Awaken Online- Flame

by Travis Bagwell

  And sitting before those windows was an ornate throne forged entirely of gold, the Emir perched upon its surface. The older man wore a velvet robe, and the wrinkled fingers of his right hand curled around the ornate, golden staff that lay against his armrest.

  Abbad ushered Finn and his companions inside.

  They were out of place among the luxury of the throne room, their armor singed, torn, and burned. Their skin covered in a mixture of sweat and dirt. They looked ravaged and worn down by their adventure. Yet despite the fatigue that pulled at their shoulders and the pain they had endured, their eyes scanned the room clinically – marking exits, the number of guards, and then pausing to wonder what threat this single old man might pose.

  Besides the obvious, of course. A snap of his gnarled fingers could send an army and the combined might of the guilds down upon them.

  The librarian entered behind them, and the group approached the throne. The doors swung closed behind them, and with a tilt of his head, Finn saw a column of green energy settle on the other side of the entrance. It seemed they had been locked inside.

  That ominous feeling in his stomach – unhelped by Abbad’s puzzling conversation – grew heavier with each step.

  Finn’s attention skimmed to the Emir. In his sight, the old man glowed with a multi-colored light that rippled across his body and clustered densely in six points along his limbs. His affinities were in rough parity, much like the fighters, likely indicating that the older man had no spellcasting talent. And yet… the energy felt wrong somehow, although he couldn’t quite place why it seemed off.

  Abbad swept into a bow as they neared the Emir, and the others followed suit.

  “Greetings,” the old regent offered, thumping the ground with his staff. “And congratulations! It appears that the Mage Guild champion has risen above the rest.”

  The Emir leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowing as he observed Finn’s bandage-covered eyes. “Ahh, what happened? It seems you must have suffered a grievous injury.”

  “It’s nothing, a minor sacrifice to recover the relic,” Finn answered simply. He made sure to keep his head bowed and tilted to the side, not wanting to give away the precision of his sight. Better that the Emir think him blind for now.

  “Indeed, it seems you have paid a heavy price,” the Emir observed, sympathy shining in his eyes. “I also note that the other champions have not returned. I assume they have suffered an even more cruel fate?”

  “We believe they perished in the pit,” Finn answered simply, keeping to the script they had developed on the ride back to Lahab. Julia and Kyyle stood rigid beside him, their expressions giving away nothing.

  “Ahh, I see. I see,” the Emir murmured.

  The aging regent leaned forward, a subtle gleam in his eye. “Despite the costs of the competition, may I assume you were successful in your quest? Did you manage to recover the relic?”

  Finn stifled a grimace. He dug into his pack, and his fingers soon curled around the gem. “We have, my Emir,” he replied with a bow of his head, keeping his attention on the regent.

  There was something about the man’s mana that was still bothering him, a thought lingering at the edges of his mind that stubbornly refused to come into focus.

  What is it? Why does it feel so out of place?

  Maybe Abbad’s strange conversation had put him on edge, and he was reading into it. Or maybe he was just looking for trouble where none existed.

  Finn pulled the gem from his bag, the crystal shining with a bright-orange light in his palm. To Finn’s sight, it shone like a small sun, the energy almost blinding, and he had to force himself not to squint. The Emir nearly fell from his perch atop the throne as the gem came into view, his eyes widening and his hand clutching tighter at his staff.

  With a deep breath, the Emir shifted on the throne and stiffly pulled himself to his feet, shambling toward Finn and his companions with steady yet pain-filled steps.

  Finn’s attention shifted to the staff in the Emir’s hand. As the regent neared, it began to glow softly – a combination of orange and red that grew brighter with each shuffling step. Now that was odd. It almost looked like the Emir was casting a fire spell, but that was impossible with the way the multi-colored energy superimposed his limbs. Finn had also seen no words spill from his lips, and the fingers of his free hand hadn’t moved.

  Not a spell, but then what’s going on? Finn wondered.

  As the Emir neared, he reached out and touched the gem. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, lifting it gently from Finn’s palm. He cradled it in his wrinkled hand like a fragile egg. “I thought I would never see this day…” he said, staring at the crystal in rapt fascination.

  “It’s our pleasure to serve, my Emir,” Finn said quietly.

  The old man’s eyes snapped up to Finn as though remembering that he was still standing there. “Indeed. I’m impressed that you succeeded where so many have failed. I have sent dozens to reclaim this gem, soldiers and adventurers and guildsmen alike. All of them failed.

  “Yet you,” he continued, gesturing at Finn with the strange staff, “you alone were victorious.”

  “I wasn’t alone. I had help. My companions share in the victory,” Finn answered automatically. That uneasy feeling in his stomach churned and flipped as the Emir clutched the gem in his hand. As the crystal neared the staff, the instrument glowed even brighter in Finn’s enhanced sight.

  A dismissive wave from the Emir. “Such humility. I remember that now – from our brief game of stones.” A moment of hesitation, the ruler’s brow furrowing in thought. “Although, that trait must have served you well, perhaps offering the insight to identify your own weaknesses and the strength to overcome them? As I have always said, fear is the death of passion. The true test of a man is his willingness to stare into the void within his own heart.”

  Finn’s eyes widened at those words, and time seemed to slow.

  His thoughts raced. He had heard that phrase repeated before – several times. Or rather, he’d seen it. Images and scenes flashed through his mind’s eye in an instant.

  An ailing tyrant…

  A woman with her mana being extracted by force, the Purge…

  A destroyed temple to the Seer, an act of revenge…

  A sealed vault, a lock that could only be opened with the help of the Goddess…

  A prophecy of a man wreathed in fire, a prophet of the flame…

  A journal inscribed with lilting, flowing text…

  A relic, two halves of a whole…

  A fleeting image of glowing eyes, spiraling in a rainbow of colors…

  The pieces began to slide into place. As each image and fact locked together, it led to another revelation – a domino of information cascading through his mind.

  And it all resulted in a final, inevitable conclusion.

  The answer was staring him in the face. The Emir’s mana looked like the multi-hued energy of a fighter or non-caster, yet Finn could see now what was so unusual about it. It didn’t move. Didn’t fluctuate in the slightest. It was like a painting hung across his body, the energy standing still and undisturbed. In contrast, Finn could see Kyyle’s mana undulating with each passing second. It was impossible. Improbable.

  It was one more piece of proof.

  There was only one man who would need to mask his own mana…

  “Bilel,” Finn murmured as the world lurched back into motion.

  The Emir’s eyes snapped to his, widening ever so slowly.

  That was all the confirmation he needed. Finn’s fingers were already moving… attempting to cast… his throat trying to yell a warning. Yet he was too late – far too late.

  The Emir’s hand blurred, and air mana flashed. Finn found himself bound in place, his limbs no longer responsive. Ropes of air mana were wrapping around his body and winding around his throat. He could see Julia and Kyyle locked in place beside him, their arms and legs straining against the bands of yellow energy that were coiled around th
em.

  “What the fuck is—?” Julia grunted and was abruptly cut off as a yellow gag settled across her lips. Kyyle strained against his own gag, his eyes wide.

  Finn turned his attention back to the Emir – to Bilel. The mage’s eyes now swirled in a rainbow of colors. “How is this possible? How do you know my true name?” he hissed, staring intently at Finn and his expression flickering through a range of emotions in an instant.

  A grimace finally settled across Bilel’s face. “There can only be one answer…” he whispered to himself.

  His fingers twitched, and Finn’s bag rocketed through the air toward him. It hovered before the mage, drifting upside down, and its contents spilling out – suspended in the air.

  Then he saw it – the journal, floating among the other items.

  Bilel noticed it too. With another flick of his wrist, the contents of Finn’s pack surged back into the bag, and the leather sack dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Then the journal floated in front of the mage’s glowing, multi-colored eyes.

  A twisted, furious expression warped his face. “How did you get this?” Then, more loudly. “How did you get this?” His eyes were focused on Finn’s face. With a flash of air mana, the Emir teleported forward, hovering only inches away. “Tell me now.”

  “I… I found it in the Mage Guild library,” Finn lied, finding it difficult to speak with the way the bands of air mana twisted tightly around him.

  “The library?” the Emir scoffed, tilting his head toward the librarian. “An unlikely answer. Did you help this man, Abbad?”

  “No, my Emir. If he found that journal, it was through his own doing,” Abbad replied calmly. The Emir stared at the librarian for a long moment as though trying to detect whether he was lying. It was then that Finn realized what the older man was doing. If this was Bilel, then he had the sight… He was reading Abbad’s mana, looking for any fluctuation in his energy. Yet Finn didn’t detect a single flicker.

  It was almost as though Abbad had been trained to withstand that scrutiny.

  Even as that thought crossed his mind, several more pieces clicked together. Abbad was unbound and standing there calmly, unsurprised by the Emir’s revelation. The librarian had supplied that journal… he must have read it. Which meant he knew what the Emir was. He had known all along – been working with Bilel all along. And he had likely been trained to anticipate the Mana Sight. That was the only conclusion.

  He’d betrayed them…

  And yet that also didn’t feel quite right.

  Why had Abbad given him the journal? Why let him know what the Emir was? Their last conversation replayed in Finn’s mind in an instant. What the hell had that cryptic song and dance on the way to the palace been about? Was the librarian playing a deeper game here? Possibly with his own motives?

  “It’s no matter, the damage cannot be undone,” Bilel spat finally, interrupting Finn’s thoughts and apparently satisfied that Abbad was telling the truth. With a wave of his hand, the book immediately ignited in flames, burning before Finn’s eyes until only ashes remained. With a flick of his fingers, the Emir sent those faint gray specks tumbling and swirling through the throne room.

  Then Bilel whirled back to Finn, peering at him.

  “You have read my writings then? My little scribblings from a time long dead? Which means I suspect you can see perfectly right now…” Another twitch of his fingers and Finn felt his bandage rip free, revealing what was left of his eyes and the tattoos along his temples. “Ahh, you used my original wards. But what did you do to your eyes?”

  Bilel’s spiraling gaze loomed closer. “A matrix of metal with crystals suspended in the center. A clever solution – you were attempting to remove the disorientation, I take it?”

  “Yes,” Finn bit out hoarsely.

  The regent nodded. “It’s crude, but effective.”

  A small smile tugged at Bilel’s lips. “If you had followed my writings, begun to absorb other affinities, you would have eventually had no need for such a solution. Once the six affinities are brought into parity, the disorientation disappears. It’s the fluctuations that cause the dizzy spells, although I suspect you already know that.”

  “How is this possible? That you’re still alive?” Finn bit out against the mana wrapped around his throat.

  Bilel let out a huff. “Hmm. You don’t know the rest of my story then.” A glance at Finn. “I suppose I could tell you – reveal the full tale. I’ve told no one, not even Abbad, and I’ve raised him since he was just a boy, an orphan like myself. It might be fitting to finally tell my story, especially since I’ve already attained my prize.” There was a gleam in his eyes, as his gaze drifted down to the gem in his palm.

  “Perhaps the first step is to show you what has become of me: the real me,” Bilel murmured. He waved his hand, and the illusion fractured and split apart. Finn suddenly realized that there had been several layers of mana at work. A sophisticated illusion crafted of water mana wrapped beneath a layer of latent energy intended to mimic the mana signature of a non-caster. Yet now Finn could see what lay beneath all of those illusions…

  And he could only gape in horror.

  Bilel’s skin had turned a pale, ghostly white, his limbs wasting away until they were nothing more than thin twigs, spindly fingers stretching from each arm. But it was the energy rippling inside his body that was even more disturbing. The man’s Najima had expanded, filling each limb and eating into his chest and head. Barely any free patches of flesh remained. The mage’s eyes now reflected all six affinities, the energies spiraling in a swirling miasma, framed above an open gaping maw – his teeth having long since fallen out.

  He must only be able to talk by manipulating air mana, Finn suddenly realized. And to stand… to move. Those limbs couldn’t possibly support his weight.

  Finn knew what he was looking at – the result of the same sickness that Bilel had described in his journal. A result of his unrestrained mana absorption.

  “This is the cost of true power,” Bilel said, his voice seemingly coming from the empty void of his mouth – a faint flicker of air mana accompanying the words. “Constant mana absorption does this to the body, but only if you absorb non-dominant affinities. It creates a sickness that consumes the body, warping it, twisting it.”

  “Good gods,” Finn murmured in horror.

  Bilel’s mana surged, the energy spiraling faster. “The gods are responsible for this!” he roared. “They manipulate and poke and prod at this world. They treat us like cattle, milking us until we are ready for the slaughter.”

  Finn’s eyes widened.

  “But you don’t fully understand that yet, do you? My story wasn’t complete. I made sure of that. Tell me, Finn – avatar of the Seer: the flame’s prophet – have you seen the river of mana in the sky? The tendrils of mana that carve away from each person and drift to join that energy?”

  Bilel’s multi-colored eyes flicked to Julia. “Do you understand why your daughter is endowed with such strength?” He noted Finn’s surprised expression. “Yes, yes, Abbad shared that little detail. He is adept at his snooping and spying – carefully trained in such arts. I did quite well as an instructor, don’t you think?”

  Finn glared at the librarian, feeling his own anger rising. How long had Abbad been spying on them? Reporting to the Emir – to this creature?

  “Focus. Abbad has no will of his own – only mine. Do not blame him for what he can’t control,” Bilel snapped, twitching his fingers to loosen the bindings around Finn’s throat. “You must know the answer by now. Haven’t you pieced it together? Why the purged are stronger and faster than their peers. Do you know? You must tell me!” he demanded. There was a desperate quality to the mage’s voice, almost like he was pleading with him, desperate for someone to share his secrets.

  An act of pride, not unlike his journal. The discovery alone was insufficient, he needed others to see his accomplishments – to praise him.

  Except Finn wasn’t certain
how to answer Bilel’s question…

  Then he recalled those fiery eyes within the mana well. The way the Seer talked about fostering passion. The tendrils of mana that Bilel had described in his journal, arcing away from the acolytes toward the well. How had the goddess collected that liquid mana within the bowl?

  Suddenly, it clicked…

  “They’re harvesting mana – the gods,” Finn murmured.

  “Exactly,” Bilel nearly growled. “They are divine parasites. Cruel farmers. They manipulate us and bend us to their will, foster these specific traits to ripen the fruit on the vine. Then they drain that energy, siphon off a sliver from every person. And the effect is so subtle and so widespread that we don’t even notice.”

  “The destruction of the Najima cuts it off then,” Finn said slowly. His gaze swept to Julia, seeing her wide eyes, her limbs straining against her bindings. “That’s why the Khamsin are stronger. They’re no longer being drained…”

  “They are the only truly free people in this world. Yet the irony is that they see me as a tyrant – a malicious despot that stripped them of their magical gifts.”

  Bilel laughed, a cruel, heartless sound filled with a note of madness. “Not that I’m unaccustomed to such accusations.” He stared at Finn with those swirling eyes. “Do you know what the gods call my kind? That deign to question their rule? To throw off their yoke? To accumulate power that rivals their own?

  “Demons, vampires, corrupted.”

  Bilel’s eyes blazed. “And yet I broke the bonds of the Khamsin’s servitude, gave them their will back. I helped push the six parasites from our world, even if for only a brief time. They should be thanking me… prostrating themselves at my throne. The remaining cattle should be lining up to join them. To be fully and finally free.”

  Finn snorted softly. That was a simplistic answer. More facts were whirling through his head now, the mental dominos still tumbling forward – the momentum unstoppable. He remembered Bilel describing the hunger that accompanied his illness. “That’s an excuse. You need them to stay ignorant. You’ve been harvesting their mana, absorbing it to sustain yourself,” he muttered. “Using the purge as a way to feed your hunger.”