First Sorcerer

by Kyle Johnson

  Getheriel simply screamed her defiance and flew at the man, her blade flashing. Aranos moved to help her, but movement in the corner of his eye made him turn. With Golloron distracted, the false Getheriel had slipped her bindings and was rushing toward him…on all fours. Her form also shifted as she ran. Her skin darkened to a deep, sickly green, her hair became wiry and black, and her face grew a long muzzle filled with needle sharp teeth. Her arms lengthened and claws sprouted from her hands and abnormally long toes. A proboscis-like tongue darted from her open muzzle, and she howled as she raced toward him.

  Aranos quickly formed a Mana Shield in her path, allowing her to slam into it, then hurled a cloned Mana Arrow into her chest. The creature screamed and clawed at the raw wounds on its chest. It sprinkled its blood on Aranos’ shield, and he felt a sharp pain stab through his head as the mana holding his Spell suddenly unraveled.

  The creature charged at him once more, but a pair of mana-forged spears suddenly thrust from the ground at his command, piercing the beast through the gut. It whined and clawed at the spears, and once again they vanished, but this time, Aranos was prepared. His hands flew up as he summoned his Rapid Shot Mana Barrage, and he poured 19 compressed shots into the monster’s face, chest, and stomach in a matter of seconds, hurling it back.

  The creature fell to the ground, its skin torn and bleeding, bones shattered, and muscle shredded, but it managed to spit a gobbet of blood at him, and he felt a lurch as his Mana Armor vanished. The creature moved with terrifying speed despite its injuries and slammed into him, its claws ripping into his stomach and bowling him to the ground.

  Aranos howled in pain as the agony tore through his midsection, but he managed to fling a Crystal Prison around the monster, binding it in place. He started to roll out from under it when its long, tube-like tongue darted from its mouth and struck his neck, piercing into his throat. Aranos’ agony redoubled as he felt his very essence being drawn from him, and he watched as his SP and LP bars both plummeted.

  His mind drew back from the pain, coldly examining the creature and its attack. It’s like Mana Drain, he realized, except that it’s taking LP, too. If you could see your LP flows, you could probably reverse the drain. His brain desperately pulled at the pattern, to no avail, but he pulled himself out of his terror. Not like that! he barked internally. It’s just another problem. You know what to do.

  He forced himself to ignore his waning LP bar and step back, relaxing his focus and allowing his mind to take the pattern in at once. His LP filled his body, he realized, coursing through his blood to empower his cells. Unlike his SP, which rose from his center, his LP poured out from his heart and followed his circulatory system to heal his injuries. Well, blood runs both ways, he realized. The energy goes out through my arteries; I’ve just got to bring it back through my veins.

  He focused his thoughts on that pattern, seeing the flows not just going out, but returning along a different pathway. He could feel the draw as the creature drained his LP, but through that connection, he could also feel the beast’s LP floating in its center. He pulled on that growing mass of energy, drawing it back through the connection, filling his veins and recirculating the power back into his heart.

  The creature screamed and tried to retract its tongue, but Aranos grabbed with his hand and pressed the appendage into place. He pulled harder, and he watched as the drain on his LP slowed, stopped…and reversed, his LP bar starting to rise. He pulled even harder and felt the outward flow slow as the creature merely fought to escape. As his LP bar refilled, though, he continued to draw, pouring the extra energy out into his body, filling all of his cells to capacity and forcing them to grow and divide to hold the extra power.

  Finally, the flow stopped, and he pulled the creature from his neck, hurling it to the ground and smashing it with his staff. The creature simply lay, shriveled and unmoving, drained of its life, and he turned from it to rejoin the battle.

  Chapter 13

  The battle, in fact, was nearly over.

  The elf elder Golloron had several burn scars visible across his chest and shoulder, but he was steadily wrapping the now-mewling rakshasa in black ice so cold Aranos could feel its chill. The elf guards seemed to have overcome the traitorous ones and were in the process of binding and disarming them. It was Geltheriel’s battle, though that drew Aranos’ attention.

  Geltheriel danced past another lightning bolt, slamming her shield into Ainarian and slashing across his thigh. The man was bleeding from a dozen such cuts, including one that ran from his chin to his forehead, ruining his right eye and splitting his lip open to reveal blood-stained teeth. A kick to his leg cracked against his knee, and her follow-up thrust shattered his other knee. As he fell, she buried her blade directly between his legs, causing him to scream in agony and grip at the sword with ruined fingers. She released the sword and slammed her shield into his face once more, shattering bone and teeth.

  “You think this is pain?” she screamed at him as she drew the shield back again. “I have not even begun to show you pain! You will beg for death a thousand times before…”

  Her words were cut off as a pair of Mana Arrows slammed into his chest, burying themselves in his body and exploding, ending his screams for eternity. Geltheriel spun to face Aranos, her sword held at the ready.

  “Why?” she demanded in a yell, sobbing as she advanced. “Why did you do that? He had yet to face justice…”

  “No,” Aranos shook his head, not even trying to raise a defense against her. “That was vengeance, and he deserved it. But I couldn’t let you do that to yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?” she shrieked. “I needed for him to suffer!”

  “No,” he repeated, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “That’s what the Corruption needed. It’s feeding your hate and anger, making you someone you’re not. You never gave into it, no matter how much he tormented you. Don’t let him beat you now.”

  She stared at him a moment, then dropped her sword to the ground, weeping. Aranos gently enfolded her in his arms, letting her rest her head on his shoulder, being the friend she needed him to be. If it were just me, Getheriel, he told her silently, I’d have helped you. But it’s not just about me.

  “Now this is interesting,” Golloron spoke, staring at Ainarian’s fallen body. Geltheriel raised her head, wiping her eyes, and the pair turned to look at the corpse, which was slowly shifting and morphing once more. The form shrank upon itself, narrowing in the shoulders and waist, expanding in the hips and chest. The hair lengthened and turned a pale gold as the features smoothed and became delicate.

  “The Traveler!” Getheriel breathed as the body became that of an elven woman. “That’s the Traveler, Aranos! The one who came before you!”

  Aranos stared at the body as it swirled and vanished, leaving nothing behind. “Will she be reborn in the Stronghold, Traveler?” Golloron demanded. “Do I need to seek her out?”

  Aranos shook his head. “We can’t come back in a place that’s hostile,” he replied. “That would be the whole Stronghold right now. She’ll probably come back in the forest, if she didn’t find a way to bind herself back in Haerobel. You might also want to check the Traveler’s Trials: there’s an obelisk there we can use to come back to.”

  Golloron turned to Dorn’ar’el swiftly. “Send out Keepers,” he ordered. “Have them look for the Traveler and hound her out of our Realm. Slay her as many times as need be until we are free of her presence.” The warrior bowed and turned, issuing orders. The traitorous guards were led away, and the rest moved out to disperse the crowd or hunt for the Traveler.

  “I must now speak with the Traveler, child,” Golloron turned and spoke to Getheriel. “You visit the Healers. I will summon you when we are done.”

  “Actually, I’d prefer you stay,” Aranos corrected, not releasing his grip on the woman, who nodded somewhat dully. Golloron raised an eyebrow, but his eyes looked unamused. “She’s my Avowed,” Aranos explained. “I’m her Oathbin
der. We’re obliged to watch out for each other. We can see the Healers later.”

  “Avowed?” Gollorn repeated, looking at Getheriel. The woman bowed her head once, and after a long moment, smiled. “Truly, a day to remember, then,” he replied. “You may both join me in my study.”

  This time, Aranos could actually see the Stronghold as they moved through it, but his mind barely noticed the details. Something was eating at him, something that didn’t quite add up, and he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew it would come to him, eventually, though, so he gave a mental shrug and followed the old elf.

  The Stronghold was significantly smaller than Haerobel, he noticed at once, and it lacked the open feel of the Fallen City. The sky was visible overhead, past two more city levels, but beyond the rows of buildings, Aranos could see walls of branches and leaves that would hide the city from view to someone on the ground. The paths wound about in a more serpentine fashion, giving invaders fewer lines of sight, and the tops of the buildings were connected as a sort of upper walkway, likely giving defenders an elevated road to move and attack along.

  Golloron led them through the Spire Tree up to the third level, where Aranos found himself once more sitting in that simple, wooden room he had first met the old elf in. The elf bade them sit as they chose, although Getheriel decided to stand by the door, her eyes watchful as she scanned the room and the area beyond.

  “Much has occurred to you,” the elder began, nodding at Aranos. “You have completed the Trials and more, clearing the first Fallen Land since the Feast. It is a tale worth telling, and I would ask to hear it.”

  Aranos obliged, briefly explaining the nature of the Trials, why only a Traveler could complete them, and how they gave him the Spells and Abilities he needed to be a Sorcerer. He talked about traveling to the Fallen Land, discovering Getheriel, and defeating the gasha. He spoke of the Ekimmu and edimmu, of facing the Mistress and rabisu, of giving her the memories she wanted and then enacting justice on her and the rabisu for the destruction of the city.

  He didn’t mention how he carried Lythienne’s memories, his Ascended Spell, or Geltheriel’s treatment at the hands of the Traveler. Those were private matters, and the elder hadn’t really earned Aranos’ trust, yet.

  “An amazing tale,” Golloron sighed when Aranos finished. “So many wonders. Destroying the immortal, indestructible gasha. Not simply defeating but slaying a rabisu. Freeing a Fallen Land. I can see why the ancients warned of the coming of the Travelers. And such a unique memory crystal? Would you, by chance, still possess this?”

  “The Spell I cast destroys everything within it,” Aranos prevaricated, his tone sad. “It doesn’t leave any items behind, sorry. It’s not something I’ll be casting very often, to be sure!”

  “Ah, yes, understandable,” the elf smiled, his face unreadable. “Now that your training is complete, however, we must discuss what is next, and how to best use these new abilities. Perhaps we could…”

  Aranos interrupted the elf with an upraised hand, shaking his head. “Nope,” he said simply. “I’m not staying here, Golloron, I’m sorry. Eredain just hasn’t been…all that terribly welcoming to me.”

  “Much of that was the Traveler’s influence,” Golloron said dismissively. “She had become much more powerful, just as you have, and I am certain that I will find that Charm magic was involved in the betrayal of so many Keepers. Perhaps if the rabisu taught the Mistress. It also instructed the Traveler?”

  “No, it’s not the Traveler’s fault,” Aranos disagreed firmly. “She took advantage of what was already here, Golloron.” The elf’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Aranos pushed forward.

  “Do you remember how we met?” he explained, his eyes a little flinty. “I was struggling in the forest, and your Keepers found me – and basically abducted me. The journey was exhausting, I was angry and tired and scared, and no one was the least bit apologetic. Then, you dropped me outside the Trials and basically told me, ‘Figure it out’.”

  “I also gave you the tools to survive,” Golloron pointed out quietly. “Surely you have not forgotten this?”

  “I haven’t,” Aranos agreed. “But you didn’t do it out of kindness, did you? You said it yourself: you wanted me to feel grateful. You were hoping I would be your ally. It wasn’t compassion that motivated you: I was a potentially useful tool.

  “Do you recall that you never introduced yourself to me?” Aranos pointed out. “You asked my name but never gave yours. You never told me the name of the Stronghold or let me see even the tiniest part of it.”

  “We did not know you,” Golloron shook his head. “This Stronghold is one of a scant handful still standing against the Darkness, aleen. I would not risk it by allowing access to one who was not truly of the People. We have learned that secrecy is our greatest defense.”

  “And your greatest weakness,” Aranos countered. “That’s what the Mistress was hoping for, as well, you know: to hide from the Darkness. Ainarian was trying to sell everyone on that, too. Hide here, don’t let Travelers in, don’t trust anyone who isn’t an elf.

  “But consider this,” he pointed out. “Haerobel was destroyed by that belief. Your Keepers who turned on you? They probably figured they were saving the city by defying you. The elves who followed Ainarian probably thought he was just protecting them from outside influences, because if it’s not a true elf, it can’t be trusted.

  “And that’s why I won’t stay here,” he concluded. “No matter what you say, I won’t be welcome, not really. I’m not even an aleen, which isn’t even a real elf – I can tell that you don’t think of them as such by how often you all call me ‘aleen’ when you’re talking to me. Do you think your people would be happy to have me here?”

  “They would learn,” Golloron said simply. “As you complete Quests to help us, they will see that you are not to be feared.”

  “And they’d see me as a useful tool,” Aranos replied. “Not a person. Not a welcome guest. Just another ‘lesser race’ who happens to be helpful and should be kept around. Yeah, that’s not for me.”

  He shifted uncomfortably and looked the elder directly in the eyes. “I’ll stay for a couple days,” he said simply. “Geltheriel promised me sword training, and I’d like to see about training my Stats and working on aspecting my mana before we head out. I’ve still got a buddy out there who I want to connect with, probably in human lands, and I’m sure that the journey between them won’t be a simple one.”

  “And why would we do this for you?” Golloron answered, his eyes narrowed. “If you think so little of us and intend to leave…”

  “Because it’s the decent thing to do?” Aranos replied with a bit of heat. “If you need to think of it as a transaction, though, consider it a partial repayment for what I’ve done for you already: freeing a Fallen elf city, rescuing a lost Keeper, and exposing several traitors and some kind of demon in your midst. I think, at this point, you should owe me plenty, and I’m sure your people would agree that it’s a small price to pay to get me out of your Stronghold…although it’s pretty sad if that’s how you need to see it.”

  Golloron stared at him, anger radiating from his eyes, but Aranos was nonplussed. There’s nothing he can do but agree, he mused. He’s supported Travelers all this time because he’s hoping we’ll come save him. And we might, but not today, and not as a puppet or a tool. Still, he’s either got to give me what I want or admit to his people he was wrong, in which case there won’t be any more Travelers welcome here, ever.

  He could see the same thoughts racing through Golloron’s mind, and at last, the elf dropped his gaze. “All that you have said is correct,” he finally admitted. “It may be that we are at fault – that I am at fault, as the leader must guide his people – but secrecy is all that has kept us from the Darkness so far. We will not abandon it, not willingly.”

  Aranos shrugged. “Then you’ll lose,” he said simply. “Not all at once, in a huge battle, but a little at a time. You’
ll be living in fear, and the Darkness will figure out how to use that against you, like it did with the Traveler. Oh, you’ll be on guard against that, now – maybe you’ll start routinely checking people to see if they’re shape-shifters – but then you’ll just teach people to be afraid of each other, and one day they’ll turn on you, or you’ll do something horrible because you think it’s for the best.”

  Aranos looked the old elf directly in his stunned eyes. “Nobody ever wins a war by focusing on holding what they have,” he reminded the elder. “If you don’t take the fight to your enemy, you’ll lose in the end.”

  The elf looked troubled. “I will consider your words,” he said slowly. “Yet, my people will be reluctant to rejoin battle after so long. They are content with what they have. As you no doubt know, though, Traveler, contentment can breed weakness. I must think on this.”

  “Yeah, Geltheriel and I have a bit to do, as well,” he agreed. “You’ll need to give her a Cleansing Quest, if you can – she’s past what heroic Quests can do for her – and we’ll do that as soon as we can. We’ll need to hit some shops, and you can set me up with some Stat training, maybe something I can continue on the road as we travel.”

  “And all this will await the morning,” Geltheriel spoke up at last. “For the moment, I will take you to a place we can both rest in safety and read our notifications. Golloron has much to do this night to deal with the betrayers in the Stronghold and to prepare to aid us before we depart.”

  Aranos rose and bowed his head to Golloron. “While we’re here,” he informed the elder, “if there’s anything that we can do to help out, we will.”

  “Indeed?” Golloron asked, surprised. “I feared you would be unwilling to assist us, as poor as your reception has been.”

  “I don’t dislike you or your people, Golloron,” Aranos shook his head. “I plan on returning one day, and in the meantime, more Travelers will probably start coming, and a lot of them will be elves. It’ll make everyone more comfortable.” He held out his hand, and the old man tentatively grasped it.