Ringwall's Doom. Wolf Awert

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СКАЧАТЬ to the king gave their whispers the strength and influence they needed. And so after several moments of agitated silence a pushing and shoving began as the first lesser sorcerers saw the potential that the position of a king’s guard could grant them. Only five would be near the king at all times, but who would those five be?

      Zsorven-Sar was the first to step forward. He was the first among his equals. Even though he had not openly demonstrated his skills for a long time, he still held the most power and influence of all sorcerers at court.

      “Can you craft a powerful defense for me?”

      “I should think so, my prince.”

      “Which element?”

      The sorcerer allowed a small flame to dance around his hand.

      “Fire.”

      “A Water shield against Fire, or a Fire shield against Metal?”

      “Whichever you wish, my king.”

      “Very well. Make space. I wish to test Zsorven-Sar. My attack will utilize the strength and sharpness of Metal – it should be easy for anyone devoted to Fire.”

      The crowed shuffled back, but the room was too full to clear a space big enough to remove any danger from a duel.

      “Open the doors.”

      To the great surprise of Gulffir’s citizens that had been waiting outside the palace, the doors suddenly burst open and the crowd of nobles flooded outside onto the great square. They quickly made space. The prince and the sorcerer stood opposite one another, surrounded by the gentry, behind whom a dense wall of soldiers, merchants and gawping children made any breaking through impossible. Sergor-Don’s black cloak swayed around him, the sorcerer’s magnificent gown weighed heavy and ornamental upon his shoulders.

      “Are you prepared?”

      In the same instant he spoke the words, Sergor-Don flung a spear of Metal at his opponent, but it had already begun to melt as it flew through the air, and what hit the ground near the sorcerer was only droplets. The triumphant smile on Zsorven-Sar’s face vanished as he saw the waves of bolts that now rained down on him. Some came at an angle, some straight. The shield flickered, threw sparks, expanded to catch the prince’s magic sooner – and broke. Flames billowed from the remains of his shield and returned to their creator. Zsorven-Sar fell to the ground, his front utterly blackened. The stench of burnt flesh was rank upon the air. The Fire Kingdom had one less sorcerer.

      “Never promise something you cannot keep. Take him away. How would you protect me against a real mage, if you can’t even defend yourself against me?”

      “I wouldn’t have guessed the prince was so strong,” Haltern-kin-Eben whispered, impressed.

      “Zsorven-Sar was a fool,” Auran-San growled back. “He let his magic wither, he should have known an early end was coming for him. But power alone wins no fights. The prince will learn that in due course.”

      The old councilor was upset. Zsorven-Sar had been a loyal servant of his, and Auran-San suddenly realized that the number of possible guards had quickly shrunk. None of the other sorcerers dared so brazenly prove their might. After many tense moments a young man stepped forward. His robe was plain.

      “My name is Skorn-Vis and I have not served you long, your Majesty. But I am prepared to protect you from Fire.”

      “You have an unusual name, Skorn-Vis.”

      “My family tells of how we descended from the Snowy Mountains, but how we arrived in the Fire Kingdom I do not know.”

      Sergor-Don rained fire down upon him, raised flames from the ground and attempted to burn the young man from within, but Skorn-Vis’ Water shield stood fast. The hot steam pushed the crowd back and hid the sorcerer from their view; fountains of water and fire shot skywards as the cobblestones seemed to bubble and melt. Skorn-Vis stood unfazed in the middle of the inferno, and the water that ran down his face might have been sweat or just as likely remains of his shield.

      “Skorn-Vis, you have proven worthy. You shall be one of my kingsguard.”

      The sorcerer gave a low bow and retreated.

      The next one to approach was still half a child. His eyes were wide, his clothing too large for his small frame and badly patched, and the dust of the plains still clung to his hair and skin. He did not speak as he stood opposite the prince. With one hand he pulled a few straws from his hair, allowing everyone to see where his last resting place had been. With the other hand he described a small circle and the air around him glowed with silent fire.

      Sergor-Don clicked his fingers and flung a swarm of tiny metal bolts outward. Before they could reach the boy, he encased himself in a fiery globe and the attack melted away. Sergor-Don followed up by throwing heavy iron balls at him – their weight alone would have sufficed to break the delicate figure in front of him, and they were loaded with more than just Metal energy, in spite of what he had announced. The fiery ball changed its shape and the attack slid off it. The final test, a spear of incredible mass and with a point sharper than any ordinary weapon, got stuck halfway through and broke in two pieces.

      “There is space enough for you under my shield, my liege,” the boy called out.

      “What is your name?”

      “Uul.”

      “Just Uul?”

      “Yes, my liege.”

      “You stink.”

      “Yes, sire.”

      “You will be given new clothes.”

      Sergor-Don turned to face the crowd.

      “Two of five have been found. Fire and Water protect me. I am yet in need of Earth, Metal and Wood.”

      They were a motley bunch gathered around the prince in the end. Apart from Skorn-Vis and Uul he had found a half-arcanist who could not feel the earth he walked on, but whose Wood magic was strong enough even to withstand most Metal attacks. He had a beautiful name, one that, when whispered, felt as though the flowers were reaching for the sky. He was called Phloe, for the goddess of the grasslands, who blessed the plains after the first rain and transformed them into a garden of blossoms. The courtiers were rather concerned that a man was named for a goddess. Even worse was Aulo, a simpleton with a face half lame, as rigid as a blade before it breaks. His Metal was strong enough to split Wood before it could even be summoned. Nobody was sure that Aulo was his real name – his mouth produced groans and howls more than words. King Sergor’s defense against Water lay in the hands of a small man who would in other courts not have looked out of place as a dwarf jester. He declined the use of a shield, instead choosing to simply channel the Water into the ground. Sergor only stopped attacking when the entire crowd was soaked and standing ankle-high in mud.

      “You seem terrible to friend and foe alike; the Water cannot touch you, but you might choke us all on the mud. What is your name?” Sergor-Don asked the dwarf.

      “They call me Sijem the Brown,” the short man’s answer came quickly.

      “Are there other Sijems apart from you? Black, gray or even red ones?” СКАЧАТЬ