by Wolfe Locke
Then, suddenly, their respective ice and stone magic collided and merged together in a flash of darkness.
Notification: You have learned the duel ability “Frozen Lance.”
Details: Combining the powers of “Storm of Swords” with an Earth magical ability allows a second damage type of “Ice” to any Earth-based attack.
Covered in a layer of jagged ice, the boulder slammed into the golem’s back and crashed to the ground. It left a large dent in the golem’s iron armor, and the beast roared angrily. The very first sign they’d been able to damage it.
“It doesn’t like the cold!” Edd said. We can do this. “Colubra, if we attack it together—”
“Already on it,” she said, sprinting over to his side of the Arena. Working in unison, they cast volley after volley at the golem. Edd directed his ice at Colubra’s stone bolts as she threw them, the power of their duel ability freezing their respective magic into deadly projectiles.
Her stone gave his icicles additional power, and his ice allowed her bolts to pierce the golem’s armor. Slowly, the golem fell back toward Zekant’s end of the Arena. They were winning.
But it was taking too long. The effort required to sustain a constant barrage of attacks was draining all three of the Champions’ power quickly. Colubra’s scales were dark with sweat. She had started breathing hard even as she continued to launch bolts at the golem. They had to finish the fight soon before they ran out of magic completely.
“Any ideas?” Edd yelled to Selesius.
“Fresh out,” he panted, using his own ability to keep up Colubra’s power. “Can you do something like you did to the skeleton? With all the icicles?”
Razor Frost? Could Edd do it again with his power this depleted? He probed the source of his magic, his core, trying to figure out how much was left and how much he could demand of himself.
“I don’t know!” he said. “I can try. It might be ugly. This is the closest I’ve come to draining my magic reserves since the fight we lost the manticore.”
“Ugly’s better than dead!” Colubra shouted, shooting another flurry of rocks at the golem. “We may have injured it enough that whatever you do will destroy it!”
“Alright,” he said, backing away from the golem. “Keep attacking the golem. But fall back, don’t let it get close to you.”
The Champions did as he asked. Edd narrowed his eyes and focused on the golem, trying to tune out everything that wasn’t the enemy. It was dented from his and Colubra’s barrage of attacks but still very much alive.
Edd would need to make full use of all the power remaining to him if he wanted to win. After three consecutive battles, his reserves of magic were running dangerously low.
He dug down deep within himself and tried to summon Razor Forst. The power rose and crested within him like a wave— and then fell back again. He didn’t have enough left. He couldn’t do it.
Muttering expletives to himself, he tried again. Again the power rose, and again, it fell. The other Champions looked at him expectantly. They thought he could save them, but he couldn’t. Wondering how he was going to break the news, Edd made one more attempt. This time, when the magical wave reached its height, he felt everything else fall away.
The other Champions were gone. The Arena was gone. This was between him and the golem. Feeling a calm he hadn’t experienced since before Zekant had resurrected him, Edd grabbed the flow of magic and twisted it, molding it. He envisioned it wrapping itself around the golem’s body like a vine. Then, he released it.
It wasn’t Razor Frost, it was something else, and that something else was enough. Frost raced across the ground toward the golem as Edd sucked all the heat out of the air with a rush. Ice shards rained down around the creature as all the water in the air froze solid in seconds.
Selesius quickly threw up a shield to keep Edd’ attack from instantly killing Colubra. The golem barely had enough time to turn its head toward its attacker before it was covered in ice. Edd reached his skeletal arms out toward the Golem and clenched his fists, letting the essence of his ice magic flow.
With an awful cracking noise, the golem shattered into a thousand pieces. The enchanted armor was completely destroyed.
The demon duke escaped from its armored prison and turned on Edd, shrieking with hundreds of voices at once. It was a nebulous black cloud of shadow that fashioned itself into rough shapes which dissolved just as quickly as they had formed. It flew above Edd’ head, forming a great sharp-toothed mouth with a long and lolling tongue.
“You have freed us,” it hissed, reaching its shadow-tongue out toward Edd. “And it shall be the last thing you do. We will crush your bones and feast on the marrow within!”
Edd reached out to his well of power but found it completely empty. At least I didn’t pass out this time. He was tapped out. Resigning himself to his fate, he raised his sword high in a final salute and waited to die.
A low voice boomed out across the Arena. The voice of absolute power. “Enough!”
The demon turned toward the Dark Lord’s box. “Who speaks?”
“I, Zekant, a Lord of Pandemonium and ruler of the Great Empty. It is I who raised you from the depths of the Nether and I who fastened your spirit to this form. The undead skeleton is not to blame.”
Fury exploded as a seedling of nebulous, baleful rage soared high above the Arena as the demon raised itself into the air after that aura of hatred. It tried to fly toward Zekant, but a wall of scorching glacial fire drove it back. Edd blinked, impressed. The Dark Lord was more powerful than he could have imagined. The other Dark Lord’s appeared amused by the turn of events. The scarred man, most of all.
“Begone,” Zekant commanded. “Your role here is done.”
The demon flew toward Zekant again but was brought up short by the sheet of ice wall. It screeched, furious, and transformed into a swarm of locusts.
“I will not forget what you have done,” it buzzed. Then it dissolved into nothingness as the locusts flew off in all directions.
“What an arrogant fool. Mark that demon, I’ll tend to it later,” Zekant commanded to an attendant.
On the battlefield, Edd dropped to a knee, weakened by his long battle. “Thank you, Lord,” he rasped. “I owe you my life.”
“You do, many times over,” Zekant said. “You did well in the Arena today.”
Edd nodded, pleased.
“But the challenges ahead will be ten times more difficult,” Zekant went on. “You may look back fondly on this time in the days to come.”
And with that, he vanished into the shadowy doorway behind his viewing box. Edd sighed as the spider-monsters emerged from their hiding places to herd them back onto the elevator.
No matter what he did, it seemed things always got more difficult. The bar Zekant expected him to clear only grew higher the more he achieved.
Notification: Arena Battle “Three Waves”
Reward: Favor of a Lord of Pandemonium
Details: For surviving all three waves and providing an impressive performance, you have been granted the Favor of a Lord of Pandemonium.
The “Scarred Man,” Mr. November, has shown an interest in you.
Additionally, you have received Zekant’s Blessing. You are now completely immune to the effects of ice magic.
Chapter 20: Favor For A Lord
Zekant smiled to himself as he returned to his quarters. The skeleton’s abilities were progressing nicely, as were those of the other Champions. He might make supersoldiers of them yet.
Spider-monsters snapped to attention as he entered his spectral library. “Leave me,” he said, and they bowed low and scuttled out of the way. He needed solitude to ponder his next move.
The library, like the rest of Zekant’s glacial palace, was all black. The walls were covered with shelves holding books of every possible type— history, epic literature, books of spells and sorcery. Ornate sconces shaped like demon heads burned with green fire by the door.
A plush d
ais with black cushions beckoned from the center of the room, but Zekant ignored it and went straight to his desk. Pulling a heavy scroll from a massive heap of parchment strewn over the desk’s surface, he began to draw monsters. Perhaps he could create something truly unique for the next battle in the Arena.
A mirror on the opposite wall chimed. It didn’t reflect the room at all. Instead, its surface was the inky black of deep space. Zekant ignored its attempt to catch his attention, and it chimed again, more insistently.
He picked up a quill pen and started drawing, but the mirror refused to take the hint. When bells failed to capture his attention, the glass began to glow. Slowly, it built in intensity until the mirror was blinding bright, too bright to look at.
“What?” Zekant snapped when the mirror had illuminated the entire room with harsh white light.
“Lord Blue wishes to speak with you,” the mirror said in a low and silken voice.
“Tell her I’m busy,” Zekant replied.
“She insists,” the mirror said. “It is very urgent.”
Zekant rubbed his eyes. “Very well. Put her through.”
The mirror chimed again, and Ms. Blue’s face appeared. She seemed to be floating in a starless void.
“Sister,” Zekant said testily. “What brings you here?”
“I have a favor to ask of you,” she said. “May I come in?”
“If you insist. But just know my inner sanctum is not typically fit for visitors,” Zekant said.
With a flash of power, Ms. Blue was in the room and the mirror was empty. She was wearing full battle armor of burnished gold, although she was holding her helmet at her side. Her hair was messy, and her face was smeared with blood and dirt as if she’d just come from the practice ring. She looked around disdainfully at the papers strewn haphazardly around Zekant’s library.
“Couldn’t you call a slave to straighten things up a bit?” she asked, curling her lip with disgust.
“There’s an order to all of it, all that I do,” Zekant said. “I am in the middle of raising up soldiers for the war to come. It requires a great deal of planning. What did you come to ask me?”
Ms. Blue ignored him and looked around the room. She picked up a scroll and held it up. “What’s this?”
Zekant craned his neck so he could see what she was looking at. “New monster I’ve been working on. The top half is a powerful lizard. The bottom half is a rattlesnake. I’ll have a lion’s head with a thousand eyes.”
“Horrifying,” Ms. Blue commented without emotion.
“I have work to do. Get to the point. Why are you here?” Zekant asked.
Ms. Blue pursed her lips. “I’d like to see your Arena. I need one of my own.”
“You already have an Arena and an Arcanium,” Zekant replied.
“I need a better one. The war will not be easy. I will need my skills to be sharp. It would not be an Arena like this to raise soldiers,” she explained.
Zekant looked longingly at his pile of scrolls. But duty called, and this was his duty too. “Grab my hand. I’ll take you to see more of it. Only I can teleport in the depths of the Great Empty.”
She put her gold-gloved hand in his black-mailed one, and with a clap of thunder, they were in the empty Arena.
She looked around, face impassive. “Impressive. How long did it take you to build this?”
“A day. A millennium. Time has no meaning here,” Zekant said with a shrug. “And I am at the height of my powers in my own realm. So, not long. Hours in your time maybe.”
“Will your soldiers be of use?” she asked.
“They will be. They’ve shown some promise at least in their ability to handle Infernal type threats, but more than that, they are not ready for.”
“They will have to be ready soon,” Ms. Blue said. “Or else the whole project is useless.”
“I am aware,” Zekant snapped. “I have five hundred in training for the first wave. They have passed their first series of tests. Soon, the winnowing will begin. When I am done, I hope to have two or three hundred elite soldiers to fight alongside us.”
“So few,” Ms. Blue said. “You do know what is coming for us? Aeon has gathered most life in the cosmos, corrupting it with his Necrophage.”
“I am also aware, but this is the first wave,” Zekant said. “There will be others to follow.”
He tried not to show his impatience as Ms. Blue took her time looking around. His sister was powerful, but she could be exacting and often left him with a headache.
“How do they train?” she said.
“Below the surface of the Arena in the Training Grounds. Would you like to see it?”
She nodded, and Zekant snapped his fingers. A pool of water formed in the sand of the Arena. Instead of their reflections, it showed the Champions doing drills and fighting each other one on one. The Dark Lord zoomed in on Edd as the skeleton shot icicle after icicle at a practice dummy.
“One of my most promising candidates,” Zekant said. “A former necromancer. He has exceeded my expectations. I was surprised. The stock of souls I had access to is not the quality I would have preferred.”
If he had hoped to impress Ms. Blue, he was disappointed. She looked bored as she watched Edd train. Then she stepped in the water, dissolving the image entirely.
“I need an Arena,” she repeated. “But not like this one.”
“Please elaborate then. Why did you want me to show you this?” Zekant asked.
“When I vouched for Mr. November, I saw what Aeon did to Amarath. I am not sure the God can be defeated. If we hope to have a chance, we need to be far more powerful than we are now. New techniques and new methods of training are required. I need this, we all need more power,” she said.
“You think I do not know that?” Zekant responded.
“I am more concerned with myself,” Ms. Blue said stiffly. “My current practice is not enough. I need a Tower, much like the one Helion possesses, but I am to be its climber. Only you can create something of the size and scope that I require, and only you have the ingenuity to fill it with challenges that will test my true abilities.”
Zekant thought longingly of the creatures he had planned to create that night for his own Arena.
“When do you need it?”
“As soon as possible. As you said, for you, time has little meaning,” she responded coyly.
“Very well. Take me to your realm. I can raise the tower tonight.”
Her armored hand grasped his arm, and with a clap of thunder, they were in Ms. Blue’s territory on the outer rim of Pandemonium in the shadow of her Arcanium.
Where Zekant’s Arena was flat black stone, Ms. Blue’s was gold polished to a high sheen. Every surface gleamed with refracted light. Zekant squinted, unused to the brightness. Ms. Blue had asked him to create this Arena for her, and she had specifically requested that it match her golden armor.
“The Tower can go here,” she said. “In the center of the Arena. If you need materials, you shall source them from my realm.”
Zekant shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling for the raw material and power available to him in the outer rim.
There was more than enough. Clenching his fist and speaking a word of power, he raised a massive tower from the Arena’s surface. It was tall— taller than the eye could see— and, like the Arena itself, covered in gold. Ms. Blue looked at it impassively as the dust settled.
“How many floors?” she said, all business.
“Many,” Zekant replied. “If I told you the number, it would make things too easy for you. You will need to face the challenges within without knowing when they will end or how long might be left.”
Ms. Blue nodded in approval. “When can I start?”
“It might take a few days,” Zekant said testily. “I am very busy with my current undertaking. It is of the utmost importance to our victory. As you know.”
“My training is also important,” she retorted.
“I know,” Zekan
t said. “But you are asking a great favor of me. I will need to populate each floor of the Tower with a separate challenge, an untold number of worlds, all while inventing new challenges for my soldiers to battle in the Arena.”
Ms. Blue scowled. “How long? Or was your comment about time an empty boast.”
Zekant sighed. “Four days.”
“Too long,” she said, shaking her head. “I need to be ready as soon as possible.”