by Curtis, Greg
Meanwhile he found himself studying the dark wizard, almost as though he was just an interesting spell.
Qua’thor was not what he’d expected, though he had never really had any idea of what he might be like. But somehow he’d imagined maybe a tall powerful wizard bursting with magic, a colossus striding the mountains, but he simply wasn’t. He had power for certain, but it wasn’t the magic he’d expected, and in form he was small and slight, and strangest of all, gnomish. There were no powerful gnomish wizards, but apparently there had once been one.
His magic too wasn’t what he’d expected. He wasn’t an elementalist like him, nor an enchanter or even a summoner as the tales claimed, and his abilities in those magics were slight. What he was was a necromancer, mentalist and meta-magician, a being of pure evil that could somehow twist and corrupt a soul and turn it against itself, and then take their magic and transform it. His power was not his own, it was his follower’s. His knowledge was theirs too. Marjan wondered if anybody had ever realised that. Certainly if they had they should have been able to fight him, simply leave him alone and he would have nothing to use. All they had ever had to do was isolate him.
But it was his soul that truly repelled him. Not just dark and evil, the ancient wizard was filled with hatred and fury, jealousy and avarice, he hungered for things that were not his own, people, power, prestige and authority. He yearned to be an emperor or a god, mostly the latter, and he wanted all others to bow to him. He ached to have the magic at his fingertips that other powerful magicians had at theirs. He wanted grandeur and splendour, riches and luxury, woman. He wanted it all and anything that he couldn’t get on his own he had tried to take. But he had to do it subtly, he had to use lies and promises. He had to tempt until he could gain a hold on a soul. Then he took it.
No wonder Dimeter had fallen to him, and before him Kyran too, and so many others. His message was of absolute paradise, of power unlimited, a temptation few spellcasters could resist, until they allowed him access to their souls, at which point they became his possessions. If they cast against him he took their spells. If they yielded to him in any way he took their souls and their magic as well. How much of that they understood he didn’t know. What he did know was that he granted them their dearest wishes, or he promised them he would, and that was the dark wizards way in to their soul. Kyran had sought the power to kill him and he had been granted that, until it had all gone wrong. Dimeter had wanted knowledge too, he had wanted to become a powerful wizard, but the knowledge he had been given had only allowed him to make bigger and worse mistakes. But by then it was too late. He had let him in and been consumed by it.
“So much pain, so much death, and all for such a small creature.” Essaline whispered the understanding to him, or to herself and he simply heard her thoughts, it was unclear where she began and he ended, but he agreed completely with her.
“Small but so very poisonous.”
“Yield dark one.” A lady’s voice came out of nowhere to ring throughout the entire chasm, and it wasn’t a mortal voice. Somehow Marjan was certain that for the first time he was actually hearing the Goddess speak. “Cede your magic to the world and begin your journey into death. Your time has passed.”
Of course he wasn’t going to do that, but that Marjan guessed was part of the plan. Qua’thor had to strike at them, and if he thought he was in danger then he would do just that.
Small he might be, but the dark wizard had incredible power at his fingertips, stolen power but still his to use, and he instantly recognised his enemy, and launched a blast of lightning at them even as he was still emerging from the gate, crawling out of it on his hands and knees. It was a powerful blast, surely enough to level small mountains and set forests ablaze, but as powerful as it was it simply fizzled on Marjan’s shield. For a moment the sky lit up all around them, the whiteness was blinding and the air around them crackled with smaller blasts that smashed into the distant chasm walls, but none of that power made it inside his shield. Heartbeats later it was gone, the chasm had returned to its normal gloom and Marjan could feel the anger and shock of the dark wizard as he realised his attack had failed. It should have destroyed an army, yet it had failed to singe a single wizard’s hair.
Qua’thor became enraged about then, not just shocked that his attack had failed but angered. It was simply unacceptable that his enemies should have survived. But was he also frightened? Maybe. Fear was a powerful fuel when it came to anger and hatred. But it was a danger to a wizard as it threatened his concentration and discipline, and worse still, made him doubt. It would take a lot of fear though to stop Qua’thor. His reserves of strength, stolen strength, were vast.
Next he summoned the power of the earth itself to shake the chasm apart and bury them. A colossal magic that threatened to open up volcanoes beneath their feet. But that too was a wasted effort and as the ground shook all around them and mighty cracks opened up all around them spewing lava and firebombs, and in the distance the chasm walls began falling, they were untouched inside the shield. Meanwhile Marjan had to wonder just how many of his followers had given their last in that blast. Somehow he knew that those poor twisted remains of people they’d found controlling the stone trolls, those who stole body parts, were all that remained of even the most powerful of the dark wizards followers. Now he suspected, many of even them were no more, and with their passing the dark wizard was depleting himself.
He hit them with sound next, a cacophony of noise that should have sent people screaming to the ground with burst eardrums for easily a dozen leagues or more, but again it didn’t. The sound simply burst upon his shield and fizzled, turning to wind and harmless noise, and somewhere deep inside Marjan could almost feel the death of more of the dark wizard’s followers. Their lives were being wasted, their magic and their very souls being channelled into his attacks almost like arrows being fired from a bow, and slowly but surely his quiver was being emptied.
Did he realise that?
It was an important question though Marjan couldn’t spend much thought on it as he concentrated on holding his shield and channelling the raw magic all around him to the priests. But the dark wizard himself answered it a few moments later as he finally crawled his way right out of the gate and then stood there, upside down, staring at them, before he levelled his true magic at them. He reached for their souls.
“Courage.” The elder yelled it all at them, and it seemed to help. At least no one broke and ran.
Marjan could do nothing about the soul feeding magic, he did not have the gift and his shield would be no protection, but even as he felt a flicker of fear beating in his chest he felt Essaline there with him and knew that everything was all right. And it was. The darkness reached out for them, a horrid evil disease of the very soul and the priests sang and somehow it too went away. The music of their song, the joy and wonder more than a match for his darkness and what had been supposed to capture their souls with temptation and fear became almost a joke to laugh at. Instead of Qua’thor’s magic capturing them, the priests’ song turned his magic against him, something that had surely never happened before, and a heartbeat later the dark wizard screamed.
He screamed then for all he was worth, a sound of pain and suffering and absolute terror as he found his one true magic twisting back at his own soul, ripping into him, all but killing him. After all a man, even an all-powerful wizard, could not survive without a soul. Some how though, he held himself together, finding an inner source of strength, letting the terrible power of his own weapon falter against him, but Marjan wasn’t fooled. Qua’thor had hurt himself badly, his soul was in pieces, his magic barely controlled with it, and for maybe the first time in his life, he was frightened. Badly frightened.
“Little one, yield.” The lady’s voice rang out again, clear as a bell and just as beautiful. “You shall have no purchase in the world again.”
Qua’thor became enraged then, terror and desperation turning to blind fury in a heartbeat, completely unable
to bear the thought of someone laughing at him, telling him what to do, and like a small child throwing a tantrum, he launched everything he had at them. He did not hold back anything as his rage controlled him. Blasts of lightning and fire, raging torrents of acid and poison, tornadoes and earthquakes, he spared nothing, and for a little while no one could see or hear anything, and most of them fell to the unstable ground. Marjan did too, but the impact was minor even when Essaline landed on top of him and he ignored it as he concentrated on his single task, holding the shield.
When it was over though, he knew his work was done. As the last of the elements splashed down and fizzled all around them, as the light returned to his eyes and he could hear again over the noise, when the ground shaking finally stopped, he could feel the danger passing. With the passing of the dark wizard’s followers, and somehow he knew that wherever they were in the world they were finally, blessedly dead, their deaths flowing like a cleansing wind across the entire world, Qua’thor had depleted his entire store of magic, and the ancient wizard was suddenly alone. Not completely powerless, but still badly weakened. Worse than that he was too frightened to concentrate, something no wizard could ever allow himself to become.
Several of the dark wizard’s followers chose that moment to slip out of the open gate and fall to their doom, and he watched unconcerned as he could see the distant specks that he knew were their corpses, begin the long journey to the chasm floor. Sad in a way, but also as it had to be.
Meanwhile Qua’thor, suddenly desperately weakened and no doubt shocked that he didn’t have someone who’s magic he could steal, was hanging on to the edge of the open portal, gripping for dear life as he realised he was barely one or two fingers away from falling, and probably for the first time in his life, facing certain death. He didn’t want to die, and Marjan could feel that incredible thirst for life burning within him, but he also knew that it too was as it was meant to be. Qua’thor had torn his way loose from the void, he had somehow survived for thousands of years in a place of death, but still he had to die. No one was meant to live forever. Besides if he lived, he would only begin to amass his strength once more just as before. That was his nature.
“Is that -?” Someone asked the question as they saw the tiny figure hanging on to the portal, but couldn’t finish it. It was almost inconceivable that such a terrible force for evil in the world could be little more than a tiny speck of life, terrified of dying.
“It is, for a little while longer.” Elder Narelle, one of the priests answered him, and the silence returned, until finally the inevitable happened, and they watched the tiny little speck suddenly let go and begin its long final journey, plummeting to the ground.
“Should we do something?” One of the elves unbelievably actually considered helping the dark wizard, his voice uncertain and wavering, but the answer was always certain.
“No. Let nature take its course.” Elder Narelle was only telling them exactly what everyone knew needed to be, and so the quiet returned, and for what seemed like ages they watched as the tiny speck, spun and twisted end over end as the ancient gnome travelled his last journey. What shocked Marjan, and probably the others, was that as he fell, the dark wizard was screaming in terror. It seemed so very wrong. The most powerful spellcaster ever known, responsible for the deaths of maybe millions, maybe even more, commander of armies that had left their boot prints across an entire continent, a destroyer of worlds had he the chance, and he had neither the magic to slow his descent, nor the self control to keep his calm. He screamed with fear just like a little child.
The end when it came was more a letdown than a triumph, a sadness even. Somewhere in the distance, behind the mountainous piles of rubble that surrounded them, Qua’thor hit the ground or more likely the mountains of rubble that had once been an upside down mountain, and though they couldn’t see it, they felt his passing. His scream, a sound that couldn’t be heard with a man’s ears, was abruptly cut short, replaced by absolute stillness, before the world brought them the memorial of his death. It was like a cleansing wind blowing over them, the sun coming out from behind the dark clouds, and a song of joy suddenly echoing on the breeze. The darkness had gone.
Marjan, and he was far from alone, knew a moment of relief and joy like no other when that happened, a brief heartbeat of heaven as it seemed someone was singing up there, before that too was gone, and he was left lying there, mostly too confused to even think. Much the same as everyone else.
“And so it ends.” The elder was right of course as he finally broke the calm, announcing what should have been the most momentous news in a year and a half, but no one there knew what to say, how to answer him, how to even feel, and so the silence returned.
The war was over, but it wasn’t a victory. There was no such thing. No one ever won a war, they just survived it, and all of them had lost too much. Homes, friends, family. This was no victory, just maybe an end to a time of danger and a start as they began the long task of healing. As their thoughts turned slowly to the future and the enormous amount of work that had to be done as they rebuilt their world, an air of sadness seemed to grip them. It gripped Marjan too. But still as he began releasing the wild magic that had been churning within him, he had to know a little cheer, and most of that was through Essaline who was still lying on top of him, warm and wondrous. Neither of them had yet found the will to get up, they weren’t even thinking about it, and all around them most of the others were much the same. There was simply no point.
The war was over, the enemy defeated, and they didn’t need to get to their feet and fight. In fact for the first time in far too long, they didn’t need to do anything at all. A terrible burden of fear and pain had been lifted from them, their loved ones were safe, and the world would rebuild itself in time. It took a little while for that to sink in.
“A gnome! All that for a blasted gnome.” Master Argus was the first to finally break the silence and start people thinking again, as he got to his feet, too proud to keep lying there like an invalid, and typically his view was far from what everyone else was thinking. But still he managed to raise a few smiles with his complaining. Except maybe from the gnomes.
“And you boy.” The sylph turned to stare Marjan directly in the eyes. “A mage defender in truth. I don’t think I’ve ever been more pleased with a student’s final test.” Essaline started laughing about then, giggling into his chest, while Marjan just raised his eyebrows in wonder. All this was a test? As if! Still as the others joined in and the laughter grew all around, he didn’t care. Eventually he even began laughing with them, unable to help himself.
“Did I pass?” Marjan’s not so innocent question caused an actual explosion of laughter and all around he could see people laughing themselves silly as they slowly began helping one another to their feet, and tears began streaming from his own eyes in time. He wasn’t alone. Even Bearabus still lying down beside them and looking slightly confused by all the commotion, seemed to be enjoying the humour. Or maybe she just thought it was dinnertime. It was always dinnertime as far as she was concerned.
“Almost my beloved, but there is still one more task to complete.” Essaline stared down at him from a distance of about six inches, looking suddenly very serious.
“Beloved?”
“You still have to marry me. I mean after all these excuses, you do want to marry me?” She actually managed to look almost upset as she said it, as if it was somehow his fault that their wedding kept being put off. He was every bit as frustrated as she was. But everything that wasn’t completely vital for life had been put off as the endless rebuilding of Evensong continued, including the release of their one day to be home, which was still an infirmary full of patients, and Essaline had agreed to that just as he had. Some things had to take priority. But still she gave him an idea and when the laughter finally died down and they got to their feet, while she patiently awaited his answer he gave it voice.
“Of course I do. I want to marry you right now if not soon
er. Speaking of which you do know my beautiful Essaline that there are an awful lot of priests here right now, and once we step through the portal back to Evensong I’m sure they’d be happy to perform the ceremony.” He must have said something right as she abruptly gathered him up and crushed him in a hug worthy of a dire bear and kissed him repeatedly. Her aunt would have objected, but Marjan wasn’t about to stop her, and everyone else seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. In fact at some point they started clapping and cheering like children at a party, a welcome sound in the gloom of the chasm.