Eric nodded, but he was puzzled by Basilard's shift in tone. He was the Trickster's Choice, not a celebrity. Most people did their best to stay away from him and avoid his attention, as if he were a proxy for the Founder of Practical Jokes. Even the sergeant only told him to get lost.
The door opened again and the photographer walked in. Annala ducked behind Eric. Her friends flanked her, and Eric himself felt a shot of adrenaline. The photographer was Nulso. He looked exactly as he did the day before, down to the final detail. When his eyes spotted Annala, his smile broadened and he walked directly to her group.
“Golden Hair, you look lovely today.”
“Go to the Abyss, Ordercrafter!”
“Don't be like that...”
He reached forward and Eric smacked his hand away. Nulso’s scowl chilled his blood.
“Mind your manners, boy. My promise does not include you.”
In truth, Eric was terrified. He was no more powerful now than yesterday. It would be easy for Nulso to kill him, but he refused to let that influence his actions. He stopped letting others walk over him months ago and he wasn't going to start again now.
“You can't control me with fear.”
“Do you know the word for one who is most vulnerable but possesses least fear?” He raised his hand and gathered mana. “Dead.”
A hand landed on his shoulder from behind.
“You'd hate to disturb a peaceful day, wouldn't you?” Basilard asked.
“Unhand me, Mr. Bladi. If we come to blows, you know who will win.”
“Unless you use ordercraft, it will be me.”
“I could kill you before he arrives.”
A golden-brown spark traveled from Basilard's hand through Nulso's body, making him flinch. “Are you sure?”
The spark redirected, retracted its steps, and zapped Basilard. He removed his hand and stepped back. Nulso flared his aura and, suddenly, Basilard fell to knees, gasping and white as a sheet. He recovered quickly, but it bought Nulso enough time to place his hand on Basilard’s head. He looked down his nose at the kneeling mercenary.
“Mr. Bladi, I will not tolerate any more inference. If I wish to kill The Trickster’s Choice, you will not stop me.”
“Tasio! Tasio! Tasio!”
Tasio appeared over the camera equipment. He waved at his granddaughter, then retracted four of his fingers and waved the last one at Nulso. The man grit his teeth, turned away from Basilard, and shouted, “Come along, Grunt!”
“The name's Gruffle,” a voice outside heaved. “Not 'grunt.'”
“You are my grunt, so my name suits you better. Hurry!”
Enter the troll that tried to kill Eric on two occasions. He was so overloaded with equipment he waddled his way to Nulso's side. It was similar to a dog at heel. He placed it on the ground and said, “I know what you're thinking and I didn't break out of jail. Our queen is a benevolent sort. She pardoned my crimes on the condition that I do community service for a while and stay out of trouble.”
Translation: Kasile turned him into a Nulso watchdog. I wonder how she keeps him honest…
“He's my grunt until then.” Nulso looked past Eric to Annala, who was still hiding behind him and trying to give the impression that she wasn't. “As you can see, he can't do everything. I could always use another assistant if anyone is interested. It wouldn't be the first time I worked with elves.”
“The first time ended with you swearing eternal hatred against my mother, making a contract with Order, and becoming an anti-magic drone!”
Nulso’s grin became sinister and his aura shimmered into the eldritch light of Ordercraft. Hands emerged from it and encircled the lady and her guards. Annala pressed herself against Eric’s back as they reached for her. Tasio sat up and prepared to pounce the instant he crossed the line again, but he didn’t. He and Eric knew he wouldn’t, but Eric cursed himself nonetheless for lacking the power to stop him anyway. When he finally withdrew and announced the start of school pictures, there was no one left in the gym but them.
“Chaos vs Order is known as the Conflict Paradox,” Annala explained. “When an unstoppable force confronts an unmovable object, the most likely result is catastrophe. Thus, it is written in the school rules that the building must be evacuated in such an event.”
“Really?” Eric asked.
“Really. We have drills.”
“In that case, the number of pictures I will take is one, two, three…” Revas and Oito collapsed, unconscious. “I’m sorry; only one.”
Annala gaped, grief stricken. “What did you do?!”
“Nothing. Some souls just aren’t hardy enough to stand close to me. Are you ready for your picture, Golden Hair?”
She marched to the photo stand, heels clacking and eyes scowling. She didn’t smile until Tasio gave Nulso bunny ears and Eric used an Air Disk to give Tasio bunny ears.
Nulso took the picture and recorded a quote for the yearbook, and then she stepped away, but Nulso called her back. The picture blurred, he said, and he needed to do it again, but with a different pose to overwrite the first. During the second picture, Gruffle stumbled into the shot and a third one was necessary. Annala stared, tugging on her ear, and Nulso snapped a fourth picture. To reassure her, Eric stood on the edge of the frame and Basilard stood next to him. After he finally succeeded in taking a picture, he complained of the audio equipment malfunctioning.
“The Trickster plays me a fool. What are the odds of so many problems all at once?”
“Indeed,” Tasio said coldly. “The odds are extremely low.”
Nulso needed several different quotes in several different pictures before he declared a success. Annala speed walked back to Eric’s (and Basilard's) side and stood behind them.
“That was suspicious to the highest degree. It could not be clearer that he was not truly interested in taking my picture for the school yearbook but instead collecting raw materials to create a life-like illusion of me for some purpose of manipulation and coercion. As the Elfin Tome states, ‘It is safer to trust a fiend from the Torment Planes of Pox than an ordercrafter.’”
I hope he does something horrible to her, Shadow Dengel whispered. Something traumatizing that will make you hate yourself – more than you already do – for the rest of your life.
Gruffle packed up the studio while Nulso leered at Annala. She hid behind Eric and glared at them in return. Tasio followed them out while Basilard read his dirty book and spied on everyone over the cover.
“I would’ve used my bow, but students aren't allowed to draw weapons outside of gym class.”
I don't need this. Why can't I go back to gathering bird poop in obscurity?
Once Nulso was gone and the school day returned to normal, Basilard said goodbye to Annala and dragged Eric by his shirt collar off the school grounds. The students stared and giggled at the sight. Eric tried to wrap a Dark Veil around himself, but Basilard dispelled them with a gesture.
“This is part of your punishment.”
“Punishment!?”
“Yes, for carelessness. You wandered away from your assignment in the castle and Gruffle attacked you. Then you wandered away a second time and monsters attacked you. Then you wandered away a third time completely off the castle grounds and –”
“An ordercrafter attacked me?”
Basilard yanked him for the interruption. “Three strikes and you're out because no one's luck lasts a fourth time.”
The stares, laughter, and gossip continued all the way through Warrior Town. One person thought the Trickster's Choice being dragged by a Bladi was an omen and ran to Cleric Town. Eric could imagine the whole city talking about his treatment by nightfall, but it was faster. When Basilard pushed open the Dragon's Lair entrance, Mia had heard about it and asked her uncle what she should post.
“Tell them he's getting a special disciplinary training session for being an idiot.”
When he went down the stairs to the Training Hall, he walked to the middle of th
e room, and dropped his student on his butt. He snapped his fingers and Eric had a split second to move before a burst of fire consumed him. A second followed and a third until Eric was on his feet and facing Basilard with his staff out and held in front of him. Basilard lunged and right hooked. Eric deflected it and was nailed in the stomach by Basilard's left and, while he was stunned, his legs swept out from under him. He fell back to the stone floor and rolled again to avoid a knee jab. Once again on his feet, he swung at Basilard's ribs with his staff, but his mentor stepped to the outside of it, grabbed Eric's wrist, and used it to whack him with his own staff.
Tiza walked in on the punishment spar, registered the beating Eric was getting, left, and then came back with a friend and popcorn. She discussed the finer points of the duel with Raki while they munched on it. When Nolien arrived, he started a running list of all the injuries he'd have to mend when this was over. After ten minutes or so, the show was over, and Basilard helped Eric stand up.
“What have you learned?”
Eric gingerly touched his eye. “Your right hand hits harder than your left.”
“And?”
“...Don't wander off.”
“Good. Now for your regular lesson.”
Basilard pointed at five targets and his hand glowed as it charged the mana bolt. When he fired, it separated into five distinct bolts and nailed all five targets. Basilard fired again and, this time, the bolt split into ten. The bolts were smaller, but allowed him to hit each target twice.
“This is known as the Mana Barrage. It was developed to enable mages to fight when outnumbered. A sufficiently powerful mage can bring down an army with this technique. As it requires more energy than mana bolts or standard spells, it's also useful for building mana reserves. Start with two and double it every ten repetitions until I tell you to stop.”
Eric left the Training Hall tired and sweaty. Indeed, he collapsed three steps outside of it. I haven't felt this jelly-legged since I began my training. Basilard hadn't told him to stop until he was launching one hundred bolts a shot. At that point, each one was less of a shot and more of a glowing mote of dust. His mentor only gave him a gulp of mana juice and told him to continue.
“Tiza, lift.”
The fighter knelt next to the fallen mage and heaved him over her shoulder. Her knees wobbled as she struggled to rise again. The sweat soaking her tunic was like ammonia. Basilard was hard on her as well; pounding and slashing her personal spirit barrier and bombarding it with spells. Sometimes, he shattered it intentionally to acclimatize her to the feeling. As the team's tank, he explained, it would be her duty to draw fire, cover for them in retreat, and, when necessary, carry them out of danger even if she was exhausted. Eyes closed in focus, she climbed the stairs to the surface.
Nolien walked behind her, just as fatigued. While Tiza sparred with their mentor, he was in charge of healing her on the spot. Every cut or bruise had to be erased immediately before another three joined it and this meant preparing spells in advance and thus constantly reciting them. All the while, he dodged Raki's attacks. He had to keep his eyes on three people at once. Between her twin blades, mana bolts, and other techniques, he was soon bruised and bleeding.
While the trio of novices made the arduous trek from the training hall to the lobby, the two Bladi warriors discussed their performance and progress. Raki had the same blood-red hair as Basilard and the blood-red eye color too. This color was also shared by the sword on Basilard's back, BloodDrinker.
“You’re pushing them too hard.”
“I need to prepare them for what they might encounter.”
“I understand that, but at this rate, they'll burn out.”
“There was an ordercrafter at the school today.”
Raki stopped and gulped.
“It was interested in his elf girl and tried to kill him.”
Raki smacked her cheeks and stepped in front of her uncle. “Uncle, please allow me to transfer into Squad Four.”
Basilard smiled and tousled her hair. “I appreciate that, but no. I need you here to watch over your sister.”
Said sister was holding her nose before they entered the lobby. She too questioned their uncle's training regime and told him to include a shower break next time. With her free hand, she reached into her pocket space and pulled out three evergreen air fresheners. The novices were too exhausted to protest when she levitated them on their necks.
“Two hours break and we'll start round two,” Basilard said. “What do you want to do?”
It was unanimous. “Eat.”
Even Nolien forwent etiquette to eat as much as he could as fast as he could. As low as their mana reserves were, the mess hall's juice tasted like liquid mana and the vegetables like sweetest candy. It's almost worth being run ragged; almost. Tiza's hand reached across the table to grab a biscuit from Nolien's plate, but was smacked with his spoon. Now that was worth it.
After eating and two hours of rest, they returned to training. Basilard pushed them all hard, but Eric hardest of all. They asked him about it and he said something about “linear warriors” and “quadratic mages.” Then he ordered a group spar where he mercilessly disabled them all. Nolien grumbled about “punishment for curiosity” and, immediately afterward, he had to cure a burn on his left hand.
After training, Basilard insisted on walking them all home and Eric's was first. On their way to Cutlass Bridge, Basilard asked the young battle mage if he still had the jar of Aio's ashes. Tired as he was, the mention of Tasio's disguise sent him into a rant about jerkass gods and emotional blackmail, but eventually said “yes.” The older battle mage smiled wryly and patted him on the back.
“You'll get used to The Trickster's Fun.”
“I'll have to!” Eric grumbled. “I'm his abyss-cursed chosen one!”
He trudged into his apartment and slammed his apartment door shut. At the turn of his key, one hundred and one wards activated on all six sides of the building. Basilard sighed in relief, but when he turned around, Nolien and Tiza stood in his way.
“Daylra, Mage Healer, and Meat Shield have a question about Trickster Mage.”
Basilard grinned broadly. “Ask away.”
Later that night, Eric was awoken by a crash on the bridge above his house. The shockwave jilted him out of bed. He cursed his mentor and his earthquake drills before he comprehended the screaming. A chorus of panicked voices passed over his head as crowds rushed to the port. He stood up and looked out the window to see what was going on.
A veil of smoke shrouded the river beneath his house, but he could still see silhouettes of people running across the frozen water. There were so many they broke the ice and people fell in. Before he could react, other mages pulled them out and sealed the hole. The emblem of the Crowned Tiger shined in the darkness as the royal mages shepherded the civilians. They urged their charges to stay calm, but couldn't hear themselves over the screaming and crashes.
What could cause such panic?
The old Eric would have assumed it was none of his business. The old Eric would assume that he wouldn't be able to help even if it were his business. The old Eric would rather jump under the covers and suck his thumb than volunteer for a crisis. The new Eric equipped his best armor as fast as he could, thought up several possible causes and solutions to the crisis, and grabbed his staff on his way out the door.
Ash and smoke assaulted his eyes and nose. Screams pierced his ears. A knight commander ordered his unit while herding the panicked civilians. A gust of wind knocked them all down and blew away the smoke. A particularly large chunk of debris fell over his doorstep and he repelled it with his barrier into the water, where it caused a small wave and rocked the civilians. The other mages sent him a nasty look before a cloud of smoke hid them from sight.
They blame you for this, Shadow Dengel whispered. Trickster's Choice.
“Not now!”
Soaring meteors lit up the night and beams of power flew across the sky. Eric ran through the smoke
and the ground shook beneath his feet, causing him to slip on the stairs. At the top were countless fleeing people and knights trying to keep them as orderly as possible. One of them offered Eric a rag to cover his nose and mouth before seeing the one on his face.
“Fog screen. What's the problem?”
The knight dispersed a pocket of smoke and pointed to the hole it created towards the center of the city. Eric dropped his staff in shock.
From nose to tail, it was longer than the city; from haunch to haunch, it was wider. It stood over Roalt with a paw standing at each corner. A lupine mouth revealed rows of red teeth. Glowing orbs the size of elephants stuck out of its body. Orichalcum hairs grew from its lips to its tentacle tails; a coat of natural magic-repelling mail. The only areas without this protection were the paws. They were shod with mythril instead. This was no ordinary monster. It was one of the almighty S class – a Tazul!
Shadow Dengel appeared over the staff. Run away, human worm. You cannot win.
Eric shook his head violently and adjusted his grip on his staff, only to realize he wasn't holding it. Just as he bent down, the Tazul fired on him and a beam of violet light struck the crowd beside him. When it disappeared, the knight he spoke with was gone. So were the other knights, their charges, and the buildings around them. Not even their ashes remained! Eric's breath caught in his throat, then came in fast, shallow gasps.
If I hadn't ducked...
You would have died. You have no home field advantage this time, boy!
“I don't need it!” Eric twirled his staff and pointed it down the street. “I have friends!”
With winged feet, he dashed towards the forge, but a shout pulled his attention to a nearby building. There, a little boy was trapped on the second floor. It was burning. The front wall had already collapsed and the floor was breaking by the second. Eric crouched and Shadow Dengel blocked his view.
You can't save him. Eric jumped through the phantom and the air with the greatest of ease. Shadow Dengel followed him. You will die along with him. Eric cleared the floor, flipped in midair, and landed on his feet. Spreading his arms wide, he cleared a section of fire away from the boy and was glomped by him. The force of it made him stumble and his left foot fell through the floor.
Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 Page 17