by Jason Kenyon
‘You’ll see how useless they really are,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘I promise you this will feel quite futile.’ He barged the doors open. ‘Behold the true magnificence of these ridiculous places!’
The doors revealed the interior in a suitably dramatic fashion, but it was not the effect Archimegadon expected. Rather than the humble and somewhat ineffectual scholarly bustle of his previous visits, Archimegadon beheld a Mage School furnished with riches that put kings to shame. He and his companions were nearly blinded by the sheer goldenosity of this room (if such a word existed, it would describe this scene perfectly). Merely stepping upon the carpets made Archimegadon feel like some filthy cockroach.
‘Looks pretty well-off to me,’ Obdo said.
‘Oh, indeed, sir!’ said a sudden unfamiliar voice, causing the companions to start and attempt to hide behind each other. After the slight confusion faded Archimegadon recognised it was Felsia, the receptionist.
‘You!’ Archimegadon said. ‘This place has changed awfully.’
‘Awfully?’ Felsia let out a laugh, and it sounded slightly crazed. ‘Oh we’re doing just great, mister mage! You know our founder is now second-in-command of New Valanthas! And see what we’ve done now! Wonderful!’ She gestured round at all of the finery.
‘Sen Delarian sent you all this nonsense?’ Archimegadon asked.
‘Nonsense?’ Felsia waved a feather quill dangerously near Archimegadon’s nose and eyes. ‘These are riches! Even some ancient artefacts from the shattered Tarmunath Empire. A wonderful selection.’
‘How interesting,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Is there any particular reason why?’
‘Who can say?’ Felsia asked. ‘A reward for our good service! He just sent a note saying “Thank you for your good service over the years.”’
‘So I guess you can say, in that case,’ Archimegadon said. Rather odd, really. Sen had sent all this to reward them? But he was going to destroy it all anyway. If those heroes were telling the truth, they planned to wipe out everyone, and Felsia would likely be included. For that matter… ‘Are there any other mages here still?’
‘Oh yes!’ Felsia giggled. ‘This way, sirs.’ She scuttled away down the corridor and the companions stumbled over each other in their attempt both to follow and also not to slip on the silky carpet.
‘So, this is where it all started, Sir Mage?’ Obdo asked.
‘I rather suppose it is, in some way,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘Where I trained, if it could be called that.’
‘What do you mean?’ Neurion asked.
‘It was hardly a good course,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘They taught us the very basics of using magic and gave us magical staffs. Oh, and of course a ridiculous tome with tips and such on how to be a good mage.’
‘You don’t mean that, do you?’ Neurion asked. ‘You’re not putting down your training? You’re Master Archimegadon!’
‘It was barely any time at all, Neurion,’ Archimegadon said. ‘The general idea was to teach people to use one spell to impress family and friends and fill them with fear if need be. I was rather under the impression I was using my staff to cast flamebolts but it appears that I was not entirely right. Why Delarian deemed it necessary to give me the staff that led to the truth of his foul operation I do not know.’
Archimegadon’s thoughts ran back to the original Mage Academy, Antagules and the shadowy Vortagenses. The traitorous founder of Valanthas and the treacherous Lord Bartell made quite a suitable pair really. While he had been given new confidence in his abilities, Archimegadon was quite aware that he was currently running on a bluff. There were heroes marshalling to confront Bartell and his forces, be they a band of companions such as Mortimyr and company, or the paladin army under Grand, and if anyone was going to save the world it would be them.
Yet – that temptation lingered. What if it went the other way? What if, in this rare opportunity, they could somehow pull off the impossible and save Valanthas from Lord Bartell’s scheme in spite of titanic odds? A hero’s hour against demonic powers and more besides!
‘Wake up, Sir Mage, we’ve lost her,’ Obdo said, interrupting the mage’s musings.
‘Ah yes, of course,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Right. On we go. To fix the blasted staff or some such.’
A short walk brought them to the central area of the Mage Academy, where the fountain sat motionless and frozen. Those damned upstarts had clearly failed in their imbecilic plan and permanently frozen the fountain. Near the fountain, looking most grand in shining rich robes and covered in all sorts of golden rubbish that made them look like would-be rulers, was a collection of three old men who were presumably mages.
Felsia gestured at the three men. ‘Our last mages left in this school! Orik, Erem and Azgren.’
They all looked almost identical, and Archimegadon didn’t even waste a moment trying to guess which was which. ‘Greetings, travellers,’ one of the men said. ‘We bid you welcome to the halls of magical learning.’
‘You will discover the secrets of magecraft that will…’
‘Oh enough, don’t even start,’ Archimegadon interrupted. ‘Don’t try to pretend this place is prestigious.’
‘Well, how rude! Where did this man come from anyway? Is he from Gredan? They’re a filthy lot over there.’
‘I do believe I recognise him, vaguely,’ Felsia replied. ‘Have you been here before?’
‘Indeed I…’ Archimegadon began.
A mage wearing a crown let out a thundering laugh. ‘Probably one of our reject students! No more of that now, at least! Sen Delarian has granted us permission to train people as a true force for magical control!’
Archimegadon snorted. ‘What?’
The mage with the crown sniffed. ‘Mock all you want, little man. We are the new Mage Academy under the control of the Lord of Magic, Sen Delarian, Lead Mage of New Valanthas and soon to be the world!’
The companions exchanged looks. While the mages here seemed to be somewhat unhinged, they were mages nonetheless, and nobody knew how powerful they were. Moreover, counting in Felsia, there were four of them against three companions. Now was not the time to provoke a fight.
‘Well, I see,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Most interesting. Now, what I need…’
‘Oh shush you irritating fellow,’ the mage with the crown said. He, like the other two, had an impressive beard, much larger than Archimegadon’s relatively short one, and he was stroking it in the same manner Archimegadon often used to make himself look wise. ‘Now whatever happened here in the past is quite over. We have been granted riches to turn Melethas from a backwater village into the new Mages’ Citadel ready for the great takeover.’
‘And you just discuss this with random passers by?’ Obdo asked.
‘We have been asked to reveal the great plan to all who visit,’ the mage replied. ‘While Master Delarian and Lord Bartell prepare to save the world we must put plans in motion to begin the order while they go to fight the Great Evil.’
‘The what now?’ Archimegadon asked.
‘Lord Bartell prepares to face a great evil, you see,’ the mage replied.
‘That clears that one up for me,’ Archimegadon said. Something was wrong here. These mages were too mad for it to be quite what it seemed. Something was silly about all of this, even sillier than the ridiculous crowns and plans the mages had.
‘So, uh, we had a favour to ask,’ Obdo interrupted. ‘We have a broken staff here.’
The lead mage looked up quickly. ‘A staff, hm?’
Archimegadon’s eyes narrowed.
‘Let me have it,’ the mage said.
‘You’ll fix it just like that?’ Obdo asked with relief. He snatched it off Neurion.
‘Let me have it,’ the mage repeated.
Archimegadon eyed Obdo and the mage, and then grabbed the farmhand’s shoulder, tugging him back firmly away from the mage.
‘A question for you, mage,’ Archimegadon said. ‘What do you want with the Staff of Arrabeth?’
‘Antagules, I think you me…’ the mage began. He paused partway and then pursed his lips. ‘Hmm, interesting. Might as well hand it over, you three. We have strict orders on what to do otherwise.’
‘Pretences dropped I suppose,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Running to Sen’s Mage School was not the wisest move. I had assumed he’d not give a toss for it.’
‘The Staff of Antagules, please,’ the mage said. ‘I do not wish to make a mess of the new furnishings.’
‘As you wish, then,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Give me the staff, Obdo.’
Obdo stared. ‘You’re not going to..?’
Archimegadon snatched it and pushed Obdo out of the way. ‘Well, here, have the damn thing!’ He threw the staff towards the three mages.
‘Master Archimegadon!’ Neurion said.
Archimegadon ignored the paladin and turned to the frozen fountain. ‘Flamebolt!’
With a crack of power the ball of fire crashed into the fountain and exploded, knocking everyone slightly off balance. The fountain burst back into life and sprayed out a huge gushing torrent that soaked everyone, but mostly the mages who stood near it. Taking advantage of their momentary confusion, Archimegadon unleashed another great flamebolt that knocked them into one another and then to the floor as they tripped on their own robes.
Obdo and Neurion wavered but Felsia did not. ‘Stupid man,’ she muttered, conjuring a spell of her own.
Archimegadon turned but he was too slow to avoid the bolt of crackling energy she shot his way, and he slid across the watery floor and came to a somewhat hard and painful halt slamming into the wall.
‘Hold on a moment,’ Obdo said, reaching for his club.
‘You can be quiet too,’ Felsia said, turning on the farmhand and unleashing a coil of energy that snaked around him. ‘Enstrangle!’
‘En-what now?’ Obdo asked, apparently oblivious to his predicament momentarily before finding himself immobilised.
Felsia was all business now. She turned on Neurion, the last threat. ‘Energy blast!’ she cried, conjuring another bolt of force.
Neurion hurled his sword in a panic at Felsia, and the blast caught it midway, causing the blade to spin out of control and fly off to the other side of the room. The paladin did not waver, instead pointing to the blade with one hand and glaring at Felsia. ‘By the powers of the Light, unleash your Holy Fury!’
Archimegadon stared in wonder as the Spell of Holy Fury apparently succeeded, and the blade shot with almost hateful determination at its target, flying by itself and stabbing madly at her. Felsia it seemed was no novice, unfortunately, and she cast a variety of defensive spells that turned the blade aside, albeit with some effort. Neurion looked pretty angry for once, and Archimegadon dared not speak and break the paladin’s concentration as he maintained the incantation. He instead picked himself and took care to squeeze the water from the sleeves of his robes.
The fountain was still spouting water out madly, as though weeks of pressure were finally unleashed. It was most likely some spell on the water had gone awry after the explosion but that suited Archimegadon just fine. However it no longer seemed to quite be inconveniencing the three mages now, who had risen to their feet and now looked a bit pissed off. The lead mage pointed out Archimegadon to one and Neurion to the other.
Decisions, decisions. Archimegadon raised his hands into position ready to cast something (well, flamebolt, of course, so where to send it was the real question). He eyed the mage casting something at himself and the other mage casting at Neurion and winced.
‘For I am Archimegadon!’ he yelled, and fired the flamebolt at Neurion’s assailant. The yell distracted the mage momentarily and made him look round at an opportune moment, so that he ended up with a face full of flamebolt. Mere instants later another blast of energy crashed into Archimegadon, who slammed back into the wall a second time.
Obdo meanwhile managed to slip free of his bonds while Felsia was distracted and loosed her control over the bindings. He ran for the lead mage without a moment’s thought, and whipped out his club as he jumped over the fallen mage Archimegadon had apparently beaten. The lead mage smiled and waved a hand, freezing Obdo in midair.
Archimegadon stumbled to his feet and dodged another energy blast with a certain amount of difficulty. The lead mage snorted and waved his hand again, but looked surprised as Archimegadon kept moving in a vague direction towards him.
‘Enough of this charade!’ the mage said. ‘King Vortagenses, your power! Grant me the power to swat this upstart!’
A dark shadow fell across the room and suddenly the mage was no longer what he had looked like – his old man appearance faded away and there stood a young mage, probably in his twenties with wavy brown hair, wrapped up in a fancy blue robe. His hands crackled with dark energy.
‘Ah, one of those Clerics I’m assuming,’ Archimegadon said.
‘To Hell with you!’ the Cleric yelled, and a bolt of thick dark energy stabbed out faster than a blink.
Archimegadon reacted instinctively, trying to conjure some sort of flamebolt that would block the stab. What he created was an explosion that probably came close to hurting him more than the bolt, but it did knock the bolt aside at least. He slipped in the water and had to grab onto one of the paintings on the wall to right his balance.
‘Surprising,’ the Cleric said. ‘Choices.’ He pointed one hand to Obdo and one hand at Neurion. ‘Darkstrike!’ Two bolts of darkness fired out, and Archimegadon made some hasty decisions.
‘Flamebolt!’ Archimegadon yelled, and he fired a shot at Obdo. Before it even got anywhere he had already started running towards Neurion, who, while aware of the Cleric, was struggling to keep Felsia at bay.
‘Sir MAAAARGH!’ Obdo said as the relatively gentle flamebolt blasted him out of the air and threw him down one of the side corridors, while the darkstrike missed and obliterated a painting of Sen Delarian.
Archimegadon was acting out of some strange need to save Neurion urgently, perhaps some tedious “gallantry” after the episode in the Mage Academy. Either way it seemed important to defend Neurion at that moment, if only because the paladin had actually cast a successful spell. He threw himself in the way of the strike just as a wave of light covered him. The Darkstrike smashed through it, and Archimegadon was thrown into Neurion, who was knocked messily into the water, making a sharp clanging noise as the pair crashed to the floor.
‘Well, it did something,’ Neurion said, not even pausing to consider things. He scrambled to his feet and waved a hand. The sword, possessed by Holy Fury, had been about to fall, but he speedily renewed the spell and it went for Felsia again.
‘What you people lack in technique, you certainly appear to make up for in stubbornness,’ the Cleric said. ‘Why not stay down or surrender?’ He stooped and picked up the Staff of Antagules. ‘At least I have what I came here for. The rest is a bonus.’
‘What use is that rubbish anyway?’ Archimegadon asked, trying to look impressive sprawled in soaked robes on the floor.
‘You do not understand its worth?’ the Cleric asked. ‘Delarian needn’t have worried about you layabouts. I suppose that is why he assigned these imbeciles as the main guards.’ He looked at the fallen mage and the other one, who had frozen since the Cleric dropped his disguise. ‘Tools to turn aside curious fools while I waited for some idiot to turn up with the staff.’
‘There was no guarantee I’d come here,’ Archimegadon said.
‘King Vortagenses notified us after you killed Belias,’ the Cleric said. ‘I do not believe he was very happy about what you did to one of his faithful followers. There are Clerics guarding every settlement and Mage School for miles around waiting for you.’
Archimegadon rose to his full height and water poured from his somewhat heavy robes. ‘Well, they missed us several times then. Speaking of which, why stall? Finish it.’ He hoped Obdo would make some heroic entrance and save him, and tried to watch the side corridor subtly.
‘As you w
ish, old man,’ the Cleric replied. ‘Darkstrike and Magnifica!’
Waves of energy pulsed around the Cleric and another Darkstrike blasted out for the Mage for Hire. Archimegadon was faster to attempt his exploding defence this time, though it once again sent him stumbling through the water. Rather than simply die, though, the Darkstrike crackled and then exploded itself after a few seconds, blasting both Felsia and Neurion to the floor, presumably the Magnifica effect.
Neurion was first to rise, perhaps defended in some part by his armour; either way, he planted a foot on Felsia’s back and forced her back down as she attempted to rise. As she opened her mouth and began to try casting something Neurion snatched his sword from where it wavered in the air, its spell interrupted, and he stabbed the blade down in front of her eyes. The mage pondered a moment and then reverted to silence with a whimper.
The Cleric meanwhile charged at Archimegadon, looking irritated that his explosion had not finished off the old man. Archimegadon whirled to face his opponent and slipped again, and grabbed onto the Cleric’s sleeves as he tried to keep his balance. The Cleric tore an arm out of Archimegadon’s grip and it crackled with more dark energy. Archimegadon reached instead for the broken Staff of Antagules that the Cleric was clinging to and yanked it free.
A moment of time passed over an age.
The Cleric’s concentration faltered and he started to reach with his casting hand for the staff.
Archimegadon stumbled backwards and his back bumped into the wall.
A voice thundered in his head.
By all that is holy and unholy, just punch him!
Archimegadon took another moment to register this command. As he did so the Cleric grabbed the staff and yelled out in triumph. The Mage for Hire looked left and then looked right. Then he punched the Cleric clean through the face, and the deranged mage crumpled to the floor.
Archimegadon paused in his moment of victory.
‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ Archimegadon asked, glaring at the Staff of Antagules.
But the Staff remained silent.