The Hedge Wizard

Another blast came Hump’s way, but this time he was ready for it, curving his Shield spell into a half sphere to redirect much of the force away from him. This time, he held his ground. The warlock backed away, seemingly caught off guard by Hump’s ability to block her attack. It hadn’t felt easy, but seeing her retreat was reassuring.

“Kill them, she barked.

The seven monstrosities staggered forward, a nightmare of twisted limbs and screaming faces, no shred of humanity left in them after the warlock had twisted them into these beasts. Serrated pincers and dripping tentacles replaced arms, flailing wildly. Their flesh was pale red like sunburned skin in places, in others, it was a patchwork of scales, fur, and bulging tumours. Dark fluid oozed from open sores where its flesh had split, hissing as they dropped to the floor, fumes of purple rising into the air.

Their faces were split into segments, peeled apart like an orange, each gaining new eyes and mouths. The closest let out a guttural snarl from two different mouths. Its eyes were like grotesque jewels, glowing with malevolent light, yet contained within was the white of a human eye bright with terror.

Bud advanced into the room to meet them, first in line to take their charge.

“Stop, Bud!” Celaine shouted.

Too late.

A second layer of runes activated on the roof above Bud. A wave of purple miasma descended on him like smoke, clinging to him so thickly that Hump could barely see the knight within. Bud dropped to his knees in a fit of coughs. Heart of Frostfire manifested as a purifying aura around him, breaking down the miasma into disintegrated essence but his coughing didn’t stop.

The creatures threw themselves at him all at once. They were fast. Faster than Hump expected from creatures twisted from ordinary people only moments ago.

Hump levelled his staff at the closest two on the right. “Blast.”

Essence erupted in a streaking blue surge, striking the two creatures and sending them tumbling into tables and chairs.

While Bud gasped for air, Emilia rushed to his aid, her blade streaking with red light as she lashed out at the appendages of the creatures, sending pieces of them flying to the ground in a gory butchering. The creatures screamed with rage and pain.

As the warlock readied another spell, Celaine loosed an arrow, forcing the woman onto defence instead and buying Bud time.

Dylan was beside the knight then, scattering a handful of conjured seeds over the ground.

“Grasping Vines,” he said, throwing an outstretched hand toward the closest two. Thick, woody vines erupted, lashing out and ensnaring the closest of the creatures. They snarled as they fought their bindings, but they lacked the strength to break free. More vines erupted around Dylan, extending to the rest of the creatures and capturing them too.

“Do we kill them?” Emilia asked.

“No,” Bud choked out, stumbling to his feet. “Not if we can help it. They might still be saved.”

The warlock backed away toward the bar. She seemed afraid. Maybe she’d realised this was a fight she couldn’t win. From her panicked expression, it seemed she wasn’t expecting reinforcements anytime soon. Celaine shot an arrow at her leg, but the woman swept it aside with her wand, retaliating with a mist of miasma that swept forward in a wave. Hump blasted it aside in time to see her race behind the bar, hauling open a hatch in the floor.

Bud and Emilia pursued, but runes activated on the ground and bar counter, manifesting a shining barrier that blocked their way. Celaine loosed a Power Shot, her arrow shattering the barrier in an explosion of glittering essence.

The warlock screamed, thrown back by the impact. She crawled toward the cellar door, but Emilia was there in a flash, blocking her path.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Emilia asked, dangling her rapier toward the woman’s throat.

The woman stared at the blade with wide eyes. She dropped her wand and held up the palms of her hand. Her face returned to its human shape. “Please. You have me. I won’t do anything.”

Celaine strode past her, descending into the cellar.

Dylan flicked another seed in their direction, and it quickly sprouted into a vine, twisting around the woman’s hands.

“Remove the curse you placed on these people,” Bud said.

Her eyes flicked at them, wide and fearful, then back to Bud.

“They can’t be saved, can they?” Hump said sadly.

The woman bared her teeth and snarled. She threw herself at Hump, but Bud caught her with a metal fist to the chest, hammering her back to the ground.

Hump scowled at her. “What are you, an animal?”

She glared at him with fury. “Better than you, wizard. A traitor to your own kind!”

Hump ignored her, turning to the captured monstrosities and activating his Spirit Sight. He wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to see, but reality wasn’t it. Dark power rose off them in black and purple streams, and that power was growing weaker. The people from before were dead, and what remained was a monster devouring what life force remained.

Turning his eye on the woman, he saw that same darkness rising from her. He knew how twisted the souls of warlocks were, corrupted by all those they had feasted on, twisted by foul magics and dark forces.

“What do we do with her?” Celaine asked, returning from the cellar.

“Restrain her,” Bud said, his voice still raspy from the attack. “I’m sure the Inquisition will want to speak with her.” He turned to Celaine. “Did you find anything?”

“There’s a tunnel concealed by a veil,” Celaine said. “This is the place. No doubt about it.”

“Good. Can you get the door open, Hump?”

“Already on it,” Hump said, scanning the runes that kept the tavern door shut and veiled the room. They were powered by an essence stone beneath the bar. It was a simple matter to remove it and deactivate the spell.

The door opened and Inquisitor Hartlen stepped inside, her staff ready and the crystal focus shining with essence. Her fellow inquisitors entered the room with her, one with a wand, the third carrying a rapier with runes glowing along the blade. Other troops followed, Chosen wielded their blessings, martials gleamed with internal essence. They surveyed the captured creatures that were still held by Dylan’s bindings, then looked to where Hump and the others stood over the warlock.

“Lower your weapons,” Inquisitor Hartlen said.

“We found our warlocks,” Bud said.

Inquisitor Hartlen gave him a relieved smile. “I feared the worst when I saw a veil go up over the tavern. It is good to see that you are all well.”

Sir Darian sauntered into the room, his steel boots tapping against the wooden floorboards. He held his arms behind his back. Hump had to admit, he was surprised the man had stuck around. It seemed that he at least had the self-respect not to leave his men, or perhaps he simply feared the repercussions of leaving his post in wartime. Such an act could have a man executed.

The man gazed around the mess of the tavern, his eyes dwelling on the mutated people still snarling in Dylan’s vines. He pulled at his blonde moustache. “They’re dealt with then, are they? It’s done?”

“No, this is just the gate guard,” Bud said. “There’s a tunnel in the cellar leading farther underground. We’ve still got work ahead of us.”

The man’s entire body recoiled. He couldn’t have made his apprehension more obvious, and if Hump noticed it, the soldiers certainly would too. They were in the middle of a battle for the fortress, one where they might be able to end the Red Fog and save many lives, yet all this person—this Chosen—could think of was himself.

It made Hump furious. How someone so foolish gained any sort of officer position was shocking to him. He’d seen unqualified nobles in positions like this one time and time again, and they got their men killed.

“These creatures…” Inquisitor Hartlen gestured at the being trapped in Dylan’s vines. “They are people twisted by the warlock, are they not?”

“That’s correct,” Bud said. “I do not think they can be saved.”

“No.” The inquisitor’s face sank with sadness. “We have seen their kind before. The people they once were are gone. All we can do now is grant them a peaceful end.”

“I shall do it,” Bud said, the weight of the responsibility heavy in his voice.” As for the culprit.” He hauled the warlock woman to her feet. “I have her here. I assume she will be useful to you alive.”

The inquisitor nodded. “We shall take her.”

Bud handed her over and one of the inquisitors took a metal collar from a bag on their back. The collar was carved with runes that disrupted the essence of anyone in contact with it, once it was fully locked in place. It would make the warlock almost entirely helpless. The woman whimpered as she was taken away, but Hump felt no pity for her.

It was grim business killing the monstrosities left in her wake. Bud chanted a prayer as he moved through the room, wielding his Frostfire coated blade to cleanly decapitate each of the creatures. They were dead in an instant.

It was difficult to watch, but Bud didn’t flinch. Perhaps for the first time, Hump saw the hardened warrior Bud had become in their time apart. In a way, it was sad. Bud had dreamed of heroic adventures and helping people, but in the end death and blood was what he’d found.

“Let’s move,” Bud said. “Sir Darian, select your ten best men and join me. The rest will stand guard on the surface. Inquisitor Hartlen, will you be joining us?”

“We will, yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

The wooden stairway into the cellar was steep and narrow. The wood was old, dry and worn from many years of use. Inside the cellar, rows of shelves filled the room, packed full of wine bottles, kegs, and cooking goods. Celaine led them to the rear of the room, walking straight into the wall and disappearing. There was a brief shimmer, like ripples on a lake, and then the wall was perfect again.

Murmurs went up among some of the troops that were less familiar with veils. Even Hump couldn’t see the veil without the use of his Spirit Sight.

“It’s clear,” Celaine said on the other side.

Hump and Bud followed behind Celaine, entering a tunnel between two shelves. It was wide enough for the two of them to squeeze in side by side. The wall was chipped and jagged, a sign that it had been carved out with hand tools rather than magic.

Celaine stood ahead of them, looking at the roof and letting out a long sigh.

Hump couldn’t help but chuckle. “One day, we'll find some bad guys that make their base above ground.”

The comment earned him a quick glare.

Echoes of howling wind and distant dripping carried to them. With so many people, it was impossible for them to move through the tunnels completely silent. Their weapons caught on the wall, clinking loudly, their boots clanked against the ground. Hump did his best to cover up the noise with Echoless Passage, but the noise still carried. Still, progress was fast and uninterrupted.

Soon, they came to a large chamber with curved, brick walls. There was a ladder leading up to the surface here, but a metal bar kept the grate at the top closed.

“What is that smell?” Emilia asked.

The room was damp, smelling of musty mould and foulness.

“This must be part of the sewer system,” Dylan said.

“It’s disgusting,” Emilia said.

“Looks like access has been blocked off,” Hump said. “Maybe this is an old smuggling route after all. Certainly looks old.”

“This silence makes me uneasy,” Celaine said. “Where are they? We should have heard them by now with how sound travels.”

“If we’re right about this being the warlock base, they’ve probably abandoned most of their defences to concentrate on the attack against the Temple of Sanctum,” Hump said. “These tunnels aren’t worth anything once they’ve completed their goal.”

“We’re ahead of them this time,” Bud said. “They won’t succeed.”

“How can you be so sure?” Celaine asked.

“You haven’t seen Count Daston and General Korteg in action,” Bud said. “They’re powerful. They won’t fail.”

Hump would keep his fingers crossed, but he’d seen how powerful the warlocks could be in Sheercliff—Anthony had surpassed the barrier to Rank 7. They were acting on a plan that they may have spent decades on, perhaps more. There was always room for failure.

They descended a small staircase of stone steps, coming to four cells built into the wall. These ones were perfectly smooth, likely made with magic. All but one was empty, where a human skeleton was on the ground, yellow and dry with age.

“What a horrible place to die,” Hump said.

Bud stepped up to Hump’s side. “Sir Darian, you are the commander of the dock, are you not?”

“That’s correct.”

“Were you aware of smuggling tunnels here?”

“I—no, of course not. You insult me!”

“The warlocks have been under our very noses,” Bud said. “Gods know how long they have been here to establish such a network of tunnels.”

“The city is old,” Dylan said. “These could have been from long ago. The warlocks could just be the latest to make use of them. Bones don’t become yellow and brittle like those in only a matter of months.”

“I hear chanting up ahead,” Celaine whispered.

All of them went silent at that. She led the way forward, turning left around a corner and entering a long, straight tunnel. Soon, they came to another large chamber, this one filled with bedrolls, wooden barrels and crates, shelves of books. People had been living here. There were three tunnels connected to the room, but by now Hump could hear the distant, echoing murmurs of chanting too.

They went down the left tunnel, soon arriving in what must have originally been a natural cavern.

More than twenty warlocks were gathered atop a raised square platform at the back left of the room, gathered around the artifact. Their chant filled the room, echoing like a choir of evil priests. Light rose from each of them, shining as red as the fog itself, pouring into the artifact at the centre of their formation. Human bones surrounded the artifact, still red with flesh. Sacrifices, perhaps? Or were the warlocks themselves the sacrifice? The red essence in the air could have been their life force, though Hump didn’t sense such power from it.

To the left, a walkway went along the cavern wall, connecting to another tunnel halfway up the tunnel, and leading to a staircase that ascended to the platform. A second staircase directly in front of Hump led down to a small dock by the pool of water. There, a twisting stone path followed the slope up to the platform, granting them a second access point.

Still, they went unchallenged, the warlocks focused on their spell.

Still, they went unchallenged. Stalagmites protruded from the high cave roof, with man-made support beams in place. To the right of the warlocks was a large pool of water that smelled of the sea. A small wooden pier extended to the centre of the pool. If that connected to the outside, warlocks could be accessing the city through underwater tunnels.

“Gods above,” Sir Darian whispered. “We must inform Command.”

“A messenger was already sent,” Bud said. “This is up to us now.”

“I don’t sense any veils,” Celaine said.

Hump activated his Spirit Sight. His head reeled at the dark energy gathered around the artifact, so deep it threatened to consume him. In it, he sensed death and violence. It clung to him like a cold sweat, sending shivers through his body. Even from a distance, he could tell at least a few of the warlocks were powerful. Their intent poured from their essence, drawing in more power from their surroundings.

“They’re strong,” Hump whispered. “We’ll want to take out as many as we can before the true fight begins.”

“Any suggestions?” Bud asked.

Hump frowned, eyes going from the pool and then back to the warlocks. He looked up at the natural cave roof. These support pillars had to be there for a reason, and unlike the dungeon node chamber, this stone wasn’t magically produced either. What if he brought it down?

“Is there anything above us on the surface?” Hump asked, turning to Inquisitor Hartlen and Sir Darian.

“We’ve travelled mostly east,” Inquisitor Hartlen said. “I suspect we are near the sea cliffs for this pool of water here. There shouldn’t be anything above us.”

“Then I have an idea,” Hump said. “One that should even the odds considerably.”

“What is it, wizard?” Darian asked.

“I’m going to bring the roof down.”