Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [72]
–the Emperor of Raumathar granting mercy to one of the greatest foes his realm had ever faced. Gaugan the Nar, Gaugan sorcerer, Gaugan summoner of devils knelt before him, swearing loyalty, submission-
–Arantar standing in a royal bedchamber, the only light from one small candle, and the emperor's sister rushing to his arms-
–Khasoreth, his eyes alight with eagerness, standing upon a grassy hill that fell away to a pebble-strewn beach, then endless water. His hands wove intricate patterns in the air, his fingers dancing, and frost and ice came to his command. Laughing, he turned to the Nar sorcerer, who stood behind him, nodding in approval-
–"Take care, my friend," said Arantar. "I do not trust Gaugan's counsel." Khasoreth frowned-
–Arantar stood upon the height of the wooden tower, the Great Ice Sea extending to the far horizon below. The other towers of Winterkeep stood beneath him. He and Isenith stood upon the tallest, the Tower of Summer Sun. The wind off the sea blew back her cloak, and her hands went instinctively to her belly, which was just beginning to swell. Arantar smiled-
–"I beg of you," said Arantar, "do not do this! You are not ready."
"I am ready!" said Khasoreth, more than a little anger entering his voice. "More than ready. Besides, my apprentices will be there to assist me."
"Apprentices, Khasoreth. Apprentices! They are less ready than you. You are endangering those four as much as you. This is madness!"
Khasoreth's eyes narrowed. "Gaugan believes me ready. He said your jealousy would not allow you to see it."
"Gaugan?" Arantar looked as if he had been struck. "His whispers have poisoned your senses. Listen to me, Kha-"
"I am through listening to you, Master." He spoke the last word in a sneer. "I thank you for all your years of teaching and counsel. But I am the master now."
Again the world fell away-
* * * * *
Khasoreth stood upon the promontory, the Hill of the Witness Tree at his back, the Great Ice Sea at his feet. The wind from the north, bringing the season's first snow, made his cloak seem like wings behind him. The hem of the rich garment, a great cloak the color of ash-the royal winter colors of Raumathar-given to him by the emperor himself, slapped at the torso of his nearest apprentice. They too had cloaks like their master, though the clothes beneath them were not nearly so fine. Three more apprentices stood not far behind their master, the last standing upon the lowest step of the hill itself. Gaugan stood off to the side, two arms' lengths away from Khasoreth's outstretched hand.
Khasoreth looked to Gaugan, his face exultant. "I am ready!" he said.
Gaugan nodded and smiled. "Let it be done."
"Let it begin!" said Khasoreth, then began his incantation.
His four apprentices joined in, their tomes held open before them. Khasoreth had no such need. He had long since committed the rite to memory. As the sun set behind the clouds in the west, he would leave these mortal coils behind and achieve the union he had long desired-to become one with the element of cold and ice rather than simply wielding their power. Arantar was wrong. Gaugan had once served dark powers, but upon swearing loyalty to Raumathar he left such pursuits behind. Without him, Khasoreth would never have achieved such power and knowledge so quickly.
The wind increased, driving the snow into his face and eyes and bringing a harsh, stinging spray off the sea that froze before it hit him. Still he chanted, and the wind blew even stronger.
Cold and ice came at his command, and the beings who knew them as their very nature came at his summoning, answering his call and joining their voices to his. He spoke in rhythm with the crash of the waves, and his apprentices wove their own spells around his, four melodies creating a harmony around his driving beat.
Khasoreth felt ice forming on his skin, in his hair, freezing the water in his eyes, and he smiled. It was working.
Then came the pain.
Slight at first, building not in his body but deep within his mind.