magnificence of his recounting.
Without stopping to shop or visit the businesses, she didn’t see much as they headed for the north end of town. The muffled tap-tap, tap-tap of horse’s hooves pattered on the hard packed roads. Men dressed in the finest robes meandered down the road, and merchants stood on porches hugging their emporiums, awaiting patronage, hoping for coin. Julie’s wandering stares took in the pedestrians, noting the absence of any race other than wizardkind, and she voiced this to Judas.
“Pedestrians in Ralloc are of every race; far more common in larger communities than here in Dlad City. I’m sure a few goblins are here, maybe even some centaurs, but in this part of Ernrul, wizardkind is predominate. When we make it back to Ralloc, prepare to get jostled a bit. Navigation can be difficult at best with all the pushing, running, and people squeezing through the press of bodies, cracks, and avenues. Because of the difficulty in navigating the crowded streets, Ralloc constructed multi-tiered skywalks of stone between buildings to accommodate for so many citizens.”
“Sounds a bit too busy for me,” she admitted.
Judas understood the sentiment, exhaustion a constant companion in Ralloc.
“How many people live in the capital?”
“Last census was about an epoch ago—a hundred years. The city alone is two million, but we broke five million for the entire domain, from Ralloc to the Corridor of Cruelty and all the way to the Golden City. The census didn’t include children under the age of fourteen as they are not the Age of Maturity.”
“Please, please,” a call came from in front and to the right of her. She glimpsed a gray skinned goblin hobbling in her direction. “Look at my wares! I like, you buy!” He held a vase up to her for inspection. Judas kept walking, but Julie’s steps faltered, a mistake Judas made in his youth. Once you slow down, you will be lucky to leave alive. But she slowed not for the goods but to inspect the goblin.
“No, thank you.”
“So cheapest; I like, you buy. Best wares anywhere, you ask satisfied customer!”
“No, thank you.” Julie pushed past him. The creature tried to grab her robe sleeve, but she brushed him off and the goblin stumbled, almost dropping his vase. He shouted something at her in his language. She continued to follow Judas but glanced back at the little being with intrigue.
They reached Traveler’s Respite moments later, the door opening at their approach, a young boy opening from the inside. “Oh, thank you,” Julie said as she entered behind Judas, granting him a smile. A front desk of hickory and brass greeted the travelers, the latter shined from the ample candlelight. A fire crackled in the room to the left; chairs and tables crowded the chamber and two dozen patrons ate their meal. A dark carpet of cobalt with narrow, crisscrossing crimson lines throughout covered the floor.
With the front counter lacking staff, Judas rang the small brass bell. He turned to regard Julie. “Best if we don’t use my real name. I’m Willem Fossard, and you’ll be my daughter. Willem and Cynthia Fossard.”
“Why not use your real name?”
“I’d rather be safe.” A plump, short woman with curly orange hair and light, golden freckles came from the back room.
“Greetings this morning, good sire. Welcome to the Traveler’s Respite. The two of ya’? No Mrs?”
Judas shook his head. “The two of us, no Mrs. We would like two rooms, please.”
“Very kind of you, sire, allowing your daughter her privacy.” She opened a ledger and dipped the calamus in ink. “Your names?”
“Willem and Cynthia Fossard.”
“Oh!” the lady squeaked. “Minor noble, how lucky we are! I hope you enjoy your stay with us. It’ll be two bits a night and comes with two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. How many nights, Lord Fossard?”
“For now, let’s do two.”
“Warlock Lakayre?” a strident voice called out. Judas froze, his shoulders tense. He turned his attention away from the plump woman, seeking out the voice. Todd, the writer, stood with his mouth gaping open. “I didn’t expect you until closer to midday.”
With a tight jaw, the warlock greeted him. “Morning, Todd.” Judas glanced back to the woman at the counter, her mouth agape. He gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to concern you, dear. If its any consolation, I’m still minor noble.”
She paled further and nodded. Reaching between the outer and inner robe, procuring his coin purse, he pulled it free. He pushed eight copper bits forward. “For the rooms,” and pushed five silver chips forward. “For discretion.”
Her eyes flickered from his to the coins and back half a dozen times before she smiled and scooped up the money. “Lord Fossard, your rooms are on the second floor, first one on the right and last one on the left. Sorry, these two rooms are the closest together.”
Judas flourished a kind smile. “Those will do fine, my dear.” She passed two keys across the wood surface, careful not to make contact with him. The warlock ignored this, used to it by now.
He discovered Julie’s fallen expression when he followed her glower to the dining room and the patrons inside. The warlock gleaned what she speculated. She thought the staring and talking was meant for her. Their gazes were placid at first, neither friendly nor scowling. Once the shock abated, suspicion and wariness greeted them, remiss to how the healthy regarded the contagious and infirm.
The looks of disgust were meant for him.
The stares riled her, a flush coming to her face. He sensed the bud of resentment. A titter of half-hidden laughter coming from a cluster of young women, a soft, breathy laugh. Others hid their whispers and smiles behind well-placed hands. Once, Judas felt much the same as Julie, but he learned to let go of the anger. It ate him up and turned him bitter. He’d never be able to influence people or their way and wished closed minds came with closed mouths. Then again, he couldn’t talk.
Julie took a step in the direction of the dining room, her intentions clear, but he held out a hand, snatching her by the arm.
“Pay no heed, my dear. Their laughs and whispers are for me, not you.”
“Why would they do that?” she asked, her face dark with anger.
“Because they are young, rich, and foolish.” He smiled and winked at her. “Because they can.”
“I don’t understand it!” she glowered at the group. She turned her attention to Judas but kept casting glances at them. “There’s nothing wrong with you! They’re afraid. Cowards!”
“Fools often are. Only a fool can choose to abandon his folly, and a wise man would waste his breath trying to show them a path they aren’t ready to walk. Forget about them.” He waved them off. “It has to do with who and what I am, with the war. You are guilty by association, unfortunately, and therefore receive the same treatment.”
Julie mulled over his words and regarded the young man in their presence. The mentor moved to stand beside her, both facing Todd. “Todd, this is my apprentice, Julie. Julie, this young man is Todd, a columnist for the New Suns Times. He’s been hounding me for an interview for nigh a year, and I promised him I’d oblige. His patient persistence is coming to fruition.”
Todd smiled, nodding absentmindedly, eyes darting between the two when he gave Julie his full attention. The two locked eyes, and she gave a polite smile, Todd melting before her like ice in a hot skillet. Judas felt the ripple of allurement between them, the faint, unseen stirring within his youthful associates.
The magelust.
The longer his apprentice and the scribe stared at each other, the stronger the pull. What passed off as infatuation would turn to full-blown lust for both of them, and quicker than they realized.
Judas spotted the glittering in Todd’s eyes, the silent exchange between them, and sidled closer towards Julie, a protective gesture. She was his apprentice, and he needed to look out for her best interests. She wasn’t ready to face this burden.
Knowing this would be a good time to break the two up, he reached into his coin purse and pulled out a gold coin. He handed it to her.
“A bright eye?” she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. They narrowed just as quick, concern on her face. “What’s this for?”
Judas smiled at her. “We passed, at least, four tailoring shops on the way here. Have your measurements taken and two sets of robes made. Todd and I will need some time to at least start the process. We’ll have more made when we reach our destination.” He glanced at the young man. “In installments, okay?”
Todd shrugged, his blue eyes sparkling, happy the moment was coming to pass. Julie beamed and thanked Judas. He gave her a key to her room, the one closest to the stairs while he took the one at the end of the hall. Both watched her go.
“I think I’m in love,” Todd whispered.
“No, probably not,” Judas said in a low, firm voice. “Lust, that’s all. If you’re not careful, she might inadvertently destroy your mind and make you think you’re a pretty little girl with pink bows in your hair. Come on, let’s get this over.”
Judas climbed the stairs to the second floor with Todd in tow. He pushed open the door after throwing the bolt and entered the snug room. Nothing was ever like home, and judging from the modest bed, he had to agree. He tossed his pack on the thin turquoise quilt with gold stitching. Two pillows stuffed with feathers sat like pregnant sows at the head. A low flame flickered above a feeble bed of coals. The would-be fire lacked a comforting warmth.
“This is cozy,” Todd said behind him, eagerness in his voice. He pushed past the threshold, taking a seat in one of the brown, leather-covered chairs. He ripped open his small satchel and pulled out his supplies.
Why did I agree with this? Judas asked himself, and not for the first time.
The warlock’s eyes flickered to the mantle and the crystal filled with a light brown, almost golden liquid. Though still the hour for breakfast, it was a good time for a drink. He hoped a strong, stiff brew lay within. Pouring himself a cup, he sniffed, a small smile coming to his face. He recognized the vanilla and peach scent, one of his favorites. It was as expensive as it smelled. Even the name, Parlaquay, exuded a cultivated allusion.
Parlaquay came from the south of Ralloc’s control. The domains of Ralloc and Marcoalyn fell under the sway of the Kothlere, an influence ending at the Melodic Mountains in the south. On the other side was the Geim domain, where Parlaquay was made. He had a portend that if today didn’t go well, he’d be reimbursing the hotel for a devoured bottle.
Being in the same room with the kid agitated Judas’s nerves, his presence dredging up feelings, thoughts, and memories best left buried deep in the recesses of his mind, or in the past where they ceased to exist. But the young man breathed life back into a haunted past. Todd scratched the parchment behind him.
Too late to back out now.
Judas reached down to the small sleeve next to the fireplace, pulling out two logs and setting them on the bed of coals, the dry bark catching fire with ease. Todd shifted, setting himself up, oblivious to the warlock.
Judas stood facing the growing heat. Sunburst clay tiles adorned the modest hearth’s exterior. His shoulder-length hair hid his azure eyes like a curtain. His eyes glassed over as he revisited nightmares from long ago, absentmindedly pulling on his long, thick goatee. The war never gave him a choice; rising to the challenge doomed him to live a life nobody would have chosen. He wished to spare Julie a similar fate.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Judas was a cursed man, a fact he was well aware. Ghosts of failures and past mistakes haunted his footsteps. A curse—not of luck or spirits from the Underworld, but rather cursed with a hard life; a quiet disgruntlement turned into calloused belief.
What else would anyone call it? Bad luck? No, if bad luck, it would’ve stopped years ago. If karma, he would be emperor of the Ermaeyth by now. Instead, he lived apart.
He lifted his crystal glass to his lips and took a long, smooth pull of the vivid amber liquor. Sweet—too sweet, unless mixed or sipped.
“Do you want one?” Judas offered, lifting his tumbler so his visitor could catch a glimpse. He never took his eyes off the fire. When no response came, the veteran took another swig. His guest made no noise other than the constant scratching. He pulled at the right side of his goatee, twisting, then straightening again. “I’m surprised you found my manor last night. Not many people are privy to the location.”
“You sound like you didn’t expect me to find your home.”
Ignoring the comment too close to authenticity, Judas posed a question instead. “How long did you wait again?”
“Until midnight.”
“That’s dedication.”
Judas’s guest was fast, sharp, and nimble on his feet. His resourcefulness and determination manifested in the fact he managed to track down his home. He expected the young man to either never find his house or, at least, take days. Nature sheltered Judas’s manor with reclusiveness. Thick copses of trees and curtains of rolling hills obscured its presence, set deep in his property. Even if someone stumbled on his land by mistake, the chances of finding it were minimal.
Did he start researching the location yesterday morning?
His guest would bear watching in the future. Todd’s career would soar, and Judas would help him, sub rosa, of course. He wanted Todd’s success free of the stigma of his association.
The young man, a mere adolescent at best, tracked down the warlock time and time again. In fact, every time he went to Ralloc, the young man seemed to magically materialize. The boy had a true heart; Judas would give him credit. But he hated when people pestered him as soon as he entered the city. Some adored him for the gleaned facts from his past, but most feared him and his ability. Most could not muster the courage to talk to him. But this young boy’s audacity made him believe and hope. Judas liked him, the youth with scarce a hair on his face. He desired neither fear or adoration; he aspired to be like every other normal citizen.
Sometimes it would be relieving to be a face in the masses.
As soon as he gave the thought life, he banished the idea. No, he wouldn’t fall into self-pity. Fate bore him a warlock, and she always held her reasons close.
Fate’s a fickle bitch on occasion, he mused before chastising himself for cursing. If not born the intended way, he would most likely be dead or enslaved. The elder stole a hasty glance at the young man. His head stooped over his parchment.
She would be a little older than him, a few seasons at best.
Judas let the rare, random thought enter his mind. Hurt helped bury the subject, a heart-shattering anguish: the loss of his daughter. She was breathtakingly beautiful from the moment he held her. Duty forced him away moments after her birth. The memory was all he had, the first and only time he held her.
I’m sure all fathers think their daughters are beautiful.
Xilor’s followers took her away from him. He made her killers pay with something worse than death: exile—like him, cut off from everything magical. Coincidentally, he just returned from that far-flung world. In the aftermath of his daughter’s demise, rage consumed him. Those were dark moments in his history. Only Meristal could pull him back from the precarious ledge.
The Other Side; a world where time vanishes, lives pass infinitely quick compared to Ermaeyth. On the Other Side, lives lasted a tenth of what they do in the magical world.
The scratching of quill on parchment punctured the silence. Judas grew accustomed to the quiet, but the scraping thundered in his ears.
Now I understand what the librarian felt yesterday morning. He drove Sam, the librarian, insane with his incessant scratching.
A moment of panic flooded him. Having faced hordes in battle, he’d rather be there than here with this boy! The veteran dodged the journalist for a long time, for professional reasons, but evasion didn’t last forever.
“The people want to hear the truth!” the boy had told him habitually. With reluctance, Judas agreed.
The warlock’s azure gaze swept up from the fireplace.
“Where do you want to begin?” the young man inquired, looking up. His eyes were pale blue under black hair.
“We can start by you giving me your family name. You’re always hounding me but withheld your House name,” Judas replied. He hated delving into his life for the boy, but he did enjoy the spirit of the young columnist. In all fairness, he knew him as Todd, but he liked to tease him.
“I told you, Master Lakayre. I tell you every time you come to Ralloc, but you never listen to me.”
“What are you talking about? I only hear you flapping your gums as soon as I come into the city,” Judas replied, teasing him.
“Oh, you’re right. You hear me, but you don’t listen.” The younger man sighed and slouched forward.
Brass, kid, real solid. Judas smiled approvingly.
“I’m Todd of House Wynters. I work for the New Suns Times, the paper published once a week in Ralloc. It’s a job, but my passion is in inspiring stories, like yours, Master Lakayre.”
“You’ve come to the wrong wizard for an inspirational story, Arysto Wynters,” he reproved.
“Why do you say that? How can your story be sad? You fought a war and came out unscathed.”
“Unscathed?” Judas tsked. “You should know better. Didn’t you pick up a history book in school?”
“Even I’m smart enough to discern the gaps left out.”
The elder snorted. “True enough. I’ll give you what you asked for, my story, but I don’t want it spun in a web of half-truths. Not by you or by anyone else. I don’t want a whole city hating, fearing, or loving me; I want to be…”
“Normal?” Todd interjected. “Alone?”
“I’m already alone.”
“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to need a stiff drink for this?”
“’Cause you are a smart boy.”
Judas gave him a lopsided, knowing-grin. He sat his glass on the hearth and pulled another, setting it by his and filled both, giving himself a more generous serving. With the conversation about to turn ugly, like walking through the Underworld, a little more alcohol couldn’t hurt.
Might as well be jolly and buzzed.
Judas drank on rare occasions. With glasses in hand, he crossed the room and handed one to the young man.
Todd breathed deep, the peach and vanilla scent cloying in his nostrils, and took a cautious sip. His eyes widened in surprise as he smacked his lips. “That’s amazing! I never tasted anything like it! What is it? Where do you find something this good?”
“One of the privileges of traveling Ermaeyth, you experience all types of foods and drinks. It’s called Parlaquay and hails from the Geim domain.” The elder smiled and patted his shoulder. “There’s a lot to tell,” he warned, switching subjects. “Do you remember how to cast the spell so your quill will do all the work while you sit and listen?” He centered his chair opposite of the correspondent.
“I think so,” Todd replied, aware of the warlock out of the corner of his eye. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Judas removed his wand and did the deed. A heavy finality overcame the warlock as he sat.
“If you misquote me in your editing process, or lie about anything I say, it’ll be bad for you,” Judas warned.
“Don’t worry about me, worry about the publisher. When they read something they don’t like, they want to adjust it, which alters the accuracy and reality of what is said.”
“Tell you what,” Judas said, pausing, thinking hard before trusting himself to speak. He leaned forward. “If your publisher won’t let you publish as is, and you can’t find an honest one, I’ll fund your work myself.”
“Really?” A big grin stole over the younger man’s face. “You mean it? You can’t be serious! I always got the impression you didn’t like me.”
“Quite right,” he denied. A small, harmless dishonesty. He didn’t want Todd to realize he enjoyed his spitfire attitude and found it refreshing. If he did, he’d never be free of the young man. He glanced at the Parlaquay on the hearth, debating on another taste before deciding to abstain. “Where do you want me to begin my story?”
“Anywhere is fine. I could ask questions or you could just talk.”
“Whichever you prefer. I don’t care, Arysto Wynters.”
The investigative author fired off at ballistic speed. “Alright, we’ll start with me asking questions and go from there. What’s the year of your birth? What did your parents do for a living? Any family people don’t know? What did you want to be when in your youth? How did the war affect your personal life? Ever been married? Are you seeing someone now? Tell me about your friends!”
“Whoa! Slow down! You’re going to stroke out!” Judas admonished. “Put a cork in the enthusiasm. Remember, you’re a journalist now, a code of conduct is expected. Breathe. Compose yourself, and try again.”
Todd caught his breath and sat back in his chair, trying to show an aura of calm. The veteran knew the boy was bursting at the seams beneath the staged tranquility. “Do you have any friends?” the young man tried again.
“No. Let me rephrase: Yes, one, sort of. It’s complicated. She hasn’t been around for a tour of years, but she returned last night. I’m looking forward to spending time with her.”
“Who is she? Do I know her?”
“Yes. I believe you would know her from her public and political views, and her reputation for being one of the best Advocates of Law in Ralloc. She never fancied to be a politician or a lawyer, you know? After the atrocities of the Wizard’s War, she told me the only frontier for new adventures belonged in the political arena. She thought it would be exciting to rebuild society after so much destruction. People in roles of authority found her views too drastic for the comfort, so she turned to law.”
“What’s her name?”
“Meristal Raviils.”
“I know her!” Todd smiled in recognition. “She’s on assignment, a tour down south, right?” The journalist paused before moving on. “Is it true she’s an Appaerel?”
“Yes, she can change her appearance to whatever she likes.”
“A rare gift. I wonder where she got it? The gift is passed down through the bloodlines, but I’ve never heard anyone in her family having it. Come to think, I’ve never heard anything about her family. What does she look like without the changes? I mean, she can’t be thatyoung, I thought she’s your age?” Todd sheepishly pointed out.
Judas chuckled at Todd’s awkwardness and reclined in his chair. “Well, she never altered her features to make herself appear younger. She’s the same as the day I met her, though a bit more wise. Enough about her, this is about me. Get on with it.”
“Any other friends?” Todd reclined in his chair, trying to mimic his interviewee.
“No.”
“Why not? What did you do to drive people away? Why don’t you have many friends, Master Wizard?”
“Because you didn’t use my official title. The Kothlere Council in its infinite wisdom wanted the people to fear others like me. I’m the same as you. You should use my title, Warlock. If we went by an official title I don’t possess, I’d be Grand Maghai.”
“Boast much?”
“Boasting implies there isn’t much truth to the statement. There is.”
“Why are you a warlock, Judas? Why is being one bad? What makes someone a warlock?” The writer leaned forward, his interest piqued.
“I can do things with magic others cannot. I can perform spells without uttering any words, incantations, songs or dances, or any other nonsense.” Judas waved his hand. “I can use the same gift Hagen once used.”
“Who’s Hagen?”
“Damn!” Judas leaned forward, coming out of his seat, dumbfounded for the third time in two days by the lack of education in the young generation. First, Sam the librarian, and now Todd. “Don’t they teach you anything in school anymore? I pity the ignorance of youth.”
“Sure, but I don’t remember anyone named Hagen.”
“Don’t worry about it; he’s only the Father of Magic. It’s not relevant,” Judas spoke with a touch of sarcasm. “What’s your next question?”
“Let’s talk about your family. What are your feelings about your mom and dad and your late brother? What other family do you have?”
“I don’t want to talk about my brother,” came the knee-jerk response; an automatic, defensive retort whenever someone broached the sensitive subject. “Some things are better left buried in the past,” Judas breathed, maudlin.
“Master Judas, if you aren’t willing to talk about anything, what are we doing here besides wasting our time?”
Brass and a point to boot, the war vet marveled. “Point well said. My brother is my older twin. We don’t share the same birthday but appear somewhat similar. That’s all the commonality we had. The vast differences between us: our ambition—what we sought out of life—and our personalities. He was an extrovert, popular and well-liked. He loved the adoration more than he cared about school or learning. I, however, am an introvert. I knew I wouldn’t receive the same treatment being second born, so I turned my attention to books, hoping one day I’doutshine him.”
“Why wouldn’t you be doted on?”
“I’m not the first born. My father was a man of outdated traditions.” Judas twisted his goatee absentmindedly.
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Outshine your brother?”
“Oh, yes,” Judas’s regretful whisper came. “In more ways than I care to admit. I forget you know nothing about me other than the Wizard’s War, but once I was a man not so different from everyone else.
“My brother’s ambitions sealed his political standings with the community. He sold me out trying to achieve the coveted office of consul. People are born warlocks, and I was one long before I entered the war. But the gospel leaked, so to speak. No one cared until they found out Xilor was a sorcerer—like a warlock but dabbles in questionable aspects of conjury, twisting it for malevolence. Xilor reigned death and destruction and Ralloc pleaded with me to stop him. After I had destroyed him in his current state, they exiled me.”
“This is great stuff,” Todd exclaimed with glee. The feather quill danced under invisible influence. Only when he turned his focus back to the warlock, he found his solemn face awaiting. Todd’s smile faltered to a more serious expression. “You don’t realize how many people are going to want to read about you, about your life. They’re going to know they don’t need to be afraid of you,” he promised.
A ghost of a smile touched the veteran’s lips. “One can only hope.” His eyes drifted toward the window, pushing out with his essence, reaching out towards Julie. He found her with ease. Her potency radiant. He’d need to teach her how to dampen it. Obscuring her aura would make her harder to detect. He would also need to help teach her how to block the magelust. The magelust responded differently to everyone and blocking it required self-discovery; though unteachable, instruction on dampening her aura would give her the foundation of where to start. He could help with that. Julie almost experienced the lust earlier with Todd in the lobby. Her power rippled at his gentle touch, a subconscious response. He wasn’t even sure she felt it. Judas returned his attention back to the excited writer.
“What’s your next question, young man? There’s a lot of my life to cover…”
“How did your brother die?”
Judas exhaled. Old, painful wounds opened again. “He died in combat. The dark lord took him.”
“I thought you said your brother was a politician? If so, how did he get on the field of battle?”
“My clever brother understood image meant everything. In our youth, he never got caught misbehaving, always waiting until our father left for fields, or the teachers and adults were absent before he would antagonize me. The same can be said of his political career.”
“How do you mean?”
“Every once in a while, a moon turn, give or take, my brother came to the battlefields. He boosted low morale by making public appearances, shaking hands, and sometimes engaging in a small skirmish. The oddest part? He was on the battlefield the day before. I didn’t expect him for at least another moon turn.”
“Why did he come?”
Judas angled towards the other, the intensity leaking from him, and Todd mirrored him. “I always wondered myself. To make matters more interesting, the dark lord teleported into our midst, winking into existence, and sent a blast of energy, knocking down all those around him. I threw up a mage shield in time. For a second, a blink of an eye, my sight fell away from Xilor. When I turned to face him, I saw him kill my brother. The dark lord dissolved him into nothing. Xilor turned his scrutiny upon me and teleported away.” The elder snapped his fingers. “Within my grasp.” He snapped again. “My brother died.” He snapped a third time. “And just like that, both gone.” He leaned back in his chair,and the young man did the same, albeit slower, letting the information sink in. “But,” Judas broke the mounting silence, “one good thing can be said about Xilor.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all, Todd; Xilor, while bent on destruction and no doubt mad, had ingenuity. It was often the creative backbone for many magical things we take for granted today.”
The journalist scoffed. “Like what?”
“I learned to teleport from Xilor. I never even thought such abilities possible, to move between time and space so fast and across far distances near-instantaneously. In many ways, Xilor taught me, led me to the answers to stopping him. Most people cannot teleport from lack of power, but it’s something we’ve incorporated for all to use. Take journey-stones for instance, a device that allows you to teleport. Portals, too.
“Another invention you can thank Xilor for is the Psimond spell. Who knew communicating with other people on a flat surface was possible? We didn’t know about it either. Imagine what we could learn from someone as ingenious as him, albeit without all the evil and devastation.”
Todd cleared his throat and cast his eyes about, looking for anything to help him change the subject. The veteran noticed his praising of Xilor made the columnist nervous. When nothing fell within the boy’s sight, the atmosphere charged with tension. A solemn silence crept in the space between the two men. Judas scrutinized the young man as he squirmed, suffocating with dread, before glancing away.
The writer’s eyes flickered back to the elder, noting his strayed gaze. A notion about Xilor struck him.
“If the dark lord held the power to teleport into your midst, why didn’t he before? Why didn’t he kill you? You’re the much bigger threat.”
The warlock’s eyes came back to the young man. “I’ve also wondered about that many times in the past. Perhaps Xilor didn’t think much of me as a threat? Perhaps he mistook my brother for me? Or perhaps he aimed to show me that he could take me any time he wished. By killing my brother right in front of my eyes—everyone’s eyes—he proved himself superior. Destruction of morale. The vulgar display of cogency worked in his favor. The ordeal shook me to the core. I’ve never seen magic like that before or since.”
“If he killed you, the outcome would have been very different,” Todd surmised.
Judas’s eyes flickered back out the window, finding his new apprentice. Excuses formulated to break off the interview. The writer’s presence presented problems, a risky business having the boy here so soon after his return from the Other Side, and considering what he brought back with him: a Wcic and an enemy hounding his steps.
Perhaps it’s best to cut the conversation short and reconvene at another time. It’d keep him from stumbling over the situation.
He needed to secure Julie’s safety and discover the mystery of his attackers. For all he knew, the council was behind it, even though Sedrus claimed they weren’t. If they were, the decision was based in fear.
Most people feared Xilor’s return, and with good reason, it was possible. Judas knew it more than probable. Coming back to life is a capability yet discovered, allowing a soul to come back, ripped through the pall of the Underworld. He wouldn’t put the deed past the reach of the Dark Lord. Even the warlock admitted to much he didn’t know or didn’t want to.
Certainty settled over him, the probability his attacker was a devoted fanatic of Xilor’s. But who gives the orders while the tyrant is away? His assailant was most certainly not the Dark Lord himself. He’d know if he came back. Everyone would.
But he’d need to be dead to resurrect.
All people feared what they didn’t understand. Xilor was an entity beyond their comprehension. Judas wasn’t sure he understood either, but better than most. An arrogant few didn’t appreciate the abilities the dark lord once wielded. They now sat in seats of authority, hiding behind fancy titles, fearlessly oblivious to what they didn’t understand.
Better to fear and approach with caution than to be careless to what can destroy you, Judas mused.
“Is something wrong?” the young man asked, breaking into Judas’s thoughts.
“Hmm…?” Judas blinked, reining in his thoughts. “No, of course, not. Can’t a warlock act a little suspicious? Adds to the mysterious aura.” His infectious smile made the correspondent smile, too. Judas needed to find a way to get rid of the reporter. “Listen, Todd, can we convene at some other time? I haven’t eaten breakfast, and I’d be remiss not to give the majority of my attention to my apprentice.”
“Oh, sure,” Todd grumbled with evident disappointment.
“Don’t worry. I’m not dodging your questions, but I get cranky if I don’t eat.”
“I understand.” Todd’s tone showed he didn’t. Judas thought it better to disappoint him now than suffer Todd’s curiosity about his behavior.
“Todd, I promise you,” Judas spoke, laying a fatherly arm across the reporter’s shoulders, walking him to the door, “I won’t take on another scribe until we complete your interview and you publish. That way, you are the first person to interview the crazy warlock. Sound agreeable?” He gave a winning smile, pouring on his charm.
“Alright,” Todd agreed, enthusiastic. He bid his farewells, the young man retreating down the stairs. Judas closed the door behind him and let out a sigh of relief. He turned and glanced out the window, finding Julie again. The urgent need to start her training festered. If he could feel her presence, others could, too. They might even use her to track him. He hoped whoever tracked them would be oblivious to this fact. Soon enough, they’d slip through the Corridor of Cruelty, and no one could follow them through. They’d be safe until they exited.
His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he and Julie needed to eat, and set off to find her.