Chapter Twenty-One
“Here’s some water Asla,” Devol offered and the wildkin girl took it gratefully.
“My thanks, Devol.” She lifted the canteen to her lips and took a large sip. “I’m glad you are safe. I was worried about what would happen if I left you alone with that man. I felt an odd presence coming off from him from the first moment he appeared.”
He sighed as he leaned against one of the pillars. “I wish I had the same intuition as you and Jazai. I might have been able to spare myself some hardship.”
She shrugged as she took another sip. “If my intuition had been better, I don’t think we would have been caught in the predicament in the first place. The fog the malefic-user produced…well, I should have been able to sense that something was off but I smelled nothing out of the ordinary at first. It was only when I got close to him that…” She sighed as she placed the canteen down. “I suppose there is no use dwelling on it. Fortunately, it all worked out in the end.”
“How much longer will it take them?” Jazai muttered and tapped his foot. “We were already in town by this time after we left. You would think a Templar would be faster than three initiates.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Devol recalled and glanced at the apprentice. “You said they were already sending someone. How did you get in touch with the Order?”
“The same way I got in touch with you,” his friend replied impatiently and held his a-stone up. “Your brain must be seriously addled for you to ask such a dumb question. You know that Grand Mistress Nauru is connected to every a-stone in the Order. I told her the situation and she said she would send someone right away to come and collect the malefic,”
“Did she mention who she would send?” Asla asked.
“No. I imagine it would be whoever is around,” Jazai reasoned. “Honestly, I didn’t want to connect to her for long. The longer the range when you use the a-stone, the more mana is expended. It’s still relatively tiny but does mean more of a chance that someone will notice it.”
“So we can use them even in different realms?” Devol was intrigued by the thought as he’d never considered it before. He withdrew his and studied it speculatively. “Well, that’s amazing.”
“Different realms?” Asla responded and her ears flicked. “What do you mean?”
“The grand mistress is still at the hall, right?” he asked. “So to reach her, you would have to access the Templars’ private realm.”
“The Templars don’t have a private realm,” Jazai replied and surprised him. “Didn’t you know the Order Hall is located atop an actual mountain range?”
The swordsman shook his head. “I did not and never considered that as a possibility. There doesn’t seem a way down from where we are located, at least not traditionally.”
His friend shrugged. “That’s fair. It’s built like that. The Order Hall was made well before creating private realms was possible or even hypothesized. The castle was built way up on the mountain and they morphed the area around it to seal it further while they worked. Once they set the portal system up…well, it seemed pointless to have a road leading to it, and it was probably safer that way.”
“So where is it then?” Devol asked. “I don’t recognize any of the surroundings.”
“I don’t know,” Jazai admitted and looked at Asla, who shook her head. “My father has never mentioned it and Zier certainly hasn’t either.”
“I suppose I’ve never thought about it because it’s not necessary to do so,” the wildkin admitted. “We use the portals to get there so there is no benefit in knowing the actual location. It could potentially bring harm to the Order if someone was able to get that information.”
The swordsman scratched his head. “So no one knows? That seems unlikely.”
“I’m sure the higher-ups know and probably some of the long-lived ones as well like Vaust,” his friend reasoned. “I see why you thought it might be a private realm, though, given the way they designed it. And after so much time has passed, almost anyone who did know where it was built would be long gone by now—or at least anyone who doesn’t live for a millennium.”
“Well, it was because of Vaust that I thought it was,” Devol responded and leaned back against a pillar. “When he was teaching me how to access the portal he said that… Well, I might have misunderstood him.”
Jazai chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, he can be like that. I remember that he made you think opening the portal was part of the initiation test.” He laughed again. “I guess it was a kind of test but more for his benefit than the Order’s or yours.”
A loud bang from the front of the building shattered the quiet around them. Devol straightened and prepared to draw Achroma. “Someone is here.”
“Finally.” The diviner sighed. “It looks like your mentor took his sweet time.”
“Wulfsun?” the swordsman asked and received an answer in the form of a boisterous shout from the hallway. “Are you three still kicking? Or do I feel the last remnants of your mana?”
“We’re here, Wulfsun!” Jazai shouted. “Get in here already.”
The doors were shoved open and the Templar captain strolled in fully armored. “Well now. It looks like you’ve already had some action and you’ve only been gone a few hours too.”
“Yeah, lucky us,” the diviner muttered as he walked to the censer and picked it up. “Here, take it.” He tossed it to the newcomer, who caught it in one hand and studied it with a frown.
“What the hells does this do?” he questioned, spun it, and noticed the small traces of smoke that issued from under the bandages.
“It created a poisonous smoke that decayed flesh and restricted mana,” Asla answered and stood for the first time since Devol had arrived. “It also allowed the user to manipulate it in some fashion, I believe, that may have been one of his abilities.”
“I see.” Wulfsun placed the malefic on the floor, removed his pack, and took a large black box out. “Can you tell me anything else?”
Asla nodded. “The user—he called himself Hem—said he discovered it at a dig site in Osira. He called it Chantarelle and said it gave him a vision of an ancient ruler who used it to strike fear into the citizens of his kingdom until he was finally assassinated.”
The large Templar nodded and popped the locks on the box. “That was probably a lie,” he said as he opened the top. “He probably believed it, though. Malefics can do many things to try to convince a user to bind with it. He couldn’t have been aware of the history of the damned things. Otherwise, he would know that no ‘ancient’ ruler could have used them since they are only a few hundred years old. I wonder what he had to give up to use it.”
“His body is over there.” Jazai gestured behind him with his thumb. “If you want to take a look, I would recommend holding your nose.”
Wulfsun placed the malefic gingerly into the box, sealed it quickly, and locked the container. Wards immediately activated on all the panels. “And what about those poor fools over there?” he asked and indicated the two bodies. “Are they victims?”
“It seems so,” the diviner said quietly. “I think they were probably participants in the trials.”
“He mentioned Merri,” Asla recalled, “and said they were partners.”
“They were,” Devol confirmed. “He said that he had a partner with a malefic and that it came at the cost of something happening to him—that he had to give something up.”
“That is always the case.” The Templar placed the box into his pack and stood. He walked to the body of the user and frowned as he stooped to pull away some of the bandages on the headless corpse. A moment later, he retched in disgust. “By the Astrals, that is unpleasant.”
“Do you need to take that back with you too?” the swordsman asked and Wulfsun shook his head.
“Luckily, no. I don’t see anything that would make me think this is someone with a deep connection to his toy. Let him rot.” The man dusted his gauntlets off and joined the three friends. �
�Well, that’s it then. I need to get back and you three need to get go—”
“Before you do,” a deep, growling voice interjected, “we have some questions for you, Templar.”
The three young trainees all spun toward the sound and Devol drew his blade. Three figures in dark cloaks stood in the door to the hallway. One was only a little taller than the boys and one was about Asla’s height, but the third—presumably the one who spoke—was as tall or possibly taller than even Wulfsun.
“And you can begin,” the figure continued in a rough tone, “by telling us why you have broken the agreement between your Order and our Council.”
Devol stepped forward as Asla unsheathed her claws both were held back by Wulfsun’s large hands. “Calm yourself, you two,” he instructed, removed his hands from their shoulders, and rested them on his hips. “This is merely a misunderstanding.”
“Who are they, Wulfsun?” the swordsman demanded, his blade still at the ready as the three figures stood unmoving.
“Well, from what they said and the dark garb they are wearing…” The Templar captain grinned a challenge at the three strangers. “It seems you have an early look at some of the Oblivion Council.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“The Oblivion Council?” Jazai repeated and scowled at the dark-hooded strangers. “So they run this whole trial?”
“Three of them, at least.” Wulfsun removed his pack and stepped in front of the new arrivals. “There were more than three when I took my trials, and I know there are at least five of ye from the last time we talked.”
“Ah, good. You do remember.” The largest of the three pulled his hood down to reveal a male daemoni with horns that curved behind his head, blue skin, and yellow eyes. “Given the circumstances, I was worried that you had some bout of memory loss and this would be a longer process.”
“Why are you in such a huff?” the Templar chided. “I haven’t done anything against our agreement. Hells, I’ve only been here for a few minutes!”
“Those are your trainees, are they not?” the daemoni asked and glanced at Devol, Jazai, and Asla. His gaze flicked briefly to rest on each one for only a moment before he returned his focus to Wulfsun. “You know that once they’ve entered the grounds, they can have no outside assistance. That is one of the rules when a guild, company, or order such as yours nominates them for the trials.”
“Yeah, and?” the large man retorted and folded his massive arms. “I’m not here to aid them. This is Templar business and if yer gonna spout rules and regulations at me, I’m gonna do the same. If a malefic is found by a Templar or an associate and the Order is notified, we are allowed to come and collect them should the user be deceased during the trials.”
“Technically, the trials haven’t even begun yet,” Jazai interjected as he stared at the other two council members who hadn’t revealed themselves.
Devol, his blade still at the ready, inched closer to his mentor. “The Order has some kind of agreement with these guys?”
Wulfsun nodded. “Like Mephis mentioned, there’s a pact between any organization that nominates their members to take part in the trials. The Templar Order’s pact is a little more extensive than most. A few decades back, we made an agreement to collect malefics from any of those who died during the trials for safekeeping.” He bared his teeth in what might have passed as an attempt to smile. “But only if one of ours or an ally told us about them after the trials. They don’t tell us a damned thing, otherwise.”
“That would be the whole point of the trials,” Mephis replied. The sternness in his voice had faded and been replaced by a monotone, informative manner of speech. “To win by any means necessary. If we had you come and collect a participant’s item before or during the trials, they would have an unfair handicap, and if we told you in the aftermath, that would limit the pool.”
“Their ‘item?’” Wulfsun scoffed and waved his hand in a derisive gesture. “You act like we’re coming to bully them and take their favorite necktie. Malefics are banned in every kingdom and it’s our duty to deal with them. It’s one of the few damned things most kingdoms still recognize as our duty.”
The smallest of the three figures stepped forward and her hood fell back to reveal a female mori with long silver hair and pure black eyes. “Exceptions have been made before.”
“By kingdoms, not us,” the Templar countered. “I know all of you are fine with maniacs traipsin’ around with cursed artifacts if it gets the job done, but most like sleeping at night.”
“And majestics and exotics have never been used in illegal activities?” she responded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “By the Astrals, Karrie. The gray area of the Oblivion markers means that any number of illicit people come for them every year. But you aren’t the ones they call when a malefic-user gets a marker and goes on a tour of the realms for slaughter.”
“You would be mistaken on that,” the third figure muttered and removed his hood to reveal a human male with pale skin, deep-set eyes, and combed-back black hair.
“Willard. Did they finally make you a council member?” Wulfsun asked and studied the man cautiously. “I assumed you would prefer your old post.”
“The councilman who had this position before me was negligent in the very matter you speak of,” Willard stated, his voice quiet and direct. “I and the rest of the Council decided that my talents would be better used instructing the others to deal with any who abused the privileges of their marks, especially if they do not contribute as is expected.”
“His name is Willard? It’s rather boring compared to the daemoni and the mori,” Jazai whispered to Devol but was overheard by Wulfsun.
“I wouldn’t poke fun,” the Templar captain told them sharply. “Willard was the top assassin in the Order. They may not do as much as I would like them to, but they do police mark-bearers. When a kingdom in any realm notifies them of a problem and the Council decides the bearer has overstepped their privileges, they send their personal assassins to deal with them.”
“And they are better than any normal assassin?” the diviner asked.
The large man stared at Willard for a moment and his eyes darkened as he simply replied, “Yes, they have to be.” The was enough for the boy to look at the human council member and step back.
Mephis held a hand up and gestured for his colleagues to move closer. They huddled together and talked for a moment before they turned to the others. “You three—the young ones.”
Devol and his comrades looked at Wulfsun to see his reaction but he simply remained still except for a brief nod. The swordsman walked forward and he and his friends gave the council members their full attention. “Yes?”
“Did you three kill that man?” the daemoni asked and pointed at Hem’s body.
“Yes, but we were attacked by him first,” Asla stated, her hands at her side but her claws still out.
“Hells, he filled this entire town with a toxic gas,” Jazai pointed out. “And killed those two poor bastards over there and probably many more.”
“I know Merri killed at least a handful,” Devol stated and surprised his friends. “He had a small bag full of signets.”
“There was another?” Karrie asked. She pointed behind her and to the southwest. “Down that way, correct?”
The swordsman nodded. “Yes, how did you know?”
“Have you been watching us?” Asla asked, the question almost an accusation.
They received no answer. Instead, Karrie and Mephis looked at Willard, who shrugged. “They are worth keeping. I’ll take care of the bodies.” With that, he disappeared from view but not by teleportation or blinking. He merely turned, took a step, and vanished. Devol was stunned for a moment as he had never seen someone move that fast.
“You may stay,” Mephis announced and snapped the swordsman back into the moment. “Get to the trials,” He looked at Wulfsun “And you, Templar, need to depart. If you remain, this will be a violation of the rules o
f the Oblivion Trials, your trainees will be disqualified, and your Order will no longer have a pact with the Council.”
“Fine, although I would probably have been gone already, you know.” The large man sighed, turned to pick his pack up, and slid it onto one shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, you three, but good job so far.” He placed two fingers against his forehead and saluted them quickly. “I look forward to seeing you return. The best of luck to ye.” Before they could reply, he stepped forward and walked past the council members, who didn’t even watch him go. Instead, they stared at the three friends for a few moments before they turned to depart as well.
“You know, we could follow them,” Asla said hastily. “They are probably heading to the starting area and this could be an easy way to get there if they know some secret paths.”
“You are welcome to accompany us,” Karrie announced as they continued to walk away. Her words startled the trio. “If you are able to keep up.”
The wildkin looked at the other two. Jazai shrugged and Devol sheathed Achroma before they hurried forward to catch up to the council members. By the time they reached the main lobby, however, the two had exited the building and a moment later, disappeared in a flash of mana, one blue and the other red.
“Ah, we should have known.” Jazai scowled as the three left the building. “Oh, well. We need to go get our packs anyway.”
“Oh right, my pack,” the swordsman remembered and glanced at the factory. “I need to get it and the medicine bag. I’ll be right back.”
“We’ll go and get ours from the camp,” the other boy informed him. “We’ll meet you there.”
He waved to them as he dashed into the building. The diviner offered a hand to Asla to port them to the camp but noticed that she was looking into the sky. “Did something catch your eye?”
“Not particularly,” she responded, drew a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “We head into the caves next, correct?”
The Oblivion Trials (The Astral Wanderer Book 3) Page 12
