A Wizard's War

Amos Hawthorn climbed the forested slope and felt his leg swelling a bit, but his strength was improving. If he was in too much of a hurry, thorns and shrubs of underbrush snagged at his clothes and threatened to topple him over. As he neared the top of the small rise, he could glimpse the red-orange light of the sunset casting long shadows through the trees. He looked down the far side of the ravine and glimpsed the road below. It had been beaten and worn heavily by the Order of Belothemid’s war machines. There was no sign of their presence, but Amos planned to stick close to the trees to avoid any sentries.

As he walked alone, Amos reflected on the argument that had transpired before his departure. Dagon had recklessly gone out on his own and plotted a means to free the people of Eastwood from the Order’s patrols. To Amos and Zara’s surprise, Dagon’s plan was successful. Using his bow and a few well-placed shots, Dagon managed to infiltrate the enemy defenses and free the three remaining survivors. Only three people were left in captivity and that was only because they were captured after the army had passed through.

The survivors explained that most of the townsfolk were rounded up and shipped out with the army to be used for experimentation or worse. A crazed sorcerer, which Amos identified as Auren Qualls, and a deranged doctor named Mikhel had many plans for the prisoners. Mikhel had all manner of sharp and twisted surgical equipment with which he completed his unholy tasks.

Amos had been angry at Dagon for going behind their back and risking his own life in such a foolish way. He had expressed his displeasure at every opportunity, to the point he felt his anger was almost irrational. After all, Dagon had succeeded and he returned unharmed, so what was the problem?

When Amos began to find the strength to walk again and test his limits around the cabin, Dagon had pounced. Listening to the wild plans to take down the Order and journey from town to town liberating the people began to make Amos’ blood boil all over again. Dagon was practically berating him on the necessity of sticking together and saving as many people as possible.

“I’m only worried about saving one person,” Amos finally interrupted, “I want to find my sister in New Mayweather.”

“That town may be under attack any day now,” Dagon had cautioned, “there will be no way to reach her in time.”

“So what?” Amos had shouted back, “I should just leave her to her fate? Run off to save the rabble with you?”

“I didn’t say…”

“Of course you didn’t!”

“I just… don’t want you to get hurt,” Dagon rephrased.

“And what about what I want?” Amos had panted, suddenly close to tears, “You crept into Eastwood, alone…”

“You were in no condition to…”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Amos emphasized his frustration by kicking over the wood pile by the cabin and then immediately swearing at the pain in his leg.

“Are you alright?” Dagon was suddenly at his side and Amos shook him off before storming back inside. He was so annoyed with Dagon’s constant optimism and level-headedness. He just calmly moved from one insane risk to the next with the most unflappable attitude.

They had hardly spoken again and by morning, Amos was determined to leave one way or another. He began packing his belongings and prepared to make the long journey back to New Mayweather to find Ellina. The army had taken most of the horses in town, so he was left making the long trek on foot.

Nearly a day’s journey away from the cabin, Amos regretted his outburst and the rudeness of his departure. He genuinely cared for Dagon, which was the main source of his anger, and if Dagon wasn’t so prone to taking risk Amos would be dead several times over. He should have been thanking the curly-haired archer for his bravery and compassion but instead, with single-minded purpose, he had left.

* * * *

John Corbett had always been a mighty figure, rivaled only by the power and nobility of Malachi Wendler. The alphas. Wilhelm had been subservient to both men and always failing to impress with his small size and scrawny frame. Even the women of the pack, Constance and Sarah, laughed and jeered at him. Everything was always at Wilhelm’s expense, and he had grown weary of it.

There was something different about Connor as an alpha, something reluctant and unusually kind. Wilhelm learned a new way of doing things, and qualities of a leader emerged in different ways. There were collective discussions which Wilhelm had become an integral part. Madame Beech was even welcomed back to the table.

In his growing role within the pack, Wilhelm had agreed to go into Mayweather to gather supplies once a month. He led his mule, Boxy, down the winding cliff side to carry the bulk of the merchandise back to the mansion. The day was calm and bright, but he kept catching an odd smell on the air and over that the smell of burning. It made Boxy quite uneasy and several times he snorted with displeasure. Wilhelm was forced to rein him in; stroking his soft nose until he calmed.

Wilhelm considered the fact that Connor had been a garment maker of all things. He had even taught Madame Beech a thing or two about mending clothes, so the seams were less noticeable. Wilhelm smiled to himself as he considered their latest alpha. Connor had been nobody and his demonic friend, Simon, had been nobody. Such men were deemed weak and secondary in Malachi’s eyes. Look at the turmoil such “weaklings” had wrought upon their little community. It gave Wilhelm hope for his own future.

As Wilhelm and Boxy crested the next hill he could see smoke rising beyond the forest. Where the trees normally grew sparse before the gates of the city, a crowd had gathered, and wagons were being loaded. Most were heading south likely to the ports. Such commotions were common in the much wealthier New Mayweather, but Wilhelm had never seen such numbers congregating on this side of the city. He shared in Boxy’s growing sense of unease as he approached the gate. The smoke was undoubtedly coming from New Mayweather and the scent beneath it all that he had been afraid to name… his wolf knew immediately… it was death.

“Where you going, boy?” a man suddenly growled down from his wagon.

“I was sent from Graymere for supplies…” Wilhelm answered as he looked around.

“Turn back,” the man grunted, “New Mayweather has been under siege for five days now. A fearsome black army has come from the West, wielding all sorts of unnatural magics. Those with half a brain are getting out while we still can. You’ll find little trade or refuge here.”

“What army?” Wilhelm asked. From everything he’d learned there was always peace and calm in the West. It was the reason so many had migrated in that direction after the last Wizard Wars.

“The hells do I know?” the man looked over his shoulder at the smoke, “I understand they made no demands and took few prisoners. It is as if their only purpose is to murder and destroy.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Wilhelm nodded.

“You just looked like a good lad,” the man spat a wad of tobacco as he urged his team forward, “Best be on our way.”

Wilhelm watched the man leave for a moment, moving off toward the South. He was about to turn back himself when something captured his attention.

“What have we here?” A shrill woman began to shout, “A stowaway?”

“No! Ow!” a girl was crying as a big man began to haul her roughly out of his wagon and tossed her to the ground.

The girl was dirty, and her dress was torn in many places. Poverty was common in Mayweather, and she was likely living on the streets before the army attacked.

“What’d you take you urchin?” the shrill woman was waggling an accusatory finger.

“Nothing, I swear…”

“Search her good, Clive!”

The big man roughly groped the poor young girl and lifted his meaty hand under the girl’s tattered dress. The cruel woman urged him on and wanted to make sure the girl received a proper punishment.

“Hey!” Wilhelm found himself calling out, surprising everyone including himself, “Leave her be!”

“Stay out of it, boy,” the man named Clive waved him aside.

“No concern of yours,” the shrill woman spoke, “best be on your way.”

“I said…” Wilhelm cleared his dry throat after his voice squeaked awkwardly, “Leave her be.”

“I think that feeble boy sees his only chance to find a woman,” the woman cackled.

“Needs some flat-chested bitch who can’t fight back to get his pecker wet,” Clive sneered.

He roughly shoved the girl down on the ground in front of Wilhelm.

“Go on,” Clive laughed, “Wanna become a man?”

Wilhelm’s eyes flashed the golden color of a wolf and he felt a low, rumbling snarl from deep in his chest.

“Watch out, he might bite!” the woman was laughing.

The man had stopped though as he watched Wilhelm’s lips pull back revealing rows of sharp teeth. He took a step back.

“Leave…” Wilhelm growled.

“What are you doing?” the shrill woman was criticizing as the man climbed back onto their wagon.

“Getting out of this gods-forsaken city,” Clive replied curtly.

“Should have tanned the boy’s hide for his insolence!”

Wilhelm waved innocently at the woman as Clive turned their wagon and began to leave. He felt a wave of exhilaration washing through him and an urge to vomit as the adrenaline surged through him. He refocused on the poor girl on the ground.

“Are you alright?”

The girl clung to him suddenly and was crying. Wilhelm let her hold him and he absently patted the curly brown hair on her head. Up close, she was clearly older than he was, but the way she was acting was so child-like.

“There, there, now. You’ll be ok.”

“I’ve been alone!” she wailed, “Couldn’t get back across! And then the fires!”

“You’re safe now,” Wilhelm tried to reassure. “Are you from the city?”

The girl shook her head back and forth.

“I live not far,” Wilhelm considered, “You may be safe there for a time.”

The girl was soon helped up onto Boxy and they set out back toward Graymere. Wilhelm was grateful that most of the people emptying the city were heading South and he was granted a quiet walk back to the cliffs. He tried to put himself in the headspace of Connor. What would he do?

Unfortunately, the question was now what would John Corbett do? Connor had set out that same morning; leaving to seek out the secret behind the Moon Stone. In John’s time there was a great deal of secrecy and privacy at the manors of Graymere. Few people were allowed to learn of their unique afflictions. Wilhelm worried that bringing a stranger into their midst would be frowned upon by his father.

Connor would do what was right and help the girl. Wilhelm was sure of it. After all, Connor had helped rehabilitate John without any question or demand. He could have left and turned his back on the whole pack, but he didn’t. He refused to leave until they had protection. It was time Wilhelm found his voice. He needed the courage to stand up to his father if that was required.

With each step his nerves grew into a certainty the girl would be turned away upon arrival, but Wilhelm discovered his worry to be in vain. His father was different than before and accepted Wilhelm’s refugee willingly. But most surprising, was the look of pride John gave his son.

After Madame Beech had taken the poor girl under her wing and saw her bathed properly, the girl was more at ease and spoke with greater clarity. She introduced herself as Ellina Hawthorn and recounted her journey from Westwood after the death of her father.

* * * *

On his third night away from Eastwood, Amos huddled close to his small campfire. He hung his head miserably as the cold drizzle continued to drench his clothes and his pack. His stomach rumbled with hunger, since he failed to catch anything to eat that day. He was strong, but nothing in his life had truly prepared him to travel alone and survive in the forest. He realized too late that he would be useless to his sister if he died on the way to her rescue.

"You look cozy,” a familiar voice spoke.

“Dagon?”

“You realize with your bum leg you leave a very distinct trail. Also, you’re extremely noisy.”

“What are you…?”

“It took me some time, but I finally caught up to you.”

“The way I treated you… why would you…?”

“I’ve not let a lot of people see me in recent years. The real me. I’d hate it if you died, and I had to start over with some other local.”

Amos broke out into a broad grin, despite his previous miserable mood. Dagon gave a charming, crooked smile in return. They both laughed a moment before Dagon’s face disappeared behind his long, wet hair and he fell silent.

“You can let me have it,” Amos acknowledged, “I deserve it.”

“Just remembering something I said before we went into battle together.”

“What was that?”

“Tonight, we see each other,” Dagon lifted his head and looked directly at Amos meaningfully.

“You have my back and I have yours,” Amos completed, remembering the moment. At the time, it has just been a quirky moment from the odd new acquaintance. But Dagon had been serious. He’d meant every word.

“Why me?” Amos finally asked.

“Circumstance, maybe,” Dagon answered honestly, shrugging a bit, “But I also saw you. I wanted to know more.”

“I’m slow to catch on,” Amos shook his head.

“Well,” Dagon sat down, “we’re together again. Also, I brought rabbit…”

Dagon looked sheepishly aside.

“What is it?”

“I may have seen your trap fail and how you tried to chuck your axe at that squirrel… It was embarrassing."

“So, you did resent me enough to let me suffer a little.”

“Plus, it was entertaining.”

They shared a meal over the small fire and slept huddled together for warmth. Dagon was wrapped in Amos’ big arms under a canvas tarp, which Dagon had remembered to bring. In the morning, they broke camp in better spirits and set off toward New Mayweather.