“Oh yeah? Never been. Haven’t been to many places,” he said, watching Nyset. “Wow, she gets better every day,” he mused.
“She is very talented,” Baylan said. “Well, how did your interview go?”
“It was alright. They asked me a whole lotta questions. I knew the Midgaard Falcon was selective, but… it was tiring.”
“The army will be very fortunate to have you in their ranks,” Baylan smiled, flipped open a notebook and scribbled something.
“Yeah, then I’ll finally prove my Uncle Will wrong. He always told me I should just work in the tavern, that the army would never accept a big person, well looks like he was wrong.” He grinned.
“It is amazing what can be done when you put your mind to it,” Walter said, clapping the man’s meaty shoulder.
Nyset sauntered over the group and placed a hand on her hip. “I’m ravenous, everyone ready for morning supper?” She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
“Hopefully, we have enough plates left,” Malek said.
* * *
The sparse dining chamber in the Tower of Mediation contained a smoking hearth, a simple table, and a few cupboards on the walls. They sat around the circular table with strange letters on the edge, pouring a carafe of hot elixir into mugs. Walter stared at the letters, cocking his head and trying to make sense of them.
“So why do they call this place ‘The Tower of Meditation’ anyway?” Walter asked, rubbing one of the symbols with his fingertip.
“Well this is my home,” Malek said, setting down a box of pastries. “Could you wager a guess at what I prefer to do with my time, Walter?”
“I see. Why do you meditate?”
Malek ran a hand through his hair. It looked like he had cut it himself with a pair of dull scissors. “I meditate to be.”
Walter scrunched up his eyebrows and tore into a fig pastry, eyes widening at the first bite. “Delicious,” he moaned. Grimbald took a glug from a beer stein filled with dark elixir. Nyset examined the contents of her pastry, rubbing the strange fruit paste between her fingers. Baylan took a bite and wiped the crumbs from his blue robes, and sighed.
“I really should be getting back to the Tower soon. I’ve sent word of Lillian’s passing and of the attacks multiple times. It’s so strange,” Baylan swallowed and took a sip of elixir. “I haven’t received any return messages.”
Malek leaned back in his chair and dabbed at his mouth with a cloth. “That is unlike the Tower, I presume?”
“Yes, it seems something is amiss in the Tower, or all of your pigeons are being eaten by hawks. However for now, I’ll stay with you two, to help you find your friend.” Baylan looked from Walter to Nyset. “I think you will need my guidance, the Tower will most certainly understand.” He smiled reassuringly.
“Thank you Baylan, we sure appreciate your company,” Walter said, grabbing another half-moon shaped pastry.
“I understand you wish to seek your friend in the Tigerian Bluffs,” Malek said. “If what you say is true, that he was indeed taken through a portal, I would caution you that he is probably not well, or more likely dead.”
Walter grunted and started drumming his fingers on the table. “We have to try, anyway.” I know he is alive, I can feel it.
“Too bad I won’t be going with you,” Grimbald said, working on his third pastry. “I like to travel.”
“It’s alright Grim, we understand that you need to do what you need to do.” Walter said, nodding.
Walter reached under the table and put his hand on Nyset’s knee. She slid her cool hand over his and squeezed it. She cast him a quick smile.
“Are you going to eat that, or just play with it?” Grimbald asked Nyset, his mouth jammed with pastry bits.
Nyset licked the brown paste from her fingers. “Eat it, of course,” she said blinking rapidly.
“You — we should stay here with Malek a bit longer. You need to learn to harness your abilities, and he is one of finest tutors in the realm, despite never swearing allegiance to the Tower,” Baylan said.
Malek glared at Baylan for half a second, and then resumed his generally impassive face. “Teaching pupils is always a pleasure, one I get very rarely in these times. It seems with each passing generation, less people can touch the god essences.”
“No, this can’t wait, Juzo can’t wait.” Walter said.
“Walt,” she squeezed his hand again. “Look at how far we’ve come in such a short time. Don’t you see how valuable this training has been? I mean, do you really think we’ll find him?”
He stared into his hands, eyes lingering on his gleaming bracer, Stormcaller. The memory of the terror on Juzo’s face as he was lifted into the air flashed into his mind. Walter banged his fist against the table, rattling mugs. “Fuck, alright. Three more days and that’s about all I can handle.”
“That seems a bit more reasonable,” Malek said. “You won’t regret it. I have much I can teach you,” he said, rubbing his goatee. “The Tigerian Bluffs… did you say the man had a mask and a staff that resembled a snake?”
No. I never told you that, but clearly you know him, or know of the bastard. “Yeah, it happened so fast, but yes. I wouldn’t forget that bastard if I saw him.” Walter clamped down on the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from saying more. Always say less than necessary, Dad always said. Bide your time.
“There is a powerful wizard who dwells in the Tigerian Bluffs, a Necromancer who meets your description. He is an evil you don’t want to encounter.”
“What the Phoenix is a Necromancer?” asked Walter. That confirms Nyset’s idea from the book I found in Juzo’s bag.
“I’ll have to defer to Baylan,” Malek said, gesturing towards him and rubbing at his throat. He either doesn’t know, or doesn’t like this line of conversation.
“Ah, Necromancy, a terrible form of magic, a terrible evil. Necromancers can commune with the essence of death itself. A Necromancer is a wizard, much like me and you.” Baylan cleared his throat and took a swig of elixir. “A wizard who can raise the dead and speak with angry souls. They draw power by consuming the souls of the living, killing not only their bodies, but destroying their souls. They do not touch the Phoenix or the Dragon.”
The room fell silent.
“Wow, that’s fascinating,” Nyset said, wrinkling her nose.
“Even a wizard can fall by an axe blade,” Grimbald chuckled. “This elixir is excellent Malek,” he bellowed at the wide eyed man.
“That, that is what you could be dealing with,” Malek said, collecting himself. “Assuming you manage to find your friend, and hopefully not the Necromancer, the Tigerian Bluffs are a maze of plateaus, each strikingly similar.”
“Ny, you’ve always wanted to see the east. And Baylan, we would be so close to the Tower we could go there after. I suppose you’ll still be in training then, eh Grim?”
“Aye,” he replied, popping another pastry into his maw.
“Alright, just the three of us then. Adventure!” Walter said, rubbing his hands together. “There’s something else we need to discuss, Baylan. The Phoenix and the Dragon—we’ve been practicing, using our respective abilities—but I really need to get a better understanding of how they work. What can you guys tell me about them?”
Nyset looked at Walter and nodded eagerly, “Good question Walt.” She looked from Baylan to Malek, who looked at each other.
“Magics,” Grimbald muttered to himself.
“Well don’t be shy,” Malek said, gesturing towards Baylan, green light reflecting through an emerald in one of his many rings.
“Alright, I suppose now is a good time, given that you had a chance to practice with Malek and get a feel for your new limbs, as it were. By now you’ve probably realized, it’s much like using a muscle that you never developed, and now you’re able to flex it at will,” Baylan said. Walter lightly drummed his fingers on a small pile of crumbs and Nyset scratched at her chin and looked up.
“Being blessed with the ability to use the Phoenix or Dragon power is hereditary, as far as we know. In ancient times, men who could use the powers and were the first to visualize their forms, and had constructed the idea of the Phoenix and Dragon being gods. They’re not really gods, or mythical beings but an aberration some men possess, I think,” Baylan paused, taking a sip of elixir.
“Wait—you said it was hereditary. My parents can’t do anything like that— and they knew I could. They even brought me to the forest to practice at night, so no one would see me,” Nyset said, light brown skin becoming gradients of white. “It makes sense now. I have blonde hair, and they have black. I don’t even look like them. I must not be —” She paused and looked into her lap as a single tear fell into it. Walter reached over and rubbed her neck. “It’s okay, sorry. It’s okay, go on,” she said with a sniffle.
“Hey, don’t jump to conclusions here, even if you found out they weren’t your natural parents, they were most certainly your parents, people who loved you and cared for you,” Grimbald said. “My Pa’s not my real Dad, never met ‘em. But my Pa is my Pa.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, and they are great people. Please Baylan, go on… I shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”
Baylan watched Nyset for a second. “Generally only men are blessed with the power of the Phoenix. There are, of course, exceptions to every common rule. It is most notable for its ability to allow the user to self-heal, and, with more advanced development, mend the wounds of others. Walter, I’m sure you know how this works at this point.” Walter nodded, wincing with the memory.
“It’s healing power, however, is limited to minor and somewhat severe wounds. If you were to say, lose a limb, well we have yet to have a documented example of anyone being able to regrow that limb. However, cuts, burns, puncture wounds, broken bones, disease, and the like are typically able to be mended by the Phoenix power.”
“It truly is incredible,” Walter said to no one in particular. “I remember the first time it happened, when it first healed me. It was when the two Black Wynches ambushed Nyset and me… and one of them ran me through with its fucking claws. It was like something awoke inside of me, like —” The Dragon did, he thought, catching himself. “It reminds me of the first time I learned how to spin kick at someone’s head. Once I figured out what to do, it just became part of me.”
“That is the experience most people have,” Baylan said.
“Is there any way for Phoenix power to stop pain?” Walter asked, vividly remembering how it felt to be stabbed four times at once by each tine of the Black Wynch’s claw.
“There is, through shields, but not at the wound site itself, unfortunately. Phoenix shields require a lot of concentration. Using them will leave you feeling quite drained, but they are effective.”
“I still haven’t figured out how to do that yet, what exactly can they stop? I saw you use one against the Cerumal back at the cannibal Mar’s camp… so we can stop swords, but what else?” Walter asked, scratching his head as he pondered the question.
“Anything physical will be prevented from passing through a Phoenix shield, however it does nothing to mute the impact of the blow. The blade may not cut your head off, but its force can still knock you over. Like anything, the more you use it the easier it gets. They can be used to stop Dragon attacks also, but that is a much more advanced skill, one that took me years to get a handle on,” Baylan said, regarding Walter with his wise eyes.
“Hm,” Walter said, pressing his chin on his hands in deep concentration.
“Don’t worry, when we have some extra time I’ll teach you how to create shields,” Baylan said, smiling.
That would be a very useful skill, don’t forget to remind him, Walter thought.
“And the Dragon?” Nyset asked, leaning forward in her chair and craning her neck.
“We both know little, I think, but I’ll have to defer to Malek for this one, he can probably tell you more,” Baylan said, folding his hands. “If Lillian were still here…” He squinted his eyes and his lips trembled.
“I know she was very important to you— she saved countless lives and we will never forget her,” Nyset said, putting a hand on Baylan’s shoulder. Baylan nodded and took a deep breath.
Malek cut a large chunk of butter from a plate and stirred it into his elixir, making the spoon tinkle against the mug.
“Good idea,” Grimbald said, dropping a hunk of butter into his elixir mug.
Malek cleared his throat. “I suppose a formal discussion is in order, after all the training we’ve done with your natural talents. The god’s powers are quite complex, and we’ve barely scratched the surface in our training together,” Malek said. He took a sip of his elixir and licked the sheen of melted butter on his lips.
“The Dragon is the chaos in the eye of the storm, the mouth of the volcano, the rage one feels towards a cheating lover. The Phoenix is a warm breeze at the end of a summer night, the currents of the Abyssal Sea caressing your toes, a warm bed after slaving in the laboratory,” Malek said with a sigh.
“Never thought you for the poetic type,” Walter said with a grin.
Malek’s cheeks reddened. He raised his large mug to his face and took another sip, looking at the ceiling. A knock to his literary prowess and the man loses his composure. Apparently even wizards have feelings. Walter couldn’t help but allow the beginnings of a smile to touch his lips at finding this flaw in his armor.
“The power of the Dragon is manifested in the four principal elements. Fire, wind, stone, and lightning, in increasing order of difficulty to manifest. This is why I’ve started you with fire, Nyset. Were you aware of the other elements?”
Nyset shook her head, “No, well not really. I thought there was something else I could feel, but I wasn’t really sure what to do with it.”
“Sadly, as a man I can only teach you what I’ve learned from books, which is very little. If you eventually find your way to the tower, you’ll have to work with the women there.”
“Baylan, we’re going to go to the Tower, right? You’ll take me? Take us?” Nyset fired the questions at him rapidly.
“We will certainly make our way there in time.”
“For manifesting flames,” Malek began. “The fire of the Dragon can be woven into any shape your mind can conceive. You’ll most often find yourself manifesting the flames of the Dragon in the shapes and forms that come most naturally to your mind’s eye. For you, that was darts. I’ve had you working on discs to teach you that you can create bigger shapes, which you’ve probably felt comes with an associated energy cost,” Malek said.
“You’re right. I didn’t realize it until you mentioned it. The first two days we had practiced using the flame discs, I couldn’t figure out why I felt so tired. I attributed it to sleeping someplace new, living in the city for the first time, but that explanation makes a lot more sense.”
“Get more comfortable with those, then move on to larger structures. Unfortunately, regarding the other elements, I am unable to help you. There isn’t much written about the god’s powers, for good reason. The Tower likes to keep its strength close to the chest,” Malek said, casting a glance at Baylan, who rolled his eyes.
“You three should go explore Midgaard today, since you haven’t really had a chance yet. Malek and I have some catching up to do,” Baylan said.
“Yes! There are so many interesting foods I want to try,” Grimbald said, biting his fingers.
Walter chuckled. “Alright then, have fun, we sure will.”
Chapter Four
Testing
“I know very little of the demon god Asebor, other than when his presence has been reported in grand battles, the scales quickly tip in favor of the enemy. I will have to refer the reader to the Silver Tower Library for more detail.” -from the Death Spawn Compendium by Nazli Tegen
Juzo stared up at the cobwebs and strings of dust that hung from the ceiling of his room.
“Place is fucking fi
lthy, looks the part at least,” he snickered. Life essence, feed me, the relentless voice of the black steel sword, Blackout, whispered in his head. The voice was stronger in such close proximity to Juzo.
He rose from his cot, littered with dried bloodstains and paced around the room. Come. To me, Blackout’s ethereal voice commands. No, this is not a room. This is a prison cell. He let out a low growl.
Juzo stood on his cot and grabbed the stone bars covering his window, hoisting himself up to see out. White moonlight lit the towering plateaus around the valley and cast others in deep shadow. I am your hand, Blackout whispered.
“Stop, stop stop!” Juzo shouted, covering his ears. Blood. Spirits. Souls.
“Let me out!” he screamed. He ran to the door and bashed it with his shoulder. A normal door would’ve had the hinges torn from the frame with such a blow. This stony door was immovable, laughing at his pathetic attempt.
“Yeah, you think that’s funny, do you? Oh yes, very funny.” He scowled at the door. Come master, come, Blackout said. Juzo planted his feet and drove his fist into the door. It bounced off and he screamed, clutching his trembling hand. The flesh that normally covered the bone on his knuckles was gone and two of the knuckles were disfigured, positioned in the wrong spot. “Fucking Dragon forged door,” he moaned.
The eyeless mask of Terar glided into view behind the door’s slot. “What is your name?” he hissed.
Uglyfuck.
“My name is Law, master. I am Law.”
“Good. A few more days in here will help you remember it.”
“Yes, master.” The slot closed.
Juzo leaned his back against the door, and slid to the ground. Why me? Why am I in this fucking nightmare? He started licking the blood that oozed from around his exposed bones. It was intoxicating, nourishing, and awful all at once. What fuels my strength rots my soul. Just have to get Blackout back and then, and then I’ll eat his guts and piss on his burning body.
The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2) Page 4
