by Paul Yoder
“Tell the damn wizard Cavok is here and to get his ass down here now,” Cavok ordered to the stick-thin youth in robes at the campus gates.
“What ‘damn wizard’ are you asking for?” the youth asked, cautiously disgusted at the brute on the other side of the gate.
“Zaren,” Cavok spat, amending himself afterwards with, “No, get Jadu instead. Jadu will be more likely to hear me out. Is Jadu in there?”
“Master Zaren? Jadu?” the youth softly exclaimed, taken aback that this man might somehow know of the senior level enchanter and his star pupil.
“Yes, either one of them. Tell them Cavok requires their aid, and if I don’t get it—” Cavok sneered, dragging his thumb across his throat, which sent the boy running for the college doors.
He let out a self-gratified smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he sat back and waited for the return of the messenger boy, hopefully to open the gates for them and allow them an audience with one of the two enchanters.
“You could have asked nicely,” Terra said, upset with how Cavok had handled the gate boy.
Cavok’s smirk quickly turned into a grumpy scowl.
“I was just teasing the boy, it’ll quicken his step,” he stated flatly.
“And were you just teasing Jhans back there? You were going to kill him if I hadn’t had been there,” she shot back.
“I wasn’t going to kill him!” he said, lowering his voice slightly as he explained. “I was going to put him to sleep, as I did, even before you showed up to act as some pompous conscience. Why would I kill him? There was no need.”
“You…weren’t going to kill him?” Terra said, unsure about if her companion was leading her along or being honest.
“No,” Cavok scoffed without hesitation, leaving the two in silence as they waited a few more minutes before the gate boy came scurrying back, unlocking the gate for them and offering them to come on campus grounds.
“Come, Master Zebulon will see you,” the youth said, locking the gate behind them, leading them along the brick path through the bright and blooming pinkish white cherry trees that shaded the grounds from the bright desert sun above.
The tall three-story building stood in front of them, red brick with white trim plaster, windows lining most of the façade, the three entering the main archway to the long stretching university’s lobby.
Taking a quick stroll down the side colonnade, its many stone pillars casting long shadows upon the group as they walked down the quiet halls, they came to a large spiral stairwell, a green pool with dreary statues of mourning souls, naked and slumped, chiseled out of marble and covered in a thin layer of moss at the base of it.
They rounded the stairs, making their way up two flights before coming out into another side hall, walking along a wooden balcony before Cavok and Terra began to hear, what sounded like, furniture crashing and thumping about, the walls and floor trembling slightly, dust falling from the rafters as they neared the far wing of the building.
“Jadu,” Cavok mumbled, Terra listening, a little worry evident in her step. “That one’s always exploding something.”
The boy knocked on the door at the end of the hall, another explosion rattling the hinges and shuddering the frame as he waited a moment before turning the knob and opening it, motioning for the two to enter.
Cavok strode in, and Terra noted the man was more tense and alert than usual, as if ready to react on a moment’s notice. With all the ruckus that came from within the room, she supposed it was unwise to do anything but.
Before them lay a singed, small figure in thick robes in a room that was equally burnt, the tall windows either blackened or broken.
“You reek of sulfur, little one,” Cavok said, dusting the little praven’s shoulder free of soot after he picked him up and set him back on his feet.
“That one got away from you, Jadu. You have to contain the blast better if you wish to master that wand. They’re more difficult to regulate than staves. Even though they hold less overall energy than a staff, they release their hexweave faster, as you hopefully just witnessed.
“We’ll work on the same confluxation spell till you can master it. Try it with a different element this time instead of fire so you don’t blow yourself up again. Maybe try water? Always going to fire right out the gate, you are. Like a moth to flame, I swear.”
“I hate water…” Jadu grumbled, dusting off his robes as he righted himself.
His foul mood was fleeting though, as it ever was with Jadu. Seeing his old travel companion instantly lightened his countenance. Jumping up at the man, Jadu gave him a big hug, which Cavok openly welcomed, sweeping the robe-laden apprentice up in the air and around his shoulders.
“Oh, Cavok! What brings you here? Is everyone else with you?” the praven asked, looking over Cavok’s shoulder to see a young girl looking quizzically back at him.
“Na, just me today, master brewer,” Cavok said, putting the small praven back to the ground, patting his shoulder heartily.
“You come here to ask a favor, I assume? I don’t recall you as the overly sentimental type. I doubt a friendly visit is your aim,” Zaren gruffed out from the corner of the room, leaning easily on the side of the study table.
“Now that’s not entirely true. I have sentiments for a chosen few,” he said, winking at Jadu, which made Jadu beam even more, “but you are right about the favor. We have need of both of you. The arisen army is back. A war comes, and they arrive. This city, and every other, will be leveled if not contested. They only grow stronger the longer they are left alone.”
“Ah, the insipid arisen once more come to end all life,” the tall, old man scoffed, standing, stepping up to the group, holding to his staff for support.
“So let them come—try to take Rochata-Ung. It is a resourceful capital, after all. They have good odds of withstanding an arisen invasion, perhaps even completely ending that wretch arisen lord’s reign completely.”
Cavok crossed his arms, disapproving of the enchanter’s flippant attitude towards the fate of thousands of innocent lives.
“Good odds you say? And what if they lose that gamble?”
“Then the arisen move on to another nation,” the old man said with a shrug.
“And this college? Your people? You’ll be wiped out along with everyone else, Zaren,” Cavok pressed, looking to the courtyard boy that had brought them there who hung around, listening intently at the conversation.
“You well know I can leave this land by many methods at a moment’s notice. Myself and my possessions will be fine, and as for this school,” Zaren said mockingly, “well, it’s hardly a concern of mine. You think this is the metropolis of the enchanting arts? It’s barely on the map. I brought Jadu here for the simple reason that he was causing issue with the new government in Brigganden after one too many explosions. We needed a larger campus for his training, and that is at least one thing the Blooming Lotus campus had.”
“Cruel, old man,” Cavok said, dropping his argument, seeing that he was going to get nowhere appealing to the enchanter’s sense of honor. “You care about nothing but yourself—your things.”
“He cares about me, too!” Jadu piped up, defending his master in his own way.
“You’re one of his things,” Cavok said plainly, letting out a sigh.
“Surely you can’t mean to simply stand by and watch,” Terra said, stepping out from behind Cavok’s large frame.
“Yeah, you helped last time. What’s so different about this time?” Jadu asked, easily switching sides and agreeing with the young girl he had yet to be introduced to.
Zaren considered the girl for the first time, reflecting on the matter before offering, “I surely can stand by and watch. And this time is different. All of my invaluable artifacts are safely stowed in vaults far from here this time. I have no tie to this land any longer other than to finish up your training,” Zaren finished, giving a hard scowl to his diminutive student.
Cavok, seeing that the difficult subject was beginning to dampen the praven’s feelings, offered to change the subject, “So, how do your studies go, Jadu? Are you close to becoming a master enchanter yet?”
“Close,” he said, taking the bait. “I still have a thing or two to learn, but mostly all that awaits is my trial.”
“What’s this trial?” Cavok asked, not too surprised how quick Jadu had progressed through the enchanter’s path. He had a quick mind, a dangerous curiosity, and an unhealthy passion for the work he was engaged in.
“I don’t know yet, each student’s trial is different. Zaren hasn’t talked to me about mine yet,” Jadu answered honestly, looking to the curmudgeonly enchanter.
Zaren, increasingly unhappy with all the pestering questions from everyone, answered shortly, “A trial is indeed unique to each student. It is a test of the student’s studies in a live environment. Often, it’s a lower priority task that would be a simple job for the professor, but would test and prove the student. One such opportunity has yet to present itself for you, Jadu.”
“Why not task him to overthrow the arisen king?” Cavok excitedly exclaimed, hopeful that they had just been hand delivered reason to at least recruit one enchanter that day, seeing he was getting nowhere with Zaren.
“Are you mad?” Zaren scolded. “I’d be hard pressed to come out on top in an encounter with Ilad the Black. He’s no pushover! He’s even older than I am, and I’ve seen more years than all in the room combined, doubled over. That’s a long time to collect information and locate powerful relics. If Ilad was actually trying, not like last time, then Jadu would be sucked dry of life essence in the blink of an eye. Giving him Ilad as a trial would be beyond cruel, it’d be downright idiotic!”
“I thought you said the arisen army was a boring matter? Sounds like there’s plenty of challenge there for you,” Cavok baited, smirking slightly to hear Zaren admit another might rival, if not outmatch, the supercilious grump.
“Powerful, he is. A challenge, definitely. That does not make one interesting, however. His aims are lackluster. It’s the same old, same old story of a lust for power, domination, and rulership. His aims are the trite features about him, not his threat level.”
Zaren finished by smacking Jadu on the wide-brimmed hat he wore, seeing that his student had become bored with the speech and had begun recasting the spell he had been working on all day.
Cavok looked to Terra at his side as she worked up the courage to challenge the old man. He didn’t mind letting her speak, but he knew how hard the old man’s heart was. He held no real hope for converting him to their cause by means of shaming him into it.
“Well, trite as you find his aim, the result of him fulfilling his goals are the same, destruction and suffering for thousands. The one he serves will not simply be content in holding Tarigannie, or even the whole of the Southern Sands region, he would go on to other lands and nations with a force as great as all the nations he’s ravaged before. Wherever it is you call home, wizard, it is not far enough away if we do not stop this overlord early, before he’s properly bolstered his army with fresh corpses.”
Terra clenched her fists by her side as she spoke. All could tell how much this meant to her, perhaps more than any in the room cared for the cause, Cavok included. The three men were not ones overly concerned with the affairs of others, but her speech stirred something in each of them.
“We’ll take care of the arisen lord. Ilad you called him? Perhaps Jadu’s trial could be a target more suited for him. Ilad had sentient arisen commanders last time in Brigganden. Lashik was one of them. Do you think tasking him to bring down one of Ilad’s higher ranking commanders would be a suitable task for a trial of Jadu’s caliber?”
Cavok hoped to capitalize on the somber tone that Terra had instilled in the room, and if he could at least recruit Jadu, he’d be happy enough. He never had cared for the old man with his tricks and frailty with no sense or care of kin.
“Lashik was still an accomplished warlock. I studied into him after our encounter. Squaring off with someone like that…would push Jadu to his limits. Normally I would say that’s well above a student’s trial level, but Jadu…he’s advanced further and faster than any I’ve trained in the past, save for one. His trial does require extreme metrics. This—” Zaren said, hesitating, leaving the room in bated silence, “might be agreeable.”
Terra rushed to Zaren, abruptly hugging the old man.
“Thank you,” she sincerely said into Zaren’s robes. “Sha’oul’s future is dreadful if we all don’t play our role. I have seen you in my visions, and I was worried my dreams lied to me.”
Zaren was stunned stiff at first, but his surprised expression slowly turned to a sour wrinkle. He stiffly patted her back as he grumbled, “A visionary, eh? All that means is more gods and goddesses in this whole mix-up. I’m not enlisting myself to your cause, dear, just my student, and that only for a very specific target.”
“I have a feeling you’ll be providing more aid than you say you will,” she said, pressing her luck with the old man, stepping back to stand beside Cavok again, a clear smile on her face.
Zaren cleared his throat sharply, looking to Cavok, getting back on topic.
“I’m sure you’re not the one heading this ridiculous quest,” Zaren irritably said. “Who’s in charge? I need to have some questions answered before I can sanction this trial for Jadu.”
Cavok slapped Jadu on the shoulder merrily, crossing his arms after, pleased with Terra’s help, answering Zaren with, “Reza and Sultan Metus are heading the mission. Come, pack your things, I’ll take you to them.”
“It will take the evening to pack, I’ll not be rushed off without putting my things in order, or without getting a good night’s rest.
“Boy, let the headmaster know I’ll be departing campus for a while. We’ll set out on the morrow,” Zaren added to a group that was hardly listening, save the gate boy, who ran off down the hallway upon his new task along with his new juicy gossip piece for the campus.
Jadu shoved his wand in his pocket and clapped his hands together, quite excited at taking a break from his usual, brutally repetitive training routine, exclaiming, “Ah, to see Reza and the others again. You think she’s missed me?” he asked Cavok.
Cavok let out a chuckle at the prospect of Reza having to travel with the inquisitive praven once more.
41
Upon Deaf Ears
The network of streets became more elaborate and confusing the deeper in the city they went. The districts they were escorted through gave them quite the sights. Somewhat familiar with the many splendors Rochata-Ung had to offer, they refrained from looking like gawking tourists, but the many patterns of paved, collared stone streets, gilded streetlamps, fantastic store and establishment fronts, and the general luster within the business and upper-class districts never ceased to instill wonderment in visitors.
The escorts had no desire for conversation, and other than the sounds of the city, the group quietly followed the guards into the judicial district, a place where Metus had been a few times before.
It looked the same as it ever had, much like the rest of Rochata-Ung. Little changed about the city itself, except those who briefly sat in the lofty seats of power and status. Few ever held on to authority too terribly long, the game of power abruptly ending those unfortunate enough to slip or make a mistake.
The court building was a daunting structure, pillars of marbled sandstone shooting up high in the stone arches above. They passed through the open threshold, were led down a long, flame-lit hallway and into the large courtroom where a few judges sat, up along a row of majestic benches and tables.
“Sultan Metus,” one of the shrewd looking judges said, voice sharp and direct. “You have crossed our borders with a rather large armed escort. I wouldn’t quite call it an army, but nonetheless, this show of force is unusual, and we demand an answer for this lack of intent on your part.”
“Might I know with whom I speak? I only know High Judge Cotious and…” Metus hesitated, unhappy with his presence, “Set, that sits upon the council.”
The keen-eyed speaker launched into brief introductions quickly, getting the pleasantries out of the way as quick as possible.
“On your far right, High Judge Uthman, then, as you say, High Judge Cotious who is senior judge upon this particular council, then Circuit Judge Set, myself, High Judge Saahar, and lastly, Circuit Judge Hager. Does this introduction suffice,” the judge more stated than asked.
“That should do,” Metus shortly replied, seeing that the speaker was clearly on a schedule.
“Now then, to my initial question—what brings you here, Sultan Metus?”
Metus scanned the room, committing all judges’ names to memory, returning his gaze to the judge speaker, beginning an abbreviated version of his story.
“Not but a year ago, the Plainstate took to war with a warlord who had overthrown Brigganden. This warlord was a servant of the god of blood and ash, Telenth. We only knew him as the lord of the arisen at the time, for he commanded an arisen army, constructed of the corpses of his fallen enemies through dark magicks gifted to him through Telenth.
“You were all probably informed on the happenings through your sources, so I won’t belabor a retelling of those events, but suffice it to say, we were not able to kill the man. He escaped the battlefield and headed into the Badlands, south of our state.
“We discovered a few months ago that he had been regaining his army through the slaughter of the nomadic peoples of the Badlands and Highguard. We also learned that he began creating arisen from the indigenous creatures in those wild lands. You know how harsh that wilderness is. There is plenty of wildlife to, if organized, create an issue for any peoples to deal with. More fierce predators in a land, you will be hard pressed to find.
“A month ago, Reza here, a saren knight and a longstanding ally to me and the Plainstate, as well as former citizen of Rochata-Ung, spurred me to action, bringing to my attention of movement and plans of the arisen lord’s—Sha’oul, he has come to be known as—mobilization and intent on taking Rochata-Ung and the peoples of Tarigannie.