Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2

by Brian Wilkerson

  Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and, in doing so, he pushed that power into Verde's body with his staff as the conduit. Winds rushed into him and an air of holiness surrounded him. His tormented expression eased into comfort and his body shifted. To Eric’s surprise, the winds weren’t mending his injuries but cycling Verde’s whole body through various degrees of health.

  After ten seconds of this, Nolien was exhausted. After twenty seconds, ethereal light poured from his orifices. After thirty seconds, his body became transparent. Verde had shifted through a dozen and more states of illness and death. Of these, only a couple were survivable and only barely.

  Nolien grasped his medallion and whispered, “I am the standard-bearer of the Astral Queen. I possess the authority to perform this feat. This medallion is proof of my claim. Heal this man!”

  Verde arrived at a state of perfect health and Nolien terminated the spell in that instance. He gave thanks to Wiol and passed out.

  The air of holiness faded and the winds calmed. Kimberly contacted the Wall Guard and, this time, her ship was granted access to the harbor. As the weather returned to normal and the ship came to port, one guard asked another, “Who is this kid that the divine wind answers his call?”

  “You idiot! He’s part of the Heleti family from the Eastern District.”

  Basilard stood with Tiza at the port, wondering what caused the delay. When Tiza saw Nolien unconscious, she tried to jump the remaining distance, but Basilard nonchalantly held her back by her shirt collar until the ship officially docked. Then she jumped and fretted over the fallen healer.

  “What happened?!”

  “Just a power blackout. It’s like you and Videlicet Mens,” Eric said. “He'll wake up soon.”

  The orc Eric didn’t recognize cut off a few pieces of Tsilear’s body and placed them in petri dishes. Her fairy partner thanked Tsilear for his contribution to Medical Mana Mutation and promised that the ICDMM would cure him soon. They paid their mercenary counterparts and departed.

  Now that the Tsilear’s mutations had settled, he was trapped in his freakish form. It made the sailor’s eyes hurt to look at him for more than twenty seconds. Only his head remained human and so his sanity was intact and he was fully aware of his surroundings. He sneered at Nolien's state.

  “Fool. I taught him to avoid spells like that.”

  “Go the Abyss, you freak!” Tiza shouted. “Tenderfoot's amazing!”

  “He incapacitated himself to save someone in critical condition. In a combat situation, he would put himself in danger and cost more lives because of his inaction. I should have known he couldn't overcome his upbringing. Training him was a waste of time.”

  “Creep! You wouldn't dare say that if he were conscious!”

  “Revitalize.” A large ball of energy passed from one of his many hideous limbs to Nolien's body. The younger healer's color returned and he sat up. Tiza smiled, but before she could say a word, Tsilear repeated everything he just said and included, “A healer with a bleeding heart will kill himself.”

  “Are you finished?” Kimberly asked.

  “Yes, thank you for waiting.” Then to his teammates, he said, “Malize, did you call Mia? She must be worried sick about us.”

  The ordercrafters levitated him between themselves in a square formation. His mismatched limbs made walking on his own impossible. Verde was placed into a stretcher and carried alongside him by members of the city’s emergency dock force. Malize and Laharg followed them on their way to the Heleti General Hospital. Nolien watched them go and then looked down in shame. He brightened up when Tiza kissed his check.

  “Don't listen to him, Tenderfoot. What you did was incredible and you saved a life. You're a great healer and I'm glad you're on our team.”

  Nolien blushed and fumbled for a response. At that moment, Tiza realized that a crowd had gathered around them. She blushed in embarrassed anger and smacked Nolien's shoulder.

  “Don't let it go to your head! You still passed out, which means you still have no idea what your limits are, just like in the Yacian Caverns. You're lucky we’re in a city instead of a monster nest!”

  Chapter 9 The Mage That Lives in the Land of No Magic

  The next morning, when Team Four gathered for the day’s mission, Mia was playing PacMalaga. Her face was fresh, her eyes were bright, and her hair was shining. When she heard the door ding, she stood up and greeted them with a true smile.

  “Good morning, everyone!”

  “I see you’re doing better,” Nolien said with a smile of his own.

  “Yep! Verde’s recovering and Tsilear’s condition is reversible, so I got plenty of sleep.”

  “What about everyone else in the guild?” Tiza asked. On her right hand was a tiger’s eye ring and on her left was a sapphire.

  “I worry about them, of course, but I know they’ll be fine. I don’t give missions to people that have a high chance of killing them. It’s just that mana mutation is something else. I didn’t want them to go, but Tsilear did his ‘we have a job to do’ line and petted me on the head.” Her face puffed up in darling anger. “When he comes back, I’m gonna smack him!”

  “It doesn’t matter how experienced you are, how powerful your spirit, or how great your magic,” Basilard explained. “A mana storm will kill you, and if it doesn’t, then it will certainly kill the person you were when it caught you.”

  The last moments of Patrick Lumberson flashed before Eric’s eyes. To have something eating away at your identity; corroding it until only a monster remained. He shuddered. It was too terrible to think about, so he changed the subject.

  “Who wants Dengel today?”

  “It's easy money. You should be happy.”

  “Indeed!”

  Mia expanded a window and swiveled her screen to show him a series of online articles: “The Trickster's Choice Slanders the Founder of Magecraft,” “Age and Skill vs Youth and Treachery,” “Dengel’s Vessel; A Study of the Underappreciated Generation.” There were more, but the one that incited him the most was “Young Mage Spreads the Fame of Dengel Tymh.”

  “Some of these have thousands of hits. Impressive, huh?”

  Eric's shoulders tensed. “Mia, you're lucky you're so cute.”

  She threaded her hands under chin and batted her eyelashes. “I am, aren't I?”

  Basilard extended his hand for the mission bill, but Mia didn’t hand it to him. He made a “gimme” gesture and she still didn’t hand it over.

  “Yes, you’re cute, you’re cute. We all agree. Now we need the mission bill.”

  “I can’t give you the bill.”

  “Why not?”

  “You already have it. It’s in your pocket.” She reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “See?”

  Basilard snatched it, examined it, and ignored his giggling niece.

  “Team, we’re going to the University of Roalt.”

  The brief reappearance of the Windistotle of magecraft had triggered a vigorous surge of study and Eric's exclusive with the Darwoss Herald sent historians into a frenzy. The University of Roalt's History of Magic Department had received a flood of research material and needed someone to organize it while it waited to be published. It was the perfect job to push on novice mercenaries.

  However, there was also a certain professor who had need of Eric specifically. He believed that Dengel studied mana mutation as part of his well-documented fascination with chaos magic. He wanted to talk with his “landlord” (the word was italicized in the mission bill) in the hopes of confirming this hypothesis.

  The air was crisp and clear on their walk to The U of R in the Blue Town of Knowledge and Insight. Its threshold was a grand arc welcoming in students. The last time Eric set foot on a campus, he was dropping water balloons on a parade. He snickered at the memory, then another one popped up.

  We both enjoy a trickster's fun.

  Nothing has changed, Shadow Dengel whispered. You have not changed. You're just in denial. You ARE The Trick
ster's Choice!

  “I AM NOT!”

  Everyone stopped to stare at him. He grumbled and moved on.

  At one end of the university stood the memorial auditorium and at the other stood the student union; between was a grassy courtyard. Tall and pillared buildings stood to either side of it. Trees were planted at even intervals alongside wooden message boards. The former was dropping leaves, but the latter was so choked full of fliers that they hid each other from view. One involved a party of some kind and another advertised a new club involving “bugs and nec-” something or other.

  The History of Magic Department shared a building with all the divisions of the overall History Department. The brick walls and granite pillars bespoke the age of the building. A signpost next to it declared it was among the first established when the university was founded during the reign of King Trol III in 1500 AA. Nolien arrived first and held the door open for his teammates. Eric looked back to see Tiza's reaction and was surprised to see there wasn't one.

  What did I miss? The thought weighed heavily on his heart. While he was gone, his teammates had continued to bond without him. He didn’t blame them because it wasn’t their fault. The only one worth blaming for lost time was Tasio. I don't care what explanation he has; it wasn't worth it.

  The first-floor entrance reflected the age of the building despite its modern trimmings. While lit with modern lights and carpeted with modern techniques, there was no denying that this building had stood for hundreds of years. Beyond visual signs, there was a spiritual indicator. Across the walls were pictures of founding faculty and noteworthy alumni, and Eric felt the presence of each one of them. It was so faint he could barely feel it, but it was there.

  “Eric,” Basilard asked. “What is the difference between a ghost and a spirit?”

  “Spirits are milk and ghosts are the stain they leave behind in glasses,” Eric answered. “Are all old buildings like this? The Dragon’s Lair isn’t.”

  Basilard chuckled. “That’s because Aaloon clears everything out every year. He doesn’t want ‘the dragon’s strays making a mess in his home.’”

  “It’s a health and safety concern,” Nolien said. “If too much spiritual residue is concentrated in a single location, it can lead to spell contamination and sympathetic hallucinations. This building, however, is a designated historical reservoir.”

  “Hallucinating real historical events is useful?” Eric asked.

  Nolien nodded. “Just don’t cast anything too complicated while you’re here.”

  Tiza closed her eyes and, suddenly, the room was filled with the images of humans and demons/beastfolk, orcs, and even an elf. All of them were carrying scrolls somewhere, pacing in deep thought, or arguing with someone. She moved her hand through one and it dissipated, then reformed elsewhere.

  “Cool.”

  Basilard took out the mission bill, looked at the room signs, and then directed his novices to the lower level stairs.

  As the team descended, the carpet was replaced by dusty stone and the building became slightly more worn. Framed glass pictures on the walls gave way to raised reliefs of religious art. Naturally, all of it was flamed themed. The light stones of the lower floors rested in holders that made them look like old-fashioned fire torches. Does the professor wear a pointy hat?

  At the end of the stairs, they walked until they found the right room. Unlike the pine fresh upper floors, this area smelled strongly of dry, dusty tomes and dry, dusty stone. There was also a strong aroma of coffee. They all mixed together in a strange and pleasant aroma.

  The door they were looking for was marked with a plaque stating: Professor Haburt Kloac, Greater Scholar of Classical P.A.A. Society.

  Tiza paused to take off her rings and hide them in her pockets.

  “What do those do?” Eric asked. “I’ve been thinking about it all the way here and the only solution I’ve come up with is ‘magical elemental tool.’”

  “Ding ding, give the Dimwit a prize,” Tiza muttered. “They’re an earth amplifier and a wind negator. Spider Daylra insisted I wear them for this mission. Apparently, she thinks I’ll be attacked by sylphs, and for some reason, she told me not to let this egghead know I have them.”

  “It’s a mystery, all right,” Basilard said airily.

  He pushed the door open with one hand. Inside the office were two desks, two drawers, and a sub-room filled with manuscripts, scrolls, and constructions of tree bark. At the desk to the left was an orc and fairy, but Eric didn't care about them. Their client was the human at the desk to the right.

  He was of middle age, but clearly on the latter end due to his patches of grey hair. Around his shoulders was a bejeweled cloak and atop his head was a big hat. It was decorative with its embroidery and symbols, but instead of being pointy like a tower, it was round like a blimp. Under the hat was a pair of thick glasses with swirly lines in the frames. At the sound of the door opening, he stood up to greet his visitors.

  “Are you Dengel's ve-landlord?” he asked Basilard. “You're a lot taller than I thought.”

  The orc sighed. “Professor Haburt, take your glasses off...”

  “Oh yes, of course.” He removed the frames from his eyes and shoved them beneath his hat. “Sorry. I'm studying a text written with invisible i –”

  When his eyes met Tiza's, they expanded; his irises shrunk and his face paled. Tiza's breath caught in her throat and she backed away from him. Her sword was forgotten at her side.

  “Tiza?” Nolien asked. “What's wrong?”

  She didn't respond. She just continued backing away.

  Nolien grabbed her wrist. “Tiza!”

  “Oh!...uh...yeah.” She smiled sheepishly. “What's up, Tenderfoot?”

  “You looked like you saw an S Class. Scratch that; you saw an S Class the other night and you didn't flinch.” A coldness appeared in his eyes. “It happened as soon you took off your glasses, Professor. Will you shed light on this, please?”

  The man didn’t say a word at first. Then he muttered, “Abyss take The Trickster...”

  “Well?”

  “Nolien,” Basilard said. “We are here to do a job for Professor Haburt, not interrogate him. If it makes you feel better, Sathel already did worse than whatever you’re thinking of a long time ago. You can ask her for the results when we return to the guild. That is, if Professor Haburt allows it, of course.”

  “No –”

  Nolien reached into his shirt and pulled out his medallion. It was silver and depicted a griffin and a monster wielding a sword and staff each. It was the same medallion that aided the divine magic he cast at the harbor. He made sure it caught the light of the lamps so Haburt could see it clearly.

  “Not at all. Now where were we? Oh yes, I would like to speak with Mr. Watley about his former freeloader.” Eric snickered. The professor rose a degree in his esteem. “The novices can stay busy organizing the research material flooding my office.”

  Eric sat down across from Professor Haburt while his teammates sat behind the shelves of scrolls further within the office. Nolien placed himself between Haburt and his teammate, and she still shivered when she passed him. Eric filed this away to puzzle later.

  “So what do you want to know about Dengel? A spell he developed? A report of a conquest? Some particular about his life that I memorized because he would not stop talking –”

  “The last one. Did Dengel ever mention a lair of any kind? I don’t mean your guild.”

  “Hmmm...We were in Roalt's sewer system, looking for Her Majesty's kidnappers....all we found were monsters native to the region. He said he made better defenses...”

  “Did he describe them in detail?”

  “Did he!? He wouldn't shut up! Curses and golems and cages and spells and self-activated poison-tipped arrows!”

  “Really?! Then you might have what I need! The keys to the fabled Final Lair of Dengel! Mr. TA, exposition please.”

  The orc sighed again. His fairy partner continued working
on their lesson plan while he stood up and lectured on Dengel and his legendary Final Lair.

  Like many contemporary elves, Dengel left home to see the world with his own eyes and learn whatever he could about it. Unlike his contemporaries, he spent most of his time conversing and studying with humans. One of the most famous of his associates/clients was a Ceihan Emperor, but he worked for many authorities all over the Isaryu continent and beyond.

  Ancient mage lairs were continuously being discovered and the first thing any archeologist did was to determine if it belonged to Dengel. Some scholars argued that Dengel did all of his academic work before joining the Dragon's Lair. After that, he was busy helping the Mother Dragon start the guild and carrying out its missions. His scholarly work slowed down and he instead focused on writing instruction books for his subordinates. Among these was Introduction to Magecraft. After his retirement from the Dragon's Lair, Dengel disappeared from historical records. Given his frequent appearances in earlier periods, this led many to believe that he also retired as a scholar. However, others believed that Dengel became a hermit to better continue his earlier research in chaoscraft.

  The subject of his instruction booklets was magecraft. It was fueled by mana, the most diluted form of chaotic energy, and the most abundant. Tracing back to the primordial sea, the higher levels of concentration were life energy kon, soul energy paku, and, finally, pure chaotic energy, referred to simply as “chaos.” Each one fueled a greater level of magic and its user could easily overwhelm those using a lesser form. The mage who became a chaoscrafter would be god-like in their power.

  “You want to become a god, do you?” Eric asked.

  Haburt shook his head. “Of course not. A mage of my stature would destroy himself in the attempt. What I’m interested in is academic worship. You see, Dengel’s final lair is a Sage’s Stone among my peers. If I could find it, I would be the envy of the academic world!”