By:
Heidi L. Lane
January 1897
Phillip tried not to feel intimidated as he walked down the long, high-arching corridors of the Crystal Palace. It wasn’t every day that any mage was called to face the members of the Tribunal of Good Mages, let alone a mere warlock. Between their need for a familiar and their extreme aversion to salt, warlocks were considered the lowliest of mages. Spotting Merlin waiting by the doorway to the Council Chamber, Phillip tried to quicken his pace without looking like he was scurrying – a difficult task for someone of his small stature.
“Master Merlin,” he
greeted breathlessly.
“Master Phillip,” the
much older mage said as he ushered the small man into the room.
“Well, it’s about
time,” fumed Master Conjuror Ulliam.
“Ulliam, you know that
the missive was sent early just this morning,” Lord Elder Blaize
admonished. “Master Phillip came as
quickly as he could, I’m sure.” He
turned towards the little warlock, who stood panting in the doorway. “Phillip, as you know, I plan on retiring at
the end of this term as Lord Elder.”
Phillip nodded and
looked around nervously as Merlin regain his seat at the large Tribunal
table. “Aye, m’Lord. But – What has this to do with me? I’m but a –”
“You’d do well not to
question your elders and betters, Warlock,” Master Ulliam thundered. Phillip winced and looked down, ready to
apologize.
“Ulliam, is that any
way to speak to a prospective member of this Tribunal?” Merlin asked
slyly. Phillip looked up wide-eyed and
shook his head.
“Yes, Phillip,” Lord
Elder Blaize said, looking calmly at him, “As the sorcerer on the Tribunal, I
am also the leader of the warlocks ‘mongst the good mages. I’d like you to run for my position when I
retire.”
“Me?” Phillip
squeaked. He looked down and shook his
head, “The sorcerers and – and the wizards would never –”
“They’ll vote for you
if I back you, Phillip,” Merlin assured him.
Ulliam glared over at the magician.
“We have information
considering who else will run, Phillip.
It’s Master Darren,” Phillip looked up, shocked. Nodding, Blaize said. “He’s only good in the most basic
definition, Phillip. He doesn’t use his
magic to do harm, but he’s not the kind of person we want on this Tribunal.”
“Surely the others
would never elect him; they know what he’s like. He – He’d start the persecutions again,” Phillip said worriedly,
“No warlock would be safe, even the white ones.”
“Which is why we want
you to run, Phillip,” Merlin stated earnestly.
“Given an alternative to Darren, they’ll vote for you.”
“I refuse to be a
party to this,” Ulliam said rising.
“I’ll not serve on the Tribunal with a mere warlock,” he continued
storming past the smaller mage and out of the chamber.
“Well, we figured
something like that would happen,” Merlin sighed. “What’s it to be, Master Teacher Phillip Long-blade. Will you run or will you allow Master Darren
to run, win and begin the persecutions again?”
Phillip looked down
and chewed on his lip, trying to find a way out of this situation. Finding none, he looked up and steeling
himself said, “I’ll run.” He swallowed
nervously, hoping he’d made the right decision.
Continued…