Caladin’s Climb—Part 26 (Patreon)

This story was brought to you by the Tuan'diath Ushwin, who asked for so much Caladin's Climb I'm still working off my debt to him.

I'm counting this as another half-chapter. The story demanded I stop early and I do as the story commands.

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          King Philipus led Caladin into the underground chamber beneath the throne where the mana well was so they could talk in private. Caladin wasn’t sure if they were actually going to discuss anything his soldiers didn’t already know but it was probably for the best that they not bicker in a public setting. Caladin needed to recharge his belt anyway.

          “Oh, before I forget, I have something for you,” King Philipus said as soon as they were down there. He walked to the corner of the room and retrieved a small box wrapped with a ribbon. “Go ahead, open it,” he told Caladin as he handed it over.

          “You think a gift is going to make me forget you used my family as collateral?” Caladin asked the eldrin king.

          “I would expect no such thing,” King Philipus said. “It was wrong of me not to tell you. I thought that since I wasn’t actually planning to give them up, there was no reason to worry you about it. Politics are complicated. Sometimes I am forced to lie to people. I do not like it any more than you do.” He placed his hand on Caladin’s elbow and looked him directly in the eye. “I am sorry if it caused you any distress. If there was another way to make Rusalia agree to the match, I would have.”

          Caladin blew out an annoyed breath of air. Philip made it very hard to stay mad at him. “You still lied about why I was sent there,” Caladin objected. “You said I was supposed to negotiate but they were setting up for a match as soon as I arrived.”

          “That was no lie,” Philip insisted. “I warned you there was a chance. That was why I sent a negotiator who was also my champion. It was Falidor who failed in his duty. By the time he informed me a match was unavoidable, you had already left.”

          Caladin sighed. “Fine,” he said. He opened the box with the gift inside. It was a belt. “What is this?” Caladin asked. “I already have a belt.”

          “Yes, I know,” Philip said. “I had this one made using the specifications of your current one. The craftsmanship is… much more refined. And it has been enchanted to be nearly indestructible. I used my own blood as the medium in the silver bars. I thought it could act as a bond between us so that you could take a little piece of me with you when you go into battle.”

          Caladin looked more closely at the belt. It had shiny bars of silver woven into it and gilding around the leather bands. It was a masterpiece. Caladin’s current belt was hand-made from scraps of deer leather and had blackened lumps of silver that he’d forged from spare change and old jewelry he’d had to barter for. The eldrin blood he’d used as a medium for it came from a drunkard of no renown. There was no doubt this belt was superior to Caladin’s current one. But he’d developed a sentimental attachment to his old one. “It’s… beautiful,” Caladin said. “Thank you.” He grabbed the belt and pulled it around his waist, made a small adjustment to the fit, then clasped it into place.

          “You’re… not going to…”

          “I’ll wear both,” Caladin said. “Twice the mana.” There were limits to that, of course. Eventually he’d risk health complications from long term mana poisoning, like his father, but he thought doubling his mana supply was unlikely to do that. Yet.

          King Philipus smiled. “A wonderful idea. I’m glad you like it. Now, would you like to hear about the true nature of this war?”

          “Fine,” Caladin said. Despite his reservations, the belt actually had improved his mood by quite a bit. It showed the kind of thoughtfulness and care Caladin had only ever received from his family.

          Philip sat down on a seat near the edge of the room where they wouldn’t be too close to the mana well. There was still enough ambient mana in the room that Caladin could recharge his belt while they talked. Caladin sat next to him and they watched the gentle ebb and flow to the glowing mana well. It reminded Caladin of watching campfires at night with his dad when he was younger. “I was a prominent member of my brother’s court,” King Philipus began. “As his brother, I was his most trusted general. The experience taught me a lot about the machinations of government. Many of the actions my brother took didn’t agree with me, but I learned to at least understand them. I thought my brother was too harsh a ruler, but I kept my complaints to myself. I never questioned a direct order and corrected others, even when they were speaking complaints I myself harbored. My proudest accomplishments were the times I was able to caution restraint. I don’t know how much you know about Eldesian history, but when he ended the Blackwall Riots by giving out rations of mana to the protestors, that was my doing. My brother wanted to kill the protestors to set an example, I convinced him to execute only the organizers and feed the rest.”

          Caladin hadn’t read that much Eldesian history, but ne nodded along anyways.

          “What do you know of the Conflux?” Philip asked.

          “I know it comes once a year and a bunch of wizards fight each other for a wish,” Caladin said. “Brorn had very low opinions of those types of wizards. He said that it took a certain type of desperation to want something badly enough to fight to the death for it and be too weak to make it happen yourself. Even after all that fighting, many of the wizards who come out on top merely end up dying in the Conflux instead, and those that don’t, rarely get what they actually wanted.”

          “True enough,” Philipus agreed. “It is chaos. Wizards fighting in a giant free-for-all. The arena has rules that are supposed to be in place to prevent exactly that, with a registration period ahead of time and everything, but there is nobody to enforce any sort of structure. As soon as the registration period begins, it always devolves into a deadly melee. The dominant strategy that has emerged is to guard the ring and kill everyone who tries to register. You may have noticed that wishes are not made very often. That is because a number of wizards who are rightly concerned about the consequences of poorly worded wishes have made it their mission to prevent anyone from entering the Conflux. They will register for the tournament, then flee the arena grounds. If they do not return to be properly defeated, there can be no true champion.”

          “Yeah, I heard about some of the craziness that goes on over there,” Caladin agreed. “Brorn said it was foolish to get involved. Considering he’s one of the most powerful wizards in the world, I think he probably knows what he’s talking about.”

          “Indeed,” Philip nodded. “Well, my brother’s wife, Fayse, was trying to put an end to that system. When I was last in court I remember that she kept trying to convince my brother to establish a guild that could impose order over there, and do a better job of making sure wishes actually get made. My brother was against the idea because he didn’t want his rivals to be able to make wishes that could hurt him or the Eldesian people. No wishes for anyone was fine by him. She didn’t give up on the idea, instead returning with new variations to the system of rules they would impose. The last I heard, she had come up with a system that he nearly agreed to. Then she had him killed. I believe she is moving forward with that plan.”

          “What was the plan?” Caladin asked.

          “She wanted to get each of the great powers to form a secret council that would control the Conflux from the shadows. The founding nations would send their champions to fight in a structured tournament. A guild of wizards would impose rules on the contestants, rules which the secret council would manipulate to make sure only their champions won. Then they would switch off each year, trading wishes between the nations. My spies have reported a guild of wizards forming at the arena. Contestants are already preparing for the upcoming Conflux this year. They are planning to have structured one-on-one matches drawn by random lots. Supposedly, the prospective wizards came up with these rules all on their own, but I see Fayse’s hand in all of this. I believe her plan is coming to fruition.”

          “And who are the great powers?” Caladin asked.

          “Eldesia, Setsya, Kundreil and Kreet,” Philip said. “Powerful nations each. That is why we need to move fast. Once this guild is formed and a wish successfully made, I believe Fayse will use her champion to wish away my rebell—my loyalist forces.” Caladin chuckled. Philip had almost called himself a rebellion, something which he had chastised Caladin and several of his generals for doing on multiple occasions.

          “So you want to join the shadow council?” Caladin guessed.

          “Precisely,” Philip said. “If we are not on that council, the other great nations will not allow us to exist. Fayse needed the support of the other nations for her plan to work, you see? They had the resources to figure out what she was up to and stop her. But that means we can turn them against her. She might hate us, but if her allies force her to, she would have to accept us into this new council. The first step was getting Setsya to recognize us an independent nation. I believe Rusalia is sufficiently cowed and will not act against us. Now we need to approach the other nations and get their support as well. Not only do they need to agree that we are a nation, but they need to support us getting a seat at the table. If they all agree, Fayse will have no choice.”

          “I see, so we’re already one down then?” Caladin asked.

          Philip nodded. “Only two more to go. With you by my side, I’m certain we can do it. I am already in talks with Kreet.”

          “The dragon cultist?” Caladin asked. “Are they really a ‘great power’?”

          “They are,” Philip said. “And you would be a fool to underestimate them. The rumors are that they have actual dragons hiding down there, and regardless of whether or not that is true, they have the most powerful chronomancers in the world. Chronomancy is a very powerful harmonic.”

          “So is pyromancy,” Caladin said. “In fact, I came up with a new spell earlier today that I think makes all their time magic irrelevant.”

          “Did you, now? I did not know you could make new spells so easily.”

          “I’m not sure why everyone else seems to think it’s so hard,” Caladin said. “I think this spell is going to change everything. You should ask Falidor about it. He saw me cast it. I’m calling it Pyroclastic Destruction.”

          Philip raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure a name like that is appropriate? It makes it sound like it has the power of a volcano behind it. If the spell flings lava, why not call it Lava Toss?”

          Caladin busted out laughing. “Sorry,” he said. “But you really have no idea. Trust me. The name is appropriate.”

          “If you say so,” Philip said. “So, do I have your support then? Do you want to help us join this shadow council to control the Conflux?”

          “I don’t see what choice we have,” Caladin said. “If Fayse is able to control the Conflux without us, she would be able to destroy us with ease.”

          “Good,” Philip said. “You understand what is at stake. Then as soon as I work something out with the dragon-kin, I will send for you again. I want to give Rusalia time to spread the word of your accomplishment defeating her champion. It will give Kreet a reason to take us seriously.”

          “I’ll be ready,” Caladin said. “I think once I get this spell figured out, I’ll be completely unstoppable.”

          “As you say,” Philip nodded.

          “And sir?” Caladin asked before leaving. “Don’t use my family as a bartering chip again.”

          King Philipus smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Caladin.”

          Caladin left the mana well with his new belt. He had a new spell to try out and twice as much mana as before. He was feeling pretty confident. When he returned to the village, that confidence was shattered. In the center of town, little Jenny—the undead girl Caladin had brought back to life—was locked in a wooden cage.

          “What is going on?” Caladin demanded.

          “Caladin! Thank goodness you’re back!” Janet said. “We didn’t know what to do.”

          “What?” Caladin asked. “What happened?”

          “Jenny,” Janet said. “S-she…” Janet had tears in her eyes.

          Kelly stepped forward; a braid of garlic wrapped around her neck. “Jenny killed her mother,” Kelly said.

          Caladin’s mouth dropped open involuntarily. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. And guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.

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