Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2

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Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 Page 15

by Brian Wilkerson


  It was a pristine room with white walls and plenty of window light. It smelled of mint and antiseptic instead of dirt or sweat. He stepped inside and the healer on duty made sure he wasn't carrying pranks in his pockets. Then she allowed him inside.

  Every cot had a stack of trainee armor next to it, crisp sheets spread over it, and a teenager lying on top of it. Compared to the outside hustle and bustle, this room had only peaceful chatter. It was about either an “amazing fighter” or an “arrogant mercenary.” After rounding the corner, he found the former. She sported a black eye, a busted lip, and was holding an ice pack to her left leg.

  “Can't stay out of trouble, can you, Tiza?”

  She smirked in response.

  Just like the trainees, her gear was stacked next to her bed and, without her gauntlets on, Eric could see her scar. It was two jagged red lines running down both sides of her lower left arm. Memories flashed in his mind: xethras rushing, Tiza's shield breaking, hearing her scream.

  “How's that scar feeling?”

  “Oh, this?” Tiza traced the lines with her fingertips. “Great! All these tents in armor went mad with jealousy when they realized I've seen real action.”

  “It's what caused the brawl,” Nolien said.

  He was sitting on the cot next door, tending to a female recruit. She looked to be Tiza's age, but Eric got the impression that she was younger. He chalked it up to the fan-girlish glee with which she chatted with Tiza. Like her, she was bruised and battered, but one of her legs was elevated.

  “Tenderfoot, I was just doing what Queen Tent Burner hired me to: Ease their burden by showing them how easy their training is.”

  “You were mocking us!” said a boy from across the aisle; he too had a black eye, his nose was patched, and he held an ice bag to his waist. “You called us 'cowardly, weak-armed, and dickless.'”

  “That last one is entirely justified. When I kicked you there, you screamed like a girl.”

  The boy winced in remembrance. “That was a cheap shot!”

  Tiza sent him a smug look. “Mercenary.”

  “You're horrible.”

  “No, she's amazing!” the fan-girl recruit said. “She kicked your ass and two other guys’ at the same time with her eyes closed! She can even kill xethras!”

  “Kill a xethras?” We barely got out of there alive!

  “Don't you remember?” Tiza asked her teammate. “That one shattered my shield and I shattered its jaw. Then it died.”

  That's technically true…

  Tiza held up her arm so everyone could see. Up in the light, it looked even nastier. The recruits nearby gazed upon it in awe while those further away moved closer. They all wanted to hear its story again. With a smile, Tiza complied and Eric rubbed his eyes.

  The number of times he'd seen Tiza smile – really smile – he could count on one hand. Beaming, she told the story of her journey through the Yacian Caverns and her audience paid rapt attention. “It'll be a great story to tell,” she said while they were still in the caverns and still in danger. Apparently with creative license.

  The only boy not entranced was Daven, the boy she kicked in the balls earlier. While Tiza was describing their “strategic withdrawal,” he shouted. “One of these days, I'm gonna kill an S class!” All eyes turned to him, including Tiza's fan-girl. Emboldened, he went on to say, “Yeah, I'll do it and bring back more proof than it bit me! I'll bring back its head and present it to Her Majesty!”

  “Do that and you'll be carrying your own,” Tiza said. “You're a thousand years away from S class. Stick to the training yard.”

  “I swear to The Trickster I'll do it!”

  A tricksterish grin bloomed on Eric's face. “If you're so confident, then say his name.”

  The boy paled.

  “Yes, I'm his choice. I'll make sure he gets the message. Say it!” The shadows under the boy's bed stirred and spooked the other candidates. “He'll make your life so interesting, a C class monster will be the least of your worries. Say it! Say it three times!” The boy shifted in his comfortable bed and looked down. “That's good. You won't run headlong into danger like her.”

  He jerked his thumb at Tiza. The warrior arose from her cot, smacked him upside the head, and returned in mid-step. Then she continued her story and everyone forgot his warning while listening to her talk about diving headlong into a monster pack and routing the lot of them. Their only thoughts were about their turn for action and glory and adventure.

  Tasio, are you listening to this? Perhaps they need a stronger warning.

  By the time Tiza retold her duel with Tej (the version where she did not have to wear a skirt), Daven had slipped out of the room, saying he needed a bathroom break. Knowing what the kid was really up to, Eric followed him.

  To make sure he wasn't spotted, Eric wrapped himself in Dark Veil. After that, no one noticed him; not the soldiers, not the servants, and not the other hidden invisible people in the hallways. The Trickster's Choice moved among them unseen as he pursued the troublesome boy to the courtyard.

  There he stopped to admire the full-fledged soldiers. These older, buffer, and scarred soldiers practiced punches, blocks, throws, and techniques with various weapons. He made a right turn into their midst and was turned away with a “Wait a few years, trainee.” He obeyed but grumbled intensely about how unfair it was to be stuck with grunt work. He's like a male version of Tiza. Just like he thought, this boy-Tiza was headed to the laboratory of a mage researching mana mutation.

  The Royal Mage worked in a tower separate from the main castle structure. It stood taller than the walls by several stories and it was crowned with a dome in the shape of a traditional wizard hat. Instead of solid stone, it was built with sections of the red gold called orichalcum.

  This material was a magical insulator; it prevented outside magic from contaminating whatever the Royal Mage was working on and prevented that work from hurting anyone else in the case of magical mishaps. During Eric's nine-day library stay, he learned that securing the resources to make it was the subject of one of Ataidar’s national sagas and led by one of its royals. Daven brazenly walked up to this monument of Ataidar's strength and pulled open the door. Invisible and standing behind him, Eric face-palmed.

  Inside the door was a spiral staircase and little else. Old-fashioned torches lit the path up and down, but otherwise, it was bare, old, and dark. The only ornamentation were gouges and black spots from past magic experiments. Daven hesitated on the threshold and then stepped inside. Eric slammed the door behind him and he jumped at the clash of metal on stone. Suddenly in darkness, Daven shook with fear. Eric was at home.

  He felt the age of the tower. It had stood for over five hundred years and it was still the same as it was when the corner stone was set all those years ago. An age of magical study in a place of quiet and solitude and shadow; what more could someone like him want? Daven, on the other hand, quivered as if he were in the lair of an evil sorcerer.

  He took one step and then another over the ancient stones. Eric followed close enough to breathe on his neck, only to fall back when the boy turned to swat the air. This went on for five flights, at which point the boy stopped to catch his breath. Eric was fine. He did this sort of thing every day during his exile on Threa. His spirit felt fresh despite maintaining the Dark Veil for so long. This gave him an idea.

  While Daven panted, he took a deep breath and then let out a maniacal evil laugh. The poor boy jumped two feet straight up, ran the next four flights, and then dropped to his knees all the more exhausted. He looked up and down but didn't see anyone nor did he hear anyone, until Eric stopped holding in his genuine laughter.

  “It's you, isn't it, Trickster's Choice?”

  Safe in his darkness, Eric didn't say a word. The boy turned red and marched up the stairs. In his anger, he ignored his fatigue. Then he heard the howls of the monsters above and paused, and Eric continued his giggle fit. I never realized how fun this could be!

  “I-I'm
not scared of you, Trickster's Choice!” He stood taller. “I'm going to do this!” Despite the howls growing louder with each step he took, he continued climbing the tower.

  Acquiring confidence...I wonder...

  At the summit was an orichalcum door marked with a gilded sign. A trio of white, black, and blue staves crossed at their heads to point at something resembling Latin. I bet it’s something like “Staff Supports Scepter.” The door was reinforced with ten locks, but all of them were loose and the door ajar.

  Inside was a plush room of carpets and leather furniture. The walls were still bare, if elegant, stone and the room was still lit only by torch light, but this room possessed an array of equipment more exotic than anything he’d seen outside. Shadow Dengel appeared in their midst and admired them.

  I know what they can do and what they are for. Do you understand any of this?

  Eric ignored the thing that didn't exist and its question. Instead, he turned his attention to the farthest point away from the machinery, the Royal Mage's desk. It was old oak and varnished to a shine and Shadow Dengel obstructed his view of it by teleporting in front of it.

  Of course you do not. You are a mere novice while I am the Founder of Magecraft.

  Eric walked through the figment for a closer look and saw the desk was covered in notes, files, reports, and other paper. One of them related to elfin technology, another to the Bladi clan's branch of magecraft, a third to soulcraft and a fourth to ordercraft. Each one was directly related to the cure and treatment of mana mutation. Failing that, they suggested a means of controlling or taming the monsters so they could be useful to society.

  Absent-minded child! Shadow Dengel boomed. Did you forget why you are here!?

  “That kid must have looked at these and then then moved on,” Eric thought aloud. “Now I know what he's up to.”

  Still ignoring the phantom, he looked for another door. Beyond the strange equipment was a stainless steel slab, more a gate than a door, and set into the wall apart from the desk. Every square inch of it, and the surrounding wall, was covered in every rune Eric knew for protection or restraint and many more he didn’t know. Overall, it looked like the entrance to a dungeon. It was also open and the howls he heard on the stairs were coming from inside.

  Dozens of caged monsters made a cacophony of noise, fighting their prisons. There were many species and many breeds, but they were all stark raving mad due to the chaos addling their minds. All of them were clustered around a large, black cauldron. The liquid bubbled, hissed, and smelled of iron, even from the doorway. A solid wave of other smells were mixed in: sweat, blood, dirt, waste, and one hundred and one chemicals. Daven stood next to it with a ladle.

  Eric dismissed the Dark Veil and said, “Might that be a love potion?”

  Daven turned and pointed at him. “It was you! I KNEW it!”

  “Then why were you so scared? In your queen's castle, you were stalked by a trickster's straight man, and yet I could smell your fear.”

  “I made it here, didn't I? I faced my fear and now I have what I came for! You lost!” He dipped the ladle into the grey liquid and poured it into a container bearing a simple tree; a symbol of Noitearc.

  “That stuff is dangerous. You could hurt yourself or someone else. Put it back.”

  “Make me, Trickster's Choice!”

  Eric locked their gazes and poured forth his Evil Eye. Darkness filled Daven’s mind and froze his body. The horror of a xethras pack on the hunt was inflicted upon his innocent mind.

  “This is what it's like to be terrified, to be enraged, to be helpless. In other words, it's what will happen to you if you continue with this stupid plan.” He grabbed the vial and wrenched it out of the boy's paralyzed hand. Then he blinked and Daven shivered.

  “...D-d-darkness...s-s-so c-cold and dark...” Eric waited for him to recover, at which point he grabbed for the vial and shouted, “Give that back!”

  Eric kept him at bay with his barrier. Daven punched as hard as he could, but he couldn't dent it. All he did was hurt his own hand. Eric held the vial before his eyes.

  “Is it worth getting mauled to impress your crush?”

  “Crush?” He blushed. “I-I don't have a crush on anyone.”

  “Your plan is to use this stuff to tame a monster, give yourself a scar, and then kill it in front of a bunch of people. You're hoping to impress that girl whose hero-worshiping my teammate and your ultimate goal is a peck on the cheek from her.”

  The boy paused.

  “Yeah, I thought so. Now how about we go back to the infirmary and forget all this happened?”

  Reluctantly, the boy turned to go, only to watch the door slam shut and lock. With his Magic Sight, Eric saw all the many magical wards activate and seal them inside. While he wondered who would want to lock them here or who would know they were here at all, every cage opened.

  Mammalian monsters drooled in anticipation of the meal. Reptilian monsters slithered into a circle surrounding them. Flying monsters hovered over them, squawking and slashing the air with their talons. The air between them was filled by insects buzzing malevolently. A silver-grey aura enveloped them all and bleached color from the surroundings. One voice declared, “No soul escapes the all-seeing eye. No power exists beyond the all-controlling hand. Resistance is forlorn.”

  The aura vanished and the monsters descended on their prey. Daven screamed and a pale blue aura burst from within him. It occupied the horde for three seconds, retracted in upon itself, and the boy fainted. Eric stood over him. He ducked, blocked, cast, and slashed, and was himself bitten, slashed, smashed, and burned. Then, suddenly, nothing.

  A brilliant flame lit up the room and Kasile was at his side. Between her fiery aura and the venom in his veins that blurred his vision, she looked like her ancestor, the fire goddess Fiol. She put a gloved hand on his chest and flames shot forth into his wounds. It was excruciatingly painful but also pleasant; like coming into a warm home after hours in the frigid cold. A stretch of time passed and his wounds were closed; not cauterized, but truly healed.

  “Thanks...Kas...” he said drowsily.

  She giggled. “You have the dopiest look on your face.”

  He sat up and piles of ash slid off him. It filled the room one foot deep and smelled of both burnt flesh and sweet incense. The concentration and combination of the two made him gag. Daven lay off to the side and still unconscious.

  “I vaporized the monsters with my holy flames.” She raised her right hand and a stream of glistening fire appeared. “I assume you know all about it.”

  Eric rolled his eyes. “Of course. Your divine ancestor is mentioned more often in the library and everywhere else than any other avatar. Did you receive a vision of my gruesome death?”

  Kasile arose and her dress shimmered like the dawn. The ashes of monsters slid off her skirts as if they had never been there. Then she reached down and helped Eric up.

  “Sort of. The Trickster crashed my meeting with the Knight of Economics and drew my attention to the Royal Mage's tower. I saw the monsters with my divinely powered eyes and fired a holy flame arrow to destroy them while sparing any innocent trapped inside.”

  “But the orichalcum...”

  “Holy flame arrow.” Kasile flipped her hair. “I have long since left the boundaries of mortal magecraft.”

  “So you taught yourself avatarcraft, ran a country, and promoted mana mutation research all at the same time?”

  Her trickster smile appeared. “You forgot studying the new recruits to learn what will best motivate them, rein in a pompous mage with one of greater caliber and equal standing, confirm the heritage of your healer friend, and select the prefect tool…” She winked at Eric. “...to appease the Dengel apologists and mend the bridges between Ataidar and Dnnac Ledo, thus positioning my country to benefit the most from any leases of elfin technology at the expense of others. All the while directing attention to my cat's paw and presenting myself in the most flatteringly divine light.”


  Eric was silent. Suddenly, he realized why she looked so tired.

  “Kas, you seriously need to mellow out.”

  She snorted, then yawned and smiled. “Now that you're back, I think I can.”

  Again, she hugged him was hugged in return. She breathed slowly and deeply, more stress leaving her body. Eric stroked her back to help things along and she responded with a pleased groan. Silently, Eric vowed to do what he could to help her bear this burden.

  After all, I am her “co-conspirator.”

  “YOUR MAJESTY!”

  Kasile's eyes popped open and she pushed Eric away. He stumbled while she made minor adjustments to her hair and skirts. She had time for one calming breath before the shouter reached the doorway. It was the Royal Mage.

  He was an old human man with orange hair. He wore a leather lab coat smudged with the potion in the cauldron. It was held tight at his neck with a bow tie. He looked nervously from his boss to the piles of ash to the unconscious boy and back again.

  “Y-your Majesty! I-I.... would have... cleaned if I knew you were coming!”

  Kasile smiled coldly. “I am no stranger to ashes, but I am to any results your research has produced.” She gestured to a cluttered work desk. “Would you please introduce us?”

  The Royal Mage at once pulled out drawers and yanked out papers, all the while babbling magi-gibberish and “creative differences” with the consultant she hired. Kasile looked down her nose at him with her cold fire eyes and icy smile. If Eric hadn't held a stressed-out version of her in his arms a moment ago, he'd be scared too.

  “I would hate for this to become a repeat of your attempt to raise the dead.”

  This sent the old man into a greater hurry and he accidentally shut his hand in a drawer. He bit his lip and continued hustling.

  “Raise the dead?” Eric asked. Kasile looked at him with her cold eyes and sent an annoyed expression through their link. “Uhh...forgive my speaking out of turn, Your Majesty, but I love learning our country's history and so I spoke without thinking.”

  Aio was never alive to begin with...

 

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