Wizard Tournament: Chapter 140 (Patreon)

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One Hour Before the Conflux

          Draevin actually physically took a step back from Peter. “Battlefield? Peter, it’s me. Just tell me what you want and we can work together on this.”

          Peter shook his head. “We can’t. We want fundamentally different things. Our goals with the Conflux are mutually exclusive. If you get what you want, my people are left out to dry. I can’t let that happen.”

          “You’re not speaking any sense, Peter! Left out to dry? You control the Guild Protectorate now! You came up with a plan to overthrow the entire existing order and it was very successful. Congratulations. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

          "A temporary victory? What good will that do us? We are fundamentally unequal and you seem to be forgetting that nearly all of my people are being kept at slaves at this very moment across the world. How is it that you expect us to keep this toe hold we’ve worked so hard for?”

          Draevin waved his hand vaguely in the air. “Alex was talking of alliances. With the dragons for one, and the other races. Didn’t you and him discuss your plans? He seems to be perfectly happy with the way things have turned out. You have your own airship now! Why are you acting like this?”

          Peter crossed his arms. “I’m not acting like anything. I want the change we worked so hard for to actually last. That’s never going to happen if we don’t level the playing field. Elves and eldrin have massive mana pools at their disposal. Militarily each one of you is worth a dozen humans unless we keep all our people supplied with mana. And that’s assuming enough of us can learn to use magic to be a threat. We currently have something like three human wizards in the entire world. It will never work. The larger nations will never stand to let humans have a seat at the table when they possess the ability to so easily crush them. Just look at Trenal! The gnomes have one of the smaller mana pools among the magical races and you’ve been fighting over who gets to own them for decades.”

          “That’s hardly what the war is… No. Peter. We have to be able to come to some kind of compromise here, right?”

          “Sure,” Peter said. “Here’s the compromise. I get this year’s wish, you get the next one.”

          “But we don’t know if we’ll have control of the arena next year. You’ve already gotten half of what you wanted for your independent humans. Why can’t I be the one to get my wish first?”

          Peter cocked his head to the side. “You see the problem now? The future is uncertain. This is the one chance I have to really change the world. I’ve been working for this almost my entire life.”

          “And I’ve been trying to bring my wife back almost as long as you’ve been alive, kid!” Draevin was incensed. “I’m not waiting one more year to see her again. You don’t know what I’ve had to go through to get this far.”

          “Oh, boo hoo,” Peter said in a mocking tone. “Everyone at this tournament has been through shit to get here. You’re not unique. You’re just uniquely selfish. I worked for years to train as my father’s apprentice, only to be rewarded for my efforts by rendering my father’s position redundant. My masters sold him at auction once they didn’t need him anymore. Well Watchers make for valuable slaves. But you don’t hear me complaining about it—because I don’t live in the past! I don’t want to undo things that already happened. I want to make a world where they don’t happen in the first place!”

          “Peter… I had no idea,” Draevin said. He tried to put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. Peter batted it away.

          “You can’t change the past,” he said. “There’s no point in trying. And I don’t intend to let you throw this year’s wish away.”

          “Bringing back people who died is hardly throwing away a wish,” Draevin countered.

          Peter shook his head. “It is. Resurrection is impossible. It is beyond the scope of the Conflux. The Conflux has limits. They might be ridiculous limits, but they still exist. The Conflux doesn’t have the power to bring back even one soul.”

          “What are you talking about? It’s been done before. It’s a well-documented wish.”

          “You think I haven’t lost people before?” Peter said. “I never even got to know my mother. The Conflux can’t bring people back though. It only makes copies.”

          Draevin had to think about what Peter just said for a moment. Copies? What was that supposed to mean? “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said. “But how do you know it works that way?”

          “Read a book,” Peter said. He threw up his hands in an exasperated gesture. “Most of the scholars out there already agree on this. Haven’t you read Hespian Arano’s Examination of Resurrected Beings? You’re like ten times my age. How do you not already know this?”

          Draevin couldn’t be entirely certain Peter wasn’t just making something up to compromise Draevin’s will to fight. If it was true though… only a copy? What would that even mean? “So you’re saying that when someone wishes to bring someone back to life…”

          Peter finished the sentence. “The Conflux creates a prefect copy of the selected person. They’re just highly intelligent magical constructs. They have the memories and personalities but they don’t have a proper soul. Just a clump of mana acting as a substitute.”

          “Then I’ll word my wish differently,” Draevin said defiantly. What difference did a soul make anyway? Draevin had never noticed his own do anything for him.

          “I don’t care how you plan to word your wish. I’m still in this tournament. I intend to make my own wish. If you want to throw your wish away making copies of people who already died, that’s on you. I want to actually change the future. Not live in the past.”

          “And if I don’t let you? Do you really think you can beat me in a straight-up fight?” It seemed like a ridiculous assertion, even before this tournament Draevin hadn’t been a slouch. Now he was many times stronger than he’d been a week ago.

          Peter nodded. “Why do you think I made sure to advance you all this way? You’re one of the few Tournament Champions I knew for certain I could beat if it came down to it.”

          “You’re kidding,” Draevin said flatly.

          “I’m not kidding,” Peter insisted. “And this is the best chance I’m ever going to get to win this tournament. Most of what I’ve done so far was tricks. They can fool someone once, but not twice. It would be nearly impossible for me to make it all the way to the finals again with the whole world knowing how all my tricks work beforehand.”

          “Your people have resources now,” Draevin asserted. “You can come up with some sort of artifact that can—”

          “I’m not doing that,” Peter said firmly. “I’m winning this thing. Today. You can either concede to me now or I can show you how outclassed you really are on the battlefield.”

          “I know your tricks,” Draevin warned him. “I’ve seen all your matches, and I know True Sight. You won’t be able to fool me.”

          “I know,” Peter said.

          “And it’s raining right now, so no sunlight.”

          “I know that too,” Peter said again.

          “And your scroll was destroyed,” Draevin added.

          “And so was your wand,” Peter pointed out.

          Draevin scoffed. “I’m so far beyond needing a wand now. I don’t even need that thing anymore.”

          “And I still have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ve been saving,” Peter countered. “You don’t stand a chance against me.”

          Draevin didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like being challenged to an arm wrestling contest by a child. A child that defiantly insisted it would beat him. “Fine,” Draevin said. “I guess there’s only one way to settle this then.”

          “I guess there is,” Peter agreed.

          Chains jangled behind them. “Hey, guys,” Sylnya said. Draevin turned back to the doors to find her leading Maeve into the room. “I got our hostage here, are we ready to do the prisoner exchange…” She trailed off and narrowed her eyes at the two of them. “What’s wrong? You two seem off.”

          “Peter wants to fight me,” Draevin told her. “In the arena.”

          Sylnya let out a guffaw of laughter. “He can’t be serious. Peter. You can’t be serious, can you?”

          “Deadly serious,” Peter said in a low tone. He gestured to Maeve. “Bring her forward. Jaelyn’s ready on the other end.”

          “That’s Elder Jaelyn to you,” Maeve insisted.

          Peter just rolled his eyes and turned away. He returned to the center of the room, where he’d left the orb of Tel’Andrid in what Draevin now realized was some kind of special nook that looked custom-built to contain it. With a little twist of his wrist he pulled the orb out. “She’s here,” he said aloud. He paused and listened for a moment. “No, he comes first.” A pause. “Why would we do that? We want her gone nearly as much as we want him back.” Another pause. Peter looked up. “Sorry, Syl,” he said. “Looks like we can’t come to a deal, take her back to the cell.”

          “Really?” Sylnya asked. “I thought we were trading her for Grrbraa.”

          Peter shook his head. “No, they want me to… Really? See? That wasn’t so hard.”

          “Wait,” Draevin interjected, “are you talking to Syl or the orb now. I can’t keep track.”

          Peter didn’t acknowledge Draevin’s question. “They’ve changed their mind,” he announced. “The deal’s back on. Stand by for Grrbraa to come through.”

          “Wait!” Draevin shouted. “What about his circlet? He’ll attack us as soon as he’s through!”

          "Oh shit, you’re right, Drae,” Sylnya agreed.

          “No,” Peter told them. As he spoke, a large white form started to manifest in the air in front of him. “I had Jaelyn take care of that already. He made some permanent modifications to Grrbraa’s mind.”

          Grrbraa finished manifesting and immediately jumped on Peter. He went straight for his face. So much for those “modifications.” Draevin raised his hands to throw out a containment spell, but stopped when he heard laughter.

          “Stop! Haha! Stop, Gerby!”

          “Friend-Peter!” Grrbraa shouted happily over the sound of licking. “I missed you!” His tail was thumping at a rapid pace.

          Peter finally pushed Grrbraa off him and stood up. “He doesn’t need his crown anymore,” he explained. Grrbraa turned around and saw Draevin. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in a goofy smile.

          Draevin threw his hands up defensively. “Grrbraa, wait!” he shouted.

          “Friend-Draevin!” Grrbraa shouted as he leaped across the room.

          After they sent Maeve back to her city the new Council had to have their first meeting. Draevin attended as the elven representative. The meeting was about Peter. Even Alex seemed surprised by Peter’s insistence that they still fight. They had enough going on keeping a horde of thousands of zombies out of the Protectorate.

          “You really couldn’t come to a compromise?” Alex asked.

          “Peter is incredibly stubborn,” Draevin told him.

          “Well it takes two to disagree,” the dryad representative, Taelshin, pointed out.

          “Yeah, well I’m not willing to give up this chance either. Besides, Peter needs to be put in his place. It’ll be for his own good. I don’t care what he says. I’m going to bring back his mother for him.”

          Alex looked surprised. “You’d do that?” he asked.

          “Of course,” Draevin said. “I’m not the bad guy here. Now are we going to vote or not?”

          “He shouldn’t get a vote,” Taelshin said, pointing at Draevin. “Conflict of interest.”

          “I agree,” said Istven.

          Alex sighed. “You’re probably right. Sorry, Draevin.”

          Draevin shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said. “Just get this over with.”

          “Right. All in favor of requiring the use of fighter’s boxes and banning the introduction of new items for the remaining contestants? Say ‘aye.’”

          It was ayes all around. Except the little black dragon, Heresma, who was standing in for the dragon emperor. Heresma gave a little chirrup that could have meant anything. Her vote wouldn’t have changed anything though, so they didn’t bother trying to interpret it.

          “That settles it,” Alex announced. “I didn’t think anyone would be willing to make such a big change to the structure of the tournament at the last minute. We’ll have all year to decide the changes to the rules for next year, but for now you two will just have to finish the tournament the way you started it.”

          “Yeah,” Draevin said. “I’m not the one who asked though. That would be Peter.”

          Alex turned around to face Peter, who was standing a few yards away, just at the edge of the arena boundary. “Sorry kid,” Alex hollered. “Nobody wanted to agree to any last minute rule changes.”

          Peter shrugged. “It was worth a shot,” he shouted back. “Though I thought Grrbraa at least would have voted in my favor.”

          Taelshin patted Grrbraa on the arm at her side. “Grrbraa is a good boy, isn’t that right?”

          Grrbraa’s tail wagged back and forth. “Yes, yes!” he agreed. “I am a very good boy!”

          It was so strange to see, but Grrbraa no longer wore Caladin’s Circlet of Intelligence. He was just a regular, non-feral werebeast now. Peter said they’d done something to his mind to make him easier to deal with, and apparently whatever they’d done was permanent. It was incredible the kind of knowledge they had locked away in that city. There were already talks to trade for the knowledge of the spell they used to return Grrbraa’s mind to him. If the talks went well, Grrbraa might end up getting his wish after all: a free and independent werebeast population.

          Sylnya walked up to Draevin. “So, you’re really going to fight Peter?” she asked.

          “Don’t look at me!” Draevin insisted, he pointed over at Peter. “He’sthe stubborn one.”

          “Well like Taelshin said, it takes two to disagree.”

          “You dryads,” Draevin groaned. “I’m not going to pass up this opportunity. He wants to throw away this year’s wish after his human revolution was alreadysuccessful!”

          “He said something similar about you,” Sylnya pointed out.

          “Well that dumb theory of his about resurrection is only a theory,” Draevin said defiantly. He refused to give Peter’s theory any more thought than that. Maybe previous champions brought back the dead in some weird way that was technically a copy, but Draevin intended to do things differently. If anything, Peter telling him about it would probably allow him to modify his wish in a way that prevented that very thing from happening now.

          While Draevin and Sylnya walked toward one of the fighter’s boxes, he scanned his eyes up towards the empty stands. There were probably less than a hundred people out there waiting to watch the final match of the tournament. “What happened to all the people?” Draevin asked Sylnya. “I’ve never seen so few people show up to a final match.”

          Sylnya arched an eyebrow at him. “You see the giant wall of ice outside? The army of undead?”

          “Sure,” Draevin admitted. “But that just means the people stuck inside have nothing better to do.”

          Sylnya frowned. “Well, I guess there’s no point in hiding this from you, since you’re going to find out eventually anyways.”

          “Hide what?” Draevin demanded, suddenly on edge. He could just tell she was about to give him bad news.

          “Most of the people in the Protectorate fled when the fighting started,” she hooked a thumb behind her head. “You saw what it was like out there. How far do you think they got?”

          Draevin stopped. He actually gasped. “You’re kidding me!”

          “Not kidding,” Sylnya said. “Apparently the undead on the North side were… particularly fresh.”

          Draevin shook his head. “This is terrible. How could they let that happen?”

          Sylnya gave Draevin half a frown. “Well, maybe you can try to fix that when you win too. I don’t think Peter cares. I already brought it up to him. He said something about being unable to change the past.”

          Draevin shook his head. “Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with that particular conversation. Just leave it to me. I’ll fix everything. All I need is one wish.”

          Sylnya gave Draevin a slug on the arm. “Here’s hoping,” she said. “Good luck.”

          “Thanks, Sylnya,” Draevin said.

          He took his position in the fighter’s box. The wards lit up. Apparently they were still working just fine, even without the Guild to maintain them. They’d probably run into trouble if they broke again, but that wasn’t likely to be a problem anytime soon. Mist began to flow off Draevin’s Frost Armor in big plumes. Draevin wiped rain from his brow.

          Istven stood up from the spot where the Guild judges had sat before. He held out one hand with a small metal rod in it, ready to strike the bell that announced the beginning of each match.

          “Contestants at the ready!” he yelled across the field. His voice didn’t carry nearly as well as Maeve’s, but considering the lack of a crowd, it worked.

          Istven didn’t make any further announcements. Draevin stared grimly across the intervening space where Peter stood. His human friend stared back at him. Istven struck the bell.

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