The Oblivion Trials (The Astral Wanderer Book 3)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  “Do you feel anything?” his father asked and lowered his blades to show he had no intention to attack again. The boy paused and looked at him with a trace of confusion. “You know how my exotics work. Do you feel anything?”

  Devol frowned, looked at his blade, and lifted it slightly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He checked his hands and his arms but found no issues. “I thought you were holding back since this is practice.”

  “I was,” his father admitted. “But practice isn’t any good at all if we don’t learn anything from it. Vent obviously won’t do anything, but I had hoped Calcul would at least work against you.”

  Devol lifted his blade again. “I’m relieved to say it doesn’t look like it. I was too preoccupied defending against you using your blades like clubs to have considered it.”

  “Smartass.” Victor chuckled and held his blades up defensively. “Although not a smart practice in real combat. Now, you come at me and attempt a few swipes.”

  He did not need a second invitation and launched himself at his father to strike vertically at first, then once from the left and once the right. The man blocked them all with ease. He spun as his father had, seemingly to deliver a similar heavy strike, but he was no fool.

  Even with Vis, he didn’t have his father’s strength so any attempt to knock him down wasn’t an option, but he did put enough force in to force his guard up a tad and he followed it with a kick. Victor scoffed and simply skipped away from his leg and jumped to the other side of the yard. “That was fairly easy to read, son.”

  “You taught me that move,” Devol protested in return. “You have an advantage.”

  The man smiled as he spun his blades and pierced them into the earth. He looked down briefly and frowned again when he realized that Lilli would probably not be thrilled with that. “So, anything?”

  His son shook his head and lowered his guard. “I’m still fine.”

  Victor scratched his beard. “Interesting,” He looked at Calcul. “It has no effect, huh? Even separated into two, Achroma is as powerful as I remember it being with Elijah,”

  Devol paused at that and considered it thoughtfully. He rested the blade against the fence behind him and walked closer to his father. “You worked with him before, right?” he asked and the question immediately caught the man’s attention. “Elijah, I mean. I know my birth mother was Mother’s sister and that played a part, but he gave me to you because of your friendship, right?”

  The guard captain looked at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “He wanted you to have something of a normal life. It wasn’t his fault that didn’t work out.”

  He laughed weakly and shrugged. “I’m asking because I would have thought that in all that time with him, you would have a better idea of what my majestic could do having seen it in action and all—or maybe he could have told you.”

  Victor looked thoughtful and gestured for them to move to two chairs on the other side of the yard next to the garden. “I don’t have a majestic. Although I’ve seen them in action enough to get the gist, it’s not enough to have a great knowledge of them. As for whether he told me anything about them…well, he was always rather cryptic.”

  “What is he like?” Devol asked and shifted a little to get comfortable. “The Templars don’t talk about him much. They say he is not even around all that often, but everyone who knows him seems to speak about him with some kind of reverence.”

  His father leaned back in his chair and nodded slowly. “Indeed, he is a great magi—he is the Astral Wanderer, after all.”

  “You’ve mentioned that before but I thought you were being metaphorical,” he muttered and folded his arms. “The Astral Wanderer is a very old story—thousands of years old. A magi chosen by the Astrals to be their chosen guardian or avatar walked the world and later realms to define them on their behalf. There is no way he can be that person. He was considered part Astral himself since he was gifted their essence, so unless—” His eyes widened and he grasped his father’s arm. “Is he part Astral? Am I part Astral?”

  Victor frowned and removed his arm slowly before raised his hand and smacked the boy lightly on the back of his head. “No, boy, you are not ‘part Astral.’” He snorted and uttered a low laugh as his son rubbed the back of his head. “To your credit, it is metaphorical. Those who have seen him gave him the title due to how he wields Achroma, which bathed him in an essence that some have said looks like stardust. I have never seen stardust myself but it is rather magnificent either way.” He looked at the sword. “I wish he had talked about himself and his majestic more, but that’s simply the way he is.”

  One of the windows to the house opened. “Are you two finished? I have the cake in the oven to keep it warm but it could start to harden soon if you don’t hurry.”

  “We’ll be there in a moment, love,” Victor called in reply and took a moment to look at his son. “We should be done for now. I merely wanted to check to see if Achroma would defend you in my place at the trials.”

  Devol stopped rubbing his head and focused on his father. “Then you are all right with it?”

  The man laughed loudly. “I can’t say I’m thrilled, but what warrior will allow a little finger-wagging to stop them from pursuing a goal?” He paused for a moment to look questioningly at his son. “Would you stop if I told you to?”

  “Um…no?” he responded, which earned him a pat on the shoulder.

  “You are growing up, son.” His father beamed, stood, and helped him to his feet. “Before we head in, I can say that Elijah told me something about Achroma once—something that stuck with me.”

  “He did?” the magi asked, excited. “What was it?”

  Victor moved to his blades and pulled them out of the ground as Devol extended his hand and teleported Achroma into it. “He said it was unusual compared to most majestics, and not merely in the obvious way.” The guard captain moved to his sheathes and slid his swords into them. “He said it did not obey the commands of its user.”

  “It doesn’t obey my commands?” A little bewildered, he looked at his sword that glowed with a soft light. “But I—”

  “Again, metaphors,” his father interrupted as he rested his swords over his shoulders and walked to the back door with him. “He was talking about its power and said it did not obey the user’s commands but listened to their heart.”

  Devol held the blade up with both hands. “What does that mean exactly?”

  Victor shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest.” He smirked and patted him on the back. “I guess it’s up to you to work it out, eh?”

  The magi sighed but nodded. “It looks like it but I’m not sure if I feel more confident or confused now.”

  His father grinned wryly. “Hey, you are the one who asked.”

  Chapter Five

  The following morning, Devol bade his parents farewell and hastened to the anchor outside Monleans to return to the Order. The biting cold of the mountain was even worse now that it was winter and he entered quickly.

  He greeted a few others he saw inside, including Pete and Coko, who was kind enough to tell him that his friends were currently in the training hall. She smiled when he thanked her and he hurried to the large doors, pushed them inward, and paused on the threshold. A small crowd had gathered around one of the rings.

  Curious, he approached the area and tried to ease politely through the crowd to see what was going on. It was even more intriguing when he realized they were watching Jazai and Asla—or rather their sleeping forms—where they sprawled across from two large canine creatures. One was dark and thin, while the other was far bulkier and had elongated ears.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “Your buddies spent the entire night fighting those creatures,” He looked up when a familiar squama approached.

  “Acha, good morning,” Devol said as the Templar waved casually to him. He pointed to the creatures. “What are those? I’ve never seen them around. Are they someone’s pets?”
>
  “In a manner of speaking,” Freki answered the question before he yawned and waved to him. “They are my familiars, created using my majestic.”

  “Majestic-created familiars?” he asked, folded his arms, and studied the beasts. “What are they? They look like big dogs or wolves.”

  “That is correct,” the wildkin confirmed as he moved to stand beside him and turned toward the arena.

  “Which?”

  “Both,” Freki grinned. “Or neither. It’s a little hard to explain.” He pointed to the sleeping duo on the platform. “Do you want to get up there? I was about to wake them.”

  “Can I fight them too?” Devol asked and nodded to the creatures. “The dogs…wolves…familiars?”

  The wolf wildkin nodded and pointed to his neck and a white chain with three paw-shaped stones on it. “Coincidentally, I can make up to three of them. I hoped you would return soon so I could give them all a workout.”

  “I get my own?” the magi asked and smiled as he shrugged out of his pack. “It sounds good to me. I’ll wake them up.”

  As he leapt into the arena, Freki moved closer to Acha. “You did tell him that those two had been fighting them—”

  “All night? Yeah, I did.” The squama grinned casually. “Maybe he thinks he has a better chance than them.”

  “Maybe, but he’s probably making the same mistake most people do. Those aren’t normal familiars, you know?”

  “Hey, Jazai!” Devol shouted, shook the diviner, and stretched over him to reach the wildkin. “Asla, wake up!”

  “Burn in the hells, Zier,” Jazai muttered and turned in his sleep as Asla tried weakly to scratch him, which made him pull his hand away. He decided the other boy needed to work through his problems with his mentor.

  “They won’t budge,” he shouted to Freki. “Should I simply fight alone or…”

  “Sluggards. They’ve had about four hours of sleep. That should be more than enough,” The wildkin looked at the crowd behind him. “Do you guys mind helping?”

  Nods and laughter followed as he raised a hand and used his fingers to count down from five. At zero, the crowd shouted as one. “Wake up!” The noise finally dragged the sleeping friends out of their stupor.

  “What is…” Jazai mumbled, shook his head, and looked around. “I’m still in the arena?”

  “I think we collapsed last night.” Asla rolled her shoulders and looked up when Devol offered her a hand. “Oh, Devol, you have returned.”

  “Yeah. I got back a few minutes ago.” She took his hand and he helped her to her feet. When he turned and offered the same to Jazai, the diviner waved him off, snapped his fingers, and blinked to a standing position. “Was that necessary?”

  “No,” the other boy admitted and groaned loudly as he rolled his head and rubbed his neck. “Also, it was probably stupid. I’m still drained after all that fighting yesterday—or was it today? What time is it?”

  “You’ve been asleep for four hours,” Freki answered as he entered the arena. “Come on. Up and at them. You can’t let your opponents get bored.”

  “Do what?” Jazai and Asla looked at the creatures and sighed. “They are still there.”

  “Wow, in unison. See, this training is paying off.” The wolf wildkin laughed and rested his hands on his hips. “Come on. You guys were very close to doing some damage. Let’s finish this, shall we?”

  “I assume we don’t have a real choice,” the diviner grumbled and gestured to the beasts. “Devol, will you help?”

  “Freki said he can make another one for me to fight,” the swordsman stated and drew his majestic. “So I’ll probably be busy.”

  “Then you should know that they can—” Asla began but Jazai cut her off.

  “Hey, let him have some fun too.” The boy’s tone was far from jovial.

  “So no pointers before we start?” Devol asked and glanced at Freki.

  The diviner scoffed and jumped up and down to limber up. “We didn’t get any. It’s more ‘real’ that way.” He glared at the wildkin Templar before he focused on the leaner canine familiar, which shifted from a seated position to all fours and returned his stare.

  “So nothing? Asla?” He looked at the wildkin, who had already turned her attention to the larger beast.

  The creature got to its feet and crouched as if ready to pounce. Her eyes narrowed as she brought her claws out and bared her fangs. “I wish you luck, Devol.”

  He sighed and scratched his head as he looked at Freki. “Well, I guess we should begin.”

  “Very good.” The wildkin nodded, walked to the other side of the arena behind the familiars, and touched his necklace. The paw-shaped stone in the middle glimmered for a moment before a third appeared between the other two. It was lithe, with pronounced fangs and a scruffy, dark coat, but Devol was taken aback by the fact that it was smaller than the other two. Even the skinnier one Jazai faced was taller and longer than his.

  “Why is mine so small?” he asked, confused and even somewhat irate at the idea that Freki might be looking down on him.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jazai whispered. “You’ll find it is annoyingly perfect for you after a while.”

  He took a moment to look at the diviner. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Pay attention, Devol,” Asla warned as she settled into a crouch. “Remember that these were created from a majestic. That should be enough to hold your attention and keep you on guard.”

  The swordsman looked appraisingly at his familiar. It certainly looked vicious, but it was far from something he would see as a real threat. “Okay, but I don’t think—”

  “Are all of you ready?” the wildkin Templar asked and the three familiars began to prowl around one another. Each of the trainees watched their respective opponents warily.

  Devol rolled his shoulders for a moment and assumed a guarding stance. He decided it was better to see these beasts in action. Looks could be deceiving and the creatures had given Jazai and Asla a challenge—and for a long time as well.

  Freki nodded and held a hand up. “All right. Training begins now!” He lowered his hand and whistled, and the familiars bared their fangs and launched into the attack.

  Chapter Six

  The creature closed the distance between them in almost an instant. Wide-eyed with surprise, Devol lifted his blade to parry a blow by the canine’s claws. He side-stepped the beast quickly and slashed at it, but it was able to whip its hind legs back and narrowly missed the blow.

  The swordsman lunged forward and attempted to stab it, but it raised its head to dodge the strike and bit the blade, something he certainly hadn’t expected. Startled, he had to force himself to refocus and yanked the blade out of its mouth before he landed a solid kick on the side of its head.

  While the familiar wobbled a little, it made no effort to retreat and instead, bounded toward him. He spun swiftly and let the creature pass him before he swung his weapon and sliced its back. It made no noise and simply landed and turned toward him. They were resilient, he would give them that. As far as he knew, most familiars disappeared after one good strike. Before he could consider the relevance of this, something odd happened.

  He stared as the wound began to heal. At the same time, the familiar’s coat became less ragged and sleeker. It grew a little too while muscles developed in its legs. He had no idea what was happening and it left him feeling somewhat disconcerted.

  Saliva dripped from its fangs and Devol took a moment to study it as a slight chill rippled through him. He recalled the day he had received Achroma and the dire wolf he had slain. Freki’s pet was nowhere near as big as that beast had been, but it had the same look in its eye—one of instinct and hunger rather than will or any thought beyond the hunt.

  The young swordsman jumped back and this signaled the creature to charge. It was faster than before but he was able to bring his sword up in time. The weapon did not stop the beast, however, and its impact with it forced him to the ground. As it bit
the blade again, it raised its claws to attack.

  Devol slid his hand to his waist, drew Roko’s dagger, and flicked it across the arena. As the familiar’s claws descended, he blinked across the space and wrapped his hand around the weapon as the sharp claws gouged into the stone platform. He stood and held Achroma in one hand and the smaller blade in the other as he finally confronted the reality that this fight would be much trickier than he’d anticipated.

  “It adapts,” he muttered and Freki’s ears immediately perked up.

  “Indeed it does,” the wildkin acknowledged with a nod. “You realized that right quick. It took your pals a little longer than that but just because you worked out the trick doesn’t mean you can beat it.”

  “Can they be killed?” Devol asked.

  “Well, sure. They are familiars—magical constructs of my majestic, Primal Song—so they can be destroyed like any other familiar. The question is, can you inflict a heavy enough blow to do it before they change again?”

  The boy considered this carefully. A graze or shallow incision certainly wouldn’t work. He’d probably have to skewer it or at least slash deeply enough to leave a large open wound, which meant he’d have to get it in position for long enough to do so. The question, though was how he would hold it down.

  “You might want to keep your head up,” Freki warned. Devol looked up quickly as the familiar surged into another attack. Instead of defending, he swung his sword back and swiped forward in an attempt to behead it as it lunged. The canine seemed to predict this and instead of following the expected trajectory, leapt over him and slid across the arena before it turned and continued the assault.

  His friends fared little better. Jazai’s familiar was fast and seemed to read him easily when he blinked. He would teleport to one end of the arena and fire a cantrip, only for the creature to barrel down on him seconds later. It either dodged the spells or simply ran through them like they had no effect. Worse, it opened its mouth and fired cantrips at the apprentice in return, which was an extremely strange sight to behold—to the spectators at least. The diviner's two teammates were too preoccupied to notice.