EverMage - The Complete Series: A Fantasy Novel

by Trip Ellington

  Eaganar looked like he wanted to say something more, but he obviously thought better of it. With a muttered incantation he took control of the otherworldly snakes. Hissing, they rose up from the ledge. Their long, thick bodies undulated on empty air as they slithered skyward, bearing the boxy carriage up behind them.

  Mithris watched as the chariot passed out of the mouth of the volcano and disappeared from sight. His heart ached. He knew he was about to die a horrible death. Somehow, the loss of the crystals bothered him more. Though he would likely only survive another few moments, he lamented the loss of Vapor especially. The crystal would not speak to him again.

  He looked up at the looming creature of darkness and horror. Lord Tzrak bared his jagged teeth in a predatory smile.

  Mithris!

  That was Vapor’s voice in his head. The crystal seemed distant, much as it had when he lay in Yuric’s dungeon near Avington. Of course, Mithris realized. Vapor could still talk to him. He felt a momentary surge of hope in his breast.

  “I will savor your suffering,” said the Chaos Lord.

  You must defeat this creature, Mithris.

  “I can’t!” Mithris cried. “I can’t cast anything!”

  Tzrak narrowed his bloody colored eyes, peering down at Mithris in puzzlement. “I know that, worm. The power will not answer your summons.”

  The leys, Mithris. Remember the leys!

  Mithris didn’t understand at first. He had tapped the nearby ley lines when he first arrived. They were like cracks in the fabric of the foundations. Magical energy could spill through them like light shining through a tear in dark cloth. But the Chaos Lord had blocked his ability to control that energy with his incantations. Mithris could do nothing.

  Then he remembered his duel with the mad wizard Zerto. The ancient paranoiac had buried his tower in an enchanted grotto atop a massive convergence of many leys. Zerto had thought this power would make him invincible, but Mithris had wrested control of the ley energy in its raw form. He had twisted that essence of power and shaped it with his bare hands. And he hadn’t spoken a word!

  Lord Tzrak cracked his whip yet again. The tip stung Mithris’ hand. He cried out. Ember was torn from his grasp, sent flipping through the air to Tzrak’s outstretched hand. The demon clutched at the firestone, moving it near to his chest with a rumbling sigh of satisfaction.

  “Oh, now this is power!” The Chaos Lord threw back his head and laughed. It sounded like a thousand spears piercing the bodies of a thousand men all at once.

  Mithris licked his lips and tried to slide backward, away from the demon. He watched Tzrak carefully. He doubted he would have more than one shot at this. Fighting down his terror, Mithris concentrated. Tzrak would strike any moment now. The young wizard must be ready for it.

  “With this gemstone, I shall reshape the very foundations,” gloated Tzrak. His forked tongue flicked briefly from his mouth. “I shall tear down the pillars of creation and remake the worlds as I please. I shall destroy order! I shall shatter all bonds! I will bring Chaos! Oh, yes, worm. This is a prize you have given me, a prize beyond all reckoning. You shall be remembered, and all the souls of all the realms will curse your name as they gnash their teeth in torment for all eternity!”

  Mithris braced himself. He knew it was coming. His teeth ground together, and he rose up into a low crouch. Tzrak laughed at him with heavy scorn.

  “But first,” the Chaos Lord growled, “I’ll use this pretty toy to destroy you!”

  Lord Tzrak lifted Ember in his fist and began an incantation. The Chaos Lord spoke slowly in a sonorous tone. Tzrak was clearly in no hurry. As he built his spell of words, Ember’s surface danced with shifting light. The orbiting lava bursts sped faster and faster about the stone.

  Mithris could see the magic taking shape. Forced to obey the demon’s commands, Ember drew power from the ley line passing through Mount Wileth’s fiery heart. The power passed into the foundation crystal and then seeped back out, soaking into the Chaos Lord and spilling from his fingertips as his spell began to resolve.

  “Now or never,” Mithris muttered to himself, and then he tried to seize that invisible column of raw power.

  Chapter 42

  Tzrak wove a powerful spell of magical fire. The intricate words trickled off his tongue in a steady cadence. The surging power built up around the Chaos Lord in a shimmering halo only visible to wizards and magical creatures. Mithris seized for that energy.

  He had done this once before, but that had been more of an accident than any clever plan. Mad old Zerto had sought to destroy him, but Mithris had instinctively seized at Zerto’s spell before it resolved and turned it against the mad wizard.

  Mithris leaped forward, grabbing hold of the growing field of power. He felt it like a solid, somewhat spongy substance. It writhed under his fingers and resisted his attempts to control it.

  Last time, Mithris suddenly remembered, he’d had the benefit of a cantrip that slowed his perception of time. He had been able to move far quicker than normal, reacting instantaneously to the unpredictable swells and surges of an unknown spell striving to take shape.

  “What is this?” barked Lord Tzrak, his bloody red eyes opening wide in surprise.

  For a brief moment, Mithris thought he’d broken the Chaos Lord’s concentration. Then he realized Tzrak had completed his incantation.

  The spell took form.

  Mithris fought the resolving energy, twisting it. He howled a wordless cry of strain and desperation. He felt the magic give, just slightly, as the spell resolved.

  There was a bright flash of light, a deafening crack of thunder. Mithris slammed into the rock wall behind him before he even realized he’d been hurled from his feet.

  Lord Tzrak was similarly rocked by the blast, staggering backward and clasping one hand to his head. The Chaos Lord roared in surprised anger. When he recovered, Tzrak shook himself and stared at Mithris.

  The young wizard pushed himself up, holding to the burning hot stone wall at his back for support. He was unsteady on his feet. He felt dizzy, nauseous. His vision swam and with a spike of fear he struggled to remain conscious.

  “What did you do?” demanded Tzrak, lumbering forward. “That spell should have vaporized you!”

  Mithris, fighting to stay on his feet, did not bother answering the demon. His heart sank. It hadn’t worked, or at least it had only worked half way. He was alive—not exactly unscathed, but alive—but so was Lord Tzrak.

  When Mithris offered no reply, Tzrak scowled and took a menacing step forward. There was no mistaking the malice in those blood-red eyes. Growling low in his throat, the Chaos Lord began another incantation.

  Mithris knew he was in trouble. He staggered away from the rock wall and nearly fell. He could see the magical energy swelling around Tzrak and knew there was not much time. He would have to try again, and hope that this time it went better. He felt a small surge of hope, noting a trace of uncertainty in the Chaos Lord’s chanting voice.

  “Come on, sleeping mind,” Mithris whispered, “I need you to wake up.”

  As Tzrak built his spell, Mithris spoke the cantrip he had used against Zerto. It would speed his reactions, seeming to slow everything else to a crawl. But the spell did not resolve; Mithris was still cut off somehow. His only hope was in wrestling away control of the magic Tzrak himself summoned.

  The demon continued his droning incantation, eyes locked on the youthful wizard. Mithris shook his head, trying to clear it. Blinking, he focused his attention on the cloud of energy swirling around the Chaos Lord. Before his eyes, the spell began to take shape under Tzrak’s arcane instruction.

  Mithris caught a few words he recognized, and he thought he knew what sort of spell Tzrak was building. It was another fire spell, and Ember burned brightly in the demon’s clawed hand.

  Tzrak’s incantation was lengthy and complex. New elements appeared in the slowly resolving spell. Mithris saw an indistinct darkness threading itself through the magical energy
. The shadow spread like ink spilled underwater. It was the same darkness Tzrak had held in his hand earlier: the power of a Chaos Lord.

  Mount Wileth rumbled. The ledge trembled beneath Mithris’ feet.

  Veins of shadow coiled throughout the building tide of energy now. Tendrils of magic sank into the rocks below, burrowing deep into the volcano itself. The mountain rumbled again. Tzrak’s incantation was nearly complete. Mithris had to act now.

  He flung himself forward, grasping at the nearest thread of power. As his fingers closed around the ethereal energy, Mithris gasped. Where the shadow touched his flesh, it burned. The shadow was like a choking vine coiled around a tree, and it had thorns. These penetrated the wizard’s hand, sinking into him. He gritted his teeth against the invasive pain, and twisted the magic.

  Tzrak completed his incantation. The spell hung in the air, resolving itself. Mount Wileth shuddered.

  The spell did not resolve. Mithris held on to one thread of power, holding it now in both hands and fighting it. More of those inky thorns sank into his skin, searing through flesh and bone and leeching into his very soul. Mithris felt the darkness inside him. It sought to devour him.

  Beneath the ledge, the lake of molten rock surged and bubbled and spat tiny bursts of flame into the air.

  Mithris screamed and something snapped in his mind. The magic bent to his will.

  Lord Tzrak’s bloody eyes bulged wide in shock. His lipless slit of a mouth fell open in disbelief. The spell resolved at last, but it was not the spell Tzrak had cast. Not exactly.

  Mount Wileth roared, the inferno at the mountain’s heart boiling over. Lava sloshed below the ledge and began to rise. The magic hanging in the air between demon and wizard burst with a flash of light and a deafening crash like thunder.

  The volcano erupted.

  Chapter 43

  Magical energy whipped around in a violent maelstrom within the erupting volcano. As spumes of molten lava shot upward, tendrils of magic wrapped themselves around the magma. Sheets of energy formed barriers, forcing the flow into a narrow channel.

  That channel was like an invisible funnel built of magic. Its wide base formed directly above the lake of magma. It rose gracefully upward, curving and twisting and bending as it narrowed. The lava boiled up inside that funnel, pressure and speed increasing as the pathway narrowed.

  Tzrak the Chaos Lord saw what was happening. He threw up his hands and bellowed a warding cantrip. It was no use.

  That conduit of magic originated from him. The Chaos Lord could not comprehend what Mithris had done. This wizard…this boy… had somehow turned Tzrak’s own spell against him. It should have been impossible.

  A million gallons of molten rock poured directly into the Chaos Lord, following the invisible conduit of magic. To non-magical eyes, it would appear that a braided cord of fire and liquid rock lifted itself like a snake and struck at the demon.

  Intense roiling heat flooded out, washing over Mithris and driving him back. The young wizard staggered and fell to his knees.

  Lava struck the Chaos Lord and burned him away in an instant.

  As Tzrak was wiped from existence, so too was his magic. The conduit through which the lava flowed dissipated rapidly.

  Mithris felt his connection to the magic restored in the same instant. It was like an appendage that had been amputated, now suddenly regrown and fully healed.

  The lava spout, no longer contained by the spell, lost its shape. Hot molten rock splashed in all directions as the towering lava flow collapsed. The entire mountain shook; the eruption was far from over.

  Get out of there! Vapor’s distant voice shouted desperately inside the young wizard’s head.

  Mithris shouted his traveling spell in a mad rush. A wave of lava bore down on him. Droplets of white-hot rock splashed at the hem of his robes. Flames grew wherever they landed. A drop landed on his outstretched arm. Flesh bubbled and blistered and melted away.

  The traveling incantation ended in an agonized scream.

  Hot lava covered the entire ledge. More of the magma surged up below. The caldera boiled upward toward the jagged opening high overhead.

  Mithris materialized in midair above Mount Wileth. He fell to the snow-covered summit, rolling over the ground. His burning robes hissed as the flames were extinguished. Snow melted from the heat. Mithris slammed up against a sharp rock, cracking his ribs.

  The young wizard jerked his head up in time to see the lava spurt over the lip of the crater. Boiling over, it vaporized the snow and spread quickly in all directions. Mithris lay some twenty paces from the peak.

  He pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain from his broken ribs. The traveling spell had worked, but it had not taken him far enough. Focusing on a point at the foot of Mount Wileth, he gathered his concentration to try again.

  Wards!

  Mithris did not think. He reacted. Instead of the traveling spell, he threw up a series of wards. The first resolved just as an invisible fist struck at Mithris. The magic attack crashed against the ward, nearly collapsing it.

  Eaganar stepped out from a deep cleft in the side of the mountain, his expression murderous.

  “So you survived the Chaos Lord,” said the evil wizard. “Most impressive, apprentice.”

  Eaganar raised his skull-headed staff. Three foundation crystals glittered and flashed in his other hand where they were squeezed tightly together. The empty eye sockets of the skull glowed with infernal light as Eaganar began a new incantation.

  Mithris quickly threw up the rest of his wards. Eaganar completed his spell. The dark sky above rumbled in concert with the erupting volcano. Tongues of lightning shot down, driving themselves at Mithris. Again and again the lightning struck his wards.

  Eaganar advanced, already casting a new attack.

  We cannot resist him, Mithris. While he possesses us, he may use us.

  The lava flow had nearly reached them now. Lightning continued battering the wards, joined now by howling winds that pushed Mithris back. He dug his feet into the snow, resisting.

  Eaganar glanced back at the lava. He spat out a series of twisted words, and a powerful ward sprang up around him. The lava reached the edge of the ward and parted, flowing around it. Eaganar was already intoning his next attack.

  Mithris stood within the protective bubble of his wards. The flurry of lightning strikes battered against his shields. The rushing wind whipped his robes and pushed at him, threatening to throw him clean off the side of the mountain.

  The lava flowed completely around Eaganar’s ward, encircling the dark wizard. It was a bit higher than ankle-deep. Mithris knew his own wards could not withstand the molten rock.

  He rushed through a cantrip and felt himself lifting off the ground. The winds buffeted him, seeming stronger than before. Without his feet firmly on the mountain’s slope, it became much harder for Mithris to resist their pull. But his feet had risen high enough that he could ignore the lava, for now.

  Eaganar’s latest attack resolved itself. Enormous chunks of the mountain ripped themselves free and spun into the air. These boulders hurled themselves at Mithris, smashing into his wards. Most of the rocks were pulverized, sending a spray of rocky debris that splashed into the lava and melted.

  Steam rose in a billowing cloud from the vaporized snow. It formed a thick fog that blended with the thick smoke belching from Mount Wileth’s mouth. Mithris could barely see Eaganar through the smog.

  But now, the steam seemed to pull in on itself. All around Mithris, the thick vapor condensed into monstrous shapes with bulbous bodies and a thousand tentacles of boiling hot steam. These tentacles lashed out at his wards.

  Eaganar had used each of the crystals in his attacks. Vapor, to control the wind and lightning from the sky; Terra, to control the rocks which continued to batter at Mithris; and Depths, to control the steaming water vapor that filled the air.

  Each of the attacks continued inexorably. For each boulder that smashed to pieces against h
is wards, Mithris saw three more tearing themselves free of the mountain. The smoky demons of steam wrapped his shields in their tentacles, squeezing and straining to find a way through to scald his skin. The wind roared in his ears, and lightning strikes dazzled his eyes and rocked his wards. Mithris felt the outermost ward giving way, ready to collapse.

  Shouting over the deafening wind and thunder, Eaganar spread his arms and rose up off the ground. He glowered darkly at his youthful opponent as he crafted yet another attack.

  Mithris cast every cantrip he knew, trying to beat back the continuous assault. His outermost ward was gone, and the next one already trembled uncertainly. Eaganar was enormously powerful, and three foundation crystals were his to command.

  Mithris knew he was beaten.

  Chapter 44

  Floating a pace above the raging torrent of lava that spilled down the mountain-side, Eaganar glared malevolently at Mithris and began a new incantation.

  Mithris hung similarly suspended in mid-air, fighting the howling winds that fought to throw him out into empty space. He briefly considered surrendering to that violent gale, allowing himself to blown away on the wind. He could cast a traveling spell, get away.

  But Eaganar had the foundation crystals.

  After everything he had gone through collecting those stones, Mithris was not about to let the dark wizard simply take them. Besides, he knew Vapor and the others did not wish to go with Eaganar. He could not leave them to that fate.

  Yet, what could he do? Eaganar’s canticle rose in pitch and volume, the wizard shouting his twisted words over the shrieking storm. A titanic surge of magical power responded to his summons, forming up in the turbulent air between the two wizards.

  The foundation crystals burned bright in Eaganar’s grip, their various colors blending together in a brilliant halo about the wizard’s hand. With his other arm, he extended and leveled his skull-head staff at Mithris as he bellowed the final words of power to complete his spell.