The Oblivion Trials (The Astral Wanderer Book 3)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  “Oh, don’t make such a fuss,” the assassin said in a jovial tone. He chose one of the signets at random and let the rest fall. “I only need one to stay in this game. I can collect more and I intend to.” He began to walk away and before his friends could stop him, Devol leapt at the assassin who simply disappeared into the ground again before he appeared above him and thwacked him with a powerful strike to the back that drove him to his knees.

  Before his two friends could retaliate, Koli disappeared and reappeared behind them to rest a hand on each of their shoulders. “I think I worked it out,” he mused and tapped the dagger on the diviner’s shoulder for a moment before he walked past them. “Why this dagger doesn’t agree with me. It makes things rather boring for me.”

  He stopped beside Devol and planted the blade in the ground before he moved on again. “Take it back to your teachers. I’m sure they can do something with it,” he suggested as he began to walk into the darker parts of the passage. “I’ll do my best to hurry to the finish line, but I haven’t had enough fun yet.” He snapped his fingers and vanished.

  Jazai and Asla hurried to help their friend up, who plucked the dagger out of the ground and looked at it, then at Ramah’s corpse and into the darker chamber behind him. He focused on the signets in his hand and grasped them tightly as he sheathed Achroma.

  “Come on,” he said brusquely. “Let’s finish this.”

  It did not take them long to reach the chamber where the trials had begun and it turned out that Koli was right. Two figures waited and sat with a fair distance between them. The first was one of the wildkin hunters Asla had pointed out earlier, although he did not look triumphant but crestfallen. Neither of his teammates was with him so it was easy to guess why. The other, surprisingly, was Jett, but none of his men were present. The bandit captain looked at them with a flicker of recognition in his eyes but he simply sighed and looked away.

  Karrie appeared but spoke no instructions and simply extended her hand. They gave her their signets and she looked carefully at each one before she nodded. “Well done. We await the rest until the final hour. For now, relax. You have earned it.” With that, she vanished and appeared on the ledge with Mephis and the other council members.

  As Devol and his friends found a place to sit, each retrieved any food and drink they had left and ate silently. There wasn’t a sense of pride or victory among them but fatigue and a bittersweet feeling of resolution.

  Hours passed and a few more magi did come through. The first, who appeared about an hour after the youngsters did, was Yule. His armor was cracked and he was missing some of his pouches and daggers. After he’d handed his six signets to Karrie, he looked at Jazai and nodded as he walked to the other side of the cavern and sat, folded his arms, and tucked against the wall.

  About two hours after he arrived, a dwarf appeared. She seemed to have lost an arm during the trials as the stump was bundled in a cloth and cuts on her face and armor indicated that she’d had a long, vicious path to the end. Her expression almost blank, she gave Karrie her signets, moved to the middle of the cavern, and collapsed from exhaustion. The wildkin hunter approached her and they talked briefly before she presented her arm and he tended to it with healing magic.

  Finally, about another hour after the dwarf appeared, Koli made his return. He gave Karrie his signets and whispered something to her before she simply disappeared and he smiled at the trio as he passed them and leaned against the wall. It was soon after he arrived that Mephis and the rest of the Council stepped forward on the ledge and looked at the magi present.

  “With this last arrival, this year’s trials are concluded,” he announced and looked at those gathered as he raised a hand and eight small circular objects floated above him. “It is my honor to present you with your marks for your success and for outrunning oblivion.” The marks drifted to each of the present magi. Devol plucked his out of the air and studied the black coin with an “O” emblem stamped inside.

  “As you can see, they are made from obsidium,” one of the council members stated. “It can hold mana in a similar manner to cobalt but cannot release that mana or have it be overwritten. The coin has a small amount of mana from one of our council members,” he explained as he gestured next to him. “But you must infuse the emblem with your mana. It will be bound to you and to you alone.”

  “You have gained special privileges with this mark and you are one of only a few,” Willard declared and took a moment to look at each of the victors in turn. “But should you abuse those privileges, we will make sure to correct our mistake in giving you this opportunity.”

  Devol looked at his friends. They clutched the coins in their hands and nodded before they let a trace of their mana flow into the coins. The swordsman’s sparkled silver in the “O,” while Asla’s was orange and Jazai’s blue.

  The other magi in the room did the same and soon after, the council members bowed and disappeared—all but one who jumped down to the middle of the chamber. Most of the trialists stiffened, ready for one last “test,” but he simply held a hand up to calm them and said. “I am here to provide a portal to any destination in the realms you wish to return to if you want one,” he stated and lowered his hand to the side as it began to glow. “Do I have any takers?”

  “You aren’t much for ceremony, are ya?” the dwarven woman muttered as she approached him. “Send me to Anchorage. I need to see the dwarven king,”

  He nodded. “Certainly.” A portal appeared with a vision of golden halls with some kind of red liquid flowing through them. She nodded in thanks and walked through. Yule stepped up next and requested Osira. Jett took his place and muttered the name of a forest before he hobbled through.

  “I enjoyed our time together.” The three friends startled when Koli stated this from behind them. “But it seems it is time to depart.” He walked between them but halted after several steps. “I hope we can meet again but it will be…different next time, I’m sure.” He peered at the swordsman. “Get stronger, okay, little Devol?” Without waiting for an answer, he approached the portal-maker and whispered something to him. The man nodded and created a portal with an image of what appeared to be the interior of a quaint cottage that the assassin strolled into.

  The council member looked expectantly at those who remained. The wildkin shouldered his bow and shook his head. “I’ll walk,” he stated as he began to pack his belongings. “I need time to myself.”

  “I agree,” Jazai half-whispered so the others heard him. Devol nodded and waved the portal-maker away. He nodded and closed the gateway before he vanished. Asla hurried to the wildkin’s side as her friends packed their belongings.

  “Well, we made it,” the diviner stated as he rearranged the contents of his bag. “How do you feel?”

  “I think I should be more joyful,” the swordsman admitted and his gaze scanned the empty arena. “We didn’t lose anyone and the three of us got through together but… Can you count this as a pyrrhic victory even if we didn’t lose anyone?”

  Jazai closed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Not technically, but I know what you mean.” He clapped him on the shoulder and the two walked to Asla and the deer wildkin.

  “I don’t know where to go,” he said, his voice almost a sob. “They were my brothers and now, I’m alone. I have no place to go.”

  “I know a place,” she replied and held him close. “You can make a new start there, exactly like I did. You can’t hide in your pain. If you can save one person, that is a place to start, even if it is only yourself.”

  The wildkin and her friends looked at her in surprise. He attempted to dry his eyes. “I’m not sure when I will get there,” he said, his voice breaking. “But you are right. Those are wise words for someone so young.”

  “They aren’t my own,” she admitted and drew him in for one last hug before she pulled back. “But they are indeed from a wise person.” She looked at her friends with a soft smile. “We should return now, yes?”

&nb
sp; They both nodded and Devol offered a hand to her as he said, “Yes, back to the Order. Perhaps there we can truly feel we succeeded.”

  “Or if nothing else,” Jazai added, “we can have some kind of celebration.”

  Epilogue

  “All right, you stuffy bastards!” Pete roared as he stood atop one of the tables and held two tankards in the air. “We’re celebrating three of ours coming home from the trials! So if yer not getting smashed, I’ll be doing it for ye!”

  “I don’t think that came out how you meant it to.” Acha chuckled and lifted a glass to his lips.

  Pete leapt off and fell into a seat beside him. “Maybe not, but hic, I’m a wee bit drunk.”

  “More for the table?” Rogo asked as he placed a loaded tray on the long surface.

  Freki winced. “Oh, come on now. He doesn’t need more for—"

  “I don’t mind if I do!” Pete said and helped himself to another tankard. Freki and Acha looked at his two now empty tankards in astonishment.

  “Weren’t those full?” the wildkin asked and pointed to them.

  Acha shrugged and finished his drink. “He’s a dwarf man. Besides, he does have a point. This is a celebration. I would think you would be one of the most relieved that they have returned, or at least drink to stave the jitters off.”

  “I have done so for the last two weeks,” the wildkin admitted as he frowned at his mostly full beer stein. “I’m worried the collective hangover might kill me.”

  “Don’t you collect a piece of any animal or creature ya slay?” Pete asked as he wiped his mouth. “Does that mean the beer will get a trophy?”

  Acha snorted. “We’ll hang it over one of the kegs in the back.”

  “Hilarious,” Freki muttered but took a larger sip of his stein.

  “Does anyone want to head to the arenas for a brawl?” Wulfsun called from where he stood on his chair. “My apprentice has boasted about his tales from the trials and it’s getting my blood going!”

  “He’s no longer your apprentice, Wulfsun,” Koko chided as she picked up some of the empty glasses and tankards. “With that mark earned, the grand mistress has chosen to make them all fully-fledged Templars.”

  “Yer right!” he said with a loud laugh. “Even more of a reason to celebrate!”

  “I wouldn’t say I’ve boasted, Wulfsun,” Devol reasoned and tried to pull him into his chair. “Maybe more like recounting or regaling, at best.”

  “Regalin’? Now that’s a proper word. It’s all part of your legend now, Devol!” The Templar captain cheered. “He brought not one but two malefics with him as well, so he’s already upholding the Templar way.”

  “And you are doing a commendable job showcasing Templar dignity,” Zier said sarcastically and drew a chuckle out of Jazai. The elder scholar raised a hand and a blue pulse flashed out and knocked Wulfsun’s chair over. The large man tumbled and his beer splashed onto his head. “Have you cooled off now?”

  “That’s a start,” the Templar captain muttered as he stood again. “Although I might have to pull you into the arena myself now.”

  “It looks like they are breaking the mead out,” Vaust interjected and pointed to a couple of the chefs who entered with a tray that held several bottles.

  “Oh, hold onto that thought for a moment,” Wulfsun said as he strode to the chefs, snatched two of the bottles, and ignored their attempts to stop him.

  The mori chuckled and sat beside Devol. “I haven't seen him this excited in quite some time,” he commented and nodded at the large man before he took a sip from his gourd. “He was quite worried once you set off. Even when he went to claim the malefic, he was still concerned as you had not reached the cavern at that time.”

  “I’m glad I could show him that his training paid off,” the boy replied with a small smile and studied the mori with interest. “Hey, Vaust, do you know some named Kiara? An angeli perhaps?”

  His companion considered it for a moment. “No, but I have interacted with only a few hundred of them over the years. Mori and angeli are not at each other’s throats like we once were, but it’s still better that we don’t interact on a regular basis for the most part.” He took another sip before he regarded him curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Ah, no reason. Someone I ran into mentioned someone like that, I think.” He changed the subject quickly. “Hey, I ran into a female mori—one of the council members.”

  Vaust nodded. “Yes—Karrie, I assume?”

  “You know her?”

  The mori Templar nodded. “She was the one to nominate me when she got onto the Council. We have a little history but I haven’t seen her in quite some time. I’ll have to check in again now that I have an excuse.”

  “Hey, Devol,” Jazai began as he approached his friend. “Have you seen Asla?”

  He nodded and pointed to a table in the corner. “Yeah, she’s with Veni.”

  The scholar’s apprentice looked to where she at a table with the other wildkin to welcome their new arrival. From what Devol had overheard, he had not made a decision to join the Templar yet but being around some of his kind again seemed to help his spirits, even if only a little.

  “It’s quite a step for her,” Jazai said in a low voice before he sat next to his friend. “So, Grand Mistress Nauru said she would give us time off to go out and see the world and find our place and all that. Have you given it any thought?”

  He sipped his juice and shrugged. “I’ll go see my parents for now—I’ll leave a while after the party dies down—but other than that, not so much.” He smiled at Vaust and Jazai. “I don’t need to ‘find my place.’ I know I belong here.”

  “That’s good,” the mori responded, lifted a filled wine goblet off the table, and brought it to his lips. “That means I filled my recruitment quota.”

  “Do what?” Devol asked and looked at him in surprise. Vaust snickered.

  Jazai knocked his shoulder with his fist. “It’s a joke, man,” he stated and rolled his eyes at the mori. “As for me, I’ll go see my father. It’s been a while. I’ll be back after a few weeks.”

  “And what about Asla?” the swordsman asked and watched her as she and the other wildkin helped to console Veni. “She lives here, right? Does she have any plans?”

  “Well, you can always ask her yourself before you leave,” Jazai pointed out. “But I heard her mention that she was considering a visit to the wildkin lands, so she might do some traveling,”

  A wry grin appeared on Vaust’s face as he leaned closer. “She might fall for some strapping cat boy or another. You might wanna consider that.”

  “Huh, why?” Devol asked and the diviner rolled his eyes again.

  “Man, none of you are setting a good example, eh?” he chastised as he flicked the mori’s wine glass.

  “Oh, we certainly are,” the older Templar retorted and lifted the wine glass to his lips. “That you should always celebrate a victory.”

  “Our victory,” Jazai clarified and pointed a finger at himself and Devol.

  “Correct, but we are all comrades in the Order so your victory is our victory,” Vaust reasoned and downed most of the goblet.

  The swordsman chuckled. “He has you there.”

  His friend folded his arms. “Maybe so, for now.”

  “Besides, do you think you can out-argue a drunk?” he asked and pointed to Vaust’s gourd. “He takes a sip from that every few minutes, it seems like.”

  The mori coughed like he was about to spit his wine out. He wiped his mouth and looked at him. “You thought this was wine?”

  Devol looked at him in confusion. “Yeah, if not that, then what is it?”

  His two companions chuckled and the mori smoothed his hair. “I forget how naïve you are when it comes to other realmers.” He popped open the top of the gourd and tipped it toward the boy, who looked inside and saw some kind of dark liquid with a faint glow to it.

  “What is that?” he asked as Vaust closed it and put it next to his ch
air.

  “It’s called amrita. It’s a liquid form of mana. My kind need it in other realms as we are not as…adept when it comes to channeling the mana in the air to replenish our stores and we can’t regenerate it as fast as you can. Although I wonder sometimes if that is simply because you hold so much less.”

  “You seem to drink a lot of it,” Devol noted. “I didn’t see Karrie drink anything like that, or anything at all, I suppose.”

  Vaust shrugged. “Some of us have more of a taste for it than others and more of a need.”

  “You aren’t helping the comparison to an alcoholic, you know.” Jazai snickered.

  “All right, let’s break out the real good stuff!” Pete shouted as Rogo hoisted him on his shoulders. “We probably won’t have another feast like this in a good while, so let’s celebrate. Who’s with me, aye?”

  Many in the crowd shouted, “Aye!” and some even went into the kitchen and down to the cellars, much to the dismay of the chefs and staff. Jazai stood and looked at one of the tables. “There is still more than enough food, but once all that liquor truly gets to them, it will go fast. I think I’d better fill another plate.” He looked at his friend. “Do you want anything?”

  “I’m good for now. I think I’ll simply relax for a while.” He leaned back in his chair.

  The diviner nodded. “Good idea. You certainly deserve to,”

  As Jazai walked away, he closed his eyes for a moment and drew a contented breath.

  “We all deserve to.”

  When Devol opened his eyes again, the dining area had lost a couple of dozen or more people. Some of the remaining Templars were asleep at the tables and others chatted to one another. He realized that he had fallen asleep in his moment of ease and when he looked beside him, both Jazai and Vaust were gone. There were sounds of battle outside and he assumed Wulfsun had eventually got his wish at some point.

  He looked to his left. Asla picked at a piece of fish and she greeted him with a wave. “Hello. I’m surprised you could sleep through all that chaos.”