Mithris was thrown off his feet as his wards, all of them, collapsed. He felt something torn from him, as if the monster had somehow reached into his chest and ripped out a lung or his heart. He shouted a defensive cantrip. Nothing happened. He suddenly became aware of the intense burning heat all around him.
Stunned, Mithris lay defenseless on the stone ledge and stared up at the Chaos Lord in panic. The hot stone burned him through his clothes.
Tzrak stalked forward until he stood over Mithris, his lipless slit of a mouth curled in a sneer. He held his hands up to either side, whip dangling limply from one and the fingers of the other splayed. Some kind of darkness swirled between his fingers, an inky shadow given substance. Mithris stared at the dancing shadow and knew that this blackness could absorb all the light in the world.
Eaganar laughed aloud and clapped his hands in delight. The wizard hurried over with a gloating smile.
“Now, apprentice,” he spat. “With no magic to save you, and no sniveling master to hide behind, you face the end. If you give me the foundation crystals willingly, I will instruct my companion here to kill you quickly. That is a mercy, boy. One I will only offer once.”
Eaganar held out his hand expectantly. Mithris blinked at it.
Lord Tzrak made that rumbling sound in his thick chest again.
“I will not remind you of our bargain again, Eaganar,” growled the demon. “The boy is mine, to kill however I please.”
“Oh, fine.” Eaganar shook his head at Mithris. “Nevermind, I suppose.”
“And my share of the spoils,” Tzrak continued.
“Yes, yes.” Eaganar waved his hand impatiently. “I know. Once I have what I came for, I care not. Kill him, Tzrak.”
“Lord Tzrak.”
For the first time, Eaganar seemed to hear the danger in that otherworldly, rasping voice. Dropping his hand, he took a nervous step back and eyed the Chaos Lord warily.
“When you summoned me, you said the boy carried three foundation crystals. You said that all you wanted was his death and the crystals he carried. Anything else in his possession, including his body and soul, are mine. Thus was our bargain struck, and thus have you reaffirmed it mere moments ago when I reminded you of our terms.”
“Yes, yes,” Eaganar said quickly. His tone was a mixture of impatience and growing concern. He peered at Tzrak, puzzled. “The crystals are mine, everything else is yours. What is your point, Lord Tzrak?”
Mithris swept his eyes back and forth between the wizard and the demon. He wondered what the Chaos Lord was getting at too, but was more worried about what the monster meant to do with him. Body and soul, Tzrak had said…
“Three crystals are yours, Eaganar.”
The dark wizard drew his head back, brow furrowed by confusion. “What? What’s this?”
“The boy carries four crystals. The fourth is mine.”
I know you don’t like to be bothered at a time like this, Vapor whispered in Mithris’ thoughts. But Ember says it very much does not want to go with Tzrak.
Mithris could scarcely blame the firestone for that. But the Chaos Lord had severed him, somehow, from the magic. More than his words collapsed. He still felt that emptiness inside himself. Mithris knew that even if he were able to utter an incantation fast enough, no spell he cast would resolve.
His skin ached from the heat and each drawn breath felt devoid of air. Mithris winced as he rolled to his side.
He was at the mercy of the Chaos Lord.
Chapter 41
Losing Control
“Four crystals?” Eaganar shook himself and turned wondering eyes on Mithris where he lay flat on the stone. “Four crystals! You continue to surprise and impress, boy.”
The dark wizard turned away sharply and began pacing in a tight circle. “Of course. I should have known. Why else would the fool boy come to Mount Wileth? Why else would he lower himself down into a live volcano?” Eaganar laughed. He sounded more than half mad when he did that. “Because there’s a foundation crystal in the volcano. And you got it out. You’re growing quite the collection.”
Mithris swallowed nervously.
Eaganar chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. At length, he shrugged. Turning to Lord Tzrak, he said, “Fine. The fourth crystal is yours.”
“That is correct.” The Chaos Lord turned its hand toward Mithris. The shadow dancing on his palm leapt forth, stretching into a long slash of inky darkness. Mithris cringed and cowered back. The shadow slipped into his pocket and drew out Vapor, Depths, and Terra.
“No!” shouted Mithris, grabbing for the crystals. But Tzrak jerked his hand back, and the crystals flew straight to Eaganar. The dark wizard caught them one at a time and slipped them into his own robes with an ever-widening smile.
In the same instant, Tzrak cracked his whip again. Its crack split the air. The tip scored a fiery line along Mithris’ cheek. Blood welled up in the stinging wound and Mithris fell back, shrieking. He felt magical fire eating its way into his blood from the whip.
Eaganar sneered at the young wizard. “It’s too bad Deinre ruined you, boy. I can see why he felt drawn to you. With proper instruction, you’d have made a grand wizard someday. Such a waste.”
The dark wizard spared a final, lingering glance of avarice at the fiery foundation crystal Mithris still clutched in his hands. Ember’s ethereal lava spurts spun madly around the young wizard’s hand. Eaganar shook his head, dismissing his longing for the crystal and its power. Turning, he walked away.
Mithris and Lord Tzrak both watched as Eaganar climbed back into the serpent-drawn chariot. The dark wizard looked back.
“By your leave, Lord Tzrak.”
The Chaos Lord bristled at the mocking tone, but nodded his huge green head. “Our bargain is held. Go in peace, human.”
Eaganar looked like he wanted to say something more, but he obviously thought better of it. With a muttered incantation, he took control of the otherworldly snakes. Hissing, they rose from the ledge. Their long, thick bodies undulated on empty air as they slithered skyward, bearing the boxy carriage up behind them.
Mithris watched as the chariot passed out of the mouth of the volcano and disappeared from sight. His heart ached. He knew he was about to die a horrible death. Somehow, the loss of the crystals bothered him more. Though he would likely only survive another few moments, he lamented the loss of Vapor especially. The crystal would not speak to him again.
He looked up at the looming creature of darkness and horror. Lord Tzrak bared his jagged teeth in a predatory smile.
Mithris!
That was Vapor’s voice in his head. The crystal seemed distant, much as it had when he lay in Yuric’s dungeon near Avington. Of course, Mithris realized. Vapor could still talk to him. He felt a momentary surge of hope in his breast.
“I will savor your suffering,” said the Chaos Lord.
You must defeat this creature, Mithris.
“I can’t!” Mithris cried. “I can’t cast anything!”
Tzrak narrowed his bloody colored eyes, peering down at Mithris in puzzlement. “I know that, worm. The power will not answer your summons.”
The leys, Mithris. Remember the leys!
Mithris didn’t understand at first. He had tapped the nearby ley lines when he first arrived. They were like cracks in the fabric of the foundations. Magical energy could spill through them like light shining through a tear in dark cloth. But the Chaos Lord had blocked his ability to control that energy with his incantations. Mithris could do nothing.
Then he remembered his duel with the mad wizard Zerto. The ancient paranoiac had buried his tower in an enchanted grotto atop a massive convergence of many leys. Zerto had thought this power would make him invincible, but Mithris had wrested control of the ley energy in its raw form. He had twisted that essence of power and shaped it with his bare hands. And he hadn’t spoken a word!
Lord Tzrak cracked his whip yet again. The tip stung Mithris’ hand. He cried out. Ember was torn from his gra
sp, sent flipping through the air to Tzrak’s outstretched hand. The demon clutched at the firestone, moving it near to his chest with a rumbling sigh of satisfaction.
“Oh, now this is power!” The Chaos Lord threw back his head and laughed. It sounded like a thousand spears piercing the bodies of a thousand men all at once.
Mithris licked his lips and tried to slide backward, away from the demon. He watched Tzrak carefully. He doubted he would have more than one shot at this. Fighting down his terror, Mithris concentrated. Tzrak would strike any moment now. The young wizard must be ready for it.
“With this gemstone, I shall reshape the very foundations,” gloated Tzrak. His forked tongue flicked briefly from his mouth. “I shall tear down the pillars of creation and remake the worlds as I please. I shall destroy order! I shall shatter all bonds! I will bring Chaos! Oh, yes, worm. This is a prize you have given me, a prize beyond all reckoning. You shall be remembered, and all the souls of all the realms will curse your name as they gnash their teeth in torment for all eternity!”
Mithris braced himself. He knew it was coming. His teeth ground together, and he rose up into a low crouch. Tzrak laughed at him with heavy scorn.
“But first,” the Chaos Lord growled, “I’ll use this pretty toy to destroy you!”
Lord Tzrak lifted Ember in his fist and began an incantation. The Chaos Lord spoke slowly in a sonorous tone. Tzrak was clearly in no hurry. As he built his spell of words, Ember’s surface danced with shifting light. The orbiting lava bursts sped faster and faster about the stone.
Mithris could see the magic taking shape. Forced to obey the demon’s commands, Ember drew power from the ley line passing through Mount Wileth’s fiery heart. The power passed into the foundation crystal and then seeped back out, soaking into the Chaos Lord and spilling from his fingertips as his spell began to resolve.
“Now or never,” Mithris muttered to himself, and then he tried to seize that invisible column of raw power.
Chapter 42
Veins of Shadow
Tzrak wove a powerful spell of magical fire. The intricate words trickled off his tongue in a steady cadence. The surging power built up around the Chaos Lord in a shimmering halo only visible to wizards and magical creatures. Mithris seized for that energy.
He had done this once before, but that had been more of an accident than any clever plan. Mad old Zerto had sought to destroy him, but Mithris had instinctively seized at Zerto’s spell before it resolved and turned it against the mad wizard.
Mithris leaped forward, grabbing hold of the growing field of power. He felt it like a solid, somewhat spongy substance. It writhed under his fingers and resisted his attempts to control it.
Last time, Mithris suddenly remembered, he’d had the benefit of a cantrip that slowed his perception of time. He had been able to move far quicker than normal, reacting instantaneously to the unpredictable swells and surges of an unknown spell striving to take shape.
“What is this?” barked Lord Tzrak, his bloody red eyes opening wide in surprise.
For a brief moment, Mithris thought he’d broken the Chaos Lord’s concentration. Then he realized Tzrak had completed his incantation.
The spell took form.
Mithris fought the resolving energy, twisting it. He howled a wordless cry of strain and desperation. He felt the magic give, just slightly, as the spell resolved.
There was a bright flash of light, a deafening crack of thunder. Mithris slammed into the rock wall behind him before he even realized he’d been hurled from his feet.
Lord Tzrak was similarly rocked by the blast, staggering backward and clasping one hand to his head. The Chaos Lord roared in surprised anger. When he recovered, Tzrak shook himself and stared at Mithris.
The young wizard pushed himself up, holding to the burning hot stone wall at his back for support. He was unsteady on his feet. He felt dizzy, nauseous. His vision swam and with a spike of fear he struggled to remain conscious.
“What did you do?” demanded Tzrak, lumbering forward. “That spell should have vaporized you!”
Mithris, fighting to stay on his feet, did not bother answering the demon. His heart sank. It hadn’t worked, or at least it had only worked half way. He was alive — not exactly unscathed, but alive — but so was Lord Tzrak.
When Mithris offered no reply, Tzrak scowled and took a menacing step forward. There was no mistaking the malice in those blood-red eyes. Growling low in his throat, the Chaos Lord began another incantation.
Mithris knew he was in trouble. He staggered away from the rock wall and nearly fell. He could see the magical energy swelling around Tzrak and knew there was not much time. He would have to try again, and hope that this time it went better. He felt a small surge of hope, noting a trace of uncertainty in the Chaos Lord’s chanting voice.
“Come on, sleeping mind,” Mithris whispered, “I need you to wake up.”
As Tzrak built his spell, Mithris spoke the cantrip he had used against Zerto. It would speed his reactions, seeming to slow everything else to a crawl. But the spell did not resolve; Mithris was still cut off somehow. His only hope was in wrestling away control of the magic Tzrak himself summoned.
The demon continued his droning incantation, eyes locked on the youthful wizard. Mithris shook his head, trying to clear it. Blinking, he focused his attention on the cloud of energy swirling around the Chaos Lord. Before his eyes, the spell began to take shape under Tzrak’s arcane instruction.
Mithris caught a few words he recognized, and he thought he knew what sort of spell Tzrak was building. It was another fire spell, and Ember burned brightly in the demon’s clawed hand.
Tzrak’s incantation was lengthy and complex. New elements appeared in the slowly resolving spell. Mithris saw an indistinct darkness threading itself through the magical energy. The shadow spread like ink spilled underwater. It was the same darkness Tzrak had held in his hand earlier: the power of a Chaos Lord.
Mount Wileth rumbled. The ledge trembled beneath Mithris’ feet.
Veins of shadow coiled throughout the building tide of energy now. Tendrils of magic sank into the rocks below, burrowing deep into the volcano itself. The mountain rumbled again. Tzrak’s incantation was nearly complete. Mithris had to act now.
He flung himself forward, grasping at the nearest thread of power. As his fingers closed around the ethereal energy, Mithris gasped. Where the shadow touched his flesh, it burned. The shadow was like a choking vine coiled around a tree, and it had thorns. These penetrated the wizard’s hand, sinking into him. He gritted his teeth against the invasive pain, and twisted the magic.
Tzrak completed his incantation. The spell hung in the air, resolving itself. Mount Wileth shuddered.
The spell did not resolve. Mithris held on to one thread of power, holding it now in both hands and fighting it. More of those inky thorns sank into his skin, searing through flesh and bone and leeching into his very soul. Mithris felt the darkness inside him. It sought to devour him.
Beneath the ledge, the lake of molten rock surged and bubbled and spat tiny bursts of flame into the air.
Mithris screamed and something snapped in his mind. The magic bent to his will.
Lord Tzrak’s bloody eyes bulged wide in shock. His lipless slit of a mouth fell open in disbelief. The spell resolved at last, but it was not the spell Tzrak had cast. Not exactly.
Mount Wileth roared, the inferno at the mountain’s heart boiling over. Lava sloshed below the ledge and began to rise. The magic hanging in the air between demon and wizard burst with a flash of light and a deafening crash like thunder.
The volcano erupted.
Chapter 43
Eruption
Magical energy whipped around in a violent maelstrom within the erupting volcano. As spumes of molten lava shot upward, tendrils of magic wrapped themselves around the magma. Sheets of energy formed barriers, forcing the flow into a narrow channel.
That channel was like an invisible funnel built of magic.
Its wide base formed directly above the lake of magma. It rose gracefully upward, curving and twisting and bending as it narrowed. The lava boiled up inside that funnel, pressure and speed increasing as the pathway narrowed.
Tzrak the Chaos Lord saw what was happening. He threw up his hands and bellowed a warding cantrip. It was no use.
That conduit of magic originated from him. The Chaos Lord could not comprehend what Mithris had done. This wizard…this boy… had somehow turned Tzrak’s own spell against him. It should have been impossible.
A million gallons of molten rock poured directly into the Chaos Lord, following the invisible conduit of magic. To non-magical eyes, it would appear that a braided cord of fire and liquid rock lifted itself like a snake and struck at the demon.
Intense roiling heat flooded out, washing over Mithris and driving him back. The young wizard staggered and fell to his knees.
Lava struck the Chaos Lord and burned him away in an instant.
As Tzrak was wiped from existence, so too was his magic. The conduit through which the lava flowed dissipated rapidly.
Mithris felt his connection to the magic restored in the same instant. It was like an appendage that had been amputated, now suddenly regrown and fully healed.
The lava spout, no longer contained by the spell, lost its shape. Hot molten rock splashed in all directions as the towering lava flow collapsed. The entire mountain shook; the eruption was far from over.
Get out of there! Vapor’s distant voice shouted desperately inside the young wizard’s head.
Mithris shouted his traveling spell in a mad rush. A wave of lava bore down on him. Droplets of white-hot rock splashed at the hem of his robes. Flames grew wherever they landed. A drop landed on his outstretched arm. Flesh bubbled and blistered and melted away.
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