Resurgence of Ancient Darkness

by Vincent Trigili

  “Sure,” he said. He injected me with something that almost instantly began to reduce the pain. “Now, I expect it will be a week or so until you are back to normal. Until then, get lots of rest and eat well.”

  “Thanks, Doctor,” I said. “So, Flame, what happened?”

  “Well, after we separated I led our forces, and we pushed through to take over engineering,” she started and then filled me in on her victorious battles to take control of the station. “Once we had that under our control we called in back-up, and I brought you and the other wounded back here for treatment.”

  “Well done! I am proud of you!” I said. She blushed a little, but did not say anything. “What is the status of the station now?”

  “I sent several teams over to sweep the rest of the station, and we didn’t find anyone else alive. Stalker recommended we power down the whole complex, so that is what we did.”

  “Excellent! Have someone contact Bill and tell him about this base. The navy could use it, I am sure.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” she said. “Dusty called, looking for orders. I talked with him this morning and told him to meet us here.”

  “That will take weeks,” I said. I reached for the comm station next to my bed and said, “Bridge, this is Master Shadow. Set a course to intercept the Shadow Fox so that we can pick them up sooner.”

  “Yes, Master,” came the reply.

  “Now, Flame, will you help me back to our quarters and see to that good food that the doctor just ordered me to eat?”

  “Sure!” she said.

  As we walked back to our room she brought me up to date on Dusty’s adventures. Near the end of the story, she said something that caught my attention. “Wait: why did they have to fly back to cancel the summon spells?”

  “It seems they stumbled on another change in magic. Summoned creatures now stay until destroyed or sent away. Distance only affects control.”

  “That is a huge change!” I said. I tried to get my mind around the impact that that would have. “What about the death of the summoner? Does that still destroy summoned creatures?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say anything about that.”

  “I have to contact Grandmaster Vydor right away.” If killing the caster did not banish the summoned creatures any more, that would change all our standard battle tactics. We always focused on the fact of “Kill the summoner, kill the summoned.”

  “Easy, my love. Let’s get you to our quarters first,” she said. “You can contact him while I cook.”

  “Yes, that is probably wise.” I was starting to get really tired from the walk. It was obviously going to take some time to get back to a reasonable level of health.

  When we were back in our quarters I used my communications ring to reach out to Grandmaster Vydor. Once he had responded, I filled him in on our mission so far, and the changes that Dusty had reported.

  “It seems that we are finding changes faster and faster now,” I sent.

  “Yes, but I do not know for certain if that means that changes are happening faster, or we are finding them faster because we have more magi,” he sent.

  “I suspect it is a little of both,” I sent.

  “Quite possibly, but I think we are nearing the end of the massive changes. I believe that from this point forward there will be only minor changes. The only caveat is that I am not sure we have yet found all the major changes that have taken place,” he sent.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “From what I can tell it appears that magic is reverting back to the way it was before reality was torn. For example, there is a legend about an ancient magus summoning a golem and leaving it unattended for a while. The golem continued to follow its master’s orders to dig until he returned to banish it,” he sent. “Apparently it created a massive desert in the process.”

  “Interesting. That means summoning is now the way it was originally, but how does that tell you that the changes are almost complete?” I asked.

  “If I accept that the weave is reverting to the way it once was, then I can look at the differences we have observed in the weave over the past several decades and extrapolate backwards and forwards. We know that around ten thousand years ago all magic was cut off, and we know how much magic we have now. With that I can make an educated guess at where it will end,” he sent.

  “That is fascinating, but how do you know the healing rate has remained constant?” I asked.

  “Until we closed the tears in the weave it was perfectly constant. Our actions caused a massive surge in the rate of change. I can only assume it was constant for the time between the tearing of the weave and the closing of the tears because it was constant for the entire period we could watch it,” he sent. “Also, it seems to be trying to stabilize itself.”

  I thought for a moment about what he had said. It seemed logical; then a thought occurred to me. “Grandmaster, you make it sound as if the weave is alive?”

  “I am not convinced it is not. It certainly acts much like a living thing,” he sent.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was two long, painful weeks of healing before I felt that I was back to normal. Most of that time I was forced to stay in bed, as any exertion brought on dizziness and nausea. Our doctor was surprised at the length of the recovery time, but he put it down to our lack of experience with treating magical injuries.

  The weeks had passed without anything of significance happening other than the Shadow Fox returning from its mission. Once back on the Nevermore, Dusty told his crew to take a few days off and be ready for more training when they got back.

  When the doctor had finally cleared me to exercise again, I headed to the officers’ gym on the Nevermore where I stumbled on to a scene that I would have never expected to see. There I saw Dusty sparring with Spectra, and Lythiran was acting as his coach.

  I watched quietly for a while, not wanting to interrupt their session, but I was immensely curious about it. Dusty was obviously a rank amateur, but Spectra moved with a grace and speed that told volumes about her skill. She was obviously holding back and only using very predictable attacks for Dusty’s sake, but the precision with which she executed them gave away her skill.

  Dusty’s movements were fluid and controlled, but far too slow to be effective. He had obviously been taught only the very early training moves in how to use his body as a tool in combat. His natural flexibility helped him greatly, and I expected that if he kept up his training he would eventually become a deadly warrior someday.

  When they had finished, Dusty noticed me and said, “Hi, Master Shadow!”

  “Hello, Dusty. I hope I did not distract you from your training,” I said.

  “No, Master,” he said. “Lythiran here would not allow me to be distracted.”

  “You know, not that long ago you would have fought hard to stay out of the gym, and here you are now fighting hard in the gym. What has changed?” I asked.

  Dusty looked at Spectra, and I could sense telepathic communication pass between them. They were hiding something. I could not even begin to guess what or why.

  “Master Shadow, may we speak with you in private?” asked Dusty.

  “Of course. Meet me in my quarters in an hour?” I suggested. I thought that more polite than saying, “Go and take a shower first.”

  “That sounds good, Master. See you then,” he sent.

  So they were hiding something. I wondered what, but took comfort in the fact that it appeared they were going to tell me about it.

  While I was warming up, I said, “Lythiran, are you interested in sparring with me? I have been on sick leave too long and need to stretch my limbs.”

  “Certainly, Master,” he said.

  We fought for quite a while, until my strength gave out. He was far superior to me, not only in strength and speed, but also in skill. I was no match for him, but he never indicated if that bothered him. Instead, he kept offering me poi
nters.

  “Thanks, Lythiran. After the forced bed rest of the last two weeks, that felt good,” I said.

  “Any time, Master. In fact, I would be happy to help you train if you wish me to. I know that you have been teaching Master Flame, and she is welcome too,” he said.

  I laughed and said, “Are you on a mission to teach all the wizards how to fight?”

  He smiled with the characteristically unnerving toothy smile of a Zalionian and said, “It is just what I do, Master.”

  “Well, keep it up! It is too easy for we magi to lose condition,” I said.

  “Great! See you this time tomorrow, Master?” he asked.

  I laughed again. “Maybe we can work something out, but now I must go to meet with Dusty.”

  “Of course, Master,” he said, then with a bow he took his leave of me. I wondered at the bow, as it was unique to him. I did not really like it, but did not want to seem ungracious if it meant something special to him. I must talk with Karlith about it and see if he knows anything.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I met Dusty, Spectra, and Flame in my quarters. At first, I was going to send Flame away since Dusty had asked for a private meeting, but Spectra insisted she could stay. Once everyone was settled I said, “Well, Dusty, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

  “Well, Master, I am not sure how to say this. Heck, I am not even sure I believe it yet,” said Dusty.

  Spectra reached over, grabbed his hand, and looked lovingly at him. I remember when he first brought Spectra to us; then he was the one constantly encouraging her. It seemed their roles had switched over the years. She was a real source of strength for him. As his commanding officer, I worried about what that would mean if something should happen to her; but as his friend, I was overjoyed at their slowly growing relationship.

  “Master, it’s just that, well … something is wrong,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He turned to Spectra, “You should tell him, I think.”

  “Sure,” she said and then turned to look at me. “Master, I can sense something is coming, or is already here but at a distance. I can't tell for sure which it is, but whatever it is, it’s bad. I wish I could tell you more, but it is just on the edge of what I can sense, and I can’t get a good grasp of it.”

  I knew immediately of what she spoke, and that worried me greatly. “What does that have to do with your physical training?”

  “Master, I’m not sure. I don’t fully understand it, but I know that we must train in this way now so that we can be ready,” said Spectra.

  I had learned over the years to lean heavily on Spectra’s instincts. She rarely could tell me why she sensed something. Mathorn had explained that that was how spiritualists worked. They could sense things that no one else could, not even spellweavers, but could rarely explain it to a non-spiritualist.

  I leaned back in my chair to think for a moment. I was sure I knew of what she spoke, but the information about the physical training was something new. She was so sure of it that she had convinced Dusty to work out, something he had resisted for years, so in her mind there was definitely something to it.

  I knew they had more to say. I wanted to ask, but my long years in intelligence had taught me to let people talk for as long as possible before questioning them.

  Spectra looked over at Dusty, and I could see the telepathic communication pass between them again. I could not tell what was being said, but the look in their eyes told me that she was encouraging him to speak up, so I waited quietly.

  “Master, there is another thing,” said Dusty.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “Well, Master, I am not sure how to put this, but my magic does not appear to be working properly anymore,” he said.

  A chill went down my spine when he said that. Mathorn had warned me that something was wrong with Dusty. He saw it at the debriefing. He did not know what to make of it, because he had not seen anything like it before. Mathorn merely warned me that Dusty’s aura was wrong in some way.

  “What do you mean?” asked Flame, great concern in her voice.

  “Master, I am not sure. Can I demonstrate?” he asked.

  “What did you have in mind?” I asked.

  “Master, if I cast a mage bolt, you should easily be able to contain it, right?” he asked.

  I weaved my Weave Sense spell so that I could see anything that happened and then said, “Sure, cast away.”

  He stood and cast his mage bolt, which should have been an ice bolt, but something different came out of his spell, something that was not quite ice, while still being something like ice. I caught the spell in an energy net and studied it. An ice bolt is primarily a blunt force weapon. The ice is magically hardened and then is sent at great speed towards its target. A wizard of Dusty’s level could punch through armor plating with his ice bolts, but this one was different. It was still cold like ice, but its pattern suggested that it was primarily an energy-based attack.

  “Interesting,” I said as I studied it. “I do not recognize the pattern, but it looks vaguely familiar. How long has this been going on?”

  “I am not sure, Master. It only seems to be affecting my cold line, and I rarely use it,” said Dusty.

  “When is the last time you cast your cold spells without issue?” I asked.

  Dusty sat and thought for a while and then said, “Master, when I was in Korshalemia my ice bolts and ice storms all acted normally. I have not used them much at all in the period between then and now.”

  “Spectra, do you think this is connected somehow to what you sense?” I asked.

  “No, Master, not really, but it is suspicious,” she said.

  I looked over at the ice bolt where it was still suspended in my magical net. “Dusty, it might not be ice, but it looks to me as if it would still be very effective.”

  “Yes, Master. I used my magic a few times on this mission, but each time I cast the bolts they are a little more different,” he said.

  “You used your ice magic on that rescue mission a year or two back, did you not? Did you notice anything then?” I asked.

  “Not at the time, but looking back now I can see that my spells were a tiny bit different,” he said.

  “This is probably related to all the other changes we are seeing, then,” said Flame.

  I stared at the ice bolt for a while, trying to decide what to say. “I suppose I had better tell you this; I had hoped it was nothing, and did not want to worry anyone. Dusty, the day you met Mathorn at the debriefing after operation Show of Force, he told me something about you.” I hesitated here; I had kept the secret for so long that I was not sure I should speak of it. “Dusty, Mathorn and I do not know what it means, but we can see something wrong with you.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “He saw it first, but after he pointed it out to me it became obvious. When Spectra looks at you she sees an aura that is related to your soul, to who you are as a magus. When a spellweaver looks at a magus he sees an aura also, but one of a different kind. It has to do with your connection to the weave. The details do not matter: what matters is that your aura, as seen by a spellweaver, was damaged at that time.”

  “How’s that possible?” asked Spectra.

  “We do not know, but it is clear that something about Dusty is different compared to the time before he returned from Korshalemia.” I said. “At the time I dismissed it, thinking it would clear up over time and that it might be some form of magical wound that needed more time to heal; but in the light of what you have shown me today, it appears I was wrong.”

  “So what does all this mean?” asked Flame.

  “It means I need to contact Mathorn and see if he can find out anything more in that massive library of his,” I said.

  Dusty just sat there looking at his hands. I wondered if he was trying to see his aura and whatever it was that was wrong. He was still so young, and ye
t had so much on his shoulders already.

  “Dusty, you said that you have not been using your ice line?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master. I have focused on studying the book Master Mathorn gave me,” he said.

  “Well, that needs to change. I want you to start spending time in the practice chambers working with your new magic and learning the differences it now has. I suspect that the more you cast, the more changes will occur, until they stabilize. We need to know what will happen when you cast, and right now we do not know that. I will help you with these sessions, and together we will work this out.

  “As for what you see, Spectra, I think that is completely unrelated; however, it bothers me. Until now Grandmaster Vydor, Mathorn, and I believed we were the only ones who could see the shadow over the realm, as it is a spellweaver trait to see the balance of power and the rise and fall of each side in the war between darkness and light. What you describe is exactly what we see, and that should not be,” I said.

  “Maybe that is simply a result of the laws of magic changing?” asked Flame.

  “That is certainly a possibility, but something tells me it is more than that. There is some reason why she can sense it, but I do not know what it is,” I said.

  We talked for a bit more, but we were unable to come up with any answers. I asked Spectra to try to determine the direction from which the shadow was coming.

  They left soon afterwards, and on the way out Spectra said, “Master Shadow, please get all the wizards to train like we are. I can feel deep within my soul that it is critical that they should.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As Spectra and I started to leave, Phoenix burst into the room. He was out of breath and dripping with sweat. “You gotta help me!” he screamed breathlessly and started to fall over. I caught him, but his great weight was too much for me, and we both started to go down in a pile of arms and legs when suddenly I felt much lighter. It took me a moment to realize that Shadow had caught me with his magic.

  “I have you, Dusty,” said Master Shadow.