Mage for Hire

by Jason Kenyon

  ‘I had some help, I suppose,’ Archimegadon said, despite the fact his arms were beginning to strain. Fortunately, his feet had found some purchase, which relieved him slightly.

  ‘Antagules?’ Sen asked.

  ‘I learnt some lessons of life from the Mage Academy your King destroyed,’ Archimegadon replied.

  ‘That place?’ Sen asked, genuinely surprised. ‘Despite its corruption it still protects those who truly have ability or potential. It helped me, after all. For it to help you… well, it interests me. You have no real talent, do you?’

  ‘Bollocks to you,’ Archimegadon replied. The strain on his arms was getting quite painful, and he couldn’t be bothered to think up a clever rejoinder, or be polite for that matter.

  ‘Bold words,’ Sen said. ‘You are just another nameless foe in the history of my heroics, you know, Forseld. You, the self-proclaimed hero and friend to all, will be remembered in history (if at all) as a crook, a failure, and soon the biggest stain in Castle Aldrack’s courtyard.’

  ‘You’re no hero,’ Archimegadon said. ‘You’re just a deluded ass working for a dead necromancer. What changed since Tel Ariel?’

  ‘Necromancers can differ,’ Sen replied. ‘After all, do we not differ despite both being mages?’

  ‘Quite so,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘For I… am Archimegadon… and you have messed up your name quite completely. You know… everyone hates you… across your New Valanthas now?’

  ‘Do they indeed?’ Sen asked, smiling. ‘You know why, of course?’

  ‘Because you’re an ass?’

  ‘Come now, Forseld, what would you say if you were the target instead of me? Why do they hate me?’

  ‘Well, my usual answer… would be jealousy, I suppose,’ Archimegadon replied, opting to indulge Sen while he tried to secure himself better.

  ‘Exactly,’ Sen said. ‘You know, at the end of the old war, I went on to do many “great” things. The demon across the seas, the cultists of Vanestios… all worthy of the bardic tales. But those I helped hated me, because they could not help themselves. They hated that they needed me to do it for them. So, in effect, they hated their weaknesses, but because they could not hate themselves, they directed that hatred to me.’

  ‘Er..?’

  ‘It is an amusing thing, to wield such power, Forseld,’ Sen went on, apparently quite lost in his train of thought. ‘It occurred to me after a lot of knee-bending that those who held me in thrall did so with another form of magic. The cheapest magic of all. Suggestion. The threat that if I did not do as they desired, I would be punished.

  ‘But they do not truly hold the power to punish me. I came to realise this recently, if too late.’

  ‘By recently, do you mean ten or so years ago?’ Archimegadon wasn’t sure he had the date right, since he’d not exactly paid full attention to Antagules. Not only that, but his attention right now was on trying to stay balanced and not plummet from this window, which was starting to prove very hard indeed.

  ‘Ah yes, it must have been around that,’ Sen replied. ‘I worked out the true use of this staff. I extracted the tale of the “menace” of Vortagenses and all of that from Antagules and learnt the true meaning of our nation. The true goal. And I understood, as I sat there in the Mage Academy, surrounded by visions of my own past, that it is a foolish thing to attain such magnificent power… and squander it in bondage. What I have, I earnt by my own hard work, and there is no reason I should not use it now to install a proper kingdom of magic under the command of King Vortagenses.’

  ‘So Bartell is off to his death,’ Archimegadon said.

  ‘Possibly,’ Sen said. ‘There are worse things to die for.’

  ‘Isn’t he your friend?’

  ‘You could say that, I suppose,’ Sen replied. ‘He’ll die a good death for a good cause though. That’s all that really matters. Auber just doesn’t really have the temperament to do what needs to be done, he’s a soft man and a coward at that.’

  Archimegadon struggled a little to pull himself up a bit further, but succeeded only in loosening his grip even more.

  ‘Really, now, Forseld, what are you thinking?’ Sen asked. ‘This is the end. You’re not going to get back up from there. All I want to know is how you did it. How did you break the spell?’

  ‘I’ll tell you how,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘I was too stubborn to stay down for long. That part of me that remained untouched by your curse managed to remind me of who I am and your curse faded away like a bad smell.’

  ‘A part untouched?’ Sen asked. ‘The spell is complete, unless I have misunderstood something.’

  ‘You and your friend Bartell don’t really understand terribly much of anything, if your dim-witted plan is anything to go by,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Wiping out the world to install your own twisted version of creation.’ He chanced a spit. ‘Utter bollocks. What do you really think mass slaughter on that scale will achieve?’

  ‘I didn’t expect an idiot like you to understand!’ Sen replied, sneering. ‘You’re just a pathetic reject from a feeble money-making con job whose only purpose in life is relorans. All heroes previously failed to save the world when they defeated the great evils of their time. The reason is they did not destroy the core of the evil. To finish is to start, and we will start it afresh! A new dominion of magic!’

  ‘Is that why you have been building up New Valanthas? You want to take over the kingdom rather than destroy it like Bartell plans?’ Archimegadon asked. ‘I suppose you’ll still kill everyone who disagrees with your opinions.’

  ‘If necessary,’ Sen said. ‘Few people are innocent.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re worthy of making that judgement,’ Archimegadon said. ‘And on that note… er…’

  ‘Er?’ Sen folded his arms and glared at the Mage for Hire.

  ‘Not sure this will work, hang on,’ Archimegadon said, and he let go of the window with the arm holding his staff, and pointed the staff down towards the courtyard. ‘Flamebolt?’

  For a moment it appeared that nothing would happen, but then, with a startling bang, the end of the Staff of Antagules erupted with a gout of flame, and Archimegadon shot up into Sen’s face, making a rather unhealthy-sounding cracking noise as the former’s head connected with the latter’s nose. The momentum pushed Archimegadon onwards, and the two mages fell across the floor and knocked over a couple of chairs and a small decorative table. Obdo and Neurion had managed to get to their feet, and they hovered uncertainly.

  ‘Good grief, I really wasn’t expecting that to work,’ Archimegadon said. He eyed the burnt base of his robes. ‘Curses. My robes did not survive the encounter terribly well.’

  ‘What about Sen?’ Obdo asked. ‘He’s down for the count?’

  ‘I think not, you idiotic little man,’ Sen said, rising to his feet, his eyes glaring at them from above his bleeding nose. ‘Do you suppose for one moment that little nobodies like yourselves can outwit a hero like me?’

  ‘Can you actually picture yourself saying this seriously?’ Archimegadon asked.

  Get out of there! Antagules urged suddenly as he picked up the staff. Sen is no simpleton like Belias.

  ‘But er, I see you are busy,’ Archimegadon went on, more than slightly unnerved by Antagules’s urgent tone of voice, ‘so I shall leave you to it.’

  ‘Oh no, Master Forseld,’ Sen said. He pointed a hand. ‘You will stay right… there?’

  Archimegadon flinched but he felt only a slight shiver. ‘Er... well… if I must…’

  Sen pursed his lips. ‘Step sideways or something, Forseld.’

  Archimegadon did so, feeling very confused.

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Manage what, sir?’ Archimegadon asked.

  ‘You’re supposed to be frozen, like Auber did to you,’ Sen replied.

  ‘Well, I felt a nudge I suppose,’ Archimegadon said.

  Sen’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve inadvertently stumbled upon something very interesting in
breaking that curse, mage,’ he said, unaware that he’d given Archimegadon a surprising bit of praise. ‘Even so, you are still not immune to death!’

  The air filled with fiery explosions, and Bartell’s fancy furniture burst into flame and launched across the room at the companions, who all dived to one side, with only minor success. Obdo took a book to the face, while Archimegadon’s robes were further soiled as the dead demon sample struck him full force in the back.

  ‘Don’t you think you should calm down?’ Archimegadon called back.

  Sen was clearly a bit pissed off, and he ignored this advice rather noisily by lifting the remains of Bartell’s desk and hurling them with his power at the Mage for Hire. Pens and other stationery suddenly became lethal implements of death and Archimegadon tried to mix a flamebolt into his ungainly scrabble to one side. It was half-successful, insofar as it did hit the desk and other objects. However, they still mostly landed on Archimegadon, stunning him and leaving a nasty cut on his left arm.

  Obdo and Neurion stood to the side of the battlefield/study, and stared as the hero mage of legend cast his glance to either side in search of more heavy objects to crush Archimegadon with, presumably out of sheer irritation. The farmhand suddenly had an image of himself tending to the fields back home (or, frankly, back when he’d sit under the shade of a wall and enjoy a bottle of fine booze), in his old life. Right now, stuck in a completely alien situation, with the heavy gloom of the shadowy study and the red glow from outside swallowing him in their misery, and the sheer destruction of order as the entire room crumbled beneath Sen’s rage, it occurred to him that perhaps now was not the time for watching how things would turn out. Perhaps now, here, stuck at the sidelines of a battle that maybe some day would be spoken of in legend, he should take up arms, as the peasants of old, and stand for what was right, and f-

  Neurion barged him out of the way.

  ‘Sen Delarian!’ Neurion shouted, drawing his sword in a marvellously epic fashion. ‘Stop this at once!’

  Sen didn’t bother replying, instead shouting a thunderous command that apparently was the spell for a massive wall of fire, as (surprisingly) a wall of fire filled the air and blocked Sen from view, glowing with a slight unhealthy dark tinge.

  ‘The power… to cleanse evil…’ Neurion muttered, and he cut his sword slowly down the middle of the wall, which shook a little and then withered.

  Obdo’s awe at Neurion’s success was short-lived as a flamebolt smashed into the paladin and cast him aside like the rest of Bartell’s expensive furniture. This time Obdo didn’t pause to think, instead taking up his club and charging the enraged mage. He had a flickering thought of yelling an impressive challenge at Delarian, but unfortunately only managed “diiiiiiiie!”

  ‘Get out of it,’ Sen said, freezing Obdo in place with a rushed gesture and another spell word spat out hastily.

  ‘Could you die anyway?’ Obdo asked.

  ‘Fear… not!’ Archimegadon yelled, rising to his feet somewhat shakily. ‘It is time, Delarian, for one… last… duel.’

  ‘For what?’ Sen asked, staring in complete bafflement.

  ‘As we duelled back then atop Castle Aldrack, let us duel here again,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘You, for the kingdom, and me… for Archimegadon!’

  ‘How pathetic,’ Sen said. ‘This gesture is meaningless.’ He shook some dust from his robes. ‘You haven’t the training or knowledge to outdo me. It’s ludicrous to even try.’

  ‘Then how about flamebolt?’ Archimegadon asked, firing off a spell at the same time.

  Sen slapped the flamebolt out of the air irritably. ‘Forseld, where do you get these ridiculous ideas?’

  ‘Flamebolt!’

  Butterflies burst into life as the flamebolt ran into Sen’s counter-spell. ‘You’re untrained, have no knowledge of magic, and are talentless!’

  ‘Flamebolt!’ Archimegadon said again.

  ‘It’s just so sad to see,’ Sen said, clicking his fingers so that the fire instantly went out. ‘I mean it! For a man of your age to play at this!’

  ‘Then stop me moving!’ Archimegadon said. ‘Flamebolt!’

  ‘Oh, hah,’ Sen said, knocking the flamebolt aside without any effort. ‘One-trick pony, Forseld, I’m not impressed.’

  ‘Two tricks,’ Archimegadon said. ‘The mind thing, and flamebolt!’

  Sen chopped it unnecessarily into various small bits just to show off. ‘My patience is almost gone, Forseld,’ he said.

  ‘And I’m nearly out of flamebolts!’ Archimegadon shouted back, firing another bolt.

  Sen blasted it out of the air and strode at the Mage for Hire with a murderous look, his patience snapping. ‘Enough!’

  ‘Flamebolt!’ Archimegadon yelled one more time, and Sen tried to bat it out of the way only to freeze with a look of surprise on his face. And a lot of ice.

  ‘Sir Mage,’ Obdo said. ‘Did you… just cast… icebolt?’

  ‘Erm, yes, I did,’ Archimegadon replied.

  Sen stared back silently, completely frozen in place.

  ‘I thought you had to say the words?’ Obdo asked.

  ‘Well, er, the word’s not necessarily the thing, so much as the intent behind it,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘It’s possible to say the wrong thing and do the opposite spell.’

  ‘So he countered the wrong thing?’

  ‘Quite so!’ Archimegadon replied.

  ‘How long will he stay frozen?’ Obdo asked.

  ‘Well, let’s keep him frozen as long as we can,’ Archimegadon replied.

  ‘Won’t the guards come?’ Neurion asked, stumbling out of the wreckage looking a bit better than expected.

  ‘Erm, one would hope that…’ Archimegadon began.

  The ice around Sen began to crack.

  ‘Sir Mage!’ Obdo said. ‘He’s getting free!’

  ‘Ah, erm… a minor complication,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Icebolt!’ He gestured at Sen, but nothing happened. He tried again, sweat beading on his forehead, but it was clear from the bulging of his eyes that it wasn’t working.

  The ice shattered, and a severely pissed-off Sen Delarian emerged, eyes blazing. ‘A neat little trick, Mage for Hire, but you squandered what victory you managed!’ He seized the front of Archimegadon’s robes and hurled him with surprising force back through the air, though he fell short of hitting any desks or shelves this time.

  He did however roll into the door, which provided a tempting route of escape. ‘Well, you’re quite right!’ Archimegadon said, hopping to his feet and mustering some sort of dignity. ‘Toodle pip, and all that. Good victory!’

  And he disappeared through the door.

  Sen glanced at Obdo and Neurion. ‘He… just deserted you both to me,’ he said.

  Obdo pursed his lips. ‘Uhm… have mercy, milord?’

  ‘I have guards for louts like you,’ Sen replied. ‘I’m killing Forseld.’

  And then the mage hero was gone as well.

  ‘Think we should follow?’ Obdo asked Neurion.

  The paladin nodded with a pious look. ‘It is our duty.’

  ‘Notice you weren’t so eager when he was right here,’ Obdo said.

  ‘Yes, well,’ Neurion said, flushing. ‘Neither were you, necromancer. Now come on!’

  As the two managed an almost-stationary charge to action, Archimegadon dodged into the corridor and found himself faced by the battle of Mortimyr and company versus Felick’s mercenaries and Bartell’s knights, who had now joined the fray. He tried to look inconspicuous and slip past, which was rather hard for someone who had mastered being noticeable to a ridiculous level. Indeed, as soon as he made one movement virtually everyone turned to look at him.

  ‘You!’ Valia said, looking at him with more hate than she had directed towards the current arch-enemy of Valanthas, Lord Bartell. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I, milady, am engaged in, erm… shall we say discussions with Sen Delarian?’ Archimegadon said. ‘However, I appear to have misplaced
something, and must, ah… collect it.’

  The door to Bartell’s study burst open and to all who saw him, it almost seemed as though Sen Delarian was surrounded by a wreath of flames, so consumed by anger he was at Archimegadon’s spots of luck so far. ‘Forseld!’ he howled.

  ‘Knowing you, it probably was a normal discussion,’ Valia said.

  Bartell’s knights and mercenaries hovered awkwardly, wondering if they should still be fighting. Sen threw a scowl down the corridor that struck them a mighty blow. ‘What are you doing, fools? Kill him! And the rest! But stop him first!’

  ‘But… they’re the threat!’ Archimegadon said, dodging one sword and stumbling over his robes down the nearest corridor.

  ‘How terribly heroic,’ Terrill said with a soft smile.

  No further opportunity for chatter was given as Bartell’s men made a messy attempt at re-joining the battle. Some of the knights split from the pack and went after Archimegadon, who rounded a corner and found himself faced by stairs leading up and down. Snorting at his momentary pause to choose a direction, he corrected himself and started off down the stairs. His freedom was short-lived as he found more guards headed for the stairs from below, who stopped in surprise to see him.

  ‘I’m Ub, the magician,’ Archimegadon said.

  ‘Get the mage!’ Sen was yelling down the corridors. ‘Get Archimegadon! I want him destroyed!’

  ‘Well, really,’ Archimegadon said, turning and bolting for the stairs leading up. ‘This is quite an overreaction.’

  The wall behind him shuddered and collapsed into rubble as Sen’s rage took a rather more painful form and shot down the corridor at him, and he picked up the pace. He reached a way out into another of Castle Aldrack’s unnecessary corridors but unfortunately found himself faced by more of the soldiers. Saying something too foul to be consigned to paper, Archimegadon took the next set of stairs up and suddenly felt a shiver of recognition. Last time he’d come up these stairs, he’d not been walking.

  His feeling of dread was confirmed as he stepped out into a painful burst of bright light that momentarily stunned him. Then his vision cleared and the glowing ball of energy above Castle Aldrack came into focus, along with the beam that reached up and spread out to form Bartell’s dome. He was on the top tower of Castle Aldrack…