What in the countless demonic planes was happening here? An ice lance barely missed Nadia's face, shattering as it hit the ground next to her and sending fragments of icy shrapnel flying. She winced as some of them struck her cheek, drawing blood.
How was she losing to him? This boy! She was a Summoner! A student of the great Izul himself! Acolyte of Naxannor!
This was a joke. A cruel joke. The boy had suddenly sprouted demonic wings and flown to the center of the room. From that point, he had been a spell-casting machine.
He had killed two of her pet wolves in an instant. And he had killed the third one with a sword. It had leapt into the air to take a bite, and Nadia was sure it would succeed, but it fell back to the ground without its face. The boy just stood there floating with a shimmering blade in his hand.
She jumped out of the way rolling on the floor as a fireball exploded behind her. She moved forward once again, as another followed.
This bastard! How was he casting so many of them? And in such quick succession. Rage filling her, she launched more blood stars at him, but he simply moved out of their way laughing.
Laughing! How dare he? And those wings! Those blasted wings!
Nadia screamed in pain as an ice lance struck her leg.
Every time she tried casting a spell capable of causing great amounts of damage, the boy switched to faster and weaker spells.
And if she let back even for a moment, he would launch those blasted fireballs at her. She was second in command to Dahl. She knew a hundred spells. He was a mere elemental mage who kept casting the same four spells over and over. And she was losing to him. She tried summoning more hellion wolves, but it left her open to his attacks.
The limit had been when he paused halfway in between a spell to talk to his pet hamster. She wanted to skin him alive! How dare he look down on her?
She wanted to summon an Ursvang, but her hellion wolves had eaten up most of the demonic essence she had stored.
Worthless pieces of shit! For all the good the hellion wolves did against him, they might as well have been rugs on the floor. She switched back to more conventional spells. She wouldn't be able to summon creatures or use the blood stars against him. She had used up all her shields. The boy had broken through them like they were paper.
The air around her grew hot. No! Hellfire!
She shrieked and jumped back as the air imploded in front of her in a blaze. She couldn't let even one spark touch her body. He definitely had demonic essence in him. She had never heard of a mortal being able to use hellfire so easily. Summoners could gather demonic essence, but they couldn't make it burn as easily as demons did.
Perhaps he was a demon spawn?
In any case, all her magical energy was being spent in shield spells, while her physical energy was being drained running around like a cornered rat.
She heard footsteps from below. Was it Edwin or Lazrus? or both of them? The three of them would be able to kill this little shit.
No, she decided. She would take him alive. There was still plenty of Razhl's mold left over from using on Toskk. She would torture him to death. She smiled with anticipation as the basement door opened. The boy seemed to be glancing at the door.
"Lorian!" came a voice.
It belonged to neither Edwin nor Lazrus.
The color from her face drained. Her lips quivered with the realization that she had lost this battle. The boy was distracted. She started casting her teleportation spell.
"She's getting away!"
The fire. She felt a stream of it strike her disrupting her concentration. Her face. It was on fire. She still managed to complete the spell as the world went black in a flash.
*
Nadia opened her eyes and vomited. She hated teleportation. She recoiled in disgust as she felt the charred skin on her face, and vomited some more.
Where was she? The stairs. The stairs to the second level. She hadn't gotten too far. She needed to get away, quickly.
Master Dahl. She needed to find him and let him know. He would take care of this little shit.
She was scrambling up the stairs as she felt cold steel enter her throat.
She tried to scream, but only blood came out. She rolled over and saw a boy.
Not a boy. This one was just a child.
She had been defeated by a boy. And then killed by a child.
She tried laughing as her mind went blank and her world became dark.
*
Stupid woman, thought Riven. She had nearly scared him to death when she appeared out of nowhere.
Had he been standing a little farther ahead, she would have landed right on top of him. And she looked heavy too. Her face seemed half burnt, which had also surprised him.
She also died with a scary smile on her face. Like some madwoman.
He could have let her live, but she seemed to be a Summoner. He wanted them all dead anyway. But he had to be more careful while sneaking around in the corridors.
That was the annoying thing about mages. Thieves were much nicer that way. They were more treacherous and hard to follow, but they never appeared out of thin air. He was about to step over her corpse and walk away before the voice screamed in his head.
"Shut up!" he hissed back at the voice.
The book! Take the book! The woman has the book! screamed the voice in his head.
"What book?" asked Riven as he searched the dead woman's corpse.
Tucked away in the woman's robes he found a thin leather bound book with some kind of...face on it. Or a crude drawing of one.
Looks like a wolf, thought Riven.
The book felt very nice to the touch. Like skin. He flipped through the pages of the book and found them all empty.
"Stupid voice," said Riven.
He had more important things to do.
He was tempted to toss away the book just to spite the voice, but his hands weren't obeying him. Instead he found that his hands had already tucked the empty book away inside his satchel.
Anyway, he could deal with the book later. The voice was rarely wrong about these things.
But this wasn't the time for empty mysterious books.
This was the time for revenge. To make everyone pay.
His plan had been going well so far. He slowly stole his way to the main door soon after the noise started. His work was made easier by the fact that some of Renal's men too had chosen that path. They cleared the way of whatever few guards remained.
Once he got inside, however, moving was a little more difficult than he had anticipated. The entire place was a mess. The basement and the first level of course were the worst. That was where the mages were fighting. And all the big ugly wolf-like creatures were.
It had taken him a good hour to make it to the second level.
The mage with the voice was there on the first level. Riven didn't want to see him. His voice kept warning him that the mage was dangerous, and he somehow made Riven...uncomfortable.
Besides, it was almost time for the final part of his plan. After that, he could go look for Toskk.
Or whatever's left of him, said the voice.
"Shut up!" yelled Riven out loud.
The voice had been trying to convince him that Toskk was dead, but Riven refused to listen. He could somehow feel it. Toskk was still alive. As much as he wanted Toskk, it scared him to know that he desired revenge more.
The guild had three levels in total, not counting the basement. He only needed to get to the second one. Most of it was deserted anyway, except for some of Darius's men, who seemed to be hiding in the shadows with their crossbows.
The voice told him where these men were, so Riven could avoid them easily.
He finally found a nice empty room. It appeared to be a study of sorts. It looked too dark to tell anyway.
Riven walked to the window and opened it.
Perfect!
He could see a nice view of Archon from here. Several of the buildings surrounding the area were a single level only, so this on
e gave him nice elevation.
Now for the final part of his plan. He hated the Summoners, he hated Darius, but he also hated all the Black Ravens.
Renal or Darius. Either of them winning would still leave half his enemies alive. That just wouldn't work.
Taking a deep breath, Riven pulled out the enchanted pouch from his bag. Both Toskk and Daed had warned him to never open the pouch. Ever.
But there were exceptions. And both of them were probably dead anyway. Which went to show why listening to them was a bad idea.
It had grown bigger. And warmer. There were so many cracks on it now. But it still looked more beautiful than the first time Riven had seen it.
He felt the hair on his neck stand up and goosebumps pop up all over his body.
He knew that a pair of very ancient, and very angry eyes had just turned to look in his direction.
He could feel their gaze getting stronger. And closer.
"Here dragon, dragon," sang Riven, holding the golden egg to the open window.
*
"Glad to see you alive and well!" said Gale, slapping him on the back.
Lorian winced in pain. He wished people would stop doing that. He didn't have the wound anymore, but the pats on the back, however well-intentioned, were causing a nervous reaction and making him wince.
The room was filled with Renal's men. Most of the thieves had died, as had some of the lieutenants. Except for Kugan, all his major pieces seemed to be alive.
The chessboard, as it looked now, pleased Lorian.
He would have liked to kill the woman, but she was bound to be broken after this.
And from what Lorian could tell, she was too unstable to make a good mage. Easily thrown off balance. Very easily taunted. She could summon much stronger creatures than the others, and her protective spells were far stronger than them, but her offense was severely lacking. She seemed to know only large, heavy-hitting spells, that took too much time to cast.
Lorian had laughed when he saw her trying several times to complete the same spell. Even Orcus had recognized the pattern. The burning red stars were probably the only good offensive spell she had. And considering they were slower than the other Summoners', she should have practiced more.
Master Thaugmir had beaten this into all his apprentices' minds. Practice the spells that you know. Keep practicing them until you can actually cast them in your sleep. Knowing a wide variety of spells might be useful in more situations, but you'll never win a battle.
Lorian had been surprised during his earlier days when Master Thaugmir had made them cast the same basic spells over and over and over again. Until they were sick and tired of it.
But several years later, he understood that that was how you became perfect and that was how your magical energy grew.
Both Amadeus and Gawain had shown him that as well. They were certainly accomplished mages who could cast a wide variety of spells, but they had honed their staple spells to utter perfection.
The same pillar of black light that he had seen Amadeus cast, had been cast by the idiot necromancer who died, but there were worlds of difference between their quality. The strength.
The woman who just attacked him, sadly, hadn't understood that. From the vast number of spells she had tried casting, she seemed to be one who thought that you could just learn one spell and then move on to the next. Lorian had learned new techniques, such as his way of casting manipulation spells and chaining his elemental spells. But he never ignored the basic spells. The woman would probably have done better if she was paired with another spellcaster who could complement her skills. She was overconfident in her dueling abilities and chose to engage Lorian alone.
He didn't even need to chain his spells much to defeat her. He could have done so simply alternating between his fireball and manipulation spells for strength and speed.
He hoped Dahl would be a better opponent; otherwise he was in for a boring night.
"All right, listen up!" shouted Marcus.
Renal had made him the leader of this offensive, it seemed. Lorian wondered why. Did Renal have other things on his mind? He seemed to be talking in whispers with the man Ceívar, who seemed upset about something.
Marcus began talking about how the thieves would split up when they went to the final level. The plan was the same as before. Three waves. There would be one team that would hunt down Darius. The remaining thieves, five in number, would head up and clear the level of any ambushers lying in wait. Lorian had been picked to go in the final third wave along with Illazehra. Adrian, the demon hunter, Ceívar and six of the thieves would go in as part of the second wave.
Renal and Ceívar still seemed to be talking agitatedly.
"Hey," said Lorian, poking his robes where he felt Orcus.
"Hmm?"
"Can you hear what they're saying?" asked Lorian, looking at Renal and Ceívar.
"I already am. You should be too as well. It won't matter if you have the senses of an arch-demon if you don't train them."
"For the thousandth time, I get it. But can you tell me what they're talking about?"
"You'd be surprised. Those two have some interesting secrets."
"Tell me."
"Well, it seems both of them are capable of much more than they've shown. I don't know how or why. But Ceívar is telling Renal not to display his abilities too openly. Apparently, Gale already knows, and Ceívar is afraid that others might find out too."
Interesting, thought Lorian.
"Demon hunter!" Orcus screamed into his ear.
It took Lorian less than a second to realize the meaning.
He lunged sideways and felt a sword slice the back of his shoulder. It had missed his old wound. Barely.
The pain caused his wings to sprout almost reflexively. He pivoted and flew back several steps to watch the demon hunter going for his crossbow.
*
"What the fuck are you doing?" shouted Gale as he rushed forward and grabbed and locked the demon hunter's hand.
The man had been reaching for his crossbow. Had the idiot lost his head? Two other thieves rushed in and disarmed Crassus, pinning his arms behind him. One held a blade to his throat, threatening him.
"Are you all right?" asked Gale. The boy seemed to be trembling. Gale couldn't tell if it was fear or anger.
"Would you care to explain?" asked Renal coldly.
The demon hunter spat on the floor at Renal's feet.
"Bastards like you lot are the worst. You've all seen him. Seen what he is. Yet you willfully ignore it, 'allying' with him because it serves your purpose. People like you are the reason my homeland—"
He never completed the sentence.
Gale saw a large, shadowy claw with long fingers reach out grab the man lifting him into the air. One violent crush and Gale saw the man's eyes pop out of their skull. He heard the sickening crunch of a hundred bones grinding against each other and breaking.
The claw disappeared as soon as it appeared. Crassus dropped to the ground, twisting as if he had no bones at all, his face swollen to twice its normal size. A pool of blood began to form underneath him.
Complete silence in the room.
All of them were staring at Lorian, who was breathing heavily and still shaking with rage. He had one hand raised in front of him. The hand from which the claw had just appeared. They were still standing in silence when Lorian spoke.
"I'm different I'll admit. I have my own secrets, as do many of you here," he said, looking in the direction of Renal and a startled Ceívar. "But that doesn't mean I'm not on your side. If you want me to leave—"
"What are you talking about?" asked Marcus. "I would have done that prick in myself if you hadn't!"
Several murmurs of agreement from the other thieves. Especially the assassins. Lorian had probably saved their lives, thought Gale.
The demon hunter, on the other hand, had already served his purpose. He was good, but he wasn't as exceptional as Ceívar or Renal. Or even some of the assass
ins in the room. He wasn't worth trading Lorian for. If anything, the boy had just proven that he was their best bet in succeeding.
Gale had never seen magic like that before. He wondered what else the boy was capable of.
"Ceívar!" shouted Marcus. "You're to stick close to the boy and see that nothing happens to him."
*
"I'm different?" asked Orcus, imitating Lorian's voice. "Did you actually say that? If you're going to be a renowned mage and be in books, you're going to have to come up with better things to say than that."
"I couldn't think of anything else! I'll feed you to one of those wolves if you repeat it," said Lorian.
He knew they needed him, so he probably didn't need to say anything. But it helped to play a victim. They were already fishing for a reason to keep him. Especially Marcus. He seemed proud of the way this operation was going so far. He heard one of the thieves say that he would be given his own guild-hall if this operation succeeded.
"We're almost done," said Lorian as they reached the stairs and waited.
"Done? You've yet to face Dahl. I can tell you've wasted more energy than you thought you would have by now. Dahl probably hasn't even broken a sweat."
Damn it, that was true. There was more time before the signal would be given for him. Adrian's group had just taken the stairs.
He tried controlling his breath and relaxing. He closed his eyes, trying to empty his thoughts. Every bit of magical energy he could recover would help. He would have to lay low until he met Dahl.
He looked at the thief standing next to him. Ceívar. He seemed capable enough. That, and he had survived till this point. It meant something. Lorian would have to make use of him and conserve his strength.
Chapter 75
"Lorian. You're sure of this?" asked Coran, emphasizing each word.
Nazer, the Summoner who had gone ahead before all of them, was being tended to by Adrianna. He had barely escaped with his life and was severely burnt and bleeding.
"Yes, Lorian! I've told you his name five times already!"
Lorian. What were the odds? Coran didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry.
Two of the Summoners were dead. Lorian had slain Nadia, nearly killed Nazer and destroyed an Ursvang. He knew the young mage to be strong. But this—this was just ridiculous. Had he already mastered the Lumen?
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