A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy)

by Eisenhardt, Leighmon

  Denician sighed inwardly. He didn't have much time to spare, and anyone who had ever spent a moment studying at the Academy would quickly discern that indulging Dentaige usually resulted in signing the next hour or so of your life away, as the excitable man could probably talk a dragon out of its own skin.

  Still, as the Headmaster of the Academy it was his duty and Dentaige was certainly a well respected member. A bit eccentric, but a veritable prodigy when it came to magical discovery and theory. So with a strained smile of acceptance, he nodded. "Sure, old friend, please do tell me what has you in such an uproar? Surely it must be great news? Pray tell, keep it short though, I have an important meeting soon."

  The wizard's head rapidly bobbed in agreement as he fell into step with Denician. They made their way through the huge halls of the Academy as the Headmaster walked to his office. Archways of enchanted swirling marble and old paintings of famous wizards bear witness to their passage as the old wizard prattled endlessly about the goings on within the Academy, detailing the various dramas that inevitably came to pass whenever people of power gathered under one roof.

  Denician only listened half-heartedly, quietly bidding his time until the long-winded wizard got to the real reason of why he needed to talk to him, nodding here and there when the situation prompted him to do so. He had to keep an eye out for where they were heading.

  To walk through the halls of this building without careful situational awareness could be dangerous. Only people so enraptured with their own business, such as Dentaige, could do so with any confidence. Whether or not it was wise was another argument entirely. Though there was the irrefutable proof of the wizard’s old age, so he had to logically be doing something right.

  The site the very building was founded upon was a nexus of energy, a place where nether gathered like moths to a flame, and it didn't help that the sheer amount of magic that was practiced here by the wizards only added fuel to the proverbial fire. Magic reverberated in the air like notes of music, tangible even to those without the gift to utilize it. The arcane saturated every facet of the place, from the very stone and marble that comprised the walls to the forks they used to eat, the end result of such a concentrated gathering of magic was a place where strange occurrences were common place.

  There were things that went bump in the night here. In fact, it went bump pretty much whenever it deemed fit.

  He didn't bother trying to explain some of the things he had seen spawn from the odd habits of these hallowed halls. After all, good wizards sought to perfect their control over magic, great wizards realized they had none. Occurrences ranged from the harmless, such as dancing lights randomly appearing and disappearing, to the dangerous, such as the time the odd peculiarities somehow summoned a drake to the very courtyard situated in the middle of this building.

  Denician shivered at the memory. The large creature had taken wing, but instead of escaping through the open roofed courtyard, it had directed its anger at the nearby first term apprentices, scattering them like ants as the hot steam issued forth from the great maw of the beast threatened to sear the flesh from their very bones. He had been among those apprentices, but instead of running to get help from a Magus, he found himself entranced by the fierce beauty of the creature. A creature that gave most wizards pause. It was humbling to the say the least.

  He had to have it.

  By the time a Master capable of handling a drake had arrived on the scene, they found that Denician, using a little bit of ingenuity, a lot of luck, and the Academy's penchant for huge, ornate chandeliers, had managed to trap the beast.

  After the astonishment wore off, the issue came up about what to do about the drake. They had wanted to slay the beast and be done with it, but Denician had argued fiercely, instead insisting that he had another use for the proud, but dangerous, creature.

  Another use indeed, nothing less than a drake familiar would be acceptable for one such as you! Yhgolanic, his familiar, interrupted. The voice was large and powerful in his head, as one might expect from a creature several hands taller than large horse, but it was something he was used to.

  No doubt the creature was high above the Academy as usual, large wings beating against the air as it glided among the wind currents. The emphatic link allowed him to feel the sheer bliss that accompanied such actions, the pleasurable sensation of biting cold air that flowed over his familiar's body, rustling the bright blue scales as it banked for yet another dive through the clear azure sky. He briefly entertained the notion of how the citizens of Aralene would react if they could see the invisible drake above their city.

  Don't be so coy, Yhgol. You know you enjoy it!

  Indeed, the familiar admitted. It does have certain. . . perks. Still, I long to travel alongside you, something which the size of this form does not always allow.

  I could always shrink you. There are spells that could help you there.

  Spells that could get past my scales? the drake countered smugly. The ones that can are unnatural at best, and still painful. The reshaping of bones and tissue is a feeling that cannot be described.

  True, my friend. I'll look into it. See what I can find.

  Yhgolanic snorted, Alright, I'll hold you to it then. Though I think it would be prudent to do so hurriedly. Who else will protect you from yourself, if not me? Also, if you even think about turning me into something like a rat, I will wrap my tail around you and squeeze until such notions no longer exist! Or you pop like an overly ripe grape, whichever comes first.

  I've done well so far, my friend, and I'm sure your concerns are not biased at all. Plus, I think you would make a cute mouse, or perhaps a chipmunk. The image of a drake's dragon-like head on the body of a rodent he imparted along with the comment caused a great roar of conceding laughter from the familiar, the deep voice echoing in Denician's head like it was an empty cavern.

  "Well? What'd you think?" Dentaige's voice managed to pierce the haze, the large brown eyes wide in anticipation of Denician's answer.

  "Sorry, I missed the last part," he apologized, "My familiar was—"

  "Carrying on in conversation?" the wizard offered, chuckling with good humor as Denician nodded. "No worries there, Headmaster. Trust me, we all have such things in our heads, and we all have had that blank glassy look on our face at some point! To begrudge another fellow wizard for such a thing would be hypocritical at best!"

  Denician smiled back. “Caught me there, old friend. Allow me to make it up to you. What was it that you asked?" he nodded to a few members who gave greeting to the pair as they walked by.

  "Well, like I said, I found this most curious entry in the archives, which you know I love to peruse from time to time." Denician rolled his eyes at that statement. Dentaige practically lived in the archives. "I found a rather interesting thesis on the nether from some unknown wizard. The name seemed to be erased from the records, for I tried to cross reference it, of course."

  Denician nodded, it wasn't an uncommon punishment for wizards who had betrayed their oath. When an apprentice was inducted into being taught at the Academy, they were required to pledge their abilities towards furthering the quest for knowledge of magic. They were not allowed to use their power for political gain. Martial involvement, such as fighting in armies was not discouraged however. Denician always found it morbidly amusing. A wizard was allowed to use his power to light groups of soldiers on fire, but not to become king.

  Death, execution of familiar, and forever to be removed from the records of even being a wizard, were among the punishments given out, depending on the severity of the infraction.

  "The author stated that he believed the nether was not another dimension of power that overlaps our own, like most wizards are lead to believe."

  Denician's brow rose up in surprise. "Well, that is a common belief, something which we have not questioned in hundreds of years. What does this mystery wizard think it is then?"

  "Well, he claims it is a door."

  "A door?"


  "To other worlds, planes if you believe the Grianiare Law of Worldly Composition. The realm of the nether is the pathway that connects it all," the balding wizard clarified. "Which would explain why our supposedly omnipotent Gods don't even have power over it, since, if you believe everything else, it would make sense that the Gods of one plane could not extend their control over to another plane, or even the connecting 'road.' Though they can extend their control in a rudimentary fashion over nether that seeps into our world, as Avalene has showed. This is all speculative of course."

  "Well, if this is true, what does it matter?" Denician asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the direction this was going. He had heard similar theories before, even believed them to an extent, but it wasn't feasible or practical to pursue.

  "Well, if one could, in theory, insert yourself into the nether. . . " Dentaige let the question hang, and it didn't take a scholar or sage to get what was implied. There was just one problem, well, two problems.

  "First off, my friend, I respect you as a fellow member of our establishment, but I must point out a few glaring flaws in your hypothesis." Denician didn't miss the mischievous twinkle in the older man's eye, there was more to this than he was telling, but he pressed on anyway, "First off, there is no spell that allows for us to breech that boundary. You wouldn't be the first who thought about it. Every attempt to create a new spell to allow so has failed, horribly. Often to great disaster to the countryside or the local populace. Secondly, that is hardly a new theory, someone who. . . 'peruses'. . . the archives as much you should know that. History is awash with such thoughts."

  "Had you told me this two days ago, I would have agreed, " Dentaige started, the budding excitement in his voice growing, pretty much giving away that Denician had walked right into a trap, "But the thesis brought up an interesting point and route to achieve it. Why is there no word for 'life' in the language of the Kra’nael?" he asked, referring to the language that controlled how magic worked.

  “Because the Goddess Avalene, when she sealed off our world from the rest of the Pantheon, did not intend for wizards to have power over life. That is something left for the priests that show devotion and such. There is no word for 'death' either." Dentaige nodded at the response, a perfect answer from someone as studied as the Headmaster.

  "Why is there no word for 'nether'?"

  Denician's eyes widened as he began to see what Dentaige was going for. "Because. . . she doesn't want us to control or have any interaction with the nether?"

  "Yes, and what is the first rule of wizardry?"

  "Just because it hasn't been proven, doesn't mean it doesn't exist!" they both said in unison, laughing a bit.

  "So," Denician summarized, "you are saying that if we could find out these words, no doubt lost from most, if not all, texts of the language, it would allow for us, in theory of course, to create spells that would be able to test these ideas of yours?"

  "In a nutshell, yes. Finding them could very well change the face of Faelon itself."

  "Well, my esteemed colleague, how are you going to find them? I mean, it seems an intriguing prospect to say the very least, but it's also a shot in the dark, at best. One would expect for the Goddess to make it difficult to acquire such knowledge."

  "Well, I was thin—oh bother!" Dentaige exclaimed as they opened the door to the next hallway.

  A maze of thorny hedges greeted them, the sides twice as tall as they were, adorned with wicked looking barbs, all within a windowless, but well lit with no noticeable light source, room about fifty yards in length and width. It certainly had not been here mere moments before, but neither Denician nor Dentaige was truly surprised with that particular fact.

  It was an odd and annoying habit of the Academy to change its form and layout, seemingly without pattern or plan. Doors would appear that lead nowhere, walls would spring up, the very inside the building would change drastically from week to week. One day a particular hallway would be straight and narrow, with luscious red carpet paving the way, the next day, it could be a maze of cold stone walls, or a massive marble tunnel lined with mirrors and various doors that opened to blank rooms or simply didn't open at all. The possible variations were as numerous as grains of sand in a desert, and about as comfortable to navigate. Never was the decor change overtly dangerous, but it still didn't stop a few apprentices disappearing without a trace every few years or so.

  For whatever reason, and Denician suspected it was some powerful enchantment cast by the original founding cadre of wizards, any room that was claimed by a person remained unchanged. So people could live and study within the Academy without fear that they find all their belongings gone, but it didn't stop the building from making the route there difficult, nor did it change the fact that it could shift the location on whim.

  Denician was still privately hoping that it would shift his own office closer to ground level sometime in the near future. It was such a bother to have to go to the fifth floor every time he had business to do, or wanted a spell book from his study.

  One could not gate within the Academy in order to avoid traveling the auspicious hallways. The swirling energies that surrounded it made it dangerous to even attempt, playing havoc on the precise spell work needed to achieve even small distance travel. One thing even the best minds of the Academy could never understand was why the energies only affected gating and similar spells. Everything else could be cast with nary a hitch. As if the very building itself deliberately blocked such attempts for the sole reason that it could force the occupants to 'enjoy' the fruits of its labors.

  Most visitors questioned as to why they continued to study and live at such a troublesome place, if they didn't run out screaming in superstitious panic first, that is. The typical response was that the nexus of energy was perfect for the wizards. Nowhere else in all of known Faelon was there such a high concentration of it, so the occupants of the building tolerated the eccentric nature with little more than a consenting nod and wry grin.

  Though Denician often found himself pondering that very question from time to time. Was the advantage of such a buildup of nether really that essential? Sure, it fueled the myriad of experiments practiced within these walls, and it most certainly made spell casting a relative breeze, but Denician came to believe it was more than that. The wizards had become used to the peculiarities, that much was true, but somewhere along the journey of familiarity they had all come to consider this their home. A place where they could mingle with others of like mind, without worry of the mistrust and rumors of the common folk that nipped at the heels of wizards like angry dogs.

  Still, as Denician ran his fingers through his shortly cropped black hair, looking at the room they had to get through made him question it all over again. His initial reaction was to torch the maze to the ground or enact a flying spell to soar over it, but knowing the damnable unseen hand that made such things, it was probably immune to common practices. He would have to do it the hard way. He had painfully learned long ago to forget most thoughts of an easy direct solution to such things. "Care to do the honors, Headmaster?" Dentaige said with an upraised eyebrow, the veteran wizard probably came to the same conclusion he had.

  He nodded, taking off the pendant that hung about his neck. It was a simple looking thing, barely more than a milky red stone strung through with a thin, black rope coated in wax. But the innocuous object was essential to every member of the Academy, for they all had one on their person, the enchantment contained within was too useful to ignore. This was the secret to how they navigated the ever changing building, for contained within was a rather clever spell that always allowed the wearer to instinctively know where their destination was.

  Allowing his eyes to become attuned to the nether, he gently added energy to the stone, as one might scoop up sand and pour it into an hourglass. Slowly it began to glow a light blue color, a gentle pulse rocking the jewel from its depths. Once he was satisfied that it was sufficiently charged, he dropped the nether sight. Holding t
he necklace up by the rope, he gave it a gentle tap with his finger, causing it to swing softly like a pendulum. He held it so that the arc of the swing reached its apex toward the maze entrance, the pendant gave a bright, but brief, flash of light, indicating that the holder should head in that direction. It would allow Denician and Dentaige to navigate the maze with unerring ease.

  "Seems to be working. Shall we?" he asked the older wizard, indicating the maze with a flourish. Dentaige was quick to nod his agreement, and thus they set off, following the instructions of the aptly named True Sight Pendant.

  "So, my friend, care to finish up what we were discussing before we ran into these. . . complications?" he asked conversationally after they spent a few minutes within the mysterious confines of the maze.

  "Ah, well, truth be told, I'd rather just formally pen up a request for what I have in mind. I just wanted to present the idea to you myself. You know, get your expert opinion and such. Make sure I wasn't chasing dragon feathers," Dentaige responded brightly, though Denician noticed that the older wizard seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact.

  He is lying, came the mental voice of Yhgolanic, the feeling of distaste lacing the familiar's words. He's not even good at it, the drake added with an offended huff.

  He agreed with his familiar's observation, but decided not the press the issue. Most likely the only reason the older wizard even sought him out today was to convince him to agree to the project before he officially requested the go ahead, which no doubt meant leaving out certain crucial things that he knew Denician wouldn't like.

  Denician was patient though. As the Headmaster, all things eventually had to go through him, so he could afford to sit back and wait in a lot of cases. Still, he made a mental note to keep a close eye on this nubile project, and that was only if he even gave permission at the end of all this word play. He was not above taking back promises when it concerned the safety of the Academy's members and charter rules.