Trying to drink a potion mid-fall would no doubt have similar effects to the Voidbolger’s breath attack.
The Voidbolger was making an ungainly attempt to swim through the air toward Hal. Inky tendrils wormed through the air as it slowly came closer.
Remembering his high school physics, Hal stopped trying to correct himself as he fell with his arms splayed out. He tucked in his arms to his sides and pointed himself straight as an arrow.
As ridiculous as it seemed, he fell faster than the dramatically heavier - but much larger - Voidbolger. Its tendrils tried to ensnare him, but he was already gone.
The monster receded into the darkness, just a scattered bit of blue light in the distance.
It had seemed as if the platform was descending for an incredibly long time, and so Hal wouldn’t have been surprised if the floor of the great cavern came up and ended his life any second.
Instead, a pair of strong hands grabbed him about his chest, and his fall slowed. “Quite a lot of faith you placed in me,” Besal scolded. “Or was your plan to dash yourselves against the rocks below before your adversary could do it for you?”
“It was a calculated risk,” Hal said.
“We both know you are terrible at math.”
“I didn’t say it was a good risk.”
As Besal spread his great wings out wide to slow their fall, the Voidbolger streaked past them like a falling star. It crashed into the ground less than fifty feet below them with a thunderous report that echoed off the spacious cavern.
Besal and Hal dropped to the ground hard, but not fatally so. When Besal released Hal, he bent his knees and tumbled forward to absorb some of the force.
There was a shallow pool of water all about the place, barely up to Hal’s calves. He rolled through the cold water three times before the momentum of his fall was fully dissipated, and even then his HP dropped 10% from the initial impact.
The pair staggered toward the downed creature, swords drawn. But they needn’t have bothered.
What they saw was a broken thing.
Copper lightning crackled all along the creature, and it broke apart into motes of mana. Tinged the same color as the mage’s lightning, they hung in the air like fireflies providing soft illumination.
The mage was also badly broken. His back fell upon a jut of stone and his breathing was shallow with a thin trickle of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth.
He wheezed a laugh as they approached. “You Golds,” he said with seething contempt. “Always so inventive. Willing to ruin yourselves and the world if it means achieving your goals.” He turned his head - though it cost him greatly - and spit blood in Hal’s general direction. “Ruining this star was not enough for you? Must you pillage its scars as well? As the last of my order, I would sooner see the Kol’thil snuffed out.”
The mage raised his hand, a white gleam of bone broke through the man’s purple robes. His mark shone brilliantly on the back of his trembling hand.
Besal thrust his sword into the man’s chest, but it did not stop the building of magic all about them. The motes of bright burnished copper danced about them, arcs of electricity leaping from one to another as something began to build.
Hal lunged forward with his left hand. His mark, his Kol’thil, surged to life and fended off the arcing copper lightning with that of gold.
Hal gripped the man’s wrist with the intention to grab it and slice off the arm with [Emissary] in the hopes that it would stop the build-up of magic.
Instead, the magic redoubled as if he had just poured gasoline on a fire. It burned his skin, singed his face. He almost fell back from the outpouring of magic.
Deep within the roaring torrent of mana, Hal could feel something else. Something familiar. He grabbed at it like a drowning man to a lifeline and as he did, the copper lightning died.
The motes of copper mana began to fizzle and fade. The mage’s eyes widened in horror. “Y-You cannot!” he wheezed.
But Hal was far beyond hearing him. He was somewhere within a maelstrom beyond anything he had ever witnessed before.
Forked copper lightning stabbed at the encroaching golden corona that rolled off his body. He reached out a hand toward the heart of that copper storm and the rolling mass of energy parted.
It was almost too easy.
A shifting, ever-folding, series of geometric lines stood at the center of that storm. Hal could feel a connection to it as surely as he could feel the connection to his own Kol’thil.
Reaching toward it, the Copper Kol’thil drifted out from the storm toward his outstretched hand. All along his forearm were golden markings, a riot of geometric shapes and sigils he had only glimpsed at within the [Balesian Codex].
The voice of the mage drifted through the crash of lightning against his protective golden light. Curling arcs of fiery luminescence rolled off Hal’s body, pushing back the storm and drowning out the lightning strikes.
“You would profane the Kol’thil!” the mage screeched like a madman. His words made no sense to Hal. And in truth, even if they did, he would not have cared.
This man had to be stopped. Had he not tried to take Hal’s Kol’thil, he would never have known it was even a possibility. In a fitting twist of irony, it was the mage that had shown Hal the way to defeating him.
“I should thank you,” Hal said to the copper storm that was the mage’s dwindling magical essence. “If not for you, I would never have known I could do this. You wanted my Kol’thil to be owned by more than a mere neophyte? Then take heart! Through your instruction, you have helped to make me worthy of the Kol’thil. Now, I really must ask you to stop screaming. It is very unbecoming.”
Hal lunged forward, arcs of copper lightning burned his arms and legs as he reached to meet the Copper Kol’thil.
The mage screamed.
Hal screamed.
Everything went dark.
135
The screaming stopped. All sound had stopped.
Nothing moved. There was only stillness.
A light blossomed, then another. In a flash of brilliance, thirteen pillars of multi-colored light flared in the dark around Hal, like welding torches.
Within their shifting colors, Hal could just barely make out the geometric markings that made up a variety of different Kol’thil. Gold, copper, iron, and many more.
Hal reached for [Emissary], but his hand closed around empty air. Reaching a hand out to the nearest pillar of flame, he tried to Dominate it. His fingers hooked as if he was grasping the air. Hal’s Kol’thil responded by sliding up to the back of his hand and sending a jolt of gold lightning toward the incandescent entity.
A bolt of prismatic lightning flew out in response, severing the flow of golden magic. Fear spiked in Hal’s chest as another bolt of lightning, this one dark as hardened iron, streaked from his right.
Without any idea of what he was doing, Hal moved by muscle memory. Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, Hal twisted and raised his arms to defend himself as he had been taught.
A shimmering barrier of golden light spread between his upraised forearms and blocked the bolt. The spark of brilliance as the two collided nearly blinded him.
Opening his eyes, he saw that he hadn’t blocked the bolt. He had somehow… captured it. It arced back and forth within the golden light. Twisting his hips, Hal turned to face his erstwhile attacker.
Rolling his forearms, Hal collapsed the barrier he had constructed and sent the bolt back at its owner.
There was a distant scream. One of the thirteen lights winked out.
Hal made a break for the opening as arcs of metallic lightning flew out at him. He raised an arm, twisted the shield that formed across his forearm, and redirected the flow of magic back at his attackers, but there were too many.
He never made it more than three steps before his back ignited in a web of pain that spread from his shoulder blades down to his ribs and up the back of his neck.
Caught mid-stride, his entire
body locked up in agony. He tipped forward, crashing hard into the dark floor as bright spots filled his vision. Another bolt hit him in the side, and the explosive force of it tossed him through the air as surely as if he had been thrown.
“His first reaction is to fight,” said one elderly voice.
“He does not know who we are,” said a woman. “If he did, he surely would not have deigned to entertain such perilous thoughts.”
“Renthor’s Kol’thil has been taken,” said another. “We cannot allow a Balesian Mage to be disgraced so.”
“Peace,” said the first voice. “Renthor attacked this man first, did he not?”
“Witness,” said the woman.
A bluish light washed over the dark flooring. Gaining some small function of his body back, Hal rolled onto his back to see what was going on. To his amazement, a screen floated some twenty feet off the ground.
No, it wasn’t a screen, but a hologram. He clearly saw the round platform he had destroyed, as well as Besal and the robed mage.
He couldn’t hear anything, but he clearly remembered it well enough to replay the words in his head as he watched and waited while the locking paralysis slowly faded.
The hologram winked out. “You see, Renthor attacked first. This is a simple act of self-defense.”
“He is a barbarian! Look at him. He doesn’t have the faintest idea how to use the Kol’thil, what Order bequeathed its power to him? He hasn’t even taken the Calling, and you would let him walk away with not one but two Kol’thils? Hirst, you go too far.”
“The Binding saw many changes to our star,” Hirst rebuked. “Would you have our gifts fade from this star forevermore? Would that appease your jealousy toward those whom we bequeathed our former home?”
“This star once shown bright as forge fire,” said the seething man. “Now its fires are ashen cold. The star dies, it cries out, and none alive care to heed its call.”
“Mithtir is right,” said a somber voice. “Those that do hear, lack the power to do anything about it. Must we allow-”
Hal slowly sat up and got his feet beneath him. He stood and stared at the brilliant pillars of light all around him. None of what they were saying made any sense.
Worse, this all had the feel of a trial.
“Look upon his brow,” said the first grandfatherly voice.
“Stars upon a silver thread,” gasped Hirst. “What Portent is this? There are no Kings anymore.”
“Will you kill him then, Mithtir?” said the first voice. “Will you deny the Portent before your very eyes?”
There was a long, drawn-out moment where no voices spoke into the dark. Hal lifted his eyes toward his brow but could see nothing but a faint shimmer.
“The Elden Days are gone,” Mithtir finally said. “But never let it be said that Mithtir Darksbane stood in the way of a Portent true.”
“Then what is your verdict?” Hirst asked.
“We will stand aside and allow the Brightsoul, if that is what this Portent truly suggests, to be on his way,” said the first voice.
“Calamavi has the right of it,” Mithtir said, his voice subdued. “Let him go, but do not aid his passage! If he is truly a Brightsoul, let him find his own way in the dark. We, each of us, wandered the Abyss.
“He will face worse trials yet if the Portent rings true in the years to come. I would place this test as the least among that which stands before him and his path.”
“I agree with Mithtir’s assessment,” Calamavi said softly, though his disapproving tone did not match up with his words. “Let the Brightsoul leave, hinder not his progress, but neither shall we labor to aid his journey.”
“He will die,” Hirst argued. “He is not a Brightsoul, but a boy! You would sentence him to death.”
“Peace, Hirst,” Calamavi said. “Would you wish to put this to an official vote? You know what that would mean.”
“Yes, Hirst,” Mithtir sneered. “Do put it to a vote. You know the way the others will vote. The barbarian even snuffed out Feril’s light, one of your soft-hearted fellows!” He barked a harsh laugh. “Just like a barbarian, he will bite the hand that reaches out to aid him. If he is more than that, let him prove it unaided.”
A hush descended once again.
“What is your wish, Hirst?” Calamavi asked.
“I do not object,” Hirst answered. Though Hal could not see her body, or any bodies for that matter, he could practically envision her bowing her head in defeat. After a moment, she added, “Let the Brightsoul wander unaided to prove his worth.”
One of the twelve remaining burning pillars of light surged even brighter. “For your crimes of discorporating Novice Renthor, and absorbing his Kol’thil, you are exonerated. Go in peace,” Calamavi said. “Perhaps we shall meet again when you yet understand the gifts you possess.”
With that, the pillars of light winked out one by one until only three were left.
Hal didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain they were Hirst, Calamavi, and Mithtir. The brightest one, Calamavi, went dark. Hal was left with Hirst and Mithtir in the endless dark.
“I will be watching,” Mithtir warned. “Break the will of the Council, Hirst. Please do. These last centuries have been dreadfully boring. I will appreciate the chance to increase my standing even further.”
Mithtir’s light did not vanish and Hal could imagine the two having a staring contest.
“I would never work against the will of the Council,” Hirst said with saccharine sweetness. “I welcome your gaze, brother, for I too will be watching you. It would not do if you were to hinder our young charge’s progress to prove a point.”
Mithtir snorted, and both lights went out simultaneously, leaving Hal alone in the dark.
136
Hal’s head was pounding. He placed his fingertips against his temple and gently rubbed it as he tried to make some sense of what just happened.
Turning a slow circle, Hal tried to get a sense of where he was. This wasn’t the bottom of the cavern. That much was obvious.
Unending darkness stretched in every direction. The floor beneath his boots was firm as stone, but featureless. Shutting his eyes against the pain in his head made no difference. He couldn’t see anything.
Most alarming of all was when he tried to Splice, and nothing happened. The magic that was within him was just… gone.
“Besal?” Hal asked the gloom around him. He didn’t think the man was responsible, but they were intrinsically tied. Besal should be able to hear him.
Though he waited several long minutes and called out Besal’s name again, there was no other voice to answer his call.
He was alone.
The feeling was uncomfortably alien. That being alone with his thoughts was so strange was, perhaps, the most worrying of all.
That should have been a normal state of affairs. But after so long with Besal in the back of his head, Hal was used to not feeling quite so alone. Even when he said nothing, Hal could feel him back there.
There was nothing now.
In the infinite darkness, he would have been happy for the company. Any company at all would have been preferable to the interminable gloom.
“No,” he muttered. “They spoke of an abyss, this is some sort of test.”
“Very astute,” said a smooth baritone from the dark. “Think that all up yourself, did you?”
Hal looked around but, of course, couldn’t see the speaker. Clenching his fists caused his Kol’thil to light up once more, but even that illumination did nothing to part the gloom.
It did, however, allow Hal to see his own hands and feet at least.
“Who are you?” Hal asked.
“I’m the Mage you tried to discorporate.”
“The one that ranted and raved?”
“No, lad. I’m not that sniveling idiot, Renthor. My name is Feril Ironbound. I am come to aid you.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to?” Hal asked. He set forward with a calm pace, picking a d
irection at random.
“I am certain I would not know a single thing about that. After all, you discorporated me before I even heard the case about you. I surely would not have heard any decree that you were to be left unaided, to wander the Abyss forevermore until you gained the exit through your own strength and cunning.”
Hal snorted a laugh. “You would help somebody who… what did you call it? Discorporated? You would help the person who did that to you?”
“It is a temporary state of affairs,” Feril said, his voice kept pace with him as if he were walking beside Hal the entire time. “You surprised me, and I always reward those who surprise me. We Irons are like that. We value strength and capability. Even if you didn’t have a clue what you were doing.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“In retrospect, perhaps. The others might not have seen the way you grasped at the simplest thread of possibility. That’s not typically a Gold trait, you act more like an Iron in that respect. Instinct, some would call it.
“That you didn’t understand what you were doing is neither here nor there. The Nobles would argue that, but you’ll hear no such concerns from Irons like myself. You saw an opportunity and seized it. That, and that alone, is why I heeded Hirst’s request to check in on you.
“But it is because I am intrigued by you that I will help you gain the exit. And I would appreciate it if you never spoke of this to another Mage.”
Hal shrugged. “If I never run into another Mage, it will be too soon.”
Feril chuckled. “You’re in for a world of disappointment then, lad. The Balesian Council has seen something in you. What that is precisely is yet to be seen. But I’ll tell you this: You haven’t seen the last of our Order. Not by a long shot.
“I don’t envy you in the least. Long has it been since the Balesians were roused from their slumber. Now you brought their collective gaze upon your soul. Great movers of men and magic, for centuries they lay without intrigue or change.
“Now you bring to them a great opportunity to jockey for strength and position. Before long, they’ll find ways to use you like a Sota piece to improve their own position within the order, or to lower another.”
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