The Oblivion Trials (The Astral Wanderer Book 3)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  The daemoni held a hand up. “Consider it a keepsake,”

  The magi nodded and pocketed the signet, drew a deep breath, and stepped through. After a moment, several more made their way to the portal, and a couple of those who had previously examined it shrugged and walked through.

  “Are either of you considering it?” Jazai inquired as they watched several of the participants leave voluntarily.

  “Not a chance,” Devol responded and sat with Achroma across his lap. “And especially not after we’ve come this far.”

  “Agreed. Also…” The wildkin looked at Mephis. “I don’t trust that this is as merciful as it seems.”

  “Same,” Devol agreed.

  The diviner nodded and folded his arms. “It’s good to see your sense is still with you.”

  After fifteen or so magi had wandered through, no others approached the portal. “Do any more of you wish to depart?” Mephis asked. The silence was his answer and he formed another wry smile. “Very well. You have made a good choice.”

  From inside the portal, they heard screams and shouts of surprise. Blood splattered through it and the remaining participants stared suspiciously at it, expecting another monster to emerge.

  Instead, once it fell quiet again, another dark-robed figure emerged—a human and one Jazai recognized. “Willard,” he recalled. “That assassin Wulfsun told us about.”

  “I had completely forgotten about him.” Asla gasped as the council member sheathed a long dagger and held a hand up with shining objects within. It took no special skill to know that these were the magi’s signets.

  Mephis nodded to him and Willard walked away. The daemoni turned to the remaining participants. “That leaves fifty-eight now. It’s not a terrible number and it should make the next part much quicker.”

  “So there was never a chance to leave here alive, huh?” Jett asked and looked at his remaining men. “If we don’t win, we’re dead.”

  “That is what we wish people to believe,” Mephis replied, held a hand out, and closed it into a fist to make the portal shut. “The trials are not a secret like they used to be years ago. It is not as much a bother as one would think but we do wish to discourage thrill-seekers and the curious from attending. As such, it has forced us to be more blunt in our approach.”

  Devol looked at the blood on the floor where the portal had been. “And final, it seems.”

  “It makes me wonder what happened to those in the caves who couldn’t make it here in time,” Jazai recalled with an ill feeling.

  “A high body count should keep the riffraff away, although it does not do as much as we wish. But for every one participant who doesn’t return to their guilds, families, and friends, word spreads. The populace should get a general understanding one of these years.” Mephis took the signet out again. “Now then, would you like to know what these are for?”

  “Finally,” the diviner muttered, retrieved his, and examined it. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “The emblems and colors on your signets are unique to you and for your next trial—potentially the final trial—you will need to collect more.” The declaration immediately made the magi in the room look at one another. Everyone understood how they were most likely to get those signets. “There are four emblems—a crown, a star, a sword, and a rose—and there are four colors—gold, silver, red, and blue.”

  He tossed the signet over the edge of the cliff. “With fifty-eight participants left, you’ll need to either collect five other signets or get hold of your sister signet.” He held a hand up as a magi stepped forward. “What is the sister signet, you were about to ask? It is the one that is aligned opposite yours. A star is opposite a crown and a sword the opposite of a rose. Gold opposes silver and red and blue do the same.”

  Jazai looked at his signet. “So having a golden sword means I’m looking for a silver rose.” He looked at the others. “Well, lucky break then.”

  “I’m looking for a golden crown,” Asla said and hid her signet quickly in the band of her vest. “What about you, Devol?”

  “I need a red star,” he answered and looked away from his friends and across the cave.

  “Red star? Why does that sound—” Jazai paused and followed his friend’s gaze to Koli, who looked back at them with a sly smirk. “Oh no.”

  Asla glared at the assassin. “He doesn’t have to take Devol’s,” she pointed out. “He can get four other signets instead and Devol can do the same.”

  “That is true and also sounds like something Koli would rather do. There’s more carnage that way,” Jazai added. “We’ll have to make sure to be on our guard and stick together.”

  “The other signets from those who were not able to progress to this point have been hidden throughout the area,” Mephis stated, “so there is more than one way to win this bout. And you do not need to keep your personal signet. You merely need five in total. However, your personal signet is the only way to qualify with a sister signet, and do not try to play us. We are well aware of who has what.” He twirled a finger in the air. “Also, there can be only eight total victors.”

  “I wonder how they decided on that number?” Jazai scoffed.

  “So fifty will fall,” Devol stated as he pushed to his feet.

  “Maybe more. He said eight total, meaning at most,” the scholar pointed out.

  “So then, shall we get started?” Jett declared and cracked his knuckles. “We only need to claim those signets and everyone is here, so this is a good old battle royale, then?”

  The daemoni nodded and mana formed in his hand. “Indeed, but this is not the battleground. This is once again your final destination,” he explained and held his other hand up as another council member joined him. “You are to return here by midnight with your sister signets or bounty collected. For those who do not, I recommend you depart on your own for you will be disqualified and I would prefer you spare us the work.”

  “You want us to leave and then come back?” Zed asked and shook his head. “What? Do we give each other a ten-minute head start?”

  Mephis shook his head. “Not at all. You may begin immediately once you arrive at your starting positions. The best of luck to you all.” He and the other council member thrust their hands out and multiple portals appeared around the cave. Devol heard shouts behind him and his two friends disappeared into separate portals. He tried to catch Asla’s hand but was pulled upward and dragged into a portal above him. From this higher vantage point, he could see that every other participant was dragged into their separate portal. He entered with a brief flash of light and landed on his knees on soft, wet earth.

  Startled, he looked up, felt a mist on his face, and realized that he was in a forest but couldn’t think why they would send him there. He stood and looked into the distance. After a moment, he noticed a few buildings between the trees and realized the forest was outside Reverie. It seemed the battlefield for this trial was much more expansive than he’d thought.

  “Rage!” The loud roar made him look behind him. The ax-wielding warrior grew rapidly in size and held his weapon up as he approached two other magi. Devol lifted Achroma and wondered if he should strike at him while his back was turned when a whistling sound caught his attention. He turned and held Achroma up so its flat side was in front of him and shielded him against two arrows that had been loosed at him. His attacker was the shrouded archer who accompanied Zed. The potentially final part of the trial had begun.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The archer nocked another arrow and two more formed out of mana. They streaked directly toward him and Devol swung his sword to knock them all away, including the mana arrows. This seemed to surprise his assailant, who darted around the trees and continued to loose mana arrows at him, which he either dodged or blocked as he pursued him.

  He charged Achroma with mana and struck out to release a wave of energy that sliced through two tree trunks, toppled them, and forced his opponent to leap frantically over them to avoid the mana-infused
blade.

  The young swordsman vaulted high to attack from the air. The archer nocked another arrow—this one black—drew, and fired. It whistled over the boy’s shoulder and when he glanced back, it spun and flipped before it traced its earlier path and targeted him from the opposite direction.

  A hasty glance at his adversary confirmed him loading three mana arrows and firing. Devol drew his blink dagger, tossed it at one of the trees, and warped quickly to the branch it dug into. He pried it out while the archer caught the rebounding arrow in his hand before he landed on a nearby tree branch, loaded the projectile again, and fired.

  In retaliation, the boy delivered a mana slash that sliced through the arrow and redirected it at the archer. The man yanked a dagger from his belt and jumped out of the way, threw the dagger to a different tree, and blinked to it. It seemed Devol wasn’t the only one with a blink dagger, and he now understood how annoying it was to fight someone with one.

  The archer retrieved two red arrows and when he placed them against the bow, the pointed tips burst into flame. He did not give him a chance to fire this time but launched off his branch and thrust Achroma into the trunk of the tree the man stood on. He flooded his sword with mana as he had done with the golem and forced it into the bark to unleash a ripple of mana into the tree that caused it to erupt.

  The swordsman twisted as his adversary bounded from the tree and tossed his blink dagger toward a patch of ground. He did the same and they teleported to the same place. He tried to grab him but was only able to manage to grasp a piece of their head covering, which he pulled to drag it free.

  A female dryad with a pinkish hue to her skin and short-cropped white hair stared at him, slightly annoyed but without anger or surprise in her eyes. As he studied her briefly, he wondered why he had simply assumed she was male, especially since his first brief glimpse of her had suggested a female.

  She still held the flaming arrows, which she tossed at the ground. Once they struck the earth, flames erupted from them and consumed the area. Devol jumped back and cast his coat off. For a moment, he was startled and could almost swear he saw the visage of the demon mask in the growing blaze. Frustrated, he shook this off hastily. Now was not the time to be haunted by him.

  The archer had disappeared and he looked to where the warrior still battled the two magi he had set upon when they first arrived. One had a deep wound across his chest and the raging warrior now held a second ax, this one made of wood.

  A flash behind him made the boy turn reflexively. He frowned in surprise at a sword of light that floated behind him and had blocked an arrow aimed at his neck. When he looked up, his searching gaze settled on the dryad crouched in a tree above him. He pointed his blade at her and the light sword followed the direction. It sliced through the branches and pursued her as she bounded from tree to tree. He ran to a tree ahead of her and vaulted up it, ready to cut her off.

  She had either anticipated this or was good at thinking on her feet. When Devol turned toward her, she vanished, and when he searched for, her the sword of light pointed toward the earth. He looked down and realized immediately that she had ported to her dagger and had loaded another flame arrow.

  When she fired, the sword of light moved to intercept and knocked it upward, where it exploded above the trees and sent small balls of fire raining into the forest to set some of the trees ablaze. The light sword then streaked toward her, but she flipped nimbly and it lodged into the soil as she drew her bowstring back and several mana arrows formed. Calmly, she fired at Devol.

  He dropped from the branch he had stood on and slid along the tree trunk as the mana arrows approached and leapt off before they stuck. The dryad began to fire at him in rapid succession. He called the sword of light to him and used both it and Achroma to deflect the projectiles as he marched closer to her.

  Undeterred, she moved her hand to the underside of her quiver and withdrew a pure white arrow. She nocked and fired it along with three mana arrows. The young swordsman did not know what that white arrow did but he didn’t want to risk it getting close enough to knock away. He threw the sword of light at it and when they collided, the projectile burst apart and released a large orb of light that unleashed a massive wave of force and sound that hurled him into one of the trees. His instincts screamed a warning and he scrambled to his feet and rubbed his head. The mana arrows continued toward him and his hearing was deafened and sight blurred.

  Devol defended against the arrows and blocked them with Achroma, but he couldn’t determine the location of the archer. With his vision and hearing compromised, he tried to use Vello to feel for her anima but she was shrouding it. The blade’s bright light began to envelop him and a warmth washed over his body. A moment later, his vision cleared and his hearing returned to normal.

  All he could hear now, though, was a pained cry from one of the other magi. He turned slightly and caught a reflection in the blade. The archer stood behind him with an arrow ready. He ducked as she fired and swung his blade up, which she defended against with her bow and the two weapons clashed. The bow, surprisingly, did not give against his majestic, which meant that it had to at least be an exotic. That would explain how she could fire so many mana arrows without exhausting her mana quickly.

  They broke their clash off after a moment. The boy thrust another mana slash at her. She jumped over it easily and the attack swept past her and cut through shrubbery and the sides of trees before it streaked toward the raging warrior across the forest. The man turned and saw the attack approaching, raised his ax, and slashed through the wave.

  “Wait your turn!” he shouted before he lobbed the wooden ax at Devol. He crushed it with a swing of Achroma and pieces scattered around the area. On impulse, he picked one of these up and noticed how sharp it was—certainly as sharp as any blade he had wielded before. He put the piece in his pocket and turned to locate the archer with her bow ready to fire, but she aimed skyward and the mana arrow she had prepared was considerably larger than normal.

  She fired and his gaze traced the arrow’s path until it erupted and a hail of bolts descended on him. He raised Achroma and a barrier formed around him to block the volley. The barrier disappeared as soon as it was safe to do so and the light formed inside Achroma. He pointed it toward the archer before he cast it forward and the blade extended rapidly.

  The dryad dodged the attack but not completely this time. It sliced through her right arm and she uttered a surprised cry. She retrieved another white arrow and tried to load it, but her wound was too grave for her to muster the strength. Green mana enveloped her hand and then the arrow, which she pointed at the boy. It launched toward him but he was prepared this time and threw his blink dagger as far as he could and teleported to it before the arrow landed with another blinding and deafening explosion.

  He tossed the dagger quickly to his original position and warped back. As he looked for his adversary, he realized he could feel her mana this time, which told him she had difficulty concentrating enough to suppress it while she was distracted by her wound. He located her hiding inside the canopy of a tree and noticed that she appeared to be healing her arm.

  Devol ran to the tree, struck it with Achroma, and fed it with enough mana that it erupted and forced her down. Even in the small amount of time she’d had, she appeared to have healed her wound enough to use the limb and had even managed to tie a makeshift bandage around it with a piece of her head covering.

  The two stared at one another. He readied himself to strike her down as he could see no other way to end this fight. She reached back for another arrow but both stilled when they heard something above them that sounded like it was falling toward them. They leapt back as the warrior landed heavily nearby, holding the body of one of the magi he had fought.

  “You’re next!” he declared and flung the corpse aside. The veins throbbed through his skin and his steps left small craters as he stormed toward them. “Give me your signets or you die!”

  Devol and the archer took a
moment to look at each other. He nodded to her and she repeated the gesture and they prepared to face the berserker together. The man roared in response as he held his ax up and swung it violently onto the earth. A line of axes pushed through the surface ground and headed directly toward them.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Devol and the dryad leapt out of the way of the stream of axes. He landed and spun immediately to engage the warrior. Their weapons clashed and he staggered beneath the sheer might of the swing. He parried the blow and attempted to strike one of his adversary’s engorged legs. The man responded by kicking the blade to knock it to the side and attempted to batter the boy’s head with his fist.

  To evade the blows, the swordsman fell back before he cast another mana slash at his huge opponent, who used his ax to redirect it skyward. This confirmed that his weapon was an exotic, although it came as no surprise. The slice cut through several branches and the warrior snagged a larger one out of the air and transformed it into another wooden ax.

  From what he had seen of it so far, Devol assumed the exotic must allow him to remake anything he touched in its image. It was clever but besides creating the easily avoided line of axes in the earth, it only seemed to allow him to travel lighter without the need to carry two weapons.

  Arrows streaked from above and several mana projectiles struck the warrior in the chest but immediately bounced off. His rage spell probably gave him some kind of magic resistance or defense that might be an issue for her—or the boy thought as much, at least. Another arrow flew, this one red. The large man tossed his wooden weapon at it and when they collided, the ax erupted in flames and the fire traveled to the ground to light the area up. This would make it hard for Devol to maneuver but even harder for the berserker, whose already large frame was even more enlarged by his spell.

  The warrior clenched his teeth but formed a smile. He held a hand out to a flame growing beside him and it began to take the shape of an ax in his hand. His hand glowed with his orange mana and he took hold of the flame weapon’s grip and swung it to get a feel for it before he looked at the boy with his manic grin.