by Jon Bender
Someone cleared their throat, and he turned to find Vaniece and Alimar standing at the door. Alimar wore his usual look of superiority. He had been leader of the death mages since Jaxom had created the empire. He had refused to join the Mages’ Council after the consolidation, preferring to keep their school separate from the others. Their school now held over fifty full mages with Vaniece as his second. His sister had long ago become one of the most powerful among them, and had earned respect among many for her fair and generous temperament. It was a good balance to Alimar’s cold and practical leadership style.
“What is it?” Jaxom demanded, annoyed with being bothered when he was visiting Da’san.
“Your brother had been found,” Vaniece said softly.
Adriana gripped his hand tightly, and he squeezed it back before standing. “Where is he?” Jaxom asked.
“Warin is bringing him back on the dragon now. They should be here within the hour,” Alimar said. Jaxom was torn between feelings of joy and sorrow at the news. He would once again lay eyes on Corin, but then he would have to pronounce judgment over him.
“Do you plan to lock him away, or bind him as you have me?” Da’san asked, with more than a bit of sarcasm in his voice.
Jaxom considered. If he could keep anyone from finding out that Corin was a captive, he could keep his brother locked away safely. Looking at the guard outside, Jaxom dismissed the idea. Many men had been involved in Corin’s capture. Short of killing them all, Jaxom could not keep word from getting out that he was keeping Corin alive.
“That is not an option,” Alimar interjected. “The former king has led an open rebellion for years. To be lenient would only throw the kingdoms into war.”
Jaxom locked his eyes on Alimar. The other mage met his glare for a time before finally breaking away. He was a powerful mage with the whole their school behind him, but Jaxom was the emperor. He had the loyalty of mages from across the ten kingdoms. In recent years, Alimar had shown increasingly reckless disregard for Jaxom’s authority, but challenging the emperor so openly was beyond the limit of his resources and ability. “Have him brought to the throne room along with all visiting nobles,” Jaxom said after a long pause.
When Alimar and Vaniece left, Adriana stood. Grabbing his shoulder, she turned him to face her. “You can’t execute him.”
“What choice do I have? Alimar is right. If I don’t, the kingdoms will rise up against me. Is that what you want?”
She lowered her eyes to the floor. “No,” she whispered.
Jaxom spared one more look for Da’san who regarded him with pity. The guard shut the door behind them and saluted once more. As he walked back to his throne with Adriana at his side, he struggled to think of a way to spare Corin and keep the ten kingdoms from tearing themselves apart. Still dwelling on the problem, he slumped into the gilded, high-backed chair to wait for his brother.
Adriana was sitting next to him in her own chair, and Alimar and Vaniece stood close by. The throne room was already filled with well-dressed nobles and robed mages when the towering double doors opened to admit Warin, Lexa, and Laiden. Warin’s bone arm held a coil that wrapped around Corin’s wrist, binding them together. His brother’s beard was long and ragged. His hair was unkempt, and his clothes bore many tears. He had spent the better part of a year attacking small units and trying to recruit others to join his rebellion, and the hard living showed. When the group stopped before them, Jaxom nodded to Warin who waved his hand. The coil disappeared, and the three death mages stepped away. Jaxom’s heavy crown slipped forward again, and he reached up to adjust it.
Corin smiled at him. “Now you know why I rarely wore mine, little brother.”
“I always thought that it was because your head was too big for it,” Jaxom said quietly.
Corin turned, taking in the room before facing him again. He admired the mural on the ceiling for a long moment. “You’re one to talk,” he laughed.
Jaxom smiled. It felt almost like old times. Jaxom sometimes struggled to remember what had led them down this path and made them enemies. All his choices had seemed the right decisions at the time, but now he was not so sure.
He stood and moved closer to Corin. “Swear your allegiance, and I will forgive your disloyalty,” he said. Whispers broke out from the crowd. If Corin kneeled before him, he might be able to handle the kingdoms through sheer force of will. They would not be happy, but it reduced the chances of an outright revolt.
Corin looked into Jaxom’s eyes, the hard lines of his face softening. “I will not, little brother. What you have done is wrong. You can’t tell people how to live their lives. You can’t command their freedom or faith away. I know you think you are doing the right thing, but the people will eventually turn against you. My answer is no.”
The whispers grew louder at Corin’s declaration. Jaxom wanted to shout at him, to scream that he was doing only what was best for all people. He wanted to hit Corin until he understood. The crowd began to shift, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adriana stand. All of the death mages, except Alimar, moved closer. He glanced about at the gathered people. He stepped back from Corin and drew his sword. The sound of ringing steel silenced the room. Corin continued to gaze at Jaxom with compassion. Jaxom’s mind raced to find another solution. He could not let all he had built come crashing down for the life of one man. Bringing the sword up, he aimed the tip at the right side of Corin’s chest. At the very least, he could make it quick. The room practically throbbed in anticipation. Killing Corin would simultaneously end the rebellion and secure Jaxom’s place as emperor. A killing strike would portray him as a leader who did not balk at executing his own brother to maintain the empire.
He glanced at Adriana. The torn look on her face reflected how he felt. What would she think of him if killed the one man who had been at his side his whole life? Who he loved and had loved him without condition? When she could offer no help, he turned back. Corin had not moved. Instead, his brother mouthed the words, “I forgive you.” Jaxom’s heart swelled with conflicting emotions—anger, fear, duty, love, and sorrow all rolled together. He could not think clearly. Shouting in rage and frustration, he whipped the sword high and swung with all his might, driving the tip down onto the stone and snapping the blade in two. The force of the impact knocked the heavy crown from his head to land with clang and roll away.
His yell echoed through the stunned room as he tossed the broken sword to the side and rushed forward. He clutched Corin, and his brother returned the embrace as his shoulders shook with laughter or tears. The room erupted in shouts and cries. The crowd pressed in. Near the dais, Alimar and Warin were locked in combat as they whipped their casts about. Lexa stood close by, her hand raised but unsure which of them to aid. Adriana had drawn her mace and moved closer to Laiden and Vaniece who were preparing casts of their own as the confusion surrounding them increased. A noble rushed from the crowd carrying a long dagger aimed at Corin’s back. Jaxom jerked his brother away and met the man, grabbing his wrist and turning the blade aside as his other hand slammed into the noble’s throat. He felt the cartilage crunch before the man dropped away, struggling to breathe. Jaxom kept his hand up, prepared to use his magic as other mages amongst the crowd raised their arms and nobles drew more blades.
His vision blurred, and the throne room disappeared. The people faded into darkness until Corin was all that remained, and eventually he too was gone. He found himself alone in the circular room, his upraised hand pointing at the second door. Lowering his arm slowly, Jaxom spun in place. The room was just as he remembered it. It had all been an illusion, a dream. Another test.
A feeling of relief, similar to that of waking from a nightmare, washed over him, but It quickly passed to be replaced by anger. What kind of test would force him to choose between saving the lives of the thousands and killing his own brother? He wanted to destroy something. He wanted an enemy to make itself known, so he could vent his frustration, but none did. Instead he was left to shake
with impotent fury. The only sound in the quiet room was his heart beating in his ears and is heavy breath. When his mind calmed, he looked at the remains surrounding him and understood why none bore the marks of a violent death. Had they made the wrong choice and remained trapped inside their own heads until they had died? Were they given more than one chance to choose correctly? What made his choice the right one?
Jaxom shook his head to clear them of questions. He would not find answers here. He walked decisively to the door. He pulled it open and was a quarter of the way down the hall before the door closed behind him. Slowing to a walk, he looked back over his shoulder and felt a shiver run through him. Could he really become a tyrant who forced his will on others? In the dream, everything had seemed so real, even the false memories had made sense. Every choice he had made seemed like the right one, but if that was the case, he would not have killed his friend and hunted down his brother like a criminal.
He was so lost in thought that he did not see the next door until he stood right in front of it. Reaching out for the handle, he froze, his fingers an inch from the cold iron. The second test had been more difficult than the first and had left him shaken to the core. He did not know if he was ready to face the third. After staring at the iron handle for a long time, he grabbed it with confidence and pulled. This was the last tower. He had to get through it. Pulling the door open, he stepped into the darkness.
The door did not slam behind him this time but swung gently closed. Jaxom had the disconcerting feeling that it was the lid of his tomb sliding into place. The statues came to life, brighter than before, revealing another empty room. This one held only one set of remains. Several of the bones had been broken, and one of the arms lay on the other side of the room. A large white crystal the size of a water barrel hung from the center of the ceiling. Its jagged and faceted surface reflected the light of the statues, creating a dazzling effect.
He stood for what seemed like an eternity, waiting. When nothing happened, he circled around to the side, not wanting to walk directly under the crystal. Something about it set his teeth on edge. On the other side of the room, he pulled on the door handle, but it would not budge. Sighing, he turned back to the room and finished his circle, ending where he had started. He tried the other door, but it would not open either. Taking slow steps, he moved underneath the strange stone and waited. The white surface began pulsing with light, the flashes accompanied by a thrumming sound that vibrated throughout his body. The throbbing of the light increased in speed and strength, blinding him, as the sound intensified until he could no longer stand it. Covering his ears and squeezing his eyes did nothing to stave off the assault. He dropped to his knees, the sound of his screams lost in the din. He struggled to raise his eyes to the crystal. A beam of pure white light shot down, engulfing his huddled form. He shut his eyes tightly, but the radiance soaked through his eyelids with the feeling of hot nails driving through his skull. When he felt on the verge of passing out, something began tearing at him from the inside. It was like his essence was being pulled from his body by force. His screams grew louder until he was sure he could finally hear himself over the thrumming inside his skull.
Without warning, everything went dark. The sound vanished. Jaxom collapsed to the floor and lay still for several minutes. With his cheek pressed against the cold stone, he drew in shuddering breaths as the pain receded. Slowly, his strength returned, and he found the courage to stand. The glow-sticks slowly began to radiate light again. The crystal was now dull and lifeless. Gaining his feet, he noticed that he felt better than he had in a long time, like some dark shadow had been lifted from him. Tentatively, he reached for his power. This time, there was no struggle as the power of death flowed easily into him. The magic was fully his to control, but also lesser than what it had been, like a portion had been taken.
With a great sense of relief, he walked to the door and pulled on the handle. It would not open. He tried again, wrapping both hands around the iron and tugging.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” a familiar voice said from behind. Jaxom let go of the handle and turned slowly. Standing near the other door was a man with short black hair and hard dark eyes. His muscular frame was covered in a black shirt and dark pants that he wore over tall boots. Sheathed at his waist was Jaxom’s skull-pommeled sword. His left hand rested comfortably on the grip. But it was his face that drew Jaxom’s attention, a face that held disdain and superiority. Jaxom could find no compassion there, no love… no humanity. “Did you think you could walk in here, have some white light cure you of me, and just leave?” Jaxom’s twin said.
“Who are you?” Jaxom demanded, stepping away from the door.
The other laughed quietly with dark mirth. “You know who I am. You have felt me with you all along, and you saw what I could do in that dry lakebed. If not for sweet Adriana, I would still be in control, and we would be on our way to face Or’Keer. Instead, you are here trying to destroy me, the one who can actually face the dark god. I am the better part of you. I know what has to be done, and I accept it. I don’t fight what we are or what we can become.”
Jaxom placed a hand on his sword. His twin smirked at the gesture “And what is that?” Jaxom asked.
“A being greater than men or mages, powerful enough to bring peace to all through strength. Powerful enough to beat down the dark god and take his place.”
Jaxom flashed back to his dream, realizing that he had seen such a world. “I don’t want to take Or’Keer’s place. I want to defeat him and return home, to live my life in peace.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I know your heart. Deep inside, you want to be the one who shows the world another way. You covet my power no matter how much you deny it. There is no need to be ashamed. You can’t hide the truth from yourself, from me.”
Jaxom searched himself for what his twin spoke of, examining his feeling deeply. He did relish the power he could control. That power could achieve great things, not just for him but for all men. Some would resist, but most would understand. He thought again of the dream. In that place, he had done just that. It had worked, but the peace was not worth the cost. He remembered Corin standing before him, prepared to die for what he believed in. People had a right to their freedom. No king, god, or even Jaxom himself, had the right to take that away.
The other sighed loudly. “I know that look. I had hoped you would see things rationally, but you are going to insist on hiding, denying who you are.” He drew his sword and brought it into a ready stance before him. “You leave me no choice.”
Jaxom readied himself. As he prepared to rush forward, his twin whipped up his hand, casting the blight. Jaxom was forced to roll to the side. The blight adjusted to follow, and he formed the barrier. Its shimmering surface appeared just in time as the swirling columns of black and white smoke slammed against it. Jaxom cast at the bones of the dead mage, snapping several in half and hurling them at his twin. His double released the blight and rolled to the side, avoiding the deadly missiles. Jaxom was up and running before his twin completed the roll, drawing his sword as he dashed across the room. His twin came out of the roll and parried Jaxom’s downward stroke in one fluid move.
With his blade locked over his crouching double, Jaxom looked down and saw the other smirk with contempt. “You can’t beat me,” he taunted. “I know every move you’ll make.”
Jaxom kicked out, clipping his double’s shoulder and forcing him to roll back before coming to his feet. Jaxom was ready this time, whipping the coil. The other just barely avoided the cast by stumbling to the side as the magic slammed into the stone floor. “That works both ways,” Jaxom said, imitating the smirk.
His twin let his sword speak for him. He moved in close with a series of controlled strikes. Each one came from a different angle, trying to find a hole in Jaxom’s defense. Jaxom used his body as much as the sword to evade the other’s attacks, letting his twin lead in the dance as he searched for a powerful counter. He ba
ck-stepped and moved to the side, keeping an eye on the nearest wall to prevent himself from being cornered. Jaxom finally saw an opening at the other’s leg when he raised his sword a bit too high, but in his eagerness to end the fight, Jaxom over-committed his attack. Just as the edge of his blade moved in, the leg pulled out of reach and the other’s elbow slammed down on the side of Jaxom’s head. Stunned, Jaxom wheeled back, flinging out his sword to ward off another attack and gain some space. When he regained his balance, his twin was standing where he had been, a contemptuous smile spread across his face. Infuriated, Jaxom went on the offensive. Each swing of his sword used more power and less control. The other countered each stroke with precision. A slash from the side was pushed high while one from above was forced to the left. Jaxom’s mind rushed ahead of the fight and tried to use the knowledge of his own skill against his twin. He began attacking high repeatedly, forcing the opposing blade to meet him there. For many long seconds, he never changed strategy, waiting for the inevitable which eventually came in the form of a boot aimed at his leg. Jaxom shoved hard against his twin’s blade and stepped inside of the kick, intending to slash at an arm. Too late, he realized the kick was not a kick but a counter-step inward. His double let go of his sword with one hand and punched Jaxom in the face.
“Don’t you see?” his twin asked, almost begging him to understand. “You can’t beat me. I know how your mind works.”
“That only means I know how yours works as well,” Jaxom said.
The other him raised an eyebrow. “If that was true, your little trick would have succeeded. Surrender now, and I promise to protect your friends. I will not harm them even if they oppose me.”
“You would still bring misery to countless others,” Jaxom spit.
“In the end, it would be for their benefit, but you’re too stubborn to accept it. I guess I have to do this the hard way.”
His double ran forward, his blade coming again in controlled strikes that Jaxom worked hard to fend off. The twin’s face remained neutral throughout the exchange, but when Jaxom saw his lips curl in a wicked grin, he knew he had made a mistake. The heel of his boot stepped on a bone that shifted under his weight. The misstep caused his sword to move out of place at a crucial moment. His double was there to exploit the opening, the tip of his blade flashing through the air as Jaxom threw himself back. The steel tore through his shirt and slashed his chest, sending waves of pain through him. Drawing quickly on his magic, he formed the black spheres of smoke that Vaniece used, unleashing two in rapid succession. His twin twisted his upper body, avoiding the first but not the second which hit him in the hip. As he hit the ground, the air burst from Jaxom’s chest. He struggled to draw it back in. From his position on the floor, he watched as the double stumbled back toward a door, his hand covering his hip.