Wolf Awert - Ringwall's Doom

Murmon-Som hid his satisfaction masterfully, aided in no small part by his sickly appearance. Rarely were the eyes of the council upon him, and if they were, it was a mere formality. The shadow Mah Bu had cast upon the circle was long, and Murmon-Som would need time to be heard. He did not mind. Being underestimated was a strength he could use.

Only the cracked Onyx spoke a different language. It had thrown wild sparks when Bar Helis’ passion had got the better of him. It glowed in a pale blue light before the chair of Nothing, as though Nill was still there. Only in front of the magon and Keij-Joss it showed nothing but a gray shimmer, and it seemed to avoid Ambrosimas altogether. Occasionally there was a flash of light in the darkness, or a crackle along the fractured edges. Murmon-Som looked over at Ambrosimas concern. At first it had bothered him that he could not read the Onyx – now it was a real worry. But he seemed alone in this; the others did not appear to care.

After a short moment in which those present either followed their own thoughts or waited attentively for a decision to be made, the magon arose from his chair.

“All have said what they had to say. Nill, our Brother and Archmage of Nothing, is still at his core a mage, and the place where a mage fulfills his duties is in Ringwall. My patience is at an end. Bring him back. I will remind him of his duties personally.”

His use of the word “personally” drove shivers down many a spine. It had never been a good idea to anger the magon, and this time he was quaking with rage.

“I would like to make a suggestion.” Murmon-Som did not intend to let his opportunity slip. “As no one knows where our brother is, nor in what sort of danger he might be, I would suggest that five searching parties follow the five cardinal points to find him. Each search party should be under the command of a grand mage of the elements. They can decide who to take with them. We should also send out the hunters. Even if they are not numbered among the arcanists, there is little their sharp senses miss. Magic need not be the only thing worth looking for.”

Bar Helis’ right hand shot forward as though it could hold back the words. “An excellent idea,” he said. “I would name my deputy, Galvan, the leader of the Metal party. He is a master of the element, one of the greatest mages outside of the council, and possesses abilities he seldom needs to use. He can easily stay in touch with the other searchers.”

“Will you be able to do without him, Bar Helis?” the magon asked. He still stood tall and drew the council’s gaze like a magnet draws iron.

“Of course; he spends no time in my lodge at all. He has his own little kingdom in the forge.”

“The forge will have to do without him, then,” the magon replied. “He is not the only mage there.”

“But he is the only one who knows how to smelt whytcrystals with iron,” Nosterlohe interjected, but the magon ignored him.

“I would name Empyrade,” Ilfhorn said quietly. “She knows Nill well.”

“Of course she knows him well, she taught him all she knows about Wood magic,” Bar Helis boomed. “Are you honestly suggesting having one of his teachers search for him? You might as well send Ambrosimas himself!”

Ilfhorn’s aura darkened as his eyes began to glow green.

Nosterlohe attempted to defuse the tension.

“There are not many mages among us who know the Archmage of Nothing yet aren’t connected with him in some way. Perhaps Brother Ilfhorn would agree to send Malachiris instead. She was, like Brother Nill, successful in the tournament.”

Before Ilfhorn had a chance to respond, Bar Helis agreed loudly.

“Before Brother Bar Helis single-handedly takes the organization out of our hands, I would like to propose a sixth party,” Ambrosimas said quietly. He had no more to lose. “Apart from the five colors, the White mages should also be involved. Perhaps old Infiralior or Morb-au-Morhg would be prepared to undertake the journey. Both are powerful mages, but they have not been in Ringwall long enough to have forgotten the scent of the wild. Infiralior is many winters old, though, so if there are hazardous paths to take, Morb-au-Morhg seems the best candidate for them.”

“Not a good choice, I’m afraid,” Bar Helis answered. “I have been informed that Morb-au-Morhg and young Nill are friends.”

“As I said, Bar Helis would like to put the whole mission together on his own. Please, be so kind and name all your other grand mages – we need just approve your choices. I’m sure the magon will be perfectly happy,” Ambrosimas spat venomously. “Do you think you could spare the time to inform us where you gained this ground-breaking knowledge?”

“Nill and Morb the Mighty have conferred.”

“Oh, I see,” Ambrosimas laughed. “They conferred, of course. You mean, they had a little talk. In public. Atop the battlements. I know this, and everyone else knows this. He ‘conferred’ with Morb-au-Morhg after speaking to Murmon-Som in the Sanctuary. Does that make Murmon-Som his friend and co-conspirator, too? Did not Murmon-Som just advise caution in proceeding? I am sure you found that most suspicious, Brother Bar Helis.” Ambrosimas’ sarcasm grew more biting with every word.

“Enough. Morb-au-Morhg will do. The other leaders I will choose myself.” The magon turned his back on the table and departed. The Onyx had remained oddly calm throughout this last disagreement. Only a soft glow in its veins showed that it was still active.

The very next day the first searching parties departed Ringwall. The first were the hunters. Mucklings, with no knowledge of the arcane, but they saw things the mages overlooked and were always ready to take up a trail, no matter how cold.

Galvan had shouldered his legendary Black Dragon, a poleaxe forged of the baleful combination of steel and whytcrystals. The terrible weapon had to be swung with closed eyes, lest it blind the wielder along with its victims. The black-robed Metal mages left Ringwall as silently as their green-robed cousins. The Wood group was commanded by a slender young woman with green hair and emerald eyes. She looked as fragile as a frozen leaf and was the only one apart from Morb-au-Morhg not to hold a rank. Not only had she belonged to the six winners of the tournament, but she had been the only one not to bear a single scratch on her pale skin. Even Morb the Mighty could not claim the same. She went by the name Malachiris, a name so full of meaning that it could not have been her birthname. It held within it the poison of copper and the sadness of the deathflower, and so combined the magics of Metal and Wood.

Morb-au-Morhg had negotiated some time to consider his choice of followers. The early bird may sometimes get the worm with luck, but it was the sharp-eyed eagle that got the true prey. He asked the twin witches Binja and Rinja for help; they, too, had participated in the tournament. Binja was specialized on Thoughts and agreed immediately, but her sister did not want to leave Ringwall. Binja’s injuries had healed, but Rinja’s blackened skin would not return to its normal color. Not even her powers in the magic of the Other World had helped her. In the end, with much convincing on Morhg’s part, she reluctantly agreed to accompany them.

The magon sent the Fire mages out under the guidance of a grand mage of the lodge. He had had to emphatically insist on his choice, as Nosterlohe was loathe to let his deputy go. The Earth mages set out for the village where Nill had grown up, and the Water mages made their way to the nearest river that would carry them to Waterworld.

Unbeknownst to the magon and the other archmages, Murmon-Som had summoned shadow-riders from the Other World and sent them to bear a message to King Sergor-Don. The summoning had been a difficult and draining business, so they had left much later than all the others. And yet they always reached their goal first, for a shadow does not battle with the wind, and slides over thorns and undergrowth as easily as over rocks and water. But only the Archmage of the Other World knew their intention.