Wizard Trials: Chapter 141 (Patreon)

Index | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

          Draevin was still trying to wrap his head around what was happening and what he ought to do about it when Peter grabbed his arm and tugged on it hard. “Cut it off!” he shouted over the sound of Istven’s screaming. “Cut off his arm!”

          “What?” Draevin shouted back.

          Peter made a slashing motion with his hand. “Cut off Istven’s arm before it’s too late! Those roots are going to consume him!”

          It was an insane request, but what was happening was already insane. Istven was screaming loud enough to wake the dead—perhaps even literally in his case—and black roots were snaking their way up his wrist, stabbing into his arm as they went. He was still wearing that shining black suit of plate mail but the roots were just ripping it aside like it was made of paper. He could only guess as to how fast the thorns were burrowing under Istven’s skin. He held his hand out to the side and formed a massive blade of ice, then brought it down on Istven’s elbow, far above where the thorns looked to have reached.

          The ice smashed into Istven’s armor and exploded in a shower of crystalline shards. As they dropped away they revealed that Istven’s armor barely had a scratch. “What do I—”

          Peter seized Draevin wrist, skin to skin. “Give me mana. I’ll do it. Quickly!” Istven was still screaming and the vines were still growing. Draevin had no idea how Peter was planning to get through such solid armor in such a short amount of time, but he also didn’t know how he was going to. It wasn’t as though his steam would be any more effective. He transferred a flood of mana through his staff, directly into Peter straight from the Elder Tree.

          Peter gasped as the mana rushed into him. His eyes even lit up with silvery light before he pulled his hand away like it’d been burned. He held his hand to the side just like Draevin had and formed a blade of his own. Peter’s blade was a buzzing, hot beam of plasma. He brought it down on Istven’s elbow. It burned through armor and skin with a sickening crackle. The severed section was pulled away by the black roots. Draevin grabbed Istven by the shoulder and yanked him away so the vines didn’t try to grab him again. He didn’t even fight back, he just gripped at the cauterized stump of his missing arm and continued to howl in pain.

          “Great,” Draevin complained, “now he really has a reason to scream.”

          Peter kicked Draevin off Istven. “Get back!” he warned. Draevin did. As soon as he did, Peter used his buzzing sword again. This time he cut Istven’s arm off at the shoulder. He didn’t even wait for Istven to pull away his other arm that was gripping the severed elbow, taking that one off midway down the forearm in the process just for being in the way.

          “What are you doing?” Draevin demanded. “Don’t just keep cutting on him!”

          Peter kicked the two severed chunks of flesh away as they flopped to the ground, then looked up at Draevin. “We took too long,” he said. “It’s still inside him.”

          Draevin furrowed his brow. “How could you possibly know—”

          “Because he’s still screaming!” Peter shouted over Draevin’s unfinished question. “When have you ever known Istven to scream in pain from anything?” Draevin blinked. He didn’t have an answer. “It’s not the severed arm that’s hurting him; some of it must have snaked up the inside of his arm. It’s in his chest now. It’ll keep growing.” Peter scowled and rubbed at his temple as he tried to think of what to do.

          “Well we can’t cut his chest off,” Draevin said.

          “You think I don’t—That’s it! Freeze him!”

          “What?”

          “Freeze him, Drae. Freeze his whole body. Right now!”

          “How is that supposed to—”

          “Do you have a better idea?” Peter demanded. “If you freeze him it might stop the Blackroot from feeding on him. It won’t kill him. Not right away. Remember when you used it on that Wizard Guild registrar? Phelona? It didn’t kill her right away.”

          Peter made a good point. Draevin was tempted to point out how they’d needed Haedril’s crown to revive the woman when they’d done that—something they definitely didn’t have anymore—but he decided that sounded like the sort of problem he could worry about after he stopped Istven’s life essence from being consumed by a world-devouring plant. He pointed his staff at Istven and hit him with the strongest Subzero Freeze he could manage. Frost spread across his skin. The screaming finally stopped.

          “Okay, he’s frozen solid,” Draevin said. “What do we do now?”

          “For starters, we get his body away from those vines!” Peter said, pointing at the writhing mass sticking out of the ground. Some of the vines were still reaching for Istven not unlike Sylnya’s vines tended to do around bodies—an uncomfortable thought for Draevin to have in that moment. The vines snatched up Istven’s severed arm and started ripping it apart.

          Draevin seized Istven’s frozen body with his magic and jerked him into the air, far away from the vines. He and Peter hurried away as the vines growing out of the ground continued to sprout up. “We’re getting out of here,” Draevin told Peter. He wrapped the human up in a belt of ice around his waist and lifted all three of them off the ground. As they rose up into the sky Draevin looked back at the spot they’d come from. The thorny vines that had fed on Istven’s flesh continued to grow. They formed into a sort of clumpy looking tree with a bulge on top and strands of vines drooping down to the ground. It looked… almost exactly like the traut’ska that grew on Orc’heem.

          “I see it too,” Peter said, seeming to almost read Draevin’s mind.

          “Does this mean Sylnya…” Draevin trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence. Between the way the vines behaved and the way it clustered into a tree it was impossible to ignore the similarities.

          “Don’t worry about Sylnya,” Peter said. “She could have consumed the entire army of orcs if she wanted to. We need to get Istven back. Freezing him slowed down the spread of that stuff inside him but we still need to try to dig it out.”

          Draevin turned in the air to head back to the city. He aimed for the same spire they’d been staging out of the last few days. It was overshadowed now by the much taller structure of ice towering behind it. “That was some quick thinking,” Draevin complimented Peter. “I should have been the one to come up with freezing him.”

          “That’s why you brought me along, isn’t it?” Peter said without a shred of humility. “I just realized how the roots were spreading. With the tools at hand the solution became obvious.”

          Draevin did his best to ignore the implication that Peter considered him a “tool at hand.” Instead he asked, “You know how they’re spreading?”

          “They’re feeding,” Peter said as though it should be obvious. “They’re sucking the life out of the ground; that’s what’s turning it red like that. I figured they were doing the same thing to Istven, hence all the screaming. It reminded me of Sylnya’s new abilities.”

          “I noticed that too,” Draevin commented darkly.

          “Well it’s not completely the same,” Peter said. “Sylnya’s vines wouldn’t have caused a reaction like that from Istven. I suspect it was doing more than just stealing vitality. It was the method that was the same. That’s how I knew how to stop it.”

          “Oh? What method is that?”

          “Blood,” Peter answered simply. “It was feeding on his blood. It’s a lot harder to drink frozen blood.”

          “I guess that makes sense. Still doesn’t explain why it’s spreading through the soil so quickly though. It’s almost like it’s feeding on the very planet.”

          Peter frowned. “Certainly seems like it, yes,” he said. They were getting close to the spire now. Peter pointed to a clear section near the doors. Orcs and armored soldiers were milling about, the soldiers being divided into groups by the orcs. “Land us over there,” Peter said. “No, wait”—he gestured around the backside of the structure—“around the corner. No telling what Dwyra’s old soldiers might do if they see Istven like this.”

          “Good point,” Draevin agreed, taking them around the massive spire until they found a secluded spot between this spire and the one next to it. They settled softly on the ground. Istven’s body was rock solid, face frozen in a rictus of agony. “What now?” Draevin asked.

          “I don’t know… can’t you use your ice or something?”

          “To dig thorns out of his body? Why would I be able to do that?”

          “Well he’s frozen, isn’t he?” Peter asked. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

          Draevin automatically opened his mouth to object again, then stopped. He considered the idea. It wasn’t completely absurd. Istven was more ice than eldrin at the moment. “I’ll… try,” Draevin said. He pressed his staff against Istven’s chest, then closed his eyes to concentrate. Peter was right, Draevin could feel every part of Istven. He focused his attention around the stump of the arm that had been severed at the shoulder. Nothing seemed amiss. He knew there had to be something, so he kept looking. Then he noticed a difference. It wasn’t a part of Istven that felt different, it was a part of Istven that was missing: a thin strand of unfrozen flesh. He could feel it pushing against his ice, trying to burrow deeper.

          Draevin used the surrounding ice to press in on the worm-like thread of evil. Carefully, he drew it out and held it up in the air, careful not to touch it or let it touch the ground. “Is there any more?” Peter asked.

          “This was the only bit I could feel,” Draevin confirmed. It wasn’t much longer than his pinky finger. It must’ve barely reached past Istven’s shoulder just before Peter sliced it off.

          “Good, give it here,” Peter said, holding out a glass vial he pulled from one of his pockets. Draevin didn’t even argue with him. The important thing was to prevent this little sliver of vine from grabbing onto anything it could feed on.

          “You better not let that thing out,” Draevin warned.

          “Oh please,” Peter said, “this speck is nothing compared to what we left back there to continue growing.” Peter’s eyes suddenly went wide with alarm. A dark shadow blocked out the sun behind them. “That’s not good,” he said seriously.

          “What’s not—Are you kidding me? Not now! Why does it have to come now?” In the sky to the East unnatural black clouds boiled, growing larger by the second. Draevin had seen it too many times to not recognize the signs. The Everstorm was headed straight for them.

          “It was probably attracted to Istven’s scream,” Peter said. “Don’t worry.”

          “Don’t worry?” Draevin demanded. “This isn’t the arena, Peter! They don’t have underground shelters here in Truntstown. Their laser turret is gone. They can’t turn that storm away. It will level the entire city!”

          “It might have been called by Istven,” Peter insisted, “but it will go after the Blackroot once it gets here, not him.”

          “How could you possibly know that?”

          “Because it’s the strongest thing around! That’s what the Everstorm does! Come on. Let’s get Istven to Sylnya. She’s the only one with a chance of healing him.”

          Draevin picked up Istven’s body and he and Peter ran around to the front gate of the spire. “Is that really going to be our plan?” Draevin asked as they ran. “Just hope the two nigh-unstoppable-cosmic-beings-of-destruction vaporize each other?”

          “Why not?” Peter asked. The simple question stumped Draevin.

          The two of them came around the corner of the spire shouting for Sylnya. She was already outside directing everyone inside with Danidel. “Drae!” she said when she saw Draevin and Peter. “The Everstorm is coming! We don’t know what to do. This city barely has any basements and there’s no time to evacuate everyone.”

          “We’ll just have to prioritize,” Peter said.

          “What? No!” Draevin immediately objected. “There are children here. Are you going to try to prioritize which of them gets to live?”

          “No, I just meant—”

          Sylnya gasped when she saw what Draevin had floating in the air behind him. “Gods! Is that Istven? What happened?”

          “Long story,” Draevin said as he settled Istven’s frozen body on the ground between them.

          “You were gone for five minutes!” Sylnya exclaimed. “How long a story could it possibly be?”

          “Roots infected his body from something that came here from Hell,” Peter blurted out. “Draevin’s calling it the Blackroot. We cut off his arm to stop it from spreading, but we missed a piece so I had Draevin freeze him so it couldn’t spread while we dug it out. He’s fine now, he just needs healing.”

          “He’s frozen solid!” Sylnya cried. “And his arm’s… wait. Why’d you cut off both arms?”

          “Peter just has bad aim,” Draevin said. “Can you heal him or not? The Everstorm’s going to be here in another minute. We don’t have a lot of time.”

          “Well don’t expect a miracle,” Sylnya said. She gave Draevin a side-eyed look. “But for the record, your story wasn’t that long, Drae.”

          Peter stepped between them and snapped his fingers. “No time for this.” He pointed to Draevin. “You. Unfreeze Istven.” He pointed to Sylnya next. “You. Get a Healing Lotus ready.”

          “Are you sure I shouldn’t focus on opening a portal and getting us out of here?” Sylnya asked. “There’s probably time to get most of the children to safety if we start now.”

          “What world did you have in mind?” Peter asked. “Somewhere safe? Safer than here?”

          Sylnya scrunched up her face. “Hell?” she asked Peter uncertainly. “Come to think of it, the only worlds I seem to be able to access are the ones between here and Orc’heem.”

          “Hell might be safe for—” Peter started to say.

          “No!” Draevin shouted. He actually stomped his foot down. “We’re not just going to save most of the children. We’re not leaving anyone behind. Got it?”

          “It’s not like we have a choice,” Peter said. “Not unless we can stop the Everstorm.”

          “Couldn’t Istven do it?” Draevin asked.

          “What? Hold off the Everstorm?” Peter asked.

          “Yeah, I mean in theory. He’s supposed to be a god. Doesn’t that mean he can use as much mana as he wants? Why couldn’t we just hook him up directly to the PME?”

          “I—” Peter paused. He frowned to himself as he seemed to consider the idea.

          “Wow, Drae, that’s actually a decent idea,” Sylnya said.

          “It would require Istven to wake up though,” Peter said. “I doubt we can do that before that thing gets here.”

          “Then I’ll hold it off,” Draevin said. “Give you guys time to wake Istven up.”

          “By yourself?” Peter asked.

          “Don’t be stupid, Drae,” Sylnya said. “It’s a force of nature. If you even tried that you’d just burn yourself out.”

          “Then I’ll use that,” Draevin said, pointing behind them at the titanic spire of ice he’d constructed with the leftover ice from his battle with Dwyra.

          The two of them turned around to stare up at the skyscraper. “Can you really control all of that?” Peter asked uncertainly.

          “Of course I can,” Draevin said more confidently than he felt. He remembered this particular ice having a bit of a mind of its own. It had refused to dismiss itself into mist when he’d tried to get rid of it. Now he was sort of glad it had.

          “Go for it, Drae,” Sylnya said. “I’ll still get as many people out of here as I can, just in case.”

          Draevin made to leap into the sky. Peter caught him by the shoulder. “Don’t forget to unfreeze Istven!” he reminded him.

          “Right,” Draevin said. He turned back and jammed his staff into Istven’s forehead. It was the easiest thing in the world to suck all the cryomancy out of his body. Frost crystals melted from Istven’s face. His skin turned from a pale blue to its usual black. “There you go,” he said. “Good luck getting him fixed up.”

          “Don’t kill yourself out there,” Sylnya told Draevin before he took off again. She already had her hand over her heart, forming a Healing Lotus.

          “Don’t worry about me,” Draevin said, “just worry about getting as many people out of here as you can in case this doesn’t work out.” He turned back around and launched himself into the sky. Behind him the thunder and roar of the Everstorm’s unnatural rage grew closer. Next to it, even the largest construct of ice Draevin had ever made felt small.

          Draevin looked back over his shoulder. Outside the walls of the city a tangle of thick black vines was beginning to explode out of the ground. The soil had turned red for what looked like a league in every direction. Draevin landed on the top of his spire and knelt down to one knee to lay his hand flat against it. From this high up the city looked small. A tiny pebble about to be swallowed by the sea.

          “I hope you’re enough,” Draevin told his tower of ice as he asked it to obey his commands once again. “You have to be enough.”

Index | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter