Bloodwalk (The Wizards) by James Davis

Author:James Davis [Davis, James]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786964215
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

The inner chamber of the Hidden Circle represented the pinnacle of the history of the order since its founding in Brookhollow. It was lit by several waist-high columns. On top of each, a pool of glowing water shimmered like quicksilver. The floors were of rift marble, an especially hard stone whose mixture of swirling and geometric patterns was unique to the dwarf realm from which it had come.

In the center of the circular room lay a pool of placid water, a divining pool drained and filled daily by the savants. Most were aware that the pool was filled only as a formality, as it had not been used in years. Unlike her predecessors, Sameska did not approve of anyone displaying their powers in her presence, despite the Council of the Hidden Circle’s long-held traditions.

The whole of the room was topped in a dome, a smaller version of that in the primary sanctuary. Its walls were carved with thousands of concentric circular patterns like ripples in a rainstorm. Their similarity to the unceasing storms outside was not lost on anyone in attendance.

Sameska sat in the polished oak chair at the head of the circle and glowered disapprovingly at her lessers. The twenty remaining oracles sat before their leader, avoiding her stare and deciding how best to continue their controversial inquiry into the fate of the other towns along the Qurth’s border. In light of the edict against Brookhollow’s resistance, none knew how to suggest that perhaps they could request aid from outside allies.

Sameska had all but accused them of blasphemy.

One young woman finally spoke, staring at her hands and attempting to resolve the situation calmly.

“We do not doubt you, High Oracle, or the words of Savras …”

“Questions of this nature are the very soul of doubt, are they not?”

The high oracle’s voice had risen. Her eyes darted from one young woman to the next, seeking dissidence among them, alert to whispers and accusing eyes. Sameska had slept only fitfully since the evening of her chilling prophecy. Her nightmares had become amplified by her own fears. Her adamancy to stay the course, though, had been bolstered. There was no other way, in her mind, no doubt whatsoever—none that she might share with these rivals, in any case.

These girls are little better than Dreslya in hiding their obvious contempt and jealousy, she thought. What do they know of prophecy? Of true divination?

She stared through the door as if it were transparent, knowing that the statue still stood, stained with blood and tainted by death. She imagined its single eye upon her, the eye of Savras, dimmed in red and unblinking.

“Forgive us, High Oracle,” another said, “we are afraid and our own spells have shown us nothing. Anything within the borders of the forest is invisible to us. We seek your sight and wisdom in these trying times, nothing more.”

All stared at Sameska’s back nervously. She had turned around completely in her chair, staring at the closed doors while wringing her hands and mumbling incoherently.

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