Wizard Trials: Chapter 158 (Patreon)

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          “Brorn?” Draevin repeated. “Brorn is dead, you know that, right? He’s been dead for years. What do you think happens to an ancient lich kept alive by magic when the magic all suddenly turns off?”

          “Nonsense,” Caelnaste replied. “He was obsessed with living forever. He had contingencies. I have seen him in my visions, wearing the body of a child.” She addressed the soldiers who had opened the gate for her. “Have any of you seen a child wandering around that doesn’t belong?”

          Most of them gave Caelnaste confused looks. Most, but not all. One soldier stepped forward. “Uh, I heard something about a child,” he said nervously.

          “Speak, soldier,” the commander with the feather in his helmet ordered.

          “Uh, what I mean is, I heard someone asking about irons that could fit a child when I was getting a new helmet from the armory,” the man explained.

          “See?” Caelnaste asked. “I told you he was around here. Whoever took him in must have died.” She jabbed a finger at the soldier. “Where was the child?”

          He shook his head. “It wasn’t my unit, ma’am. Like I said, I was just grabbing a new helmet.”

          “Oh hey,” Graevin spoke up. “Remember that thing that happened at the North gate, Uncle D?”

          “…No?” Draevin replied hesitantly. He still hadn’t explained the illusory version of himself to his nephew.

          “All the demons dropped dead and I told you it looked like there was a guy walking around and you just said it didn’t matter and we should go where we were needed? I swear. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

          “Someone showed up at the North gate?” Draevin asked. “Fine, let’s go look there. Maybe we find him there, or at least someone that knows something.” He waved a hand at the soldiers. “You guys stay here. We’ll be back to let you know what we find.”

          The four of them—Draevin, Graevin, Tenna and Caelnaste—left to find the North gate. They went directly there, cutting through what was now a scorched field of dirt at the center of the arena. It was a quiet walk under a dark and starless sky that made Draevin uncomfortable. Draevin spoke with Tenna while he walked. “When I got here the leader of the orc mystics warned me about a wall of Soul Fire defending the city, then Peter tried to lure me into it with his illusions. I didn’t really stop to think about where that much Soul Fire came from, but Brorn sounds like a pretty good explanation to me. I don’t even know any other necromancers who know that spell, do you?”

          “Not on Eldira,” Tenna said. She lowered her voice. “Do you think Caelnaste is telling the truth?”

          Draevin just shook his head, replying in a quiet enough tone so as not to be overhead. “I don’t even know anymore. Lately it seems like everyone has been lying to me. I just don’t see what the point would be in making something like this up. It’s so specific. I’m more worried that she is telling the truth. Brorn is dangerous. If he’s still hanging around here he’ll probably be desperate.”

          It didn’t take long for the group to pick their way across the field. There were no obstacles in their way. Graevin still carried his torch to provide a light source. As the gate came into view, Draevin saw soldiers lying on the ground. They looked too still to be sleeping. A large chunk of the wall next to the gate house was missing, the edges black and crumbling away before Draevin’s eyes.

          “What could have—” Graevin started to say. He was interrupted by the high-pitched voice of a child. It came from somewhere in the darkness.

          “If you value your life, you will leave. Immediately,” the voice said. The words were stern, but the prepubescent voice was hard for Draevin to take seriously.

          “Brorn, is that you?” Draevin called out. “We don’t want to fight. We just want to talk.”

          One of the soldiers lying on the ground stood up. He held his sword and shield in an athletic stance, eyes glowing a sickly green. A child in a tailored suit walked calmly out of the darkness of the gatehouse and stood next to the soldier. “What do you want?” he asked.

          Draevin looked back at Caelnaste. “Well?” he asked her. “What do we want? Did your vision tell you why that section of the arena’s walls are missing?”

          “Of course it did,” Caelnaste answered confidently. “That is why we are here.” She patted Draevin on the shoulder. “Why don’t you stay right here and let me do the talking.”

          Graevin snarled at her. “Are we really going to let her—”

          “Yes, we are,” Tenna interrupted Graevin. “Letting her speak doesn’t mean she speaks for us.” She hooked a chin at Brorn. “I’ll keep an eye out for any Soul Fire.”

          “I don’t like it either, but we don’t really have any other choice,” Draevin said, nodding at Caelnaste. “Speak to him, but don’t think we’re agreeing to anything you say.”

          Caelnaste stepped forward, an ingratiating smile plastered on her face. “Lord, Brorn,” she said, sweeping low in a respectful bow. “We wish to discuss the future. Your future to be precise.”

          “My future is well in hand,” Brorn said. “After I finish draining the mana from these walls, I will be able to stay alive for another ten thousand years at a minimum.”

          “And then what?” Caelnaste asked.

          The child Brorn blinked. “What do you mean?”

          “After ten thousand years, what will you do?”

          “I will… search the land. Find more artifacts,” Brorn answered, sounding less confident. “There are certain to be other sources of mana to be found somewhere. It’s a large world and I will have a lot of time to look.”

          “And after you drain those? Once you have scoured the remains of this dead world for every scrap of magic that remains and used it up, what will you do then?”

          “I don’t see what you are trying to get at,” Brorn said. “You and everyone else standing before me will be long dead by then. What concern is it of yours what I do with my time?”

          “The answer,” Caelnaste pressed, “is that you will die. After all the magic is used up, you will die. For good. Forever. True death. No extra bodies, no children with your memories burned into their soul. Without magic, it will just be you. Alone. The last living creature on a desolate world. You are correct that you will live a great many years, but eventually those years will end, and you will die.”

          “I will find more worlds, more magic,” Brorn said.

          “Where?” Caelnaste challenged. “This world has been cut off from the source of magic for all time. Once you drain every last drop, there will be nothing left. You will die like everyone else, you will just hold on for a little bit longer.”

          Brorn sucked in a breath and blew it out impatiently. “Yes, yes, everything dies eventually, even worlds. Were you maybe getting to a point?”

          “You don’t want to live alone in a dead world for ten thousand years,” Caelnaste said. “And you don’t want to die. So what if I told you there was another way? A way to fix this world?”

          “I’m listening,” Brorn said. “But skeptically.” His eyes narrowed.

          “The power locked inside these old walls is significant,” Caelnaste said, gesturing to the hole in the arena walls that Brorn had apparently made. “In the right hands, it might be able to fix things. What we need right now is not a consumable stockpile of mana for one person to hold, but a source of new mana.”

          Brorn looked around dramatically at the darkness that surrounded them. “Oh? I suppose you have a solution in mind?”

          “Of course I do,” Caelnaste said. “We can do that, my friends and I.”

          “We can?” Draevin mouthed silently to Tenna. She just shrugged her shoulders.

          “We just need the power you can access. Help us and we will be in your debt. Comfort, luxury, power. All these things can be yours in the new world we will build.”

          Brorn waved a dismissive hand. “I see what you want now. You want my mana. Honestly, you could have tried a little harder than that. You expect me to believe a seer-turned-vampire has the sort of power you claim to possess?” He sneered at her. “I wasn’t born this millennium.”

          “Could have fooled me,” Draevin commented under his breath. Graevin laughed. Brorn glared.

          Caelnaste continued. “Of course,” she said. “I do not expect you to take me at my word. I am not the one that can deliver on this promise, Draevin can. He has inherited the essence of a god. Look at his soul and you will see I speak the truth.”

          Born held up a finger to silence her. His eyes flashed with green light. “Hmm,” he said. For a long time he just studied Draevin, up and down with his eyes. The silence grew uncomfortable, then just when Draevin was about to say something, he spoke. “I see,” he said simply. “I have not seen a soul like that in a long time. Very well, you may continue.”

          “All Draevin here lacks is the power to do what I have promised. He is also… inexperienced. If you help us tap into the power locked within the stones of this arena, he is prepared to grant whatever request you desire in the new world he creates. This is a limited offer. Not some unpredictable wish from the Conflux but a real chance to negotiate with a god. You say you are no fool. Then you should know a god will be able to do much more with this power than yourself.”

          “Hey, I never said I would—” Tenna pinched Draevin’s arm. “Ow!”

          “Don’t ruin this!” Tenna hissed. “We need this mana. It doesn’t matter where it comes from.”

          Caelnaste turned. She still had that overly-ingratiating smile on her face, but her eyes stared daggers at Draevin.

          “Fine!” Draevin relented. “But I don’t care what any of you say, I’m not condemning millions of people to live under Brorn’s thumb in eternal servitude just because he gave me a bunch of mana once.”

          Brorn studied Draevin’s face. “I have no particular need to force anyone to serve me,” he said, “I have only been forced to defend myself from those that would try to end my life out of jealousy or fear.” He rubbed a hand on his forehead. It was the kind of anxious gesture that looked comically out-of-place coming from a child. “I… want my own continent,” he said.

          “You what?” Draevin asked.

          “A continent of my own,” Brorn repeated. “Out in the ocean. There’s plenty of room out there. Give me my own island, far from the common people, where I can guarantee my own sovereignty.”

          “You want to rule over an entire continent?” Draevin asked, incredulous. “Did you not hear what I just said? I’m not going to let you rule over people just because you helped me out. It’s not fair to them.”

          “I said nothing of people,” Brorn insisted. “Just give me the land. If incursions against me are kept to an absolute minimum I won’t need a bevy of servants and soldiers to serve me.”

          “You just want… land? That’s it?”

          “That is it,” Brorn said. “But I want my island to have at least one mana well on it. A big one. You remember mana wells, don’t you?”

          “I do,” Draevin said. “I mean… I guess that’s fine with me. I don’t know how to make mana wells, but if I can, I will.”

          Brorn nodded. “Then that will do,” he said. He walked forward and stuck out his tiny hand for Draevin to shake. “The mana from these walls in exchange for my own sovereign continent in the new world. And at least one mana well.”

          Draevin hesitated. There would be no way for Tenna to warn him in time if Brorn decided to burn him with Soul Fire while holding his hand. But then again, how could he expect Brorn to trust him if he couldn’t trust him back. He took the child’s hand and shook.

          “It is done,” Brorn said. He reached into an inner pocket and produced something Draevin had not seen in a very long time. A mana crystal. “I have been condensing the mana from these walls into a crystallized form for transport,” he explained. He handed the crystal to Draevin. “I assume that will not be a problem?”

          Draevin grasped the crystal in his hand and imagined it breaking apart, the mana flowing into him. It did exactly that. The power that flowed into him was substantial. More than he’d recovered from the ice collar he’d given Caelnaste before his battle with Peter. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Draevin said.

          They spent the next several hours deconstructing the walls of the arena. It was hard to convince some of the soldiers that what they were doing was totally fine, but with nobody they recognized of higher authority in Istven’s previous command structure, they agreed to take orders from Draevin. It helped that not long after starting to absorb mana from the walls Draevin’s eyes began to glow like an eldrin’s. In a cold, dark world devoid of magic it seemed like an easy choice to follow the guy that had so much power it was coming out his eyes. The few soldiers that had a problem with the walls getting taken down were overruled by the gate captain from earlier.

          While they were working their way around the arena, Graevin found the remainder of the orc mystics. There were three of them left, the former apprentice Moz’shak having been promoted to their leader. Thrandian’first had been killed by Peter’s explosion of light and the remaining mystics were lost without him. Each of them carried several staves. None were able to establish a link to their holy Elder Tree.

          After discussing their plan and explaining what it was they were doing, it was Moz’shak who volunteered to give the staves to Brorn to break down. He said the magic that was left within them would do more good helping to rebuild the new world. Draevin couldn’t possibly say no, even though he felt guilty for accepting the gift. Whatever ability Brorn had mastered that allowed him to deconstruct artifacts to get at the mana inside turned out to work just fine on the former staves of the mystics. The power they provided Draevin was significant. He drank in everything they could give him, feeling his power slowly start to approach the levels it had reached before his battle with Peter.

          Of Peter, there was still no sign. When he thought to wonder what had happened to his old friend, Draevin turned to Tenna for a possible answer. “What happened to Peter?” he asked while Brorn deconstructed the last of the arena’s walls. “I would think he’d be pretty hard to miss after taking all that power.”

          “The rift he opened to Hell closed after your battle,” Tenna said. “I don’t know what became of him. He might still be there for all I know.”

          “He was left in Hell?” Draevin asked.

          “I saw everything,” Tenna said. “How do you think you got back to Eldira? I grabbed you and pulled you back before that rift closed. I don’t know what happened to him, but considering he was tapping into the Blackroot’s power, I’d say he’s lucky if all that happened was that he died.”

          “How would death be lucky?” Draevin asked.

          “I’ll answer that with another question,” Tenna said. “How is it that you think Chaska’nal became a demon lord bent on the subjugation of the living, when her godly essence was originally so pure? In fact, have you stopped to ask why the demon lords of Hell are even called demon lords, and not gods?”

          “Oh,” Draevin said. “You think he became one of those?”

          “It is the most likely outcome,” Tenna replied. “I’m sorry, but once the Blackroot gets its hooks in a god, he twists them to something unrecognizable.”

          Draevin really hoped Tenna was wrong. Despite everything, Peter had at least been trying to do the right thing. His means had been ruthless, but at least his goal had been noble. He didn’t want to see what kind of demented creature the Blackroot would twist him into.

          When Brorn finished breaking down the arena’s walls and the mystic staves, Draevin felt more powerful than ever before. “Now what?” he asked Tenna and Caelnaste. “Am I strong enough to remake the world?”

          Tenna shook her head. “Not quite,” she said. “Your strength has expanded, but I’d say at most you could sustain a country the size of Caldenia. An improvement, but not the whole world.”

          “This is not what we agreed to,” Brorn complained. He held up one hand and a little ball of ghostly green flames flickered in his palm menacingly.

          Caelnaste held up a finger to forestall further complaints. “Worry not,” she assured everyone. “This was but the first step. Next, Draevin must travel to Kreet. There he will find the rest of the power he needs.”

          “You want me to take it from the dragons?” Draevin asked. “They’re not going to just give it to me.”

          “I said nothing of dragons,” Caelnaste insisted, “only of traveling to Kreet.”

          “Sure, fine,” Draevin said. “I’d actually enjoy a rematch with a certain black-feathered dragon. Maybe Tarrish will see the logic in working together for once. But how are we supposed to get down there? Do we walk? I know I can fly, but I can’t take thirty people with me.”

          Tenna poked Draevin in the elbow, one hand over her mouth to hide a growing smile. “Fly, Drae?” she asked. “You’re a god! Just imagine yourself being there and you will be.”

          “Oh. Is it really that easy?”

          Brorn sighed. “You know I really think I should be the one to hold this godly power. This child doesn’t know what he’s doing.” The irony of being the only one in the group that actually looked like a child seemed to be lost on Brorn.

          “No!” several people spoke up at once.

          Brorn shook his head, dismissing the objections. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said.

          Tenna grabbed Draevin’s hand. “You can do it, Drae,” she said. “You just have to stop second-guessing yourself. The only limit on your abilities is you.”

          Draevin nodded, holding Tenna’s cold hand tight. “I’ll try,” he promised. He closed his eyes and imagined the view he’d seen of the floating island that had come within sight of Truntstown. He heard a few people exclaim in wonder. When he opened his eyes, Draevin was greeted by a wall of sunlight. It extended in front of him all the way to the horizon in both directions. Where Draevin and the small crowd of people he’d rescued from the arena stood was darkness; on the other side of the wall was a normal, sunny day. Draevin had known the dragons had been erecting some kind of protection against the Blackroot. He’d never considered it might also protect them from the sun disappearing.

          The wall of light wavered and shimmered. Verdant grassy fields stood tall and healthy on the other side. In the distance, a pair of dragons appeared to be flying in their direction. Draevin had to assume they’d sensed the arrival of a powerful god at their wall. That was good. He’d prefer to talk them into working with him, instead of turning everything into a fight.

          Then the wall of light went out. The people around Draevin gasped at the suddenness of it. Draevin was still trying to figure out if the magic had been turned off by the approaching dragons or something more nefarious was at play, when he noticed a single spot of light in the shape of a man, standing at the edge of Kreet’s barrier.

          “Is that… Peter?” Draevin said aloud.

          “I never said you’d be taking the power from the dragons, did I?” Caelnaste asked. She pointed down the dark, sloping plains at the glowing god that Draevin had already fought with more times than he cared to. “He already did that part for you,” Caelnaste explained. “Between the two of you, there should just be enough mana left in this world to save it.”

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