by Wolfe Locke
“Begone,” Zekant commanded. “Your role here is done.”
The demon flew toward Zekant again but was brought up short by the sheet of an 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, Tetraites 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.”
Tetraites 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. Tetraites 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 because of your 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 dais 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 said, 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 shrugged. “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 Tetraites 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 Tetraites 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,” Zekant 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.”
“You are welcome to go into the tower now,” Zekant snapped. “It is empty, but it is open for you to use at any time. You can run up the stairs, right to the top. Train like the humans do.”
Ms. Blue didn’t respond, just looked her tower up and down, quickly evaluating. “Four days is fine. It will give me time to prepare.”
“I need to return to my realm,” Zekant said. “I still have much to accomplish tonight.”
She waved a hand imperiously. “Go.”
Her permission given, he was able to teleport out of her domain. I’d like to see her try and stop me from leaving. Zekant was more powerful than his sister, and they both knew it. Though others are stronger than us. As the third wave of Lords of Pandemonium, the old man is stronger still, as was Amarath.
Back in his library, he settled in behind his massive stone desk. There was one last thing he had to attend to, though, before he could start the night’s work in earnest.
“Crixa,” he said, summoning the spider-monster to his side by speaking its name.
“Yes, master?” it said, twitching its legs obsequiously as it appeared before him. No longer the flinty drill sergeant from the Training Grounds, where it adopted a cringing persona that it knew pleased Zekant.
“My sister is correct,” Zekant said, hating to admit it. “We are not doing enough with the Champions They will not be ready in time, and once they are, they will be too weak.”
“Apologies—” Crixa stammered, but the Dark Lord waved it aside.
“It is not your fault. You have done what I asked—but what I asked was not enough. We must overhaul their training. Their program must be more difficult.”
“Master,” Crixa said. “The current program has already killed half the Champions. If you are worried about the numbers—”
“Cannot be helped. I can always create more. I will deliver a new program to the Training Grounds tomorrow.”
Crixa nodded, looking dismayed.
“And one more thing,” Zekant added. “Tetraites. I am pleased with his progress. But I want you to battle him against the revenant of Pyke Wildwood tomorrow. That situation needs to come to a conclusion, I still need to see Tetraites bring out more of the latent power I have given him.”
“My Lord,” Crixa said. “I do not think that it is a good idea.”
“What you think does not matter to me!” snapped Zekant. “Our champions must be strong mentally as well as physically. The minions of Aeon will test them in every possible way. I must give them every challenge I can muster in addition to those they face in the Arena. A day will come when the Lords of Pandemonium will need them to deliver.”
“It is cruel,” Crixa said tentatively, “to make a Champion face the soul who killed him. To remind him constantly of his former life, never allowing him to make a fresh start.”
“It is not your place to make such judgments,” Zekant said, turning away. He had seeded the Champions’ rolls with souls from their pasts as a way of testing their mental rigor. He had not expected the revenant to make its first move so soon—but was pleased that it had.
The Dark Lord had observed his Champions’ fighting styles. Tetraites was a powerful warrior, but his control was weak. He had a foul temper and allowed himself to be drawn into making rash and emotional decisions in the Arena. These were poor qualities in a soldier. Zekant needed to see if the skeleton could overcome them.
“I understand,” Crixa said, looking dejected. “But, in my opinion, if you force the skeleton and the revenant together in the Practice Arena, one of them will not survive.”
“Let it be so, then,” Zekant said. “Sacrifices must be made if we wish to succeed. This is a war, not a children’s game.”
Crixa bowed low. “Yes, master. They will battle each other tomorrow. As you command.”
“See that they do. I will be there in person to witness it. I wish to see Tetraites fighting up close.”
“Yes, master,” Crixa said, still bowing.
“You are dismissed,” Zekant said with a wave of his hand.
Crixa disappeared with a pop of displaced air, leaving Zekant alone. Looking longingly at the pile of scrolls that held his in-progress monster designs, the Dark Lord pulled out a clean piece of parchment and began work on Ms. Blue’s tower. His sister would not be patient—, and the sooner he did what she asked, the sooner she would leave him in peace.
How would she do with a challenge that took from her, her memory?
Chapter 21: The Rematch
A new day greeted Tetraites, and he walked out of his cell to join the other champions, taking note of his progress on the way out.
Spectral Arena
Name – Tetraites the Conqueror
Specialty – Frost Magic
Race – Greater Skeleton
Current Unlocked Abilities
Frost Nova (On Touch) – Unleashes an explosion of ice.
Frost Nova (Targeted) – Unleashes an explosion of ice at the impact site that causes area of effect damage around it.
Ice Wall (Targeted) – Creates at target location a wall of ice that is resistant to damage. Ice wall cannot be passed through, it must be destroyed.
Storm of Swords –
Creates a targeted volley of icicles. Can be area of effect or target
Ice Blades – Surrounds a target with blades of ice for protection.
Razor Frost causes a mist of powdered snow to spawn and rise it in a vortex in a small area. Anything caught within this vortex must endure the sharped edges of the flakes of Razor Snow.
Current Passive Abilities
Flesh Crafting - A lesser-known school of Necromancy, Flesh Crafting allows for the creation of flesh golems and other constructs.
Zekant’s Blessing – Complete immunity from frost.
Assistance of the Flesh Golem – If rendered unconscious, the Flesh Golem Vilerend will rush to your aid.
Dormant Abilities
Vampiric Aspect II – Bloodlust –
Storm of Swords
Strength
31
Magic
39
Stamina
68
Speed
27
Dormant abilities? Is it because I haven’t been drinking blood? What about Storm of Swords? That one evolved. Does this mean I can try to change it another way in the future? The possibilities excited him. I’ll have to think about this later.
When Tetraites showed up at the Training Grounds the next day, the atmosphere was unlike it had ever been before. Crixa was tense, barking orders at the spider-monsters that were scuttling around him in a panic.