Hemlock and the Dead God's Legacy

By B Throwsnaill

Hemlock realizes that the life of a leader is more complex and tiresome than she anticipated. Feeling burdened by her many responsibilities, she yearns for the freedom of adventure. When Tored arrives from the Witch Crags with information about the likely location of another powerful Wand, she seizes the opportunity to embark on a new quest.
Before she leaves, she entrusts a secret book into the possession of Merit, a mechanical gnome who is developing an affinity for history and lore. Merit begins to uncover an ancient narrative in those dusty pages--and he soon realizes it's the tale of the creation of the Wizard Tower itself!
Meanwhile Hemlock and Tored begin what they expect will be a simple quest to a mysterious vale nestled deep in the Witch Crags. But the adventure has several surprises in store for them...
Will Hemlock understand her ever evolving role amidst rapidly changing circumstances? And can she unite the City in time to resist the menace of the legacy of a dead God?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B Throwsnaill
• Release date: Mar 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476164533

B Throwsnaill

B Throwsnaill cut his teeth on the classic works of fantasy and science fiction by authors such as Tolkien, Moorcock, Herbert and Gibson. The author's goal is to write fun and creative fiction that is grounded in personal experience and observations about the real world and its history.Writing a novel length work had been a lifelong ambition, and was realized with the release of Hemlock and the Wizard Tower in late 2010. In early 2012 a sequel was released called Hemlock and the Dead God’s Legacy. Hemlock and the Dread Sorceress, the third book in the series, was released in August of 2013. Work is underway on the fourth book.

Book preview

Hemlock and the Dead God’s Legacy

The Maker’s Fire – Volume II

1st edition

By B Throwsnaill

Published by Bill Ainsworth at Smashwords.com

Copyright 2012 by Bill Ainsworth writing as B Throwsnaill

For more information about B Throwsnaill's writing please visit http://www.wiztower.com .

This book is dedicated to my family.

I’d also like to extend a special thank you to my beta readers: Chandler, Scott and Jeff.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re–sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious.

Table of Contents

Chapter1

Chapter2

Chapter3

Chapter4

Chapter5

Chapter6

Chapter7

Chapter8

Chapter9

Chapter10

Chapter11

Chapter12

Epochs of the City of San Cyra

by Merit

In the first age of the City

there dwelt a Red Robed Man

his Tower was a mountain

he sifted souls like sand

The second age of Empire

saw the Red Mage gone away

an Imperator did rise up

to hold the land in sway

But even Gods are mortal

and heirlooms are miscast

the Tower of Law crumbled

when Dead God's life had passed

One day the City met a man

who claimed the Dead God's place

but Julius strove for liberty

and old laws were erased

His dreams displaced his purity

and he strayed from his ideals

he promised the impossible

to the breaker of the seal

The wizards in his bloodline

lived in deceit and greed

their magic could not give them

what Red Mage had conceived

His passion forged a secret

He’d left a child behind

When she came to the City

Its path was redefined

What Has Gone Before

This book is volume two in The Maker’s Fire series. The first volume is called Hemlock and the Wizard Tower. Below is a synopsis of Hemlock and the Wizard Tower intended for those readers who want to refresh their memory of the story prior to launching into Hemlock’s next adventure.

In a magical city that travels through multiple dimensions, a young girl named Hemlock has risen from a lowly cutpurse to the discovery that she is a powerful fighter. Under the guidance of an aging freedom fighter named Safreon, Hemlock battles to keep the peace in her rundown district, while across the city the upper class Elites enjoy peace, prosperity and freedom.

The Wizard Tower looms in the center of the City, casting a long shadow over its affairs. The wizards rule behind the scenes, dictating and controlling the use of magic. Hemlock instinctively feels that the Wizards are her enemies, but Safreon will not discuss openly opposing them, as he seeks to methodically mentor her and advance his own cryptic plans for the City.

Hemlock makes a decision to make a bold attack on the Wizard Tower alone, convinced that she can destroy or undo whatever method the Wizards are using to control and ration magic. She makes her way toward the top of the Tower, but is detected by a wizard named Gwineval, who leads a faction of Wizards sympathetic to Safreon's mission of political and magical freedom. Gwineval confronts Hemlock, but she impulsively attacks him before he can explain himself. Gwineval manages to subdue her and contact Safreon, and together they hatch a plan so Safreon can rescue Hemlock.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Hemlock has been detected by another wizard named Falignus. He is a youthful wizard who has recently taken control of the wizard guild. He feels an immediate connection to Hemlock which he cannot explain. He resolves to capture her so that he can learn more about her.

The plan to rescue Hemlock and Falignus' plan to capture her collide at the apex of the Wizard Tower. Hemlock destroys a magical machine which she believes is harming the City, but she, Safreon and Gwineval are forced to flee via a strange teleporting device before Falignus can capture them.

They emerge in the Witch Crags, a land of death magic and ghostly spirits. Hemlock learns that the machine that she destroyed was helping her district, not harming it. She also learns that the political landscape is more subtle than she had thought, and that the wizards were helping the City in their own fashion, despite their ambitions to control it.

As the companions seek to leave the Witch Crags and return to the City, they become embroiled in a conflict between the indigenous tribal people known as the Tanna Varrans and a ghostly army led by a Witch, the latter who is in an alliance of convenience with the wizard guild.

Soon the companions find themselves defending the capital town of the Tanna Varrans against a two pronged attack by armies of the wizards and the Witch. The situation seems helpless until Safreon reveals that he possesses a powerful Wand, which is an artifact from a prior age. Gwineval covets the Wand. During the ensuing battle, Safreon is overcome by his magic while using the Wand, and Hemlock mistakes Gwineval's attempts to rescue Safreon for an attempt to seize the Wand for himself.

The Witch and her army are destroyed, but Hemlock is captured by Falignus and returns to the City as his prisoner, convinced that Gwineval is now her enemy. Falignus woos her both philosophically and romantically, but Hemlock ultimately rejects both overtures and embraces Safreon's philosophy of personal liberty and principled altruism.

Meanwhile Gwineval, wielding the Wand, and aided by his Tanna Varran allies, is beating back the wizard armies that oppose him; and he soon threatens the City itself. Falignus is forced to act personally, and realizing that Hemlock will not join him, imprisons her and departs for a final battle.

Unbeknownst to anyone in the Wizard Tower, Gwineval has secretly infiltrated the City and launches a sneak attack on the wizards. Hemlock escapes her confinement during the ensuing fight and realizes her error in suspecting Gwineval of foul play. Gwineval overthrows the wizards, but is grievously wounded in the process. Hemlock recovers the Wand, and suddenly finds herself anointed as the new leader of the wizards.

But Falignus returns and discovers what has happened. He sees that Hemlock, now wielding the Wand, is too powerful for him to resist, but he reveals that he knows the location of another Wand, which he vows to use to raze the entire City.

Hemlock is able to deduce where the other wand is located and sets out alone to confront Falignus. In doing so, they both end up having to confront their differences in ideology as well as their blossoming passion for one another. In a see-saw battle, neither of them can bring themselves to slay the other, and in the end, Falignus is bested and left near death. Hemlock flees back to the City with both Wands as the land where Falignus fell is shorn from the City and lurches into another dimension.

Hemlock returns to the City and destroys both Wands, convinced that they concentrate too much power into the hands of the few, and then contemplates her uncertain future.

Chapter One

Hemlock stood on the shore of Hemisphere Lake in the shadow of the nearby Wizard Tower. A gentle breeze blew pleasantly through her long, blond hair, contrasting with the anger she felt. She watched as Gwineval stood behind a young sorcery student, the latter looking overmatched by his draping white initiate robe. The student was nervously attempting an incantation involving a subtle arm motion he had yet to master. Gwineval had slowed the lesson for this student; and the surrounding class, which numbered around twenty, was glancing toward the pair as they adapted to the unfamiliarity of the slower pace.

Hemlock smiled cruelly as Gwineval, who she knew was uncomfortable with any physical contact, grasped the arms of the young student, and attempted to guide him through the casting gestures. The student became even more nervous, looking distracted by Gwineval’s lizard features, and, Hemlock guessed, probably his lizard scent as well.

The casting reached its climax, and a set of small, colored wisps of light materialized in front of most of the students. But Gwineval and his pupil were startled by a loud pop, which resulted in a smoky emanation that surrounded them both, before quickly dissipating.

Gwineval frowned. But as the young student turned toward him, the wizard masked the frown with a tight, serpentine smile, and offered words of encouragement.

Hemlock chuckled despite her anger. This new order was a strain on Gwineval’s finicky sensibilities. He would never have agreed to become a magical instructor—and certainly not an instructor for non-wizards—prior to her adventure in the Wizard Tower. But the wizards had agreed to relinquish their reliance on the Oberon spice: the concentrated magical substance that they had been harvesting from the Witch Crags. The only way they could compensate for it as a source of magical power was to train more people to use natural magic.

But it was not just a strain on him. The thick stack of Wizard Guild ledgers and papers she held under her arm literally weighed her down, and she grew tired of waiting for Gwineval to finish so that she could discuss the reports with him.

She gestured to him, and he seemed pleased to have a pretense to excuse himself from the students. He quickly dismissed the class, and then approached Hemlock.

Gwineval, can you work on some of these for me?

Gwineval looked discomfited. No, I have to record the results of today’s class, and then I must attend to my research.

Hemlock felt her face flush red. It’s always something about your research! What about the Wizard Guild? Do you really want someone like me running things? I’m not even a wizard!

Hemlock, I acknowledge that your position here is unusual. But people have accepted you in this role as leader. If we try to change things now, then it could trigger a chain of chaotic events. We have to stabilize magic in the City first. We’ve had this conversation numerous times!

But how is your research going to fix the Oberon problem?

Hemlock, you have to trust me. When I was in the Witch Crags with the Wand of the Imperator, I had time to study it. The magic power that it held was different than anything I had ever encountered. Gwineval’s eyes became more intense. This new magic could change everything in the City. It is like an alternative to all of the magic that we’re familiar with. Instead of relying on sources of natural magic like we do now, we might be able to create our own new sources of magic.

Gwineval, I’ve seen that look in another’s eyes before. You remind me of Falignus when you talk like that.

The Seventh Circle wizards were corrupt, and they tried to use this Imperial magic to further their corruption. This will be different. And I feel like I’m getting close to a breakthrough.

Hemlock shook her head, and shifted the weight of the ledgers to her other arm. Fine, I’ll continue this charade for a while longer. But you had better prepare for the day when I tire of it all.

She stormed off toward her chambers. Gwineval called to her, but she ignored him.



Hemlock sat at her desk in the smallish room that had been allocated to her when she had first been taken prisoner in the Tower. She could have moved to a larger chamber befitting her status as appointed leader of the Wizard Guild, but she preferred to retain some contextual continuity with the turbulent days that had changed so much in her life—and in the lives of most inhabitants of the City.

It was midday, but the sky outside was now dark, and a gentle rain pitter-pattered on the small plate glass window before her, which gave her a view of the streets below.

Hemlock sighed as the stack of parchment before her regained her attention. The stack was composed of a number of letters—requests from around the City for extra magical aid. Now that the potions made from the Oberon spice were no longer in widespread use—per her policies—magic was becoming more scarce and more expensive.

I am so tired of all of this!

She lifted the stack of papers from the desk and held them in her trembling hands. She fantasized about scattering them all over the floor—or perhaps throwing her window open and hurling them out of it. But she calmed herself and placed the stack carefully back on her desk.

This is all just temporary.

A knock came at the door.

Come in.

Her guest was expected, so the unusual sound resulting from the actuation of small gears and pistons did not surprise her as it approached.

Merit, how are you?

I am fine, Miss Hemlock. I have the magical training reports from Gwineval.

Fine. What are his conclusions?

He thinks that we’ll need another year before we can train enough private magic users to compensate for the lack of potions.

Another year…

That’s not good, she continued, The Tanna Varrans want to leave the City as soon as possible. We can’t ask them to remain for that long.

I have an idea.

Hemlock turned and looked at the brass visage of the Gnome, which, while capable of portraying a limited range of emotion, did not reveal any signs of pride.

OK, go ahead.

Gwineval wants to keep supplying the potions to people, and you want people to return to the old ways as soon as possible. What about a compromise? What if we supply potions to the magic users that we are training, and allow them to cast stronger spells?

Hemlock considered the concept. Like most of the ideas that Merit provided, it was insightful and well thought out.

But the potions are an all-too-easy crutch for people—one that they need to be liberated from. Still, maybe this is a good compromise.

She lowered her head and exhaled forcefully. Will they be ready for the extra magic power? Will it be dangerous?

We could make it a part of their training. Miara thinks it’s a good idea.

What does Gwineval think?

I don’t know yet. I wanted to clear it with you first.

Hemlock was happy that Merit had confided in her before Gwineval. She had grown closer to the diminutive Gnome over the many months since things had changed so dramatically.

OK, Merit, please present the idea to Gwineval. If he approves, then I do also. Thank you—it’s a clever compromise.

Now Hemlock could see traces of a proud smile on Merit’s mechanical face.

OK, Miss Hemlock, he said.

The rain continued to fall as the two unlikely companions rested for a few moments in the silence.

Hemlock’s hands balled into fists in front of her. I’m restless, Merit. I’m not meant for this job.

Merit emitted some steam that sounded to Hemlock like a sigh.

You keep saying that, Miss Hemlock, but I think you are doing a good job. Gwineval is focused on his research again. I don’t know who else could do the job besides you and him.

Then maybe it’s time that he started doing more. I’m going to have to speak with him about it again.

He feels like he spends a lot of time with the magical training.

I appreciate that—but he’s a wizard and I’m not. I was made leader of the Guild when he was hurt. Now that he’s better, I think he needs to accept the job.

It’s not what he wants.

Neither do I.

Merit did not reply.

It’s time to force Gwineval’s hand.

Tored will be here to meet with us in a few days. Maybe I can join him in the Witch Crags for a while. Gwineval would be forced to take over then, she said.

Perhaps. Let’s just hope that he does. Jalis is making a case to be the next leader of the wizards.

Jalis was the leader of the Second Circle of magic, which specialized in the use of magic for public works and construction. His thinly concealed ambition was well-known to most in the Guild, but he had been tenacious enough to overcome his lack of subtlety and retain a leadership position—even during the recent tumultuous period of change.

Hemlock hissed as she spoke the name: Jalis. That man is more annoying than Samberlin. And I didn’t think that was possible. You don’t think that Gwineval would actually consider making Jalis the leader of the Guild, do you?

No, but sometimes Gwineval is very distracted by his work. What if Jalis arranged a vote on leadership in the Council while you were gone, and Gwineval didn’t attend for some reason?

We can’t let that happen. We need Miara to complete the new guild laws. I will have to check with her to see how they are coming. Probably slowly, like everything else when wizards are involved!

I do have some good news, Miss Hemlock.

Really? What?

They’ve located some dragon eggs. They were being kept in some kind of magical stasis. Apparently they will still hatch.

Hemlock stood up excitedly. That’s incredible news! Who knows about it?

Practically everyone by now, I suspect. Jalis says he discovered the eggs in the archives. He’s been talking about the discovery to anyone who’d listen this morning.

Hemlock slumped back into her chair. …and who isn’t holed up in their chamber reviewing endless stacks of paperwork.

Miss Hemlock, Jalis plans to keep the eggs and hatch them himself.

That doesn’t seem right to me.

Me neither.

Hemlock thought for a moment. What if we return them to the Mountains? Maybe Penelope the Griffin would know what to do with them. Would they need parents?

I don’t know, Merit said contemplatively.

I’ll see Gwineval about it, but I have no desire to see Jalis exploiting these eggs for his own gain. They should be hatched in the wild.

Merit nodded and then changed the subject. Your sister asked me to ask you if you want to dine with her tonight.

Hemlock straightened and broke into a smile. Mercuria? When?

She pulled me aside after her magical training. She said that you can join her around sundown in her apartment.

Against Hemlock’s wishes, Mercuria had moved back to the Warrens after being freed from her protective captivity in the Wizard Tower during Hemlock’s confrontation with Falignus. Despite Mercuria’s affection for the adopted Elite family that Falignus had provided for her, she had ultimately decided to go back to her old life. Hemlock didn’t like her being exposed to the dangers of the Warrens, but felt powerless to stop her sister without causing more damage to what Hemlock now considered to be a fragile and strained relationship.

This could be a step forward for us.

Thank you, Merit. That final piece of news does brighten my spirits. And I’m in the mood for some of Mercuria’s venison.

You’re welcome, Miss Hemlock. I will be going now. I will see you soon, said Merit.

Goodbye, Merit.

Merit showed himself out, leaving Hemlock alone again with the stack of papers. She clenched her jaw, and started in on them. It was saddening work to read accounts of people struggling to come to grips with a lack of magic across the City. Hemlock knew that some of the reports were likely fraudulent, but that barely blunted her feeling of responsibility for what these people were going through.

For another year? But Merit’s potion idea should help. How much, though?

As she neared the end of the reports, she began to feel drowsy. It was early afternoon, so she decided that she had time to lay down for a nap before her dinner plans.

As she eased into the comfort of her bed, she thought about Mercuria and the venison dinner that she would soon enjoy.

Sleep came quickly, and dreams soon followed. They were troubling, though.

She dreamt of her night of passion with Falignus. She was there with him in his bed, after the night that they had attended a ball. Though she re-experienced some of the pleasure she had enjoyed that night, she felt distracted.

Becoming somewhat lucid, she wondered to herself: This dream again! Why do I keep dreaming about this? And what is that light that I always see?

She looked down at Falignus. His eyes were closed as his hands caressed her. She began to forget about her distraction, but then…

There it is again!

A dazzling light assaulted her eyes as she moved. It was gone and then returned as she rose with the rhythm of their movements.

The dream began to fade, as it always did. But this time, she noticed something.

The light was coming from the night stand!

The character of her dream shifted. The scene with Falignus was gone. She was adrift in a sea of stars, floating in the void that separated them. A force was calling out to her and to anyone who would listen. She became conscious of other spirits. Some of them answered the call, some did not.

She became aware that it was a person calling to her, and she felt a compelling affinity with whoever it was.

She acquiesced to the attractive force of the call, and it pulled her with an alarming speed, causing the stars around her to streak as she sped between them.

She reached a world, and then a continent and then a country. Soon she descended into a mountainous area that was rich in plant life. Her consciousness began to merge with the Other that she aided.

She became dimly aware of a wide circle of dancers, their limbs wrenching back and forth almost spasmodically, as if they were trying to evoke something vicious and violent. She saw faces gripped in furious exertion—wide faces with dark skin.

She sensed that she was a part of this dance.

It was a dance of desperation, of anger… of exorcism.

A wide and dark structure loomed between the dancers. It was made of rough stone, which jutted out and recessed inwards in a natural and irregular fashion. But the color of the rock was incongruent with the rest of the surroundings.

The dance took place on a plateau that extended from the side of a vast cliff face. The plateau was reached by a series of treacherous paths that led up from the floor of a long, sinuous canyon. The canyon stretched from horizon to horizon. The climate was temperate: lush foliage and great, broad-leafed trees dominated the perimeter of the plateau. Nothing grew near the dark stone.

Hemlock sensed the thoughts of the Other, as the latter danced.

We should have destroyed this tower long ago. Now something has taken refuge in it and will not come out. It slays our people and threatens our canyon.

Hemlock again sensed the force of the magic of the dance. It was powerful magic, and it was exerting a tremendous energy of expulsion toward whatever was in the tower.

As the dance continued, Hemlock noticed that the Other kept looking at a shadowy recess on one side of the vertical surface of the dark stone.

It appeared to be a doorway.

The next time that Hemlock saw the doorway, a heavy wooden door thrust open from it.

She saw a cloaked figure emerging fitfully, but then the eyes of the Other were drawn away from the spectacle by the path of her violent dance, which had not paused and had not changed in intensity, despite the apparent change in circumstances.

Hemlock realized that she was somehow still able to sense the emergence of the cloaked figure, whose brown hooded garment completely obscured all features from view.

Then the figure pulled back its hood, revealing male features and eyes that shone with a brilliant yellow light—as if they were small suns somehow captured in his head. He wore a bold tricorne hat that barely contained beautiful, curly, blond locks of hair. The cloak opened to reveal blue raiment beneath, in the form of a collared waist cost, with a dark vest, and dark brown knee-length pants, which were met at the knee by soiled, white hose that culminated in heavy leather shoes with prominent gold buckles.

Hemlock had never seen anyone dressed like this, except for actors in her City when they put on dramas set in time of the Imperator. But those costumes were far less elaborate than these clothes. Hemlock was impressed by the man’s stately appearance, even as she beheld him in a state of obvious distress as he was being drawn, inexorably, from the interior of the black stone tower.

The dance continued, and the Other seemed to be more determined than ever to continue, though Hemlock sensed that the dance would likely end in the man’s death.

You will stop this barbarous magic immediately! This is not a legal assembly! Ignorance of the law is not an excuse! cried the man in a shrill voice that projected easily over the plateau and the chanting clamor of the dance.

The Other did not respond.

"It is true that I have taken some