Renegade Wizards Read Online Free

the quickest. She backhanded Virgil, sending him to the floor. The room fell silent save for the rustle of fabric as more rose to their feet to see what was happening.
    “Sit! Sit down!” the herald cried. His voice thundered across the hall and carried the hint of magic to its strength.
    Everyone complied, sitting back down as the two hunters lifted a staggered Virgil to his feet.
    “Huntress Dumas,” Astathan said in a clear and steady voice. “We appreciate your service to High Sorcery, but you will refrain from striking the boy.”
    Dumas blushed and bowed her head quickly. “Forgive me,” she said.
    “The boy has a right to speak,” Astathan said, addressing everyone. “Otherwise, we serve justice in ignorance, and I cannot abide ignorance. Now, boy, when have we lied to you? And how does that justify your betrayal?”
    Tythonnia suddenly felt a warm hand over hers. Amma Batros was touching her lightly and staring at her in concern. Amma’s gaze was questioning, and it took Tythonnia a moment to realize she was shaking. Tythonnia nodded that she was fine and willed herself to calm down, for the adrenaline to seep away.
    Although Virgil spoke through his tears, his voice was too large for the chamber, strong in its dedication to be heard and matured, somehow. His posture changed as well, suddenly more in command of himself than she believed someone so young could muster. “You betrayed us,” he reiterated, and it was then that Tythonnia realized the words had a rehearsedquality to them. She glanced at Amma Batros and found her mentor studying the captive in turn.
    “You decide who learns magic, and you cripple us in teaching it,” Virgil continued. “Your faith serves the bureaucracy of the three moons. You have become a religion of your own making, a failed experiment!”
    Astathan’s eyes narrowed and he exchanged glances with the other two masters. They sensed something amiss. The black-robed Reginald Diremore nodded and casually strode up from his seat. He grabbed Virgil by the front of his jerkin and pulled him to within inches of his face.
    “Youngling,” Reginald said, “I would have your words in your
own
tongue!”
    “It’s a glamour of some sort,” Amma whispered to Tythonnia.
    Tythonnia was about to ask what she meant when Reginald hissed out a spell. His words were like an oily snake, and his fingers contorted and knotted into hand gestures. The hairs on Tythonnia’s neck prickled, and a flash of light ebbed on the tips of Reginald’s fingers. Virgil was somehow weaker for the spell. He stumbled back and was pushed forward again by the blond-haired hunter. He looked around, his mouth agape and his expression dumbfounded. The certainty was gone from his posture, his shoulders weighted by fear and his head darting. A mere youth once more, scared with the courage brutally ripped from him. He didn’t act like the same person speaking a moment earlier.
    “Let’s see you speak rhetoric now, mouthpiece,” Reginald said. With a triumphant smirk, he returned to his chair and sat back down.
    “We give you the opportunity to speak your mind, boy,” Astathan said as he shook his head, “and instead you allow another to speak through you. Since you have nothing of your own to say in your defense, answer me this: Who do you serve? Who just acted through you?”
    Virgil appeared panicked. He was adrift and forced to speak with his own timid voice. “Berthal,” he said finally, almost shrinking at the admission. “I serve the one true master, Berthal. And I’d gladly ask him to speak for me again!”

    Tythonnia, the black-robed woman who had been staring at her, and an older white-robed wizard were asked to wait outside after Virgil’s admission. The black-robed woman was beautiful with alabaster skin and black, braided hair. There was a rough air about her, however, in the way she sat and watched everyone. She was no woman of society nor one concerned with any specific social graces.
    The