Beneath the young wizard on his ledge, the surface of the molten lake bubbled. An enormous bubble rose near the center of the fiery caldera, then burst. Globs of cooling magma splashed high in the air. Some struck the rock of Mithris’ ledge, and one caught the hem of his robe. The cloth sizzled and burst into flame.
Mithris gasped and nearly lost his hold on the magic lasso. Within its bubble of magic, Ember trembled.
Closing his eyes and fighting panic, Mithris shouted a water cantrip. When he opened his eyes, the lower third of his robes had been soaked. Water dripped from the singed hem. The fire was out. The fabric dried almost instantly, the intense heat sucking the moisture hungrily. One fat droplet fell from his robe and evaporated before it hit the ground.
Mithris drew an unsteady breath, returning his focus to Ember. The foundation crystal was nearly through the portal. Another few feet and it would emerge. He began pulling, reeling it in. The currents buffeting his prize immediately grew stronger. Below his ledge, another massive bubble formed and burst.
“What’s happening?” he cried.
You’re disturbing the currents of Mount Wileth, Vapor informed him. It is a small change, but even the tiniest change can ripple out to impact a much larger piece of the world, like a drop in a pond.
“But what can I do? I need to get Ember out of there.”
Depths explains it like this: One drop in a pond won’t make much difference. It will ripple and then fade. But if you place many drops into the pond, they make many ripples. Those ripples crash into one another, creating chaos on the surface and below.
“Okay,” Mithris said slowly.
When you drag Ember quickly, you’re changing many of Mount Wileth’s currents without allowing any of your previous changes to fade. Eventually, Mount Wileth will respond to the chaos you’ve created, just as the surface of a pond becomes turbulent during a rainstorm. You must find the balance between changing things too much and not changing them enough. Do you understand?
“Got it. Go slow.” Mithris shook his head, peering through the portal at the foundation crystal floating in a bubble of his magic. It was so close. Steadying himself, he began once more pulling it toward him. He moved the crystal in tiny, gradual bursts. The currents still surged all around it, but the violence eased. No further bubbles burst below him.
That’s it. You’re getting it!
Mithris paused, allowing the currents to subside. Then he tugged his string again. Next, he waited once more. Ember was inches from the portal. Another few minutes, and he would have the foundation crystal in his hand. Then he could leave this awful place.
A deafening crack of thunder split the sky high above Mount Wileth. Mithris heard the rumbling crescendo even above the constant rushing sound of the inferno. He looked up, squinting his eyes against the brilliant splash of colored light that covered the entire area of night sky visible through the volcano’s mouth.
Within that ghostly aurora a dark speck at the center grew rapidly in size until Mithris could discern its shape. Rushing forth from the center of the rippling blanket of multicolored light flew a carriage.
Its shape was boxy, roofed but open at the top around the sides. Its four wheels spun as though it raced over the ground rather than soaring through the sky. Obscene carvings and scrollwork decorated the side and front panels that stood waist-high to the two dark, shadowy figures riding within. The carriage was pulled by a team of great serpents that slithered through the dark.
Mithris stared open-mouthed at the ominous carriage, nearly forgetting Ember and his portal. Feeling the magic waver, he forced himself to concentrate.
There was not much time now. He could hear the hissing of those massive vipers, heralding the impending arrival of certain doom. Mithris trembled. A Chaos Lord came for him.
Chapter 39
“By the foundations!” swore Mithris, giving Ember a sharp tug. The magma surface roiled and bubbled angrily, but Mithris yanked again. He had to get the crystal free before that awful carriage reached him.
Set your wards, urged Vapor. Mithris had never heard the crystal so anxious before.
That was because they had never faced a Chaos Lord. Mithris spared a glance up, to where the carriage was descending through the jagged mouth of Mount Wileth. Two figures rode in that carriage. Mithris could only stare at the one driving the team of serpents with its long, barbed whip.
Lit crimson by the fiery inferno, the Chaos Lord’s slick, reptilian skin glistened. His eyes, the color of blood, blazed in echo of the volcano’s primal fury. At his temples, two pairs of crescent-shaped white horns curved toward the crown of his head where a single horn sprouted like some perverse unicorn. He wore a shining steel breast plate over a black, cowled robe; matching steel arm guards protected his muscular forearms.
Set the wards!
“I’ll drop Ember if I split my concentration any further,” protested Mithris.
Do it now!
“But I have an idea,” said Mithris, eyes still glued to the black carriage. The serpents writhed their way down the swirling, superheated air. Their slitted eyes fixed back on the young wizard. Forked tongues flickered in and out of lipless, hungry mouths.
Oh no… said Vapor.
Mithris tightened his hold on Ember and yanked his magic string violently. Ember jerked and launched itself toward the portal. Releasing his hold on the portal itself, Mithris threw himself to the rear of his ledge. Slamming against the rock wall, he fell and cowered.
The surface of the lava pit burst forth in a geyser of molten rock. The portal snapped shut. Ember fell to the ground, bouncing once. Mithris had done it! He looked up in time to see the spout of lava crash into the Chaos Lord’s chariot.
Burning hot magma splashed down all around Mithris, burning into the rocky ledge. Mithris shouted a warding cantrip. His dome of magic resolved just as the lava spout collapsed. A virtual tidal wave of lava swept over his ledge before washing back down to the pit below. Mithris’ward sizzled and sparked, but held. He looked down frantically. Ember was within the ward.
Rapidly spitting out a second and then a third warding cantrip, Mithris darted over and snatched up the crystal. It was hot to the touch but did not quite burn him. He shoved it in his pocket, looking up at the flying chariot.
The magma geyser had seared the flesh of the serpents. They writhed in mid-air, hissing angrily. The chariot itself was unharmed, as were the two figures within. For the first time, Mithris took note of the man—an ordinary human man—standing at the Chaos Lord’s side.
The reptilian demon cracked its whip. The burned serpents hissed but pulled. Soon the carriage came level with the ledge. The Chaos Lord and its human companion stepped out onto the ledge, just beyond the outermost of Mithris’ wards. The man was a wizard with long flowing robes and a salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were cold and filled with hate.
“So.” It was the wizard who spoke, not the Chaos Lord. That grim demon towered at its master’s side, awaiting command. Mithris licked his lips, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. “Mithris. I have you at last.”
The wizard was surrounded by ghostly haloes, multiple layers of warding that moved with him. Mithris beheld those complex spells with wonder. His own shields could not move, and were far less intricate and powerful than those of his foe. He had never seen the wizard before.
“Who are you?” he called, surreptitiously flipping through Deinre’s spellbook to find a more powerful ward.
“Oh, come now.” The dark wizard chuckled. “Surely you’ve guessed that by now?”
That, said Vapor, is Eaganar.
The blood drained from Mithris’ face. Eaganar. The wizard who’d slain Master Deinre. His hands started to hurt. Looking down at them, Mithris was surprised to see them clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists. Blood seeped around his fingernails where they bit into his palms. He looked back up at the murderer and pushed down his fear.
It was surprisingly easy. The rage he felt helpe
d.
“You killed my Master!” he shouted angrily to Eaganar. The dark wizard chuckled again, spreading his arms to the sides and giving a courtly bow like an actor on the stage acknowledging applause.
“And now I shall kill his apprentice,” said Eaganar, rising from the bow. His lips curled in a sneer and he placed particular emphasis on the word apprentice.
“You need a Chaos Lord to defeat an apprentice?” taunted Mithris. “I had heard you were a powerful wizard, but I suppose that was a lie!”
What are you doing? Vapor sounded incredulous and nearly frantic.
Looming next to the dark wizard, the Chaos Lord emitted a rumbling growl from deep in its throat. Fires danced in its blood-red eyes. It flexed its thick-fingered hands threateningly. But Eaganar laughed and waved the demon down.
“The child thinks he is a wizard,” Eaganar said mockingly. “Deinre was a fool, boy. His tower fell in minutes. Did you know your master wept as he died? He begged me for mercy.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Is it?” Eaganar stepped forward, raising his staff. It was topped with a very realistic looking human skull. Mithris was not entirely sure the skull was carved from the same wood as the staff. Eaganar smiled darkly. “Is it really? Your master sniveled and whined like a dog, boy! You will do the same!”
Eaganar thrust his skull-headed staff forward at Mithris’ wards and began a lengthy incantation in the darkest serpentine tongue of magic. Ethereal flames burst to light within the cavernous, empty eyes of the skull. Eaganar’s voice rose in volume and pitch as he neared the climax of his casting.
Mithris swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, struggling to remember his most powerful dueling spells. His wards would collapse in a moment. If he didn’t think of something quick, Eaganar was going to kill him and take all four of the foundation crystals.
Chapter 40
“Perhaps you should consider more carefully, human.” The voice of the Chaos Lord rasped like a knife slicing through leather soaked in blood. Mithris shivered at the sound. Eaganar merely glanced over at the demonic creature in irritation.
“Perhaps you should keep in mind who summoned you hence, Tzrak,” the wizard said, his voice cold and dangerous.
“Lord Tzrak,” corrected the demon. Then he opened his mouth in a lengthy yawn of boredom. The pebbly green skin of his head split open in a wide, lipless maw filled with razor teeth and a thick, bifurcated tongue. “It is you who would do well to remember, human. Remember who it is you summoned with your magic. And remember our deal.”
Tzrak glanced at Mithris, who stood with hunched shoulders within his wards. The young wizard watched his foes with naked curiosity. The demon lord gave a rumbling growl, and fixed its bloody eyes on Eaganar.
“A word,” growled the Chaos Lord. Then it turned and stomped to the far end of the ledge. Eaganar followed with suspiciously narrowed eyes, his rising ire plain in the set of his thin, cruel lips.
“Explain yourself,” demanded the dark wizard.
Looking askance at Mithris, the Chaos Lord moved closer to Eaganar and spoke to him in a voice too low to carry. Mithris went right up to the innermost of his wards and stood as if pressing his ear to a wall. He did not care if they saw him trying to listen in. They were trying to kill him, after all.
I don’t think Eaganar really has control of that creature, said Vapor.
“Of course he doesn’t,” muttered Mithris, still straining to hear what the demon had to say. He thought he caught one word, a word that chilled him. Crystals. “That’s a Chaos Lord. They can’t be controlled like other summoned creatures. Eaganar would have offered a bargain…”
In that case, I think I’d prefer not to learn the details of that bargain. Mithris, this would be an ideal time to leave.
“They’ll follow,” said Mithris, but he called to mind the words for the traveling spell anyway.
The Chaos Lord’s bulbous head jerked up as Mithris began the incantation. Its face twisted in rage. The demon took two long, bounding strides. The whip flashed up, and the Chaos Lord flicked it with the ease of long practice. The whip lashed out and struck the outermost ward.
Mithris was thrown off his feet as his wards, all of them, collapsed. He felt something torn from him, as if the monster had somehow reached into his chest and ripped out a lung or his heart. He shouted a defensive cantrip. Nothing happened. He suddenly became aware of the intense burning heat all around him.
Stunned, Mithris lay defenseless on the stone ledge and stared up at the Chaos Lord in panic. The hot stone burned him through his clothes.
Tzrak stalked forward until he stood over Mithris, his lipless slit of a mouth curled in a sneer. He held his hands up to either side, whip dangling limply from one and the fingers of the other splayed. Some kind of darkness swirled between his fingers, an inky shadow given substance. Mithris stared at the dancing shadow and knew that this blackness could absorb all the light in the world.
Eaganar laughed aloud and clapped his hands in delight. The wizard hurried over with a gloating smile.
“Now, apprentice,” he spat. “With no magic to save you, and no sniveling master to hide behind, you face the end. If you give me the foundation crystals willingly, I will instruct my companion here to kill you quickly. That is a mercy, boy. One I will only offer once.”
Eaganar held out his hand expectantly. Mithris blinked at it.
Lord Tzrak made that rumbling sound in his thick chest again.
“I will not remind you of our bargain again, Eaganar,” growled the demon. “The boy is mine, to kill however I please.”
“Oh, fine.” Eaganar shook his head at Mithris. “Nevermind, I suppose.”
“And my share of the spoils,” Tzrak continued.
“Yes, yes.” Eaganar waved his hand impatiently. “I know. Once I have what I came for, I care not. Kill him, Tzrak.”
“Lord Tzrak.”
For the first time, Eaganar seemed to hear the danger in that otherworldly, rasping voice. Dropping his hand, he took a nervous step back and eyed the Chaos Lord warily.
“When you summoned me, you said the boy carried three foundation crystals. You said that all you wanted was his death and the crystals he carried. Anything else in his possession, including his body and soul, are mine. Thus was our bargain struck, and thus have you reaffirmed it mere moments ago when I reminded you of our terms.”
“Yes, yes,” Eaganar said quickly. His tone was a mixture of impatience and growing concern. He peered at Tzrak, puzzled. “The crystals are mine, everything else is yours. What is your point, Lord Tzrak?”
Mithris swept his eyes back and forth between the wizard and the demon. He wondered what the Chaos Lord was getting at too, but was more worried about what the monster meant to do with him. Body and soul, Tzrak had said…
“Three crystals are yours, Eaganar.”
The dark wizard drew his head back, brow furrowed by confusion. “What? What’s this?”
“The boy carries four crystals. The fourth is mine.”
I know you don’t like to be bothered at a time like this, Vapor whispered in Mithris’ thoughts. But Ember says it very much does not want to go with Tzrak.
Mithris could scarcely blame the firestone for that. But the Chaos Lord had severed him, somehow, from the magic. More than his words collapsed. He still felt that emptiness inside himself. Mithris knew that even were he able to utter an incantation fast enough, no spell he cast would resolve.
His skin ached from the heat and each drawn breath felt devoid of air. Mithris winced as he rolled to his side.
He was at the mercy of the Chaos Lord.
Chapter 41
“Four crystals?” Eaganar shook himself and turned wondering eyes on Mithris where he lay flat on the stone. “Four crystals! You continue to surprise and impress, boy.”
The dark wizard turned away sharply and began pacing in a tight circle. “Of course. I should have known. Why else would the fool boy come to Mount Wileth? Why
else would he lower himself down into a live volcano?” Eaganar laughed. He sounded more than half mad when he did that. “Because there’s a foundation crystal in the volcano. And you got it out. You’re growing quite the collection.”
Mithris swallowed nervously.
Eaganar chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. At length, he shrugged. Turning to Lord Tzrak, he said, “Fine. The fourth crystal is yours.”
“That is correct.” The Chaos Lord turned its hand toward Mithris. The shadow dancing on his palm leapt forth, stretching into a long slash of inky darkness. Mithris cringed and cowered back. The shadow slipped into his pocket and drew out Vapor, Depths, and Terra.
“No!” shouted Mithris, grabbing for the crystals. But Tzrak jerked his hand back, and the crystals flew straight to Eaganar. The dark wizard caught them one at a time and slipped them into his own robes with an ever-widening smile.
In the same instant, Tzrak cracked his whip again. Its crack split the air. The tip scored a fiery line along Mithris’ cheek. Blood welled up in the stinging wound and Mithris fell back, shrieking. He felt magical fire eating its way into his blood from the whip.
Eaganar sneered at the young wizard. “It’s too bad Deinre ruined you, boy. I can see why he felt drawn to you. With proper instruction, you’d have made a grand wizard some day. Such a waste.”
The dark wizard spared a final, lingering glance of avarice at the fiery foundation crystal Mithris still clutched in his hands. Ember’s ethereal lava spurts spun madly around the young wizard’s hand. Eaganar shook his head, dismissing his longing for the crystal and its power. Turning, he walked away.
Mithris and Lord Tzrak both watched as Eaganar climbed back into the serpent-drawn chariot. The dark wizard looked back.
“By your leave, Lord Tzrak.”
The Chaos Lord bristled at the mocking tone, but nodded his huge green head. “Our bargain is held. Go in peace, human.”
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