by Jason Kenyon
‘Bartell!’ he shouted, and the lord turned with a look of surprise on his face.
‘Archimegadon?’ Bartell asked. ‘What the devil are you doing here? You’re a damn fool!’
‘That’s the sorcerer wizard Ub,’ Elsim said.
Bartell slapped the back of the clerk’s head, knocking his glasses askew. ‘You imbecile, did you let him in? Not that it particularly matters, when the man is a complete loon.’ The look in Bartell’s eyes was less dismissive, though; Archimegadon’s reappearance had made him wary. ‘What are you doing here, Forseld?’
‘Well, I actually came here to finish you off, old bean,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘It hasn’t exactly gone to plan, but here we are now.’
Bartell chuckled and gestured with his hand. ‘But such a distance between us, “mage”. You’ll be hard-pressed to finish me off at that distance with your talents.’
‘Don’t you be so sure!’ Archimegadon said. ‘I wield the very powers of the celestial beings and have returned to snuff you out like a cheap candle.’
‘A cheap candle, is it?’ Bartell asked. ‘I’ve been called worse. Since you seem as ineffectual as last time, I’ll be on my way. Get moving, you two.’
Archimegadon looked at Felick as though for the first time. ‘Wait a moment… we spared you, you ass. What are you doing here?’
The mercenary had the decency to look slightly shame-faced, but then he shrugged and smirked in his usual manner. ‘What can I say, Arkermechadon? My blade’s fer the top power around, an’ his Lordship here is up there right above everyone.’
‘I shall not have such mercy next time, you tedious ass,’ Archimegadon said. ‘You shall be set asunder as blades of grass in the wind.’
‘That analogy didn’t really work, now did it?’ Bartell interrupted, his words puncturing Archimegadon’s brief spat of rage. ‘Forseld, I don’t know by what force or power you have returned here, despite Sen’s spell, but you should probably have taken the easy option and stayed far away.’
‘You plan to kill everyone,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Either way I’m dead, might as well go out the heroic way.’
Bartell looked momentarily thrown, and then he snorted. ‘A touching show of heroism, but not enough to sway me. And you are correct; whatever you choose, you are dead. I will see to it.’
‘Sen is not on your side, Bartell,’ Archimegadon said.
Bartell’s eyes narrowed.
‘The power you seek in Arranoth is not what you think,’ Archimegadon went on. ‘It is the power of a demon, and the will of a necromancer… you…’
‘There you are!’ Sen shouted, rounding the corner and stepping onto the balcony, his hands alight with magical fire.
Archimegadon had no time to think. Sen or Bartell? A swift idea formed in that moment.
He turned and pointed at Lord Bartell, and surprised himself with his best flamebolt yet. The air seemed to stand still as the flamebolt hung suspended between the Mage for Hire and the corrupt Lord of Aldrack.
Then the scene unfroze, and Bartell ducked instinctively, yelling ‘Kalahd!’ as he did so. Archimegadon’s flamebolt faded away, as did the flamebolt that had been forming in Delarian’s hands, both wiped out by the anti-magic pendant that Lord Bartell had activated in self-defence.
‘Auber, you idiot!’ Sen shouted, distracted so much by frustration that he forgot the Mage for Hire momentarily.
‘Here, Sen, let’s get back to that lesson, shall we?’ Archimegadon asked, a deadly glint in his eyes, and Sen looked around just a moment too slowly. The Mage for Hire struck out with the Staff of Antagules, which made a very painful donk noise as it connected soundly with Sen’s forehead. ‘Learn defeat.’ And his fist smashed through Sen’s face with all the frustration and anger of the last few weeks so hard that Sen’s head connected with the castle’s stone wall as it shot back.
Sen Delarian’s eyes rolled up in his head, and with only the barest of hisses as his words died on his lips before he could begin to utter them, the mage hero of legend fell first to his knees, then flopped onto his face.
A very awkward silence was suddenly filled by Lord Bartell’s uproarious laughter. ‘Oh, just priceless! Excellent work, Forseld, I’m really very impressed. And now, I bid you farewell! Enjoy your temporary victory.’
‘Wait, Bartell!’ Archimegadon called.
‘Do you really think I’m going to wait because my enemy told me to?’ Bartell asked, tugging himself up onto his horse’s back and riding out of the courtyard. Elsim and Felick quickly gathered their confused thoughts and followed their master as swiftly as they were able. As they reached the courtyard exit they joined up with what appeared to be a significant number of Felick’s Breakers, also on horseback, and together they disappeared into the city.
Which left Archimegadon with his conquered foe. Sen Delarian. Perhaps a little bit like cheating, but it had worked! Where his talents lacked rather thoroughly, a little ‘ingenuity’ had served him well. The bastard who had shamed him was defeated, tricked, whatever you wanted to call it…
…and Archimegadon was triumphant!
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Ashes of Victory
Bartell, Elsim and Felick had left the city. Sen Delarian had been, to all extents and purposes, defeated. A few captains remained to command the Lord Protector’s forces but without the correct leadership to coordinate them, they soon found themselves overwhelmed by the organised paladin army. Bit by bit the usurper’s army was pushed back, until finally the remaining knights stood conquered in the courtyard before the main gates of Castle Aldrack, shaken, battered and out of strength. While commands had been few and far between, word that their leaders were gone passed swiftly amongst the knights, and once it became apparent that there was no overall power behind them any more, the Order of Endless Skies capitulated without much hesitation, casting their weapons to the ground with bitter scowls.
Grand was only too pleased to relieve them of their weaponry, and had the survivors stripped of their armour and rounded up in the courtyard. Aldrack had fallen. Bolstered by his victory, the paladin commander swaggered into the castle itself, unaware of the disappearance of Bartell, nor of Delarian’s defeat. He was quite ready to fight his old rivals in order to prise the kingdom from their dead hands. It would be best that way.
The castle itself had few guards left, and those were swiftly captured or dispatched. Those who were allowed to live were shuffled off to sit with the rest, all looking most miserable indeed.
As for Grand himself, he did not make it in very far when he ran into a figure he had not expected to see here, at the heart of the action.
‘Archimegadon?’ he asked, beholding the Mage for Hire in all his glory.
Archimegadon was indeed looking rather splendid, despite the noticeably tattered and burnt edges around the bottom of his robes, and he stood over a fallen mage. Grand peered carefully at the figure, recognising it at once, but unwilling to believe.
‘Is that… Sen Delarian?’
‘Indeed so!’ Archimegadon replied. He’d used the magical bindings he’d stolen from the Melethas Mage School to ensure that Sen was no longer a risk, though Sen was still quite unconscious at this stage. ‘I have defeated Sen Delarian, and Lord Bartell has fled the city. Alas, I was unable to stop him.’
‘You… defeated… Sen?’ Grand could barely form the words.
‘Well, yes,’ Archimegadon replied, taking the time to carefully inspect his fingernails. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘You couldn’t? You! Yoooou. It’s not possible.’
‘Stop gibbering, you ass,’ Archimegadon said. ‘I assume since you’re here you’ve taken care of Bartell’s men outside?’
‘Ehm, yes, we have,’ Grand replied. He was suddenly struck by a bizarre sense of respect for this mage he’d assumed was a complete moron, talking with such calm while standing over the fallen hero of the kingdom. ‘We’ve gathered them in the courtyard. Bartell’s gone, you said?’
‘Indeed, I caug
ht him riding away on horseback, unfortunately from too far away to stop him,’ Archimegadon replied.
‘Then… he’s beaten,’ Grand said. He looked incredibly surprised. ‘We’ve… we’ve won!’
‘Congratulations, sir,’ Archimegadon said. ‘Though I imagine the city will take some cleaning, not to mention his forces outside. And the wretched dome remains yet.’
‘The dome is nothing particularly much to worry about right now,’ Grand said. Indeed, that could wait quite a long time, as far as he was concerned. ‘My men will scour this “New Valanthas” and clear out Bartell’s inbreeds as soon as possible.’
‘Well, that’s quite splendid,’ Archimegadon said.
For his part, he felt quite relieved. Suddenly a huge weight had been lifted from him, the burden of his defeat gone now. The shadows of the last few weeks had faded away almost completely. With Bartell on the run, his city fallen to the paladin order, and Sen Delarian captive, their enemies had essentially crumbled. It almost felt good to shirk all the responsibility of clearing up onto Grand, although that probably wasn’t a good thing. It did however tempt him to actually share his information with the paladin leader.
‘I am surprised, Archimegadon – the Light works in mysterious ways,’ Grand said. ‘My hand was stayed at that farmstead, and here we find you, the conqueror of one of our great enemies. You have my respect.’ And he offered Archimegadon his hand.
‘What?’ suddenly split the space between the two men. All turned to see Mortimyr and company enter the room, and at their head was Valia, who looked absolutely livid. ‘This man is a conman! A trickster!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Grand asked with a frown.
‘Archimegadon is just a petty talentless idiot!’ Valia replied. ‘You don’t really believe he beat Sen? He probably just found him knocked out by someone else! There’s no way!’
‘No need to be such a poor loser,’ Archimegadon murmured with a small smile.
‘Really now,’ Grand said, looking a little bemused. ‘There’s no call to make such a show.’
‘You don’t get it!’ Valia shouted. ‘You can’t… I mean… we… we broke into here and fought all his men! Archimegadon did nothing but run around in circles!’
Archimegadon was a little surprised by just how angry she seemed to be, though he was slightly in agreement that maybe he hadn’t done all that much after all. He wasn’t about to point that out, though.
‘Then praise be to you lot as well,’ Grand said without much force. ‘Well… done?’
‘I don’t believe this!’ Valia said. ‘Time after time, how do you do it, mage?’
‘Valia, my goodness… are you jealous?’ Archimegadon asked with a laugh.
‘Oh, forget it!’ Valia said, and she stormed back the way they’d come, slamming a door behind her.
‘Wow,’ Terrill said. ‘For my part, mage, I’m pretty impressed you pulled that off! If you did, eh?’ He smirked.
‘Silence!’ Archimegadon replied with good-natured grumpiness. ‘This time it was me… with a little assistance from Bartell, I admit…’
And he related the tale of how it was Sen met his defeat.
‘Well, Auber always was an idiot,’ Grand said. ‘His supposed kingdom fell without a problem once we’d decided to attack it just the one time, so…’
‘Guess that’s it here, then,’ Mortimyr said.
Archimegadon pursed his lips. People seemed to be forgetting that Bartell was probably on his way to Mount Arranoth instead, to seek Vortagenses’s lost power. Mortimyr and company knew, but the paladins certainly didn’t. Perhaps it was time to do as he’d been asked now and share the tale of Vortagenses. He remembered Grand’s offer of respect, and made up his mind.
‘I have some information that is important,’ Archimegadon said. ‘This may take a few minutes…’
*
A while later found everyone gathered in the throne room where Archimegadon had stood before Lord Bartell for the first time, to collect his reward. There were no nobles in the stands, and only the horrible red glow poured through the great windows. The former glory of Castle Aldrack had forever been lost to Archimegadon; memories and the whispers of the past had stained this place forever for him. Simply being here put him on edge, despite his relief at defeating, if temporarily, Lord Bartell.
Grand and his paladins were now aware of the threat of Vortagenses. That is, they were aware of the story. Despite his initial respect for Archimegadon, Grand had quickly poured scorn upon the recounting of the old Mage Academy, and Antagules. Just to assist, Antagules seemed to be quite absent, and was not available to tell her own story upon demand. That left Archimegadon feeling quite stupid, and not at all happy he’d told the tale. Even so, at least Mortimyr and the other heroes seemed to believe his tale, and were busy chattering amongst themselves.
Nevertheless, Grand had been kind enough to give a speech to his paladins, and some of the liberated citizens, announcing the heroism of Archimegadon in defeating Sen Delarian, leaving out the true details of the fight. From being most hated man in this part of the kingdom, Archimegadon suddenly knew some fame instead, and felt a warm rush at the thought that Bartell’s attempts to blacken his name were going to be completely quashed.
While Grand was busy organising the fight against the last few pockets of resistance throughout the city, sitting arrogantly upon Bartell’s old throne, Archimegadon took up a lonely spot on the edge of the room. Sen Delarian, his “trophy”, was in chains along with his magical shackles, over next to Grand. He’d been kept on hand for information once he woke up, but he seemed pretty content to slumber for the moment.
The Mage for Hire was actually surprised that he was pleased to see Obdo and Neurion wander in, both looking quite bereft.
‘Sir Mage!’ Obdo said. ‘You’re here after all. Was starting to think we’d lost you.’
‘Of course not, Obdo,’ Archimegadon said. ‘I have survived, for now. Look over there. Sen Delarian.’
Obdo and Neurion went through the usual expressions of surprise at seeing the great mage defeated. ‘The paladins got him, then?’ Obdo asked.
‘It was me, actually,’ Archimegadon replied, with a small smile.
‘That was a bit understated, Mr Big Mage,’ Obdo said. ‘Does that mean you really did beat him?’
‘It does, in fact, yes,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘I managed to get Bartell to do that anti-magic thing of his, which left Sen rather useless.’
‘So I guess you didn’t really beat him,’ Obdo said.
‘I “guess” not,’ Archimegadon said. He drummed his fingers on his chair. ‘I told the paladins everything.’
‘You did?’ Obdo asked. ‘That’s the biggest surprise of all!’
‘They didn’t really believe me, of course,’ Archimegadon said. ‘But still. I’ve passed on all the information. Mortimyr and Grand are set to do what they will with Bartell.’
‘Nice, nice,’ Obdo said. ‘What does that mean, then? Are we free to go?’
Archimegadon looked around the room. That was the question. He felt very cut out, all of a sudden. Actually giving the information away had felt a bit like giving up the “race” to be hero. And moreover, the paladins had stopped Bartell’s forces and freed all the people. Defeating Sen had given him a moment’s respect but all eyes seemed to be on the paladins, and why not? They’d saved the day. They’d freed Aldrack, and they were working on doing the rest for the whole of New Valanthas. They were the heroes. Archimegadon had just followed through with his grudge and hadn’t even won as a mage, he’d just done a lousy trick to win.
‘I think we’re done,’ Archimegadon replied. ‘We made it through, barely. Nearly died plenty of times there, and risked people in the act. I think perhaps it is time we stepped aside and let the true heroes do their thing.’
‘That’s no good, Sir Mage,’ Obdo said. ‘Where’s your fighting spirit?’
Archimegadon gave a sad smile. ‘What bard will sing the
tale of me punching Sen in the face? It’s all delusional, Obdo, and time to move on. We did what we needed to. Got the message to the paladins.’
‘Come on, Neurion, tell him!’ Obdo said.
Neurion instead shook his head. ‘No… I think Master Archimegadon is right. There’s no shame in just delivering a message. We’ve beaten Belias, and Master Archimegadon stopped Sen Delarian. Aren’t you proud?’
‘Well, yeah, but… we can do more!’ Obdo replied. ‘I don’t want to stop now!’
‘You could talk to Mortimyr,’ Archimegadon said. ‘He’s most likely to chase Bartell now.’
‘Yeah, but that wouldn’t be the same,’ Obdo said. ‘We’re a team, you know. We’ve stuck through some pretty bad stuff and made it this far.’
‘You think so?’ Archimegadon asked, slightly surprised.
‘Well, yeah,’ Obdo replied. ‘Remember when I carried that stupid demon head around, and Neurion was showing off how bad he was at casting holy spells? Remember escaping the Dusk Alliance base? Remember freeing Gale from Belias? We’ve changed!’
‘From bumbling fools to lucky bumbling fools,’ Archimegadon said.
‘But wouldn’t you be annoyed when Mortimyr comes home from Mount Arranoth going on about what it was like?’
‘I think I would, yes,’ Archimegadon replied, smiling.
‘Then maybe we should go to Arranoth,’ Neurion said, apparently warming to the idea himself.
‘If you both agree, then…’
Archimegadon paused. The images of the day on the wagons when all went to hell flickered through his mind. He could never bring back those two, never replace them, but standing up against the odds just to do what was right… that was what they had believed in, and they had been correct. This was his time to follow in their footsteps.