The Oblivion Trials (The Astral Wanderer Book 3)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  Before the huge man could enact his intended attack, the young magi unleashed two more mana slashes but the warrior thwacked them to the side with his exotic before he roared and charged. The archer landed next to Devol and fired an enlarged mana arrow. Their adversary struck it with his ax but the power of the shot slowed his advance and gave the swordsman a chance to attack.

  He lifted his sword, enlarged the blade, and arced it forward. The warrior recovered in time to knock it upward but the magical blade still sliced through his chest plate and shirt. Unfortunately, it only grazed his chest as there was no evidence of blood.

  The berserker seemed more angered than bothered by this and he lobbed the fire ax at them in retaliation. While the archer retreated into the trees, the boy dove under it and grimaced at the heat of the flames as it passed over him. It made impact with a trunk several yards away and burst apart to ignite more flames in the forest around them. Devol began to feel déjà vu as the inferno continued to grow.

  Perhaps in an attempt to intimidate them, the warrior ripped his armor off to reveal his enlarged chest and the veins that throbbed along his arm and pecs. His jaw was still set and his teeth clenched, and he marched determinedly toward the young magi, who scrambled hastily to his feet and began to retreat through the flames.

  Devol didn’t understand how this maniac was able to sustain his rage spell for so long. He knew the basics of it as many warrior magi made use of it, but it was a double-edged sword. It increased one’s strength and endurance, and could apparently give one resistance to magic, which was a new revelation. But it only lasted for a brief time and could exhaust the user if overused. He never knew how incredibly psychotic it made one after extended use, but he realized he should have guessed that from the name.

  The archer took a position in a tree in front of him, selected two exploding arrows, and aimed them at the warrior, who had proceeded to rampage through the forest and seemingly ignored the inferno around him in an attempt to catch his victim. As soon as the boy passed her, she fired them directly at their adversary. They struck his chest and detonated two large explosions. Devol turned and narrowed his eyes at the smoke kicked up while he waited to see if they had any effect.

  They had indeed. When the smoke cleared, he saw a new level of pissed-off he had yet to encounter in another person. In his other hand, the berserker now held a black ax with red and orange markings. The swordsman paled slightly as a thought occurred to him and he focused on the smoke that faded around the huge form. “Don’t tell me he made an ax out of the—”

  With a below of fury, the giant pounded the earth with the new weapon and triggered a large explosion that toppled the tree the archer now sat in. She jumped off but a branch snagged her jacket and held her back. The dryad grasped her blink dagger and tossed it but it landed probably closer to the warrior than she would have liked.

  When she appeared, a giant boot hovered above her head. She rolled out of the way, unable to snag her dagger which was crushed under his heel. The man swung the explosive ax through three trunks next to him and all burst on impact, scattered sharp debris around the area, and toppled the trees. She was able to find a narrow passage between the falling wooden pillars and bounded through it, then used one to launch farther away as she loaded another arrow. Devol moved quickly to her side to stop her.

  “Let’s try to not give him any new toys,” he recommended as the warrior rolled his shoulders, turned to look at them, and settled a speculative gaze on one of the fallen trees.

  “Do you have any other plans?” she asked and spoke for the first time in an irate yet soft voice.

  He honestly couldn’t think of one and was still perplexed by the situation as a whole. Their adversary gave them no time to think of anything as he began to lift one of the trees. Both prepared to flee, but when the man’s head swiveled, Devol noticed dark-blue liquid dripping from under his helm. He pointed it out to the archer. “Do you know of anything that makes one sweat that color?”

  She studied it for a moment and a small smile formed on her lips as she selected another explosive arrow and notched it. “Keep him distracted for a moment while I find a weak point,” she ordered before she darted through the flames and into the woods.

  The instruction was possibly easy enough to accomplish, but a large shadow loomed over the swordsman and he scowled at the warrior, who brandished one of the large trees before he immediately swung it down toward him.

  Devol jumped to the side and the tree thumped powerfully onto the earth beside him. He grimaced and bounded on top as his opponent picked it up again and he used the motion to launch toward the huge figure. With a yell of defiance, he lifted Achroma above his head and arced it in a downward blow and immediately strengthened his anima as the warrior moved to defend against it with the explosive ax in his other hand.

  When it detonated, the boy almost lost his hold on the sword as he rocketed back and into another tree with incredible force. His anima protected him from any broken bones, but the pain certainly felt like he had been exploded and hammered into a tree. He looked up hastily. The warrior was recovering but the explosive ax was gone. At least that was something.

  The young swordsman forced himself to stand and he noticed that his blink dagger had been dislodged and lay a few yards away. He considered warping to it but realized that would only put him closer to the lunatic. With a small sigh, he decided against it for now and simply held Achroma up as pain surged through his back and legs. The archer had said she only needed a moment. He wondered how long that was to her.

  Before he could even feel irritation at the perceived delay, an arrow streaked from the trees above, lodged itself into the top of the warrior’s helm, and exploded. He roared in fury and staggered back as pieces of metal fell from his head. Then, almost instantly, he released his exotic and landed hard on his back. His body returned to normal and even seemed to wither to some extent. He flinched once or twice but moved no more.

  Devol dragged a breath in and hobbled to his body to see if he still lived. He was still breathing, so it would at least appear so for now, but with this fire raging around them, he could be lost in it if he didn’t recover soon.

  The boy examined his face. Now that it was exposed, he was certainly familiar even in this pale condition, but it wasn’t someone he knew well. Finally, a memory crystallized as he studied the ax and unkempt armor. This was the drunk from Rouxwoods. He almost smacked his head in realization and had to concede that the man hadn’t simply talked nonsense back there.

  Without a doubt, he could indeed fight, albeit with some rather blunt tactics. He picked a piece of the helm up. Sponges had been sown inside the lining and dripped the dark-blue liquid he had seen earlier. He touched it tentatively and winced at how cold it was—incredibly so, which was rather refreshing in the growing heat. It must have been a counter to the effects of the rage spell.

  When the archer landed behind him with a soft thud, he tossed the piece of helm away and turned to thank her for her assistance but stopped and focused on the arrow aimed at him. He still held Achroma but was not in a position to deflect the projectile should she fire it. Despite this, he looked calmly at her. “I guess I should have expected this but either way, you won’t hit me.”

  She pulled the drawstring back a little more. “I won’t miss at this range.”

  “Yes, you will,” he responded and tightened his hand on his weapon, although he made no effort to lift it yet. “You can walk away now and continue the tri—” He didn’t finish as she loosed her arrow and he simply disappeared from her sight.

  The dryad spun but encountered the flat side of Achroma as Devol delivered a powerful swing into her head. She twisted from the impact and fell. He stood over her and held his recovered blink dagger before he sighed and sheathed it, then used Achroma to cut her bow in two and destroy the warrior’s ax.

  He looked at the inferno and their unconscious forms. They could possibly die in there, from the smoke if not the flames
. He wondered if he had the time to pull them out when Achroma brightened and a field of light expanded around them that pushed the flames away and extinguished them quickly to leave a drifting rain of ash in the forest.

  The swordsman felt lighter than before, weary but relieved. He had expended considerable mana thus far and it had begun to take a toll. Asla would probably scold him for the waste.

  Wait—Asla and Jazai!

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Unlike her friend Devol, the wildkin did not materialize in the middle of a melee or even paired off against another trialist. She was quite alone and in the dark. When she emerged from being teleported, she stood in a dark cavern. This one showed no signs of having been worked on in the past. She would have been surprised to know that any living soul other than a beast or insect ever set foot in here.

  Asla had spent the first part of this event simply walking through the cavern. Her feline eyes allowed her some increased vision in the darkened domain, but it was little better than any normal human’s eyes as there was no light to assist. Her pace was slow and she almost had to crawl to get through some of the smaller crevasses. Not only that, she had to make sure there were no ledges or precipices she could accidentally fall into.

  Eventually, after an extended time of careful meandering, she picked up no scents and heard no noises other than a slow drip of liquid, the thud of rocks under her feet, and maybe the occasional cricket skittering along the walls. She focused on her senses and muttered, “Empower.” The simple cantrip allowed her to slightly increase her natural abilities even beyond what she could muster through Vis. But instead of focusing on speed or might, she focused on her hearing, sight, and smell. Still, nothing stood out as she pressed on.

  She finally found a small opening and several meters above this was an exit. Although it seemed to lead to another dark cavern, it was still progress. She felt the wall to make sure it was solid and vaulted to the potential escape but encountered only more darkness as she had expected.

  A moment later, however, she discerned something barely audible even to her. It was deep within and she could not determine if was a human voice or an animal. It was a sign of life, either way, and she pushed on into the new passage.

  As she continued, the sound grew louder and echoed in the caves. She could now deduce that it was indeed human or at least humanoid, and it was the sound of crying. At first, she thought it was another trial participant, maybe one who was lost or had fallen into this bleak ravine and injured themselves.

  But this was not crying from pain or frustration but from anguish and despair. It worried her, a feeling she recalled and tried to move away from.

  When she turned a corner, a small cat wildkin child huddled next to a dying torch. It simply made no sense that she would be there. Asla hurried forward and knelt beside her. “What are you doing here, young one?” she asked as she placed her hands gently around the girl’s slender shoulders. “How did you get down here? Are you lost?”

  The child did not answer her right away but continued to sob for a few moments longer before she pointed down the long corridor. “Is something over there?” the wildkin magi asked and the girl’s shoulders trembled. “Did something scare you?”

  In reply, she shook her head and in a surprisingly swift motion, pushed to her feet and dashed in the direction Asla had come from and into the darkness.

  Both concerned and confused, the magi stood quickly and hurried in pursuit as she yelled for the little wildkin to wait. When she turned the corner, however, the girl had disappeared. Behind her, more voices called to one another or shouted in fear and rage.

  She retraced her steps to retrieve the torch, worried about the child because the voices made her realize something violent was happening deeper in. Her speed increased now that she moved ahead with the aid of the torch’s light.

  As she rounded the next corner, she had to duck to avoid a male deer wildkin who careened into the wall before he slid down with a stab wound in his gut. Asla turned quickly to check his wound and when she looked at his face, she realized the life had already left his eyes.

  Several more wildkin bodies were strewn around her, all dead, and she turned her attention to two who remained alive. A hound and a bear fought several figures hidden in the dark but both were struck down before she could even push to her feet to join them.

  “Must you be so rough? You could have damaged the supplies!” one of the figures protested in the back.

  “Oh, they are certainly damaged.” Another chuckled darkly. “But nothing beyond repair. Isn’t that the whole point?”

  The words were familiar to her and the voices as well, but she couldn’t place them. “Are you saying you can’t raise them because they aren’t in mint condition?”

  “Spilling out most of the contents doesn’t help matters either way.” The former speaker growled in annoyance. “I’ve only been able to work with the basics, but having a new batch of—well, hello there.” The dark figures turned toward her. Even with the light of the torch, she could not make their features out but she could sense their fiendish gazes on her. “What do we have here? It looks like we missed one.”

  “A cat wildkin? And female as well,” another commented. “Do you need her professor? They fetch a high price on the markets for those who want exotic pets.”

  Asla bared her fangs and held her claws up but she could not summon her anima, try as she might. Her mana flowed but it would not form around her. When she looked at her gauntlets, she realized that the stones did not shimmer. The figures began to advance.

  “Oh, this one is a fighter too, it seems,” one remarked smugly. “I would have you know, little one, they were all fighters too,” he said and gestured to the bodies on the floor.

  “Quiet!” the professor snapped and stepped forward. Although his visage was hidden under a hood, she was able to see gray skin and a sickly, crooked smile. “There is no need to scare the poor thing. Perhaps we can resolve this peacefully. I have an offer for you.” He placed a hand over his heart. “If you come with us, little one, I will promise to treat you well.”

  When he extended his other hand, Asla hissed at him and lashed out but his only response was to chuckle. “There is no need to be afraid. I am very gentle with the young and I’ll give you special treatment. I'll only drug you when necessary and not subject you to the more invasive operations. You will eat with your mouth and I will make sure you have clothes to sleep in.”

  “Are you getting soft professor?” one of the men chided mockingly.

  “You brutes have no idea what it means to show kindness,” the professor snapped over his shoulder and turned to her again. “What do you say, little calico?”

  That phrase and the way he said it—purringly as if to mock her— brought back a memory. She had indeed heard these words before on the day when her family was taken from her. They were words that had haunted her for so long even though she tried to forget. She began to tremble and walk back, but they continued to follow her.

  “You won’t fight us, hmm?” the professor asked. “You are going to run? To hide? Like you did before?”

  She had fled back then, panicked and crying, but would not do so again. That was why she had been training—to make sure she never had to again. She dropped the torch and held her claws out. Mana be damned, she intended to fight. Her heart felt like it might burst as it pounded against her chest in time to her rapid breathing. She might give out merely from the intensity of the physical response, but she would fight. When she looked at these figures, rage surged but also fear, almost like when they came across the miner in the cavern. The thought triggered something that pushed through into her consciousness.

  Asla lowered her hands slowly as the figures drew closer. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and focused on her mana to use it to soothe her body as she cleared her mind and let her empower cantrip dispel. She felt a rush through her body as her anima returned and it burst out before it formed around her. When sh
e opened her eyes again, they were gone. The bodies, the dark figures, and even the torch had all gone.

  The wildkin exhaled slowly, shook her head, and dabbed her wet eyes. When she looked up, she caught a glimmer in the dark and approached it cautiously. A mass swirled inside the red stone and she backed away and continued down the passage. She had not noticed any crimson ore before now and wondered if using empower made her more susceptible. With a shudder, she clutched her cloak tighter. Honestly, she preferred the crazed miner. Why of all the things it could show her did it bring that back? She had not thought of it in so long.

  She discerned another noise and after listening for a moment, she identified it as water dripping into a pool. Something was ahead. After her ordeal, she was hesitant but it was something to pursue and she wanted to be anywhere away from there.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Run, you idiot! You should have hit him. How can he be so fast? He’s gaining but he can’t hit me. It’s too dark to aim.

  “And that makes the third,” Jazai muttered. He was currently seated behind a column of rock. When he was yanked out of the starting cavern with all the others, he appeared in a slightly smaller cavern with four other magi. One of those was none other than Yule, the former Black Sun assassin who now worked solo. He must like his personal space because he wasted no time killing one of the magi before the man even registered his presence.

  If the truth be told, the young diviner was still so surprised by the sudden teleportation that if Yule had set his sights on him, he was almost positive he could have killed him before he had a chance to defend himself. For a moment, it had looked like he would be the second one to fall as the man had reloaded his crossbow quickly and aimed it directly at him.