Chapter 59. Skai’aren (Patreon)

Urstes had many minutes to rethink the strategy that landed the Guard in the depths of the decemancer’s nebula of energy and bone.

For one, they shouldn’t have sent in Mo’qin in the beginning. That was the biggest mistake of all. They should have kept him in the wings, hidden, as far from the decemancer as possible. They had needed his firepower later, when their central strategy kicked into high gear.

The match should have ended the second Nixia trapped the decemancer in a nightmare. The setup had been perfect: Under the sudden threat of being devoured by living earth, the decemancer had pivoted straight toward her. After he was incapacitated, Urstes had seized the moment to finish the job, swallowing the decemancer’s hive of Death energy into the earth. Zuliman–the only member from Mo’qin’s team to escape capture by hiding just outside of the decemancer’s perception–had assisted by forming the earth into thick, viscous mud all around the furiously-lashing snake until it was entirely submerged.

If he’d only been able to keep the snake-shaped death factory underground, the decemancer might have suffocated and passed out. At the very least he might have been crushed to death, bone supports eventually buckling under Urstes’ earth-shearing compression.

Not that Urstes would have let it proceed that far; the decemancer had surrounded himself with fellow guardians. However, if he’d managed to put the decemenancer at the point of death, the arbitrators would have called the match, granting the guardians victory.

But they couldn’t keep him underground. The decemancer was unconscious, and yet they were completely unable to immobilize him: the Death serpent used the empowered bone claws of its writhing spirits like a drill, twisting and surging out of the earth of its own volition. From that point on, the entirety of the Guard had focused on trying to lock the Death serpent down, using barriers and ranged attacks. Lanhui had focused powerful, energy-piercing shots of ice on the serpent’s body, only to be deflected by the claws of spirits bubbling up from the Death energy morass.

Even though their melee combatants could finally approach without fear of having their bodies incapacitated, they were unceasingly tied up with the hoards of bone creatures assailing them from all sides. Said creatures were grotesque amalgamations of different skeletons, their limbs often different sizes and shapes, their one cyclopean eye placed anywhere on the body. Worse, they were crafty about the way they fought, and not uncoordinated as one might expect from their asymmetric construction. They fought as though acutely aware of the importance of keeping their soul gem eye intact, and had no qualms letting part of their body be destroyed in its stead.

Worst of all, if the serpentine death hive passed over a defeated bone chimaera, and the creature’s soul gem was still intact, then the Death energy of the hive would simply revive the creature anew.

It had been a complete and utter marathon from that point on, trying futilely to defeat bone creatures, attack the death hive, and keep the decemancer trapped in a nightmare. As they continued fighting and trying different strategies, they grew more and more fatigued, more pressed to find a unique strategy worth attempting. Once they realized they had no way to touch the decemancer when he was unconscious, they began to lose heart.

When the Death energy around them all faded, Urstes knew that they had finally lost. The decemancer touched down on the ground about ten feet away from them, blowing out a breath of air. He shrugged his shoulders, then looked over at them appraisingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That was a good fight,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I can see why the SPU looks down on organized duels in posh stadiums. This is much more realistic.”

“Of course it’s more realistic,” Lanhui snorted, shaking his head. “Y’jeni.” He began to walk away from the others.

“Lanhui...” Zuliman called out, scowling, her eyes narrowing.

Urstes held out his hand to silence her. His eyes met the stare of each member of the Guard, save Lanhui. He felt a twinge of guilt and regret in his heart. This was his Guard, and in a way, he’d let them down.

There was very little a group of fifteen practitioners, all with affinities in excess of 80%, couldn’t do. Furthermore, their heavyweights–the top five–were all over 90% in at least one affinity. Urstes, himself, had a 96% Earth affinity.

The fact that his team had set him up so well that the decemancer was stuck under ground and unconscious and yet still managed to escape...it was a shocking slap to the face. To be honest, Urstes almost found it impossible to accept.

While it was bitterly true that the distance between subsequent affinity increases became ever larger, and decemancer had already reached the nigh-impassable 99% percentile...should he really be so powerful?

Staring at him now, at his casual demeanor...Urstes couldn’t help but feel annoyed, both on his own behalf and on the behalf of his team. Even on behalf of practitioners everywhere who would turn over in their graves if advancing to 99% was as easy as Dunai made it seem.

“It was an honor to fight such a powerful and versatile practitioner,” Urstes replied, his expression revealing none of his misgivings.

“It really was an unfair setup for all of you,” Dunai said, frowning. “A jungle like that is, for me, a massive reservoir of energy.”

“Couldn’t you say the same thing about any human city?” Nixia pointed out.

Stirring up trouble, Urstes thought, giving her a sidelong glance.

The decemancer snorted. “Energy is energy. Though compared to a jungle, where every surface is covered in something alive, there’s very little in cities besides people. Insects, rodents, birds...people.”

Dunai suddenly turned contemplative. “What was that illusion you put me in?”

Nixia smiled. “Did you like it?”

“Is it like that for everyone? The fire, turning to cosmic dust?”

“That’s the ticket,” she said. “It’s how I envision the world is going to end. It’s something I’ve worked on for a while.”

“What about the golden arrows?” Dunai asked.

Nixia shook her head. “That’s not me. You must be referring to whatever image you used to break the illusion, correct?”

The decemancer nodded slowly. “I suppose so. You know, I didn’t realize you were a peak practitioner, Guardian Nixia.”

She uncharacteristically blushed. “I only recently surpassed the 90th percentile,” she explained. “I haven’t even chosen a courtesy name yet. You haven’t chosen one either, have you?”

Dunai chuckled. “Not yet. Do any of you have suggestions?”

“Inkblot,” Lanhui called out from at least ten yards away. Typical of him to still be listening.

“I was thinking something a bit more refined,” Dunai replied. “It’s a courtesy name, after all.” He turned back toward Nixia. “For your name...why not Phoenix?”

Nixia seemed taken aback. Urstes, too, was surprised. He didn’t expect the decemancer to actually start proposing courtesy names.

“Infinite flame,” Dunai continued. “Phoenix.”

Nixia inclined her head to the side. “I’ll consider it.”

—

As soon as the exercise reached its conclusion, Euryphel and the other observers sent the proctors to retrieve the participants. The Prime of Fives and the Minor Seven were all sitting together in a small viewing box, expressions grave.

“So, gentlemen, what did you think?” Euryphel asked, his demeanor contrastingly serene.

“Too flashy,” Ezenti muttered.

Ko’la cleared his throat, an inscrutable expression on his face. Everyone became silent, waiting for his comment.

“I might be mistaken,” Ko’la began, “but is he a half-step ascendant?”

The silence grew stifling.

“He’s been a practitioner for less than five years,” Euryphel said, voice calm. “It’s impossible. He’d be the youngest ascendant...probably ever, or at least in recorded memory.”

Ko’la nodded. “It’s true. Well, I suppose I have to concede the point to you on this, Euryphel. Were he in the hands of Selejo, it would be...less than ideal.”

Ezenti took this moment to snort indignantly. “You’re all forgetting a critical point, here,” he exclaimed. “Dunai isn’t bound to us by any oaths but his word. If such a man goes rogue in Zukal’iss...the city will fall.”

Euryphel hissed, tired of Ezenti’s bullshit. “I already explained this point in detail–”

“Yes, we know all about the fate you see between the two of you,” Diana said, her voice snide. “Granted, such a binding isn’t easily broken. But you don’t know anything about the nature of the binding, do you? In fact, it’s far more likely that the fate you share is one where Dunai strips you of everything. Your people, your nation...And if he really is a half-step ascendant, that’s a foregone conclusion anyway, isn’t it?”

“Diana,” Shivin’i said, voice cold. “Speculation isn’t helpful. Nor is insulting the Crowned Prime to his face.”

Euryphel sneered internally. So insulting me behind my back is better?

“But Euryphel...” Shivin’i continued. “What are your plans for him?”

Euryphel’s expression grew pensive. “Now that you’re all convinced of his worth, the Council can collectively decide how best to use him,” Euryphel explained. “He may be my personal retainer, but I don’t intend to hoard him to myself.”

The princes gave Euryphel blank expressions, as though struck dumb by his intention to share the decemancer. Have they all gone mad? Euryphel wondered, giving them all a scathing look.

“When have I ever acted for myself since becoming Crowned Prime?” he asked them. “You might disagree with me, but that discord has pushed me to become better. I’ve learned from all of you...” his eyes met Diana’s youthful brown eyes. “Even the youngest of us. Your words are often cloaked in malice, but they aren’t without truth.

Seeing that none of them had anything to say, Euryphel turned away with a flourish, his voice icy. “If any of you have cause to doubt my sincerity and my intent, book an appointment.”

—

“You’re not tired?” Euryphel asked, leaning against the bedpost.

“Not really,” Ian said. “I was using borrowed energy.”

“Borrowed, or stolen?” the prince asked, smiling. “Plan on giving it back?”

“Stolen, if you’re going to be picky,” he replied dryly. “So, what did the other princes think?”

“They think I’m planning to keep you to myself, like some personal secret weapon,” Euryphel said.

“No, I mean about the exercise,” Ian explained. “Intimidating?”

Euryphel groaned and flopped onto his bed. He closed his eyes, but the chandelier overhead cast its light through his eyelids. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Didn’t I say to finish it quickly?”

Ian’s brows twitched. He walked away from the window and stood by the bed, peering upside-down into Euryphel’s face.

“How was I supposed to finish it quickly when they were spread all over the place?” he asked. “It was obviously a setup that favored tactical ambush on their part.”

Euryphel waved his hand. “What was with all those spirit-creatures? I don’t think I ever saw you use those in the loop.”

“They’re the closest thing I could come up with to emulate a mental attack,” he admitted. “Otherwise everything I have is physically-oriented. I was experimenting with the idea a bit yesterday night after we returned to Ichormai.”

“They had claws and tried to cut people. That’s still physical.”

“I tried, alright? Besides, aren’t they kind of cool looking?”

“You know, you really should start thinking about a courtesy name,” Euryphel said.

“What’s yours?” Ian asked.

Euryphel laughed. “I don’t get one. The only title I’m permitted to have is Crowned Prime.”

“Your Regret affinity...” Ian said, pausing. He could just make out what could only be described as an overlay of two different vital patterns circling and winding through Euryphel’s body. One felt more entrenched than the other, and seemed to focus around Euryphel’s head and heart. The other focused, interestingly enough, on his wrists and ankles.

“It’s above 90%,” Euryphel said. “96%, last time I checked.”

“And how long ago was that?” Ian asked.

“Mmm, about a year ago. It’s not that high.”

Yeah, right, Ian thought.

“Aren’t Ezenti and Ko’la each in the nineties as well?” he asked, frowning.

Euryphel smiled, showing teeth. “They’re powerful, but they don’t have a Regret affinity. Nor are they elementalists.”

The prince sat up with a groan, resting his head on the bedpost. “Now that you belong to me, and by proxy the SPU, you’re going to need an official title. Calling you Mr. Dunai isn’t very fitting.”

“One more name of many. What do you think I should be called, then?”

“Well, you’re intimidating enough as it is without any help,” the prince reasoned. “So we can rule out anything that has the word ‘death’, ‘destruction’, ‘decay’...”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Maybe...the Skai’aren,” Euryphel proposed hesitantly, as though uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Which could be interpreted as raiser of the sky, or raiser of man.” Euryphel made an upward motion with his hand. “Raiser meaning, literally, one who raises something up.”

Ian cocked his head. “What am I raising up exactly?” He certainly didn’t think he had already done anything to deserve such a title.

Euryphel gave him a small, sure smile; the corners of his eyes crinkled. It was perhaps the most genuine smile Ian had ever seen from the prince.

“There’s power in choosing a name that describes what one wants to do, or become.”

Ian sat on the bed, no longer directly facing the prince. “Most of the titles I know of–and I don’t know that many–are descriptive more than anything else,” he commented. “The Eldemari is clearly just a clever take on the name Maria Elde and the fact that ‘elder blood’ describes how she’s the inheritor of a bloodline stretching back centuries, if not millennia.” Ian paused. “What’s Urstes’ courtesy name? I should probably be using it rather than generally referring to him as a guardsman.”

“The Claysaber.” Euryphel said this with a straight face, but then burst out laughing a moment later. “That’s what he first wanted his courtesy name to be, but that lasted all of two days.”

“So what’s his actual courtesy name now?” Ian asked. He didn’t really understand the problem with Claysaber.

“His wife thought that Claysaber was too phallic,” Euryphel explained after sensing Ian’s confusion.

“Seriously?” Ian hadn’t even known the man was married. “Just because it has ‘saber’ in it?”

Euryphel shrugged. “Everyone agreed that his second name was better.”

“The second name being...?” Ian said, drawing out the word.

“The Steppesinker, though it’s perfectly acceptable for you to continue calling him Guardian Urstes.”

“Hmm.” Ian nodded. “What are the courtesy names of the other guardians?”

“You might not remember all of them, but in order of their rank: the Steppesinker, the Shrike, the Lanah’we, the Alabaster, and finally, the Iria’gorem. Lanah’we meaning stalking stingray and Iria’gorem meaning the last glimpse of hope.”

“See, these generally sound descriptive,” Ian said, shifting his position on the bed. “You can guess what affinities the names belong to.”

“Not necessarily. The Iria’gorem belongs to Wolfien, a Life and Regret practitioner.” Euryphel snickered. “The last glimpse of hope sounds more like a name for a combat specialist than a healer. But nevermind what the guardians have chosen as their courtesy names. Continue to think about it: Skai’aren is one option of many.”