The Paladins of Naretia

Chapter 31

Olórin rooted himself into the highest room of the wizard's tower. To be precise it was the north-west turret of the palace which had been home to the wizard caste since Olórin could remember. He had spent nearly his whole life milling in and out of the dusty, scroll-laden rooms and, before today, it had been mostly in the company of a warm, homely feeling. But it had been so long since his last visit, and so much had changed, that it had become unfamiliar to him now.

Getting in had proven difficult too. A great number of charms, incantations, and explosions were needed to bypass the magical booby-traps someone had left for him; someone, no doubt, who no longer favoured the rule of Edwina and had no qualms about killing intruders. Bernard nearly lost his head to a Pugione curse, which let loose twenty, or so, determined daggers that changed direction of their own accord to follow them. Olórin surmised that the daggers had been enchanted to follow any target that lacked a certain mark.

Etched on some of the limestone walls, as they had ascended the narrow spiral staircase, was the mark in question. He knew it only too well and the sight of the upside-down triangle with two lines curving out in the centre, like a pair of horns, was one he had wished never to see again. It was the mark of the dark wizards who followed the rule of Dantet. He had not laid eyes on it since the time of the ogre's uprising in the Saraethian mountain villages.

"My eyes have been diverted for too long," he muttered over the bubbling cauldron.

"Eh?" Bernard said, raising one bushy, red eyebrow.

"A Supreme Wizard's place is not gallivanting across the kingdom. It is here, watching over his caste and protecting the magic from those who would taint it, even if it is from one of their own."

"Whot could ye have done?" Bernard said, throwing cautious glances out the door, his axe gripped tightly in his hand as though he was expecting another booby-trap, or an invader. "Ye couldnae have refused a request from the Goddess herself."

"No, but I could have sent someone else to find him, or at the very least brought him back here when I did," Olórin replied, dropping two of the tears of life into the iridescent liquid that bubbled like tar. "Instead I kept him locked away in a small cabin with me for six years, when other wizarding minds might have been able to help. But this was my quest, wasn't it? It was my arrogance and self-importance which led me to think only I could be the one to carry out her orders. It was my selfish need to be accepted which led me to abandon my charges, and my duties, so I could be favoured in her eyes."

"Now, listen here," Bernard said, stepping closer to Olórin, wagging a thick finger. "We've all done things for glory and bumptiousness. I think ye might recall the bribe I took tae let ye in tae Balbuldor. If I had no' been so greedy, maybe none of thas would have happened... maybe me brother might no' be dead." Bernard voice trailed off into nothing before he cleared his throat and continued. "But ye cannae live in regrets because they will do nothing but drown you, and whot use will ye be tae yer charges and yer duties then? We've all made mistakes, and Goddess knows, I've made more than my share. That flaw is no' exclusive tae just you, old man. So get over it, and do whot ye must tae finish this. There'll be time for lamenting and regrets when this is all over."

Olórin couldn't help but regard Bernard in a different light then. His sometimes inappropriate candour, and wiliness to act upon impulse, were qualities that Olórin had come to admire recently. They were also the qualities that made dwarf's immune to the persuasions of the Dark God. Although, it seemed that his predecessor, Thrais, was not as immune to the rather mundane curse of greed, and the persuasions of a certain silver-tongued dark wizard.