The Hudol Chronicles Prologue

October 17th, 2002

It was a night no one would forget. All across the United Kingdom, battles of magic raged. This was the final stand, the last great battle of these dark times. The United Kingdom Senate of Sorcery had dispatched all their forces to combat the largest insurgence of Dark Sorcerers that the country had ever seen. The League of International Sorcery had sealed the country, they had had to. Dark Sorcerers had been pouring in from across the globe to aid their fellows. At this moment, the United Kingdom had been sealed inside a Web Dome of Protection, whilst the Senates of other countries attempted to hold back the forces of darkness from leaving their borders.

Christopher Hudol landed in Hyde Park, the only location in London that was currently not in ruins or burning. He stood still, catching his breath in the cold autumn air. The sky above London was lit with a red glow, as the city burned from Dark Magic. It had taken him three weeks, but he was finally going to get his revenge. His closed his eyes and focused, someone was standing 50 meters away behind a tree. He opened his eyes and called, “I know it’s you, you might as well go back to the school, they need you more tonight than I do...”

A tall and thin man with pale skin stepped out from behind the tree. He was wearing a tweed suit that appeared to have become torn in battle, along with his purple cloak.

“The school is safe, I’m perfectly adept at defensive magic, none of His followers will be able to attack. Anyway, Professor Magnold and the rest of my staff are more than capable at securing the school should they need to. Caleb and Oliver are also tucked up in their beds and are being watched over by their Discipline Heads. What of the other two?” he added.

“At home with mother and father. Father called in some Elvish reinforcement from Althane to guard the house, and mother called up the boys’ Fairy Godmothers to guard them.” Christopher paused. “I have to stop him, Charles. He can’t get away with this. He’s gone too far. Abigail didn’t deserve this… my wife deserved to live! And he took her from me!” He turned to look at his old friend. Charles could see the rage in his friend’s face. It was unsettling, and Charles could feel that rage boiling inside him too. He closed his eyes and allowed himself peace. Tonight was not the night to lose control of his power.

“Christopher,” he said calmly, “You must not let this anger control your actions. He’ll use it to his advantage. He knows how to get under your skin, he always has. The boys have lost their mother. Don’t let them lose their father.”

Charles gulped and breathed away his anger. Christopher had to admit, Charles was right when it came to emotions, "Of course he is, he’s an empath.’ thought Christopher. He chuckled to himself before readdressing his friend. “I assume you know what I was about to do?”

Charles smiled. “You were about to use the summoning spell that you and I invented in our First year at school. An interesting choice, but I assume you’re hoping to rely on your brother being confused upon landing. After all, you are forcing his molecules to transfer from an unknown location, the mere sensation would...”

“Allow me enough time to finish this. I need you to leave. I assume you also know what I plan on doing?” Charles's face fell. He stared a Christopher for a second before sighing and looking down at his feet. He had been hoping that Christopher would not have been planning this. “It is the only way to stop this madness. How many more must die because of my brother’s insanity? I have to do this, and I have to do it alone!” He turned his back and began making a string of strange hand gestures and movements. He only had one shot at this.

A blinding flash illuminated the area, as a small well-dressed man in black robes appeared out of thin air. He had short dark brown hair and a small moustache. He turned on the spot a few time, unsure of how he had got here. Christopher had been performing a new sequence of gestures and movements since the flash, his spell was nearly charged. He felt the energy build and crackle in every atom of his existence, his body began to glow, he knew the time was now. He brought his hands together above his head and swung them down in front of him. A white flame blasted from his body towards its intended target. It evaporated an inch in front of the target. The man looked around in shock, before spotting Charles and then a dark smile grew across his face.

Christopher looked at Charles in horror. “What have you done? He killed her! He deserved to die!”

“But not by your hand Christopher,” replied Charles. Charles felt on fire, his spell was the only spell known to stop Christopher’s, but it required syphoning the energy into a living vessel. He collapsed on all fours to the ground, clutching at his chest in agony.

The man clapped with glee. He turned his gaze to his brother. Thomas Hudol realised the meaning of his summoning. “So… I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally driven you to murder. Never thought you had it in you. Too bad Birchwood decided to save your soul. Not that it’ll do much good. Because I’ll be only too happy to reunite you with that vermin you called your wife. Is that what this is about? Because you’re pet mortal died?”

He raised his hands and made strange movements with his fingers. Suddenly, large roots burst from the ground, and wrapped themselves around Christopher, binding him in place. Thomas’s eyes began to flame. He laughed as flames began to spread along the roots. His brother would die by fire, just like their fellow sorcerers of old. But all was not lost. The flames began to dance to another’s tune, the roots released and snaked their way over to Thomas, he gazed in shock. His brother had disappeared. The roots bound him just as they had Christopher. The flames abandoned the roots and soared into the air. High above, Christopher Hudol was floating in the air, as if hung on invisible wires. The flames swirled around in a circle behind him.

“Did you forget I mastered magic more advanced than you ever learned?” he called, smiling at his brother. The game was nearly over.

“So go on then!” screamed Thomas in panic. “Kill me! If that’s why you’re here! Kill me!”

Christopher looked at him puzzled. “No, Thomas. Your demise is not mine to give. I can, however, stop this war.” The two men on the ground stared in disbelief as Christopher raised his arms to the heavens, and three pairs of arms grew on him. Each pair of arms began to move as if performing some strange dance. In truth, each hand was casting a different spell, with Christopher concentrating on all eight at once.

No one but those three truly knows what happened next. However, Christopher refused ever to talk about with anyone, even when asked to recount the tale as his brother's trial before the League. Charles himself vowed never to speak of the battle either, if Christopher refused to talk about it. Then Charles decided to keep his friend’s pain private, and he knew to never mention those events to Christopher. And as for Thomas Hudol. Well, let us just say that since that day he was in no fit state to talk to anyone. After his defeat, he shutdown. He stopped talking and moving, never drinking or eating. No expert at The Glacier could give an explanation for his behaviour. All they could suggest was that he’d have been better off dead, for, as they put it, it was as if his mind had left him entirely.