Oblivion The Wizard's Tower Novels & Stories

“Which one?” “You murdered the wizard I gave you. Sherlock.” Lucian shrugged like he was tossing aside a scrap of meat. “He was no longer of use to me. He got a little too clever for his own good.” I clenched my jaw but kept my face straight. “He already showed me the hideout of the other wizards,” Lucian added casually. My eyes twitched. “He did?” He nodded. “He did. They’re at the Sacred Mountain. I paid them a visit. Managed to convince them to join my side.”

The warriors caught between worlds were simply erased. Gone. "Two down," Caspian said, panting. Blood dripped from his muzzle. "One to go." The west tower. We were all exhausted. Bleeding. Running on fumes and desperation. But we ran anyway. The west tower portal was the worst. Someone had carved symbols directly into the tower's foundation. The portal was anchored to the structure itself. And maintaining it, standing calmly while his creatures wreaked havoc-- Lord Draven. "Of course it's you," I said.

was repeated over and over. Finally the erstwhile heroes found the grand tomb, whose bronze doors they hammered open. The three mighty heroes descended into an octagonal room. Shimmering before them was a lady silhouetted in white, cold as the winter’s morn. Her black eyes absorbed them. Her idol was placed on the board. “Attack,” roared Louis. “Repelled,” replied the Game Master. “Dispel,” spoke Kathy. “Absorbed,” replied the Game Master. Crixen Runeburner racked his brains. Which wizard trick would destroy the evil? Every attack was harmlessly passing through the enemy and she did not retaliate. Was this not the beast they sought? No? No!

I bit back a wave of sadness, forcing myself to focus on what was going on now. The sigils and circle appeared in the air, casting a rose-tinted glow over the clearing. Hunter watched with rapt attention, John and Avery at his side. I could feel Benji's power travel away from us and connect with a destination as the portal opened to a small stone courtyard. A scattering of monks in cream and brown robes stood stunned, staring at us. The temple Tamner had told us about rose high behind them, carved directly into the cliffs of the mountain. Trees and vines of the jungle looked as if they were trying to reclaim the lost ground civilization had taken from them.

said Maurice patiently. The man’s eyes narrowed like he was trying to decipher Maurice’s words. “No, no, no. Not wizard. Wiz Ard. That was my master’s name. He built this tower. Wiz Ard’s Tower.” “And was he a wizard?” I asked, suspecting I was dealing with an idiot. I recognised the signs from experience. Lots and lots of experience.

Valerie saw how the wizard struggled to break free of the chain while his wife and his sister were being taken away and so he shouted and recited the spell that he had always warned Valerie against; the ultimate spell of doom. Valerie watched as everyone faded into Oblivion from the spell which had taken effect almost immediately it was casted by the wizard. The wizard broke free of his chains and hurriedly rushed to get his sister and his wife together. While he was checking on them, he turned and looked in the direction of Valerie. "Who are you?" Valerie gasped. She couldn't believe it! the Wizard was seeing her "Uhmm I am Valerie. Don't you remember me?" The wizard looked at her in a bizz

"Why kidnap me from my very bed? What have I done to you to warrant this kind of treatment?" "You are being hunted by Welkins. Welkins are dwellers of a distant Dimension who're supposed to pass through the environs of the Earth, quietly and without incident. They failed to do so when the Blitzkrieg happened. That is the explosion of the castle's cloak." "Cloak?" she asked. "It is what makes the castle invisible," Gustavan said. He was merely reciting what the General had informed him. Julia scoffed. "Oh, I doubt that."

It was thick, huge and it gave him headache as he read more and more about their guy – Ahriman or Théoden or whatever hell he was called. “The well of wisdom – or what they call it, it refuses them humans the true vision to look beyond the shadows; the tales of darkness. Myth, they call, sing and talk, but none believes the truth of the myth. Some sees, but denies. He is real, real as the nightmares. Twice the century the sorcerer lives, one in his sleep, and the second in awakening, in battles.” Art finished the opening of the book.