The Wizard's Council by Cody J. Sherer Read Free Book Online Page B

Kreagor shoved his shield into the face of the first soldier to break through. The resounding crunch unnerved the next soldier long enough to give Kreagor the advantage. He thrust his sword into the soldier’s gut and then turned to face his third opponent. This man fell as easily as the first two, but was quickly replaced by another.
    Kreagor slammed his shield into the man’s torso, but the massive Carmalian wasn’t affected by the blow. His nearly seven-foot frame didn’t even tremble from the blow. Slightly unnerved by his unsuccessful attack, Kreagor coiled back and waited for the right moment to strike. The larger combatant lunged forward, swinging his war hammer at the knight’s head. Several Galimdorians moved to surround him, but a giant swing from his hammer cleared them out. Kreagor raised his shield to block an overhead strike. The blow split the shield in two and cracked the bones in Kreagor’s left arm. He fell onto his back and threw his arms over his face.
    The blow from the giant of a man never came. Field Marshall Farin had positioned himself in between the two combatants. He thrust his spear into the larger man’s chest, delivering a fatal blow. The Field Marshall turned and helped Kreagor off the floor. They stood in frustration as one of their soldiers reported to them that both the catapults had been damaged in the attack. Kreagor spotted Jerek still writhing in pain on the ground and walked over to meet him. The Knight-Commander had the Captain thrown into chains and sent back to Galimdor with the three other surviving Carmalian soldiers.
    “Never underestimate the strength of the rural towns, Kreagor,” Farin said as the two entered the war tent to plan a new attack.
    “Nor should one underestimate the power of flames,” Kreagor replied, looking to the torches that lit the war tent.
    *
    “Keep your bows steady. All of you will need to start getting used to pulling back a bow while moving.” Sev walked back and forth, examining the line of Rangers that were practicing their bow skills.
                  The students nodded and brought their bows back down to their sides. They followed Sev’s orders and tried holding the bow steady as they slowly crept forward. He approached them one by one, correcting each one that he came across. Some held their bow too high, others too low. Some were stepping too loudly, others weren’t moving fast enough. It was never fun to instruct the cadets, but the Druids felt it was appropriate for Sev to do so. They wanted to ensure that the students were in perfect form in case the Conclaves needed assistance.
    “Any questions?” Sev asked as he took his place in front of the students.
    “When do we get to learn magic?” One of the younger students asked.
    “That would be the Druid’s specialty, not mine. I am a Ranger.”
    “We heard that you possess powerful magic.”
    “It isn’t what you think. I don’t cast fireballs or change the weather. I can just see and hear things that others cannot. It isn’t really magic, it has more to do with my half-elven heritage.”
    “I’ve heard otherwise.” A cloaked man stepped out of the shadows of the forest and nodded to the students.
    “Is that so? And who is it that so boldly enters the domain of the forest protectors?” Sev’s hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword.
    “I am called Septimus. I am a member of the Warlocks and we wanted to approach the Druids with a proposal of sort. The talk of the town is that your magic kept you alive when you faced off against those trolls.”
    “As I said before, I don’t possess any real magic. My strengths lie in the fact that I have the best traits of the human race and the best traits of the elven race.”
    “Your speed, your perception, your strength. All these things are augmented by your propensity for magic. The Warlocks are always looking for new recruits. You would fit in well. If you ever have any questions, feel free to look me up.”