Transcending Limitations

by Brian Wilkerson

  “I spend all my time on Tariatla tracking down the spirits you two let into the world when you punctured it,” Annala continued. “They’re irrational with fear and confusion and it makes them hostile. You’re just their most frequent target; thanks to Gruffle, everyone is at risk. That’s why I don’t have time for dates and, frankly, not even this conversation!”

  Perrault barked her approval of this statement as well. She even interrupted her own petting in order to bite Annala’s sleeve and yank it in the opposite direction from Eric. Unfortunately, the mortal boy spoke up again.

  “Why aren’t the reapers helping?”

  Once again, Annala stopped to answer him despite her familiar’s insistence.

  “Lord Death doesn’t have reapers to spare. He doesn’t even have enough to cover all the worlds as it is. If he takes one away from their post, then the same thing will happen there. Gruffle is no help because he’s not an official reaper until he kills you. In fact, I concealed my identity, in part, so the reapers wouldn’t bother me. Then stuff happened and he found out.”

  “What’s the other part?” Eric asked.

  “GRRR!”

  “In a second, Perrault! Sometimes I have to jump through time to save you; backwards and forwards. Authority Time, you know, one of the Three Natural Order Gods? He doesn’t like it when people do that. The nickname and hood help me hide from him, among other things, so you have to play along or I’ll be exposed.”

  “ARF!”

  “I know. I’m getting there.” With a heavy heart, she said, “Eric, it’s been wonderful talking to you like this, but I really have to go. Don’t die before I get back. I mean it! I’m doing all this to keep you alive and—”

  “BARK!”

  Annala pecked Eric’s cheek and held his gaze. Then Perrault yanked her sleeve again, harder this time, and she reluctantly raised her hood. Turning around, Priestess dashed away. Perrault glared at Eric before following her mistress. Eric watched Annala as she disappeared into the distance.

  Warmth filled his heart at the thought of such an angel watching over him. Then he turned his mind to less benevolent thoughts. It was time he gave a different cleric a piece of his mind.

  Ethereal green wings sprouted from his feet and he sprinted in the direction of Central Hearth. He reached the town’s interior in moments and passed into the Fire Sage’s residence without stopping. He even phased through the doors rather than open them. When he reached the Fire Sage’s room, he bellowed, “You had me wander the middle of nowhere, in the cold, among hostile spirits, to prove if I am worthy of proving myself worthy!”

  The Fire Sage was just pulling a tray out of his personal oven when Eric arrived. Now that the irate demon was in his room, he calmly extended the tray and asked, “Cookie?”

  The grendel growled.

  The Fire Sage placed the tray on the counter next to the oven. “Yes, I did. Rite of Fire Ascension is supposed to be reserved for Fiol’s descendants and their champions, and even they must prove themselves worthy of it. Thus, a common mercenary like yourself must meet a higher standard.”

  “Hypocrite. You offered the rite to stop the Two Fires War.”

  “A moment of weakness,” the Fire Sage said, “after all other options failed. It is that action that led to all my trouble with Kaiba Gunrai.”

  He picked up one of the cookies and took a bite. Approving of its taste, he again offered the tray to Eric. This time, the grendel obliged him.

  “Rest assured that I am not giving you busy work.”

  He pointed to a corner where Kallen sat on a lotus throne. Her legs were crossed and her arms folded in her lap. She stared ahead blankly.

  “She is assisting me with a task of great importance. Not only is it meritorious, but it needs to be done. That is what proves to me that she deserves to receive the rite.”

  He walked to his desk and stared out a window.

  “I truly do wish for you to find the missing salamanders. This is not something any of my clerics can undertake, for I scried a powerful influence behind this event. You are more qualified to subdue this particular threat.”

  “As I thought,” Eric groaned. “I’ll have to risk my own death right now for a chance at something that might mean I won’t have to die at some point in the future.”

  The Fire Sage turned back around.

  “I told you earlier, one cannot overcome Death by running away or hiding from him. By rescuing these salamanders, you return the dead to where they belong. By doing so yourself, you shield my clerics from further harm. If you do this, then I will gladly perform the rite for you.”

  “Where do I need to go?” Eric asked. “Proper directions, please.”

  “I’ve heard you can fly by the blessing of Wiol. Is this true?” Eric nodded. “Then go east until you arrive at the Yoracel River. This area has seen strange magic recently, so it will stand out in your Magic Sight. There, you will find my captive salamanders.”

  Eric was just about to say that the salamanders belonged to Fiol but thought better of it. Ancient clerics didn’t like being challenged or corrected. Unless they were chaotic, in which case, they encouraged it. He smiled to himself then. Unintentional though it was, he was satisfied with his choice of faith.

  “I will send one to guide you.”

  The Fire Sage held up a third cookie and it burst into flames. From them came a fire spirit. The cookie did not turn to ashes or even burn. He ate it like he did the first one.

  “They eat the love I put into baking the cookie.”

  “Of course they do.”

  The salamander floated over to Eric. It hovered before his eyes for three seconds before flaring and hissing. The Fire Sage tickled its comet tail, heedless of the flames, and the spirit calmed.

  “That’s odd. Jeff is usually friendly.”

  “I told you already that spirits don’t like me. This one’s probably going to mislead me like a will-o-wisp.”

  The Fire Sage grasped the spirit firmly with both hands. Locking its fire eyes with his own, he said, “Don’t do that, understand? Guide him to your captured brethren without tricks.”

  The spirit nodded and floated at Eric’s side peacefully.

  Team Four was waiting for him outside Sage Hearth. Eric smiled but shook his head.

  “The Fire Sage insists that I do this myself.”

  “We’re coming in case you run into trouble,” Basilard said. “The Rite of Fire Ascension is not the only path to immortality. If this doesn’t work, we will need you alive to try something else.”

  “Then the Fire Fossil can jump in his volcano for all we’ll care!” Tiza fist pumped.

  “Tiza!” Nolien scolded. “Don’t you see the salamander? He’s listening.”

  “Oh yeah?” Tiza marched right up to Jeff and said, “HEY, FIRE FOSSIL! I dare you to grab one of your forge’s coals and shove them up your ass!”

  Nolien face palmed. “Why do I bother?”

  Tiza looked over her shoulder and, in a mock posh tone, she said, “Because, my Lord Heleti, you are hopelessly in love with me.” She turned all the way around and returned to his side. “Good luck.”

  “Such fearless irreverence,” Basilard said, “is why I put her on point earlier. Most people would balk at beheading a reaper.”

  “I thought it strange that you sent them in by themselves,” Eric said. “Gruffle’s a pushover but, as a reaper, I thought he would ping your teacher protectiveness.”

  Basilard shook his head. “You’re all stronger than you were in Ceiha. I had faith in their abilities, and in The Trickster.”

  Tiza swelled with pride, and Nolien looked happy as well, but Eric was suspicious. He noticed the fear in the man’s voice and the continuous movement of his right eye. It regularly slid to the corner of its socket to check on Zettai.

  Is he worried about Bladi assassins or are all fathers like this?

  “Whoever captured the salamanders,” Basilard said, “I’m confident you’ll succeed in de
feating them. If you don’t, then we’re here to back you up. Now tell us where the salamanders are so we can leave.”

  “Got it!”

  Eric took a horse stance and called on the power of Wiol. Divine wind surrounded him and he pushed off into the sky. Jeff the fire spirit followed him. Back on the ground, Basilard tapped his foot in frustration.

  After flying for some time, Eric spotted the Yoracel River. It flowed out of Lake Bern, which was nestled at the southern end of the Yacian Mountains. From there, it traveled south alongside the Oblige Forest until it crossed the border into Mithra. Then it made a sharp turn and emptied into the Finst Lake. This was the area where the Fire Sage said he would find the captive salamanders. With his Magic Sight, he found something strange.

  An ethereal shell glimmered in the sunlight. He couldn’t see anything inside it but the area itself was plainly visible. This must be what blocked the Fire Sage’s scry. He flew towards it and encountered solid resistance. With his chaos spear, he penetrated the shell and ripped it open.

  Beneath him was a featureless steel-grey building. It was dotted with windows for light, but otherwise, it was just a cube. Two guards stood to either side of the only door he could see.

  In one hand, he generated a dark bolt and, in the other, a wind bolt. He threw them in quick succession at the feet of the guards and they exploded into their spell effects. The wind bolt carried a Lupine Baffler and canceled the local sound. The dark bolt created a Dark Veil and canceled the local sight. With them confused, blind, and mute, it was easy for Eric to land unnoticed. He grabbed one head in his left hand and the other in his right and beat them against each other.

  The two guards slumped as consciousness left them. After casting an enemy alarm spell around himself, Eric examined their armor. The Eye of Order better resembled a bull’s eye and the Hands of Order, a bend in a river. In more out-of-the-way places, such as the inside of the armpit and behind the faceplate, he discovered their true creator.

  “Gunrai Enterprises,” Eric read. “Cheap knock-offs they may be but anti-magic without the usual limitations would be tempting for any number of people.”

  Neither one of them had a key, but Eric didn’t expect to find one. One breath later and he was on the other side of the door anyway. He stood within the wall and poked only his head out to see what he was up against.

  The inside was a single great room. Only a single pillar in the center supported the roof. It resembled an Order Obelisk by its markings and its spiritual signature, but it was just as fake as the ordercrafters outside. To left side was a glass cage containing numerous salamanders. Found ‘em! To the right side were medical beds where bodies were strapped in place.

  Two of the “false ordercrafters” traveled from one to the other in a strict pattern. At one end, they forced the salamander spirits inside their unwilling hosts and removed them from charred hosts. These salamanders were then returned to the communal cage and the spirit of the host was placed in a second cage adjacent to it. No Geneva compliance here...

  Monitoring and measuring equipment stood at the north and south. Together with the cages, they formed a compass with the pillar as the central point. They may not be real ordercrafters, but they’re certainly buying into ordercraft philosophy.

  Another five false ordercrafters busied themselves around the machines. Two more stood beside a teleportation arc and a full dozen more stood as guards at even intervals. Out of the twenty-one hostiles in this room, only a handful noticed him immediately. Out of that handful, none of them believed they saw only a head. When Eric pulled back, they dismissed him as a side effect of the armor or the Obelisk.

  Back outside the room, Eric put a hand to chin as he contemplated a strategy. Freeing the salamanders was his goal, but to do that, he’d need to topple the Obelisk. To do that, he’d have to neutralize its guards, and there were a lot more of them than there were of him.

  “If the Fire Sage wants me to commit suicide-by-mission, then I will trust in Lady Chaos to see me through it.”

  He chose his entry point and stepped through it. On the other side, there was a guard within spear range.

  The chaos blade pierced the false ordercraft and his grendel muscles penetrated the armor itself. Then he released a compressed bolt into the guard’s body and blew it up. This attracted the attention of everyone in the room, but by then, Eric had phased back through the wall.

  The guards gathered around what was left of their fallen fellow and Eric stepped back in to spear another one of them. Aided by a Shadow Cloak, he killed two more and then withdrew again. Only this time, his back bumped against something solid and unyielding. His cloak unraveled.

  One of the seventeen guards stood next to the Obelisk Pillar. Its runes had shifted and spread across the ceiling and the walls. That soldier is using his spirit to reinforce this fake ordercraft. I’ll have to kill him or topple that pillar to escape.

  The sixteen remaining guards converged on him. Eric put his spear away, transformed, and roared.

  They halted immediately. Lips separated into a grin, Eric ran for the nearest guard. This one threw up a Lawful Shield, but Eric’s chaotic claw cut through it and buried itself in his right eye. Fifteen left. With his other hand, he fired a pair of chaotic bolts; the first disabled the unlucky guard’s Lawful Shield and the second disintegrated him. Fourteen! Three guards turned tail and ran, so he fired a dual chaotic mana barrage at the remaining eleven. Then a new pulse flared through the room.

  It washed away his bolts and pressed down on Eric. It was cold, it was imperial, and it demanded that he cease all forms of magical and spiritual activity. Eric’s knees shook as the force tried to make him kneel. There was an ancient conviction pressing against his mind and spirit that sought domination. On the surface, it was precisely the feeling of ordercraft, but underneath, it couldn’t have been more different.

  It was empty. It was impersonal. There was no contempt for magic nor any desire to regulate the spirit casting it. It was also substantially thinner than what he felt from Nulso and the air within Latrot. If he had any doubts before, they were gone now.

  There’s no way this is truly ordercraft.

  He fired chaotic bolts through the Obelisk’s resistance and into the crowd. They collided with Lawful Shields and dissipated. The unity of the false ordercrafters with each other and the Obelisk negated the power he put into them.

  The eleven advanced in unison. Their Lawful Shells overlapped to reinforce each other and all of them were empowered further by the Obelisk. The three cowards returned to reinforce them further still. The seven in front maximized their defense while the seven behind them lowered lances and the one at the pillar prayed to the entity behind its power.

  “Oh, Root of Power, fill our souls,” this one droned. “Be with us now as we engage our enemy. Omnias! Omnias! Omnias! Send us the purest power!”

  Vitality, strength, and resolve grew within the false ordercrafters. Their unity increased into a minor hive mind. Their barriers became more genuine Lawful Shields than a collection of personal barriers with amplification. Eric tried another mana barrage, but the flurry of bolts was redirected no matter how many he fired or how hard he pushed them.

  “All powers are one, and there is only one power,” the one at the pillar chanted. “Through our faith in the Root of All Power, we are empowered with the all-encompassing ability. Through our tutelage in Omnias, we receive the fundamental knowledge. You are powerless because we say you are!”

  Following this declaration, fourteen Suppression Beams hit him at once.

  They squeezed Eric’s body to choke him. They squeezed his mind to disorient him. They squeezed his soul to truly cripple him. Against fourteen of them with such backing, they overwhelmed him.

  “How perfect is Chaos; all powers in one?” they chanted. “How magnificent is Chaos; all shapes in one? How glorious is Chaos; the only power, the only shape, and the only victor!”

  Eric laughed. It was a deep and thr
oaty laugh from his grendel throat. The intensity of the attacks diminished from the confusion of their casters and Eric’s merriment increased further. Still laughing, he performed Arin’s Triangle. The false ordercrafters redoubled their attack.

  “Yes, say your prayers, grendel,” one in front said. “Make your peace with your capricious elven deity!”

  “Lady Chaos, hear my prayer. Fill my soul with hope, my mind with clarity, and my body with zeal. Give me the fuel to make my dreams real.”

  A surge of energy filled all three and a new flame stoked his battle lust. He roared and flared the full extent of his spirit. One guard broke formation and ran backwards, knocking over the ordercrafter behind him and creating a gap in their line. Eric ran through it and onwards to the Obelisk.

  He jumped forwards and impaled it with his chaotic claw. Cracks ran up the structure and glowed golden-brown. He withdrew the claw and grinned at the guard next to him.

  Shattered was this false ordercrafter’s bravado. His knees knocked too much for him to run. Eric kicked him into the far wall.

  “You are impressive for shoddy copies,” he said to the trembling false ordercrafters. “Having taken your measure, I’m done playing around.”

  Without their idol, the strain in the air disappeared completely. In its wake, Eric brandished his chaotic claw in one hand and his senescence authority in the other.

  “This is real power!”

  The false ordercrafters scattered and Eric routed them. When the last one lay dead, his stomach growled.

  Is it okay to eat my enemies if I killed them for an unrelated reason?

  Someone clapped. Eric looked around but saw no one other than the dead soldiers and the captives. One of the latter stood up, free from restraint, and continued clapping. It was a human and grievously injured yet standing easily.

  “I thank you for completing this round of testing, Eric Watley,” the human man said. “My expense department should wire your guild a contractor’s fee for such good work.”

  “Gunrai! So you’ve been here all this time.”

  The human’s hair shifted from blonde to golden-brown. His ears extended and pointed. His grey rags became a bright blue suit with a deep orange shirt. At his neck was a yellow ascot with red polka dots. Around his waist was a live snake fashioned into the shape of a belt and it held up forest green slacks. Looking at him was more painful for Eric than anything the false ordercrafters did.