Wizard Trials: Chapter 150 (Patreon)

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          Draevin scanned the room as he stepped through the rift out of a sense of paranoia. Caelnaste stood before him. Sitting on a table next to her was one of those rift-net devices Dwyra had used to get her army into Truntstown. The chamber she was standing in was constructed of smooth red stone. It vaguely brought to mind the opulent prison chamber she had constructed for herself after being arrested during the tournament leading up to Peter’s wish. There was less gold, but she had a four-poster bed, a couple padded lounge chairs, and even some windows. Actually, when Draevin looked closer at them he realized they were just magically-illuminated crenellations with idyllic vistas painted on them. One had a snow-capped mountain, another a beach, another a gentle forest. Fantasies all, not a one of those vistas could possibly exist in any part of Hell Draevin had ever seen.

          Caelnaste was not alone in the room. Slinking in the corner he saw a long-haired female elf with red eyes. She was staring at him quietly, though most of her face was veiled in shadows. More surprising to Draevin was the other occupant of the room: Tomrha. Tomrha, Caelnaste’s former husband whose face had been eaten off by Grrbraa after he died in the arena. Draevin recognized him and remembered his name; he recognized all former wizard tournament champions. Instinctively, on seeing Tomrha, Draevin sent a burst of cryomancy into his hair to enchant it with the mental defenses he used to wear all the time. Tomrha had been a master of cerebromancy and even once successfully planted false memories in Draevin’s mind. The potency of his mental wards quickly reached the point they actually started to contribute a soft blue glow to the room. Draevin felt like his paranoia of closely inspecting the room had been entirely justified.

          Caelnaste chuckled when she saw Draevin doing that. She sauntered over to a small end table she had set up next to one of her couches. “Don’t worry yourself about Tomrha,” she said, “he’s not going to mess with your mind.”

          Tomrha didn’t say a word. He was actually just staring into the middle distance, unmoving. The red in his eyes indicated he was probably a vampire, like Caelnaste, even though his mouth wasn’t open to reveal his fangs. He just stood against the wall next to the crenellation showing a gorgeous beach scene like another piece of furniture. Draevin wasn’t sure what he was up to. He guessed maybe he was in a cerebromancy trance, doing something to someone in his mindscape, not really present in the room. “Forgive me if I don’t believe that,” Draevin said. “Not after the stunt he pulled on me the last time we were in a room together.”

          Caelnaste started to pour a deep red liquid from a decanter into a wineglass. “You’re talking about the Fardew?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Ancient news. No, Tomrha here doesn’t get up to trouble anymore.” She frowned. “He doesn’t get up to much of anything anymore, but that was the price of bringing him back. I just like having him around.”

          “What do you mean he doesn’t do anything?”

          “Can I fix you something to drink?” Caelnaste asked, ignoring Draevin’s question. Draevin shook his head. “Suit yourself,” she said, putting the lid back on the decanter and taking a seat on the couch nearest to Tomrha. She gestured to the padded chair across from her. “Take a seat.”

          “Think I’ll stand,” Draevin said. “And you didn’t answer my question.” He was still giving Tomrha a side-eyed look. Any second he expected the cerebromancer to snap into action and make an assault on his mind, regardless of what Caelnaste said.

          “Don’t be ridiculous, Draevin. Why would I poison you, and what danger would it be to sit while we talk when I went to all this trouble to bring you here?”

          “You didn’t bring me here, I brought myself. And I don’t want to talk with Tomrha in the room. If he’s not planning to cause trouble, why keep him close by at all?”

          Caelnaste stroked Tomrha’s arm. “Because I like looking at him,” she purred. He had all the same features Draevin remembered: short brown hair with a hint of purple, a strong jawline, and prominent cheekbones. He didn’t look at all like he’d had his face chewed off by a werebeast and died years ago. Caelnaste glanced back at Draevin who was still eyeing Tomrha intently and huffed. “Ugh, fine! I’ll send him away.” She turned to Tomrha. “Baby?” she said. “You need to go. Go outside.” She pointed insistently at the door to the chamber, which was near where Draevin’s portal had appeared.

          Tomrha didn’t say a word. He turned, eyes still not focusing on anything and walked towards the door. When he reached it he bumped up against it. He didn’t raise his hand or anything to use the handle; he just slowly walked against the door, bumped his face against it, then stepped back and stood there. “What is wrong—” Draevin started to say.

          “The handle!” Caelnaste said. “You have to use the handle, dear!”

          He fumbled at the round handle, hands not even grabbing it, just sort of slapping against it ineffectually. Caelnaste set her wineglass down and hurried over to help him. “Sorry about this, Draevin, he’s still learning.” She had to go over and open the door for him then stood him in the hall outside, ordering him to wait there.

          “Is this some kind of play-acting?” Draevin asked as she returned to her seat. “Don’t think I’m going to let my guard down just because your husband pretended to struggle to open a door.” He still hadn’t taken the seat Caelnaste had offered, opting instead to lean his weight on his staff with his one good hand. If he needed to draw on its power he didn’t want it to be out of reach.

          “It’s no act,” Caelnaste insisted. “Chaska’nal doesn’t actually have the powers of true resurrection. She brought Tomrha back for me, but he’s… not all there. He’ll learn, eventually. Give him another forty years and he’ll be back to his old self. She could do the same for you and… what was her name? Aelaniss?”

          Draevin couldn’t keep his lip from curling up in disgust at hearing that. “Keep my dead wife’s name out of your mouth,” he snarled. “Tell me why I’m here. You said that knife would bring me reinforcements during the battle with Dwyra. This just looks like a drawing room.”

          Caelnaste took a sip of her… blood. It was obviously blood, despite Draevin preferring to think of it as red wine. “Well I had to tell you something,” she insisted, “or you would have gotten suspicious.”

          “Suspicious that you were hoping to take advantage of our desperation to sneak an army into Truntstown and take over after Dwyra was defeated?” Draevin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the thought hardly crossed our minds. I shouldn’t have left you alive.” He didn’t say exactly when he was referring to, but he knew she’d know. Before the last tournament ended he’d left her to be swallowed by the approaching Everstorm in Hell rather than finish her off himself. Spite was all that had been. She’d said he was supposed to kill her and he’d just wanted her to be wrong.

          Caelnaste huffed out a breath. “You never figured out that I wanted you to leave me there? The important thing is you came here when you were supposed to and you’ve gotten so strong! Honestly, Draevin, do you even realize that there are actual gods that don’t handle as much power as you do on a regular basis? If you became a god you’d be a force to be reckoned with.”

          “Is that what you brought me here to do? Compliment me?” He was actually trying very hard not to let her words go to his head. He knew it had to be part of some kind of trap. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just blow you away if I’m so powerful.”

          Caelnaste gave Draevin a thin smile. “You’re welcome to try… but then we couldn’t make a deal.”

          “Deal? What kind of deal?”

          “The kind where you kill Chaska’nal for me, and I take you to your dear friend Istven. That is where you really want to go, isn’t it?” She raised one of her impeccably-plucked purple eyebrows inquisitively.

          “Oh, I get it now,” Draevin said, “you were complimenting my strength so I’d think I can take on a demon lord by myself. How stupid do you think I am? If you want to kill your boss, do it yourself. That’s not something I’m willing to die for.”

          “Come now, Drae,” Caelnaste chided. He didn’t appreciate the familiarity that nickname implied. “That is obviously not a possibility for me. Chaska’nal controls me absolutely. That was the price I paid to join her little court. If I even attempt to raise a hand against her the very blood in my veins would boil. I’ve seen it happen. Nasty stuff. For now, she allows me a bit of autonomy, but as soon as she decides I’m not useful to her she will squash me like a bug, or pluck out my soul and leave me a blithering idiot like my dear Tomrha.”

          “What does this have to do with me?” Draevin demanded. “Sounds like you made a deal with a demon and got exactly what you bargained for. You don’t even know what I really want.” He eyed the enchanted paintings along the wall and wondered if they were layered over stone or were covering up actual windows so Caelnaste didn’t have to look at the local scenery. If they were actually windows he reasoned he might be able to smash through them and get out of this place, Caelnaste be damned.

          “I know everything, my dear Draevin. You are desperate,” Caelnaste said, making it a statement of fact. “Peter has betrayed you and you don’t know why. He tried to kill you, but he failed, of course, because you’re too stubborn to die. Now you need to reach the arena so you can stop him before it’s too late. You thought you could use my dagger as a shortcut because I gave it to you for expressly that purpose.” She swirled her glass casually, then took another sip, reveling in her superiority. “Tell me, am I close?”

          Draevin gritted his teeth and fixed Caelnaste with a snarl. “You know you are,” he said.

          “Right,” Caelnaste continued. “So the way I see things you need my help and I need yours. That is the very basis for ‘deals’ is it not? I am proposing a mutually beneficial exchange of services.”

          “So what do you expect me to do?” Draevin asked. “I just walk up to Chaska’nal, kill her—which I’m sure will be super easy—then you’re going to … what? Open a rift for me back to Eldira? I take all the risk and you just sit on your hands? I know it would take two seconds for you to open a rift for me and it would cost you less blood than you’ve drank since I got here. What makes you even think I can kill a demon lord? They command armies of millions!”

          “Of course you can,” Caelnaste said. “They die all the time.”

          “I’ve never—”

          “And when they do,” Caelnaste continued right over Draevin’s objection. “They are replaced by their usurper. How do you think Chaska’nal got her position in the first place?”

          “I see,” Draevin said. “You just want to be the next Chaska’nal. How about a counter offer. You open a rift for me right now and I agree not to kill you before I go.” He hefted his staff in her direction, letting a trickle of power into it so it would glow threateningly.

          Caelnaste tapped her chin, entirely unconcerned with Draevin’s threat. “What was that phrase?” she asked. “Better the demon you know, than the demon you don’t know?”

          “I hardly think you’d make a better demon lord than Chaska’nal. The only reason we know each other at all is because you tried to kill me. Several times. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.”

          “I can be reasoned with,” Caelnaste said. “I can call off the attack against your people; guarantee peace; provide you with crops that will actually grow in the new soil your world is going to be covered in this time tomorrow.”

          “I don’t need your help,” Draevin told her. “We’re about to wipe out that infection and an army of demons can’t stop us anymore. Istven has grown too powerful. The only reason he hasn’t wiped them all out is he’d busy literally moving the moon!”

          Caelnaste raised an eyebrow at that comment. “We number in the tens of millions,” she said. “That isn’t a threat the Black Prince can just snap his finger and evaporate. He has a divine essence? Well so does Chaska’nal! All the demon lords do. She’s just the only one focused on expanding into Eldira. Make a deal with me and I’ll make sure she’s the last one to do so. Have you seen her latest invention? It keeps hell rifts open indefinitely.” She made a lazy gesture towards the rift-net sitting on the table between them. “I believe you are already familiar, yes?”

          “Yes.”

          “Imagine what will happen when she starts sharing these devices with the other demon lords. You want me as a friend, Draevin. You need me as a friend. I know things that have yet to happen. I can tell you what Peter is planning… and how to stop him.”

          Draevin bit his lower lip. He really, really wanted to ask Caelnaste about that, but it had to be a trap. Always before, she’d gotten good at saying only what she needed to get others to do what she wanted, and Draevin sensed he was about to fall for it again. It was a mistake to even talk to her. He should have just fired an Ice Spike through her face as soon as he saw her cocky little smile.

          “Poor, poor Peter,” Caelnaste sighed. “All that guilt. He really thinks he can fix things.”

          Draevin finally snapped. “Okay!” he said. “Just tell me. I need to know. It doesn’t make sense. He tried to kill me. Me!”

          Caelnaste smiled. There was no warmness in the gesture. “That is information you only get if you agree to my bargain.”

          “Fine!” Draevin relented. “I’ll kill Chaska’nal.” He reasoned he could always kill Caelnaste after Chaska’nal, assuming he didn’t die in the attempt. “But how am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth? Peter might be manipulative, but you’re probably the one person I trust even less than him.”

          “I’m afraid you have no choice,” Caelnaste said with a little pout. “What do you have? Five hours left? Not much time. No time to verify my words. Agreements like this take trust from both parties. How do I know you won’t just kill me after you finish with Chaska’nal?”

          Draevin had to focus to keep his face still when she said that. He’d literally been thinking of doing exactly that. “Just tell me already!” he shouted.

          “I don’t have to tell you anything,” Caelnaste said. “If you want to know what I know, then we need to be friends. Friends do things for each other.”

          “Friends?” Draevin asked. “I thought we were fated to kill each other or something? That was the whole reason you were trying to kill me, wasn’t it? Now you want to be friends? Do you even realize how insane you’ve become? Normal people don’t keep a mindless husk of their dead husband around!”

          “What I want,” Caelnaste said firmly, “is for you to assassinate Chaska’nal. I already died once. So did you. Fate fulfilled. If you do this for me now, we can put all these hostilities behind us. You’ll need my help establishing a stable society once things settle down.”

          “Now it’s an assassination?” Draevin asked.

          Caelnaste smiled. She took another sip of her blood. “I can get you close. Without me you couldn’t get within a league of her without getting cut down. You remember your old friend Shalieh, don’t you?” Caelnaste nodded her head towards the female in the corner who seemed to be draped in shadows despite the numerous light sources scattered around the room.

          “Not particularly,” Draevin said. The woman took a single step forward, revealing part of her face. Draevin recognized it, though he couldn’t say from where.

          “A discarded experiment of your old friend Peter, did you know he forced her to drink shadow essence? Lucky for her I found her when I did. You see? There’s blood on both sides, Draevin.”

          “I had nothing to do with that,” Draevin objected. He remembered now. Shalieh had been a vampire they’d tried to save until she attacked Istven. Draevin hadn’t heard a thing about her since she ran off. He’d also never heard anything about Peter forcing her to do anything, though when he thought about it he was forced to admit it was something the crafty human was capable of both doing and then covering up.

          “Shalieh here is in a unique position to resist Chaska’nal’s control. I have… taken her under my wing, you could say. None of Chaska’nal’s servants are allowed to approach her without a direct summons. Shalieh is the exception. She can take you to Chaska’nal. She is feeding right around now. In another hour she will take a nap. That is when you will show up. All I need you to do is hit her with some of your ice. If you’re fast she won’t even wake up. Simple. Easy. Easier than opening a hellrift even. You might even say I’m the one doing more work and taking more risk here. If she finds out I sent you, what do you think she will do to me?”

          “She’ll be sleeping?” Draevin asked. “I find that hard to believe. She has an army attacking the arena right now.”

          “Her army, yes,” Caelnaste agreed. “But she did not order the attack. She doesn’t even know about it. She has generals for that sort of thing. Why do you think I arranged the attack? It will have gotten her strongest generals out of the way. You wouldn’t want to fight any of them, I can assure you.”

          “Wait… you’re behind this attack?” Draevin blurted out. He was completely flabbergasted. “Why would I need to make a deal with you when you’re already in charge?”

          Caelnaste chuckled softly. “A whispered suggestion to an ambitious general does not make me in charge. Yes, I am one of her generals now, but I tend to avoid doomed enterprises. Stop resisting me, Draevin. You will help me. I’ve already seen it.”

          “What? No!” Draevin shouted. “Screw you! How about I kill you and see what that does?”

          “Peter is going to stab Istven in the back,” Caelnaste said. “Not figuratively, literally.”

          “What?” Draevin was taken off guard by the sudden admission.

          “While he is distracted,” she clarified. “He will stab him with a device that will suck out his divine essence and take it for himself. He will make himself a god in Istven’s place. His plan? To remake the world in his image. I arranged the attack so that you would have a chance to stop him. Do you really want to know what happens if Peter’s plan succeeds? Your world will become a ruined wasteland. Despite our differences, despite how much we hate each other, we both still care about Eldira.” Caelnaste looked out at the imaginary vista of one of her painted windows. “I know I’m a monster,” she said wistfully, “but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. I don’t want Chaska’nal to enslave Eldira and I don’t want Peter to burn it to the ground with his misguided plan any more than you do. You’re the only one I can trust to stop what is coming.” She turned towards Draevin dramatically and bared her neck. “If you don’t believe me, then kill me now.”

          Draevin hesitated. “Say I believe you,” he said with a bit of reluctance. He practically had to force the words out of his throat. “What does that have to do with killing Chaska’nal? If you want to work together, why are you twisting my arm into giving you a promotion? Why would I trust someone that’s trying to get my help to betray their current partner?”

          “Because,” Caelnaste said, “we need her power. I told you she has a divine essence. I need it. With it, I will have the power to save Eldira. I will be able to step within the Conflux. Cure myself of this demonic affliction. End the war. Stop Peter.”

          It suddenly occurred to Draevin that there was another possibility. He could take Chaska’nal’s seed for himself. “Fine,” he said. “We have a deal.”

          Caelnaste smiled wider than before. This time her fangs showed, poisoning the gesture. Draevin wasn’t sure if maybe that was the point. “There,” she said happily, “just like I said it would happen.”

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