by Jon Bender
“You are going to pay for that!” he screamed in anger and pain as he paced near the door. “I was only going to cut you up enough to weaken you and then consume you quickly, but now you are going to feel yourself slip away, bit by bit. Then I will walk out of here to Adriana. Won’t she be surprised when I slide this into her stomach?” he said, chuckling and hefting the sword.
Jaxom slowly pulled himself up and stepped back to the other door. He needed to buy time for the pain to ebb. As he struggled to slow his breathing, his twin’s words echoed in his mind. The threat to Adriana gave him new strength, but something else stood out as well. He did not want to kill Jaxom but consume him. Whatever magic he was made of, Jaxom was still in control of his own body, a body the double would need. This fight was the same battle he had been waging from the beginning, a battle for control. The revelation helped to clarify his thoughts. But how could he beat someone who could foresee being anticipated?
“You can’t kill me, or you die as well,” Jaxom said, voicing his thoughts.
The other him stopped his pacing near the door and locked his angry eyes on Jaxom. “That is one part of you I am going to miss. Your lack of ego is grating at times, but mine gets me to say things I shouldn’t.”
Jaxom glanced to the bones of the dead mage. This was not a test unless he could pass. His double swirled his blade in a circle at his side, a flamboyant display that Jaxom detested. He would never win with a sword. Standing straight, he decided to gamble with his life, slowly lifting the sword up to point at his twin. The other, seeming to lose interest in the pain at his hip, watched intently as Jaxom slid the blade back into the sheath.
His double sighed, shook his head, and replaced his own sword. “I had hoped to carve on you a little more before we got to this point. It would have been easier on both of us if you were too weak to resist,” he said in a calmer tone.
As the last word left his double’s lips, his hand came up, casting the coil. Jaxom reacted quickly to match him. Their coils met in the air, the four columns of white smoke entangling as each man struggled to gain an advantage. Jaxom felt his hopes rise now that they were evenly matched. They struggled against each other, neither able to switch casts or risk being overtaken. One would attempt to slip a coil past only to be stopped and forced back until balance was restored. They stood like that for what seemed an eternity. Jaxom felt sweat trickle down his neck. The strain of maintaining a constant flow of magic began to wear him down. Already, he had lost ground as his twin’s coils inched closer. Looking into his double’s face, he saw no signs of tiring. His twin’s body was not flesh and blood and did not seem to require rest. Jaxom redoubled his efforts, drawing in the limit of energy he could hold only to be matched again. He needed more power, but when the crystal had taken the corruption from him, it had taken that extra strength as well. Regardless of his limitations, he tried to draw in more, and from somewhere, a small trickle came. The energy was there, at the back of his mind. He pulled harder on the thread and felt himself become colder, disconnected, even as his coils pushed the double’s back. The look on his twin’s face went from concentration to worry. Jaxom was winning. He drew more and more, the power flooding more deeply until his magic was prepared to wrap around his other self and crush the life from him. Then Jaxom’s mind froze, and he stopped. He understood. That energy he was drawing came directly from the part of him that had been torn away, the part he wanted so badly to be free of, the part he was even now struggling to destroy.
He saw his own features on the other go from panic to victory. “You know now that you can’t destroy me.”
Jaxom faltered. Some of the power slipped back into his other self and allowed him to push back. Would it not be better to die here than allow it out into the world? Thoughts of Adriana and Corin flooded his mind. Could he leave them to face Or’Keer alone? And what of Vaniece? He had only just found her. Jaxom looked up into those eyes that represented the worst he could be and accepted it.
Power rushed through him. He drew in every last bit until his body felt aflame. His twin’s mouth opened in a scream but nothing came out. His body began to fade. Jaxom released his casts and took a deep breath. His emotions were now far removed from him. Though he knew he should care, even that emotion was out of reach. All that was left was the rational part of him that reasoned the threat was over. His body was weakened from the fight even if he could not feel it. The shock of being rejoined with the other part of himself caused him to lose his grasp on the power altogether. Its absence allowed his true self to return from the recesses of his mind to an exhausted body. His twin was gone. Jaxom exhaled in a mixture of relief and defeat. When the corrupted part had been separated from him, he had felt a sense of freedom that was now gone. Already, he could feel his magic waiting to be used, but it did not press to gain control. Once he was rested, it would return to try again. The blood was drying at his chest, mostly sealing the shallow gash. Seeing no other obvious injuries, he turned to the door.
This time it opened easily when he pulled the handle and stepped into the hall. His trek down the tunnel went quickly as he prepared for whatever came next, unsure whether he could withstand another trial. Approaching the door, he once again considered turning back. Not giving himself the chance to reconsider, he pulled it open and stepped in. When the glow-sticks came to life, he knew that he did not have the energy for another trial. Whatever came next would likely finish him.
This room was square instead of circular. There were no remains of fallen mages here, and no other door except the one he had come through. The fact might have disturbed him when he began, but now he was too exhausted to care. Once inside, he did not even bother trying to open the door he had come through.
At the center of the room was a black stone cube, tall enough to reach his waist. Its polished surface reflected the light from the stone fixtures of mages. Tucked into small alcoves high up on the wall, several pairs of softly glowing white eyes belonging to birds like the one he had seen the first night in the forest watched him with indifference. When he stepped forward, the stone cube began to shimmer as circular bands of white waves moved slowly from the bottom upward. The circles of wavy lines tightened once they reached the top, becoming an ever-shrinking dot of white that was then replaced by the next. Jaxom drew in as much energy as he could safely hold and remain in control of his actions. He had come too far to not fight until the end.
He prepared to meet whatever might come. Soon, the top of the cube began emitting a dull grey light. The light gathered into the shape of a man. Not waiting for the form to become a threat, he cast the coil and struck without thought. The coil hardened, its sharpened point penetrating the center of the form. The spear pierced deeply, erupting out the back but doing no apparent damage. He released the cast and sent forth the blight. The coiling black and white smoke broke into a hundred smaller tendrils and wrapped around the now fully formed man. The tendrils passed cleanly through the apparition. Jaxom released the cast and considered drawing his sword then dismissed the idea and waited.
Jaxom stared at the man who was now clearly discernable. He was at least twice Jaxom’s age with shoulder-length grey hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes held no emotion. His black robes marked him as a death mage of old, but even this did not interest Jaxom. All that concerned him was finding a way to destroy this newest threat.
“Are you done?” the man asked, sounding almost bored. Jaxom recognized the tone, having used it with Laiden. He remained quiet. “Good. Now that you know you cannot harm me, we can discuss your future.”
“Who are you?” Jaxom asked. His voice sounded hollow, like someone else was speaking.
“My name was Marnick. I am one of the mages responsible for the creation of this place and the one chosen to remain here. I grant final judgment over those who pass the trials.”
“Was?” Jaxom asked.
Marnick nodded and spread his arms, allowing Jaxom to view his form fully. As the mage’s hands passed o
ut of the light, they disappeared, returning only when he lowered his arms once more. “After death, my brothers and sisters bound my essence here in this world, binding it to this stone to watch over the fortress and conduct the trials.”
“I have passed your trials. What more is there?” Jaxom demanded.
Marnick seemed to sigh. “The trials were meant to prepare you. You must convince me that you are not a threat to world, that you can maintain control when it would be so much easier to simply give in. A death mage who goes through the transformation, as you have, can be a destructive force. Such a person is a threat to all.”
“How do I convince you?” Jaxom asked.
“Tell me, what do you think these trials were for?”
Jaxom considered the question carefully before answering. “The first tested my will against yours, to see if I was strong enough to control my magic and not lose myself,” Jaxom said.
Marnick nodded. “Most do not survive the first trial. Those who face it must choose between using their magic fully or trying to win without it. Many are too afraid to use their abilities and do not survive. Others give over completely, which dooms them in the second tower. What do you remember of the second trial?”
An image of Corin’s sorrowful face flashed through Jaxom’s mind. He had almost killed his brother. The thought flooded him once more with anger. “That world was not real.”
The mage frowned. “The trial was to determine if you would allow your heart to guide you. You had to choose between freedom and subservience. The trial showed that, regardless of the situation, you would not impose your will over others even if you know it to be the right decision. Men must be allowed to make their own choices and not be subjugated to the will of mages. We made that mistake once, and all suffered for it. If you had chosen to enforce your will, you would have remained in that world to suffer the consequences.”
“What of the last?” Jaxom demanded, impatiently.
Marnick’s brow furrowed with annoyance. “The last tower was to determine if you could accept what you are. Tell me, what did you feel when you faced the malevolence inside of you. What do you feel now?”
In that one question, Jaxom’s entire world came crashing down. He knew what he felt, what he had felt since the curse had taken hold. It scared him to know that he could become like Or’Keer, but that was not the secret he had kept even from himself. “I am afraid of what is inside of me!” he shouted. “I am afraid of what will happen if I cannot hold on, of what I might do to those I care about. I am afraid of what happens to them, to everyone, if I don’t try. Most of all, I am afraid because I enjoy it. I enjoy the power.”
Marnick smiled. “You have passed the final trial.”
Jaxom was stunned into silence. “That’s it? I tell you I’m afraid of my own power but still crave its use, and that’s enough?”
“I needed to know what is in your heart. There is no shame in wanting power. We are mages. To deny that is to deny ourselves, but you must understand the danger of gaining that power without restraint. I would have preferred that you approached this new strength with a cautious understanding, but fear will work just as well.”
“What if I had lied? What if you didn’t like what I had to say?” Jaxom said, afraid to hear the answer.
Marnick laughed. “I would have known if you lied, and I do like your answer. There is no need to discuss what would have happened otherwise.”
“I can still feel my other self, waiting to seize control.”
“Step closer to me and place your hands on the stone,” Marnick said.
Jaxom hesitated before moving forward a few steps and lifting his right hand to hover just over the smooth black surface. Marnick nodded encouragement, and Jaxom placed his hand on the stone. At first nothing happened, but then he felt a gentle warming beneath his palm. Soon, the warmth became an uncomfortable heat that traveled the length of his arm and into his chest. From there, it spread to the rest of his body. His hand began to burn, but when he tried to pull away, the stone would not release him. The burning increased, and he jerked to try and free his hand. As the pain grew unbearable, he dropped to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. A scream ripped from his lips. He felt skin melting away to leave exposed nerves that sent new waves of agony through him. The heat in his chest flamed, and his heart raced. Kneeling, unable to do anything, he felt like he was dying. Then his hand suddenly came free, and he fell backward to the floor. He lay there, staring up at the roughly carved ceiling as the heat and pain faded. When the burning in his hand eased to a dull throbbing, he risked a look, fearful of what he would see. He slowly raised his hand, expecting to find only charred bone, but the limb was whole. Branded into his palm was a strange symbol with two curving lines side-by-side and one crossing over both. The skin was red and painful to touch, but even that was fading as the brand slowly took on the look of an old scar.
“What did you do?” he asked, slowly rising to his feet and flexing his hand. The branded skin was tight.
“I have sealed away part of your magic, so that you will no longer need fear losing yourself to it. You will still be able to control much of your power though it now has limits.” Marnick said with satisfaction.
“What limits?” Jaxom said quietly, staring down at his hand in amazement.
“That is up to you. The seal will warn you when you are drawing in more power than can be controlled. If you ignore the warning, the seal will be broken, and the fate you fear will come to be.”
Jaxom felt something different in himself now. The itching at the back of his mind was gone. He opened himself up to the power of death, letting the energy flow through his body. Slowly at first, then faster and in a greater amount. The brand on his palm began to warm as he continued to draw in power. The more he pulled, the hotter it became. He stopped, holding onto the energy he had gathered. It was more than he had ever controlled before without succumbing to its influence.
“So what now?” Jaxom asked, still stunned to be in suddenly in full control of his magic once more. Marnick looked over his shoulder to the wall behind him. A portion of the stone slid back to reveal another spiraling staircase leading up. “Another trial?”
“This one leads not in but out. Your friends are waiting for you, but you must not speak of what you experienced here. To do so would only endanger those who come after you.”
“Why? Wouldn’t it be better if they were prepared?”
Marnick seemed to consider his words before speaking. “If you had known what the trials demanded, would that knowledge have affected how you faced them?”
Jaxom tried to imagine meeting the trials with the foreknowledge of how to pass them. “I won’t tell them,” he said.
Marnick nodded once and quickly began to fade. Within seconds, he was gone, the light that had surrounded him dimming until the cube was once more just another piece of stone. Jaxom followed the stairs up, still holding onto his magic. The brand on his hand continued to emit heat, and he reluctantly released the energy he contained. As the power left him, he felt tired, and his body ached, but at the same time, he felt stronger than ever. Emerging in the thick forest, he moved away from the staircase as a heavy boulder slid into place, hiding the exit. Outside, the thick humidity settled on him like a heavy cloak, but he did not mind. He had come to free himself of the curse, and he had succeeded. He would not become something worse than Or’Keer.
It took him a moment to get his bearings. He was standing on the edge of the massive canyon, staring down at the fortress with its three towers. From this distance, he could not make out his friends, let alone call out to them. He reached out for the mind of his durgen, calling the risen. He felt a slight tug as the transformed animal lifted away. Before long, the durgen was gently settling its six clawed feet on the ground before him. Climbing into the saddle, Jaxom breathed deeply, appreciating the openness of the sky after the dark, claustrophobic rooms of the towers. He rose in the sky then dipped low, flying past the towers. Finally,
he spotted his friends. Their heads were lifted, all watching his approach.
He landed and jumped from the saddle, his excitement overcoming his fatigue. Adriana flew to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a long, deep kiss. “You look like you have been trampled by a herd of horses,” she said, breaking away for a breath. “What happened in there?”
Jaxom did not have time to answer before she kissed him again. This one lasted longer than the last. When she finally released him, she moved back a bit but slipped her hands into his and squeezed tightly. He saw the confusion in her face when she felt the raised skin of the brand, but she said nothing. Jaxom’s eyes settled on Laiden and Vaniece. One day, they may have to enter the fortress. Knowing what to expect could doom them to failure.
“I can only remember small parts,” he said. The look on Adriana’s face went from joy to worry. The others also looked doubtful, but Marnick’s warming had been clear. “All that matters is that it’s over. I am in control of my magic again,” he added.
“Finally!” Darian said. “Now we can get out of the damned heat and back into the real world.”