Prologue to Chaos: Dawn of Chaos, #1

DAWN OF CHAOS, BOOK 1

Prologue to Chaos

Chapter 1

Rogue Wizard

The Ninth of Winterfall, in the Year 1642 of the Taming

Gerard Killraven stepped through the door from the Wizard’s Tower and into the Great Hall. It was the height of the Yule season in the Kingdom of Carlissa, and the walls and arches of the royal palace were strung with magical lights and decked with garlands of mistletoe and holly. The cheery ambiance provided a stark contrast to his sense of dread at the summons that had brought him down from his research.

He saw his brother Aron closing the door to the conference room at the far end of the hall. Aron waved, and then strode purposefully to meet him. Right in character, Gerard reflected. Everything his brother did was laced with a sense of purpose, from the way he fought — the elder prince was renowned as one of Carlissa’s finest fencers — to the way he moved and spoke.

The expression he wore now, though, was grim. Whatever was happening, it was serious.

I came down as soon as I got the message from Grandfather, Gerard said. They met in the center of the hall and briefly clasped arms, a gesture of greeting and salute that had become habitual between the two princes.

He glanced over Aron’s shoulder at the conference room door. It was locked and guarded by a dozen men at arms.

It doesn’t take a diviner to tell there’s a crisis brewing, he added. What’s going on?

Aron put a hand on his shoulder and gently steered him toward the gate to the courtyard. Not here, he said.

Gerard grinned at the sound. The rich baritone of his brother’s voice had become one of the elder prince’s signature features. It never failed to instill him with reassurance.

Let’s take a walk outside and I’ll fill you in. Father’s ordered the Great Hall to be cleared, so it’s best if we don’t stay here, anyway.

Gerard nodded and fell into step beside him. He knew better than to ask questions. Despite the many differences between them — Aron was a warrior and a statesman, Gerard a wizard and scholar — they shared an uncanny intuition for each other’s thoughts and moods. He waited patiently until they were well outside, walking along the south parapet of the courtyard, and far from where prying ears could overhear.

There’s been another incident with the Inquisition, Aron said at last.

Gerard sighed. I should have guessed. Who is it this time?

There have been three arrests so far. All of them are instructors in the Grand Academy’s Department of Society and Culture.

Hardin is getting out of control. How much longer is Father going to allow this to continue?

There’s more to it than that, Gerard. This one’s serious. So serious, in fact, that the high priest is supervising it personally.

They came to a stop by a corner of the parapet. The face of Mount Cascade towered above the palace behind them, looming like a great wall over the Carlissan capital of Lannamon. The last rays of the westering sun touched the mountain's massive shoulder as they shone into the valley, bathing the city below in a soft, golden light.

Gerard turned to look carefully at his brother. You studied in that department during your time at the academy, he said. Did you know the instructors who were taken?

Aron nodded. All of them. That’s why you saw me coming out of the conference room. I was in there for almost half an hour. Father and Grandfather were grilling me for everything I could tell them. What were they like, what did they teach, what ideas did they advocate, and so on.

That’s a lot of trouble to go through for a handful of academics. I take it there’s another shoe to the story? One that you haven’t let drop yet?

Aron smiled. A rock giant’s boot. All the instructors arrested were close colleagues of a highly placed academy fellow. The Church is bringing charges of blasphemy and heresy against the entire group.

So this fellow is someone important, Gerard mused. Someone Hardin needs to tread cautiously with. Probably someone you studied under …

His eyes went wide as he made the connection.

Oh, Light, he breathed. Not Lord Zomoran of Westreach?

Aron nodded. Zomoran’s a member of the High Council, so Hardin didn’t dare try to arrest him as well.

He paused when Gerard looked at him quizzically. The legal tradition allowing the Church to prosecute heresy cases doesn’t extend to members of the civil government, he explained. It would have been taken as an attack on the Crown.

Gerard nodded. Of course. Knowing the high priest, though, he’s not going to just leave it at that.

Aron grimaced. "No, he’s not. Even as the warrior-priests arrested his alleged conspirators, Hardin was bringing his accusation directly to the academy regents. They met today, and he presented a detailed case against Zomoran for ‘crimes against the Covenant.’

And they voted to expel him, Gerard. The entire board. The vote was unanimous.

Gerard gasped. Even Grandfather?

Aron cocked his head back toward the now heavily guarded palace.

Hence, the crisis atmosphere. The case must have been rock solid. Grandfather would never have gone along with it otherwise.

He wasn’t actually preaching heresy, though, was he? Gerard asked. His voice was incredulous. From a fellow’s chair, and protected by a seat on the High Council? With no one noticing until the high priest accused him?

Aron shrugged. Grandfather didn’t share the details. It wasn’t hard to work out the gist of the case, though, from his questions about Zomoran’s lectures and research. What’s frightening is that it actually sounds plausible. He and his group were known for some pretty radical ideas.

Radical ideas? Like what?

"Well, Zomoran’s the academy’s leading demonology scholar. No one knows more about those cultures that still practice the demonic religions than he does. His Essays on Hellman Society were full of weird insights about how elements of their social structure could be adapted to our own. That’s just an example, but you get the idea. I had always dismissed them as impractical academic speculation. But some of the other students seemed quite taken by them."

Gerard pursed his lips. You think he may actually be a closet demon worshipper?

Aron shrugged. I honestly don’t know. Based on what I know of him, I can see it either way.

Gerard raised an eyebrow. Care to elaborate?

Well, he’s not the most personable instructor I’ve ever had, if that counts for anything. He’s arrogant and self-important, in that extreme kind of way that only the truly brilliant and powerful can get away with. And Light help you if you dared try to disagree with him. His invective could be brutal. If you weren’t on his level — and almost no one ever was — he’d humiliate you without a second thought.

Gerard laughed. Yes, I know what you mean.

Aron looked surprised. That sounds like the voice of experience, he ventured.

The young wizard nodded. "He’s not just a cultural scholar. He’s