Wizard Trials: Chapter 149 (Patreon)

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          “Peter?” Kranin asked. “You sure? I thought you guys were friends.”

          “So did I,” Draevin replied grimly.

          “So… is there something you need me to do?” Kranin asked. “I’m not exactly a healer, and I don’t know how to teleport you across the continent.”

          Draevin pressed his eyes closed with his good hand. “I need… I need a way to get in contact with Istven. Can you do that for me?”

          “Everyone with any kind of magic left with Istven,” Kranin said. “Except that little gnome fella that says he was living here before the rest of us came along. I doubt he’ll be much help though; all he can do is some kind of metal magic.”

          “Daniel, right,” Draevin said. “I’ve been introduced to him before. Get him. He might know something that can help.”

          Kranin frowned. “I don’t think he likes me very much. He made a fuss when Istven appointed me Governor of Truntstown.”

          “I didn’t ask if he liked you,” Draevin snapped. “I asked you to get him. So do it! Now!”

          Kranin raised both eyebrows and sort of rolled his eyes like he wasn’t taking Draevin seriously. “I’ll try,” he said in a noncommittal tone. He got up and walked around his desk and muttered something quietly to the female orc he’d been chatting up before Draevin came along. Draevin stood there, stewing in his impatience as he leaned on his staff like a cane. He skewered Kranin with his best glare as he headed for the stairs with a hand around the orc’s waist. “I’m getting him,” he promised. “Just wait right here.”

          Draevin would have liked to follow and make sure Kranin moved with more urgency, but even walking was too painful at the moment. His chest ached from the inside out. He found a padded chair against the wall and slumped down into it. Just when he was planning to take a quick nap, he remembered that he actually didn’t need Kranin’s help. If all the orcs went with Istven, he could just ask one of them to pass a message along. He grabbed his staff by the handle and closed his eyes, letting his mind reach out to the spiritual network of the mystics.

          Moz, on your left, a voice echoed in Draevin’s mind.

          Got it, a second voice replied.

          “Hey!” Draevin called out. “I need to talk to someone. This is Draevin. It’s urgent.” He spoke out loud rather than in his mind just because it was easier for him. It wasn’t as though there was anyone around to make him feel weird for doing it.

          What do you want Draevin? The second mental voice asked. Draevin recognized it as belonging to Moz’shak. Are you having trouble on the North side?

          “North side of what?” Draevin asked. “What are you talking about?”

          The battle? Moz’shak sent back, coupled with a feeling of confusion. The demons? What else would I be talking about?

          “Okay, I might be a little behind on what’s going on,” Draevin said. “I’m still back at Truntstown. Are you saying demons are attacking the arena?”

          What are you… there was a hesitation in Moz’shak’s thoughts, then a mixture of fear and confusion. I do not understand, Moz’shak said. I can see you right now. You are in the air, holding back a flock of imps flying in from the North. How can you not know what you are doing?

          “Shoot!” Draevin said as he realized what must be happening. “That’s not me,” he explained. “That’s an illusion controlled by Peter.”

          How can an illusion kill imps? The ice—

          “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s all an illusion,” Draevin said. “The ice, the imps, everything.”

          Another orc mind interjected. It took Draevin a second to recognize it as the leader of the mystics, Thrandian’first. You are killing real demons, Mystic Draevin. That is not in dispute. Illusions cannot kill. You must be confused. Is your mind under assault? Can we help?

          “I’m not confused,” Draevin insisted. “I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I promise that’s all Peter. I am still in Truntstown! I never left! He is a master of deception, and he is trying to trick everyone into thinking I’m still with the rest of you. I have important information to get to Istven. Very important. He left me behind to stop me from delivering it. Do any of you know where Istven is right now?”

          He is in the command center, with Peter, Thrandian volunteered. Istven is wielding incredible power trying to move the moon with Meteor. We were told he must not be disturbed. He has less than six hours to get it into position.

          “Right, of course they’re together,” Draevin complained. Peter being in the room was a problem. He wasn’t taking chances. He would stay right next to Istven right up until the last second to make sure everything went according to plan. How could Draevin possibly arrange to get Istven a message about Peter’s betrayal when he’d be right there, watching in case that exact thing happened? “Alright, listen,” Draevin said, “this is the message I need to get to Istven: Peter is planning some kind of betrayal. I don’t know exactly what, but I know it involves taking the Conflux for himself. Istven thinks he’s going to take it. Peter already tried to kill me when he realized I wouldn’t help him. Istven has to be warned.”

          He tried to kill you? Thrandian’first asked.

          Moz’shak added, We are in the middle of a battle at the moment with Chaska’nal’s demon horde.

          “Find the time, send a messenger,” Draevin told him. “If we are betrayed, you will have fought for nothing, do you understand that?”

          We understand, Thrandian answered.

          “You have to be extremely careful about how you approach Istven,” Draevin added. “Peter will be wary of being discovered. He can use illusions to control what you see and hear. I wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole command center you think they’re in is really somewhere else. If Peter thinks he’s going to be exposed he will kill the messenger. You’ll need to send someone that can see through his illusions.”

          How do we see through illusions? Thrandian’first asked.

          Draevin thought of the old spell True Sight that accessed a person’s third eye to see the shape of magic. Then he remembered that Peter’s wish had rendered that particular spell useless. “Do any of you know… some kind of second sight spell? A way of seeing that doesn’t use light? Spirit vision or something?” Draevin asked desperately.

          Gro’shak knew a spell like that, Thrandian reported.

          “That doesn’t really help us…” Draevin chewed his cheek in frustration. “Peter’s illusions aren’t perfect. Smells, for instance, don’t—that’s it! Find Grrbraa. Someone find Grrbraa. His nose won’t be fooled. He’ll be able to find Istven no matter where he’s been hidden.”

          He is fighting on the front lines, Thrandian’first reported. As we should be.

          I will track him down, Moz’shak offered. He knows me. He said we are friends. I will pass on this message myself: that Peter is planning to betray the black prince.

          You have your assurance, Thrandian’first said, and now you must let us focus on the battle. Your thoughts are an unwelcome distraction. Draevin felt a surge of mental energy come through his staff, causing him to involuntarily release it. He took the hint and didn’t try to re-connect.

          Draevin opened his eyes again, finding he was still in the chair next to Kranin’s desk. Pain thrummed from the space where his arm used to be. He didn’t have time for pain. In fact, he didn’t have time to be a cripple, either. Draevin drew power from his staff and used it to mold a new arm for himself out of ice. It served the dual purpose of giving him a limb he could control as easily as his real arm, while also numbing most of the pain coming from that side of his body. He held up the semi-transparent new hand, flexing it experimentally. If anything it felt stronger than the fleshy hand it’d replaced.

          “That’s a cool hand you got there,” the squeaky voice of the gnome artificer said.

          Draevin looked over to see him standing in the stairwell. He was alone, red around his eyes like he’d been crying recently. Draevin tried to ignore that part; he didn’t have time for it.

          “I need your help,” Draevin said.

          “Governor Kranin told me,” he said. The stiff way he enunciated the other man’s title expressed another nuance Draevin also didn’t have time to deal with. “What do you need?”

          “You know this city better than anyone. Better than Kranin for sure. I need to get to the arena before… noon. I’ve got less than six hours. Is there any chance you know a way to do that?”

          “And why should I help you?” the little gnome demanded, crossing his arms. “You come in here, as our guests, bring us nothing but trouble, kill Aaron, destroy our defense system, take our mana engine and now I hear that hairy buffoon is taking command of this city? Did everyone forget who was living here for the past three years! Who kept this place safe from marauders and monsters? And now it’s all just taken away? Why should I do you any favors?”

          The guy had a point. If he’d been paying attention Draevin probably would have voted for the gnome to be made governor. Right about then he was really wishing he had. “Listen, Daniel—” Draevin began.

          “It’s Danidel!” the little gnome corrected with a squeaky shout.

          “Danidel, sorry, I’m bad with names,” Draevin apologized. “I’m desperate here. I’ll do whatever it takes to reach the arena in time. Lives are at stake, hell, all of Eldira is at stake! Istven is about to be betrayed by someone he trusts. If you help me I’ll make sure Istven hears about it. I’ll do everything in my power to make you governor. Anything you want. Special autonomy? Say over who gets to live here? I’ll make it happen, you just have to help me right now.”

          “Do you really have that much influence with Istven?” Danidel asked apprehensively. “He doesn’t seem to like anyone.”

          Draevin thought about it. “I…” He didn’t want to lie. “He does what he wants, but he’ll at least listen to what I have to say first. If I tell him you were directly responsible for saving his life I’m sure he’ll want to see you rewarded.” He left out the part where Istven’s idea of a “reward” might be a two words of praise reluctantly dragged from his own lips. Danidel had to at least think governorship was a possibility.

          Danidel kept his arms crossed, not looking very impressed by Draevin’s promises already getting weaker. “I appreciate your honesty, but that doesn’t really help me.”

          “Okay, how about this,” Draevin said. “If he doesn’t agree to make you governor, I’ll ask him to make me governor. He’s far more likely to agree to that. Once he does, I’ll let you decide everything. Trust me, they tried to make me a councilor in Arena City and most of the time I just let other people vote for me. I couldn’t be less interested in politics.”

          Danidel frowned, then scratched his chin. It seemed like he was seriously considering the proposal. “Fine,” he finally said. “It’s probably the best deal I’m likely to get. Truntstown has always been fiercely independent. It was why we broke away from Kundreil and it was why we refused to play the Guild’s games back in the day. It would be a blight on the city’s memory to lose all our autonomy in this new empire the Black Prince is forming. What do you want me to do?”

          Draevin grabbed his staff with his new—much stronger—arm and levered himself to his feet. “I already told you,” Draevin said. “I need to get to the arena. Before noon. I only have a few hours.”

          Danidel’s frown deepened. “That’s… really far away. Can’t you fly? Why don’t you just fly there?”

          “I’m not nearly that fast,” Draevin told him. “And the only way I know how to find the place is by following the roads. If I just aimed in one direction the chances of ending up in the right place are tiny.” Yes, it was true Draevin had managed to fly particularly fast a few times recently, but to cross over a thousand leagues in a handful of hours he’d have to maintain his fastest pace for hours. There was just no way Draevin could fly that fast for that long, not to mention staying on course the whole time without any familiar landmarks. It was totally implausible.

          “There might be a way to decrease your drag—” Danidel started to say.

          “No flying,” Draevin insisted. “Think of something else.”

          Danidel nodded immediately, staring a hole into the ground while he continued thinking through the problem. “It’s a shame we never found the time to study that knife,” he said, “or we could try that…”

          Draevin perked up. “What knife?”

          “The one you provided,” Danidel clarified. He waved a hand, already dismissing the idea. “It was supposed to summon vampire reinforcements during Dwyra’s assault. An obvious trap. You had us get rid of it. Aaron spent a little time studying it, but now we’ll never know what he learned about it. He only told me he wasn’t able to find a way to replicate the enchantments.”

          “I almost forgot about that,” Draevin said. “Caelnaste. She actually thought I was stupid enough let a bunch of vampires loose in this city. There was a minute there I almost might have used the thing if I’d had it on me. I’m glad I had you guys get rid of it.”

          “We could have used the support in the spire,” Danidel said. “It got… difficult after Istven had to leave. I have to agree, though, letting vampires into Truntstown would have only made things worse.” He shrugged. “Like I said, we never found a way to twist the knife’s magic in our favor. If you do not understand a thing, it is never safe to use.” That last line sounded like some kind of quote, just not one Draevin recognized.

          “We still have it though, don’t we?” Draevin asked.

          “We do,” Danidel confirmed. “Several actually. Dwyra’s forces had a number of the things, if you recall. Istven had them all gathered up and put in the care of my lab for study. I have so far determined that the ones we recovered from Dwyra’s forces are attuned differently, but not what those differences are.”

          “Well that sounds like exactly what I need,” Draevin said. “A dagger that can cut between worlds.”

          “Yes, it does that,” Danidel agreed, “but not in a way we can control.”

          “Did you have another idea that could get me to the arena by this afternoon?”

          Danidel blinked. “Not exactly…” he reluctantly admitted.

          “Then take me to them,” Draevin said. “We can worry about how we’re going to use them when we’re standing in front of them. There’s no time to waste.”

          Danidel nodded. “Very well. They are not here. Follow me.” The little gnome started walking. Draevin was just able to keep up with his pace, which was embarrassing considering the vast difference between their strides. But then, Danidel hadn’t almost been killed a few hours ago. “We were only in the preliminary stages of our examination,” Danidel said while they walked. “And I have not had enough time to compare the differences between the daggers we recovered and the one this Caelnaste person gave you. I suspect that difference will reveal how the knives determine their destination, there just has not been enough time to study it.”

          “Well we still have a few hours to figure something out,” Draevin said.

          The two of them walked down the street. Children were still wandering around in Draevin’s periphery, curious but cautious. It made Draevin wonder who was taking care of them. Aaron was dead, the werebeasts had left for the arena… Probably they were back to taking care of themselves, Draevin decided. It was too soon to say how the newest threat to their survival would pan out. So far the Blackroot growing under their feet had killed off all the raspberries that had been a primary food source for the children. Food was going to become a huge problem if they didn’t find a solution soon. It would be a problem for everyone, not just the orphans living in Truntstown, it’s just that a gaggle of orphans would probably be the first to starve. It was a grim thought to have. Draevin opted not to share it with Danidel.

          Eventually Danidel led Draevin to the base of the next spire over. This one was slightly smaller than the one they’d been using as a base of operations, but the front gate was still intact. Danidel fished out a pair of keys from one of his pockets and unlocked the door. There was a loud clicking sound from the other side as unseen gears worked the heavy gate open.

          “Stay close,” Danidel said as he moved inside. “I don’t want any of the children wandering in behind us. This place isn’t safe for them to explore.” He stopped the gates from clicking open further when they were only cracked enough to squeeze through. Draevin followed him inside only for the doors to close behind them, trapping them in total darkness. “For goodness sake!” Danidel complained. “I forgot a light.”

          “It’s fine,” Draevin told him. He drew power from his staff until it glowed brightly. As far as light sources went it had to be the least efficient one Draevin had ever heard of. He was using enough mana to bury a small village in ice just to make a stick glow. It was strange to think about how much power he’d gotten used to wielding since he got his staff. Every time he used it it seemed like he could handle more mana.

          Once he could see, Danidel led them down the stairs. Draevin hadn’t even realized you could go down, but the little gnome used his keys to open a hatch in the floor. It looked like it was designed to be hidden. Without Danidel’s help it was clear that nobody could have found these daggers.

          They descended for a short minute, then came to another room closed off by a thick iron door. Inside was quite sparse. No furniture and every surface was encased in iron at least as thick as the door. Their footsteps echoed eerily. The daggers were in the center of the room, on top of a square cube of either iron or steel that seemed to be getting used as a makeshift table. A few delicate-looking tools were on the table, looking extremely out of place.

          “This is where some of the more dangerous experiments used to be performed,” Danidel explained. “As you can see, even if demons had gotten in from here they would have been trapped.”

          “Well I happen to know that the demons we were worried about are currently occupied,” Draevin told Danidel. “They’re attacking the arena as we speak.”

          “Now that we’re here, what do you want to do?” Danidel asked, spreading his hands out to the five daggers spread out on the makeshift table. They’d been separated into two piles: four daggers in one, a lone dagger in the other. Draevin didn’t have to be told what that meant.

          “Well how are these things supposed to work?” Draevin asked.

          Danidel pointed to the dagger Draevin had given to them before the battle with Dwyra. “Aaron told me this one was made of blood iron. I assume the others are as well, though again, I haven’t made much time to study them.”

          “I didn’t ask what they’re made of, I asked how they work,” Draevin said, starting to get annoyed already.

          “The answer is the same thing. All blood iron is empowered in the same way: by blood. How do you think we came up with the name?”

          “By being condescending?” Draevin guessed. They glared at each other, then Draevin shook his head. He didn’t have time for bickering either. “Fine,” he admitted, “I never paid attention in school. So what do I do if I want to activate one of these things, just feed it some blood then slash the air?”

          Danidel shrugged. “We never tested them, but that seems like a good guess.”

          “So how do we go about fixing them so they can take us to the arena instead of Hell?”

          Danidel sighed. “If I knew that, I would have suggested them already. This type of tinkering was always Aaron’s specialty.”

          The image of Aaron falling to his death flashed in Draevin’s mind. He hadn’t told anyone how he’d chosen to save that kid Ryan over Aaron during the battle. Now he was regretting it. Where was Ryan now? Probably hanging out with the other orphans, being completely useless. “Great,” Draevin complained, “all we have is a dagger that can only take me to a meeting with a vampire I never wanted to have in the first place. You’re sure we can’t, like, slash the air in a special way or something? There’s no chance I can somehow use ice on it, is there?”

          “To direct the portal it opens?” Danidel asked. “Why would that possibly work?”

          “Not even if I used a lot of ice?” Draevin asked hopefully. He frowned when Danidel didn’t even entertain the idea. “Damn, you’d be surprised how often that works.”

          “Hmmm,” Danidel said. “Something just occurred to me…”

          “Yeah?”

          “Did you not say the arena was being attacked by demons?”

          “I did. I used my staff to talk to the orcs defending it. That’s how I know.”

          “And did you not also say this dagger will take you to a vampire?”

          Draevin blinked. “Was there a step I missed? Opening a portal to a vampire was part of the problem, remember?”

          “But vampires work for Chaska’nal,” Danidel said. “Wouldn’t that mean they’re all at the arena right now?”

          Draevin’s jaw dropped as he realized the gnome was right. “Shit, how did I not realize that myself?”

          Danidel shrugged. “It’s not a guarantee, but it’s at least a place to start. If Chaska’nal is really attacking the arena it stands to reason any place related to her that you go would be connected to the arena. I still wouldn’t go. It sounds incredibly dangerous.”

          Draevin snatched up the dagger Caelnaste had given him all those days ago. “Like I said before, I don’t have a choice.”

          “What are you—”

          “What I have to,” Draevin said. “Caelnaste gave me this dagger for a reason. I thought it was strange before, because she had to know I would die before I used it to save myself from a losing battle. Well, maybe she knew it would come to this.”

          Danidel rubbed his forehead nervously. “If she knew you would feel like you didn’t have a choice, wouldn’t that mean she would make it more likely to be a trap?”

          “Does it matter?” Draevin asked. “Either way I don’t have a choice. Not using it holds the same risk as using it and it being a trap, but without even the chance of success.”

          Danidel nodded. “I can’t argue with that, but in the incredibly likely case that this is a trap, I’m going to insist that you let me seal you in here before you use it. I won’t have demons invading this city if I have any say in the matter.”

          “Yes,” Draevin agreed, shooing the smaller man away. “Go ahead. But hurry.” Danidel didn’t move to leave right away. “Is there a problem?”

          “I just realized your staff is the only light source.”

          Draevin huffed out an impatient breath. He held out his frozen hand and produced a small crystal of ice invested with enough cryomancy to give it a slight blue glow. “Here,” he said, handing it to Danidel. “It’s not very bright, but your eyes will adjust.”

          The gnome took the crystal and scampered off. He quickly reached the door, then called through to say, “Good luck!” before sealing it behind him.

          Draevin was alone. He took out the dagger and made to slash his opposite hand, before realizing it was made of ice. He was forced to lift the leg of his robe instead and make a shallow cut along the side of his calf. It was a much more logical place to cut anyway.

          Once the blade had soaked in some of his blood he stood back up with it, wondering how he was going to activate it. He got his answer immediately. As soon as he lifted the blade from his calf the movement through the air started to rip open a line of hellfire.

          The dark chamber was washed in red light. Draevin was forced to jump back as the hot flames threatened to burn him. Something about fire just really didn’t agree with him. The line of fire widened, parting like a curtain. As it did it revealed a familiar face of hard angles, and red eyes, framed by an expanse of deep purple hair.

          “Draevin,” Caelnaste purred. “I was wondering when you would show up. Please, come.” She beckoned him to her, into a quiet room carved of red stone. She appeared to be alone; no signs of the battle Draevin knew must be raging elsewhere. “We have much to discuss,” she said.

          With almost as much reluctance as Draevin had felt doing anything in his life, he stepped through the portal. As he had told Danidel: it wasn’t as though he had a choice.

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