He followed the instructions left by his past self and coated the skull in Vitae, preventing its erosion into dust.
Apparently, he could do the same for anything he killed, allowing the meat to be edible after killing something. That was if he wanted the pleasure of eating, something he may save for another time, for now, it took a moderate exertion of will and some Vitae to ensure the skull retained all of the properties Fenix needed, the ones he had gone to so much effort to develop from before.
He used the only way he had to get off the lost plateau, a recall stone that deposited him in the same cave from before. His notes described the setup and that he had given Convenient several of the prepared devices, to allow the old knight the facility to save any he pleased.
Fenix journeyed back to the sanctuary through the same wound about route, this time with even less rest and a greater certainty of direction. During this time he studied the notes on what he was to do, and memories returned with more details of his knowledge.
The knowledge he would need to create this new weapon and to establish it as a masterpiece.
Back in the laboratory, Fenix prepared three solutions, the first was a potent acid, the second calcium-rich, and the last a magical varnish. The bone from the beast was placed inside a magic circle drawn from diagrams and filled with crushed Vitae.
Specifically, the Vitae of the beast itself mixed with Vitae Fenix discovered he could draw from within himself.
The thaumaturgy of the circle linked him to the essence of the beast and from that to the bone. The circle contained these energies and focused them on his work. Stripped naked, his hair tied to his head and scrubbed completely clean Fenix started with the acid.
A stylus of precious metal, gathered and forged somehow in the Prison by his past self, was dipped into the acid and painstakingly used to draw complex sigils and arcane constructs into the surface of the bone.
As each sigil completed, Fenix would pour minuscule amounts of his blue fire into the designs.
The spells would flare and then settle into acquiescence within the more significant design, each one making a set, each set adding to the whole. Fenix stayed naked within the circle the entire time he worked, he could not break the sequence, or he would lose all of his work.
In the perpetual twilight over the creatures head the sanctuary within the one antenna would occasionally be lit by ethereal energy. A by-product of the tremendous working Fenix was now busy with.
The linking of the bone to Fenix was one small part of the greater equation, it made it his, only usable by him and able to always be by his side. This was, however, the smallest part of the overall creation.
What took the most effort was bringing the magical compound together between his magic, the purpose of the bone and what was similar, the connection, between the two of them.
This was why the beast and this design were unique, they would have been rare in the greater cosmos, but in the Prison, it had never been seen before. Fenix was creating a new weapon that would serve as an aspect of his own arcane talents, one that would give him a sorely needed edge in the plan for escape.
Once the designs were etched and covered the bone, the last sigil drew them all together, and a final flash of magical power sealed the imprint. Fenix then took up the calcium solution and took up a set of brushes before filling every line, every etching.
Fenix covered over the spells inlaid into the bone, back to the same height as before, every fraction of an inch perfectly shaped.
This embedded the spells, protected the designs and made the bone whole again, but now including this new property of itself as well. Finally, the varnish was added, a thin layer with its own magical properties which armored the bone against outside harm.
If this varnish were added to leather it would turn into steel, added to steel would set it to the same durability as a diamond.
Added to the bone, it reinforced and altered the structure to be stronger, more durable, and ultimately much harder to destroy than one would think. The varnish ingredients and liquid had been brewing for years, just waiting for Fenix to use.
Of itself, it was a fantastic creation, for this purpose it meant that the weapon this bone would become would be as close to indestructible as possible.
On the cusp of all the work, with the varnish just about to dry, Fenix completed the spell form, twisted the magic of the circle into the bone, himself and the connection it all required. Then he scuffed the edge of the circle and the rampant excess magic straining to get away from the now beautiful creation of arcane mastery rent its way outward. Tearing apart the magic that held up Fenix’s golem, leaving them to fall to the skin of the creature as lifeless as the flesh from which they were made.
Sixteen days after returning to the sanctuary and he completed the enchantment and construction of the new bow.
A day after that and Fenix walked away from his practice, the training room of his sanctuary speckled with scorch marks, hundreds and hundreds of scorch marks.
A Memory of Convenient…
The arrivals platform was full of convicts again, in their sackcloth or other clothes and disparate armor scavenged from others or crafted within the Prison.
Fenix would say “again” because it was just like this when he had visited the last time. It had taken him many weeks after exploring the Prison and returning to this general area to work out that the turmoil in the clouds preceded the portal disgorging new prisoners.
But the convicts who did know would come and gather, eagerly waiting for the newest members of the Prison in orange so they could attack them in a mob and ensure that no one rose up to be lorded over them again. Fenix just hadn’t known quite how much of a power vacuum he was creating when he killed the three giants.
It had made it easier for him to loot their manor home and acquire a number of useful items before any of the other convicts were brave enough or had short memories enough, to challenge him as a power within the Prison.
Word didn’t actually spread so quickly among the general population; their forgetfulness outside of an actual struggle to survive led many to just become vacant husks.
It was a fascinating place, this Prison, and he had come to learn that to return here needed a better sense of certainty about how it was going to turn out, particularly in arriving. If this state of affairs continued, then he would be mobbed and killed just like the sods he had found the remains of from two arrivals ago.
At least the last one he had managed to help out, although this group of convicts didn’t know that.
He’d have to make sure to let more of them live this time, that way they could spread the word better. And if he helped one or two survive to become greater powers and then manage new arrivals as well, he could plan on a better arrival situation, one that would not be immediate death. That maelstrom announcing the power of prisoners and the orange cloth were dead giveaways, unfortunately.
The last arrival he had rescued was quite amenable to coming back and looking over the newest convicts.
Once it had gotten itself into better shape of course, which did lead him to wonder how many would be able to survive an encounter with the being. He needed to offset any singular power with others, the nature of any good ecosystem meant that no one being or species could completely destroy another.
Well, not without considerable effort and resources at any rate, but the principle held, the survival of a stronger meant the eradication of the weaker, even if it took a great deal of time to accomplish through either great power or superior intellect.
This time, the arrival was not so far removed from what most would consider ordinary, so much so that Fenix had to question if perhaps the vortex’s instigation of storm clouds and the maelstrom was accurate.
The humanoid was a man, dull brown hair and beard topping a sturdy enough frame which was still shorter than Fenix’s own. Other than the orange clothing, the man seemed to be quite unremarkable, no horns, scales, claws, transformations or any
sign of anything supernatural at all.
And Fenix had to decide if it was worth fighting for the being’s life, the man had just arrived with the ectoplasm still drying around him when the other prisoners rushed in to push him around. Fenix had been waiting nearby for the portal to expel its contents and was ready to act, if the man could prove he was useful in any way at all.
The salvation for the humanoid came when Fenix observed a flash of light and the appearance of a glowing white blade striking out at the throng. It disappeared just afterward, but that one blast of magic was enough for him to at least consider that this individual had strength, if he could survive long enough to recover it.
A few well-placed blasts of sapphire bolts scattered the swathe of convicts eager to end another life, some of them kept score since memory from before the Prison was hard to prove. The general chaos suited him, for a while, but hopefully soon the population of the Prison would stabilize again.
When he got down to the black marble stone, he found the man sitting down and breathing heavily, scorch marks from a few curves of argent energy spread out from where he had defended himself.
“Thank you, stranger.” The man spoke with a slight burr, the language a little off from an old one Fenix knew, but close enough. He thought it may have been something to do with the witch hags, but he didn’t have all of his own memory yet.
“You’re welcome.” He held out a hand to help the man up, and he took it in a tight warrior’s grip, which also told Fenix a few things.
After brushing off some ectoplasmic residue, the man asked, “Why did you help me?”
Fenix looked over and saw a keen intelligence behind the dull brown eyes, and perhaps even something more, so he decided to tell the truth.
“Because you are Convenient.”
**
A few weeks later and he had come to enjoy the company of the man, he proved an able combatant and had a peculiar magic, one that was very useful.
The more he remembered, the more he reacquired the accouterments he insisted were part of his knighthood. Raiment in the form of a tabard and chain mail, even some plate armor had appeared over time.
And of course the straight, double-edged sword, simple but very effective, he had found.
The man insisted on using the name Convenient, insisting that he could not remember his own at first. Later, when Fenix pressed him on it, the man admitted that he didn’t want to use his name, for fear that it may be remembered by others within the Prison and cause problems.
That was very strange, so Fenix asked him what he was convicted for, if he remembered.
“I’m here as penance for my deeds. I have much to repent for, and this place will be my means,” had been the hesitant reply.
Fenix couldn’t help his skepticism. “You mean you chose to come here?”
“Yes.”
“On purpose, as in you knew what it was going to be like?”
“Yes.”
“You are right to keep that to yourself. In fact, I suggest you never tell anyone else, including me when I return.”
Fenix had already described his plan to the strange humanoid, for some reason the old knight exuded trustworthiness. And although Fenix considered him to be quite crazy, he did feel that he was sincere.
Strange, but true.
Never before had he met such a man, and he found that spending time with him was quite enjoyable. So he had explained some of his plans, just some; no one could ever get enough of his trust. But he shared enough to convince the man to help him, in his own way. Which fitted perfectly as a juxtaposition to the other powers he expected to survive the arrival, it was a Prison after all.
He may even have shared more than he intended, over time it was quite something to find himself casually conversing with the old knight and actually enjoying his company. Quite different to the other being he had saved before, he told Convenient about it, the wrinkled up blue-skinned creature and its bizarre behavior.
Together, they pieced together that the thing was lost, without its memories of self, it lacked even enough identity to really be aware. But that it was arrogant, cruel and self-serving was evident, especially as time went by.
“I do not mind, it is a part of my penance that I should face horrors such as this. I will protect others from its misdeeds as required.” Convenient said one night in response to Fenix’s musing about whether or not it would work to keep the wrinkled blue being around.
He had looked up at that, frustration at the man’s continued obsession with paying back something he couldn’t even remember clear on his face.
“You could still change your mind and come with me you know?”
“I do not think so, my destiny lies here. And you, you need to be who you are. I think I may be a bad influence,” the bearded man replied.
Fenix considered that for a moment, startled by the realization that not only did the old knight mean it, but was correct in that Fenix was letting himself get attached. But also, Convenient was earnest as he said it, every word, quite sincerely.
“You are a very strange man,” was the only reply he could think of, his thoughts whirling.
“As are you, my friend.”
**
“I have always believed that to be good is to appreciate and uphold the free will of others. That Evil was to remove choice from another sentient being, take away their ability to decide for themselves, on purpose, maliciously.”
They were sitting on a promontory overlooking the Prison, a great height up to one of the many mountains dotting the land masses. Fenix had brought them up here to survey the area and give Convenient a chance to look over the entire Prison from a proper perspective.
The old knight was rambling on after Fenix asked him, philosophically, how he lived his life.
What he had meant was how did he survive being such a saint, but the man was answering on a different tangent and with a lot more detail.
“I have devoted my life to the path of whatever grand entity guides us should set for me.” Convenient was going on, oblivious to Fenix’s thoughts.
“I make my way through life to find those who need me, even if only in some small way. From meeting me, and a minor conversation that may be recalled at a pivotal moment in their life and lead them to the right choices, to aiding in much more tangible ways, lending by wealth or deed, much as you did for me.”
Fenix was prompted to respond by the way Convenient referred to him, “A strange way to live, don’t you think?”
“Aye, it can be to most.”
Convenient looked up as if seeking stars to gaze upon.
“But for me, it is a way of life. That my destiny is to be of greatest aid to the higher design. I do not know what the sum of all things may be, nor what the future could or remotely should hold for anyone. My faith that my skills and mind, my character and conversation, would be best used, was a salve for me, it eased everything I went through. A divine guidance, direction, and purpose. Not so I could not be myself, but because I was myself and could be appropriately applied.
“I was not gifted for the mind nor magic to tell these things among the multitude, the very plenitude of options available to all beings. But that which does, that other guiding consciousness be it ever so vast, that which knows. I would serve that entity, and be an instrument for betterment in all things by its will.”
A concept not so foreign to Fenix, if on a different level than what Convenient described; with Aurelian, he could relate to something of the sort.
Although his own selfish needs, ones he still held to, prompted him to serve more than a desire to reach greater fulfillment. Aurelian had been able to guide him for her designs because he had seen in her the opportunity to further his own.
Convenient thought very differently about how his own survival would be measured against the guidance of another’s requirements. Although, the musings did raise an idea.
“So, you are in the Prison, out of choice, because you feel like you fail
ed this grand ideal of yours in some way?”
The old knight looked over sadly at Fenix and sighed heavily. “Aye, my friend. As in all things, my ego brought me low, for I sought something for myself and did not recognize that I would never get it. And in the act of working against that denial, I caused great harm.”
They sat together quietly after that, both lost in their own thoughts.
Out of their time together, Fenix came to realize that he and Convenient were as juxtaposed as he hoped the old knight would be against the other convicts. So much so in fact that it was a wonder they got along at all, except Fenix had no need to fight the strange man. At a fundamental level, they disagreed on life, but still, he wasn’t a threat.
It was a bizarre sensation.
Day 243…
Fenix could only surmise that at the time, he hadn’t known exactly how much of a grudge Page would have for Convenient
The old knight must have rescued some prisoners from him while he was weaker. That was why the little scene in the forest glade had been only partly for his benefit, and mostly for Page to vent his ultimate wrath on Convenient for the intervening time.
Although he didn’t know the exact and disturbing thought processes of the being known as Old Man Page, Fenix had read the notes and had some memories to fill in the gaps. While he couldn’t recall everything from his time outside the Prison and his return this time around, he did know there wasn’t much to tell Page that would help it when it got out.
Not that he was going to be entirely truthful with the once-god about the facts.
It seemed that he needed Page; according to the relative timeline of when he should get out of the Prison he needed all the help he could get. His memories could return completely in years of struggle. But if it took that long, then he would have been inside the Prison for all that time and not where he needed to be, which was free and clear.
Something about how, after his escape, there were plans to get him far away so that he wasn’t immediately caught and sent back in.
Convict Fenix Page 43
