by Cale Plamann
“What will happen to us?” Jo frowned. “You go back, but what about those of us left behind?”
“Honestly?” Micah shrugged. “I don’t really know. Maybe I disappear and you just go on with your lives. Maybe you fade away like a half-remembered dream, and when I’m done, all of this has never happened. I really hope you fade away.” Micah paused, emotions warring within him. “I’ve… made a lot of mistakes. Some things are better off having never existed.”
“Micah.” Jo bit her lip, then opened her mouth to say something more before catching herself. Instead, she just stared at him, her gaze hooded. “Basil’s Cove sent us to bring you back.” She sighed. “After you left, your parents took Esther to the Church of Luxos. They were barely able to treat her, but after hearing your parents’ story, they accused you of practicing forbidden magic and demanded that you return to the city for questioning.”
“Well,” Micah chuckled darkly, “they’re right. I did practice forbidden magic, and right now, I’m paying the price. Of course, having me come back to the city is a terrible idea. My very presence will kill people, but even if it didn’t, I suspect that the Church wouldn’t let the matter drop. No, just tell them to wait for forty days and the problem will go away on its own. Forgive me for sounding morose, but I realize that my current self is a blight on Karell. I will leave as soon as I can.”
“They told us to use force.” Trevor frowned. “Even if that could work, neither of us would lay a hand on you, Micah. We’ll try and warn them off, but you know the Church. They aren’t the type to listen to reason when sudden and violent action will do the trick.”
“Thank you,” Micah said, nodding at the two of them. “It really was good to see the both of you. Staying out here has been awfully lonely, and it was nice to see some friendly faces before I once more resume my march back through time.”
“Maybe next time.” Jo smiled weakly. “I’m sure you know all the moves to pull on me by now. Make sure to sweep me off my feet.”
“I’ll be honest.” Briefly, a flash of light illuminated his eyes. “I still haven’t figured you out entirely. Hopefully, we fare better this time than our last couple of attempts.”
“Say,” Trevor interjected, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “if you’re really traveling back in time, it’d probably be helpful for me to tell you something that only your future self would know. You know, to convince the other me that you’re from the future.”
He squared his shoulders, struggling for words as he stared Micah down. “Micah, I don’t know how to say this. It’s a secret that’s always hung over me. For years, I’ve wanted to come clean. Just get it off my chest, but each time I get ready to start, I just can’t.” He smiled weakly at Micah. “Me, the guy who always stands in the front line fighting off monsters with little more than a spear and a smile, a coward.”
“Look,” Micah said, smiling back, “you’re bisexual, Trevor. You told me in a previous timeline. Once you said the words, it all made sense. Gods above, you can’t stop yourself from hitting on Drekt anytime you get a cup of juushk in you.”
“What?” Trevor’s eyes bugged out. “No! I mean, I am, but… I was going to tell you that when you were ten, our neighbor Becky and I were the ones that stole all of Mom’s peppers and put them in your clothes. Remember how you ended up itching and crying for days? I know the mystery of it drove you crazy for years.”
“You piece of shit.” Micah shook his head, but there were tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.
“See you on the other side, Micah.” Trevor waved at him as he and Jo disappeared into the forest.
50
A Proper Display of Gratitude
“Come down and be judged for your crimes, heretic,” the priest, a severe and skinny man with a freshly shorn skull, shouted up at Micah. The man’s voice was relayed to him by the ears of a Brensen flying overhead. “We have it on good authority that you’ve engaged in dark and corrupt rituals. If you’re innocent, the truth will come out and we will cleanse your name. If you’re guilty, we will cleanse your soul.”
“It sure sounds to me like you’ve already decided that I’m guilty,” Micah shouted back, not looking up from the Folio from where he sat on the third story of the outcropping’s stone tower. “You’re going to need a much better pitch or more people if you plan on actually forcing me back to Basil’s Cove.”
“Karell itself rejects your corruption, blasphemer,” the man called back. “The grass and trees curl and die around you. Even now, I can feel the darkness pouring off of you.”
“Brian,” the man next to him hissed, “I’ve never seen daemons like that, and this guy’s tower is giving me a serious case of the willies. He sure seems to think that he can take all of us at once. Maybe he isn’t bluffing.”
“Refer to me as Brother Gage in front of the heretic, Sir Melvin.” The priest wheeled on his companion, zeal and madness flashing in his eyes. “Your informality will only embolden him.”
Micah returned the Folio to the mark on his wrist with a sigh and walked to the tower’s window. Below him, a motley crowd uneasily surrounded what had been his cave, the priest and Sir Melvin standing a couple of paces in front of the rest.
“What in the name of the Sixteen is this about?” Micah cast Wind Shield with a wave of his hand and a muttered word as he hung out the window and frowned at the assembly. “I’m trying to live peacefully in the forest away from society. Out of nowhere, what looks like a raid party shows up on my doorsteps issuing threats and accusing me of a crime. Hells, if I performed dark magic, at least tell me what spells and rituals I’m accused of performing.”
“You know exactly what we’re accusing you of.” Brother Gage pointed a finger at him. “The proof flies about your fortress on fell wings even as we speak. Luxos forbids the use of all summoning rituals. Only those imbued with Elementalist and Spiritualist classes through the intervention of the Church may use summoning magic. No pious human would’ve created those… things.” He spat the last word.
“My goddess is Mursa.” Micah shrugged. “I have a book from her up here where she pretty much explicitly told me to summon them. Theologically, I’m almost certain I’m in the clear. Regardless, as the follower of a different Major Deity, I’m pretty sure I am outside of your jurisdiction unless I harm a follower of Luxos. Come back with a priestess of Mursa—they’ll verify my words and refuse to take part in this sham.”
“Sham?” Gage’s eyes bulged and his finger shook. “Sham?! An infidel like you dares to call—”
“Brian.” Melvin grabbed the priest’s arm, silencing him. “The man is right. The Church of Mursa is independent and coequal. So long as he’s telling the truth, there’s nothing we can legally do to touch him without a priestess of Mursa’s involvement.”
“Do you even know why I summoned the daemons?” Micah asked lazily, still hanging partially out the window, his view only slightly impeded by the blur of the Wind Shield. “The Durgh were going to attack and murder everyone in Basil’s Cove. I needed the help to fight their entire army to a standstill. I literally fought a challenge of honor with them to save everyone present’s life.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Gage screamed, pulling his arm from Melvin. “The Code of Luxos is clear. Ritual summoning without using the Church is a sin punishable by death. Even if everything you said is the truth, you still summoned daemons.”
“Brother Gage,” a tall man with dark hair contrasting with his paper-white skin interrupted. Absently, he reached back and stroked the handle of the massive cleaver—almost the size of his own body—that lay strapped across his back. “I have to say, I think it matters if he summoned the daemons to save all of our lives. I’ve seen plenty of priests summon elementals or daemons before. I mean, sure, they’re often used for evil, but if the man actually used them to help us, how is that different from the Church summoning them?”
“Because it is only legal if the Church summons them.” Gage glanced around a
t the various adventurers behind him. A man with a broadsword and a peg leg nodded slowly. Another man, as big as an ox and leaning against a glaive, frowned at the priest. In the rear of the formation, a man and a woman wearing the apparel of combat spellcasters looked on incredulously.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” Gage asked, wheeling around to face the adventurers. “Without the intervention of the Church, how can we know that the summoning would be safe? A spellcaster could easily screw up the formula and open a portal into the screaming void, dooming us all. It may seem harsh, but only by severely and publicly punishing those who perform unsanctioned acts can we create an incentive to stop future castings.”
The priest waved in Micah’s direction. “It may have worked for him, but that doesn’t mean that what he did was safe or a good idea. He risked all of our lives with a dangerous ritual. These rules are in place for a reason. Without them, we’re no better than the Durgh.”
“The only reason you’re alive is that the Durgh follow rules,” Micah chimed in helpfully. “They aren’t the same as those preached by the Church of Luxos, but they take affairs of honor seriously. I won an honor duel. Even though I stained the caves of the Great Depths with their own blood, they simply thanked me, sent me on my way, and honored the terms of their agreement.”
“Fine.” Gage threw both of his hands up in the air before pointing at each adventurer with him in turn. “Let’s make this simple. You shall honor the terms of your agreements. You have been rewarded with attunement. You are under contract, and each and every one of you will do your best to help me subdue this miscreant.”
“Look,” the man with the glaive said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, “I don’t want to get arrested later for breaking the law, and I’m not keen on getting into some sort of pissing match between the three big churches. As long as you can prove that he’s harmed someone that follows Luxos, you have jurisdiction. If you can show that, a contract is a contract.”
“He’s hurting me right now, Flavicus.” The priest put his hand on his chest. “Can’t you see the way his aura attacks all of you? The way it invades your body? Even if you can’t see it, surely you can feel it. That itch under your skin. The cold sweat on the back of your neck. That’s him.”
Gage’s eyes were wild as he walked up to the man with the peg leg and put his hand on the warrior’s chest. “Even as we speak, Jonah, he is sapping the very form, definition, and meaning from you. Simply standing in this clearing is taking years off of our lives. Every one of us will grow sick more easily, suffer abnormally from the cold, and recover from wounds and illness more slowly.” Gage grabbed the wrist of the huge man holding the glaive. “He is a sickness, Flavicus. A tumor growing out of the surface of Karell. Just look at the dead grass we’re standing on. He kills everything he touches.”
The adventurers shifted uneasily as they took in the dead clearing. All of the grass was little more than dust, and most of the trees within sight had already lost their leaves. Brittle branches littered the ground beneath the dead and dying trees.
They looked back to Micah, hanging indolently out of the window of his tower. Before they could respond, all of them ducked and clutched their weapons as a Brensen swooped overhead. The male spellcaster looked up at it in trepidation, mumbling to himself as he edged slowly back toward the treeline.
“Steady, Gongo.” Melvin raised a hand at the caster. “We have a job to do and a couple of summons won’t stop us. He didn’t know we were coming, so these must be long-term summons. That means that he either used a stupendous amount of life energy, or they’re weak. He probably just used them to build that tower he’s living in.”
Micah snorted. Through the daemons, he could practically taste their fear. Melvin and Gage might be putting on a good show, but every other adventurer was somewhere between uncertain and terrified.
The daemons were exultant. Their joy echoed through the tethers and rattled around inside Micah’s chest. The fear excited them, aroused their hunger. Energy pulsed up the fire chains that linked them to Micah, indicating their readiness and soundlessly asking a question. They were asking permission, and after the priest’s pompous zeal, a dark part of him wanted to grant it.
He shook his head, an answer for both the daemons and himself. He’d solved too many problems with isolation and violence. Even if he’d be leaving this timeline shortly, he wasn’t the sort of person to just kill a crowd for annoying him.
The daemons were influencing him. He knew that for sure now. Ever since he’d crossed over to Elsewhere, he’d become more irritable. Less empathetic. Bloodthirsty.
He closed his eyes and exhaled as they continued to argue.
“Maybe I can make this easy for everyone,” Micah interrupted. “I’m going to disappear and never bother Basil’s Cove in eighteen days. Literally, I’m planning on leaving Karell. If you come back in twenty days, I’ll either be gone forever or I’ll voluntarily return with you.”
“That seems like a pretty good deal,” the retreating mage spoke soothingly, trying to placate Brother Gage. “He goes away and we don’t have to fight those daemons. Everyone wins.”
“No.” The priest shook his head, staring at the spellcaster incredulously. “The only reason we are out here is to punish him for his crimes. If we let him walk away solely because he’s powerful, what example would that set for others? Should we just amend the law? ‘Summoning one daemon is punishable by death, but summoning five will make the punishment squads nervous, so you will be let off with a stern warning?’ The law is the law, Gongo!”
“To be clear”—Micah stepped away from his window and back into the upper floor of his tower—“I could kill all of you in a matter of moments. I’m only negotiating with you to avoid staining my conscience with your blood.”
“Even now he threatens us!” The priest rounded on the rest of the uncertain party. “Your duty to humanity and the Church is clear. He will never come down from that tower on his own.”
Micah shook his head, reopening the Folio to study some bits of spell theory from a grimoire that he’d copied in the Royal Knights’ library. If they tried anything, the daemons would handle them. He’d given the self-righteous fools a chance.
“Melvin”—Micah heard the female spellcaster through one of the circling Brensen—“I’ve checked. During the course of the conversation, the sphere of corruption around the tower has expanded by another two paces. If we leave him alone for too long, who knows how far the blight will spread?”
“And who knows what he will summon!” the angry priest cut in. “I cannot believe that you’re seriously considering leaving a ritual caster alone for twenty days. He could cast anything in that time. When we return, he would be even more prepared. Who knows what he could do to us then? Curse our bloodlines? Pluck the sun from the sky and rain its fire upon us?”
“Fine,” Melvin, the swordsman that appeared to be leading the rest of the adventurer troupe, replied with a sigh. “We’ll do it your way, Brian. Send Jonah and Alan to fetch the deer. We’ll force him to come down.”
Micah closed the Folio with a frown.
51
An Unwelcome Finale
Micah returned to the window, casting Flight as he walked. At the precipice, he simply stepped out onto empty air and continued at his former pace, mimicking an ordinary stroll while he scowled down at the crowd of adventurers.
“Oh shit,” Gongo hissed, his eyes going wide. “That’s a tier-four Air spell.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Flavicus asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Micah as he gripped his halberd tightly.
The one-legged swordsman the priest had called Jonah spat on the ground before drawing his thin rapier. His gaze returned to where Micah stood impassively in the sky.
“It means,” Jonah grumbled, “that this guy isn’t bluffing. Fourth tier usually means level 30 or so. Even then, Blessed of that level usually use it as more of a finishing move. They take so
much mana that even the guild leaders can only cast them eight or nine times in a row.”
“Oh gods, oh gods.” Gongo’s mumbling was picked up by the circling daemons as the man’s fingers fiddled with the hem of his robe.
“Gage,” Melvin said as he turned to the priest, frowning, “You never said anything about the target being on par with a guild leader. This doesn’t seem like a terribly good idea to me.”
“Adventurers”—Brother Gage threw up his hands angrily—“I paid you to fight a threat to our realm, not to argue with me. He is connected with the stag. Luxos’ seers have seen it. If you can capture the beast, he’ll surrender.”
Micah motioned with his left hand, tapping the chains of fire that bound his daemons to him. A handful of the newer Onkerts exited the cave while the surviving Luoca and Brensens soared lower until they were circling him.
“It doesn’t look like he plans on surrendering, Brother Gage.” Melvin shifted his stance, raising himself up onto the balls of his feet as he lowered his center of gravity. A wise change that would let him spring into action at a moment’s notice. It wouldn’t be enough.
Micah’s eyes took in every move, the circling Brensens providing a panoramic view of the nervous adventurers. He probably should’ve been disturbed by his ability to process input from a dozen eyes at once without being confused and dazzled, but he wasn’t. Not much disturbed him anymore. All he wanted was to be left alone, to read his books until the cooldown on his ability ran out.
The adventuring party shifted uneasily, gripping weapons tighter and muttering to each other as the creatures grew closer. Micah stopped, a handful of paces in front of them and more than a dozen up in the air.
