The Darker Lord

by Jack Heckel

  It was certainly an odd place to pick for a final battle. Everything about it was designed to soothe and calm, from the understated colors to the muted music to the light scent of lavender and jasmine that hung in the air. “What’s the plan? What should we do?” I asked.

  “Sit, think, and talk. That’s the real reason I sent the others away,” he said, and with a very slight gesture summoned three of the floating chairs over. He sat in one and indicated that Vivian and I should take the others. He waited until we were settled, and then asked without preamble, “How many worlds did it take the two of you to figure out what the key does?”

  I tried to answer, but my voice wouldn’t come. I was speechless with shame. It was only when Vivian said, “Three,” that I at last found the nerve to speak.

  “That we know of,” I added. “Maybe more given how many times I used it on Mysterium.”

  I braced myself for the explosion of condemnation I knew was coming, and fully deserved, but he only nodded. “Fewer than I would have guessed.”

  His acceptance made me angry. I jumped back to my feet and began pacing the room, the chair following at my heels like an obedient dog. “If you knew it was that dangerous why would you give it to me? I’m an idiot! Why not keep it yourself? Why not bury it somewhere deep and unreachable? Or just destroy the thing!” I was yelling now. “Ever since Trelari all I’ve wanted is to do no harm. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Yes,” he answered, and pulling a pipe out of his jacket pocket began the ritual of packing it with tobacco. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, I will be the first to tell you that your destiny does not lie on that path.” He pointed the stem of the pipe at Vivian. “She knows. She’s probably tried to tell you now and then in her own subtle way. Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of time required for subtlety anymore.”

  “Professor . . .” Vivian started to say. He cast a firm but understanding eye in her direction and she quieted.

  He turned back to me and asked, “What does the key do, Stewart?”

  The sharpness of this tone was exactly what I needed to get out of my own head, and I responded like I had to hundreds of other questions he had posed to me while I was his student. “It unwinds reality and converts it directly into magic potential.”

  “Only partially correct. That is what it does, but how does it do it?”

  “Impossible to say . . .”

  “Not impossible! Think, Stewart! Think!”

  I did. For the first time I really considered the question of how. How could an item unspool reality with such ease? Usually it took an enormous amount of power. On Mysterium when they wanted to do it they tapped directly into . . . “The main pattern!” I gasped. “It taps directly into Mysterium’s main pattern!”

  “Correct,” he said, holding a burning fingertip to the bowl of his pipe and taking a few experimental puffs.

  “That would make it the most powerful magical construct ever created,” Vivian said in stunned disbelief.

  “Yes, it would, if it were unique,” Griswald said as he blew a cloud of smoke up toward the ceiling.

  “There are more of these?” I asked.

  “A few,” he said between puffs. “I believe the creation of these keys of power was foundational in helping the Mysterians master the manipulation of other realities.”

  The word foundation echoed about in my head. Rook had also used that word, and when I remembered the context I experienced a sensation I had felt only three times before in my life: when I found the door to Mysterium, when I finished the first proofs on my Trelari pattern, and when I awoke next to Vivian on that hill beneath the apple trees. I’d had my revelation. The Mysterians based their magic, based their entire world, on being at the center of the universe.

  “Rook said the Mysterians wrote the dominance of other worlds into the pattern of their world, into its very foundation,” I said in horror. “The Administration didn’t corrupt anything. They only learned how to exploit it.”

  “That can’t be right,” Vivian said with a shake of her head, and looked to Griswald for some sign that I was wrong.

  But I didn’t need Griswald’s confirmation. All the pieces fit with a perfection that was beautiful in its simplicity and stunning in its scope. At last I understood the flaw in Mysterium. But unlike the other revelations I’d experienced in my life, there was no joy in this discovery. The truth was terrible and horrifying, and it was rooted in the very pattern of the world I’d come to love. Mysterium existed to dominate and subjugate other realities. Everything it touched was corrupted by this foundational sin, and everyone that came into contact with Mysterium was infected with it—including me. My stomach lurched sickeningly, and my head swam. When the blood pulsing through my ears quieted enough for me to hear again, I realized Vivian was defending Rook and the other Mysterians.

  “I don’t see it, Professor Griswald,” she said. “Rook does not strike me as someone that would go about destroying other worlds.”

  I started to say she was wrong, but Griswald answered first. “I happen to agree with you, Vivian. I also don’t think Rook is someone that would go about knowingly destroying worlds.”

  He caught my eyes and raised an eyebrow. That’s when I had my fifth revelation: Rook didn’t know. No, it was more than that—he couldn’t know. No Mysterian could. It was literally not part of their reality. Any anger I might have held against the Mysterians died away. I felt sorry for them, and I saw my own sorrow reflected in Griswald’s eyes.

  “What does it mean?” I asked. “What do we do—” I gestured back to the door that led to the pods “—with all of this?”

  Griswald sighed. “I don’t know. We are off the map, my friend. I wish Harold were here. He was always such a good listener, and that’s what I need right now. Time to talk and someone to listen. Moregoth has a lot to answer for. Speaking of which . . .”

  Chapter 30

  The Final Countdown

  “EDIE! ED!” Griswald shouted. “Where is the unauthorized weirdo that’s been wandering around my ship?”

  “Right outside the door!” ED said with a flash of blue.

  A pinprick of light bloomed in the center of the blast door and began to expand outward. “Safety interlocks are being breached!” EDIE concurred with an answering flash of pink. “Estimated time to failure is ten minutes thirty-five seconds.”

  “Nine minutes twenty-five seconds,” ED countered.

  “Ten minutes thirty-three seconds.”

  “Nine minutes twenty-three seconds.”

  Griswald waved his hands. “Enough! What have I told the two of you time and time again?”

  “Righty tighty, lefty loosy!” ED said with a confident flash of blue.

  “Love the one you’re with!” EDIE countered with an equally confident flash of pink.

  “Never bet against the house!” ED suggested.

  “Always wear sunscreen!” they said in unison.

  “Priorities!” Griswald roared. “Learn to set priorities!” He turned back to Vivian and me, and said in an undertone, “Although, between you and me, the sunscreen thing is a very good piece of advice.” He clapped his hands together. “But the priority right now is for me to face Moregoth, and for the two of you to join the others in the bridge.”

  I’m not sure whether I said no first or Vivian did. Griswald looked back and forth between us with his most commanding look. “This is not a matter for debate.”

  “I’m not debating,” I said. “I’m trying to understand.”

  “He’s right, Professor,” Vivian said, stepping up beside me. “We deserve to know why you are facing a madman alone when together we could stop him for good.”

  Before the Griswald could respond, there was a very short burst of blue and ED hissed, “Five minutes twenty-one seconds.”

  “Six minutes twenty-nine seconds,” came EDIE’s reply.

  “Mute yourselves for the next . . . seven minutes,” Griswald said, banging his fists on the arms of h
is chair and rising to his feet. He waited a moment—I think to see if they would argue—and then drew himself up and clasped his hands together, almost as if he was giving a lecture. The image sent a warm feeling through my body.

  “I know you want to help me, but I was not lying to the others when I told them that this ‘ship,’ this ‘spell,’ must not fall into Moregoth’s hands. No matter the cost. I need the two of you in the bridge helping Rook keep the full weight of the Administration from bearing down on us. I cannot spare even one of you on something as insignificant as Moregoth. I am leaving the fate of the Mysterian race, and potentially the multiverse, in your hands.”

  “So, no pressure,” Vivian said under her breath.

  Griswald smiled despite himself, but the moment was fleeting. “Not to put more on your plates, but if Moregoth does make it to the bridge, the Discovery must be destroyed—even if Rook tries to stop you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “What’s so dangerous about Moregoth or the Administration taking over the ship? If we evacuate the Mysterians, all they will have is a useless spell construct.”

  “I might have wished you took this much interest in your studies when you were my student, Stewart,” Griswald said, and quickly glanced at the door, which was glowing brightly now and beginning to shimmer and bulge. “I don’t have time to give you all the answers, but I think you know that not everything the Mysterians believe about themselves is true. Rook said this ship was a spell cast to take the Mysterium pattern back to a time before it was twisted into what it is today. That’s true, but only partially true. This spell looks like a ship, and in many ways it is exactly like a ship. If Moregoth gains control of the bridge he will be able to turn the spell, to change its course, and possibly twist the Mysterians’ patterns into whatever form he wishes. Perhaps something even more pernicious than what it has become.”

  In a day of shocking revelations, this one nearly took my breath away. “We will do what we can,” I assured him in as steady a voice as I could muster.

  “That, Mr. Stewart, is all anyone can ask.” With a gesture of the old mage’s hand, a gateway appeared. Through it, I could see a large circular room filled with banks of instruments and, along one long arcing wall, enormous windows that looked out on a kaleidoscope of blazing stars and swirling galaxies. In the center of it stood Rook barking out commands to his Trelarian crew.

  Griswald held out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  I ignored the outstretched hand and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. “Professor,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “Let me stay with you.”

  Griswald shook his head. “This is not your fight, Avery. Not this time. You have bigger things in store.”

  A lump rose in my throat. “I don’t know what to do about the Mysterium.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Neither do I.”

  “I’m sorry about Harold,” I said, unable to meet his eyes.

  “He will find his way back.” He pointed a finger right at the spot in my chest where Harold’s emptiness still sat. “He always does.” As we stepped to the threshold of the gateway, he smiled. “Tell Rook that his endgame is fine. Though he does tend to bring his queen out too early.”

  Vivian moved through the gate into the circular room beyond, but I paused, unable to take that last step. I was still standing in this in-between space when the blast door burst inward with a flash of magic. Moregoth stood in the opening, a great black shadow, tracings of deep purple running down his arms and over his fingertips.

  “Griswald, I might have known.”

  “Garth!” Griswald sneered. “I was wondering where the smell was coming from. Have you come to argue about your grade again?” He half turned his head toward me. “You know what the teachers used to call him back when he was an adept? Grade-grubbing Garth. I see you haven’t changed, still seeking approval from your betters. Nothing but the Administration’s lapdog.”

  Moregoth’s eyes glittered malevolently. “Professor Griswald, I might have known that at the end of the chase I would find the Dark Lord cowering behind you.” He waved a hand at me dismissively. “Go on, Dark Lord, I’m sure the professor will be happy to fight your battle for you. As for you, Gristle, watching you expire will be a delight. Perhaps you should stay and watch how a real mage dies, Dark Lord.”

  I stepped out of the gateway into the room. “Enough! This is between you and me, Moregoth. Professor Griswald has better things to do.”

  “No, Stewart!” Griswald boomed. A point of blinding light bloomed on his fingertip, and with a sweeping motion he drew a circle around himself and Moregoth. A blue dome of shimmering power rose from the floor and encased them. “This fight predates you, and I will not leave it behind as your inheritance. Let’s end this, Garth.”

  Purplish flickers of power licked across Moregoth’s fingertips. “Yes, let us end this once and for all. For too long you and your traitors-in-arms have scuttled about in the shadows of the subworlds. No more! There is no escape—for you, for your pets, or for your precious Mysterians. I will destroy you, and then slaughter your sleeping sheep, one by one.”

  Griswald shouted and a blue glow engulfed his forearms. I beat against the barrier, but it might has well have been iron. All I could do was watch. Moregoth fired the first shot—a fist-sized ball of darkish energy that Griswald deflected into the barrier with a backhand.

  “Not your best effort, Garth,” he said, “but then you always were a disappointing pupil—merely average, like your magic.” Griswald punctuated this comment by extending a whip of blazing energy from one of his hands and twirling it around.

  Moregoth threw himself to one side and fired a return blast that cut the braid of power in two. “My grade would have been higher had you accepted that late paper! My aunt really had died.”

  “You knew the rule: no note, no extension,” Griswald said, and sent a ball of power bouncing about the inside of the barrier. Moregoth parried with one of his own. The balls shattered against each other, showering both combatants with sparks of magic. “Besides, that was the sixth relative you’d lost that semester, including three grandmothers, your father, and a cousin thrice removed.”

  Another mystic blast from Moregoth shot toward Griswald, striking Griswald’s return spell in midflight. The two mages poured power at each other, but neither could gain the upper hand and they broke the connection, stumbling back at the violence of the exchange. I had no way to break through Griswald’s shield, and even if I could I wasn’t sure whether I would be a help or a hindrance. Among my many deficiencies as a mage was a distinct lack of practice with dueling magic.

  As the two men tried to catch their breaths, Moregoth inhaled with a wheeze. “This fight really is pointless, Gristle.”

  “That’s where you’re . . . you’re wrong,” Griswald replied, gasping. “Fighting against cruelty and evil is never pointless. That you never understood that fact is why you’ve become what you’ve become.”

  Moregoth started to laugh, and then cough. “I see you still love to make pretty speeches, Gristle, but the fact is, whether you win today or not, I know about you now. I know about your little plan. I have hundreds of years to stop you, and I will keep coming, attacking, killing, and destroying. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. Your doom is a certainty.”

  For the first time, I saw uncertainty creep into Griswald’s eyes. He glanced back toward me for a moment, and Moregoth attacked, roaring as energy burst out of both his hands. Griswald barely managed to get his shield up in time, and the attack physically pushed him back toward the barrier. The heel of his left foot sparked and popped on the shield’s edge. Griswald grunted in pain and Moregoth continued his offensive, thrusting both arms forward and closing on his former teacher.

  “Yield,” the dark mage said. “Yield now and I will let your pets go. Yield now and I will let you live.”

  Griswald’s face was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort. The shield
he’d spun began to flicker. Without conscious thought, the key appeared in my hand. It would help me. I knew that I could beat Moregoth with the key.

  “No!” Griswald grunted, and though he was facing Moregoth, somehow I knew he was speaking to me. “Nothing is fated. You do not have to become them to win. You can find a way to break free of the Mysterium, and be the man you are meant to be.”

  The key was still in my hand. I wanted to put it away, but it seemed to be fighting me—actually drawing power from the reality around me against my will. While I struggled to control the key, Moregoth advanced until he was looming over Griswald, who had fallen to his knees. The stream of dark power had crept within a finger’s breadth of Griswald’s shield. The tips of Griswald’s fingers and the palms of his hands began to smoke.

  “I don’t want to be another man,” Moregoth screamed. “There is only Moregoth!”

  “I know that, Garth,” Griswald said, and with a smile that was meant only for me, he abruptly cut off the flow of energy to his shield and redirected it into me. As the dark power rushed into his chest, I felt Griswald’s magic throw me through the gateway.

  I shouted, “No!” but my voice was drowned out by a terrible noise, like a thunderclap. I watched through the closing gate as Griswald shuddered. Glowing motes of power rose from his disintegrating body. Moregoth stepped away from him as a bright blue ball of pulsating energy coalesced in the air above them. Just before the gate collapsed completely, the ball of energy shot through it, arced across the room, and slammed into Rook. The dwarf gave a gasp, and fell backward, his ax clattering to the floor beside him. Shouting wordlessly, I fired bolts of energy back across the room, but the gate was gone and the magic impacted harmlessly against the wall. I fell back, fighting for breath as the reality of what had happened hit me.

  Vivian rushed to my side. “Avery, are you okay?”

  “Griswald . . . he’s . . . he’s gone,” I said in a whisper of disbelief. “The ship is lost. There’s no stopping Moregoth.”