A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

by Wilkerson, Brian

  “Enough.” Dengel said, “We understand.”

  “Indeed, it is my duty to be the Crown's sword and shield,” Siron replied. “I had the opportunity to do so in Roalt's sewers and I failed. I shall not fail again.”

  “If you are so devoted, then why isn't your father?” Dengel asked.

  “My father and I . . . we are of different minds,” Siron said. “He does not believe there is honor in being a sword and shield. He would rather be a crown.”

  “When did this difference of opinion begin?”

  “One week ago; after the Bloody Daggers and yourselves rescued Her Highness and me. It was then that I realized the extent of my father's plan. I have spent the time hence preparing for this day.” Dengel asked how he learned of his father's plans, but Kasile interrupted.

  “He's answered enough questions. He freed us from imprisonment and gave us proof of his father's foul play. Isn't that enough?”

  Siron bowed his head. “Your Highness has too much trust in me,” he said meekly.

  Kasile smiled. “Nonsense. Just because your father is a villainous traitor doesn't mean you are.”

  Siron bowed his head a little lower.

  The trio ascended the spiral staircase to the ground floor of the castle and once out of the darkness, Eric could see his companions clearly. Siron's armor was best described as “stream-lined plate mail”: plates of purple metal interwoven with each other to form a gorget, curiass, greaves, gauntlets, and burgonet. The armor was a solid defense without slowing him down or restricting his movement. His family's crest decorated the center of the breastplate, the shoulders, and the back of each palm.

  The full armor starkly contrasted Kasile. The last time Eric saw her she wore three layers of skirt. Now she had nothing but a small and thin shift. There was no sign of embarrassment on her face, but Eric could feel it through their link.

  “Siron,” she said calmly, “is the repository guarded?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Siron remedied the problem by looking at a point just above Kasile's head. “I will rectify that. Follow me, please.” He hurriedly walked past her.

  Calm and polite, he approached the guard standing duty. Without betraying a hint of emotion, he knocked her out and gestured his allies forward. Before they could turn on the lights, the sound of thunder filled the air. Five bullets hit Eric's body and many more the wall behind him. The seconds ticked by. He felt like he'd been stung by a hive of bees, but he was still alive. Then he heard the clang of cans against stone.

  The lights activated and the trio found themselves face to face with guards armed with muskets. They wobbled and crashed into each other. Instead of soldiers, they looked like drunken gongs.

  “Former Crown Princess Kasile,” said the least dizzy soldier, “you and your accomplices are—” A fellow crashed into and knocked him over. “Get off me, you fool!”

  “I'm right!” Kasile said. “Siron has proof of his father's treason!”

  “We are under orders not to . . .” The soldier tried to push his fellow off, failed, and slouched. “Abyss take it! Not to listen to a slave of the Dragon's Cult.”

  “Allow me,” Dengel said, and the two soldiers smashed into the ceiling. “As for the rest of you: do you work for Selen Esrah?”

  “It's obvious you don't work for my father,” Kasile said. “Ataidar soldiers would never be stupid enough to use such obsolete weaponry.”

  Obsolete weaponry!? They're using guns!

  Did they not teach that in school?

  Oh . . .yeah . . . the 'will to live' barrier.

  Yes, the 'will to live' barrier, as you call it, is an involuntary ability inherent in both sapients and monsters. It the reason you failed to harm the xethras. Their will to live was stronger than your will to kill them and their spiritual power exceeded yours. Some fool in my time invented guns but they were only useful in Ceiha because of the Dry Land Curse. It weakened their spirits to the point that they could no longer use the barrier. A bullet propelled with explosive powder is sterile, mechanical, and therefore not chaotic. Those empowered by Lady Chaos are rendered immune to such things. If you read my book The Spirit and Its Power, you would know all this.

  “My father believed no one would notice him stockpiling useless weapons.” Siron fingered a bayonet. “They were a ruse for truly useful ones.”

  “Allow me, Your Highness, to validate this theory.” Dengel grabbed a soldier and looked him full in the eyes. After four seconds, the man went limp and Dengel dropped him. “They are common thugs disguised as royal guards and they were looting the repository when we walked in. The guns were given to them by Duke Selen Esrah. He possessed no further information.”

  “What's wrong with him?” Kasile asked. “He's not breathing.”

  “That is because he is dead.” Dengel said casually. “The fastest way to extract information is also the most dangerous for the subject.”

  For a moment, Kasile looked ready to smack Dengel. She inhaled, exhaled, and said, “You're right. This is a palace coup. Time is of the essence.”

  She said no more on the subject. Instead, she looked for her goal. She found a leather vest reinforced with metal plates that spilled into a short skirt. She pulled it on and strapped a camail around her neck. For her legs, she found a pair of knee-length leather boots and for her arms a pair of leather gloves and a buckler. She twisted her long hair into a tight bun behind her head and covered it with a metal helmet. As a final touch, she attached a short sword to her waist. All of it had seen better days, but the effect was impressive: Kasile had transformed from a prison wretch into a warrior.

  The new party left the repository to confront the evil mastermind: a disowned princess, a noble with more loyalty than sense, and a two thousand-year-old mage in a teenage body.

  Many soldiers blocked their path, but few attacked. When they saw Kasile or Siron, they hesitated, and Dengel brushed them aside like flies. Every soldier wearing Esrah's red and silver met the same fate. Be it loyalty or confusion they couldn't bring themselves to attack their boss' son or their princess and so they were wiped out by the undead mage.

  Dengel made a pointing of comparing it to Eric's arrest. I could have done this then too. All of Dengel's power was useless as a passenger; all of his knowledge was useless unless Eric spent years developing his own power. What good can I do if you are too weak to make use of me?

  At last the party came to a great double door marked by the Royal Crest writ large and engraved in gold and silver and precious gems; the entrance to the throne room. The door itself was ten feet tall and made of steel. Ten strong men were required to open half of it in ages past. Dengel pushed them both open through the strength of his spirit. He walked inside confidently; secure in his power.

  There the king sat at a table with a quill in his hands, parchment in front of him and soldiers circling him. A man in red and silver robes admired the throne. The Crest of House Esrah blazed on his cape. Soon-to-be-king Esrah ordered his soldiers to apprehend the “interlopers” and at once, Dengel threw them all against the floor like so many dolls.

  “Father! I am armed with evidence of your evil plan. Yield for the Crown's mercy.”

  Duke Selen Esrah stuck his hands into his pockets and smiled. No hatred or surprise or sorrow could be seen on his face. “My son, why are you doing this? The king is just moments away from formally abdicating the throne to me and then we can both have what we want.”

  “Siron . . .” Kasile said cautiously, “What's he talking about?”

  “Nothing, Your Highness,” the younger Esrah noble said. “He speaks nonsense.”

  “Ohh, I see . . .” Selen said, “You told her the plan was all my idea, didn't you?” The smile became a smirk. “You see, Princess, this violent overthrow was my contingency. My plan A revolved entirely on my dear son.”

  Siron turned to Kasile and met the tip of her sword. Her eyes burned with such betrayal that he spoke to her feet instead. “Your Highness, you must believe
me, I never wanted it to come this far. I—”

  “—wanted to get in your pants,” Selen said. “That is the phrase young people use, is it not?”

  Dengel! Aren't you going to do something!?

  Not yet. I want to see how this works out.

  Selen held up one finger. “Plan A: create circumstances in which Kasile would renew her love for my son so I could wield the scepter of the shadow king. I thought a classic rescue scenario would do. Of course, in order for a princess to be rescued, she must first be kidnapped, and that is why I hired those rogues at the Joust. My honorable son had no objections at the time.”

  “You said no one would get hurt! You said the rogues wouldn't cause any trouble!”

  “There was no loss of life,” his father replied lofty. “No one would have seen them if it hadn't been for this mercenary. I still don't understand how he found her. Dark Fogs are supposed to be impossible to navigate. Now where was I? Oh yes, the biggest hurdle was luring your highness out of the royal box. A pearl is more tempting when it is not within its shell.”

  Kasile paled and blushed at the same time.

  “Yes, you remember, don't you? I bet you can even recall the poetic nonsense. It had to be over the top so you would be too busy blushing to consider the unlikelihood that a note from mercenary Culmus could reach you in the royal box. I timed it exactly after Culmus's round to further the illusion. You really did look stunning in that dress, Princess. It's especially eye-catching in a field of black.”

  Every muscle in Kasile's body shook with rage.

  Selen held up a second finger. “Phase two; the sewer hideout. I must thank the Darwoss for the use of their lair. Not only was it the perfect hiding place, but they were the perfect scapegoats. The public eagerly believed they had something to do with your kidnapping. They really should work on their public image. Now, my son, tell the princess what you were really doing in the sewer.”

  Siron held his father's gaze. “I was building an alibi, Your Highness. I trained in the lower levels of the sewer for a month in advance so no one would think it strange when I found you.”

  “He would have too if I had known the true strength of the rogues. Some of my very best men infiltrated the leader's gang to ensure he would not betray me and that was the last I heard from them. Instead of my son emerging as the hero, he was captured and the mercenaries got the credit.”

  He held up a third finger. “However, as I am a brilliant noble lord, my second plan was already in motion. It was a costly endeavor.” He listed off the expenses as if they were a grocery list.

  “Flipping the Common Council and the Noble Council and the War Council through friendship, charisma, money and disappearances, hiring thugs-I must thank you for sparing me the expense of paying them-bribing soldiers, paying the ambassador to memorize a script. I even went to the trouble of paying him through a third party to avoid suspicion. A friend of his owns an antique shop and I 'bought' a stock of muskets. The two Ceihans would divide the money amongst themselves and I would donate the antiques to Esrah's public schools. A replica of the low-tech weapons Ceihans have to put up with is more instructive than a textbook, don't you agree?”

  Dengel nodded.

  “You made it so much easier, Princess, I truly couldn't have done it without you.” He bowed in thanks. “You place such high expectations of yourself that I was positive you would learn Magic Sight if I hinted that the king might be controlled by a rune. Most of all, your paranoia was invaluable. It was easy to demonize the Ceihan ambassador in your eyes and make you believe he was your royal trial.” He laughed evilly. “And all this time it was me.”

  Kasile was glowing. An outline of fiery red power shone in her skin and in her eyes. “Your family tree is the most distinguished of all the noble houses. Why have you made it so rotten?” She laid her sword against Siron's neck; he didn't move. “And dropped this rotten fruit?”

  “If you seek rotten fruit, then look no further than yourself.”

  “How dare you—”

  Selen scowled. “Your paranoia endangers this kingdom. Your arrogance is unbefitting of the Highest Public Servant. Your bleeding heart drove my son to lethal despair.”

  The short sword clanged on the tile floor. “I . . . Siron . . .I . . .didn't . . .”

  “I wanted Your Highness to be happy,” Siron said softly. “So I confided my grief in my father alone. In my weakness, I agreed to his plan. For that I will beg your forgiveness till my dying breath.”

  “Siron . . .I'm . . .I'm so sorry . . .”

  Selen looked past Kasile. “Just as planned.”

  While they were talking, soldiers had been creeping into the room. At a signal from their lord, they tackled Kasile and Siron. The pair were disarmed and held down by four each.

  Dengel, help them now!

  Do not presume to ord—“Ahhhh!”

  A mana bolt the size of an anvil slammed into his back. The force of it drove his human body to the ground. His attacker pounced and snapped something around his neck. A vice clamped his soul and squeezed its power deep within his body. Curses! Another suppression collar . . .

  “See? Now aren't you glad you hired me?”

  I know that voice! But . . . there's no way . . .she wouldn't . . .Dengel forced his head up and saw a green-haired girl holding a white staff. Kallen!

  “I am indeed, Miss Selios. I didn't believe you could do it but I am glad to be wrong.”

  “How!?” Dengel shouted. “How could you sneak up on me like that?! You are a mere human!”

  For that, Kallen hit him with a solid beam of mana. “I'm not just any human: I'm Kallen Selios.”

  “King Ataidar,” Selen said. “Continue, please.”

  The smug bastard stood before his defeated adversaries and looked down on them in triumph. First, he stopped at Kasile and told her to get used to prison because she would spend the rest of her life there until she acknowledged him as king. Then he stopped at Siron. He spoke at length of how foolish his son was and how poorly planned his betrayal and then he gave him advice on how to patch up his relationship with Kasile, up to and including the name of a florist he himself frequented. The boy's ensuing red-hot blush mixed rage and embarrassment. Finally, he stopped before Dengel.

  “It would be a waste of talent to dispose of you. I trust you have no objections.”

  “None.”

  What!? You can't do that!

  My body. I may do with it what I wish. If you object, try taking it from me.

  Eric focused all of his willpower into a mighty mental shove and he succeeded in jarring his own spirit. In a parody of his previous lectures, Dengel explained how Eric was too weak to best him in a trial of wills. He went further to say Eric was too weak to best him at anything. It was his knowledge that found Kasile; it was his spells that allowed Eric to triumph in the Black Cloak hideout; it was he competing in the New Scepter Tournament; it was his power that defeated the soldiers.

  Compared to me you are second-rate trash.

  Eric couldn't argue. He was a pitiful mage before he received Dengel's spirit and afterward he relied on the dead mage for support. In the throne room, the light of dawn shined in stained glass windows, but in Eric's soul, only darkness grew and it fed the Looming Shadow in the corner.

  “Hey, old fossil!” Kallen said. “Now that we're on the same side, I'd like to ask you something.”

  Dengel scowled, but said, “Speak and I shall answer.”

  “Why do elves hate you so much?” Kallen asked. “Parents tell their children stories of you to scare them. You're the elfin boogeyman.”

  “There are many reasons, but a likely candidate is my deal with my glorious patron, Emperor Uinatos Cath Marius Xia Kintsan of Cehia; unlimited resources and academic freedom in return for revealing the location and defenses of elf villages.”

  “In other words, backstabbing; like you did just now.”

  “Exactly. Unlike my brethren, I know when to make deals.”

&nb
sp; Deals; black outs; the night at Tahart's apartment; the pieces flew together and a new hatred was born. You! You caused the blackouts! You took over my body and made a deal with Tahart!

  Which you ruined. The orc drove a hard bargain.

  The new soldiers fitted the princess and noble with shackles and leg irons. Selen called them with a pager; that's why his hands were in his pockets. It was an emergency signal for his A team and green-haired secret weapon. He wasn't gloating when he revealed his plan; he was buying time!

  Eric! Listen to me! Kasile's voice pierced the darkness of Eric's soul. You can overcome Dengel!

  No, I—

  Yes, you can! The synchronization worked both ways! I saw you challenge Laharg. I saw you save your team from the xethras and perform element fusion to guide them out of the Yacian Caverns. Dengel never did that at your age! I saw you overcome the trials of the Altar of Rebirth with only your wits and tools. Did Dengel win all those bouts in the tournament? No! And when I need someone to talk to I would pick you over Dengel any day. He's just a walking encyclopedia! You can beat him! Take him to our mental meeting room and then take him down!

  Dengel didn't hear Kasile's pep talk. He was deaf to anything Kasile said over the private line. He didn't realize his former landlord became more and more confident with each word.

  But Dengel's spirit is stronger than mine . . .

  Every one of the Black Cloaks had a stronger spirit than you! Not only did you out-maneuver them, but you beat two at once.

  That was different . . .

  Fine! You think that's impossible? Me defeating all these guards by myself is impossible!

  Exactly! So we should just gi . . .

  Before he finished the thought, two guards collapsed; their chests punctured by mana claws. That's two! Kasile's next target was the guards holding her arms. She retracted her claws, re-aimed, and extended them a second time. That's four! Severed chains flailing she dove at the guards restraining Siron. That's six! The two remaining guards drew their swords. Siron head butted one and Kasile pounced on the second. Seven! The princess cut her knight's chains and together they killed the last escort. Eight! They stood back-to-back as the soldiers regrouped.