Eye of Darkness (Part Three)

 

“My Masters all, ladies and fellows, and our guests,” the black-clad Morg began. Crett’s voice was, as usual, husky and formal, yet penetrated to the farthest row. There was just a quiver of suppressed curiosity hanging on its edge. “I thank you for coming. We are gathered today at the King’s behest. I pray you attend and give most serious ear and best counsel to what is spoken here.” He knocked three times with his bony knuckles on the podium, raking the assembly back and forth with his watery eyes. “I give you Lieutenant Thron, who speaks first.”

The old lawyer withdrew and Thron stood up. As he marched up to the podium, he took out a sealed scroll from his belt. He stopped with military precision before the lectern and raised the roll of parchment high for all to see.

“My orders, from King Vez,” he announced. “On orders, I speak in his place, in this matter.” He slapped the scroll down and glowered out on the meeting. “Three weeks ago, this person” -he pointed brusquely to the robed figure huddled on his left- “presented himself to the King. He convinced His Majesty that he was a wizard, that he came on a mission urgent to the realm, and that he needed the help of one both learned and discerning to address this matter. In consequence, he has sent this – person – to you, Masters of Tronduhon, to seek your judgement for the King, and to render aid if you deem it necessary.” He picked up the scroll again, duty done. “I introduce the one calling himself Dunwolf.”

He turned and marched back to his seat amid surprised and doubtful murmurs. The name seemed known to at least half of the scholars. Thron sat down in his crackling chair, ears burning with resentment, but no longer caring how much sound he made. He looked up and saw the burly Master in gold leaning forward, claws knit together and underlip jutting out. His eyes gleamed like a hound on the scent of his prey. The man in brown rose from his chair, threw his hood back, shook his robes straight, and came to stand before the lectern.

“I thank Lieutenant Thron for his introduction,” he said drily. ”Though he seems less convinced of my claims than was the King himself. And to forestall many questions, yes, I am that Dunwolf. It has been a hundred years since my powers were needed last, and I have been pursuing a quiet, hidden life since then. But.”

He looked up at the ceiling, as if reluctant to speak what he had to say right to their faces.

“I’m afraid that time of peace may be over for us all. A little over a month ago, while I was hoeing my bean-patch, I had a visit from one of the Ivra.”

If his name had caused doubts, this announcement brought a burst of clamor and incredulity from the assembly that could be heard two classrooms away. Anger, disbelief, and laughter arose in a babble of voices.

Notes

Tronduhon was the greatest (and certainly the oldest) university city on Ortha, rivaled only by the New Royal School in the capital. Any new assertions in law, science, or history made in the New Royal School were taken to be ratified or debated, comparing the oldest texts in Tronduhon, and if scientific in nature, tested and demonstrated. Only copies of texts produced by their expert scribal department were deemed to be authoritative.

Of course, Thron and Dunwolf go all the way back to the original Goldfire. The Ivra, however, were transferred from another fantasy world I was working on in the Eighties. I was happy to 'graft' them into the world of Ortha, both because it preserves their lore and has proved (in my mind) fruitful in deepening the growth of the Mythos.