Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (18 page)

Justan stared intently and thought back to his classes. “The blue and gold hue shows me that both air and water were used throughout the making of the golem and the darkness of the colors tells me that earth was the controlling element.”

The wizard smiled. “Correct. What about this?” Locksher asked and pulled a folded bit of paper from inside a pocket of his robe. When he opened it up, Justan was assaulted by the intensity of the color. The item inside the paper was such a deep black that Justan imagined the world could get sucked into it. Justan started to speak, but ended up coughing instead. The smoke was getting to him.

“Oh! I apologize again, Justan. Let’s clean things up a bit shall we?” Locksher said and muttered a phrase. As he clapped his hands, a window in one of the other rooms opened. The smoke that had filled the room fled through the window and out into the afternoon air. The wizard took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes, that’s better.”

“Thank you,” Justan said. He took off the glasses and looked at the item inside the paper again. It was a leaf of some sort and for some reason it looked familiar.

“What gives this leaf so much power?” Justan asked, still amazed at what he had seen.

Locksher smiled. “This leaf came from an elven home forest. I found it deep inside the golem’s head, and I believe that the elven magic contained in this single leaf was the catalyst in the making of the monster. I was actually hoping that you might be able to shed some light on where it came from.” He looked at Justan expectantly.

 “I don’t know.”  Justan shook his head. “I get the feeling that I should recognize it, but-” Then it came to him. “Wait! Yes, I do know. This is one of the herbs that the elves used when wrapping my wounds after my battle with the moonrats!” Justan remembered more details as he went on. “Pympol and Arcon came to my room at the inn in Sampo and woke me. They said that Vannya had sent them to get me and then they asked if they could take my wrappings to study the elven healing techniques.”

 “I knew it had to be something like that.” Locksher said. He leaned back and scratched his head. “I’m glad that I don’t have to go searching for an underground elven products ring. As soon as I saw the remains of the golem, I knew that those three couldn’t possibly have created anything that powerful on their own. There is too much earth magic involved. Neither of the mages
are
very strong in that area, and Piledon has almost no earth magic at all.”

“Wait a minute.” Justan had an idea that made his stomach turn. “If they couldn’t have done it on their own, then someone else must have helped. You know, Vannya sent them up to my room that day. She has a lot of earth talent and she definitely hangs around with Pympol and Arcon.”

“Oh no.”
Locksher was quick to dispel that idea. “I have spoken with her extensively. I didn’t have any indication that she knew anything about it except that Pympol had a big secret project going on. No, the herb has all the earth magic they needed to start the creation.” Justan sighed in relief and Locksher asked him another question. “Do you specifically remember them saying that she had asked them to look at your bandages?”

“Well . . . no. Now that I think about it, they only said that she had asked them to wake me.” Justan realized that he needed to calm down about her. Whatever Vannya and Valtrek were up to, there was no way that she would have helped in anything that dangerous and evil.

“Good.” Locksher said. He began turning the leaf over in his hand and studying it. “I would hate to have to tell Valtrek that she was under suspicion for the creation of that thing.”

Justan was so relieved that he didn’t fully make out what the professor said. All he heard was something about Valtrek. “What was that?” he asked.

Locksher waived the question away.
“Nothing, nothing.
Justan, as soon as this trial is over, I am going to take a journey and I don’t know quite how long I’ll be gone.”

“I had heard that you were planning on going somewhere.” Justan replied. “But why are you going?” Not that Justan felt that it was any of his business, but Professor Locksher was one of the few faculty members at the school that he felt that he could trust. He truly didn’t like the thought of him being gone.

“Actually, I am leaving because of you,” the professor said, stunning the student. “It’s about your book. I have tried every means at my disposal and I still cannot decipher the writings. I have searched the school high and low and there is no old spell or magical item that I can find to help.

“So I am traveling to the north and east. Along the way, I plan on stopping with the Dwarves of the Marshy hills and the Gnomish library at
Olivera
. If I cannot find the answers there, I will meet with the wizards at the
Mage
School
in
Allberri
. I have a colleague there who might be able to help.” His eyes glittered with excitement. “I believe that this little book holds the answers to far more than your problem alone. It belonged to an extremely powerful wizard. It could be a treasure trove of information!”

Justan grinned, caught up in Locksher's excitement. “Thank you for doing this, Professor. It means a lot to me. Every day I get up in the morning and see this symbol glinting on my chest. Throughout the day I can feel it rubbing against the fabric of my robes, reminding me that it's there. I just want to be rid of it.”

The wizard smiled back at him. “By the time I get back I should have the answers to your questions.” He patted Justan on the shoulder. “
Don’t worry
, all will soon be revealed.”

Chapter Twelve

The public sentencing was held in the center square of the school where the golem had done the greatest damage. Pympol and Arcon looked pale, but composed. Piledon visibly shook and looked as if he might be sick.

The entire school was in attendance, from the highest wizard to the stableman.
All eager to hear the results.
Students had broken the rules before and punishments had been quite stringent, but no crime of this magnitude had been committed in recent memory.

There had been a lot of talk during the weeks since the tragedy about what the charges would be. Most understood that the incident had been an accident. Murder was most likely the last thing on the minds of the golem’s creators when they built it, so no one expected the three students to actually be charged with the deaths of the six people. However, it was also suspected that for such a powerful creature to be made by three mere
students,
there must have been some shady work involved.

The High Council stood, Headmaster Latva raised his hands and the crowd went silent. The charges were read. They began with several small charges like breaking curfew,
then
came the severe ones; destruction of school property, endangerment of other students, and illegal use of elven magic.

After the charges were read, there was silence for several minutes while all in attendance stared the three students down. Then the verdict was read.

Guilty.

The judgment was handed out swiftly without any grandiose speeches. Pympol, being the leader of the group, was given the heftiest penalty. He was stripped of his mage status and demoted to the office of Cadet. Arcon, being also a mage and knowing far better was stripped of his mage status and demoted to the office of Apprentice.

Piledon, on the other hand, had only helped the mages during the final two weeks of the construction of the creature. Since he was following the commands of the mages as a cadet is taught to, his sentence was not as severe. All of them were given multiple extra work duties, mainly consisting of rebuilding the parts of the school destroyed by the golem.

Many in the crowd nodded when the sentences were read. Many others were outraged, feeling that the council had not been strict enough, especially those who had been injured and the friends of the people killed. Cries of anger poured from the crowd. The yells became louder as resentment built and Master Latva himself had to command silence.

Of the three sentenced, only Piledon looked relieved. The two older students looked like their lives had been destroyed. It would take each of the former mages years to regain their status as mages and the road from mage to wizard was going to be an even more difficult one for them. All of them would face the anger of their fellow students.

Justan felt the decisions stringent, but fair. Although they used shady methods to reach their goals, he couldn’t blame them for all the destruction. The three students had stumbled into something far beyond their ability to comprehend.

Of the six killed, three were guards, two were students, and one was a prominent member of the faculty. It had been decided by majority opinion that all six of the funerals be held at the same time in one long procession.

Most wizards were not religious by nature, but all of them knew the reality of an afterlife. Magic crossed between the realms of the living and dead often. This knowledge made their passing easier, but it could not replace the fact that they were not around in this world. As was custom, people who knew the deceased were allowed to stand and say a small homage to them, knowing that most likely, their spirits would be around listening.

It was a solemn occasion. The bodies of the dead had been repaired by healers and preserved for this day. They lay in state for several hours so that people could come and see them if they wished. In the evening, a procession was held where the bodies were transported to the vast
Mage
Gardens
behind the Rune tower. There, a monument was being erected that was dedicated to them.

The next day, the bodies of the deceased were taken back to their homelands. Each body would be escorted by a wizard and two mages who would break the news to their families and friends. Then their loved ones could conduct a proper burial in the traditions of their people.

To the normal eye, the procession was a dreary event, with the bodies of the dead being carried by on stretchers by close friends. To one using mage sight, however, it was a beautiful magical display. The air was filled with illusions proclaiming the beauty of the lives of those killed.

Justan watched the elaborate procession go by in a whirl of colorful, magical images. He found himself filled with a mixture of awe and sullen anger. It was a wonderful tribute to the fallen, but why did they have to be killed at all? If only he had been faster or stronger or had learned how to perform offensive magic . . .

He watched as the dead guards were brought past his position in the crowd. First came the body of
Caldric
, whom he had sparred with many times, then
Kervek
, who was a shy person that Justan had not been able to get to know very well, but had seemed very nice. Finally a large cadre of guards carried the body of their former leader,
Alphonze
.

In the chaos after the clock tower fell, Riveren and Zambon had searched frantically, but were not able to get a wizard over the rubble to save their leader in time.
Alphonze
had only been coherent for a few moments before he died.  He knew that he was dying and had asked that Riveren be made leader of the guards in his absence.

Riveren had not wanted the position, but could not refuse his fallen leader. Justan thought that it was a great choice. Riveren was a respected and capable leader and would only get better with experience. He had changed much in the months since their close call with the goblins on the plains.

 The bodies of the two students were brought by next. Justan hadn’t known either of them, but one of the great tragedies of the day was that one was a fourteen-year-old female cadet who had just arrived the morning of the attack. A chunk of masonry had struck her in the head, killing her instantly. It was a very delicate situation and the wizards were still debating whether there was anything they could do to ease the shock for her family.

Finally, the High Council came by carrying the last victim and what many felt was the biggest loss to the school. The magical images told the story of the scholarly wizard who, with much perseverance, had gained a place on the council. Even though he didn’t have much in the way of power, he had been respected for his intelligence and was a well-liked teacher. Justan felt a tear come to his eyes. He turned to the wizard who sat beside him.

“You know, I think I am going to
miss
Professor Nichol the most.”