MARK OF THE FOOL 3

©2023 J.M. CLARKE

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Also by J.M. Clarke

Mark of the Fool

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Contents

1.  The Heroes’ Struggle

2.  The Corrupt Fool in Paradise

3.  The Final Hunt of First Year

4.  Rumbling Earth

5.  Earth Magic and New Beginnings

6.  The Final Debrief and Youth

7.  The Migration

8.  Birthdays and Spell-Guides

9.  Blood Magic and Incoming Visitors

10.  The Hydra and the Beast

11.  A Little Magical Botany Class of Horrors

12.  Respect and Questions

13.  Binding Circles

14.  The Power of Names

15.  The War-Spirit

16.  Relations Across the Planes

17.  Messenger Constructs and Limits

18.  New Prey

19.  Kitchen Nightmares

20.  The Rain

21.  Honey & Wine

22.  Wasp and Strange Circumstance

23.  Raging Wasp

24.  The Night of Long Stingers

25.  Reflections on Death

26.  The Patterns and Scripts of Time

27.  Like a Marriage

28.  A Brewing Rivalry

29.  Old Acquaintances and Reunions

30.  Rumours

31.  The First Briefing… and a Big Mouth

32.  Digging a Hole

33.  Beneath the Garden

34.  Magic Mushrooms

35.  The Birthday and the Rainbow Tower

36.  The Talk

37.  Prepping for the Grand Battle

38.  Strange Offers and Strange Summonings

39.  Travelling from the Deep

40.  Debts

41.  Revelations

42.  Chasing Vermin

43.  In a White Room with No Curtains

44.  Alex Roth Goes to Jail (Maybe)

45.  Resolution

46.  Nonaggression and Reading Lies

47.  Scouting Out the Grounds

48.  Posturing

49.  Lightweight

50.  The Prince vs. the Mad Wrangler

51.  The Prince and The Goblin

52.  Super-Heavyweight

53.  Four Arms vs. Ten

54.  A Rain of Fists

55.  Mirrored Golems

56.  Vesuvius

57.  Powerlifting

58.  Fire in the Sky

59.  Archers and Cowards

60.  Reverent Archery

61.  Deific Need

62.  Great Hunts on Land and Sea

63.  Loss and Resolve

64.  Melee

65.  The Clash

66.  Heading to The Grand Battle

67.  The Grand Battle Begins

68.  Shock and Awe

69.  Vanishing Point

70.  Confrontation of Arrow and Word

71.  Bait

72.  The Battle of the Grasses

73.  Divine Wind

74.  Cutting In

75.  Double Elimination

76.  The Rising

77.  Fanaticism and Divinity

78.  Wrinkle of Recognition

79.  The Prey that Fights

80.  Reckoning

81.  Mine

82.  The Bonds that Heal

83.  The Bonds that Harm

84.  Getting to Know Someone

85.  Demonic Reconnaissance

86.  Justice and Blood

87.  Life to Mana

88.  Flowers for the Fallen

89.  Memories, Recognition, and Inheritance

90.  Grand Gifts and Unholy Friendships

91.  Scars

92.  An Ancient Search

93.  Late Summer Days

94.  Birthdays and Miserable Businessmen

95.  Fingers and Departures

96.  Family’s Parting on the Eve of Change

97.  Finals and Final Preparations

98.  The Usurper Returns

Thank you for reading Mark of the Fool 3!

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Chapter 1

The Heroes’ Struggle

“This isn’t working!” Drestra’s cry swept through the night.

The Sage of Uldar floated high above a circle of standing stones that rose from a misty hilltop. She chanted, her voice crackling like fire, and her golden, reptilian eyes, visible above a veil covering her mouth, glowed. Her form was ringed by a golden globe of force, while her spells poured from outstretched hands like an endless river.

Fireballs rained down from the hilltop like a meteor shower, exploding into roaring columns of flame that boiled the marsh below.

Between two of the megalithic stones, the Champion of Uldar chopped through monsters with his massive sword. The blade—crafted from a hive-queen’s pincer—sliced through mud coating his foes. Hart Redfletcher’s half-mad laughter boomed above the clash of battle and the gurgles of dying monsters and humans.

Surging toward him were clots of muck, soil, and clay barely held together in the form of dripping humanoids. The muck-warpers’ misshapen heads rippled as they climbed the hill. Partly formed mouths yawned open below dark holes where eyes should have been. The muck was thick enough to suck most weapons in, but Hart’s sword cleaved through it with ease, splitting apart the monsters beneath.

They fell in twitching heaps. In death, the mud flowed away, revealing ashen-skinned, humanoid creatures with bodies as thin as bird bones. Barely more than a child’s stick figures. And while they appeared feeble, the magically, animated mud coating them gave them an unnatural strength.

And there were a lot of them.

A scream rang out.

Two sides of the hilltop were defended by formations of experienced knights supported by the miracles from a group of priests of Uldar. They’d formed tight lines between the standing stones, using them as cover, trying to keep their foes at a distance. Often, a weapon thrust at the monsters would become wedged in the magically-viscous mud protecting the muck-warpers.

A knight stabbed—trying to pierce the muck-warper inside—but the blade sank in with a wet sucking noise, holding it fast. As the warrior fought to free his blade, the creature’s fist slammed into his helm like a mace, dropping him in a twitching heap. A priestess rushed to the knight from within the standing stones, desperately chanting a prayer to Uldar.

Behind her lay a host of injured knights. Priests worked to mend them, but for some it was too late, and they breathed their last breath.

“We cannot hold them forever!” Drestra chanted a new spell. Two balls of flame rose from her palms and shot toward a mass of monsters threatening the knights. The orbs spun together and exploded in a tornado of flame. It roared like a hungry beast rolling downhill, sucking monsters and air inside.

For an instant, the night turned as bright as daylight.

Hart’s laughter boomed even louder.

“That’s it, Drestra. Get the great dirty bastard’s flounderin’!” Cedric of Clan Duncan shouted.

The Chosen of Uldar could feel the heat from Drestra’s spell as fire blew muck-warpers to ash by the dozen. But past the clouds of steam in the boiling marsh, he spotted something grim.

In all directions—under the light of moon and fire—muck-warpers filled the marsh, lurching toward the hill. Hundreds of them, by his reckoning.

An endless tide.

A worthy challenge.

Cedric of Clan Duncan roared, his red hair blowing in the backdraft of Drestra’s flame. “Keep up the pressure, lads and lasses! We’ll get ’em dead as the dirt they shovel over themselves!”

He was defending the side of the hill opposite Hart and threw his might at the horde of monsters.

His Haste spell doubled his speed, and Uldar’s holy power ran along his weapon, letting it shift form like living quicksilver. One moment he was piercing the tiny, withered heart of a muck-warper with a spear. The next, he was cleaving two apart with an axe. Then he was blocking a blow with a shield, which then shot a profusion of spikes straight into the monster’s oozing face.

Cedric spat out an incantation: magic infused his voice and his battle cry hammered the air. A blast of pure, booming energy crashed through the muck dwellers, blasting the creatures apart and giving him room to catch his breath, however briefly.

The Chosen of Uldar stepped back between two of the gigantic standing stones and glanced over his shoulder.

Hart was killing as many as Cedric with pure, Mark-enhanced speed, might, and skill. The Champion’s gigantic sword moved in his hands with the swiftness of a dagger, and muck-dwellers fell in droves. He showed no sign of slowing.

Drestra, though, had poured out enough magic to exhaust Cedric’s ten times over. “My magic is waning, and they’ll overrun us! Damn your eyes, Merzhin! Aren’t you done with that prayer yet?”

Below her floated a slight figure.

Merzhin, the Saint of Uldar, sat cross-legged in midair. His hands were clasped in front of him. The voice that left his lips—quoting the scripture of Uldar—was so high and delicate, it seemed a breeze could break it.

Yet, the ethereal voice did not pause. It did not stutter. It was strangely serene, as though its owner were sitting in the quiet surroundings of a church, not a battlefield.

“Them muck dwellers’ can’t be fightin’ us forever!” Cedric called to Drestra as he turned back to their foes. “We bloody have ’em! Just a bit more! Merzhin’s near done!” He levelled his hand at the enemy. “Oh, Mighty Uldar, I ask you to bring forth your hand and make your enemies kneel!”

Divine power blasted through him—using his soul as a conduit—and was launched from his palm. It slammed into the horde, outlining many in white light. The Ravener’s monsters froze, then shuddered as they were slowly brought to their knees in supplication to the divine force which held them in its grip.

Some burned as the power rejected their very existence, but others swarmed past. Transforming his weapon into a long halberd, Cedric cut down the few who’d gotten by.

And then Merzhin completed his prayer.

“And lo, did Uldar will the lush realm of Thameland to His people upon His ascension. At last, His people no longer suffered from hunger. They wanted for naught and they did have plenty, even in the icy abyss of winter. And so did the seasons pass, and His people bore proper pride for their god.”

Merzhin’s eyes opened and a white light poured from them. “While His enemies knew only to fear Him. Season. After passing season. For Thameland is His domain. And He rejects all those who encroach therein.”

Something shifted.

Cedric’s soul shook. A massive presence filled the air.

Divine might flooded into Merzhin like a river.

“These grounds are hallowed by my blessing,” he pronounced, looking down onto the monstrous horde. Though his face was childlike, the wrath filling it was… ancient.

The Ravener’s monsters paused their advance as a terrible radiance built up around the mightiest of Uldar’s holy.

Then the air began to shimmer.

The Saint’s hands shifted until both matched the image of Uldar’s hand in his holy symbol. “These grounds are hallowed,” he repeated, and his voice seemed to echo from every tree and stone. “And they reject you.”

And the world changed.

Summer heat spiked around the hill. Leaves and grass grew before Cedric’s eyes. A heartbeat later, autumn’s wet chill lay in the air. Grass withered and trees shed shriveled leaves. Then the wind howled from the north bringing with it winter’s embrace. The marsh froze, growing barren and choked by frost.

Again, greenery sprang up and the air smelled of fresh rain. Then the heat. Then the withering. Then the ice.

“The seasons…” Drestra murmured. “They are changing before our eyes.”

The army of muck-warpers writhed as the mud cloaking them froze and thawed a host of times in just as many heartbeats. Some of the mud hardened and flaked away, turning to dried soil. The stick-like bodies were exposed.

As the seasons changed with ever increasing speed, Cedric saw the ravages of time fall upon the creatures. It bent their backs, withered their flesh, and stole their strength.

Soon, they lost all ability to stand.

At last, they fell.

The passing seasons slowed.

The temperateness of spring returned. Plants were green again, strong and healthy. The Ravener’s monsters all lay dead where they once stood. An endless tide of living creatures had been reduced to dried out corpses.

“Bloody hell,” Cedric murmured.

“Language,” Merzhin chastised as he descended.

His bare feet touched the earth, then he abruptly dropped onto his rump. The Saint panted from his efforts, drenched in sweat. “Pray to Uldar that this will be the last ambush we endure. I doubt I can call on his power again for at least a day.”

“Hah, you did your share and then some.” Hart whirled his blade to flick off muck-warper blood, then rested it on his shoulders. “Too bad they don’t have anything to plunder. You’d have earned the greatest share of us all.”

His plate armour—crafted of both fine steel and monster shell—clanked as he re-entered the circle of stones.

As the glow faded from his coal-black eyes, Merzhin pressed his slender fingers and palms together. “We thank you, Uldar, for delivering us from this plight. We ask that you find us pleasing and bless us. Let those that dwell here speed swiftly to your side. Let us continue to worship you, not just through words, but through works.”

Cedric looked up at Drestra. “Oi, you feel any more of the Ravener’s mana about or are we clear?

“I sense nothing.” A low growl issued from her throat as she landed beside Merzhin, looking down at him. “Nothing but death. Five moonlit nights. Five times we were ambushed here. Five times we nearly die.”

“I wouldn’t call this nearly dying. Most of us are alive.” Hart shrugged, marching over to the knights. “Well fought. We’ll honour the fallen.”

“There would be less fallen… If you had acted differently, Merzhin,” Drestra said quietly. “If you had taken much longer, I would’ve run out of mana. As it is, we will be in trouble if there’s another attack soon.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Hart said, flashing a grin. “I won’t run out of sword. I’ll protect us.”

“Hart, this is serious. Merzhin, if you took any longer—”

“I was channeling our god’s divine power,” Merzhin said in a high, clear, unbothered voice. While he was the same age—eighteen—as the other Heroes, he looked at least three or four years younger. His eyes held none of that youth, though. They were hollow, like a dead man’s. “Uldar must have the proper love and praise delivered before I might channel his will, Holy Sage.”

“And you have to go through an entire church sermon to do that?” Drestra gestured to the priests. “They finish quickly, same as Cedric.”

“Well now, quality takes time, don’t it?” Cedric came forward with an easy smile. “I do my little miracles, aye, but I don’t turn entire armies of monsters to dust.”

“We would’ve been dust if he’d taken any longer!” Drestra snapped. “The war grows more difficult. Ambushes. Dungeon cores multiplying every time we destroy one. Lands regained only to be lost to us again.”

“Well, we lived, aye?” Cedric clapped Drestra on the arm. The witch pulled away, still glaring at the Saint. The Chosen fought to keep his easy smile.

He’d witnessed this exact situation with young warriors within his clan. When a hunt, raid, or battle was costly, tempers flared. He thought hard on how the elders diffused similar brewing fights.

“Holy Sage, I feel your fear,” Merzhin said, dragging himself to his feet. He was much shorter than Drestra. “Know that Uldar’s will has never once failed the Heroes of Thameland. We have always succeeded: cycle after cycle.”

“But this cycle is worse,” Drestra pushed. “Why are you arguing with me? My spells fly like arrows, and I have seen you channel Uldar’s power quickly. Why choose such a time-consuming miracle?”

“To scour the monsters completely, Holy Sage.” The Saint stepped from the centre of the circle and looked onto the battlefield. “In one mighty display of our god’s power, we have wiped away the wicked creatures and sent them to return to the soil. A less potent miracle may have let some escape. Baron Lorrick’s force is a day behind us—they would have been free to harass his camp.”

“Enemies that are scattered are easy prey,” Drestra said. “In the Crymlyn swamp, we have dispersed armies with hit-and-run tactics and spells—caused panic. Then we were able to hunt them at our leisure.”

“And some might have escaped.” Merzhin’s dead eyes held Drestra’s reptilian ones. “There can be no compromise. No room for anything but complete extermination. Down to the last creature, Holy Sage.”

“I have a name,” Drestra hissed.

“Would it please you more if I used it?” Merzhin asked, his voice maintaining that serene calm. “I feel as though you are not too fond of me. If this is about the church’s censure of the witches, then that is history long passed—”

“You keep bringing that up, and I tell you it is not!” Drestra snapped.

Hart suddenly laughed.

Drestra shot him a look. “You find this amusing?”

“No, no, I was just thinking—” He snorted. “That Merzhin might call our fifth—if they aren’t dead—‘Holy Fool’ all the time. Enough to drive anyone mad. And honestly, you’re both being fools right now. We lived. We should be drinking, not arguing.”

Drestra stared at Hart.

Merzhin was unreadable.

“Nothin’ for it, nothin’ for it,” Cedric said. “Let it go. Grudges like this’ll fester surely as any poison. You’ve been in battles before, aye? Hart—” he nodded to the badge on Hart’s armour, indicating his membership in the Ash Crows. “You know how it goes. Sometimes positions get messed up or allies take longer to get somethin’ done than they should.”

“If we die, we die,” Hart said, drawing a hiss from one of the priests. “We fight until one day something outfights us, and that’s the end of that.”

Merzhin’s head slowly turned toward the mercenary; his neck barely moved. “You do not take our struggle seriously, Holy Champion?”

“I want to live, but sometimes what you do just ain’t enough on the battlefield.” He looked to Drestra. “Best make peace with that. You can greet death or you can fight death: fighting it just means you’re more tired when it takes you.”

She made a noise of disgust. “Well, I want to live through this. If you wish to risk your own life, Merzhin, then that is your choice. But I have years to live and a home to return to. Be swifter with your choice of prayer. What do you think, Cedric?”

“Well, it turned out alright, didn’t it?” he said. “We blew ’em apart and now we got a cleared way to finding their dungeon. All’s well.”

“I see. All’s well, then.” Drestra indicated the slain knights covered in shrouds with a sweep of her hand. “Tell that to the fallen. Perhaps next time it will be one of us lying dead on the ground.”

She floated up into the air again. “I am going to settle on a stone and keep watch. Good night.”

She flew away.

“Hrm,” Hart frowned, focusing on Merzhin. “Maybe try to pick it up a half-step next time. Drestra can just fly away if she doesn’t like where things are going. We’d be cut into dog meat without her magic. Eventually.”

“I shall endeavour to hurry our mighty god along,” Merzhin said with a wry humour. His thin smile faded and his voice rose so that Drestra could hear him. “But in the end, we cannot compromise with the enemy. All must be put to the sword, the spell, and the holy word. We fight not only for ourselves but for our people. For our descendants. Heroes have been killed in combat with the Ravener’s forces before, but Thameland endures. Uldar’s will endures. If one of us falls, then the others will have a greater struggle… but Uldar’s will always triumphs.”

There was a long silence, and Cedric studied the knights and priests. Some of the priests were nodding vigorously. Some were quiet. A few of the knights’ eyes burned with passion, but the majority appeared weary at the speech.

Cedric could see the hope of home and hearth in their eyes.

And the fear of death.

Again, there was that shrug from Hart. “The sword falls how it falls.”

Cedric walked among the knights, who were looking at Drestra and Merzhin with uncertainty.

Cedric nodded to them. “Good work tonight, all o’ yous. Let’s all get us a wee bit o’ rest while can, ’cause it’ll be tough as leather tryin’ to find the dungeon in the morn’.” He turned to Merzhin. “You did good. Maybe next time you can push it a touch quicker, though. Battles’ve been gettin’ harder, and we’ll be needin’ to finish our enemies quicker.”

“…I see, Holy Chosen.” Merzhin frowned. “If only the Holy Fool were with us, then perhaps such little petty spats would be diffused.” He sighed. “They are likely long dead, though the search must continue.”

“Aye,” Cedric said. “Though maybe wherever their soul is, it’s a tad nicer than here.” He resisted shaking his head at the scene of withered monsters and dead knights. “You said that the ground is hallowed… but it looks more hellish to me.”

Chapter 2

The Corrupt Fool in Paradise

“This is paradise,” said the Fool of Thameland as he stretched out on the grass.

A glowing crimson hand floating beside him picked up a dried, candied pineapple ring from a basket and gently placed it in his mouth. The basket was also floating in midair, hanging from a glowing red orb: the first spell he’d ever learned, forceball.

It was a cool, spring day, and the sky was a mix of silver clouds drifting away from the sun. A sun-shower periodically crossed overhead, but another spell—wind and rain shield—blocked the droplets from wetting him or the patch of dry grass he was lying on.

The air had a fresh, warm tang; it was never very cold in Generasi. Even winter’s bite had few teeth compared to winters in his hometown of Alric in the Kingdom of Thameland. Warm and cozy, being fed by his spells while he hardly lifted a finger, made Alex Roth feel pretty kingly. And not like some bland king. More like one of those horrifying hedonistic kings he’d read about in old tales.

The ones that always seemed to be lounging on their side with their head resting in their palm while servants fanned them and put grapes in their mouths.

“Yeeeeah, one of those,” Alex smiled as his Wizard’s Hand drifted over with a grape. “Mmmm, this is the life, right, Claygon?”

He looked up at his golem, a ten-foot juggernaut made of magically animated clay, sculpted to look like an impossibly powerful knight with four arms crossed, its surface carved to resemble intricate plate armour decorated in filigree. Claygon’s face—made to look ferocious with a mouth filled with shark-like teeth—watched the surroundings with absolute discipline. The fire-gem in his forehead gleamed in the sunlight, ready to blast any clawed monsters, demons, mana vampires, or anything else that might decide to disturb his master.

Claygon was on-guard, and above him, Alex had cast a wind and rain shield. Not because the weather would necessarily hurt the golem, but because Alex had come to feel that if Claygon could watch over him, then he could do the same for the golem that he and his little sister meticulously crafted together. The golem who had saved his life.

He sighed.

That was another thing he had in common with those pleasure seeking, corrupt kings from the old stories. Things just kept trying to kill him. A remarkable number of things, really.

There was the hive-queen and silence-spiders back in Thameland. Then not one, but two mana vampires. The demons on campus, and the three clawed creatures that had led a horde of monsters in an attack on Patrizia Giuseppe DePaolo’s estate—the cousin of one of his closest friends and cabal-mates.

There’d been enough monster attacks to make anyone take notice, and if there was anything that was gnawing at the peace of his little paradise at the moment, it was the unanswered questions from recent events. For all the searching he, Chancellor Baelin, and others in the city of Generasi had done, the only lead on the trio of clawed creatures had been found in an obscure book from an empire far, far, far away to the northwest.

The Irtyshenan Empire. A land that was not only inaccessible to him, but one that shouldn’t have had any connection to the Heroes of Thameland or their struggle against the Ravener—their deity’s eternal enemy—or their realm.

Yet in those pages, he’d found a note scrawled in a strange, unique language that was also found in a book that had belonged to the Traveller—the patron saint of Alric, who was also the Saint of Uldar from three generations before.

Alex frowned.

Shouldn’t that have been ‘matron saint,’ since the Traveller was a woman? Now that he really thought about it, he seemed to remember her being called a matron saint by his teachers at the church school where he attended as a boy. Yet, everyone else in town always called her a patron saint.

Funny how that worked.

It reminded him of how many of the alchemical substances listed in his alchemy books often had long, academic names that were really useful for categorizing, but weren’t used in everyday conversation. Even by the alchemists that worked with them.

Sometimes, what was commonly known as the truth, often ended up becoming reality for people, erasing the actual truth.

He shook his head. His mind had wandered off on a tangent again, as it often did.

Baelin was reaching out to contacts he had within the Irtyshenan Empire to see if he could get more information about the language. Meanwhile, the chancellor had also instructed the library staff to comb through their records for the names of all who had borrowed the book in the past.

Things were developing there, but soon, he would have more immediate things to worry about.

First, his final practical exam in Baelin’s class, where he and his cabal-mates would have to face down a dune worm, was coming soon. They’d begun researching and planning out how to handle the creature… and it was looking like it would be a tough fight. That was in spite of the growth they’d all made since the beginning of the school year.

Still, Alex was looking forward to facing this new opponent. It would be the first time he, his closest friends, and his golem would be facing an opponent together. If they could overcome it, that would mean they’d be even more ready for whatever his homeland had to throw at them when it was time for the expedition to Thameland.

Said expedition was the second thing Alex would have to soon face. Going to Thameland to collect major dungeon core material for the school’s research. If the monsters that had attacked him at the masquerade ball turned out to be from Thameland—whether they were creatures from the Ravener or something else—then he’d be going to a potentially hostile environment.

It would put all of the skills he’d gained, his knowledge, and training to the test. He’d been planning on expanding that knowledge and would soon be able to do so thanks to his unexpected financial boon from slaying monsters recently, and his pay as a crafter’s assistant at Shale’s Golem Workshop.

Having more than enough gold coin meant he’d be able to afford to take a few extra courses during the shortened semester in the summertime.

He would need to choose them before long, but he already had a few idea—

“There is the lazy lout! Have you no shame, my friend?” a familiar voice said from a distance.

Alex lazily turned, looking to three figures approaching him. His cabal-mates.

Khalik Behr-Medr—a prince of the southern realm of Tekezash who was keeping his royal status concealed while he was at Generasi—waved at him, grinning through his well-tended beard. Najyah was perched on his powerfully muscled arm, and the massive eagle looked at Alex with eyes that held an unnatural intelligence. The prince’s familiar was grooming herself, though her feathers were dry thanks to her master’s wind and rain shield.

Flanking him were a hulking wizard—Thundar the minotaur, son of Gulbiff—and another wizard, the stately Isolde Von Anmut from the Rhinean Empire. Her clear blue eyes were focused on Alex.

“Are… are you having your Wizard’s Hands feed you?” she asked incredulously.

“That’s the most genius thing I’ve ever seen anyone do in my entire life,” Thundar said appreciatively.

“Hey, welcome to my humble kingdom!” Alex kipped up to his feet with a single twitch of his powerful core and leg muscles. He stretched. “I only rule one subject.” He nodded to Claygon. “But I’ve got all the benefits of being waited on hand and…”

He looked at his Wizard’s Hand spell. “…and uh, hand.”

Khalik chuckled. “I see, and perhaps King Alex would deign to meet with his fellow kings and queen to plan for the horrible worm that is going to seek to destroy us. We wouldn’t want to disturb you though, considering how relaxed you look.”

“Bah, what need is there to meet?” Alex joked. “My mighty warrior will easily slay this worm.”

“Ah, so then we can leave you to it. You can battle the horrible death worm yourself while we sip wine and eat dried dates. Come, Thundar and Isolde, let’s go and—”

“Wait-wait-wait-wait, let’s not be hasty!” Alex quickly said. “I’m joking, fellow kings and queen! Merely joking! Don’t make me fight the creepy death worm by myself!”

He and his cabal-mates changed locations to a round table in a gazebo. The table and chairs were made of stone, but seemed to noticeably soften and shift on their legs as Alex and company sank into them. He still hadn’t reached the point where he’d become unaffected by some of the university’s wonders and comforts, and hoped he never would.

It really was an extraordinary place.

“So,” Khalik started their little meeting. “From what my research shows, a dune worm’s earth magic is extremely powerful, but as Baelin said, it’s not that versatile. It relies on natural abilities to shift the earth, much like the xyrthak’s cry disrupted mana. It cannot use its magic to engage in more complex effects.”

“Right, right,” Thundar grunted. “What’re we talking here? I’ve seen the stuff you can do summoning spikes, and your earth armour and all. And Eyvinder’s natural earth magic packs a lot of punch. So, can it do stuff like that?”

“Hmmm,” Khalik mused. “The summoning and creation of earth will likely be beyond it, as would changing the composition of the earth and stone around it. It can soften earth, harden earth, and change its shape at will. Such feats require much mana, but it has a lot of mana to use.”

“Crap,” Alex muttered, taking notes. “I’ll need to brew us all some flight potions. What’s the range of its earth magic?”

“Somewhere between one hundred to two hundred feet above the ground,” Isolde said. “I discovered a book in the library that spoke of a battle between a group of explorers and a dune worm. There was an account of one of the creatures shooting up massive clouds of sand to choke its enemies as well as firing streams of rock upward quickly enough to smash through full plate.”

“And if that wasn’t enough,” Thundar said. “It’s hide’s kind of like a carapace, except like a foot thick and hard as rock. But the good news is, it’s also brittle like rock. If you hit it with enough force, it won’t bend, it’ll shatter.”

“That’s something,” Khalik noted. “If Claygon can get close, he might be able to break through that armour with a punch or two. The issue is that the creature might be able to trap or damage him by warping the ground beneath his feet. Unfortunately, your flight potion would not be of help to him since a golem cannot ingest substances.”

“Leave that to me,” Isolde said. “I believe I have the last few parts of the spell array for flight magic figured out at last. I think by the time the exam comes, I should have it worked out.”

“Isolde, you’re awesome,” Alex said. “If you can put that magic on Claygon, I’ll take care of the rest of us, which will save you mana.” He tapped his pen on the page. “Right, that’s one problem solved: we can stay flying and just blast it a bunch. One thing I’ve been thinking about is how to stop it from just retreating back into the earth. There’s my booby-trapped flight potion, but I don’t know how well it’ll work if the worm’s underground. If we get it to breathe the gas in, then the potion might not be able to move it if it’s completely encased in rock… but I think I’ve got just the thing for that.”

Alex grinned a grin that would have suited a mad wizard in a play as he pulled out an unfamiliar potion bottle.

He placed it on the table.

“I perfected this baby in Jules’ alchemy class. I think we’ve got a brand new weapon to use.”

Chapter 3

The Final Hunt of First Year

“You kind of gave me the idea, Thundar,” Alex said. “Remember when that mana vampire got you?”

The minotaur glared at him. “No, Alex. I completely forgot a monster nearly sucked all the mana out of me like a giant leech.”

“…Yeah, okay, stupid question, I admit it,” Alex said sheepishly. “So, when that happened—and when we fought the xyrthak—we were given a mana soothing potion, right?”

“I remember how well it calmed my mana pool and made it easier for the pool to regenerate and heal,” Khalik said.

“But in return,” Isolde jumped in. “While under the effects, one’s mana flows slower. It’s almost like a…” She searched her thoughts. “…a sleeping draught, but directed entirely toward one’s mana. It makes a disrupted pool heal more swiftly, but while the mana pool is in this resting and healing phase, it moves sluggishly.”

They looked at Thundar.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds about right from what I felt. Don’t know that much about alchemy, though.”

“You should learn!” Alex said enthusiastically. “It’s so interesting.” He caught himself. “I better stop myself before I start geeking out about it. Anyway, what Isolde was talking about: the soothing. At first, I was thinking I could make a potion that did the opposite. A potion that would disrupt mana by overstimulating it if someone were to drink it. But, I decided against that since I know it’d be considered as doing direct harm, no matter how you look at it. So, then I thought about maybe going in the opposite direction.”

“Oh?” Khalik raised an eyebrow. “To increase the soothing effect?”

“You got it. I thought: what if someone’s mana was so soothed, it became as lethargic and sluggish as a snail after an all-night bender.” Alex tapped the side of the bottle. “It wouldn’t hurt anybody, but it would make their mana slow right down and be hard to use.”

“Hmmm.” Isolde frowned. “Effective, but proper mana manipulation techniques would be able to overcome such a limitation. One could simply massage their mana pool into producing more mana or manipulate it to increase the flow, despite the potion.”

“You bet, but using mana manipulation during a fight would take up some of an enemy’s concentration, which would be kinda rough for them in a conflict situation. But, imagine giving it to something that doesn’t have techniques to use? This stuff could be devastating: they wouldn’t be able to budge their mana at all.”

Alex thought of his own experiences of wrestling to get past the Mark’s interference to use wizardry. When the Mark was first put on him, even casting forceball—a simple spell he’d had years of practice with—became so difficult, he’d wanted to rip out his own hair. Over time, though, he’d learned how to deal with the interference and even gotten used to it enough to learn and cast new spells.

What had really helped him progress in spite of the Mark, were the meditation techniques Theresa had taught him. They’d made it possible for him to get past the Mark and cast spells regardless of the persistent distraction of it bringing every one of his previous failures in spellcasting into his consciousness.

In the same way, an enemy could overcome the soothing potion with the right techniques… but without them, they’d be as hindered as he’d been when he’d first gotten the Mark. Maybe even more so.

And against a worm, a simple beast with no awareness of mana manipulation? It would likely come close to crippling the creature’s earth magic.

At least, that was the hope.

“Only issue I see, is dosage,” Alex said. “I don’t know if simply blasting some gas in front of something the size of a whale will be enough to affect it.”

“True, very true,” Isolde nodded. “It would likely require a larger dose, and one delivered deep within the creature.”

“Hrm…” Thundar squinted at the potion bottle. “I got an idea. You think you could find a way to attach small bottles of this stuff to the tip of an arrow? You could attach ’em to Theresa’s arrows and just have her shoot down the monster’s throat. Then poof!”

He made an exploding gesture with both hands.

“They blow up inside the worm and it’s bye-bye mana.”

“Thundar—you’re a genius! That would totally work.” He picked up the potion bottle and activated the Mark, focusing on the task of attaching a bottle to the tip of an arrow while still having it remain sufficiently aerodynamic.

The Mark immediately fed images of previous experiences of him putting things together: most of the memories came from building and assembling supplies and tools in Shale’s Workshop.

He smiled. “Yeah, I should be able to put something together by the time battle day comes. Then while I’m distracting it with some of my spells, Theresa can fire this stuff right down its throat. I can also use Call Through Ice to transport my trapped mana soothing potions too. The more chances we have to wreck that thing, the better.”

“Great.” Thundar cracked his knuckles. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll see if I can’t use a few of my spells to crack some of that thick shell.”

“Excellent. Most excellent,” Khalik said. “Then it sounds like our plan should be: we fly above the ground, at near the top of its range for its earth magics. Isolde and I will run interference, I will try to counter its earth magic with my own and disrupt its aim. Thundar can ‘crack some of that thick shell,’ and increase its vulnerability. Isolde can rake its injuries with lightning. Alex can distract and aggravate it, and Theresa will deliver this weaponized soothing potion. Will you be bringing your entourage, Isolde?”

“I shall,” she said. “If they can be given flight as well, they are adept with spears. They can harpoon the creature, which will wound it and reduce its mobility.”

“I’ll enhance their weapons.” Thundar rubbed his hands together as a grin spread across his face.

“Fantastic,” Khalik said. “Then it looks like we are near-ready. Let’s do ourselves a favour though and not get utterly destroyed by an oversized worm at the final chapter of our first year.”

“Ugh,” Alex grimaced. “You say that, and now it’s gonna utterly destroy us. Oh, right. You didn’t mention Claygon in the grand plan.”

The prince looked up at the golem. “I had simply assumed he shall do what he has proven to be so excellent at: smash and burn.”

Alex laughed darkly. “Damn right.”

“You know…” Theresa Lu turned over the arrow, thumbing the glass tube attached to its head. A small, amused smile marked her lips, somewhat softening the vicious, predatory look her face normally fell into—deathstalker face, as Alex called it. “I never thought the first gift I’d get from you after we got together would be special arrows.”

“You don’t like it?” Alex asked lightly. “I could make some new one—”

Boom!

He grimaced—a student launched a fireball at a training dummy on the opposite end of the stadium. The combat practice area was largely free of students that day. Final exams had just finished, and rather than slinging spells at targets, most students were elsewhere, slinging heaps of wine and food into their bellies in celebration before final marks came out.

Still, there were a few keen ones there, continuing to hone their skills. Unfortunately, they seemed intent on practicing their loudest, most distracting spells.

Alex’s eyes narrowed, noticing that they were all wearing finely tailored, emerald green shirts, with the silver symbol of a beast: a two-headed monster with the howling head of a wolf, and the snarling head of a bear.

“The Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood,” he muttered.

“Hm?” Theresa glanced up at him, following his gaze to the group of spellcasters. “Oh, are those the ones you and Khalik duelled once?”

“Yeah, a long time ago,” Alex said. “Well, at least they’re keeping to themselves this time. Where was I? Oh yeah, if you don’t like that, I couuuuld get you something else.”

“Not on your life—I like arrows. Why wouldn’t I like arrows?” Again, her fingers examined it. “It’s well made too. Surprisingly well-bal—”

She frowned, balancing the arrow on one finger and seeing where its weight naturally fell. “It’s a liiitttle front heavy. If the shaft was a bit longer, then it’d be a little more balanced. That way it wouldn’t drop as quickly when it’s fired. Then again…”

The young huntress picked up her bow—a thick, composite beast of a weapon made from old oak and monster horn—and nocked the arrow against the string. She pointed it down. “It shouldn’t be much of a problem if I’m firing from above… Our target isn’t exactly small.”

Her eyes twinkled. “I’ve never hunted such a large beast before.”

“Well, don’t get too excited, it might be hunting us.” Alex chuckled, taking the arrow back and writing down Theresa’s feedback in one of his many notebooks. “Excited to try your skill against such a big monster?”

“Mhm.” She lifted her bow with one hand and a brace of three arrows in the other. One after the other, she fired at a training dummy a number of paces away, sinking the arrows into the bullseye. “Grandfather once told us a story about great-grandfather going up against a sea monster. This reminds me of that a bit… Though his story was all about steel and skill, while our situation will have a lot more ‘wizard’ in it. It’s still exciting stuff.”

Her smile faded, and the full deathstalker face returned. “And a worm is similar to a centipede… or a giant bug queen that has way too many blades for her own good.”

Thnk.

Another arrow sank deep into the target. “And if I ever meet another one of those, I plan on bringing it down. Easier than last time.”

Alex smiled, rubbing the small of her back. “I’m sure any big bug’ll be cursing the day it ever met the great-granddaughter of Twinblade Lu.”

“Mhm,” she mused. “And who knows?” She nocked another arrow. “Maybe by then, I’ll have my own nickname. A ‘Twinblade Lu’ just for me.”

“Deathstalker Lu,” Alex supplied enthusiastically.

“…That’s, actually not half-bad. You’re getting better at naming things.”

“I’ve always been good at naming things,” he said.

“Uuuuhuh.” She glanced over at Claygon, who was watching the other practicing students intently. “You’re ‘okay’ at naming things.”

“Pfffft, now I’m gonna make sure people start calling you Deathstalker Lu.”

“You do that, and I’ll make sure I think of a nickname for you.”

He leaned in. “Too late, I already got one,” he said, referring to his Hero name of the Fool.

“No, no,” she whispered. “That’s the same thing as Twinblade Lu, it’s special, but it’s not you.”

“I dunno, I’m pretty fine with just being Alex. Though Lord Alex might be pretty cool. Archmage Alex. No, no—King Alex. No, wait! Evil King Alex—”

“Nevermind, you’re not getting better at naming things.”

“Welcome, my young friends, to our final venture into the Barrens… At least for this course,” Chancellor Baelin said as the students settled in their seats.

Several days had passed and—after a few final preparations—the class of the Art of the Wizard in Combat II was ready to face their final test of the school year.

The towering goat beastman looked upon all of them with a twinkle of pride in his eyes. His beard clasps clinked around the braids in his beard. “I cannot describe how proud I am of all of you. The Art of the Wizard in Combat—in the end—is about transformation. The transformation of excited young student into Proper Wizard. Perhaps, I should say that it is the beginning of that transformation. Today I shall call this test what it is: the end of our course, but the true beginning of your path as competent wizards through the duration of your academic career and beyond.”

He gestured to the sky. “The world is a wild and dangerous place. Most of all for those that make it their business to bend the fabric of their reality using spell, knowledge, and will. To the unprepared? That is a path of folly. It is like venturing into a dark nest of beast-goblins without proper preparations and sources of light: utterly self-destructive.

“However, you stepped onto the path of learning, figuring out how to apply your vast resources to defend yourself, your loved ones, and your possessions; as well as learning how to enact your will onto the world. Such a thing is to be commended. In short—and forgive an old goatman for rambling—I am proud.” He seemed to literally beam with pride for a moment before continuing. “Did you bring your charm-pendants today, as I requested?”

The class fished them out, showing them to Baelin.

“Excellent. I am glad you remembered them.” He looked at the members of the wizards’ entourages. “And to those that are here supporting your wizard family members, friends, and loved ones: I commend you all as well. This is not an easy course, even for those auditing it, and it is my hope that each of you will walk away with a mind more tactical and ready for the challenges that you and your companions will face in due time. Should you overcome this challenge today, I will have a little surprise for all of you.”

He smiled. “Good hunting, my young students. Good hunting. I shall see you soon.”

With a single gesture, Baelin activated his teleportation magic, and Alex felt that familiar pull as he was plucked from his seat by the spell and transported to the Barrens.

The dry heat hit him in a wave and he squinted as the dust blew over the wasteland. A few moments later, the others appeared, though Alex was surprised that Claygon arrived slightly before the others.

He looked at his friends. “Ten gold says his surprise is another, more horrible monster for us to fight,” he whispered.

“Even I would not bet against that,” Khalik whispered.

“I say it’ll be two monsters,” Thundar jumped in.

“Or ten,” Isolde added.

“Well.” Theresa lifted her bow, nocking one of Alex’s special arrows on the string. “We’ll have to worry about this one first. And fast. Look.”

The others followed her gaze, squinting through the blowing dust. Theresa’s eyes were by far the sharpest of any of them, but Alex could see movement in the distance.

The ground swelled as something swam just beneath the surface.

Chapter 4

Rumbling Earth

“It will sense us soon,” Khalik said, sending Najyah into the sky—above the range of the worm’s sensory abilities—to act as another pair of eyes. “It likely already felt the earth’s vibration when we were teleported in. Our collective weight would have displaced this area we’re standing on.”

“Then let’s get off the ground as fast as we can,” Alex said, pulling out his potions of flight and passing them to Isolde, Theresa, Thundar, and Khalik.

He also handed some to Isolde’s entourage: Svenia and Hogarth, who gripped harpoons. Lengths of heavy braided rope were attached to rings on the butts of the weapons. The two warriors threw uncertain looks in the direction of the dune worm, watching it swim beneath the earth.

“Right, cheers,” Hogarth said, clacking his potion bottle to Svenia’s and then draining it. He made a face. “Not exactly a good vintage.” His eyes turned toward the swell of the earth. “…Can’t believe I’m about to harpoon a big, dirty whale-worm.

“Stranger and stranger things we fight,” Svenia echoed his sentiment.

“Can’t argue with that,” Alex said, then passed out a second batch of potions to everyone. “The magic will keep you airborne for a while, but if you feel yourself begin to drift down like a feather, that means the magic is fading. Drink the second dose right away—the last thing we need is to start floating to the ground while that worm is trying to smash us with rocks or impale us with stone spikes.”

Everyone nodded and the rest of the group swallowed their potions, waiting for the magic to wash through them.

Isolde cast her flight spell on Claygon. The golem reacted to it a little—he could feel the slight response through their connection—as its core adjusted to the new mana passing through it.

‘It’s alright,’ Alex found himself telling the construct through their bond. ‘The magic will keep you in the air. You just need to direct yourself as if you were moving in your regular way. Walking and stuff, except you don’t need to take steps. Just aim yourself where you need to go.’

He paused at that. Was he trying to reassure his golem? Apparently, he was.

“Let us begin then,” Khalik said, shooting into the air.

The group followed, with Claygon bringing up the rear. They flew toward the moving swell in the earth, but had to squint and cover their noses against the dust caught on the light wind.

Alex noted that. “Hold on. We don’t want to be going in blinded or in a coughing fit mid-fight.”

Alex began working through the Mark’s interference to cast Orb of Air for each of them, which surrounded their heads in a globe of fresh air that filtered out all contaminants. He then followed up by casting other defensive spells on himself, while the other wizards began casting their own protective spells. The group took a long, spiralling route around the worm, which let them observe the creature while gradually closing the distance.

Alex’s spellcasting was still slow compared to his friends’, though he’d made a lot of progress in speed. Four forceballs appeared in a fraction of the time they used to. He cast force shield and lesser force armour next, and finally ‘protective crooked rectangle.’

The others had gotten faster too. Khalik in particular stood out. Incantations poured from his mouth, and he had both his earth armour and a force shield up in the time it took the rest of them to have one spell readied.

Once Alex’s defensive array was complete, he looked at Theresa, cast a lesser force armour spell on her and—after a moment’s thought—on Claygon as well. The golem’s own magically enhanced body was sturdier than the spell, but extra protection never hurt.

Alex cocked his head slightly at Claygon’s style of ‘flying.’

They were all parallel to the ground, almost like they were swimming through the air. But the golem remained in an upright position, with his feet set as though he were standing on thin air.

‘Huh. I never did tell you to shift position, did I?’ he thought. ‘Maybe a good thing I didn’t… That looks pretty badass.’

He willed Claygon to cross his four arms: his upper pair folded in front of him, and the lower pair behind his back.

Now it looked really badass.

‘Maybe I should try flying like that,’ he thought.

“Are you playing with Claygon?” Theresa asked.

“N-no…” he said. “…Yes.”

“You rea—”

Rmmmmble.

Her words stilled and she looked down, startled.

The earth rumbled so powerfully, even the air around them vibrated. That swell in the ground surged upward.

Booom!

The dune worm breached like a whale jumping out of the sea.

Alex gasped.

Its armour plates glistened like quartz in the sun, and its body drew a graceful arc before diving back into the earth.

“Wow,” Alex murmured. “That… that’s kinda beautiful.”

“Indeed,” Isolde agreed.

“It’s—wow is right,” Theresa said. “I almost feel bad hunting i—”

Her eyes went wide.

“Watch out!” she roared.

Crack!

A massive tower of earth burst from the ground—its tip spiked like a barbed spearhead—blasting straight toward the middle of the group.

With a cry, they scattered in all directions.

Shoom!

The immense stone tower struck where’d they’d been a second earlier. If it weren’t for Theresa’s warning, some of them would have been ripped apart by the barbs protruding from the spiked head.

For another of the many times during one of Baelin’s practical classes, Alex glanced down at the spell-mark on his hand, hoping that their professor’s spell would activate and teleport them to safety fast enough if they were struck.

He remembered Baelin speaking of students suffering great injuries in past classes…

Crash!

The worm rose halfway out of the ground and roared.

Alex’s blood chilled.

Its mouth had dozens of teeth lining the inside. Some were hook-shaped, some pointed, and others flat, looking like they were meant to grind up any prey it caught. Mangled body parts—beast and some looking suspiciously humanoid—were rotting, stuck between its teeth.

“Never mind!” Theresa shouted. “Let’s hunt this thing!”

She steadied her bow as they all spread out, circling the worm. The creature continued to swim beneath the earth, the ground swelling, marking its position. The four wizards shot toward opposite directions, trying to corral the creature.

The ground began to ripple.

Alex could feel mana shift below like a tidal wave.

“Earth magic!” Khalik roared. “Concentrated beneath us! Dodge!”

More spikes shot upward, kicking massive clouds of dust around the battle zone as they snaked through the air with pinpoint accuracy, bending, seeking to impale the flying wizards.

Whoosh!

They dove around the spikes. Khalik shouted an incantation, working to counter the earth magic heading for him, but the monster proved to be too powerful. The prince had to dive out of the way, cursing as he flew through the dust.

“It has excellent aim, even from beneath the earth!” Isolde cried.

“Yeah, just like that damn earth elemental we fought,” Thundar shouted. He glanced up. “Its senses are sharp, it won’t give us a chance to fight back! We gotta climb above its sensory range! That’ll force it to surface!”

“Then it will be out of spell range for most of our spells!” Isolde responded.

Thundar looked at Theresa. “Will it be out of range of your arrows?”

“Not when I’m shooting from right above it!” The huntress was already ascending.

Everyone shot after her, climbing into the sky so quickly, the wind swelled to a dull roar in their ears. Towers of spiked earth continued to rise below them, chasing them through the sky like giant serpents catching birds.

Alex trembled under the sheer weight of the power being thrown around. The mana he was sensing was enough to make his head ache. It wasn’t that it was the most mana he’d ever felt. After all, he’d been around mana vents… and Baelin. But this stuff was so raw… so angry, that he was caught off guard by the force.

It was all he could do to keep himself and Claygon from being pierced. He used his agility to sweep through forests of spikes, while simultaneously guiding his golem’s movements.

Eventually, the rising spears of earth began to slow and then stop. The group looked down, where the earthen towers strained to keep up the chase—eerily reminiscent of dogs struggling against chains.

They were getting out of range of both its senses and its earth magic.

Alex let out a sigh of relief. “Looks like—”

Mana surged.

“Look out!” he and Khalik cried at the same time.

The barbs at the end of the towers shuddered.

Shooom!

They fired in all directions like a hail storm of spears.

Alex yelled as he weaved—in a midair dance—around the spikes. Theresa’s enhanced agility let her dodge around them, while Thundar shot in front of Isolde, spitting an incantation. The minotaur gripped his mace tightly with all the strength improved by his body enhancement spell, while a second mace made entirely of magically conjured mana appeared beside him.

With a roar of effort, Thundar swung his weapon into a stone spear while the conjured mace struck it at the same time, shattering the rock completely.

As he’d bought Isolde a few precious moments, the young woman then barked an incantation that summoned a golem-sized whirlwind in front of her and Thundar. It only appeared for a few moments, but it turned aside every stone spear shooting toward them.

However, with Alex’s attention being split—

Scrrrrp.

A spike hit Claygon, scraping along his side and sending the golem spinning through the air.

“No!” Alex shouted.

When the wave of spikes finally stopped, Alex flew to his golem’s side.

He examined him closely.

The lesser force armour had completely shattered, but there wasn’t even a scratch on Claygon’s body. “Ooooh, good, good. Nothing bad happened to you.”

He pat Claygon’s side. “Let’s get out of here.”

Alex, his golem, and the rest of the group continued to ascend out of range of the spears. Once they were far enough away and saw that nothing pursued them, they stopped.

The group—as one—looked down toward their opponent. The stone towers hadn’t moved. The creature was swimming beneath the earth again, circling the area they’d been.

“It appears that we are out of range of its senses,” Khalik said. “If it wishes to find us, it will have to surface.”

“Especially if we bait it,” Alex said, moving his four force balls beside him. “This thing senses vibrations on the ground and in the air above. Within its range, it should react to my force balls diving toward it.”

His mind worked quickly now.

Thinking.

Adapting.

“If I dart them in and out of its range, that’ll confuse it. Might make it surface eventually.”

“It doesn’t have eyes, though,” Isolde pointed out. “It should not need to surface.”

“True, but when it breaches, it jumps higher into the air. Which means that—for a brief moment—its senses and the range of its attacks will extend up by the same distance it jumped. If we can bait it into doing that—and it’ll need to do something eventually if we keep wasting its mana—Theresa can fire an arrow with a soothing potion right down its throat while it’s in the air.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Khalik said. “My burst of sound can also create vibrations to trigger its senses.”

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Thundar said. “I’ll send my mana weapon down there too. Really give it something to chase. Let’s get to it!”

Theresa readied her bow as Alex and Thundar shot their spells downward. After they’d descended to a point, the warping ground suddenly switched directions, and the earth began to shake.

Scrrrrp!

More stone towers shot into the air, but the young wizards darted their spells away just before the spikes impaled them.

Khalik followed up with his burst of sound, causing the stone towers to swerve in that direction, but then pause as Thundar’s and Alex’s spells shot down from another angle. For several minutes they kept up their dip-and-run tactics, luring the worm to breach.

“This might be it,” Alex said as a wide area of earth swelled up.

He drew a pair of potions—his second flight potion and his trapped mana-soothing potion—and readied to cast Call Through Ice. When it breached, he would—

Crack!

It didn’t breach.

The earth all at once rose up.

The largest of its stone towers—at least thirty feet across—shot toward them like an immense fist rising into the sky.

Chapter 5

Earth Magic and New Beginnings

Crack!

The pillar sped toward them at a frightening rate. The sheer amount of mana raging from it was incredible.

But something was off.

That surge of mana… Was it—

“The worm’s mana’s getting closer!” Alex shouted as the group flew higher into the sky. He popped the lid of his second flight potion and chugged it, the others did the same.

“Why would—Ohhh, that sneaky bastard,” Thundar said. “Alex! Can Claygon smash that tower?”

“What, why?” Alex asked. “I mean, probably?”

“I bet you that the worm’s inside the tower. It’s riding up here and keeping itself protected! Everyone spread out! It’s gonna start shooting at us!”

Alex blinked, thinking about where the mana surge was coming from. There was so much of it that it was difficult for him to pinpoint. But it did seem to be coming from inside the tower.

“Claygon! Smash that!” He pointed.

Without a sound, the golem shot toward the tower with all four fists extended, like a stone shot from a trebuchet. Alex looked down, watching as the sides and top of the tower shimmered.

Shoom!

Spikes burst out in every direction. He dodged away, concentrating on avoiding the spears while trying to guide Claygon through them.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Spikes cracked off of the clay body.

The golem kept going.

Bang!

He slammed into the side of the tower, his fists already pumping, crushing the rock, and the rest of his massive frame blasted through the crumbling stone.

There was a cry from inside the tower as the top shattered.

Alex hadn’t been able to precisely sense the worm’s exact location. It had been slightly lower in the tower than he’d thought, but now, it was partially exposed. One of Claygon’s upper hands shot down and seized it by an armoured plate. He began to pull the struggling worm from the rock.

Alex’s jaw dropped.

The lifting tests that he, Professor Jules, and Baelin had performed on the golem had shown that Claygon could lift far more than a normal golem of his size, but it was something else entirely to watch him pull something the size of a whale from pure stone.

As the worm resisted, giant claws materialized from the rock and struck at Claygon, but his powerful arms swept out, shattering them.

Alex saw something flash through the air—a series of arrows from Theresa flew straight into the worm’s mouth, and right down its massive throat.

The monster roared and Alex felt the mana coming from the creature grow a bit more sluggish. He started to cast Call Through Ice.

Crack!

Then the lightning came. Isolde fired a bolt down its throat an instant after Theresa’s arrows had struck home. The creature shuddered and roared as the electricity coursed through its immense body.

Bang!

Khalik barked an incantation and snapped his fingers. An enormous explosion of sound boomed from within the worm, and Alex thought he heard something rupture inside. It screeched and jerked away from Claygon.

Rrrrrp.

Part of its armour plate ripped off as it dove back into the tower. The beast was definitely moving slower than before, which meant the mana it used to glide through rock was slowing.

He finished casting the spell.

An icy door opened directly in front of his mana soothing potion, then, the potion abruptly vanished. Teleportation magic opened the doorway right in front of the dune worm’s gaping mouth.

A heartbeat later, its mana slowed again, and it struggled to melt back into the stone, but its escape had been hindered long enough for Claygon to snatch it.

“That’s it, Claygon! Pull it out!” Alex shouted.

Again, Claygon dragged the worm free from the rock, by its tail this time. He caught it with his two upper hands, stabilizing it in his grip, which left his lower arms free to lay into it.

Crack! Crack!

Thick carapace crunched and split with every blow from the golem’s fists, exposing, then bursting flesh.

The dune worm screeched as rotting pieces of corpses dislodged from its mouth. Alex was glad he’d cast Orb of Air for everyone, because the odor must have been putrid.

WhooooOOOmmm.

The fire gems in Claygon’s upper hands and forehead began to glow as they gathered energy.

Voooosh!

All three blasted into the worm at once. The flame roared, but—to Alex’s amazement—it didn’t react to the flame at all. This was a creature that could spew lava and dive deep beneath the earth where temperatures were hot enough to melt rock, so the fire gems had no effect.

It pulled its upper body free of the stone tower and turned toward Claygon. Alex saw light building in its throat.

He willed Claygon to move fast.

An instant later, a massive torrent of lava spewed from the creature’s gaping mouth, spraying through the air. Smoke billowed as the dead bodies in its mouth burst into flame.

It lurched sluggishly back into the stone. The spikes stopped firing as it focused its disrupted power on getting to safety.

That was when Svenia and Hogarth shot forward, hoisting back their harpoons, and aiming straight at the areas of flesh exposed by Claygon’s battering.

The harpoons struck, driving deep. Then the two warriors tossed the heavy ropes to Claygon who grabbed each one by Alex’s command. The ropes went taut as the worm thrashed, and the golem pulled.

Then Thundar flew in.

He landed on the carapace with the spell-crafted mace floating beside him and began hitting the outer covering, pulping the flesh beneath it with purposeful blows. He kept it up long enough to inflict deep wounds, then drew his crossbow and fired directly into the monster’s exposed flesh. The minotaur shot away when spikes emerged and launched from the tower, but their force and speed were far less than before.

The monster’s bulk heaved against the harpoons, snapping the ropes and the weapons’ shafts as it finally escaped back into the tower, desperate to reach the ground.

And Alex was ready. Claygon was already moving lower down the tower to head it off.

He drove his fists into the column.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Crack!

His massive fists smashed the stone until the entire pillar began to give beneath the heavy blows. Then, it started to topple like a colossal tree felled by a giant lumberjack.

Whoooosh!

The stone plummeted toward the ground.

Boom!

It hit the dusty terrain of the Barrens with an earth-shaking impact, and the worm screeched as it abruptly met the ground. The force was partly cushioned by the magic infusing the rock it had been hiding in, though the fall still sent a terrific jolt through its entire body.

Alex could see that it was hurt and—from its frantic movements and the glow coming from lava bubbling in its throat—angrier than ever.

“After it!” Khalik roared. “Before it can orient itself or dive underground!”

The group shot down as the worm reared and roared at them. It had sunk its body partially into the ground, but was clearly hindered from using its earth magic properly.

Instead of trying to dive, it called up layer upon layer of earth and stone to coat itself, forming a covering similar to what Khalik conjured with his armour spells. Mounds of spikes sprang from all sides of the worm’s protective covering.

For most opponents in the Barrens, the spikes would have been the perfect thing to frighten them away, but they were a poor choice against the versatile wizards it faced.

The group of flyers swooped around the worm, harassing it with low mana costing spells. It spewed lava, but they stayed just far enough from its reach to make themselves difficult targets.

Its movements became more agitated, and Alex could tell the beast was tiring. Its lava flowed weakly, and it turned with a listlessness when it tried to track them. Alex danced his force balls around its mouth, distracting it, while Theresa fired the last of her potion-arrows down its throat.

Its mana slowed to a trickle.

Now it was time to finish it.

“Claygon, grab it!” Alex shouted, and his golem flew at the monster. He shot to the side of the worm, flying directly into the stone spikes, but paying them no attention as they broke against his body. Claygon seized the creature and jerked it upward with all four arms. This time, the worm was too exhausted and its mana too slow to fight back as the golem hoisted it over his head.

His arms constricted, cracking its earth armour while it squirmed. The other wizards flew toward its mouth. Alex sent his force balls zooming around it, panicking it and making it spew a weak stream of lava too prematurely to hit any of the flyers.

When the lava cleared, the cabal flew directly in front of its mouth and unleashed their most powerful spells.

Khalik conjured a massive stone spike, angling it so that it pierced the side of the worm’s mouth, wedging it open. Theresa, Hogarth, and Svenia fired arrows into the soft tissue, further wearing it down.

Thundar shot his floating mace into the creature’s mouth and began beating the inside like a drum.

Finally, Isolde finished casting one of her most effective lightning spells—the one she’d used with great effect against the xyrthak—and blasted sparking orbs of electricity down the dune worm’s throat.

The glow of lava began to slowly build in its throat, but when the orbs of lightning arced bolts of electricity between each other, then loosed the bolts inside the worm, the lava glow abruptly fizzled. Lightning crackled as the monster jerked in Claygon’s grip until finally, it went limp. A wave of steam drifted from its mouth.

Remembering that the monster from the masquerade ball had played dead to lure him, Alex had Claygon squeeze the creature, crushing it where he gripped it. It did not make a single move.

“It’s done!” Khalik said, pumping his fists. “Well done, everyone! We did it! We passed the final!”

Thundar let out a roar of triumph along with the prince, which swept up the rest of the group until they were all cheering like drunken warriors after a bar fight.

“Indeed, well done,” a familiar voice said from behind them.

Everyone whirled to see Baelin floating just behind and above the group. A sardonic smile was on his lips, but his eyes gleamed with ferocious pride.

“Look at you,” he said, with a similar tone Alex had heard Theresa’s grandfather use toward his granddaughter. “Well, look. At. You. Who is this I see? It certainly cannot be the same group I saw ambushed by muupkaras and forced to flee a bonedrinker, can it?” He gave a low chuckle. “My, my, how they do grow up so quickly.”

“We did it, Baelin.” Alex grinned.

“Indeed, you did. Now, why don’t we return for our final debrief… Although, it might be some time before we can start. You, my young friends, are the first group to finish this time. So, just let me take a moment to collect your spoils, and then off we go.”

As Baelin set about whisking the worm back to the university, Alex took one final look around the Barrens. The last he would take as a first-year student in Baelin’s class, he realized.

In a sense, the Barrens of Kravernus looked much the same as when he’d first laid eyes on them as they’d flown above in Lucia’s sky-gondola when he, Selina, Theresa, and Brutus first arrived in Generasi.

It was still that same, mana-blasted wasteland of dried earth and dust. But it was also different. From far above, it had looked like this mysterious place of hidden dangers and unsolved mysteries. That had only proven to be even truer when he and four other students he barely knew had been transported there for their initial test—the first time his future cabal had worked together.

They’d been on foot, trying to coordinate with each other through much discussion and anxiety about their surroundings and what was to come.

But, today?

They’d coordinated with hardly a word. Hell, they’d actually stopped partway through the fight for a little chat. When had they grown so comfortable? He remembered his first few shifts at Shale’s Golem Workshop. The team had been quiet, communicating mostly to coordinate around the job. After a few months of working together, though, they’d become comfortable enough to chat with one another while doing their work.

Now, the relationship between him and his cabal was so congenial, they knew they could depend on each other in battle or otherwise. They were now a team. They trusted each other. Had grown the skills, experience, and strength to handle a host of threats against each or all of them.

Thinking about it more, Alex realized that the Barrens didn’t seem… quite so vast and threatening anymore. It wasn’t exactly a quiet meadow outside of Alric, just no longer threatening to where he thought that anything there could demolish them with a single blow.

He blinked.

And maybe… that was the point of the Art of the Wizard in Combat. Sure, it taught them how to protect themselves, but—as their competence grew—it would make more of the world accessible to them. The world itself wouldn’t become safer, but the young wizards would become more dangerous.

More ready to handle the trials that their art would throw at them.

His eyes narrowed.

Likely, the meadows around Alric would be far more dangerous than they were the last time he’d walked through them. But he—and his friends—were a far greater threat than before.

The world was now far more open to them.

He exchanged a grin with the others just before Baelin waved his hand to teleport them to the plateau.

At last, his first year at the university was coming to an end.

…And opening up entirely new beginnings.

Chapter 6

The Final Debrief and Youth

“Congratulations, to each and every one of you.” Baelin clapped his large hands together. “You have all passed the final exam and thus passed the Art of the Wizard in Combat II. And so ends your first year in my course. But, this is not truly an ending. This—” He pointed to the sky. “This is a beginning. The Proper Wizard—girded against the dangers of the cosmos—has as little to fear from the dark between the stars or the hordes of the abyss, as they do from worms in their own garden.”

The students of the Art of the Wizard in Combat II—who would only be students of that class for a little longer—looked at each other with a mix of tiredness, excitement, and pride.

The trio consisting of Shiani, Rhea, and Malcolm had elected to work together, along with Malcolm’s companion, Eyvinder. From the pleased looks they were wearing, it appeared they had fared very well against the worm.

Caramiyus, Angelar, Rayne, and Nua-Oge’s group—complete with the giant shark beastman, Grimloch—looked like they’d also done well. There was relief in their demeanour at Baelin’s announcement, as well as elation from their victory.

“So, for the last time… For this course, at least,” Baelin said. “Let us debrief: what went right? What went wrong? And—most importantly—what do you think has changed between when you first started this course and now?”

The groups of students and their entourages huddled together, whispering.

After a moment, Rayne raised his hand, to Alex’s surprise.

The gangly young man sat far taller in his seat than he used to. “A lot went right, Baelin,” he said. “I cast flight magic on everyone; I have enough mana now to make sure we could all keep flying, but we had to adjust our altitude because of the monster’s range. At first, we had some trouble, but Nua-Oge knew this one spell: Death Charge.”

“Depth Charge,” she corrected. “It’s made for water, but it can phase into most surfaces and send a shockwave through whatever it goes into, but its range decreases when it’s used on a harder surface.”

“Well, it worked,” Caramiyus said. “She dropped a few into the earth and that made the worm surface. Then Angelar and I were there waiting with beams to blast it in the mouth as it came up. And then Grimloch…” he shuddered.

“I cracked its shell like a crab.” The shark man grinned, worm-blood still coating his lips. “Then got into the gooey insides.”

Baelin gave a booming laugh. “Ah, taking your meal as you’re fighting. You have style, my young friend. And then?”

“Part of our plan was to make it bleed while we kept blasting it,” Nua-Oge said. “The wound Grimloch gave it was ragged and deep, so all we had to do was keep it from burrowing again, tire it out, and make it bleed out. We didn’t stop until it was done.”

“Honestly, Baelin.” Rayne shook his head. “It couldn’t have been more different than how it was in the beginning. When me and Minerv—” He paused, wincing as he spoke of the dead student. “We lost a lot of people during that first class. Especially my group.”

“Indeed, Rayne, you have shown some of the furthest growth of any student in this class.” Baelin gave him a grandfatherly smile. “And I am most proud to have taught you thus far. Nua-Oge, Caramiyus, Angelar, from my observations you are far more coordinated than you once were. And all of you paced yourselves when it came to your mana, allowing your versatility and experience to win you the day. Well done.”

Rhea raised her hand. “We decided the best way to beat it would be to make it uncomfortable. Shiani and I specialize in fire spells, but we knew we would struggle against its resistance to fire. So, we decided to combine our spells of sharpened obsidian to pierce the creature’s outer covering. The two of us conjured a big spike and then Eyvinder and Malcolm brought the worm out of the ground.”

“Since the creature is so used to fire and lives in the Barrens,” Malcolm jumped in, “we thought it probably wouldn’t like the cold. Our research showed they burrow below the earth to keep warm when night falls. I cast Permafrost to spread cold energy through the ground, which made where it was hiding really cold, and that drove it out of the ground. Eyvinder used his own earth magic to counter the worm’s, so it had to come out undefended.”

“Then we speared it like a fish,” Shiani said. “From there, once it was above ground, Malcolm kept using ice spells, Eyvinder countered its earth magic, while Rhea and I conjured more spears. Those eventually finished it off. Our entire plan worked out the way we wanted it to.”

“Excellent work,” Baelin said. “When your group first started this course, you were by far the most well-equipped. You were all in your second year and all geared toward battle magic. You struggled with versatility, however, and exhausted your mana too quickly by relying on large, powerful spells. And now look. You used a versatile series of magics—including Eyvinder’s innate earth magic outside of the art of wizardry—and were able to outlast an opponent with a greater reserve of mana than yourselves. Well done. If you choose to go into military wizardry, then I am sure any number of imperial recruiters will be fighting for you.”

At last, Alex raised his hand, and Baelin nodded to him.

“So, uh, when we first started, we either didn’t know each other very well or didn’t know each other at all,” the young wizard said. “We worked well together because these guys are awesome, but we were only getting to know each other. Now, we function like a well-oiled wagon: as one. We have more power, more versatility, and a lot of our strengths came from things we did outside of class.

“I don’t think we would’ve had as easy a time if Theresa wasn’t so good at life enforcement, or if Svenia and Hogarth hadn’t kept up their training. Claygon was a big power factor too, and all of us have gotten stronger and more knowledgeable. My potions helped a lot, Thundar’s spells are more powerful and versatile, Isolde’s basically become a storm goddess, and Khalik has really gotten fast with spell casting. And all of that came together to bring us to where we are now.”

Baelin nodded. “Indeed. Your coordination is notable. One can see how bonds have forged outside of merely being classmates and how that can aid significantly when applied to the battlefield. You also avoided a particular trap that can fall upon those who take to the battlefield with romantic partners. Sometimes, tactics fall away in favour of affection: the need to protect loved ones or cherished friends. Such things can be…”

The chancellor tilted his head back and forth, as if weighing his words. “…useful, on the battlefield. One needs only see a mother bear defend her cubs once to know how effective fighting to protect a bond can be. But, at times, it can blunt tactics in favour of coddling one’s loved ones.” He rose to his full height and looked over the class. “Love can bloom on the battlefield, yes, and it can be maintained during times of danger… But a battle is not a romantic sky-gondola ride. If a loved one cannot defend themselves, they should not be on the battlefield.”

“And what is to be done if they end up caught in a battle because of an ambush?” Khalik asked.

“Then your priority is to ensure that they are quickly positioned away from enemies. I stress the importance of speed in this, because the enemy is not going to conveniently wait for this to be done, and once that is established, focus on eliminating threats. Having your focus drift entirely to a noncombatant will give your enemies the openings they need to strike you down. Then your loved one shall follow soon after… or be captured.”

“Well, Alex doesn’t need me to protect him. Not anymore,” Theresa said lightly, causing a few chuckles among the class.

“Yeah, that’s Claygon’s job now,” Alex added.

Baelin burst out laughing. “Indeed. In any case, I’m sure the last thing you wanted to hear was an old man prattle on about the tactical flaws and benefits of friendship and love. Although, before I move away from the topic, do note that such bonds have been utilized in military capacities in the past. There was a city-state that used to create units entirely composed of pairs of lovers. Such a thing—when proper discipline was applied—contributed heavily to the morale of a unit and brought out courage. Do not discount the bonds of friendship or romance, tempered with skill.”

He looked over all of them. “If you are ambushed by enemies that are bound together merely by the promise of payment, then a few loud and very messy combat spells will likely shatter their nerve and send them seeking easier jobs. If you are beset by foes that are grouped together by bonds of friendship or romance, though, you had best ensure they are all eliminated. For the survivors? They shall not rest until you or they are dead…

“And on that cheery note—Congratulations! You have all finished the Art of the Wizard in Combat II. And to commemorate this occasion…”

Baelin snapped his fingers and several amulet halves appeared in the air before him. “I present to you the second half of your charm-pendants, each bearing my symbol. Although their meaning is not quite what it once was—for you are not my apprentices—know that they will denote that we have an association. I am proud of you all, and I implore you to take the Intermediate Art of the Wizard in Combat in your next year. In it, we will continue your training directly and expand the scope of opponents you shall face.”

The class fell quiet as the charm-pendants floated up from their necks, and the other halves drifted over.

Schnk.

With a small flash of light, each pendant joined with the other half and became a whole. Everyone, as if by instinct, reached for their pendant and clasped it tightly in their hand.

A chill pulsed through Alex.

It felt like the charm-pendant symbolized a next step in his life. He looked up at Baelin and found the chancellor’s eyes already on him.

They exchanged a silent nod.

“I will be speaking with your king at the end of the month, Alex,” Baelin said to him. Class had ended, but the chancellor asked Alex to stay behind for a few minutes to discuss ‘a matter.’

“Already?” Alex blinked.

“‘Already,’ he says,” the chancellor scoffed. “Truthfully, it is later than I would have liked. An expedition of this sort will take months of planning, then setting up, surveying, staffing and supplying before it can be executed. I would have liked to have met with him weeks ago. But, that was not possible.”

“Really? Months just to get going?” Alex asked.

“Oh, yes. Likely the very earliest we can even begin the expedition will be in the mid-autumn. And we cannot do the majority of the preparations until we have confirmation that this is—in fact—going to occur. You should get yourself involved in those preparations. You will learn much along the way.”

“Oh, I will get involved,” Alex said enthusiastically. “What should I do in the meantime?”

Baelin blinked at him in surprise. “You’re a student at Generasi, are you not? Be a student and do student things for a bit. Hopefully, without too many mana vampire attacks.”

“Oh yeeeeah,” Alex said as though he’d forgotten he was a student. “I guess I’ll just… start selecting my summer courses, then, and my fall ones?”

“That would be the way.”

Alex sighed. “That’s… I was kinda hoping we’d get to go and do this earlier. Between finding that note in the Traveller’s language and the expedition, I’m dying to get going on this stuff.”

“Hm, indeed. It can be tempting to sprint when one sees knowledge and discovery just ahead. But remember what I said: this is not a sprint. It is a marathon. Things are not ready at this moment—unless you wish to climb on a ship and race to Thameland on your own—so focus on what you can do for yourself and your family at this moment.”

Baelin sighed, looking over the Barrens. “Whether they be good or bad, understand this, Alex: these years of your life only come once.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“Your university years.”

“Oh, really?” He thought about the older students he’d seen on campus. “I thought you could attend Generasi at any age, do graduate studies or even come back and take courses?”

“All true, all true. But these years where you have come to this place of learning while young, full of curiosity, unjaded, and unsullied by the rigours of time? That is an experience that comes but once. And I do mean that, Alex. You are only ever young once. Just. Once.

“Even if you find your own way to reverse the physical aging process or obtain eternal youth, you will be a grown man, an elder or an ancient wearing the body of your youth. You might have the strength and energy of youth—and that is not to be discounted—but you will be in a far different place in your life. And you cannot ever become young and inexperienced again. That is not to say that being young is the greatest thing in the world. You might enjoy it. You might hate it and wish that maturity and years would come faster. In either case, you will only ever experience this time in your life once.”

He looked at Alex seriously. “So, take it from someone so far beyond their youth, that it might as well have never happened. Live it out. Experience it. What will come later, will come later, regardless of your patience or lack thereof.”

Alex swallowed.

He’d heard such speeches before from elders in his village and his teachers. Some had even told him that his years in the church school would be ‘the best years of your life.’

At the time, he could think of nothing worse or more false.

Much of his adolescence could really be summed up as grieving the loss of his parents, making sure his sister was okay, working with the abusive baker, McHarris, and studying all the time. When times had gotten hard, one thing that had kept him going was the idea that a brighter future could lay ahead in Generasi. If those harder years had been the best years of his life, then… well, life would be pretty grim.

But the words from Baelin hit him a bit differently.

The ancient wizard hadn’t referred to the years of his youth as some magical positive time, he’d merely said they were unique.

And that was true.

He might as well experience what he could before it came time to return to the dangers of Thameland or experience whatever horrors that might be awaiting when he looked into the language of the Traveller in the Irtyshenan Empire.

Selina needed guidance and to have things set up so she could begin her first lessons in wizardry in the next school year.

Besides, he could enjoy some of his life while still preparing for those future challenges if he picked some proper courses for the summer and fall.

And he had a good idea what courses would help him.

Chapter 7

The Migration

“Well, look at that, none of us flunked out.” Alex grinned as he looked up at the board. That was an understatement.

For Magic Lore II, Art of the Wizard in Combat II, and the Alchemy of Potions II, Alex’s name was emblazoned in glittering gold letters at the top of the lists of the top ten best performing students in each class.

Across the board, dozens of lists were posted, and scores of students had gathered around, murmuring and pointing. Throughout the crowd, cries of frustration mixed with cheers of joy as proof of their achievement or disappointment at the absence of their name, was revealed.

The names of Alex and his cabal-members appeared on a lot of top ten lists. On one in particular—the Art of the Wizard in Combat II—the top four places were filled by four very familiar names.

In gold lettering, indicating first place: Alex Roth.

In silver lettering, indicating second place: Isolde Von Anmut.

In bronze lettering, indicating third place: Khalik Behr-Medr.

In fourth place: Thundar, Son of Gulbiff.

Prince Khalik studied the leaderboard, then glanced over at Isolde, before extending his hand. “Well done. It seems you have bested me.”

Isolde attempted to be nonchalant, but Alex could clearly see the excitement sparking in her blue eyes as she shook Khalik’s hand. “It was a near thing, I am sure.”

“But a win is a win.” The bearded young man shook her hand. “Your combat spells and use of them truly showed their quality when we fought the xyrthak. Aaaah, my family would be ashamed of me. My earlier performances left me… complacent.” He grinned viciously. “It shall not happen again, Isolde.”

A smile of challenge grew on her face. “We shall see, Khalik. We shall see.”

“I’m just happy I got fourth again.” Thundar clapped and rubbed his hands together. “No shame in not getting past you monsters. And I got fourth in Body Enhancement, that’s one better… Illusions is still seventh though.”

Alex glanced over at Thundar. “I haven’t seen you pull out the illusions much in Baelin’s class.”

“Because most of them aren’t practical yet,” Thundar said. “First year illusions is all about making small illusions: tiny images, ghostly sounds, and stuff like that. We didn’t get that much into learning bigger spells, just honed the basics, for the most part. Second year’s when we get into some of the fun stuff, and I can’t wait. You know what the first spell they teach you is? Invisibility. I’m gonna abuse that to no end. Monsters won’t have any idea what hit ’em. It’ll be great to finally get more use out of that course than only illusionary duplicate.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Alex looked back at the board. His smile widened. “Khalik, I avenged you!”

He pointed to his name in gold lettering at the top of Val’Rok’s second year, second semester Mana Manipulation class. Isolde’s name was in silver directly below his.

“Well done!” the prince clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I became friends with you. Already weaponizing those bonds Baelin was speaking of!”

“Hmph,” Isolde sniffed. “Congratulations, Roth—”

“Why are you calling me by my last name in a super cold voice?”

“Just keep that place warm for me while you can. I am gaining your measure, and you will taste defeat soon enough.”

Alex smiled. “Oh, coooome on, Isolde. You got the top spot in basically every other class you touched. Can’t you just give me this one?”

“Not even for a moment.”

“Aaaah, mercy, Lady Von Anmut!” he cried. “You truly have no mercy, you evil wizard!”

“Before you call me an evil wizard, I should like to point out that you stuffed a mana vampire like a duck meant to be pate, then drained it dry like a tick, all to power your monstrosity.” She glanced at Claygon on the other side of the hall.

“I may be biased, but I’m pretty sure it deserved that cuz… y’know, it nearly killed me,” Thundar said through clenched teeth.

“Truly, it did,” Isolde said. “…But, is what Alex did not exactly what an evil wizard would do in an old story?”

“…Yeah okay, good point,” Alex said, looking through the crowd of students at Theresa and her good friend—Zhao Shishi—who were celebrating Shishi’s success in life enforcement. It looked like the young woman had placed third.

Alex also noticed lots of students already filing out of the hall with shoulders slumped.

“They look depressed,” Thundar noted.

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “And I suspect such an atmosphere will become omnipresent across campus soon enough.”

“That’s quite the procession,” Alex said, watching the mass exodus of students streaming out of one of the insulae close to where he and Isolde had been walking and chatting on the way to the library.

“Ah yes, ‘The Migration’ has begun,” she said with a slightly muted note in her voice.

“The Migration?” he asked. “Also, uh, a lot of them don’t look very happy.”

It was true. A lot of the students were filing out—loading possessions onto mules, horses, more exotic beasts of burden or sky-gondolas—looking as though they’d just watched their lover run off with someone else. Their eyes hardly left the ground and there was a slump to their shoulders that Alex had only really seen in folk who’d suffered a pretty big loss.

“There is a good reason why many do not look pleased,” Isolde sniffed. “A number of them are leaving the university, not to return. The exam marks are back, as are the final marks for the semester. Students that were on academic probation are being given the great, dirty boot.”

“Academic probation?” Alex asked. “What’s that?”

“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t really have a reason to be aware of that condition,” she said. “When one performs poorly at Generasi, they are given a letter of warning and a single semester to correct their efforts. If they do not manage this by an elapsed period of time, then they are expelled from the university.”

Alex winced, then his eyes widened, taking in the sheer number of dejected students. “You mean… all of them are being kicked out?”

“Indeed,” Isolde said, her voice somewhat detached. “You saw how much smaller the second-year class for mana manipulation was. I am told that it only shrinks from there.”

“Yeah, I mean I heard that classes have a pretty high uh… not-pass rate, but it’s something to really see that in action.” He whistled. “I wonder what’s going to happen to all those wizards.”

“In truth? Some of them will live good lives,” Isolde said. “If they have the drive, at least. Even having mastered first-tier spells gives one advantages in life. One might not be able to become an alchemist without the practice and the higher-level courses, but any sort of craftsperson would benefit greatly from knowing a few spells. Take even your Wizard’s Hands. How much would a carpenter accomplish with two floating hands assisting them?”

“Huh, that’s a good point,” Alex said. “And I guess they could self-teach themselves or go to another university.”

“Indeed.” Isolde nodded. “Wizardry is not an easy art by nature, and Generasi is not an easy school by nature. What you see is inevitable. In any case, we should stop gawking and go choose our own courses.”

“Yeah, right, right. Thanks for coming to the library with me, anyway. Not that you’d turn down any invitation to the library.”

“…What was that?”

“N-nothing,” Alex quickly said.

He glanced at Claygon behind them and sighed. All this time gaining control over himself, his emotions, and his thoughts with the Mark. All this time mastering the beginnings of magic.

…and he still couldn’t stop his mouth from going renegade.

“Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Alex whispered in the library. In front of him was the course guide for second year and his registration list, ready to be filled out and returned to Hobb, the registrar.

He glanced around, smiling at his new surroundings.

With proof that he had mastered a second-tier spell, he’d been granted full access to the floors of the library reserved for second-tier spells and their equivalents in alchemy.

It was a bit of a thrill to be down there.

While structurally the areas were nearly identical to the first few floors of the library, the books were very different. The spell-guides were more advanced, the formula books for alchemy more complex—and larger—and the books on general magic lore more difficult to understand unless one had sufficient training.

In a way, being on this floor made him feel far more like a real wizard. The students here walked about with bags and books following them around using force constructs, like his own Wizard’s Hands or telekinetic spells, which were more advanced. Some even used minor teleportation spells to call books and other things to them as they selected their courses.

Another difference was how few people there were on this floor. He grimaced. ‘The Migration’ was likely already at work. Imagining the deeper floors extending beneath this one, he figured they would become lonelier and lonelier as less students advanced in skill to be able to gain access to their knowledge.

Still, it felt like those here were all wizards with some level of skill or experience, rather than novices who’d barely scratched the surface of wizardry, like he had been.

And now, he could dive even deeper into the art.

With that thought in mind, he turned his attention back to the course guide. Since he’d paid for the summer semester, he could—though was not required—to pick his courses for the fall. Instead, he could wait until near the end of summer to do so, allowing him to see how some of his experiments with different summer courses went.

Well, experiment, to be precise.

Looking over his first-year courses, he’d picked ones he’d thought would be useful. That included force magic, which he’d felt should build on his foundation. The class had actually been pretty helpful… But if he was completely honest, he was hitting a wall there.

Some of the spells—especially the attack-oriented ones—really set the Mark off. Learning those was extremely slow, difficult, and—in the end—wouldn’t be of much practical use to him in combat or in anything else.

It was time to change his approach.

Now that he’d learned the basics, he could continue to teach himself specific force spells that could be useful. The more advanced force armour spells would be a high priority, as well as some of the larger versions of Wizard’s Hand.

High-tier spells like Wall of Force, would also be really useful.

For his summer courses though, he’d decided to take three: two would help him progress faster in his biggest strength in wizardry: alchemy. Taking only three courses instead of a full course load of five would leave him with time for himself, for any work with Jules and Baelin, or extra shifts at Shale’s Workshop if any came up. It would also leave him with time to spend with Theresa’s parents when they arrived in a couple of weeks, and more time to spend with Selina.

Since they’d finished sculpting the golem, he’d been so busy, he wasn’t spending enough time with her. He needed to change that.

And as for his experiment course…

He flipped open the course guide to a first-year course:

SUMM-1020: Summoning I. Call upon spirits of the ether to enact your will in the world. Begins with the binding of lesser elementals.

Without hesitation, he wrote it down in the course register then flexed his fingers, thinking back on the Traveller’s message.

There was something about him and teleportation magic. He wasn’t sure if he would call it an affinity, but something about that type of magic worked really well with him, even when it was cast on him. In magic, summoning was similar to teleportation, and the one summoning spell he knew—Summon Stone—had come really easy to him despite having no experience with such magic.

Summoning could be a very dangerous art—he never would have considered taking it before he’d realized he seemed to have a… strange talent for it. Though it would help prepare him for the courses on teleportation magic that were available for second years and above.

Summoning would also give him an edge in combat situations if he learned how to call monsters.

He thought back to the fight with the clawed monsters at the estate. Claygon had been a massive force in that battle, but his golem could only be in one place at a time. Summoned monsters would increase the numbers on his side at any time he needed to.

Smiling to himself, he wrote a new title at the top of one of the pages in his many notebooks—Operation: Roth Army.

He was about to close the book, when he happened to glance at a page partway through the course catalogue. His eyes narrowed at the description.

MBO-1550: Magical Botany I. Explore the world of magical plants for beautification of one’s stronghold, the growing of one’s own alchemical components, to grow food for the specialty diets of one’s familiars and magical creatures, or for one’s own pleasure. Held in the Botanical Gardens.

‘Well, well, now that’s intriguing,’ he thought.

It sounded kind of perfect as something to try during the summer semester. It would help him begin acquiring his own supply of magical fungi and plants, it sounded relaxing, and a course like ‘magical gardening’ was the exact type of course he could exploit without triggering the Mark.

And besides, if he took the course, he’d be able to pass some of what he learned on to Khalik. It might help the prince not only with some applications in earth magic, but also with whatever was brewing between him and Sinope, the beautiful dryad they’d met at the patrizia’s ball.

‘You’ve got my back, man, you bet your ass I got yours,’ Alex thought.

He wrote down one more course for the summer semester.

Chapter 8

Birthdays and Spell-Guides

“It’s an army, Alex!” Selina proudly showed off her newest clay sculptures. “An army of cool wizards and fighters, and good monsters to get rid of evil monsters!”

“And what an army it is,” he said appreciatively. “Wow, you keep getting better and better at this whole sculpting thing.”

“Yep!” Selina vibrated with excitement. “My teacher said I can be really good one day. Maybe I’ll make my own golem when I grow up, like Claygon. Except she’ll be better and cooler looking.”

“Claygon’s as cool as it gets!”

“He’s cool, but mine will be cooler!”

“That’s—Ugh, you know what, forget it.” He looked a bit closer at one of her little sculptures, then back at her. “Hey, is this one of Brutus… and does he have one of those clawed monsters in his mouth?”

“Uh-huh!” she nodded, smiling at the real cerberus.

Theresa’s hunting companion—and family pet—lounged on the balcony. Black furred, three-headed, and the size of a pony, the cerberus would look frightening to most people. However—with two of his heads having a doze after lunch, and one drowsily looking down from the balcony, waiting for Theresa to return—he just looked like a big, old softy.

As if sensing Alex’s thought, Brutus yawned, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth inside jaws that could crush bones like dried twigs.

Okay, maybe not quite a big, old softy.

‘I’m glad he and I get along better now,’ Alex thought.

Thinking about how his relationship with the three headed hound had changed made him look back at his growing sister. She was continuing her growth spurt and was now quite a bit taller with less baby fat than from just a few months ago. It was a reminder of a major event that was coming to their little household: her eleventh birthday.

“Hey, what do you want for your birthday, little goblin?” he asked.

“For you to stop calling me little goblin…”

“You should ask for something more realistic, like a unicorn or a dragon, or all the gold in the world or something.”

She glared, though he could see she didn’t really mean it. He did wonder exactly how long he’d be able to get away with calling her little goblin, though. Selina was getting older. Just on the cusp of adolescence and—being both a teenager and having lived with a bunch of them—he knew very well how… things changed, when children entered their adolescent years.

He winced, recalling some of the awful arguments he’d had with Mr. and Mrs. Lu when he was in his early teens. Thinking about Selina going through a similar phase was making him feel more than a little dread. Especially if she was learning to wield magic.

Alex shook the thought away.

‘Live in the now, like Baelin said. Worry about Angry Teenage Wizard Selina later,’ he thought.

“But seriously, what do you want?” Alex asked. “It’s your first birthday in Generasi, and eleven is a big age! You gotta want something, right?”

She frowned. “I don’t know… I kinda wanted my building blocks when I came here… but I don’t think I want those anymore.”

‘Oh, by the Traveller, she’s growing up!’ a panicked Alex thought, screaming internally, though he kept a straight face. ‘This is it!’

He shook himself.

“Do you want something else then? A new dress? Some new books? I’m not getting you a pet.”

“Aw.” She frowned. “Maybe a dagger.”

“A dagger?” he asked sharply. “Why a dagger?”

“Because…” she said slowly. “Monsters keep attacking us and I—I want to help if bad monsters come after us again.”

“No, no, no-no-no-no,” he said. “You’re way, way, way too young to be thinking about daggers.”

“No, I’m not,” she said. “My friend Zach says she was learning how to use a dagger when she was really young.”

He remembered Zach was the name of one of her friends from school. “Well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Selina. Knives are dangerous and, well, you’re too little to fight monsters.”

“Theresa could teach me how to use it. So could Isolde and Khalik.”

He thought back to when he was younger. His mother and father had him helping in the kitchen—using knives—when he was even younger than she was. Theresa had been given her first hunting knife when she was around twelve or thirteen.

But something about Selina wielding one just… made Alex a little uncomfortable.

Then he thought back to Baelin’s final speech after their practical exam. Defenceless loved ones had no business on the battlefield, but sometimes they ended up there. Which resurfaced an earlier lesson from the chancellor about children. A harsh lesson.

Children could die in this dangerous world, and things would try to kill them whether or not they could defend themselves. And wasn’t his sister about to start learning magic, a lot of which was much more dangerous than a knife?

He shook his head.

Maybe a weapon wasn’t the worst idea ever.

“If you want a knife—a small one, and not a dagger—I can get you a good knife,” he said slowly.

“Really?” She blinked in surprise. “Alex, you’re awesome!”

“Now, before you start—rightfully—singing my praises, there’s going to be a bunch of rules,” he said. “First of all, it’s a regular knife. You can use it to whittle, carve things, cut food, but it’s not for hurting people. Also, until I know you can be safe with it, you’re not using it at all unless Theresa or I are around.”

“Got it. Tha—”

“I’m not done. We’re going to ask Theresa if she can teach you how to use it. If she says she can, then you can have it. If not, then there’s no way. Lastly, and you have to promise me this, okay?”

Her cheer had faded as she saw how serious he was. “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice.

“If a bad monster comes along, you stay with me, Theresa, Khalik, or one of our friends. Even Brutus or Claygon. If you can’t, or if it’s too dangerous around us, you run away, okay?”

“No, I don’t want to run!” she said.

“No—promise or no knife.” His voice was flat and left no room for argument. “You only use the knife to defend yourself if you absolutely have to. Okay? You’re small—and you’re very brave—so if you run up to a monster with it, then you and some of us could get hurt trying to protect you.”

That drew her up short. “Never mind. I don’t want a knife.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing out the window in the direction where Claygon was posted in the courtyard. “It’s okay. It’d be bad if we got hurt.”

“Hmmm,” he mused. “Okay… but when you learn magic, you’ll be able to defend yourse—”

He paused, his mind finally seeming to turn on. “Okay, I’m going to get you something on your birthday too, but how about this for a belated birthday present? When you get a little further in school with your magic training, I’ll sit down with you and teach you all kinds of cool spells that you can use to protect yourself.”

She looked up suddenly, much more excited now. “Really? That’d be sooo cool!”

“Yeah, it would be!” he said, thinking about it. They’d be spending time together while he was helping her learn more about wizardry, he could use the Mark to enhance teaching her, and he might even gain more insights into his own studies at the same time. Teaching a subject to someone often brought a new understanding of it to the teacher.

It was a definite win-win.

“But you also have to tell me—” He stopped short, buttoning his lips.

“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.” He could barely resist grinning. “I thought of your present.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“No, come on, tell me!”

“You’d have to pry the information from my cold, dead lips,” he said.

She argued with him for a time, before finally giving up and simply glaring at him suspiciously.

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Don’t be immature, Selina,” he said, actively ignoring the irony of an eighteen-year-old calling someone immature while sticking their tongue out.

Alex chuckled as she shook her head and returned to her clay sculptures. He turned to his books, having to stifle another chuckle as a massive wave of deja vu spread over him.

Before him were five spell-guides. In addition to the courses he’d be taking over the shortened summer semester, he’d also borrowed five spell-guides from the library that he wanted to teach himself from. In many ways, it felt like a return to when he’d first arrived in Generasi. He even had a new notebook ready to go to record his progress with the new spells.

The only major differences—aside from the fact that the spells were more powerful and he was more skilled—were the reasons he’d chosen the spells.

Before classes officially began for first year, he’d been mostly focused on getting a head start on learning new magics—the Mark had been even more of a hindrance back then—to practice, and to learn what his limits might be.

So, he’d started with a spell very similar to the only one he’d already known—forceball—and gradually built up to spells that were new to him. Now, since he had a fairly good idea of what he could overcome through the Mark’s interference, he’d mostly made his choices based on what would be useful to him that he wouldn’t be learning in his summer courses, what would prepare him for future courses, and what would be just plain fun.

He glanced at the first spell guide: force armour.

Lesser Force Armour protected the head, chest, trunk, and groin, and had lighter protection on the arms.

Force armour, however, was far more comprehensive. The grid of force created was stronger and better able to withstand more punishment, and it covered the legs as well as the upper body. The protection on the arms was as strong as across the rest of the body as well.

It was an excellent way to generate additional protection.

Next was a first-tier spell: body strengthening.

This was actually one of the spells Thundar knew when he’d first started at Generasi, and Alex planned on getting help from his friend as well as learning what he could on his own from the spell guide. There was one thing that he’d learned from all of his fights: the physical body couldn’t be neglected.

Early on, when he would think about being a wizard, he used to picture them as lean and powerful—and mostly old—folk who just turned everyone into whatever they wanted to turn them into. Experiencing actual combat made him see how much his physical training mattered. His stamina kept him going in fights that would have exhausted him when he was skinny and out of condition, his strength allowed him to handle opponents when his spells wouldn’t, and his agility let him maneuver on the battlefield.

His Sensory Enhancement Potion and Haste Potion had been vital in every fight he’d used them in, but he didn’t have an infinite supply of potions.

Going down the path of physical transmutation was something he never would have risked when he’d first gotten to Generasi. The Mark’s interference made casting even the simplest spells incredibly difficult. So trying spells that risked a mana reversal by actively messing with his body, was definitely not anything he would have tried in first year.

Now, though, he’d gotten a far better handle on his limits and how to go through the Mark. He was comfortable with trying this simple spell now, and then if that went well, he’d sign up for a course in the subject for fall semester.

The next was another second-tier spell: Call Through Air.

It was structurally quite similar to Call Through Ice, so it should be easy to learn. It was also a good idea to get more experience with teleportation spells that used different planes because that could help him in his summoning class.

By gaining experience with spells that called from other elements, he’d be able to build a foundation. Summoning often called for creatures from different planes and Alex wanted versatility.

The second to last spell-guide was Lesser Phantom Display, a tiny illusion that was often used to entertain children. What Thundar had said about his illusions class made Alex want to explore that particular kind of magic. Tricking enemies with false images, making himself or his friends invisible, and using it in other ways would be useful for misdirection.

And for the final spell…

Alex turned to the last spell-guide with some apprehension. It was a first-tier spell.

Written across the front was the title: Life to Mana.

The guide would be his introduction to the discipline of blood magic, which unfortunately wasn’t being offered as a summer course. Since the description sounded like it could be really useful because it would open up his options, it meant he’d have to begin learning it on his own. In a way, he was torn. Blood magic was a kind of magic that both intrigued him… and made him very nervous.

Chapter 9

Blood Magic and Incoming Visitors

Blood magic had a complicated history.

According to Alex’s magic lore class, it was largely considered to be one of the most dangerous sorts of wizardry in existence. The spell arrays of blood magic were somewhat similar to body enhancement, where magic directly enhanced—or hindered—the physical body, creating magic circuits that directly connected to one’s body.

Blood magic, however, created magic circuits that connected directly to the heart.

Alex flipped open his textbook on magic lore, though he’d memorized most of it by now. Still, when it came to certain kinds of magic, he wanted to make sure he verified everything he could.

The magic lore textbook was one of those stitched-together books that had approximately five editors, and three times that many authors. Each chapter gave the perspective of some different well-known name in the field, lending their expertise to young minds. It made for a very eclectic read. For all of the editors’ efforts, some chapters were engaging, others overdramatic, and then those written in that dry way of many academic papers, where it seemed the authors were both trying to prove how many specific terms they knew and confuse the reader to death at the same time.

The entry on blood magic by one Professor Vlad Drac leaned toward the overdramatic.

In all the misty ages that wizardry has walked with us, there are few forms of magic as ancient or enduring as blood magic. Before there were spell arrays and alchemical formulae and the scholarizing of magic, ancient practitioners knew that blood contained power. This is the old way.

Alex shuddered. He remembered Professor Jules saying something very similar when she’d summoned the shoggoth to harvest chaos essence from it. The old ways were reaching a unanimous vote on being pretty scary. He continued reading the passage.

Cave paintings that depict practitioners of magic harvesting blood and life to power their crude, ancient spells have been found in several ancient settlements. Fascinatingly, this was often achieved through the sacrifice of another beneath a sharp stone knife.

Alex shuddered again.

This is the first principle of blood magic: sacrifice. All magic requires some sort of sacrifice—even if that is merely in the form of mana and time—but blood magic’s requirements are specific. Blood magic always requires blood and life for its spells to be cast. One’s lifeforce flows through blood in the body, much as magic circuits carry mana to power a spell.

The similarities between mana and blood grow more obvious when one studies how blood is utilized in the supernatural world. Think of vampires. Many varieties drain blood from living creatures to empower their own existence—whether living or undead—and develop varied mystical powers. Mana vampires drain mana to accomplish much the same, and many wizards theorize they are a similar species that came to be through convergent development.

However, blood can do a lot more in the hands of a practiced blood mage.

Lifeforce is power—intrinsically connected to us—and can be converted to mana to create all sorts of wondrous effects. In the civilization of Panucoco, the ancient wizard-priest, Itzcoatl, discovered that the power of life could be harvested from the body without killing the donor. This accelerated blood magic’s development greatly, for wizards could now study it in greater detail. Any subject used to power blood magic would still be alive afterward, allowing blood magicians to examine the aftereffects of the art on those that donated blood and life to it.

Such benefits allowed for major improvements in the art.

And a few centuries later, the art of sympathetic magic arose in several societies within a few years of each other. Our blood belongs to us and can be grouped first by type and then by further individual peculiarities. It remains the liquid that our life resided in, even when separated from us. It will still bear our scent. A practitioner of blood magic can use a sample of an enemy’s blood to establish a strong connection.

One can then use another’s blood to cast spells on them from afar and lower their resistance to magic. One can heal or harm. One can lay curses. One can even create an effigy of a friend or enemy and douse it with a sample of that person’s blood. With the correct spells, one can create a sympathetic resonance between the effigy and the owner of the blood.

‘And that is where the fun begins,’ as my teacher used to say. If one then damages the effigy, then the blood’s owner will suffer a lessened but similar effect. If one repairs the effigy, then the owner will benefit from similar healing as a boon. If one puppets the effigy, one can gain some control of an enemy.

And so on.

One can even use blood magic on the self. By attaching magic circuits to the heart, the blood mage can access their own blood and the lifeforce therein directly. You, the student, can then convert your lifeforce to mana or control your blood by directly infusing it with mana: this can enhance or heal the body.

Do note though, that blood magic comes with risks.

The connection that one establishes to another using their blood is a two-way connection. It is greatly in the blood practitioner’s favour, but life and magic flow both ways.

Blood calls to blood, no matter the direction of that call. And you, the blood mage, are connected to your victim’s blood through the magic circuits of your spells. This can have catastrophic results if one is not careful.

The blood mage Radagar famously thought to slay his former wizardry master, Glaius, by stealing his blood and attempting to use sympathetic magic upon him. Glaius—though largely unschooled in blood magic—was nevertheless much older, more powerful, and more aware than his former apprentice. The old wizard was able to feel the connection and send his own mana through it, freezing Radagar to death with ice magic while the young wizard was in mid-ritual.

Another thing to remember is that lifeforce is not infinite. Blood magic might heal the body, but in doing so, one is directing one’s inner vitality to quickly heal wounds or other damage. Draw upon the vitality too quickly and you can take years off a person’s lifespan or even kill them, thus leaving a freshly healed, beautiful corpse. Convert too much lifeforce into mana, and your corpse would be able to cast as many spells as it wanted. Imagine an error in spellcasting that not only caused a mana reversal, but also directly disrupted the lifeforce.

The practiced blood mage takes care to build their lifeforce through regular exercise, herbs, proper diet, and rest. There is even an art in the east known as ‘Life Enforcement’ that might aid in growing your lifeforce, though I know little of this at the time of writing. It might be too good to be true; be careful to avoid fads and false disciplines.

Alex chuckled. Drac’s entry showed its age there.

Know your limits and know the law as well.

In Generasi, it is illegal to cast blood magic on another unless they can confirm to a questioning authority that they verbally consented to this, you can produce a written document acknowledging their consent to blood magic, or you have used it only in providing medical assistance and the party was unable to consent at the time.

Sentences for unsanctioned sympathetic magic are as vicious as the art itself.

Alex leaned back, pushing the book away and frowning. Blood magic was one of those arts you tended to think of when the phrase dark wizardry was mentioned. Vlad Drac’s chapter went on with many positive applications of blood magic practiced throughout the world—particularly in a medical context—but he also told several horror stories of blood mages enslaving others through sympathetic magic or using blood magic and alchemy in combination to induce horrifying mutations in themselves and others.

It was a creepy, risky art, but if used properly, the benefits would be great. The lure of being able to heal himself was a strong one and—now that he had a far greater handle on the Mark—he was ready to try to carefully take up the art.

At the very least, he also needed to be able to defend against it. His frown deepened as he imagined a blood mage targeting him. What if they got some of his blood? Or Khalik’s? …Or Theresa’s?

He shuddered.

Even the blood of—

“Why do you look so funny?” Selina asked.

“Hm? What?” Alex looked up. “Oh, it’s… Well, magic sometimes isn’t very nice.”

He closed the book.

Blood magic was something to worry about another day.

For now, it was time to work on other spells.

He picked up the guide for force armour, then opened up a blank notebook:

Training Day 1-Take II

“Mother and Father were delayed. Torrential rains in the lowlands turned the roads into muck, so they won’t reach Port Mausarr for another week or more,” Theresa said. Her parents’ latest letter was sticking out of her bag. “Still, I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

Thnk!

Her arrow slammed into a target halfway down the length of the stadium, and she quickly drew another one. Brutus, sitting beside Selina who was deep into reading a book, watched her. Alex—taking a break from a punishing calisthenics routine—was going over the spell-guide for force armour and making notes on aspects of the spell array that were similar to lesser force armour, as well as anticipating which parts might cause him trouble.

Khalik and Thundar were doing laps around the field—while under body enhancement spells—and Isolde fired lightning spell after lightning spell into a training dummy with some of her friends from second year.

Nearby, Zhao Shishi meditated after finishing exercising with Theresa. Life enforcement was doing her good. Shishi looked much stronger and healthier than the last time Alex had seen her.

‘And speaking of life enforcement,’ his eyes turned to another part of the stadium, where he heard a loud grunt. Nua-Oge and Grimloch were there. Nua-Oge was practicing firing spells at a line of training dummies, while weaving between them on a wave of water she’d conjured. Nearby, her younger brother was performing the Spear-and-Oar Dance as he held a massive steel pole that looked more like a tree trunk made of metal, than a staff.

The already hulking shark man had grown even more muscular now that he was further along the path of life enforcement. Alex noticed his gaze would frequently find Claygon…

…Was there a rivalry brewing there?

“It’ll be so good when your mom and dad finally get here,” Alex said with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Gah, there’s so much I want to show them. And so little time. Like there’s the beastarium, the gardens, there’s Shale’s. There’s all kinds of things. Where do you want to take them?”

“More places than just the university,” she said. “When I go into the city with Shishi or Isolde, we always see so many new places and things. So much more than we’ve seen together.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Alex said, wincing a little.

Honestly, he’d wanted nothing more than to explore Generasi, but Uldar’s priests prowling around the city made it dangerous for him to do so. Most of his trips into the city were only for going into work—near the university—and then back.

Eventually, almost every priest of Uldar had been called home to support the war-effort, but by then, he’d been so busy, he didn’t have enough free time to go exploring. He also didn’t really want to risk running into one of the few that remained, no matter how few there were now.

So, he was just a biiiit jealous of his friends.

“We could get a sky-gondola,” Theresa said, giving him a meaningful look. “Take a tour from above, and then land in a few places they’d want to go to… That might be okay for you to go to. Like the museum, the Rainbow Tower and some other places.”

“What’s the Rainbow Tower?” Selina asked, looking up from her book.

“One of the tallest towers in the city,” Alex said. “Former home of ‘Noarc, the Rainbow Wizard.’ He was this gifted weather wizard who seriously advanced weather magic.”

“Weather magic?” the little girl asked.

“Yeah, wizardry that controls the weather.”

Selina and Theresa froze and looked at him slowly.

“You can do that?” Theresa asked.

“Well, I can’t,” he said. “But some wizards can. Before Noarc, the spell-craft needed was nuts.” He recalled a passage from his magic lore textbook. “You needed a ritual and like, a hundred wizards, and at least two of them had to be able to cast ninth-tier spells. So, changes in the weather were basically the business of the gods and the weather. But Noarc came from a land where the gods were fickle, apparently. They fiddled with the weather a lot. They’d make it rain for weeks in a fit of rage, then out of grief, send an endless winter, and then a long stretch of drought.

“Noarc came to study at Generasi and was obsessed with making spells where a single wizard could control the weather. And he finally did it when he was ninety-nine years old. He made this seventh-tier spell that lets one wizard control the weather for about a day. It takes a ridiculous amount of mana and the spell-craft is so complex that very few wizards can cast it, but he did it.”

He glanced up at the sky. “According to the book, there was a drought in Generasi that year, and he marched out of his tower after being holed up in there for like a decade and just made it rain. Then he marched back into his tower, wrote down all of his notes, donated his research to the university, and went back to his homeland and lived another thirty years, solving weather problems. The city made his home—the Rainbow Tower—into a sort of public monument.”

“That’s sooooo cool!” Selina said excitedly. “I want to do that!”

“Maybe you’ll be able to.” He smiled. “And if you’re all going to the Rainbow Tower, I’d love to come with you, if I can. I’ve also got to prepare a welcome gift.”

There was a lot he had to thank the Lu’s for. He owed them so much for all they’d done for him and Selina over the years, and… though it was in a different way to his own parents, he loved them. There was no way they were leaving Generasi without something from him to remember the trip by.

“Say, how long are they staying?” Alex asked. “Does it say in the letter?”

“A month,” she said. “The trip across the Rhinean Empire isn’t a short one, so they want to make it worth it. My brothers are working with my uncle… That poor, poor man.”

“Oh, they’re not that bad,” Alex laughed.

“They’ve probably wrecked half the smithy,” she said in a voice that was half-humour, half-sincere worry. She froze. “Oh, by the Traveller—if they’re late—they’ll be here for the Games of Roal!”

“The what now?”

“They didn’t teach you that in magic lore? They—” Something caught Theresa’s attention over Alex’s shoulder. “What’s that all about?”

Alex craned his neck over his shoulder.

A crowd—no, two crowds—of students had entered the stadium. And they did not look very happy to see each other.

Alex’s eyes narrowed.

One group was very familiar.

Chapter 10

The Hydra and the Beast

The Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood was immediately recognizable by their green shirts adorned with the silver symbol of a two-headed beast. The young men walked with the swagger of one trying to actively appear as big and impressive as possible.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

He’d seen that walk from time to time back in Alric—though not so much here—displayed by the young sons of trades folk in town. After a night of drinking or some other event that got folk riled up, sometimes a few of those strong, young men would go swaggering about town, trying to show everyone how tough they were.

When different groups trying to look impressive and intimidating came across each other, things regularly wound up with a scuffle or fists flying.

He was a little surprised to see that swagger here. The university students were older than the fifteen-year-olds in Alric, and usually more disciplined.

Finding that cocksure attitude coming from students at a wizard university kind of took him off guard. Though, if anyone was going to act like that, the young battlemages of the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood would be likely candidates.

He recognized three individuals from that group: the trio who’d been loudly trying to recruit new students into their brotherhood a year ago. Gregori—the battlemage he’d beaten in a spell joust—stood tall and arrogant with his arms crossed in front of him, glaring at the other students.

The opposing wizards were a group of young men and women who wore sapphire-blue shirts and carried a hard-bitten look. Beastmen were among them. Far more than in the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood.

Alex noticed bronze thread stitched into a symbol on their chests: a hydra with five heads extending from a snake-like body. The groups stood across from each other—glaring coldly—with no one saying a word.

The rest of the stadium fell quiet and watched. Then a dwarfish woman stepped out of the crowd of sapphire-blue shirts.

“Insult’s been given to the Hydra’s Companionhood,” she said, glaring up at three Ursa-Lupine members. “And we demand satisfaction.”

“The Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood answers,” a tall young man stepped forward and glared down at her. “What insult do you say was committed by our brothers?”

The dwarfish woman glanced back at a young beastman who resembled an elk. He cleared his throat. “One fortnight ago, four of your brothers broke into the House of the Companions and stole the companion house mascot.”

A few snickers went through the brotherhood, but the leader kept a straight face.

“He was missing for two days,” the elk beastman continued. “When we found him, someone had painted his scales bright green!”

“Then it’s an improvement!” one of the green shirts laughed. Several others started giggling until their leader threw a look over his shoulder that made them fall silent.

Alex heard a sudden gasp from nearby and glanced over to see Isolde rapidly turning away from the conflict, even though her friends were still closely watching.

He looked back, trying to figure out what she’d reacted to.

His eyes widened when he caught sight of a shock of red hair.

“Oh shi—” He caught himself, remembering that Selina was close. “I mean, when did that happen?”

“What?” Theresa asked, glancing about the stadium.

“Look over there. See that redhead?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s Derek.”

“Oh, that’s him?” she looked back with interest.

Sure enough, Isolde’s ex-partner stood with the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood, complete with a brand new emerald green shirt. His normal overconfidence was a bit subdued—as people tended to be in a new group—but he still looked quite comfortable there.

Something must have changed.

The last Alex knew of Derek and anything having to do with battle, was when he’d failed Baelin’s first test, hindering his entire group in the process. He also had to repeat both semesters of first year alchemy because he’d been caught cheating.

Alex glanced at Isolde.

The bastard had nearly destroyed her academic career, since his cheating involved copying her assignments without her knowledge and submitting them as his own. He’d done it while she and he had been dating, which made things even worse.

But, there he was, an obvious member of Ursa-Lupine, looking like some confident, swaggering, first-string battle-mage.

When Alex was in the same alchemy class as him, he’d seen Derek—still attached to Carey London—in the class the entire time. There hadn’t been any big announcement bringing the class to a halt, revealing that he’d been caught cheating again. Either he’d stopped cheating or he’d gotten a lot better at covering his tracks, or the young man had gotten his act together.

And from what Alex knew of that brotherhood, they didn’t recruit students into their ranks who were useless in combat or weak academically. Blowhards, yes, but noncombatants, no.

Either way, it wasn’t his business, unless Derek made it his business.

“I’m going to go talk to Isolde,” Theresa said, heading toward their friend.

“Yeah, hope she’s okay,” he said, thinking about the bad blood between the two of them. Derek nearly ruining her future at Generasi and then her exposing him for cheating, wasn’t exactly a good recipe for an amicable break up.

He watched as the two groups organized some sort of contest: a way to satisfy the ‘insult’ that had occurred between them.

“Alex!” Khalik waved as he joined him. “Well, would you look at that? Our old friends seem ready for a brawl.”

“Looks like it,” Alex said.

Three students from each group had broken off from the rest and stood in two opposing lines across the width of the stadium, while their group members watched from a reasonably close—but safe—distance.

“Another spell-joust, you think?” Khalik asked.

“Maybe something different. Oh, yeah, and I wanted to talk to you now that we got a moment,” Alex said.

The students in the two lines briefly spoke to each other, then shook hands and stepped back to their lines. Then, the spell casting began.

A student from each group who stood farthest away began firing beams of magic at one another.

Boom! Boom!

The beams cracked like thunder as they slammed into each other.

“About what?” the prince asked, still watching.

“It’s about classes.”

Two more students were locked eye-to-eye, their lips quietly saying incantations. Alex could see a rippling in the air between them. Some sort of telekinesis spell?

“What about them? You mean summer classes?”

The last pair of opponents threw their hands up and shouted their incantations.

“Yeah, there’s a course I’m starti—Waaait a minute.”

Alex felt a shift of mana in the air. As he’d gained more experience with Call Through Ice, he was starting to recognize the difference between teleportation magic and something close to it, like summoning.

This was definitely summoning magic.

The air shimmered between the two students, then the ground began to bubble.

Hssss.

Two circles formed in the earth, shaking like the water on a storm-wracked sea. A green mist rose, and in that mist, Alex saw two silhouettes materialize. A pair of creatures emerged from the green fog. Two ugly little humanoid beasts—with purplish skin like a body entirely covered in bruising—with extremely short legs and incredibly long arms. The arms also seemed… flexible. They looked more like tentacles with hands attached to them than arms.

“Slay my enemy!” the Ursa-Lupine brother shouted, pointing at his rival’s summoned monster.

“Wring that little bastard’s neck!” the Hydra Companion cried, gesturing to the monster conjured by her opponent.

The two creatures faced each other, then shuddered as each released a horrifying screech that cut through the air. They leapt at each other.

Then their arms… split.

Each arm quivered, dividing into four tentacles that lashed out like whips. The tentacles waved through the air, wrapping around each other and grappling their adversary as the monsters hopped about, trying to outmaneuver each other.

Khalik scoffed. “I have seen great apes fight in a similar way. Though with less tentacles. I must admit, I might have found such a display grotesque at one time, but this seems tame compared to the mana vampire.”

“Ugh, you should try being in the same room as a shoggoth,” Alex said, then he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. “Or near Hobb.”

The prince burst out laughing. “I tell you, he is fine. Here you are dissecting mana vampires and blasting worms and xyrthaks, while friendly old Hobb gives you a shiver.”

“Yeah, because I’m smart, you see. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, are you taking any courses in the summer?”

Khalik shrugged. “I had considered one or two. Why? How many are you taking?”

“Four.”

“Four? By the sapphire sea, man, you do not enjoy the idea of breaks do y—no, wait, you are the one that feeds himself pineapple using his spells.”

“Well, let’s just say I want to be prepared for everything I can. I mean, I can enjoy a break by taking one less course.”

“That’s not a break.”

“Compared to what I had to do to get into this university? It’s basically an endless Sigmus. Anyway, I’m taking magical botany, and I wanted to know if you want my notes or something. Could be a conversation topic for you and Sinope, eh?”

The prince paused, his hand running through his sculpted beard. “Interesting…”

“It might help your earth magic too? Offer a new perspective?”

Khalik’s eyes narrowed in thought. “When is the course being held?”

“It’s a morning one. Not quite crack of dawn, but close enough.”

“Ugh, I should have known. Farmers and their early rising and all. Hmmm, I think I shall skip the notes and take the course myself.”

Alex grinned. “That actually sounds awesome! It’d be nice to be in a class with you where things aren’t trying to kill us all the time.”

“Well,” Khalik chuckled. “Let us not speak too soon. It is wizardry after all. I’m sure someone’s made a plant that can spit acid or fire, or mind-controlling liquids—Oh, looks like they’re done.”

Alex looked back over to the group of spell-jousters.

It looked like the Ursa-Lupine brother had beaten the Hydra Companion in the beam clash, but the pair that had been struggling with telekinetic forces had seen it go the other way. The Hydra Companion shattered their opponent’s shimmer at the same time their summoned monster defeated its opponent.

“Done!” the Hydra Companionhood leader shouted. “You’re defeated and satisfaction is our prize!”

The leader of the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood grimaced. “What’s the penalty?”

“The three who stole our mascot will stand before your brotherhood house for three days. Five hours each day.” She gave a nasty grin. “Wearing nothing but loincloths with our hydra painted on their chests.”

The students from the Hydra Companionhood burst out laughing.

“Well, that’s charming,” Alex muttered. “Could you imagine if we’d joined that?”

“No, because we’re part of a group that happily charges against monsters instead,” Khalik said with a wry look. “Hmmm, speaking of fun, at some point we should speak of the Games of Roal.”

“Khalik, I don’t have any idea what that is.”

“Oh, it’s—” Khalik glanced up. “Ah, looks like the others have finished as well. We’ll chat about it later.”

Alex gave him a look. “You know, whenever someone says ‘let’s chat about it later’ they’re usually the first to die in all those horror stories the bards tell.”

“You know who else tends to die first?”

“Who?”

The prince looked Alex dead in the eye. “The silly comic relief character.”

“…Khalik?”

“Yes?”

“I hate you.”

The prince burst out laughing.

Alex and Khalik stumbled—bleary-eyed—into the botanical gardens shortly after the sun had risen. The summer heat—combined with the moisture of the massive greenhouse—struck them in a wave.

This was the first morning of their first class in magical botany.

“I hope the first thing we learn is about magical coffee,” Khalik grunted. “Najyah went crazy because I was up so early. Alex, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“I dunno, I’ve had some pretty bad ideas,” Alex grumbled. “But yeah… this is up there.”

The two young men dragged themselves toward the designated area for their first class of the summer.

“Right, while I remember,” Alex said. “What are these Games of Roal?”

“Ah, yes, the games. They are an event held by the Watchers for the Summer Equinox, celebrating Roal’s contributions to the city and her defeat of the Demigod Oreca.”

“Right, son of some kind of minor fish deity.”

It had been an exam question on the midterm in magic lore. He remembered her stabbing her sword into the demigod’s belly then channeling a spell of dehydration that withered the demi-deity, slaying it.

“Indeed. Every year they hold minor games that take place over sea, forest, and field.” He paused in thought. “Have you ever been to a tournament for knights? A joust and the like?”

“No, but I take it this is the same thing, but for wizards?” Alex asked, growing more alert.

“Yes, and for the nobility of Generasi or any others who care to participate. Many come just to attend or try their luck. The prize money is fairly attractive to most.”

Alex really perked up at that. “Did you say prize money?”

All earlier sleepiness was now long gone.

Chapter 11

A Little Magical Botany Class of Horrors

“Oh, yes,” Khalik said emphatically. “While the games are run by the Watchers, they’re sponsored by the city. A number of the events have different prizes: usually fine items for one to display—laurels of platinum, dragon-bone flutes, clasps of gold—though some of the competitions provide the winners with actual magical items, which are donated by the finest shops and crafters in Generasi. At least, that’s how it was in my brother’s day.”

“Donated?” Alex asked. “That doesn’t sound like a good way to… you know, make coin.”

“Aaaah, you underestimate the games. These merchants and crafters do not donate out of any desire to be charitable. No, their minds work to expand their purses.” The prince tapped the side of his head. “You worked at a bakery in your hometown, did the baker not bring some of his confectionery to your festivals?”

Alex burst out laughing. “First of all, bold of you to think we were fancy enough for confectionery. Second, I’m pretty sure the only thing McHarris would ever donate to anyone was his hand in someone’s coin purse.”

“Truly? Perhaps it is different in Thameland, then.” Khalik looked around at the lush gardens around them. They were passing through a small grove of trees heavy with ripe fruit. The fact that the fruit looked like giant eyeballs made them pretty unnerving. “In Tekezash, whenever there is an event—a party, wedding or tournament, that my family attends—tailors, chefs, and other trades folk behave like they would gut each other for a chance to supply the event with their wares. Even if they must provide their goods without charge. Think of it this way: suppose I sample a glass of wine at a party. I enjoy it and openly compliment it. What do you think happens?”

“Well, uh, I’m not sure. If people are trying to get in the good graces of the prince, then they’re going to pay attention to whatever you do?”

“Exactly,” Khalik winced. “It is one of the reasons why it is so good to be anonymous here. Back home, if I try a sweet at a festival one day, I wake up the next to find the vendor of that sweet up to their necks in orders from courtiers, and pounds of the sweet delivered to me with their compliments. For months everyone around me would be eating it in hopes that it would start a conversation.”

“Ugh, that sounds kinda creepy. Well, maybe it’s different for you, but that’d get really creepy for me really fast.”

“It amused my brother, but it made me uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Alex said, glancing behind him.

Claygon was walking just behind them, taking up basically the entire path. The golem’s ‘helmeted’ head nearly scraped the lower branches of the canopy. Najyah was perched on Claygon’s shoulder and had nodded off sometime during the trip.

‘You’d better not poop on my golem,’ Alex thought. ‘Or it’s eagle stew.’

His mind stopped at that: his golem.

If the expedition to Thameland was successful, there’d likely be a lot of wizards making their own Claygons—crafted from dungeon core remains. On the one hand, that excited him, but on the other, it’d be… strange, seeing his once unique golem all over the place.

In a way, it was kind of like what Khalik had said. Waking up one day to see that everyone was doing the same as you.

That made some things click in Alex’s mind.

“Oooh,” he said. “So, if a champion or winner of a game wins… I dunno, a super awesome magical sword, then people will pay attention to the sword and who crafted it.”

“Now you get it. Other prizes are donated by the city too, like coin purses. Apparently, one year the prize for the flying joust was a purse of a thousand gold and a suit of armour worth fifteen hundred gold pieces.”

“W-what?” Alex gaped. “That’s—holy shit!”

“The games are very well-funded,” Khalik chuckled. “You know why kings, lords, and realms throw these tournaments? To show off. High prizes just scream about how wealthy you are. ‘I can afford to offer a prized warhorse as the top prize for a race! It took years of breeding, time, and training to raise him, but I can afford to just give him away! You see?”

“That’s crazy…” Alex shook his head. “But others’ showing off might be to our gain. I’ll ask Theresa, she’s close enough to the Watchers. Maybe she’ll know what events they’ll be having.”

“Indeed—Ah look, we have arrived!”

The prince, the Fool, and the golem stepped into a clearing with a stone area about the size of a large classroom. There weren’t any walls, and a number of chairs and tables had been set up—or likely walked there by themselves—and students were already getting themselves set up. Some wore straw hats or had cast a spell of tinted shade over themselves. Alex looked through the trees at the glass ceiling high above.

The sun would likely be brutal as the day went on. He should’ve brought his hat.

They chose seats at the front of the class, but Alex had Claygon stand at the back out of the way. In front of them rose one of the slabs of obsidian that served as a writing board for the professors, and directly in front of it were several plants: some green, some blue…

“Is… that…” Alex squinted. “Is that plant on fire?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” said a husky student from the next desk. “It’s fireweed. It ignites the air within close proximity to it with its mana, but other than that, it’s harmless.”

That was exactly the sort of definition of harmless that someone would apply to a crocodile being raised by a seemingly half-mad goblin wizard in order to sic it on his opponents.

Not exactly harmless. At all.

Alex wondered how Kybas was doing. He hadn’t seen the little goblin-wizard since the practical exam for alchemy.

“And is that one also harmless?” Khalik pointed to a plant at the end of the line. It was a massive greenish-black monstrosity with several stalks, each one ending in long, snouted sets of green and yellow striped jaws. There were no lips, so its endless fangs were visible and unnerving.

Near it was a suspiciously empty cage with its door open.

“Ya, if you stay away from it,” the student said dryly.

“Mhmmmm.” Khalik looked around. “And is that the reason our professor is missing? I see his bag, but I do not see him.”

“I’m alright!” a voice called.

Alex and Khalik startled and turned.

Surrounding the open classroom were several patches of vegetation rising from raised garden beds framed in stone. One was a particularly thick patch of rye, through which Alex could see a slight form moving about.

“Vampire pumpkin got out of its cage and into the rye! Just need to catch i—aha! Got you, you orange little pig!”

A rustling came from the rye, and a dark-haired man sprang up, triumphantly holding a big orange pumpkin that struggled in his grip. On his hands were heavily-padded, elbow length gloves.

“Thought you could hide from me? Feh, I’d make you into a pie, but you’d taste like six-day old buns that vagabonds had pawed over.” He emerged from the rye, marched across the stones, and shoved the pumpkin into the cage, promptly locking the door. He double checked the lock before turning away.

Even in Generasi, it made for a strange sight.

The slightly built man moved a nearby plant that had thin stalks with four leaves like some sort of clover. “And this is why you never leave Earth Key—or zemaljski ključ—” he shook the plant slightly to indicate it “—as it’s called in its homeland in Savdrava, which is within the Irtyshenan Empire, for those who don’t know—near locks of any kind. Even its juice can open most locks when rubbed on them, and the fumes it gives off can sometimes pop a lock.”

He moved the plant about fifteen feet away from the cage, toward the end of the row. The professor took his gloves off and rubbed his hands together with a sort of contagious nervous energy. “Welcome to MBO-1550: Magical Botany I, I’m Professor Salinger, but we’re all adults here, so, you can call me Holden.”

He gave a slight smile, and his lip trembled a bit. “First of all. To any of you who are taking this for an ‘easy credit,’ I invite you to—” he pointed at the path they’d used to reach the class “—take the easy route out now. There’s a lot of memorizing in this course—”

The professor stopped short, double-taking on one student in particular—a huge grin had swept across Alex’s face. The Mark was built for this sort of thing.

“Ooookay, I guess someone likes reading. Well good, because there’s two textbooks for this class and a compressed semester is not a long time to get through them both.”

He noted nobody leaving then nodded. “Good, the class is small enough. I’d call it cozy, but any smaller and we’d just be lonely. So!”

Professor Salinger turned to the plants behind him. “Magical botany is the study of plants that contain mana of some kind, which gives them powers, uses, and abilities beyond regular flora. You aren’t going to find guides to gardening or raising dandelions here.”

He pointed to the jawed plant Khalik had pointed out earlier. “Aubrey’s Eclipse. If fed enough blood, it can grow to the size of an oak tree. Sentient blood makes it smarter. But! If you harvest its pods during an eclipse and simmer them for precisely forty-eight hours in sea water? It’ll clean out your blood of just about any contaminant known to wizardry. Poison? Gone. Hangover? Gone. Parasites? Gone.” He turned to the pumpkin, which was oddly sulking in its cage. “The vampire pumpkin—a relative to the killer tomato—was considered nothing more than a pest: an old pumpkin left outside on a full moon in an area contaminated by recently spilled blood, that came to life to cause mischief on a farm. Now, we know that the seeds, if dried and ground, will act as a repellent against mosquitoes, black flies, and most other blood-drinkers. And this is without refining them through the discipline of alchemy. So, what am I getting at with all this?”

He looked around, and Khalik raised his hand.

“Yes, your name?”

“Khalik,” he said. “I think, Holden, that you are hinting that magical plants have value, but they are not easy. They are often dangerous. And I suppose each must be handled with care?”

“Exactly,” Professor Salinger pointed to Aubrey’s Eclipse. “If you were to go close to that specimen half-asleep, hungover or what-have-you, like you were simply picking flowers, then it will take your whole damn arm off in under a second, if it hasn’t been recently fed.”

He turned toward the board and wrote a single word.

Respect.

“This is going to be the most important thing I’m ever going to teach you. Magical botany requires three kinds of respect from you.” He pointed to the plants. “Respect for the plants—” He pointed to the textbook. “Respect for the material—” He pointed to the students. “And respect for yourself. That is the only way you’re going to do well here. Because remember what I said about memorization? You’ll need more than that.

“Slick alchemical procedures and calculations are only going to get you so far here. Magical plants are living beings, and some actually respond to the emotions they feel coming from you. For example, if you dislike a certain plant and think, ‘I hate this big dumb plant’ around a mandrake, its scream turns about three times nastier in your ears.”

He drew a diagram of three plants: a small one with what looked like a cotton ball at the top, then an arrow leading to one that was literally a tall stalk with an actual sheep growing from the top, and then another arrow leading to a large, ram-like creature with bushes growing from its back and thorns sprouting from curling horns.

“The vegetable lamb is a plant that will undergo metamorphosis if you show it proper affection and only if you do that. But if you do, it’ll produce twice as much wool as a regular sheep for as long as the plant grows, which is quite a long time if you keep foliage around it for the sheep-top to graze on. When the plant dies, it makes one more change. The lamb transforms into its final form: a ram-like creature with bush-like, golden fleece and thorny horns, and it then goes off into the wide world. Without affection, the lamb withers when the plant dies. I had only one student this past year who managed to get his to change. Fellow showed it as much love as he did his crocodile familiar and—trust me—that’s a lot of love.”

Alex blinked.

Could that have been Kybas? He’d have to ask the little fellow next time he saw him. Maybe get some tips.

It was too bad that affection wasn’t a way to make golems evolve.

He glanced over his shoulder at Claygon.

An element of chaos was what made them change, so it was hard to predict what would make each one undergo a transformation.

‘Still, if affection won’t make you evolve, I’m going to show it to you anyway,’ Alex sent the cheery thought to Claygon.

Then he froze.

Something had definitely touched his mind.

…or did it?

It was brief and quick—like the brush of a feather in the dark—but something was definitely there. Was it the Mark? Or…

He looked at Claygon closely.

Alex started to wonder if those little moments of Claygon responding to him weren’t quite so imaginary. His golem’s core was made from dungeon core remains, a newly analyzed substance.

Who knew what the unique core would be capable of?

It was something to keep an eye on.

He stared at the golem, but Claygon remained still, as though the mental contact had never happened.

Chapter 12

Respect and Questions

Alex watched Claygon for a while longer, but he gave no other signs of coming to life, or showing intelligence, or turning evil and going on a killing rampage. He pulled out one of the notebooks from the basket attached to his forceball and wrote down the observation.

There was no doubt that Baelin and Jules would want to hear about what he felt he might be experiencing, even if nothing was actually going on. It wouldn’t be the first time a wizard imagined that one of their golems or items had come alive. The problem with being around so much magic all the time was that, well, magic often made just about anything possible or even seem possible.

He looked at the vampire pumpkin while Holden drew the outline of an apple on the obsidian board. One tap of a finger made the apple diagram turn gold. For most folk, strange activities and sounds from a pumpkin probably meant a rotten gourd or a village prankster.

When magic was involved, one actually did have to worry about blood-sucking squashes. And when strange things happened around you all the time, it made it hard to tell if you were imagining things or not. Sure, wizardry often had rules—particularly when it came to something as precise as spell arrays or alchemy—but magic in general tended more toward guidelines.

Much like most other disciplines in life, facts about magic were only true until someone discovered they weren’t. And that made it tricky to say something was definitely impossible.

“—en apples are one of the oldest methods to reach immortality, of a sort,” Holden said.

Alex’s attention immediately returned to the professor. Talk of immortality tended to grab one’s attention.

“Now, that might be commonly known among those that have even a layman’s knowledge of alchemy.” Holden tapped the chalk on his palm then held up four fingers. “But did you know there are four varieties of golden apple that grow on this continent alone?”

He drew four similar looking trees on the board, then drew four very differently shaped leaves. “The Malus Atalanta tree’s apples don’t bestow immortality when eaten. They’re tasty and their sheen magically draws the eye, supernaturally distracting and fascinating living creatures. That’s how the tree feeds on its favourite source of food: wild horses.”

Alex and Khalik shared startled looks.

“Malus Eris’s apples have a supernatural aura of discord, which causes, ehh, discord, in all who behold the fruit within a day of it being picked. They have literally triggered wars when introduced into even peaceful environments. Malus Hesperides is different in that its apples are actually made of pure, yellow gold, which it uses to attract dragons. Certain species are quite driven to hoard wealth, especially gold. The dragon will enter into a symbiotic relationship with the Malus tree, which permits it to harvest its bountiful crop of golden apples once every twenty years. In return, the dragon protects the tree from predators. Only Malus Idhunn’s golden apples—of any on the continent—have youth restoring and maintenance qualities. However, the tree can only thrive in the presence of strong divinity, while prolonged exposure to mana—without divinity present—will cause it to wither and die. Still, they’re precious enough that the Nor-Polaric Pantheon guards them, and the Lord of the End covets them as much as he covets Irytshenan blood. Which is a lot, by the way.”

Alex perked up at the mention of the Irytshenans, but Holden was already moving on.

“And the kicker? After harvest, the apples of all these trees look exactly the same, except for a couple of variations in shape and weight.”

He held up the textbook. “That’s why you have to memorize as many properties as possible if you want to identify magical plants. Now, you might be asking: why magical botany? If this is all about identifying and growing plants, couldn’t this be an alchemy class? Not so!”

The last two words cracked out like a whip, causing the class to wince. “Magical botany is more than learning how to combine magical plants to make potions or staves. It’s about the plants themselves. It’s about their ecosystems. What’s their place in the world? What role do they serve? What happens if they’re gone? What happens if they’re too many of the species? Can they be crossbred? Can you turn a wild, man-eating tree into something as domesticated and common as wheat? These are the questions you can answer with a strong enough education in magical botany. The study of plants created agriculture, and farming built everything you see around you—that, and magic.”

He gestured to the man-eating plant. “No big surprise, but magical plants are a liiiittle bit more complex to study and change than a patch of cherry tomatoes. With all that in mind, we’ll work together, get you started, and in no time at all we’ll have your hands dirty. Literally. I mean, don’t wear nice clothes here. It’s plant class. We’re going to play with dirt. A lot.”

Khalik raised his hand.

“Ah, an eager one. You have a question?”

“Two, actually. First, I study earth magic. Will that be helpful for magical botany?”

Holden threw back his head and laughed. “Does the sun rise? Of course that’s gonna be helpful. One of the first things you’re going to do is learn how to identify the six kinds of soil: sand, clay, silt, peat, chalk, and loam. You’ll need to know what your babies are growing in, and an earth mage is already going to know how to identify different kinds of earth and stone, and modify it to suit their purposes. Earth magic and botany go well together. What’s your second question?”

“Do uh… No, never mind.”

“You sure? No such thing as a stupid question. Only stupid people who never ask questions. Usually dead people, in this business.”

“It is fine, you already answered it,” Khalik said.

“Alright, then. Let’s start with the history of mortals, plants and how that extends to the history of wizards, other mortals, and plants of a magical nature.”

“What were you going to ask him earlier?” Alex asked Khalik as they made their way through the botanical gardens and away from the class.

The prince coughed uncomfortably. “I thought perhaps to ask him directly if he knew anything about dryads and their trees. But he was so serious, as was the subject. I thought: ‘how would I look if one of my first questions in class was about beautiful tree-women?’”

Alex started to chuckle. “Oh, by the Traveller, that would actually be kind of embarrassing. ‘Yes, Holden, I’m really serious about your class. I hear everything you say about respect! By the way, can you help me talk up some dryads?’”

“Now you have me wondering if anyone else has tried taking that class for that reason,” Khalik said. “To be fair, that is part of the reason I joined the class. Though no one else needs to know that. And speaking of, why were you looking at the back of the class when he was telling us of affection and about golden apples? I am not sure if the professor noted it, but I did.”

“Oh…uhh,” Alex glanced back at Claygon. For a moment he considered talking to Khalik away from the golem, except they were connected. Claygon wouldn’t be able to detect all of his thoughts, but Alex had been watching him openly and mentally probing the connection.

If there was something approaching thought inside of him, then he’d already know Alex suspected something. Besides, if Alex talked about it openly, maybe it would give Claygon a reason to respond.

He shook his head.

Unless he was imagining it or going insane.

He told Khalik of the slight reactions he thought he was feeling from Claygon, which prompted the prince to watch the golem carefully as he followed them.

“I have not seen anything strange from Claygon, unless you count being unstoppable to be strange.” He stroked his beard. “Are you going to tell your professor Jules and Baelin of your concern?”

“You bet your ass, I am,” Alex said. “The worst thing they can say if I do tell them is, ‘you’re being crazy, Alex’ and maybe laugh at me a little. But the worst thing that can happen if I don’t tell them—just imagine smashed buildings, and fire, and screams.”

“Mmm, true.” The prince patted Alex on the shoulder. “Well, if you are crazy, then this is still likely to end in smashed buildings, and fire, and screams. But I shall be there to put you down!”

“Wait what?”

Khalik grinned. “Think about it! The young, promising wizard turns to dark arts—”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“—while his good friend, the handsome brave prince must—regrettably—slay him—”

“I really don’t like where this is going.”

“—and as you lay dying—”

Alex’s face screwed up in suspicion. “You’ve seriously put a lot of thought into this.”

“You lament: ‘Oh, if only the Dark Wizard Alexander Roth had seen the light before! My only regret is that I only see a better way now as I lay dying! If only I had more time!’ And then, of course, you perish while I lament your loss and wish there was more time to—”

“There could be, just call a healer! Patch me up if I’ve seen the light, you bastard!”

Khalik laughed. “Ah, but that would ruin the moment and the drama!”

“The moment and drama are pretty ruined for me, cuz I’m dead!”

“But think of all the young wizards that will avoid your dark path whenever they walk by the statue I have built to honour your memory.” Khalik faked a sniffle. “A memory of better times.”

Alex glared at him. “You know, I tend to enjoy the stories where the plucky, underestimated hero beats the shit out of the arrogant prince and leaves him unconscious in some botanical garden. Even, you know, has a large, smashy friend do the same.”

“That would be cheating.”

“I’m supposed to be a dark wizard, right?” Alex lifted his chin as if defending his honour. “I don’t care about cheating!”

“I thought you were a plucky, underestimated hero?”

“I’m both! Life is full of greys!”

“Hmmm,” Professor Jules mused as she peered into her piccoscope. Nearby, one of her cauldrons bubbled, boiling down a substance while she examined a sample for one of her experiments. “Have you noticed any common patterns with these anomalies?”

“Nothing,” Alex admitted. “One time I was really relaxed, one time I was in class. Claygon hadn’t encountered anything specific, the areas were different. Just nothing in common at all.”

“Ah, of course,” she snorted. “Life rarely conforms itself into proper experimental parameters. Observations are full of confounding variables: was I imagining something I saw? Was there some factor that day out in the world that made something behave in a certain way? Especially when it comes to magic, such things make it difficult to narrow infinite possibilities down into hypotheses and then finally, theoretical causal relationships.”

“Right,” Alex said. “Can’t even establish correlation because there’re so many differences with these little reactions from Claygon. There’s no pattern.”

He sighed. “What do you think, am I just being paranoid here?”

“Well, as we just said, Mr. Roth, we do not have much data to go on.”

“I mean like… an educated guess.”

She looked up from the piccoscope. “An ‘educated guess’ he says. Do you know what the difference between a ‘guess’ and an ‘educated guess’ is? The latter is made by someone who’s read more books. There might be value in that if the guess is about something known and studied, but the substance powering your golem is for the most part unknown. In short, I haven’t the foggiest idea of what’s possible, and saying otherwise, would be irresponsible.”

“Ah, I see,” he sighed. “What about from the history of golemcraft? I remember the earliest golem went berserk because of too strong a connection with a wizard’s mind.”

“And do you feel that your connection to Claygon is constant or in any way overwhelming?”

“No.”

“Then, if it hasn’t gone berserk as of yet—if it were a normal golem—then it is likely that it will not. Again, if it were a normal golem. We aren’t talking about the elementally-bound monstrosities here.”

“The what now?” Alex asked. “Elementally-bound monstrosities? As golems? What do you mean?”

“Ah, so you haven’t encountered that particular little historical detail, then?” Professor Jules stepped away from the piccoscope. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. You are in between your first and second year, after all, though I sometimes forget. And this wouldn’t be knowledge you’d find in first year courses. To sum it up, after—”

Ding.

A sound like a little bell rang out from a wall mounted time-keeper.

“Ah, the process is done,” she said. “Mr. Roth, would you mind handing me the mana spectrometer?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” He glanced over and had one of his Wizard’s Hands pick up the tool and ferry it over to her. He watched as she stirred the reducing liquid and guided the reaction with the tool.

Then she did something that caught him off guard.

From her apron she pulled out a strange, oblong stone with a series of glyphs etched into its surface. Alex frowned. He recognized some of the glyphs from a device he’d seen Jules use a few times before: a far-speaker.

A complex web of mana emerged from the stone and travelled through the floor, but the flow of the mana through the web was far faster now. His sense for mana was much more precise than it used to be, so he could trace every complex line of the structure. The design of the communication web had utterly changed.

Where it had come out of the stone as a line before, now it spread out in all directions.

In an instant, Alex heard a familiar voice come through the stone.

“Professor? Is your reaction ready?” Amir Abu Saleh—Alex’s former lab supervisor—said through the far-speaker. His voice sounded clearer than others when Alex had seen the far-speaker being used before.

“It is,” she said into the magical device. “Mark time… ready… go.”

Professor Jules and Amir conducted a reaction simultaneously while in different labs, keeping in constant communication and providing each other with commentary.

By the end, Professor Jules was very excited. “It seems there is a connection between the samples of the substance, despite them being physically separated by stone and yards of distance. Well done, Amir. Mark time and then you can start cleaning up.”

“Thank you, professor,” Amir’s voice replied.

The web withdrew back into the far-speaker.

“Wow,” Alex murmured as he stepped forward to help her clean up. “That little device got an upgrade.”

“Hm?” Professor Jules glanced at the far-speaker. “Ah, yes. A new version just exited the prototype phase a month ago. Several of us are now testing its efficiency, and so far, the advancements are impressive.”

“I’ll say,” Alex said, imagining how useful the device could be. He thought of Theresa’s parents—communicating slowly and sporadically through letters—and how much easier things would have been if they could simply reach each other instantly on a far-speaker. “What comes next with it?”

“After three months of field testing, this model will be patented and then enter production. I suspect, if things go well, you will see them in many places around Generasi within the next two years.”

“Jeez… and beyond?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. The design requires our strong ambient mana. But in time, perhaps. Ah, speaking of advancements. I was going to tell you about elemental-binding in golemcraft.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t heard about it at Shale’s.”

“I’m not. It is not truly an alchemical process, and the only place in the world that it is still used—with any degree of regularity—is within the Irtyshenan Empire. And it is not a kind process, even compared to the rest of wizardry.”

Chapter 13

Binding Circles

Hearing Professor Jules mention the empire where the hunter was spotted so many years before—and her grim tone—gave him a twinge of shock.

“It must be pretty bad,” Alex said. “Binding isn’t usually too friendly a word, especially when it’s used in wizardry, so I’m already imagining the worst.”

“Imagining the worst is correct,” she said. “When the first golem proved to be a disaster, summoners from among the wizards stepped up to provide a solution that alchemy could not, at the time—have you ever taken a summoning course, Alex?”

“I’m taking one this summer.”

“Good.” She carefully withdrew the substance she was working with and placed it in a reinforced flask, which she then moved away from her work area to cool. “It is a useful art, and one better to learn in detail from Professor Mangal. She is far more studied in the art than I. For our purposes, it is important to note that summoning and alchemy often cross paths. You remember when I conjured the shoggoth, of course.”

Alex shuddered. “I’ll never forget it.”

“In any case, not for the first time or the last, summoners stepped up to seek a solution. They had the thought that since a golem’s body is made of similar materials to some elementals, that the spirit of an elemental might be well suited to power and control such a body without the need for a golem core.”

She activated the cooling glyph on her cauldron and let the metal decrease to room temperature. Alex carried the pot over to the sink to wash.

“When you have your first class with Professor Mangal,” Jules continued, “she will teach you about binding circles. To simplify things, they prevent creatures that are summoned from getting out and starting a ruckus.”

“Right, I remember the circle that was on the lid of the cauldron you summoned the shoggoth into.”

“Correct. Summoners had the idea of creating a binding circle within a golem’s body. They then conjured an elemental within that body and permanently bound it inside such a shell. And they did in fact find success. Earth elementals were very proficient at controlling clay or stone bodies, iron bodies could be controlled by earth or fire elementals, and water elementals could control bodies made of ice. Now, there was an odd… side-effect, to the process, which was both a boon and a problem.”

She placed her tools back into a nearby drawer.

Professor Jules shifted one of the tools slightly so that it was perfectly straight and parallel with the others. She gave it a little nod of satisfaction and closed the drawer.

“What was the side-effect?” Alex filled the cauldron with a solution of water and soap, then had his Wizard’s Hands begin to scrub it while he began washing some flasks.

“They became highly resistant to magic.”

Alex’s hands stilled. “Pardon?”

“You see, a binding circle’s purpose is to form a barrier so that a creature caught within cannot exit nor use its magic outside,” she said. “When it was inside a golem’s body, it was not so much a circle as it was a binding knot. The elemental then completely filled that knot, raging within its prison.”

She added water to a nearby beaker until it was filled to the brim. “Take this cup, for example. It is filled with water, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. Though there could be contaminants in there besides water, since that isn’t distilled water,” he said. “Plus, with the ambient mana around, there’s going to be mana in there too. We can’t know for sure what’s in there unless we test it, but for the sake of your question, I think we can say that it is.”

Alex could see a smile reach Jules’ eyes through her mask. “Good, Mr. Roth. I am pleased to see you were paying attention during my class. And indeed, for our argument, it is completely filled with water. To add anything else to the beaker, you would need to displace some of the water. Well, an elemental filling one of these golems was like the water in this glass: shoving away any magic that tried to touch the circle.”

“Right, because unlike the water, the elemental was trapped in there and couldn’t be shoved out. And—excuse my language—it was probably massively pissed off and its energy struck out at any other magic that touched it.”

“That’s fairly close to accurate. When you combine all of these aspects together, the binding knot’s function of keeping magic in, turned two ways—in and out. It edged out any magic that touched it. So, bound-elemental powered golems could not be controlled by mental command—only verbal—but in return, they were viciously effective bodyguards and weapons against other wizards.”

“I can just imagine.” Alex glanced back at Claygon as he set the cauldron and glassware to dry. He imagined his golem attacking him while being nearly immune to magic. What a terrifying scenario for a wizard. Even a regular golem was physically superior to most mortal wizards, and if magic just splashed off of them like water, there’d be little they could do except get very literally smashed.

Then again…

“I think I see the downside. If it edges out all magic, then it means you won’t be able to cast any spells on it yourself. I took Claygon into battle recently, and if Isolde wasn’t able to cast a flight spell on him, we would’ve all been screwed.”

“That is correct,” Professor Jules said. “A major limitation, but still, the design was seen as being useful. For a time, at least.”

“Let me guess, and not even an educated one,” Alex said. “Angry, enslaved elementals wouldn’t exactly be super cooperative, and eventually, the golems went berserk?”

“En masse,” she said grimly. “When one broke its shackles and went berserk, it usually caused others nearby to do the same.”

“And then everything went to hell.”

“Absolutely. By then, alchemists had made incredible advancements with golem cores, so they were able to make them far safer.” She finally took her mask off and blinked at Alex owlishly. “And that is why we use golem cores these days.”

“What about the Irtyshenan Empire?” Alex asked. “You said they still bind elementals to use in golems?”

She sighed. “In a sense. Their wizards devised a means to effectively destroy an elemental’s mind upon its binding, like if one had simply injected acid through the skull and into the brain. With the mind destroyed, the elemental spirit is still there to power the golem, but it has no means to resist or actually move the body and process instructions. So, through some very clever design, those alchemists constructed a control system within the golem itself. An individual must sit inside the golem’s body to move and control it, which still provides a powerful, magically resistant body.”

Alex considered Professor Jules’s words. “That sounds awful. I mean, great for whoever’s controlling this… golem, or I guess ‘mechanized suit of armour.’ They’d be dangerous, while remaining safe inside a magically hardened body—empowered by an elemental—that’s resistant to magic. And, the golem’s body would be directly controlled by a sapient intellect. That… that’d be pretty terrifying on the battlefield.”

“It is,” Jules said. “Which is why the empire continues to make them—out of the best materials, using their best crafters—even if the process is very long, expensive, involved, and cruel. I understand knightly houses there are built upon being able to field these elemental war suits, just as the houses of knights in other realms are built around being able to afford armour and warhorses. It is why they enjoy the privilege of land, title, and serfs.”

Alex frowned. “This empire doesn’t sound like a very nice place…”

His professor gave him a look. “There are few places that are, Mr. Roth. Especially if you look long enough.”

One thing Alex could say, was that he didn’t have to look very long at the location for his summoning class to decide that it probably wasn’t a nice place.

Instead of being within the main castle of Generasi, the Summoner’s Tower was built on campus a good distance from other buildings. It had a dark, sinister look. Its stones were completely covered in glyphs and runes from a dozen different languages and wizarding traditions. Most of the glyphs had a sharp, evil look to them, and some outright glowed in the mix of star and moonlight.

Alex recognized them as protective sigils that kept otherworldly creatures sealed within the towers’ walls, and he’d heard that those sigils were also placed in many of the chambers devoted to summoning within the Cells.

Not really helping the image of the place, were the sorts of students coming in and out. They themselves weren’t the issue—they looked like normal Generasi students for the most part—it was what was following them that gave one pause.

Most had some sort of animal familiar—like Khalik—but they also had a monstrous companion tagging along. A tall, intimidating looking man had two devilish imps on his shoulders that were bickering in their infernal imp tongue. A tiny young woman—with a monkey’s tail—sat cross-legged on the back of a golden cloud-like air elemental, which hummed ominously as it floated.

A fire elemental crackled through the air behind a burly orcish fellow. And something that looked like some sort of metal creature made entirely of floating blades and chains drifted along in front of a young beast woman who resembled a spotted cat.

The strange, metal creature made unnerving grinding and clanking noises as it passed Alex. Other students had less ominous things following them, like sprites, butterflies, and tiny spirits from other planes. All in all, it made for a rather disquieting image.

Alex pulled his cloak tighter around himself. Was he imagining it or had a chill swept through the air?

He grew more uncomfortable as he remembered the demon and its horde of lesser demons that somebody conjured at Carey London’s rally. He had a twinge that he might not fit in with the summoning world. He was less of a ‘followed around by an otherworldly monster guy’ and more of a… a…

“Claygon, what kind of a guy am I?” he asked his golem.

Then he paused.

“Right, a ‘followed around by an invincible doom golem’ kind of guy,” he said flatly.

‘One that’s made of parts of a horrible apocalyptic dungeon core,’ he mentally added. ‘Maybe I’ll fit in with all these demon summoners, after all.’

Shaking his head, he kept walking toward the tower.

The moment Alex stepped through the front door, he got the feeling that much of the creepy atmosphere might have been intentional. The ground level of the tower had a strange haze in the air that smelled of smoke, forest, bog, and ocean all at once. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the Cave of the Traveller, with its smells from all the places its permanently open portals led to.

Veiled in the haze were statues carved into the walls, of dozens of different otherworldly beings made to look like they were emerging from the stone.

‘Portals,’ Alex thought. ‘The statues look like summoned creatures and the walls are supposed to be portals.’

Because of his sensitivity to mana in general, he realised that real portals filled the tower, and his affinity or whatever he had for teleportation magic, made him extra sensitive to magic that teleported, transported, or conjured things.

The combination of those things had Alex sensing every summoning spell and portal throughout the tower, almost overwhelming him as he climbed the winding staircase. Of course—as was the case in every creepy story about a creepy wizard’s tower—his destination was at the very top. Naturally, there were a lot of stairs to climb, and at last, he reached his objective.

Alex gasped.

The ceiling—much like that of the botanical gardens—was completely transparent, giving a magnificent view of the stars shining in the night sky. One wall of the seminar room was plastered with star charts and diagrams of the different planes. In the centre of the room was a summoning circle surrounded by the familiar glyphs, as well as large cushions arranged in a circle around it.

It looked like he was the first person to arrive, which was no surprise since he’d come fairly early, as he usually did for his classes. He looked at the glyphs intently. They’d been etched deep into the floor. No chance of a gust of wind or an accidental spill ruining a chalk diagram here.

Alex grew wary. The stone within the circle rippled like water.

Chapter 14

The Power of Names

Alex stepped closer to Claygon.

A worming sensation slithered along his skin. The kind of feeling he got when something was watching him. Though he couldn’t see anything in the circle, a presence filled it, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and cold sweat bead on his brow.

There was no other soul around, but he thought he heard screams from somewhere in the distance. Screaming, and the clanking of chains. His eyes bore into the circle like a frightened child’s trying desperately to see through the darkness of their room at night.

Stone continued to ripple within the circle of glyphs. Slowly. Rhythmically.

Then something shifted—

“Oh, hello there.”

The cry that Alex let out was decidedly unmanly. He spun around, facing a woman standing in the corner of the room. She looked like she was unpacking supplies. A small cloud of thumb-sized creatures—humanoid but with hummingbird wings—buzzed around, working in groups to remove things from her bags.

“Uh, hey,” he said, clearing his throat and walking toward her. “Professor Mangal?”

“I am, I am, welcome…?” she said.

“Alex,” he said. “And this is Claygon, my golem.”

He made sure to introduce his golem very nicely, like he was a person. Alex had already begun to think of Claygon as a person for the most part, but if there was even a chance that the golem was developing awareness, then he wanted him to remember how nice Alex was to him, and not even the tiniest hint of mistreatment that could lead to rampaging and fiery vengeance.

“Ah, welcome to Summoning I, Alex.” Her voice had a musical quality to it and her eyes were sharp. They looked at him for a moment as though memorizing his features, then glanced up at Claygon, then finally at the summoning circle. “Did you notice our friend?”

Her eyes twinkled as she gazed at the circle. “He’ll be my ‘show-and-tell’ for class today. Come, come, have a seat, though your friend, uhm, Claygon, might have to stand outside, depending on how full we get.”

“Oh,” Alex said, glancing at the circle again. If there was some giant ice-spewing demon in there, he wanted his golem to be as close as possible and not outside having to stoop through a door to save him. “Well, can he fold up in a corner? He takes up a lot less space when he’s crouching.”

“That would be fine. Are you nervous?” the tiny woman asked; she was even shorter than Professor Jules.

“No, not really nervous, just cautious. It’s just… I’ve seen something similar to what I think is in there. I was at that rally a while back.”

Something flashed across her face. Was that a look of distaste? “Ah. I hope you don’t think all summoning results in those. We do not condone that sort of thing any more than an alchemy professor would condone one of their students throwing vials of poisonous substances about.”

“No, no, I didn’t think that.” He held up his hands and waved them. “I know, I know: there’s no department that’s going to condone mad wizardry that causes random destruction—while you’re a student here.”

From the way Baelin told it, it sounded like students did whatever they wanted to once they graduated.

“Good, if you know that, then we will likely get along well. Please, choose a seat and we shall await the arrival of the others.”

Alex mentally directed Claygon to a corner of the room, then glanced down at the summoning circle.

Excitement and nerves filled him.

He was dying to know what was lurking in there.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the condensed summer offering of SUMM-1020: Summoning I,” Professor Mangal said from her place seated on a cushion.

Alex looked around at the curious set up. Which was unlike any of his other courses.

Rather than the class sitting at desks and facing a board, they were seated on cushions around the summoning circle. Though he’d heard from Amir that many grad school seminars were set up in a circle rather than with students facing the board and professor.

It was a small class—not as small as magical botany—but it was clear there were less students here in the summer.—.

“Before we begin, let us go over some ground rules for the class. First of all, some of you might be confused about the seating arrangement. Well, one of the reasons for it is because I prefer a less formal set-up. I also do not find that the one typically used sends the right message. You are not small children for me to stand in authority over, and I am not much older than many of you. I think some of you might even be my elder.”

It was true. Alex had seen students that looked older than Professor Mangal.

“And so, in this relationship we are entering into, I do not wish to convey that you are passive little children. You are my colleagues, and we are only separated by my experience with the art of summoning. With respect to this, I will generate certain rules, and then we shall generate others together in the seminar.”

She glanced beside her and several of her little summoned friends flew up into the air—each holding opposite sides of a large piece of parchment—then fluttered down beside her. One of the little creatures waved a hand, and a written rule appeared in golden ink:

1. We will say what we prefer to be called, and you are to respect everyone’s wishes when it comes to their preferred form of address.

“This is our first rule,” professor Mangal said. “It is a simple one, but it is to teach you something very important: the power of the name.”

Alex whipped open his notebook and started jotting her words down.

“In summoning, you see, the name contains a certain measure of power. To name a thing is to place a label upon it: to diminish it enough so that you can sum it up with a single word. Imagine if we did not have names?”

A smile broke out on her face, and she gestured to the class. “Do me a favour. Someone sum me up without using my name.”

She looked around the class hopefully.

Eventually, an elven student raised his hand. “You are the professor for SUMM-1020.”

“Am I now?” Professor Mangal said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. The summoned creatures beside her broke out into little giggles. “Is this the sum total of who I am? Just the professor of SUMM-1020? If so, then what happens when I am no longer teaching this class? Do I cease to be?”

“Er,” the elven student continued, awkwardly moving his long, dark hair over his shoulder. “No. Um, you’re a woman.”

“Oho, now we are getting somewhere. But, am I only a woman, like you are only a man? And what if you are incorrect on that account? You look at me and see a woman, but we wizards can learn the art of shapeshifting. If I spend each day in a different body, then the label of ‘human, man or woman’ becomes meaningless to the average passerby who sees me on a particular day. I have dark hair like you and darker skin and eyes, but again, these can change.”

“Um,” the student mused. “You’re a wizard.”

“That I am indeed, so we are narrowing it down. I am the wizard who is the professor of SUMM-1020. But many people match this description. How can we narrow it further, without the name?”

“Um, I’m sorry, Professor,” the student said. “I don’t think I can without knowing more about you.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And might I have your name?”

“Ragnar.”

“Is that how you prefer to be called?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent, and so I shall call you Ragnar,” delight danced in her eyes as she looked at the class. “And do you see the wonderful magic spell we just performed? Instead of having to sit here and tell you all a host of physical descriptions, histories, and relationships, I can instead call to Ragnar with a single word. With one word, I can now identify Ragnar to all of you in a way he will acknowledge. And if Ragnar were to say ‘Professor Mangal’ or ‘Garima’ or even ‘Garima Mangal,’ then I would answer to all of these names and acknowledge them. And that is a keystone to summoning.”

She gestured to the summoning circle. “If I made this fancy circle and just said come forth anything, I would not go very far when it comes to conjuring an otherworldly spirit. But if I name the type of creature I wish to bring forth, then magic will know what kind of creature I wish to call. If I name a single creature and have the image of who I am naming in my mind and heart, then the right spell will pluck that exact spirit to my side. Hence, why names are important. And to be respected.”

She gestured to the parchment. “And that means any name, as long as it is acknowledged by the bearer of that name. Common misinformation persists that a thing such as a ‘true name’ exists. One singular name by which the universe knows us. That’s impossible. Through life we are called many different things—nick-names, first names, last names, changed names—and if we acknowledge them, they are valid. Even labels and insults. If you are walking along and someone calls you an asshole, is that who you are? Who here has been called this at some point in their lives?”

Alex was the first to raise his hand, and most of the other students raised theirs. Awkward laughter spread through the circle.

Professor Mangal chuckled. “A peculiar insult. I see no large, naked behinds in this room, and yet some people insist that is the best label for us. Let me say this. Perhaps you are called an asshole in response to you doing something you felt embarrassed about. And then you have this moment of: maybe I am an asshole. And for that moment, you feel like you are, despite this being a complete physiological impossibility. Why? Because you acknowledged it and entertained that word as being able to sum you up.”

Alex’s brow furrowed as he took in Professor Mangal’s words.

A disturbing thought struck him.

He’d gone through hard times in his life, particularly where his parents’ death was concerned. He’d grown used to not dwelling on difficult situations, negative feelings, and terrible events in order to stay sane. It was the best way for him to keep a balanced state of mind.

When Theresa had introduced him to meditation, he’d expanded on not dwelling on things by expending less energy and focus on the Mark parading his own failures at him. He’d learned to acknowledge them, but then let them go.

What if he hadn’t had those coping abilities? He thought of what he was like before the fire that ended his parents’ lives. Just a regular kid with regular insecurities and emotions who’d never really thought about mastering them.

The Fool would’ve been slamming his every failure into his head over and over whenever he tried to do something it didn’t want him to. The Alex that he was now could move on from thoughts like that as just memories.

But younger Alex? One less sure of himself who had less experience dealing and coping with harsh emotions so that they wouldn’t consume him?

He probably would’ve ended up seeing himself through a lens of failure. He might even see himself as nothing more than that—an endless stream of failures. His jaw tightened. How exactly did that fit with Uldar’s great plan?

“And so, in summoning, we respect the names that we acknowledge. Said correctly and pronounced correctly… And here I am, going off onto a tangent, ah, yes, you have a question…?”

“Leilani,” said a petite woman. “I was thinking, can you not force something to acknowledge a name or title? If a ruler elevates you to noble status, then you have a title you are called by. If you are found to be a criminal, then you bear that label of criminal.”

“Ah yes, that is very true,” Professor Mangal sighed. “In life, we encounter many words that we are forced to acknowledge. ‘Widow’ and ‘orphan’ being some of them. In summoning, the magic simply does not work that way. Think of it like this. If I call someone ‘widow!’ on the street, then most people—even widows—are not likely to turn around and assume I’m speaking to them in particular. It is the same in summoning. A name or label is useless if it is called and no one answers. But, we shall go into this in further detail later. Let us finish our rules, and then I have something to show you. After we have completed our rules, then they will be our contract in the class. Contracts in summoning are nearly as important as names.”

Alex thought of Hobb and how he’d mentioned that he had a contract with Generasi; and how the shoggoth Professor Jules summoned had entered into a deal with her.

He was getting excited about learning more about that aspect and thought back to names. Professor Mangal said that pronunciation was important.

It looked like he had even more reasons to focus on learning other languages using the Mark now.

Chapter 15

The War-Spirit

One by one, members of the summoning class raised their hands to suggest rules for the seminar. It took a bit of encouragement for Professor Mangal to get someone to speak up at first, but once that first person did, others soon followed.

By the end, the long sheet of parchment was covered in glowing ink that laid out the so-called ‘rules of engagement’ for the class. Most were fairly simple: respect during discussions, avoiding disruptions, and that sort of thing.

And the effect on the class because they’d been involved in crafting them, was interesting. The students who’d spoken up looked more engaged than before, with a more relaxed air about them.

Alex observed their reactions and the arrangement of the circle.

‘It’s an illusion,’ he thought.

Except for a few individual preferences, the rules were much the same as in any other class. Despite Professor Mangal’s statement that they were colleagues, she was actually the one with the power in the course. They couldn’t exactly pass or fail her, but she would be evaluating their performances and impacting their futures in many ways with either a pass or fail.

Still, maybe there was value in that illusion. Alex thought about his cabal. They had no leader, and that had worked pretty well for them. Would things have gone as well if Thundar was the leader and just dictated what they should and shouldn’t do? Shale’s workshop had a definite hierarchy, but the workers had the ability to choose how to go about their jobs. It was quite a different feeling to how McHarris managed the bakery and its staff in his heavy-handed and authoritarian way.

Alex wondered if he would’ve reacted differently if—instead of the Mark being thrust on him, then him being left to fend for himself with only duty as a guide—he’d been welcomed by Uldar’s priests and given a choice.

He thought of how Baelin treated everyone in his class, and how much they loved him. Meanwhile, Professor Ram—who’d taught him force magic—was technically correct in the points he’d made about casting speed, but the way he’d dictated them made it so that Alex didn’t like the man to this day.

He glanced at Claygon, crouched in a corner of the room.

If there was a mind brewing in there, and it wasn’t horrifyingly evil, then Alex would want to see it grow by nurturing it, not smothering it. Sure, he and Claygon were connected, but he could only see positives in having fathered an intelligent golem who followed him willingly.

He filed those thoughts away for later.

If it turned out that Claygon wasn’t sapient, then there likely wouldn’t be much opportunity for him to be leading things in the near future anyway.

“Our sheet of paper is now transformed,” Professor Mangal said, then spoke quietly to her little friends, who fluttered to the side of the room and placed the list in a place of prominence. “It was once a piece of parchment, now—by our agreement and wishes—it is a contract: a contract between us that we have made together. Now, I want you to watch me carefully and brace yourselves. This will sting a little.”

She raised her hands and fixed her eyes on the circle.

Her face seemed to be filled with steel.

And then she spoke a single word.

Alex winced and several of the other students yelped. Although the professor’s lips moved and he was sure she’d said something, he had no idea what she’d said. Whatever it was came out as only pain and metal grinding on metal in his ears.

A heartbeat later, the stone in the circle began to ripple violently. He felt more of the summoning magic reach out, then the presence within the circle solidified.

Crack!

Thunder snapped through the room, and at first, it looked like the tile was warping and rising. Something was pushing it up from beneath, like a hand pushing up against a blanket. Then it became clear—it was either part of the stone itself or had camouflaged itself to look like the stone. Like the shapeshifting the professor had talked about earlier.

The form rose until it would have towered well above Baelin or Thundar, but not to the height of Claygon or Grimloch. Stone warped, becoming more defined in shape. The rock took on a metallic sheen and began to change.

From somewhere far off, Alex thought he heard the sound of iron pounding on iron.

First, humanoid arms moulded out of the shape.

Then a pair of legs.

Long objects snapped out from the creature—filling the space within the circle—forming a pair of wings with feathers that glistened like steel. As the details of its shape formed—metallic musculature, flesh, and hair—a ring of metal shimmered into being.

The halo of steel encircled its human-like head.

Schnk.

Spikes, like thorns on a vine, emerged on the steel surface.

The metallic, winged humanoid gazed at the surprised students with an unreadable look. Then it fixed its eyes on their professor.

Something about it didn’t seem right.

Alex knew it was physically present, but there was an aspect of it that just didn’t make sense to his mind. His brain couldn’t sort it out. It was like looking at his own room and realizing something important was out of place, but having no idea what it could be.

With every sound it made, he seemed to hear the clash of metal on metal, and screams like during the monster attack at the patrizia’s ball. The scent of blood drifted into his nostrils. The creature’s every movement seemed to offer a threat of violence.

Despite this, its face looked relaxed.

In some ways, that made it worse.

The otherworldly spirit nodded to Professor Mangal with a look of respect and said something in a metallic, grinding language. She responded with the same words, and Alex found it hard to hear such sounds coming from a human throat.

A bow of respect passed between them, then the spirit rose to attention like a soldier. It paused, taking note of Claygon. Alex’s heartbeat quickened. The creature tensed.

Processing.

Assessing.

Then its face returned to its relaxed state.

Alex had to tear his eyes away when the professor spoke to them.

“Everyone, this is Then-Arus, a War-Spirit of Steel sworn to the Engeli of the Plane of Akero. At least, that is his name in our Common tongue. In the pronunciation of his language, we hear it only as metal and pain,” she introduced the otherworldly entity as though she were introducing a friend at a tea party. “And I have summoned him many times for many reasons. Is he not magnificent? He has been fighting on battlefields across planes since before there was a single sapient mortal in Generasi, but you know what he does not like? Being summoned.”

She said something to the war-spirit in that grinding tongue. There was a twitch of one of its steel lips. Was that amusement? Or was it preparing to snarl and sink its teeth into her.

Alex raised his hand. “Uh, he looks pretty calm for someone who doesn’t like being summoned.”

“An important observation, Alex,” Professor Mangal said. “If most others would have summoned him, he would not be like this. He would be raging against their circle and seeking a way to kill them. But together, he and I have developed a working relationship, and so he is willing to donate some of his infinite time when I call him. This alliance came to be because we too established rules when I first summoned him. By following those, we developed respect for one another and can now work together quite nicely. To me, this is the pinnacle of the summoner’s art. But, in fact, there are three major categories of summoning.”

She listed them off on her fingers. “Subjugation, the Binding Contract, and the Relational Contract. Subjugation is the simplest and what I shall teach you first. Oh, and I suggest writing this down.”

The students dragged their eyes away from Then-Arus and began taking notes.

“Subjugation lies in the simplest of summoning spells. In short, the spell’s mana circuit enwraps the summoned creature in a sort of temporary ‘cage’ as it drags the creature from whichever plane you choose. You simply say its name or name the type of creature, then cast your spell, and it will be whisked to your side. Wizards who dabble in summoning, will only use this method. It is simple and can make you feel strong, but if you remain tethered to this method, then you will never grow as a summoner.”

She glanced fondly at the fluttering little spirits around her, smiled and called them to her side. They quickly flew over with glee and nuzzled against her. “Do you see this? Impossible with subjugation type summoning spells. Those work in a pinch, but they are temporary and limited. They also require a lot of mana, and so the wizard casting them can only summon creatures that are far less powerful than their technical capability will allow.

“You can summon many creatures in this way, but that method will lag in power compared to the rest of your magic. This can be circumvented through the use of certain rituals that place firm control on such creatures. But these rituals are long, require much preparation, and can only keep a creature on the plane and under your control for so long. Subjugation has its uses: sometimes you need to conjure something you have no desire to speak to—foul creatures—and so simply forcing them to do your will is effective.”

She gave them the sternest look Alex had seen on her face since class began. “But, if you attempt to subjugate something too powerful, it will either ignore your call—or worse—come to you and break free from your control. Which, obviously will have the most dire of consequences. For more powerful creatures and for those you wish to speak to: there is a better way.

“The Fae Wizard—Morgan—famously studied faerie and devil magic and adapted it to the art of summoning. Both creatures value pacts and someone’s unbreakable word, and she managed to craft spells that infused this sort of magic into summoning. When one casts a spell from the Binding Contract type of summoning, one is enacting her work. This sort of magic does not subjugate a creature, but keeps it sealed within a circle of power until it agrees to a bargain. You must offer something, and it must receive something. Once it accepts, then it is under the power of the contract until such time that its service is complete.”

She spread her hands. “I cannot stress how superior of a method this is. It requires more time, so it cannot be used in the heat of battle, but a contract that a spirit has agreed to—under that magic—is far stronger than spells that simply subjugate.”

Alex thought back to when Professor Jules summoned the shoggoth. It was trapped in the cauldron until it agreed to her terms. Perhaps that was the sort of magic she used to summon it.

Ragnar raised his hand. “How old is this magic?”

“Old,” Professor Mangal said. “Morgan was ancient. Summoning is believed to be one of the first forms of wizardry. Perhaps the very first going back to when a wizard noticed shamans conjuring servants of gods they worshipped, and somehow managed to do something similar by drawing on other powers.”

Alex imagined that, then thought about the Traveller. Did she conjure servants of Uldar? She already had that unique magic, so maybe she had.

“Of course, the downside of this form of magic is that it requires much ritual, chanting, concentration, and the spells are relatively crude and mana-hungry by today’s standards. Also, a clever creature might attempt to circumvent the contract through wit or twist its terms to your ruin. After all, it is under duress—even if you do offer it proper compensation. If you do not? Then remember that the creatures we summon are far older than we are, with far more time to gather allies. Even if it cannot find its way back to you on its own, perhaps it will ask the next wizard that summons it to kill you as its price.”

‘Note to self,’ Alex wrote. ‘Do not try to rip-off any horrifying creatures from beyond the material world.’

“This is why the final method is—in my opinion—the best, though it is the most time consuming and often least reliable.” She held out her hand and let one of her tiny friends perch on her palm. “What if you did not merely summon temporary slaves or those who’ve bargained with you under duress. What if you summoned allies? Remember our contract from the beginning of class? No one forced you to sign it. No one forced you to make up rules. We sat down, as adults, and we agreed to terms, and so there is some of all of us in our contract. Therefore, we do not harbour bad feelings about it, and we want to follow it because it is ours.”

So that’s what that had been about.

Then Alex had a thought—he always tried to remember and use people’s names because it made them more likely to be friendly. It showed that you paid attention and cared…

He raised his hand.

“Ah, yes, Alex?”

“The name thing… is that just for the spell or is it also about respect? It’s on my mind because my prof was talking about that in magical botany. You need to respect your summoned ally, since…” He searched for the right words. “Because not even knowing its name or mispronouncing it is a bad way to start a relationship.”

“Perfectly said!” she clapped. “And that is another reason why names are so important. To give your name is to allow yourself to be called, and to say a name properly is to show respect. This is of course why sometimes refusing to give a name is protective, and in some ways, even hostile.”

Alex’s mind went back to the Traveller.

The Traveller.

That was the only name she was ever called in any reference he’d ever seen. The only name she was known by. One that was little more than a generic title.

For the first time, he found himself considering that and wondering what her name actually was. And if perhaps its absence from history meant anything.

‘Refusing to give a name is protective,’ Mangal had said. ‘And in some ways hostile.’

That was true in many ways. Refusing to give your name could be seen as rude. Using a fake name was often done to protect yourself from some sort of consequence or from being identified.

Maybe he was reading too much into it, but the Traveller was a woman that had carved a temple in the earth—a beloved Saint of the realm and a Hero—and yet, there was no readily available record of her name as far as he knew. She, a Saint of Uldar, had also built a hidden temple containing statues of goddesses Alex had never seen or heard of before.

She definitely had secrets.

And if she hadn’t left her name behind…

What was she being protective of?

Who was she being hostile to?

Chapter 16

Relations Across the Planes

Alex jotted down his thoughts.

Maybe the Traveller’s name was written somewhere, maybe it wasn’t. He doubted that if it was, it would be in the university’s library. Baelin had looked there for histories on the Traveller and had only found commonly available information. Like general history books from Thameland.

For the first time since he’d gotten the Mark, he began to wish he could go near a priest. They might know the story behind why her name was absent from common records. Alex tapped his pen on his notebook. Maybe he could ask Theresa to talk to the few priests of Uldar who were still in Generasi. It shouldn’t come across as strange or suspicious for a young woman from Alric to be talking to them about her hometown’s patron saint.

“When casting a spell using relational contract summoning,” Professor Mangal said, “you send out a call that spreads across the planes. If you speak the name of a specific creature, then that creature will hear it. If you speak the name of that specific type of creature, then many will hear it. But—unlike with subjugational and binding summoning—it cannot compel a creature to answer you. Instead, potential summoned creatures are given a vague indication of who is conjuring them and—if you’re presenting an offering to the creature—an idea of what your offering is. It is then up to them to decide whether or not they answer your call.”

She pointed to the circle. “Much like in binding contract summoning, the spirit appears in a protective circle. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of the circle. It must be perfect. If a summoned spirit becomes hostile, the circle is your main protection against their anger. In relational summoning—like in binding summoning—those summoned cannot exit the circle, but they can retreat back to where they came from whenever they wish. In this way, this sort of summoning is safer since the spirit can retreat, which means they can return to their home plane rather than attack you.”

She stroked the head of one of her little companions. “But this ability to retreat is why you must ensure that whatever you offer interests what you’ve summoned. From there, if the creature is interested in the offer and stays, you begin to negotiate. This could involve appealing to it or offering more payment. Once an agreement is reached, the magic in the circle activates to ensure the terms agreed to are binding, but the magic is even stronger because all parties are not under duress.”

A short student raised her hand. “Professor, what do these spirits want that they can’t already get? Why would they bother with you once they have your offering? Wouldn’t they just leave?”

“You would be surprised at what you can get for surprisingly little, and with the promise of potentially more,” Professor Mangal said. “Keep in mind that these are creatures from other planes. What is common here, might be rare in the extreme there. The other aspect to consider is that these creatures are immortal: they have infinite time. One of my teachers once contracted an Elysian nymph for forty years of service as a protector of her estate and to model for her sculpture. In return? All it asked was for one statue. My teacher simply had to give the nymph the first sculpture she made of it. Such a thing seems completely implausible, but to the nymph, forty years out of infinite time is payment from an infinite resource. In other words, essentially negligible. Does that answer your question?”

The student nodded, taking a note.

“So yes, once the initial contract is fulfilled, the summoner might then call the creature again since their initial contact was mutually beneficial. In time, these contacts develop into an actual reciprocal relationship. The spirit and summoner become allies, and so a permanent bond is formed. Then-Arus and I are not friends, but we are allies. I know that I can rely on him and he can ask favours of me. With this in place, I can now summon him without the use of protective circles or bargains or anything else, much like how you can simply call on one who is close to you. He only remains in the circle now to illustrate a point.”

She nodded to him.

Crack!

The students all jumped at the same time. Some stood, prepared to run for the door.

The war-spirit’s forearm had warped into a blade and suddenly shot forward. Alex’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t even seen it move. Yet, the point of the blade was pressed against the boundary of the circle. Just as with the shoggoth that Jules had summoned, the war-spirit couldn’t pierce the circle.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

In a twist that unfurled much of the class, Then-Arus did something that made them scream and scramble away from the circle.

The war-spirit jumped. He soared into the air in a straight line, and then—after reaching a certain height—soared out of the circle and landed beside Professor Mangal.

He was free. His blade glinted in the light.

As the students scrambled to escape, and Alex was about to call Claygon, Professor Mangal raised her hands.

“It’s alright!” she said, smiling. “This is part of the demonstration. Please remember: a summoning circle is not a circle in the strict sense of the word. It is a cylinder. You must build in the correct glyphs to project a second circle above so that a complete cylinder—with a top that is closed—is formed. Otherwise, if they desire to do so, the spirit can simply jump or fly over the top if they are capable.

“And finally—” She pointed to a corner of the room where Alex noticed a bunch of black, heavy robes hanging from hooks. He was sure they hadn’t been there when he’d entered.

“There is an image that many have, that like cultists, summoners wear dark, heavy robes with hoods for some nefarious purpose. The robes, in fact, do have a practical purpose. It is—when you summon a creature you do not know, that you may guard your identity—should the creature escape or desire revenge against you. You may reveal your name and face when you determine it is safe to do so.”

She smiled. “And that, class, introduces you to the very basics of the three types of summoning. This semester, we will concentrate on each one, starting with the simplest: subjugation. Summon Elemental Beetle will be the first spell we learn, but before we do that, we will learn how to draw circles. The circle is the basis for higher summoning, and so drawing one correctly is crucial. That might seem tedious but…”

She paused, letting her words sink in to the still shaken class. “It is the first step in being able to call the cosmos to your purpose. I promise, it will get very interesting very fast.”

Alex looked up at the war-spirit and took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.

If this class was going to get any more interesting, then he just might have a heart attack before the summer was done.

Training Day 6 - Take-II

Force Spells Known:

Forceball, Forcedisk, Generalized Force Construct, Wizard’s Hand, Lesser Force Armour, Force Shield, Protective Force Rectangle, Force Missile (Impractical; Do not use this one), Protective Force Weapon (Protective Force Crooked Long Rectangle)

Elemental Spells:

Orb of Air, Lesser Heat, Summon Stone, Call Through Ice

Teleportation Spells Known:

Call Through Ice

Summoning Spells Known:

Summon Stone (again)

Spells to be Learned by Summer’s End:

Force Armour (In Progress - 20%)

Body Strengthening

Call Through Air

Lesser Phantom Display

Life to Mana

Alex looked over his progress with a satisfied grin. It was good to look back on how far he’d come from time to time. On days he felt tired or stressed, it helped to keep him moving forward, and it also helped him to have a written record of what spells he could build on.

Since the early weeks of first year, he’d been making lists like that because they helped him when it was time to choose spells or take new courses. They really gave him a good idea of where to direct his progression.

It was time for physical training. Alex dropped to the ground and began three sets of push-ups. He counted each one out loud while the wind rustled through the copse of trees he was training under. Reaching the location beside the sea called for a nice, warm-up run, and the warm summer breeze made being there extremely pleasant.

Recently, being there reminded him of home. Which was strange, since Alric was nowhere near the sea. Maybe it was because of nostalgia that hit him when he looked at the Prinean Sea and remembered that Theresa’s parents would soon be arriving by ship. There were times when he caught the scent of the sea breeze, that he half expected the ship carrying them to crest the horizon and they’d be on the deck waving at him.

With a deep breath, he finished his last set of push-ups, stretched, then wrote down the final count.

Three Sets of Push-Ups: BEGAN. 150, 150, 150 DONE. TOTAL = 450

He chuckled as he remembered the very first entry he’d ever made recording the number of pushups he could do:

Three Sets of Push-Ups: BEGAN. 9, 8, 7. DONE. TOTAL = 24

Eighteen times as many pushups as when he’d first started doing them. Now, 24 was only a warm up. And these days, his form and technique were perfect. No more shaking and shuddering for him. That was progress.

Next, he turned to Claygon and had him stick his arm out. With a powerful jump, Alex grabbed his golem’s extended arm and used it as a pull up bar to do pull ups to failure. Then, after a longer stretch, he sat down and began to work on force armour.

His progress was going very well.

The spell array was more complicated than for Lesser Force Armour. He compared the difference to how suits of armour were more complex to design and forge depending on how much of the body they covered and the kind of armour being made. Force armour spells grew more complex with their levels.

It covered more of the body, so it needed a magic circuit to guide mana to more areas around the body. It was also stronger than Lesser Force Armour so it required more mana, which added another level of complexity. Thankfully, his experience with force magic was helping him progress through the spell faster than he’d expected.

This was good. The extra protection would be nice.

He could hardly wait to progress to the point where he could learn the strongest of the force spells: Greater Force Armour. The second-tier version, Force Armour, covered different parts of the body in protective plates of force, but Greater Force Armour completely shielded it in a force mesh that was flexible to the caster, but as hard as steel against attackers. That would be a great spell to tinker with when he finally got there.

But it wasn’t time to think about that yet.

Alex continued practicing the spell for about an hour, guiding himself through the Mark’s interference and making slow but steady progress in mastering the spell array. At the end of the hour, he paused and made a note in his notebook.

Force Armour Progress 20% 30%.

Good. Very good.

Putting the notebook away for the time being, he decided to switch to something else. It would let his mind refocus, refreshing his concentration, and allow him to process what he’d learned.

He tapped his chin, deciding on the task.

His eyes slowly drifted to the picnic basket hanging from his forceball, and the urge to lie down in the copse of trees and eat grapes until he nodded off was tempting…

That would be for later.

He could read and memorize his textbooks, especially since he had two for magical botany, but he was making good progress with them and really felt like doing something different.

Maybe he could work on designs for a while.

He took out a notebook—the last one he’d used when building Claygon—and flipped to the back, stopping on a page with the title:

Selina’s Super Special Awesome Gift

Beneath it were the beginnings of a diagram for a magical device. It was one he’d encountered before, and one he was excited to start building. It was simple enough for him to try enchanting on his own—especially since he’d built Claygon—plus he could get the supplies from Shale’s Workshop at a discount.

If things went well, not only would it be a great gift, but it would open the door to more advanced forms of alchemy.

Images of vaults of enchanted items danced through Alex’s head.

Chapter 17

Messenger Constructs and Limits

Messenger constructs were relatively simple compared to golems. They didn’t require a constant connection to a master or an ability to process mental commands.

Instead, they only needed simple enchantments that allowed them to recognize a destination, and then the ability to navigate to it. From there, they would use whatever form of propulsion that the creator had built into it and seek out the destination. The receiver would take the message and the messenger would then return home, bearing a reply or not, depending on its instructions.

More complex versions could travel farther, operate in areas without Generasi’s high ambient mana, and navigate directly to a recipient, no matter the weather. Some could even defend themselves against attacks or fight off anyone trying to intercept the message they were carrying using magic or force.

Alex decided that for his purposes, he’d keep things high quality, yet simple. The messenger construct he was planning to make would be able to fly and navigate through things like fog, but he would leave out weaponry for now.

After all, it was going to be a present for a soon-to-be eleven-year-old.

He’d gotten the idea from Selina talking about wanting her own golem. When he’d been hired at Shale’s, they’d informed him that he’d gotten the job by sending a messenger construct with a letter. The construct had looked like a giant dragonfly. Remembering that, Alex thought such a construct would make for a hell of a gift for his sister.

He was sure she’d like it since it was a construct just like a golem, and it’d be a cool way for her to communicate with him or her friends on campus. It’d also be a good teaching tool, since they could talk about the internal construction of her magical messenger, which he knew she’d be really interested in.

Also, building one would give him practice in designing and crafting a new kind of magical item, yet it would be similar enough to a golem that he’d be comfortable trying to make one on his own.

He looked over his design.

The messenger from Shale’s had been a dragonfly, but the construct didn’t have to take that shape since the shape of a flying construct didn’t really matter.

If he’d wanted to really bore her, he could design it to be a floating sphere like his forceball with a hook attached for mail.

He chuckled to himself. She would definitely hate that. For a brief moment, he entertained himself by imagining himself handing her a beautifully wrapped present, only for her to unwrap it and find a big, red painted sphere inside.

‘See, Selina? Now you’ll be just like your lame big brother!’ He’d laugh maniacally while she glared or maybe even punched him…

He shook the image away.

The key to making a messenger construct fly was a flight enchantment. There were ways to make one glide with just the wind or with the wind and its wings, but true flight needed some kind of magical propulsion. And the thing with magical flight, was that it made specific shapes unnecessary. Any shape would work. Even a hulking bull who’d drunk a flight potion would fly just as quickly as a lean creature who’d drunk the same potion, but giving the construct an aerodynamic shape, would definitely make it fly faster.

‘A well-designed caravel cuts through the sea much faster than a big, clumsy barge,’ he thought.

At least since the wings didn’t have to be functional, he could focus purely on aesthetics. He’d even heard of some custom messenger constructs that had like, sixteen wings, though he had no idea what the aesthetic appeal of something looking like that was.

For Selina, though, he figured he’d go with something more her style. His sister loved Najyah, the prince’s familiar, and while he didn’t want to make a messenger construct that big, he thought she’d like something with a similar shape.

Alex flipped open a book on falconry from the library, turning to a bookmarked page on the anatomical structures of gyrfalcons, which showed them perching or in flight. Gyrfalcons were handsome, graceful birds of prey that were often bought and trained by royalty around the world, according to the book. Alex thought they looked pretty cool, and Khalik had told him about one that was bought by a prince for twenty thousand gold pieces at an auction in Ar-Bishah, in the deserts south east of the Prinean Sea.

Alex shook his head. One of the worst mistakes he’d ever made was not being born rich.

His diagram for the construct copied many aspects of the falcon’s body structure. He’d made sure to get the proportions as close as possible to the real bird. Taking up his pen, he continued sketching out the wing using the Mark to enhance his skill at drawing, though recently he’d run into a bottleneck.

When he’d first started learning certain skills using the Mark, he’d grow by leaps and bounds almost every day. As his successes built on each other, the Mark had more memories to draw from, which increased the rate he was growing at even more. Lately, though, he’d noticed that with certain skills, his level of proficiency wasn’t really growing as much anymore.

His sketches were pretty much life-like now, and he could create them very quickly. The Mark helped him learn how simple shapes came together to make more complex shapes. How a series of long ovals could turn into the feathers of a wing once he erased certain lines. With these principles down, he continued getting faster with his sketches, but he wasn’t growing much further as an artist.

The Mark in no way inspired him to paint wondrous things from his own imagination. He’d once had the idea of trying to improve his imagination, so he’d thought about when he’d imagined creative stuff in the past.

The Mark had shown him images of when he’d thought up wild ideas, but it hadn’t provided anything new.

That led him to a hypothesis: that maybe the Mark might eventually hit a limit when growing someone’s skill, since it couldn’t generate creativity on its own. And innovation often came from creativity. Alex could grow his technical skill in art all he wanted. Even figured he could copy paintings he’d seen hanging in the school’s main castle. But to think them up? He didn’t have that in him.

And so, the bottleneck.

Yet, in something that he was passionate about—like alchemy or baking—he found he could continue growing as he gained new experiences and tried new ideas.

Another potential limit occurred to him when he was researching dances for the ball. The limits of his body. Different races created dances for their unique bodies—like the Hoof Parade Dance of the Centaurs. Alex didn’t have hooves or four legs, so there wasn’t really any way for him to learn it.

It all made him wonder if any of the other Marks had limits.

It sounded like they might have some, just from what he’d heard about them.

The Mark of the Champion granted an individual massive strength and speed, and the skill and experience of all previous Champions. In some ways, it was like a reverse of the Mark of the Fool. The Champion would get all of their skill and experience front-loaded, and then be granted physical abilities that allowed them to use that skill, instead of having to learn all of it on their own at an accelerated speed.

It was convenient, but there was a bit of a trap in that.

If the Champion wasn’t already a skilled fighter and just decided not to grow after receiving the Mark, then they would stagnate. The possibilities gave him something to think about while he was drawing, and he’d become skilled enough that his mind wandered without him making a mista—

His thoughts came to a halt.

He’d made a mistake. Of course.

Sighing, he erased it.

Once he’d finished sketching out another part of the diagram, he looked over at his ingredients list. Like with Claygon, he’d be making a sort of ‘core’ that’d be able to interpret the simple instructions the construct would be given while it was delivering a message. The core would also power its enchantments.

A flight enchantment would be built into the core, as well as an alchemical replication of Orb of Air, which would cut down on wind resistance by surrounding the construct in a wind-shield when it flew. Finally, he would design the construct’s core to give it enough power to lift small packages and power it outside of Generasi’s ambient mana. He figured the construct would make for a pretty poor gift if it was just a dead hunk of metal whenever Selina left Generasi with it.

His design would make the ingredients more expensive. Expensive enough for him to want some extra coin.

He glanced up at Claygon.

“I hope you’re ready for combat, buddy, because you’re going to be getting plenty of it soon.”

“Oh? Are we being invaded?”

“Oh Sweet Saint of Alric!” Alex swore, spinning around.

Theresa had approached from behind, as silent as dead air. She gave him a crooked smile. “How’s it going?”

“It was going well, and then I think you cut ten years off my lifespan. Come ’ere.”

He spread his arms.

She cocked her head, and her black ponytail bounced behind her. “Why?”

“I wanna hug.”

“Get Claygon to hug you,” she said, and a slight smile fought its way across her lips.

Alex shrugged, looking at Claygon. “Guess you’re my girlfriend now. Or boyfriend, I guess. …Rock-friend?”

“Oh, by Uldar, Alex.” The huntress rolled her eyes and hugged him. “Why are you such a dork?”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

She groaned and buried her forehead into his chest.

He chuckled. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” she said into his shirt. “Selina’s with Khalik, Brutus, and Najyah. I finished my geography book, so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Not much, to be honest, just working on Selina’s present,” he said.

“Oh yeah, the little bird messenger?” She slid out of his arms and looked down at the diagram. “Well, I don’t know what all the little symbols mean, but it looks like a bird. But what’s this I hear about combat?”

“I was thinking…” Alex glanced up at Claygon. “Remember when we beat the xyrthak and Baelin said the class might be able to do some monster hunting on our own?”

“Mhm.”

“And how our payout from the dune worm looks like it’s going to be pretty big?”

“Oooooh.” Her eyes lit up. “You’re thinking about doing a little bit of hunting for some extra coin?”

He shrugged. “Why not? With one less class, I’ve got some free time, and if we go an entire summer without a fight, I’m gonna get rusty. And lazy. And flabby.”

She chuckled. “You, Alex Roth, want to go hunting monsters? On your own initiative? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Hey, I signed up for Baelin’s class! And defeated two mana vampires… and those claw monsters!”

“Which is all really awesome, but like, I dunno. This is different from taking a class or getting attacked. It’s different when monster hunting on your own. That’s like ‘fireside story’ kind of stuff.”

“It’s for coin.” He shrugged. “And besides, I’ve got a killing machine with me… and also Claygon.”

She burst into giggles. “Now you sound like my parents. I’d love to come with you, if you’re hunting monsters in the countryside or Barrens.”

He smiled, reminded of that night nearly a year ago when Theresa had walked into his room and asked to come with him on his journey to Generasi. The more things changed, he supposed, the more they stayed the same.

“I’d love to have you come with me. We could make a date out of it!” he joked.

She froze, looking at him closely. “Alex… are you asking me to go monster hunting with you… as a date?”

His mind whirled. Did he really just say that? Had they even been on a proper date before? Oh, by Uldar, they hadn’t! He’d just told his girlfriend that he wanted to take her to go hunt monsters for their first da—

“That’s awesome!” A huge smile broke on her face. “I’d love that!”

His breath was nearly knocked from his body as she hugged him again with her enhanced strength.

“I’ve always wanted you to come hunting with me!”

“Y-yeah,” he said, using the Mark to keep a straight face as he slowly hugged her back. “J-Just as planned.”

He glanced at Claygon. ‘If you’ve got a mind brewing in there, do not ever let a word of this slip out to anyone!’

Alex pulled his cloak around himself and glanced around the crowd, and then at Theresa, Selina, Khalik—who had Najyah on his shoulder—and Claygon.

Brutus was guarding the apartment. And by guarding, he was probably sleeping. Theresa had promised to bring him back some food.

He scanned the crowd again, just in case there were any priests of Uldar around. It wasn’t likely, and they’d checked the square from the sky-gondola, but it still made him nervous.

Alex looked up ahead. “Well, let’s get to it.”

Above them rose Generasi’s City Hall. It was the farthest Alex had ever gone into the city.

Chapter 18

New Prey

The City Hall of Generasi—seat of the ruling council of wizards and their vast bureaucracy—was enormous. It was an absolute monument to the power and advanced level of the City at the Center of Creation.

Rising hundreds of feet in the air, its main dome—made of a single slab of marble that must have been magically conjured and carved—spread wide enough to contain an entire city block. Perched on square columns rising beside four ‘corners’ of the dome, were gigantic, painted statues of dragons.

Each was different.

To the north was a black-scaled dragon with four legs, horns, and bat-wings. To the east, a golden, serpentine one with short legs, long whiskers, and horns like a crown. Alex remembered seeing similar dragons on some of the old objects that the Lu’s stored in their attic.

On the southern column was an even longer, legless serpent that coiled around the column. Feathered wings spread from its back.

Khalik nudged him. “That looks a lot like the dragon I once saw,” he said quietly. “Though the statue is smaller.”

Alex whistled.

The western dragon looked a lot like a giant hunting cat with golden scales, elk-like antlers, and a long, snaking tail.

Below the dome, the building spread out for blocks. Messenger constructs flew to and from small windows in a swarm of shimmering metal, while flying wizards—on sky-gondolas, sky-boats, flying carpets, brooms, or just flying along—entered the building through a great stone docking bay, protected from the elements by an overhang with a host of gargoyles clinging to its sides.

Alex tilted his head.

Did… did one of those gargoyles move?

“It’s huge!” Selina said, absolutely delighted at the architecture. “You could fit our whole town in there!”

“You couldn’t fit all of Alric in there,” Theresa said. “Just… a lot of it. By every god in the world, do they really need all this space to run the city?”

“In Tekezash, much of the royal and courtly work is handled within the palace,” Khalik said quietly. “And it is immense, though not quite so big. I can imagine an entire city of wizards would have many more, and many different concerns than a regular government for a mortal realm would. Look at how busy the sky above is. The officials here would have a responsibility to decide pathways for air traffic safety, something a mortal realm would not.”

He glanced at his shoulder and noticed Najyah staring at a nearby wizard’s familiar: a very fat duck. The giant eagle looked ready to pounce.

Khalik gave her a disapproving look. “And even what is to be done when one wizard’s familiar eats another! Come, you naughty bird, before you get us all thrown into the local prison!”

Alex glanced at Khalik.

He wondered where Wizard Prison actually was, if there was such a thing, and how they would keep a wizard locked up if one didn’t want to be. It sounded like a place to be curious about from a safe distance.

What he was glad to see from up close was the interior of City Hall. He’d learned at the church school that Uldar’s main cathedral was a wondrous place dedicated in the highest honour to Thameland’s god, though he’d never seen it himself. His teachers had talked about studying there among statues of past Saints and Heroes positioned along walls covered in holy murals that spread onto the ceiling.

Clearly, the architects here had a similar idea when they were creating Generasi’s City Hall. Except they’d used a lot more magic and a lot less restraint. Murals covered the walls and ceiling, and some of them were actually moving.

There was a ceiling mural of wizards forming a circle, and all of their heads faced toward the centre, which resembled the sun with the alchemical symbol for mana in the middle.

The building’s towering walls had scenes of triumphs from Generasi’s history, including one of Noarc triumphantly conjuring rain to defeat the drought. Dozens of different languages filled the air, and Alex found that he was able to understand more of some of them than he used to. His progress had been slower for some languages than he would’ve liked because his time had been limited, but gradually, he’d become pretty comfortable in a few, especially Rhinean. More would come later.

“This place is so pretty!” Selina said, her eyes as wide as saucers. “I wanna know how they built it!”

“Maybe they’ll teach you that in class, or maybe they have information available for the public here.” Khalik chuckled, looking around. “And I thought our school was a maze.”

He approached a guard who gave them directions to the Office of Bounties and Hunts, as well as a small booklet with the history of City Hall for Selina.

A few long halls later, they entered a soaring chamber with a series of brass signs rotating in midair in the centre of the room, while a large group of armed folk read the signs intently. In the back was a massive stone topped desk that filled the entire width of the room, supported by what looked like the bones of giant monsters. The desk was staffed by workers focused on paperwork. One was in the middle of a discussion with a lean, vicious looking warrior. Floating in a transparent sphere beside him was the head of some kind of monster with green scales like a fish, and the mouth of a lamprey.

After a little more conversation, the staff member handed the bounty hunter a large sack that he held close to his ear and shook. It jingled even above the conversation filling the room as the pair shook hands and a grin spread across the hunter’s face.

Alex’s nostrils had flared when his group stepped through the door. There were a lot of people standing in line beside floating monster parts—heads, claws, and other proof they would need to collect their bounty—that were displayed in spheres. With all the monster parts in the room, Alex would’ve expected a stench to fill the air, but there were no bad odours, none at all. He supposed that any office in a bureau of wizards that dealt with dead things all day, would have some magical means of keeping the air fresh. For everyone’s sake.

Some of the monster hunters turned, looking at the newcomers and parting as they and the enormous Claygon stepped through the crowd.

From what Alex had learned, bounties and requests for hunts were filed with the bureau here. The government provided a reward, depending on what sort of monster was reported as being a danger to the community, and sometimes, individuals would add to the bounty. Alex wasn’t really hoping for a fortune.

Higher bounties were rare and usually offered for stronger monsters, which he had no interest in going after, since he wasn’t interested in being killed. He just wanted to go ‘hunting’ with his girlfriend, not ‘die immediately.’

He looked at the rotating signs, then at the desk.

“Strange that we didn’t come here for the mana vampire bounty,” Alex noted.

“Oh, that was you?” a voice said.

Alex looked over and saw… nothing.

“Down here, friend.”

Alex lowered his head and was a little startled.

He used to think that Kybas was tiny, but this monster hunter was even shorter. Perhaps only two and a half feet tall at most. His face had a bit of an elven shape—with the sharp features, large eyes, and cheekbones—but they were much sharper, almost like they’d been carved. His ears were far longer too, maybe adding another quarter foot to his tiny stature.

He also moved strangely. Almost too smoothly, like he was more of an animated construct of water than a person. Alex recalled an entry in his magic lore textbook: about a near-mortal fey race called swiftlings. Very short, but quicker than the wind.

“Uh, hello,” Alex said. “Uh, yeah, that was me, and my friends.”

“Well, that’s swell, and damned lucky,” the little fellow ran his fingers through his blond hair. “You’re younger than I would’ve imagined. But maybe that big golem helped? The name’s Ripp.”

“Alex.” He bent down and shook the swiftling’s tiny hand.

“But yeah, there’s different desks in City Hall for paying out bounties. For bigger ones, you usually go someplace different since that means counting out more coin, and so things slow down.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Alex said. “So, Ripp, are you searching for a bounty?”

“Yes indeeder,” he said, looking up at the rotating signs. “Just brought in a pretty big one and got paid, so I want to take another before I go.”

“There’s more than I thought there would be,” Alex said.

“What, bounties or people?”

“Uh, both.”

“Not surprising, either way. Lots of magic in the air means there’s always something to be captured, exterminated, or driven off. Especially in early summer. Most things have just finished breeding and are off feeding and growing, or looking for territory. And there’s more of us around than usual, on account of the mana vampire. But since you and company took it off the market, hunters are doing a few jobs to build up some coin before they sail off elsewhere. Mostly to Thameland, even though I hear things might be brewing west and south.”

“Right…” Alex said. It would make sense that mercenaries and monster hunters would go to Thameland. Funny, that never seemed to be mentioned in the history books either.

“What’re you thinking?” Ripp asked Alex. “Gonna go for some big prey? There’s no bounty as big as the mana vampire, but some ships say they heard beautiful singing coming from some of the islands to the west. The shipping authority wants it investigated. They think it might be sirens, so they’re offering a bounty of ten gold per head if it is.”

“What’re sirens?” Alex asked.

“They’re monsters that look like birds with big, scaly feet and the faces of some of the most beautiful women you’d ever see. Their singing bewitches sailors and lures them close to the rocks to crash their ships. Then they go out and eat the poor devils while they’re drowning.”

“Oh…” Alex shuddered. “I can see why the shipping authority would want them gone.”

“Yes indeeder. If there’s a flock of six or so, you make a little more than half of what you’d get for a mana vampire. But, maybe that’s not such a thrill for you.”

Alex frowned. “Ten gold per head… I guess that means they’re not super dangerous if the bounty’s so much less than for a mana vampire.”

Ripp’s eyes went wide. “No, no, no, my friend. Don’t ever think that. Bounty’s not only decided by danger, it’s also decided by demand. You could get a bounty of a hundred gold coins on an ordinary muupkara if it happened to kill a noble’s prized horse. Lots of hunters have gotten hurt or dead from looking at a sign and going, ‘low bounty means easy.’”

Alex winced. That made sense. Baelin would’ve been so disappointed in him right now. “Yeah, then how do you pick contracts, and would you mind giving me some pointers on how to do it?”

“Sure thing, I’m not sore about competition ’cos there’s plenty of work to go-around since there’s always some wizard looking for this part or that. What I’d say is, think about your talents and strengths and go after what you figure you’d be good against.”

“Ah, yeah,” Alex nodded. “Of course.”

That sounded like advice Baelin would give. He wondered how many people who hunted and killed monsters for a living ended up doling out the same advice. If he kept on hunting things, would he end up being the one handing out similar advice one day?

“Thanks for the help,” Alex said. “Let me buy you a drink some time.”

“Why, thanks, my friend,” Ripp said, a little surprised.

“Hey, you gave me advice that might save my life one day, the least I can do is buy you a cup of wine or beer or something.”

The swiftling smiled. “Well, looks like we’ve got manners. If we meet again here, I’ll take you up on that. Right-o! And keep this in mind, before you accept a contract from anyone offering you one, ask if they’re also offering a reward. Some folks offer coin on top of the bounty from the city. Negotiate hard if they do, and make sure they pay you. If they find one soft monster hunter, then they’ll think we all work cheap.”

For a moment, Alex remembered Professor Mangal’s talk about fey magic and promises. He hadn’t been planning on skipping out on his offer, but he made a promise not to forget about his word to buy Ripp a drink.

Glancing up at the signs, Alex went through each of the contracts, trying to find a sweet spot between something that would pay well, and something that’d be a good fit for his and Theresa’s skills.

He disregarded anything that involved the sea since he didn’t own a boat, and even if he had, it certainly wouldn’t have been a big enough one to hold Claygon.

Then he came across it.

Holding up his hand and reaching for the sign, he watched it float down.

Wanted: A fiendish creature is killing pigs and cracking the hives of the beekeepers of the Nobildonna Moggi. Strong presence of wasps. Vespara suspected.

Bounty: 30 gold coins for the head or wings of the creature, or some other body part if the creature proves to be something else.

Inquire at the Nobildonna’s estate for more information. Note that monster hunters should have a record of success, or a reference from a wizard of repute or a member of the nobility.

He’d have to work for ten shifts to match the bounty on this monster’s head, and he had both a record of kills and a potential reference if he needed one.

The bounty sounded quite good.

“What’s this?” Theresa sidled up beside him. “A Vespara?”

“Kind of a wasp-humanoid thing,” Alex said, recalling a page from magic lore. “Hijacks control of wasp’s nests and makes them do its bidding. It can make the wasps grow a lot bigger than normal, and the thing’s elusive and hard to track.”

“Yech, you don’t want that one,” Ripp said. “Swarms are a pain.”

“You want it?” Alex looked at Theresa.

Theresa gave a vicious smile. “Sounds like a challenge.”

Alex glanced at Claygon, noting the fire-gems.

“I don’t think swarms are going to be a problem,” he said to Ripp, preparing to take the sign to register it at the desk so they could contact the client.

And so, that was part one of the date arranged. This weekend, they would head to the estate and go on a little hunt. The evening before, though, Alex had a different plan.

He glanced at the bag hanging from his forceball.

In there was a notebook.

In that notebook was a page with a new title:

Super Awesome Date Plan That Cannot Possibly Fail and that the Ravener itself Could Not Ruin.

Alex would make Theresa an incredible dessert in the morning, then they’d go to one of the fanciest restaurants on campus for supper. Afterward, they’d have a picnic by the sea and enjoy the dessert together. He’d spent a few hours thinking about and planning everything out, trying to account for potential problems.

‘I got this,’ he thought.

‘I in no way got this!’ he screamed mentally, looking in dismay at the catastrophe that was the insula’s kitchen.

Batter was everywhere.

Chapter 19

Kitchen Nightmares

Things had started off well.

The dessert he’d planned to make was called a spit cake, which sounded disgusting but wasn’t actually made of spit. People only got the disgusting kind of spit cake if they really made their baker mad.

No, the kind of spit cake he’d be making was one of the more challenging recipes he’d learned about since coming to Generasi. Very labour intensive and supposedly very tasty.

Theresa was the kind of person that liked roasted meat cooked on a spit. Sometimes, she’d just pull up a chair and watch Mr. Lu rotate a big hunk of venison over an open fire, especially if the meat was from one of her kills.

When Alex had found out he could make a cake in the same way, he’d gotten super excited.

He recalled the recipe:

When making a spit cake, the first thing the adventurous needs is a mould, this will be what your batter adheres to when you are turning the cake over the spit!

He’d already made the mould a couple of days earlier. It was made of wood shaped like a hollow cone with one narrow end and one wide end to insert the spit through. He’d wrapped it in parchment paper, and when it was time to cook the cake, he would heat the mould by fitting it onto a spit that was set up in front of an open fire.

The next thing he’d needed to do was make the batter, which called for a lot of eggs, butter, sugar or honey, flour, rum, and an anise-flavoured liqueur. The batter was so delicious that he’d kept sampling it way more than he should have while he was making it. He could do so because Generasi didn’t have McHarris’ disguised rotten eggs problem.

Alex had left the batter to settle in the top of their pantry—which was ringed in a spell-array to keep things cool—until he was ready to actually cook it this morning.

After the mould was hot, he’d then have to scoop up the batter in a ladle and slowly drizzle it over the hot mould while turning the spit. Most of the batter was supposed to stick to the mould and bake onto it layer by layer.

He’d remembered the recipe:

The batter will be runny at first and drip while it cooks, solidifying until the final layer of the cake has a coral-like appearance. Make sure you place a tray beneath your spit to catch the drips, waste not want not! This tasty cake will be dry and crisp, especially if iced with caramelized sugar. Serve it with sweet wine for a complete experience!

Alex’s belly had rumbled just thinking about it, and he’d hoped Theresa would enjoy it. There were just two problems with the recipe, though. One was that it called for at least two people: one to keep the spit turning evenly and one to pour the batter. Luckily, many Wizard’s Hands made light work.

The other problem was the amount of time the cake was supposed to take to make.

Five hours, if he included the time to heat up the mould, and the clean-up.

He’d gotten up at the crack of dawn—washed, ate a quick breakfast—and quietly left the apartment, carrying the big bowl of batter on a forcedisk. Hardly anyone else was stirring in the insula, and he didn’t have to worry about waking anybody at home.

Theresa had already left for an informal morning meditation with her Life Enforcement teacher, Professor Kabbot-Xin. Selina was staying with the family of one of her school friends for a weekend sleepover. Even Brutus was out: Khalik was taking care of him for the day and he’d also told Alex he could use his apartment to get ready for his date. In return, Alex had promised to take care of Najyah when the prince wanted to spend time in the dryad wood with Sinope, or if she came to spend time with him at his apartment, which the mischievous Najyah would probably enjoy sabotaging.

That had given Alex the time he needed in the insula kitchen, which he’d booked beforehand.

At least, he could have sworn he’d booked it.

Which is why it had been so strange to see light already streaming from it when he arrived.

“Uh, hello?” he’d called uncertainly.

“Oh, were you the one that booked the kitchen?” came a light voice from inside. “Sorry, I didn’t see anyone down here so I thought maybe you weren’t coming!”

A woman with a short, blonde haircut had poked her head out of the messy kitchen. “Sorry, I really needed the kitchen. It’s my darling little Brock’s sixth birthday, and he really wants a chocolate cake!”

Alex recalled looking over the absolute mess she’d made in stunned silence and had to force his mouth to work. “Uh, I need the—”

“Isn’t he just the cutest?”

To his horror, she’d pulled out a large locket and flipped it open, revealing a charcoal image of the young Brock tucked inside. She had then tried to shove it in his face with the same energy as one of the clawed monsters trying to gut him.

“Look, I’m sure your son’s excited,” Alex had said, fearlessly calling on his training to dodge the small drawing. “But I booked the kitchen and I really need it. I’m making this—”

“Ooooh, I’ll be in and out quickly. It’s just a simple chocolate cake, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“What recipe is it?”

“Hmm?”

“Which cookbook are you usin—”

There, on the counter, had been a cookbook named Zhou’s Favourites: Labours of Love and Time.

Horror had filled him. He’d learned about that cookbook after coming to Generasi. A horrifying, forbidden tome crafted by a baker who was half-genius and half-madman. Some of the school’s bakers he’d chatted with had talked about it in hushed tones, as if speaking too loudly would summon its author. The cookbook was filled with all kinds of heavenly sounding recipes, but the problem was that the ‘time’ part in that title was not to be underestimated. The baker seemed to look at time as some never-ending, abstract concept.

If he remembered correctly, the recipe for Zhou’s chocolate cake took one hundred and fifty hours if done right. Alex took in her supplies at a glance. Judging from what was there, she was about to start making the mousse. That meant she was hours away from finishing.

“Um, I hate to do this,” he’d said. “But I think it’ll take a while for you to finish, and I booked this time slot in advance. I really need to get started. Look, I need the counter, but then I’m going to be using the spit and fireplace, so when I get to that step, if you really want, you—”

Her frown had deepened with every word. “I don’t think I like your tone, young man.”

“Pardon?”

“My little Brock needs his cake. Are you really going to take a child’s cake away from him?”

“I’m not going to. Like I said, if you really need the kitchen—”

“Wait, I’ve got it.” Her eyes had lit up. “If you really need the kitchen—” Condescension lay in her voice when she repeated his words. “Then you can help me with my cake. I’ll be done faster, then you can have it aaaaall to yourself. We both win!”

Alex had been stunned into utter shock. “Wait, are you telling me you want me to help you make your cake before I make mine? In the kitchen I booked?”

“Well, you’re off for the summer, aren’t you? Do you really have that much to do? When you’re older, you have more responsibilities, you know. You should help me. My husband and I are very busy with our studies—”

“Where is he?”

“Asleep, not that it’s any of your business,” she’d huffed. “But I have responsibilities, so you should help me make a young boy happy and—”

“Lady, you’re not supposed to be here,” he’d interrupted. “I’m not helping you make a one-hundred-and-fifty-hour cake, and let me tell you, I have responsibilities. Now, we can work something ou—”

“Are you talking back to me?” Her voice raised three octaves. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners! I was here first and my child really needs a cake and—”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Excuse me?”

In that moment, Alex had briefly considered calling Claygon over to give her a couple of blows. He’d resisted.

“You’re done. Don’t ever say a word about my mother again.” His voice had gone flat, all courtesy gone. “And no, I don’t think I will excuse you. Talking about people’s mothers? You’re a grown woman, what’s wrong with you? You know what—the hell with this.”

“Where are you going?” she’d snapped.

“To wake up the superintendent so she can toss you out of the kitchen I booked.”

“You do that! I’m good friends with her and she’ll take my side!”

The superintendent had in no way taken the indignant woman’s side.

It had taken a long time—and a lot of yelling and threats—but she finally managed to toss the arrogant woman out of the kitchen and promised to send a report about her behaviour to the Housing Department.

At last, Alex had the kitchen, but the ordeal had taken more than two hours of arguing, plus he’d had to clean up the mess the angry mother left behind. Still, since he was familiar with her chocolate cake recipe, he knew she would still have been there if he hadn’t said anything.

Once he’d gotten set up, he scrambled to try and catch up to get the cake done in time. He’d been pouring the batter over the mould while his Wizard’s Hands had turned the spit. Delicious smells filled the kitchen, but he was getting nervous. Time was passing, and he couldn’t afford to lose the time he needed to get ready.

In his distractedness, he’d ordered his Wizard’s Hands to turn the spit too fast. The cake layer hadn’t set as firmly on the spit as he’d thought.

Batter had flown off, splattering everywhere.

His mind finally returned to the present after chronicling the disasters that brought him to this moment. Now, here he was, covered in batter, with most of the cake on surfaces other than the mould, and with only a small amount of batter left to use.

Cursing in all kinds of languages, he scrambled to grab rags and clean up the mess. Considering his options, he decided to use what little batter there was left to finish the cake since he didn’t have time to start anything else. With less batter, he managed to finish the cake only a little behind schedule, but—in the end—it turned out… small, and kind of pathetic.

He sighed. It’d have to do.

Casting Lesser Heat to keep it warm, he boxed it up, set it in the basket beneath his forceball, and jogged back to the washing area to de-cake himself.

The sun had long risen and he needed to get ready.

“Do I look good?” Alex asked, turning and examining himself in front of the mirror again. His fancy clothes from the patrizia’s ball had been destroyed, so he’d bought an identical forest-green doublet and wine-coloured hose from the same tailor he’d gotten the first set from.

He wasn’t exactly setting out to set the fashion world on fire, so he’d picked what he knew would work.

“For the thousandth time, yes!” Khalik roared. “If you don’t get out of my apartment, I swear I will pick you up and throw you from the balcony! Now go to your girlfriend!”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Damn right.”

Alex finally calmed down when he reached the outside of the insula. Claygon was standing guard, gazing off into the distance with his shark-toothed face.

“Sorry, buddy, you’ll have to wait here,” Alex apologized. “This is one time where I think bringing you with me would be kind of… not too romantic. And we’re just going to be on campus.”

If Claygon was offended, he gave no sign.

“Hey, were you waiting long?”

Alex turned and gasped.

Theresa had cleaned up well again.

The huntress rushed toward him, her black dress billowing around her. A white collar of fur covered her shoulders, and beneath it, a light cape fell to the middle of her back. The skirt had long slits up the sides, revealing stark white leggings and long boots extending above the knee.

“No… I uh… just got here…” he said.

“That’s a… new outfit. Well, it’s not, but you look really good,” she said, idly fixing an errant strand of his hair.

“Yeah, you took the words right out of my mouth.”

She chuckled. “Complimenting yourself, Alex?”

He shook off his mind-fog. “No, I’m not even joking. You look absolutely fantastic.”

She blushed. “You too. Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He offered her his hand, and she slipped hers into his.

The young couple strolled along the path from the insula in the late afternoon sun. Below his forceball, the small spit cake was hidden away—along with two more surprises.

‘It’s okay, we’re okay. Things started off badly this morning and the cake’s a little small, but we’re on our first date now. Things are going to get better.’

Then he noticed them: dark clouds on the horizon.

‘No way,’ he thought. ‘It was clear earlier. Clear. No way it’s going to rain. No way I’m that unlucky.’

Then he remembered the Mark of the Fool stamped mockingly on his shoulder.

‘Okay, maybe I’m that unlucky, but Theresa can’t be, can she?’

Then he also remembered the night he’d wanted to tell her how he felt about her, and how a horde of monsters tried to kill everyone. For an instant, he glanced back at the insula shrinking in the distance. Maybe he’d call Claygon after—

No. They were on campus. Safest place in the city. Well, except for the potion explosions. And the demon summoning.

He shook his head. No, no. They’d be fine.

He used his meditation techniques to calm his mind but—as if mocking him like the jester’s face on his shoulder—the sky continued to darken.

Chapter 20

The Rain

Alex and Theresa strolled through the quiet beauty of the university campus. They weren’t in any particular hurry. It was too early for their reservation, and the grounds were beautiful. It had been a long time since they’d just walked through campus to simply enjoy the sights without having to worry about hurrying from class to class, work, or some other appointment.

Now, though…

“It’s so quiet,” Theresa said as they crossed through parklands, past buildings of white and grey stone.

She looked up fondly at the towering buildings laden with sculptures along the sides and gargoyles crouched on the edges of their roofs. “It reminds me of when we first came here.”

“Yeah… it really does,” he agreed, holding her hand a little tighter. “I remember you, Selina, and even Brutus were so tired that first day, you just collapsed at the first place you found in the apartment. Left me to explore campus all by my lonesome.”

“Did I do that?” she asked. “Nooo—Oh, yeah. I remember now. It was a lot. All this magic and flying, and just, everything. You knew more about magic, but for me, it was… like I said, a lot. Strange how I’ve almost gotten used to it now.”

“Yeah…” He looked at the fountain in front of the squat, windowless library. Water poured from the hood of a stone figure with scrolls hanging from its robes, and two books hugged to its chest.

Alex fought nerves that had been steadily growing. He and Theresa had known each other forever, but being on a date—an actual date—made his gut feel like it was turning to ice and his legs like they were made of jelly. Strangely enough, them knowing each other so well made him even more nervous. They were well beyond making ‘get to know each other’ conversation, so what was he supposed to talk about?

If he just carried on making his usual jokes, it would be just like any regular day!

‘Alex, come on!’ he scolded himself. ‘You fought a bunch of claw monsters and a mana vampire, why’re you freaking out? Get it together! Say something.’

He opened his mouth and glanced at Theresa. She was wearing a look of calmness. Of pure, quiet contentment, and peace. He closed his mouth.

They walked in comfortable silence, just enjoying the afternoon sun and the pleasure of being in each other’s company, though the dark clouds continued to build in the distance.

Alex tried to will them away.

Taking their time, they travelled to different parts of campus, some well-known and some little-known. They passed the sky-track, which was a stadium that floated about a hundred feet off the ground, surrounded by bleachers painted in bright colours.

A number of people were training, either racing each other or just enjoying the art of flying. In the distance, he and Theresa could see a short, squat wizard drifting through the air, gripping some type of magical sky-kite.

Theresa sighed wistfully. “Doesn’t that look amazing? Just flying for the sake of it? Nothing but the warm air and wind around you?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking to his bag. “It does look amazing.”

In another part of campus, they passed a tall, wide tower with a domed marble roof. A gigantic brass telescope rose from it, pointing at the darkening sky. They passed the Deep Insula, set in a magically refreshed lake, where students of aquatic races could live comfortably.

They saw other folk walking around, including a horned figure far along the path—Wait, was that Thundar? The figure paused, cupped their hands above their eyes as though squinting to see, and then immediately turned and headed the other way.

Theresa chuckled. “Seems Thundar’s being considerate.”

The early evening sun washed through the window onto Alex and Theresa as they sat in the revolving restaurant where Khalik had taken them long ago when they first met.

Alex had reserved a seat by the window so they could enjoy the views of campus. Each time their window faced the oncoming clouds, though, his uneasiness grew.

It really looked like it was going to rain.

He thought about the gazebo by the beach where he’d planned to unveil dessert, and kept hoping it wouldn’t rain until dessert was a delicious memory. Maybe sometime next week.

“Alex.”

“Mhm?” He turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

Theresa was cutting into her fried swordfish, looking up at him. “You ever think that it’s too bad we don’t get to enjoy stuff like this more often?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” he asked, prying open one of his steamed clams. “You mean dates?”

“No, I mean… just being able to enjoy this place.” She looked out the window. “It’s… When we were walking today, I was noticing things, new things, about places we pass every day. Did you know that one of the gargoyles on the lecture hall in front of the library is chipped? The one on the west corner.”

Alex chuckled. “Your senses are better than mine.”

“Yeah, but my senses have been a lot sharper for months. I feel things more precisely. I see clearer and farther, I hear better. And that building was the lecture hall for my geography class this spring. And I never noticed it. It’s like… it’s like we go numb. The first day I was here I had to sit down from it all, now I barely notice all the magic.”

“Yeah, me too…” Alex said. “Like, you see flying carpets and walking chairs for the first time, and you can’t pick your jaw up off the floor. But now, it just fades into the background a lot.”

“Mhm, and we’ve got so much we’re so busy with. Now summer’s here, maybe we can just… be again. Professor Kabbot-Xin talked about that this morning: just being. We’re always doing, always thinking, and planning. Never just… being.”

“Right,” he said. “And then we stop noticing what’s going on around us, right?”

“Yeah. Like… I’m sitting here,” she gave a bitter laugh. “And I can barely taste this super expensive, super delicious swordfish, because I keep telling myself not to say something stupid and embarrass us in this restaurant.”

“We both know I’m more likely to do that,” Alex said, trying to lighten her mood.

“Yeah maybe,” she chuckled. “But it’s not right. It’s not right to just get so used to something so wondrous, that it just doesn’t mean anything or you stop paying attention to it. Maybe that’s why great-grandfather travelled so much. Just to keep seeing new things.”

“Yeah, but he settled in Alric. Fell in love with Thameland.”

That gave her pause. “He did. Maybe he just got used to being.”

“…I remember you said that you stopped feeling excited in Coille,” Alex said. “I mean, it makes sense, you’ve been in and out of that forest so many times. Did you ever stop noticing new things about it?”

She sighed. “I kind of did. I mean, I still love it there, but I know most of the trees like old friends. It’s not like I walk in there thinking, ‘what am I going to discover this time.’ It’s not exciting to explore anymore.”

Theresa shook her head, then suddenly burst out laughing.

Alex startled. “What?”

“I just remembered something: do you remember Arla?”

He tilted his head.

It was strange, he’d barely even thought about most of the people he knew from the church-school. He’d never been super close to most of them. Sure, he’d had friends he used to talk to a bit, but his focus on working at McHarris’, teaching himself about wizardry, studying all the time, trying to help out at the inn and with Selina, didn’t leave him a lot of time to get close to the other students.

“I remember talking to her a few times,” he said. “Didn’t seem like she was too interested in talking to me, and, I guess that road went two ways. She moved to Elmvale, didn’t she? Right after we finished at the church school, I think? Was she someone you used to talk to?”

“Not much.” Theresa shook her head. “But do you remember how she had a few boyfriends?”

“Not really,” he admitted. He vaguely remembered seeing her hanging around with different guys, but hadn’t paid much attention.

“Well, I’m not sure if I ever told you this.” Theresa took a sip from her drink. “But, this one time, Arla and I ran into each other at the miller’s. On the way back, we got to talking. It was really close to us finishing school for good and she just started talking. You know that thing that people do where they think they’re not going to see you again so they open up?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded vigorously. He couldn’t count how many travellers passing through Alric had stopped by McHarris’ bakery and cornered some staff member with a tale of half their life story. “Is that what she did with you?”

“Mhm, she’d just broken up with Harold, whatever his last name was, and… she said the strangest thing to me.” Theresa put on a voice. “‘I dunno, whenever things are going too smoothly, I get bored. When you’re with someone long enough there’s nothing new anymore. At least fighting makes things interesting.’”

He snorted. “Sounds like she’d get along with Baelin, pretty sure he’d be like, ‘fighting makes things interesting.’”

“Maybe.” She chuckled. “But like… that’s pretty terrible, isn’t it? You’re with your partner long enough, and then it’s like, ‘Sorry, you’re not new anymore I’m bored now, let’s fight ’cos that’ll make things interesting or maybe break up!’ We don’t do that with friends, right? ‘Oh, this friend’s boring now, let’s stop hanging around with them.’ That just sounds crazy.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “And I guess it’s the same thing with places. We’ve been in wizard-world so long that we just don’t notice how cool it is a lot of the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want that to happen,” Theresa said. “I still want to travel, but what’s the point if you can never be and simply enjoy where you are and whoever you’re with? You’re just going from place to place just chasing something you can’t find. A hunt that never ends has no point to it. I just want to be… be, and enjoy what I have… Like being with you.”

“Me too, Theresa.” He smiled. “I just love that we’re together. And I love you.”

She smiled. “Love you too.”

The dark clouds continued to build outside.

When they left the restaurant, the late-evening sun had turned the world a fiery orange. Except it was almost hidden behind a wave of angry clouds to the east.

“It looks like rain,” Theresa said, staring up at the sky.

“Yeah…” Alex muttered, trying to figure out when the rain might come. He hoped it would hold off for a little longer. “Do you want to go home or do you want to keep things going? I have something else in mind.”

“Let’s keep going,” she said eagerly. “I’m having a lot of fun.”

His heart jumped at that.

“Right, then.” He took two Potions of Flight from his bag. Two of his few remaining ones. “Like you said before, we’ve never really had a chance to just… fly, have we? Just to enjoy it.”

He handed her a potion. “Come fly with me.”

She looked up at him as her eyes widened with delight, and she kissed him. They held each other under the fleeting sunlight.

Holding the potion bottles up, they clinked them together in a toast, then downed them and took off, soaring up into the evening sky. As they climbed, the campus shrank away and Theresa was soon giggling with delight, which spread to Alex.

“Look how small everything looks!” she laughed.

Below, the glass structures of the beastarium and the botanical gardens glittered like diamonds in the evening light, and the main castle looked like something from a fairy tale.

They flew through the warm air, and—for the first time—just enjoyed it.

“Alex!” Theresa cried. “We’re flying! We’re actually flying! How did I never just enjoy this?”

“Right?” He spread his arms like the wings of a bird and flipped upside down as he soared, kicking through the air like he was swimming. “It’s a little different when you’re not up here fighting, isn’t it? By the Traveller—Look out!”

The young couple squealed and dived as a flock of geese flew past them, their honking mixing with Alex and Theresa’s laughter.

They sailed through the fading light as the beach grew closer and closer.

It was wonderful.

Drp.

A cold drop hit his hand.

Followed by a moment of horror.

“No, no, no!” he cried.

Hsssss!

Both squealed as the cool rain hit them, sending them into fits of laughter. Alex considered casting wind-and-rain shield, but it was only falling lightly for now, and besides, trying to outrun the rain might be kinda fun since Theresa was having fun.

They reached for each other’s hand and shot forward. The rain falling harder the closer they got to the gazebo beside the sea.

Just as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and the heavens opened up, they touched down, running up the steps before they were completely soaked. They were still laughing as they stood under the shelter, shaking like a wet Brutus, and squeezing rainwater from their fancy clothes.

“Do you see a pattern here?” Alex said. “Every time we get dressed up, something always happens to mess up our clothes!”

“At least it’s only rain and not monster guts this time.” She laughed.

The rain hissed against the roof and churning ocean as waves broke upon the beach. The white sand darkened with every drop.

Alex cast two forceballs and a crimson glow illuminated the gazebo.

“Well, damn.” He put his hands on his hips. “We nearly made it. Ah well, I guess we’ll just have to eat our dessert and hope the rain lets up.”

“Yeah…” she said, giving the rain an appraising look. Then she quickly looked back at him. “Wait, did you say dessert?”

“Uh-huh, such as it is.” He opened the box shielded by his forceball. Inside was the sad looking little spit cake, reminiscent of an evergreen tree, that he’d managed to finish making. “There’s just enough for two of us. None for seconds, but uh… happy first date?”

“Alex, it’s not my birth—Oh, by Uldar, never mind!” Her chuckle turned into giggling.

They sat at a picnic table and he handed her a fork while nervously eyeing the dessert.

Together, they dug into the cake.

“Wow!” Theresa said.

It was actually really good.

Different from what he usually made, and probably not as good as it could’ve been if he’d had more time, but still, really good. He would definitely make this again.

Making little sounds of appreciation, but no intelligible words, they finished it off.

“By Uldar, I want you to bake for me every day,” Theresa said as she put her fork down.

“Only if you hunt for me,” he chuckled, glancing out at the rain. He sighed. “Alright, looks like it’s here to stay. Do you want to sit here for a bit? Maybe walk on the beach. The wet sand’ll be kind of gross, but I can cast a wind-and rai—what are you doing?”

Theresa had pulled off one of her long boots.

Then the other.

His eyes went wide when she shrugged off her cape.

She wiggled her toes then jumped to her feet, looking at the beach. “Forget the spell.”

“You want to just—hey!”

Laughing, Theresa ran down the stairs of the gazebo and onto the rainy beach. She twirled; her black hair and dress whirling around her in the fading light.

The smile she gave him was absolutely radiant. “What’s wrong? Afraid of a little rain, mighty wizard?”

She spread her arms. “Come on, Alex, come to me. Just be! Be with me!”

There was only one way he could possibly respond.

Quickly dragging off his shoes, he sprinted onto the beach after her.

“Ahhhh!” she screamed as she ran. “Now I’m the one being hunted, someone save me!”

“Muahahaha! No one around to hear you!” he laughed as he chased her along the sand.

She was faster than he was, but he noticed her slowing, probably on purpose, until he reached her and caught her up in his arms. Theresa squealed as he lifted her from her feet and held her by the waist high above his head.

Her body straightened above him and she spread her arms. “Look! I’m flying again!”

Laughing, he gently lowered her down and kissed her. They kissed until she laughed and squirmed out of his grip. She started to dance, one of the same dances they’d shared on the night of the patrizia’s party.

Alex joined her.

And they danced.

And they danced.

And just… were.

Brutus whined as he buried one of his heads in Khalik’s lap. Two of the other heads watched the balcony.

“Alright, Brutus, don’t bay your heart away, boy,” Khalik said, laying down his book and goblet of wine, then handed the cerberus a treat. He pet him as he wolfed it down. “There’s a good boy.”

As soon as he started petting Brutus, he felt a surge of indignation from outside himself. Then Najyah was landing beside him, opening her mouth like a newborn chick.

The prince gave her a withering look. “You are not a baby bird begging for worms, Najyah.”

She moved her open beak closer.

He sighed, handing her a treat, and felt a surge of satisfaction from her as the food disappeared. Shaking his head, he continued to pet Brutus.

“Aaaah, your mother will return soon, my friend,” he said. “Not too soon, with any hope. But soon enough. Besides, you get to spend the day with both her and Alex tomorrow.”

He handed him another treat, which drew another squawk and opened beak from Najyah.

“Najyah… one of these days, I will be seeing Sinope, and Alex and Theresa will be watching you. Will you give them as much trouble as you give me?”

The giant eagle shook her head.

“…Treacherous bird.”

Chapter 21

Honey & Wine

“Hmmm, I expected someone a little… older,” the steward of the nobildonna said somewhat sceptically. His eyes swept between them. “You are truly Alexander Roth and Theresa Lu, slayers of the mana vampire and allies of Patrizia DePaolo on that unfortunate evening?”

“I do feel old on the inside sometimes,” Alex said, then jerked his thumb at Claygon. “Would the four-armed golem be enough proof?”

“Maybe the cerberus, too,” Theresa said, petting one of Brutus’ heads.

The steward looked at the giant golem and the giant three headed hound. “Ah, forgive me, I did not mean to be rude. I was merely surprised.”

He scratched his greying-blond hair and stepped out of the front door of the main house. “You’ll have to excuse the nobildonna: she is resting at the moment, but I trust that I can direct you in her stead. If you will follow me.”

Theresa and Alex followed the older man away from the house.

The nobildonna’s estate was nowhere near as grand as that of Isolde’s cousin. Smaller out buildings surrounded a smaller main house, and there were far less workers and other folk around. They watched the young couple and their hulking companions.

A young boy scratched his head at Alex’s forceballs, which carried supplies, but one clearly had a large picnic basket hanging beneath it.

In all of his wildest imaginings—and he did have some wild imaginings—Alex doubted he would’ve ever imagined going on a hunt for his first date with Theresa. Maybe some sort of home cooked candlelit supper or a lazy summer boat ride. And yet, here they were, following a steward through a nobildonna’s small vineyard toward beehives that were kept on the outskirts of her estate.

He glanced over at Theresa, a little nervous about whether or not she was having fun, but saw that she was in full deathstalker face and her eyes were shining with excitement.

Well, he wasn’t going to question that.

“Here you can see the damage,” the steward said, gesturing to the hives where keepers in white bee-keeping suits tended their yellow and black-banded little charges.

Brutus sniffed the air at the scent of honey, and Theresa did the same.

“Wow, they really went after this place,” Alex noted.

Several of the beehives had been completely torn open like a bear had raided them. While bees flitted about the other hives in the morning sun, those hives were completely silent, Alex saw mounds of dead bees carpeting the ground.

“That they have,” the steward said, shaking his head. “Pigs have also been stung to death and torn apart during the night on surrounding farms. The nobildonna wants this handled quickly and quietly.”

“Quietly?” Theresa raised an eyebrow. “There’s a bounty with the city.”

“Indeed, but she would very much prefer that any monster hunters who take the contract act professionally and courteously as you explore her lands. She does not wish that she herself or the peasants who work and live here be disturbed. Some monster hunters have a tendency to be quite disruptive when on a hunt.”

“Well, we don’t want to disturb too much, unless we have to,” Alex said.

“But sometimes bloody work gets messy,” Theresa added.

“And she will understand that,” the steward nodded. “Depending on how quickly this is resolved, she is more than willing to offer an additional reward.”

“What kind?” Alex asked.

“Five gold coins.”

Alex frowned, mulling over the sum and thinking back to Ripp’s advice about negotiating hard.

“Well,” he said. “You’ll have to understand, if we’re going to handle this with as little… disruption as we can, then we might need a little more. Some of our more powerful assets are… well, they make things go boom.”

He glanced at Claygon. “If you want quiet, that means more time, more care, and more danger for us. For example, if we use fire magic, we’ll have to lure the swarm into a field. Extra danger.”

“Mhm, very true… I could see offering a little more.” The old steward’s eyes grew sharp, but the rest of his face remained neutral. “How much were you thinking?”

Alex glanced at Theresa, but she only gave him a guarded look. He thought back to some of the coin he’d gotten from Baelin’s sales of their kills from the Barrens.

He thought about the original price and how much vespara venom and chitin went for on the market.

Then he opened his mouth.

“Twelve gold,” he said, more than doubling the amount and increasing it to more than a third of the city’s bounty. He pitched a high number so he could hagg—

“Done,” the steward said, offering his hand.

Alex inwardly winced. He might have underestimated how much they’d be willing to pay. In the end, he had no context for how much coin the nobility had or wanted to part with. Especially those of different ranks.

Not the harshest lesson, but one he’d remember.

He shook the steward’s hand.

“Do you have any questions?” he asked.

“Yes,” Theresa was already stepping toward the smashed hives while Brutus sniffed the ground. “When did this start?”

“Roughly two weeks ago,” the steward said. “One of the bee-keepers noticed more wasps than usual around a hive. Especially for this time of year. The next day when he went to tend the bees, he found the hive smashed open and dead bees on the ground.”

He glanced at the forest. “At first, we thought it was a bear, but then one of our hunters saw a wasp in the woods the size of a terrier. We didn’t believe it at first, but for the sake of caution, we sent our hunt-master out to see if he could find a nest. When he returned, he was screaming for his life. The poor man had been nearly stung half to death.

“He’d even taken the precaution of wearing a beekeeper’s suit, but with their size and number, the wasps were able to pierce it. We lost a number of our hounds as well. Soon, swarms started appearing in broad daylight, the big ones would open the hives, and the smaller ones would kill the bees one by one. It’s been quite terrible. Last week they started attacking the pigs. The nobildonna has forbidden all on her lands from entering the trees. I fear what this will come to if this menace isn’t halted.”

“Mhm.” Theresa picked up one of the dead bees. “And you said they come from the woods?”

“Indeed, but we have not found the lair. Between the swarms and the vespara being damned elusive, there’s just been no locating it.”

“Is there anywhere else nearby where people talked about these wasps attacking farms?”

“Not that I have heard.”

Theresa shook her head. “And when was the last attack?”

“Earlier this morning,” the steward said.

“Good.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Fresh trail,” Theresa said. “Which beehive did they get?”

He pointed at one of the hives and she and Brutus went to it.

The steward turned back toward Alex. “Do you have any more questions? If not, I’ll leave you to it.”

“I don’t!” Theresa called back.

“I don’t either,” Alex said. “Roth and Lu Hunting Company will have this cleaned up in no time.”

“Right,” the steward said, heading back to his duties. “Good hunting, then.”

Theresa looked at Alex. “Roth and Lu Hunting Company?”

He shrugged. “I think it makes us sound more official.”

She thought about it. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Snff. Snff.

Brutus had all three noses to the ground nearby, then lifted a snout to the hive.

“Alex, come here,” Theresa called him over and pointed at some of the edges of a hole in the side of the hive. “See that?”

Around the hole were small piles of what looked like sawdust. “They didn’t break the hives open, they chewed their way in.”

“I think the big ones could do that.” He knelt down beside her, examining the hole. Sawdust lay everywhere, spilling onto the earth among the dead bees. Nothing else really caught his attention.

“Well, they don’t leave tracks,” he said, then narrowed his eyes. “Some of the honeycomb’s gone.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that. Here, here, Brutus! Take the scent, boy,” she said.

Brutus padded over and stuck his left nostrils into the hive, sniffing deeply. His other two heads sniffed the air, then he moved away and started sniffing the ground. After a dozen or so steps, he let out a bark and pointed at a spot while the other two heads rose to keep watch.

Theresa hurried over and sniffed the ground where the cerberus had been sniffing, to Alex’s surprise. She looked up at him and blushed. “Uh, my nose is sharper than it used to be. Anyway, it’s sticky right here and smells like honey. Looks like the comb they took was dripping.”

She smiled viciously. “We have a trail.”

“Awesome, then let’s see where it goes.”

Alex, Theresa, and Claygon followed Brutus as he followed the scent toward the tree line. The sound of chimes echoed from above, and Alex looked up to see wooden markers tied high up in the tree branches with windchimes attached to them.

He wasn’t sure what their purpose was. Maybe to alert if someone was stalking through the canopy? Maybe simple decoration? He wasn’t sure.

“It goes into the forest.” She drew her sword and cut away some of the brush. “I think there’s a game trail ahead. Up for a nature walk?”

“One filled with wasps and dangerous monsters?” he asked. “Oh yeah, totally. Sounds super peaceful and in no way constantly anxiety-inducing.”

“Hey, don’t get all scared now. This was your idea, remember?” She winked.

That wink did things to him.

“Yeah… of course it was my idea. Of course. Just uh… one sec.”

He cast Lesser Force Armour on himself and Theresa, then conjured two Wizard’s Hands which he had carry two long sticks with rushes on the end. Essentially, large fans or bug swatters.

One thing he’d learned early about the Mark was that—thankfully—it didn’t stop him from killing insects. Its principles of ‘do no harm’ seemed to specifically apply to combat situations against creatures he’d have to fight. Killing insects was pretty necessary for a lot of non-combat tasks. A Fool that couldn’t kill mosquitoes or other blood sucking insects would be a pretty miserable and useless Fool in the outdoors pretty fast.

He’d made sturdy fans they could use to drive away or swat bugs. He’d packed some of his booby-trapped flight potions, booby-trapped mana inhibiting potions, and a new one: a booby-trapped sensory enhancement potion.

It wouldn’t directly harm enemies, but it would crank their senses up to levels much higher than the regular version of the potion. High enough to cause even normal levels of light to overwhelm the eye, normal sound to overwhelm the ear, and so on.

The spell should be good to slow down a swarm and throw off their coordination. Especially if they were in an area where Claygon couldn’t use his fire beams without burning down the woods.

Alex gripped the new potion tightly. “You ready?”

“Oh, yeah,” Theresa said, her eyes shining with excitement. “Let’s have some fun.”

The four of them pushed into the trees, with Brutus at the front to keep following the trail and Claygon right behind him, breaking through branches and crushing underbrush with his big, clay feet. He cleared the path for Alex and Theresa, but he was making as much noise as a pack of angry bears standing on each other’s shoulders stomping around.

So much for the stealthy approach.

The young couple followed the golem, keeping their eyes on the forest around them. They weren’t walking on a cleared path since they were following the trail of honey, so the trees quickly grew thick. Sunlight dimmed and the air cooled. It wasn’t exactly as thick as Coille forest, but it was thick.

Not much conversation passed between him and Theresa, except when she excitedly stopped to point out animal tracks on the forest floor. Alex watched her quietly as she came alive among the trees, and a warm smile crept across his face.

This might not be the most romantic second-half-of-a-date by most peoples’ standards, but Theresa was clearly having a blast. At least at first.

Over time, a frown crept across her face.

“Alex, all of these tracks are old. They’re faded from last night’s rain and the passing of time,” she said, bending to examine the earth again. “Most of these are at least a week old.”

She looked up at the trees, searching the canopy. “There’s no birds… I haven’t even heard an insect since we came in here.”

“The wasps are probably eating everything, and I imagine the other animals avoid this place,” Alex said.

“You’re probably right. They’re feeding like they would before winter comes. But there’s not much of a winter here.”

“Yeah, they’re probably feeding the vespara,” he said.

Her frown deepened as she stood up, and they started following the trail again. “Where do you think the nest might be? Wasps usually only travel about a thousand paces from their home.”

“Yeah, normally, but according to the monsternomicon: when a vespara’s controlling them, they go much farther.”

“Hmmm, right. And what’d you say vespara’s weaknesses were? Fire—like most other living things—a large amount of insect killer, insect repellant, and cold temperatures.”

“That’s right,” Alex said. “And the wasps that it controls—even the ones it uses its powers to make super-sized—don’t share its intelligence or senses. Outside of its instructions, they’re just regular bugs.”

“Right. Still, to think they’re scaring off everything else in the forest is really something. At least no people have died.”

“Yeah,” he said. “A little bit strange, but lucky, I gues—”

“Wait.” Theresa held up her hand, dropping her voice.

Brutus stopped. Claygon stopped a heartbeat later with a mental command from Alex.

“What is it?” he asked, falling into one of the positions of the Sword-and-Oar Dance.

She pointed through the branches. “Up ahead there, through the trees.”

Alex squinted in the direction she was pointing, but couldn’t see a damned thing through the thick, summer growth. “I don’t see anything. What do your life-enforced eyes see?” He laughed softly.

“Wasps. They’re being quiet and covering that tree trunk over there. I heard them before I saw them.”

“Jeez, you heard them over Claygon?”

“Between his footsteps,” she said. “Hmmm. Maybe they’re scouts? Possibly sentries. They must’ve heard Claygon by now, but they’re not moving.”

“Maybe they’re guarding their territory,” he said, still trying to see them. “We must be getting close. What do you think we should do? You’ve got more experience with hunting things than I do.”

Theresa glanced up. “There’s no wind, and they’re not coming toward us. We should circle around and see if there’re more.”

They slipped around as quietly as Claygon would allow, stopping often, with Theresa pointing out more clusters of wasps hugging the tree trunks. Alex pulled out a piece of paper and began sketching a rough map of what seemed to be the boundary of the vespara’s territory.

“Seems like they go farther to hunt in the morning, but most of the time—”

Brutus growled and sniffed the earth, with one of his heads looking at Theresa.

“What’s wrong boy?” she asked quietly. “What did you fin—”

She frowned, blinking at the ground. “Alex… didn’t that steward say the nobildonna forbade everyone from entering the woods?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“There’s tracks here. Human ones…” She wiped the ground with her gloved finger and sniffed it.

“And they’re fresh.”

Chapter 22

Wasp and Strange Circumstance

“Are you serious?” Alex asked quietly. “What’re people doing in here? Don’t they know there’s a wasp-death-monster around? Who in their right mind would come in here on their own.”

He frowned, looking down at the indentation in the soil she was pointing at. It was clearer and more defined than the other tracks they’d seen earlier.

“It’s so distinct… You think it was made after last night’s rain?” Alex asked.

“Looks like it.” She drew her heavy bow and nocked an arrow. “We’re not the only ones in here.” Her voice had dropped further.

Alex looked around, searching for any sign of anyone—or anything—stalking through the underbrush. His mind conjured hidden enemies as he tried to focus on figuring out what the footprint could mean.

“It looks like a heavy, well-made boot,” Theresa said. “Whoever’s wearing it is a bigger person, judging by how deep it sank.” She looked toward the wasps’ territory. “The tracks are heading toward the vespara’s territory.”

“By the Traveller,” Alex swore, his mind moving quickly.

‘Think,’ he told himself.

“You see any more prints?” he asked.

“No… Let’s keep circling and see what we find.”

“Yeah, we need more data before we come to any conclusions,” he said, realizing he was sounding more and more like Jules. “Let’s keep scouting.”

They looped around, with Theresa listening carefully as the golem crashed through the brush. Surprisingly, there was no sign of anyone coming for them, and the wasp-clusters didn’t move.

Eventually, they’d looped all the way around what seemed to be the vespara’s territory. Theresa and Brutus had found two more fresh trails leading into it by the time they’d finished circling.

“None of the tracks lead out,” she said when they stopped again. “Either, whoever went in there’s dead or captured, or they’ve already killed the monster. No, that last one doesn’t make any sense. Why would the wasps be still on the trees if the monster was dead?”

“Yeah, they’d probably be swarming or scattering,” Alex muttered, thinking it through. “The nobildonna’s honey was taken. Pigs killed. Her hunt master was run off when he went into the vespara’s territory. What if someone’s controlling the monster?”

“Can vesparas be tamed?”

“If you get them when they’re young, yeah,” he said.

“I’d say that confirms there’re people in there too, which makes sense. The trails come from three different directions and go right into the territory. If it was only one group, why wouldn’t they be travelling together? Unless they were trying not to attract attention.”

A chill crept down Alex’s spine.

People.

He’d fought and killed sentient monsters since he’d been marked, but never another person. His mouth went dry. People would mean different abilities, and also… they were people.

He’d thought about what he’d do if or when the path of wizardry led him into conflict with another person. Even other wizards. From the way Baelin had spoken, it seemed to be inevitable.

The idea of killing someone that walked and talked and could’ve been in one of his classes, made him feel a bit ill. Though he did recognize a level of hypocrisy in his thinking. After all, he’d put the mana vampire through its own hell before it finally died, and he still didn’t feel a thing about it. On one side, it was sapient, yet it was a monster who’d been trying to kill him and people he cared about.

And there were lots of philosophy books in the library that debated where the line between ‘person’ and ‘monster’ should be drawn.

In the end, he’d come to the conclusion that when the time came for him to fight another person, what he’d like to do was try not to kill them: especially if—as Baelin had suggested—capturing them alive could let him garner valuable information. But that would only be the case if they were either not trying to kill him or—if they were—he was powerful enough to capture them with little risk.

His jaw tightened.

If they were trying to kill him, and were so dangerous he wouldn’t be able to easily stop them or were looking to harm anyone he cared about: then they’d be just another monster, and he’d act accordingly.

At least, that’s how he’d thought about it. He’d only know for sure how he’d react when he was neck-deep in such a fight.

Which he just might be real soon.

Theresa cursed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I want to follow one of these trails into the vespara’s territory, but getting past a bunch of stinging bugs is going to be tricky.”

She looked up at the canopy. “Since there’ll be a full moon tonight and it’ll be a bright night… and wasps are a lot less active at night, maybe we should wait.”

Alex scratched his head. “True, and the book did say vesparas sleep at night. I guess we could camp here, have something to eat, then try and slip into its territory at nightfall.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” She glanced ahead toward the clusters of wasps he couldn’t see. “It’ll let us watch for anyone coming out. But maybe let’s move back. I don’t want to pull out food near a swarm of killer wasps. Regular ones are bad enough at a picnic, these would be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, good point.”

They moved away from the vespara’s territory and set up a mini-camp several hundred yards back. Alex had packed more than just lunch in case the hunt took longer than they guessed it would to ensure they weren’t hungry while they waited, watched, and listened. He’d also thought to bring food for Brutus.

The last thing anyone needed was a cranky, hungry cerberus.

The day passed slowly, with morning turning to noon, then afternoon, and finally evening. Alex and Theresa watched and talked quietly from their little clearing among the trees listening for sounds. It wasn’t romantic, but it was exciting.

“You know, this is the first time we’re actually putting what Baelin taught us to use. On purpose, I mean,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine even thinking about doing something like this without his training.”

“Mhm,” she said, carefully watching the forest. “And we probably would’ve walked right into those wasps without my life enforcement. So, what do you think? You find it exciting?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda starting to see why you like it so much.”

“Well, this is a little different from what I used to do: killer wasp-monsters that command swarms of stinging things—and whoever’s controlling them—are a little more dangerous than your average bear.”

“Yeah, true.”

“But in a way, that makes it better.”

He chuckled. “You’re scary.”

“So are you.”

He thought back to the mana vampire. “Yeah, okay, you win.”

Their quiet laughter died when a crack came from the woods ahead. They went silent, straining their ears, but heard nothing else. Conversation was sparse after that.

Eventually, evening light faded to dusk and the forest fell into a growing gloom. The darkness deepened, and Alex found himself becoming more nervous as the shadows lengthened around them. He used his breathing exercises to keep focused and fight away images of giant wasps and other creatures creeping through the dark.

He looked up at the tree branches, remembering when the silence-spider dropped in their midst outside Coille forest. A shiver went through him.

“Remember,” Theresa said quietly. “Brutus’ll see and smell most things in the dark, and you and I’ll be able to see a bit in the moonlight. Hold onto my hand and I’ll hold Brutus: he’ll take us to where we need to go.”

“Alright,” Alex agreed. “I guess we’d better avoid going anywhere near those wasps, and find one of the trails that whoever is in there made, then follow it.” He looked up at Claygon. “You’d better stay back here for now, buddy, ’cos we gotta be real quiet. Just be ready to come sprinting as soon as I call you.”

At full speed, Alex doubted most of the trees could stop the golem’s charge through the woods. If he, Theresa, and Brutus fought smart, they should be able to handle the vespara for a while. That left the people to deal with who might still be in there, and he had no idea what they were capable of.

But being in Generasi, he had a bad feeling they wouldn’t exactly be harmless babes.

Reconnaissance was key.

Once the moon was high and it had been dark for a while, Theresa spread home-made insect repellent on them, made from stinkweed like in Coille, citronella, and a few other ingredients she’d gotten fairly cheaply on campus.

Alex recast Lesser Force Armour on both of them, and cast Orb of Air around their heads. That way, even if they dropped booby-trapped potions at their own feet, they’d be safe from the fumes. He didn’t cast the spell over Brutus’ heads since he needed his noses free to sniff out the trail, but Alex would be ready with it as soon as it was needed.

He and Theresa each drank a Potion of Sensory Enhancement, then she put some in a small bowl of beef broth for Brutus to lap up.

Finally, they set off through the woods in silence. With nearly a full year of using the Mark to train his skills at being stealthy, he was almost as quiet as the huntress and cerberus as they moved through the dark forest.

He kept a tight grip on his booby-trapped sensory enhancement potion while he listened to the forest around them. There was barely a breeze, and the silence was eerie. No crickets. No night birds. Not a single sound except for the odd rustle from the foliage in the distance.

Oh, and the buzzing.

There was a low buzz coming from some of the trees.

Alex held his breath, listening carefully to the persistent sound of wasp wings. He would’ve missed it without the potion sharpening his hearing since only a few were making sounds.

“We’re past their first sentries,” Theresa whispered, and the potion made her words seem unnaturally loud in the stillness. “Let’s work our way around and find one of those trails again.”

Brutus soon found what they were searching for, and they slipped deeper into the brush. The foliage was thinner in the spot where the unknown person had gone into the vespara’s territory, having taken a path that had been partially cleared or they’d known which paths were easier to navigate.

Either way, it meant whoever it was, they were used to being in these woods. Brutus stopped and pointed straight ahead into the gloom.

Theresa touched Alex’s shoulder, then followed Brutus’ gaze. “Wait, there’s someone in that tree up ahead.”

He froze, looking up.

It was harder for him to see than it was for his companions, but he did notice something that looked like a lump—or a crouched figure—on one of the branches.

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Alex asked.

Theresa watched the figure for a bit. “No. They’re looking around a lot, but I think they’re focusing on those trails that lead in here. Hmmm… They look human though, so they’re probably using the moonlight to see. If we go around and keep to the dark, we should be able to get past without being seen.”

Their progress slowed way down since they couldn’t go straight because of the sentry, so they had to arc around the tree. It slowed even more each time Theresa caught the sound of buzzing.

After what seemed like hours, they found a path that took them past the watcher.

“Voices,” Theresa whispered. “They’re talking real quietly.”

Alex steeled himself.

Up ahead, more moonlight leaked through the trees. Moonlight and something else. A yellow light that didn’t bob and crackle like a campfire. He could also hear voices as they edged closer. They couldn’t circle the light up ahead, because at one point, there were too many clusters of wasps for them to sneak by. They had to double back and sneak toward it another way.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Theresa asked.

“I might be wrong,” he said. “We’ll know in a few seconds.”

Pausing to cast Orb of Air over Brutus’ heads—which felt extra slow considering their situation—they crept forward until they reached a break in the trees.

Below them yawned a massive hole in the earth, one with very little plant-life covering it. It looked like an old mining pit. In one of the sides of the crater lay the open mouth of a cave with two men sitting out front. One was a large, boar-like beastman with tusks capped with silver. The other was a pale, pudgy man wearing fine looking clothing and holding a piece of cooked fowl.

Floating beside the man was a bright yellow forceball.

“Shit,” Alex swore under his breath. “That one’s a wizard.”

Chapter 23

Raging Wasp

Baelin often said that a wizard’s greatest enemy was another wizard.

They came with a number of abilities that one would prefer an enemy not have.

Not only would they attack other wizards—way more than they should—but in combat, much of what gave a wizard the advantage didn’t matter as much when their opponent was another wizard.

If they had lots of spells to call on, they were harder to predict, so fighting one meant fighting an unpredictable enemy who had as many, or even more, options as you that they could use against you. Wizards were also sapient, often well-educated, and might be trained in battle tactics, unlike beasts or typical monsters.

And in Alex’s particular situation, facing another wizard presented other problems. The Mark made him slower at spell casting, so even if this wizard was at a similar skill level, he’d be able cast much faster than Alex could. He looked over at the bag with his potions tucked safely inside with some relief. Thankfully, they could help even things out.

Theresa was swearing quietly. “That’s a problem. A big problem. And there’s more. Do you hear that?”

“No,” Alex looked at her sharply. “What is it?”

“In the cave, there’s a lot of buzzing coming from it. They don’t sound agitated, but there’s a lot of wide-awake wasps in there.”

“Then I bet that’s where the vespara is,” Alex said.

“What do we do?” She turned back toward him, her face a mixture of concern and determination. Her hand rested on Brutus’ back to keep him quiet. With years of training well-ingrained in him, he didn’t make a sound. “I’m out of my element now. Wizards are your thing.”

Alex frowned.

“Let’s listen to them for a bit and see what we can figure out. It’ll give us an idea of what’s going on,” he said. “Even though I doubt things’ll be so convenient that they’ll loudly explain their own plan to each other for us to hear.”

They tucked themselves low to the ground and listened carefully to the two men in the crater.

“—hours to get registered,” the pudgy man said, gesturing with his piece of fowl. “I tell you, for all the taxes we pay, they could organize themselves better.”

“Yeah,” the boarman grunted. “You shoulda seen how much I gave the taxman last year. Felt like I was cutting off an arm.”

“Tell me about it,” the human agreed, ripping the last piece of meat from the bone and tossing it behind him.

The boarman gave him a look. “I don’t want the camp stinking ’cause you’re too lazy to clean up after yourself.”

“The wasps’ll get it in the morning.” The other man waved a hand dismissively. “If anything, I’m feeding them. I’m basically doing them a favour.”

The boarman snorted, letting his point drop. “If you say so.” He glanced at the moon. “You want to turn in? We have a long walk waiting for us in the morning.”

“Not yet,” the human said.

Alex felt a slight surge of mana, and the man’s forceball moved closer to a bag beside him which he searched, then pulled a waterskin from.

‘Shit, definitely a wizard,’ Alex thought.

The question now was just how powerful was he?

Alex obviously couldn’t tell just by looking at the man, though there were some clues. For one, a more powerful wizard would’ve had more than one spell going since they were in an area where he and his companions needed to be cautious.

He should’ve had things like magical wards to protect their camp, summoned guardians to keep watch, and so on. This wizard seemed to only have his forceball activated, which meant he was either being very stingy with his mana or he wasn’t very powerful.

Less powerful wizards—like Alex currently was—tended to be more conservative with spells to conserve mana and not waste it powering spells that were always active, especially if they didn’t have good mana control to make use of proper mana regeneration techniques.

More powerful wizards also tended to be well-off, and could afford more magical items, especially here in Generasi. This fellow didn’t seem to have any items with glyphs on them for the binding of enchantments. He’d also walked here, judging from the footprints they’d found in the woods.

Those things seemed to say that he wasn’t a very powerful wizard.

What did that mean for him and Theresa?

Alex thought back to Baelin’s class. This year they hadn’t gone into much detail about how to directly battle another wizard—that would be covered next year—but he should be able to come up with some strategies to use by considering what he’d do in a conflict with someone with his or his friends’ abilities.

One big advantage that he and Theresa had was the element of surprise. A wizard without active protective spells who was caught off-guard, was just as vulnerable as anyone else.

If they moved fast, they could take him down before he could do much.

Then, that left the vespara.

The clearing and lack of foliage meant fire-magic was back on the menu, as long as they kept the fight here around the crater. But they’d need Claygon to get here fast.

Think.

Adapt.

A plan formed in his mind.

“I think if we move fast, we might be able to take him,” he whispered to Theresa. “What I’m thinking is this—We wait until they go to sleep. Then we grab them and take them down. I’ll call Claygon, then toss a booby-trapped potion into the cave. The wasps in there’ll have to fly through the gas to get out.”

She thought about it. “Sounds like a good plan. But what about the sentry? We’ll need to get him—if it is a he—too, or he’ll just start shouting when we breach the camp.”

“Right… didn’t think about that one.”

“It’s okay, I can go,” she said. “It didn’t look like there were any wasps on his tree, so I should be able to just grab him and bring him down. You and Brutus can take care of the wizard and his friend.”

“Sounds perfect,” Alex said.

“By Uldar, will you two just go the hells to sleep!” Alex seethed.

The wizard and boarman continued talking about random crap through the night. Even Brutus looked irritated.

“Paaaaatiiience,” Theresa whispered. “That’s the first thing every hunter has to learn, Alex. Patience. Patience. Patience. Your kills never come to you on schedule, you have to just wait until the right moment.”

A smile curled across her lips. “Theeeere we are. Look. Good things come to hunters who wait.”

Finally, the pair in the crater got ready to break off their conversation when the boarman said, “I guess I’d better go relieve Will before he starts thinking we forgot him up in that tree.” Grunting, he stood, stretched his arms above his head then marched off into the woods while the wizard pulled out a bedroll and prepared to turn in for what was left of the night.

A short while later, a thin, vicious-looking man came from the tree line, spitting on the ground.

“Did you see anything?” the wizard asked.

“Not a thing except trees and darkness,” he said. “Beautiful night. The kind you could write poetry about.”

Alex did a double take.

The man looked more like a bandit than a poet.

An old expression came to mind, something about ‘books’ and ‘covers’ and ‘judging things.’

“No sign of whatever was crashing around the brush earlier?” the wizard asked.

“No sign,” the ‘poet’ said, reaching for his bedroll. “Don’t you worry. It’s not the first time some monster or beast came sniffing around, saw the wasps, and decided to find an easier lunch in some other forest.”

“Good, nothing to sweat about then. I was telling Jacques we might want to leave a day earlier than we planned.”

“Really? I don’t want to slip out on our obligations and upset the client if the job’s not done right.”

‘Client?’ Alex wondered.

“His note said he was happy so far, and from what I heard yesterday, the job’s almost going too well. The honey harvest’ll be good and ruined in another day or two, but if we stay here any longer, someone tougher than that nobildonna’s old hunt master’s going to come poking around. We’ve got our champion all registered now too, so there’s not much reason to take more risks. Besides, there’s that bonus to think about. I’d like to be free to enjoy it.”

“Fair enough,” the sentry yawned, laying out his bedroll. “I’ll trust your judgement and bid you a good night, then.”

As time passed, the two men tucked themselves into their bedrolls and were asleep within minutes.

“Alright, I’m going to get ‘Jacques,’” Theresa said, referring to the boarman. She laid her pack down and drew a long length of rope from it.

“How’ll I know when you get him?” Alex asked her.

She drew her knife, and it glinted in the moonlight. “I’ll shine this at you from the trees. You’ll know when to move as soon as you see the flash. Love you. Be careful.”

“Love you too.”

“Brutus, don’t make a sound and listen to what Alex says. Alex, if you get Brutus hurt, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m, uh, kinda getting mixed signals here.”

She didn’t respond as she slipped silently into the dark.

He glanced over at Brutus. “Your mom’s mean.”

The cerberus just looked at him—in a way Alex was sure was judging him—and then licked his face.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

They waited in silence. Alex gritted his teeth, hoping to not hear sounds of a struggle or cries of pain. His worry built as heartbeats turned to minutes without a single sound. He was starting to consider going after her when the flash of her knife gleamed briefly through the tree’s canopy.

‘Not even a sound,’ Alex thought. ‘Note to self, never piss the silent and deadly Theresa off.’

Slowly and quietly, he removed his cloak and held it up, then whispered the incantation for his forceball. With this version of the spell, he’d changed the array so he could alter its brightness with mana manipulation.

It would be dim at first, but he could make it glow a lot brighter.

The forceball materialized under the cloak, and none of its low light leaked from beneath the fabric. Then he slipped silently from the trees with Brutus at his side.

Nerves hit.

In the crater below were two sleeping men who could wake at any moment if he made one wrong move. Neither stirred as he and Brutus crept closer.

‘Easy,’ Alex told himself, cautiously sneaking forward. ‘Eaaaasy.’

They were halfway to the sleeping pair when it happened.

“Hey!” a voice cried through the night. “Who’s there?”

Alex froze.

It was a woman’s voice, coming from the opposite direction of where the sentry had been. Tension surged through him. They’d seen three sets of tracks heading into the vespara’s territory and assumed there were only three people around.

But if the wizard could fly, then he wouldn’t have left any tracks.

Just how powerful was he then!

Both men stirred up ahead.

He had to act. Now.

“Brutus, sic’ ’im!” He pointed at the skinny man while drawing back his booby-trapped sensory enhancement potion.

‘Claygon! Come to me! Fast!’ he roared in his mind as he threw the potion.

The cerberus growled, leaping forward as the two shouting, cursing men struggled to free themselves from their sleeping rolls.

The bottle flipped through the air end over end as Alex was reaching for another one while rushing toward the pair.

Crash!

Whooosh.

The glass smashed and gas spread in a cloud, enveloping both men. There was a shrill cry as Brutus grabbed one of them. Alex quickly pulled the cloak from his forceball, and shielding his eyes, drove his mana into the orb while willing it forward.

It shot into the mist as the cerberus grappled with the thin man. “Close your eyes, Brutus!”

The cascading light flared, then a scream rose from the wizard.

‘Good,’ Alex thought. The brightness that exploded in front of the man as the booby-trapped Potion of Sensory Enhancement overloaded his senses, was enough to blind and panic anyone.

Craaaaash!

The clamor arising as Claygon tore through the trees toward the battle echoed through the forest.

Bzzzzz!

An unnerving, angry buzzing droned from the cave.

Alex cocked back the arm holding the second potion.

Theresa rushed from the trees, her bow in hand.

Whiiiish.

An arrow cut through the air.

But it wasn’t Theresa’s.

“Oof!”

It had flown from the forest where the female sentry had appeared and slammed into Alex’s force armour, skidding across the spell, throwing his aim off.

The potion landed just short of the cave, exploding into gas, but was far enough from the cave mouth that some of the wasps could fly around it.

He crouched, hiding in the mist, as Theresa drew her bowstring back and returned a shot in the direction the woman’s arrow had come from. She continued running, ducking under an arrow, then diving into the woods.

Suddenly, Alex heard muted muttering nearby.

His heart stopped.

The wizard was struggling to stand and he was casting.

Alex threw himself on the portly wizard, wrapping his arms around him, while clapping his hand over the man’s mouth. Teeth sank into the meat of his hand. Alex yelped, but held on, shifting his grip and flexing his arms, holding the man’s jaw shut as he struggled to escape.

He wrapped his legs around the disoriented wizard’s back and locked his grip tighter. It wasn’t a fancy hold, but he was much stronger than the older man. He wouldn’t be getting free anytime soon.

Then he heard the swarm and glanced up through the potion-mist.

A cloud of deadly wasps poured from the cave mouth, most flying through the mist, not realizing what awaited them. Their buzzing rapidly changed, becoming erratic as the insects flew every which way. They zig-zagged up through the air, spiralled toward the ground, or flew in confused circles as their senses went nuts.

Alex shot his forceball toward them, giving them something to track. With completely overwhelmed senses, some chased the light, futilely stinging the only thing they could see.

Then, the big ones emerged.

Alex gasped. There were only about ten or so, but they were at least as big as house cats, and from his distance—with his eyesight enhanced—he could see needle sharp stingers the length of a pinky finger.

“Scraaaaaaeeeeaaaaaa!” a hideous shriek erupted from the cave.

The vespara’s call filled the night.

“Alex!” he heard Theresa’s voice. “The swarms in the forest! I can hear them, they’re coming!”

“Shit!” he cried. “Get back here! Take cover in the potion mist!”

The sound of Claygon crashing through the trees was drawing closer.

Good. He’d be here soon, and the vespara couldn’t leave the cave without going through the potion mist.

There was a loud, deep buzzing growing closer to the cave mouth. Then, it stopped.

A heartbeat passed, then the buzzing abruptly receded.

It sounded like it was moving fast.

A strange scratching noise began. Somewhere deep in the cave, something was digging. The digging got louder, seemingly travelling upward.

Alex’s eyes went wide.

“Theresa! I think it’s tunnelling another way out of the cave! You—”

Another screech ripped through the night as a dark shape shot into the air. The vespara launched itself into the moonlight.

Chapter 24

The Night of Long Stingers

There was something both beautiful and hideous about the creature.

Its wings flashed in the night, shimmering like diamonds as they buzzed through the air. And that’s where all beauty ended. The monster attached to those wings was almost humanoid, with four arms and two legs that were disproportionately thin and long. Its body was lean and maybe eight or nine feet, thanks to strikingly long legs.

Angry-looking black and yellow bands covered a body topped by a head that was a cross between a wasp’s and a person’s, with eyes that faced forward like a wolf.

Or a human.

A predator’s eyes.

It hovered, taking in the scene below.

Alex pulled his hand away from the wizard’s face. “Call off your pet! If you try spellcasting, I’ll choke you out and make sure you have a nasty little mana reversal to deal with when you wake up!” he snarled at the man, knowing his words were an idle threat thanks to the Mark. But this wizard didn’t know that.

Too bad the only answer Alex got involved screaming.

The wizard’s hearing had been cranked up. Alex’s voice must have felt like a hammer slamming into the man’s ear drums.

Swearing, he clapped his hand back over the wizard’s mouth. Then his eyes went wide. Theresa was emerging from the trees, holding the second sentry under her arm like she weighed nothing. The woman kicked, screamed, and cursed.

“Theresa, look ou—”

The vespara shot toward her, howling with rage. It had chosen its target and its stinger protruded like a shortsword. The huntress leapt back, drawing her great-grandfather’s sword in one smooth motion, turning to position the screaming sentry between her and the monster. Her sword flashed out, striking the creature’s thorax, cutting its chitin.

It screeched, recoiling as Theresa coiled like a spring then leapt into the cloud of potion-mist. Her struggling prisoner gasped when they hit the vapour and her senses were overwhelmed.

The woman dropped. Theresa whirled on the vespara. It veered away from the cloud—cautiously—then circled. Its buzzing was loud enough to hurt Alex’s ears, and while he only grimaced, the wizard’s company tried to block their ears, screaming.

Agitated, the monster jabbed at Theresa with its long, dagger-like stinger. She slashed its thorax again, spilling foul green-white blood. Alex’s breath caught as it aimed for Brutus’ hulking form in the mist, but Theresa was too quick, and another slash stopped it.

Her quick blade and the cover of the mist kept it from reaching its targets, saving them from a sting that would release a flood of venom. The poison’s effects on its victims were gruesome. Alex could still see the images from the monsternomicon.

The vespara shuddered with rage, then began an awful screeching.

An infernal buzzing roared from all directions like a raging wind, and the violent crashing from Claygon grew closer among it. As the gas lessened around them, the vespara became more aggressive.

Alex cursed. They needed to stop it.

“Theresa!” He released the writhing man and pulled out the last booby-trapped sensory enhancement potion. “Catch! Throw it when I say!”

“Got it!” she shouted as he tossed it to her.

The vespara buzzed around them, looking for openings.

He was seeing a pattern in its movements. It was gradually getting closer. Growing bolder.

He glanced at his forceball.

‘That’s right,’ he thought. ‘Come at me, niiice and quick.’

Bzzz!

He drove the forceball out from the swarm of wasps.

It shot toward him.

And right into the path of the vespara’s face.

Crack!

Its head slammed into the orb at full speed, whipping back.

“Now!” he roared.

Theresa tossed the potion bottle into the creature’s face with vicious accuracy.

Crunch!

It exploded against its stinger and the contents escaped into the air.

The intense light from the forceball glared in its face. A shriek rang through the woods as it reared back, its eyes burning.

Whish! Whish! Whish!

Thnk!

Theresa threw her knife straight into its face. The thick blade quivered in an eye socket, stunning it midair, as a strange, gurgling buzz escaped its throat. It dropped to the ground with a clacking noise.

Crash!

Claygon burst from the trees, surrounded and pursued by a cloud of wasps.

They poured into the crater from all directions, answering the vespara’s death cries.

“Blast ’em, Claygon! Not the woods, but burn the wasps!” Alex shouted.

Theresa hit the ground, and their prisoners screamed.

Vooooom!

Light built in all three fire gems as the golem raised his hands.

Boom!

Three red beams of fire-magic blasted through the air, crackling and pulsing into the clouds of angry wasps, decimating the swarms. The night practically changed from darkness to broad daylight, and the pleasant warmth of the summer night turned to sweltering heat.

The buzzing of wings died in crackling flame as Claygon ominously walked forward, sweeping through the clouds of wasps with his forehead and hand beams. Bigger wasp bodies hissed then blew apart, sounding like chestnuts cracking over an open fire. Alex wondered what the air around them smelled like.

Some of the swarm that escaped the beams just dropped from heat radiating off the fiery explosions. Others zipped around confused, flying into the flames. Claygon blasted the swarm in front of the cave, cooking the remaining over-sized wasps, then picked up the writhing vespara with a lower arm.

He whipped the creature’s body back for a throw.

“We need the head!” Alex shouted.

The golem stopped, then gently plucked off the dying monster’s head between two fingers like he was picking dandelion petals for a round of ‘loves me, loves me not.’

The monster’s gurgling cries stopped. The wasps abruptly lost cohesion. They shuddered as the vespara’s magic left them and began flying aimlessly in all directions.

Claygon’s beams swept the air around the crater until the only wasps left were a few tiny, twitching forms on the ground.

Buzzing still came from the cave, but the angry growl of the swarm outside had ceased.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief, then turned his attention to the wizard.

Looking down at the curled-up man, he spoke to him in a low voice. “You’ll be getting your senses back in a little bit, okay? But before you do, I’m going to bind and gag you, since I figure any spellcaster who’s hiding out in the woods with a vespara shouldn’t be trusted. Then, we’re all going to have a nice friendly chat, and just so you know, I’m a wizard too.” He let the weight of the man’s situation sink in before continuing. “You saw what my golem can do, right? Keep that in mind, in case you get any stupid ideas.”

The wizard gave a loud painful groan as Alex’s lowered voice still slammed into his hyper-sensitive ears.

“…Oh, right,” he said. “Uh… Just keep doing that, I guess.”

The four vespara-tamers were tied up in the center of the crater as Claygon finished clearing out the cavern. A bunch of giant wasp hives were tucked into the vespara’s lair, so Claygon went about the task of removing and burning them and their queens.

That was another reason Alex was glad he had his golem. He, Theresa, and Brutus could safely watch the process from beside their captives without having to risk being stung to death clearing out the cave. There were ten nests inside, each the size of a calf, plus a bunch of wasps still left to defend them. Claygon easily moved them out to be burned on the crater’s rocky bottom.

A few swishes of Alex’s massive ‘wasp-swatters,’ and a few blasts of flame later, and the wasps were just a bad memory.

Alex’s heart was hammering in his chest and his body felt like it was drenched in cold sweat, but he held his face in a confident mask that the Mark was helping him with. It worked well with Theresa’s natural deathstalker face.

Their captives were coming around, but they still had to squint in the moonlight. At least the potions’ effects were beginning to wear off enough so they could soon answer some questions.

“Alright, I don’t hear any more buzzing coming from the cave.” Theresa looked toward the cave mouth, searching for any straggler wasps. “Let’s check it out. Brutus, bite their heads off if they move.”

The wizard gave a muffled whimper behind his gag.

The others just groaned.

“Claygon, you burn the bodies,” Alex said.

All four whimpered.

Alex and Theresa entered the cave. As he’d done in the Cave of the Traveller, he swept his forceball along the walls and floor, looking for any hidden dangers or anything valuable.

The cavern was a mess of partially-organized supplies, soil, and a massive nest made from leaves, bones, wood, and pieces of what looked like honeycomb.

Midway down the chamber lay a rough writing desk with a dried stump for a seat. Papers were scattered across the top. Alex was looking around when a stone disk leaning against the wall caught his attention. It looked similar to the flying disks folks used to get around campus.

Actually, it was identical to those disks. How did those four come by it? Did they steal it?

“Look,” Theresa said, pointing at the papers on the desk. She picked one atop the pile. It was a letter. “Hmmm…”

“What’s it say?” Alex walked over to look over her shoulder.

“Looks like it’s from their ‘client.’”

He called his forceball close and scanned the page.

The nobildonna’s activities go poorly and I have not heard of any talk aside from these attacks being the work of a wild monster. As promised, you have performed good and discrete work.

I am very satisfied with the service you have provided so far. Keep up the good work, and I am sure she will fall on hard times, at least for a time.

Friend Stewart, I have told you of the vile spurning she gave me, but mere words cannot give voice to the cruelty of her words. A partnership between our domains—

“By the Traveller,” Theresa said. “Is this person really explaining why they’re mad?”

“Sometimes people just want someone to talk to,” Alex shrugged. “Even if it’s someone they’ve hired. Maybe whoever this is just wanted to be heard.”

“Too bad for him, this looks pretty incriminating,” she said.

—would provide excellent benefits for both our vineyards. Her wine—to put it bluntly—is absolute pig’s swill! Pig’s swill! I’m half-convinced her lack of invitation to Patrizia DePaolo’s last ball was due to her having the winemaking ability of an angry pig soaked in vinegar. Though, her honey-mead is, I must grudgingly admit, delicious. Her gamble on the bees and her experimentations with the recipe have most definitely yielded fruit. Or I should say yielded honey hahahaha!

“…They sound like you,” Theresa said.

“They do not!” Alex complained.

“Uh-huh.”

In either case, sufficient ruination should have her reconsidering my offer. My capital and her recipe shall bring about a new age in the night life of Generasi. Should you continue to perform your task as well as you have thus far, I shall consider offering you a bonus if a contract between her and I is secured. And—if your beast—is still under your command, I will certainly seek your services again for anything so delicate!

— Yours Truly, The Midnight Sparrow

“At least he knew enough not to sign his name or press his seal into it,” Alex said. “Or she, they, I guess—I dunno.”

He looked down at the desk, noting a sheath of papers that did have a seal.

Four dragons like the four statues above City Hall—surrounding the symbol for mana.

There was another seal on some of the other papers: one of a tall figure holding a staff and a curved sword.

“That’s Roal’s symbol,” Theresa said, picking up the sheath of papers to examine them.

Congratulations on your registration in the ‘Duel of Proxies’ event within the Games of Roal. Please present this registration certificate at the beginning of the Games so the gamesters might properly establish the groupings for the tournament.

Best of luck and may your tamed beast perform well!

“Huh,” Alex said. “I guess it won’t be performing well, cuz, you know… it’s headless.”

“You’re gross.”

“And you hunt and skin things for fun and profit. You’re gross.”

Theresa grunted.

They went through the rest of the papers, finding more letters from this ‘Midnight Sparrow’ that asked for updates on the plan.

“Looks like someone hired our friends out there to ruin the nobildonna’s crop,” Alex said. “I guess they were getting the coin from this job and hoping for whatever prize they might get from the ‘Duel by Proxy’ event at the Games. Which reminds me, I still need to find out what the events are for that. Anyway, I wonder who this ‘sparrow’ person is. Even though it’s not our problem anymore. We got the monster and didn’t burn down the forest. Now we can turn the folks out there over to the city guard and be done with this.”

Theresa yawned. “Right, they should be able to figure out who hired these guys. Whew, long day… so?”

“So what?” Alex asked.

“How’d you like your first hunt outside of class?”

“Well, it was freaky sometimes, and exciting other times… Not gonna lie, there being a wizard here made me kinda nervous.”

She smiled. “My heart’s still pounding, but I think Baelin’s class helped us handle this. Soon the world’s going to have to fear us!”

“I like the sound of that… Hey, Theresa?”

She paused as she was about to start collecting the papers they’d found. “What’s up?”

“It worked out this time. I mean, we caught everybody and neither of us got hurt… But would you have…” he paused, unsure of how to ask.

“Would I have what?”

“Would you have been… okay, with killing them?” he finally got the words out. “I dunno, I know it’s a weird question. I’m just wondering.”

Theresa thought over his words for a long moment. “Do you really want me to answer?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Yeah… I think I would have,” she said. “That woman would have put an arrow in your chest if you didn’t have your magic up to protect us. I was moving fast and it was dark… but I wasn’t aiming to just wing her, Alex.”

“…Oh. Okay. Well, I was wondering because, well… If we stay on this path of me learning to be a wizard and you learning to be a badass, this is probably going to happen again.”

She nodded. “That’s too bad… It’s a bloody world, I guess. And if something is trying to hurt us…”

There was a pause.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he said. “I just—Yeah. Let’s just get this stuff out of here.”

She smiled, then kissed him on the lips. “This was fun. I’m glad we did it.”

“Yeah…” He gave some thought to all that had happened. “I’m glad we did too.”

His eyes drifted back to that disk laying against the wall. For the first time, they’d fought people. For the first time, they’d fought another wizard.

…He kind of wanted to talk to Baelin about that.

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

Alex knocked quietly on the office doorframe, watching from the hall as the chancellor wrote on a piece of parchment. His massive desk was filled with paperwork stacked in neat piles and on the floor lay… bags?

“Welcome, Alex, why don’t you come in?” Baelin didn’t bother looking up from his paperwork.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” Alex asked.

“Yes and no, I would say.” The chancellor finished writing a sentence. “On the one hand, it seems my enemies are trying to kill me by crushing me with paperwork. On the other, I have some news for you.”

He finally looked up at his young student.

“I will be seeing your king tomorrow morning.”

Chapter 25

Reflections on Death

Alex’s jaw dropped as he stepped into the room.

“Really?”

The doors quietly closed behind him.

“Indeed!” Baelin gestured to the mountains of paperwork. “The gods of parchment and fruitless bureaucracy are appeased, diplomatic envoys have shaken each other’s hands enough times, and the city has completed their part of the arrangements. Tomorrow morning, I—and one of the city’s councillor’s—will be chatting with your head of state. Any messages you would like me to ferry? Complaints about taxes, for instance?”

Alex froze. “No, I—”

“I joke, of course.” He laughed as he gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Come now, it is summer and it is a beautiful day. Let some of that lightness into your heart.”

“I am, I just don’t think it’d be beating for long if I was executed for offending the king… through you.”

“Oh, bah.” Baelin waved a hand. “If you remain on the path of Proper Wizardry, you will one day gather power, and kings, queens, emperors, and empresses will seek you out. Or—at the very least—lordlings or others of lesser powers. You will offend one of them inevitably, since their demands can sometimes cross into the realm of the unreasonable.”

“Well, that sounds like a later kind of thing,” Alex said. “So, uh, I won’t take up much of your time. I just wanted to talk for a minute. Theresa and I were in a fight recently, and I was wondering if I could get your insight on something?”

“Oh?” Baelin cocked his head. “Did you perhaps take my advice on monster-hunting?” He watched Alex’s face closely. “Aaaah, so there it is. And how did it go? What did you hunt?”

“A vespara, actually,” Alex said. “But things got kinda complicated.”

“They tend to,” Baelin said.

Alex launched into the details, summarizing the contract, telling Baelin about how he and Theresa prepared for the vespara and how they’d located its territory and scouted it out. He told him about the footprints, the people controlling the monster, the wizard that was there, the sentry they’d missed, and how the fight had gone.

“After that…” he continued, “the nobildonna’s steward paid us and we handed over the troublemakers to her house guards with the letters we took from the cave. Then we went to City Hall and collected our bounty for the vespara, and reported the four that’d been controlling it. They told us they’d begin an investigation once the nobildonna’s people brought in the letters and the wizard and company.”

“I see,” Baelin mused. “And how do you think you did?”

“Uuuuh,” Alex scratched his head. “I think it went okay. Like, you talked about how we’d find ourselves in a fight one day where we wouldn’t have the advantage, right? So, we tried to minimize their advantages and maximize ours. I only wish we’d checked the terrain better and found that second sentry.”

“True, that was a lapse… It is hard for me to say since I was not there, but perhaps it would have been suitable to continue seeking a way through the forest around the insects to allow yourselves to circle the entire camp.” The chancellor tapped his desk as he thought things through. “You were not under a major time limit, and could have afforded the extra time it would have taken to find a route around the sentries, even if it was necessary to completely retreat and circle around. But then again.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Such scouting might have increased your chances of being discovered by the enemy. In any case, you lived. You subdued the wizard and his partners without allowing him the opportunity to cast a single spell. That is the best result one can ask for when facing another wizard in combat, I would say.”

He looked at Alex appraisingly. “Does something else trouble you, though?”

“Hm?”

“You have a… troubled air about you.”

“Maybe,” Alex said. “Can I ask you a strange question?”

“Only if you are prepared for a strange answer.”

“Was, uh… Was there ever a time you were, uhm… hesitant, about killing? When you were young?” He looked at the skulls sitting on Baelin’s shelves. “I mean, not killing monsters or beasts or things like that, but like… people. Mortal people. I was thinking when we were sneaking up on them that Theresa and I might, uhm…”

“Might have to kill someone,” Baelin finished for him.

“Well, yeah. And I’m still not really sure how I feel about that. I mean, with monsters it’s one thing. I dunno. So, I wanted to ask what it was like for you… If that’s not too personal.”

Alex fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Look, I’m sorry. That question’s way out of line. Like, I dunno, my head’s kinda turned around about it.”

“No, no, not to worry, Alex. I am not in the least offended and have no reticence in discussing the subject,” the chancellor said. “But I would caution you. Do not ask such a question of most. There are those who have lived the mercenary life, or have experienced the horror of fighting in war, or have even slain another in their own defence. For… How should I put this…” He thought for a moment. “For many—in a strange irony—killing another wounds one’s own heart, mind, and spirit. In those cases, it is not polite to poke at another’s wounds.”

“Yeah,” Alex shook his head. “Yeah, I got it, sorry.”

“As I said, think nothing of it.” Baelin sighed, then looked at his shelf of trophies. “I am old, Alex. Unnaturally so for my race. I have seen more death in my lifetime than most. It, to me, is just another part of the universe now. Things die, and so do people. I no longer trouble myself with it overmuch unless it marks the death of a friend.”

The ancient wizard ran his hand down his long beard, gathering his thoughts.

Alex swallowed. Something about that, and the way Baelin said it, made him deeply uncomfortable. He thought about the Mark and how it didn’t register swatting insects as combat. The way Baelin talked, it was almost… similar. Like the death of most was beneath his notice.

Except, he wasn’t talking about insects, he was talking about people. It seemed a pretty alien way of looking at things.

‘Then again, how else could he look at it?’ Alex considered. ‘If you live long enough to see entire kingdoms rise and fall, what is a mortal’s life to you?’

He put those thoughts from his mind as Baelin started to speak again.

The ancient wizard mused. “You are not the first to ask me this question, you know. Many students who have come before you have sought me out with such burdens on their minds. Striking down another person is not a simple undertaking. Did you know that armies spend much of their initial training in curbing most people’s natural inclination to not kill another person?”

“Really?” Alex shifted in his chair. “I thought it was all just… thrusting spears and marching and stuff.”

“Oh, my, no.” Baelin shook his head. “In many societies—such as clan societies that earn their fortune through raiding other clans—battle and killing becomes natural, for it is part of their culture from the time they are born. It is easier for people to engage themselves in armed-struggle when they know they have their deities’ edict and a nice reward awaiting them in the afterworld. Some deities even reward only those who die in battle for this very reason.”

“…They sound like cruel deities.”

“Many are. Many are. In other realms, though—more agricultural ones where their lands are safe—the only thing a peasant-levy or new-recruit may have slaughtered are chickens, pigs, or cows. For some born with a silver spoon—like those from mercantile houses—they would have perhaps only engaged in no more than the occasional hunt for sport. And generally, most people do not seek to kill others under normal circumstances.”

He gestured in the air, creating an illusion of a miniature soldier in blue armour—no larger than a pinky nail—hovering over one end of his desk and gripping a tiny crossbow. Another soldier wearing red armour appeared on the other side of the desk, with a spear in hand.

The first soldier winced, then reacted by levelling his crossbow at his opponent. At the last instant, he jerked his weapon up and fired. The bolt soared through the air and landed harmlessly in a pile of papers.

“See this?” Baelin pointed at the little soldier. “This is a rather common occurrence on battlefields filled with new recruits. In the chaos of combat—among hundreds of your fellows—it is easy to purposefully ‘miss’ an opponent standing one hundred yards away. Who is to know? If both sides did this, war would be a fairly bloodless affair, would it not? But, ah, observe.”

He pointed back down at his desk.

Alex watched as the soldier in red dropped his spear, hoisted a crossbow to his shoulder, and fired a bolt. The shot streaked across the desk and slammed straight into the blue soldier, who collapsed in a heap. The red soldier’s expression didn’t change at all.

“And this is what happens if one side of a battle consists of soldiers who are not prepared to slay their foes and the other is completely ready to,” the chancellor said. “Hence why—in realms with advanced military science—people are made to numb their aversion to killing. Usually, officers spend a great deal of time painting the realm’s enemies as something less than people. There is a reason the Irtyshenans expound the view that only they possess true civilization while all others outside of their reach are considered barbarians or monsters. It aids in their lust for conquering.”

He sighed. “In the first iterations of the Art of the Wizard in Combat, I actually held classes that specifically pitted students against other people: criminals who were awaiting execution, to be precise.”

That chilled Alex’s blood.

“But, alas, the university’s ethics committee deemed it too mentally damaging for the students. In some ways I agree, there were a few students who lost their zeal for wizardry afterward. But, the sad truth is that when you walk this path long enough, eventually someone will try to kill you. Perhaps if you live a hermit’s life largely in isolation and die from natural causes, you might avoid it, but if you are active in your wizardry and out in the world, and if you find ways to live long enough, I guarantee that someone will want you dead.”

Alex tried not to visibly shrink at that. “…Yeah, I guess.”

“And to answer your original question: I drew blood very early in my life. Things were quite different and vastly harder back then. Territory was valuable, and if herds of deer that your tribe relied on for meat wandered into another tribe’s territory, then deadly conflict would result.” He raised his hands. “I am afraid these hands knew the feel of blood before they knew the caress of magic. So, it was different for me. I cannot quite remember what my mind did to me the first time I killed someone. Perhaps that memory is lost to me on purpose. In any case, if the notion of killing another person discomforts you, then avoid it while you can. But be prepared.”

He rose up in his chair. “Use the clever mind that we wizards possess to predict and avoid such conflicts, or find ways to be powerful enough that most cannot easily harm you. Mercy is the privilege of the strong, after all. And there can be much merit in not killing everyone that seeks conflict with you. Tends to provide you with more friends and allies. But if and when there comes a time when another seeks to do you irreparable harm… then do not hesitate. Not even for an instant. Because if you do and they do not…”

He glanced down at the soldier in red armour, still floating over his desk. “Well, I think you can gather my point.”

Alex gulped. “Yeah, I get it… Thanks, Baelin. For what it’s worth, I think the world needs perspectives like yours. Helps us to not forget things.”

The chancellor laughed. “What you just said is one of the kindest things you can say to an elderly person. Too many think our perspectives are unworthy once we rise past a certain measure of years. Even for one such as I. You—”

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

“Baelin?” a young voice asked. “Are you there?”

“Ah,” Baelin said. “But I am lucky enough that the young still seek me out. That will be one of my other students. Now, off you go, and put those thoughts of blood and darkness out of your head for now. You gained victory over a foe. You have debriefed what could have gone awry, you are unharmed and so, it is now time to celebrate and not ruminate.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex said. “Thank you.”

Alex was walking through the hall—with Claygon’s footsteps thumping behind him—when his mind drifted back to what Baelin had said about old perspectives. He wondered what it might have been like for the Traveller or other Heroes who’d survived long enough to live through a second cycle of the Ravener.

From what the church school had taught, it was a rare occurrence. Most of the folk in Thameland were human or from races with similar lifespans, and so Heroes surviving a full hundred years to be around for a second cycle had only occurred a handful of times in recorded history. In most of those cases, they had aided the new generation of Heroes in their quest. Some had died in the effort—like the Traveller—and some survived the second conflict.

He thought about his own future… His far future.

Theresa was fully engaged in life enforcement, and that practice naturally extended a person’s life. If things went well and he… well, he and she got married, he’d pretty much have to find ways to extend his own life so he wouldn’t die decades before her.

That would mean he could quite possibly live long enough to see another Ravener’s cycle, if they didn’t find a way to permanently break it this time, that is. What would be happening then? Would his homeland know about him and the Mark?

Would the people of Thameland want anything to do with him, even if he did want to give help to a new generation of Heroes? Would he want anything to do with them?

He put those thoughts away.

There were more immediate things to worry about.

It was time to get Selina’s gift built and ready, he had to get more information about these Games of Roal, and he needed to keep pushing through the spells he was learning over the summer. Then there were his official courses to think about.

And finally, Theresa’s parents would be arriving in a few mornings. Plenty to actually do, and not a lot of time for hypotheticals.

It was certainly gonna be hard not to think about Baelin’s meeting with the king of Thameland.

That meeting would decide the fate of the expedition.

Chapter 26

The Patterns and Scripts of Time

At times, life could be frustrating.

Especially when life lasted long enough.

In ages past, it would have been normal to simply take a resource when it was discovered. The stone-flint blade, the bronze spear-tip, and the iron axe-head would claim what words or inheritance could not.

But things grew more complicated with each passing age.

Now, one could hardly turn around without needing to consider a dozen factors, reactions, and ripple effects.

In some ways, that was its own challenge, and in other ways, Baelin missed the direct method. He ran his hand over his bronze beard clasps—each older than the city itself—as he waited for his companion.

‘Calm yourself, you old goat,’ he thought. ‘You chose this way, and you’ve seen its benefits. Do not let youthful impatience creep back into you now.’

Yet, it was difficult to tamp it down.

When was the last time that such a paradigm changing discovery dangled so close? And yet, it could all be denied to him and his colleagues if one little ruler—who’d received his authority only by springing from the right loins—decided not to engage with them.

He’d had foul dealings with such folks in the past. Too much crown and not enough brain beneath it. And with Thameland’s penchant for religious fanaticism…

Well, best not to purchase trouble beforehand.

After all, unlike most things in life, trouble cost nothing. It tended to find one all by itself.

The door opened in the waiting room and he looked up to see a wizard entering at the head of a long procession. Accompanying her were several of her most elite battlemages, while Baelin’s seat was flanked by two of the university’s most experienced Watchers of Roal.

“Kartika.” He stood, greeting the short woman with an offered hand. “You are right on time, as usual. I trust all is ready on your part?”

“It is.” She clasped his hand in a tight grip in two of six chestnut-coloured hands. The other four arms remained folded behind her back, covered in part by her long, black hair. “It is good to see you again, Baelin. You do not visit the council enough.”

“Ah, you know how it is,” he said. “As we get older, the work only piles up higher around us. If only we were dragons, so that we might hoard gold and power, instead of paperwork and burdens.”

“Indeed,” she said. “But at least we are the first to see exciting times.” She glanced at the timekeeper on the wall. “Thameland’s court wizards should be sending the guide any moment now.”

They waited for only a short time before Baelin felt the stir of mana far in the distance, a tiny ripple of someone reaching out from well beyond the ambient mana and magical auras within Generasi.

A heartbeat later, there was a shimmering in the air, and a middle-aged man appeared in the centre of the room, glancing around him.

He blinked for a moment, adjusting to his surroundings and then bowed deeply to Kartika. “Council-wizard Kartika, a pleasure to serve you again.”

“Marcellus, good to see you again. I trust that the waiting area in Thameland is readied?” she asked.

“It is.” He turned to Baelin. “Hail, Chancellor.”

Baelin nodded in return. “Hail, my fellow wayfarer.”

“Let’s not waste any time then,” Marcellus spread his hands. He spoke the incantation for the teleportation spell with precision, and Baelin felt the magic circuit form and power the spell around them.

An instant later, they were all flying through a tunnel of whirling images until he felt his hooves touch ground again. Millenia of honed habits kicked in, and he scanned the immediate surroundings with his senses, ready to strike out at any traps with terrible vengeance.

They were surrounded by a large gathering of soldiers, clergy, and knights in what appeared to be a large city square.

Beyond, he saw… a surprisingly dreary looking place.

The capital of Thameland, constructed of buildings of stone and wood, with a few towers and great structures rising above the rooftops, rose around him.

He noted the towering cathedral that lay to the east, and the parapets of the stone castle that sprang up to the north. At one time, it might have appeared to be a pleasant and fairly advanced city.

But the scars could not escape his eyes.

Numerous buildings had been recently patched, and blackening—from fire, magic, or both—touched many of them. The streets were empty save for armoured and cautious warriors marching along dirty cobblestones.

He noted that several of the helmeted heads were glancing up.

They were checking the skies.

Then there was the mana…

Very little ambient mana hung in the air. Which was fairly normal for most places in the world away from a mana vent or some other great source of mana.

…But there was a certain magic that touched the air.

A very subtle magic.

“We have arrived in Ussex, the capital of Thameland,” Marcellus announced. “Are you able to take care of your further transportation needs, Council-Wizard, Chancellor?”

“Of course,” Baelin said, having filed the images of the surrounding area into his memory. He would now be able to teleport here himself without issue or any chance of mishap.

“Indeed,” Kartika said. “You may return to City Hall for the other half of your payment.”

Marcellus bowed to her. “Then I take my leave.”

With another quick incantation, he was gone.

“Welcome to Thameland, Council-Wizard Kartika, Chancellor Baelin.” An elderly man stepped out of the gathering, his long, braided moustache blowing in the cool wind. “I am Court-Wizard Errol—second-advisor-in-magic to the royal family of Thameland—and am pleased to make your acquaintance after all these months.”

He glanced at the city.

“Your presence is most desired, and I pray to Uldar that the negotiations go well.”

Kartika nodded. “We shall work toward that.”

“Indeed,” Baelin said, though his attention was divided.

That strange magic continued to interest him. As his senses examined it, he realized there was a slight familiarity to it. It was almost like a family resemblance… to Alex Roth’s golem, Claygon.

But what was it doing?

“Excuse me, Errol, is there a dungeon core nearby?”

“Thank Uldar, no, you are perfectly safe,” Errol said. “The Heroes were able to clear all the area surrounding the capital from the Ravener’s influence.”

“I see,” Baelin said, though his own safety was the very last thing he was worried about here. Very few things could make him feel unsafe these days. “There… is a strange mana that touches the air.”

Errol’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You must have honed your senses well for you to pick it up so quickly. That mana belongs to—”

“The eternal enemy.”

Another voice—deep and cutting—interrupted Errol.

Robes rustled as another man stepped from the circle, tall and bearing a powerful presence. There was a narrowness to his features—like a dagger—and his eyes seemed unnaturally small. His white robes were pristine—almost divinely so—and the symbol of Uldar hung from a platinum chain around his neck.

“I am High Priest Tobias Jay, and what you feel is the presence of the Ravener, Chancellor Baelin,” he said. “Its darkness falls upon the entire land.”

The chancellor considered those words. “Do you mean to say that this mana—however thin it might be—covers this kingdom from coast to coast?”

“It is indeed so.” The high priest looked toward the cathedral. “Even as great Uldar’s light shines down upon us all, so does his greatest enemy’s presence infest every hill, forest, and glen. Until it is cast into the icy void once more.”

“Indeed,” Baelin mused.

His mind filed that information away for later evaluation.

‘My, my,’ he thought. ‘What antics have been brewing just beyond my notice?’

The thrill of a new mystery struck him and—for a brief moment—he felt young again.

King Athelstan Merciex of Thameland was a surprisingly young man, though almost any mortal was by Baelin’s standards. The monarch had perhaps only just reached his late thirties, but the weight of his duties slumped his shoulders, giving him an older man’s slouch.

Baelin had seen much the same in many kings and queens. Half a decade of rulership veritably aged them a dozen years at a time. Yet, despite an obvious spreading grey in his red hair, the king’s eyes held a steely pride and vigour.

Good. Monarchs were not suited to being mice—mice were for the lab, not the negotiation table.

And it was obvious the king had come prepared to negotiate well.

The room he’d chosen for the meeting was a demonstration—perhaps a monument—to Thameish history, tribulation, and triumph. A display of security and power. Its walls were covered with paintings of Heroes and kings from past ages, showing scenes of them battling the Ravener, its monsters or other foes.

A spread of food and ale filled the table they were seated at, and Baelin was sure he could hear it groaning beneath the weight of the feast. Servants stood at the ready to pour or serve as needed. Guards flanked every door, their plate armour, showing the latest advancements in armourcraft, was polished to an obscene shine. They were also quite tall for humans. A further display of strength.

The king sat at the head of the table, flanked by Court Wizard Errol and High Priest Tobias. An empty seat lay at his right hand, and there were several more empty chairs between them and the representatives from Generasi.

“Welcome to my kingdom. If only it were during easier times when we greeted the delegates of Generasi,” King Athelstan said. “I shall ask your forgiveness for my wife’s absence. The queen has taken ill in the past month. She recovers, but the sickness is stubborn.”

“Think nothing of it,” Council-wizard Kartika said. “I could arrange a healer of fine credentials from Generasi to offer assistance if needed.”

Baelin watched the king react to her words, wondering if they would be seen for what they were: an offer of help, a show of good faith… but a possible favour to be owed.

“I thank you for your generous offer,” the monarch said. “My court physician, the priests of holy Uldar, and my own first-advisor-in-magic care for her. She is in the best of care, and I am afraid that the invitation of an outsider might indicate… distrust, in their fine work.”

A smooth refusal that caused no offence, while establishing the strength and competence of the king’s own resources. Subtle hints that outside help might insult those already working on problems within Thameland.

Kartika’s eyes lit up as she too caught the signals.

And so, negotiations had begun.

“Come, feast and drink,” the king gestured to the fine food. Even Baelin had to admit that the venison soaked in dark-wine gravy, leeks and peas smelled and looked delicious. The bread was steaming hot and appeared hearty and soft. “It is tradition in Thameland to never begin talks of governance and trade on an empty belly.”

“Ah, what is that Thameish expression?” Kartika asked, though Baelin knew well that of all the councillors in the city, she was the one who’d know the most about this distant realm. There had been purpose in her selection as delegate. “‘Never trust someone who negotiates on an empty belly,’ I believe?”

“Why, yes.” The king’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “When you have good food filling you, it sends the blood to your middle and away from—” He tapped the side of his skull. “Tends to make people more honest. If someone’s offering you food before negotiating and not partaking themselves, they’re probably just seeking advantage.”

In a practiced motion, he picked up a sharp knife, quickly carving away a piece of the venison roast and placing it on his plate.

He speared it with his fork and ate the meat in a few quick bites. “So, shall we begin our feasting then? Get that blood into our middles?”

A display of good faith.

“I should think myself half-mad if I bandied words while hunger still lay within me,” Baelin chuckled. “The scent would addle my brains.”

“Agreed!” Kartika said, reaching for her own knives.

The food was indeed rich and as delicious as it smelled. Baelin was glad he’d brought his appetite with him. He took a moment to reflect on the meal and enjoy it to its fullest. There had been many, many times in his life when hunger had squeezed his stomach into nothing more than a knot of acid and pain.

He was more powerful now, but one never knew what struggles would drift to him across the infinite seas of time. It was best to enjoy food, wine, and other pleasures while one could; sometimes only those memories would keep one sane in leaner times.

Athelstan and Kartika spent the time in what passed for small talk among rulers. Polite sharing of experiences in rulership, facts about their realms, and little anecdotes about their stations and duties.

It was a common language, save for one difference. Athelstan often worked in little stories about his children, painting their merits. That was a common topic when those of hereditary rulership met. A trained script that showed off their heirs, and advertised for potential advantageous marriages.

Kartika, meanwhile, spoke of deeds that she and her team had accomplished during her time in office—subtly, but with humility—but still painting an image of her own competence. She also spoke of her own resources, and her fondness for her connections in Generasi. That was a common script between elected officials. Underscoring their own competence and merits, while also indicating that they would likely hold office for some time. It put others at ease knowing that this familiar, competent person would be in their position of authority for a while.

Warlords tended to speak of their own armies, and their best and brightest military commanders. Shows of strength meant to impress rulers that could challenge them, and intimidate those that could not. Demon Lords spoke of their own deeds and the great wonders and horrors they’d worked over millennia. Displays of power to ensure their equals would think twice before moving to strike them down.

Deities tended to prattle on about worshippers or the might of their own domains. Sea gods detailing how many fish swam their seas or goddesses of the heavens speaking of how many lightning bolts they’d cast across their skies.

There was a pattern and a script to all of it.

If one grew old enough—and powerful enough—one tended to hear them over and over. Baelin counted himself lucky that he could meet such patterns with amusement instead of boredom.

He engaged himself by talking to Errol and Tobias, curious about these two older men of power: one in wizardry and one in divinity. The ancient wizard was careful to bury his… distaste, for Tobias’ patron. Such a reaction would only muck up matters.

And that distaste would be brought out soon enough.

No need to sour things just yet.

They were halfway through the meal—with Baelin packing away much of it, being by far the largest person at the table—when the king finally gave indication that the ‘script’ had come to an end.

His eyes flashed with sudden alertness.

“So, then, before we begin in earnest, might I ask you a question, Chancellor Baelin?” he asked.

“I am a teacher, a chancellor, and a sage,” Baelin chuckled. “It would be poor form to deny you a question, your majesty.”

Even as he said this, his mind raced through hundreds of possibilities as to what the king could ask. He’d made a mental list of what questions and topics could arise weeks ago.

“Of course, of course.” The king shared a pleasant smile, but that sharpness never left his eyes. “I do wonder if you could enlighten me on one fact. In our communication, you indicated that your university had obtained a sample of the remains of a dungeon core. I ask, how did your institution come by such a thing?”

Ah, so it was question forty-one, then.

Chapter 27

Like a Marriage

“Isuppose it was left somewhat vague as to how we came upon such a sample,” Baelin said. “Letters being letters, and our communication before now being so… impersonal.”

He watched the king and the elderly advisors carefully. His senses took in the guards, making note of every move and every twitch. It was a skill he’d learned long before he’d come to even the crudest of his magic.

The skill of a hunter tracking prey through a snow-encrusted forest with nothing but a stone spear in hand. Having to learn to quickly sense what around him might be food, resource, or foe.

King Athelstan’s lip twitched ever so slightly, and Baelin made note to watch that part of the man’s face to see if future questions caused the same reaction. It might reveal a tell.

The chancellor put down his fork and knife, and spread his hands before him.

“Some months ago, an interested party came to the university with the sample, wishing to have it examined using our renowned techniques and analytical apparatuses,” he said. His words were a form of cultivated truth: adding specificity beyond the letter, without revealing enough to give a clue as to where the sample had truly come from. There was no lie in his words. A masked truth—if discovered—would be expected in these sorts of negotiations, at least if one was trained in the art of diplomacy.

An outright lie, though—if discovered—would be as poisonous as a rotting corpse in a well. Best avoided, unless absolutely necessary.

“We performed research upon the sample, and then used it for certain applications. The results interested us, and so things went from there,” Baelin said.

He spoke of the value of the dungeon cores, but did not sing their praises. To do so could have made him look desperate for them. At the same time, he hinted at a useful application. That would arouse curiosity, and curiosity was a valuable tool when getting another party to stay interested at the negotiation table.

“Indeed, and who is this interested party?” Athelstan asked.

“Ah, I fear that they wish to remain anonymous,” the chancellor said. “Suffice it to say, if you fear a threat or further leak of your information or resources: you have my word that the sample that was obtained was the only sample available. Hence, of course, why we are here.”

“And I fear, Chancellor, that we must know their identity,” the high-priest spoke up, looking at Baelin with his tiny pupils. “The Ravener is our ancient enemy, and if there is information or resources leaking from the realm, then we must know where this sample has come from. Your source will not be harmed, but we must know how such a thing left our shores.”

“I understand your concern. But—just as the king shows good faith in those caring for his queen—I ask that you show good faith in me. I gave my word that this is the only sample available to us. I ask that you trust this word.”

A block.

If they pushed any further, they would be questioning his word and thus, his honour or competence. A grave insult. Now, that was something they might try anyway for different reasons.

Two were worth the most consideration. First, if they thought they could bully or force the information out of him without having to worry about the consequences of said insult.

But, the chancellor of the greatest university of wizardry in the world was not one to be bullied, and they would most likely know this.

That left another possibility to consider.

One where they were prepared to quickly end the negotiations or were not interested in what Generasi had to offer. Baelin’s sharp eyes took in the room. Noting the displays of wealth, security, and power in spite of the signs of turmoil in the capital.

One would not bother with so much effort to display strength to a negotiating party one had no interest in.

Which meant…

“Fine then, I shall trust your word, Chancellor Baelin,” the king said.

Again, that twitch of the lip.

Baelin added another data point to his mental calculations.

“I thank you for your good faith, your majesty,” he said. “It is my hope that by the end of our discussion we will begin a fine relationship between sages and realms that will have us all laughing merrily as we feast beneath the moon and sun.”

“And on that note,” Kartika smoothly picked up from where he left off. “Here is what we offer.” She waved a hand to one of her attendants, who brought her a large sheath of papers. “The University of Generasi will purchase a plot of land to the south of your kingdom, near the coast, and away from much of the fighting. We ask that you consider the land property of the Realm of Generasi, and that within these lands, all are subject to both the laws of Generasi and University regulations.”

“I see.” The king nodded. “Much like a foreign embassy. Continue.”

“On these lands,” Baelin jumped in, paying close attention to the two advisors. Kartika would need to win over the king, but he would need to win over the advisors. The less dissent, the easier this would be. “We will build a fortification and research camp in which we will study dungeon core samples gained both through lawful purchase from Thameish sources, as well as expeditions to different dungeons where we may harvest research material ourselves.”

He glanced at Tobias. “In this way, we will be pouring coin into Thameland’s coffers, while at the same time, destroying dungeon cores that are rampaging across your lands. This will aid your Heroes—”

“Our Heroes have triumphed time and time again against the Ravener,” Tobias said. “They are the light that shatters the dark, and they smite the wicked beasts that plague us.”

“Of course.” Baelin nodded, noting the pride that filled Tobias’ voice. For the high-priest, this was not merely a question of stopping the Ravener, but also one of faith and serving the divine. “In this, we will not be supplanting your Heroes, but providing them aid just as any good set of skirmishers or mercenaries would in aiding a grand army. Generasi will claim no credit for the ultimate victory over the Ravener. That hour shall belong to you, while your Heroes enjoy our support.”

“We will not supplant you deity’s glory,” Kartika added, placating Tobias’ faith. “I take it your presence at the table means that Uldar has given you no sign or indication that he would not want this?”

There was an instant—a fraction of a heartbeat—where the high priest stiffened. Something about that question made him uncomfortable.

But what?

“It is true, Uldar has not spoken to myself, the Saint, or any other priest telling us that this would be against His will,” he said.

That momentary whatever it was… was gone as though it had never been. Baelin stored that knowledge away for further examination.

“Excellent,” Kartika said.

“But I cannot have brigands raiding my land for dungeon cores, or raiding houses and looting the homes of those who await victory,” the king said.

“We propose a licensing system,” Kartika countered. “Generasi and its students will enjoy a group license, but any other parties that Generasi employs to obtain samples: whether they be mercenaries, the Delvers’ Guild, or other independent parties, will have to be licensed by our staff members. Those licenses will then be approved by yourself.”

“And what of any discoveries that result?” Errol leaned forward. “They will be shared with our court wizards?”

Baelin clasped his hands. “Any discoveries that result will be fully studied and then published in academic papers in Generasi.”

“Why not before?”

Baelin raised an eyebrow. “That would be academic irresponsibility. Unless full studies are conducted on said discoveries, with papers being submitted for peer-review and then published, any discoveries would be nothing more than glorified hypotheses, not proper theories. However, I would see to it that you are not left out of the process. I would ensure that you, or any court-wizards you choose, are peer-reviewers for the pre-submitted versions of the papers. In that way, you can receive something of value, instead of just raw data that has not gone under rigorous research. Yet, you also shall receive the paper before it is made public.”

There. An offer of exclusivity while allowing Thameland’s authorities to see any information before it became public. Baelin watched Tobias carefully at this. There were strange inconsistencies when it came to Thameish lore, as Alex had reported.

So far, there seemed to be no topic that these folk before him shied away from. No secret they needed to protect. Baelin continued gathering information.

“Generasi City itself will also provide aid in the form of gold, food, and supplies for your armies and your Heroes,” Kartika said, passing over her sheath of papers to the king. “I trust those sums would be acceptable.”

The king flipped open to the first page.

Another twitch.

Likely a tell, then.

He continued looking through the pages.

Any moment now he would hit…

He paused.

There it was.

“What’s this?” King Athelstan asked. His eyes left the page. Another twitch of his lip. “No priests shall approach within ten miles of the territory of the University of Generasi?”

Tobias glanced at the sheath and then looked directly at Baelin and Kartika. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I am afraid it is one of the rules of the University,” Baelin said. He felt Kartika’s eyes flick to him for a brief instant. This had been something of a sticking point between them. She’d wanted this detail to be something that could be negotiated out.

The chancellor, meanwhile, was insistent it would remain.

He did not get on well with priests or deities. There had been innumerable instances of priesthoods and deities being obstacles to his plans and goals in the past. Beings that exalted themselves so high above all others tended to be prone to follies of far greater magnitude than those of mortals.

Their servants were little better. The work his university could do, did not need constant inspections, prayers, and objections being raised by fussy folk of faith. He anticipated that when their experiments advanced beyond simply using dungeon core remains for material and into the stage of actually manipulating the mana of living dungeon cores, that the priests would take issue.

…And, there was also Alex to think of as well.

The young man would be a useful addition to the expedition. He knew his work, and he was native to Thameland. That Mark placed on him by Thameland’s Uldar, would allow him to quickly learn, and he was also the only one among them with any experience engaging with living dungeon cores.

Having a crowd of priests underfoot—ready to detect that Mark on his shoulder—would certainly make his presence impossible. The solution for that could have been to merely have him engage in the research within Generasi itself, but his presence would be more useful here. And the less constraints they had to contend with, the better.

“In my experience, it is important that any research done by the University of Generasi, be separated from the interests of deities,” Baelin said.

Tobias’ frown deepened. “I beg your forgiveness for my tone, Chancellor, but do not think of the clergy of Uldar as a gaggle of backward idiots. We are folk of faith, but also of science. We see to the education of Uldar’s people both in His ways and in the ways of history, mathematics, and some natural philosophy. Thameland is a literate realm. Even serfs are required to send their children to our church schools to learn their letters. We do not know your ways of research, but do not think that we shall wring our hands and get underfoot.”

“Indeed,” Baelin said evenly. “And this is an admirable quality, but it is the same as employing two professors in the same class who have very different ways of teaching. It will create conflict, and the work will suffer. Historically, Generasi was allowed to examine dungeon core remains without supervision. We ask for the same consideration now.”

“You ask that matters of state secrecy and faith proceed without supervision?” The high-priest rose slightly in his chair.

Baelin looked at him pointedly.

“We ask for autonomy. In the same way that we ask that no lords of your realm come to our territory and seek to exact taxes, tribute, or demand. We work best in our systems. In our way.”

‘Without your powerful and unpredictable divine entity interfering upon a momentary whim like a child,’ he added mentally.

“In return for this consideration,” Kartika said, “you may look to page fourteen, section three: ‘Donations to Church of Uldar for Their Continued Acts of Faith and Duty.’

The king looked down at the page. Again, that lip twitch. He turned the page back to the high-priest. A slight pause of breath.

Good.

“We might discuss this in private,” King Athelstan said. “And this… exclusivity clause?”

“Thameland will ensure that Generasi has first rights to claim dungeon cores for research and development purposes,” Kartika said. “This is for the protection of both parties should other universities, institutions, or other powers arrive seeking to present you with competing offers. It would be simplest if the relationship between Thameland and Generasi is… exclusive in this matter.”

“Like a marriage,” Errol muttered.

“Not nearly so unreliable.” Kartika smiled.

“And what of this other clause?” The king frowned. “Access to dungeons for… Art of the Wizard in Combat?”

“My personal course,” Baelin said. “I teach students of wizardry the rigours of battle from a wizard-centric point of view to prepare them for what the path of magic holds. These dungeons would provide a varied and target rich environment.”

Errol gasped. “You would pit students of magic against full-on dungeons?”

“Indeed.” Baelin smiled. “The learning shall be as rich as fresh honey.”

“That’s…” the court wizard paused.

“Mad?” the chancellor offered.

Errol looked up quickly, and it was clear this was exactly what the man had meant from the look on his face. “I would never imply such a thing!”

“Well, if you did. I would not mind,” Baelin said. “But the world is mad, my friend. Madder than anyone I have ever met, even a caged demon. Some have called me mad… And I have outlived them all. That tends to take the sting out of those words after a time.”

It took several more days of discussing back and forth, and deliberation. An offer here, a counter offer there.

But at last, ink was drying on the agreement.

The priests would not be allowed within five miles of the purchased territory, but in return, Generasi could not claim any land that was occupied by any citizen of the realm of Thameland.

Prices for dungeon cores were negotiated.

The amount of aid increased.

By the end, though, the University owned over a thousand acres of land in the south of Thameland.

The expedition was officially on.

Baelin smiled to himself, thinking of the possibilities.

He couldn’t wait to tell his cabal at their next meeting.

Chapter 28

A Brewing Rivalry

Tucked in his room in the early morning, Alex guided his way through the spell array one final time, checking the last notation in his notebook.

Force Armour: 98%

The spell was pretty challenging, so he was applying a lot of what he’d learned in force magic to help him get past the Mark’s usual interference, and since Generalized Force Construct’s spell array was so similar to a lot of the other advanced force spells, he was using it as a blueprint for this one.

His consciousness slid slowly through the contours of the spell array, while the interference roared. Thoughts of his failures hammered his mind, trying to force themselves in, seeking to overwhelm his concentration and push out what he was trying to do.

For each failure, he acknowledged it and let it go, then continued through the spell array step by step. Finally, he reached the last part of the spell which was his biggest challenge: a small, complex section that was responsible for force armour’s increased strength when compared to Lesser Force Armour’s.

He decreased the casting speed incrementally to the absolute minimum he could make it. Any slower and the magic circuit would simply fall apart. Almost as if on cue, the Mark seemed to begin increasing its campaign of obstruction as if it knew he’d hit a tricky part in the spell. Alex re-focused his thoughts and fought past the obstacles it threw at him.

After close to a year of living with it interfering, he’d come to the conclusion that he was probably imagining that its interference got worse when he was having a hard time trying to do something it didn’t want him doing in the first place. He’d concluded that the obstacles it threw at him just became more noticeable, since he wasn’t only working on a spell, but had to spend more time doing it, which in the Mark’s book, was a definite no-no.

‘Almost there…’ he thought.

The spell array kept forming as he chanted the incantation.

‘Almost…’

It formed.

At last, he’d worked through the difficult section and could move on to the next part. His excitement was building the closer he came to completing the spell, but he clamped it down to keep himself focused. If he got too excited now, he could become distracted enough to ruin his efforts.

The final part of the spell array was nice and simple, slotting into place, and soon, two interlinked magic circuits formed in his mana pool and hummed to life.

Alex’s grin spread from ear to ear as a flash of crimson illuminated his upper body, and the force armour formed around him. It was soundless, but he could imagine the clink of metal on metal as each force plate materialized, sheathing his arms, torso, and head in their protective magic.

When the armour was completely formed, it vanished, turning as invisible as its lesser cousin.

“Awesome,” he said with satisfaction. “Just awesome.”

He made note of the date and time he’d completed the spell, remembering how it had glowed as it began to shield him.

Then he paused as a thought came to him.

That bright glow…

The bright glow from his forceball was a big help when he, Theresa, and Brutus had gone vespara hunting. The glow was so bright, it had blinded their opponents, and a blinded opponent was a much easier one to fight. The force armour also glowed with a really bright light before it turned invisible.

If he modified the spell to keep the armour visible and glowing, then tweaked the brightness so looking at it would be like staring into the sun, wouldn’t that make him even harder to hit? He frowned in thought. It wasn’t a bad idea, but there were a few flaws with it.

First, the main reason force armour turned invisible was so it wouldn’t block its caster’s line of sight. It would be hard to fight or do anything else with a shield of glowing force completely covering the head and eyes.

He tapped his pen against the sheet of paper, thinking about illusions. What if he only made it invisible from the inside? From the outside, it’d be a brightly glowing force magic shield, but from the inside, it would be completely transparent.

Almost like two-way… force armour.

He wrote that down as a possibility he could try.

The other issue to consider was that making the force armour visible and super bright, would also be blinding to anyone he’d be fighting beside. And that might be a much bigger problem. Having the Mark of the Fool meant he was at his best when he was fighting in a group, so using any spell that hindered companions or allies would be pretty stupid, even if the spell also hindered an enemy.

It could work well if he were caught alone and didn’t need to be stealthy.

“Hmmm, it might also work well in combination with summoning,” he muttered as he jotted down his thoughts. “If I summon my monsters in front of me, they won’t be blinded by the light since they’ll be facing away from me and the brightness. Then there’s Claygon.”

The golem could see, but he didn’t have eyes. Sure, he had ‘eyes,’ but he was a golem. His senses were purely magical, generated from his core. Even if someone cut his head off—which Alex would rather not think about—he’d still be able to function just fine and would still have his magical sight.

Which meant he could freely use the blinding tactic around Claygon.

Alex yawned and stretched.

Those were things to consider later when he had time to really delve into the spell and tweak it. He was thinking about looking at one of his other spells for the summer—maybe Call Through Air—next, but he was also really itching to try his first summoning spell.

He opened the summoning textbook: The Beginner’s Manual of the Planes, and flipped past his many bookmarks to the first summoning spell they would be learning for the summer semester.

Summon Elemental Beetle wasn’t the most glamorous of spells. It was a simple spell that would conjure an elemental spirit who strongly resembled a beetle from one of the elemental planes, though the creature technically wasn’t an insect.

It was too small for combat, unless one was interested in having it duel mice or particularly feeble rats, and too unintelligent for any advanced commands.

When combined with particular spells that could allow a wizard to see using another’s senses, an elemental beetle could be used for spying. For the most part, though, it was mostly used in summoning practice. It was perfect for that purpose since it was a small monster with a weak will that could be easily subjugated, and couldn’t hurt the summoner if it got loose.

Technically, his class wouldn’t be starting to learn the spell for several weeks: Professor Mangal had the class start off with learning theory, practicing in drawing a perfect circle, and doing an assignment that involved learning the pronunciation of several common spirit names.

But Alex was getting through those assignments really quickly thanks to the Mark…

“The hell with it,” he said.

He wrote down Summon Lesser Beetle - Progress 0% in his notebook.

“Hope you don’t get jealous, Claygon,” he said as he started to copy the spell array into his notebook. “Because I’m summoning up more friends.”

Once he finished making the note, his plan was to break down the array into its components and make note of parts that would likely be easy for him—especially parts that were similar to spells he already knew—and then note the parts that seemed like they’d be difficult to get through.

He’d then spend the early morning going through the spell array a few times. Then at noon…

His eyes turned to his timetable.

Noon - Games of Roal Information Session (With Free Lunch!)

One-Thirty - Work on First assignment for Magical Botany

Three-Thirty - Help Professor Jules in Her Lab

Five O’Clock - Snacks

Six-Thirty - Work on Selina’s Birthday Present

Sometime Late Evening - Mr. and Mrs. Lu Arrive - Supper with them.

He sighed.

Busy day today. Exciting day, but busy.

“The Games of Roal are not for every student at Generasi. They’re a test of might, glory, ingenuity, and one’s talent in the art of sport. And just as every merchant is not invited to participate in a knightly joust, not every student is invited to participate in the Games.”

Alex, his cabal, Theresa, Selina, Brutus, and Claygon were seated on the grass near the arena of the Watchers of Roal.

A statue of Roal herself, as well as statues of previous Watchers who’d performed impressive deeds of valour and might, stared down at the over fifty people gathered for the students’ information session.

A long buffet table had been set up at the side of the gathering with platters of cured meats, breads, and fresh fruit and vegetables atop that had long been attacked by those in attendance.

In front of the attendees, several watchers floated on their stone disks—each standing iron-rod straight with feet planted shoulder-width. A woman floated before them, with her rank declared by a number of different badges.

Her one eye looked down at the students, while an eye-patch obscured a massive scar around her other eye. The scar ran all the way up her forehead and touched her dark, bare scalp.

“That said, the Games are an event for everyone in the city to attend,” she continued. “There will be…” The words seemed to struggle to escape her iron hard jaw. “Fun, games and festivities, for all to partake in. These are not hosted by the Watchers of Roal, but they have legitimacy as well. For those of you who wish to participate in the Games, you may do so if you fall under at least one of the following categories.”

Another Watcher unrolled a scroll, floated forward, and read. “Any who have successfully completed first year Battle Magic or the first year of the Art of the Wizard in Combat, this also includes members of their entourages—”

“That’s us,” Thundar grinned excitedly, as he slammed a hunk of smoked meat between two small loaves of rye and shoved it between his jaws.

“Indeed,” Khalik mused. “Glorious.”

“I—” Theresa cocked her ear to the air, then turned around. She smiled and waved. “Look who it is!”

Alex turned and saw a familiar dorsal fin cutting through the air above a hulking figure.

Grimloch was jogging toward the group, wearing a bit of a flustered expression. There was no sign of his older sister, Nua-Oge, though. He wasn’t the only one arriving to the information session late. Stragglers had been trickling in throughout the early part of the meeting.

When he noticed them, he gave everyone a curt nod, but kept jogging to the buffet table, grabbed an entire platter of smoked fowl, then plopped down beside his friends.

“Overslept,” he grunted. “Glad to see you all here.”

“Good to see you too,” Thundar clapped him on the arm, then gave it a squeeze. “Hey, you got bigger.”

“Yeah, you did,” Alex agreed.

The shark man’s massive musculature had grown, becoming even more defined over the past few months. His silvery skin had a brighter sheen to it too. Alex was pretty sure that his jagged, knife-like teeth looked larger when he grinned at Thundar.

Alex looked to the side and saw more late arrivals walking in.

“Thanks,” he growled. “Life enforcement agrees with me.”

Alex heard someone softly scoff behind them. “Muscle heads.”

“—Anyone who has certificates from the city might participate, and finally, anyone with a direct invitation from the Watchers of Roal can enter as well.”

He lowered his eyes to another part of the scroll. “Each participant may enter as many events as they wish, and that time permits. Each event offers its own prizes, and placing highly is worth points which go toward the grand prizes for the tournament itself. Events will be posted on a board after this information session, and eligible students may sign up for any event they desire. If you are undecided presently, that is alright. Open registration will remain available for a week, so you will have time to make your decisions.”

Alex caught movement out of the corner of his eye, then turned to see a small, familiar figure approaching the information session.

His eyes brightened and he waved at a little green goblin. “Kybas! Kybas!” he called quietly.

The goblin—who Alex hadn’t seen since first year potions ended—gave him a wide grin that showed lots of sharp teeth. Beside him crawled his young crocodile familiar, Harmless. Throughout the year, the little familiar had been growing well under his care. When Alex had first seen the croc, he’d been small enough for Kybas to carry. Now, he must have been at least four feet long.

“Hello, hello!” Kybas said, plopping down beside the group. “Are you here for the fun too, Alex?”

“I am,” Alex said, then introduced his friends to the little fellow. “Are you planning on entering the games?”

“Don’t know yet, I thought I’d see if I qualify,” Kybas shrugged. “But I will come and watch at least! They sound fun, especially the monster fights. Harmless can beat some already, I think. At least small monsters.”

Selina was staring at Kybas with a sharp look, then slowly looked up at Alex.

His ‘little goblin’ name for her suddenly came to mind.

Then he became very, very still.

Wait a minute… was that kinda racist?

He began praying that Selina wouldn’t say anything about it. His blood turned to ice when she opened her mouth.

“What are all the events?” she whispered to her panicking brother, to his great relief. “Is there going to be a joust with lances and knights and pretty horses?”

“I think there’s a regular joust,” Alex said. “There’s also a sky-joust, which is the same thing, but with warriors or warrior-wizards on flying monsters. I don’t know all the events, but there’s also spell-jousting—where wizards try to crush each other’s spells—then there’s a Duelling Tournament, Spell Duelling Tournament, Duel by Proxy, and a grand melee.”

“There’s also an archery competition,” Theresa whispered.

“Ooo,” Selina wiggled with excitement. “Are you going to be in that, Theresa?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Isolde sniffed. “Well, I shall not be participating.”

The others looked at her in surprise.

Over her shoulder, Alex saw even more stragglers arriving.

“Truly?” Khalik asked. “I would have thought that the spirit of competition would stir that noble blood in your veins.”

“This competition has little use for me, I fear,” she whispered. “I do not need prize money, and it would take valuable time that could be devoted to my academic pursuits over the summer.”

Her words had a prim detachment to them, and an amused smile crept across her lips. “I shall attend and watch, though. The idea of my participation is rather droll, I must admit. I do not thi—”

Her blue eyes suddenly hardened, staring over Alex’s shoulder..

Alex looked behind with a sharp intake of breath.

Another group of stragglers had entered the area: the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood. Among them was the familiar, fiery-haired Derek Warren.

Isolde’s eyes narrowed like an angry serpent’s. “Forget what I just said. Let us all enroll together. There is a bug I need to crush.”

Chapter 29

Old Acquaintances and Reunions

By the end of the information session and the sign-up that followed, Alex’s group had registered for several events, some individually, and some as a team.

Fortunately, Kybas could participate too since he’d taken and passed first year battle magic. He’d entered Harmless in the Duel by Proxy Event: Lightweight Class.

Grimloch, Theresa, and Thundar entered the Grand Melee as a team of three. As she’d told Selina she would, Theresa signed up for the archery competition, while Grimloch had signed up for a foot-race, and an event called the Great Water Hunt.

Khalik entered the Spell-Joust, and had signed himself and Najyah up for Duel by Proxy, in the lightweight division.

Alex and Theresa decided to register for the Grand Land Hunt together. It was an event where the Watchers released a small, fast-moving creature they’d summoned into a wild area of the countryside. Teams would then have to pursue and try to capture it, and the first one to catch it would be the winner of the hunt.

Finally, Alex signed up with Claygon for the Duel by Proxy in the super-heavyweight class. He couldn’t wait to see Claygon going up against other wizards’ summoned monsters, constructs, and tamed beasts.

When the group finished choosing the events they wanted, Isolde stayed back with them, using Claygon, Grimloch, and Thundar to hide behind while she kept her eye on Derek, and then—once the Ursa-Lupines had finished their sign-ups and gone on their way—she rushed over to check the sign-up list.

She examined each one, looking for certain names under the different events, then hurried back to her friends with a sparkle in her eyes.

“I thought as much,” she announced, with a sly smile. “The Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood signed up for the Grand Battle: Second Division.”

The Watchers had explained that event earlier during their announcements.

It was a team event similar to the Grand Melee: a simulation of a typical battle. But while the Grand Melee was like a battle between warriors and knights, the Grand Battle was a lot… grander and less constrained.

In the Grand Melee, which took place on a large open field, the participants were provided with blunted weapons—though they had to bring their own armour—and then set loose on each other with abandon. Participants were allowed to take part as individuals or in teams, with the express goal being to capture or ‘defeat’ as many opponents as possible. Each participant was scribed with a spell-mark—similar to Baelin’s—that would teleport them out of the field if they were about to suffer a major injury. It was a mock version of a real battle among knights, where capturing enemy knights for ransom was a valuable practice.

Apparently, the Grand Battle—also called the Battle Royale—was an even wilder version. Instead of a field, the participants were taken to an island west of Generasi where the forests grew thicker, and there were few inhabitants.

Like in the Grand Melee, each individual or team would also be scribed with a spell-mark that would whisk them away to a safe place on the island if they were about to suffer a major injury. One of the goals for the participants to reach was to get to a central mountain, while fulfilling and overcoming challenges along the way.

If they reached the mountain top, that would be worth a certain number of points, and if they held it for a certain amount of time, that’d be worth even more. Eliminating enemy teams along the way was worth points as well. Each individual or team would be granted a flag-bearer—a floating construct that would hold a small flag for each team.

Capturing another team’s flag was worth additional points.

“Hmmm, I see why the Brotherhood would have signed up for this,” Khalik said. “The Sky-Joust and Grand Battle are worth the most when it comes to earning points for the grand prize, and they’re also seen as giving the most glory among the Games.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that a glory hound would enter the Grand Battle. I want to participate in that event,” Isolde said, with no hint of irony. “If we put a team together, I am sure we can make a fine showing. A showing that might, say… humiliate certain back-stabbing insects.”

“Hmmm,” Alex muttered. “Second Division, that’s limited to anyone who can cast up to fourth level spells… That’s a lot of firepower. More than we’ve got.”

“It’s only a competition,” Isolde said with a look of desperate hunger in her eyes. “We have faced greater dangers in the Barrens during Baelin’s classes.”

“Yeah, but.” Alex scratched his head. “Look, I think we’d be smarter to go for stuff where we could actually win. That’s just my opinion, though.”

“Oh, ye of little courage.” Khalik threw his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “Think of it this way. Perhaps we might lack in raw power, but we make up for it in ingenuity, fellowship, and coordination. Not to mention…”

The prince turned to Grimloch. “Say, my friend, what would you say to participating in a Grand Battle, pitting yourself against other warriors and wizards?”

The shark man grinned, showing his many white, triangular teeth. He cracked his knuckles, and it sounded like rocks splitting. “I’m game.”

“See?” Khalik said. “Between Grimloch and Claygon, I would dare say any warrior on another team will be hard pressed to face us. Besides, wizards have a habit of underestimating the power of non-wizards. We can catch them and crush them in their own miscalculation of our team’s ability. We might not win, but I have no doubt we can place. Remember, too, that wizards who can cast up to fourth tier spells do not exactly grow on trees, my friend. Those of our level shall be much more common.”

Alex thought it over.

There was something about Khalik’s words that were a little intoxicating. The fact that the competition was worth the most points was also appealing. It might let them get one of those cash prizes that were on offer. Also, it might be good practice for the expedition to Thameland. Like it or not, he was becoming more and more convinced about signing up.

He looked at Theresa and Selina. One look at his girlfriend’s deathstalker face convinced him that she’d love it. Selina also looked excited about the idea.

“Okay, but we’ve gotta have a plan—”

“Yes!” Isolde cheered. “Good job, Khalik! With Claygon’s might by our sides we’re sure to crush all those we seek to bury.”

“Indeed.” Khalik grinned. “Claygon will be an excellent addition to our force.”

“…And what about me?” Alex asked.

The prince waved a hand as though his question was of no consequence. “You will be a nice bonus, I suppose.”

“I hate all of you,” Alex grunted.

“Even me?” Theresa asked, putting on a mask of innocence. Her lower lip trembled like she was about to cry, except Alex had known Theresa long enough to know what that whole lip trembling thing actually was.

He gave her a withering look. “Look, don’t try that when you’re barely holding back evil laughter.”

She immediately burst into evil laughter.

Shaking his head, he pulled out of the prince’s grip and walked away from them, feigning disgust and planning petty revenge. As he did, he noticed Kybas standing a little away from the group, watching them with a strange look. Beside him, Harmless was swallowing some dried fish.

“Heya, buddy,” Alex said. “We didn’t really get a chance to catch up yet. How’s your summer been so far? Taking any summer courses?”

Kybas shook his head as though he’d been in a trance. “Oh, hmm-hmmm? It’s been nice. Nice here. It’s warmer here than it is at home. Quieter too. Uh, summer courses… I’m taking only one, just one: the Habits and Anatomy of Monsters II.”

“Oooooh, that sounds fun,” Alex said. “Say… you ever thought about taking the chancellor’s Art of the Wizard in Combat? It’s super badass.”

“Hrm, hrm, I haven’t heard of that one.”

Alex quickly explained the whole course, going into a little too much detail in his excitement. Kybas’ eyes widened.

He gave a vicious grin. “That sounds fun. but maybe next year. I’ll be strong enough for that class next year, if I have time for it.”

“Awesome, it’s too bad we couldn’t have been in Baelin’s class together in first year,” Alex said. “And I take it, Harmless, is alright?”

“Oh yes!” Kybas beamed with the same enthusiasm as a horse rancher showing off his prize stallion. “He’s growing very well! Very quickly! Soon things will be running and screaming when he’s out with me. Hehe, he’ll be big enough to eat a water dragon one day.”

Alex glanced down at the still smallish croc as he finished his snack. Well, at the rate the little critter was growing, that day might be coming soon.

“Have you been feeding him potions?” Alex asked. “I remember you wanted to do that to help him grow faster.”

The goblin gave an almost apologetic smile toward his familiar. “As much as I can… Most potions and potion ingredients are pretty expensive.”

“Yeah, that they are,” Alex said, noticing something about Kybas’ clothes. They looked a little—no, a lot more—worn than the last time he’d seen him. He knew better than to ask awkward questions, though, and was just glad that meals were included in the cost of tuition at the university.

‘Just get through these three more years and you’ll be able to make gold every time you blink,’ Alex thought.

“I can only brew potions when I’ve got the open classes with Professor Jules,” he said, thinking about his own struggles with making more potions. “Honestly, I wish I had my own ingredients-garden and lab. I’ve thought about growing the ingredients myself, but figured I should take magical botany first. So… y’know… I’ll know what I’m doing.”

“Ooo! Ooo!” Kybas jumped excitedly. “With Professor Salinger? I loved that course!”

“Yeah!” Alex said. “It’s pretty good so far. Were you the guy that got his plant-sheep to metamorphize?”

“Yep! Yep!” he said. “Professor Salinger said I had a green thumb for monster plants! I’m taking the second-year course next year too.”

“Sweet,” Alex said. “Maybe we’ll be in class together again.” He glanced behind, noticing his friends gathering their gear and getting ready to leave. “Oops, I gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you later this summer, Kybas. I’m gonna be hosting a few dinners and would love it if you showed up.”

Kybas tried to hide his surprise. “Oh, uh… yeah, sure, that sounds good. Will there be food for Harmless?”

“Oh yeah, we’ll make him big and strong, don’t you worry. Here, tell me how I can contact you.”

Alex and Kybas exchanged contact information, and then he watched the little goblin and his familiar for a few moments as they left.

He sighed.

This summer was going well, a lot better than the previous summer of ‘stressing over if he got accepted’ and ‘slaving away for McHarris,’ and ‘fleeing from Uldar’s plans for his life.’

Hopefully, Baelin would be back in a few days with good news. They’d also be meeting the Lu’s tonight…

Things were looking bright.

The sun was starting to set when the ship finally got close enough for them to make out Mr. and Mrs. Lu standing on the deck.

“Moooother! Faaaaaather!” Theresa shouted over the sound of the waves, waving her arms and jumping up and down.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lu!” Selina cried beside her, copying her movements and waving both of her arms above her head.

“Heeeeey!” Alex called out. “Claygon, wave!”

The golem slowly raised his two right arms and waved them at the approaching vessel, while Brutus ran around the dock, barking with excitement.

“—looooooooo!” Mr. Lu’s voice boomed back across the waves.

“Theresaaaaa! Aleeeeex! Selinaaaa! Hiiiii!” Mrs. Lu’s voice called as their still distant forms grew closer.

It seemed to take forever for the approaching ship to dock, and Alex was a little disappointed when it wasn’t the Red Siren. He wondered how Fan-Dor, Gel-Dor, and the rest of the crew were doing.

After what seemed like hours, the gangplank was lowered and the Lu’s almost sprinted down to wrap their daughter and the Roth siblings in a tight hug.

“Mother, father, it’s so good to see you!” Theresa cried. “How is everyone else?”

“They’re fine, they’re just fine. Oooh, it’s good to see you again,” her mother said. “Oof, you’ve gotten so strong!”

Mr. Lu hugged Alex and Selina at the same time.

Alex fought back tears as he felt the warm embrace of the man who was essentially his second father. Selina was outright crying.

“By Uldar, boy, what happened to you!” Mr. Lu pulled back, gripping Alex by the shoulders and examining him. “I hardly recognized you from the boat! I thought you were someone else at first.”

“Well, I’ve been working out,” Alex chuckled.

“I’ll say. You’d make the blacksmith’s son look bad. I thought they were supposed to teach you magic here, not strongman training!” He glanced over at Theresa. “And look at you, by the Traveller, you look so strong, girl!”

“And so beautiful,” Mrs. Lu leaned back, looking up at her daughter and reaching for her face.

“Mother…” Theresa grunted as her face was turned this way and that. “Stooop, I’m not a doll.”

“Of course not, but your skin… It looks incredible, what have you been doing? Oh, and your hair!” Mrs. Lu blinked in amazement. “Some herbs and sun?”

“Life enforcement,” Theresa said, standing up to her full height proudly. “Just like great-grandfather.”

“Right…” Mrs. Lu said, glancing at her husband. “Well, that’s good. Very good. And… uh… Is this the goll-lum you talked about in your letter?”

“Goal-lem,” Theresa said. “And yes, this is Claygon. We’ve got so much to show you!”

“I’m sure…” Mr. Lu muttered, staring at the djinn and demon statues that flanked the massive gates to the city. “Can’t… Still can’t quite believe that what I’m seeing is real. Are those boats up in the sky?”

“I told you about those, father!”

“It’s one thing to read about them in a letter, but quite another to actually see them in person!” Mr. Lu said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Alex grinned. “We’ve got sooo much to show you. Generasi is… one… of…”

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.

Something was coming.

Something from far off.

Teleportation—no, summoning magic.

“No,” he turned his head in the direction of the city. “No, no, no…”

A flash of light and a crack of thunder blasted through the air in the distance.

Coming from the direction of City Hall.

Chapter 30

Rumours

“What was that?” Mr. Lu asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “Some wizard thing?”

All around the dock, a wave of tension swept through the crowd. People clotted together in muttering groups, some pointing in the direction of where the sound of the blast and flash of light had come from. Some looked simply curious, others, worried.

“What was that?” an orcish sailor standing nearby asked a centaur dockworker.

“No clue.” The centaur held up his hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun. “Don’t look normal. Don’t look normal.”

Mrs. Lu turned to her daughter, her earlier cheer fading. “Theresa? What happened?”

“I don’t… know, Mother.” The huntress squinted at the skyline, but the flash of light had already faded.

Suddenly, another flash.

Theresa’s hand dropped to her sword.

Then another. And another.

Alex’s mind whirled.

Something had been summoned earlier. He’d bet half his tuition on it. And if he’d felt the conjuring all the way at the docks, then the spell had to’ve been a very powerful one.

“No,” Alex said. “No, I don’t think this is normal, Mrs. Lu.” He looked at Theresa. “I think something was summoned.”

Her eyes hardened. “You mean—” She glanced from Selina to her parents with concern touching her face. “Another summoning?”

“What’s going on?” Mr. Lu asked, the amusement in his voice now faded.

“It’d be better if we explained back at campus,” Alex said. “We should go. Now. Claygon, lead the way.”

“What’s wrong, Alex?” Selina looked up with worry.

Mrs. Lu looked back toward the skyline. “Is it… is it the Ravener?”

“No, but it’s not good,” Theresa said. “Let’s just follow Claygon for now, Mother. I’ll explain, I promise.”

The group quickly moved toward the city, passing through the gates among a growing crowd who were also hurrying back to the city.

“Stay close to Claygon and Brutus!” Alex said. The crowd was beginning to press together, but were giving the golem and cerberus a wide berth.

Inside the gates, the streets were filled with people rushing in all directions. Wizards rode on the backs of monsters, horses, camels, or constructs as they tried to make their way through the crowded roads. Folks were piled into shops or staring out from balconies or upper windows. The sky was filled with wizards zipping this way and that way, though some stopped and hovered in place, looking in the direction of the disturbance.

Mr. and Mrs. Lu gaped at the scene, clearly overwhelmed by the sight of magic everywhere, and the tense feeling in the air.

“Smoke,” Theresa muttered.

A black cloud was rising in the darkening evening sky from the area of City Hall.

“Let’s keep going,” Alex said, holding Selina’s hand tightly.

The little girl was glaring at the rising black cloud. “Okay.”

Claygon and Brutus strode through the throng, and it parted before them. Alex and the rest of the group followed behind, staying close together to avoid being separated by the thickening crowd.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Lu kept asking questions, but Alex and Theresa just tried to keep the focus on getting everyone back to the safety of campus.

“There’s a sky-pier close by,” Alex said. “Once we get there, we’ll be okay.”

“Pardon? What’s a sky-pier?” Mr. Lu asked, looking at the smoke. “Are we under attack or something? Shouldn’t we be getting back on the ship?”

“Trust me,” Alex said. “It’ll be a lot… safer… there.”

Oh shit.

Alex’s blood went cold.

There hadn’t been any demon summonings in months, so why now—

Baelin was away.

That couldn’t be just a coincidence. His heart began to beat faster.

Still, at least on campus, the Watchers of Roal were there, and it was far from City Hall. They’d be safe there… wouldn’t they?

As it turned out, getting to campus was a lot harder than he’d thought it would be.

“We’re all booked!” the sky-pier attendant waved her hands. “We won’t have openings for a while!”

“Shit,” Alex muttered, forgetting not to swear in front of his sister.

“Dammit!” a man nearby cried. “I’ve got to get over there! My wife works at City Hall! I need to get there! Can’t you make room?”

“Sorry, but you’ll need to find another way, then!” the attendant shouted back over a bunch of jeers and angry voices.

“Do you know what happened?” Alex asked the man.

“What?” he whirled on him, blinking almost in confusion.

“Do you know what happened at City Hall?”

“It was an attack!” another man shouted. “A bunch of demons were summoned outside the main entrance. I saw some flying over the buildings down there, you don’t want to go there, friend!”

“Demons?” Mrs. Lu gasped.

“Mother, it’s okay,” Theresa said. “There’re people in the city who know how to deal with these kinds of things. We’ll be okay.”

“This happens often?” Mr. Lu gasped.

“No, I mean… sometimes.”

Silence followed. Alex gulped, looking at Theresa. She met his gaze, looked at her parents, and then shook her head.

He slowly realized she probably hadn’t told them about the dangerous things that had happened in Generasi. And if she had, he doubted it was in much detail.

Not that he could blame her.

Her parents were hiding from the horrors ravaging Thameland, and they’d sent their daughter, him, Selina, and Brutus off to what they’d thought would be a much safer place for them to be.

How much would they have worried if they’d gotten letter after letter filled with horrifying stories of mana vampire attacks, monsters in the Barrens, demon summoners that were still at large, and a near-massacre at a masquerade ball they’d gone to for fun and relaxation.

If it were him, he would have waited for the right moment. Like telling them in person, when they’d had a chance to see the wonders of the city first.

Of course, someone had to go and summon demons before Theresa even had a chance to tell them about such things in between big doses of the great things that happened in Generasi.

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“We have another way,” Alex muttered. “Let’s just keep going.”

“You have to tell us what’s going on,” Mrs. Lu looked at Alex and Theresa. “At least for your sister’s sake.”

“Bad monsters are here,” Selina said, her voice as hard as flint. “Ruining things again. They’ll go away. They always do.”

Another silence.

“Let’s just follow Claygon,” Alex said. “It’s a long walk.”

As they made their way through the city, Alex reluctantly explained what had happened with the first demon summoning on campus. He also explained the horrors of their fellow-countrywoman, Carey London, and her devilish plan to bring the priests onto campus.

“This… this place is dangerous,” Mr. Lu said, setting his jaw. “Well, the Lu family isn’t from a line of cowards.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe it’s a good thing the priests didn’t start coming onto your campus.” He looked at Alex meaningfully. “I’d say it was a blessing, but, you know.”

Even as he said this, his eyes scanned the surrounding buildings nervously. Shadows lengthened as night drifted closer, Claygon and Brutus continuing to lead them through the crowd.

Alex’s heart was beating faster and faster.

He felt exposed. Vulnerable.

He reached out and touched Claygon.

News began to drift to them as they made their way back to campus. Now and then, someone screamed when they heard terrible news from City Hall. Details of the attack were being revealed through the murmurings going on around them.

Though they couldn’t be sure what was true and what was rumour.

“It was some kind of demonic dragon!” someone said. “Brought to City Hall in a hoard of flying lizards.”

“The City guard went to—”

“The dragon had three heads!”

“No, it had ten heads!”

“It wasn’t a demonic dragon at all! It was some kind of horned rat at the head of a horde of demon rat-men!”

“The sea gods were attacking, I heard—”

“This is just like when we were leaving Thameland,” Mr. Lu muttered darkly. “When we were waiting for the ship, all kinds of stories started drifting into town. Different monsters in the countryside, some sort of spiders in Coille, towns that had been flattened by a hundred-eyed giant… And here we are, so far from home and finding the exact same thing.”

Armed folk pushed through the crowds—bearing swords, staves, maces and more—heading toward the centre of the city.

“It’s not normally like thi—” Theresa started to say.

“Attention citizens!” a disembodied voice boomed through the air.

Everyone in the area startled.

“At seven thirty-five this evening, a cowardly attack was carried out on the City Hall of Generasi, the city at the centre of creation. A fiendwyrm was summoned in the square and set to rampage on citizens and visitors going about their lawful business. City Hall’s wards activated and agents of the Ruling Council engaged with practiced efficiency. Thankfully, casualties were kept low by their actions.”

“Don’t worry, it’s some kind of spell that’s amplifying someone’s voice,” Alex said quickly, noticing the Lu’s’ raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

‘So, there were casualties,’ he added mentally.

The voice continued to boom. “The Central District is hereby under curfew until further notice. All inside of the perimeter are instructed to return to their homes immediately. If you must leave the central district to do so, you will be obligated to stop at the checkpoints set up on each street. Failure to do so will result in immediate arrest.”

‘Meaning they haven’t caught who’s responsible yet,’ Alex thought.

“Also, effective immediately, all air traffic above the City of Generasi is hereby grounded. The skies are to be kept clear for both emergency and military personnel. If you are aboard a sky-ship or other large vessel that cannot easily land, please arrest all motion and wait for military personnel to guide you to ground. The City of Generasi is dedicated to your safety. We will endeavour to have all resolved in a timely and efficient manner. May you have a safe and calm night. Further instructions and information will be delivered through this method as the situation changes.”

Alex looked at his companions. “Let’s keep moving, it’s going to get even more crowded when the streets start filling up with people who’ve landed from every sky-gondola in the city.”

“I thought we were supposed to stop,” Mrs. Lu said, looking around at the roofs. “That voice… where did it come from? I see no one speaking.”

“It was magic,” Theresa said, taking her mother’s hand and hurrying her along. “I think whoever was talking was probably far away.”

“We’re far from the central district,” Alex said. “We just have to keep heading to campus.”

The walk to the university seemed to take forever.

The city of Generasi was absolutely enormous. Something that he didn’t usually give much thought to since he normally took sky-gondolas to get around most of the time. By the time they finally saw the gates of the university looming ahead, Mrs. Lu was wincing from the long walk.

Crowds milled around inside and outside of the gates. Some folk were looking out into the city, and some were trying to get onto campus, so it took Alex’s group a long time to finally gain admission. It was only when they were well past the gates that he started to feel more comfortable and let out a sigh of relief.

“What happened out there?” a hulking student asked as they went by. He was as tall as Thundar and had a single eye in the centre of his forehead: a lesser cyclops. “Have they caught the bastard?”

“We don’t know any more than you do,” Alex said. “We were on the docks when it happened.”

The cyclops cursed under his breath and stomped away.

“This is quite the place,” Mr. Lu managed to say as his eyes travelled between the lesser cyclops and the high towers of the university. “I’ve been to Ussex once and seen the king’s castle, but by Uldar, this place is bigger.”

“Yeah…I just wish you got to see it under less scary circumstances,” Alex said.

Selina pointed toward the Cells. “When we first got here, that place blew up.”

“What?” Mrs. Lu gasped.

“They repair things quickly here,” Alex said before anyone could say anything else. Somehow, he was starting to feel a little defensive about Generasi. He absolutely loved it here, and didn’t want this terrible first impression to be what Theresa’s parents kept in their minds and believed about it. “They’re really organized. Like there’s so many wonders—” He paused, realizing he was beginning to ramble. “Let’s… let’s just see if the registrar is still open. We want you to get settled as soon as possible. It’s uh, it’s been an evening so far.”

As it turned out, Hobb was still at his desk when they arrived at the registrar’s office.

“Why would I not be staffing the desk?” the blue-skinned devil rubbed his monocle on a handkerchief when asked what he was still doing there. “The emergency lies in the city, not on campus, and affairs still need to be kept in order. If I were to run cowering like a mouse anytime something unexpected occurred, then I daresay the university would never get anything done. Now… Lu Zimo and Lu Yutong?”

He looked at Theresa’s parents while his quill—which had been writing notes in a registration book all by itself—paused.

Theresa’s parents were staring at Hobb, their eyes flicking from the animated pen to the blue horned devil and back.

“Yes, those are their names,” Theresa said, her cheeks turning red.

“Uh,” Mrs. Lu said idly. “We put our surnames last. Surnames first is a Tarim-Lung practice, and my husband and I were born in Thameland.”

“I see, so then, Yutong Lu for you—” he nodded to Mrs. Lu. “And Zimo Lu for your husband.” His quill retraced the words, erasing them as it did, and then re-wrote the corrected names. “Welcome to Generasi. I hope you two dear people do not see today’s events as indicative of the regular state of our beautiful city, because rest assured, they are not!” Hobb said, returning to his paperwork. “Compared to many other places in the world—consumed by war, plague, monster attacks, and the whims of nature and gods—we are quite safe and comfortable. I assure you, you will be most safe here.”

He presented them with a key. “Normally, we would either place you in the guest residences or within a hostel or inn in the city, but—during the summer semester—many of the student insulae have plenty of room available for your stay, including the southern insula. This would place you close to your daughter, which is what she and your daughter’s… friend have arranged. I trust this will be suitable?”

“Yes, it wou—By Uldar, did that bench just move!” Mr. Lu cried.

“No, no, no!” Hobb half-rose from his chair. “Rebellious seat! Back to your post or it is off to the carpenter for you! I will see to it that you are cobbled into a fine pair of wooden shoes!”

The bench—which had been halfway out of the hall—scuttled back to its place.

“Apologies.” The devil grinned. “The furniture needs discipline sometimes. Is there anything else you might need?”

“Whiskey,” Mr. Lu said, not sounding like he was remotely joking.

Mrs. Lu quickly nodded in agreement.

“Well, we have many bars on campus. I could arrange a guide—”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Alex said.

“Very well.” Hobb nodded, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Lu with his red eyes. “Enjoy your stay, my young friends. Take in the sights. Sample the air. Grab these unique experiences while you can.”

He shrugged, looking at the doors. “After all… one never knows.”

Mrs. Lu looked at Theresa with a mix of undisguised emotions plainly shifting her expression. “Tomorrow we are going to have a very long conversation.”

The huntress winced. “Yes, Mother.”

The room’s atmosphere was so tense, Alex wasn’t sure if even a blade of force could cut through it. A good number of people—students and professors—were seated in the large meeting room, and most shifted uncomfortably at the long table.

Towering at the head of the table was Chancellor Baelin, having returned from his trip to Thameland the night before.

His hands were clasped on the table before him, and his piercing eyes were staring at an empty space in front of his face.

Alex had never seen him so angry.

And even though he wasn’t the target of that wrath, he couldn’t help but feel a terror gripping his spine.

Chapter 31

The First Briefing… and a Big Mouth

Alex recalled how Prince Khalik had described dragonfear as a power he’d experienced when he’d come upon a dragon near his kingdom once.

“Dragons have an aura around them of supernatural fear, and the older they get, the stronger it grows. The fear penetrates the mind and infests the heart. Not fear from within, but fear from outside.” He’d gestured all around. “It is magical, and it digs into the mind like a pickaxe. I bet you that when you learn more of these shoggoths, you will find this is true of them as well. I will bet you a good sum of coins on that.”

Alex wondered if Baelin had some similar power running through his very being. The chancellor hadn’t suddenly grown any bigger—and he wasn’t making any threatening motions—but his very presence overshadowed the entire room. Something about him looked… not mortal. Like he was an ancient, mystical force barely constrained by a mortal shell.

Then again, Alex supposed that was very likely what he was.

He glanced around the room, taking in everyone present.

Originally, he’d imagined that the meeting would be a happy, enthusiastic one. It was the orientation and first briefing of those who’d eventually become the expedition’s core team members.

Of the twenty or so people in the room, there were many Alex didn’t recognize, but there were also a few familiar faces.

Seated closest to Baelin was Professor Jules, and the normally confident little woman shifted in her chair, her face a mix of anger and nerves. Beside her were a few of her graduate students, including Amir Abu Saleh.

Amir was sweating like a pot cover beneath his tall hat, and was also looking like he hadn’t slept in days as he did his best to not meet Baelin’s gaze. He wasn’t the only one in that position. Isolde, right beside Alex, sat with her eyes cast down toward the table, and he could hear her teeth grinding in her jaw.

Everyone else in the room wore expressions that ran the gamut from angry, to frightened, to very uncomfortable.

Alex too was feeling a mix of fear, agitation, and resentment.

“This. Will. Not. Be. Tolerated,” Baelin finally spoke, his deep voice making everyone in the room jump. “While we are not gathered here today to discuss yesterday’s attack, I will not ignore the elephant in the room.” His goat-like eyes flashed. “This coward waited until I was absent to strike my… our city like some diseased, desperate viper. It will not be tolerated.”

“Chancellor,” another professor cleared his throat. “Are we able to continue with this endeavour? The expedition will require your absence from Generasi at times. If it is true that this summoner waited until you were away to strike, then would it not be prudent to wait until they are caught before we proceed?”

“No, our plans cannot be held hostage by whatever motivations are at play here,” Baelin said. “This expedition is too important. The most dangerous aspect of a catastrophe is often not the catastrophe itself, but the actions of people in the wake of such a disaster. An earthquake might kill a thousand, but people abandoning their crops and leaving their harvest to rot might kill twenty thousand. We are on the cusp of one of the most important discoveries for wizardry in hundreds of years. We will proceed, but with caution, while I myself and the ruling council continue our work to uncover the snake’s pit.” The air in the room chilled.

“Has there…” Jules spoke up. “Been any sort of progress on that front?”

“I cannot speak on that,” Baelin said. “But rest assured. We all share one goal: their apprehension. However that is accomplished.” He let the weight of his words hang in the air, then he looked at everyone assembled and said, “Now. Let us speak of our expedition. The purpose of why we are here.”

He waved his hands through the air, creating an illusion of a landscape that was both familiar and unfamiliar to Alex. He gasped. It was Thameland. He recognized the trees and the colour of the grass as from his homeland.

The area Baelin was showing was definitely a wilder part of Thameland, and appeared to be a moorland covered in wild grasses, rocky outcroppings that rose into the air like stone fingers, and what looked to be ancient, half-buried ruins.

“This is Greymoor within the Barony of Devon, and it is now firmly part of Generasi territory through lawful purchase. It is where our base of operations will be,” Baelin said. “The terrain is tough. The wind is strong due to the elevation, and the soil is quite acidic—unsuitable for productive farming—but there is plenty of granite to be mined, and flat areas for construction. It was the location of a dungeon that produced newt-like monstrous humanoids, but—unfortunately—the dungeon was cleared out by Thameland’s Heroes several months ago.”

He shifted the illusion above several forests of ancient trees, bogs, tors, and rivers. “Aside from the dungeon, Greymoor is relatively safe. Finding wild monsters there is uncommon, apparently. According to the Church of Uldar, the most common naturally occurring monsters are asrai faeries, phantom wild cats, the occasional blue annis hag, as well as redcaps, bugbears and beast goblins. Animals there are small and mostly harmless, and there are plenty of game birds and edible fish, such as salmon and trout, in the waters. There seems to be very little of concern there. Are there any questions so far?”

“Are there any magical plants of alchemical value?” Jules asked while studying the illusion and jotting down notes in a notebook.

“It seems the most valuable magical flora known in the area are the occasional aeld tree, and various herbs found in the forests. Which leaves room for you to make your own discoveries. The Thameish crown has agreed to provide us with suitable bestiaries for a full catalogue of resources and dangers. Which reminds me…”

He shifted the illusion, dividing it in half. The half on the left travelled south through the wilderness until it came upon a port town surrounding a castle. The illusion on the right traveled west until it reached a village.

“This is Devonport to the south. It is the seat of the barony and the largest settlement that is close by. We will likely not have much dealings with Devonport, but keep its location in mind should we have the need to make contact. The other closest settlement is the Village of Luthering to the west.”

Alex squinted.

He noticed that several of the village’s buildings looked like they’d suffered some damage.

“Luthering will likely be of little interest to us, and us to them, but if you find yourself in trouble, they have agreed to provide aid to anyone lost or in need from our expedition. Any more questions?”

No one spoke up.

“Alright then. This is how things will unfold. We will conduct the expedition in several stages.” He conjured a list. “Stage One will be clearance and surveying. I will be tasking select team members with the duty of clearing the terrain of any threats, such as wild monsters or stragglers that were spawned from the dungeon. These members will also be tasked with exploring and mapping the region. It would not do to begin mining and construction operations only to be raided by monsters we did not anticipate.

“Stage Two will be construction. Our site is the equivalent of an active war zone due to the situation currently being experienced in Thameland. Other expeditions might have to make-do with a simple research camp, but we are wizards of Generasi. I want a full fortification constructed in Greymoor before the winter snows come, strong enough to withstand a siege from any of these dungeons. Once we have done our survey and understand the lay of the land, we will choose the most advantageous spot on which to construct our fortified home away from home, as it were. We will also create suitable building plans to meet our needs.”

Alex raised a hand.

“Yes, Alex?” Baelin asked.

“Will you be transporting the teams personally?” he asked.

“Indeed, but not each day,” the chancellor said. “While it would be tempting to simply teleport a team in the morning and bring them back in the evening, such a practice would cause us to miss valuable data. Sometimes what is not apparent during the day, becomes very apparent at night.”

“Okay,” Alex said, writing that down.

“Next, then.” Baelin shifted the illusion so that several castles of various designs floated before him.

“Once the fortification is complete, we will enter Stage Three: Set-up. I will craft a teleportation circle that will link the university and the research castle we will construct. As a measure of security, only those who possess an assigned key may use the portal, and I will need to recharge the circle once every twenty-four hours or it will cease to function. We will use this means to transport equipment into the fortification to create the necessary laboratories.”

Jules nodded in approval.

“Finally, in the last step, we will begin our operations. We will start with obtaining one sample of dungeon core remains and using that for initial experiments. If that proves fruitful, we will expand. Keep in mind that Thameland’s ambient mana is far lower than that of Generasi. This will necessitate the construction of very expensive analytical devices that can hold enough power to function within the fortification. Keep this in mind and handle them with care.”

Baelin then proceeded to divide the research team up according to task. Many tasks were administrative, but others involved more active roles.

Finally, the chancellor looked at Alex.

“Alex and Isolde, I would like you to do two things. First of all, in Stage One, I would like you to aid in some of the construction of the magical analysis equipment for the expedition. It will be excellent learning and you both have shown the competence in alchemical construction to be of benefit.”

“I’ll count that as part of your credits for your alchemy courses this summer,” Professor Jules added.

“We accept with honour,” Isolde said.

“Oh yeah, honour and excitement and all that.” Alex nodded along.

“Secondly, I would like you two to form a team—select your chosen team members then get their paperwork to me for approval—and use that team to participate in surveying and clearing out our new land.”

“Really? Us?” Alex asked, surprised. “I’m not even a second-year student yet. I mean, like, thank you for the vote of confidence, but I’m sure there’s a ton of other students who’d be more qualified.”

Baelin raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Alex, you have more combat experience than most people in this room.”

“Wait, really?”

“I’m no fighter,” Amir laughed nervously, and several of the other students and professors nodded with him.

“The Art of the Wizard in Combat has granted us a lot of experience, Alex,” Isolde said. “And let us not forget the situations we have been involved in on top of that.”

“Indeed,” Baelin agreed. “I did not construct the Art of the Wizard in Combat to prepare students for a life of farming. If you have passed my course, you are qualified for battle. And—as Isolde said—you have experience beyond that. Further, you might not be native to this particular part of Thameland, but you are—as of now—the only member of the research team that is Thameish. That is a valuable asset. And let us not forget Claygon… for multiple reasons.”

Alex nodded. He’d been wondering what would happen when Claygon went to Thameland with his dungeon core-built golem core. Maybe that was one of the things Baelin meant by ‘multiple reasons.’

“And remember,” Baelin added, cutting through his thoughts and addressing the whole team. “Be cautious in your dealings with strangers. The city is making every effort to catch the demon summoner, but the inescapable fact is that this person waited until I was away before acting. That shows they seek vulnerability. So be careful, and use your common sense.”

Alex swallowed.

What a time for Theresa’s parents to come for a visit. He wasn’t sure how they would react to the idea of him going back to Thameland to hunt monsters and help set up a wizardly research expedition.

Especially if Theresa wanted to go along too.

How would they react to her wanting to go?

They had been happy to let her come with him when he was escaping Thameland, but that was because they thought they’d be running from certain danger, not toward it.

Now here they were in Generasi while this demon summoner still stalked the city…

“Is it always so well-guarded?” Mrs. Lu asked, watching as a patrol of Watchers passed by the window, floating on their stone disks. “It feels more like an army fortress than a school.”

“Not usually quite like this,” Alex said, carrying supper on a cloud of forcedisks, while Mr. Lu and Selina set the table. The hearty meat stew and freshly baked bread steamed in the later summer evening air. He’d also made his signature cookies in celebration of the Lus’ visit.

“It’s because of what happened at City Hall,” Theresa said, her frown deepening as the Watchers soared past. “They’re working to keep us safe so we can enjoy ourselves.”

“Mhm…” Mrs. Lu mused. She idly reached out and hugged her daughter.

“Mother, I’m okay,” Theresa said.

“I know, I know,” Mrs. Lu said.

Mr. Lu eyed the food as Wizard’s Hands removed it from the disks and set it on the table. He gave a long, almost nostalgic look at the bread and cookies, then looked up at Alex and shook his head.

“It’s almost a relief,” he said.

“What is?” Alex asked, puzzled.

“Seeing the bread and cookies lets me know you’re still you,” he said. “I meant it, you know. Hardly recognize you. There’s all this.” Mr. Lu flexed, gesturing at his biceps, then at Alex’s. “Then there’s all the magic you can do now. You’re not just a baker anymore. At least, you don’t look like one. So, it’s nice to see you doing something familiar.”

That stopped Alex short. “I guess you’re right.”

Mr. Lu gave him a small smile and turned to Selina. “Come, come, let’s get washed up now.”

“I know that already, Mr. Lu,” Selina said, padding to the wash-basin. “I’m growing up.”

The older man smiled. “I suppose you are.”

Alex thought back to what Baelin and Isolde had said.

It was true. When he’d received the Mark, he was simply a baker’s assistant. The mightiest thing he’d ever ‘slain’ was an oversized pie he’d taken on during an eating contest when he was fifteen.

Now?

He’d fought and killed monsters.

Strong ones that could have killed him.

He’d built a golem.

His best friend was now his girlfriend, and she was even stronger and more fearless than she was before they came to Generasi.

He was part of a cabal of good friends who were growing in their training and becoming more deadly with time.

He’d pushed his body to change and grow, and he wasn’t finished yet. His Mark labelled him as the Fool, but the chancellor of the greatest university of wizardry in the world now considered him a combat asset.

Mr. Lu was right. He wasn’t just a baker’s assistant anymore.

As a matter of fact, even his baking skills had grown to where he felt they could rival McHarris’.

Maybe it was time he stopped acting like he was merely a baker’s assistant, and acknowledged what he was capable of and how much he’d grown.

The demon summoner was out there somewhere. Still a threat. If he ever encountered one of their summoned demons again, maybe it was time for him to do more than just duck and dodge.

Now—with Claygon and his friends—he could do more.

He could overcome threats. He’d been doing it for a while now.

The time for running—and not seeing himself as he actually was—had come to an end.

“So,” Mrs. Lu said as she scooped up a pat of butter with a teasing note in her eyes. “How long have you two been together?”

Alex froze mid-bite.

Scrrrrp.

Theresa’s fork scraped across her plate.

“Wait…” Mrs. Lu paused, looking at the two of them carefully. “I was just making a joke…”

Silence.

“Gross,” Selina said. “They’ve been icky together ever since we got attacked by those monsters at Isolde’s cousin’s party.”

Mr. Lu choked on his stew. “Monsters!”

“And then they were together the whole time I was staying at Abela’s house. They even took Brutus and left him with Khalik,” the treacherous, evil little sister of Alex Roth continued to talk, unaware of the doom she was creating. “Khalik said they got back home late and then went hunting monsters the next morning.”

Alex slowly looked at Theresa for help. His cool, calm girlfriend would surely know what to—

The brave huntress had checked out.

She’d gone as white as a sheet and was staring at nothing.

Oh, by the Traveller, she hadn’t told them!

Alex had been wrong. The time for running had not come to an end.

Chapter 32

Digging a Hole

Think. Adapt.

Think. Adapt.

Think. Ada—

It was no use.

Alex had stopped thinking.

“Selina.” Mr. Lu smiled sweetly at the little girl. “Why don’t you tell us aaaaaall about it.”

The young girl looked up, then saw the expressions on Theresa’s parents’ faces. Her eyes went wide, and she leaned forward past her frozen, ice statue-like brother to look at Theresa.

“Oh… wasn’t I supposed to say that?” she asked in a sweet voice filled with child-like innocence.

‘You did this on purpose!’ the irrational part of Alex’s mind screamed. His eyes flicked to the door.

Khalik had said he’d drop by and bring some treats to welcome Theresa’s parents out of respect. When he finally got there, Alex would be having a long talk with him about telling little sisters about any ‘late nights’ her brother was having.

He heard a grumble from nearby as Brutus pushed a head into both his and Theresa’s laps, begging them for table scraps.

Mr. Lu eyed the two of them. “So… this is how you repay us, Alex? We send you off to safety, and then you seduce our daughter?” Not a trace of humour touched his voice.

“No!” Alex cried, waving his hands defensively. “No, no, it’s not like that!”

Theresa’s cheeks started to go from sheet white to bright red.

“Oh, stop it, Zimo.” Mrs. Lu pegged him with a look that had Alex squirming in his seat. “Don’t tease them about that. That’s something we’ll be talking about soon enough. But, what’s this about monsters?

She turned those hard eyes on Theresa. “You didn’t say anything about monsters in your letters. You told us all about taking up your great-grandfather’s practices and learning geography and all these nice, peaceful sounding things. You never said a word about monsters. What’s this about monsters, Theresa?”

Silence filled the room.

“I… well,” Theresa stuttered. “Well, there’s some things that happened while we were here. Some things that I maybe… didn’t want to worry you about.”

Mr. Lu stared at his daughter and Alex, making him sweat. “You know, we sent you away from Thameland to keep Alex and Selina out of danger, and because you wanted to go with them, Theresa. We let you become a hunter. We let you do a lot of things that most families would not. We trust you, the least you could have done was to be honest with us.”

“I didn’t want you to hear about those things through letters,” Theresa said. “There’s so many nice things here. So many wonderful, wonderful things, but if I’d told you about monsters, that would’ve been the only thing you’d think about.”

Mrs. Lu shook her head. “Of course we would have worried about the both of you, but you could have at least been open with us.”

“What purpose would that have served?” Theresa met their gazes. “You have enough to worry about. We had to leave our home. Monsters are roaming our homeland. You have to take care of my brothers, and uncle, and everyone else. I thought it’d be better if you got letters that were about all the good things that were happening, not about more things for you to worry about. I just don’t want you to worry. I mean, I didn’t want you to worry—I mean I don’t want you to worry.”

“But that’s our choice and our right,” Mrs. Lu said, a twinge of hurt to her voice. “I’d rather worry about you than not know if anything happened to you. Theresa… If there are dangers here, what would have happened if something—” the older woman winced “—happened to you. We’d know nothing. Would have been thinking that you, Alex, and Selina were safely away at school, and then your letters would have just stopped.”

“That would have happened anyway if anything went wrong,” Theresa said. “Which it wouldn’t. Mother, Father, I’m so strong now, you wouldn’t believe it. I’m so, so strong, and I’m not going to let anything happen to me or Alex or Brutus or Selina.”

“And I’m pretty str—” Alex started.

“Stay out of it for now, Alex,” Mr. Lu warned.

“Right, staying out of it,” he quickly said.

“Then why didn’t you tell us?” Mrs. Lu’s jaw hardened. “We’ve giving you so much freedom and so much trust. Why do you feel the need to hide such things from us?”

“Mother, you’re not listening to me.” Theresa’s jaw hardened in a similar way. “Because I didn’t want you to worry! I was going to tell you in person, after you’d seen some of the wonderful things here. After you’d seen what Alex and I could do. You’d understand so much more, instead of just sending you a stupid letter that could only—”

Knock. Knock.

The door handle turned and a smiling Khalik stepped into Alex’s apartment, bearing a bottle of honey wine and a basket of mandazi doughnuts.

He barely got two steps in and froze, his smile fading quickly, and his eyes widening as though he were witnessing a wildfire spreading through the entire apartment.

The courageous prince of Tekezash bravely took a step backward, ready to run back into the hall.

“Hello! You must be Theresa and Alex’s friend, Khalik!” Mrs. Lu rose from her seat, all smiles. Every sign of her earlier irritation was completely gone.

Her eyes flashed toward Theresa and Alex, seeming to say with one single glance, ‘We’ll discuss this later.’

“Theresa’s told us so much about you,” Mr. Lu said, rising as well and welcoming the young man as though he were his own son. Alex could almost hear the ‘so much about you,’ followed by an implied, ‘and nothing else’ in his voice.

“Khalik, my friend, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. My good, good, good friend!” Alex said, with a mixture of relief and irritation.

Theresa nodded vigorously in agreement. Brutus bounded over to greet the prince and get at the doughnuts he was holding, while Selina was cheerfully waving at him.

Their friend’s eyes darted back and forth across the room.

“O-okay then,” he said, knowing better than to ask any questions.

“And that’s what happened,” Alex said as he placed his specimen on a sanitized sheet of paper.

He and his classmates in magical botany were learning how to collect and preserve specimens in the field for later study. After the first part of the lesson, Professor Salinger had the students remove their things from off of their desks, then—with a quick, barked order—he sent the writing desks scurrying off to the side.

Long tables—tall enough for one to work at while standing—lumbered into the clearing, ready for everyone to take their places before them. The professor then introduced the samples he wanted them to work on from simple, four-leaf clover plants. Small, easy to harvest, and good to practice on. He had each student meticulously go over the same safety procedures that Alex had learned during Professor Jules’ lab before he’d let anyone even consider putting on their aprons, masks, and gloves. It was clear that Salinger was as militant about lab safety as Jules was. In the next part of the lesson, they’d learned how to use small spades to carefully dig up the tiny plants they’d be using to practice the preservation process.

“Oof,” Khalik groaned, brushing his sheet with distilled water. The morning sun glinted on the wet paper. “Poor Theresa… I feel for her. Let us just say that I do not tell my parents everything that goes on here either. It would… present a poor image, I think.”

“Yeah, I guess it would,” Alex said. “If… Mom and Dad were alive, I don’t know how much I’d tell them.”

Khalik nodded. “It is difficult. I see now, why you kept me so late last night. Though it was clear things were a little uncomfortable when I first arrived. No wonder you and Theresa kept insisting I stay longer.”

“Yeah, we needed a buffer,” Alex said, folding another sheet of paper over his specimen. “We have to figure out how to talk to them—”

“Clover is largely a fodder plant,” Professor Salinger said as he paced between the rows of tables set up for the practical portion of the class. “But four-leafed clovers are a symbol of luck in many places, and also provide a good base for a number of different potions or charm-wreaths. It’s truly a fine plant for any hedge wizard. Please, make sure your sheets are properly moistened before you place them on the drying rack. A magical drying rack will dry a specimen to dust if the sheets aren’t moist enough. Oh, and remember to mind the roots! The leaves of the plant are the part we see, but the roots are going to be what you’ll need to study the most.”

The professor suddenly spun around on the spot—blinking behind his protective mask—as though he was trying to catch someone doing anything they shouldn’t. “And if anyone lifts their mask, you’re outta here. That’s a bad, bad, bad, habit to get into. A fatal one.”

Alex looked at his clover, imagining it as some sort of horrible fire spewing plant. He wouldn’t be touching his mask any time soon.

“So, did you figure out how to talk to them?” Khalik whispered.

“Not yet,” Alex shook his head. “Poor Selina felt pretty bad about saying stuff in front of them, and Theresa and I talked for a bit this morning until she left to walk Brutus and clear her head. We’re going to meet up after class and strategize, then go see them.”

“Another thing,” the professor said. “When you—”

Shadows passed over the class. Students gasped, looking up in fear. The professor winced, while Alex and Khalik instinctively dropped into combat-ready stances.

Alex reached to grab his potions, and swore, realizing they were in his bag at the front of the class. He expected to see demons ready to drop down on them from above.

Sounds of relief were sweeping through the class.

A group of Watchers floated above the glass dome of the botanical gardens, carefully eyeing the students. Their swords were belted at their waists, but their staffs were gripped in-hand, ready to unleash spells if they needed to.

Alex’s eyes were drawn to the staffs. A thought began to percolate in his brain.

Most staffs and other magical items used magic circuitry and pre-built spell-arrays to power their effects. That was how Claygon’s magic gems worked. Some magic items—though they were harder to make and more expensive—could be operated by pure mana manipulation, which meant a one-time outlay of coin. Potions, on the other hand, had to be brewed whenever they were needed, which meant the cost of always having to buy expensive materials would add up over time, but something like a mana-manipulation operated staff, could just be used forever.

From what he’d been told, staff-making was something that students only attempted in their fourth and final year. And even then, they had to be the most advanced alchemy students.

Then again, Alex had already made a golem… Maybe he could talk to Professor Jules about getting into higher forms of alchemy a little faster.

Khalik meanwhile shook his head, bringing Alex out of his thoughts. “Look at this. Back to the fear. Just as before. If only I could get my hands on this demon summoner. I tire of all of this discomfort.”

“Yeah,” Alex’s jaw hardened. “I’m getting pretty tired of it too. And hey, we might not be able to face whatever they summon, but I think if we found a way to catch them by surprise…”

It was something to think about, if they ever got the chance.

Chance came sooner than he ever imagined it might.

He and Khalik were walking through the botanical gardens on their way back to the insula after class, when they heard something scrambling in the foliage nearby.

Alex paused and hissed a, “Shh… shh…”

“What was that?” Khalik whispered.

“I don’t know… Thundar and I heard something around here once when we were leaving his cleansing movements group.”

They wheeled on the spot, putting their backs to Claygon while the golem stood stone-still in the middle of the path, scanning the surrounding foliage for any sign of movement.

“I think whatever it was went right,” Khalik said. “Some sort of small animal perhaps?”

“Maybe…” Alex frowned. “Or maybe some nasty summoner that’s been hiding here for months.”

They looked at each other.

Alex’s heart quickened.

When he and Thundar had heard the strange noises, he’d been pretty nervous. Now, though?

Well, he was still nervous, but he felt steadier. And a lot more curious.

“I wanna find out what that is,” Alex said, pulling a Potion of Sensory Enhancement from his bag along with booby-trapped versions of Sensory Enhancement and Mana Soothing.

“What if it’s this summoner?” Khalik asked.

“If it is, then they’ll be unprepared.” The young wizard stepped to the side of the path. “I don’t feel any summoning magic.”

“Fine, then I am coming with you.”

“No, no, I’m stealthier than you,” Alex said. “Stay here with Claygon. Follow him if he starts moving or if you hear trouble… or hear me screaming.”

“Fair enough.” Khalik’s hand fell to the hilt of his short sword. “Move with care.”

“Will do,” Alex said, keeping his voice low as he stepped into the foliage.

He moved as quietly as he could, hardly breathing as he slipped by the trees, herbs, and brush. Technically, he was breaking the rules by stepping off the path. He figured that whatever was in here, was likely breaking the rules too. His enhanced senses combed through the foliage, looking for signs of tracks or anything that had disturbed the brush. He used the Mark to learn the terrain—picking up more and more detail with each visual sweep—processing it and searching for anything that stood… out.

His eyes honed in on a section of brush that seemed higher off the ground than the rest of the plants surrounding it. Crouching, he silently lifted a bush.

“Oh, hell,” Alex muttered.

A tunnel lay beneath it.

One that looked like it had been recently used.

Chapter 33

Beneath the Garden

“Okay, so there’s a spooky hole in the ground in there,” Alex said. “Like the kind you’d expect a ghost or gob—” He rethought his words. “Er, beast-goblin to crawl out of. I took a look around and I think I saw tracks, but I’m no Theresa. She’s the expert on tracks.”

“That does indeed sound ominous,” Khalik muttered, squinting through the foliage as if trying to see the hole for himself. “Bah, I cannot see anything from here. Maybe it’s time we informed the Watchers, then.”

“I don’t know about that, man,” Alex said, glancing back into the trees. “Suppose it’s nothing. The last thing the school needs right now is a panic over nothing.”

Alex remembered the trick he’d used to escape Alric a year ago. Tossing coins into the crowd of desperate people who were hoping they could afford the high price of passage on one of the ships leaving Thameland. Those few coins had created havoc, and he’d used the chaos to escape with Selina, Theresa, and Brutus.

Now, people here were wound tight because of demons.

What would happen if they saw a bunch of Watchers descend on the botanical gardens? How much fear would that cause and what if it turned out to be a false alarm?

“I have seen panic too, during war and other disasters, feeding on itself. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps we should avoid making a report without having more information. What do you want to do, then?” Khalik asked.

“I think I should go down there and check it out,” Alex said. “If it’s the summoner, maybe I can catch them off guard. If it isn’t, then there’s no panic for no reason. Like, what if it’s just some guy growing ‘special mushrooms,’ or someone who just wants a secret place to get away to for a while or something? I wouldn’t want to be the guy who brings the Watchers down on them.”

“Hmmmm, and you say you feel no magic?” The prince glanced down the path. They were still alone. “I will say that I have not felt anything since we’ve been here, but you are much more sensitive to such things than I am.”

“No, I haven’t felt a thing. Not even a hint of summoning or teleportation magic. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Fine, but let us not take unnecessary risks,” Khalik said. “How about this—you use your teleportation spell to throw one of your attack potions down the hole and fill it with gas. That way, you can remain at a safe distance, whoever is in there gets flushed out, and then Claygon, you, and I can apprehend them.”

“Hmmmm,” Alex murmured. “That’s not a bad idea… I do kind of need to see where I’m casting the spell though. Otherwise, I could end up teleporting the potion into the dirt or something, which would make the spell fail. Besides, if it is the summoner, they’ll probably feel any spell I cast even before I finish casting. We’ve got the element of surprise going for us right now, so now’s the perfect time to check things out.”

“Fair enough… Just be careful. If something were to happen to you, Selina, Theresa, and her parents would kill me. Which I am fairly sure would start a war between Tekezash and Thameland.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Alex slipped back into the foliage as silent as a cat, and crouched beside the trail he’d found, focusing on the Mark. It brought up an image of Theresa showing him some tracks she’d found when they were hunting the vespara. It focused on what she’d said about them, and the traits she’d pointed out about their shape and depth. Unfortunately, the Mark didn’t have a lot of memories to draw from, but they were enough for Alex to figure out a couple of things about the trail.

Whoever was coming through here was small. The tracks weren’t very large or deep, and were also in the shape of a smaller sized shoe.

He circled the entire area around the hole, not wanting a repeat of when he and Theresa hadn’t checked the terrain around the vespara’s cave thoroughly enough.

He stopped at the opposite side of the tunnel’s opening.

More strange tracks in the dirt. Broad feet with something dragging between them through the plants and soil. Was it some creature that had pulled a victim down into the hole? Possibly a monster with a tail that dragged along the earth. Like some of the wizards’ familiars he’d seen on campus or like one of the summoned monsters conjured by students in the summoning tower.

He gripped his two potions and checked the trees above. On the ground, there were broken branches and plants where the two sets of tracks had passed, but nothing was disturbed above. No sign of anyone having flown into the area through the branches, which would have been pretty hard to do without getting noticed in the botanical gardens.

‘Okay, then,’ Alex thought. He had all the information he could find. Stepping away from the hole, he paused to cast force armour on himself. He also cast Orb of Air around his head. If he was throwing potions in an enclosed space, he didn’t want the gas to get him too.

He sighed.

That was another reason to start looking into staff-making. He wouldn’t have to worry about a booby-trapped potion catching him or his allies in its fumes.

He slipped both potion bottles through his force armour’s protection—since it was his own spell—and attached them to his belt. Silently raising the bush and noting its root ball was wrapped in burlap, Alex slipped into the tunnel, then replaced the plant behind him. He swore inwardly. The tunnel was absolutely pitch-black, but he couldn’t conjure any light without alerting whatever was in there.

He stayed perfectly still, waiting for his potion-enhanced vision to adjust to the dark, along with his other senses. With his ability to see decreased, he needed to focus more on his sense of smell and hearing. Alex sniffed the air and caught the scent of… nothing but fresh air since Orb of Air was around his head.

‘Focus, Alex.’ He shook his head, cocking one ear toward the darkness ahead. Something was moving through the tunnel.

Something that was trying to stay quiet, on tiny little feet.

Eventually, his eyes adjusted enough to pick up the faintest glow of light up ahead.

He began using the Mark to crawl through the compact tunnel with care, keeping his movements from dislodging soil or rocks, and using his hands to feel for obstructions along the path.

He came across a trap as the bluish-green light was becoming strong enough for him to actually see the tunnel walls.

His sense of touch felt something that made the hair on the back of his arm bristle just before his wrist grazed a thin line strung across the width of the passageway. Alex squinted at the concealed rope. It was like a trip wire leading to…

Bells.

A set of old, rusty cowbells hung in an indent in the tunnel walls, placed there to alert anyone inside of unwelcome visitors.

Like a hunting cat, Alex rose up onto his hands and feet, and used the Mark to focus on stealth and control. He climbed over the line, then continued along the tunnel. Drawing closer to the light, he could see where soil had been packed down and reinforced with sticks tied together to form a frame, like in a mineshaft. It looked like the frame was made of what appeared to be kindling wood.

Whoever had dug this place, they’d been there for a while. It didn’t look like a tunnel that someone had hollowed out in a couple of days. It had probably taken months without magic. More likely weeks with magic, since they would’ve needed to be sneaky. If it was the demon summoner, they’d probably been using this place to hide in for a while.

Maybe they’d been down there the whole time, right under everyone’s noses.

Alex felt the pouch he’d stuck his potions in.

The moment he saw anyone that looked even slightly unfriendly, he’d hit them with his Sensory Enhancement Potion and overwhelm their senses. A sudden burst of light down here would definitely hurt their eyes. Then he’d hit them with the booby-trapped Mana Soothing Potion.

If they had no defences up, he could grab them like he’d grabbed that wizard in the woods and hold them while he called Claygon, who Khalik would follow. If they did have defences up or there was more than one, then the Mana Soothing Potion would slow them down while the booby-trapped Sensory Enhancement Potion made their senses go crazy. That would also give him enough time to call Claygon while he retreated to wait for him and Khalik to get there.

With his plan made, Alex slipped farther into the tunnel as the light grew brighter. He came into what looked like some sort of rough living quarters. A simple bed of leaves was serving as a carpet, and dirty dishes lay across the ground, holding scraps of meat and mushrooms. Demon food, maybe?

Alex looked up, preparing to stand until he realized he could only crouch since the ceiling height was low, maybe no more than four and a half feet high.

Peering ahead, he could clearly hear someone shuffling along the ground now, digging and moving about.

His eyes narrowed as he stooped low and crept forward, taking care to not make a sound. The light grew brighter from around the next corner.

This was it.

Alex took a deep breath and slipped around the dirt wall, easing his potions out, readying to throw them.

And was met by teeth.

He gave a choked cry as something shot around the corner and snapped powerful jaws around his calf. He tried to pull his leg away as a terrible pressure crushed down on the force-armour on his leg. He raised his arm to hurl the potions.

Then his eyes made out the shadowy, wriggling form attached to his leg.

“Harmless!” Alex gave a low cry. “Harmless, let go! You know me! I’m not going to hurt you—Agh! Kybas! Kyyyybaaaas, get him off of me!”

“Hm? Alex!” The little goblin spun around, his eyes going wide as he grasped the sight of his familiar bravely trying to fight off the intruder that had surprised them both. “Harmless! Harmless, stop! He’s a friend! A friend!”

Almost reluctantly, the four-foot crocodile paused mid-bite, eyeing Alex with a mix of… something. He couldn’t really tell from those alien, reptilian eyes.

Still, Harmless slowly released his leg and went waddling backward toward his master.

“By the Traveller, you scared the shit out of me, Kybas!” Alex swore. “I thought you were the demon summoner!”

“Eh? Me?” Kybas blinked his massive eyes, his ears rising up. “Demon summoner?” He shook his head back and forth, his ears flopping as he did. “No, not me! I’m not summoning no demons! Wait… were you eavesdropping?”

“I wasn’t dropping no eaves!” Alex cried back. “You were down here and there was all this sinister light and I heard something… in… the bushes…”

Alex finally took a good look around the chamber.

It was huge, at least thirty feet by thirty feet and filled with raised garden beds that had a horde of mushrooms growing. Some of the fungi were absolutely tiny, and some were bigger than his head.

In the corner was a cleared spot where a long piece of stone lay with a small cauldron on it, sitting beside a few empty potion flasks.

Several mushrooms—as big as large apples—occupied the corners of the chamber, shedding a teal light that filled the space. Alex recognized a few species from his potion and magical botany textbooks.

Most of them were ingredients for…

“Body enhancement potions,” Alex murmured. “What is all this?”

Kybas gave him a sheepish grin. “Welcome to Kybas’ Secret Garden.”

Chapter 34

Magic Mushrooms

“Does anyone know about this?” Alex asked, dispelling Force Armour and Orb of Air as he checked out Kybas’ underground garden.

“Just you now,” Kybas said with a little cough. “Well, you and Harmless! Though Harmless only talks to me, so that’s okay. Y-you won’t tell anyone about this, will you?”

“I… I mean, it doesn’t look like you’re growing monstrous world-ending plants down here or anything, and you’re not summoning demons to attack City Hall or campus. I don’t see why I should—Wait. Why are you down here in a cave growing mushrooms?”

“Because potion ingredients cost many coins.” Kybas frowned. “And I don’t have many coins, but Harmless needs many body enhancement potions if he’s going to grow and be his biggest and strongest.”

“Yeah, so this is the solution you found.”

Kybas lovingly pet Harmless. “It’s not a bad solution. There are garden beds that students can rent to grow their own ingredients, but I don’t have the coin to rent one. So, I did what me and my family did back home: found a place where no animals or big people came too much, and dug a nice big den. It took a long time and a lot of casting of Move Dirt, but I did it.”

“Yeah, you did alright.” Alex couldn’t help but admire the little fellow’s ingenuity. The secret garden was well crafted and very well stocked, and from how healthy the mushrooms looked, it was obvious Kybas had spent a lot of time and effort caring for them. “What do you do for water?”

“I use Conjure Water mostly.” Kybas padded over to a stone bucket he’d set beside one of the mushroom beds. “And sometimes I bring more water through one of the tunnels—Oop!”

Alex paused in the middle of examining two large mushrooms: one that was green with white dots and a red one with white dots. Two black marks on their stalks made them look like they had little faces. “Waaaait, you have more tunnels?”

Kybas squinted at him. “You’re sure you won’t tell anyone? ’Cause if you do, I might have to kill you.” Kybas started to giggle.

Alex stared at him.

“I’m only joking, Alex!” The goblin-wizard’s giggling became full laughter.

“I figured as much, but seriously, man, I know what it’s like to keep a secret,” Alex said. “Unless you want me to tell somebody, I’m not going to say a word. But… maybe we should talk about that later.”

“Hrm.” Kybas snorted in suspicion. “I have two tunnels that go to other exits. In case someone sneaks in. You’re quiet, though. I’m surprised I didn’t hear you.”

“I’ve had practice…” Alex said. “Where did you get the spores for the mushrooms?”

Kybas shrugged. “Cut little bits off mushrooms in magical botany and brought them down here. They’re easy to grow if you know what to do, especially with good compost and stuff to grow them in.” He wrinkled his nose. “If the conditions were better at home, we would have had fuller bellies, I think.”

That stung.

Alex thought back to the time shortly after his parents died, when he was feeling awful every day and wondering why something so terrible happened to his family. Those times were dark… but he’d never gone hungry.

Mr. and Mrs. Lu saw to that.

The urge to share some of his multi-course meals with Kybas quickly grew.

“These aren’t the best ingredients for body enhancement,” Kybas said. “But they’re better than nothing, and they don’t cost anything. They aren’t missed if you just take a piece of mushroom here and piece there to grow your own.”

He crouched beside Harmless, rubbing the crocodile’s snout. The reptile’s eyes closed and he leaned into Kybas’ touch. “It’ll all be worth it when Harmless is thirty or forty feet long and can eat sharks!”

‘Grimloch probably wouldn’t appreciate that idea,’ Alex thought.

“Well, it looks like you’re doing a lot for the little guy… And jeez, this is some pretty great work,” Alex said, scratching his head. “You know, this would probably impress my sister a lot. She likes building things, and I can tell this place is really well built. It’s just that, Kybas, this is really dangerous.”

“No danger for me. Maybe danger to the moles that come in here sometimes.” He grinned wickedly, patting the scales on Harmless’ side. “Or for anyone that comes down here without me saying they can!”

“No, I mean like…” Alex winced. “I think this probably breaks a bunch of rules. And like… Thundar and I heard you—I think it was you—a couple of times when we were walking along the path. And Khalik and I just heard you.”

“Mhm!” The goblin-wizard nodded. “Sometimes I hear people go by and sometimes they stop, but lots of plants in here rustle and move and try to eat you if you let your guard down, so there’s lots of noise. Most keep walking most of the time. You’re the first to come down. I’m glad it was a friend that found my garden, and double glad you had a spell around you so Harmless didn’t eat your leg!”

“Not half as glad as I am about that last part…” Alex said. “But uh, listen, maybe this… maybe this isn’t such a good idea now, Kybas. I mean. Look, the Watchers of Roal are really on the lookout for that demon summoner. They’re flying around and I’m pretty sure the only reason they haven’t started cutting down plants and rooting around in here is because these plants have value to a lot of people. And also because the demon summoner only attacked the school once and Baelin took care of it really easily.”

He gestured at the ceiling. “Look, you’re a grown-ass ma—er, goblin. Goblin man. You can make your own decisions, but I bet you they’re going to get desperate enough to send teams searching through the brush around here. You’re going to be in so much trouble if you get caught, and with how jumpy everyone is on account of the demon summoner, I don’t… if the Watchers come down here and Harmless attacks them…”

“It’s okay,” Kybas said, confidently bringing up his little chin. “That’s what the extra tunnels are for. The elders in my village taught us young ones how to escape from monsters and fight evil beast-goblins. I just need to do this for a little while longer.”

Alex swallowed, thinking back to when he’d been secretly analyzing the dungeon core remains, and how that could have completely blown up in his face.

Secrets.

They were like monsters clawing at peoples’ backs.

“Kybas,” Alex pushed one more time. “There’s gotta be another way. Like, even if you can’t afford to rent one of the plant beds, I mean… You’re training to be a wizard, right? When you get out of the university, you’ll have people trying to throw heaps of gold at you to get you to work for them. You could play it safe now and give Harmless all the potions he wants later. Or you could get a job. Maybe there’s a scholarship or someth—”

“I have two jobs,” the goblin-wizard grunted, his expression darkening.

“Oh, shit, uh sorry—”

“I make enough to pay for my room,” Kybas said. “Not much more than that. Tried for scholarships, but they’re soooo competitive. Didn’t get any. Maybe I can get a research position with Professor Salinger if I keep doing well. But these are precious years of growth for Harmless. Crocodiles do most of their growing before they’re ten years old, and a lot of that is in the first two years. If I don’t give him everything he needs now, it’ll be too late. I’ve got to try.”

Alex knew what it felt like to take risks when he was trying to do something for someone he cared about. It might not have been a little crocodile, but he knew what it felt like all the same.

In the end, this was Kybas’ decision. They didn’t even really know each other that well, though Alex was becoming pretty intent on changing that. He liked the little wizard, and he’d served as an anti-Derek barrier for an entire semester. That alone was worth a lot.

“Just be careful, okay?” Alex said. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But I heard you, so others might. Listen, next week, I’m going to have a dinner. You should come.”

Kybas nodded.

Alex looked around the secret garden one more time. “And uh… be careful you don’t inhale weird fumes.”

“Toooo late,” the goblin grinned. “Some of the mushrooms here have very fun side-effects.”

Alex decided not to ask too many more questions.

“So that’s who was down there,” Khalik mused as they left the botanical gardens.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Alex said nervously, looking back over his shoulder. Claygon followed dutifully. “I’m kinda breaking trust by even telling you. But it’d be pretty weird if I came back and said nothing happened.”

“I appreciate that, and I am no gossiping rooster ready to crow out everything I hear come the dawn,” the prince said. “Still, I am glad it did not turn out to be the demon summoner. In a sense.”

“Yeah, if we’d caught them off guard…”

“Ah, no matter,” Khalik said. “This demon summoner is already at a height of power, while we are growing further into our own strength. Time is on our side.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Alex murmured. “It would give Theresa’s parents some peace if the summoner was gone, though. Speaking of that, I’m going to try and find her. We should probably talk.”

It took Alex some time to find Theresa. She wasn’t at home, she wasn’t at the beastarium or her parents’ place. On a hunch, he decided to go to the Watchers of Roal to see if she was practicing there. Luckily, he’d called it right.

The Watcher he’d talked to seemed really tense, and the entire organization was on high alert. Patrols mounted on their flying disks were constantly coming and going from their headquarters.

After promising to stay out of the way and getting permission, he was allowed to enter their stadium. It was smaller than the arena the students used, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle. Members of the Watchers—along with what appeared to be new recruits—were practicing below. Theresa was down there, pressing a young woman hard with a series of fierce sword and knife strikes.

She’d gotten faster.

Stronger too.

While the Watcher trainee put up a good fight using body enhancement spells, quick illusions, and force blasts to keep Theresa at bay, the young huntress’ physical ability, experience, and skill with her blade proved to be too much, and she soon overwhelmed the woman.

Thmp.

She gave her opponent a final sweep of the leg that dropped her to the sand. The young woman raised her hands in surrender just as Theresa levelled her curved sword at her neck.

After she helped her opponent up, they bowed to each other, touched swords, and then she startled when she noticed Alex waving at her from the stands.

She jogged over to where Alex waited.

“I’m glad you came looking for me,” she said. “Let’s find someplace quiet to talk.”

“Yeah, you weren’t at home so I thought you might be here,” he said, giving her a hug. “You okay? Talk with your folks yet?”

Her lips tightened. “Yeah. Earlier this morning. After I finished walking Brutus.”

Alex winced. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

“It could’ve gone better.” She frowned. “They’re still mad I didn’t tell them about the monsters and stuff in my letters. They didn’t get into it as much as I think they wanted to because Selina was there, but they were still mad.”

“Do you think they were mad about us?” Alex asked, concern filled his voice.

“No, no, I asked. They said no.” Her frown deepened. “They just kept going on about how I should’ve told them everything before they got here.” She made a disgusted noise. “What do you think? Do you think they’re right?”

“Naw, I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think I would have told my family I was fighting monsters in a bunch of letters. I’d rather them find out more about my life in person. You can’t really explain all this stuff in a letter. You’d need like a book.”

He tilted his head, imagining such a tome of their goings-on. “A really long book.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she sighed. “I think Generasi’s scaring them. I remember how overwhelming it was for me, and that was after—” She glanced around, making sure no one was close. “All that stuff in the Cave of the Traveller.”

“Maybe we could try and show them another side?” he said. “Selina’s birthday party’s coming up. You know how I wanted to take us all to the Rainbow Tower for it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe that’ll show them another side of the city.”

“Maybe… If you can get them to go back into it.”

“Don’t underestimate your parents.” He smiled. “They’re brave. Hells, your dad has the blood of Twinblade Lu flowing through his veins just like you. And he listens to your mom, so that says something about how strong she is. We’ll turn things around. They’ve seen some of the horror of magic. Let’s show them how wonderful it can be.”

Chapter 35

The Birthday and the Rainbow Tower

Alex wiped away the sweat from his brow and slipped the messenger construct into its big, wooden box. Completing it had gone down to the wire, which meant he’d finished up late the night before. It had been worth it.

Since he’d finished so late, he’d only had time for a short practice with Summon Elemental Beetle, a bit of time to just start his assignment for magical botany, and then he’d flopped into bed for a few hours.

This morning, he’d been up at the crack of dawn test flying Selina’s present, and luckily, there hadn’t been any problems. None with the construct, at least.

He’d been doing the test flight on a deserted beach when a group of Watchers appeared out of nowhere. They’d appeared so abruptly, it’d made Alex wonder if they’d been using invisibility spells to hide and watch him. Then they’d called him over and begun questioning him for what felt like hours before finally flying off and disappearing as abruptly as they’d appeared. It was pretty unnerving.

Hopefully, it wasn’t a bad sign of things to come.

After he was satisfied that the construct was working the way he wanted it to, he’d carefully packed the gift back into the box, then begun the walk back to the insula.

‘Today should be a good day,’ he thought. ‘The Lus need to see there’s more to this city than monsters, secrets, and demons… and Selina deserves a nice birthday. Not one that’s scary or dangerous.’

He hoped that fate, chance, the deities or whatever controlled things would give them a break.

“Weeelcome to the home of He Who Broke the Drought!” their enthusiastic tour guide cried as he greeted them outside the tower. “Welcome, my friends, to the Rainbow Tower of Noarc! My name is Busby, and I’ll be your guide to the life, and towering—” Busby gave a broad, self-satisfied grin “—achievements of a very important figure in the history of Generasi.”

The tall, blond man waved his hands, and points of light shot from his fingers. Pops and flashes cracked through the air like smokeless miniature fireworks.

Selina—among a group of giggling, excited children—clapped happily at the display. Some of the older kids remained stoic, trying to appear cool and unimpressed.

Alex and Mr. Lu were clapping as loudly and enthusiastically as the children, of course, drawing the eyes of everyone on the tour. Other adults had smiles plastered on their faces, but they were tense. Their eyes darted around, looking for signs of trouble.

The city guard and elite battle mages were everywhere. They’d surrounded the tower in a perimeter that didn’t allow people through without catching one of their sharp gazes. There were also folks ‘casually’ sitting on benches or flying by on various means of flight, watching their surroundings with the same trained caution he’d seen in Theresa and the Watchers of Roal.

Hidden sentries in plainclothes maybe?

Alex tried to put them out of his mind. They were there to look for the summoner, but there was something about the entire secret military presence that put him on edge.

At least the Lus didn’t seem to be paying any attention to it. Then again, they weren’t exactly strangers to the presence of soldiers with what they’d all been through in their last days in Thameland. Maybe they’d gotten used to it. In any case, he was glad they looked like they were having fun. Even if Theresa may as well have been a nervous cat in a room full of angry dogs.

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear, leaning in beside her.

“It’s hard when it feels like half the military of a wizard city’s here,” she whispered back.

If her parents heard the exchange, they didn’t say anything.

“I have to say,” Mrs. Lu gaped up at the tower. “I can’t believe this was built by people. It looks like something out of a fairy story.”

The Rainbow Tower rose high into the sky—about a hundred and fifty feet according to the information plaque outside—and was constructed entirely of glass and copper. Glass blocks coiled around the copper walls, and the entire tower shone in the morning sun, glittering like a warm, brown diamond.

“The copper of the tower acts as a conductor for lightning,” their guide said.

Some on the tour gasped, looking nervously to the sky.

Busby laughed. “You will have nothing to fear from Noarc’s tower, folks. The copper has been magically treated so that no one will be shocked while touching it. In one of his original plans to create a more accessible weather controlling magic, he thought to channel natural lightning through this copper tower and power a magical item that would then control the weather. Unfortunately—after many tests—he found that the conversion process was too inefficient to properly power the mighty magics. It did leave us with this beautiful monument to his power and genius. But come, let’s go inside.”

The tour guide led them through two massive copper doors straight into the confines of the tower. The doors—like the rest of the structure—gleamed as though the copper was brand new.

Gasps of awe swept through the crowd, and for a moment, it seemed the visitors had forgotten the tension filling Generasi. The air within Noarc’s tower had a muted rainbow tinge to it. Faint colours shimmered all through the interior as light passed through the prismatic glass bricks that dotted the wonder of architecture and shattered it into its component parts.

Alex remembered a lecture in magic lore, where the professor had taught them about an ancient theory that said mana could be split into several ‘colours’ like the rainbow, though that had been disproven roughly one thousand years ago. Since then, the more modern understanding of affinities for certain kinds of magic had been discovered, leaving the idea of magic being controlled according to colour, behind.

The room itself was what Alex thought would be a welcome room, but it had actually been one of Noarc’s massive workshops. Intricate machinery crafted of copper, gold, and other magically and electrically conductive metals surrounded them like giant shining spiders. Towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes wrapped most walls, and the ceiling was decorated with an odd map. There were no defined land masses or waterways, just a sea of blue with different equations recorded all over.

Alex recognized symbols for wind direction, pressure, and speed.

“Above, you’ll see Noarc’s sky-map,” their tour guide pointed upward. “It gives a picture of the average weather patterns of the entire world during Noarc’s time, averaged from a full year’s worth of reports. Through detailed and in-depth information gathering, Noarc wrote the book on the ripple effects of changing weather patterns, which is why weather controlling magic is so heavily regulated by the government of Generasi today.”

Theresa pointed up at the map and whispered to Alex, “What’s it say the weather for Thameland was like?”

Alex searched until he found where Thameland would be. He snickered. “What else? Mostly cold, wet, and rainy.”

Mrs. Lu chuckled. “No surprise there.”

Busby gestured around the room. “As you can see, Noarc wasn’t really one for guests, and most of the tower is devoted to various workshops and workrooms. The top of the tower contains his living quarters, which we will see at the end of the tour.”

“Excuse me?” Selina put up her hand.

“Why yes, my little friend?” he said, bending slightly to bring himself closer to her height.

“I’m not little, I’m eleven today,” she said with all the pride of a child turning one year older.

Mr. Lu snorted. “Look at her excitement,” he whispered. “There’ll be a point in life when getting older’s just a signal that more back pain’s coming your way.”

“Now, now, don’t scare them, Zimo,” Mrs. Lu whispered back.

“Oh wow, eleven years old today.” Busby grinned. “Well happy birthday to you, little lady. And what is the birthday girl’s question?”

“We learned in class that copper turns green when it’s exposed to air long enough,” she said. “Why is this copper still so shiny?”

“Ah, that’s a very good question. You see, the magic of the tower runs a light current of mana through its structure, which reinforces it and prevents the air from turning it green with verdigris. It’s the same magic that stops lightning from coursing through anyone standing inside the tower during a lightning storm.”

“Wow,” she said. “I’d love to build something like this one day.”

The guide chuckled with good humour, but Alex knew his sister meant what she’d said. He wondered how the man would react if he knew she’d helped build the massive, four-armed golem standing behind them.

The tour through the tower was wonderful. The perfect escape from the pile-up of work Alex had gotten himself stuck in, and also a wonder-filled impression for the Lus. Theresa’s parents were soon gawking at everything the same way their daughter had at all the city’s magic.

They were even more amazed as Busby talked about Noarc’s journey through discovering various aspects of weather and the magic needed to alter it. Selina and her friends were walking around with that barely controlled look children got as they fought the urge to run around in excitement. She peppered Busby with so many questions, they were like raindrops in a thunderstorm, but he handled each one with cool and friendly grace.

During the final part of the tour, they reached the upper floors where Noarc’s private quarters were. They’d been built to mimic the peacefulness of a starry sky. Retractable screens blocked the expanse of glass and copper to lower the light, while warm magic lamps gave the space the feeling of a tranquil evening. The domed ceiling had a raven-coloured background, magically enhanced to resemble a cloudless sky filled with twinkling, shooting stars. On a western wall, a mana powered waterfall stretched from floor to ceiling, with waters that glowed a sea blue, then disappeared when they reached the basin, and reappeared at the top, rising and falling in an endless cycle.

Cool, low tones of music hummed from another magical device, mixing with the sound of water, adding to the peaceful ambience.

A white bed floated in the center of the room, shaped like a thick, layered cloud. It faced the curving southern wall which was free of screens, granting a clear view from the soaring tower of the magical city and the ocean beyond.

“I can’t believe magic can build things like this,” Mrs. Lu murmured. “I’ve heard stories about wizards turning everyone in a kingdom into newts, but they only seemed like fairy stories.”

“It surprises you what people can do with magic,” Theresa agreed. “You get used to it after a while.”

Mr. Lu glanced back at the towering form of Claygon. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe you.”

“Behold, for today you saw the Rainbow Tower of Noarc, but now I show you the Rainbow Tower of Selina Roth!” Alex roared as his Wizard’s Hands lifted the cover off the cake he’d baked for Selina’s special day.

The children sitting around the massive stone picnic table Alex had rented for the outdoor celebration, actually squealed with excitement. Selina’s green eyes sparkled like emeralds.

Alex had created a fancy, three-tiered apple cake using the recipe he’d gotten from Thundar. It was covered with a coloured butter frosting using various fruit extracts like the many colours of the rainbow.

Even the Lus, Theresa, Khalik, Thundar, and Isolde—the cabal had been invited, but decided to come by once the festivities had returned to campus—looked on in amazement at the cake. Alex wondered if cake was the main reason his three friends had shown up. Of course, he wouldn’t ask them that to their faces… yet.

As everyone dove into the birthday cake, for the day, young laughter filled the air. They turned the beautiful rainbow tower into a ruin of crumbs and frosting on children’s faces. Which was the best way for a cake to end up. Even Thundar grudgingly admitted that Alex’s cake was almost—but not quite—as tasty as the apple cake he’d baked for their Festival of Ghosts banquet.

With the tower annihilated, the children were soon running around chasing each other or playing games on the grass, while the adults watched in that half-suffering, half-contented state that came from being involved with too much cake.

“If you’ve been eating like this all this time,” Mr. Lu groaned in a pleasant half-stupor, “how come you don’t weigh as much as milk cows?”

“We don’t eat like this all the time,” Alex groaned.

“And we exercise together,” Theresa groaned proudly. “A lot.”

Silence hung in the air.

“Oh dear,” Isolde murmured.

Theresa turned white as a sheet. “No, no, not like that! Not like that! Isolde, I’d expect that kind of thing from Thundar, but from you?”

“Hey!” the minotaur and noblewoman yelled in unison.

“Resent that. Just what kind of classless guy do you think I am?” Thundar grunted. “Actually… don’t answer that.”

“And I shall have you know that I merely did you the favour of pointing out that your wording was suggestive!” Isolde announced. “I in no way meant to imply—”

Mr. and Mrs. Lu burst out laughing to the point of turning red in the face.

Alex smiled. This. This was the impression of Generasi and their life here he wanted them to have. Not of monsters and demon summoners, but of fun, magic, wonder, and family.

Toward the end of the party, it was time for presents.

Which was always Selina’s favourite part of all of her birthdays.

The first gift came from Mr. and Mrs. Lu, and caught Alex completely off guard.

“Every young Thameish man or woman needs themselves a good, dependable knife,” Mrs. Lu said as Alex stared, slack-jawed at the curved blade. “You’re growing up, and it’s better to be armed than empty handed in this world. Plus, it’ll be useful for tasks and chores.”

“Really?” Selina beamed, and Alex realized she probably never stopped wanting a knife. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lu!”

The young girl threw her arms around Mrs. Lu’s neck, hugging her tightly.

“First rule of using a knife,” the older woman grunted. “Don’t tackle anyone holding a knife!”

Selina pulled away, apologizing. Her eyes met her brothers, quickly looking away. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to her. He might not have wanted to give her a knife—though he’d been prepared to compromise—but he wasn’t jerkish enough to take a present away from her. Theresa could teach her how to use it and maybe he could approach it like the rules for lab work, strict safety first.

Prince Khalik gave Selina something he’d gotten from one of the local toymakers in Generasi: a scale model of City Hall that she would have to build, complete with the dragons and the great dome.

Thundar gave her another gift from the same toy shop: this one a tiny model of a maze. Once the toy was put together, you could tilt the whole model and try to run a ball through it without hitting any obstructions.

“We minotaurs might not have anything to do with mazes,” he chuckled. “But I figured you’d like one.”

“Thank you, Thundar! Thank you, Khalik,” she cried, hugging them both. Khalik laughed while Thundar awkwardly patted her on the back.

Theresa’s gift was a dress that looked like a simpler version of the one Selina had worn to the patrizia’s ball.

Isolde gave her coin and a book.

“This book on the beginner’s craft of wizardry might suffice to give a window into what your studies will consist of, and the coin is to buy yourself a gift that you—being on the cusp of womanhood—might enjoy,” she said with a prim tilt to her chin.

“She had no idea what to get her,” Theresa whispered to Alex.

Finally, Alex gave her the messenger construct.

He could barely hide his own excitement as she unwrapped the box then opened the lid. Selina gasped and her eyes bugged out of her head so much, it looked like they were going to go rolling onto the grass.

Most of the guests were smiling.

“Is… is this a statue?” she murmured, examining the construct closely, especially the realistic feathers he’d crafted. “It’s a falcon!”

“It’s more than that, Selina,” he chuckled, pulling out a piece of paper. “Why don’t you give her this?”

He stepped at least forty feet away.

Looking at her brother with confusion and anticipation, she held the paper up to her new gift.

Clink.

Selina began squealing and jumping up and down when it came alive and took the paper from her with a talon. The young girl gasped when the falcon-like construct took to the air and soared away, delivering the paper to Alex, then hovering in front of him while he folded it and gave it back.

“It’s a messenger construct,” Alex shouted. “Complete with internal power source, and self-guiding magic. I know how much you like Najyah, and now you can send messages to anyone you want.”

“Thank you, Alex! Thank you!” she cried, running over and hugging him.

He had to admit, that made him feel pretty good.

Of course, an instant later she ran off to play with the construct, completely forgetting about the person who’d made it.

Chuckling to himself, he started to rejoin the party when he noticed Mr. Lu heading toward him and giving him a subtle wave.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, Alex?” the older man asked. “Alone?”

Chapter 36

The Talk

Mr. Lu and Alex leaned against a nearby tree, both men watching their loved ones, friends, and friends of friends enjoying each other’s company, while Selina ran around, playing with the messenger construct.

Alex could have sworn that Najyah—perched in a nearby tree—was glaring at the falcon. He couldn’t quite decipher if it was jealousy or something else.

“Do you mind?” Mr. Lu asked.

Alex looked over as Theresa’s father held up a familiar box of dried herbs and his walnut pipe.

“Go right ahead,” Alex said.

“Thank you.” Mr. Lu used a small wooden scoop to measure a portion of the herbs, then he dumped the mixture into the pipe’s bowl and tamped it down. “I had to change my recipe. They don’t have as much skullcap in the Rhinean Empire, so I have to use more mullein. Not as relaxing. Ah well, at least the mint’s cheaper there.”

He took out a small burning glass and held it up to the sunlight, focusing the light on the dried herbs until they began to smoke. He drew on the pipe until the smoke became orange embers, then, he took a puff.

“Ugh, definitely not as relaxing without the skullcap.” He shook his head as the smoke drifted in the air. “Can you believe that Theresa’s mother still doesn’t let me smoke around the house?”

Alex swallowed. “I reaaaally don’t think I want to comment on what Mrs. Lu decides.”

Mr. Lu chuckled. “Smart boy—ah! Smart man, really.” His eyes turned distant. “Damned shame. We never even got a chance to celebrate you coming to manhood before…” He looked around to make sure no one was in ear shot, then dropped his voice low. “You got that damn Mark. Your father would never forgive me.”

“I think he’d just be happy for all you’ve done for Selina and me, Mr. Lu,” Alex said. “Mom would be too.”

“Ah, every young person needs to mark their coming to adulthood properly, otherwise it doesn’t end up meaning all that much,” Mr. Lu said. “You remember the party we had for Theresa.”

“Oh yeah,” Alex chuckled.

“And now here we are again…” Mr. Lu puffed on his pipe and a stream of white smoke drifted from his mouth. “Tell me, do you intend to stay here?”

“Pardon? You mean in Generasi?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Lu said. “It’s a beautiful place. The air’s warm. It doesn’t stink like most cities, the food’s grand. However, it’s also a place where there’s demons and monsters and Uldar knows what. All this time, I thought you three and Brutus would be running to safety, not to more danger.”

“I know this might not sound… Look, your first day here isn’t what Generasi’s really like,” Alex said. “Most days are like today, where you get to go to a shining tower and see rainbows dancing through the air inside. Today’s more what Generasi’s like.”

“And it’s also got demons and monsters.”

Wizardry was dangerous, and wizards tended to surround themselves with dangerous things. He couldn’t really see himself lying about that to Mr. Lu.

Maybe to someone he didn’t know, but not to Mr. Lu.

“It’s dangerous.” Alex nodded. “But we’ve got tools to defend ourselves with. There’s magic and, by the Traveller, you should see Theresa fight now. It’s crazy.”

“She did invite us to some sort of… watcher of rollo thing,” Mr. Lu said. “What are your intentions for Theresa, Alex?”

Alex’s heart jumped into his throat.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Mr. Lu turned toward him, puffing on his pipe. His expression was as serious as a priest presiding over a funeral. “I have to ask. I have to see if you’ve given it any thought.”

“Uh…” Alex swallowed, fighting for the right words. “I… well… I love her, Mr. Lu. I have for a long, long time. I uh—” He touched his hair awkwardly. It had grown well past his ears. “I don’t see that changing any time soon. I want to stay with her. M-marry her, if she’ll have me.”

“Mhm,” Mr. Lu puffed. “And children? What’ll you do when you have little ones, and you’re dealing with magic and monsters and demons and such.” He glanced over at Selina who had picked up her messenger construct and was examining it carefully while surrounded by her friends and Isolde. “And what about Selina?”

“She loves it here,” Alex said.

“I can see that,” Mr. Lu gave a sad smile. “You know what she told me the other day?”

“No, what?”

“She said: ‘I’m going to learn to be a wizard next year and I’m going to use my magic to make all the bad monsters go away.’”

The carefree of the day came crashing down on Alex.

Did his sister want to be a battle mage?

“She sounds like she wants to be a fighter,” Mr. Lu continued. “I used to say things like that around her age, but it was going to be with my grandfather’s swords, not with magic. You know, I told him that one day.”

His face grimaced. “He told me to ‘never even think about that ever again,’ and I’m going to tell you, Alex… the look on his face… I won’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind from time to time after that, but it was a lot less fun to think about. My point is that Alric was a safe place for you all to grow up. I don’t know if this is a safe place for Selina to grow up in… And if you intend to build a life with Theresa…”

Alex’s mind whirled.

It was like his perspective had to unlock from his brain for a bit and then slide back into place at a different angle. For months he’d been surrounded by wizards—some of them pretty bloodthirsty—and all the wonder of Generasi. He was currently learning a spell that pulled a small insect-like creature from a plane beyond the material world and made it bend to his will.

Mr. Lu ran a tavern with his wife. Their life wasn’t complicated.

And it sounded like he once had Theresa’s spirit for wanting to travel and take the path of Twinblade Lu. A spirit he’d let go of long ago.

To him, all of this danger and wonder must have been frightening.

Alex sighed.

“You know, there’s this professor I have. His name’s Baelin. You’d love hiiii—” the skulls in Baelin’s office flashed in Alex’s mind “—iiis, caring, for his students. One of the things he talks about all the time is how dangerous the world is. And it’s true. Generasi is dangerous, but so’s Thameland. The Rhinean Empire apparently had elementals rise up from their mountains and attack the people there. Wizardry might be dangerous, but I think it’ll arm me and Selina against a lot of the world’s dangers. I mean, you and Mrs. Lu gave her a knife, right?”

Mr. Lu nodded. “We did.”

“Another thing Baelin teaches us is how to defend ourselves from dangers that come after you because you’re a wizard or maybe they just want to hurt you even if you’re not a wizard. He talks about how to keep loved ones safe, Mr. Lu.” He faced the older man. “I want you to know—that no matter what happens with me and Theresa—I don’t plan to put her in any more danger than that she’d choose for herself. I respect her too much to be like ‘oh, Theresa, you have to stay home where it’s safe.’”

Mr. Lu snorted. “True, she’ll always find another forest to hunt in.”

“Yeah, so we’ll be a team. That’s the way I see it. We’ll do things right, and sometimes there might be risks, sometimes not. I dunno if that’s what you want to hear, but—”

“It’s not,” Mr. Lu said, shaking his head. “Honestly, Alex, what I’d love for you and Theresa to say is that you’ll come back with us to the Rhinean Empire. I’d love it if you found a safer school to go to. But as I said, you two are adults now. I couldn’t stop you from choosing your own path even if I wanted to.”

He glanced over at Theresa and sighed. “Just be careful. Both of you. She’s our only daughter… and in every way, you and Selina are like two of my own children. Man to man, Alex, just remember that sometimes home and hearth are worth a lot. They were enough to make ‘Twinblade Lu’ put down his swords.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind, Mr. Lu,” Alex said.

“But, I get it. You’re young and you need to carve your own way. It’s just, we had to bury your mother and father. And with that Mark, you can’t even protect yourself properly. Don’t make us have to bury you or…” His eyes found Theresa again. “Oh, listen to me now. This is a birthday party. C’mon, let’s go back to the celebration.” He put his arm around Alex’s shoulder.

“Right…” Alex said.

He’d have a lot to think about.

‘You can’t even protect yourself properly.’

Maybe… Except, maybe if Mr. and Mrs. Lu saw how he and their daughter conducted themselves in battle, witnessed their strength, then maybe, even if he still worried, that worry would be a little less.

Luckily, there was a way to show them coming up soon.

“The Grand Battle is going to be the event that we will have to prepare for the most,” Khalik said, standing over the table where everyone had gathered.

A bunch of dangerous looking people were seated around it.

Thundar, Grimloch, Theresa, Isolde, Svenia, and Hogarth all sat—on the floor in Grimloch’s case—with serious expressions, while Claygon loomed ominously over them. Brutus lay at Theresa’s feet, while Najyah perched—on lookout—at a distance.

In all of their classes in the Barrens or in their battles outside of Baelin’s class, this was quite the formidable fighting force.

And they weren’t going unnoticed.

It was the third day they’d met on this particular part of the campus green, far away from others and away from the cover of trees or bushes or anything else for someone to hide in. Claygon was constantly surveying their surroundings for anyone approaching.

In the distance, they noticed students going by would often crane their necks to check them out, while certain Watchers of Roal patrolling the area waved at Theresa when they spotted her.

“Wait, Khalik,” Theresa held up her hand. “There’s someone hanging around over there.”

A student had been walking along and suddenly stopped as though looking for something.

“Whoever that is, they’re watching us,” Theresa said. “And look at the blue shirt. I bet you it’s one of the Hydra Companions.”

“Then we simply have to let him know we are also watching,” Khalik waved at the distant student with a wide grin, and refused to keep speaking.

Eventually, their watcher got moving again.

“Well, well, we are the belles of the ball, as they say,” Isolde said. “How many does that make who were loitering about our meetings?”

“Seven,” Thundar grunted.

“And they certainly will not be the last,” Khalik said. “I have been told by friends that people have been asking questions about me and all of you. Things like, what happened at Patrizia DePaolo’s ball or what occurred with the mana vampire.”

“Should’ve expected it, really,” Alex said. “We’ve been beating the shit out of monsters in Baelin’s class and outside. People would be taking us seriously, I’m guessing.”

“Hrm, then we’ll take them seriously too,” Grimloch grunted. “What are you saying, Khalik?”

“We have to prepare for it,” Khalik said. “We are a unique team. We have a good number of members, but far from the limit of fifteen. We have magical power in the form of Claygon and Isolde with her third-tier spells, but no fourth-tier casters.”

“Do we wanna see if anyone would be willing to join up with us?” Alex asked. “Some third year who might want some prize money? Kind of like a mercenary thing.”

Khalik shook his head. “That is a common practice, but we have coordination on our side. We know each other and have fought beside each other. We have trust, and we know our strengths and weaknesses. New blood at this stage could cost us in mistakes. Unless there were a lot of people or they were overwhelmingly powerful. And we do not have forever to achieve balance with a new team.”

It was true. The Games of Roal were due to start in only a couple of weeks. It would take time to get to know and learn the abilities of a new team member.

“I propose we anticipate what challenges we might face and prepare accordingly.” He gestured to Isolde. “You have done some research, if you would be so kind.”

Whump.

The young woman slammed an armful of books down on the table, along with loose sheets of paper she’d made notes on.

“I have made a list of troublesome spells and potential rivals that we will face in the Grand Battle,” she said, her blue eyes flashing.

“Our enemies will be preparing for us. Let us prepare for them accordingly.”

Chapter 37

Prepping for the Grand Battle

“The first fourth-tier spell we have to worry about is, Planar Doorway.” Isolde pulled out her notes. “I wasn’t able to get the spell-guide, but I do know it is a teleportation spell which activates rapidly and can transport the caster up to a thousand feet at a time. It allows them to also transport an equivalent weight of matter. Meaning the weight of their equipment—combined with that of any person they touch—which together must not exceed their own weight.”

Alex twitched at the thought of that spell. There was a spell he’d love to learn immediately. Too bad it was fourth-tier.

“Wait, can they do that to people who, uh, don’t want to be transported?” Alex asked. “That seems like a great way to drop people off cliffs or separate team members and stuff.”

“Technically yes, but practically, no. At the fourth-tier, an act of will can resist the magic and stop one from being teleported against one’s will. Spells higher than fourth-tier teleportation can more easily translocate unwilling entities. The higher the spell is beyond fourth-tier, the greater the chance of teleporting anyone who is resistant.”

“Then we don’t have to worry about anyone teleporting us into the sky and dropping us like eggs,” Thundar grunted. “That also means they can surprise us and just pop into our formations outta nowhere.”

“Indeed, which is why we must watch for it,” Isolde said. “Helpful common tactics will be ones that ensure our blind-spots are minimized and our surroundings are well-scouted. Anchor of the Planes is a spell that counters all teleportation effects on an entity. That is the main counter against wizards who can cast fourth-tier teleportation spells.”

Alex thought it over. “I might be able to help with that. I don’t know if it’s an affinity for teleportation or what, but I can sense summoning magic and stuff like that pretty strongly.”

“True,” Khalik said. “And I could have Najyah remain above us to keep an eye on our surroundings.”

“Good, good,” Isolde said, writing down the strategies. “Another thing we shall have to worry about is Fireball Formation.”

“What’s Fireball Formation?” Theresa asked.

“It’s a Delver’s Guild expression.” Khalik drew an imaginary circle on the table. “It refers to when a group—who might be facing wizards, dragons, or creatures with the ability to create explosions or other massively damaging effects over an area—groups together tightly. If they remain close to each other, then poof—” He made a blasting gesture with both hands “—a single fireball spell can destroy the entire group.”

Grimloch snarled. “Hrm, like a whole school of fish caught in a net or stunned by a depth charge spell.”

“Right,” Khalik said. “Formations that group together—like the ancient phalanxes, turtle formations, or shield walls—are excellent for fighting infantry and even hordes of monsters. Against powerful wizards, it’s simply a good way of making a lot of burnt corpses very quickly.”

“What’s the counter?” Thundar asked.

“A third-tier spell called Protection From Energy. It’s the most common for such devastating elemental spells as Fireball and Lightning Bolt.” She frowned. “Casting it over our entire group will take a lot of mana, especially if I must repeatedly reapply it. Also, it can only be cast to provide protection against one type of energy at a time: either fire or electricity, for example, never both at the same time. Unless one were to cast it multiple times, each time selecting a different energy type to protect against. Such a feat that would take an immense amount of mana.”

“And you are our only wizard capable of casting third-tier spells,” Khalik mused.

“We could spread out,” Theresa offered. “Brutus and I could be farther at the front, scouting. The rest of us could be spaced apart. What’s the…” She struggled for the words, making a circle gesture with her hands. “How big of an explosion are we talking about with these kinds of spells?”

“Fireball mostly strikes a twenty-foot radius from a central targeting point,” Isolde said.

“Right.” Alex frowned. “We could have Claygon in the middle. He’s an obvious target, and I think it’d take a lot more than your average third-tier spell to hurt him. The rest of us could do like a fifty, even a sixty-foot spread. Most of us have ranged spells or arrows, so we don’t have to be right on top of each other.”

“We can group closer together if we’re in someplace like a forest,” Theresa suggested. “Where there’s lots of cover.”

“Mhm,” Khalik mused, deep in thought.

Isolde covered a few more spells they’d be likely to encounter, such as the fourth-tier spell Stoneflesh, which hardened the body into living granite for a period of time, and Solid Fog, which created a harmless rolling bank of fog, but was thick as porridge and hard to move through.

“And as for opponents we should be most concerned about: both the Hydra Companions and the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood are old, strong battlemage houses. In any number of years, they have taken home the grand prize for the entire Games, and either house regularly wins the Grand Battle,” she said.

“Who won the Grand Battle last year?” Alex asked.

“It was won by a group of fifteen from outside Generasi. They called themselves the…” Isolde flipped through her notes, coming to a local announcement about the winners of the previous years’ games. “Outcasts of the Divine Wind. A rather impressive name, in my opinion.

“They were a team of Rhinean elemental knights, former students of Generasi who made names for themselves in mercenary work—three centaur archers from the Nephelean Plains and a few hired mercenaries. They were obviously very skilled, experienced, and had fought together in the past. It was a sweep.”

“Jeez… Are they coming back?” Alex asked.

Isolde shrugged. “Hard to know, since they were all foreign to Generasi. Should they, we shall simply prepare ourselves. There are three individuals from the university that we must be aware of as well.”

She flipped to another page in her notes. “Tyris Goldtooth—in third year—is an excellent swordswoman and a very fine battlemage whose specialty are spells of earth and fire, as well as summoning spells from those same elemental planes. She combines her magic to create lava.”

Isolde turned to another page.

“Indrajit Hanuman—also in third year—has become a master at both life enforcement and blood magic, and is a vicious hand-to-hand combatant.”

Finally, she reached the last page.

“And then, there is Wolud Ranier, a very skilled illusionist in his third year. He has passed two years of Baelin’s classes. We must be especially aware of his abilities and not be fooled by his tricks.”

“Ugh,” Thundar grimaced. “That guy’s going to fight smart and dirty. Not gonna lie… Winning this seems impossible.”

“Where is your spirit, my friend?” Khalik asked, raising an eyebrow. “Victory does not come to those that defeat themselves. Even if the odds are vastly against them.”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t really come to weak peasant boys who try to fist fight dragons either. We’re overpowered here. And probably outnumbered too.”

“Hey, I’ve heard more than one story about peasant boys defeating dragons,” Alex protested.

Thundar snorted. “Even if those stories are true, folks make sure to write about the rare winners. You know, because it’s rare enough that it makes a good story. How about all the times the peasant boys get smashed or fried? I’m sure that’s happened way more times, they just don’t write stories about them.”

“Good point… I still think we can maybe do well if we fight smart and get some luck. Maybe even win,” Alex said.

He thought back to the lava spewing dune worm. It had seemed a lot more dangerous than even the most capable third year student. Sure, the odds would be against them, but they’d beat hard odds before.

And it wasn’t like they’d die competing in the Grand Battle.

“Hmm, perhaps, Alex,” Khalik mused. “Since there is a fine gallery of rogues and dangerous magics for us to face, it seems to me our strategy should be one of aggression.”

“I was just thinking that,” Alex said.

Several of the others nodded and Grimloch grinned. “Favourite kind of strategy.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said. “We lack numbers and some raw power, but we have combat experience and we do not hesitate. Our melee fighters are Brutus, Thundar, Theresa, Grimloch, Claygon, Svenia, and Hogarth. I would venture to say our opponents will be hard pressed to field a team of warriors as deadly as ours. With less people on our team, we are also more agile. I suggest classic skirmisher’s tactics. We hit them as quickly as we can, as hard as we can. Press advantage during confusion, and do not give them a chance to prepare or counter.”

“I was about to suggest the same,” Isolde said. “And I will admit, I have some interest in placing high, but my motivations are selfish. As long as we place higher than the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood, I shall be satisfied.”

“Shock and awe tactics it is.” Alex cracked his knuckles. “We’ll also need to be careful. If people are hanging around trying to figure out what we’re going to do, that means they’re probably researching us too. We’ll have to think of ways that others might counter us.”

He thought about how he used Orb of Air to stop himself from breathing in fumes from the booby-trapped potions. If others knew about him using the altered potions, then they’d definitely wear Orb of Air to block the gas.

“Say, Isolde, do you know if any of our friends from Baelin’s class are in the Grand Battle?” he asked.

“I do not,” she shook her head.

“I do,” Grimloch spoke up. “Nua-Oge’s not in the Grand Battle, but she said Shiani’s been doing things in secret lately. Saw her with Rayne and Rhea yesterday.”

Silence followed.

“Then we shall assume they are forming a team as well,” Khalik said. “Which will mean a very experienced team will be in play that knows many of our tactics. If we had a few more members… Then again, I still worry about changing the composition of our team unless anyone we add is exceptionally powerful. In any case, we must prepare well, and hope we are not surprised.”

The first surprise happened only a few hours after their team meeting and training session ended.

Alex was heading to the Cells to practice his Summon Elemental Beetle spell when a voice called out to him.

“Hello, my friend!”

He turned, wondering who was calling him their ‘friend,’ and saw a tall blond fellow approaching. There was a cold cast to his features, and he wore the familiar blue shirt of the Hydra Companions.

“Have we met?” Alex asked.

“We have, we have, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me,” the young man said. “Last summer, myself and a pair of my brothers—at the time—were looking to recruit new students into our club. You faced Gregori?”

“Yeah, I think I remember you know,” Alex said. “Wait, you were part of the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood, right?” He became cautious. “What’s up?”

“Hopefully, my team’s chances of winning the Grand Battle,” the young man gave a cool smile. “I am Roderich, pleased to become acquainted. And as for my new colours, I found that the Companions more agreed with me than the Brotherhood did, in the end.”

He offered his hand.

“Uh, Alex,” Alex introduced himself, slowly reaching to shake Roderich’s hand.

“A pleasure. Gregori is still a bit sore over your spell-joust last year. He thinks you acted the part of the fool to mock him.”

Alex fought the urge to wince.

“Vitaly is also annoyed at your friend, Khalik.”

“You still talk to them?”

“We’re still friends, even if I chose to wear different colours. Some in the Brotherhood are sore at me for leaving and bear me a grudge, but other friendships transcend such boundaries. The Hydra Companions have heard about the deeds your group accomplished this past year.”

“You know about us?” Alex said, growing more cautious by the moment.

What was this?

He thought of the Ursa-Lupines and the air of entitlement that always oozed from them. In a way, they reminded him of certain characters in old tales the bards told. They were overbearing and made it their mission to try and intimidate the town hero into keeping out of their way.

He pictured a bunch of sneering Brotherhood members folding out from behind buildings, threatening to pound him to keep him away from the Games of Roal.

‘Get a grip, Alex. This isn’t some one-copper troubadour’s story,’ he thought, shaking his head. ‘They’re not about to try and break your legs. Besides—’

He glanced up at Claygon

‘They would have a very bad time if they did.’

“We do, we do,” Roderich confirmed. “We make it a point to keep an eye on anyone who’s passed the chancellor’s Art of the Wizard in Combat class. They usually make fine battlemages. Though, you have no interest in becoming a battlemage, do you?

His voice had a rough quality, as if a growling wolf learned to speak like a man.

“Like spying, you mean? And no, I have no interest in being a battlemage. I just think it’s better if I know how to protect myself, because a wizard never knows what demons and such they’ll run into.”

“Not spying, not spying,” Roderich said, trying to sound reassuring. “Recruiting. The Companions ask that you—and anyone else among your friends who might be interested—join us.”

Alex raised a brow. “I’m no battlemage.”

“No, I’m aware you’re not,” the young man nodded, with a smile that was slightly… off. “We’re not asking that you join the Companionhood, we’re hoping you will join our team for the Grand Battle competition.”

“I’m not going to betray my friends,” Alex said, finding this Roderich to be more and more offensive the longer he talked.

“Then bring them all.” The Hydra Companion spread his arms, as if encompassing those not present. “I’m not the only one that’s seeking out your group members with an offer. The more the merrier. Our goal is to defeat the Brotherhood and Ms. Von Anmut has an enemy among them, doesn’t she? We can break them together. We might even see that you all earn some coin out of it.”

Chapter 38

Strange Offers and Strange Summonings

“Earn some what now?” Alex blinked. “Let me get this straight, you want to pay us to join your team?”

“Is that so strange?” Roderich asked. “There’s a long tradition of hiring mercenaries to participate in the Games. In your case, the benefit is doubled. Your team would join ours, and you would also cease to be a threat to our chances. It’s only rational. You would gain more numbers—join a team used to fighting the Brotherhood—and we might even be able to field a second team if all of you join.”

“I…” Alex’s mind tried to catch up with what was being offered. He actually would’ve expected the Brotherhood to be the ones trying to recruit them.

He could picture them swaggering up and saying something like, ‘You don’t have a chance against us, so we’re going to take pity on you and let you join our team.’

Then they’d probably smirk, and Derek would say something nasty to Isolde before being told to go to every hell that ever existed through all the planes.

This was different.

This was more, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and that made the offer harder to dismiss outright.

“I see you’re considering it,” Roderich mused. “We would be willing to pay a hundred gold pieces to each of you—our coffers are flush now thanks to generous donations from our alumni—and we’re also offering an equal share of any prizes we win. And you don’t have to accept right away. Some of my companions will be talking to your friends, like I said. We implore you confer with each other, then let us know.

“Hopefully, we’ll be hearing from you soon.” Roderich gave that slightly off smile of his. “Until then,” he said cheerfully.

With that, Roderich turned and walked away before Alex could say anything. As the Hydra Companion pitchman left, Alex began thinking about the offer and continued heading to his practice. In some ways, the offer was interesting. Not only would getting a nice sum of coin be guaranteed—even if they lost—they might have an even better chance of placing higher in the rankings for the Grand Battle.

It might also put them in a better position to beat the Brotherhood. Still, the truth of what Khalik said hadn’t changed. They would lose coordination if they joined a bunch of people who none of them had ever worked with. In class, Baelin complimented them time after time on their battle coordination. Altering that would mean they’d be thrown off-balance.

But, would making a drastic change like that be offset by having an additional six experienced battlemages on their team? He’d seen them face off against the Brotherhood and they’d done well.

It was something for him to think about.

He cut his way through a quiet copse of trees and reached the Cells. Alex still came there regularly for alchemy work with Professor Jules, and he’d also been booking one of the summoning rooms to practice Summon Elemental Beetle in.

He was coming closer to actually casting the spell and he’d made a ton of notes covering a lot of the spell array. Summoning rooms were a good place to work in since they were warded to keep otherworldly entities from breaking out and creating mayhem all over Generasi. Each room had glyphs of dismissal carved into perfect summoning circles etched into both the floor and ceiling at the centre of each room. ‘Safety first,’ as the university rules stressed.

Technically, he didn’t have to use a summoning room yet. An elemental beetle breaking free of a circle wouldn’t be dangerous to anything but small mice and large bugs that’d be an easy meal. But, Professor Mangal had strongly encouraged them to use the special rooms as soon as they got closer to successfully casting their first summoning spell.

‘It is a poor habit for a summoner to adopt, practicing without proper safety,’ she’d said. ‘You can summon what you wish anywhere you choose when you have mastered a particular summoning spell. But if you get used to summoning creatures you have not mastered without a protective circle now, then you might forget certain steps later. And that could cost you your life.’

Alex thought hard on that as he went down to the basement to fetch the key for the room.

“You won’t have to stop here to sign in for room keys much longer,” the clerk said as he slid Alex the key. He indicated a sign with a diagram of the students’ circular cards in front of a door surrounded by glyphs. Beside the sign, a Watcher of Roal stood with the stillness of a statue.

“Glyphs will be installed around each Cell so that your student card can be used to unlock the door to the room you’ve booked,” he informed Alex. “They would’ve been installed by now if it weren’t for…” He glanced at two other Watchers posted on either side of the office window. “…Recent, security concerns.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I get that.”

Summoning. Dangers. Security concerns.

He wondered about the Games of Roal as he headed up to the room. So far, he hadn’t heard of any talk about them being cancelled. Knowing the Watchers, he doubted they’d ever be intimidated into shutting things down because of some demon summoner.

Unlocking the door, he entered the summoning room.

“Stay over there by that wall, Claygon,” he pointed to the south wall then began circling the chamber.

A circle check was always wise in any dedicated summoning room. One should always make sure the circles and glyphs weren’t damaged or altered, and that nothing lay across the permanent circle to break it. Once he finished confirming everything was intact, Alex plopped down cross-legged in front of the circle and set his open book down.

He paid attention to his breathing and cleared his thoughts after acknowledging them. He’d been looking forward to this day. That strange—perhaps Traveller-connected—phenomenon that helped him learn and cast Call Through Ice, and the Summon Stone spell, would likely manifest during the spell, and he was real anxious to see if and how it would.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his body and began speaking the incantation.

Without fail, the Mark’s interference came, but after almost a full year, dealing with it had almost become second nature. He wasn’t really tensing up when it came for him anymore, which meant he could better concentrate. It was like how fights had become easier now that he’d gained experience and was growing used to the fear and risk that came with each battle.

The failures the Fool showed him were mostly from his practice with Call Through Ice and his Summon Stone spells. Focusing on the parts of the spell arrays that were responsible for construction of the magic circuit in general, while only bringing up a few failures from the parts of the spell arrays responsible for connecting to the elemental planes of ice and earth.

Those parts hadn’t given him much trouble. In some ways, the parts of the magic circuits responsible for connecting to other planes almost seemed to form themselves, which meant there’d been a lot less for the Mark to use against him.

At least, that’s what he theorized.

He was still trying to understand what was going on with him and teleportation and summoning spells, and he’d been paying close attention to how the Mark reacted to them so he could come up with some explanations.

For now, this was data gathering time.

Alex abruptly stopped the incantation. The distractions had sped up, creating a wild array of images that were so chaotic and overwhelming, he had to abandon the spell. Keeping calm, he took a few breaths and tried again. These days, failing wasn’t as frustrating as it used to be. After all, no matter how many times the Mark messed him up, he usually found a way to make things work. Perseverance to keep trying or adjusting things were key. And, even if the interference was too much for a spell to be practical for him to learn and cast—like force missile—he’d learned that he could always find another path.

Failure walked with him every day now, and it hadn’t killed him. What did he have to fear from it?

…Unless the failure was so catastrophic that it did kill him, but he acknowledged that possibility and rapidly let it go.

It took nine tries before Alex got through the first fifty percent of the spell without making any mistakes. The magic circuit was slowly forming inside his mana pool. He was excited.

Now on to the next part, which was what created the cylinder or barrier within the summoning circle. Professor Mangal had said this part was optional. A wizard could leave it out if they were quickly summoning something that couldn’t harm them or if they had complete control over it. Alex wanted to do everything by the book since this was all new to him, so there was no way he was leaving that step out.

Next, was the step responsible for the actual subjugation process and the building of the magic circuit itself. He needed to take extra care here, because the consequences of screwing it up were huge and a mana reversal could occur. If he messed up the optional part that created the barrier, then the summoned monster would be free. Which wouldn’t be much of a problem if it was weak and Alex had control over it.

Even if he messed up the part of the array that was responsible for summoning a creature, then usually the worst that happened was pulling it across planes failed. Of course, there were rare cases where wizards messed up that part in such a way, they unintentionally summoned something they didn’t mean to.

Alex would do his best not to let that happen.

If he messed up the part responsible for subjugation while summoning a dangerous creature, then it would be free of his control, and probably very angry that he’d tried to subjugate it. According to Professor Mangal, it was mistakes in the subjugation part of summoning spells that killed more summoners than any other error in spellcraft. Something he’d do his best to avoid.

With that in mind, he became overcautious, which caused the spell to falter since he cast it so slowly he bungled it up anyway, making the whole magic circuit fall apart. On his second try, he let earlier practice guide him, giving him more confidence. And it worked.

Now came the part of the spell array responsible for the actual summoning.

Something shifted in the magic.

In a way, it was as if a much steadier hand appeared beside his own to guide him through. The magic circuit began to build on itself, coming together, and he focused his attention on where it was joining, pushing through the Mark’s interference.

It honestly felt like the plane he’d chosen to summon the beetle from—the elemental plane of water—was reaching out to him through the barrier between the material world and the elemental planes. He wasn’t sure if it was his vivid imagination, but he could almost hear the distant sound of water trickling then crashing like waves.

The magic circuit thrummed with power, building like it was completing itself. Even as the Mark interfered, the spell array progressed fluidly, unhampered.

Until he made one mistake.

It was a small, but consequential one. A particular failure slammed into his mind with full force, and he mispronounced the name of the creature he wanted to summon. Professor Mangal had hammered the importance of names into his class.

And he’d just made that very mistake.

Instead of the spell array falling apart, the power that was helping to finish the magic circuit continued its task.

Alex gasped.

The spell grew, completing with the incorrect name.

A rush passed through him as the magic circuit reached out. Far out, into the elemental plane of water.

And snared something.

Something that struggled like a hooked fish.

The air inside the magic circle was shimmering.

Something was coming.

And whatever it was, it was a hell of a lot bigger than any elemental beetle.

Chapter 39

Travelling from the Deep

Inside the circle, the shimmering intensified.

Hairs on the back of Alex’s neck rose.

The incantation tumbled from his mouth, almost completing itself as the final words echoed throughout the summoning room. Suddenly, the temperature dropped, washing the room with a cool wave of air. His breath felt moister, like inhaling and exhaling on a damp and misty day.

His mind whirled, considering possibilities.

Summon Elemental Beetle was a first-tier spell with a single magic circuit. It didn’t have enough power to summon anything apocalyptic. Though it did have the ability to bring nasty things, especially if the summoner was caught off guard. Which he was when he spoke the wrong name.

And whatever was coming, looked to be the size of a colt.

Alex slammed his hands on the glyphs on the floor to dismiss the summoned spirit entering the circle. Those glyphs could be activated in two ways: either by reading the incantation on them and activating the built-in spell array, or running one’s mana through them and activating their magic through mana manipulation.

For obvious reasons, he chose the second way.

His mana washed through the glyphs, activating the tiny magical nodes tucked alongside their built-in spell array, and sent the dismissal magic roaring to life.

Schoom!

The ripple grew, a shape rapidly forming in the circle, surprising him with its speed. Whatever was being summoned was coming fast. Much faster than it should have. With the way Summon Elemental Beetle worked, he should’ve had at least three or four more heartbeats before it—

Wait.

Whenever Baelin teleported him, he would always be the first to appear before anyone else. What if whatever was responsible for that, also made anything he summoned appear faster too?

“Oh… shit,” Alex swore.

Crack!

The air split and water gushed from a crack in empty space. It slammed into the invisible walls of the cylinder and began rapidly filling it.

“Ohhh shit, shit, shit, shit! This is not good!”

The protective circle created by Summon Elemental Beetle was strong enough to seal an elemental beetle, but it wasn’t made to contain the pressures from a massive amount of water.

“Dammit! Claygon, I need you! Hit whatever shows up if it gets out of the circle!”

The dismissal glyphs were still in the process of activating.

Water continued to fill the cylinder.

Then, something appeared with the water.

It looked similar to a selachar—with silver-grey skin, solid black eyes, and sharp teeth. That was where the similarities ended. Instead of hair, massive, jagged fins sprouted from its head, and its hands ended in long, hooked claws. A strange tentacled growth hung from the centre of its forehead, bearing a tip that shone with an odd, bewitching light.

It didn’t kick the water to stay afloat in the rapidly filling cylinder. Everything below its waist resembled the armoured tail of a crayfish with several twitching, spidery legs. Massive claws—each large enough to clamp around Alex’s waist and crush him—extended from its bottom half. They snapped at the water as the creature hissed and writhed in the confines of its cylindrical prison.

The subjugation part of the spell partly caged its essence, it just wasn’t meant for a creature like this. The magic’s hold was limited, and the creature’s rage was loosening it.

The glow of the forehead tentacle increased, pulsating outward like a beacon.

Alex felt something else push against the cylinder.

Magic. The glow was magical, and it was reaching for him. For now, it was being blocked, but the circle was weakening.

Everything was happening so fast. What seemed to take minutes, was actually happening in only a brief space of seconds.

Finally, the glyphs flared.

Dismissal magic filled the air—

Crack!

The protective cylinder shattered from the force of the creature’s thrashing, the weight of the water, and the monster’s magic.

It leapt at Alex.

Whooosh!

Claygon’s fist shot out to meet it.

Bang!

The water elemental folded against the blow.

Saltwater washed over Alex and Claygon, drenching them soundly.

All at once, both water and summoned monster vanished with the roar of an endless ocean.

Alex stood panting and sputtering, spitting salt water while his skin erupted in gooseflesh from the dousing of cold water that abruptly faded with the summoned monster.

“H-holy shit,” he murmured, as the water completely evaporated from his clothing, Claygon, and the summoning room.

Claygon slowly looked down at him, his expression frozen in that shark-toothed snarl that he and Selina had carved below his clay helmet.

“You did good, buddy!” Alex patted his golem’s leg. “You did real good!”

He grabbed his notebook in excitement and flipped it open to a blank page, making a note in bold letters.

1. Summoned creatures will appear faster than expected, just like when I’m teleported. Always. Have. The. Dismissal. Ready. Don’t get caught off guard again.

2. The part of the summoning spell array that actually calls a monster from another plain seems to partially cast itself or something like that. If you screw up the name of whatever you’re calling, the spell won’t necessarily fail, it can end up calling something else.

He paused, then added:

Probably something really nasty, knowing my luck.

Shaking his head, he contemplated what just happened.

It looked like summoning was something he needed to both be careful with, and really, really focus on. The Mark’s interference was somewhat countered by whatever mystic stuff was going on with him and spells that involved transporting things across distances and planes.

If he put a lot of effort into it, he could probably cut the casting time down, letting his summoned creatures appear faster. With Claygon around, and Generasi’s safety precautions in place—now that he’d seen how fast whatever he summoned would appear and how to activate the dismissal magic—he could afford to make some mistakes.

Mistakes were part of learning, he just had to be aware and be prepared.

Summoning could really turn into a viable weapon for him to use, a way to expand resources and—when he was powerful enough to summon things that were old and wise—a way to get information.

“Speaking of summoning things for battle and getting information…” He pulled out another notebook. One for both hypotheses and information that he and Baelin had gathered on the Traveller.

It was depressingly empty.

He jotted down a new hypothesis.

If he was right and whatever was going on with him and teleportation was due to something having to do with the Traveller, then that could mean…

When the Traveller was fighting the Ravener during her time as the Saint, summoning spirits and monsters through divine miracles might have been an effective combat tactic for her. If it was, and if someone could discover which spirits she favoured summoning, then in other planes, there’d be ancient creatures she’d summoned to ask questions of.

This might be something to tell Baelin about.

What could work, might be to find out what spirits the priests of Uldar tended to summon back then. From there, he and Baelin could summon them and start investigating. Find out if any of them knew of others who’d had dealings with the Traveller.

Then again…

He thought about the two goddess statues in her sanctum and their holy symbol she wore around her neck. If she worshipped them, not Uldar, then maybe—even if she did summon spirits—they were different from whatever the priests of Uldar summoned.

He shook his head.

“Ugh, I’m just chasing suppositions with more suppositions. I don’t even have any real data to build a proper hypothesis on. Just hunches.”

While a hunch could still be valuable—Professor Jules had reluctantly admitted that—it could also simply be a manifestation of a researcher or investigator’s bias or purely a desire to be right. It could also be completely unrelated to facts.

‘Hunches were what once convinced an entire society that not washing the body was more sanitary than bathing in rivers and streams,’ the white-haired alchemist had told him one day. ‘Of course, the plague that rolled through their realm fixed that notion veeeery quickly.’

Alex moved on from the memory.

In either case—Traveller connection or not—summoning was something he wanted to bet on, almost as much as alchemy. The two could work together nicely. Professor Jules had summoned the shoggoth to get special materials for potions. He could do the same, collecting such oddities from different monsters he summoned.

“Alright, back to it, then,” he said.

The first thing he did was practice saying the name of the species he was summoning, making sure to properly enunciate the word. He also made use of the Mark, working on pronunciation. It showed him successes from when he’d said the name before, and also from when he’d practiced other languages. If he committed a name to memory, then it’d lessen the chance of him mispronouncing it when the Mark started throwing obstacles around in his head.

Something occurred to him then that put a big smile on his face. Ironically, by using the Mark to help him work on properly pronouncing the names of creatures he wanted to summon, it was actually going to end up helping him cast summoning spells, no matter how much interference it threw. Alex’s smile grew the more he thought about pulling one over on it while it unwittingly helped him with spell casting.

Using the Mark to learn names would definitely be helpful from a safety standpoint, since powerful creatures from different planes often had alien, quite difficult to pronounce names. Which would mean a summoning would be a lot more dangerous if he mispronounced those.

Which reminded him, he really needed to find out what it was he’d just summoned.

Time to refocus.

The next three times he cast Summon Elemental Beetle, he completely failed. Nerves from the earlier close call, and the fact that he was new to the spell, combined with what seemed like the Mark’s glee-filled interference made things overwhelming.

On the fourth try, he got the casting right, but cancelled the spell partway, thinking that it’d be a good idea to practice control and cut the spell off in case anything went wrong again.

After a couple of successful castings where he cut it just before activation, he cast it to completion, then activated the dismissal glyphs as soon as he felt the summoning magic grasp something on the elemental plane.

Alex perfected the timing and the dismissal spell, successfully preventing anything from appearing in the circle.

Finally, he felt ready, and cast the spell again. This time allowing the magic circuit to form without interruption. He felt that shift and his magic reached out across the planes.

It grasped something much smaller than whatever that fish monster was, and the air began shimmering within the circle.

Just a tiny spot, only a little bit bigger than a squirrel.

The air rippled, and the point in space parted.

Bzzzzz.

A loud buzzing filled the air, and a large beetle-like creature, its shell the colour of dark ocean waves, appeared shortly after. It hovered in the air within the circle.

Alex felt a tether between it and himself—the subjugation part of the spell that controlled the monster—reached through the cylinder. Its legs kicked in the air, shining like sapphires, and its mandibles clicked softly and rhythmically.

A smile lit up Alex’s face as he flipped open his notebook.

Summon Elemental Beetle: 100%.

Fantastic!

Eagerly, he dismissed the protective circle and extended his hand.

“Fly to my hand,” Alex said.

The beetle flew over and settled on his hand.

“Do as I command, and do not harm me,” he said, making sure his intent was the focus in his thoughts. Without his intent, the summoned creature was only bound by his words alone. And if it only had to follow the words of a command, and not the intent of one, then a more intelligent monster or spirit could use loopholes in wording or logic to defy a summoner’s command.

It seemed the beetle had no intention of harming him though. The docile bug-like creature climbed up his sleeve, its tiny legs tickling his arm through his shirt and sending him into giggling fits.

“Hey, what do you think, Claygon?” he laughed, holding up the beetle for his golem’s examination. “Pretty cool, huh? Like I said, don’t get jealous, because soon, I’ll be commanding lots of these.”

The golem’s head slowly turned to look down at the beetle. Whether Claygon was actually examining it or was just following Alex through their link, he had no way of knowing.

After a few minutes, the magic circuit began to lose power and Alex had to infuse more mana to keep the beetle from disappearing. With more practice and time, the spell would last longer.

To get a bit more practice, he decided to cast Summon Elemental Beetle two more times, summoning a beetle-creature from each of the elemental planes of earth and ice.

Alex let the three little creatures crawl over him, giggling at the tickling sensation. ‘Selina is going to get a kick out of these!’ He looked up at the time keeper on the wall. Noticing his time was almost up, he packed his things and opened the door to leave, stifling a giggle as his new beetle friends continued to scurry over him, and took one last look around to make sure everything was as he’d found it.

He planned on practicing keeping the spells powered by using Val’Rok’s mana regeneration techniques to see how long he could maintain them. It’d be good preparation for the future if he wanted to keep more powerful summoning spells activated longer.

Summon Elemental Beetle Swarm was a second-tier version of this spell, which called an entire swarm of the squirrel-sized insect creatures. From his experience with the vespara, he knew how much of a problem swarms could be without the right protections. So, Beetle Swarm would be a good addition to his arsenal, and the Mark shouldn’t have anything to object to.

He was locking the room and considering if it’d be worthwhile to try and learn the spell before the Games started when he heard the sound of feet hurrying down the hall.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” He recognized a familiar voice.

Alex looked over to see Amir rushing past two Watchers of Roal—who were at their post in the hallway changing shifts—his arms full of books.

“Sorry,” he apologized again, as he stumbled around them.

“Hey, Amir, how’re you doing?” Alex asked.

He wasn’t sure how Amir was doing, but he definitely didn’t look good.

He did not look good at all.

Chapter 40

Debts

To say that Amir Abu Saleh looked bad was an understatement. It wasn’t like he was a guy that always looked good since he always appeared to be stressed, rushed, and desperate to get himself organized. So, when he looked especially bad, it was bad.

He’d been a helpful—usually late—supervisor for Alex’s independent alchemical studies last year. And the poor man was always playing catch up with his own stuff, the students he was tutoring, and his work with Professor Jules.

Sleep deprivation was kind of the norm for Amir, and whenever Alex saw him around campus, he always had a massive tin jar filled with coffee or tea in his hand.

But, ever since the first meeting for the expedition, he’d gone from merely looking bad to absolutely terrible. He was usually sweating, his tall hat was almost always crooked, and his robes were becoming so wrinkled, they looked like he slept in them.

There were raccoon-like circles under his eyes, and the bottom of his face was more stubble than skin. And today was no different.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Alex asked, before immediately regretting the question. Why did people always ask that of someone who obviously did not look okay?

Next thing you know you, he’d be asking someone whose leg had been mauled by demon claws and fangs: ‘Hey, you, are you okay? Your leg’s looking a little like ground meat, but are you okay?’

“Yeah, yeah,” Amir said, slowing down and smiling weakly at Alex before throwing a nervous glance at the towering Claygon. “I’m okay.”

“No, really. I’m not asking you to be polite. I’m asking if you. Are. Okay?” Alex asked again.

That was the other thing about the ‘are you okay?’ question. No matter how badly someone was doing, they were always kind of expected to answer with a, ‘yes.’

Even that imaginary man with the demon-mauled leg in Alex’s mind would probably have said: ‘Suuure, I’m fine!’ when asked the same inane question.

“You know how it is,” Amir grimaced, shrugging. “There’s a lot to do. And a lot to do these days. It can stretch me thin. One responsibility drags into the next, which makes the next thing late, and then you need more time to make up for it. Responsibilities… They never end.”

Alex wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.

Maybe that was why people only wanted others to respond with ‘fine’ and ‘good’ to ‘how are you doing?’

“Plus…” Amir chewed his lower lip. “There’re also others that need help too, during these busy times.” He gave a delirious chuckle that sounded almost as high-pitched and mildly hysterical as one of Professor Val’Rok’s laughs. “You know, these aren’t even my books. A friend borrowed them from the library and left them in the lab, but now he has a class to teach, so I’m running the books back to the library before some lower year student gets their hands on them and summons something they…”

Amir’s words trailed off, taking notice of the beetles crawling over Alex’s clothes. “Ah…”

“Shouldn’t have?” Alex finished for him. “On that subject, can I ask you a question?”

Amir smiled weakly. “I’ll answer, but could you do me a favour and walk with me?” He lifted the books and shook them a little to emphasize their weight. “I’d really like to get these delivered.”

“Oh yeah, sure, sorry. Here, I’ll carry some,” Alex said.

“No need to apologize, I was your supervisor. I’m sort of expected to answer your questions. And thanks for the offer, but if anyone even thought I put these in your hands, there’d be hell to pay!”

Alex nodded, looking at the books with curiosity. “Yeah, I get that.”

The two young men emerged from the Cells as Alex described what happened with his summoning.

“Before I summoned these cute little guys, I accidentally summoned something else when I mispronounced a word. It looked like a selachar, but also kinda like a crayfish? Do you happen to know what it was?”

“Hmmmm…” The graduate student frowned. “It sounds like a deep sea devil. At least, that’s what we call them. I believe the selachar have their own name in their languages. Some of their organs are handy in the creation of magical items having to do with creating water, making water breathable and shaping it.”

“Right.” Alex nodded, growing used to the beetles crawling over him. He glanced back at Claygon, remembering how his fist had stopped the creature. “They can’t be very powerful, can they?”

“From what you described, it seems you summoned a young one,” Amir said, shifting the books in his grip and sweating under the sunlight. “They grow for much of their immortal lives. The older ones are able to be bargained with fairly easily. The part of the elemental plane of water where they come from is full of higher tier predators, if I remember correctly. So, if you can help them in combat against one of their enemies, you’ll likely get their service for a long time. They’re not actually true devils, but they still keep their word like devils do, even without the innate magic in summoning spells. They’re a good choice.”

A good choice.

Alliances in combat.

That brought Alex’s mind back to the deal offered by Roderich. Services exchanged against a common enemy. Then he thought of Fan-Dor and Gel-Dor. They’d saved his life from the mana vampire that’d attacked him on The Red Siren, and—to this day—he was grateful to them.

When he became a better skilled wizard—and with any hope, a hell of a lot richer—he’d like to do something for them beyond just sharing the mana vampire bounty. After all, they’d given him a lot by teaching him the Sword-and-Oar Dance, which had saved his life more than a few times over.

His mind went to thoughts of life and debts.

“Hey, maybe this is a weird question, I probably should be asking Professor Mangal, but what if a summoned creature owes you their life?”

Amir winced. “Their life?”

Alex gathered his thoughts. “Yeah, if you summoned an otherworldly monster or spirit that had to be defending their lives all the time and you helped them, would they have gratitude for that? I mean, I know it sounds like an odd question, but I was thinking that some of them live a really long time, are even immortal, but they can still die in battle and such, right? They kinda think about things differently from us mortals. So, I was wondering what would happen if someone saved their life, would it be important to them or would that be like saying ‘you’re weak’ to them?”

Amir was quiet for a long moment.

“It depends,” he said. “To some spirits—just as it is with some humans—a life debt is the most powerful debt you can carry, while for others it doesn’t matter as much. With humans, it depends on their culture and individual values, but with spirits, it depends on their kind and their individual nature. What about you? How would you deal with a life debt?”

“Me?” Alex said, even though he was the only one Amir was talking to. “That’s a tricky one.”

In some ways, one could say Alex might owe his life to McHarris. Not in the literal sense, but the baker’s pay had kept him and his sister fed and clothed, especially when the Lus’ were going through lean times. Theresa’s family was well-off now, and their business had become successful, but that wasn’t always the case, and they had a lot of mouths to feed.

But if McHarris ever came to him and said something like: ‘You know, boy, you owe me your life?’ He would immediately have Claygon punch the abusive asshole in his face.

“Professor Mangal talked about needing to develop a healthy reciprocal relationship with creatures when you’re using Relational Contract Summoning. I guess it would depend on who it was that saved my life, I suppose. Like, if someone saved my life, then just used that to guilt me into doing whatever they wanted, then I have to say no life debt’s worth that in my opinion.”

“Hrm, that’s a cynical way to look at it,” Amir sighed as they neared the library. “That’s the thing with life debts and relationships in general. Sometimes for the relationship or honour, you do things that are just for the other person. Especially if they need you. But that’s it, life debts mean different things. If I were you, I wouldn’t try to get too in love with the idea. Someone owing you their life or vice versa, is a very powerful thing. Sometimes there’s a lot of grey in situations like that.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Alex said. “In any case, you’re right. I guess it’s not something that I’d want to intentionally do. Anyway, thanks for the advice, man. And try to take care of yourself.”

Amir gave a weak smile. “I will.”

After he and Amir reached the library and went their separate ways, Alex met Isolde as he was looking for books about elementals from the plane of water. He saw her coming upstairs and waved to her.

There was a troubled look on her face.

“Let me guess,” he said as she came up to him in the rows of books. “Hydra Companionhood?”

She nodded. “They have approached Khalik and Theresa as well, and the one who spoke with me said they would be approaching all of us.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I got told the same thing. What do you think?”

“No, you first.”

He shrugged. “It’s not the worst idea in the world. I mean, we’d get support from them… Not like we’d have a life debt to them or anything, and we’d be getting support we could use to not only crush the Brotherhood—and Derrick—but we could place closer to the top. Plus, we’d get some coin out of it. What about you?”

Isolde shook her head. “I am against it. There would be no honour, and the pride of striving and crushing our enemies by our own merits alone would be gone.”

“I was a baker’s assistant until last year, the only honour I know about is the honours roll at school. I’m thinking it’d be better just to win and get the prize overall, but I get it. I would actually feel better if we did it ourselves.”

“Mhm, and another thing occurs to me as well.” Isolde glanced around, then leaned in close to Alex. “I was thinking, if our team performs well in the Games, then perhaps we could recruit our team members for our expeditionary group to your homeland. Of course, we would naturally include our cabal, but Grimloch for example, would also be a fair addition to our forces. If we have outside help, then we wouldn’t quite see how our team would perform together outside of Generasi.”

“Yeah, I see your point. I also see good things about going either way, but we can bring it up with the group.”

“Speaking of groups, you’ll probably get a message soon. Baelin wants another meeting of the expeditionary team tomorrow.” She sighed. “So much to juggle: the expedition, the Games of Roal, school… This demon summoner debacle.”

“We’ll get through it. Just don’t run yourself ragged again, okay?” he said.

She gave him a weak smile. “I shall attempt to not, but there are a few spells I’m hoping to master by the time the Games begin. I think everyone is trying to learn a new trick or two.”

“Yeah, Theresa’s trying to get her parents to watch one of our training sessions. Maybe that’ll help make them more comfortable with everything.”

Isolde raised an eyebrow. “Theresa’s parents lack for comfort? Much of the insula’s facilities are designed to suit nobility.”

“Oh no, not that kind of discomfort. Didn’t we tell you?” Alex asked.

She shook her head.

“Oh. Well, when they arrived at the port, that’s when the demon summoner struck, and of course, Baelin was away at the time.”

“Ah. A poor first impression. I could see being discomforted with that fiend roaming free. I think they can take comfort knowing that the chancellor has his mind bent toward crushing him, though.”

“That’s an understatement. You should’ve seen him tear apart the first demon at the rally for the priests last year. I’m sure this summoner’ll think twice about attacking with him around.”

“No… way…” Alex murmured, staring down at the note that just arrived.

It was the next morning and a messenger construct—one that was actually invisible until it flew into his room and perched on his pillow, scaring approximately three decades off his lifespan—delivered a message to him.

He looked at the message written in Baelin’s handwriting.

Apologies for the last-minute notice.

My own cabal called for my aid, and I am afraid that I cannot attend today’s meeting. I booked the day off and our meeting was not urgent, so no need to make a fuss, I should be back in Generasi by tomorrow.

— Chancellor Baelin

And of course it was on the day Mr. and Mrs. Lu were supposed to watch them training with their team for the Games of Roal.

Chapter 41

Revelations

“Mother, it’s going to be fine,” Theresa insisted. “Just fine. Just like going out for a summer hunt. Actually, it’s even safer than that.”

Her mother hesitated at the window.

Theresa was alone with her mother for the first time since her parents had come to Generasi. Her father had gone to the market for some fresh bread and fruit for breakfast. She’d told her parents about the top shelf of the pantry being able to keep things cool—so they wouldn’t have to go shopping everyday—but they didn’t trust the idea of keeping perishable food on a pantry shelf.

Even if magic could give them a thousand different conveniences they never could have even dreamed of back in Alric, they still weren’t comfortable with it.

She couldn’t really blame them, either.

After a year in Generasi, in some ways she was still trying to get used to all the magic that was a part of her daily life.

“Theresa,” her mother said slowly. “I’m sure you believe it will be fine, but I’m not sure how smart it is to be playing in games when the guards are still trying to find someone so dangerous. And I think fighting powerful wizards is a little more dangerous than a summer hunt.”

Theresa sighed. “Mother… they’ve got this magic. If anything bad happens to someone during the competition, it just teleports them away to safety. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know anything about how magic works.” Mrs. Lu turned around, her eyes filled with concern. “But we try to make everyone safe in our kitchen too. We train everyone, put the knives away, watch the fire… None of that would help us if a bear suddenly charged into the kitchen.”

“You’re saying this demon summoner is the bear.”

Mrs. Lu winced. “I can’t believe you can say that so casually. Demon summoner. As though you’re just talking about a wolf in the woods. Just what kind of life have you, Selina, and Alex been living here?”

“It’s different here. At the same time, it’s kinda like back home.” She stepped up beside her mother, leaning against the window frame. “When the news came about the Ravener returning, we didn’t panic, right? We knew what to do and we kept on doing what we had to.”

“That’s different, Theresa,” her mother argued. “When the Ravener came back, we left and got out of danger.”

“And we always come back,” Theresa countered. “I mean, all of Thameland. We leave while the Heroes are fighting the Ravener, but we always come back. We come back because it’s worth it, right?”

“We come back because there’s nowhere else for us to go,” Mrs. Lu sighed. “The Rhineans have been very welcoming, but it’s not the most comfortable way of living, being in a strange land. Some folks want the Thameish there. Some folks don’t.”

“There were other places for us to go before,” Theresa said. “In school, we learned that there was a time when the Rhineans only owned a quarter of the land north of the Prinean Sea. We could have stayed there then, but we left to go back to Thameland. It’s the same thing here. It’s worth being here. There’s dangers, but there’s also wonders. You saw the tower. I mean look at that!”

She pointed out the window. In the distance, there was a flying ship—complete with sky-blue sails—drifting through the sky like something from a faerie story.

“I’m learning so much, and you’re going to see that today. We can take care of ourselves now.”

A look crossed her mother’s face. “You sound like Evan… Your brother and some of the other boys from Alric, and some other young men from other parts of Thameland, they’ve started to talk.”

Theresa frowned. “What’s he talking about?”

“Going back,” her mother said. “Returning to help the Heroes and soldiers retake Thameland.”

Theresa’s eyebrows rose. “What? The most dangerous weapon Evan’s ever held is a kitchen knife. He didn’t even want to hunt.”

“Some of the retired soldiers that left with the rest of us,” Mrs. Lu said, “they’ve been training some of the Thameish young folk. Talking about how we all need to do our part. Lately, he’s been saying things like ‘we can take care of ourselves.’”

“H-he didn’t do anything stupid, did he?” Theresa asked.

Mrs. Lu shook her head. “The soldiers aren’t letting us go back, for now. And your uncle still needs help. He’s getting lots of orders for steel nowadays.”

“Why didn’t you tell me—” Theresa swallowed her words, the irony in her question hitting her before she could finish. “Nevermind.”

“Because it’s talk for now,” Mrs. Lu said sternly. “If he had left, I would have told you.”

Silence followed.

“Mother… look,” she sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just felt… wrong, to tell you about that stuff in a letter.”

“I would have preferred to know, Theresa.” Mrs. Lu cupped her daughter’s cheek. “If something happens to you, I’d rather know why, instead of having to guess. If you’re in danger, I’m allowed to worry. Its what parents do.”

The huntress went silent for a bit, gathering her thoughts.

“Letters can only say so much, I know,” Mrs. Lu said. “But even if it’s only so much, it’s better than nothing at all.”

Theresa’s eyes went to the door. Outside, footsteps softly crept by, moving past. They were near-silent. She probably wouldn’t have caught them without her enhanced senses from life enforcement.

“Well, after today, you’ll know a lot more,” she said to her mother.

“He’s not here?” Theresa whispered to Alex as the rest of the group was setting up in the stadium. “And when were you going to tell me that?”

“You were gone by the time I got the message,” Alex whispered back. “And then I had to panic, and then I went to find you to tell you and I heard you talking with your mother. It sounded super serious and I didn’t want to interrupt, but then when we were walking here your parents were in earshot.” He glanced back at the seats in the stadium where her parents were sitting with Selina, who was showing them all kinds of different parts of her messenger construct. “Now was the earliest time. Better than not at all, right?”

“Ugh, you sound like Mother.”

Alex blinked. “T-thanks? Wait, that’s a compliment, right? I mean it can’t be an insult, I like your moth—”

“Alex.”

“Right, right, talking less now.”

Theresa scanned the rim of the stadium as though she expected to see demons flying overhead at any second. Of course, she’d never actually seen a demon, but from what Alex had said, many of them could fly.

She looked over the other occupants of the stadium. Student teams stood together, practicing combat maneuvers. Like her group, they probably would have preferred to practice away from the watching eyes of their competitors, but the school had very strict policies about casting combat spells in non-designated areas of campus without a very good reason.

“Alex, what do you think the chances are that they’d attack here? In the stadium.”

He ran his fingers through his increasingly long hair, which—she had to admit—she liked on him. She resisted the urge to fix part of his chestnut bangs as they fell crookedly over his forehead.

His eyebrows knitted together in thought, and he did that thing where he puzzled things out in silence.

“From what I know—and keep in mind, I’m no crazy demon-summoning renegade wizard—probably not. The first attack was right on campus, but there was a rally for the priests going on. The second one was at City Hall itself. Both of those targets are more significant than this stadium. We should keep an eye out just in case. That is, if we’re going to stay. Want to call it off?”

“No,” Theresa said. “All the best fighters among our friends are here. We’re probably safer now than we would be back at the apartment.” She reached up and kissed him. “But thanks for thinking about that. C’mon, let’s get to practicing.”

She and Alex joined the rest of their teammates as Khalik and Isolde broke down what they wanted to do with the day’s session. Not surprisingly, the two of them seemed to fall naturally into the roles of ‘leader’ for their Grand Battle team.

“Correct me if I am wrong,” Isolde said. “But I think it would be good to warm up with some sparring first, especially among you warriors.”

A low, pleased growl came from Grimloch.

Svenia and Hogarth looked at each other, then slowly turned back to the shining teeth of the ten-foot shark man.

Though Grimloch was too busy looking at Claygon to pay them any attention.

Theresa cracked her knuckles. She would be lying if she said the thought of facing the giant shark man hadn’t crossed her mind at least once. He looked more powerful than ever as his experience with life enforcement grew.

At her current level of conditioning, she could see herself maybe being able to take him before he’d started his own training. Now, though?

It would be a good challenge.

She glanced at the seats.

And a good chance to show her parents what she was capable of.

All the front line fighters organized themselves into a group and drew straws to decide who would face who. By the end of the warm up, each of them would have faced each other at least once.

“Khalik, will you be joining us?” Theresa teased the prince, looking at his short sword. “I know you don’t use that thing much, mighty wizard, but you’ll get rusty if you don’t at least wave it around now and then.”

“And there’s only five of us sparring without you.” Thundar grinned, taking a couple of practice swings with his mace. “Let’s get that skull of yours good and cracked—I mean, get you back in practice.”

“Well, now I must join in,” the muscular young man chuckled, drawing his sword. Stepping to the side of the stadium, he ran the blade over a glyph built into a small column. A teal light ran over the sword, sheathing it in a magic meant to dull the edge and prevent injury. “Shall we draw straws, then?”

Theresa would be facing Hogarth first.

“Right you are, then, young lady,” the squat soldier saluted her with a muscular arm. He buckled his helmet under his chin. “Let’s get started, then. Just… I’ve seen you fight. Keep in mind that I ain’t a giant monster, a shark man, or a wizard, or even one of your life enforcer things.”

Theresa grinned, dropping into her stance. “And you keep in mind that you probably have a decade of experience on me.”

“Right, call a man old just before the fight even starts,” Hogarth snorted. “Cut his spirit before you even cut his body.”

Theresa laughed. “Hey, it’s not my fault you were born ages before me.”

Hogarth snorted again.

Khalik called the spar to begin, and Theresa charged Hogarth like a coiled snake, her curved blade flashing into guard.

The soldier stepped back, thrusting at her with his spear, attempting to use the length of the weapon to keep her at bay. Theresa eyed the spear, then grabbed the haft right as he thrust it.

He cursed as she pulled on it, forcing him to release the weapon to keep from being dragged toward her. His blade rang out of its scabbard just as she came in with a blurring cut.

Hogarth used his experience, surprising her with a parry that smoothly turned into a twist designed to run the dulled blade along her fingers. She followed his twist with her greater speed, and slid her blade up and past his guard.

They froze.

“Balls,” he swore. “You’re quick as a bloody buck running from rabid wolves. Well done.”

They shook hands.

She glanced at the seats.

Her parents were openly gaping, while Selina was clapping in delight.

Theresa smiled, giving them a salute with her sword before moving to wait for her next opponent. After the first round of sparring ended, it was Thundar who clopped up to her, all grins.

“Well, well,” he said. “Don’t think I’m going down so easy. I could be the leader of this cabal after all.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Theresa said.

He cast two body enhancement spells on himself: one for strength and one for speed.

Then he rushed her. Fast.

His speed surprised her and she barely ducked his teal-sheathed mace as it swung for her head. She heard her mother yelp, but kept her focus on her opponent.

Stepping back, she ducked again and parried the minotaur’s avalanche of an assault. Even without his magic, he was damned strong and surprisingly quick. He was also clearly a trained warrior, even if he was attending wizard school. His training and magic made for a deadly combination, and his aggressive style pressed her a lot more than Hogarth’s more cautious one.

Though she’d been training and proving herself against the younger members of the Watchers of Roal for months now. She was used to facing superior strength and speed.

As she dodged around Thundar’s mace, she gave less and less ground, letting it pass closer. Using less movement left her more balanced. More able to counter.

Whoosh!

She let his swing go wide then caught his arm when it was fully extended with her free hand, then twisted to lock it. Her blade flashed up, resting just below the minotaur wizard’s chin.

“Whoa, whoa, I surrender!” he said, holding up a hand. “Jeez. That’s what I get for not hanging around with you. You’re faster than you used to be. You know more tricks too. That was a good bind.”

“You’re better too,” she said, shaking his hand. “If it weren’t for me sparring against the Watchers, I’d be on the ground right now.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’ll go that way next time.”

“Maybe.” She smiled.

As Thundar went to face Khalik, a large, ominous shadow fell over Theresa.

She looked up into the grinning teeth of Grimloch. “Been wanting to fight you.”

His knuckles cracked as he lifted a massive club that looked less like a weapon and more like an uprooted tree.

“Yeah…” she said. “Me too.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Her dark eyes boring into his jet-black orbs as the others fell quiet.

“Begin!” Khalik barked.

Whoosh!

Grimloch lunged.

Theresa swore and jumped away from the massive swing of his club. Even with the teal magic sheathing it, a blow from that thing would be painful. Very painful.

The shark man stalked after her, using his greater reach to keep her at a distance. His teeth gnashed in a horrifying grin, and his footsteps seemed to shake the stone. He was also damned quick. He was no untrained brawler.

His fighting style was one that threw his weight around, while his blows remained smooth, his steps calculated. Theresa took a deep breath, calling on every physical reserve she had. A giddy feeling fluttered in her chest. She’d helped make this monstrous warrior by introducing him to life enforcement.

And now she would try to bring him down.

Despite his shocking speed and reach, she was still faster and more agile. She’d also been practicing life enforcement longer. She didn’t even bother trying to parry, she just danced around his swings, waiting for a moment to strike.

Bang!

His club slammed into the ground.

Crack!

It exploded. The old wood splintered under the power of Grimloch’s swing.

The shark man grunted in surprise—his newfound strength catching even himself off guard—and Theresa darted forward below his arms. But he was ready for her.

His hand shot up and grabbed her free arm in a grip she couldn’t imagine ever breaking. His jaws shot forward, ready to snap over her torso.

She felt the teeth close in on her, but then he froze.

The tip of her sword hovered just above his eye.

For a few heartbeats, they remained that way: Theresa in his grip with his jaws ready to bite her in half, while her sword was poised to stab through his eye.

“Draw?” Theresa offered, trying to quiet her pounding heart.

Another moment of silence.

“I agree… Though me biting you in half trumps you taking my eye.” Grimloch gave a grinding laugh and stepped back. “But I don’t eat friends. Usually.” The grinding laugh continued as he went to find his next opponent.

Theresa fought to keep her face neutral despite how terrifying it was to think about nearly having half her body eaten by a shark man, regardless if it was just a joke and a spar.

Theresa grimaced and looked up at her parents.

Did it go right?

She couldn’t tell from their faces.

“Attention! May I have your attention!”

All practice ceased as a magically augmented voice swept over campus.

“There have been attacks on several temples within the city. As yet, there have been no casualties reported, but it is advised that you remain on campus until further notice.”

Theresa swore under her breath. That probably meant the end of practice.

She was getting tired of this summoner.

They were a coward too, attacking again when Baelin was gone. Maybe they were watching his movements. She hadn’t known he’d be gone until Alex told her, so him being away wasn’t common knowledge.

It was only later in the evening—when she found Alex in his room, his face white as a sheet—that she realized just how dire that train of thought was.

“I just got a note from Baelin… Everyone on the research team did,” he said, his voice shaking. “Theresa… Baelin didn’t tell anyone he was leaving. Except for us. We’re the only ones who knew he’d be gone.”

Her blood went cold.

Chapter 42

Chasing Vermin

“Iam not fond of treachery,” Baelin’s wrathful voice filled the room.

Everyone, even Professor Jules, shrank in their seats. Isolde’s eyes were locked on the table, while Alex grit his teeth. Amir’s loud, shaky breaths filled the silence that descended.

A line of senior Watchers of Roal—along with a handful of stern-looking investigators from the Generasi Bureau of Investigations—stood behind the ancient wizard.

“I had thought it strange that the second attack only occurred once the expedition team had been formed.” The chancellor’s piercing, goat-like eyes scanned everyone in the room.

Alex’s stomach sank as those eyes paused on him, then shifted to other members of the team. Would Baelin suspect him? The chancellor knew he’d kept some pretty big secrets in the past, but he also knew about the Mark. That would effectively eliminate him from any suspicions Baelin might have, since it stifled spellcasting. Alex might have overcome some of its influence, but that was different from being able to summon powerful demons. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, then his breath caught as his eyes drifted to Amir.

At least… it would have disqualified him if he hadn’t told someone on the research team that he was taking Professor Mangal’s summoning class.

Baelin finished his slow, deliberate scan of the team, during which all sound in the room seemed to stop.

He finally spoke again. “In a different time, I dwelled within a bustling metropolis. The city shone with a luster so dazzling that travellers would come from the world’s ends just to gaze upon its beauty. But beneath the surface, vermin lived in its sewers and underbelly, growing more abundant with time. As long as they remained hidden from most, this fine city ignored their presence… to their own peril. With time, these rats did what rats do. They left their hidden places and soon flourished throughout the city, spreading ugliness, disease, and death.

“The infestation became so vast, that laying bait and traps was like adding a drop of clean water to a fouled river… Pointless. Needless to say, most of the population became hostage to fear and disease, and either died or fled.” Baelin bristled with anger.

“Whoever is behind these attacks is like the hidden vermin, sewing fear and chaos in Generasi. They must be baited and rooted out, trapped, exposed… or destroyed. So, I thought to lay that bait.” He let the weight of his words sink in before he continued. “To my other colleagues, I said I would be taking a day off, but did not tell them I would be leaving Generasi. I made sure I was seen outside my residence, and then I waited. For all appearances, to most, I was here. But, to the research team and the research team alone, the message was that I would be away.”

Alex’s heart pounded harder as the meaning of what Baelin just said washed over him. He glanced around the room at the other members of the expedition. Everyone was looking at each other with a mix of anxiety and suspicion.

“When this recent attack began, I teleported to the temple district under a cloak of invisibility to ensure no lives would be lost,” Baelin said. “Of course, the coward was not present. And my… interrogations, of the summoned creatures I captured—”

Alex shuddered.

“—yielded no new information. So, we are left with you. This research team. I will say it bluntly: someone here is involved in some capacity, having had knowledge of my supposed absence. However, this alone is not enough to be conclusive,” Baelin’s deep voice rumbled. “After all, the timing of the attack could be a coincidence, or the summoner could have known of my departure through other means. However, it does place strong suspicion on everyone here, and narrows the possibilities.”

The Watchers of Roal glared at the expeditionary team, their eyes hardened. Alex noticed gloved hands tightening on swords and staves.

“The fact that none of you made an excuse to not attend this meeting… is interesting,” the chancellor said. “I had hoped the culprit might scurry away like a faun before a wolf and thus reveal their guilt. Things in life are rarely so easy. And so, we shall have to turn to the next method.”

He spread his hands. “If the guilty party comes forth and confesses their involvement—and that of any accomplices—then you may have a better time receiving amnesty from the court. You will avoid being questioned by the investigators present. You will most likely avoid execution, and though your term of imprisonment will still be dire, your confinement might be improved by taking the right path now. And should none of you be the summoner—but the guilt lies with an accomplice—then you would benefit from coming forward immediately. Your sentence for being an accomplice to these… travesties, could likely be far reduced. Is this not correct, Captain Francesco?”

He looked at an investigator nearby. A coarse-featured man with steel grey mutton chops. His face would have been more at home on an executioner.

“I can’t speak for the council or the courts,” the man said. “I will say that submitting oneself or one’s accomplices to the authorities has won mercy in the past. My office would put in a good word after any confession or tip is secured that leads to an arrest. Does anyone have anything to say?”

Silence hung in the air.

Francesco’s eyes narrowed. “That is unfortunate. Then, I am afraid I must ask each of you to submit yourselves for questioning. You will be taken to the closest department of investigations in the city. This will be done today, and keep in mind that if you have nothing to hide, then submitting yourselves will be the way to show that.”

Anxiety raced through Alex as he looked for hidden meaning in the man’s words. Something about the captain’s manner didn’t really make him feel like any questioning would be a comfortable experience.

Then again, Alex was a man with secrets himself. There was the time he’d set the soldiers on McHarris because of his habit of using rotten ingredients in the food he sold, there were the dungeon core remains, his part in the Heroes, what he knew about what Kybas was doing, and even more stuff. He definitely had things to hide.

Did he ever act in a way that made him look suspicious?

His mind began combing through what he’d done since coming to Generasi, seeing if anything would raise suspicions.

He had been at—and was involved with—the first demon summoner attack. That incident had been recorded by one of the Watchers, so they had his name somewhere connecting him to that demon summoning. Now, he was on the research team that was under suspicion. Even someone with half a brain would notice the connection. His heart jumped.

Then there was Minervus.

Just before he died, he’d accused Alex in front of a bunch of people of a screw up that caused the rampage in Shale’s workshop. Alex had also talked to him alone right after that shift. Then, he’d gotten killed by the mana vampire. No investigator questioned him about Minervus’ death—probably because it was obvious who the culprit was—but now that he was part of a group of people under suspicion? Maybe they’d start wondering if it really had been the mana vampire who’d killed Minervus. Maybe they’d start thinking it was him who’d killed him then made it look like the mana vampire had done it.

He knew that if he were investigating this, he’d be one of the first people he’d be looking at.

Then, what to do?

Not talking at all was tempting. He remembered being questioned by the Watchers when he was testing Selina’s gift at the beach. It wasn’t pleasant or something he cared to repeat. Also, running away from the priests had worked wonders in Thameland…

What would happen if they started questioning other people about him without talking to him too? They’d end up building a story about him, without having his side. He thought about what could have happened at Shale’s if Minervus had waited until he’d left before accusing him. He wouldn’t have been there to give his side of the story, and once Minervus had done his damage, it would’ve been harder—if not impossible—to change people’s minds.

Another possibility came to him: if this demon summoner really was one of them, then wouldn’t it be in their best interest to throw suspicion on someone else. Why not throw it on him?

Alex’s heart was pounding.

It was strange. All his battles with monsters made him fairly calm when he was dealing with horrible creatures that were trying to tear out his guts or cut his face off or burn him with lava, trying to kill him in all sorts of nasty ways. Yet, since he had no experience with being under investigation and suspicion, he felt as anxious as when he’d faced the hive-queen.

He hesitated, deciding on whether or not to volunteer. Folks were still squirming in their seats.

Desperate for help to make a decision, he tried activating the Mark to see if it would give him any insights on what to do. ‘Choosing if you should talk to the authorities’ had to be a skill, right?

Unfortunately, nothing came back.

Which made sense. He really didn’t have experience with that. And also, he was trying to make a personal decision, not learn or apply a skill.

Though if he changed the way he was thinking about things…

He thought about the skill of ‘Coming off as trustworthy,’ and was flooded with memories of the time he’d successfully gotten himself cleared of blame in Shale’s Workshop, the time he’d told Peter and Paul—the two guards he knew back in Alric—about McHarris’ underhanded deeds, the time he’d spoken to Baelin with sincerity about the Mark, and times he’d dodged having someone find out he was the Fool.

It showed him how to keep his face straight, how to make sure his body language conveyed that he was telling the truth. He noticed the Mark didn’t provide any instances of where he’d lied to people. Probably because he was focusing on telling the truth.

Alex took a deep breath, preparing to be the first to volunteer. Except he found that in the time he’d been thinking about what to do, others had already raised their hands or were talking to the investigators.

Alex looked at Isolde. “You going to talk to them?”

She sniffed. “I will, but I would rather not. I do not enjoy my honour and loyalty being questioned. In the Rhinean Empire, if anyone asked a member of the nobility to ‘submit themselves to questioning’ without support of a liege, they would be in full legal right to demand satisfaction or punish their insolence, depending on the offender’s station.”

He startled, taking a second look at Isolde.

That was right. They’d all been hanging out together as basically equals at Generasi, but she was a noblewoman. Of what rank, he actually had no idea, it had never come up. He knew a lot about the other members of his cabal in some ways and shockingly little in others. The power she was talking about was strange to him. Just the thought of being legally allowed to punish someone for talking bad to you.

What a strange concept.

If only he’d been born a noble.

Now where was he?

‘Oh yeah,’ he thought. ‘Avoiding wizard jail.’

He and Isolde got up to go talk to the investigators.

Chapter 43

In a White Room with No Curtains

Wizard jail—as it turned out—was an ominous, oppressive place.

Alex stared at the structure looming ahead of them.

It resembled the Cells on campus. A big, grey, somber building with few windows, all sealed by metal shutters. Actually—now that he thought about it—he wondered if the campus building was called the Cells because it resembled wizard jail with all of its cells. He shook his head.

The cells revelation might’ve made him knock himself on the head for not making the connection a long time ago, if he wasn’t currently being led into said wizard jail for questioning.

“Glad I’m not here to stay,” one of the other research team members muttered as the group was taken through the street and toward the entrance gates.

“You can say that again,” Alex whispered.

This station, he’d learned on the way over, was one of many jails in Generasi used to hold criminals while they awaited trial. After sentencing, apparently, they went to a permanent facility to either serve out their sentence or wait for execution. The investigators told the group that if the summoner was caught, that’s where they’d end up.

Surrounding the building was a wall twice as tall as Claygon and maybe five feet thick, inscribed with rows of glyphs that he recognized as incantations to counter spellcraft and dismiss summoned creatures. The gates were flanked by two iron golems, forged to look like powerfully built Generasi soldiers. Each wielded a massive pole-hammer poised to squash Alex to pulp with a single swing.

“No one here is under arrest,” said one of the officers leading the group. “But, best to follow every instruction you’re given. This is a place of dangers. Order keeps those dangers muzzled. Ruin the order, and chaos will result. We cannot protect you if you engage in chaos. Now, for the first rule. No weapons or other magical tools are allowed beyond the entrance walls.”

“Not even tools?” a man held onto his staff. “You wouldn’t part an old man—”

“You aren’t that old, sir, and magical tools could hide enchantments that can be used to disrupt the safety of our officers and staff,” the officer said. “Your items will be cared for.”

At the outer gate, the members of the research team were patted down and made to surrender any weapons or magical tools they were carrying. For a moment, Alex’s anxiety surged as a young officer stepped up to pat him down. It was the most personal contact he’d had with anyone outside of those closest to him since he’d gotten the Mark, and the only reason he didn’t take off running was because the others hadn’t had to take any of their clothing off. The last thing he wanted—truthfully, was to have anything bad happen to his family or friends.

The second to last thing he wanted was to be killed by the summoner’s demons.

The third was probably being killed by the Ravener’s monsters.

The fourth thing… For the Mark to be exposed, especially now, right before he was supposed to go to Thameland on the expedition. That was, if there was still going to be an expedition. He still couldn’t believe they might have a traitor in their group.

After the pat down was finished and some of his nervousness calmed, he took a long look at the other group members assembled. He didn’t know any of them. Amir, Isolde, and the rest had been taken to different stations. Apparently, from what the investigators had said, it would’ve been too much of a problem to take them all to one station.

Alex remembered the look on Isolde’s face when they were leading her to a sky-boat bound for a different investigation office. She’d openly looked pissed. He almost felt sorry for the investigator who’d be questioning her.

Since Alex wasn’t carrying any weapons—he hadn’t brought his potions to the meeting—the officer told him that Claygon could be considered a weapon and would have to remain outside.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he said to the golem. “I’ll be back soon.”

As he said it, he sincerely hoped it was true.

Claygon stood near the other golems, watching Alex as the gates closed behind him and the other research team members. If things went wrong—which Alex hoped they wouldn’t—he was taking comfort knowing that his golem was just a thought away.

Inside the outer wall, separated from the wizard jail, stood the offices of the security personnel of Generasi, its guards, and investigators. It was a sizable building and well-protected by a squad of broad-shouldered guards. An intimidating patrol walked the inner courtyard, leading pairs of coursing hounds of Striga—the same breed of mana-sniffing hound that Isolde’s cousin kept—around the corner of the building.

The hounds’ jaws hung open, looking like they could make short work of flesh and bone.

Alex made a mental note to never, ever go to jail here… or anywhere.

Because he and the members of the research team were there voluntarily, they were led straight into the investigation office.

“If all is in order, then this will be quick,” Francesco said, a smile crooking his lips. “You scholars will be back to your books, your flasks, your crystal balls and abacuses in no time. If there’s nothing out of order, of course.”

His smile widened. Alex noticed no hint of friendliness entered his eyes. Alex began to wonder if this might have been one of his bad ideas.

‘It’s alright,’ he thought. ‘Better to get their questions over with.’

The group was taken through the front of the building and led in a line through a small waiting area furnished with a desk. Five officers had bound suspects using magical chains, and were booking them with the help of several humourless looking secretaries.

Three owl-men from the solicitors’ guild were in the room, regularly chastising and threatening the officers for overly-enthusiastic booking behaviours. Beyond that area was a room with a number of separate desks where investigators sat either doing paperwork or were with detainees, taking down information. Every wall was covered in glyphs that spoiled spellcraft—similar to those outside—though these were more powerful. Alex could feel the magic coming off them.

He assumed his group would be questioned in the room they were in, but instead, they were led downstairs to the building’s basement—a place with no windows and very little magical light—and brought to separate questioning rooms. Alex was taken along a long, dark corridor to a room with a heavy steel door inlaid with dozens of glyphs that countered just about every kind of spellcraft practically covering the entire door. One of his guards opened the door, revealing more glyphs etched throughout the walls.

“Go on in. Someone will be here to talk to you in a jiffy!” a friendly young investigator said—the same one who’d patted him down earlier—in the sort of voice that naturally put people at ease.

Alex looked around the room’s interior, beginning to feel disoriented. While the rest of the building was crafted from grey stone, this room was completely white. A table of white stone sat in the center, with three white chairs on either side. Every single surface was bare and perfectly smooth. His eyes couldn’t even find the corners of the room as they tried to adjust to the low light.

Until it hit him that there were no corners.

Even though everything in the room was the same colour, it felt off. Unbalanced.

The room was circular, a perfect half-sphere above the floor, giving the eye no unbroken surfaces to focus or rest on.

“Why don’t you have a seat right there,” the investigator pointed to one of the chairs.

“Gotchya,” Alex said, stepping into the room.

Thoom.

The steel door shut behind him in a clamour of finality, though he didn’t hear a bolt, latch, or lock fasten.

‘It’s okay, Alex. You’re not under arrest. You’re here to find out if they’re suspicious of you and try to calm their suspicions, if they have any.’

Still, that fact was hard to remember in the unbroken silence of the room. As soon as the door shut, all the sounds from outside abruptly stopped. It was as if the outside had disappeared altogether. Inside contained only the sound of his own breathing, the rustle of his clothes, and his heart beating in his ears. He turned to check the door.

…There was no door.

“What?” he whispered. Alex startled. In the unnatural silence of the room, his voice sounded too loud.

He walked over to the wall where the door was supposed to be and ran his hand along where it had been.

There. Right there had definitely been a door. The seam between it and the wall was so magically perfect, it vanished to the naked eye.

He wrapped his arms around himself.

The room was cold.

Not icy, but cold enough that it was noticeably uncomfortable. Enough to sap his concentration and make him want to get out of there.

He went to the table and reached for a chair, sliding one out—noticing the unnatural silence when he dragged it along the floor—he sat down.

And waited.

And waited.

And he waited.

He got up and paced.

Then sat again, glancing around.

And waited some more.

He couldn’t tell how long he was left there waiting, since there was no timekeeper. It felt like he’d been sitting there for hours, growing more uncomfortable as the sound of his own heart and breath filled the silence. His eyes had nothing to focus on but his own clothes and hands. There were no odours either, unpleasant or otherwise. He could only imagine how awful it would be to have to stay here, unable to leave. What if someone was left here all alone for days with just the sound of their own heart for company.

And what was that rushing sound in his ears?

Was that his blood?

He shook himself. If he didn’t want to look and sound like a nervous wreck when the investigators finally came, he’d need to occupy himself.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the meditation techniques Theresa had taught him to steady himself.

Then he had a thought.

Activating the Mark, he began to focus on his language skills, and skills in pronouncing names. It responded with a series of successes during his language practices—which gave his mind something pleasant to focus on—while he also passed the time and increased his skills.

He practiced saying words and phrases out loud, switching from Common, to Rhinean, to Tarimite, Tekish, Selachar, to a number of languages spoken by spirits throughout the planes, and some he’d heard around campus. There were also the beginning syllables of Irtyshenan, which he’d started to learn recently.

He focused hard on that last one. If he went to that empire one day, it would be good to—

“Are we interrupting?” a voice asked.

Alex startled.

He hadn’t even heard anyone enter the room.

There were now two men in there with him. One was taller than he was and powerfully built, while the other was older with balding, greying hair, and a pencil moustache. That one had a friendly face.

“Hello there, Mr. Roth,” the friendly-faced man said. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for too long. I’m Officer Ferrero.”

“Officer Gustavo,” the larger one said in a deep, gravelly voice.

“Oh, you can call me Al—” Alex started to stand.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Officer Ferrero held up a hand. “You can stay seated. Stay comfortable.”

‘Hard to do with how cold the bloody room is,’ Alex thought, looking down at a sheaf of papers the officer was holding.

“We just need to ask you a few questions, and then you’ll be on your way,” the older man said as he and his partner slid silently into chairs across from Alex.

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Alex smiled, calling on the Mark to help keep his features friendly, sincere, and comfortable. He’d never been in trouble with the guards of Alric, but he knew—when teachers were looking to find troublemakers—they’d focus on anyone who looked shifty.

The officers were expressionless.

“Alright, then,” Officer Ferrero said. “I suppose the first question we have for you is, have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately. Anyone on your research team acting suspicious?”

Alex put his hands on the table and clasped them to ground himself. He briefly considered making a joke to break some of his own tension, and immediately decided that would be a bad idea.

“I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary,” he said, trying to keep as calm as possible. He focused on maintaining steady, comfortable breaths.

“Mmm.” Ferrero nodded. “No one nervous, no one keeping strange hours or anything like that?”

“No more than usual,” Alex said.

“Right, right,” the officer said. “No one talking bad or seeming resentful against the deities or any of the temples? Anything like that?”

“No, not that I know of. Chancellor Baelin doesn’t want priests and stuff on campus, but no one else has really said anything, at least not to me.”

“Mmmm, and what about you?” Ferrero asked. “Do you have any gods that you worship?”

“Uh, just Uldar,” Alex said, though he knew he didn’t really pray much to Uldar anymore. For various reasons.

“Right, Uldar. Not a temple with a lot of power in the city,” the officer said. “And you don’t have a problem with Uldar or any of the other religions in Generasi? No problems in the past?”

Alex kept his face straight, thinking about how he’d avoided having anything to do with Carey London’s more devout activities. They likely wouldn’t know about that, and if they did, he’d never been hostile toward her.

“No problems,” he said, focusing on keeping his face straight.

“Mmmm, alright.”

“Is that all?” Alex asked hopefully.

“No, I think there’s another question we need you to answer for us, Mr. Roth.”

Alex tried to predict what that question would be.

Would it be about him being at the first attack? About Minervus?

“How in the world did you get to Generasi so fast?” the officer asked, leaning in to peer at Alex.

Alex’s mind sluggishly came to a halt. “Pardon?”

“You’re Thameish, right?” the investigator said, looking down at what seemed to be notes. “Left your homeland to attend school here and avoid this, Ravener upheaval, that plagues your countrymen, right? But according to the record of when the mana vampire was killed aboard the ship you arrived in Generasi on, it would have been impossible for you to get to the city so fast after you left Thameland, all things considered. Not unless you, say, teleported. Or were teleported.”

Alex called on every resource and bit of guidance from the Mark to keep himself looking calm, even though he was a bundle of panicking nerves on the inside.

“So, the question is, I repeat,” Officer Ferrero said. “How did you get here so quickly, Mr. Roth?”

Chapter 44

Alex Roth Goes to Jail (Maybe)

Alex took a deep breath. “What does how fast I got here have to do with you investigating a demon summoner?” he asked the officer. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Oh, no, no, of course we’re not making accusations, it just seems curious that you got here so quickly, and according to the landing records at the port, well before you were to start school.”

“Oh, there’s nothing curious about it. I uh, I just left right away,” Alex said, looking calm even though he’d been caught off guard by the question. He kept his mind focused, trying to respond quickly and easily.

“It was a damned lucky thing,” he said. “As soon as I got my notice of acceptance, I left as fast as I could since there was so much going on at home.”

There was probably a record of when acceptances were sent out, but no record—at least here, in Generasi—of when he’d received his letter. He could have left Thameland any time. To Alex, it seemed like Ferrero was making assumptions about when he’d left. Assumptions weren’t facts.

“Mmm, luck,” Officer Ferrero said.

Scrrrtch. Scrrrtch.

Alex startled.

In the room’s unnatural silence, Ferrero’s pen—recording his answer or maybe something else—was unnervingly loud.

He tried to stay calm, hoping they hadn’t been in contact with Thameland. They couldn’t know about the list of people leaving Alric that the guards, Peter and Paul, had made. Besides, they wouldn’t have had enough time to send for information and get it back from Thameland since he’d been in here. If they had, he’d probably be arrested and in a cell by now.

“You do have some luck, Mr. Roth. I’m not sure whether you’d call it good or bad. But you got some luck.”

“Two mana vampires hunting you in under a year.” Officer Gustavo leaned forward. “The monster attack on Patrizia DePaolo’s manor. That’s a lot of action for a first-year student, even at Generasi.”

“But hey, maybe it’s good luck.” Officer Ferrero shrugged. “After all, you’re still alive. Alive and now on a major research team funded by the city and the university.”

“A research team with access to knowledge of the chancellor’s movements,” Gustavo supplied.

“Did you have any contacts in Generasi before you arrived here, Mr. Roth, one who might have teleported you and… your family, to the Rhinean empire to board The Red Siren?”

Alex’s eyes darted back and forth.

The Mark was flooding him with images of himself when he’d been surprised… and a little scared. But not too scared. It showed him images of himself talking to other people: looking them in the eye, not turning away, not going silent to look like he was gathering his thoughts for a lie.

He used all of it.

For once, he thanked Uldar that the Mark seemed immune to magical detection by anyone except Uldar’s priests. It had even escaped Professor Jules’ and Baelin’s notice, and thankfully, now Gustavo’s and Ferrero’s.

“Why are you bringing my family into this? Are you accusing us of something?” Alex asked, trying to not sound like a naive, nervous near-nineteen-year-old as much as he could.

“Not yet,” Gustavo said, his voice like iron. “But the day is still young, Mr. Roth.”

“Gustavo!” Ferrero glanced at his partner as though reprimanding him. He looked back at Alex, smiling warmly. “Look, sorry about that, Mr. Roth. No one’s accusing you of anything. We’re just trying to get all the facts straight here. If we’re going to find whoever’s doing this, we need to eliminate everyone as a suspect. Make sense?”

Something about the way he said it, in this strangely silent, featureless white room, with the nasty Gustavo as the only other person to talk to, made it easy to feel gratitude toward Officer Ferrero.

Which might have been the point, Alex thought.

“I will say,” Ferrero said. “Your luck must be good. According to information received from Shale’s Workshop, Minervus Spurius—your late coworker—once accused you of incompetence at your job. A few days later, the poor young man was killed by a mana vampire. And then you later avenged him—maybe by accident, maybe not. Coincidences? Luck?”

“Taking care of loose ends?” Gustavo muttered.

These two were getting on his nerves. Especially with that comment about his family, but he had to remain calm.

Ferrero tapped his pen on his sheet of parchment. “Tell me, do you think you have a Guardian Engeli, Alex?”

“Do you mean do I think that some generous spirit from one of the heavens is looking after me and guiding me into profitable and virtuous ventures?” Alex asked, sounding slow-witted on purpose.

‘In case you don’t know, which you probably do, my parents died in a fire, right? So, no. No, I don’t think I have a Guardian Engeli,’ Alex wanted to say.

“I don’t think so,” was what he actually said. “Unless you mean do I think someone’s helping me out? Well, I am pretty close with Professor Jules and Chancellor Baelin.”

That’s right.

Name drop someone important.

Scrrrtch. Scrrtch.

More pen scratching.

“No one would ever, say, protect you, or try to make sure that problems went away for you?” Gustavo said.

“And hey, if they did it wouldn’t be your fault.” Ferrero shrugged. “If they engaged in other, say, less legal activities.”

“Unless you knew about them,” Gustavo grunted. “And didn’t say you did.”

Alex took a breath, making sure to keep it as natural as possible using guidance from the Mark.

“Not been meeting anyone secretly?” Gustavo suggested.

Alex thought about Kybas, but kept his face neutral. “Well, I’ve met my girlfriend a couple of times.”

Gustavo didn’t smile.

Ferrero laughed, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand you have an interest in summoning? Do you have a tutor, perhaps someone who you’ve been working with?”

Alex couldn’t help but wince. “You… you know what spells I’m learning?”

“We’ve had some conversations,” Ferrero said casually. “Heard things here and there. But, of course lots of people learn summoning. I did a bit of dabbling in it myself, in my youth. Heh, tried to summon up a lust demon, if you know what I mean. Haha, I spent too much time reading those books they keep in the back of the bookshops, in the rooms curtained with those beads!”

Again, the room filled with Ferrero’s laughter.

Again, his cheer didn’t reach his eyes.

Alex was starting to get the feeling that Ferrero was the one he needed to be way more cautious of. Gustavo was trying to scare him, keep him unbalanced. It was a common tactic in combat, according to Chancellor Baelin.

But Ferrero was acting like he was his friend.

And what did someone do with friends?

They talked.

They let their guard down.

They got careless.

Ferrero was definitely the more dangerous one. In some ways, he reminded Alex of Derek. Very adept at feigning friendliness to get what he wanted. He’d need to be very careful about what he did and didn’t say to this one.

How did he know about the spells he was learning, though? Had they been following him after the first attack? Talking to his teachers or—

No.

Amir.

Amir had seen him just after he’d summoned the elemental beetles. That’s when he’d told Alex that what he’d summoned was probably a sea devil. If the investigators had already talked to him—and they could have—then Amir could have easily told them everything he knew about Alex.

Would he be trying to throw suspicion on him?

Was he simply answering questions about members of the expedition team that he’d been asked questions about? One way to tell is if Ferrero asked him any questions about the others. If he didn’t… Either Alex was being given different questions or Amir had talked about him.

…Though maybe it wasn’t Amir.

Isolde knew he was practicing summoning too, but she said she didn’t even want to talk to the investigators. Would she have mentioned something?

He shook his head.

Suspicion.

That could make any team fall apart.

Lagor—his supervisor at Shale’s—had brought Minervus up short for making accusations against a team member with nothing but assumptions and no proof. Without teamwork, trust, and camaraderie, a team would fall apart.

‘I trust Isolde,’ he thought.

“I uh… a room with beads?” Alex asked. “I don’t get the reference.”

“Really, a young man like you?” Ferrero’s eyebrows rose. “Kids, these days… Speaking of kids these days. Do you know anyone else on your team who’s involved in the summoning arts?”

There, a question about others on the team, but not anyone specific. “Well, no more than normal for students at a wizard school,” Alex said. The question had been a general one.

“Where were you on the following dates?” Gustavo asked, naming the dates of the attacks. Alex was able to give his whereabouts on all three days. The Watcher had taken a statement from him at the first attack—so there’d be a record—and with the last two, a nice thing about Claygon was that he stood out. Witnesses in the stadium and docks might not have noticed Alex, but they definitely would’ve noticed a huge, four-armed clay golem.

Scrrrtch. Scrrrrtch.

Ferrero nodded. “And you wouldn’t mind if we confirmed that, would you?”

“Go ahead,” Alex said.

There. Hopefully, that’d decrease any notion that he could be the demon summoner.

The questions continued, seemingly at random. There wasn’t any specific pattern, but they did seem designed to throw him off. They’d ask about certain events, then leave those only to return to them later, except the questions would be rephrased.

They’d ask him what happened before certain events, then make him retell the events backward. Alex wasn’t quite sure what the point was. Though maybe he understood.

If he were making things up, it’d be harder to keep his story straight, especially if they asked him about details in different ways. Luckily, his answers were mostly true.

The only thing he needed to lie about was when, and how, he got to Generasi from Thameland, and he used the Mark to keep those details straight, focusing on the skill of ‘deception.’

Eventually, Ferrero and Gustavo looked at each other.

“Well, I’m out of questions, what about you?” Ferrero said to his partner.

“Unless he wants to tell us who his accomplice is, then I am too.” The bigger man laughed, rising from his chair. “Stay in touch, Mr. Roth.”

Alex eyed Officer Gustavo for a bit to see if the man was being serious.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, not meaning a word of it.

When Ferrero opened the door, an assault of sound—after the unnatural silence of the interrogation room—hit him.

As Alex stood, he dearly hoped he’d have no reason to ever come back here again.

“Alex!” a familiar voice called to him.

“What? What are you all doing here?”

On a bench just outside the investigation office and wizard jail’s outer walls, Alex saw his whole family: Selina, Theresa, Brutus, and Mr. and Mrs. Lu, getting up and hurrying toward him.

He blinked in the evening light. He’d been down in the basement of the building for most of the day.

“Are you alright?” Mrs. Lu asked, grabbing Alex’s face to turn his head this way and that. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? They didn’t use magic to go into your mind or anything like that?”

“Mrs. Lu, that’s illegal here,” Alex grunted as she squeezed his cheeks. “They didn’t go into my mind or try to steal my soul or whatever else.”

She gasped. “So that’s true? Magic can steal your soul?”

“No, I mean yes—I mean… probably?” he muttered before his better sense told him to stop talking about soul-stealing. “Anyway, they didn’t do anything bad to me. They just asked me a bunch of questions.”

“Hmph, and why would they do that?” she snorted. “You’re a good boy, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Are you in trouble?” Selina asked Alex.

“No, no, I’m fine—”

He felt a hand on his back and startled, then turned to see Theresa. There was an unfamiliar expression on her face. Discomfort?

“Alright, alright, why don’t we get away from here before Sir Claygon does something,” Mr. Lu said.

“Wait, does something?” Alex turned toward his golem.

Claygon was staring at the walls of the complex. He hadn’t moved from where Alex had left him—he hadn’t moved at all—he just kept staring. He wasn’t even looking at Alex now that he was out.

Why was he focused on the building like that? Alex swallowed.

He really did not need his golem acting suspiciously in front of the authorities. “Yeah, let’s go,” Alex said, reaching out to Claygon.

They headed into the city, planning to take a sky-gondola. The mood was low. It was clear Theresa was upset. Mr. Lu was looking down at his feet in thought.

Selina and Brutus were…

Well, they were fine.

And that was kind of strange too.

His sister was pointing out all kinds of neat buildings to Mrs. Lu. Selina didn’t even seem remotely concerned about the authorities, the demon summoner, or anything. Alex frowned.

She’d always been a brave girl, but this was something else.

And Mrs. Lu. She kept looking at Theresa and Alex.

Finally, she sighed and stopped walking.

The group paused on a bridge that arched over one of the canals that eventually met the sea. Fresh water rushed below, reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. A barge passed below the bridge, pulled by a large, equine creature with finned forelegs and hind quarters that ended in a massive fish tail: a hippocampus.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Lu asked.

His wife hesitated.

“Alright…” she said. “I’m going to tell you both something, and I’m sure neither of you want to hear this, but I think we should leave this place. All of us. As soon as we can book passage on a ship, we should go to the Rhinean Empire.”

Chapter 45

Resolution

Mr. Lu winced.

Theresa looked at her mother as though she’d just slapped her.

Alex grimaced. He’d kind of expected this might be coming, with how worried she’d been.

“I don’t want to go!” Selina cried. “I don’t want to run away again because of some dumb monsters and demons. I like it here—My friends are here!”

That shook Alex a bit. She’d been pretty ready to leave Alric with him and Theresa, and hadn’t said a word about leaving her friends from back home.

“I’m not running away, Mother,” Theresa said. “You saw what I can do now. I’m not afraid.”

“Mrs. Lu,” he said. “No disrespect, but I gotta agree with my sister and Theresa here. I can’t just throw everything away until—”

“I don’t mean for you all to leave forever.” Mrs. Lu shook her head. “You can come away with us until this criminal is caught, then you can come back and finish your studies, and if Selina and Theresa want to come back, they can come too.”

“Mother!” Theresa said. “We’re all okay. The demon summoner hasn’t hurt any of us!”

“But you don’t know how long that’s going to last,” Mrs. Lu said. “You don’t know how many times you’re going to get lucky. What if we had been in the centre of the city when the attack happened? And now Alex is being treated like a criminal.”

“They were just asking me some questions, Mrs. Lu,” he insisted, trying not to worry her. Although those questions had been some pretty pointed ones.

And, if he was honest…

Having to deal with those questions in that cold, anxiety-inducing room when he hadn’t done anything wrong—hell, he’d been one of the people that helped stop the demons during the summoner’s first attack—bothered him a little.

Actually, more than a little.

He began to grind his teeth, but used the Mark to bring his expression back to calm.

For the first time in a while, he found himself wishing he didn’t have this Mark on his shoulder, so that if he ever got his hands on the demon summoner, he could punch them in their stupid, demon summoning face.

What they were doing was evil. They were forcing innocent people to have to defend themselves, and now they were directly affecting the expedition. This expedition was important for a lot of reasons. It was an opportunity for him, for all of wizardry, and for Thameland. With Baelin and his team of researchers going to his homeland, maybe they might uncover something that could lead to ending the Ravener forever. Not to mention all the advances that could come from dungeon cores.

But now…

The integrity of everyone on the research team was being questioned.

“I’m surprised you’re so calm about this, Alex,” Mrs. Lu said.

“I’m just glad I’m not in wizard jail,” he said, hiding how he really felt.

“It’s only a matter of time with the way they’re treating you.” Mrs. Lu gestured in the direction of the jail.

Again, anger surged in him and he took a deep breath, calming himself.

Silence followed.

“Yutong, I think… if the kids want to stay, they should stay,” Mr. Lu said quietly.

Alex looked upon Mr. Lu as though he were Uldar himself, descending from on high to save the day. Both Theresa and Mrs. Lu shared matching disbelief, like they’d misheard what he’d said.

“Zimo, really?” his wife practically breathed out. “Look at all that’s happened here.”

“I have,” Mr. Lu said gently. “And we both saw something remarkable yesterday. We saw our daughter fight a ten-foot monster to a standstill like she was Twinblade Lu himself. Selina is also learning so much, you heard the things she talks about. I saw Alex do things that I’ve only heard about in fairy stories.”

A rush of heat went straight to Alex’s cheeks—a mix of embarrassment and pride. He’d shown Theresa’s parents some of the magic he’d learned, but hadn’t realised how much of an impression it left on Mr. Lu.

“That won’t matter if they’re caught up in some kind of criminal scandal,” Mrs. Lu protested.

“But it would look even worse if they ran away now,” Mr. Lu countered. “If we all just up and left right after Alex was questioned, don’t you think that’d really make him look guilty to the authorities?”

“And he, Theresa, and Selina would be safe.” Mrs. Lu crossed her arms on her chest. “And then when they caught the real culprit, they could come back.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He crossed his arms too.

The air became tense. Theresa took a step back and Selina moved, putting Alex between herself and Theresa’s parents.

“They might just put all their focus on him since he ran away,” Mr. Lu pushed. “And then he’d be seen as someone suspicious, someone not to be trusted. And you, me, Selina, and our daughter, would be known as people who helped a suspect flee.”

“They’ll think badly about him anyway if he’s arrested. We need to get away from here, just until they catch this summoner thing.”

“Mother—”

“Not a word, Theresa.”

Theresa’s mouth quickly closed.

Alex winced, glancing back at the river. The barge and hippocampus were gone, but other boats were passing by now. He gripped the stone railing on the bridge, his knuckles tightening.

He took a deep breath to calm himself.

Anger was useful. It could be very useful. But overwhelming anger only caused harm. Still, in that moment of anger, he sort of got why the demon summoner would want to target temples.

He was getting awfully sick of Uldar and every problem that had fallen on him because he’d gotten the Mark. Standing there, he let himself examine his life.

If it weren’t for the Mark, his journey to Generasi would have been normal, since he would’ve simply made the entire trip by boat like most other people. There would have been no Cave of the Traveller, no dungeon core, no mana vampire aboard ship since he would have been on a later ship, no expedition, and he’d be living a life where he wasn’t… what?

A suspect?

A person of interest?

A potential scapegoat for demon summoning scum?

He wouldn’t have fought a bunch of monsters, which meant Theresa and Selina would have been in less danger. Theresa wouldn’t have had to hide stuff from her parents.

He acknowledged that his life would have been a lot easier without all of those things.

Then he let his mind shift to the benefits.

Without the Mark, Selina wouldn’t have gotten her birthday present. Without it, there would be no Claygon. He probably wouldn’t know Professor Jules, Val’Rok, or Chancellor Baelin so well. He wouldn’t have taken the Art of the Wizard in Combat, so he never would have met Isolde, Thundar, Grimloch, Malcolm, or any of his other friends from Baelin’s class. He probably wouldn’t have gotten to be such good friends with Khalik either.

As he felt his anger decrease, it came with the understanding that he wasn’t so much angry at the Mark.

He was angry at the barriers and constraints it brought.

The Fool didn’t let him freely practice wizardry or even freely defend himself from threats. He was discovering that he actually liked combat—the challenges and spoils—but he couldn’t be as aggressive with his spells and other abilities because of the Mark’s constraints. More and more, he was getting tired of having to hide it, and he was tired of worrying about being found out. Whether it was by priests, other students, professors, investigators or whomever.

From the very beginning, he’d had to make his choices based on having to hide the Mark. Not drawing suspicion or the wrong kind of attention to himself. Just because he was innocent of being the demon summoner, he still had his own secrets that needed to be kept hidden.

Twice now he’d been questioned by the authorities and been scared shitless each time, worried that his secret would come out—and he was getting reeeeal tired of it.

“—just want to see her pick up your childhood dreams,” Mrs. Lu said to her husband. “You saw her fight and you think she can become what you decided not to be.”

Alex had really tuned out of the conversation.

Mr. Lu winced as though he’d been struck. “That’s… unkind. Our daughter is an adult, and so is Alex. I can see maybe asking for Selina to come with us—”

“No!” Selina said.

“—But we want them to make their own choices. We can’t hold their hands forever. Especially when they’re getting closer to their dreams, Yutong.”

“Mother, Father,” Theresa said, stepping forward.

“I said not now, Theresa.” Her mother glanced at her.

“Yes, now. Like Father said, I’m an adult and I’m not going to stand here while you two debate my life like I’m a little girl. I want to stay here.”

“And so do I,” Alex said, standing beside her. “Mrs. Lu, thank you. Seriously, thank you. I dunno what I was thinking earlier, but yeah, you’re right. I didn’t do anything wrong. And the way I see it, I shouldn’t have to run away because I did nothing wrong. I get it, you just want all of us to be safe and this stuff is scary. We all left Thameland with the goal of eventually going back when the Heroes defeat the Ravener.”

“And I’m saying we should leave here with the goal of you eventually coming back when this person is caught, Alex,” Mrs. Lu pushed.

“Right, and it worked for Thameland’s situation. But when we all leave there because of the Ravener, we all leave together. But if you, Theresa, Selina, Mr. Lu, and I left now, we’d be some of the few to leave. Classes are still being held. The games are still going to happen. Mrs. Lu, you should see how these people deal with stuff like this. Monsters and demon summoners, and all kinds of bad, bad stuff comes along, and they just deal with it, and then get on with their lives. It’s admirable. That’s the way I want to be. I’m not going to force that on Selina—”

“I want to stay too. How many times do I have to say that?” she growled.

“Thanks, Selina,” he said. “But yeah. When we run away from Thameland, it’s for a purpose, to come back when our Heroes win. But, the army and knights stay and fight.”

Mrs. Lu raised an eyebrow. “You’re not saying you’re going to try and track down this criminal, are you?”

“By the Traveller, no.” He shook his head. “I mean, if they were right in front of me and I got the opportunity to stop them, then yeah, I’d do it if I could. Especially with Claygon around. I’m not just going to go sticking my nose into something that’s about as explosive as dragon breath. I dunno… There’s times when you have to be clever and take a role, and times when you just have to dig your heels in. So that’s me.”

Mrs. Lu looked at him for a long time, then glanced at her daughter, Selina, and her husband. She sighed. “I guess I’m outnumbered here. Will you at least withdraw from these silly games?”

“No way,” Alex said firmly. “If anything, I think I’m going to work harder to place as high as I can. If people want to be suspicious of me, then they can be suspicious of someone that excelled at the Games of Roal.”

He stepped toward her. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Lu—Or, I guess I can’t tell you to not worry, but trust Theresa and me. We know how to handle ourselves, and we won’t let ourselves get swept up in some crap that the demon summoner’s doing. Okay?”

Mrs. Lu gave him thoughtful stare, then Theresa. “I take it you think the same way?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “We’ll show them what we can do, and that we’re not guilty of anything.”

Alex nodded. “We’re not.”

“I see I can’t change your minds or force you to leave… Because it’s true,” Mrs. Lu said, looking between them. “You are adults. I’ll always worry about you and want the best for you, no matter how old you are.” She looked at Selina. “Remember, you’re responsible for Selina. Just…”

She wrapped them both in a hug. “Please promise you will keep yourselves safe.”

As Alex and Theresa made their promises, he thought about the investigation.

At no time did any of the investigators talk to Baelin or ask him any questions that Alex saw. The ancient wizard had both the power and motivation to summon demons against priests or anyone else. It would be a way to drive all of them out of Generasi. Except that idea was ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as putting it on him.

Of course, who would accuse Baelin?

He certainly wouldn’t. Even if for some insane reason he believed the chancellor was behind the whole affair. After all, Baelin had a lot of power and influence in the city. One look at his lab told anyone he had a lot of coin. Then there was his personal power.

He remembered the time when Baelin had wondered out loud what it would take to stop him if he were to rampage through the city. Even if the chancellor was a criminal, then how many people would die trying to bring him in?

It’d likely be a situation where the authorities would just turn a blind eye and hope his mood would improve, even if Baelin was doing some real dark shit.

Alex considered the idea of being in that kind of position of power… He kinda liked it.

Gaining enough power socially, magically, and maybe with enough wealth, that even if Thameland found out he was the Fool, or people tried to move against his cabal, he and his friends could be like little Baelins: too strong to move against.

And setting himself a goal of placing high in the Games of Roal, would be an excellent next step. And the time for that was running short. Let Baelin and the Watchers focus on the demon summoner. If they came his way, Claygon’s fist would be waiting for them.

“Cretins! Wretches!” Isolde growled as she paced back and forth on the balcony. She, Khalik, Alex, and Theresa had met up on a balcony of the main castle. “I had no hand in this, and yet they brought me to one of their icy rooms like a slab of beef to be preserved! Then they peppered me with questions like I was a common thief. Me, of the Von Anmut family!”

“I feel the same way,” Alex said. “Baelin’s the only one who looks like he’s immune to their shenanigans.”

“Actually, Professor Jules might just share that immunity. After a few strong words with their leader, they left her alone,” Isolde added.

“Yeah, I can’t see her calmly letting anyone accuse her of crap. And that’s sort of what I was about to say. This questioning made me realize that the more our reputation grows in the city, the less people are going to be quick to throw around accusations against us or try to take us down.”

“Predators do always go for the weakest members of a herd,” Theresa echoed.

“And rebels often kill their neighbours long before their kings.” Khalik leaned against the balustrade, his arms crossed.

Isolde sniffed. “At times, being more successful makes one the target of ill-intentions and jealousy. Take the Hydra Companions for example—and speaking of them, in all this disaster, I had nearly forgotten. We should talk to them soon.”

“Agreed,” Alex said. “I’m thinking no, we don’t join them, but maybe something like a nonaggression pact?”

Khalik thought about that. “Are you saying we agree to not attack each other?”

“Not until the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood’s taken down. If we beat them, that’ll look really good for us, plus we’ll get a little revenge. Especially Isolde. They’re a big team too, so eliminating them would be worth a lot of points, right?”

“True,” Khalik said. “We would definitely place higher, and it would look better if our team overcame our opponents on our own.”

“Right,” Isolde said, her fury giving way to a genuine smile. “I like this plan.”

Chapter 46

Nonaggression and Reading Lies

“Nonaggression?” Roderich cocked his head. “That goes a bit against the spirit of the tournament.”

“Is it against the rules?” Alex asked, glancing at Isolde who was sitting beside him.

They were meeting with certain members of the Hydra Companions in a remote gazebo on campus. The round table was attended by Alex’s entire team.

“It is not,” Isolde said. “Informal alliances between teams in order to face a larger threat are as much a tradition in the Grand Battle as the event itself.” She tapped on a history book in front of her. “It is not as though the alliance extends to individual events. As long as there is no point shaving, nor collaboration between teams to ‘fix’ games and create results that would provide higher earnings for those generally wagering on the Games, then it is allowed. In essence, no team can be involved with anyone engaged in speculating: whether legally or illegally.”

She flipped through the book. “There have even been a few cases where two teams—finding honour in each other’s efforts—have elected to share a victory. Sometimes such a show of sportsmanship has been popular with spectators, other times, such a thing has been met with outrage and seen as a cynical attempt of one team to curry favour with members of another they were likely to lose to. As a matter of fact, in one generation—”

“I hope that’s not what you’re looking for,” a crocodile man crossed his arms and bared his teeth.

Grimloch growled back, baring his teeth and standing.

For a breath, the crocodile man eyed Grimloch uncertainly, before abruptly ending his show of hostility.

“W-we’re not sharing victory, no matter where we place,” the crocodile man finished.

“How strange.” Khalik smiled viciously. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Several Hydra Companions stiffened. But one of them—clearly the highest ‘ranked’ member there—glared and crossed her arms.

“We’re not here to pick a fight, mind your manners.” She returned her attention to Alex’s group. “Our companion-hood isn’t interested in any victory sharing, if this is what the purpose of your pact is. Either you join our teams or we’re all out for ourselves.”

“Yeah, we don’t want the victory sharing thing either,” Alex said. “And we aren’t joining you, like we said. We also don’t want either of us to knock each other around before the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood gets taken down. The weaker we both are, the better chance they have of winning. We’re proposing we do it like this: if we come across each other before we hear their team is eliminated, we just… act like we’re aaaaaall nice and invisible. We walk past each other and go stomp some other competition. Isolde, they announce when teams get eliminated, yes?”

“They do,” she said a little huffily. Alex knew her well enough to know she was still offended by the crocodile man’s interruption. “And once their defeat is announced, then we shall engage in righteous combat.”

“I see, I see,” Roderich said. “And would we team up on the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood if we run into them together? That seems logical to me.”

“Logical, true,” Khalik said. “But not much thrill in that.”

“They are ours,” Isolde said with heat. “If by some devil’s wish they defeat us, then you may have our scraps.”

The leader of the Hydra Companions’ delegation sat back a little. “That’s some confidence.”

“We’ve got reason to be,” Thundar said.

For a few minutes, the Companions left the table to discuss the offer in private.

“Very well,” Roderich spoke for them. “Your terms are acceptable. We will not fight each other until the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood falls. You will have first crack at them. But, if we see them first, and if they attack us, we will have to engage and crush them.”

“Makes sense to me,” Alex said.

“And if they don’t engage us, and if we see you, then we’ll point your team to them. Deal?” Roderich extended his hand, as did the other members of the Hydra Companions.

“Agreed.” Khalik, Alex, and their other team members shook the offered hands.

Alex glanced around their surroundings, and noticed figures watching from a distance.

He decided he really didn’t like being followed and would try to do something about it.

Especially when it seemed to be a bunch of different people always doing the following.

As the Games got closer—only a few days away now—he’d been noticing a mix of people, some who looked like students and some who didn’t, following him at all hours of the day when he left his apartment.

The supposed students were likely just scoping out the competition’s movements and practice sessions for the Games. He even recognized a few as members of the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood. However, others were clearly not students.

Even though they looked young—close to his age group—they didn’t move like students. After his meeting with those investigators, he’d started a new project with the Mark. Learning how people moved and identifying certain facial expressions.

When he’d finally gotten into bed the night he’d been questioned, he’d laid awake for a while thinking about everything that happened, and had been bothered by a nagging feeling that the investigators weren’t done with him. They still suspected somebody on the expedition team, and hadn’t told him he was ruled out as a suspect.

What better way to gather more information than to watch and see who he associated with? Especially if they were looking for an accomplice. When he, Selina, and the Lus had spent the day at the rainbow tower, he remembered seeing people that were probably city guards dressed in plainclothes, mixing in among the crowds.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the investigators would probably use the same method to keep tabs on their suspects. Alex definitely wanted to know who was watching him, whether it was someone looking to find out what the competition for the Games were up to or if it was someone from the authorities.

So, he’d turned to the Mark to help do what it did best, help him learn a skill.

Since someone on the expedition team might be a potential criminal, he thought it would be useful if he could learn to tell if someone was lying to him. He also wanted to learn how to analyze body language, which he thought might be able to help him be better at figuring out who was following him: student or investigator.

The results of the Mark’s help had been rather mixed.

It turned out that the idea of being able to find out if someone was lying by body language alone wasn’t as easy as he thought it’d be.

The Mark had brought up different times that he’d been lied to, but only when he knew he was being lied to. It was a downside of the Mark only drawing from memories of successes. If he didn’t figure out a lie, then it wouldn’t count as a success, so the Mark had nothing to show him in that situation. It could only show him what it did have, which were memories of some of his classmates back in church school lying to him, or Derek lying to him, and Minervus lying about him being responsible for the golem’s rampage at work.

In those memories, it focused on pieces of the stories Alex knew weren’t true. Parts where the liar was vague, and parts of the stories that changed. All in all, it had showed him inconsistencies or perceived inconsistencies, which it put a focus on.

It also focused on physical tells, like very obvious facial tics. A prominent memory was when Selina had once eaten his share of buns and blamed Brutus. She’d kept her head down and hadn’t even looked at his face, but she’d kept chewing on her bottom lip.

The problem was—except for super obvious tells—the Mark didn’t focus much on body language as an indicator of lies, which confused him at first. After a while, he started to understand when he really thought about the Mark’s memories of analyzing body language.

And it became clear where the problem was.

People had different tics to their body language. Where they were originally from also heavily affected their general body language. One day, he’d seen Theresa and Shishi talking during one of their meditation sessions. His girlfriend had a habit of looking directly into peoples’ eyes, almost staring them down, while Shishi tended to mostly look away when she was in a conversation.

He came to slowly realize that eye contact varied between cultures. It also reminded him of an old adage from Thameland: ‘Never trust someone who negotiates on an empty belly.’ He’d said that to Khalik once, and the prince had looked at him in confusion.

Certain things just didn’t work across cultures.

Alex decided to try a different approach.

He thought about Minervus, and focused on the task of being able to tell when Minervus was lying. That situation yielded a lot more data.

The Mark had shown him all kinds of little body signals and twitches in speech that indicated when Minervus was making up stuff to get Alex in trouble, as opposed to when he was stating a known fact. This led Alex to a conclusion: it wasn’t only individual specific, but he had to have had contact with the individual before.

To be able to tell when someone was lying, he had to see through the lies of the individual first, and then he could use the Mark to learn their specific tells to be able to recognize a lie in the future.

That was a lot of work, and would take a lot of time, study, and interaction.

Still, it was useful information to have. What he could do for now though was focus on learning someone’s body language using the Mark, which would show him certain details. Now, this is where the Mark’s general analysis of body language proved to be quite useful.

Seeing through lies was difficult since it involved talking to someone, then using that interaction to generate useful data for the Mark so he could try and figure out if or when they were lying to him.

But identifying body language?

That was a lot more clear-cut. All he needed to do was sit back, watch people, pay attention, look for patterns, and come to recognize what their body language meant. It didn’t take him long to notice certain patterns in people’s body language. A few of those following him had similar, aggressive movements to Officer Gustavo or a Watcher of Roal. They hid them well enough, but the more Alex analyzed them using the Mark, the clearer it became that they were not students.

While students on campus were watchful—the demon summoner had everyone on edge—there were some on campus who watched their surroundings with the level of alertness of an experienced hunter, not an average, cautious student. Alex jotted down those observations into his notes.

By the time the eve of the Games of Roal arrived, he’d figured out that at least two, maybe three of those tailing him were most likely investigators.

After he was satisfied with his conclusions—and resisted the urge to tell them to stop following him because he knew what they were up to—he had a pre-games dinner for his friends at his apartment, which Kybas was invited to.

Partway through the evening, he pulled him aside to warn him.

“Listen,” he said to the goblin-wizard. “You might want to stay above ground for a bit. I dunno if you’ve noticed anyone strange hanging around near you, but me and some of my friends have been getting… unfriendly eyes.”

He didn’t mention who those eyes belonged to.

“Just a little suggestion, man, stay above ground for a bit. Maybe until things calm down. Maybe after the Games or this demon summoner’s caught.”

Kybas grunted, glancing out the window. “Ya, maybe… I might be able to make sure no one’s following me, and go do one big harvest to last Harmless for a while. And maybe I can set up something to automatically give the shrooms moisture, I suppose, if it’s only for a little while. Things seem to be a lot tenser around campus these days. Lots of strange people around, too. Lots of people watching.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. Keep yourself safe.”

And so, the last few grains of sand ticked through the hourglass leading up to the Games of Roal. The research team hadn’t met since Baelin’s announcement, and Alex hadn’t had any contact with the chancellor either.

In the end, he’d been left to practice and prepare for the Games.

Until at last, the first morning of the Games of Roal dawned.

Alex’s team members were up early, excited to see the grounds and the prizes that the Watchers had on display.

And also to see some of the competition in action in the earlier events.

Chapter 47

Scouting Out the Grounds

In spite of all the tension the demon summoner’s attacks had caused throughout Generasi, the venue for the Games of Roal was one of the cheeriest places Alex had seen in a long time. Well, maybe not as cheery as the Rainbow Tower with literal rainbows shimmering inside, but close enough.

The main tournament grounds were set up on campus to take advantage of the facilities that were already there, like the stadium and sky-track.

Seemingly overnight, an absolute sea of tents and deceptively permanent-looking buildings had been erected. Alex figured that by using magic, one could build all kinds of stuff pretty fast. In Alric, it took weeks to set up for festivals that were a fraction of the size of the Games.

Since it was still early morning, there weren’t too many people around yet, though there were a number of folks setting up, and competitors for the Games were walking around, doing the same thing Alex’s group was: scoping out the competition, prizes, and where they’d be competing.

In the early morning sunlight, a mix of peoples from Generasi and far beyond were organizing their carts, tents, and stalls throughout the venue, and completing the installation of magically erected buildings made of colourful woods in all shapes and heights. Dozens of languages rang through the air, twining with the aromas of a variety of foods. Some Alex recognized and some he didn’t. It was the same with the languages, and he kept listening closely, planning to take in as many as he could to go over later.

He also studied different folks, gathering valuable information about their body language from their movements.

Alex looked high up above them where a busy sky reminded him of the vespara’s swarm with how packed it was. Loads of sky-ships, flying beasts, and sky-gondolas soared, arriving with people from the city bright and early. Judging by how many were already coming by air, the area would soon be filled with people, and that wasn’t even taking into account the crowds that’d be making their way over from the city by foot or carriage.

His eyes returned to the people around him. There were plenty of Watchers of Roal and city guards patrolling the grounds as a presence to keep order and be on the lookout for the elusive summoner. According to Isolde, fights and even riots had broken out at previous Games. Not to mention all the illegal gambling, excessive drinking, and other hot-blooded activities that went hand in hand.

Among the crowd, he spotted folks he thought might be more than just the average spectator, vendor, or Games official. If he was reading their body language right, then he’d already picked out at least half a dozen plainclothesmen in less than half an hour.

He didn’t point them out to his friends, he just kept his eyes out for them. And, for the demon summoner.

There was no one who seemed overly suspicious. No one that screamed ‘hey, I summon demons!’ or anything like that. He didn’t even see any of the other expedition team mem—

He paused.

At one end of a long pathway, he spotted Amir—looking as tired and worn out as usual—walking with his own group. He recognized Sinbrock—the dwarven grad student who worked with Professor Val’Rok, and who’d been the invigilator for some of his exams—and some of Professor Jules’ grad students, a few of which whom were on the expedition team.

There were also three other people with Amir who Alex didn’t recognize: a laughing, heavyset fellow with dark hair, a thin, rangy young man with a pale complexion who was also laughing, and a tall, red haired young woman who looked just as tired as Amir.

‘Are any of them the summoner?’ Alex wondered.

From their body language, none acted in any way that stood out, but following closely behind, officers were blending in with the crowd. It looked like all of the expedition team was being followed.

Still…

He glanced at Isolde as the group made their way through the colourful tents and stalls.

“You ever… think about who the traitor might be?”

The tall young woman froze in the middle of examining armour on display outside an armourer’s stall.

“Well, that was a question right out of the blue,” she said.

Most of their group turned toward him. Thundar and Grimloch were more focused on food that was on display. A nearby vendor had an entire goat roasting on a spit, and the smell of garlic filled the air around them.

Alex idly wondered how Baelin would feel if he saw it. Then again, Thundar ate beef, so maybe he wouldn’t care.

“Yeah, it kinda is. But being here at the Games has me thinking about it.” He glanced meaningfully down the street, and Isolde followed his gaze until her blue eyes caught sight of Amir, Sinbrock, and their other companions as they rounded a corner.

“It just got me wondering. Lots of people here. I dunno, maybe I’m overthinking things. It’s just, every time I see one of the team now, I can’t help but think about it.”

Khalik sighed. “A sad state. Such distrust has ended empires.”

“And yet there is nothing we can do about it.” Isolde frowned. “I must admit that I have my suspicions about some of the members. If that was what you were asking. I cannot help but feel that sharing those suspicions would be as bad as idle gossip and do more harm than good.”

“Yeah…” Alex said. “Yeah, I get ya. Trust and all that.”

He looked up at the sky again. Morning was getting on. Selina and the Lus would be waking up soon.

“In any case, let’s go scout out what we’re fighting for. It’ll be a lot cheerier than thinking about traitors and demons.”

“Holy shit, I am so glad I entered these Games,” Alex said, barely resisting the urge to press himself against the glass.

“Hm,” Khalik said. “I thought there would be more. Some prize purses in the past have been much greater.”

“Truly,” Isolde sniffed. “Even last year the prizes were superior.”

Thundar and Alex looked at each other.

“You two really need a better idea of what average wealth is,” Thundar snorted. “This is a hell of a lot. Like, a hell of a lot.”

“Agreed,” Theresa gaped.

“Yeeeeah,” Alex muttered.

The prizes for the various events in the Games of Roal were on display in the central square of the event grounds. On a raised platform, behind magically reinforced glass and watched by several squads of Watchers, were wonders that glittered in the morning light.

There were multiple suits of full plate armour inlaid with gold and precious jewels displayed as prizes for combat-oriented events, such as the sky-joust and the grand melee. There were swords with jewelled hilts, and other weapons bearing glyphs with strong—and deadly—enchantments. For other events, magical items like cloaks that always kept one protected from the elements or boots infused with glyphs of running enhancement, would be presented to the winners.

Cornucopias spilled open with rare magical fruits or herbs, and minerals that were worth a small ransom to alchemists.

Then there was the gold.

There was a lot of gold.

Many of the events—instead of a fabulously crafted or even magical item—offered large purses filled with glittering gold coins.

Alex rushed over to the section that displayed prizes for the Proxy battles.

“See that, Claygon?” He pointed. “That’s what we’re going to be trying to win.”

To his disappointment—but only a little—there didn’t seem to be any special magical items or other interesting prizes displayed for the Proxy battles. He supposed that made sense. The prizes for other competitions were useful for that event. Bows could be won for the archery contest, for example.

However, the Proxy battle was a battle between summoned monsters, tamed creatures, constructs and other beasts or creations controlled by wizards. Wizards’ pets and companions were so varied in shape and kind, it would have been impossible to know what kind of physical prize would be useful to an as yet unknown winner.

A magical collar, for example, would be two collars too few for Brutus, and probably wouldn’t fit Claygon, nor be of any use to him. Armour would need to be fitted to a creature’s body, which wouldn’t be helpful to a summoner who didn’t consistently summon the same kind of monster.

The practical solution was gloriously on display: cold, hard coin.

And there was a lot of it.

His eyes skimmed over the grand prizes for the lighter divisions:

Three hundred and fifty gold pieces for the light-weight division.

Five hundred gold pieces for the medium-weight.

One thousand for the heavy-weight, and…

His eyes grew so wide they nearly rolled out of his head.

Fifteen hundred gold pieces for the super-heavy weight division.

“That’s a lot of bloody coin,” he murmured, checking out the prizes for second and third place, which were purses of seven hundred and fifty, and three hundred and seventy five gold pieces respectively. “How come it’s so much bloody money?”

“What do you mean?” Isolde asked as she was examining some of the other prizes.

“Yeah, what do you mea—By the Traveller!” Theresa cried, staring at the purses. “That’s more than my entire family makes in about ten years back in Alric!”

“And it’s a hell of a lot more than the standing bounty for the mana vampire, which you know… involves risking your life,” Thundar said.

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “That is also not a spectator sport that brings thousands of paying visitors from many of the realms north and south of the Prinean Sea just to see the spectacle. Coin begets coin: and many people pay to watch the sport, so those that win are handsomely rewarded.”

“Oh yeah, ’cause it has so much more value than actually destroying super dangerous mana vampires that would kill everyone.” Alex snorted.

Khalik shrugged. “It is the way of things. A soldier in an army risks their life for their lords and their kingdom. Meanwhile, a bard with a wealthy patron lives on the pay and luxury of their liege, and merely has to sing on command. Three guesses as to who has more coin poured into their coffers?”

“Ugh, ah well. And I guess that’s why super-heavy weight winners get the best prizes?”

“Now you are thinking,” Khalik said. “It is the most popular of the Proxy battles—watching big monsters defeat each other is more of a spectacle than watching small ones—and so that event has the most funds for its prizes.”

“Fair enough, better for me, I guess. Wait. The Grand Battle is super popular, right?” He walked along the glass as the crowd around the prizes grew. “What’s the prize for—Holy ever-loving shit!”

His eyes fell upon a massive chest filled with gold.

The sign below displayed how much coin filled the chest.

“Twenty-two thousand five hundred gold!” he gasped at the amount. “What in the ever-loving hells! That… that could buy a castle!”

He looked at Isolde and Khalik. “That could buy a castle, right?”

“Depending on where you build. Perhaps a small one,” Khalik nodded. “What do you think, Isolde?”

“Indeed, the land would be a major expense. Then there is the labour. Perhaps it could buy a flat-house or small townhouse in Generasi, depending on the district one looked in.”

Alex and Theresa stared at each other, shocked at the sheer amount of wealth being casually thrown around during the conversation. Alex told himself that in his future, earning that kind of coin was going to really have to be part of his plans.

He was sure Claygon was worth a lot more than that, but he’d rather lose an arm than lose his golem. Well, maybe not lose an arm but—

“Ah, but remember.” Isolde tapped the side of her nose, interrupting Alex’s thoughts. “That prize must be split with up to a maximum of fifteen people on a team. There is a reason the amount must be so bloated.”

“Then what the hell is the grand prize for the whole tournament?” Alex rushed over to the prize on the highest display.

Rising from the top bracket was another chest filled with ten thousand gold pieces. From that chest, standing straight like a young tree planted in the center, was a wizard’s staff.

The haft was pure platinum and covered with glyphs, and it had a massive ruby sitting on top. A ruby as big as one of Selina’s fists. Alex could see enchantments for spells of Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Flame Wall, and Flame Scythe built into the glyphs.

“By the Traveller, that’s nice,” Alex muttered. He couldn’t use the spells built into it because they were too advanced, and because of the Mark, but it looked really cool. His eyes went wide when he saw it too was worth ten thousand gold pieces. “The grand prize for all the Games is ten thousand gold, plus a battle staff worth another ten. And that goes to one person. No wonder people come from so far away to compete and watch.”

He noticed the sheer amount of points needed for the prize was… pretty much impossible for him to earn. Placing in different events gave you different levels of points that counted toward the whole tournament. The Grand Battle was worth a lot, but the Duel by Proxy was worth less compared to other events, like the Sky-Joust.

It seemed he’d have to compete in about five different events to have a shot at getting enough points to win one of the overall tournament prizes.

“There’s always next year,” he said. “Hey, Theresa, what’s the top prize for the Grand Land Hunt?”

She pointed up at it. “A magical quiver that never runs out of arrows, and some sort of hunter’s horn.” She squinted at the horn’s effects. “Says it can only be heard by people you want to hear it, to everyone else, it’s silent. And whoever hears it, sees a clear image of whatever the person blowing the horn sees. Hmm… That would be great for teams of hunters.”

“Alright, we’ll go for that then,” Alex said.

“Now that we’ve seen what’s on offer and what we can qualify for, why do we not split up here?” Khalik suggested. “We can scout out the locations of our individual events before the crowds become too thick.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Alex said, looking up at Claygon. “Come on, let’s see where we’ll be fighting, big guy.”

Chapter 48

Posturing

The arena for the Duel by Proxy was small and built of bright red wood. A marvel they erected in a single day. Painted across the outer walls were gigantic murals of realistic monsters fighting other monsters.

Dragons fought giant, white-furred wolves. A kraken grappled with a sea-serpent. A massive wyvern with gaping jaws was trying to bite through a xyrthak’s neck.

“It’s all the big monsters,” Alex said to Claygon as he scanned the paintings. “But no—Ah! There it is.”

What looked like an iron golem was fighting some sort of war-spirit, like the one Professor Mangal summoned in Alex’s first summoning class.

“Hah, there is some love here for golems after all,” Alex said, patting Claygon. “Let’s see how much love we can give back.”

The arena was open to the public, though the area designated for competitors to practice and warm-up in was still gated off. Just outside the arena, a few booths selling monster-themed food, potions that boosted physical abilities, and even—

“Bar-mammoth wrasslin’!” a towering, rough-looking, grey-bearded man called from beside a fenced-off area. “Mad Stan’s Bar-mammoth wrasslin’! Step right up, be you man, woman, or child! We got baby bar-mammoths for the kids, big bar-mammoths for you adults and they’ve all got gloves strapped on’ that’ll stop ’em from clawin’ ya to pieces! They’re wearin’ force spells on thar tusks that stops ’em from gorin’ ya. They’re all intelligent, so they wouldn’t try, but accidents have—I mean, could happen!”

Alex took a moment to realise, through the man’s accent, that ‘Bar’ meant ‘Bear.’ Also, was he asking children to wrestle bear-mammoths? Even baby ones?

‘Hmmm, the ‘Mad’ before Stan is making sense,’ he thought.

Unconsciously, Alex slowed his step and paid more attention.

In the fenced off area were four calm-looking bear-mammoths, with massive tusks shrouded by force spells. There was something odd about them. An intelligence, like he’d seen from Brutus or Najyah. Alex remembered seeing bears that had been hunted by some of the local woodsmen back in Alric. The biggest bear-mammoth in the enclosure here dwarfed any he’d ever seen back home.

There was a massive one with reddish-brown fur. Alex watched as it rose up on its hind-quarters. The beast must have been about fifteen feet tall standing on its back legs. A swipe from one of those gloved paws would probably send Brutus flying.

“Hey, young man!” the man—who Alex assumed was Mad Stan—called out to a passing student with a strange, tentacled beast following him. Maybe he was one of the competitors. “Why don’t you try your hand at a little wrasslin’ the bar? You control that beastie by you, surely you ain’t afeared of somethin’ as big an’ fuzzy as a bar-mammoth?”

“A what?” the young man asked.

“A bar, bar, my fine fellow!” Mad Stan pointed to the bear-mammoths in the enclosure.

“Ooooh, a bear-mammoth!” the young man said. “No, not interested.”

“Alright, then, and what about you! You with the broad shoulders!” Mad Stan flexed his own corded arms, looking right at Alex. “Surely you wouldn’t object ta tryin’ yer hand against one of me familiars, wouldja? You look strong!”

He pointed at a brown bear-mammoth that was one of the smaller ones in the enclosure. “Old Gilda thar’s about three hundred fifty pounds and gentle as a lamb. Well, not that gentle, but the perfect size for a big, strappin’ lad like yourself. Care t’ test your strength?”

Alex waved his hand as he and Claygon kept on moving. “No thanks, but maybe you should enter that big guy there in the super-heavy weight class of the Duels, though.”

“That’s why I’m here, laddie! Just makin’ a little side coin first, and speaking of that—Bar-mammoth wrasslin’! Impress your kids! Wrassle the bar-mammoth!” he called to passersby.

Alex shook his head as he entered the stadium.

The interior was set up in a similar way to the main stadium where he and his friends regularly trained. Stone floors with a column on the side that granted magic to monsters which stopped them from seriously hurting each other. It was like the magic they used to cover their weapons for training.

There was one key difference though.

A brass cage completely surrounded the central fighting pit, enclosing the top with a shining metal dome. Alex noticed that for safety, glyphs were etched onto the bars—wards that blocked most magic from leaving the fighting arena. It would take something really powerful to break through those enchantments.

Tradespeople walked around, finishing up last minute tasks. Alex could use them to gather data by estimating their heights, then applying some of the maths he’d learned in Ram’s force magic class and the church school to approximate distances.

“Let’s see, that guy looks a little shorter than me. Maybe two-and-a-half feet per pace,” he muttered. “Looks like it’d take him… thirtyish… paces, to get from one side of the arena to the other? Seventy or eighty feet across for the fighting space,” he noted. “No obstacles. Plenty of room for large monsters and constructs to manoeuvre. Cage overhead makes it like a cage match. Some creatures could use the bars to hold onto. Should find out how much weight it supports. Dome extends… about the same height as the width in the middle. Room for flying monsters, as long as they’re not too—”

That nervous feeling Alex got when someone’s eyes were lingering on him too long set off alarms in his mind. Alex whirled around.

There was a woman sitting higher back in the stands—maybe twenty feet away—with her legs up and her ankles crossed over the back of the seat in front of her. She looked only a little older than he was, and smoke puffed from a pipe clenched between her teeth.

She gave him a nod of recognition.

“Alex Roth,” she said in a neutral tone, like she was making a declaration. Her lips pulled on the pipe and she let a long puff of smoke out the side of her mouth.

He saw a flash of gold on one of her teeth.

“Tyris Goldtooth.” He nodded back to the woman. “I’ve heard of you.”

“And I, you,” she said.

Music started up somewhere outside the arena. Someone had begun plucking a lively rhythm on the strings of a sitar.

He looked at Tyris closely, just as she looked at him: with an appraising eye. Opponents, measuring each other.

“You here for the Duel by Proxy?” he asked. “I’m surprised you’d be going for the pet stuff. Your lava spells are famous all over campus, I woulda thought you’d be in the Spell-Joust or some of the direct wizard duels and, you know, the Grand Battle.”

She shrugged. “You need to place high in a lot of events to have a chance at the grand prize. I diversified.”

Everything about her body language spoke of confidence. In some ways, she moved similarly to Khalik: completely open, with set shoulders and smooth movements. The prince’s poise was a bit more refined, probably because he was a literal prince.

But the confidence. That was similar.

“Diversifying is smart. I take it you’re bringing a strong monster to the field?”

She nodded. “I need one if I’m going to take down that four-armed wonder of yours.”

There was a playful note to her voice. No malice.

“Oh, super heavy-weight too?” he asked.

“That’s the biggest prize. The most glory.”

“Cool. What monster are you bringing?”

She shook her head. “You can wait to find that out.”

“Awww, that’s no fun.” Alex smiled, patting Claygon on the side. “Well, whatever. Claygon could use the exercise.”

She snorted, puffing two lines of smoke from her nose. “A golem exercising. Funny. You’re a funny guy.”

“I try.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“That’s good.” Her green eyes twinkled. “Funny people are gracious losers, at least.”

His smile widened. This was what he needed. Competition. No threats to his life. No manipulation. She was obviously checking him out to judge his abilities, and he was doing the same to her.

He could have some fun with this.

“That’s funny.” He chuckled. “You’re funny. You a gracious loser too?”

Her smirk widened. “You won’t find out.”

“Ha! We’ll see, won’t we?”

The Games of Roal’s opening ceremony took place just before noon.

The weather was beautiful.

A massive crowd—more people than Alex had seen in his entire life—gathered in the school’s stadium with many more seated outside. Giant illusions hovered in the air—created by a team of wizards observing the events and projecting them in real time—displaying the opening ceremony to those outside. Patrols were thick in the air, filling sky-boats, watching the crowds like hawks.

Alex and his friends, since they’d arrived at the venue early, were able to secure seats inside the stadium. There was quite a big group of them, all things considered.

There was their Grand Battle team of course, and some of them had invited close friends. Alex sat beside Selina and Theresa, who was sitting beside her parents, Shishi, and some of her other friends from life enforcement. Khalik held hands with Sinope the dryad—Alex noticed the pair seemed very relaxed with each other now—and friends from Baelin’s class and his other classes, also sat with them. Even Kybas was sitting near Alex.

When Theresa had introduced Shishi to her parents, Shishi started speaking in rapid-fire Tarimite, which amusingly, took a bit for the Lus to reply to with rusty, stilted, awkward-sounding words in the language. They never spoke Tarimite back in Thameland.

For some reason, Theresa’s face suddenly broke into this sorta, satisfied looking grin like she’d been vindicated or something. Alex had no idea what that was all about.

The opening ceremony began with a line of Watchers carrying a longsword between them on a litter. Its blade shone in the sunlight, and the scabbard beside it looked like it was crafted of shining fish scales.

“Roal’s sword,” Theresa said in awe. “Maintained after all this time.”

“Wow,” Selina murmured.

The precious sword was carried to a central platform that had been erected in the middle of the arena, where a glass cauldron filled with seawater—according to the announcement describing the opening ritual—rose.

One of the Watchers drew the sword high above his head.

“And so, we open these Games of Roal, celebrating our founders’ life and her victory over the invading sea-demigod, Oreca!” the Watcher roared, his voice booming across the crowds.

A circle of Watchers surrounding the central stage drew their swords.

Thmp.

Then thumped their staves against the stones in a slow rhythm.

“In her name,” the Watcher holding Roal’s sword roared. “We celebrate the coming together of magic, might, and skill to battle the world’s dangers! The sword?”

“A weapon!” the Watchers roared in unison.

“The spell?”

“A weapon!” they roared again.

With that, the warrior on stage turned the sword and plunged the blade into the seawater. It slipped into the liquid without a splash, despite the force of the thrust. He released the hilt and—by magic—the water clung, holding it in place, hilt up.

“For the five days of these Games, the water will hold up Roal’s sword!” he declared. “Enjoyment to all spectators! And best fortune to all competitors!”

Loud cheers burst from the stadium.

The Games of Roal had begun.

Looking around, Alex saw Baelin, Hobb, and some of the other administration sitting in a VIP booth. The chancellor was focused on the crowd, not the ceremony.

“That was a lot to take in,” Mrs. Lu said as they left the stadium.

“It shall grow even more busy as the days pass,” Isolde offered. “The earlier days tend to have the less popular events.”

“Which means it will be time for me and Najyah to play,” Khalik said, giving Najyah a pat on the back. “The lightweight Duel by Proxy is coming soon.”

“Yes, and soon it will be Harmless winning the prize!” Kybas grinned. “And me too!”

The prince smiled at the goblin and the little-ish crocodile. “That sounds like a challenge, my confident friend.”

Alex could have sworn Harmless had grown even bigger in the last few weeks. Kybas must’ve been really loading him with mushrooms to get him ready.

“The archery contest is tomorrow, which is also an early event,” Theresa said. “Damn, I feel a little unwanted.”

“All of us early contestants can be unwanted together!” Alex said cheerily. “Like a bunch of lazy sons-in-law.”

Mr. Lu looked decidedly unimpressed.

“I suppose it’s time to get organised, then,” Isolde said. “I would like to view each other’s matches as much as we can.”

“I am hoping to see you all at mine, and I will be at as many of yours as I can,” Khalik said.

“Hell yeah. If I don’t see any of you at mine, I’m kicking all of you out of the cabal,” Thundar snorted.

Sinope frowned, her willow-leaf-like hair softly rustling in the warm wind. “Oh? I thought it was only Khalik, Isolde, Alex, and you that shared a cabal.”

“Well, yeah… but also, like… well it—If the others were in, I’d kick them out!”

Her gaze turned curious. “And you are the cabal’s leader?”

“He’s more of a mascot,” Isolde grunted.

“You’re a mascot!” Thundar snapped back.

Mrs. Lu looked down at Selina. “They’re certainly a lively bunch. Do you want to be like them when you grow up?”

Her eyes grew wide as if Mrs. Lu had threatened her. She rapidly shook her head from side to side.

“Hey!” Alex cried.

His sister grinned evilly.

‘Oh, was she joking? That little gobl—’ Alex’s thoughts halted and he quickly glanced at Kybas. ‘Uh, evil thing that is not in any way a goblin.’

Selina looked up at Khalik. “When does Najyah fight?” She smiled at the eagle while cradling her messenger construct in a bag.

Khalik checked the schedule in his hand. “In about three hours.”

“Oooh!” Alex had a thought. “I think I might have a couple of ideas. Grimloch, Thundar, you busy for the next little bit?”

“I was just gonna stuff my face with food that’s bad for me,” Thundar grunted.

“No such thing as bad food,” Grimloch countered.

“Try thinking that when you’re past forty…” Mr. Lu muttered in a melancholic voice, tapping his belly.

“Ohhh, it’s an idea that’ll get your appetite stoked,” Alex grinned, rubbing his hands together.

“Bar-mammoth wrasslin’!” Mad Stan called. “Step right up! Test yer might against the bar—” The man let out the tinniest of squeaks. “…Oh no.”

Alex led his group up to the bear-mammoth wrestling tent, flanked by a grinning Thundar and Grimloch.

Chapter 49

Lightweight

“No, no, Ozzie!” Mad Stan cried. “To the right! Throw him off-balance, girl!”

It was no use.

The gigantic bear-mammoth flailed as Grimloch casually lifted her off her feet and raised her up above his head.

The colour left Mad Stan’s face. “What in all the gods? She weighs… What in all hells do ya eat, man!”

“Everything.” Grimloch snarled victoriously as he shoulder-pressed the gigantic, struggling bear-mammoth’s mass above his head a couple of times, before putting the massive beast on the ground with all but no effort, and pinned her in place.

“Awww, come on, Ozzie!” Mad Stan cried mournfully. “It’s the first day, you can do it!”

After it was clear—from Ozzie’s futile grunts and the giant shark man not even moving an inch—that the battle was done, Mad Stan finally spit and tossed up his hands. The beast stopped fighting and met Stan’s eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine! You win! Juuust let her up. She’s sayin’ she just groomed her fur and yer gettin’ it all dirty again, so let her up easy!” He focused on Ozzie for a moment. “C’mon, girl, why you be callin’ him names like that? That ain’t real sportsmanlike!”

Ozzie the bear-mammoth glared at Grimloch and shook herself after the grinning shark man had let her up and dusted off his massive hands.

“Welp, ya wrassled ma bar-mammoth somethin’ good, I got to give it to ya…” Mad Stan sighed. “What was your name again, son?”

“Grimloch. And I’m not your son.”

“No, I meant—Nevermind.” Mad Stan sighed again. “You know, in all my twenty years of comin’ here, ol’ Ozzie been pinned all of twice. You’re the third, ya, great big beast. Here you go.”

He gave Grimloch a gold pin in the shape of a bear and a large stuffed bear-mammoth toy.

“I’d usually invite anyone that could pin Ozzie out for drinks, but ya’d probably bankrupt me, big guy.”

Grimloch simply looked down at him. “Yes.”

“Also, uh, you’re not in the Duel by Proxy, are ya?”

“No. I’m my own. Not a pet or anyone’s familiar.”

Mad Stan let out a sigh of relief. “Well thank all the gods for that.”

They shared an awkward stare for a few moments.

“Okay,” Grimloch said, walking away from Mad Stan.

His friends cheered and clapped him on the back when he got back to them. Brutus barked, but he’d been barking since they’d gotten close to Mad Stan’s pavilion. It looked like he wanted a crack at the bear-mammoths too. Though probably in a much more vicious fight than any of them wanted to see.

“Well done, little brother!” Nua-Oge shouted.

“Little brother!” Mad Stan, Mr. Lu, and Mrs. Lu all cried at the same time.

“Well, well, well, looks like you came out on top too, big guy,” Thundar said, patting the giant shark man on the shoulder. He too had pinned a bear-mammoth earlier, though a much smaller one.

“Mmmm.” Grimloch studied the stuffed bear-mammoth toy—almost half as tall as Alex, but in the shark man’s hand, it actually looked small—then glanced at his older sister. “You want this?”

“I haven’t played with dolls since you were a child, Grimloch,” Nua-Oge said.

“Mmm,” her brother grunted, then scanned the group surrounding him. “Here. You’re smallest.” He held it out to Kybas.

“I’m a grown adult,” the goblin said flatly.

“Mmm. Then here.” He shoved it toward Selina.

“…I’m too old for dolls,” she said.

Everyone looked at her sceptically as her green eyes stared at the giant, fluffy toy, clearly wanting to fluff its fuzz.

“No, you’re not.” Grimloch again pushed the doll toward her.

Selina sighed and took it, struggling to hold it and her messenger construct. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t try and pretend you don’t want it when you do,” Alex said.

“Hmph.” She pushed the fuzzy toy toward his hands. “Can you carry this?”

“No.”

“Aleeeex,” she whined.

“No.”

“Alex,” Mrs. Lu said sternly.

“…Yes.”

Alex took the big, fluffy bear-mammoth. He considered giving it to Claygon, but decided it was better if his golem’s hands were free in case the demon summoner pulled something.

Theresa nudged Alex. “Are you going to wrestle one of that guy’s familiars?”

“Are you?” Alex asked. “You are literally stronger than me, even though I’m—” he flexed “—more statuesque.”

“Oh, by Uldar.” She rolled her eyes.

“And what about you?” Sinope asked Khalik, touching his shoulder. “I would love to see you test your might against a beast of the woods.”

Khalik thumbed his beard. “Haha, leave such crude measures of strength to folk like Grimloch and Thundar.”

He gave a measured pause.

“Is what I would say, were I a coward.”

The prince took off his shirt, tossed it to Alex, and strode up to Mad Stan while most of his friends cheered.

Sinope let out a whoop, cheering him on.

“I am not a toy and coat rack!” Alex yelled after him.

After spending a good part of the afternoon taking turns at bear-mammoth wrestling, eating, and seeing some of the other sights—like a horse and camel show, a demonstration of synchronised hippocampus riding, and one of illusion and combat magic—the group split up.

Grimloch’s foot race was taking place at the same time as the lightweight Duel by Proxy match, though they might be able to catch the end of it depending how long the duels lasted.

Alex, Theresa, Selina, Mr. and Mrs. Lu, and the rest of the cabal made their way toward their seats in the small arena, with Brutus at Theresa’s side. There was an area reserved for golems and larger familiars by the entrance gate, and Alex left Claygon there, with four other good-sized golems.

On their way to their seats, several people—with larger beasts following close behind—stopped them to ask if they had plans to enter Brutus in the heavyweight Duel by Proxy competition. Those same people tried to hide their relief when Theresa’s answer was no.

“I’m surprised at how… relaxed everyone is,” Mrs. Lu said. “What with all the, you know what, going on.”

“My life enforcement professor says that if we let every event control our lives, then we’d be consumed by the suffering in the universe,” Theresa said.

“Sounds like a cheery man.”

“Woman.”

“Cheery woman.”

They finally got to their seats near the arena floor, and Alex took a look around. Surprisingly, there were a lot less spectators inside the stadium than he would have expected. Maybe only half of the seats were filled.

“Huh, you’d think this event’d be more popular,” Theresa said, looking around at the empty seats.

“The lightweight divisions are less spectacular than those of the heavyweight divisions. It’s akin to choosing to spectate two squirrels fighting as opposed to two dragons,” Isolde said. “I myself would likely not be in attendance were it not for the fact that Khalik is competing.”

“Speaking of that, how do you think he’s going to do?” Thundar asked. “Well, I guess I mean, how do you think Najyah’s going to do?”

“I am most curious too,” Sinope said; the beautiful dryad looked around the arena. “We do not have such competitions in the forest, nor do we tame animals. Nature works with us at most times, unless we are going on a hunt and our prey wants to protect itself. Then it fights for its life.”

“Interesting lifestyle.” Theresa nodded with approval.

“You would think so, Theresa,” her mother muttered.

“Anyway,” Isolde interrupted before Theresa could fire back a response. “Khalik will do quite well, I should think. He and Najyah have plenty of experience in combat and work well together.”

Alex frowned. “She can fly, and she’s big compared to other monsters in this weight class.”

He nodded toward some combatants waiting in a box just outside the main arena. There were foxes with fire spreading from multiple tails, dogs with mist rising from their fur, hawks with white feathers, small wolves with highly intelligent eyes, amphibians the size of cats, and others around that size.

One of them was a small, familiar bear-mammoth.

Alex saw Mad Stan standing beside the bear-mammoth among other contestants. Seemed he’d entered the smallest of his familiars into the challenge.

“She’s not the biggest, but she’s the biggest flyer there,” Alex said. “She also has that familiar connection with Khalik, so he can cast spells through her to help her.”

“Wait,” Thundar said. “You’re allowed to cast spells through your familiar during a match?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “You can’t cast spells into the cage or onto your creatures, but you can cast spells through them. That’s the strength of being a familiar. Denying that would be like telling Mad Stan his beasts couldn’t use their claws, or Kybas that Harmless couldn’t bite people.”

In a way, it reminded him of his conversation with Baelin when he told the chancellor about the Mark. The ancient wizard likened calling it ‘cheating’ to saying a student couldn’t use their natural talents in school.

“Well, I guess that gives familiars an advantage,” Thundar said. “Maybe. They aren’t all that powerful themselves. It takes more mana, time, and skill to make a more powerful creature into a familiar.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Alex agreed. “But Najyah’s pretty strong on her own so—Ah! Wait, she might be in trouble.”

“Oh? Why?”

Alex pointed at Kybas and Harmless. “Kybas made his connection with his familiar when he was really young. Now he’s one of the biggest in that division and Kybas can still cast spells through him.”

“Huh, Khalik may just have his work cut for him,” Thundar grunted.

“Who do you think’s going to win?” Theresa asked.

The minotaur shrugged. “Me. If Khalik wins, then my friend won his event. If he loses, then I get to make fun of him.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “And you wanted to be the leader of the cabal.”

“What? You know you’re thinking the same thing.”

Alex tapped a nonsense beat on his legs, avoiding Thundar’s stare.

“Aren’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Gentlefolk!” an announcer—a broad man in a long cap and bright clothing—roared, his voice magically augmented to reach the entire crowd. “Today we bring you a death-defying event! A battle of beasts and magic and the wit of wizard versus wizard! In ancient times, archmages would often resolve disputes by duelling each other through proxies! Chosen champions, summoned spirits, golems, bewitched beasts and more, would engage each other in vicious combat as stand-ins for mighty wizards who could tear entire realms asunder in a dispute! Today, we bring you this ancient contest by way of sport and spectacle! Cheers for the champions you see before you and their chosen companions!”

Applause swept through the crowd and Alex’s group joined in clapping and whistling. Selina tried to not drop her snack—a fried dough pastry covered in cinnamon and brown sugar—and clap with everyone else, sending sugar flying everywhere. Brutus promptly licked it up.

“Very good, very good! Stay ready, people, it’s going to be quite the show!” the announcer shouted. “The combatants in this elimination tournament are hungry for victory, glory, and the prize! There will be three rounds in each match!”

He held up three fingers.

“In each round, each competitor is awarded a maximum of ten points by three judges.” He gestured to a judge’s booth occupied by three rough-looking folk. Though they were of different races—a human, a selachar, and an elf—they could’ve been blood siblings. From their sour expressions and stiff demeanour, they looked like between the three of them, the word joke would be a rare, if not a totally unfamiliar thing.

“Most rounds will end in a score of 10 to 9, with the advantage given to the more dominant duelist. Each time a combatant is knocked down, they lose a point for that round. For each time they are pinned, they lose two points for that round! If a contestant is knocked out or if someone surrenders, the battle ends! If both contestants make it to the end of all three rounds, then the one with the highest score at the end of three rounds takes the battle! No spells or potions can be used on a familiar outside of a round. For those who cast spells through their familiars, any ongoing spells must be dismissed at the end of each round. Make sure to preserve that mana!”

He gestured toward the entrants.

“Contestants have drawn straws, let us begin!”

Alex grinned. “Looks like we’re in for a treat.”

As it turned out, they were not in for a treat.

“Is it… is it supposed to be this boring?” Thundar whispered to Alex.

“I don’t know,” Alex whispered back. “They seem to be having fun.”

He nodded toward Sinope, Selina, Mr. Lu, and Mrs. Lu. The four of them were on the edge of their seats, as little monsters dodged and ducked each other’s strikes and fangs. Isolde, Alex, and Thundar however, had been fighting yawns as the battles went on.

Sometimes spells or other magical effects blasted from familiars or other small monsters which livened things up, but—in the end—the fights weren’t really thrilling Alex.

“You know what the problem is?” he said. “Think about it. We’ve been fighting xyrthaks, dune worms, and hordes of monsters, while down there—”

He pointed to the match going on.

“We get to watch a shocking lizard—” he pointed to a lizard the size of perhaps a small hound, that had blue crackling lightning bolts playing along two antennas on its head.

“A lightning lizard,” Isolde corrected.

“I know, Isolde, I was being facetious. Lightning lizard, fighting against what looks like a muupkara, unless I’m going insane.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “A single muupkara.”

“Yeah, I guess there’s not too much spectacle in that,” Thundar grunted, taking in the crowd. There was a mix of interest and boredom among the faces of those in the stadium.

“You seem to be liking this,” Alex said to Theresa.

The huntress was staring at the battle with rapt attention, her eyes darting back and forth, following the movements of each small creature. As the muupkara ducked back and the lightning lizard sprang, she half-rose out of her seat.

Mana bolts fired out of the muupkara’s chest—cast through it by its master—blasting the stone, rebounding to strike the lizard. As the reptile was hurled back, the muupkara sprang, unhinging its jaws and spreading them wide to grab its opponent.

The lizard scrambled back to its feet and reacted by firing a bolt into the muupkara, shaking it from head to toe as it fell back, growling.

Of course, to Alex—from this distance—it looked like two tiny shapes jumping around. Not terribly exciting.

Theresa sat back down, blowing out a breath, glancing to Alex. “I’m sorry, you said something?”

“I said you look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he repeated.

“It’s really exciting,” she smiled, then noticed Thundar was half-asleep and Isolde’s bored expression. “Huh.”

“I’m surprised you’re so excited,” Alex said. “We fought a horde of muupkaras.”

“Yes, but—just look at how they’re manoeuvring. You can see how each monster’s listening to commands, and the flashes of lightning, the movements and countermoves. It’s really cool.”

“…Ohh, you know what? You can probably see the action a lot clearer because your eyesight’s so much better than ours,” he said. “If I’d thought of it, I would’ve brought along some sensory enhancement potions for us. Couldn’t they use illusions to give us spectators close ups of what’s happening on the arena floor?”

“They do, for larger events,” Isolde said.

“I feel badly for Khalik,” Sinope said. “It’s interesting to me at least. I’ve never seen such a contest.”

“You don’t have to worry, Sinope,” Alex said. “He’s probably more focused on challenging and improving his skills than anything else right now.”

“And the winner has been decided!” the announcer roared.

“What, what now?”

The lizard hung out of the muupkara’s mouth… except the muupkara was on the ground, having been shocked until it submitted.

“Well, that’s that,” Thundar said as he woke up. “And now we get something interesting. Finally!”

“And now we have a treat!” the announcer roared. “A former champion versus a newcomer? It is! Staaaaaan Ernesto, Winner of three Duels by Proxy Grand Prizes in past Games, versus Khalik Behr-Medr!”

At last, the prince’s first battle had arrived.

Chapter 50

The Prince vs. the Mad Wrangler

Khalik strode to his side of the arena with Najyah perched on his arm. He moved with confidence, waving to the crowd like he was stepping out for a coronation. Even Najyah was poised today, like a symbol atop a kingdom’s banner with all traces of her usual mischievousness gone.

The crowd’s reaction was mixed.

Some took an interest in the new match, but others were already leaving, likely for other events.

If Khalik minded, he didn’t show it at all.

Across the arena, his opponent—Mad Stan—bent beside the smallest of his bear-mammoths, whispered something, then nodded.

“Representing Khalik Behr-Medr, we have Najyah! A beautiful Harpax Eagle and familiar. Weighing in at thirty-three pounds, with talons that would shame most claws, she’s a dangerous combatant and one to be watched!”

He gestured toward Mad Stan.

“Opposing her we have Yo-boo! A young Middendorfi Brown Bear-Mammoth. At forty-eight pounds, he juuuuust squeaks in under the division’s weight limit! When fully grown, he could weigh more than fifteen hundred pounds! He’s a young one, but he’s mature in his training, and he’s also a familiar of one of the Games’ past champions, the great Mad Stan Ernesto! So, which one will come out on top? Let’s—”

“Wait, wait!” Mad Stan cried, waving his hands frantically, the colour drained from his face. His voice carried up to the stands without any help from magic. “Hol’ on now! Yo-boo here’s a Dwarf Middendorfi Brown Bear-Mammoth! He’s right fully grown!”

The announcer gave Mad Stan a look. “Er, yes… a Dwarf Middendorfi Brown Bear-mammoth. Well, folks, as you can see, Stan loooves his bear-mammoths!”

The crowd snickered.

“That’s right!” Mad Stan shouted. “Which’s why I wouldn’t have no child-bear-mammoths in no Duel by Proxy! Babies is for wrasslin’ kids, not hard fights like this! Yo-boo’s an adult—nine years old last month! Fully grown, I tell ya! Fully grown!”

“Yes…” the announcer said through a forced smile. “Fully grown.”

“Wait,” Mr. Lu said. “Did he just say he has bear-whatevers that wrestle children? In the same place where your giant shark friend wrestled that big bear?”

“Bear-mammoth, but, yeeeep,” Thundar said.

“He doesn’t see how that might also be inappropriate?”

“I guess he doesn’t call himself ‘Mad’ Stan for no reason,” Thundar said.

“I think it’s sweet,” Theresa said, patting Brutus. “He makes sure kids can have fun with other kids and not get hurt fighting something dangerous.”

The group—as one—slowly turned to look at Theresa.

“What?” she asked.

“Some of those ‘kids’ are baby bear-creatures. Which grow up to be large, dangerous beasts,” Mrs. Lu pointed out.

“Yes, and?” Theresa asked innocently, continuing to pat one of the heads of the large, dangerous beast known as Brutus.

“…Nevermind.”

“Hrm… Wait, familiar?” Theresa muttered, looking back down at the arena floor. “You can have more than one of those?”

“Yep!” Alex said. “It gets harder and harder to create a bond with a new creature each time you try it. There was a wizard named Jericho who had hundreds of crows as familiars. They think he made a deal with this Earl of one of the Hells—Raum, the Raven Legions’ master—in order to pull it off, but it’s possible.”

“Huh.” She gave Brutus, who was curled up at her feet, an appraising look. “Is there a way to have something be your familiar without mana?”

“Kinda?” Alex said. “The process is done by wizards, and it links the wizard’s mana to a familiar, as well as to their lifeforce. I haven’t heard of a wizard linking someone without mana to a beast or monster. But, blood magic kinda breaks down the barrier between life and mana anyway…”

Alex looked at Isolde. “Have you ever heard of anyone who’s done it? Adapted the familiar ritual to link a non-wizard with a creature using just lifeforce?”

“There are a few historical cases, though it’s not common,” she said.

Theresa looked at Alex hopefully.

He smiled. “I’ll look into it. Oop, it’s about to begin.”

The combatants had been brought through the brass cage and into the arena. Yo-boo paced back and forth, while Najyah preened herself, then went still, fixing him with her fierce eyes.

Mad Stan, meanwhile, watched Khalik, pacing alongside Yo-boo: the two of them were mirrors of each other.

Khalik remained still as a statue, his eyes trained on his opponent.

“Begin!” the announcer shouted.

The prince roared out in Tekish: “Take flight, Najyah! Strafe him!”

Najyah’s wings snapped out and she soared through the air, circling the top of the cage.

Stan watched Najyah intently.

Alex nodded. Khalik switching to Tekish meant Stan would have no idea what he was commanding Najyah to do. But why was Stan so silent?

Suddenly, he began muttering in low tones, just as Khalik was doing. Both were spellcasting.

Abruptly, Yo-boo jumped toward the edge of the arena, turning in midair with surprising agility. His paws hit the cage and he stuck to them, hanging there like a spider on a wall.

He started charging up the side.

Najyah swooped forward, strafing Yo-boo. A glob of clay materialised in front of her chest and shot at the bear-mammoth’s feet.

Yo-boo dodged out of the way with surprising speed. A sickly green ray blasted from the bear-mammoth’s back and Najyah just barely dove below the beam.

Mana spread out around Najyah, then seeped back into her. The agile eagle sped up, ducking and dodging spells like a hummingbird.

It must have been a spell of body enhancement: one that focused on agility.

Then two rays shot out from Yo-boo, and the air crackled around their orange light.

Alex gasped, for a split second they looked like Claygon’s fire-beams.

But these spells were fire spells, and far weaker than Claygon’s fire-beams. As Najyah soared past, they struck the bars of the cage and burst into balls of flame no bigger than plums.

Clay globules kept firing from Najyah, but Mad Stan’s familiar twisted his way past every last one.

Stan kept his focus on the eagle. He hadn’t given Yo-boo a single verbal command since the battle began. No doubt he was communicating with him magically, like Khalik did with Najyah.

Mana shot out around the bear-mammoth and his speed doubled.

“Oh shit, that’s a haste spell,” Alex murmured.

The bear-mammoth seemed to glide along the bars of the cage, and in a blur, he leapt at Najyah with his jaws spread and paws out. She ducked, barely avoiding the bite, but the paw swipe caught her while she swooped past.

“No!” Selina screamed as Najyah screeched, trying to regain her balance.

She fought hard to right herself, but dropped to the ground.

“Oh crap!” Alex shouted.

The bear-mammoth rushed down the bars for the pin, and Mad Stan grinned, tasting victory.

“Najyah, get out of ther—” Thundar squinted. “Wait a minute… Doesn’t that look familiar?”

Alex’s eyes widened. He was right. It looked just like the position the xyrthak was in when they’d brought it to the ground.

It was a trap.

Yo-boo skidded to a halt at a distance from Najyah—Stan was clearly being cautious—then reared up on his hind legs as another beam flashed in front of him.

Without warning, Najyah screamed.

And it was loud.

It was like Khalik’s Sound Clap spell, but far louder and linked with Najyah’s cry. Something shimmered through the air in waves. The bear-mammoth roared, stumbling back from the explosion of magic-infused sound.

The eagle rose, shooting forward—more body enhancement magic materialising and seeping into her—then she grabbed Yo-boo by his back.

With a few strong wing beats, she lifted the struggling creature off the ground and soared through the air, the bear-mammoth firmly gripped in her talons. His struggle was being accelerated by Mad Stan’s spell, but her own magic enhanced strength gave her an unyielding grasp of his back.

A flurry of pointed stones materialised around Yo-boo, aimed and ready to strike him from all directions. While the magic from the column would stop them from doing lethal damage, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t still hurt.

A lot.

“Hol’ on, I yield!” Stan shouted. “Damn you.”

Khalik nodded from across the arena. “Let him down, Najyah.” His deep voice cut through the air.

With a low cry, Najyah lowered Yo-boo to the stones. Before she left her perch on his back, she spread her wings wide and let loose a fierce cry of victory. Yo-boo flinched.

Mad Stan shook his head.

Even from this distance, Alex could see Khalik wince.

“I… try to be a good sportsman,” he said apologetically, glaring at Najyah. “But she is not!”

Khalik’s fights continued to go well. Najyah was the largest flyer in her weight class, which gave her a major advantage over other creatures. Her coordination with Khalik was smooth, and his communication in Tekish meant most opponents couldn’t understand or counter his commands. After his first fight, the prince paced his spellcasting to conserve his mana.

Other wizards who’d entered their familiars kept casting through them in every battle they were in. As the day wore on, it became clear which strategy was the best as those wizards ran out of mana for the later rounds.

It looked like Khalik was going to carry the day. Of course, Alex and his friends—and especially Sinope, he noted—were cheering for the prince louder than anyone in the stadium.

There were only a few opponents that gave Khalik any real challenge after he’d beaten Stan and Yo-boo, and only a handful of competitors appeared to be dangerous in the later rounds.

There was one dangerous contender that left Alex a bit conflicted.

“That’s it!” Kybas hopped in the air as Harmless won another round by decision. “Good job, Harmless! Good job!”

The goblin’s coordination with Harmless was nothing to dismiss, and apparently, the mushrooms he’d been feeding his familiar were not only making him grow quicker, but also stronger for his size. The croc tossed around each opponent with ease. Including a massive, long-eared hound that must have weighed more than the fifty-pound weight limit.

It was exciting for Alex to see the goblin-wizard crushing his opponents. Though he’d eventually have to face Khalik.

Both of his friends swept round after round.

Watching them in their matches left him hoping they’d both make it to the final. He was a lot closer with Khalik, but Kybas needed the prize money.

Unfortunately, one look at the tournament matchup board erased that hope. They’d reached the semi-finals, and the board showed Harmless and Najyah would face each other to decide who would go on to the final. The one who lost would either be third or fourth, depending on the number of points they earned in their match. And there was no prize for fourth place.

When the match was finally announced, Alex was a mess of mixed feelings.

Khalik and Najyah emerged from one end of the arena, as regal as ever. From the other side, came Kybas and Harmless, utterly stoked and determined. The little crocodile snapped his jaws in the air, while Kybas let out a war cry and pumped his arms.

The announcer cleared his throat. “And now, gentlefolk, we have the second semifinal round of the lightweight division of the Duel by Proxy! Quite the show, and we have two newcomers who’ve done well for themselves in the field today. Great fighters—” He gestured to Harmless and Najyah. “And great masters both!” He gestured to Khalik and Kybas.

“Despite never having stepped into the Duel by Proxy in the Games of Roal before, these two have shown astounding experience in combat and great coordination between master and fighter! But only one will walk away with a prize today, and one will reach the epilogue of their journey!”

He spread his arms as though fireworks exploded around him. “While the other will achieve a perfect run! Representing Khalik Behr-Medr, we have Najyah! A beautiful Harpax Eagle and familiar. Winner of three fights! Weighing in at thirty-three pounds, she’s regal and she’s mean! Let’s hear it!”

The audience clapped and cheered. Now that they were reaching the exciting final rounds, the audience was becoming far more enthusiastic.

“Representing Kybas of the Clan Chulu, we have Harmless! A young Deinos crocodile—some specimens have been known to be nearly thirty-nine feet long—with a not-so-young attitude! Weighing in at forty-seven pounds, he is ready to rumble! And so, we ask our question once more! Who. Will. Come. Out. On. Top?”

Chapter 51

The Prince and The Goblin

Harmless and Najyah squared off across the arena cage. The eagle, regal and deadly, and Harmless, looking not very bloody harmless.

Khalik was watching the crocodile closely, his hands clasped behind his back.

Kybas’s large eyes darted from Najyah to Khalik. His goblin ears twitched.

“Who will win?” Mrs. Lu asked. “That crocodile has been pretty nasty.”

“I was thinking about its name earlier. Was I hearing right. Is it actually named Harmless?” Mr. Lu asked.

“Ya, that’s its name alright.” Alex laughed. “It’s tough to say who’ll win,” he continued. “Harmless is already a terror, and Najyah’s fast and she can be a terror herself. Plus, Khalik and Kybas haven’t been overdoing it with their mana, so they’re both still pretty fresh.”

“And they will need to keep saving mana for the finals,” Isolde pointed out. “Whoever uses what they have left in the most timely and efficient manner, will carry the day.”

“And who do you think that will be?” Mrs. Lu asked.

“I too have no idea—Oh, and here we go.” She nodded toward the arena floor.

The announcer held up a hand.

Both familiars tensed.

Both masters tensed.

“Begin!” the announcer cried.

Kybas and Khalik shouted directions as soon as the announcer called for the round to start.

Najyah’s wings cracked open. Harmless went charging across the field, kicking up dust with his belly, webbed feet, and powerful tail—covering nearly a quarter of the arena’s width each second. His jaws snapped open.

Kybas finished casting the running enhancement spell, doubling Harmless’ speed. The croc shot forward just as Najyah took to the air.

She screeched as Khalik’s body enhancement spell flooded into her, enhancing her agility. Harmless was too fast.

Alex could hear jaws snap as they slammed shut just behind Najyah, catching a tail feather. The eagle flew off screeching as Harmless opened his mouth, releasing the tail feather.

The crowd roared, caught up in the action of the semifinals far more than earlier matchups.

Khalik’s lips began moving, quickly casting a spell, materialising stones around Najyah that pointed straight at Harmless. Kybas spoke an incantation for green force armour to appear—encasing most of his crocodile in protective magic.

It didn’t cover those deadly crocodile jaws, Alex noticed—no doubt the goblin-wizard had kept them free for an advantage.

Najyah circled Harmless, strafing him, but the croc zigzagged across the arena floor, making himself a tougher target to hit.

Still, the stones kept blasting down at him.

Until Khalik finished his second spell.

In midair, the stones transformed, changing to orbs of tightly packed sand, and exploded upon impact with the arena floor and Harmless’ force armour. Taken by surprise, the crocodile began coughing, choking on a massive dust and sand cloud that erupted around him.

“Whoa, nice trick!” Alex shouted.

Khalik had already cast the incantation for Orb of Air, and Kybas was starting to do the same.

Orb of Air materialised around Najyah’s head first.

Isolde winced. “Khalik is not holding back on his mana enough.”

“Yeah, but if he holds back too much, that croc’s gonna have Najyah for a snack,” Thundar said.

Silently, Najyah swooped down through the sand cloud before Orb of Air had formed around Harmless’ head and began swiping at him with her talons.

Even from their distance in the stands, Alex could hear the deep impact of talons on force armour.

Then came a different sound. A bellow of pain.

Najyah flew up, screeching in victory.

‘The jaws,’ Alex thought. ‘She must’ve gone for his jaws. Brave. Dangerous, though.’

Harmless turned in place, snapping at her, but she was quicker thanks to her agility enhancement. Kybas frowned, eyeing the arena.

Alex could only imagine what was going through his mind. Keeping Harmless in the sand cloud wouldn’t work, but if he came rushing out, he’d be a much easier target.

In the end, Kybas decided to go for the rush.

“Go!” he shouted. “Go where you can see her!”

The crocodile charged from the sand, whirling on Najyah.

He snapped his jaws, prepared for her next attack.

But it never came.

Najyah swooped, keeping out of reach of those jaws.

Kybas glowered, clearly deep in thought.

The crocodile was probably behind on points now. Even though he’d managed to grab a tail-feather earlier, Najyah had blinded and hit him several times. Now, all she and Khalik had to do was avoid any offensive their opponents put up.

If the crocodile didn’t get any hits on Najyah, he and Kybas would lose the round.

And if Kybas burned through too much mana, he might win the round, but lose the match.

In the end, Alex saw Kybas shake his head then shout, “Stay, Harmless.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

A bell—forged in the shape of two dragons with wings spread to form the shape of a tower bell—rang, and both combatants went to their respective sides.

The spells Kybas and Khalik had cast on their familiars were dismissed, and each went to their masters for a water break.

Every eye turned toward the judges’ booth, eager for their decision.

There was some shuffling then, three cards came up:

10-9.

10-9.

10-9.

Unanimously in favour of Khalik.

“Yes!” Sinope and Thundar cried.

Kybas patted the side of Harmless’ jaw, while Khalik stroked Najyah.

Alex didn’t know quite how to feel.

Soon, the crowd fell quiet as the opponents re-entered the arena floor. Khalik and Kybas gave each other a respectful nod.

“Begin!” the announcer roared.

Najyah took to the air again. This time, Harmless came forward more cautiously than in round one. He tracked her, slowly lashing his tail back and forth.

They were both guarded. Conserving mana. Conserving energy.

Najyah circled above the waiting Harmless, his tail still slowly lashing back and forth. Apart from his tail, the rest of his body was as still as stone, poised to spring.

Khalik remained wary, the moments ticking by. Since he had the lead, it was wisest not to be aggressive. He hadn’t even cast a body enhancement spell on Najyah.

Kybas’ lips were moving. Maybe he was about to go on the offensive. A sound strategy, he was behind. Suddenly, the sand and dust floor from Khalik’s spells burst into the air from a Move Earth spell.

It formed another cloud of grit that hovered above Harmless, blocking him from Najyah’s sight.

“Najyah! Up high!” the prince roared, trying to get her out of spell range.

In a flash, mana bolts shot from the croc’s back as Kybas continued casting. The line of shots streaked through the air, sending Najyah diving away.

Harmless’ mouth opened wide.

A Conjure Water spell materialised, spraying directly into Najyah’s path, showering the bird of prey.

“Oh no! Eagles can’t fly when their feathers are wet!” Selina’s alarmed cry reached her brother.

“They can’t!” Alex asked, surprised.

Sure enough, Najyah was drifting to the ground while Khalik desperately cast another body enhancement spell of agility on her.

Like a lightning bolt, Harmless shot up from the cloud, his legs and powerful tail launching him higher than Alex would have expected.

Clearly, it was more than Najyah and Khalik expected.

Jaws snapped like a trap, closing over a wing and drawing gasps from the crowd. Harmless wasn’t eating her wing—the magic on his teeth would prevent the wing from being torn off—he was pulling her down toward the ground.

And even with body enhancement magic, there was no way she was getting away from those jaws.

Harmless raised a webbed foot over her head and pressed her in place, holding her wing.

A pin.

Khalik shouted out a body enhancement spell for strength, but so did Kybas. Najyah’s activated first, but Harmless’ greater weight and leverage let his grip hold.

One! Two! The pin was acknowledged, and Harmless let Najyah go. She hopped away, fluffing up her feathers, while Harmless spat fuzzy down and small feathers onto the stone.

The rest of the round went opposite to the first. Harmless snapped at Najyah from the centre of the arena, while she kept her back to the cage. Each time he went for her, a volley of stones materialised around her, firing suppressing blasts at his face to keep him away.

The crocodile couldn’t get near, and the round ended without a second pin.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

The judges’ decisions came up.

10-7.

10-7.

10-7.

The second round went in favour of Kybas.

“Oof,” Thundar grunted. “That went badly. Real badly.”

“Khalik’s far behind in points now,” Theresa said.

“Yeah, if he can get a pin in the final round, then maybe he can turn this around. More would be even better,” Thundar said.

Alex tapped his knee. “Yeah, but Kybas’ll be ready for him now. And all he has to do is play defence.”

Khalik whispered something to Najyah before letting her back into the arena cage for the final round, while Kybas hugged and planted big, sloppy kisses on Harmless’ snout before sending him back in.

“Okay. Here we go,” Alex said.

There was a moment of silence as the tense crowd waited.

“Begin!” the announcer cried.

“Forward!” Khalik roared, spitting out an incantation. Another body enhancement spell for strength flowed into her.

Kybas cast the same spell on Harmless, plus force armour, then sent him dashing in. Aggression and a hunger for victory almost vibrated through the goblin as he hopped up and down.

“Get her!” he yelled. “Time for a croc-apocalypse!”

The croc surged on Najyah, but the charge was careful. Harmless—in his force armour—was ready to dodge any projectile spells from Najyah.

None came.

Najyah flew straight, never changing course.

And another spell took her.

Khalik’s earth armour spell formed around her body, solidifying as she folded her wings, turning her into a heavy projectile of earth magic and massive eagle.

Before Kybas could utter the first word of a spell, she collided with Harmless’ snout. The impact threw the young crocodile onto his back. Najyah landed on him hard, spreading her earth covered wings, keeping him from righting himself.

And now Khalik—lips rapidly moving—cast a final spell. Clay gushed from around Najyah, splattering over Harmless’ stumpy legs, instantly hardening and weighing him down, keeping him in place.

Then Najyah placed her beak to his throat.

Alex was half out of his seat.

One second passed.

Two seconds passed.

Pin.

Alex jumped up along with everyone around him.

Kybas screamed, muttering more incantations, but the words stilled on his lips, growing puzzled as Khalik did something unexpected.

He cancelled Najyah’s earth armour.

As the earth fell away, he sent her airborne, and—using the hardened clay on Harmless’ underbelly as a hold—she picked him up and launched into the air. She soared to the top of the arena cage and held the crocodile there, dangling.

Khalik didn’t cast his hail of stones like when Najyah carried Yo-boo, instead, he simply let Harmless hang, squirming to get out of her grip.

When the count began, Alex realised what this meant.

Harmless was helpless. Even if he wasn’t being pressed to the ground, it counted as a pin.

An aerial pin.

“Second pin!” the announcer roared.

Kybas finished chanting a spell just as Najyah swooped close to the cage floor. Mana bolts shot out from Harmless’ back and up toward her. She let go, swooping away.

The crocodile impacted the ground, fighting to gain his footing.

But it was over.

Kybas still hadn’t given up though. He put up a hell of a fight, pouring spell after spell from Harmless. Water, more sand screens, mana bolts, even acidic splashes. At that point, Khalik was prepared, letting Najyah keep out of reach and staying on the defensive.

Until the round ran out.

Ding!

Khalik had won.

The goblin grimaced, and for a long moment, he looked up at the judges then sighed as the final scores were shown.

10-5.

10-5.

10-5.

One point lost for a weak performance and the other four for being pinned twice. It was enough of a point spread to place Kybas and Harmless fourth.

Very respectable for their first time competing.

But still, no award.

Khalik raised his fist in victory as Kybas shook his head.

He gave a pained smile that made Alex feel for him, and rattle his confliction even more. Khalik’s win was awesome and it had been a good fight, but Kybas really needed the prize money.

And even if Khalik wanted to be generous and hand it over, it would never work. Kybas had the kind of pride that made him work two jobs and never ask his friends for a single coin. He’d never done so once in the times Alex had been around him.

At the same time, Khalik had too much honour to insult Kybas by trying to give it to him, even if he did know about his financial situation.

In the end, the crowd was mostly silent, peppered by the occasional jeer, as the two young wizards met in the middle of the arena with their companions at their sides.

“You were good today,” Khalik’s deep voice rang out. He offered Kybas his hand.

“You were better.” Kybas gave a half-smile, half-snarl, and extended his hand with no sign of hesitation. “But, maybe not so much better next time!”

“Then I look forward to it, my friend.”

They shook each other’s hand.

The crowd’s cheers—especially from Alex’s group—filled the arena.

After Kybas and Harmless were eliminated from the competition, things moved on to the final round.

Khalik had expended a lot of mana during the semifinal, but so had the opponent he’d be facing in the final. The prince limbered up, using a light mana regeneration technique to raise his energy while he prepared for the first round. From the information on the scoreboard, the majority of creatures who’d made it to the later rounds were familiars. They weren’t necessarily the most powerful beasts or constructs, but they had the advantage of their master’s magic to use.

So, when the announcement was made that two familiars would be facing off in the finals, Alex looked forward to another exciting match.

The other familiar’s master was also a first-year student, and his familiar was a young falcon named Solo. Even though she was a bird of prey like Najyah, she was smaller and less powerful.

She was a faster flyer—and her master had good instincts—but in skill, it soon became clear that it was a bad match-up.

Najyah pinned her opponent early in the first two rounds, then Solo’s master tried to send her on the offensive in the third round, but was forced to yield when his mana went too low.

The score for the third round was:

10-7.

10-7.

Yielded.

“And the winner is, Khalik Behr-Medr and his Harpax eagle familiar, Najyah!”

Najyah soared around the cage on the bolstering ring of the announcer’s call, obviously very proud of herself. They’d won their first ever Duel by Proxy: Lightweight Division, and were awarded the golden medallion and the purse of three hundred fifty gold. Alex and his friends jumped out of their seats shouting, clapping, and whooping, while the other spectators gave the champions an enthusiastic standing ovation.

Alex was almost vibrating with excitement.

He looked down at Claygon, a smile of anticipation spreading across his face.

Tomorrow afternoon, it would be his turn.

Chapter 52

Super-Heavyweight

“Next time,” Kybas said. “Next time.”

“Yeah, you gave Khalik a real run for his coin,” Alex agreed. “Damn, I wish you’d gotten third, though. The prize for third was still really good.”

He and Kybas were standing near the entrance to the arena. The others were chatting with Khalik, but Alex had gone over to talk to the little goblin.

“I do too!” Kybas grasped his head in frustration. Harmless watched his master with typical reptilian coldness. “Agh, why did I tell Harmless to charge in round three! I should have had him stay back. I thought I could get another pin and keep Khalik from getting a comeback. I didn’t expect his bird to turn into a catapulted stone!”

His jaw clenched. “I-I’m just making excuses. Even if I stayed defensive, he still could’ve gotten me with that trick. I think he has more fighting experience than me and Harmless.”

“Yeah, he does,” Alex said. “He’s been training longer than most of us.”

“But two pins,” Kybas groaned. “If it’d been only one, he would have won, but I still would’ve had enough points to get third place. That trick with the flying pin—Bah! That was it for me!”

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” Alex spread his hands. “Failure’s the mother of success, right? You fought a hard fight with Harmless and you can learn from it. Trust me, failures can be really, really good teachers.”

Alex had a feeling he knew that better than most people.

“Ah, thanks for the encouragement.” Kybas glanced around, then leaned closer to Alex, his voice dropping low. “I’m going to go get my harvest soon. I’m thinking maybe when the Grand Battle is on since a lot of folks’ll be away from the city and off on that island, and lots’ll be here watching the Battle through illusions I heard. With so many eyes away, it’ll be a good time to do a big harvest.” He gave a big conspiratorial grin.

“Good luck,” Alex whispered. His eyes scanned their surroundings, but it looked like anyone who’d been tailing him, was nowhere around now. If they were, he couldn’t see them. “Just be careful.”

The goblin-wizard sighed. “I’ll be more careful than I was in the match! Anyway, I should go get Harmless some food.”

“Yeah, he’s earned it. See you later, eh?”

“Yeah!”

He and Kybas split up; the goblin and crocodile searching for a good meal. Alex watched him for a while, looking to see if anyone would leave right after him, but no one did. He returned to his family and other friends. Khalik, Selina, and the rest of the group were fawning over Najyah, who stood at her full height, preening her feathers.

Alex waved as he approached.

“You are the champion, my friend!” Alex said, patting Najyah and clapping Khalik on the shoulder. “How does it feel?”

“Fantastic,” the prince said. “It was good sport. Very good sport.”

“Well done, man, well done,” Alex said, looking up at Claygon.

The golem loomed over them all, in his ever-present ferocious way.

Khalik followed his gaze. “Let us see if there is room for two champions in this group.”

“You can count on it.” Alex patted Claygon.

‘Uldar’s Heroes might have a champion,’ he thought. ‘But mine’ll be bigger. Probably. Unless Uldar picked a giant for a Champion or something. Claygon will probably be bigger.’

“Alright, enough of that!” Khalik said. “There should be enough time to catch the end of Grimloch’s race if we move quickly. Let’s go see exactly how our big shark-like friend crushes his competition!”

“By all the gods he is fast…” Khalik muttered in horror.

The group had reached the spectators’ platform for the foot-race—an obstacle-laden marathon that went through much of campus—just as the leaders were close to finishing their last lap.

Alex could see why the wizards who provided the illusions for the Games weren’t around for the lightweight competition of the Duel by Proxy. A pack of them were following the racers on flying disks, showcasing their progress.

And what was being shown was that Grimloch—even with his long stride and life enforcement practice enhancing his speed—was in third place.

“What in the hells?” Thundar grunted. “I thought for sure he’d take the grand prize.”

“Well, he’s not far behind second place.” Alex pointed to the illusion that showed only ten yards or so separating Grimloch from the racer in front him: a centaur. “I don’t see whoever’s in first place anywhere near them.”

“Over there.” Isolde pointed. “You can see first place in the central illusion.”

The illusions floated above the spectators’ platform like a mural made up of many individual paintings. Each image that made up the whole scene was a moving illusion showing a different part of the race. Some were from a bird’s eye view of the track which made the obstacles look like little toy houses and the competitors like ants.

Others focused on individuals or groups from a distance of thirty feet above, giving a clear view of the action as they raced along the path.

In the centre of all the illusions was one twice the size of the others, giving a clear angle of who was in first place.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up.

“I can’t see anyone around the leader,” Mrs. Lu said.

“He must be really far ahead,” Mr. Lu said.

A young man—corded with lean musculature—was tearing along the path so quickly, it looked like the illusion had been sped up. His arms pumped in perfect rhythm with his long strides, the sun shining on his bald, dark scalp, and his moustache was pressed against his face.

It wasn’t even a contest. Despite how fast Grimloch was, and the fact that second place was an actual centaur, the distance only seemed to grow between him and the rest of the pack.

“Indrajit Hanuman,” Isolde said darkly.

“Oh, great…” Alex groaned.

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Lu asked.

“You know that event we’ve been training for?” Alex said. “Well, he’s on one of the opposing teams.”

“Ahh.” Was all Mr. Lu said.

The rest of the race passed in a blink.

Hanuman placed first by minutes, and the centaur came in second. Grimloch finished within three seconds of second place. A small crowd was already gathering around Indrajit, chanting his name. He certainly had a lot of friends.

“He is even faster than I heard,” Isolde said, watching as the laughing young man was hoisted up on his friends’ shoulders.

“He might have had a breakthrough in his life enforcement training,” Theresa said. “Which means he’ll probably also have sharpened senses, strength, and stamina too.”

“Could you catch him?” Alex asked her.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’m only a little faster than Grimloch these days, and that’s if we’re going in a straight line.”

“Well.” Thundar tapped one of his horns. “If we fight him in the Grand Battle, we’ll have to circle-beat him. Get him separated from his group and bring him down. He might be able dodge one of us, but all of us? I’m thinking not. We’re gonna have to keep our eyes on him.” His attention was pulled back to the finish line. “Hey look, there’s Nua-Oge. She’s heading over to Grimloch!”

He waved at the selachar and shark man from the audience platform, and he, Alex, and the rest of their group headed down to meet up with the siblings.

“Hey, tough break,” Thundar said to their friend as they all stood in a circle.

“I was slower because I didn’t have prey to chase,” Grimloch said, drawing looks of alarm from his friends.

“Why do you always have to scare everyone with everything you say?” Nua-Oge chided.

“Why not?” he said. “Let’s go find something to eat after they hand out the prizes. That was hungry work.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, glancing at the first-place winner.

He was going to be a hell of a challenge during the Grand Battle, as they’d expected.

And tomorrow, he’d see some of the abilities of another competitor.

Tyris Goldtooth.

He wondered just what kinda hell the lava wielder would bring to the arena.

As the day went on, Alex didn’t see Amir or any of his group. The gnawing worry that there’d be another demon summoner attack seemed to fade from peoples’ minds the more that time passed.

The afternoon went by in peace, good food, and excitement.

And the next morning…

Peace and excitement continued.

Since none of his friends had any events, the group got to take in some of the other competitions.

There was a contest between illusionists: who could create the most realistic or artistic illusion. From a distance, Alex spotted a competition for who could melt down various materials the fastest using fire magic, but he decided not to take Selina to that one.

It was too bad, since he wondered if Tyris would be there competing so he could get some good data on her fighting style, but Selina’s peace of mind came first.

As they were walking away, though, Alex caught her gaze lingering in that direction.

They went to watch a magical marksmanship competition while they ate lunch. Some of the wizards took turns levitating various clay plates, while others shot them down with force magic.

One of the competitors was actually his old force magic prof: Professor Ram. The stern force wizard eyed the clay targets shooting through the air, then blasted them with a flurry of jet-black force missiles from his force construct right arm.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

The targets snapping sounded like hailstones hitting cobblestones during a storm in Alric. A look of satisfaction formed behind Ram’s perfect black beard.

It made him wonder if he’d be wearing a similar expression after the super-heavyweight Duel by Proxy fight that afternoon.

Since there weren’t any more events they wanted to see after lunch, they decided to head to the arena early, a few hours before Alex’s event began.

It was a good thing they did.

“Well this is a lot different from yesterday!” Mr. Lu cried.

Even though the earlier competitions had ended, the arena was still full, and any empty seats were filling up fast. Illusionists were setting up at strategic vantage points, getting ready to display the action from the best views and angles, both in and outside of the arena.

There was far more energy in the air.

Alex started to feel nervous. It was weird. Battles to the death? He was getting used to those. He’d also been in a spell-joust before with an audience watching, and danced at a fancy ball with mostly strangers attending with no issues.

But something about all of this, the spectacle and expectations, hit him differently. He took a breath and calmed himself, acknowledging his nerves and letting them go.

‘Remember, it’s no different than having Baelin watch you,’ he thought. ‘If anything, it’s going to be less stressful.’

“Alright,” Alex tapped Claygon’s side affectionately. “We’d better get down there.”

Selina grabbed both his hand and Claygon’s finger. “Good luck!”

“Good luck!” Theresa gave him a quick hug, conscious of her parents being right there.

“Good luck, Alex.” Mr. and Mrs. Lu hugged him.

“Fail hilariously.” Thundar clapped him on the shoulder.

“Lose without grace.” Khalik clapped him on the other shoulder. “Have a tantrum in front of everyone! It will be much more amusing.”

“Ignore them. Do not embarrass the cabal,” Isolde told him. “I should think that with Claygon, any performance other than victory would be incredibly below what is expected of you.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “That makes me feel soooo confident…”

“No need for confidence,” Grimloch growled, looking at Claygon. “Your golem is a predator. The rest are prey. There’s no need for confidence or nerves when hunting prey. You just chase and eat.”

“Y-yeaaaah, big guy,” Alex said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Aaaah, Mr. Roth.” A man checked his name off. He was standing in front of a large doorway. “You’re early. Good. Others are already waiting and more will arrive later. You may wait and take a seat inside.”

“Okay, thanks,” Alex said.

He and Claygon had gone through a large door that led to a sloped ramp that wound down in a circle beneath the arena. His name had been confirmed by two different officials: one who stood at the door leading to the ramp itself and one who stood at the door at the end of the ramp.

Both doors were huge and reinforced with iron and glyphs that strengthened them.

Alex was a little shocked to see such an underground complex created so quickly. Then again, with magic and multiple wizards, such things were fairly simple. Though it was quite possible it had always been there. This was Generasi.

Looking at everything around him, he couldn’t wait for the expedition to begin. Once the land was cleared out, it was going to be something to see how quickly they got the research castle built in Thameland.

But first things first.

He wanted to win this.

It was time to see what he’d be up against.

Stepping into the large room with Claygon, he took in everyone who’d already arrived.

Alex could see why the room was so big.

Beasts, monsters, constructs, and their masters waited at the edges of the chamber. From the size of those already there, they would’ve definitely over-crowded the space if the room wasn’t as big as it was.

There was a massive swamp drake with black, jagged scales and teeth that protruded from a mouth big enough to snap Alex in half. There was a brass golem that was approximately eight feet tall who had ten arms—Alex counted each one—with a jewelled sword in each hand.

A white furred ape that must have been at least twelve feet tall.

He was surprised to see Ozzie and Mad Stan there, having a quiet talk in a corner of the room.

And then there was—

“Sim?” Alex called out. “Is that you?”

A short, grey-skinned man with a slight build stood beside an eight-foot stone golem that had been carved to resemble a powerfully built version of himself. Its stone ‘clothing’ was painstakingly painted to look deceptively real.

The young man looked up with surprise. “Alex!” he called in an unexpectedly deep voice, considering his slight build. “I should’ve known I’d see you here!”

Sim Shale—son of Toraka Shale, owner of Shale’s Workshop—walked over to Alex.

‘Huh, looks I might be duelling my boss’ son,’ Alex thought.

Chapter 53

Four Arms vs. Ten

Alex and Sim shook hands in the centre of the chamber.

“You should’ve told me you’d be here!” Sim said.

“Well, I don’t think there was really a chance to,” Alex said. “We’ve had, what, maybe ten conversations since I started working at Shale’s?”

“Yeah, good point,” Sim said, eyeballing Claygon with an impressed look. “We do work at different times. Very different times. By the way, did my mother ever get you to let her take a look at that beast’s golem core?”

“Hm? She never asked.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t broken down and asked. It was all she talked about after you brought it to the shop,” Sim said. “She and Lagor still talk about it now and then.” He shook his head, continuing to eye Claygon. “You know how it is in our profession—how rude asking to go rooting around in another golem crafter’s work is considered. Still, as excited she was, I thought she might throw that aside. You know, convention be damned and all!”

He chuckled.

Alex smiled, pleased that Claygon was still getting attention, but even more pleased that Lagor—his supervisor—and Toraka hadn’t tried to corner him about the inner workings of his golem.

That would have been very, very awkward.

‘Though speaking of awkward…’ he thought.

“I just want to make sure,” Alex said. “If we end up duelling, there’ll be no hard feelings between us, right? No matter how it goes?”

“Hm?” Sim looked back at Alex. “Oh, no. It’s a competition. Friendly competition. Not much point in it if it’s not friendly.”

“Yeah, I think so too, but I just wanted to make sure. No offence.”

“None taken.” Sim looked up as the door to the waiting room opened again.

A wizard wearing multicoloured clothing walked in with a baffling looking beast at his side. It had a lion’s body, but its well-muscled hindquarters were goat-like. A long snake’s neck and head formed its tail, and a goat’s head rose from its back like a torsoless rider.

A chimaera.

“Tough crowd this year,” Sim remarked.

“Yeah, and Tyris Goldtooth isn’t even here yet,” Alex said.

Sim nodded in recognition of the name. “Ah, that one’s entering a beast in this, is she? She’s done really well in the Grand Battle and Spell-Joust in past years. But, I didn’t even know she had a pet to compete with. Maybe she’s after the grand prize.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “Are you going for it?”

“No,” Sim snorted. “I’m a crafter. I want to show off my craft, not go around shooting spells and getting into fights. A good showing here is good advertising for the workshop.”

“Yeah, I guess it wo—”

The door opened again.

Thmp!

A massive footstep drew every eye.

The first thing Alex saw was an orange glow. Followed by the confident figure of Tyris Goldtooth, striding into the room and waving her entrant to the Games inside.

And what an entrant it was.

“Holy shit,” Alex murmured.

It was an absolute monster of a tortoise. An undeniably enormous creature with a head and beak big enough to probably snap Thundar in half. Its shell towered over its body, and instead of being rounded like most tortoise shells, it peaked like a mountaintop.

And the peak gaped open like a hungry mouth pointing up and curving forward into a giant claw. If that open hole could fire projectiles, anything in its path had better be real good at dodging. The orange glow Alex had first seen radiated from the ‘open mouth’ on its shell.

The fire mountains that one of the Traveller’s portals led to came to mind. The one they’d used to spray lava onto the hive-queen. The glow coming from the hole in the peak of the tortoise’s shell reminded him of the glow from the lava filled sce—

‘Oh shit,’ he thought.

It wasn’t like the tortoise had a mountain for a shell.

The tortoise had a bloody volcano for a shell.

“That’s… that’s against the rules, right?” Alex murmured to Sim. “Please tell me that’s against the rules.”

“I wish,” Sim muttered. “If it’s down here, it’s not against the rules.”

“Ooooh, that’s just great,” Alex mumbled.

The last big monster he’d faced was that lava spewing dune worm in the Barrens, and it had taken Claygon, the entire cabal, plus Hogarth, Svenia, and Theresa to take it down.

He didn’t know what would happen if lava sprayed over Claygon. With the magic set up to stop attacks from being lethal or permanently damaging, hopefully, it would only mean his golem would be buried in it and not completely destroyed.

‘Orrr… Maybe lava’s what Claygon needs to go through golem evolution? Right? Right? …Probably not.’

Tyris took in the chamber filled with rivals, and then nodded to Stan. She also nodded to a few other competitors she singled out, like a wolf eyeing prey. One of them being Alex.

He nodded back to her, burying his nerves.

‘Don’t let them see you sweat,’ he thought.

He and Sim exchanged a few more words before each settled down for the wait. Alex spent the time observing everyone he could using the Mark to gather information on their body language while they went through their preparations.

It was easiest with Sim.

‘Sorry, Sim,’ he thought.

He collected a fair amount of information about how each competitor moved and reacted. Alex also observed how they treated their companions.

Some were openly warm.

Others—especially the ones who used golems—treated them like tools.

‘Yeah, if any of your golems suddenly gained intelligence, I’m sure they’d hate you,’ he thought. ‘No wait, focus.’ He brought his concentration back and discretely turned his attention to Tyris and her companion from the corner of his eye. Her interaction with the tortoise was gentle. There was a caring respectfulness there which looked like there might’ve been a bond between them.

Alex had assumed since this’d be her first time competing in the Duel by Proxy to enter as many events as she could, she’d only gotten a monster for that reason.

From their connection, it seemed more like they’d known each other for a while. Maybe it was simply a matter of her taking advantage of the resources available to her, like Baelin told his class to do. He might get the chance to ask her about her tortoise later. For now, the fight was what he should be thinking about.

Alex looked away, focusing on himself as the room continued to fill. Falling into himself, he meditated. Checked his breathing. Strategized.

It was harder to make a familiar connection with larger and more powerful creatures, which meant he probably wouldn’t have to worry about the spellcasting of his competition. Then again, Ozzie the massive bear-mammoth was one of Stan’s familiars, so it wasn’t impossible.

That possibility was something he’d need to watch for. In his situation, since Claygon wasn’t his familiar, there’d be no spellcasting for him during the match.

His best strategy was to use Claygon’s mental link for commands. He’d be able to give him instructions a lot quicker than if he had to say them out loud. His plan would involve observing Claygon and his opponents, then altering strategies as needed.

‘In the first round, I’ll go for shock and awe,’ he thought. ‘A lot of these monsters are powerful, but Claygon’s really, really strong. Like, I can lift a dune worm strong. I think only a handful of the opponents could even come close to matching his power. Then there’s the fire-gems. That’ll be my ranged option for flying opponents or fast ones. Either way, I designed Claygon for power. I’ll see if a quick, devastating offensive can catch at least my first opponent off guard.’

“Attention, duelists!” a voice called, drawing Alex out of his thoughts.

The announcer—who Alex hadn’t notice enter the room—stood in the middle of the chamber.

“We are ready to begin the final division of the Duel by Proxy! The super-heavy match!” the announcer said. “This is the most viewed event in all of the Duels by Proxy, so my hope is that everyone puts on a good fight, shows good sportsmanship, and takes care of your companions. Duels by Proxy are paradoxes: you want to show brutality within the fight and honour outside of it. Let us keep this sport honourable. No cheating. No potions or spells cast from outside the cage, unless it is through your familiar. This is a Duel by Proxy, after all. Any unsportsmanlike conduct: screaming in rage at your opponent, any histrionics, abuse of your own companion, or other unseemly behaviour will result in heavy penalties. Are we clear?”

The contestants nodded and murmured their agreement.

“Very well! The structure of the tournament matchups have been decided. I will read off the names of the matchups for the beginning bouts!”

Alex sat up at that.

He wondered if maybe he would face Tyris, Sim, or Stan in one of the early rounds. That’d be a good way to start off with a bang. In the knightly stories he’d heard growing up, the hero always met their greatest rival and challenger in the final round of a joust.

Maybe he would meet Tyris or Sim then?

At last, he heard his name.

“Arlando Durand and Shining Slash vs. Alex Roth and Claygon is match number seven—”

And they’d be fighting someone he’d never heard of. He raised his hand and looked around to see who else raised theirs. It was the same young man who commanded the ten-armed brass golem.

‘Guess that makes sense,’ Alex thought. ‘Odds are I wouldn’t be fighting someone I know right away, anyway. If at all.’

He settled in for the wait.

The announcer left the waiting chamber by a small door that went to another ramp leading directly up to the arena. On opposite sides of the large space were two more open doorways with ramps and a sign that read, ‘Combatant One’ above one and ‘Combatant Two’ above the other.

Must be how the duelists and their companions got to the arena floor. Khalik, Kybas, and the other combatants in the lightweight division had emerged from doorways on opposite sides of the arena too.

After the announcer went up to the arena, Alex heard a dim thrum of cheering and stamping feet making its way down to them. The crowd sounded excited. He couldn’t blame them. The thought of all these big monsters and golems clashing against each other in an awesome contest…

It almost made him wish he was watching from the seats, instead of competing.

Two by two, opponents were called, and headed to opposite sides of the waiting chamber. The crowd’s roar grew louder.

Soon.

Soon.

Alex kept his thoughts clear and his breathing steady. His leg twitched.

Until finally, he and Arlando were called.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he started toward the ramp marked Combatant Two. On his way there, he turned toward his opponent and called out to him.

“Good luck!”

Arlando looked back with neither a response or even a nod. He just made his way to the other ramp.

Alex’s expression soured. ‘Alright, then bad luck, I guess, asshole.’

He squinted as he and Claygon emerged into the daylight. The afternoon had turned cloudy—dark, with the threat of rain—though Alex could feel a strong sense of mana coming from the sky. The clouds were parting.

The Watchers had announced that weather controlling spells would be cast to ensure the Games weren’t rained out.

“Next, we have two newcomers! Arlando Durand vs Alex Roth!”

The crowd roared—the arena was absolutely overflowing with spectators. People were everywhere, seated, standing near the entrances, and anywhere else they could fit.

He looked over to see his silent adversary entering the arena from the other side. His golem’s brass surface and jewelled swords gleamed in the daylight. It moved like a praying mantis preparing to strike.

“Representing Arlando Durand, we have Shining Slash: a handsome brass golem and veteran of performance combats all around the Prinean sea! Weighing in at nine hundred and fifty pounds, it holds ten swords of spinning death and can fillet a gorger like a fish in two heartbeats! Let’s hear it for Shining Slash!”

The crowd’s roar was deafening.

“Representing Alex Roth, we have Claaaaygooooon! This beast of a clay golem weighs in at twenty-four hundred pounds and was witnessed blasting bonedrinkers to ash during the attack on Patrizia DePaolo’s villa earlier this spring! With fists that smash and beams that burn, let’s hear it for Claygon!”

The crowd roared, and Alex searched for his friends, finding them up on their feet cheering him from way up in the nosebleed section. He could just make out his little sister. The two of them had talked about her coming to his match since he figured he’d be using Claygon’s fire-gems, and wanted to give her the choice to stay at home.

“I wanna see you and Claygon fight!” she’d said. “I’ll just close my eyes when there’s fire!”

He supposed if she’d found a way to be there and be okay, then it’d be the best of both worlds for her. Selina had asked for a knife for her birthday, and he hadn’t thought it would be a good present for her. But then Mr. and Mrs. Lu—experienced parents who’d given their own daughter a knife—had gifted her one for her birthday. And she was taking care with it. So, if she wanted to watch, she could. Besides, she’d have Theresa—who knew how she’d reacted to her fire affinity—and the Lus there to support her if it was too much.

He swallowed and raised both arms and began waving wildly at them to let them know he could see them… Before thinking how stupid that probably looked and stopped.

A blush spread across his cheeks and he turned to Claygon. “Alright, big guy. Let’s do our best together.”

The clouds shifted.

Claygon nodded slightly.

“Wait, what?” he muttered.

Was that a trick of the light?

He watched his golem like a hawk as the massive construct strode into the cage, but didn’t see anything unusual again.

Alex shook his head to clear it. “I kinda feel like fodder.”

There’d been books he’d taken out of the library for a fun read that featured a plucky, fleet-footed warrior who fought in martial arts tournaments. He had a fancy sword with a long name that he’d use to demolish his opponents—who were always big, hulking jackasses—in the first round of any tournament he was in.

Alex towered over Arlando and was a hell of a lot more muscular, and Claygon dwarfed Shining Slash by nearly two feet and almost twice the weight.

‘Wait a minute,’ he thought. ‘That guy not answering me… is he the cool silent badass who’ll completely whip Claygon to show how badass he is? No, no, Alex, calm down. This isn’t some storybook. There’s no prophesied hero here—Nooo, wait. I’m a prophesied Hero. Yeah! I’m also literally comic relief. Oh jeez, maybe I should have ‘the Mark of the Fodder’ stamped on my shoulder!’

Crack!

Four clay hands snapped into fists.

The announcer raised his hand.

Shining Slash raised all ten of its swords, gripping them by the middle of their blades with the pommels facing toward Claygon.

So, it looked like the plan was to use the ten pommels to bludgeon his golem.

“Begin!” the announcer roared.

Whooooooom!

Energy gathered in the fire-gems, with the glow building in Claygon’s forehead. The pair in his palms began to power up as well, but their light was hidden by his fists.

Shining Slash danced toward Claygon, spinning its swords across its ten hands. The blades flashed and shone in the air as it juggled them from hand to hand at speeds far quicker than Claygon was capable of.

The crowd roared with delight at the sword display and the power gathering in Claygon’s forehead fire-gem.

‘Charge,’ Alex thought.

Claygon rushed the golem at full speed.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

His massive stride shook the earth.

Shining Slash dropped into a fighter’s stance, ready to react to anything Claygon did.

Voooooosh!

Then the fire beam blasted from the larger golem’s forehead.

Shining Slash leapt to the side, but both of Claygon’s hands snapped open.

Vooooosh!

Two more fire beams shot out at the last second.

The brass golem leapt over the beams—doing a shockingly acrobatic flip through the air—and soaring over Claygon’s head.

Thwack!

It gave Claygon a quick swipe to the ‘helmet’ as it soared over. Alex analysed the situation. So, that was the strategy. Superior speed to show heavy domination of the fight and make it so that Claygon lost more than one point at the end of the round.

There were three problems with that.

First, Alex and Claygon were used to fighting fast opponents.

Second, when one was jumping through the air it was very easy to predict where one was going to land.

Third—

Snap!

Claygon’s hand grasped Shining Slash’s ankle just before he landed. Arlando gasped.

Claygon’s powerful core made him faster than he looked.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Gripping the brass ankle, Claygon swung Shining Slash over his head and—

Bang!

Slammed the brass golem into the stones.

Over and over, Claygon lifted Shining Slash up and slammed it into the arena floor. The brass golem’s arms weren’t long enough for a strike to its opponent’s hand, and it could only flail until Claygon slammed it to the ground one final time, then pressed it to the stones with his superior bulk and much greater strength.

Arlando had turned beet red.

“One… two… and pin!” the announcer called.

The crowd roared and Claygon let Shining Slash up.

But just as the brass golem turned around—

Ding!

The bell tolled, ending the round.

‘Welp, there’s one thing at least. Looks like I don’t have ‘the Mark of the Fodder’ after all,’ Alex thought.

Chapter 54

A Rain of Fists

The scores came up in favour of Alex.

10-6.

10-7.

10-6.

“Alright, there’s one round,” Alex said as the crowd showed their fervour. He waved to his friends and family, making sure it was less ‘awkward little greeting’ and more ‘Khalik addressing the crowd.’

Claygon and Shining Slash went to their respective corners.

His earlier jitters were thankfully mostly gone.

‘Right, right, analysis time,’ he thought. Baelin would be hugely disappointed in him if he didn’t use a break in combat to examine his opponent’s strengths, weaknesses, and potential future actions.

Arlando was still bright red in the face and glaring daggers at him. Alex scratched the back of his head. He had a feeling that if the announcer hadn’t emphasised that points would be lost if anyone acted like an angry child during a match, then Arlando would probably have a few choice words, even fists, for him.

His body language—stiffly and aggressive—screamed exactly how he felt about Alex at the moment.

‘He’s angry and he’s down on points,’ Alex thought. ‘I can use that. If I were a betting man, I’d bet he’ll have Shining Slash come at Claygon all stark raging mad. He’ll want to hit him fast at first, then get out of his reach. He’s faster than Claygon, so skirmishing would be—No wait.’

He glanced at the points on the board. ‘He’s way behind on points. He’ll need to do something more decisive than just hit-and-runs or he’ll lose.’

This wasn’t like the fights in the Barrens. Neither of their lives were at risk. Barrens-monsters retreated when wounded, like the xyrthak did, but the goal here wasn’t life or death. It was to get the most points.

If Alex were Arlando, how would he go about doing that?

‘Legs,’ Alex thought, glancing at Claygon’s powerful legs and feet. ‘Going for a pin would be pretty pointless. Size and strength aren’t always the decider in wrestling, but Claygon has so much more mass and strength on Shining Slash, trying to pin him would be stupid. Claygon could reverse an attempt at pinning no problem. That leaves knockdowns. If it looks like Claygon’s weight’s off-balance, then that’d be a perfect time to go for a trip.’

He kept his face neutral. ‘Let’s make that seem like a good strategy for him, eh, Claygon?’

“Get ready!” the announcer cried.

Shining Slash turned back toward its opponent and spun its blades.

‘Smack those fists together, buddy,’ Alex thought to Claygon.

Thm. Thm.

Claygon clashed his four fists together twice.

The crowd roared, and several of the illusions focused on close ups of the golems’ weapons and fists.

Now, this was getting to be bags of fun.

Ding!

The start of round two was on.

Shining Slash proved to be the aggressor—just as Alex thought—darting forward with all ten pommels swinging.

Claygon charged the brass golem, powering up the fire-gems. Their glow reflected off the brass golem’s polished surface, but Alex didn’t let them fully charge.

He just let their ominous glow shine from his golem’s forehead and palms.

Shining Slash jumped away, trying to use its superior speed to duck around Claygon. However, the clay golem had better reach and stalked after his opponent, driving all four of his fists forward to seemingly try and knock down the smaller golem.

‘Trigger the idea that risk will bring reward,’ Alex thought. ‘Slow down those fists, just a bit, Claygon.’

Blows slowed, ever so slightly, as though Claygon were trying to take more time and precision with each strike. Shining Slash took advantage.

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

The crowd roared as the brass golem struck those big clay fists while they were still extended, the pommels snapping against the unyielding surfaces.

‘That’s it, now we’ll be the desperate ones for a bit,’ Alex thought.

He put on an expression of dismay and anger, pointing at Shining Slash. Now Claygon began lunging at it, making wide, sweeping grabs with all four arms.

‘Little more aggressive, buddy,’ he thought. He watched both Arlando’s face and Claygon’s legs.

His opponent watched the golem with utter concentration. A lot of his anger from earlier was still there, but he looked a hell of a lot calmer now.

Alex’s eyes flicked to the brass golem as it danced around Claygon with its ten pommels striking again and again. It really was a beautiful construct. Its attacks were no mindless flailings. Alex had practised enough of the Spear-and-Oar Dance to know a beautiful combat style when he saw one.

Arlando must have put a lot of work into the golem core to get Shining Slash to move like that. From where Alex stood, he could feel the mana surging from it as it danced around.

Respect rose in his chest.

Though, he wasn’t about to forget that he was an opponent.

And he just needed him to take… the… bait…

Claygon’s leg lifted high. His arms over-extended slightly.

Shining Slash darted in as the larger golem appeared to be losing balance.

Four swords shot out, hooking the cross-guards around the back of Claygon’s leg, ready to pull him completely off-balance and to the ground.

‘Jerk your leg back!’ Alex thought.

Claygon yanked his leg back abruptly, pulling Shining Slash off-centre and sending him tumbling to the ground in a heap of brass.

‘Knock down,’ Alex thought.

Claygon fell as well, but Alex gave him commands to control the fall. He landed overtop Shining Slash, planted on two of his hands while the other two grabbed the brass golem’s limbs and pressed it into the ground.

“No!” Arlando shouted.

Shining Slash jerked beneath Clagyon, but with the larger golem’s powerful grip on its leg and a pair of its arms, there was no way it was going to budge him.

“One… two! Pin!” the announcer shouted.

The crowd cheered and Alex let the brass golem up.

‘And now for the second punch,’ Alex thought.

“Charge!” Arlando shouted.

Now even more desperate for any sort of points he could make Alex lose, he had Shining Slash rush Claygon.

Whoooom.

So Alex finished charging the fire-gems.

Vooooosh!

The beams of fire-magic slammed directly into Shining Slash as it recklessly moved in.

Boooom!

Fiery explosions ripped through the arena, roaring through the air. The crowd screamed and cheered. The explosions weren’t enough to knock the nine-hundred-and-fifty-pound brass golem off its feet, but it stumbled.

Claygon grabbed it by an arm, turned—swinging it through the air to gather momentum—then flung it straight up. Shining Slash flew at least twenty feet above Claygon’s head before tumbling to the ground in front of him.

Alex had Claygon cock two of his fists back.

Wham!

He drove both of them into Shining Slash at the same time.

Crash! Crash! Skkrrrrrrrrr!

The brass golem bounced off the arena floor before coming to a skidding, grinding halt against the stones.

“No mas!” Arlando shouted, waving his hands back and forth. “No mas! No mas!”

Alex had studied enough languages by now to translate that from Guadianan: ‘No more!’

The crowd went quiet.

The announcer held up his hand. “Arlando Duran has yielded on the field, the winner of the match is Claygon representing Alex Roth!”

The crowd hollered.

Alex turned to the stands and waved at his friends and family. The distant little form of Selina was clapping as hard as she could, jumping up and down. Good. It looked like she was having a good time.

And—if he was honest—so was he.

‘One match down,’ he thought.

He won his next few matches—very handily—through a mix of analysis and good-ol’ fashioned overwhelming power. Claygon was a force to be reckoned with, and even in the super-heavy weight challenge, he was able to overwhelm many of the large monsters he was up against.

As the tournament went on, the adversaries—in each match—were becoming more powerful. Alex needed to think and plan his way through each fight by trying to leave as little to chance as he could as the competition came in with more experience.

Still, he was able to get through each one, some by a wide margin in points and some by a narrow one.

Between rounds he returned to the waiting chamber. It was growing emptier as time went on and more competitors were eliminated. Once he even saw a fist fight break out between a victor and a loser who had to be parted by some of the more hulking staff members.

Three constants remained in the room, though, Sim, Stan, and Tyris. There were no illusions that allowed the competitors to watch other matches from the waiting chamber. Each time two fighters went up for a match, they would return, and one would re-take their seat, while the other headed for the main exit door.

Soon, two familiar names were called by a staff-member.

“Alex Roth and Claygon versus Sim Shale and Shaleleath!”

Alex looked over at Sim, who was rising from his seat in the waiting chamber. “Good luck, mate!”

“Same to you!” Sim called back.

They made their way back to the arena to the roar of the crowd. The cheers had definitely gotten louder and more excited during the later rounds for both Alex and his opponents.

“Shale-leath! Shale-leath! Shale-leath!” some of the crowd chanted.

“Claaaaaygoooon! Claaaaaygoooon! Claaaaaygoooon!” roared other spectators.

The cheers for Claygon sounded a bit more ominous somehow.

Well, if his first fight made it seem like he was the fodder to Arlando’s quiet hero, then now he would definitely be the villain to anyone looking in from the outside.

Shaleleath was even smaller than Shining Slash, and while Claygon was basically a hulking, four-armed monster with sharp teeth and three eyes, Shaleleath resembled a heroic version of Sim himself.

A well-built hero versus a towering monster.

“Except I might be the underdog here,” Alex muttered.

When he’d been near Shaleleath, mana thrummed from the golem. It wasn’t quite like the overwhelming power Claygon gave off, but it was clear Sim had made some upgrades to the basic stone golem design.

And that made sense—his mother owned and worked in one of the most successful golem workshops in all of Generasi—of course, Sim’s golem wouldn’t be the run-of-the mill construct.

‘He could have anything embedded in there,’ Alex thought. ‘Rods that shoot electricity, protective shields, other attack spells… defences. He’d have access to a lot more magical items than I did when I was making Claygon. Of course, more magic items need more mana to create connections between them and the golem core. More pathways, means more complexity and more mana. There’s probably a limit to how many magical items he has embedded in there then. Ugh, I’m trying to think without data. Maybe he doesn’t have any embedded magic items in there at all. Maybe just see what happens.’

He had Claygon bang his fists together twice, then drop into the first stance of the Spear-and-Oar Dance.

Sim spread his hands dramatically in a kind of, ‘come at me’ gesture.

Shaleleath did the same.

The announcer raised his hand. “Who will come out on top? Ready? Begin!”

The crowd cheered.

‘Shock and Awe,’ Alex thought.

Whoooom.

The fire-gems began to charge and glow with their crimson light.

Shaleleath edged closer to Claygon. Alex’s eyes flicked to Sim, watching for any tells or odd movements.

Sim was completely still, simply watching Claygon.

The fire-gems had nearly finished charging.

‘Opening shot,’ Alex thought.

Vooooo—

Claygon’s fire-gems prepared to fire.

Mana flared from Shaleleath. Something was charging up inside of it.

And it was charging up fast.

Broooam!

A wave of force magic blasted out of Shaleleath’s chest, forming a spherical force construct with spikes like the head of a morning star.

Bang!

It blasted into Claygon’s head, sending him stumbling and throwing off his aim. Alex had him plant his foot back to steady himself.

—ooooosh!

The fire-beam from his head blasted into the cage, exploding against the magical brass bars. The beams from his hands also went off-target, drawing long lines of explosions along the ground.

Then Shaleleath extended one of his fists.

But he was still too far away from—

Boom!

With a blast of force magic, Shaleleath’s forearm rocketed off his body—trailing force magic like a firework—and slammed into Claygon’s trunk, making him flinch.

The fist flew back to Sim’s golem, re-attaching.

Alex gaped.

“Really?” he said. “Force magic powered flying fists? That’s awesome!”

From the look on Sim’s face, he could see that not all had gone as planned. Maybe he’d expected the attacks to knock Claygon back or even down.

That wasn’t going to work much here.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, Sim,” Alex muttered, mentally ordering his golem to close the distance between him and Shaleleath.

Claygon charged.

His fist cocked back.

And then suddenly Shaleleath split into six Shaleleaths.

“What the hell?” Alex cried.

It was like Thundar’s Illusionary Duplicate spell, except there were five copies of Shaleleath.

The crowd erupted.

The half a dozen stone golems jumped at Claygon in a confusing mass. Alex couldn’t tell which one was the real one.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Stone smashed against clay, as the real stone golem struck Claygon repeatedly while he tried swinging at all of them. Each time the large golem blasted apart an illusion with one of his four fists, another would form to replace it.

“I take back what I said about having to do better, Sim.”

Chapter 55

Mirrored Golems

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Fists slammed into Claygon from shifting directions. Shaleleath wasn’t as fast as Shining Slash, but he was still faster than Claygon.

Alex chewed his bottom lip and considered the situation.

Had this been a real fight, dropping four fists in a flurry until Claygon punched through the illusions and got to the real Shaleleath would have been a good tactic. He was capable of cracking a dune worm shell. Cracking Shaleleath with one blow or shattering the smaller golem’s limbs with a couple of blows would have been a possibility.

Only, with the magic that stopped hits from being too damaging, the strategy of ‘I only have to hit you once and you’re dead,’ which had worked against the fast moving monsters on the Patrizia’s estate, wouldn’t work here.

Even if he hit Shaleleath a couple of times, he’d still be able to get back up.

Alex decided to use grappling techniques, trying to go for a pin, but Sim kept the real golem away from Claygon’s powerful arms. That left him with only illusions to grab.

‘Right, it’s time for the hit everything approach, then,’ Alex thought.

Claygon began to power the fire-gems.

Whooooom!

If he strafed all six Shaleleaths with his beams, that would not only destroy the illusions, but expose the real golem and knock him off-balance.

Then he could grab—

Bang!

Another force blast slammed into Claygon’s head, throwing his aim off.

Voooosh!

The beams went wide again, allowing all six golems to jump away and avoid the blasts.

Ding!

The bell ended the round.

“Shaleleath! Shaleleath! Shaleleath!” the crowd chanted.

“Aaaah, shit,” Alex swore.

The scores went up.

10-8.

10-9.

10-8.

He’d lost two points from most of the judges.

And he couldn’t even disagree with the call. Sim had definitely dominated that round.

‘Alright, Alex, no use brooding about it,’ he thought. ‘You lost. It wouldn’t be the first time. You fail often enough that the Mark reminds you about it when you’re trying to spell cast. Learn from it and move on.’ Think. Adapt. Think. Adapt. Think. Adapt. What had he learned?

Sim’s magical items charged a hell of a lot faster than Claygon’s. If Alex were to guess, there might be a few reasons why. The magical effects were less powerful than the fire-gems, and Shaleleath was probably built to flood them with mana.

Sim would always be able to hit Alex’s golem with that force blast whenever he saw Claygon’s fire-gems charging.

That didn’t mean the fire-gems were out, it just meant he would need to use them carefully.

What else?

‘Well, that illusion he’s using is annoying,’ he thought. ‘Besides that, it also gives off the illusion of Shaleleath’s mana, so I can’t just sense out which one’s the real golem.’

What else?

Movements.

He focused the Mark on learning Shaleleath’s movements in the last of the two minutes they had between rounds. He compared them with Shining Slash’s movements and those of his other opponents.

‘Huh,’ he thought. ‘There’s something.’

Shaleleath’s movements weren’t exactly polished.

Alex thought about how warriors like Grimloch and Theresa fought, how dancer-warriors like Fan-Dor and Gel-Dor moved, and the body language of others, both experienced combatants and non-combatants.

There was a certain balance to the way trained fighters moved that people who weren’t used to fighting or dancing lacked. The stances of the Spear-and-Oar Dance focused on always keeping one’s weight grounded. A proper stance would make the dancer hard to throw off-balance.

When they were in motion, they moved with grace, always remaining controlled and centred. Even Shining Slash—an imposing brass golem whose bulk could have made him really clumsy—moved with that kind of balance.

Shaleleath wasn’t as fast or as poised as Shining Slash, though.

‘Judging by his movements, Sim’s probably not much of a fighter,’ Alex thought. ‘He’s a crafter by profession, not some battlemage… Okay. I think I have an idea.’

“Fighters, get ready!” the announcer called.

Shaleleath and Claygon took their positions on either side of the arena.

“Begin!” the announcer signalled the start of round two.

Sending a thought to Claygon, Alex had the golem drop into the second stance of the Spear-and-Oar Dance and raise all four arms into Cleansing Movement positions.

Shaleleath split into his five copies, and began cautiously moving toward Claygon.

Sim was ahead in points.

He had no reason to be aggressive now.

‘That’s right, Sim, ready that force blast of yours,’ Alex thought.

Vooooom.

Claygon’s fire-gems began to charge.

Broam!

The spiked blasts of force shot from the Shaleleaths’ chest, arcing toward Claygon’s head.

Crack!

Mentally guiding Claygon’s movements, he snapped all four arms up into a block that guided the force blast away.

Crack!

Five of the blasts dispersed, while the sixth hit the brass bars.

Sim’s eyes widened.

Claygon advanced, swaying his arms like snakes. The power continuing to build in the fire-gems.

Broam!

More force blasts flew at Alex’s golem, but he dug his heels into the stone and continued rapidly swaying his arms, deflecting the force away.

The tactic was working as Claygon’s four enormous arms angled to deflect multiple force blasts, including the illusionary ones.

Then the fire-gems finished charging.

Whoooosh!

Three beams blasted through the air and struck the horde of Shaleleaths, splitting the illusions apart and sending the real golem stumbling. Alex aimed one of the beams at the smaller golem’s right leg, collapsing it, sending it crashing to the ground like a stone.

Claygon charged the fallen golem with all four arms spread out while Shaleleath tried getting back on his feet, lacking the graceful movement of Shining Slash.

More illusions began forming around him, but the fiery explosions stopped them cold.

Crash!

The crowd roared as Claygon dropped down on Shaleleath’s back.

“One! Two!” the announcer called. “Pin!”

‘One knockdown. One pin,’ Alex thought.

He let Shaleleath up, already charging the fire-gems. The stone golem scrambled to its feet and gave ground. It looked like Sim didn’t want to risk another pin.

So, Alex went on the offensive.

More illusions formed around Shaleleath.

Whoooosh.

The fire-beams lanced through the air, blasting the stones around him. Alex lowered Claygon’s centre of balance and advanced. His lower arms rose up to guard against force blasts or flying fists.

Broaam!

Boom! Boom!

Fists and force blasts—some real and some illusionary—blasted into the clay golem’s defences, but with Claygon’s lowered centre of balance, he wasn’t budging.

Shaleleath backed away as its fists returned and re-attached to its arms.

“Got you,” Alex whispered.

Whooosh!

More fire-beams sprayed out, blowing apart the replicas. Alex angled the two beams from Claygon’s palms to box Shaleleath in, while the third blasted around the stone golem, hindering it from manoeuvering.

Booom! Boom! Boom!

Claygon charged.

Booooom!

Shaleleath fired both stony fists and the force blast at the same time. Claygon’s lower hands were already coming up as he redirected his forehead beam.

The beam ripped the force blast apart.

Whoosh!

Sim’s golem’s fists were shooting directly at Claygon.

Clack! Clack!

Claygon’s hands caught the flying fists, gripping them tightly.

“I guess that means you’re… disarmed.” Alex smiled at his own joke.

Crash!

Claygon tackled the smaller golem into the cage, pressing it against the bars, then he grabbed one of its stony stumps and threw it to the ground.

He picked Shaleleath back up, and slammed it against the bars two more times before pinning the golem in place.

“One… two! Pin!” the announcer cried.

Alex had Claygon let Shaleleath go again, backing off slightly, his fists snapping up.

Shaleleath’s illusions formed, except now he was cornered.

Claygon’s fists struck, crashing through the images and knocking Shaleleath against the bars. The smaller golem couldn’t run and he had no hands to use, since Claygon was clutching them within his own fists.

Ding!

Finally, the bell rang.

Both golems returned to their corners—right after Claygon gave Shaleleath its arms back—while the crowd loudly stomped the ground.

Alex looked up at the scores.

10-4.

10-4.

10-4.

“That’s a good round,” he said.

Sim just shook his head across the field and gave a bitter laugh.

The next round began aggressively.

Sim needed to get some knockdowns or wins if he had any hope of turning the match around. Shaleleath came in hard, spreading his illusionary replicas.

Claygon charged right back.

Broooam!

That’s when the force blast fired at one of Claygon’s legs mid-stride.

“Shit,” Alex swore.

Booom!

The ground shook as his golem tripped on the force blast, landing hard. Shaleleath rushed for him, trying for a pin. Alex had Claygon roll and use his lower arms to quickly right himself. Sim fired both fists and another force blast into two of Claygon’s arms to stop him getting to his feet.

It was a pretty good tactic for someone who didn’t have much experience in fighting.

‘Guess there’s more than one reason you made it this far, Sim,’ Alex thought, concentrating on charging Claygon’s fire-gems.

Shaleleath was almost beside Claygon and was preparing to leap on the bigger golem in order to grab and pin him from behind. Alex had his golem roll on his back and aim all three fire-gems at Shaleleath.

Whooooom!

The stone golem screeched to a halt, trying to jump away.

Vooooosh!

Two beams caught its side, blasting it backward and to the ground. Claygon got up and was upon the stone golem while it struggled to stand.

Crack!

A massive kick swept through the clustered illusionary replicas, blasting them apart and sending the real Shaleleath skidding along the ground.

“Two knockdowns,” Alex said quietly. “Now what?”

Sim’s next move was to try taking Claygon down with more force blasts to the leg, but Claygon kept his legs steady and planted, feet anchored in place. Shaleleath went in to kick his legs out.

But it was too little, too late.

Ding!

The scores came in.

9-8.

9-8.

9-8.

“Winner of round three and the match is Claygon, representing Alex Roth!” the announcer roared and the crowd roared with him.

Alex and Sim approached each other and shook hands in the middle of the arena.

“That golem of yours is kickass,” Alex said.

“I could say the same,” Sim said. “You really know how to handle it too.”

“We’ve been practising together, a lot,” Alex said.

They clasped each other’s hands and raised them high as the crowd chanted Claygon’s name. Alex had Claygon take a bow before they left the arena floor and made their way back down to the waiting chamber. He and Sim chatted for a bit before saying their goodbyes, then he took a deep breath, and sat back down to wait.

Slowly, the competition dwindled.

Mad Stan and Ozzie got knocked out a couple of matches later.

Each time Tyris went up, she would soon be back down with her head held high. Her opponents would exit shortly after.

Alex glanced at the few competitors remaining.

“If we make it to the final round, we might be facing Tyris for the grand prize,” he muttered to Claygon. “Hear that, big guy? Now we just got to win our final few matches and then—”

“Next match! Alex Roth and Claygon versus Tyris Goldtooth and Vesuvius!”

Alex was startled.

“Oh, shit, nevermind, buddy. I guess we face her right the hell now.”

Tyris looked up from across the room and gave him a thumbs up. The orange glow smouldered from the top of Vesuvius’ shell.

A golden glint shone in her smile.

Chapter 56

Vesuvius

“Well, looks like our companions will be dancing together a little earlier than I expected this evening,” Tyris said as Alex and Claygon approached her. “You think your Claygon can handle my Vesuvius?”

Alex shrugged, wearing a mask of indifference as he examined Vesuvius closely. “I’m a man of magic and science, and I’d never want to make a hypothesis without evidence.” He smiled openly. “But, I’m sure I’ll get all the evidence I need soon enough.”

Tyris reached out to idly stroke Vesuvius’ volcano-shell. The titanic tortoise gave a low rumble of contentment, sounding like a minor earthquake.

“You’re right. I have faith in Vesuvius. He’s awesome.” She smiled as the tortoise gave another happy rumble.

Alex glanced at the tortoise’s large eyes. He couldn’t be sure—at least not yet—but he thought he caught the glimmer of intellect in them.

“All the predictions in the world don’t matter in battle,” Tyris continued. “In the end, the only thing that matters for victory is victory itself. And the only ones people want to hear from afterward are the victors.”

“I dunno about that, sometimes we learn more from failure than from victory.”

“Well—”

“Ahem,” the attendant standing by one of the doors cleared his throat. “If the combatants would proceed to the arena.”

“Fair enough.” Alex stuck his hand out. “May the best wizard-commanded horrible engine of destruction win.”

She shook his hand and laughed as they went to their assigned doorways.

Alex’s smile faded as he walked up the ramp.

“Oh boy,” he muttered to himself.

This was going to be tough.

A quick assessment of Vesuvius’ body language didn’t help him much. He wasn’t a human, he was a giant volcano-shelled tortoise. There really wasn’t much he’d observed about the tortoise that was helpful. He’d been studying the body language of people, which didn’t really help when it came to enormous fire reptiles.

‘Maybe I should’ve studied dragons,’ he thought irrationally, climbing the slope up to the arena.

One thing he did get from Vesuvius was the sheer amount of heat coming off the thing. Standing near the tortoise almost felt like he was back in the Cave of the Traveller, up against that oppressive heat emanating from the goddess statues’ explosive fire-beams.

‘The lava’s not supposed to damage Claygon… probably,’ he thought, wondering exactly what the limit of the magic that stopped blows and attacks from being lethal was. ‘But lava’s thick and will slow him if he gets caught. If it cools then hardens, we’re really in trouble.’

Then there was something else to consider.

The more powerful a creature was, the more difficult it was to make it a familiar, which is why most wizards tended to make familiars out of things like toads, rats, cats, and other small, non-magical beasts. That didn’t mean you could never make more powerful monsters into familiars. A wizard would just have to start when they were young.

Stories of wizards riding ancient dragon familiars tended to be either a fantastical tale or the tale was actually true, except the wizard was ancient and had formed their bond with the dragon when it was newly hatched.

Stan Ernesto raised his bear-mammoths from young. The fact that he had multiple bear-mammoth familiars showed a raw talent for the ritual and a real attachment to his companions. Though Alex figured he formed his bond with them before they matured.

Tyris seemed to have a strong bond with Vesuvius, and the tortoise appeared to have intellect beyond that of an average beast. That could mean his species was either naturally intelligent or…

“He really might be her familiar,” Alex muttered as he stepped into the light.

Evening had turned the sunlight a fiery orange. Kinda fitting for their battle. Magical lights had been cast above the seats and cage to provide better illumination. Alex felt a little bit of mana from the sky above and noticed there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Vesuvius being a familiar would mean Alex would have lava, the tortoise’s bulk, and possibly Tyris’ spells to deal with. She was also supposed to specialise in lava, but that could simply mean she just preferred the spell, not that she didn’t use other spells.

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we, Claygon?” Alex pat his golem on the side. “Hey, you wouldn’t be kind enough to evolve just before the first round begins, would you? Nice and convenient like?”

Claygon, of course, didn’t answer.

“Yeah, I thought not.”

“Welcome, gentlefolk, to another exciting bout! We have two newcomers who’ve been burning up the tournament, and I do indeed intend that as a pun!” the announcer shouted with humour in his voice. “They fight with the combat experience of veterans and the confidence of prior champions! Both of their companions specialise in crushing power, with Tyris Goldtooth’s spell casting flowing through her impressive familiar for an excellent dash of versatility!”

The crowd cheered.

“Aaaaah shit,” Alex murmured.

He glanced up to where his friends and family were sitting way up in the stands. He didn’t have to be near them to know that they’d be worried about the opponent he was facing. The group looked subdued, not cheering wildly like before. Not a good sign.

They’d watched all the fights and had seen Tyris and Vesuvius win every one they’d been in, and if that wasn’t enough to worry the—

Wait.

What were those shiny things Thundar and Khalik were handing to Grimloch? Were they betting on the fight? Were they betting against or on him to win?

“Both of those bastards had better be betting on how many points we’re gonna win, not lose by!” he grumbled as Claygon entered the cage.

Alex glanced at Vesuvius, the ground shaking with every step he took. When he entered the cage, his sheer length must have reached nearly halfway across the arena.

“Maybe thirty feet long?” he muttered, trying to estimate the tortoise’s length. “By the Traveller!”

“On one side,” the announcer stoked the crowd. “We have Claygon! Victorious in five matches so far and a favourite for the finals! A four-armed beast weighing in at twenty-four-hundred pounds—gHe smashes! He burns! He pins opponents large and small! Can he be stopped? Let’s hear it for the four-armed juggernaut, Claaaaygoooon!”

The crowd cheered. “Claaaaaygoooon! Claaaaaygoooon! Claaaaaygoooon!”

“On the other,” the announcer pointed to the massive tortoise, whose shell towered over even Claygon, “we have Vesuvius, a vulcanchelone—or a volcano tortoise as they’re called in the south—aged fifteen years and still growing—”

“Holy shit,” Alex muttered.

“—though he already weighs in at an estimated fifty thousand pounds—”

“Oh shit,” Alex swore again.

“—his powerful club tail could snap an oak tree in half with one swing—”

“He’s got a what!” Alex tried to keep quiet as his horror rose.

“—and he is by far one of the largest competitors ever to grace the Duel by Proxy! Let’s hear it for the mountainous tower of power! Vesuuuuuviuuuuus!”

“Vesuviuuuus! Vesuviuuuus! Vesuviuuuus!” the crowd screamed.

“What the hell,” Alex said. “After an introduction like that, I sorta wanna start chanting his name myself!”

He hadn’t been able to find any weaknesses apart from him being slow-moving. Then again, when you took up a quarter of the battleground with bulk alone, you really didn’t need to spend a lot of time worrying about trying to catch your opponent.

And where was that club tail the announcer mentioned?

Alex shook his head. ‘Come on, it’s gotta have weaknesses. There’s flipping it. He’ll probably be able to turn himself back over if Claygon does that, but it’d likely take a while. Claygon lifted the bloody dune worm over his head, he could probably flip this guy even if he won’t be able to carry him. Then there’s exhaustion. He’s a really big beast, which means he needs a lot of energy to move, but Claygon never tires. Also, he’s a familiar, so I’ll have spells to worry about. That also means Tyris has been using up mana in her other matches. And she’ll need to preserve some for future matches, even if she knows mana regeneration techniques.’

He nodded.

The beginnings of a plan began to form in his mind.

Slam!

Claygon’s fists slammed together.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Vesuvius pawed the earth like a bull preparing to charge.

“Who will come out on top?” the announcer shouted. He lifted a hand.

Alex tensed, and across the arena, he could see Tyris do the same.

“Begin!” the announcer’s hand fell.

‘Go for the eyes,’ Alex thought. ‘And for the unexpected. She’ll probably think I’ll want to keep away.’

Vooooom.

The fire-gems began to charge as Claygon dug his heels into the ground and rushed toward Vesuvius.

Boom. Boom.

Vesuvius began to stomp his way toward Claygon like a walking castle. A gurgle like a thousand boiling cauldrons about to overflow came from his shell, and the light built up.

Whoooosh!

A spout of bubbling lava erupted from the top of the shell like a fountain of death, arcing toward Claygon with unwelcomed accuracy.

Alex’s golem jumped back, narrowly avoiding the glowing geyser as it splattered over the stones, coating the ground in boiling rock.

Then Vesuvius’ beak parted.

There was a sound like the gusting winds of a storm as the monster inhaled an enormous breath of air, then released it.

An inferno-cloud blasted from its throat.

“Oh shit!” Alex cried as gasps and cheers rose from the crowd.

The explosive cone of flames engulfed Claygon, pushing him back at least half a dozen feet, though he fought to position his heels like he had against Shaleleath.

Gurgle.

Another gout of lava blasted from Vesuvius’ shell as Tyris roared out an incantation. Claygon tried to escape the breath of flame, but the lava on the ground writhed into the air, transforming into dozens of lava tentacles as thick as a grown man’s trunk.

They wrapped around Claygon, binding him, trying to keep him in place.

‘Break free,’ Alex thought.

Snap!

The tentacles snapped with a slight twist of Claygon’s powerful limbs. Alex watched Tyris swear across the battlefield, then direct the tentacles to grab at Claygon while she chanted another spell.

The golem broke free of the cone of fire, just managing to dodge another lava geyser that sprouted tentacles.

“Shit, so that’s the game,” Alex said.

She was controlling lava with her spells. Each blast from Vesuvius would spread over the field and give her more material to work with.

The fire-gems finished charging.

Whooosh!

Alex aimed the beams for Vesuvius’ eyes.

Boooom!

They blasted against the tortoise’s head, obscuring his vision. The beams couldn’t hurt him since he was likely immune to fire and was too big for them to budge him, but they had the desired effect. Stopping him from seeing long enough for an attack. Vesuvius growled and the flame from his throat stopped mid-stream.

Claygon charged the tortoise’s flank.

‘Club tail, club tail,’ Alex thought, watching for it.

Snap!

A massive tail about half as long as the shell emerged from his back end. There was an enormous bony club at the end that looked like it could smash a dune worm’s shell like a nutcracker.

Alex thought of the best direction to head toward when—

Whooosh.

It swung at Claygon with a speed he hadn’t expected.

Wham!

He gasped, grabbing the cage bars.

The clubbed tail whipped down toward Claygon’s approaching footsteps, smashing directly into his chest. Over two thousand pounds of magically powered clay went flying through the air like a ball thrown by Selina to one of her young friends. The fire-beams sputtered out.

Bang!

And the ground quaked as he fell in a heap.

Whooosh.

Another geyser of molten lava arced out, this time spraying directly onto Claygon, coating the golem as he forced himself to his feet.

Alex began charging the fire-gems again.

Then Tyris spat out another spell.

A blast of icy power materialised above Vesuvius’ head, then shot toward the lava engulfing Claygon.

Bwooosh!

As the cold magic hit the lava, it began cooling rapidly.

“Clever,” Alex grunted.

Voooom.

The fire-gems finished charging.

Claygon blasted the cooling rock around him, shattering it, then scrambled away.

Vesuvius thundered toward Claygon, but he was slow.

Tyris finished casting another spell.

Haste.

The tortoise’s speed doubled, and he came at Claygon like a runaway meteor.

‘Shit, Claygon, move!’ Alex thought, fighting to keep from shouting. He couldn’t let his opponent hear his instructions and learn his strategies.

Claygon rushed to the giant tortoise’s flank, out of range of—

“What the hell!” Alex shouted.

The tortoise’s head shot forward with speed, revealing an elongated neck.

The beak snapped onto one of Claygon’s arms. Vesuvius lifted the golem off his feet—removing his leverage—then slammed him back to the ground, face down with his arms and legs splayed.

He pressed a giant foot onto Claygon’s back before he could get his arms under his body.

“One… two… pin!” the announcer roared.

“Oof,” Alex winced.

Vesuvius let Claygon go and the crowd went wild.

“Alright, that’s okay,” Alex muttered, we can—

Ding!

He startled, looking at the bell.

“Already!” he cried in surprise.

The crowd roared as the scores went up.

10-6.

10-6.

10-6.

“Ah jeez, that really did not go well,” he groaned. “It makes sense, though. They dominated and got the pin. I have to do better. All things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

As Claygon returned to his side of the battlefield, Alex reflected on the fight.

He’d gained a lot of data.

And the more a wizard knew about an opponent, the more dangerous they became.

Chapter 57

Powerlifting

“Okay, let’s review what we didn’t know and what we know now,” he said quietly to himself.

Before, he had no idea that Vesuvius had a club tail, no idea he could breathe fire, and no idea what spells Tyris favoured.

Now, he had information about all three.

‘Tyris had used four spells in that round. Haste is a third-tier spell, and I bet those lava tentacles are third or above since they have so much power behind them. Her ice spell was powerful enough to cool lava real fast. That’s not exactly something you’d expect from a third or second level ice spell.’

He’d seen Malcolm use plenty of ice spells, but none had the power to rapidly cool something as hot as lava.

‘That means she’d used a lot of mana,’ he thought. ‘Mana regeneration techniques aside… did she do that for the three rounds in every bout? Hmmm, she’s in our division for the Grand Battle, which means at maximum, she’s able to cast fourth tier spells. Since she’s not Baelin, she can’t be throwing around three or four third and higher-tier spells every round without her mana dropping.’

He glanced over at Tyris. She smiled, petting the side of Vesuvius’ mouth, watching Claygon while whispering to the tortoise.

No doubt she was strategizing too.

‘Since we made it this far, she probably had us marked as competition and couldn’t afford to hold back in the first round. But, now that she’s won that first round, she can afford to be more cautious in the second, and just maintain that nice, big lead of hers for the win. So now what?’

His eyes travelled over Vesuvius’s massive body, stopping at his tail.

‘Okay, the tail’s quick. He’s got that long neck… The side’s probably the best direction to approach him from, but she’ll expect that. Maybe the best thing to do is try to tire him out.’

He cracked his knuckles, even though he wasn’t actually the one doing the fighting.

Or doing anything else physical.

‘Maybe I should look into getting a familiar one day,’ he thought.

Then again, he wouldn’t have much use for one outside of literally this situation, and he didn’t plan on entering the Duel by Proxy every year.

Although he could. They were pretty fun.

Now where was he?

Oh yeah, the fight.

‘Let’s outlast them, Claygon,’ he thought.

The only problem was that each round was timed, so he couldn’t just take as long as he needed to exhaust the creature.

They’d have to make Vesuvius exert himself a lot.

And he just might have a way to do it.

He thought back to the fight with the dune worm and how the monster tired itself out against Claygon.

Smiling, he had his golem crack his knuckles, though they made no sound… because his fingers didn’t have joints to pop.

Alex shook his head at himself.

Ding!

Round two was underway.

This time, Vesuvius charged toward the centre of the arena, while Claygon gave ground, letting him take the centre.

Both the tortoise’s tail and neck extended, covering a vast area with their reach, and the tortoise began spewing lava and fire breath at Claygon.

Alex took a quick look at Tyris.

She wasn’t speaking any incantations. He’d need to keep an eye on her.

He had Claygon run to the tortoise’s side—the massive golem was pretty fast when he got up to speed—but Vesuvius worked to turn and face the construct. His long neck pivoted to spew flame.

The fire crackled just behind Claygon.

Whoosh.

Then the tail appeared.

With a few short steps, the tortoise changed direction and swung his massive, club-tail directly at Claygon’s torso.

Alex mentally told Claygon to spread his arms.

Bang!

It connected, but Claygon wrapped his four arms around the tip of the bony club. He was yanked from his feet with force and Vesuvius roared, swinging his tail back and forth, trying to shake the unwanted passenger.

The golem’s strength was immense, his grip solid over four limbs, and he did not tire. No matter how hard Vesuvius shook his tail, Claygon wouldn’t let go.

He shifted his grip and began climbing up the tail toward the back of the monster’s shell. One of his hands released Vesuvius’ tail and he raised that elbow and—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Began to drop elbow blow after elbow blow into the tortoise’s iron-hard hide. Vesuvius roared with agitation and tried to swing around.

Tyris shouted one incantation then another.

A small rock and a roaring ball of flame materialised behind Vesuvius’ shell, fusing into a boiling, hissing ball of lava.

Alex watched Vesuvius’ movements carefully.

The frantic movements of his tail were stopping Tyris from aiming the lava blast properly. In order for her to fire it, Vesuvius would have to—

‘There!’ Alex thought.

Vesuvius’ tail paused, just long enough for Claygon to be a good target for the blast.

That’s when Claygon let go.

He dropped to the ground and ducked low, letting the roiling ball of lava blast over his head, then rushed toward the tortoise’s back end. Vesuvius tried turning as Tyris shouted another spell, but Claygon got to his rear before she could finish.

The golem bent and placed all four hands under the tortoise before planting his feet and centering his balance.

Unconsciously, Alex raised his arms in tandem with Claygon as the golem squatted down with his legs and pushed upward.

The crowd went quiet.

A grunt of surprise escaped from Vesuvius.

Claygon began lifting the tortoise and the crowd broke into cheers of shock and delight when Vesuvius’ back feet rose off the ground.

Tyris cried out as Claygon lifted her familiar higher and higher.

“Yes!” Alex shouted.

Vesuvius struggled—kicking his legs and swinging his tail—but he didn’t have the leverage to dislodge Claygon.

Tyris began to shout an incantation.

“Now!” Alex roared as loud as he could.

It was the first time he’d given Claygon a verbal command during the match and it caught her off guard.

Her spellcasting halted for a stunned breath while Claygon began to rock from side to side, building up momentum. He shifted to the side, more to the tortoise’s left.

Off of his centre of balance.

The golem squatted low, bending both pairs of arms for a shoulder press.

Tyris tried to finish her spell.

Claygon pushed up at full power.

And all fifty thousand pounds of vulcanchelone let out a roar of shock as his left side flew in the air. Claygon kept pushing as he upended the tortoise until—

Booooom!

The entire arena quaked as the golem flipped the enormous monster onto its right side. Lava poured from the shell.

The crowd’s roar was deafening as Alex let Claygon back away.

‘Knockdown one,’ he thought.

Tyris finished her spell. Two spiked force blasts—like Shaleleath’s—shot out from under Vesuvius, knocking Claygon backward.

Alex’s next command was: ‘Charge the fire gems.’

The monster’s tail pressed against the stone, angled for leverage. His left legs were sticking up in the air, swinging back and forth to build momentum. With that motion and a push of his powerful tail, Vesuvius righted himself.

Alex wasted no time, sending Claygon charging forward to flip him again, but Tyris cast another Haste spell on Vesuvius. Now at double speed, the tortoise whirled toward Claygon and his head snapped out to grab him.

Claygon blasted him full in the face with the fire-gems, momentarily blinding him. Alex used that moment. His golem grabbed the monster’s exposed neck with all four arms.

He cocked a fist back and delivered a massive blow like a thunderclap. The force was enough to send Vesuvius’ head whipping to the side, stunning him.

Tyris finished another spell, a blast of ice hit the ground, catching Claygon by surprise. He slipped, but held fast to Vesuvius’ neck and shell, and swung his body away from the ice, then planted his feet again.

Vesuvius’ master chanted, but the massive tortoise was still stunned from the blow, and Claygon used that to get beneath his shell again and begin lifting hard.

With another roar and earth-shattering crash, Vesuvius hit the ground a second time.

“Knockdown two,” Alex muttered.

He had Claygon back off as Tyris fired two more lava spells. The golem raised his arms, deflecting them as Alex directed him through the Cleansing Movements.

While Vesuvius was righting himself, Alex began planning another knockdown when—

Ding!

Round two ended.

Alex turned and looked at the score cards.

“Please be 10-6 in my favour,” he said.

10-7.

10-7.

10-7.

“Dammit,” he swore beneath his breath.

May have been in his favour, but he was still three points behind her.

He’d need more than to just fight better in the next round. Catching up would mean either a knockdown, a pin—which would be impossible, Claygon just didn’t have the sheer mass or leverage to keep Vesuvius from getting back up—or more than one knockdown.

He eyed Vesuvius as the tortoise returned to Tyris’ side. The massive monster’s breathing was definitely laboured now. Moving all that bulk, then having to right yourself after being flipped twice probably wasn’t easy. Not to mention he’d had several fights before Claygon.

This last round might’ve been tricky, though.

He’d caught Tyris and Vesuvius off guard because they didn’t expect Claygon would be able to move, let alone lift the beast.

But now, they knew he could.

“We might need a different strategy, big guy,” Alex said quietly to Claygon. “What about my proposal from before? Any thoughts on suddenly and conveniently evolving during the match for no reason that doesn’t make any sense at all, and then showing everyone how much stronger you’ve become by beating your opponent like he was a feather?”

Claygon, of course, didn’t respond.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

He looked back at Tyris, his eyes narrowing. She’d used more spells during that round than she probably wanted to, and he and Claygon had closed the gap.

What would she do now?

He thought about the likely spells she might use now that there was only one round left. This last round was either do or die.

“If I were her, what would I do?” he muttered.

Then a thought occurred to him. A horrifying thought.

“There’s no way she doesn’t know that spell,” he muttered. “And it doesn’t care how big a living creature is, it just works on them.” He shook his head. “Okay, buddy, let’s get ready. Once more into the fray.”

The golem clacked his fists together at the same time Alex did.

Vesuvius turned back toward them.

‘They’d start defensive. They were ahead in points. But once we narrowed that score…’

Ding!

The bell rang, signalling round three.

This time, Vesuvius stomped toward Claygon, simultaneously breathing a massive storm of fire and spraying lava from his shell. Alex had Claygon charge directly into the flame and lava storm.

The sheer force of Vesuvius’ assault slowed him, but he dug his heels in and pushed forward, having already begun to power up the fire-gems. The glow and hum they produced were hidden by the flame and lava surrounding Claygon.

Tyris’ eyes narrowed from across the arena, remaining silent with her spells.

Then three beams of light tore through the flames, blasting the ground beside Vesuvius’ head. He jerked his head up, elongating his neck to keep his eyes from the blinding beams.

That halted the fire breath from hitting Claygon directly, and the breath was weakening. ‘You can’t keep exhaling forever,’ Alex thought.

He had Claygon scoop up two handfuls of molten rock with his lower hands right when Vesuvius ran out of breath and inhaled.

Claygon whipped the handfuls of lava at the monster.

One missed, but the other landed straight in its open mouth. The tortoise aspirated the lava, his eyes flew wide, then he went into shuddering bouts of coughing. Claygon charged, tackling his massive right front leg from under him.

With a roar, Vesuvius tipped forward and Claygon used that momentum to keep lifting.

Crash!

The massive turtle flipped onto his side.

‘Knockdown,’ Alex thought. ‘We’re even. One more point from each judge.’

Tyris began spellcasting.

First, she hammered Claygon with a blast of force to push him back, then started casting another spell.

And Alex fought a smile as he recognized it.

The crowd gasped when the massive beast began to rise from the earth. Flight magic.

But that was the spell Alex had anticipated.

‘Go!’ he mentally ordered.

Claygon rushed forward and jumped, grabbing onto Vesuvius’ shell.

The crowd roared as both the titanic monster and massive golem lifted into the air together.

Chapter 58

Fire in the Sky

Claygon tightened his grip on Vesuvius’ shell.

Both golem and vulcanchelone shot into the air. Flight magic granted the gigantic tortoise speed far greater than normal, and the wind seemed to howl around him.

He swung from side to side, trying to shake the golem off, but Claygon’s grip only grew stronger. Vesuvius glanced at the brass bars of the arena’s cage.

He barreled straight for them at top speed, angling the golem toward the metal railings.

Crash!

He rammed Claygon against the cage, determined to knock him loose. The golem’s powerful grip proved vice-like, clamping tighter as the giant reptile struggled to break free.

Remembering Grimloch grabbing the xyrthak, Alex commanded Claygon to position his upper arms around the tortoise’s neck. Vesuvius roared, banging him against the cage once, twice, three times.

It had become a game of combat performance. There’d be no more knockdowns against Vesuvius since he was now under the flight spell. Now, only superior tactics could close the point-gap between them.

As the tortoise repeatedly bashed him against the cage—the crash of clay on metal echoing through the air—Alex then had Claygon wrap his lower hands around Vesuvius’ neck, mimicking the hold he’d used on the wizard in the nobildonna’s wood.

With all four arms firmly around the tortoise’s neck, Vesuvius’ struggle grew frenzied. He tried in vain to throw him off by wriggling his neck and kicking his front legs.

Tyris began roaring out incantations like battle cries.

Lava, bolts of force, powerful gusts of wind, and lightning strikes slammed the golem, but Alex had him hook his legs under the shell’s rim, securing his hold. The fire-gems began powering up.

“Let’s see how all that flailing works for you if you’re blinded,” Alex muttered, focusing on the tortoise’s movements.

He was concentrating so deeply, he could barely hear the crowd anymore. A glance at the stands showed almost everyone on their feet. They were shouting, screaming, and pumping their fists as Claygon and Vesuvius waged their titanic clash. Golem core-powered limbs struggled against the supernaturally mighty muscle within Vesuvius’ neck.

Neither seemed ready to give.

Tyris finished another incantation.

Golden orbs of oil materialised around Claygon, splashing downward, coating Vesuvius in its slickness. The crowd gasped as the tortoise froze in the air, then began spinning like a young giant’s top.

Force and momentum built with each rotation, threatening to hurl Claygon into the stones far below.

Alex’s jaw tightened as Claygon began to slip.

Voooom.

The fire-gems flared. He aimed all three at the oil.

Whooosh!

The combustible liquid ignited in a sheet of flame, the fire-beams burning it away. Claygon’s grip tightened anew and he turned his forehead beam toward Vesuvius’ head, blasting the tortoise in the right eye.

The vulcanchelone roared. Claygon removed one hand from its neck and brought up his massive clay fist like a sledgehammer.

It swung down like an executioner’s axe.

Crack!

The monster’s head whipped sideways from the force of the blow, his roar dying in a choked grunt. Half-blinded, the tortoise spun into the side of the cage, colliding with the brass bars then sliding along them with a screech of shell on metal that echoed throughout the arena.

Claygon drove blow after blow into Vesuvius—whipping the giant beast’s head to the side at each pummel—until it slammed into the ground.

Scrrrrrr!

His belly scraped across the earth before his momentum stopped, bringing him to a dead stop. He rose slowly into the air. Claygon held on.

The crowd screamed their approval.

‘Was that a knock-down?’ Alex thought. ‘By the Traveller, I hope it was.’

Vesuvius kept struggling in Claygon’s grip, but it was clear he was weakening. His attempts to shake off the unwanted passenger had become sluggish, his roars more restrained, and he listed to one side in midair.

Tyris tried to dislodge Claygon with spell after spell, but nothing could even shift the golem’s grip.

Raising both hands, she drew in a deep breath—getting ready to cast a spell.

Ding!

The final bell cut her off.

The round had ended.

Looking surprised but weary, Vesuvius drifted to the ground and gently touched down on the stones. Claygon released him and jumped off. Tyris wore a mask of calm as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Alex looked up at the judges’ booth, his hands nervously balling into fists while he waited for the scores to come up.

‘Did that last fall count as a knockdown?’ he wondered.

Vesuvius had hit the ground, but his flight hadn’t stopped.

What was that considered to be? A knockdown? A stumble? Was it worth points? It seemed like it’d be a hard call to make, one that’d only be resolved by each judge’s expertise and opinion.

And what about the fight in the air? Claygon had climbed onto Vesuvius’ back, grabbed his neck and smashed him around, but Tyris had poured a lot of spells into Claygon, nearly forcing him off, and the tortoise had smashed him into the bars several times.

Claygon had gotten clean hits.

Vesuvius had gotten clean hits.

Alex didn’t know enough about how the performances were judged to even guess who the judges would think the more dominant fighter had been.

“Come on… come on…” he muttered, as each humourless judge silently tallied their points to mark their scorecard.

Judge one raised his card.

9-9.

‘What?’ Alex thought.

The crowd made a noise that Alex could only describe as ‘loud surprise.’

Tyris stood a little straighter. Alex groaned.

He assumed the judge hadn’t counted the second knockdown against Vesuvius, then had given the better performance to the tortoise. Alex’s mind whirled.

‘Okay, so Vesuvius controlled his flight,’ he thought. ‘He’d also body slammed Claygon more, but—Oh shit, here we go!’

The second scorecard came up.

10-8 in his favour.

Alex fought the urge to pump his fist. Tyris visibly winced and the crowd let loose a collective excited cry.

Tyris was one point ahead. One more point to a tie. In that case, he actually had no idea what would happen then.

“Come on… come oooon…” he muttered under his breath.

The final scorecard seemed to rise as slowly as a sleepy snail.

Alex held his breath.

Tyris stiffened.

The crowd went quiet.

Then the judge paused as if in thought, seeming to consider something for a moment. He held the card low.

Alex wanted to scream.

Finally, the scorecard went up.

10-8. In favour of Claygon.

The crowd’s roar was deafening.

“Yeeeeeeeees!” Alex shouted, throwing up both fists.

Tyris actually turned as white as a sheet and Vesuvius gave a low sound that Alex could have sworn sounded like a whimper.

The crowd hammered the floor and their cheering echoed all throughout the arena.

“The winner—representing Alex Roth—iiiiiis Claaaaaygooooon!” the announcer bellowed above the crowd’s cheer.

Alex was all smiles.

Despite the match not even being one of the final ones, after a battle like that, he felt like he’d just won ten tournaments.

‘And what an opponent,’ he thought, turning to look at Tyris. ‘If she’d finished whatever spell she was about to cast or if Claygon was weaker… She’s going to be a real problem in the Grand Battle.’

Alex crossed the field to shake his opponent’s hand in the centre of the arena. The disappointment she wore was blatant to him: a slump in her shoulders, a tight forced smile, a glassy look in her eyes.

When they clasped hands, hers were shaking.

“Well done,” Alex said, with respect. “You and Vesuvius are a real team. He’s a real monster on the battlefield.” Alex looked at her with sincerity. “I’m definitely not looking forward to facing you in the Grand Battle, Tyris.”

Her smile tightened further. “Well, I’ll be looking for you. Things will be different.”

She squeezed his hand before letting go.

‘Well, that’s going to be a thing,’ Alex thought. ‘Gotta tell the team about her.’

He looked up at the seats where his friends were on their feet. He smiled and waved at them.

Then, his smile faded.

Khalik was giving what looked like coin to Thundar.

“Oh, you bastard,” he muttered.

A wave of relief seemed to go through the other competitors in the waiting chamber as they watched Tyris and her familiar leave. Alex couldn’t blame them. Having to fight a fifty-thousand-pound volcano tortoise was enough to make anyone nervous.

Still, no one seemed to be paying much attention to the one that beat said tortoise.

‘What’s Claygon then, a dried bit of grass?’ he thought.

Shaking his head, he took in the room and assessed the rest of the opponents.

He noted the chimaera that he’d seen earlier, the swamp drake, and the other remaining monsters.

Alex took a deep breath.

‘If Tyris was that tough, then what the hell are the quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals going to be like?’ he shuddered, looking at Claygon. ‘Get ready, big guy. Because things are only gonna get harder from here.’

“I yield! I yield!” his opponent cried.

“Wait, what now?” Alex said.

Their opponent was waving his arms after Claygon had pinned his companion—a ferocious looking ape-like creature—for the fourth time.

“My familiar is humiliated and refuses to go on!” the wizard shouted, quite flustered. “Have you no mercy?”

“Winner of the quarter final in the third round is Claygon, representing Alex Roth!” the announcer cried.

‘Well, this was interesting,’ Alex thought. ‘Tyris was one of the toughest opponents here, but I met her early. I suppose it might make sense that the quarter final could be easier. But, the semi’s up next. It’s only gonna get tougher from here.’

‘Holy shit, I was right,’ Alex thought.

Simbariel the chimaera roared and gave Claygon a swipe that shifted his head to the side. The golem spun and tried to grab the beast but—much like Shining Slash—he was too quick.

Simbariel landed behind the golem and let out a roar that threatened to shatter eardrums. Some nearby spectators sitting close to the arena floor grabbed their ears, crying out as the beast launched itself on Claygon’s back before he could turn. He clawed him in a frenzy, then clamped his massive jaws over the golem’s helmet. Two massive clay arms shot up, grasped the chimaera by the mane, then tossed him over his head.

Flying through the air, Simbariel twisted and landed on his paws and hooves with cat-like grace as the goat’s head on his back drew in a breath.

It emitted a sonic blast that ripped across the stones in waves, slamming into Clagyon, driving him back. His feet scraped along the ground.

Alex considered the fight.

Two rounds of lots of manoeuvring.

The first had seen Claygon get in some good, clean blows that brought him the win.

In the second, Simbariel was a lot cageier and kept pouncing out of Claygon’s reach before he could strike. That round had gone to the chimaera.

Alex was starting to see a pattern in his attacks. The jaws of his snake-like tail always opened as if poised to bite Claygon, but would pull back at the last moment. He had bitten him once, but that only hurt his own fangs, not the golem. Now, the snake had to fight instinct each time the lion attacked.

‘Steady, Claygon,’ Alex thought.

The lion’s muscles tensed.

Then he pounced.

With a roar, he soared at Claygon, giving him another swipe. As he tried to spring away, the roar turned to a yelp.

Claygon caught the snake-like tail by its neck.

‘If it worked, why not try it again?’ Alex thought.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Like he’d done to Shining Slash, Claygon spun the beast round and round over his head as if it were a set of bolas, gathering momentum and disorienting him. With a final swing, he heaved him straight into the air.

The chimaera sailed—spinning and yowling helplessly, limbs flailing—then plummeted back down toward Claygon’s big clay fists.

Crash!

He drilled two massive blows into the beast, shooting him across the arena and sending him crashing into the bars. Their ringing echoed through the stadium and the bell rang to end the final match.

Alex watched the scores come up.

10-8 for all three in Claygon’s favour.

“Winner of the semifinal iiiiiiis Claygon, representing Alex Roth!” the announcer cried.

‘Okay, okay. It’s like I thought, they’re getting tougher again,’ Alex thought. ‘The quarterfinal must’ve been a lucky break. The last round might be against that big, acid breathing drake. And he’s going to be tough as hell. I mean look at him, he’s huge! And he breathes acid. He’s not as big as Vesuvius, but there’s no way he’ll be a push over.’

“I yield! I yield!” his opponent cried.

“Uhhh…” Alex said eloquently.

His opponent was waving his arms after Claygon had grabbed hold of the drake’s long neck and repeatedly punched him in the snout, preventing him from using his acid breath.

“I have no mana left, Lambton is fatigued and can’t even fight back!” the wizard cried. “Enough of this, I surrender!”

“O-okay then,” Alex muttered.

The crowd roared and some laughed at the spectacle.

After a ‘long, hard’ fight, Claygon defeated his last opponent in the final round of the Super-Heavyweight Duel by Proxy.

“And the winner is, Alex Roth and Claaaaaygooooon!”

The crowd screamed, and the few who were still seated, leapt from their seats.

Alex stared, dumbfounded, then looked up toward his friends. They were going crazy, jumping up and down, pounding their fists together and whistling. Thundar was passing Khalik some coin with a sour expression on his face.

“We won?” Alex muttered. “Does that… holy shit.”

It hardly felt real.

The entire time Alex was congratulating his opponent on a hard-fought fight, his mind felt like a mana spectrometer that had been left on with no sample in it: a bit of machinery that occasionally made a humming noise.

That feeling continued as he was being led to the centre of the arena with the second and third place winners. He only snapped out of it when he was standing in the middle of the podium, a medallion was being placed around his neck, and a heavy sack of gold was being shoved into his hands.

Fifteen hundred gold pieces.

‘Holy shit,’ Alex thought with pure delight.

His money troubles were steadily becoming a thing of the past. Between the coin from the xyrthak’s valuable parts, he and Selina’s inheritance, the proceeds from the mana vampire bounties, the bounty for the vespara, and his and Theresa’s wages, he would pretty much never have to worry about running out of coin during his studies if they kept living within their budget.

Hell, if they stayed long enough for Selina to graduate from the junior school and go to university here—if she got a scholarship—he might be able to afford that too with what they’d already earned.

The funds still weren’t enough—nowhere near enough—to buy an apartment in Generasi, but it was a strong beginning. It also meant he could really build up his own alchemical kit for potion making and other experiments.

He scanned the crowd as they chanted Claygon’s name. His goal was to establish himself in the city. To become someone who was important enough that he’d be hard to mess with.

It felt like he’d taken a big step toward that goal this evening.

For a moment, he thought of something Isolde had told him. About others wanting to tear someone down when they were rising up. He also thought about when Jules had commented on people often helping those who had already been doing well themselves.

He’d come to believe that. With how Val’Rok, Baelin, and Jules helped him after they’d seen his talent, and also when he’d told the chancellor about the dungeon core remains. He also thought about how Minervus had wanted to see him fail while he gained success at Shale’s.

Tyris had promised to take him down in the Grand Battle, but that was more of a friendly rivalry. He hoped.

Some of the plainclothes officers were watching from lower seats. He was starting to recognize them even at a distance.

He drew back his shoulders with pride.

‘That’s right, look,’ he thought. ‘Here I am, with nothing to hide. Well, nothing to hide from you—still things to hide from priests—but hopefully soon, not even them! And you just watch. Watch how we do in the Grand Battle.’

Maybe doing well in that final event wouldn’t be so far-fetched, after all.

This win started to make him more ambitious.

Thoughts of demon summoners were far from his mind.

Chapter 59

Archers and Cowards

“Good job, you prize-winning bastard!” Thundar roared.

Wham!

He clapped Alex on the back so hard he almost knocked the wind out of him.

“Oof!” Alex grunted. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not before the Grand Battle,” the minotaur grinned. “We need your big, beautiful clay friend!” He mimed tossing a chimaera up into the air, then punching it as it fell. “By all the gods, I can already taste that prize money.”

Selina looked up at him. “What would gold taste like?”

Thundar’s grin widened. “Rich. Now, let’s have a close look at what fifteen hundred gold looks like,” he laughed, his eyes growing round like coins.

Alex’s friends had gathered around him shortly after he’d emerged from the arena proudly sporting his gold medal around his neck. His big, beautiful golem, Claygon, was right beside him holding onto the winnings. Maybe some desperate cutpurse might be bold enough to try and snatch the gold if he was holding it, but they’d definitely think long and hard before trying to grab it from Claygon.

Trying to leave the stadium to get to his family and friends had been absolutely wild, something he’d never experienced before. It almost seemed like he was in another fight as throngs of people converged on the two of them at the exit, peppering him with questions about Claygon. They’d moved up beside the golem, oohing and aahing and measuring their height against his. They’d tried touching his armour and his four arms.

Some had made requests like: ‘Could you possibly bring him to my shop or residence for a nice visit?’ Or, ‘Can he use this pen to sign my son’s shirt as a belated birthday present, you’ll make him soooo happy!’ The unreasonable woman asking for an autograph had looked familiar. Naturally, Claygon didn’t comply.

Only when Grimloch appeared, pushing through the crowd like some massive ship cutting through the sea, were they able to extract themselves from the mob. With Grimloch in the lead, they’d been able to head to the rest of their group.

“Yes! We made an awesome golem!” Selina cried, gripping one of Claygon’s massive fingers. “You did so awesome, Claygon!” She made little punches, copying some of his moves. “And Vesuvius was cool too!”

“You think so?” Alex looked at her with concern. “Was watching the fight okay for you? There was a lot of fire and lava.”

“I’m okay,” she said, giving him a broad smile. She closed her eyes and pointed at them. “I just shut my eyes when there was fire.”

“Oh yes, you did so well!” Mrs. Lu said, resting her hands on Selina’s small shoulders. “All that fire, and you were able to sit through it. I’m proud of you.”

A blush crept along Selina’s cheeks and she smiled up at Theresa’s mother. “Thank you. It helped that you told me what was happening in the fight.”

“I was happy to do it. It made me feel like one of the announcers giving a play by play of the action,” Mrs. Lu laughed.

“That’s awesome. A year ago and you wouldn’t have been able to do that. You did great.” Alex noticed Theresa giving his little sister a long, piercing look. “Uh, yeah, you did great.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Alex’s eyes flicked back to Theresa. The huntress glanced at Selina and gave him an expression that said: ‘I’ll tell you later.’

Then Khalik wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“So,” the prince said. “We are the champions, my friend.”

Alex smiled. “Yeah, we kept on fighting to the end. And we won!”

“I certainly hope there shall be a repeat performance in the Grand Battle. And that you also gathered good data, Alex,” Isolde said. “What did you learn of Tyris Goldtooth?”

“Well, she’s tough, but we already knew that,” he said. “Experienced, powerful, and clever. She’s also got a lot of mana to throw around, and I think she has good mana regeneration techniques. If it weren’t for the final bell ending the match, it looked like she coulda kept casting for a while. That tortoise of hers is a monster and a half too.”

He frowned. “One problem I’m seeing is that since the Grand Battle uses the same kind of spell-marks that Baelin puts on us when we go to the Barrens, if we get hit by a lethal attack or one that’d really injure us, we’ll be teleported out of the contest. And every attack that tortoise makes would definitely trigger those spell-marks.”

“Well, that’s not encouraging,” Thundar grunted.

“Tyris is real confident and pretty eager for revenge. We might be able to use that. If we bait her using… well, me, and catch her off guard, I think we can take her out.”

Isolde thought on his words. “Hmmm… That is reassuring. Perhaps we shall place higher than anticipated.”

“Careful,” Khalik said. “We are skilled, but overplaying our hand will only lead to defeat.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said. “I still want to go for it.”

“One thing at a time,” Theresa said. “We have another couple of days of events before we get to the Grand Battle. Let’s try and do our best in those first.”

Mr. Lu shook his head. “To think I’d see the day I’d watch a mountain of a tortoise spew fire, what an amazing thing. I can’t wait to see what other events this festival has. What’s next, lassoing the moon?”

“Don’t say that around Baelin,” Alex said. “You might give him ideas.”

“Hah!” Mr. Lu chuckled as the group headed away from the arena.

“I wish I was joking,” Alex muttered.

As they walked through the tournament grounds, Theresa slipped up beside him, glancing at Selina with that same look she’d had before. His sister was walking ahead of them, holding tight to Claygon’s finger and chatting happily with Sinope.

“Something wrong?” Alex asked quietly.

Theresa’s frown deepened. “It might be nothing.”

“Listen, almost every time I’ve heard someone say, ‘it might be nothing,’ it ended up being the exact opposite of nothing. What’s wrong?”

“During your match, Selina had her eyes closed most of the time… but I think I saw her open them a few times just for a little bit.”

“Really?” he looked at his sister. “Maybe she’s getting better with fire again, like I did.”

“Yeah,” Theresa said. “She still talks about Shiani a lot. Maybe what she said to her, and maybe being around Claygon, is helping.”

“Yeah, maybe. Huh. You know, when we were checking out those other events this morning, I think she might’ve been looking back at that fire display too. The one where the fire wizards were trying to melt metals. I wonder if I should talk to her about it later? Maybe, try to bring it up subtly.”

“Yeah—”

“What are you whispering about?” Selina asked. “Gross stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Stop it.”

He paused. “You… sure you enjoyed that match, Selina? If you didn’t, you can tell me.”

“I did!” she insisted.

Alex watched her body language carefully, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Okay, good.”

He might talk with Theresa’s parents first, see if they knew how to bring it up with her without it being too intrusive.

The rest of the evening passed quickly as they enjoyed a couple more events, had a hot meal, and then after a very long day, everyone headed home for a well needed rest.

The next morning was bright and sunny when they all met up. It was the dawn of the third day of the Games and the demon summoner hadn’t made so much as a peep. The thought of an attack faded further from peoples’ spirits and everyone seemed lighter.

“Maybe with your chancellor around, that criminal will behave themselves,” Mrs. Lu said as they made their way to the tournament grounds.

“I remember grandfather telling a story the summer after he’d moved to Alric,” Mr. Lu said. “It was about cowardly criminals. These bandits had made a camp in the north part of the Coille—that’s the great forest near our home town, for those of you who don’t know—it was led by a man who called himself Scar, the Bandit King.”

Isolde snorted. “Bandits always come up with such creative names and false titles. On the Von Anmut lands, we once had to deal with a man who called himself Giant Lord Krauser. When our vassals finally found him, the man was only five feet tall. Ridiculous!”

“Well, Scar might have had bad taste in names, but he was a terror, the way my grandfather told it,” Mr. Lu continued. “Had himself a magic sabre he’d won during some war in his mercenary days down in Ar-Bishah.”

“He was well-travelled,” Khalik commented.

“But not well-mannered. He hunted the roads between Canterford and Norchester, raiding caravans, burning fields, and just spreading terror with a small army of cutthroats and murderers, all bold as the sun. The bounty on him and his followers kept growing—and the harvest that year was bad in Alric—so my grandfather, Twinblade Lu, picked up his blades again and destroyed one of their raiding parties. Bandit kings don’t like to have their raiding parties destroyed, so he sent thirty men to kill my grandfather.”

He paused, noticing that the entire group was watching him as they walked beneath the morning sun. He seemed to swell a bit. His wife stifled a snicker.

“Well, he destroyed that force too. And the one after that,” he continued in a louder, more theatrical voice. “Suddenly, this bold-as-the-sun bandit king was noooowhere to be found. He’d fled so deep into the Coille, you’d think he’d never existed. Even with my grandfather’s skills and enhanced senses, he didn’t find his camp until winter.

“There was a caravan travelling southwest along Coillewood Road—which cuts straight from Norchester all the way to Shropsbury—on their way to a wedding. It carried a dowry worth a lot of coin, and a lot of nobles worth a hefty ransom, and it was passing through the forest, close to Scar’s hideout. The knights guarding it loudly proclaimed Scar to be a coward as they made their way through. Even if laying low was the smart thing to do, Scar couldn’t resist that kind of prize and provocation. So, he had a force ambush the caravan.”

Mr. Lu paused, his smile growing. “But grandfather and some friends of his were hiding in the caravan and ambushed them right back. They broke Scar’s force and tracked the survivors back to an old abandoned keep. He was there, and they wiped him and the rest of his bandits out in a single night. Point is, I think it might be the same with this demon summoner. They won’t do anything as long as Baelin’s around, just like how Scar avoided fighting my grandfather. But, if something provokes them, they might do something stupid anyway.”

“Perhaps that shall be a good thing,” Khalik said. “Better they should act out with Baelin close by. Thank you for the story, Mr. Lu. Your grandfather sounds like he was an incredible man.”

“Well, it runs in the family.” Mr. Lu smiled and patted his daughter on the shoulder, looking at the thick-limbed bow she carried. “Which is why I want to see you place first in that archery contest today, Theresa. Both Alex and Khalik have prizes, and I don’t want the Lu family falling behind!”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me that, Father.”

“Yeah, Theresa’s going to win because she’s awesome,” Selina said.

The huntress blushed a little. “Thanks, Selina.”

“I’ll see if during the Spell-Joust, I can have a repeat performance of my victory,” Khalik said.

“Yeah, I kinda wished I’d signed up for more events now. I’m just gonna be spectating until the Grand Melee tomorrow,” Thundar said. “What about you, big guy? Anything besides the Great Water Hunt this afternoon?”

“Grand Melee tomorrow afternoon then Grand Battle after that,” Grimloch growled. “Glad the water’s warm today.”

Nua-Oge smiled up at him. “See, that wasn’t unnerving at all.”

“The heat of blood mixes better with a warm sea. Makes hunting the wounded more of a challenge.”

“Grimloch, will you stop that!” Nua-Oge protested. “There’s a child present!”

“I think Grimloch is cool.” Selina shrugged.

‘She’s right, but maybe I need to find better influences for my sister,’ Alex thought, then noticed they were drawing eyes.

As they got farther into the tournament grounds, a lot of folks were paying close attention to their group. While people looking at Claygon and Grimloch wasn’t exactly rare, now they were looking less with curiosity, and more with recognition, especially at Claygon. Some stopped Khalik to talk about his and Najyah’s victory in their weight division of the Duel by Proxy, while others wanted to know who else in the group was competing and in what events.

Clearly, some of their early victories in the Games hadn’t gone unnoticed.

People were openly pointing at them and whispering when they reached the long field for the archery tournament.

Alex held his head a little higher.

Several contests were set up to test accuracy, speed, and power.

The first challenge was standard for an archery tournament, the kind Alex had been to once when he was young.

Bullseye targets were set up one hundred feet from the archers, with lines painted along the grass every hundred feet behind them. The targets floated several feet off the grass. Each time an archer hit one, they would receive points depending on where the arrow struck. The target would then move back one hundred feet and the archer would take another shot. The cycle repeated until the archer missed or the target had travelled back a thousand feet. If the archer hit the final target from a thousand feet away, they would have concluded the first challenge.

The second challenge was for accuracy and speed. The contestants had to shoot at small targets moving back and forth across a field of grass, with the goal being to empty a quiver of thirty arrows into them as quickly as they could. Points were awarded based on how many arrows hit a target and how much time it took to empty their quiver.

The final challenge tested power.

Floating targets were set up twenty feet in front of the archers; each made of a piece of painted parchment attached to a thin sheet of wood. Multiple targets stood behind each other in a row, and the goal was to shoot an arrow at them, piercing through as many sheets as possible. The more targets the archer penetrated, the higher the point total at the end of the contest.

“Well, I’m going to go register and get set up,” Theresa said. “Wish me luck!”

She jogged toward the registration desk.

“Think she’s gonna win?” Thundar asked as the rest of the group made their way over to the stands which had been set up behind the contestants.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “But I’m a bit biased.”

“Theresa’s been shooting for most of her life,” Mr. Lu said, his chest swelling with pride. “Even if she doesn’t win first place, I’m sure she’s going to do very well.”

As they climbed the stands up to their seats, they were able to get a better view of the field and the other competitors.

“What do you think, Lady Von Anmut?” Mrs. Lu asked. “You seem to know everything. Do you see any competitors that Theresa will need to worry about?”

Isolde straightened a little at the ‘seem to know everything.’ “As I have said, while I am studying at Generasi, friends might call me by my first name, which is Isolde. My title belongs in another realm and so it is… strange…” She paused. “Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Khalik asked.

She nodded toward one end of the field. “Do you recall the winners of last year’s Grand Battle? The Outcasts of the Divine Wind?”

“Yes?” Khalik said, as he—and the others—followed her gaze.

Three centaurs were trotting up to the field in perfect unison. Large bows, painted stark white, were slung over their shoulders.

“Look there,” she said. “Those three are the archers from that team. It would appear last year’s champions of the Grand Battle have returned.”

Chapter 60

Reverent Archery

The group went quiet at Isolde’s words, their gazes locked on the three centaurs heading for the line of entrants on the field.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Lu said. “They certainly look… formidable.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said. “Look at their coordination. They move as one.”

“Yeah… yeah,” Alex murmured.

The Mark confirmed what Khalik said.

As soon as Isolde pointed out the centaurs, Alex started analyzing their body language with the Mark. The information he got was kind of eerie. People usually didn’t move identically to each other. Siblings, friends, and family members often took on some of each other’s body language, like how Theresa and Mrs. Lu had a matching gait. He’d also noticed people from similar cultures might share common gestures or a similar bearing.

But these three went way beyond that…

They were like one person spread over three bodies. Alex had trouble finding differences in the way they moved. He concentrated, watching them trot closer to the stands—raising their bows above their heads in identical salutes to the audience—before he finally caught subtle variances.

The first held his shoulders a bit straighter than the other two, the second had a slightly bouncier trot, and the third’s tail moved a bit more vigorously than his companions’. The heavy thump of their hooves also revealed other differences: distinctions in weight and stride that weren’t obvious to the eye.

‘No way I would have caught those details without the Mark,’ he thought. ‘But what do they tell me about these guys?’

Applying memories of the body language of other people he’d studied, he didn’t figure out much else.

Their lower bodies were the same as a horse’s, making any movements below the waist completely alien to the body language of two-legged folk.

‘What about above the waist?’ he thought.

He went through the Mark’s store of memories. It focused on guards, Watchers of Roal, Theresa, Grimloch, Hogarth, and Svenia.

Trained warriors who excelled in coordination and balance, with straight backs and disciplined, easy movements. The three centaurs shared all those traits.

“Yeah, they’re going to be tough to beat,” Alex said.

“Well, Theresa’s tough too!” Selina said. “She’s awesome and strong and fast and she could shoot an apple off an ant’s head!”

“How would one put an apple on an ant’s head?” Khalik wondered.

“Isolde probably knows a spell that could do that or at least she’s seen one in the library. She basically lives there,” Thundar said. “Ain’t that right, Isolde?”

“I do not spend all of my time in the library, you know,” she said, and her eyes bounced between the group, her chin lifting just a touch higher. “…But there is a spell—”

“I knew it!”

“Quiet, you!”

“They should make you the librarian!” Thundar laughed. “Hey, Theresa’s parents, you should see her. You’d think she was born with a book in her hand! Probably why she only hangs out with us.”

“I have other friends! You’ve met them!”

“Yeah, but how’s your love life doing?”

Isolde smirked. “How’s yours, Thundar?”

“It’s a work in progress!”

Ding!

Mercifully, the bell signalled both the start of the archery tournament and the end of their argument.

One by one the archers stepped up to their places on the field of grass.

“Go Theresa! Split an arrow like Robbing Cloak would!” Alex called through cupped hands.

“Go get them, Theresa!” Mrs. Lu cried, and Mr. Lu followed up with a loud, “Yeeeeeah!”

Brutus barked his encouragement with all three heads.

Shouts and calls of support rose from the rest of the audience, threatening to drown them out, but judging by how Theresa looked over at them and nodded—from the centre of the row of archers—she’d heard them through the din.

The crowd’s calls died away as the first contest began, and soon the air was filled with the thwack of arrows piercing targets. Some contestants were clearly experts, while others looked like they didn’t spend much time perfecting the skill.

Each bullseye shuddered when struck, then floated backward to the next line on the grass one hundred feet away. Alex tried dividing his attention between Theresa and the centaurs, and watching for anyone who stood out from the pack.

Theresa handled her bow like she was born with it in her hand—like how Thundar said Isolde had been born with a book. The centaurs? They were like something from a folktale. Drawing their bowstrings back with fluid grace and reverence. Alex noticed each would close their eyes and mutter something just before releasing an arrow.

‘What’re they doing?’ he wondered. ‘Spells aren’t allowed during the archery contest. Self-encouragement? Affirmations? Prayers?’

Alex thought back to the reverence in their shooting styles. Maybe they were saying benedictions: pleas for divine guidance for each shot. If they were, it was working. Each centaur hit the centre bullseye again and again, even with the increasing distance.

As they raised their bows to arc an arrow at the marks, Alex turned to Isolde. “Do folk on the Nephelean Plains worship some kind of archer-deity?”

“Close,” she said. “The deities of their worship are cousins to those of the Rhinean Empire. Where we worship the four elements, those on the plains worship the four winds.”

“That sounds cool. Having winds on your side would help a lot when you’re shooting arrows,” Selina said. “Are they using divinities to help themselves?”

“No, they are as forbidden as spells,” Isolde said. “Although, that is not quite true. This is a test of skill, not of magical might. In essence, one cannot actively use a spell or divinity to aid oneself in this archery skill contest. However, if one has innate magic within them—born with supernatural accuracy—a permanent blessing or life enforcement, then those are perfectly within the rules of this contest. I made sure to properly educate Theresa on the rules so she might avoid the shame of cheating by way of ignorance.”

Alex winced. That must have been a long, dry afternoon for Theresa.

He turned his attention back to the centaurs. If they weren’t using spells or divinities, they must be just praying before each shot. Probably.

‘I wonder if they’re some super devout centaur clan or maybe they’re priests,’ Alex thought.

He focused the Mark on comparing their body language to that of different priests he’d known. And he’d known a lot of priests in his life. Memories of those who’d served in the church school, as well as priests who regularly presided over ceremonies at the church in Alric, came up.

There were some similarities.

Focusing the Mark on the task, he realised that the way they brought their hands together over their bows just before each shot, was like a priest putting his hands together in prayer.

Then again, it pointed out that the gesture was similar to what many people did when they prayed—like Carey London, Khalik, or even himself. Not enough information to be conclusive.

‘Still, if they are priests,’ he thought, ‘then maybe they’ll have divinities to use on us duri—What am I doing? The Mark isn’t the only infallible font of knowledge I have access to!’

“Excuse me, Ms. Infallible Font of Knowledge,” he said to Isolde.

Both Khalik and Thundar burst out laughing, and even Grimloch grinned. Svenia and Hogarth were doing their best to suppress any snickering.

Isolde’s blue eyes stabbed into Alex like jagged icicles. “Yes, Roth?”

“Why are you calling me by my last na—Anyway, are our three centaur friends priests? Like the kind that can call on divinities?”

She pursed her lips. “Not that I know of. They showed no such ability last year.”

“Right,” Alex said. “Thanks, Ms. Infallible Font—”

Isolde’s eyes grew frostier.

“Oh, come on, it’s better than being a fallible font of knowledge!”

She looked like she wanted to throw him off the stands, while Khalik and Thundar were doubled over with laughter, gripping each other’s shoulders to keep themselves from falling out of their seats.

Svenia, Hogarth, and the others were making a point of looking away from both Alex and Isolde.

He cleared his throat.

“G-go, Theresa!” he shouted, avoiding Isolde’s gaze.

Below, the huntress’ enhanced senses and muscles showed their worth. Her movements were smooth, precise, and quick. Her arrows hit like hammer blows striking their target. She matched the centaurs shot for shot, hitting her targets even up to the maximum distance of one thousand feet.

When the first contest ended, the point cards showed a wide spread of scores between contestants. Theresa had come in sixth—she’d hit the outer ring of the bullseye at nine hundred feet, losing points—but the five contestants above her weren’t that far ahead.

She closed the gap in the speed round.

With her life enforcement, her hands moved like lightning, each arrow hitting with razor-sharp accuracy, pounding the moving targets like hailstones.

At the end of the contest, she was second overall. The three centaurs began taking note of her, inclining their heads in her direction and talking amongst themselves.

After a break to set up for the final contest, the one that tested power, the contestants stretched, then lined up for the last time.

Crack!

Splintering wood filled the air as arrows punched through targets. Some who’d done really well in the speed contest fell down here. Their arrows only pierced one or two wooden targets, while Theresa’s, the centaurs’, and other stronger competitors’ projectiles, speared five or more with every shot.

Alex imagined those spikes going through flesh like butter. He shuddered.

By the end of the power round, the field was littered in shattered wood and dreams. Only three competitors would rise to the podium and collect a prize.

“In third place,” called the announcer. “Theresa Lu!”

Alex, his family, and friends celebrated at the announcement, and cheered even louder when she stood on the podium to receive her bronze medallion. She was also awarded a bowstring of golden thread: enchanted to be almost unbreakable. Theresa wore a smile, relaxing her deathstalker face, though her body language showed Alex a mixture of excitement and disappointment.

Two of the centaurs placed silver and gold. All three were visibly in shock that one of them hadn’t placed in the top three to medal. Theresa had come in second in the speed round, which had given her more points than one, and she’d just beaten him in the power round, which then gave her more total points.

The centaurs looked up at the stands, gesturing toward a section of the audience. Alex craned his neck, trying to see who they were looking at, but the crowd blocked his view. So, he stood.

There.

A group of tough-looking men and women were leaving their seats and heading in the centaurs’ direction.

Alex had a bad feeling that he was looking at the rest of the Outcasts of the Divine Wind.

‘Some people to watch,’ he thought.

On the other end of the stands, he thought he saw Amir and Sinbrok’s group.

But, a moment later, they were lost to the crowd.

“Right,” Grimloch stood as the audience began to disperse. “My turn. Time for the Great Water Hunt.”

If one didn’t know better, they might start wondering if buried treasure had been discovered just off the beach.

An armada of small boats cut through the waters of the Prinean Sea. Its turquoise water sparkled in the early afternoon sun. On each boat, divers waited, ready to leap into the water as soon as a bell—a diving bell, they called it—rang.

Salty ocean spray swept through the air, filling the golden sails of a central ship. Dangling over its side was an enormous glass bowl filled with seawater and a school of shining, red-scaled fish. The goal of the Great Water Hunt was for each competitor to scoop up as many of those scarlet fish as they could using a long-handled net, while also finding and collecting flags hidden in the shallows below.

Grimloch stood on a large boat with another pair of divers beside him. The sun gleamed on his grey hide.

“I didn’t account for the wind on that second to last shot,” Theresa muttered darkly. “I thought I did, but I overcompensated.”

“It’s okay, third is really good,” Selina said, patting Theresa on her side as they watched the ocean from their seats.

“Third is well done,” Mr. Lu said. “And talking about a mistake over and over won’t change it.”

“But I over—”

“Talk of ‘buts’ are not for polite company,” he pressed.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “And we’re the politest company in the world.”

She glared at him, as did Isolde.

He looked away. ‘Ugh, I didn’t even do anything wrong,’ he lied to himself.

Standing up, he eyed some food stalls selling freshly grilled fish and seafood near the spectator seats. The smell was becoming irresistible. “I’m going to grab a snack, does anyone else want anything?”

“Your winnings from the Duel by Proxy.”

“I’m going to have Claygon throw you into the sea, Thundar,” Alex said. Thundar laughed and took him up on the offer of food.

He left the group and headed down the steps two at a time, then joined a long line-up for a stall that sold breaded fish on sticks. He hoped the line moved fast because he wanted to get back before Grimloch’s competition started.

Alex glanced around, remembering the plainclothes officers who’d become a regular fixture in his life.

He spotted a familiar group lined up at the stall next to his. He did a doubletake at the same time someone else from the group did.

The other person quickly looked away, but Alex was already speaking up.

“Hey, Amir,” he said. “How’s it going?”

Amir visibly winced and turned, giving him a weak smile. “Alex, good seeing you here.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Alex carefully examined his former supervisor’s body language. Eyes turned down. Feet close together. Shoulders slumped. The opposite of someone comfortable. Nervousness, avoiding eye contact or looking away, lack of confidence and balance. He’d seen the same attitude in people who were feeling anxious.

Although anxiety seemed to be almost a permanent state for Amir, it was even more pronounced than usual.

Suspicions began to churn in his mind.

And just like that, the demon summoner wasn’t so far from his thoughts anymore.

Chapter 61

Deific Need

“Iwas hoping I’d run into you again,” Alex said, stepping far enough out of his line to avoid shouting, but not far enough to lose his place.

He stood tall, squaring his shoulders and setting his feet. Everything about his body language was meant to display confidence and ease.

‘Did he talk to the officers?’ he wondered. ‘Maybe told them things they could ask me about in that white room?’

His face remained relaxed, scanning Amir and friends, quickly examining their body language.

Sinbrok the dwarf stared up at Alex before his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, I remember you. You’re the student I invigilated for during Professor Val’Rok’s exam for credit in your mana manipulation course, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Alex gave his hand a firm shake.

“How do you two know each other?” the dwarf asked Amir.

“Oh, I supervised some of Alex’s labs for Professor Jules,” Amir said. “Last year.”

“Yeah, and now we’ll be working together on the expedition team,” Alex said, watching Amir closely.

A flinch. Just a slight one.

He noted that.

“Ah yeah, the expedition. Exciting stuff,” Sinbrok said. “Examining artifacts from far off lands.”

“If the demon summoner doesn’t ruin everything,” Alex said casually, keeping a close eye on Amir and his friends. “Hope that mess hasn’t been worrying you guys too much. I’ve been trying not to think about it, personally.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it either,” Amir said. More shifting in his body language, passing his weight from foot to foot—just like Tyris had when they were waiting for the results of their fight. “Alex, I haven’t introduced you to my friends. They’re all graduates of the university.”

“And smart enough to get real jobs instead of slaving away for professors for crumbs and glory,” one of Amir’s friends—the thin, rangy-looking one Alex had seen Amir with a couple of days earlier—said dryly. “I have half the work and twice the pay working for the city. Word to the wise, Alex, don’t be like our friend Amir here.”

“Haha, Donovan’s introduced himself, I guess. In a way,” Amir chuckled weakly. “The other two are Leopold—”

He gestured to a heavy-set fellow, who gave Alex a broad smile. “Any friend of Amir’s is a friend of mine, except for Donovan, of course.” Leopold clapped Donovan on the back.

Alex shook his hand.

“And this is Ursula,” Amir continued, gesturing toward a tall redhaired woman who looked just as tired as Amir. While Tyris’ red locks were as vibrant as fire, and Derek’s leaned more toward a deeper red, Ursula’s were pale, like her freckled skin.

She looked at Alex for a long moment, then turned away and coughed into her right hand. “How do you do?”

He decided not to try and shake her hand.

Her body language was similar to Amir’s. He knew the two of them weren’t related, so he could rule that out. There was no way of knowing if the similarities were because of their personalities, if they’d known each other for a long time, or were from similar areas of the world.

“I’m fine, it’s nice to meet you, Ursula,” his voice expressed a warm friendliness that was projected on his face. Inside, he was carefully observing her mannerisms.

At this point, he found that he needed to call on the Mark a lot less when he was trying to convey a certain manner. Even if it was the complete opposite of what he was actually feeling.

Ursula seemed to grow even more nervous when he spoke to her. Alex was reminded of what Baelin and Officers Ferrero and Gustavo had suggested: that even if the demon summoner wasn’t a member of the team, they knew someone who was.

Her manner was tense, awkward, and nervous, like she was uncomfortable.

Could she be the demon summoner?

“Don’t you mind her,” Donovan said. “Ursula is allergic to sunlight, people, and fun. In that order. It took the better part of a week of convincing to get her to come out with us, even though we all had the time off and hadn’t seen each other in half a year.”

“I’m busy.” She shot a look at him. “Very busy. Amir knows what that’s like.”

“Yes,” Amir groaned.

Alex thought back to what Khalik had said about suspicions ending empires—suspicions like the ones he was entertaining—and how spreading them had done more harm than good.

‘It’s a good thing I’m not one of the investigators,’ he thought.

In some of the plays Professor Jules had seemed to disapprove of—the ones that involved boy wizards and scowling potions-masters—the protagonist often stuck his nose in places where it didn’t belong. At least, where it didn’t belong according to his long-suffering professors and adult guardians.

Of course, in those stories, the situation somehow always ended up directly involving the protagonist anyway, and always required the special ability that only they possessed to resolve it.

Things rarely worked out like they did in stories. Which was an odd thing for someone who was literally a Chosen Hero to conclude.

Baelin had said he was becoming a more capable fighter and strategist, and that he also had people in Generasi he wanted to protect. He wasn’t the defenceless baker anymore. Should he see the demon summoner and could get the jump on them before they summoned their demons, he would try to stop them.

But he was definitely not an investigator. He was merely interested in checking out some suspicions just in case. Someone on the expedition team could be out to frame him or another team member, so the best way to get ahead of that was to figure out who that person was.

At the very least, it’d be better to see an enemy coming, than to be taken by surprise.

“So, you looking forward to the Great Water Hunt?” Alex asked.

“I know I am,” Donovan answered before Amir could. “It’s a very important event.”

“They’re all important events,” Leopold said.

“Yeah, I know, but let me finish,” Donovan said, raising his hands. “Did you know this beach is the very place where Roal defeated Oreca?”

“Really?” Alex said, pulled from his observations to look out at the water. “Here?”

“Her sword slew the demigod right here,” Donovan laughed. “His blood turned into little man-eating fish—gods die in strange ways—then she and her followers had to dive into the sea and hunt each of them down before they got away. That’s why the contest is set up the way it is. Impressive, eh?”

“I can’t even imagine battling a god,” Alex said.

“And to make things worse,” the pale man continued, “Oreca’s priests were chasing Roal the entire time. They wanted to get revenge for killing their god.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Though that did bring up an interesting thought. “Hey, that’s actually something I wondered about. Why did Oreca attack Generasi, anyway?”

Ursula frowned. “There’s a good reason the university bans priests from campus, that’s just how—”

“Now, now,” Leopold said. “Let’s not go down that rabbit hole, shall we? The university may ban priests—right up until they have to work with them, that is—but the city is still open to any non-hostile deity. And priests do seem to be the target of a certain criminal, so let’s not go stirring up trouble, Ursula. It’s too beautiful of a day.”

“And there’s more to the reason behind Oreca’s attack than just: ooooo, look at me, I’m a big mean demigod. It was pretty much personal,” Donovan added, making a scary face then turning to Alex. “You have to understand, sea gods are often a very aggressive bunch. They really are. Not all of them are as even tempered as Ek-u-Dari. The selachar are actually lucky.”

“I take it other sea gods aren’t usually like her?” Alex asked.

“Goodness, no. There are plenty who are of the mind that ‘the ocean is my domain and all land dwellers should fear it and me,’” Leopold said. “They’re territorial like angry fire ants. Oreca wasn’t a full god, but his father was—also dead, by the way, gods do that a lot, though they don’t like us knowing it—and Oreca was powerful enough to have control of the southern Prinean in the ancient days.”

He glanced over at the water. “Oreca used to terrorize the land-dwellers here. He’d demand they worship him or he’d send storms to destroy their ships, and tidal waves to sweep onto the land and wash out their crops, animals, and the people themselves. That sort of thing.”

“He demanded that wealth be poured into the sea for his treasury,” Donovan added. “The greatest share of a fisherman’s catch, people bound to ocean rocks as mortal sacrifices for his chosen sea monsters to feed on and the like. Nasty stuff. Though when he was in a good mood, he’d give the people seas so bountiful, that accounts say you could walk across the fish like a land bridge on some days.”

“That’s a lot of fish!” Alex said.

Donovan gave Alex an odd stare. “Y-yes. It was. The point is, everything depended on his mood, and the people were slaves to it. That is, until, wizards started coming here and gaining more and more power from the mana vents. Then they began growing and developing their spellcraft and magical technology. They gained spells that altered the weather, though that involved big rituals back then.” Donovan gestured to the sky. “This was before Noarc had learned how to control the weather, of course.”

“Right,” Alex said. “So, Oreca had control of everyone before the wizards came and learned how to defend themselves from his power. I take it the people feared and worshipped him a lot less. And you talked about sea gods being territorial… Yeah, I think I see where this is going.”

“Indeed. After a time, people relied more on wizardry to protect themselves on land and sea than they did on his blessing,” Donovan said. “They stopped fearing him, and fear is a powerful motivator for worship, as is love, of course.”

“But fear’s easier to use,” Ursula said. “You can forget a loving god. You can never forget one you’re terrified of.”

“Exactly,” Leopold cut in. “And no more fear, meant no more faith and spirit, which grants deities their power, or at least increases what they innately have. Oreca lost his worship, but not the need for it. He became enraged and decided that if… What was the quote, Donovan?”

“If ‘these magelings shall live without fearing the sea, then they shall not live at all!’ he roared, gathering his priests and his beasts and his bloody will, and went to paint the coastal waters with Generasi’s lifeblood!’ That’s from My Battles, by Roal herself,” Donovan quoted, swelling his chest. “It’s not an uncommon story with gods. The only difference is that Roal and her followers could fight back. And they painted the sea red, alright, with his blood.”

“Deities, at least lesser ones, knew then that there were easier targets to attack than Generasi,” Leopold said. “And so, we have peace to this da—”

“Parasites,” Ursula said loudly, sounding agitated. “All deities are parasites, and they would do well to remember what happens to parasites when they’re discovered.”

Heads turned toward her.

“Ursula!” Leopold chided, glancing at the bystanders nearby with an apologetic smile. “That’s not the politest thing to say in public!”

“Polite or not, it’s true, and we’re on campus, Chancellor Baelin knows! Look, we’re on the very coast where a god tried to kill everyone in Generasi because he couldn’t get what he wanted. What he demanded from them. You know—”

“I think that’s enough, Ursula,” Amir said, then looked at Alex. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Alex said, stepping back into line.

He’d been watching Ursula during her outburst, and her body language had become forceful, agitated, and erratic. But he’d also seen something similar displayed in Leopold, Sinbrok, Donovan, and Amir’s demeanour as her anger grew.

The group stood awkwardly as people around them stared and whispered before they decided to leave without even ordering any food.

Alex could hear Donovan complaining about that as they walked away. Leopold complained even louder.

Alex thought about what he’d learned.

‘None of them seemed to be big fans of priests and gods. But of the five, Ursula might just have the biggest chip on her shoulder against deities and their servants.’

He took a look at the crowd, noticing some of the plainclothes officers that had been following him paying strict attention to Amir’s group as they moved through the crowd.

‘Well, hopefully it’s not my problem anymore,’ Alex thought. ‘If one of you is the demon summoner, then I hope they catch you quick.’

“That was very rude, Ursula,” Amir said as they made their way toward their seats.

“And stupid,” Donovan added.

“It was true, damn you, Don!” she pushed through the crowd. “You know what deities do. And now, there’s going to be an expedition that’s working with priests and organizations that want them back on campus.”

“Oh boy,” Sinbrok groaned.

“Ursula…” Amir shrank in his seat. “Can you please drop it? Things won’t look good if you keep going on with this.”

“But you know what priests do. Look at what they did—”

“Ursula!” Leopold and Donovan said together, then paused glancing at each other.

Donovan continued, as though he expected Leopold to stop speaking. “Amir has enough problems without you bringing suspicion on him.”

“But Amir has nothing to hide—”

“And that doesn’t matter,” Leopold pushed. “Let this lie, Ursula. Let’s enjoy the day. Put dark things out of our minds and have some self-control. Alright?”

“I… strongly second that,” Sinbrok said.

Ursula’s anger practically deflated. “Right… I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Amir said. “Thank all of you, for just being good friends.” He looked at Sinbrok, then Donovan, and finally at Leopold. “I’m in your debt.”

He turned back to the ocean, imagining for a moment that Oreca was there, and the brave Roal was facing him down.

Then his mind went to thoughts of demons.

Of innocents dying.

He winced, glancing to the side.

“Nothing to hide,” he whispered. “Nothing to hide at all.”

Chapter 62

Great Hunts on Land and Sea

“Who were you talking to?” Thundar asked as Alex sat back down, fish skewers in hand. “Sounded like someone was yelling down there. Kinda looked like it too.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Alex said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Alex hadn’t been able to confirm that Amir was pointing the investigation in his direction. While it was true Ursula had that outburst and said stuff that a demon summoner might say—one who seemed to have a deep hatred of the divine—Baelin had also said similar things himself. Which didn’t prove anything. If Alex went around making baseless accusations against people, he’d be no better than Minervus.

Besides, spreading hypotheses without proof was bad science. He could picture Professor Jules glaring at him for even thinking about doing that.

“No, seriously, I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said again.

Thundar shrugged. “Alright, well let’s eat some food then.”

Alex passed the steaming fish skewers to Theresa, who passed them down the line.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Huh? Yeah,” Alex said.

She peered up at him, eyes searching. “You look like something’s bothering you. What was that commotion at the food-stalls? I heard something about Oreca and deities?”

Sometimes Alex forgot just how sharp her hearing had become. “It’s… Let’s just say people got a little heated about their beliefs.”

She watched him closely. “…Right.”

Ding!

The diving bell rang, signalling the start of the Great Water Hunt. Alex and Theresa looked to the sea.

“Gooooo liiiiittle brotherrrrr!” Nua-Oge cried.

Splash!

Dozens of divers dove off the boats, gracefully plunging into the water. Grimloch didn’t really dive so much as smash into the water’s surface.

Illusions rippled above the audience, giving the spectators a view from beneath the waves. The glass bowl containing the school of red fish dropped in next, then split apart, scattering the fish in all directions. A net floated at the perimeter of the hunting area, keeping the fish from escaping and anything else from entering.

Contestants propelled themselves downward, their heads covered by Orbs of Air and casting spells as quickly as they could. Some traced their limbs in light, which flared, then instantly hurled them through the water like flight spells. Others transformed their legs into long, green or silver fins that flapped like a fish’s fins.

Contestants of amphibious or aquatic races—like selachar, merfolk, or frog-like beastfolk—had no need of spells for propulsion. They used their natural swimming ability to break through the water after their quarry.

‘You know, that’s something I should really start training,’ Alex thought. ‘Swimming.’

Not many people in Alric knew how to swim. As a boy, he’d heard about a husband and wife drowning in a nearby river.

‘It’d be pretty awful if I survived monsters, mana vampires, and wizards to just fall in some lake one day and drown,’ he thought.

Besides, there was something beautiful about swimming.

The graceful divers shot through the water in something that was half-glide, half-dance. Even Grimloch’s movements had a beauty to them. The shark man’s life-enforced limbs cut through the sea with perfect grace and rhythm. On land, he was surprisingly agile, but his every movement was like a bonedrinker chasing down prey.

In the water, he was a falcon on the wind.

“I wouldn’t want to fight him underwater,” Theresa murmured.

“I don’t think anyone would,” Alex agreed. “At all. Oh shoot! Look at that!”

Crash!

Grimloch slammed a selachar diver out of his way.

The attacking of other contestants was allowed, limited to pushing, shoving, or pulling. Grimloch was using the rule aggressively. He was by far the largest diver in the contest, and whenever he rammed someone, they’d be catapulted at least a dozen feet through the water.

He pursued the red fish enthusiastically, knocking aside his competition like a charging bull. The illusion showed his silent jaws snapping up his red prey, but he didn’t bite down with his teeth. Holding them in his mouth while moving through the water, he would then turn and spit them into his net before looking for more.

“He’s a lot faster than he used to be,” Nua-Oge said with pride in her voice.

“He’s been learning well,” Theresa nodded, then looked around. “But I don’t think he’s getting the best reputation…”

Spectators shouted the names of other divers, cheering them on as they grabbed wriggling red fish or pulled flags from the shallow seabed, but their attention was quickly turning to Grimloch.

And some didn’t seem to be too happy with him.

Loud boos rose from pockets of the audience, though they were mixed with rowdy cries of approval as Grimloch bodychecked his way to filling his net.

After the net had grown heavy with his catch, he surveyed the competition and the few remaining fish with his black, doll-like eyes.

Then he shot downward like a thunderbolt, aiming for the flags at the bottom. He glided along the shallow seabed like a hunting shark searching out prey, then began snatching up flags with his giant hands.

Some were partially buried in sand or nestled in dead reefs. His enhanced senses picked them out with ease. Soon, other divers took to following him, trying to anticipate where he might have spotted a flag hidden in the depths.

They usually ended up bodychecked to the side when he turned, charging through their ranks for fun. His teeth were revealed in a wide, predatory grin and he let out a silent, bubbling laugh, and grabbed a flag poking out of a large reef.

Alex was sure the coral had a vaguely humanoid shape.

He wondered if that was where Oreca’s body had fallen. Donovan had said gods died in strange ways.

Eventually, the bell rang a final time. All the flags and red fish had been scooped up, and Grimloch burst through the water’s surface.

Splash!

The giant shark man breached the water like a triumphant killer whale before splashing back down. Some cheered him on, while others booed his show of what they judged to be arrogance.

Isolde winced. “That will be embarrassing later, should he happen not to win.”

“Aaaaand in first place by a landslide—or should I say tidal wave of captured prey and flags—we have Grimloooooch!” the announcer cried as the diving bell rang once more.

Standing on the highest podium, Grimloch held up his golden medallion and a massive set of steel armour inlaid with bronze designs and shining pearls: his prizes. The armour had three enchantments laid on it: one that allowed it to be buoyant in the water despite its weight, another that conjured an Orb of Air around the wearer’s head, and a third that could conjure a Shield of Darkwater around itself.

“The armour will have to be magically resized and reshaped to fit you, young fella,” the announcer said to Grimloch. “Do you have anything to say about the contest?”

“Good hunt. Not enough blood for me, though.”

“Hah!” the announcer surprisingly took the gruesome reply in stride. “We have a true warrior here, folks! Roal would be proud!”

Alex, his group—and quite a few audience members—cheered as Grimloch left the podium. There was a bit of a wait before the ship with golden sails returned to shore with the contestants on board. When it docked, Grimloch jumped onto the beach with his medallion in hand. He didn’t wait for the gangplank.

“You did it, little brother!” Nua-Oge cried, hugging her adopted sibling as several members of the audience looked at them in surprise.

“Little brother?” Alex heard someone say quietly.

‘I’ve been there before,’ he thought. ‘I still can hardly believe he’s the younger one.’

He looked over his friends as they gathered around Grimloch. A crowd of spectators closed in, asking him to come visit their shops or residences.

Bonds. Bonds to support each other or call each other out on something. Like Amir’s friends had done with Ursula. Bonds like priests had with their deities and followers. Bonds like the Heroes probably had with each other.

He looked at Grimloch patting his sister on the back and shooting fang-filled grins at other contestants who were giving him dirty looks.

Alex laughed. Unlike him, Grimloch didn’t seem to care how he was perceived.

Grimloch was just Grimloch.

His attitude didn’t win him many new friends, but he had enough. And from his performance alone, new people still came to him.

That wasn’t the way Alex wanted to live his life, but he respected it. It reminded him of Baelin a bit. Monsters just doing what monsters do, and damn those that disagreed.

He thought about Baelin and Ursula’s assertions that deities were parasites. It was ironic in a way. Oreca ruled his seas in a way that put fear and obedience into people, but in the end, he’d needed those people to worship him. Grimloch said whatever he wanted and let people react how they would. Then during the Great Water Hunt, he crushed his competition alone.

Grimloch needed people less than almighty deities did.

Alex put those thoughts out of his mind and joined his friends, looking to Theresa.

‘Speaking of needing others,’ he thought. ‘We’ll need each other to compete tomorrow morning.’

“Contestants! Welcome to the Great Land Hunt!” the announcer cried, his voice booming, unseen, through the forest.

Alex, Theresa, and Brutus waited with a group of thirty hunters in the Generasi countryside. They’d woken up early to get ready for the hunt, and had strategized about what they’d need to do before making their way to the sky-gondola that had brought them to the meet up area for contestants, then they were taken to one of four starting points.

An illusion materialized above them, one of a white rolok with a beautiful coat. Alex had never seen anything like it before. The illusion was actually showing them the rolok they’d be chasing.

“Spirit roloks are fast and elusive,” the announcer explained. “They wield innate illusion magic that allows them to almost disappear when perfectly still, and at full speed, they can outrun a horse! You’ll need wits, endurance, and cleverness to catch this little beast, so prepare yourselves for a challenging, perhaps long hunt.

“She’ll be released somewhere in the beautiful Generasi countryside, in the middle of the four starting points. Hunters may hunt alone, as part of your registered team, or come together as a larger group. Remember, there is only one rolok to capture! The two other teams or individual hunters closest to the rolok’s location when she’s captured will be our second and third place winners! Ready yourselves, and remember, harming the rolok is strictly forbidden! A hunting horn will signal the start of the contest, and another will signal the end!”

With a shimmer, the illusion vanished.

“Here we go,” Theresa said. “I am not getting third place this time.”

“We’ll channel our inner Grimloch and grab the gold,” Alex agreed.

Brutus barked three times.

Other hunters glanced at them, then watched the trees, listening for the horn.

Brooooooaaaaawr!

The hunting horn blew a deep, powerful note, and the contestants scattered into the trees. Some formed groups, but Alex, Theresa, and Brutus moved as a trio.

They’d left Claygon with Selina, the Lus, and their friends—the big golem would only slow them down or give away their position with his massive footsteps—and with Alex’s training and Theresa’s life enforcement, they were able to keep up with Brutus, even though he wasn’t running at full speed.

Alex glanced up through the canopy where birds of prey circled above.

“Looks like some of the other hunters might be using familiars,” he said. “Or maybe they’re just trained birds.”

“That’s okay,” Theresa said. “Brutus has three of the sharpest noses around. We’ll pick up that scent once we get close enough.”

“Where do you think they released it?” Alex asked as they ran through a clearing.

“I don’t know,” the huntress said. “Everyone’s starting off at a disadvantage because we don’t know where the prey is, so the first thing someone needs to do is—”

Brutus started barking, then veered off to the left.

“—Is find our quarry.” Theresa’s lips spread in a predatory grin, which Alex gave back.

“It begins,” she said. “Let’s—”

Brooooooaaaaawr!

The trio skidded to a halt, their boots and padded feet kicking up leaves and dirt. Alex and Theresa’s eyes widened in shock.

“No way,” Theresa said. “No way!”

“What?” Alex cried. “It can’t be!”

He heard commotion all around them as other hunters emerged from the trees with confused looks.

“Attention hunters!” the announcer’s voice echoed through the wilderness. “The spirit rolok has been captured! The winners of the Great Land Hunt have been decided!”

Alex’s jaw dropped.

They’d already lost.

‘Who the hell got that rolok so fast?’

Chapter 63

Loss and Resolve

Theresa stepped out of the forest and into a clearing flanked by Alex and Brutus. Her deathstalker expression was now replaced by one of complete shock. Her boyfriend looked as stunned as she did, like someone had just randomly slapped him. His eyes were darting around, which was exactly what they did when he was trying to puzzle out something on the fly.

Her hands reached out: one fell on Brutus’ head—stroking it to comfort him—while the other slipped into Alex’s. She concentrated on his warm, supportive grip while trying to make sense of what happened.

They’d lost, just like that.

Hard and fast.

They hadn’t even gotten a chance to participate before the hunt abruptly ended.

And that stung.

She was trying to remain stoic and composed, but on the inside, she just wanted to scream her disappointment.

‘Third,’ she thought. ‘Bow hunting is what I do. I excel at it. But I come in third in archery. And now, we don’t even place in hunting.’

She shook her head.

Officials swarmed the solo winner and the second and third-place teams. The silver and bronze medalists looked just about as bewildered as she felt.

At the centre of the gathering crowd, a young man with a slight build was holding a rather calm looking rolok as the announcer ushered him and the silver and bronze medalists to the winners’ podium.

Theresa’s eyes turned to the stands, searching for her family and friends. This was one of many times she silently thanked Professor Kabbot-Xin. A year ago she would’ve struggled to find them among the churning audience, even though she considered her eyesight to be really good back then. Now, her eyes honed in on Grimloch’s fin and Thundar’s horned head in an instant. Claygon was standing motionless by the stands. From where she was, she could see Selina’s facial expressions shifting as she talked with her mother.

It was stunning how much her eyesight had improved. Too bad she didn’t get a chance to use it in the hunt. Her jaw clenched and her grip tightened on Alex’s hand.

“What’re they saying?” he was asking while squinting at their family and friends. “I thiiink I see Claygon and Grimloch?”

She focused on her hearing. Fragments of conversation from different voices came at her from within the crowd. She acknowledged each one and let it go, tuning out the noise, trying to pick out the faint voices of her friends and family were saying.

They were too far away.

“Can’t quite hear what they’re saying,” she said.

“Too bad. I bet they’re as shocked as we are.”

“Another failure,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Alex asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

He gave her a long look. “That didn’t sound like nothing.”

She shook her head. “Not worth repeating.”

Turning back to the podium, Theresa watched the young winner rise to the central platform, he gave the crowd an awkward smile and waved. She clamped down on the bite of jealousy rising in her, and just tried to watch and listen for his name.

“And the winneeeeer of the Great Land Hunt is Wolud Raaaaaniiiiier!” the announcer roared.

“Oh shit,” Alex and Theresa cursed at the same time.

The huntress remembered the name. During their Grand Battle training sessions, Isolde had warned them more than once about certain people to look out for. Three names had come up over and over: Tyris Goldtooth, whose familiar had nearly crushed Claygon in the Duel by Proxy; Indrajit Hanuman, who had beaten Grimloch and everyone else by a mile in the foot race, and now—

“Wolud Ranier,” Alex muttered. “He’s an illusionist… How’d that translate to being this expert hunter? Then again, he’s done two years of the Art of the Wizard in Combat, according to Isolde.”

“Come on,” Theresa said, nodding toward the stands. “The crowd’s moving. Our friends were watching the hunt on those sky illusion things.” She pointed to the fading illusions above. “Let’s find out how he beat us so fast.”

As the spectators filed out of their seats, Theresa and Alex pushed their way through the mass of people until they reached their friends and family.

Her father was the first to reach the three of them, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said sombrely. “I know how much you were looking forward to this.”

“It’s alright,” she lied.

She noticed Alex throw her a look, but kept talking.

“What happened?” she asked. “How did he catch it so fast?”

Isolde sighed. “Through clever application of spellcraft. There is a spell of fourth-tier called Wizard’s Eye. It essentially conjures a magical, invisible eye that floats through the air and sends whatever it sees directly back to the caster.”

“Hmmm, like a strong familiar link.” Khalik nodded. “Some experienced masters are able to see directly through the eyes of their familiar, even at a distance.”

“Some wizards cast spells that let them share the senses of the creatures they’ve summoned too,” Alex said. “Are you saying he sent one of these magical eyes out to hunt the rolok?”

Thundar snorted. “Try five of them.”

“At the same time? That’s a lot of mana…” Alex said, shaking his head. “And five at once… That’d get really confusing having five spells sending five visuals to your mind all at the same time.”

“He used illusions, like the ones up there.” Selina pointed up at the sky, where the illusions that displayed the contest had been.

“Yes,” Isolde said. “It appears that he modified his Wizard’s Eyes to carry their sight to illusions floating in front of him. Instead of having five different views delivered into his mind all at once—which would be overwhelming for many—he simply had five different ‘illusionary windows’ to view. Far more manageable.”

“Clever,” Alex said. “That’s a trick I gotta learn when I get to fourth-tier spells.”

“Yeah, me too,” Thundar grunted. “With five eyes scouting in different directions, he found the rolok real fast. Then he cast a spell of invisibility on himself and headed off. Caught it when it hid in the hollow of a tree, and that was that. Game over. I gotta say, that guy had a lot of advantages going for him. Before he even cast the invisibility spell, you could tell he knew a lot about being all stealthy. He moved a lot like you, Theresa.”

“But I thought the announcer said this rolok turned invisible when it stopped moving?” she said.

Thundar shrugged. “One thing you learn in illusions class is tricks for seeing through others’ illusions, like invisibility magic. He probably knows a bunch of those.”

Theresa shook her head. “No wonder he found the rolok so fast. He didn’t hunt it, he cornered it with his little army of magical scouts.”

Alex rubbed her back. “Well, that should make us feel better. I mean, we tried… But he wasn’t even playing the same game we were. And hey, we learned one of his big tricks. That’s going to help in the Grand Battle. You feel any better… knowing that, I mean?”

She sighed. “And what are our chances of winning the Grand Battle?” She wasn’t feeling all that confident at the moment.

“Well, with the way we’ve been performing—”

“The way you, Grimloch, and Khalik have been performing.”

“Uh…” He scratched the back of his head, watching her closely. He had the same look he got when he was intently reading a book. “Well, we have a chance, I’d say.”

“But a small one,” Isolde said. “There are many highly competent teams here, and having the Outcasts of the Divine Wind competing again does not bode well for any other team with hopes of claiming the Grand Battle’s gold medallion.”

“Then I don’t feel that much better at all,” Theresa said, looking at Thundar and Grimloch. “The Grand Melee’s this afternoon. The three of us have to be ready. I want us to win, and I don’t want to be the one dragging us down.”

Grimloch and Thundar shared a look.

“C’mon, it’s you! You don’t drag any team you’re on down,” the minotaur said. “Besides, the Grand Melee’s got a lot more restrictions on spellcasting. Basic body enhancements and weapon enhancements are okay: no illusions, no great balls of fire, no flying around, or teleporting, or anything like that, though. It’s just a straight rock ’em sock ’em melee contest!”

“Right,” Theresa said. “Then I’ll have no excuse. I want to get to the top.” She looked at her parents. “I want you to see that.”

“Theresa,” her mother said. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard to win just for us.”

“Yeah, you’re really cool, whether you win or not,” Selina said.

“Thank you,” she looked at all of them. “But I want a win. I want you to see it, but it’s not for all of you.”

She gave Brutus a pat and the cerberus let out a grunt.

“…It’s for me.”

“Welcome one and welcome all to the Graaaaaand Melee!” the announcer cried as he floated high above the field.

Theresa tried to keep her gut calm. Their loss in the Great Land Hunt had been sitting pretty poorly with her. She’d hardly tasted lunch and anxiety had been building in her belly as the melee got closer.

Now, it was grumbling like she’d eaten bad fish.

She’d tried every technique to calm down that Professor Kabbot-Xin had taught in attempts to clear her mind and bring her thoughts back to the present. But disappointment about the past and worry for the future warred inside her.

Which made grounding herself elusive.

“Steady,” Grimloch rumbled as the announcer talked about the history of the Grand Melee in his opening remarks.

“We’ve got this,” Thundar said, stretching and rotating his arms in their joints. “You guys beat the hell out of a well-fed mana vampire. We cracked open a dune worm and beat monster after monster in Baelin’s class. We’ve got this. It’s too bad we can’t have Claygon with us, but we’re pretty damn tough.”

“True,” Theresa said, taking a deep breath and looking up toward the audience. At this distance, even her enhanced sight could barely make out Claygon’s hulking figure standing beside the stands. She couldn’t even see her parents, Alex, Selina, Brutus or any of her frie—

There he was. She could make Brutus out a little, but couldn’t really see details of anyone else. She turned her attention back to the field.

“Great distance,” she said, looking over the battlefield surrounding them. “A lot of ground to cover. Which means a lot of opportunities for the competition to tire themselves out.”

The Grand Melee was taking place in a massive field deep in the countryside, not far from where the Great Land Hunt had taken place. Teams and solo entrants had been positioned at different spots on the field to await the start of the contest. Every starting point gave the participants ample space to manoeuvre and position themselves.

It would be a free-for-all. Every single person on the field, aside from Grimloch and Thundar, was the enemy.

Her hand fell on the hilts of her weapons. There had been a nice selection of blunted weaponry on offer for the participants to choose from, and she’d picked a curved falchion and a shortsword. Both had heft to them—they were a little heavier than her normal weapons, but the difference was minor—and were of similar length to her hunting knife and great-grandfather’s swords.

Not surprisingly, Thundar had chosen a flanged mace similar to the one he always carried. Grimloch had grabbed the biggest iron club available, drawing nervous eyes from competitors who’d been choosing weapons at the time.

“Hopefully this one won’t break when I hit something with it,” he’d said.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

It sounded like a wind storm as he gave it a couple of test swings.

“You bend it, you buy it,” Thundar joked, fingering the haft of his mace. “Speaking of buying things, I need you guys to buy me some time to cast my enhancement spells on myself.”

He looked over at the team closest to them—who were a good fifty feet away—and then down at the glowing spell-mark on his arm. “They’re looking pretty antsy over there, and I’m getting the feeling they’ll want first strike.”

The team was made up of seven tough-looking dwarven warriors armed with long poleaxes and shields. They were eyeing Theresa and her teammates with calculating looks, while talking amongst themselves, strategizing, no doubt. One yawned. One sneezed. One looked real grumpy.

Theresa remembered Baelin discussing a common tactic in battle: eliminating the greatest threat first. That usually meant taking out a wizard in a group of adventurers, dispensing with an army’s general or commander, or finding and getting rid of the champion of a monster horde before they knew what hit them. It looked like the dwarves saw them as one of the bigger threats in the melee, and for good reason. Her knees bent slightly, readying for action.

“We’ll keep everyone away from you, Thundar,” she said, eyeing other teams nearby. They were also looking at the three of them dangerously. A pair of twin swordsmen, a group of lizard folk, and some unarmed warriors in light clothing.

“We’ll take you all on,” Theresa said, her deathstalker face in full effect.

“And without further delay,” the announcer roared above. “I declare this Grand Melee… to begin!”

Ding!

“Feeding frenzy!” Grimloch roared.

Thundar began chanting a body enhancement spell.

“Let’s go,” Theresa said evenly.

She drew her blades.

Chapter 64

Melee

Battlecries echoed through the air.

Weapons were drawn from sheathes.

Thundar chanted his body enhancement spell as the seven dwarves roared as one, lowering their spears and charging the trio. Blunted axes hurtled toward the minotaur.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Theresa struck one from the air with her falchion, while Grimloch’s club smashed the other two to the ground.

Battlecries drew closer as the other teams came charging across the field, looking to overwhelm them. They’d be buried in enemies within seconds.

She cursed. “Grimloch, we’ve gotta move! There’re too many for us to protect him while he still casting!”

“Right,” the shark man growled, picking up the minotaur and tucking him under his arm. Thundar’s voice rose in surprise, but he kept casting. She and Grimloch sprinted from their adversaries. The pursuers picked up the pace, their boots slamming the ground.

Thundar’s spellcasting accelerated: magic to enhance strength, speed, and endurance flooded his body.

Clang!

The crash of metal on metal echoed behind them, followed by shrieking and alarmed cries. Theresa risked a glance over her shoulder. The unarmed warriors had attacked the lizardfolk mid-charge and they were clashing on the field in a massive brawl.

The twin swordsmen—one who wore a braided top knot, the other a moustache with ends curling upward—and the dwarves weren’t far behind her, Grimloch, and Thundar.

“How long until you’re done!” Theresa called to Thundar.

A final rush of words completing his spells tumbled from his lips. “Done! Bring your weapons close, I’ll enhance them!”

Theresa held her weapons up as they ran, and he touched his mace, her falchion and shortsword, and Grimloch’s club in quick succession. Their weapons thrummed as the magic of his spell—Blows of Lead—infused them. They grew heavy like they’d doubled in weight before quickly returning to normal. Against their opponents, though, they would strike like they were twice their mass.

“I’m ready!” Thundar roared. “Toss me!”

“What?” Grimloch grunted.

“Throw me at those dwarves! Not on their spears—Aim so I land behind ’em!”

Grimloch growled. “Don’t blame me if you go splat.”

“Then don’t splat me!”

“I’ll hold off those twins while you two take care of the dwarves!” Theresa shouted, skidding to a halt and wheeling around.

Abruptly, she charged the twin swordsmen, their eyes hardened.

Their weapons seemed to spark.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

‘That’s actually lightning crackling along their blades!’

Whooosh!

From the corner of her eye, she saw Thundar shoot through the air—just above the dwarves’ thrusting spears—flip and land on the grass behind them. His enhanced agility was working. Three dwarves spun to face him, spreading out and stabbing with their spears. Their rounded shields scraped against the spears’ hafts as they thrust them forward, but Thundar’s mace batted the weapons aside with ease. The other four faced Grimloch, spreading out as the massive shark man came roaring in.

Theresa reached the swordsmen and her focus left her friends’ battle as she faced her two opponents. One cursed as she leapt to the side then lunged at him, her falchion flashing out while her shortsword hovered in guard position, ready to deflect his blows.

Crackle!

The man swung his sword up to meet hers.

Her eyes went wide and she jumped away.

Whish!

Electricity danced along his blade, barely missing her sword. She eyed the blade like it was a venomous snake.

Theresa remembered how Isolde had conjured iron spikes to use on the mana vampire. She remembered that she’d also used the spikes to conduct her lightning magic into monsters. Lightning did not mix well with metal, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if their steel swords met.

The twins snarled and raised their blades, moving to flank her.

Crackle! Crackle!

Blue bolts of lightning cascaded between their swords, forming a rippling net of energy. They rushed in—prepared to hurl the energised mesh on her—but she glided backward, whipping her shortsword at the moustached one’s head.

The man shouted, ducking low, breaking the lightning connection between his sword and his twin’s. Theresa charged him as the connection died. Her falchion whipped out, cracking across the back of his hand and knocking the sparking weapon free. She caught its hilt as it was falling—

Whoosh!

—and threw it at his twin. The one with the top knot yelped and ducked, but as the sword flew past him, electricity arced between it and his own blade.

Directly through his body.

Crack!

He gave a short cry and vanished, the spell-mark whisking him away. His brother reached for the dagger on his belt. Theresa slashed her falchion across his face, blasting him from the contest. Even as he vanished, she was on the move. She bent to retrieve her shortsword, then pounded across the field toward the dwarven warriors.

Thundar and Grimloch were breaking their numbers. A massive swing from the shark man knocked spears away, and another smashed a dwarf so hard, he arced through the air like a rainbow until his spell-mark pulled him away.

His teammates began surrounding Grimloch, using their compact size to slip away from his strikes, but he was quicker than he looked. The swinging club kept them off-balance, forcing them back while he kept advancing.

Thundar was also smashing spears aside using his mace and horns, but he wasn’t making much progress. The warriors kept shifting positions, surrounding him, limiting his movement. They hadn’t noticed her approaching yet.

‘Always watch your back,’ Theresa thought, rushing one of the dwarves from behind and connecting two quick blows with his neck through the gap between his helmet and chainmail.

He gave a low cry and the spell-mark instantly teleported him away.

Another spun to meet her assault, leaving one to battle Thundar. The minotaur grabbed the dwarf’s spear mid-thrust, ripped it from his hand, then stepped forward and slammed his mace down.

Crack!

It collided with the warrior’s shield, and Thundar grabbed the rim, yanked it away, and smashed a hoof into his opponent’s face. The dwarf vanished.

Things didn’t go well for the dwarven warriors as Theresa’s team concentrated on knocking the rest of them out of the contest. It didn’t take long for the shark man to eliminate two, and she and Thundar to knock the other two out of the competition.

“Right!” Thundar yelled, his voice filled with excitement from the heat of battle. “These spells won’t last forever! Let’s go knock some heads while the magic’s still happening!”

“Agreed.” Grimloch grinned.

All around the battlefield, teams were swarming each other in a massive, chaotic, melee. She clashed her falchion and shortsword together.

“Agreed. Let’s get them!”

The three fighters charged across the battlefield with weapons held high, and leapt into the wave of combat. Enemies appeared one after the other. First, they jumped into the battle between the lizardfolk and the unarmed warriors who were still fighting each other. They came in hard, smashing some from behind then wading in to face the rest with weapons flashing.

It was a strange feeling.

The force of impact would shudder through Theresa’s arms as her blades struck armour, scale and flesh, but then she’d feel nothing as the opponent’s spell-mark pulled them away. This fight was different from the attack on the patrizia’s estate. No one was going to die here. They might get messed up, and everyone knew that coming in, but they’d live to fight another day.

Soon, all the members of the lizardfolk and unarmed warrior teams had been whisked away, and Theresa and her teammates were left looking for more opponents. Again and again, their adversaries vanished to safety, and they moved on. The three of them were an avalanche of metal and power, crushing everything in their path. Excitement surged through Theresa’s gut as she heard Grimloch’s laughter and Thundar’s battle cries beside her.

This was it.

This was the feeling she’d wanted when she’d entered the Games.

Struggle and victory.

Increasingly, their challengers had gone from roaring out challenges, to outright reluctance to fight them. When they came upon a group of human mercenaries, the sell swords actually tried to retreat. Theresa, Thundar, and Grimloch looked at each other and jumped right in. They were there for a grand melee, not for a grand retreat.

Two swings of her blades knocked out a pair of mercenaries and she closed on a third. He deflected her strikes with his shield and sword before he went down, then vanished.

The trio’s ferocious performance had been drawing eyes, both from the audience, and from other entrants in the contest who were seeing them as a threat.

Whooooooosh!

A whistle of metal on the wind saved her. She ducked beneath a spear that sailed past her head—almost parting her hair—and slammed into an opponent she’d been fighting, who ducked too late. The woman instantly vanished.

Theresa whirled.

Her jaw clenched.

A team of knights mounted on warhorses—the only type of companion allowed in the grand melee—were charging them. Their plate armour was thick, their shields broad, and the metallic tips of their lances shone in the daylight.

“Look out!” Theresa shouted. “Charging knights! Move!”

Thundar and Grimloch leapt away as metal and churning hooves smashed both earth and mercenaries.

“Right turn!” the lead knight roared, and the line banked to the right. The ground shook as the warhorses wheeled around as one. They were a sight to see.

“Behind me!” Grimloch roared, grabbing one of the mercenaries who’d escaped the charge. He raised the struggling man and dropped him and his club in front of himself, using both as shields. Digging his feet into the turf, he braced himself while she and Thundar took up positions behind him with their weapons ready.

“We’ll sweep their legs!” Thundar said. “The spell-mark should teleport the horses out of the fight if they’re about to take a bad fall and they’ll disappear right from under those knights!”

Theresa smiled. “I’ve got an idea too.”

“What is it?”

“Remember what Grimloch did to the xyrthak?”

“Yea—jOh… oh!” Thundar turned around and grinned at her. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Theresa said, and bent her knees, preparing to leap.

She watched steadily as the line of knights pounded toward them. Three levelled their lances straight at Grimloch, while the others targeted him from the sides. The shark man let them get closer. He suddenly stood to his full height, and with a roar, threw the struggling, screaming mercenary at them.

Crash!

His body blasted two of the knights off their steeds and clipped a third, who managed to remain in the saddle. Grimloch set his club in front of him—sideways like a plough—and lunged at the line.

Bang!

Whatever he hit collided in a heap, then disappeared, and he ploughed through the rest. Thundar came charging from behind him, slamming into one of the horses, sending both horse and rider to the ground just before they vanished.

Theresa ducked under a lance and leapt, landing in the saddle behind a rider. The knight tried to turn, but she slammed her falchion’s pommel into the side of his helmet twice. He slumped from the saddle.

The horse began bucking, trying to throw her off, so she leapt, sailing through the air toward the next knight in line.

Her leg snapped straight out in front of her like a pole.

Crash!

Her boot slammed into his side, knocking him from the saddle. She jumped off the horse and catapulted toward another knight, pitching this one out of the saddle as he drew a flail. His foot caught in a stirrup and he was dragged along the ground—yelling—as she landed and rolled to her feet.

About fifty feet later, he disappeared.

Theresa took a breath, looking over their surroundings.

Grimloch and Thundar had finished off the remaining knights and were looking for more opponents.

The shark man growled. “Look!”

He pointed toward an area of the battlefield where a bunch of warriors were struggling against a swordsman. Holding a curved sword in hand, a bald young man blurred through every fighter around him, his blade snapping out like a cobra.

Each strike of the blade knocked a competitor out of the fight, and his rapid kicks and punches did the same. Even surrounded by multiple opponents at once, the man kept moving, never letting himself get cornered. A pair of teammates covered his blind spots with their shields and swords.

“Hanuman,” Grimloch growled. “I owe him some payback.”

“Figures he’d be in this,” Thundar said. “We’ve got two choices. We could fight some easier opponents and maybe hope someone else eliminates him or I could recast my enhancement spells and we could jump him right now.”

Theresa thought on that. “He’ll probably be more tired later, but so will we. I think we should attack him while he’s busy.”

“Gang up on him,” Thundar said. “Knock out his helpers. I like it. Fine, then let’s go kick his ass.”

“Let’s go kick his ass,” Grimloch grunted.

“Yeah,” Theresa said. “Let’s go kick his ass.”

Chapter 65

The Clash

Thundar cast spell after spell as the trio stalked toward the battle.

Body enhancement for strength.

Body enhancement for endurance.

Body enhancement for agility.

His magic swept through Theresa. Strength flowed into her limbs, her heart thundered, and her muscles tingled. Her entire body felt more responsive. The minotaur also recast Blows of Lead, adding more force to their strikes.

“Okay,” he said. “That burned up a lot of mana. I’ll try and use some mana regeneration, but I don’t think I’ll be doing that too many more times during the fight.”

“Then we’ll have to make this count,” Theresa said, stalking toward their prey.

“We will,” Grimloch growled.

“Okay, here’s what I think.” Thundar slapped the head of his mace into his palm. “Grimloch, you go and try to beat the hell out of Hanuman. Theresa and I’ll go smack his two friends around and keep them off your sides. Sound good?”

“Sounds fine,” Grimloch growled.

Theresa peered at the two shieldbearers helping Hanuman. One moved a tad faster than the other. “I got the quick one on the left.”

“That leaves the one on the right to me,” Thundar snorted. “Won’t have a repeat of the mana vampire. I’m not going down so easy this time. Alright, enough jaw-flapping. Let’s go get the gold.”

Moving as quietly as they could—considering Grimloch and Thundar’s bulk—they charged toward the melee.

Some of the warriors fighting Hanuman turned just in time for Grimloch to crash through their ranks and toward his target.

The cultivator glanced at Grimloch as though he’d expected him. “Keep the other two off of me,” he called out to his shieldbearers.

His companions whirled toward Thundar and Theresa while still fending off their other attackers. Their enemies took one look at the minotaur and huntress and scrambled out of the way.

Crash!

Everything turned into a whirlwind of steel.

Theresa came at her target, blades blurring with the added help from Thundar’s agility enhancing magic.

Clang! Clang!

Her falchion crashed against the opponent’s long, curved blade: a tulwar. His counter strikes slashed at her with unnatural speed.

‘Probably using a Haste Spell,’ she thought.

The fighters around them froze, then leapt at the shieldbearer, eager to take advantage of Theresa’s attack. He swore, but focused on defence, raising his shield and tulwar. The blade snaked around him, parrying blow after blow while he kept the shield between him and Theresa, using it to defend against her quick, fierce attacks.

He grunted.

His movements were smooth, his stance practised, and the Haste Spell made him unnaturally fast, but he couldn’t defend against so many blows at once. Weapons found their way through the gaps in his guard, delivering blows to his chest, arms, and legs. He twisted and rolled his body, turning what should have been solid hits into glancing blows, but that still would only delay his inevitable defeat.

At least it would have, had this been a real battle.

The blunted weapons stung when they connected, but if they’d been sharpened, they would’ve opened a dozen cuts on him by now. He would be bleeding, losing strength, and eventually, someone would have caught him with a blow that would finished him off.

But the only kind of blow that would trigger his spell-mark would be the kind that could inflict a grave injury, not just a glancing one. As long as he kept enduring, they’d never wear him down without hitting him with a mortal wound.

Theresa growled in frustration. Even with Thundar’s spells enhancing her, she still couldn’t land a finishing blow. She had to admit a grudging respect for his skill.

Still, it would have been nice if he’d just fallen already.

Time was on his side.

Thundar and some of the other fighters were swarming the other shieldbearer, but the minotaur wasn’t quite as quick or as skilled as Theresa. Even with his body enhancement spells, he was barely keeping his opponent pinned down. The shieldbearer didn’t have to concentrate as much on defence. His own tulwar slashed around him in precise cuts, striking opponents in the head, chest, and places where large blood vessels were located.

Each time he struck a vital point, one of his foes would vanish and the battle grew a little easier for him to control. Thundar was pushing himself just to keep the shieldbearer pinned. If the man managed to thin out enough attackers, then focused on the minotaur before his Haste Spell ran out…

…Then there was Hanuman.

Crash! Crash!

Grimloch and Indrajit’s battle sounded like the brawling of thunder gods. Sunlight gleamed across their weapons.

The shark man stalked after the smaller, more experienced cultivator with his club blurring in his hand. His black eyes seemed to be in a frenzy and his jaws cracked, snapping the air as Hanuman dodged around him.

The cultivator side-stepped every blow—far faster than his shieldbearers—while darting in to give Grimloch punishing strikes to his legs and trunk. It looked like he was under a Haste spell himself, and he didn’t need to work hard to dodge Grimloch’s strikes.

The other warriors weren’t so lucky.

Every one of the shark man’s swings smashed into some of the surrounding fighters.

Crack!

Grimloch’s iron club would clip them in the back or the legs, launching them into the air. Some vanished the moment the club touched them.

She caught a light smile touching Hanuman’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding not the slightest bit winded. “It was getting crowded. Thank you for clearing them out for me.”

The shark man growled, but didn’t rush in recklessly.

Hanuman’s smile widened further. “Oh? Not as vulnerable to provocation as I’d guessed. Good. Very good! You have my respect!”

He blurred forward, sliding beneath one of Grimloch’s blows and slashing his blade along his thigh. An excited expression touched his face, followed by one of disappointment.

“I thought that would have been a critical blow,” he said. “You’re made of stern stu—Oho!”

Grimloch’s hand shot out, snapping shut just where Hanuman’s head had been a heartbeat earlier.

“You’re quick too, I’ll give you that!” Indrajit stepped back, giving Grimloch a salute with his blade.

Theresa’s frown deepened.

Things were not going according to plan.

Thundar couldn’t use his illusion spells or other tricks since they weren’t weapon or body enhancements, and Grimloch was only helping their opponent by clearing out the chaff. It would only be a matter of time before one of them went down.

She looked at her opponent.

Then there was this tough bastard.

She tried to step away from him, but he lunged after her. His blade flashed out again and again, his shield and enhanced reflexes guarded against the other opponents.

“Oh no you don’t!” he shouted. “Your fight is with me!”

Theresa let out a breath and struck back without a word.

What could she do? He was too quick and skilled to just blindly disengage from, like that clawed monster she’d fought at the patrizia’s ball. She didn’t have a Haste Potion, a bow, or the element of surprise like they’d had against the vespara’s handlers.

And on that thought, an idea brewed.

Alex had blinded that wizard with his forceball. She didn’t use magic, but…

Her eyes glanced at the sun. The shieldbearer was backing it, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t put it to use. She parried his tulwar with her falchion, then feinted with her shortsword.

As he moved his shield to block the short blade, she angled her sword so its metal surface caught the sun’s rays. Her opponent grunted as the reflection flashed into his eyes. He froze for an instant.

Just for an instant.

But with her speed and reflexes, that was more than enough.

Crack!

Her falchion snapped across his fingers, striking the sword from his hand. She kicked it away as it fell, and the other warriors swarmed him in a tide of weapons. He was forced to defend himself with his shield alone.

As he retreated, she hooked his shield with the crossguard of her falchion and pulled.

Then she drove her shortsword toward his face.

The last thing she saw before he vanished was his look of disbelief. Theresa turned, looking at the battle between Grimloch and Hanuman.

No. Better get rid of the other shieldbearer. He’s weaker and should fall quicker.

Just one thing first—

Whish!

There it was.

As soon as their mutual opponent had vanished, several of the warriors struck at her from behind, looking to take down a threat while they had her surrounded.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Her blades crashed through their swings, wiping them out of the contest. A single glare had the rest flinching back, and she charged toward Thundar.

She nearly caught the other shieldbearer off guard, but he whirled just as she reached him, catching her falchion strike with his shield. He flinched from her follow up with her shortsword, catching it with his tulwar.

Smash!

Thundar slammed his mace into the shieldbearer’s back, wiping him out of the contest.

“Thanks! Team work makes the dream work!” he snorted. “Now let’s get the prize!”

The huntress and minotaur turned and lunged at Hanuman.

“I see you’ve defeated my friends!” he cried, though he wasn’t smiling anymore. “I won’t go down so easily, though. Not without taking some of you with me!”

“We’ll see about that!” Thundar roared.

Clang!

Hanuman barely managed to deflect the minotaur’s mace with his tulwar, then swore and had to scramble away from a flurry of blades from Theresa.

Crash!

Grimloch’s iron club swung down like a falling tree, but the cultivator dodged, then ducked another swing from Thundar. The trio surrounded him on three sides, burying him in an avalanche of weapons. Indrajit went quiet, his body twisting as he tried to dodge or deflect the blows.

Swearing, the cultivator spat out a spell: his sword shimmered, then began leaving after-images in its wake. Every swing weaved a confusing cloud of illusionary blades that hung in the air for an instant before disappearing.

They were creating a blurred swarm of images to conceal his movements. His weapon clashed again and again against the assault from his three assailants. It looked like he could defend against them forever.

“Hey, Haste is going to run out soon, ain’t it?” Thundar asked. “You can barely hold your own against us now, what happens when your spell goes away?”

Hanuman didn’t say anything, but after a few more seconds of defence, Theresa heard him start another incantation. She rushed him when his attention was divided, trying to bury him with her blades, but he retreated, slapping her blows aside.

She grimaced.

His blows were so strong she felt numbness in her palms. He lashed out and kicked her in the torso—driving her back—then ducked one of Grimloch’s attacks and turned in time to parry a blow from Thundar.

The minotaur snorted.

His head shot forward.

Bang!

He slammed his thick skull against Hanuman’s head, ruining his spell and sending him stumbling back.

“Ah, a cheap trick!” the cultivator cried. “I commend you, but—”

A massive, grey skinned hand gripped his shoulder like a vice.

“You talk too much,” Grimloch said.

His fang-filled jaws came down.

Snap!

Hanuman disappeared without a word.

“Nice job!” Theresa cried.

“Now for the rest!” Thundar roared, turning on the warriors surrounding them.

Grimloch gave a satisfied grunt.

Together, the trio crushed competitor after competitor as they surged toward them. Humans. Wizards. Dwarves. Elves. Beastfolk. Cyclopes. Enemies of all kinds were still in the melee. Those with weak skills fell quickly, but others gave them a bit of a challenge before finally going down.

Even with her life enforcement and Thundar’s spells—Theresa’s arms were on fire. Their little team had fought on even after the minotaur’s spells finally wore off, until at last, the battlefield was empty.

The three stood together panting, still alert.

It was quiet.

“And we have the winneeeeeers!” the announcer’s voice roared from above. “The first-place position in the Grand Melee goes to Theresa Lu, Thundar, son of Gulbiff, and Grimlooooch!”

Theresa wiped her sweating brow and smiled. “We did it.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Thundar laughed. “Well, I guess there was, but all the doubters were wrong.” He raised his fists to fist bump his two friends.

Grimloch chuckled. “Vengeance was delicious. Let’s get back.”

“Yeah,” Theresa said. “Let’s celebrate then get some rest. Alex beat Goldtooth, and now we’ve beaten Hanuman. They’re going to be looking for us during the Grand Battle tomorrow. Then there’s that team with the centaurs on it too. We’ll have our work cut out for us.”

She looked down at her falchion.

Even if they didn’t take the grand prize tomorrow, at least she’d won an event today with her friends.

As they walked back toward the audience, she had a spring in her step and a huge smile on her face.

Tomorrow’s problems were for tomorrow, today was for celebrating.

Chapter 66

Heading to The Grand Battle

Theresa beamed, standing atop the podium with Thundar, who was pumping his fists in the air, and a grinning Grimloch, who spread his hands in a ‘come on’ gesture.

The crowd roared, chanting their names: “Grimloch! Grimloch! Grimloch! Theresaaaa! Theresaaaa! Theresaaaa! Thundar! Thundar! Thundar!”

Their names echoed throughout the stadium. Alex could almost feel the energy in the air as their gold medals were hung around their necks.

Grimloch had to get down on both knees to receive his.

“And now, for their next prize!” the announcer cried. “Twenty-four hundred gold! Our mighty champions of the Grand Melee will be taking home the handsome sum of eight hundred gold a piece! Enough to have some fine weapons or chainmail custom crafted for themselves.” He looked at the shark man and laughed. “Though from Grimloch’s stature, I think his might be a bit more pricey!” He kept laughing for a while, clearly enjoying his own joke. The shark man just stared at him.

“Now, as I was saying.” The announcer snapped his fingers and three long slips of parchment appeared in his hand. “Not only will they share in twenty-four hundred gold, they’ll each receive a voucher to Stark’s Armoury and Weapons, home of the finest smiths and enchanters in all of Generasi! Each slip represents the price of one enchanted weapon or one piece of enchanted armour! We will have our champions properly equipped!”

The cheering swelled to almost deafening heights, with Alex and his ecstatic group screaming with pride.

“This was glorious!” Khalik roared. “Like a battle out of legends!”

“I’ll say!” Mr. Lu shouted over the noise. “Did you see our Theresa? She threw that lightning sword like she was throwing a dart! Scar the Bandit King would be shaking in his boots if he saw her!”

“She…” Mrs. Lu watched her daughter with a somewhat lost expression. “She’s grown so much in the year she’s been away from us.”

“Were she a dryad, we would exalt her for her skills,” Sinope watched the young huntress closely. Alex noticed she was leaning toward Khalik and her body language was very comfortable. “It takes deeds such as hers to qualify someone for the autumn council in our wood.”

“What’s the autumn council?” Selina asked.

“Our war council. It assembles during times of hardship,” Sinope said. “That is why it is named after the ‘autumn’ season, for autumn brings hardship to all forest life.”

“Right… because fall means that winter’s coming.” Selina looked up at the dryad’s willow-branch-like hair. “And winter’s hard for everyone.”

“Yes, indeed,” Sinope said. “Though, winter is not so bad in Generasi.”

“It’s a lot warmer here than where we’re from,” Selina said, then turned to Isolde. “So, Theresa, Thundar, and Grimloch won the Grand Melee, Khalik and Najyah won the Lightweight Duel by Proxy and he did really well in the Spell Joust—”

“The sun blinded me,” the prince said sullenly. Sinope put her hand on his arm.

“—Grimloch won the Great Water Hunt, and Alex and Claygon won the Super Heavyweight Duel by Proxy. Do you think you guys will win the Grand Battle?”

“Hmmm,” Isolde mused. “It is still difficult to say.”

“Really?” Mrs. Lu asked. “Even with what you saw today?”

“Indeed.” Isolde pursed her lips in thought. “The Outcasts of the Divine Wind did not enter this contest. Likely to keep themselves fresh for tomorrow. Indrajit Hanuman is a competent wizard, but he was not able to bring the full brunt of his spellcasting to bear, which he will be allowed to do under the rules of tomorrow’s contest. Tyris Goldtooth will face us not only with a team, but with her full power, a grudge to repay, and that monstrous familiar of hers. And look there.”

She pointed down at the field.

Competitors who’d been knocked out of the melee were watching the gold medalists, then glancing up at Alex and the others as if appraising them.

“We are being watched,” Isolde said. “And come tomorrow, we shall be targeted.”

“Oh…” Selina said. “Well, maybe you can pound them like Theresa, Grimloch, and Thundar just did.”

“Hopefully. Hopefully,” Isolde said.

Alex watched their watchers.

As soon as the Grand Melee began, warriors had focused on two teams: Theresa, Thundar, and Grimloch’s, and Hanuman’s group. It was a smart tactic. Eliminate major threats fast, especially if they could catch them off guard. Now because of their victories, Alex and his friends had become one of those major threats. They’d probably be targeted from all sides tomorrow. It was like Baelin said: power attracted attention and that attention was often malicious.

Attention…

Power…

Thinking about attention, power, and the Grand Battle, reminded him that the Games would be coming to an end and the expedition would be starting. That is if the demon summoner was ever caught. Maybe he’d be back in Thameland soon, and in closer proximity to the other four Heroes.

‘I’m glad there’re only four for me to avoid,’ he thought.

He had no idea if Uldar could Mark as many Heroes as he felt like. It seemed like having an army of Heroes might be better than only five, though Alex had learned divine power had its limits.

The priests used to teach the people of Alric that Uldar was this benevolent, unbeatable, force whose Heroes would always win out over the Ravener. Yet Baelin talked about gods like they were ordinary, more powerful, mortals. Not above judgement. Not above death. Alex’s thoughts wandered back to Oreca. He was a demigod, but he’d been killed by a mortal warrior who’d wielded steel as well as magic.

And he’d been killed because he’d been denied worship.

Worship he’d needed.

Uldar’s power was probably limited too. Otherwise, he could have squashed the Ravener like a bug any time he wanted to. If he too had limits to his strength, maybe he could have Marked more Heroes and just made them weaker, instead of creating five powerful ones. Alex was considering the possibilities since the Grand Melee had really shown him that having a few elites as a team could be better than a large force.

Numbers helped on an open field—a large group of warriors surrounding Hanuman had proved that—but high numbers wouldn’t necessarily work in a tight dungeon. Also, a massive group of weaker Heroes would have to split up to deal with multiple dungeons at once.

Which meant the divided groups would be less powerful and not as much of a threat. The Ravener and the dungeon cores wouldn’t have to use as many resources against them. Monster hordes could be sent to more places: farms, cities, towns, churches, or ports to increase damage, maybe even wreck the countryside or the capitol.

But making four really powerful Heroes, and one Fool, changed that scenario.

Alex remembered how Cedric crushed those silence-spiders. Wherever the Heroes went, dungeon cores wouldn’t last for long, and since they were a small team, their mobility was fluid.

If they had a Sage powerful enough to use teleportation spells, they could move to any part of the realm they wanted. Reinforce the army in one area, then teleport and instantly be in another part of the kingdom, cleaning out another dungeon. They could accomplish a lot in one day.

A small force of elites wouldn’t only be hard to track, but they’d be devastating to the Ravener’s forces. The dungeon cores would need to put a tight focus on eliminating Uldar’s five Heroes.

‘And any monsters attacking them would mean less monsters attacking anything else,’ Alex thought.

They were Uldar’s champions who drew the Ravener’s eye each cycle, and the ultimate tools of its destruction.

‘I wonder what that’ll mean for our expedition?’ he thought. ‘Our cabal’s gotten pretty strong and pretty resourceful, and we’ll be with a bunch of experienced wizards. Some—like Professor Jules—who can fight. Which means we’ll also be a threat, especially when we start taking dungeon cores.’

He imagined the expedition’s castle standing tall, not only as a place for research, but as a threat to draw the Ravener’s armies. Maybe he was being paranoid, but if people started looking into the mysteries of the dungeon cores, and maybe learned how to hijack them…

‘If I were the Ravener, I’d use a lot of resources to remove that threat from the map.’

He sighed.

There was so much he didn’t know. There was so much to learn. He was determined to do just that. Once the Grand Battle was over, only the demon summoner stood between them and the start of the expedition.

He took a deep breath and exhaled.

And one of those events would be resolved tomorrow.

The rest of the evening was spent in a small celebration for Theresa, Thundar, and Grimloch’s victories, but everyone kept themselves well under control. With the Grand Battle coming up the next morning, they had to be fresh and free of lingering effects of too much celebrating if they wanted to perform well.

Alex doubted that most of them would be able to sleep anyway. They were way too excited.

The next morning dawned on the final day of the Games of Roal.

The air was filled with tension. Alex could feel it as soon as he got out of bed. The demon summoner hadn’t attacked during the Games, so he began to wonder if they’d make a move before they ended.

‘Then again, the event is a celebration of the defeat of a demigod,’ he thought. ‘Maybe they’ll just sit back and enjoy it, like everyone else.’

As it were, he appeared to be the only one feeling tense about the demon summoner. If the others were, they were more focused on other things.

“Well, today is the day,” Khalik said as Alex, Theresa, Claygon, Brutus, and Selina met him in the hall of the insula. Najyah perched on his arm. “Is everyone ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Alex said.

“I don’t think we could do any more to prepare,” Theresa said. “Now, all we can do is bring our best to the fight.”

“Mhm.” Khalik let out a breath. “It seems the shadow of cowardice stalks only me, then.”

“Oh no, I’m nervous too,” Theresa said.

“Me three,” Alex said.

“Hah! That makes me feel better!” Khalik laughed. “Let us see if these nerves have infected everyone else!”

And in a way, they had.

They met Theresa’s parents down the hall, and as they emerged from the insula and met the rest of their friends, the tension increased. They were all nervous, but ready. Alex studied the body language of folks passing by. He didn’t see any of the signs that some displayed when they were afraid. They weren’t turning their head every which way like they expected to be attacked at any second, they weren’t looking like they were closed off and needed to protect themselves, and their steps were leisurely, not quick like someone hurrying away from danger.

There was a relaxedness to their movements, though some were a bit breathless, but Alex thought that could be from the anticipation of the big event.

The Grand Battle had everyone—participants and spectators alike—excited.

The only ones who remained tense about the demon summoner were the authorities.

The team of trackers who usually followed him and his friends—the plainclothes officers—were gone. No matter how hard Alex looked, he couldn’t find a trace of them as they made their way to the tournament grounds and central stadium. If the tail had been replaced, he couldn’t tell who they were.

The stadium loomed ahead and crowds streamed in from throughout campus, the city, and beyond. The rest of the festival grounds were fairly quiet. Vendors had even begun packing up their wares, winding up four very busy, and no doubt very profitable, days. Nearby, Alex saw familiar plainclothes officers moving through the mob. Some of his usual tails were on the heels of other people. Watchers of Roal hovered on their flying disks, surveilling from above.

‘Most eyes must be on the Grand Battle,’ he thought. ‘Makes sense that they’d be putting much of their resources here. Not that I’m complaining.’

“No other events besides the Grand Battle,” Khalik said. “It looks like all eyes will be focused here today.’

“Yeah…” Thundar agreed, his expression glum as a nearby food vendor dismantled his cart. “It’s kinda sad. These last few days have been crazy. So much to see and do. The food… Too bad it’s all gonna be gone tomorrow.”

“Nothing lasts for all time,” Isolde said. “We should enjoy ourselves while we can. After the Games, we shall have the expedition to prepare for in earnest. Any battle in Thameland shall not provide us with foes who have spells blunting their attacks or spell-marks that can whisk us away at a moment’s trouble.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Lu looked at her. “Those things can’t magic you away from danger in Thameland?”

“I fear not,” Isolde said. “The spellcraft required involves a sixth-tier spell.”

“Is that high?”

“Very,” Isolde said. “To cast it on a large group would require an extremely powerful wizard, or a large group of powerful wizards working in tandem, or the use of incredibly expensive magical machinery, which is what the Watchers use during the Games. Such machinery cannot draw power from the mana vents at such a great distance, and the vents only exist here in Generasi. Further, there is a range limit upon those spells. A long range, but a range nonetheless. Were Baelin to cast it upon us, he would have to remain fairly close for the entirety of the time we explore and otherwise engage in the expedition. I am sure there shall be some days when we can expect such a luxury… but others…”

She let it hang.

Alex winced, half-expecting Mrs. Lu to object to their involvement in the expedition.

“I see,” she said, then a look passed between her and Mr. Lu.

“Well, we shall not always be able to hide behind our chancellor’s robes,” Khalik said. “Becoming dependent on combat when safety is mostly guaranteed can only train poor habits. Instincts would dull. One would be trained to take more risks from becoming used to feeling safe. That creates a false sense of safety. Should anyone expect that safety net in the real world…”

“Monsters would kill you,” Selina said, patting Claygon on the arm.

Part of Alex wanted to reassure his little sister, but that would be a lie. She was right.

“Yeah,” he said. “And that would kinda defeat the point of learning to deal with the world’s dangers.”

Mr. Lu gave him a look, though it didn’t seem like a disapproving one.

They reached the stadium, facing two separate doorways: one for the audience and one for the competitors.

“Well, today’s safe,” Selina said. “It’ll be exciting watching you guys fight.” She looked up at Alex. “Make sure you win.”

“We’ll try,” he said.

‘Assuming nothing goes wrong.’ He glanced at the plainclothes officers and Watchers of Roal, surveying the crowd as they moved through it.

He thought about Mr. Lu’s story about Scar the Bandit King.

The man had stayed hidden for his own self-interests until something so tempting and challenging had come along that he just couldn’t resist going after it.

‘Hopefully nothing like that happens,’ Alex thought, feeling like he was tempting fate. ‘If it does, we’ll be together at least.’

He looked at Selina, Mr. and Mrs. Lu, Nua-Oge, and Sinope. Sinope and Nua-Oge were skilled fighters: if anything happened, they’d be right there.

‘Just stay hiding, demon summoner,’ he thought. ‘Just keep hiding.’

“The time of hiding is over,” Kybas whispered, peering around a tent at the crowds streaming into the stadium. Most of the Watchers were focused on the crowd.

He’d seen some patrolling campus, but fewer than there’d been in past days. Grinning, he turned and patted Harmless on the side.

“Come, let’s get our harvest before any of these sharp-eyed folks think to look away from the big show.”

Chapter 67

The Grand Battle Begins

Their team marched through the dark, armed and equipped with every resource and weapon they could bring.

Alex had a full bag of potions—both regular and booby-trapped—hanging at his side. Theresa had one of her great-grandfather’s swords and her massive hunting knife belted at her waist. Isolde’s stiletto blade hung from her belt, while Svenia and Hogarth clinked along in chainmail. The two warriors held halberds, while shields, bows and quivers were strapped to their backs, and swords and maces hung from their waists.

Thundar gripped his mace, his crossbow hanging from his back. Khalik had his shortsword belted to his waist and a new rounded shield was slung from one shoulder. Najyah was alert, perched on the prince’s arm.

Grimloch carried his oversized crossbow across his back, along with a massive iron club in one hand. Unlike the one he’d used in the Grand Melee, long spikes protruded from it. Brutus and Claygon carried no weapons of course, the pair were weapons.

The crowd roared as their team emerged from the tunnel and onto the stadium floor.

“Claaaaaygoooon! Claaaaaygoooon!” some chanted.

“Grimloch! Grimloch!” others shouted.

“Lu! Lu! Lu!”

“Thundar! Thundar! Thundar!”

“Khalik! Najyah! Khalik! Najyah!”

And finally—in the din—he could hear his name, “Roth! Roth! Roth! Roth!” being shouted over and over. His chest swelled with pride in himself and his friends. The goal had been to start making names for themselves, and they were certainly succeeding.

But they weren’t the only ones being recognized.

“Indrajit! Hanumaaaaan!” screamed a section of the crowd.

“Tyris! Vesuvius! Tyris! Vesuvius!” others roared.

The audience shouted for their favourites from all parts of the arena as other teams were already waiting in the stadium.

He counted fifteen sapphire-shirted Hydra Companions standing together. Each held themselves with the ease of those used to battle, and they carried weapons that looked like they’d been well-used.

He recognized Roderich among them. Their eyes met for an instant, then casually looked away. It was natural. No indication of being familiar with each other: no smile, no twitch of recognition. The deal they’d made regarding the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood remained their secret.

Alex’s team moved past the Hydras, making their way to a designated area in the stadium. Each team was assigned a position within two parallel rows of participants, where they’d be teleported from to the battlefield when the time came. Alex’s group walked between the rows, drawing eyes.

There were looks of challenge.

Looks of recognition.

Of fear.

The pride grew in Alex’s chest a little more as his teammates walked taller.

Though one of them seemed to bristle more than walk tall.

Isolde growled, glaring daggers when she saw the purple-shirted Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood. There were fifteen skilled battlemages. Some had brought weapons, some only their spellcasting skills. One familiar, red-haired figure stood among them. Derek Warren turned, noticing Alex’s group.

Alex watched him closely, calling on the Mark while reading his body language. His eyes narrowed.

Derek’s movements, were surprisingly graceful.

His stance was light. He kept his weight centred firmly on both feet. His back was straight, and he didn’t look uncomfortable in the chainmail hauberk he wore. The longsword belted at his waist had a finely forged bronze hilt, and the way he rested his hands on the pommel was relaxed.

‘Interesting…’ Alex thought. ‘He moves like a swordsman. I thought he was just some cheater. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.’

He remembered Derek being eliminated from Baelin’s class because he’d foolishly worn heavy chainmail in the scorching hot Barrens. Which probably meant he’d owned the chainmail all along. He certainly didn’t move like someone who wasn’t accustomed to wearing it.

‘And just because he cheated at alchemy and didn’t get into Baelin’s class because of more bad choices, doesn’t mean he’d be bad at everything. He’d obviously met the qualifications to enter the Games, otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing there. Isolde had never told them he had skills with a sword, though. Then again, she didn’t know much about him when they were dating. If she’d known him better, she wouldn’t have dated him in the first place.’

In any case, that was something to watch out for. Better to never underestimate an opponent, no matter who they were.

Up ahead was Tyris’ team standing together. She was watching him and rubbing the shell of the immense Vesuvius. The vulcanchelone’s eyes were fixed on Claygon.

Thm. Thm. Thm.

One of his massive feet pawed the earth like a bull getting ready to charge.

Surrounding them were five tough looking battlemages. The kind of folks who looked like they spent half their time in Baelin’s class, and the other half killing monsters for entertainment. Her other team members were warriors wearing breastplates and holding spears, bows, and blades. Tyris met his eyes and gave him a broad smile that showed her golden tooth glinting in the daylight.

He gave her a clumsy little wave, then looked past her at the rest of the field.

Indrajit Hanuman stood with his two shieldbearers, as well as three archers. They were one of the smaller teams, but they moved with excellent coordination like they’d worked together for a while. They’d be dangerous, especially with Hanuman and the shieldbearers harbouring some bad feelings after their Grand Melee beating. Each of them stared at Theresa, Grimloch, and Thundar as they passed. Like predators who hadn’t seen a meal in days. Indrajit’s face was calm, but his eyes seemed to burn.

Alex’s group finally reached their designated spot and lined up.

“Stand a little straighter, all, let us give the crowd something to admire!” Khalik said, smiling and waving up at the audience. Najyah—looking very majestic—flew into the air to circle them.

The crowd roared.

“Well, don’t that make you feel good!” Thundar said, joining Khalik in waving. Alex followed right after, and even Theresa gave a little wave.

She looked to Isolde as Brutus began barking.

“Come on, join us!” she said.

“It is uncouth and childish.” The tall noblewoman crossed her arms.

“You are nobility!” Khalik laughed. “Come now, you know the value in giving the people what they wish.”

Isolde sighed.

Slowly, she raised her hand in a little wave. Svenia and Hogarth joined in.

Khalik turned to Grimloch. “And you too—”

“No,” the shark man said.

“Fair enough.”

They continued waving until other teams entered the stadium. Some sent the crowd into loud cheers, but many appeared to be unknowns.

Until they walked in.

A roar swept through the audience, a swell of cheers mixed with a few boos.

Three centaurs emerged onto the stadium floor, moving in perfect synchrony. They were followed by four men and women in plate armour. Their tabards bore the symbols of the four elements.

“Elemental knights,” Isolde said. “Fierce warriors well-versed in the arts of steel and elemental magic.”

Behind the knights came three wizards wearing chainmail and bearing swords and staves like the Watchers of Roal. Finally, five hard-bitten mercenary-types in fine armour trudged into the stadium.

The Outcasts of the Divine Wind.

Every member of the team that had won the Grand Battle in the previous year moved through the stadium with ease and control. They were definitely warriors through and through, even if they favoured spells over swords.

Their body language was almost like watching a story unfold. Alex could see years of training, skill, and talent in every step. ‘Goals for the future,’ he thought.

Some of his friends were already close to moving with that level of gracefulness.

As he thought of his friends, more of them appeared. Shiani strode into the stadium, flanked by Rayne and Rhea. Malcolm walked in just behind, alongside Eyvinder, Caramiyus, and Angelar. They hadn’t brought anyone else with them on their team, but the magnificent seven of them would be dangerous enough.

They waved to Alex’s group as they walked past and took their places.

“Looks like all the guests are here,” Thundar said. “Is the party gonna start?”

Alex noticed one of the minotaur’s hoofs bouncing up and down with nerves. Isolde was twisting back and forth on her feet, while Theresa shifted her weight from leg to leg. Svenia and Hogarth were outright pacing, and Brutus paced right along with them.

Alex realised that even his own breathing was a little quicker.

Only Claygon, Grimloch, Najyah, and Khalik were completely calm. All four waited as composed as someone about to walk into an exam knowing they already had all the answers.

“What happened to all those nerves you had earlier?” Alex asked Khalik.

“Hm?” the prince raised an eyebrow. “Oh, those? I do not know… As I heard the crowd chanting our names, they melted away. I feel that no matter what happens on this day, we have already achieved more victory than many taste in life. Through luck or blessing, I am happy just to show our power.”

“Pft, easy for you to say,” Isolde sniffed nervously. “It was easier when all I wanted was to destroy Derek, but now… Goodness, the possibility of winning dangles before us. I find myself wanting it, and high expectations bring high nerves.”

“I dunno, I think Khalik has it right,” Alex said. “We’ve come a long way. Let’s just beat the Ursa-Lupines and have some fun. Even if we’re knocked out, look how far we’ve come.”

“Guess you’re right. It’s not like losing means we’re dead,” Thundar said, grinning. “Unless a little imp suddenly appears, removes our spell-marks and screams, ‘Now you’re playing the Death Games of Roal!’”

“You know there’s someone out there literally summoning demons, right?” Theresa said. “That could actually happen, Thundar.”

“Hey, don’t blame me if it does.”

“Hold on, it looks like something’s happening,” she said.

A Watcher of Roal floated up to the centre of the stadium. Illusions flickered to life above her, giving the contestants and the audience a close-up view of her face. Alex remembered that eyepatch. She’d been the one who’d explained the Games on the first registration day. That day felt like it was a very long time ago.

“Welcome to the final and most spectacular event of the Games of Roal!” she shouted. “The Grand Battle!”

The crowd screamed and whistled, and Alex looked around the stands for their family and friends, but couldn’t find them amongst the sea of bodies.

“This is the most prized event in all the Games,” the Watcher continued. “One that tests skill and spell, teamwork and instinct. The culmination of every event in the Games and the ultimate display of prowess!”

From a doorway in the middle of the stadium, brass constructs resembling cylinders with stick-thin arms floated. Each held a unique flag. The constructs circled the teams on the field in a cluster, stopped, then separated and shot toward each one to hover beside them. The flag waving beside Alex’s team was orange with a black star in the centre.

“The winners of the Grand Battle will be the last remaining team with the highest point count!” the Watcher announced. “The teams of combatants will be transported to a different area on Oreca’s Fall Island, which has been populated with summoned monsters.

“Each individual team shall begin the contest with zero points, and earn one point for every summoned creature they defeat. For each enemy combatant they eliminate from the field of battle, they will earn two points! Knocking an entire team out of the contest will give you points equivalent to double the number of combatants on that team! So, a team of five is worth ten points, for example, while a team of seven is worth fourteen! Seizing another team’s flag is worth five points in and of itself, that is if there are any teams still possessing their flag along the way.” The Watcher almost smiled.

She pointed up to an illusion floating above her which showed a low, flat-topped mountain. “For reaching the central point of the island, a total of sixty points will be awarded. Holding it and preventing other teams from reaching it, will be worth ninety points for each hour it is held under the team’s control.

“The Grand Battle will last a total of four hours or until three teams are left standing! Remember, if your entire team is eliminated, it doesn’t matter how many points you’ve gained, they will all be cancelled and your team will lose. With all of that being said, may the greatest warriors of weapon and spell triumph! And please, we expect each of you to act with integrity. No dishonesty, underhandedness, or duplicitousness will be tolerated. Observers will be watching the island from above.”

She pointed to a row of observers seated near the stands. They included Watchers of Roal, professors, and even Baelin himself. Though the chancellor watched the audience as much as he did the teams.

“Without further delay, let us begin!” the lead Watcher cried.

Large magical machinery—each piece looking like six golden orbs the size of human heads floating above brass platforms—began to hum, and spell-marks appeared on every contestant’s hand, ready to whisk them away before a grave injury could occur.

Alex took a deep breath. “I’ll probably appear before anyone else when we teleport in. I’ll feel around for teleportation magic, then we jump the closest team as soon as you guys arrive.”

The rest of his team nodded.

He watched as several wizards floating above the teams cast teleportation magic.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Then he felt the magic take him.

Alex appeared in the middle of a forest and took a deep breath as he felt flashes of teleportation magic nearby.

“The east is closest,” he said.

The air shimmered and his companions materialised around him. Without a word, he pointed east and charged ahead.

As one, his team followed, rushing through the trees to ambush the closest team before they could get their bearings.

At last, the final battle of the Games of Roal had begun.

Chapter 68

Shock and Awe

Alex charged through the forest with his team at his back.

He heard Claygon’s thundering steps, Grimloch’s crushing rush through the trees, the clinking of Svenia and Hogarth’s armour, and the heavy panting of Brutus’ three heads. Isolde, Khalik, and Thundar quietly chanted spells just behind him: force armour, body enhancement, and armour of earth.

He couldn’t hear Theresa’s movements, which meant nothing. She moved so quietly that even when running through a forest at full speed with her boots connecting with the rough path, she barely made a sound.

What he could hear was the sound of their opponents up ahead.

“Right, gang!” a confident voice said. “We should secure the clearing and—”

“Wait, Fred!” a hoarse voice cried. “What’s that noise?”

‘Charge the fire-beams,’ Alex thought.

Whoooom!

He heard their power building.

“We’re being attacked!” a woman cried.

“Is it monsters?” another shocked female asked. “Already?”

“It doesn’t matter!” the man with the confident voice said. “Form a defensive—”

“Too late,” Alex whispered just as his team burst from the trees. A team of ten may as well have been rooted to the spot as Alex’s squad of companions surged out of the woods.

Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang!

Svenia, Hogarth, and Theresa loosed arrows at the same time Grimloch and Thundar fired crossbow bolts. Some slammed into the enemy team—three opponents vanished in an instant.

A blond man began shouting, “Dammit, we have to—”

“Fire,” Alex said.

Whooooosh!

Fire-beams blasted into the clearing, strafing their opponents. Flame exploded through the air, the blast of heat reaching the tree-line.

While heat and smoke disoriented the enemy, his team was used to battling alongside Claygon. They rushed their foes and leapt on them without hesitation.

The enemy leader began shouting an incantation as he stumbled away from the flames, right into Brutus. One head grabbed his arm. The cerberus’ jaws snapped shut, and the young man vanished before the sound of snapping bone could be heard. Thundar lowered his head and charged another combatant, headbutting him and throwing him high into the air. He flipped once before crashing to the ground. Groaning, the dazed man tried to stand.

“Hello, friend!” said Khalik cheerily.

He thrust downward with his shortsword, and the young man vanished with a gasp.

“Goodbye, friend!”

Theresa, Svenia, and Hogarth jumped the remaining few enemy team members, finishing them off with a slash of their weapons.

In heartbeats, the clearing was empty except for some sputtering flames flickering on the moist earth.

Well, almost empty.

“There’s a good start!” Thundar cried as he yanked the enemy’s flag from their flagbearer and handed it to their own. “Yeeeeeah! That’s like… two points per person plus double for defeating an entire team. Forty points right out the gate! Oh, and the flag! Forty-five!”

“Well done, everyone,” Theresa said.

“Hmmm, but now the real trials begin,” Isolde said. “We will not have so easy a victory again, I would guess.”

“Yeah, and that’s too bad,” Thundar said. “Let’s get our long-lasting spells up in case another team tries to ambush us.”

One by one, they layered their defensive and enhancement spells on everyone. Alex cast his too.

Force Armour.

Orb of Air.

Forceshield.

Protective Crooked Rectangle.

Wizard’s Hands.

Forceball.

He was about to cast another—one he’d recently learned and hadn’t had the chance to use—but held off.

It’d be better to wait to cast that one when he knew there was a target to use it on.

He conjured three Wizard’s Hands—something he couldn’t do when he’d first learned the spell—and tossed a booby-trapped potion into each one: flight, sensory enhancement, and a mana soothing potion.

He then drank a sensory enhancement potion, and tossed some to his teammates.

“Alright, if everyone’s ready,” he said. “Let’s go hunting.”

Isolde eyed the tree canopy. “Remember, we must spread out somewhat. We’ll be amongst the trees so we cannot scatter as much as we might wish, so we must take care that we are not taken down by a fireball thrown into our midst.”

“Yes, auntie Isolde,” Thundar said.

“I am not dignifying that with a response.”

“You just did.”

A sound like an enraged wolf emerged from Isolde’s throat as they melted into the trees.

Boom! Boom!

Explosions rang out in the distance.

“Looks like it’s started. Which way do we go?” Alex asked as he ducked under a branch and looked up at the mountain ahead. “The central point is probably where we’ll find the Ursa-Lupines. Everyone’s going to be trying to get there and take it.”

“We’ll probably meet every other team on our way there,” Theresa said.

“Perhaps,” Khalik said. “But some teams will doubtless try to first hunt the summoned monsters. I bet they are a safer source of points than engaging fully equipped teams of battle wizards and warriors.”

“Yes, but the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood seeks to stand out, not to merely safely earn points,” Isolde said, looking up at the canopy again where Najyah flew above the trees.

“Then to meet our enemies, that is where we will have to go.” Khalik pointed through the canopy and up at the mountaintop rising in the distance. “We shall eliminate all those who stand before us on the way there.”

“Shock and awe,” Alex said.

“Shock and awe,” Khalik agreed.

The distant explosions grew louder.

The battle had begun in earnest.

“Amir, you said your friend, uh… Alex, was it?” Donovan stared up at the illusions. “You said he was a first year? As are his friends?”

“Yea, most of them are,” Amir said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Above the audience, illusions displayed different areas of the battlefield. A large, central illusion showed an overhead view of the island with tiny illusionary flags indicating the position of each team.

Teams clashed, battling each other with weapons and spells.

In one illusion, the Hydra Companions flew from behind a ridge, then ambushed another team. They launched a flurry of fireballs as soon as their target was in sight, then several tried teleporting down among their foes’ forces.

Explosions rocked their enemy, taking out some members, while others managed to scatter. The Hydras’ teleportation failed when an opponent shouted a spell launching a flurry of lightning bolts. They too scattered, but remained unrelenting in their attack.

In another illusion, the Outcasts of the Divine Wind stealthily moved through a plain, attacking a team with hit-and-run tactics. The centaur archers peppered their adversaries with arrows from all sides. Their opponents raised shields—both material and forceshields—trying to block, but every arrow found a gap in their defences like they had a will of their own.

As the enemy formation broke, the elemental knights charged, bearing blades shedding fire, lightning, ice, and shimmering, diamond-like stone, breaking through their defences to banish them from the Grand Battle.

In another image, a grinning, redheaded woman shot lava from her hands as a monstrous volcano tortoise trampled everything in its path, spraying fire and lava. Some teams hunted monsters, while others were in full-flight, soaring above the action, determined to reach the mountaintop first.

Then there was Alex Roth’s team.

They moved less like competitors looking to win a contest, and more like professional skirmishers slipping through the wilderness to ambush an enemy army. The young men and women didn’t wield legendary magics or shining swords that cut trees in half, but they moved with far more skill than their young ages would indicate.

In the first seconds of the competition, they’d ambushed another team and wiped them out before they could even put up a fight. Then they melted into the trees like combat veterans, ambushing monsters and competitors on their way to the central mountain.

“I’ve seen third year battlemages that moved with less skill than them,” Ursula said.

“Indeed.” Leopold tapped his chin. “What they lack in raw magical power, they make up for in devastating skill. Good for them. It will be a jolly good show, I think. Roal would be proud to see such warriors carrying her legacy.”

“Yes,” Amir said, eyes on a bunch of water elementals getting blasted apart by a lightning bolt from Isolde Von Anmut.

His eyes lingered on the summoned creatures.

Professor Ram beheld the competition from above Oreca’s Fall, observing teams struggling against each other below. His heart swelled with pride. A few of his favourite students were doing very well in the Grand Battle so far.

Alongside one of his not so favoured students who was doing surprisingly well.

“So, you were one of Baelin’s monsters,” he said quietly, watching a certain chestnut-haired young man ambush a pair of summoned creatures—humanoid in shape with two heads each—and use a Wizard’s Hand spell to crush something.

Gas blasted out, enveloping the howling creatures. Their roars of anger died away, replaced by cries of alarm as they suddenly shot up, zig-zagging through the air in a manic, uncontrolled flight that saw them hit, then ricochet off the surrounding trees.

After some dull impacts, they vanished back to their home plane.

Alex Roth nodded at his handiwork, then waved to some of his team. A dangerous-looking group that included a gigantic shark man, a massive golem, and a cerberus making their way toward the edge of the forest. A young, dark-haired woman and the cerberus slipped out of the trees first, scanned the flat plain ahead, then waved the rest of the team forward.

The others peeled out of the tree line, and the golem practically thundered into the open, all quickly moving through the tall grass. A large eagle soared above to an altitude of one hundred and thirteen feet, by Ram’s calculations.

“If by monsters you mean a threat, then truly they have become monsters, have they not?” a deep, rumbling voice said from above the force professor. Chancellor Baelin floated down until he was eye-level with the force wizard. “It fills this ancient heart with pride.”

Ram glanced at the goat man. “Some wouldn’t take that as a compliment,” he pointed out.

“But I shall,” the ancient wizard said, sweeping the landscape with those goat-like eyes. “The purpose of my class is to forge students into monsters. And at least into wizards that their enemies would call monsters. There is no higher praise than to have your enemies completely lose their faculties from fear as you advance upon them and declare that you are the monster who they should have left be!”

Ram shook his head. “You’re turning them into more wizards like you. Beasts that lived far too long after their time should have passed.”

“Then I have done well.” Baelin smiled. “I shall be most curious to see how this new crop fares against some of my previous students in this competition. Wolud will likely give them a good run. Hmmmm, perhaps I could guide them toward each other.”

“That would be cheating, Chancellor.”

“Indeed, so it would!” Baelin laughed. “Ah pfeh, sometimes I am convinced rules only exist to smother all the fun out of life. Ah well—Oh! Speaking of cheating.”

He looked toward the east. “Did you feel that? No doubt that was a fifth-level spell.”

Ram frowned, concentrating on his ability to sense and manipulate mana. He wasn’t anywhere near as skilled at it as the chancellor, but he did catch the faint hints of a powerful spell having been cast.

“Well, someone’s being naughty,” Ram said. “You want to ruin their day or shall I?”

“Oh, be my guest,” Baelin said. “I know you enjoy that type of thing a fair bit.”

Ram gave a long laugh and flexed the black force construct that served as his arm. “Yes, I do. It’s good giving rule-breakers something to fear.”

“Hah, and you call my students monsters,” Baelin said. “By the by, speaking of those that raise monsters, have you seen Holden? I thought he was to aid in refereeing today?”

“Something came up in the botanical gardens and he needed to stay behind.”

“Ah, pity.”

Kybas casually walked toward the botanical gardens, barely resisting the urge to stick his hands in his pockets and whistle. His large eyes constantly scanned his surroundings and his large ears twitched, listening for patrols or anyone who might be following him.

Nothing. Harmless was the only one around, quietly padding at Kybas’ side. A little bit of nostalgia tugged at the goblin. It was good his familiar was growing so quickly, but he missed the days when he could just pick him up and easily carry his little friend.

As for the rest of campus, it had become a ghost town while the Grand Battle was going on. He’d seen a few patrols pass overhead, but most were focused on the crowd at the stadium.

He slipped into the botanical gardens and checked the area. Nothing. Maybe someone moving around in the distance, but far away.

Far enough for him and Harmless to feel safe.

Quietly, he and the croc melted into the foliage and found one of the hidden entrances to their tunnel. With one more glance around, they slipped into the passage.

Kybas cocked his head toward the tunnel’s ceiling.

After Alex had found his burrow, he’d carved holes in the ceilings using a couple of spells. They weren’t big enough for anything besides bugs to get through, but if anything was above or too near the entrances to his tunnels, he could better hear them coming.

“Okay, Harmless,” Kybas said quietly. “Let’s go quiiiick and quiet as a mouse. And no one will know.”

Together, the goblin and the crocodile silently padded down the tunnel.

Chapter 69

Vanishing Point

“Surprise, friends!” Alex called cheerily as he raised the hidden trap door of a tunnel. A few of an enemy team packed into the hole startled, caught off guard. “Nice plan, hiding down here to ambush us, but my friend Brutus over here smelled you guys from a mile away. At least a hundred feet. I dunno, I wasn’t counting exactly. Plus, my friend’s pretty good with earth magic, so he noticed where you guys had disturbed the ground with your tunnelling antics.”

The team below began scrambling and chanting spells.

“Oop, none of that! Here’s a present for you!” Alex shot one of his Wizard’s Hands into the hole and slammed the hatch shut.

With a single act of will, his spell crushed the potion bottle: a booby-trapped flight potion.

Coughing then cries of alarm came from below, followed soon after by yelling, then the repeated thudding of bodies slamming into tunnel walls. One by one, each thud and angry shout lessened as the adversaries below ground vanished from the Grand Battle.

Looking around, Alex watched as some of his team members silently opened hatches.

Whooosh!

Claygon blasted more enemy teammates hiding in a different hole.

Crack!

Isolde fired a massive lightning bolt into a third tunnel.

Surprised cries rang out, but were cut-off when Svenia and Hogarth loosed arrows into the hole, eliminating anyone who Isolde’s lightning bolt had missed.

Alex’s team was soon standing alone on the plain.

“Well, looks like that takes care of them.” Thundar dusted off his hands. “Let’s move on.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said. “The mountain is close.” He looked up to where Najyah was circling about a hundred feet above, and called her down. She soared out of the sky to perch on his arm.

Their eyes met in silence for a long moment.

“Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm,” he engaged with his familiar. “Najyah says no one has reached the top of the mountain yet.”

“Most excellent,” Isolde said. “We shall have a clear run to the top then.”

“Maybe,” Theresa said. “If we’re going up there, I say we circle it first. Alex and I found out the hard way what happens when you don’t scout every route to a target. You get ambushed.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “And lemme tell you, that ambush stung.”

Theresa winced. “Not half as much as that joke.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” he agreed. “But seriously, I agree we need to check that mountain out first. What do you all think?”

“I might have another suggestion,” Khalik said. “Perhaps we can pick a ridge or another area with cover and watch the mountain from there. We would be able to see anyone approaching, then ambush them.”

The rest of the team pondered the idea for a moment.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” Alex said. “I think anyone that holds the mountain early will probably also get attacked early and often. They’ll have a better opportunity of earning more points for longer, but a team that holds it later in the contest will have less competition to deal with.”

“Right,” Isolde said. “Then I too think it might be best for us to approach and watch the top.”

They began making their way to the mountain through the tall grass.

“What about there, Lady Von Anmut?” Hogarth pointed to a small forest ahead. “That might provide us with cover.”

“We could check it out first,” Thundar said. “Then, if it’s ok, that’s where we wait for ’em.”

They kept an eye on the skies as they moved closer. Far above, tiny dots floated—likely the wizards refereeing the event. Lower down, flying competitors were fighting an aerial battle.

Someone mounted on a wyvern’s back led a team against a group of wizards using flight spells. Spells raged: claps of thunder, wind gusts, and sheets of ice blasted through the skies. It was like watching a bunch of Isoldes throwing everything they had at each other.

“Glad we’re not in that mess,” Thundar said as they reached the trees. “I’d be blown out of the Battle in like half a minute.”

Theresa and Brutus slipped into the woods, scouting ahead.

“Yeah, agreed,” Alex said.

Moments later, the huntress and her hound returned.

“All clear up ahead,” she said. “Lots of places to hide in there, but we’re the only ones around.”

“Well, that’s perfect for us,” Khalik said. “Let us make this place our ambush point.”

The group slipped into the trees with Claygon’s footsteps thundering through the underbrush. Trees creaked around them and the smell of the forest reached Alex’s nose.

“Well, if anyone was in here, they’d definitely know we were coming,” he said. “Good thing we’re alone.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said as he ducked under a branch. “I would think that—”

The prince abruptly stopped walking, slowly turning his head. “Alex… these trees. Don’t they look familiar?”

“Hm?” Alex looked up, then blinked in surprise. “Huh, yeah, actually. Aren’t they Weiss trees?”

“Indeed, they look to be. See the shape of the leaves,” Khalik pointed. “They almost look like snowflakes.”

“Wazzat?” Thundar asked from behind a tree trunk.

“Weiss trees,” the prince said. “Their leaves look like snowflakes and turn white in the winter season. They are native to the northern Rhinean Empire according to our magical botany professor.”

“Are they now?” Thundar asked. “Looks like maybe they brought some exotic stuff to plant on the island for the—hold on a minute.”

Thundar paused, looking at the tree closest to him. “Everyone, stop!” his voice rose sharply. “Stop for a minute, I think I got a bur in my hoof!”

Isolde groaned. “Truly? Do you think we—”

Thundar wasn’t actually paying attention to his hoof, it looked like he’d said that for another reason. He was leaning toward the tree closest to him. A frown deepened on his face as he pressed his hand to the bark. “Feels smooth,” he muttered.

He pushed harder against the tree trunk.

“Thundar, what’s going on?”

“Oh, this bur’s hard to get out, I’m just—” The minotaur kept pressing his weight against the tree.

Alex grew tense. Thundar’s body language completely changed, like another image was trying to mimic his form.

“It’s a trap!” The minotaur abruptly returned to his own form. “These trees are an illusion! It’s a trap!”

Alex felt mana surge all around them.

“Shit! Everyone down! Scatter!”

The group ran, diving to the earth in different directions.

Something hissed through the air.

Boom!

Heat, flame, and rock explosions ripped through the trees. Pebbles fired in all directions, clacking against Claygon’s body.

Shouts of alarm and grunts of pain came from all around, but he couldn’t tell who it was he was hearing. Was it Khalik? Hogarth? Thundar? His ears were ringing. The sensory enhancement potions he’d drunk were amplifying the blasts, disorienting him.

His enhanced vision let his eyesight cut through flying dust and debris, and as he squinted, the forest faded. The rustle of leaves disappeared and the earthy smell of a woodland was replaced by the scent of burning earth.

Alex cursed.

The illusion had been hiding right there. A flat field covered in gravel and sharp stones. If they hadn’t moved immediately when the explosions hit, they probably would’ve been shredded by shrapnel and out of the contest. Peering past the falling dust and rock, he looked for their attackers, seeing no one.

“There!” he heard Theresa cry. “I hear something to the east! I think they’re invisible! No wait, they’re all around us!”

Brutus began barking.

Mana built up from around them.

“More spells!” Alex shouted. “Scatter!”

Alex scrambled to his feet while his friends jumped up, moving in different directions, trying to put as much distance between each other as they could. They zig-zagged as they moved, making themselves even harder targets to hit.

Khalik, Isolde, and Thundar shouted incantations. Mana bolts, force missiles, and lightning arced out in all directions, seeking invisible opponents.

Alex heard a cry of pain.

“I cannot hear the enemy’s incantations!” Khalik shouted. “They’re speaking quietly! Keep shooting!”

‘Claygon, strafe the fire-beams around us in a circle!’ Alex thought.

“Incoming!” Theresa shouted.

Another wave of fireballs shot at them from all sides.

Booom! Boooom!

More explosions ripped through the area, and stones snapped against his force armour and protective rectangles. Someone shouted in surprise, then was abruptly cut off. It was a deeper voice.

He didn’t have time to think about it.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Crackle!

Whooooooom!

Fire and lightning bolts blasted the area, followed by streams of acid. Bolts of mana and force flew past him like a swarm of angry wasps. He ducked below some, twisting his body.

Crash!

One of his protective force rectangles shattered as it deflected a bolt of force.

Whooooosh!

Claygon lashed out with all three fire beams, pointing those in his palms in two directions while pointing the forehead beam in a third.

Booooom!

Explosive lines of flame ripped through the air in a circle. There was another cry of pain.

Alex willed a forceball and two Wizard’s Hands toward the noise. He had one Hand crush a booby-trapped mana soothing potion in one area, and the other crush a booby-trapped potion of sensory enhancement in another.

No noises came from the area where the mana soothing potion went off, but sudden cries rose from where the sensory enhancement potion exploded.

Coughing followed soon after.

“There!” Theresa shouted.

Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang!

A pair of arrows and two crossbow bolts shot toward the source of the cries. Two flew straight ahead, but the other pair slammed into something in the air. Two pained shouts were cut off an instant later.

More explosive spells rocketed in from all sides and someone else cried out in pain. Alex leapt away from another explosion and whirled, searching for anything that might reveal their attackers’ locations.

Think.

Adapt.

Think.

Adapt.

Claygon continued to blast his fire-beams all around, but no more cries came from the surrounding area. Their enemies must be on the move.

Alex studied the surroundings, unable to tell where they were. He couldn’t feel any mana coming from them.

‘Even if I knew where they were, I couldn’t attack them directly,’ he thought as he turned to—

That’s right!

If he tried to attack them, then the Mark would protest!

And if the Mark started trying to distract him when he shot his forceball to hit someone…

“Everyone!” he shouted. “Watch my forceball! Attack the air in front of it when I say!”

Without waiting for a response, he shot the forceball across the battlefield in the direction he’d seen the spells come from. It flew around, gathering speed—capable of doing serious damage if it collided with someone—and then—

“Ah!”

The Mark’s interference slammed into him.

“There!” he shouted, grabbing his head. “Fire there!”

His teammates’ spells, crossbow bolts, and arrows blasted in the direction he pointed to, in the general area in front of his forceball.

A cry of pain abruptly cut off when one of Theresa’s arrows slammed into whoever the cry came from.

“Yes!” Alex yelled, launching his forceball through the air again.

Another blast of interference from the Mark.

“There!”

More spells and projectiles shot where he pointed, followed by the sound of arrows hitting force armour.

Twack!

Grimloch’s crossbow bolt blasted through something solid and another enemy shrieked, then disappeared.

“Alex! Above you!” Theresa shouted.

“Oh hells!”

Dozens of glowing chains were streaming down from the sky, followed by a wave of magical force. He called on every bit of agility he’d built up over the past year and leapt out of the spell’s reach.

The chains whirled down, snapping around the empty air where Alex had stood a breath earlier.

Boom!

The force wave blasted a column of dirt into the air.

‘Up there!’ he willed Claygon. ‘Fire!’

Claygon brought his hands up and blasted the area where the spells had come from. Explosions of flame tore through the sky and Alex heard more cries abruptly end.

“Enough!” he heard an unseen attacker shout. “Scatter! Regroup at First Point!”

Silence followed.

No more spells came raining from the sky or streaking in from all directions.

Alex sighed in relief.

“There’s another team!” Grimloch roared. “Coming from the ridge!”

Alex whirled toward the mountain.

From behind a rocky outcropping, a line of figures lifted into the air.

They were well within spellshot.

Chapter 70

Confrontation of Arrow and Word

The enemy team soared from behind the ridge, ready and poised to attack. Mana from their spells blazed in Alex’s senses, growing as they closed the distance. Incantations roared through the air. Alex’s teammates were still scattered. A cloud of dust still filtered around them, but as it dissipated, so did their cover.

“Keep moving!” Alex shouted. “If we stay apar—”

“Wait!” a voice shouted from the enemy team. “Everyone, hold your spells! I know that voice! Is that you Roth? It’s the Hydra Companions!”

“Y-yes?” Alex recognised the voice calling out to him. “Roderich, is that you?”

“Yes! Thank the gods, we thought it might be Goldtooth’s team from all the fire over here.”

Slowly, the Hydra Companions drifted closer while some of Alex’s teammates emerged from the dust. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Where’s Hogarth?” Thundar whispered, eyeing the sapphire shirted team through the dust cloud.

Svenia swore quietly. “Bloody hell. He got caught in one of those fireballs and was gone before I could pull him away.”

Alex winced.

‘Lost one already,’ he thought, watching the members in their uneasy alliance floating toward him. ‘Things could’ve been worse. We got at least four of those invisible bastards, which means they lost eight points just to gain two. Still, losing Hogarth was a blow.’

He looked at Grimloch, Claygon, Isolde, and Thundar.

At least it wasn’t one of their heavy-hitters who’d been eliminated.

“We have a duty to avenge Hogarth,” Isolde said quietly. “But, such talk is for later.”

She turned as the Hydras stopped about thirty feet away, remaining hovered in the air. Najyah circled above them, but if they noticed, they didn’t look up.

Silence hung as each team measured one another.

‘We have a nonaggression pact with them,’ Alex thought. ‘But nothing’s stopping them from turning on us. Nothing but their word. Just how good is your word, Roderich?’

He eyed his Wizard’s Hands, thinking about how fast he could have them crush booby-trapped potions in their temporary allies faces if things turned bad.

Roderich spoke. “You took a loss, I see.”

“So have you.” Khalik kept his hand near his sword. His earth armour creaked as he shifted. Stress cracks had begun to form from the battle.

“Maybe,” Roderich said, non-committedly. “Maybe not.”

Alex scanned the line of sapphire-shirted battle mages. He counted two less team members than he’d seen in the stadium. That might only mean they’d left them behind the ridge.

‘Then again…’ he thought, watching Roderich and the others. Their body language was fidgety and their manner tense. It was pretty clear they didn’t want a fight.

‘They probably have taken losses, but don’t want to admit it,’ he thought.

Tension hung in the air, until Thundar sighed. “Can we stop with this stand-off thing? I’m getting tired of it. Is our pact still good or do we need to start blasting you guys?”

There was a threat in his voice: an edge that promised a world of hurt if Roderich’s answer was anything but yes.

“It is still good,” one of the other Hydras said.

“Same on our end,” Thundar called back.

Relief washed through the Hydras, and his friends relaxed too.

“Then let us compare notes, so to speak,” Roderich said, floating down. The two teams met on the plain, looking around just in case the invisible assailants came back for a second round.

“Who were our invisible friends?” Thundar asked. “You think it was Ranier?”

One of the Hydra Companions shook his head. “I have no idea. I didn’t hear any of them talking, and I’m no expert on his voice. Anyone else hear them say anything?” he asked his team members.

“For a moment I thought I might have heard him,” one said. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“It is likely that team was his,” Isolde said. “It would take skill, expertise, and a lot of mana to create that illusionary forest while also casting Greater Invisibility on that many people at once.”

“Greater Invisibility,” Thundar snorted. “Makes sense. No wonder they didn’t appear when they started casting spells.”

“They must have been maintaining those illusions for a while,” one of the Hydra Companions said. Alex noticed one sleeve of her sapphire shirt was singed. “That forest was here when we got here. Honestly, I’m shocked they didn’t attack us. We were busy ambushing a couple of other teams from the ridge, so we were vulnerable.”

Roderich sniffed. “They were probably waiting for us to lose more members—plus eliminate more of the competition for them—before they tried to wipe us out.” He shook his head, looking at Thundar. “Glad you all came along, and speaking of that,” he looked toward the direction Alex’s team had come from, “who else did you see on your way here?”

“A couple of other teams, but no one we recognized.” Alex said. “We eliminated them and a few summoned monsters.” He looked toward the ridge. “Who have you seen? Any sign of Goldtooth or Hanuman? Maybe the Outcasts?”

Roderich shook his head. “No, we haven’t seen any of them.”

“A pity,” Khalik said. “It would have been nice if someone had eliminated them early. Ah, well. And what of our mutual enemies: the Ursa-Lupines?”

“We haven’t seen them either,” Roderich said. “You?”

“Not one thread of their purple shirts.”

“Damn.”

The sounds of explosions and other spells reached them from the distance.

“Right, we’d better get moving then,” Alex said.

“Going for the mountaintop?” Roderich asked.

Tension slipped back into his body and those of his Companions.

“No, not yet,” Alex said. “Better we stop others trying to get to it before we try and take it. We’ll need an ambush point, like your team has.”

“Right, then,” one of the Hydras looked back up at the ridge. “Well, we’ve already called that spot.”

“And we would not dream of fighting over it,” Khalik said. “We shall circle the mountain and find a hiding point of our own. You would not know of other teams hiding nearby, would you? We would prefer not to walk into another ambush.”

Roderich turned and pointed to the east side of the mountain. “There’re some caves over there near the foot of the mountain. We heard a scuffle coming from that direction, but that was a while ago. Can’t say if anyone’s still there, though.”

“We’ll find out, then,” Theresa said. “Good hunting.”

“May we destroy our shared enemy,” Isolde said.

“Yeah, good hunting.” Roderich nodded as the Hydra Companions rose back into the air.

Tension returned and the Hydra Companions floated away. Neither team took their eyes off each other until the Hydras disappeared back behind the ridge.

“Let’s move,” Alex said.

“But, let’s keep an eye on our friends for a while,” Theresa said.

Slowly, the team moved away from the ridge, keeping watch on the Hydra Companions’ hiding spot until they were well out of spell range.

Then, they could relax… a little.

“I wasn’t sure they weren’t gonna stab us in the back,” Thundar said quietly.

“Would’ve been the last thing they ever did,” Grimloch promised.

“Do you mean the last thing they did during the competition?” Alex asked nervously.

Grimloch didn’t answer.

Alex didn’t push.

“It’s good that our peaceful accord still holds,” the prince said. “A quarrel between us would only aid our mutual enemies.”

“Yeah, I’m sure those invisible bastards would’ve loved it if we started beating the hell out of each other,” the minotaur said. He glanced over at Isolde and Svenia. “You two okay?”

“Yes,” Isolde said, sighing. “It is too bad that Hogarth was eliminated. I suppose it would be too much to hope that we would all pass through the contest unscathed.”

“Yeah,” Svenia said, gripping her bow. “We’ll just have to make sure to knock down a few more bastards for him.” She looked at Thundar. “How did you know the forest was an illusion?”

“On one of our trips into the Barrens, Alex and I ran into this illusion. He’s the one who saw through it… and not gonna lie, it was kinda embarrassing that the guy who’s actually in illusions class didn’t see it first.”

He glanced back toward the field where the illusion had been. “I got really focused on techniques about seeing through illusions after that. They focused on one thing really hard in my illusions class, that illusions aren’t actually there. We might hear ’em, we might smell ’em, see ’em, might even feel ’em, but they don’t actually have any physical mass. You might be able to touch them, and if you push on them, it might feel like you’re pushing against something solid, but they can’t support weight. So when I leaned on the tree, I fell right through it.”

“Really?” Alex asked. “I didn’t see you fa—Waaaait. Right after you leaned against it, you looked strange, your whole body looked completely different. Was that the illusion?”

“Yep, probably was, I’m guessing,” Thundar said. “It was tricking you into thinking I didn’t fall through the tree—so that’s what it showed you—but it didn’t get me quite right. It’s harder for illusions to mimic a living animal than a plant or an object, and even harder to mimic a person.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much I understand of all that,” Svenia said. “But thanks. You saved us.”

Murmurs of agreement spread through the group.

Thundar scratched the fur on the side of his face. “Well, you’re gonna make me blush if you keep that up. But we should quiet down for now.”

“Yes, let’s close our mouths and open our ears,” Theresa said. “We want to make sure that if anyone’s in those caves, they don’t hear us coming from a mile away.”

Alex thought about that and asked Isolde to cast a flight spell on Claygon. That would keep his thunderous footsteps from alerting their enemies that they were coming. The golem floated a little bit above the ground.

Alex scanned their surroundings and flinched.

A column of flame rose in the distance. ‘Let’s hope we don’t lose too many more of us before we meet someone really tough.’

Indrajit Hanuman’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Outcasts of the Divine Wind make their way toward the mountain.

“Shhh,” he whispered to his companions. “Wait for my mark.”

His team glanced at each other and lowered their bodies deeper in the tall grass. They didn’t make a sound, and that brought a smile to Indrajit’s face. He and his comrades had trained hard for this. Their silent movements were a testament to the time and effort they’d spent honing themselves.

‘Like a master weaponsmith’s swords,’ he thought. ‘Still, we need to be careful.’

The Grand Melee had been a bit of a catastrophe, even though they’d started off well enough by eliminating several teams early. Then they’d run into that trio: the two cultivators and the warrior-wizard.

They’d let themselves get surrounded then allowed themselves to be beaten.

Indrajit shook his head. ‘Foolish. Arrogant. We should not have permitted the competition to swarm us. But, in this event, we will be the ones who do the ambushing!’

They’d not only eliminated several teams so far, but they’d also defeated a few summoned monsters by striking from the grass like cobras, crushing them, then melting back into the tall sea of green.

Now, they were about to face the champions from the previous year. Indrajit held his breath. They would wait for their foes to come close.

First—

Splooortch!

Indrajit’s eyes narrowed as he peered above the tall blades of grass.

One of the elemental knights was spraying a black, viscous substance onto the grass from the end of her sword.

“I don’t like the look of that,” he said quietly.

Still, she was spraying it far from his team’s hiding place. And the rest of her team was still too far to attack. With those centaur archers and elemental knights, the Outcasts would have the greater advantage from a distance.

“Steady…” he whispered.

‘Come closer,’ he thought.

Then another elemental knight pointed his sword at the grass.

Fwoosh!

Flame gushed from it and the black substance erupted in an inferno. One of the mercenaries glanced in their direction.

It was only for an instant, but Indrajit’s enhanced senses caught it.

“Shit!” he swore, leaping to his feet. “They know we’re here!”

Whooosh!

Another elemental knight pointed his sword in their direction. A great wind blasted across the plain, stoking the inferno, sending it racing toward his team like a hungry swarm of locusts. They ran forward, trying to rush around the flame while shouting incantations.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Arrows slammed into his teammates with the precision of a surgeon’s blade. Arrow tips pierced through gaps between their chainmail and force armour, wiping out three of them. Even through the fire and billowing smoke racing toward Hanuman’s team, the centaurs found their marks like they were standing mere feet away.

Calling upon his enhanced lifeforce, Indrajit charged, spitting an incantation.

Five illusionary replicas shimmered to life around him, creating a confusing mass of six bodies.

‘Shoot me now!’ he thought, conjuring spears of bronze and firing them at his enemies.

They whistled through the air.

One of the elemental knights swung his sword up.

Riiiiip!

A wall of stone burst from the earth.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Indrajit’s spears hit the wall.

He spat out a Haste spell and surged at double speed. His team and the illusionary copies split into two and rushed around the wall from opposite directions, looking to overwhelm the Outcasts.

Whiiish! Whiiish! Whiiish!

Arrows pierced Hanuman’s illusionary copies, while his teammates were able to reach their enemies.

A vicious melee broke out. His team’s life enforced forms, their training, and magic skills let them tear into the Outcasts, sending several mercenaries vanishing from the fight before the elemental knights jumped in.

Hanuman’s tulwar clashed against a diamond-encased longsword as he rushed an elemental knight with blinding speed and power. The knight, with her enhanced strength and the weight of her diamond-coated blade, dealt crushing blows. Her armour turned away his cuts when they slipped through her guard.

He was still gaining the upper hand. She stepped back as his aggressive flurry broke down her defences.

“Get the archers!” he shouted to his team. “I’ll—”

The words died in his throat.

His team was gone.

Sometime during the moments he’d been fighting this elemental knight, his team had vanished.

The centaurs were turning toward him, drawing back their bowstrings.

Twang! Twang! Twang!

Their arrows flew true… too true.

They curved through the air with an eerie sentience, weaving around his opponent, coming directly at him. He struck one from the air, but the other two swerved straight for the gaps in his force armour.

It was impossible.

He’d sensed no mana and they’d spoken no incantations.

Indrajit’s sharp eyes narrowed.

‘So that’s how you’re doing it,’ he thought. ‘Very sneaky. The chancellor won’t approve, I think.’

Then the arrows slammed into him and he was catapulted from the battlefield.

Chapter 71

Bait

“All goes well?” Baelin asked.

The ancient wizard floated high in the sky, speaking to what seemed to be nothing but empty air. Silence for five heartbeats followed his words, and then—

Whooosh!

The wind turned blustering, rushing through his beard-braids and billowing his robes. His bronze beard clasps tinkled.

The wind carried a voice from the grounds of the university.

“All is peaceful, Chancellor,” said Gemini’s voice in the proper, clipped way she spoke. Baelin could almost imagine that stoic expression surrounding her eyepatch.

“No reports of trouble on campus?” the ancient wizard pressed. “Or from the city’s investigators?”

“None, Chancellor. All goes well here, and with any luck, the Games of Roal will end without any sign of that demon summoning menace.”

“I see…” Baelin said. “Very well, thank you for the update. Good work. Roal would be proud.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” the Watcher said.

The wind died down as the conversation ended.

“Damn,” he swore quietly. “Not going to take the bait, are we?”

He’d hoped his presence on Oreca’s Fall Island—away from the Generasi mainland—would be enough to make the demon summoner try another attack. From his read of the criminal, he’d expected that it might, but so far, they’d shown restraint. This demon summoner appeared to be someone who was acting from a mix of tactical thinking and emotional drive.

Tactically, they’d taken advantage of his absence to strike, which was indeed a sound adjustment after he destroyed their initial demonic forces. They’d also changed the target of each attack, presumably to keep Generasi’s protectors guessing.

There was a damnable subtlety to their methods, while their motives proved far more obvious. They’d attacked priests and made no demands. Despite the in-depth investigations he, the Watchers, and the city investigators had undertaken, they’d found no links to any other crimes that making use of the demons to sow chaos could have been masking. They’d concluded that the attacks did not appear to have been a smokescreen motivated by the need to hide other criminal activity.

By his guess, that left two likely explanations, though both needed confirmation. Either the summoner struck out of an enmity toward priests or a misguided attempt to garner sympathy for them to push their cause.

He still wondered if one or more of the city’s priests were behind the attacks, though his own investigations had indicated nothing suspicious from those dwelling in the temple district. If a member of the priesthood wasn’t staging the attacks to advance their cause directly, then it was likely that whoever was engaging in them, was doing so from a more emotional drive.

And emotionally oriented individuals were far easier to provoke.

“Alas,” Baelin sighed. “It would appear this quarry will not take the bait.”

He scanned the isle again. The chancellor whirled in the air, spotting a cloud of steam and smoke rising from the grassy plain below.

An elemental knight was spraying earth onto a grass fire, smothering it before it could spread uncontrolled. Earlier, he’d recognised Indrajit Hanuman and his team close to that area, but there was no sign of them now.

“Too bad,” he mused. “That young man had the makings to win this. At least to place quite well. But what was it that I—”

He scanned each member of the knight’s team.

“Not you,” he said of the first elemental knight. “Hmmm, perhaps you…”

His eyes swept past the mercenaries and narrowed on the three archers from the Nephelean Plains.

“Aaaaah,” he said. “I see what you’ve done. No wonder you three seem to bear an even sharper edge this year.” The ancient wizard watched the Outcasts regroup and then continue pushing toward the mountain. “Clever thing to hide it, though I am surprised your kind can resist. And you have not violated any rules… well done.”

His mind drifted to the illusions that showed close-ups of the teams to the spectators back in the stadium.

“Perhaps… perhaps your little secret will be of some use to me.”

He glanced at the mountain. “Yes… As long as you get a little push. And judging by—”

He looked at the forest west of the mountain where flame and lava spewed through the air. Then he turned east to watch a group wearing purple shirts make their way toward the mountain, moving from copse of trees, to copse of trees, staying low in the grass.

“I daresay that someone is going to provide that necessary push. Hmmm. Oh dear.”

The Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood were not alone as they approached the mountain.

‘Fire!’ Alex thought.

Claygon emerged from a pile of rubble just outside the cave mouth near the base of the mountain.

Whooooosh!

He blasted three fire-beams, striking the approaching enemy team dead in their centre. A full five contestants were pulled from the competition in an instant.

The others cursed as Alex’s team emerged from cave mouths to rain arrows, bolts of mana, and crossbow bolts down on them.

They vanished under the deluge of projectiles.

“Hah! Well, do—” Khalik started.

“Teleports!” Alex cut him off, feeling the surge of teleportation magic. Their opponents had faked being transported away and materialised high above the cave mouths, shouting incantations.

Hsssss!

Clouds of green smoke billowed into the air, filling the caves. Alex’s sight was completely blocked, but his team had Orbs of Air around their heads. He had no doubt the green cloud was a little more dangerous than ordinary smoke.

“Get out of the cloud!” Isolde cried. “The smoke is flammable!”

Fwooosh!

Alex saw a pair of fireball spells streaking toward the cave mouth. He bolted from the cave.

Booooom!

Explosions ripped through the rock behind them, and he rolled down the slight slope before bounding to his feet. He leapt aside while willing a Wizard’s Hand toward the flying wizards as bolts of force slammed into the ground nearby.

Crack!

It crushed a bottle of booby-trapped mana soothing potion, enveloping several in the gas, but he heard no coughing. They were likely also protected by Orbs of Air.

Crackle!

Isolde was roaring an incantation.

Pressure shifted in the air.

Small booms of thunder clapped as blue lightning arced between the young woman’s arms and hands. Two orbs sprang to life above her palms, each blindingly bright with lightning bolts crackling back and forth between them.

He recognized the spell as the one she’d fired at the xyrthak: a modified Arc of Lightning.

The electric blue orbs shot toward the enemy, who took one look at the incoming spell and began shouting incantations. Teleportation magic started to build.

“Oh no you don’t!” Alex shouted.

His three Wizard’s Hands—two of them still holding booby-trapped potions—flew right into three chanting wizards’ faces, pressing against their Orbs of Air hard enough to distract them and ruin their spells.

The wizards stopped spellcasting to avoid mana reversals and batted at the Hands, but Alex was already pulling them back.

Isolde’s spell appeared on either side of the trio.

Crackle—boom!

Lightning blasted between the two orbs and all three wizards. They vanished from the battlefield. Their remaining team member had teleported high above them. She’d just begun to chant a spell when something slammed into her back.

Najyah shrieked in victory as the woman disappeared mid-spell.

“There!” Khalik shouted. “Four teams annihilated! Now where is… Ah! Najyah, fetch our little friend!”

Najyah swooped down right where the enemy team’s flag bearer hovered, and dragged the small flag from its hands. She flew over Khalik’s head, dropping the flag into the prince’s waiting grip. With a low cry, the eagle fluttered her wings and settled on his arm.

Theresa smiled as the prince posed with the flag, waving it above his head.

“That’ll be a sight for the illusions to show the audience,” she said, looking up at some rocks above the cave mouths.

“Indeed! They should have a show, for we are doing quite well!” he grinned, glancing up toward the mountaintop. “We might have a chance of winning, after all.”

“Perhaps we might,” Isolde said, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. “But how is our stamina? We should take account of our resources.”

“While you’re doing that—Grimloch, why don’t you, Brutus and I scout out those rocks up there,” Theresa said. “We don’t want any surprises waiting for us.”

“Good plan,” Grimloch growled, lifting his spiked club.

“I’ll come too,” Svenia said. “An extra pair of eyes’ll help.”

The four of them made their way up the lower part of the mountain, while the others came together.

“You go too,” Khalik said to Najyah. “See if anyone approaches us.”

He threw up his arm, and Najyah launched skyward, beating her enormous wings as she flew away. Then he turned to Isolde. “I am down to half my mana.”

“I’ve hardly cast anything,” Alex said. “I’m good when it comes to mana, but I’ve used up a lot of the potions I brought.”

“I’m down to about half mine too,” Thundar said.

“Two thirds of mine remains,” said Isolde.

“And wounds?” She asked.

“Just a few bumps and bruises,” Thundar reported. “No problems here.”

The others agreed.

“Right,” Alex said, looking at the position of the sun. He wished those timekeepers at school were smaller and portable. Maybe when the alchemy developed a little more.

He focused the Mark on telling the time from the position of the sun. It brought back memories of every time he’d done so in the past, filling his mind with images of the sun.

It was pretty pleasant, actually.

Imagery of the school’s timekeepers whisked through his mind, as he coordinated a series of visuals showing multiple positions of the sun as they correlated to different times on the timekeepers.

It gave him an estimate as to how much time had passed.

“I think we’re about an hour into the Grand Battle,” he said.

“From the position of the sun, I would say the same,” Khalik said, squinting up at the sky toward where Najyah was circling. “We are burning resources rather quickly. At this rate, we will all run dry before half of the event is over.”

“That will be a problem,” Isolde said. “I do want to wait for the Ursa-Lupines, but perhaps we should leave here, find a place to hide and regenerate some of our mana, and then push through to the end. I know that has been a viable strategy for teams in the past that surged ahead in points during the early parts of the contest. They gained a commanding lead, then retreated to rebuild their resources.”

“Right…” Alex said. “That’s not a bad—”

A screech ripped through the air high above, drawing all eyes to Najyah. The giant eagle was flapping her wings, flying back toward them. She folded them in for a dive, then spread them out at the last moment to glide onto Khalik’s waiting arm.

“What is it?” the prince asked, holding Najyah’s gaze.

“Blast it,” he said, looking toward the grassy plains to the east, his eyes narrowed as his gaze flicked from one copse of trees to another. “We might have a problem. Najyah spotted a group of blue shirted wizards on their way, and they were accompanied by two other teams.”

Isolde looked toward the east. “How many?”

Khalik met Najyah’s eyes. “Upwards of thirty. Maybe thirty-five. We should go back into the caves. Even if they’ve seen Najyah, it would not be good to let them know that the rest of us are here.” He looked up to where Theresa, Grimloch, Svenia, and Brutus had gone. “I shall go get the others, we’ll return shortly.”

The rest of them moved back into a cave.

“What do we do?” Thundar asked, peering outside the cave mouth. “Thirty-five is a lot. We should’ve known the Hydras wouldn’t be the only team making alliances.”

“That is a lot of wizards,” Isolde said. She looked up at Claygon. “With Claygon at our side, I would say that very few teams can overwhelm us through raw power alone. But if many wizards have joined together, then that is a lot of power and versatility for us to handle with just our eight… nine team members, if we include Najyah.”

“It’d be nice if we could lure them into the caves…” Alex said. “If they know we’re here and how many of us there are, there’s no way they’ll follow us in here. And if they see us beforehand, we’ll be sitting ducks if they throw a bunch of fireballs or lightning bolts in after us.”

He squinted up at the ceiling of the cavern.

“Facing them on open ground wouldn’t be the best idea… and we don’t have a bunch of illusions to trick them with.”

“Well, I’ve got my illusionary duplicate,” Thundar said. “And a few other illusion spells, but nothing as good as that forest we nearly got tricked by.”

“Hmmmm…” Alex thought about his own resources and the previous fights they’d been in.

Their biggest obstacle would be the wizards.

Theresa, Claygon, Grimloch, and Thundar would be able to stomp anyone in melee combat, and Theresa and Svenia could shoot down a lot of people with their bows. The question was how to stop that many enemy wizards from just burying them in spells.

Then he remembered his and Theresa’s fight against the vespara. He’d blocked that wizard’s mouth and the vespara had seeded the wilderness with wasps.

“Maybe we shouldn’t lure them into the caves, after all. Maybe we want to fight them on open ground,” Alex said. “I think I have an idea.”

Chapter 72

The Battle of the Grasses

Derek Warren gripped his sword as he waded through the sea of grass. There was something comforting about having a weapon in hand, whether blade or pen.

The other Ursa-Lupines pushed through the grass around him, and flanking them, were the two teams they’d allied with.

His chainmail rattled over his shirt. From the south, smoke wafted, and from a distance, a low buzzing reached his ears.

“It’s like being in a war, isn’t it?” Gregori said, smiling through his beard. The young, blond man had grown out his beard and his hair was cropped. He was nearly unrecognisable these days. What hadn’t changed was how his voice seemed to vibrate with excitement when he spoke of battle.

“Perhaps. It’s good that we get to taste such glory,” Derek said, smiling with false enthusiasm.

Gregori’s eyes lit up.

Predictably.

“It’s almost too bad we have these spell-marks,” he continued, waving his arm dismissively. “I heard in the early days of the Games, things were much more delectably bloody!”

Derek made sure his facial expression showed enthusiasm, even though he didn’t feel a bit of it. Still, it didn’t matter how he felt, as long as peoples’ reactions to him were appropriately… managed.

As Gregori prattled on about battle, Derek’s mind drifted back to his days as a page for Duke Martel. Now, those days had been filled with battle, except the battle was fought with words that stabbed and twisted harder than blades. Secrets devastated more than any spell, and lies blocked as well as any shield.

His fellow pages had been like a bunch of daggers wearing human skin. Their eyes constantly watched for weakness, chances to pull their ‘friends’ down, or for ways to step on each other’s backs.

There was good reason for that, though.

Opportunities only went to the best of the best. And what would happen if one couldn’t be the best of the best? Most folk who had expectations wouldn’t just pat someone on the shoulder and say, ‘that’s alright, you tried.’

And not everyone had the same strengths.

He knew very well he wouldn’t make a very good wizard, but expectations kept him at Generasi. And while spell formulae made him dizzy sometimes, he did know the formula for making friends and avoiding too many enemies. And with the right friends and enemies—each used in proper ways—he could rise in areas where they were weak.

He patted Gregori on the shoulder. “They would have been glorious days to see,” he said, putting as much wistfulness in his voice as he could. He made sure to keep eye-contact to project a sincerity he didn’t feel. “Fire and blood everywhere and true glory for all. Still, there’s some sport in this, I’d say. We can enjoy all this fun without losing any wizards of the future to a casualty.”

“I suppose there is that,” Gregori sniffed.

“Quiet,” someone said. “We’re getting close to the mountain.”

Some of the assembled wizards had cast Wizard’s Eyes to sweep the grass ahead of them. Their faces wore somewhat vacant expressions. High above the three allied teams, more wizards floated along.

Each scanned the wide grasses.

Derek gave Gregori a nod then fell into a half-crouch, trying to think less about potential enemies, and more about the prestige he could share in if the Ursa-Lupines placed in the top three.

“That ought to please Mummy and Daddy,” he said quietly, with just a touch of bitterness in his tone. Even after all of his practice, he hadn’t managed to completely hide his bitterness on that particular subject.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to thoughts of prestige and another opportunity to wipe away the fiasco of last year. Though erasing last year’s catastrophe might not be so simple because of one singular obstacle with a very long memory…

His eyes searched for any sign of dark hair or crackling lightning. If looks could kill, Isolde would have struck him dead back in the stadium.

‘Doesn’t make any sense,’ he thought. ‘Things went bad for both of us back then. True, I might have done… something wrong, though it wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t been caught. Isn’t that the whole point? And I had to repeat the entire bloody course. She came out of it better than I did.’

He pushed aside some grass.

Crack!

Something snapped in the distance.

He fell into the fighting stance his duelling instructor had hammered into him for years, his sword half drawn.

“Something wrong?” Gregori whispered.

“Probably not,” Derek said.

Maybe someone had stepped on a branch.

He glanced at the wizards who were scouting ahead using Wizard’s Eyes. Nothing from them. No cry of alarm and their expressions were still vacant.

‘Now I’m jumping at nothing,’ he thought, shaking his head. ‘Look how much she’s shaken you, man. Come now, it’s not like you’ll lose your life if you meet her, and even if you’re knocked out of the competition, you still will have participated in it. That’s enough to give you clout with the Brotherhood and lots of others on campus.’

He sighed.

‘She should know better, though. In the end, yesterday’s enemy could be tomorrow’s friend under the right circumstances. Burning bridges is a good way to strand yourself on an island. Bygones are bygones, and I’ve moved on. I don’t think a silly little bit of revenge will really change—’

Whiiiish.

Thwack!

One of the Wizard’s Eye users vanished. An arrow had crashed through her force armour, knocking her out of the contest.

“Enemy!” a leader of one of the three teams shouted, drawing his sword. “Sniper in the distance!”

Everyone dove into the grass.

“Where?” someone else asked, squinting through the tall, green blades.

“I think it came from the mount—”

Whiiiish!

“Argh!” another arrow cracked against armour.

“It did!” someone else cried. “They’re firing from the mountain!”

“Bollocks!” a young man shouted. “Spread out but keep moving! That first one was a good shot, but it’ll be hard for their arrows to break through armour and protective spells from so far away! Who has enough mana left for teleportation?”

Three people affirmed they did.

“Alright, teleport closer. Then—”

There was a growing buzz.

Suddenly, swarms of elemental beetles burst into the air from beneath the earth, shedding sand, soil, and grass. The beetles seethed above the grass, then surged toward the teams hidden in the grass.

They dive bombed wizards’ faces and targetted their mouths and noses. Derek swatted at them, trying to cast spells to blast them away, but the cloud of summoned beetles persisted, flying at his nostrils, ears, eyes, and opening mouth.

He could feel their rigid legs crawling over his skin, and their antenna flicking across his body. They skittered beneath cloaks, shirts, and into trousers.

“Aaargh! Disgusting!” The young nobleman cut off his incantation to prevent a mana reversal. Within the buzzing cloud, beetles flew in every direction, swarming the Brotherhood and their allies, though Derek felt they seemed to be heavily concentrating around him.

“Elemental beetles!” someone cried. “What in the—!”

A swarm clustered like a dense fog over the flying wizards, who were struggling to pull them from their faces to spell cast.

“Go! Destroy the swarms!” wizards directed their companions. Familiars flew up—birds, bat-winged imps, and other creatures—to blast the beetles with breath weapons, like ice and lightning.

“Aaargh, what element are they?” another wizard covered in beetles shouted. “In the name of everything holy, blast them!” His voice was bordering on hysteria.

“I think they’re all fire!” someone else yelled.

The blood drained from Derek’s face.

He might only be attending this horrifying wizards’ madhouse that people dared call a ‘school’ under his parents’ very stern insistence, but even he’d paid enough attention in magic lore to know that creatures from the elemental plane of fire were immune to fire magic.

Which meant…

“Fire spells incoming!” someone shouted.

“Enemy ahead!”

“No, no, no,” Derek murmured, looking up through the swarm. There were three teams to be wary of in the competition that used a lot of fire.

Boom!

“Oh no,” he murmured.

A giant, four-armed figure burst from the grass ahead. Soil, sand, and turf poured from its clay body. Its lower arms were clasped behind its back while the upper pair blazed with fire-magic.

Whooooom!

Three red points of light built up in the three gems in its palms and forehead.

“I’ll take it down!” a wizard popped up out of the grass. “The swarm’s not around me!”

“Get down, you foo—” someone started to shout.

Crack!

Lightning blazed from their flank, cutting off the man’s voice.

Derek’s blood turned cold.

“Derek, you ragged dog!” a very familiar woman’s voice chilled his blood. “Where are you?”

He considered what to do for one heartbeat.

Diving low in the grass, he pressed himself to the earth, trying to make himself as flat as he could, and began slowly snaking his body away. There were certain times when discretion was the better part of valour. This was one of them.

“Derek!” Gregori cried. “Let’s go get them! Derek?”

‘Quiet, you fool!’ the battlemage thought and he slithered faster.

Alex shed a loose covering of earth and sand that Khalik had used as camouflage to bury them in. Their shallow hiding places had let them avoid the Wizard’s Eyes and sharp gazes of wizards scouting from the air.

“Fire!” he barked at Claygon.

Fire-beams lanced into the middle of the enemy teams. The Ursa-Lupines and their allies had the foresight to spread out on their way to the mountain, but Claygon could carve vast lines across a wide area with his fire-beams.

The grass erupted in flame, shooting flame and smoke high into the air, hindering the flyers. Thundar jumped out from behind his teammates, fired magic missiles, then popped back into the grass.

Isolde raked anyone beyond the swarms with lightning. The inferno had spread far enough to cut the enemy force in half.

“Just like herding vent-drinkers,” Alex said as he shot his Wizard’s Hands and forceball into their midst. The Hands pulled and tugged at their clothing, while the forceball shot low, entangling their legs.

The enemy wizards tripped and stumbled around.

Some of the flyers surged from the smoke, protected by Orbs of Air, but covered in beetles. They tried casting spells, but the beetles swarmed their faces.

Whiiish!

Thwack!

Svenia emerged from her concealed spot in the tall grass near Alex and put an arrow right into an enemy at close range. The point glanced off his force armour, drawing his attention to the warrior.

Whish!

Theresa’s arrow soared from her hiding place near the foot of the mountain.

Crack!

It punched through his force armour; he instantly vanished. The huntress’ shots were coming from some seven hundred feet away, but her enhanced strength and senses gave her devastating force and accuracy.

Svenia and Theresa shot arrow after arrow into those opponents still upright, sowing more turmoil in the enemy ranks.

Whoooom!

Whoooosh!

Claygon floated closer, raking all three teams with his fire-beams.

Some were putting up a stronger resistance. By rolling in the grass and shedding the beetles, they were gaining time to finish their incantations.

Alex felt summoning magic unfolding in the air.

“Incoming summons!” he shouted.

Something was being pulled from across the planes. The air around them shimmered. An instant later, curious-looking, long-bodied creatures appeared in midair.

Their bodies were serpentine with long fins running from behind their heads all the way down to the end of their tails. The air crackled around them as they beat long, pectoral fins, far longer than many birds’ wings.

Bubbling screeches erupted from their throats as they began sweeping the air in all directions with lighting blasts, melting away beetles in crackling streams of energy and glowing sparks. The swarms thinned, giving more of the competition a chance to cast their incantations, but some were suddenly singed by shocks of energy.

“Hey, you bastards! Watch where you’re striking!”

Alex grinned.

Their opponents might’ve had numbers on their side, but numbers were a good reason why his team had chosen to enter the Battle on their own and not directly with the Hydra Companions. His team fought like the ten-armed war golem in the Duel by Proxy. Each part worked in coordination with the next for the greatest effectiveness because they knew each other well.

“Advance into melee!” Alex shouted to Claygon.

His four-armed golem drifted up ten feet, then turned in midair to face the enemy. He spread his arms and shot toward the flying wizards.

Crash!

He slammed into them like a catapult stone, his fists flurrying, sending flying wizards disappearing by the heartbeat. Then, he plummeted toward the earth, feet-first.

Crash!

Claygon landed atop one of the enemies—knocking her out of competition—then he began wading through the rest, smashing right and left as he went.

‘Good, Claygon’s engaged,’ Alex thought. ‘Any moment now.’

He watched his surroundings.

“Take out Roth!” one of the Ursa-Lupine Brotherhood shouted. “Get rid of him and the golem goes!”

“Oop! Catch me if you can!” Alex cried, turning and using all of his training and practice to sprint away while laughing like a madman.

Meanwhile, his eyes were scanning the grass for threats.

‘That’s right,’ he thought. He listened carefully, paying strict attention to any rustling in the grass. ‘Any second now…’

That invisible group from before, if they had taken Baelin’s class, they’d know tactics. They’d definitely strike an opponent who was fully engaged and distracted.

But Alex’s team knew to expect that.

His forceball swept through the grass and air, hindering and tripping visible opponents, while searching out invisible ones.

“Spread out!” he instructed his swarm, and the elemental beetles moved apart, buzzing through the air, seeking his invisible competitors.

Adversaries waded after him through the tall grass, trying to chant spells.

‘Good,’ Alex thought. ‘Now where are you? Attack m—’

Whiiiish!

Only a brief whistle saved him.

An arrow pierced the air, but his trained reflexes brought him to the ground before it could slam into his head. Their invisible attackers hadn’t used arrows in the illusionary forest. ‘Oh no…’ Startling, he looked in the direction the arrow had come from and peered through the grass.

His blood ran cold.

A ball of fire, a tongue of lightning, and a great spike of ice drifted above the grass, coming his way. In the distance, he could see what looked to be three mounted archers.

He knew damn well they weren’t humans mounted on horseback.

“Shit!” he shouted. “It’s the Outcasts! They’re coming!”

Chapter 73

Divine Wind

Tyris Goldtooth grinned as her lava blasted the final wizard on the enemy team. The marsh boiled around her, sending steam rising into the air while Vesuvius roared in victory.

“Perfect,” she said, flying forward and snatching the flag from the fallen enemies’ flag-bearer. “Your flag makes a fine addition to our collection.”

She handed it to her team’s flag-bearer and gazed proudly on her teammates. Only one had been eliminated so far, and their mana reserves were still bursting.

“Well done, Vesuvius,” she patted her familiar on the side of his shell.

The vulcanchelone groaned happily at her touch.

“Pssst!” a voice hissed.

She blinked. “Vesuvius? Was that you?”

The tortoise turned a puzzled look to her.

“No, Tyris! Over here!”

“Ah! What?” she whirled around. “Who’s there—Wait… I know that voice. Wolud, is that you?”

“Guilty as charged, Tyris.”

“Hmph.” She scanned their surroundings, glancing at her team. They turned their backs to each other and began eyeing the surrounding marsh, searching the water for the owner of the voice.

“Using an illusion to throw your voice, eh?” she said, seeing no one nearby. “Smart.”

“I have something to show you, and I didn’t want you to get too… quick with the attacks, before I had a chance to share.”

“Is it your flag? I’d love it if you showed me that then handed it over.”

She tapped her lips. “On second thought, no I wouldn’t. Where would the fun be in that? I’d want the pleasure of prying it from your flag-bearer myself!”

“As charming as that sounds, I think I’ll pass. But what I do have to show you might interest you anyway.”

“What is it?”

“Revenge.”

An illusion of an aerial view of the battlefield appeared in front of Tyris. Burnt, tall grass and ash-grey smoke billowed through the air. Her eyes narrowed as a familiar, four-armed figure crashed through the flames.

“There you are…” she said as she watched Claygon’s head turn then look to the south.

The illusion shifted. There was Alex Roth rolling through the grass as his spells deflected incoming arrows while his golem rushed toward him.

The view shifted again.

“The Outcasts,” Tyris laughed, clapping her hands as excitement built up in her.

Three centaurs were galloping toward Roth. Each arrow they unleashed got closer to breaching his protective spells as the archers closed the distance between them and him. His golem surged forward then positioned his body between Alex and the storm of arrows.

Tyris watched them bounce off the construct’s body.

A smile curved across her lips.

“Interesting,” she said. “That does look like quite the opportunity. Alright, Wolud, you sneaky little bastard. Let’s assume for a moment you didn’t conjure this out of your fertile imagination; in which case, I’ll end you. What do you have in mind?”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Arrows slammed into Claygon as Alex pressed himself to the golem’s back. Some swerved around the massive form, aiming right for Alex’s vitals.

“Shit!” He moved his forceshield and force armour-shielded arms in the Cleansing Movements.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The arrows were being deflected, but were becoming harder to block.

Flame, lightning, and ice flew over Claygon’s head.

Crash!

They hit the ground, right in the midst of the remaining members of the three-team alliance. The three elements whirled together. Air pressure changed. Heat boiled ice.

Water rapidly expanded.

Boom!

It all exploded.

Steam and ice shards blew through the air, sending Alex diving to the ground as shrapnel peppered Claygon’s back.

“Bollocks! Bolloooocks!” one of the Ursa-Lupines swore. “Who’s still around?”

“Me—” someone stood.

Thwack!

Two of the Outcasts’ arrows blasted both contestants from the contest.

“Retreat!” Khalik cried from their hiding spot in the grass. “A fighting retreat, just as we did with the Bonedrinker!”

Schwwwp!

Alex could barely see the prince—as he flew low—parting the tall grass, weaving his way back toward the mountain.

“No!” Grimloch roared. “If we run, they’ll hunt us like prey. Remember the elemental we fought! It chased us down to crush us! We have Claygon and we have me! We should take them now!”

Alex frowned, his mind racing.

If they just ran across this open field, there was no way they’d make it to the mountain. They could stay low in the grass, but those archers were supernaturally skilled. They’d pick them off once they got close enough.

“A fighting retreat is a good idea, but maybe a compromise would be better,” Alex said. “We need cover and something else for them to shoot at.”

He glanced up at Claygon.

“You’re up, buddy.” Alex tapped the golem on his back. “Fry ’em and smash ’em.”

Claygon shot toward the Outcasts at full speed.

Whoooom!

All three fire-gems charged as he surged through the air.

Whoooosh!

The grass in front of him flared into flame, spreading fire and smoke.

Alex winced. “Hope they don’t mind doing some reseeding for next year’s Grand Battle.”

As the smoke billowed, Alex lost sight of Claygon, but the smoke had now grown dense enough to conceal his team from the archers.

It was time to regroup. He drank a flight potion and shot toward his friends. Grass slapped against his forceshield and the wind billowed his clothing as he tore along the plain, leaving smoke and burning grass behind. He joined Khalik, Thundar, Grimloch, Isolde, and Svenia flying low in a V-formation toward the mountain.

He glanced back.

The Ursa-Lupines and their allies were scattered and broken. On the battlefield, only a few stragglers still remained of their once massive force. It was a scene he looked on with one regret, his elemental beetles had vanished in the explosion caused by the Outcasts.

Isolde looked back as well. “I know this might not be the most opportune of moments, but did any of you see Derek?”

“I did not!” Khalik shouted.

“Nor I, Lady Von Anmut,” Svenia said.

“No,” Thundar and Grimloch said together.

“Not even a little,” Alex said.

“Damn!” Isolde swore.

Boom!

An explosion erupted behind them. A column of fire and steam roared into the air from the distance. Claygon must have reached the Outcasts. A part of Alex really wanted to see that battle, but another part wanted to get as far away from those archers as possible.

Something caught his eye.

Maybe he wouldn’t have a choice in that matter.

Three figures galloped around a wavering column of smoke.

“Shit!” Alex whispered harshly. “The archers are after us. Keep quiet, stay low.”

The team fell silent as they shot through the grass. It rustled around him.

‘Don’t notice,’ he thought. ‘Come on, please don’t see the grass movi—’

Whish!

Crack!

“Argh!” Isolde cried.

“Are you alright?” Khalik said.

“An arrow struck me but the force armour took the blow. Thankfully, I am unharmed and still here!”

Whiiish! Whiiish!

Arrows rained down, slamming into their armour.

“I think they saw us!” Thundar cried.

“No kidding!” Alex said bitterly.

Whiiish! Whiiish! Whiiish!

Another volley of arrows launched into the air, straight toward the Outcasts. If their archers had forgotten about the huntress, that volley immediately brought her back to mind.

‘Yes!’ Alex whispered. “Get ’em, Theresa!’

Her arrows flew at the Outcasts in a near constant stream, easing some of the pressure on her friends from the centaur’s assault. They turned their focus on her, and arrows flew back and forth across the plain. A duel of archers fought hundreds of feet apart.

Whish!

An arrow suddenly fell near Alex.

“Dammit!” he swore. “At least one of them isn’t giving up on us!”

“Zig-zag!” Khalik shouted.

The team spread out and zig-zagged through the field, making themselves harder to hit. A few arrows—moving as though they were being guided—still found them, but glanced off force shields and force armour. Despite the distance, cover, and their erratic flying, the archer was still connecting with his arrows.

Alex frowned.

Ahead, he could see Theresa hiding near the foot of the mountain. She was moving between a series of jagged stones and outcroppings. Leaning out from behind one, shooting, then racing to the next one. Alex couldn’t see Brutus anywhere, hopefully, he hadn’t been eliminated.

“Wizard incoming!” Isolde shouted.

Alex glanced behind.

One of the Outcasts’ wizards teleported high above the three centaurs, and streaked after Alex’s team in tandem with the archers.

His eyes narrowed.

Time for another ‘Summon Elemental Beetle Swarm’ spell. The Mark’s interference slammed into him as two arrows shattered his last protective force rectangle, but with the aid of the unusual feeling that came to him with teleportation and summoning magic, he was able to smoothly finish the spell.

The swarm appeared behind him.

“Go,” he ordered them. “Get those centaurs!”

He turned to his team. “Hey, guys, those archers are in Theresa’s range and the elemental knights are still busy. What do you say we turn around, flank ’em, then crush ’em like bugs?”

“Like the sound of that!” Grimloch snarled.

“Those shots are gonna get a hell of a lot more accurate the closer we get!” Thundar warned.

“Then we attack from different angles!” Khalik suggested. “I shall have Najyah strike from above as well!” He turned to Isolde. “You’ve used much of your mana casting flight spells on us all. Why do you and Svenia not join up with Theresa? You can recharge then.”

Isolde glowered at the centaurs. “Fine, but crush them in my stead! Come, Svenia! We can provide some support to Theresa,” she and Svenia veered toward the huntress’ hiding place.

“Alright,” Alex said. “Our main goal is to get Grimloch into their faces. We do that and they’re done.”

“Agreed,” the prince said. “Break!”

They broke off, banking through the grass in a loop and shooting toward the centaurs.

‘They’ll target me first,’ Alex thought. ‘To try and get rid of Claygon or get rid of me since I control him. Alright, just focus on deflecting, evading…’

His forceball and Wizard’s Hands rose around him.

‘And interference.’

He reached into his bag for a Haste potion.

Whoosh!

The world seemed to slow around him.

Folding his arms flat to his sides, Alex shot toward the archers while taking a booby-trapped potion of sensory enhancement from his bag.

He began casting Call Through Ice.

The Mark’s interference slammed into him as more arrows struck his force shield and armour. Each strike was closer to hitting a vital body part. Alex knew his head would be a perfect target for those arrows, so he folded his arms in front of it and concentrated on moving through the Mark’s protests.

Images of Failures.

Feelings of Failures.

Memories of Failures.

But they were temporary.

The spell completed with help from that curious power.

The booby-trapped potion left his hand, appearing directly in front of a centaur just as his arrow flew from the bowstring.

Crash!

It split the potion bottle.

Fwoosh!

The vapourized liquid spread.

The centaurs didn’t cough—their breath likely protected by Orbs of Air—but the mist obscured their vision, robbing them of accuracy as Alex’s team closed the distance. He concentrated on deflecting arrows. His Hasted reflexes and enhanced senses let him slap them away like flies.

Meanwhile, Khalik and Thundar began their own assault, firing mana bolts and sharpened stones. The centaurs ducked and the wizard above chanted an incantation. Force shields appeared before the centaurs, blocking some of the spells, but they still had a barrage of incoming arrows and magic to contend with.

Their accuracy plummeted.

‘Let’s give them some more problems!’ he thought, bringing his Wizard’s Hands and forceball into the fray. All four glowing, crimson spells rushed through the air.

They were closing the distance.

But the enemy wizard acted first.

He shouted an incantation and pointed at the grass.

Crooom!

Massive rope-like vines burst from the earth, weaving and twitching like they had minds of their own, and wrapped around someone in their midst.

Grimloch roared as the green tendrils coiled around his body, then yanked him high in the air. Alex saw two of the archers pull back on their bowstrings, readying to shoot the shark man.

“Now!” he shouted. “Get ’em!”

His elemental beetles swarmed up from the grass, straight for the centaurs’ eyes. They dropped their bows, turning their trunks this way and that, flailing their arms, fighting to rid themselves of the mass of bug-like creatures. The wizard acted quickly, working to blast the swarm with a spell.

Whiiish!

Theresa’s arrow slammed into him and he disappeared with a cry of surprise.

With the precious moments he’d gained, Grimloch bit his way through the giant vines and disappeared back into the grass.

The centaurs snarled, each galloping away in a different direction, looking to put distance between themselves and Alex’s team.

“Oh no you don’t!” he shouted.

His mind went back to the golden bowstring Theresa had received: it was nearly unbreakable. The centaurs’ bowstrings weren’t golden and probably didn’t possess the unique qualities of hers.

“Go for their strings!” he directed the beetles.

The swarm swept after the archers, settled on their bows, and began chomping on the strings with their powerful jaws.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

An archer cursed, turned and sped back toward his team.

Above him, Najyah shot down from the sky, her talons raked across his face.

He slowed.

Just for a moment.

“Look out!” another archer warned.

Grimloch’s dorsal fin emerged from the grass like it was breaking the surface of the Prinean Sea.

The fin cut through the green.

Najyah veered away just as the archer she was clawing turned.

The shark man’s jaws snapped open.

Snap!

The centaur disappeared.

Grimloch lunged toward the other two.

“Yes!” Alex cried.

One of them whirled around—his body language showed his determination—and lifted up his hand with the same reverence each centaur showed when lifting their bows.

He spoke:

“Blessed winds that guide bird, ship, and beast. Bless me now! Bless me with a weapon that might strike my foes down!”

Alex’s eyes went wide.

There was no rush of mana.

Only a roaring wind and blinding light.

In the archer’s hand a bow appeared, shining like a hundred stars. The centaur drew back a string of light and four arrows of luminescence appeared upon it.

Twang!

Divine arrows drilled through the air and slammed into Grimloch, blasting through his force armour.

With a roar, he vanished.

“Oh shit!” Alex cried.

“Oh shit,” Amir murmured as he watched from the stadium.

Chapter 74

Cutting In

“That’s it!” Baelin loudly clapped his hands together.

Far below, the battle between the two remaining centaurs from the Outcasts’ team, and the team of his COMB-1000 students who were filling his ancient heart with pride—they really ought to have named themselves—raced toward its conclusion.

“So… at last you reveal your divinities,” he said, watching as a centaur conjured a bow through a miracle and fired it into the grass toward Alex’s scattering team. The arrows sought out their quarry, but Alex’s Wizard’s Hands, forceball, and Summoned Elemental Beetles threw off the centaurs’ aim.

Baelin’s students survived… For now.

“Still, rather impressive as divinities go,” Baelin mused as he considered the centaurs. “And hiding your abilities for the entire tournament, only to catch your enemy off guard in a moment of tension. Excellent thinking. Though perhaps you played your hands a little too late since you’re now in a most disadvantageous position. But, no matter.”

The chancellor looked south, in the direction of Generasi. “Now, let us see if a certain pest reacts to your little revelation.”

He contacted Gemini.

“Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t do this,” Amir repeated, his heart thumping in his chest. He threw an alarmed look beside him. Ursula and Leopold had gone to grab something to drink, leaving only Donovan in his seat.

The pale young man’s eyes were wide. “Well, that’s a little bold!” he cried. “I don’t remember them having divinities last yea—Where are you going, Amir?”

“I’ll be back!” Amir said to his friend.

“Ah, washroom calling, then? A bad time to have to go!”

Amir ignored Donovan as he squirmed past the other spectators in his row, trying to get to the aisle as fast as he could. He winced as the crowd’s roar filled the stadium. Some were booing as Grimloch—a favourite—was eliminated, but most cheered at the upset pulled off by the Outcasts. If the audience minded that miracles were being used in the Grand Battle—which wasn’t against the rules—then they certainly weren’t showing it.

What was even more surprising to him was that it seemed like the crowd was approving of the priests’ power…

‘Priests calling upon the divine,’ Amir thought. ‘During the greatest of Roal’s games! During a celebration of the defeat of gods and their priests! And you all just cheer?’

Nerves gnawed at him.

Anxiety pumped through his body.

‘Can’t let it happen, can’t let it happen,’ he thought.

Rushing into the aisle, he caught sight of the illusions above the spectators as he glanced around the stadium.

The cheers grew louder as the centaurs fired divinely forged arrows at their opponents.

‘No, no!’ He trembled. ‘Quiet, you fools!’

Terrified, he looked for Watchers of Roal, investigators from the city, or anyone who might have been watching him or his friends. He well remembered his interrogation at the investigators’ station…

The cheering grew louder.

‘Focus, Amir, focus!’ He hustled down the aisle, taking the stairs two at a time, and rushed toward the closest exit.

He emerged into one of the stadium’s tunnels. People were milling about, moving to and from washrooms and lining up at carts selling snacks and beverages.

There was no sign of Leopold or Ursula in any of the lines.

‘Come on… come on… come on…’ he stepped into the crowd, looking for friends… or enemies. Behind him, the audience’s roar grew louder.

It was too much. Too much noise. Anyone could be hiding in the crowd. Was someone following him? He turned in place, fighting nausea. No one looked suspicious, but then again, it seemed like everyone was suspicious of him.

Was that cyclops watching him?

What about that child? He seemed to be crying over a spilled drink, but was he eyeing him in secret?

What about that group of men and women?

His queasiness intensified.

He had to get out of there.

He had to find his friends and find some place quiet.

Trembling, Amir stumbled toward one of the washrooms.

‘Please,’ he thought toward the audience in the stadium. ‘I beg of you. Don’t undo all the work I’ve done.’

As if mocking him, their cheers grew even louder.

“Dodge!” Khalik shouted.

Arrows of light whistled through the air.

Each exploded as they struck the earth, sending torrents of grass and soil blasting skyward. Alex heard Khalik’s earth armour crack as an arrow tip glanced off. The prince cursed, firing sharpened stones at the pair of centaurs.

One of them wheeled backward, the stones crashing through his forceshield, narrowly missing skewering him.

Alex and Thundar dodged around divine arrows, slowly closing the distance between them and the archers. Running now would only serve to get them speared through. They had to keep moving forward. Alex’s interference was giving them some support.

Wizard’s Hands and his forceball grappled with the centaurs, pulling at their arms, pushing on their shoulders, and generally spoiling their aim. Elemental beetles crawled over them and fluttered their wings at their eyes.

The archers cursed and fired desperately while fighting to retreat, but Alex’s spells weren’t their only problems.

Najyah swooped down on one of them, slashing her talons across his face. He swore, blindly striking at the bird of prey.

Whooosh!

The air shimmered in front of her as Khalik rapidly shouted an incantation.

Splooosh!

Clay washed over the archer, hardening, slowing him down. The second centaur called out, turning swiftly and tearing at the spells interfering with his aim. He fired four arrows in quick succession in Najyah’s direction.

One missed, but at such close range, three found their mark.

With a screech, the eagle disappeared… but her work was done.

Whiiish!

One of Theresa’s arrows slipped through the clay-coated centaur’s defences, striking his head.

He was gone in an instant.

Two down. One to go.

The centaur abandoned his retreat and tried firing directly at Khalik. Alex kept his Wizard’s Hands harassing him, throwing his aim off. His eyes went wide as a barrage of arrows, stones, and mana bolts rained down on him.

He vanished.

“By the gods,” Khalik panted, stopping in midair. Sweat poured down his beard. “Ah… Najyah,” he said sadly, looking where his familiar had vanished. “If only you’d made it to the end with us.” He surveyed the devastation of the battlefield. “They were mighty foes. It took your and Grimloch’s sacrifice to defeat them… but defeat them we did.”

“Imagine if this battle was actually to the death,” Thundar said. “Jeez!”

Khalik winced, his eyes on the spot where Najyah had been. “I’d rather not think about that.”

“Me either.” Alex looked to the south and the churning column of smoke there. Explosions and incantations roared out and he heard the clash of enchanted clay against metal. The other Outcasts hadn’t managed to defeat Claygon, but it sounded like he hadn’t crushed them either.

“How much mana do you two have left?” he asked his friends.

“Not much,” Thundar informed him.

“Very little,” Khalik said.

“I’m down to about half now,” Alex said.

Boom!

An explosion of stones blasted through the air past the smoke. The ongoing battle was sounding absolutely ferocious.

“I don’t think we’ll be beating the rest of those Outcasts with our mana so low,” Alex said.

“Agreed.” The prince watched the battlefield. “But what about Claygon?”

Alex considered that. “I’ll call him back and let him keep blasting them as he’s falling back. I say for now, we head to the mountain and get some cover while he’s doing his fighting retreat, then watch to see if they follow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Thundar said. “What if they do follow him?”

Alex winced. “Then we’ll have to hide somewhere else to recover our mana and hope he takes them down by himself. Or hope he takes a few out before he goes down.”

“Crap,” Thundar said. “We’ll be down a lot of power if we lose him.”

“We shall just have to deal with that bridge when we cross it,” the prince said, then looked toward the sky. “And let us hope those invisible attackers do not reappear.”

“Well, now they’re definitely gonna reappear,” Alex said.

The trio flew back toward the mountain, while Alex called Claygon and the elemental beetles: ‘Come to the mountain. Keep blasting them with your fire-beams as you’re retreating.’

The trio watched for hidden attackers: invisible wizards, remnants of the Ursa-Lupines. No one appeared.

“I don’t see anyone from that big alliance we stomped,” Thundar said.

“Strange,” Khalik said. “You would think the invisible ones would have followed us and struck by now. Perhaps they are off hunting others.”

“Maybe… maybe,” Alex said.

He craned his neck in all directions.

Nothing met his eyes.

No threats anywhere.

And that was making him very nervous.

Trying to keep calm by focusing on surveying the plain as they flew through its tall grass, Alex sought arrows protruding from the earth. Clouds of them were fired during the contest, and many had been Theresa’s. She’d filled her quivers to bursting for the Grand Battle, but they could probably use some replenishing. He and his Wizard’s Hands snatched up arrows as they flew—both the centaurs’ and Theresa’s—while he listened to Claygon’s battle behind them.

The whooom and whooosh of the golem’s fire-beams blasted the terrain, growing louder as Claygon drew closer. Alex couldn’t see if the Outcasts were following his golem as he fell back. Hopefully, other teams were keeping them busy. Either way, he, Khalik, and Thundar were almost at the safety of their destination. The mountain loomed straight ahead.

Theresa emerged from her hiding place, waving them over while Brutus slipped out from behind a stone outcropping, barking with all three mouths.

“Shhh! Shhh, boy!” Theresa hushed him, holding out her hand and pointing up the mountain.

Alex squinted toward the peak, catching sight of figures moving around. Looked like several wizards were circling up there using flight spells.

Someone had taken the mountaintop.

“We’ll have to keep it down,” Theresa said quietly. “We don’t want them hearing us from up there.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said, emerging from behind another rock with Svenia. “It would be favourable to us if we were able to attack them, but I am still recovering my mana.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “If we try going after anyone now, we’ll just get eliminated. It’s better if we wait and recover some mana.”

“Indeed…” Isolde took stock of the three young men. “Where are Grimloch and Najyah for that matter?”

Khalik sighed and filled Theresa, Svenia, and Isolde in on what happened.

“That’s too bad,” the huntress said. “I wanted to make it to the end with them… They gave the rest of us a chance to keep going.” She squinted out over the plain. “It looks like Claygon might be safe, though. I don’t see anyone following him.”

Her other teammates followed her gaze. Alex couldn’t see his golem through all the fire and smoke—which had spread considerably—but Theresa’s eyes were much sharper than his.

“That’s a big relief,” he said. “Let’s hope they’re off regrouping somewhere. Losing those archers will definitely hurt them in the long run.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said.

The group moved behind the rocks, concealing themselves while Claygon made his way to them. The silhouette of a familiar four-armed form emerging from the smoke grew in Alex’s vision.

His nerves felt like they were being pulled so tight, that they were about to snap as the golem neared, but he saw no sign of any Outcasts. No elemental knights. No battle wizards. No other opponents.

Nothing. Claygon was only about a hundred feet away now.

‘Alright, you can stop burning the grass,’ Alex thought.

The golem cut off the fire-beams and turned around, floating toward Alex.

“Look at all that smoke,” Thundar said.

As far as the eye could see, burning grass filled the sky with thick white smoke. Alex was sure the referees could put the fires out if they wanted to—especially with Baelin close by. At least for now, they weren’t. And all that fire brought back some of his old fears and memories.

So much potential for destruction.

So much smoke.

Someone could hide a castle in—

He froze.

The smoke!

He’d been a fool!

‘Claygon!’ he thought. ‘Shoot at the smoke!’

The golem raised his arms and head.

Whooom!

The fire-gems charged.

“The smoke! Watch the smoke!” he cried to his team.

For an instant, they remained still.

Then, the Outcasts struck.

As one, three elemental knights and two wizards burst out of the thick haze with magic blazing around their hands and weapons. Their eyes were utterly focused. Not on Clagyon, but on Alex’s team.

Two of the elemental knights surged forward.

“Look out!” Alex cried, then paused in surprise as another voice echoed his words.

He wasn’t the only one who’d shouted ‘look out.’

One of the Outcasts’ battlemages was pointing up above Claygon, a look of horror on his face. Magic blazed around his eyes.

It seemed like nothing more than empty space where the enemy wizard pointed.

Until a tidal wave of lava spewed from it.

A familiar voice boomed through the air as a young, redheaded woman appeared.

“A fine dance you’ve been having, Roth!” Tyris Goldtooth laughed. “Mind if I cut in?”

Chapter 75

Double Elimination

The ambush was devastating.

Vesuvius shimmered into being beside Tyris, and the pair poured lava and flame down on Claygon and the elemental knights from the Outcasts of the Divine Wind. The knights could not escape the torrent of lava and flame, and were instantly blasted from the contest.

Lava continued to pour over Claygon, weighing the golem down with the full weight of molten rock. Three of Tyris’ team appeared, adding a barrage of ice magic spells to the onslaught, combining intense heat with freezing cold.

The mixture erupted.

Shrapnel of ice and rock sprayed the stones Alex’s team crouched behind, as the lava encasing Claygon rapidly cooled.

‘The fire-gems!’ Alex thought. ‘Liquify the stuff on you with your fire-gems!’

Whooom!

The fire-gems began to power up.

“Not this time!” roared Tyris.

More of her team appeared, drowning Claygon in spells, keeping him rooted in place. Alex was getting agitated watching them deal nonstop punishment to his golem, but how could he help him?

“Agh! This is enraging!” Khalik cried, exchanging a look with Thundar and Isolde. “I cannot do a damned thing with my mana so low!”

“Neither can I!” Thundar said. “One wrong twitch from behind this rock and I’m done!”

“We may have to retreat!” Isolde warned.

“Wait! Not yet!” Alex held up his hand as a question hit him.

Why weren’t Tyris’ team staying invisible? Why were they revealing themselves?

He thought about the monster attack on the patrizia’s manor. The bone-drinkers, gorgers, and muupkaras were the first creatures to appear and had kept everyone focused on them. Meanwhile, the clawed monsters were lying in wait until they were ready to join the attack.

It might be the same now. The ones who were visible were the distraction, providing cover for the ones who stayed invisible. But if there are hidden opponents somewhere near, then what are they waiting for?

‘We’re behind cover and prepared for an attack,’ he thought. ‘But we’d be a lot more vulnerable if we were retreating. Maybe that’s what they’re doing—waiting for us to leave cover and retreat.’

Alex looked at his summoned swarm. “Spread out,” he said quietly. “If you touch anything you can’t see, land on it.”

He looked toward Theresa as his beetles scattered. “I think I know what’s going on. Watch the bugs,” he said quietly. “If they stop flying and settle in midair, shoot at that spot.”

Alex glanced at the Outcasts.

One of their battle wizards had used a magic spell to find Tyris and Vesuvius when they weren’t visible, so Alex watched him, hoping he’d unveil anyone else cloaked by invisibility spells.

Unfortunately, that wizard had bigger problems.

The Outcasts were trying to seek cover in the smoke, but flying warriors kept popping from thin air, hitting them from all sides. Elemental knights fought back with spell-enhanced speed and strength, but the wizards held them in check.

As some of Tyris’ battle mage teammates launched offensive spells toward the Outcasts, others continued their sustained attack on Claygon.

Alex’s attention was drawn to the beetles.

They had begun pausing in midair, folding their wings like they were preparing to land.

Theresa acted. She darted out from behind cover, loosing arrow after arrow at unseen enemies. Cries began, then abruptly ended as her arrows hit home. Thundar jumped from behind his hiding place and released a crossbow bolt.

Another scream died.

“Hah! Bye-bye, Wolud! That’s what you get for being too cautious!” Tyris laughed. “Can’t wait to see the look on his face after the battle—Oops!”

Whoooosh!

She dodged Claygon’s fire-beams.

The golem was fighting to free himself from the growing mound of hardening rock and exploding lava. Alex kept running interference, shooting elemental beetles, his forceball, and all three Wizard’s Hands at her team.

Fwooooosh!

Two mages unleashed crackling lightning all around, destroying his spells and casting his beetles back to the elemental plane of fire.

“Shit!” he cursed.

Theresa switched her shots to aim toward Tyris and some mages near her, but they all soared behind Vesuvius, using the gigantic vulcanchelone as a shield between them and the arrows. Even her powerful shots had no effect on the tortoise’s shell.

She took aim at his eye, but a forceshield whipped around from the other side of the beast, blocking her.

Alex’s mind raced.

His team had very little mana left, and Theresa’s arrows weren’t doing much against Vesuvius’ hide. Grimloch, Hogarth, and Najyah were gone. His active spells were gone, and it looked like their enemies had Orbs of Air around their heads which would stop his booby-trapped potions from affecting them.

They were running low on options.

Wait.

He looked at his bag. If he could use Call Through Ice to teleport a potion into Vesuvius’ open mouth, that might turn things around.

He started focusing his mind, ready for the Mark’s interference and glanced at Claygon. His golem was nearly buried in lava and half-melted rock. His powerful limbs were smashing and scraping at the molten rock, fighting to keep it from sealing him in, but it was a losing battle.

He was being buried. Even the flight spell wasn’t helping him break free.

Alex grimaced. ‘Come on Claygon, just hold on a little long—’

“Perfect!” Tyris shouted. “That golem’s not dodging a thing now! Vesuvius! I cast Blows of Lead on you! Make like an avalanche and go crush him!”

With a roar, the vulcanchelone shot out of the sky toward the immobile golem. His club-headed tail emerged from his shell, flicking behind him.

Alex’s eyes flew wide, remembering how much power that tail had. Enough to send Claygon flying in the Duel by Proxy. And that was when there was magic dulling its blows. Now, it had magic enhancing them.

“Run!” Alex told his team. “We’ve gotta get out of here, now!”

They looked at each other then shot from behind the rocks.

Whoooosh!

Vesuvius turned in midair, swinging his tail down with every bit of built up momentum his great mass possessed.

Boom!

It collided with Claygon at full force, and the powerful golem vanished.

“No!” Thundar and Alex cried in unison.

“Mop up the rest!” Tyris’ teammate shouted.

Vesuvius turned his long neck and breathed a massive cone of fire at Alex’s team. Lava also erupted from his shell, fountaining toward them.

Whooosh!

They scattered.

Khalik shot skyward, just dodging the lava fountain.

But Tyris shouted an incantation. Lava swerved, turning as though it had a mind of its own, then it snapped around the prince like a serpent.

It constricted.

The prince of Tekezash vanished.

“Khalik!” Alex cried.

His mind tried to work out a strategy, but they had few resources. So few resources.

They weren’t all making it out of this.

Ching!

He’d been grabbed in midair by a chain of light clamped over his ankle and attached to a point of empty space. He was trapped. His hand shot into his bag.

Think.

Adapt.

Thin—

Teleportation magic manifested in front of him.

One of Tyris’ battle mages appeared, and with him, Tyris. She was already finishing a spell and had both hands extended toward Alex. Lava roiled between them.

He sighed. “Ugh, well done.”

She smiled, revealing her gold tooth. “You to—”

Alex threw his booby-trapped potion of sensory enhancement at them mid-sentence.

Fwooosh!

Lava sprayed from Tyris’ hands, hitting the potion bottle and bursting it.

A cloud misted in the air around them.

But just before it did, he spotted two, long, pointed objects racing toward her and the battle mage. They never saw them coming through the mist.

Clack! Clack!

Alex smiled as the lava rushed over him and his spell-mark activated. Teleportation magic cast him through space until he appeared in the middle of a beach-side camp on the southernmost point of Oreca’s Fall Island. All around him, medical and tournament staff bustled about, checking participants as they appeared on stone circles set on the sandy beach.

A breath later, Tyris and her battle mage appeared in the circle in front of him.

“—oo.” She finished her ‘too’ and looked all sorts of confused. “Wait, what in the hells?”

“Couldn’t fall alone,” Alex shrugged, then smiled. “You understand, right?”

Theresa rushed up the mountain along the stones, loosing arrow after arrow behind her. The giant volcano tortoise roared after her, while the rest of its team joined the pursuit.

Brutus barked with one head while bounding up the mountain path with the other two pointed forward. Isolde and Svenia were flying a little ahead, and Thundar was close, swearing up a storm as he dodged spell after spell.

The tortoise spewed flames from its beak.

Theresa’s jaw hardened.

Alex was gone. Khalik was gone, along with Najyah. Hogarth was gone. Claygon was gone. Grimloch was gone.

Most of their team was gone.

There was no way they were going to take down those battle mages now, and if the rest of them got eliminated, they would lose.

“Go!” Theresa shouted, whirling around.

She took a breath, concentrating and firing a stream of arrows at their pursuers.

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can!” she shouted. “Get somewhere safe and regenerate your mana!”

She continued firing, only to see Thundar shoot back beside her.

“Oh no, you’re not doing this by yourself,” he said, holding up his mace. “If you’re gonna form a wall, then you’re gonna need more bricks.”

Whap!

His mace slammed into his palm.

“And I’ll be just another brick in the wall.”

Brutus loped up beside her, growling and barking.

“Very well—” Isolde started to say.

“No, you and Svenia go!” Theresa shouted. “You’ve got the most magic! Go and recover! Stay in the contest until the end!”

“…Until the very end then!” Isolde shouted. “We shall see you at the end of this!”

“Yes!” Theresa said as she shot at the closest battle mages.

The huntress, Brutus, and Thundar surged toward the enemy. The trio rushed through a barrage of spells, trying to hold back their opponents with everything they had. Thundar’s reckless charges and Theresa’s arrows pulled their enemies’ attention away from Svenia and Isolde’s retreat, while Brutus lunged for the giant tortoise.

There was a whirling of weapons, teeth, spell, and flame.

Brutus vanished first: a well-aimed blast of fire knocked him out of the contest.

Thundar was next: the minotaur grabbed one of the battle mages and knocked him out of the contest, but the warriors on his team surrounded him with a storm of swinging weapons.

Theresa fought with everything she had.

When she ran out of arrows, she drew her sword and hunting knife. She dodged spell after spell, but the battlefield was growing harder to manoeuvre. Each blast of Vesuvius’ lava splattered the mountainside with boiling rock. The heat twisted into a sweltering blaze each time she came near one of the pools. Only the Orb of Air around her head stopped the fumes from choking her.

She dodged until there was no place left to dodge.

Surrounded by lava, Theresa could only watch as the tortoise’s flames blasted over her.

An instant later, she was blinking on a beach with a stone pad beneath her feet.

“Dammit,” she swore.

“Theresa!” someone called.

She looked to the side and saw her friends waving at her: Alex—barely holding back an excited Brutus—Thundar, Claygon, Grimloch, Hogarth, and Khalik with Najyah perched on his arm.

As she tried to step off the stone pad, medical staff surrounded her—poking, prodding, turning her to make sure she wasn’t injured—before letting her go to her friends.

Panting from exertion, she stumbled through the sand to meet them. “How much… how long did I last?”

Brutus nuzzled up to her.

“About five minutes,” Thundar said as the group came together. “You should’ve seen the look on Goldtooth’s face when she appeared here. It was almost worth getting blasted just to see it.” He grinned.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “She was expecting all of us to end up here, not her. Glad we got to disappoint her. And she’s not the only one either.”

He inclined his head toward another group. Theresa looked to see the three centaurs of the Outcasts of the Divine Wind standing alongside other eliminated members of their team. All were watching the illusions floating above that displayed the action on the grassy plain and mountain.

“It looks like it’s all up to Isolde and Svenia now,” Alex said. “Hopefully they can hold out to the end. We eliminated a lot of opponents, and it looks like—”

He looked up at the illusions and watched as Vesuvius and the remainder of Tyris’ team climbed the mountain and attacked the team holding the peak.

“It’ll be hard for any other team to keep the peak with Vesuvius up there now. Most of the other teams have been eliminated too, which means it’ll take a lot for anyone to close the point-gap we hold. We might even get second, maybe third, depending on what the Outcasts do.”

“Let us hope,” Khalik said. “May Isolde move quietly, recover her mana… and may she and Svenia remain undiscovered.”

He’d been undiscovered so far, and it looked like he was going to get away with it. Kybas stuffed the last of his mushrooms into a large sack and drew the bag shut.

“Well, that’s that, Harmless,” he said a little sadly. “At least until that demon summoner gets caught.”

Harmless rubbed his snout against Kybas’ leg.

The goblin put his hands on his hips, his eyes cutting through the dark. Only the muted glow from the mushrooms inside his sack shed even a little bit of light on what had been his garden.

His little cavern was empty now with all of the mushrooms and tools packed up. Most had already been squirrelled away to other little hidey-holes he had around campus.

“One day,” he said quietly. “One da—”

He stopped.

His ears twitched as the sound of footsteps reached them through the holes he’d made in the ceiling.

Someone was near his cavern, trying to walk quietly, but their heavy footsteps betrayed them.

Chapter 76

The Rising

Kybas cocked his head toward the dull thud of heavy footsteps above his lair. At first, he hadn’t paid them much attention. He’d heard the odd person passing by earlier, they just hadn’t lingered, and moved on about their business.

But the way this mysterious person was moving around up there—repeatedly pausing, then walking around, not leaving—caught his attention. He thought of the jungles back home that the Clan Chulu had claimed. His tribe had dodged and battled predators, both beast and humanoid, since the clan’s birth, so knowing how to listen for a hunter stalking them was as ingrained as the importance of breathing.

“Shh, shh, Harmless,” Kybas said.

Was that Alex?

‘The Grand Battle shouldn’t be over yet, so it can’t be him,’ he thought. ‘Who could it be? Everyone’s watching the big fight.’

He gulped.

Could a Watcher of Roal have seen him? He’d been extra careful when he was moving the mushrooms. Maybe they were patrolling the area, looking for the demon summoner.

“We’ll be quiet,” he told Harmless. “And let them pass.”

And so, he waited… and he waited…

Whoever was up top, refused to leave. They kept shifting quietly, circling around like they were looking for something. Kybas listened for a long time.

‘Come on, go away. Don’t find the tunnels,’ he thought, becoming irritated.

Today was his only chance to get away since the Games would be ending and there’d be more Watchers available to search campus for this demon summoner.

He held his breath.

For a heartbeat, he thought the person above started moving toward the entrance to one of his tunnels. Then at the last second, they moved away. Kybas exhaled in relief.

“We’ll wait a bit longer,” he said to Harmless. “Then I’ll go up and see if anything’s still going on. Maybe they’ve gone, then we can make our escape.”

Amir knew something was going on.

Back at the stadium, he could have sworn he was being followed. On the tournament grounds, he’d lost count of the number of patrolling Watchers. Searching. Asking questions.

He’d finally slipped away from the stadium after a long time of trying to act casual, not wanting to arouse suspicion or draw attention to himself by hurrying, but even now—in this remote area—he felt like someone was following him. Trying to act natural, he kept his pace as slow and steady as he could, while his eyes searched for any sign of Ursula or Leopold.

They were nowhere in the stadium.

They hadn’t been around the grounds.

They weren’t anywhere.

‘This is bad,’ he thought. ‘All the work I’ve done. All the hours I put in trying to make things right. By spirits and deities, we were so close.’

He chewed his lower lip.

A crossroads lay before him. A single point in time where he could avoid disaster. One path lay in finding his friend and calming the situation. Another lay in approaching the first Watcher he came across and confessing everything.

One word swam through his mind, stopping him from the latter path: Debt.

A life debt was a grave one. Not so easily owed or dismissed. This was especially true depending on who one owed it to.

‘Think, Amir, think!’ He slapped himself in the temple. ‘You made it into the University of Generasi. You passed every undergraduate year with top marks, then you made it into graduate studies with picky, picky Jules. You’re smart. You can figure this out.’

He checked the position of the sun.

Time was passing quickly.

The Grand Battle would be over soon, and when it was, there’d be a period of controlled chaos. A moment when the participants would be preparing for teleportation back to campus and some of the audience would be looking to leave. A moment when the officials would be focused on preparing the medals and prizes, as well as getting ready for the closing ceremonies to end the Games.

That would be the perfect moment to strike.

He swallowed. If he could avoid disaster, then the end of the Games would be a wonderful moment. If he couldn’t…

Shaking that thought away, he quickened his steps.

“I don’t think I can hear them anymore,” Kybas whispered, moving toward one of his tunnels. “Come, Harmless, let’s see if the coast is clear.”

They slipped into one of the passages.

“Come on, why won’t you end already, damn you!” Derek swore quietly.

He was so deep in the cave, it felt like he’d never see the sun again. He had no way to tell time or even guess how close it was to the end of the Grand Battle.

And he wanted no more of it. Enough was enough.

A hundred armies may as well have converged on the grassy plains, acting out every ‘end times battle’ ever conjured up by seers and prophets. Fire. Lightning. Ice. Explosions. Shrapnel flying everywhere as he’d crawled on his belly—like a lizard—toward the mountain. He’d wanted to creep back to the forests at the perimeter of the island, but the grass fire had spread so quickly—thanks to that horrible golem, those horrible wizards, and that even more horrible giant tortoise—that the only choice he’d been left with was to make for the mountain.

‘The lava-spewing thing just appeared out of bloody nowhere,’ he thought. ‘This school’s a madhouse. The only rational thing to do is run from it and become a bloody farmer!’

He shook his head.

‘Don’t think like that. Just two more years. Two more years, and if I get the right people tutoring me, I’ll have a satisfied family, enough of this horrible magic to at least protect myself from these sorts of mad bastards, and merit in abundance to rise in court. Though with how slow time’s passing, it feels like I’ll spend those two years in this bloody cave. Seems pretty quiet now, though…’

“They didn’t forget me, did they?” he whispered. “Maybe they teleported everyone else back to campus and left me here to grow mushro—”

There was the scrape of a boot reaching his ears in the stillness, coming from the direction of the exit. He wanted to melt into the wall, settling for straining his ears to listen for who or what it could be.

Derek paled.

‘No-no-no! I can’t be that unlucky.’

As the voices came closer, it became clear he was indeed that unlucky. They were voices he knew a little too well. One was definitely Isolde’s prim, proper, and snooty voice. And the other belonged to her lackey, Svenia.

Svenia and Hogarth never liked him much. The feeling had been mutual. Life wasn’t about liking or disliking anyway, so it was irrelevant how they’d felt about him.

He silently slid his sword from its sheath and crouched in the dark. If they went on their way, then all would be well.

If they didn’t…

“Better to ambush than be ambushed,” he whispered. “You had the initiative last time, Isolde, ratting me out to the professor. Well, now the initiative lies with me.”

He took a breath as electric blue light approached from the cave opening.

Then he quietly began casting a spell.

“It shouldn’t be long now, Lady Von Anmut. I’m sure the contest should be over soon,” Svenia said from up ahead. “And it looks like no one has entered the cave since we were here. Though it’s hard to be certain with these dry, stone floors. But, so far, there’re no tracks.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “If there are no other competitors stalking about like beast-goblins, then we shall be able to await the contest’s end in peace, I would think.”

She sighed.

“It’s a pity. This last while has been nothing but slinking about. The two of us like rats in the dark instead of the heiress to the Von Anmut family and the fine woman-at-arms that we are. This is truly without decorum. We did not even have the chance to knock out a few more rivals before the end. Blast it all… The other teams have had plenty of time to reach or exceed our score.”

Roughly twenty feet ahead, one of her electric blue forceballs floated through the air, weaving back and forth along the passage, illuminating the path in case enemies were crouching in the dark, concealed in hidden bends and turns in the cave. It was a forceball trick Alex had taught her while they trained for the Grand Battle.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, my lady.” Svenia kept her spear pointed forward. “We’ve been hearing less battle sounds since we separated from Theresa and the others, which makes me think many contestants have been knocked out of competition. And no one was able to dislodge that tortoise from the peak. Not the team with Shiani, Rhea, Rayne, Malcolm, and Eyvinder, or even the Hydras.”

“Well, the Outcasts did drive them off for a bit, which was a shame, since those extra points will definitely put them ahead of us,” Isolde said, glancing over her shoulder. Another, dimmer, forceball floated at her back, providing light around and behind.

It would be the end of any chance to even place if they were ambushed now.

They were so close to the end. So close.

“I think—”

Isolde froze.

Ahead, a shadow crouched in the dark. Her forceball’s light revealed it. She tapped Svenia on the shoulder then pointed ahead, not wasting time voicing a warning.

Those precious moments could be used for casting. She spoke an incantation as Svenia readied her spear.

The shadow leapt out.

Isolde was so shocked by who it was, she nearly fumbled her spell.

Derek raised his hand, finishing a spell while Isolde was still in the middle of hers.

A short cone of flame blasted from his outstretched hand, and both women sprang back, avoiding an abrupt exit from the contest. If they’d been any closer, he would have hit them both. Even though his spell missed, the fire blast and heat still stung their eyes.

Derek came at them, his sword swinging.

Svenia shortened her spear’s reach, angling it up, stabbing at him, but she was still half-blinded from the blast. With a smooth dodge, Derek knocked the spear from her hands.

She backed away as he came at her with a vicious thrust, but it caught her chainmail and she drew her own sword.

Their blades clashed. Derek pushed, trying to get past her to reach Isolde. While he was very skilled at cutting and parrying with his sword, Svenia’s experience and skill kept him on the defensive.

Then Isolde completed her spell.

Crackle.

Two orbs appeared above her hands with lightning shooting between them. An evil smile spread across her face. The sort of smile reserved for witches in fairy tales as they were about to roast clever gingerbread men in their ovens.

“I didn’t forget about you, Derek,” she said.

He recoiled from her like a mouse before a snake.

“Ta-ta,” she said cheerily. “No making it to the end for you. Can’t cheat your way out of this one, I’m afraid.”

Swearing, Derek started bolting deeper into the cave. Isolde—laughing merrily—blasted her orbs at him.

Crackle!

There was a cry of fear as the lightning raced after Derek before catching him, and then, he was gone.

“Aaaah,” she said with a great deal of satisfaction. “I have to say, Svenia, my worries have suddenly disappeared. I’d hardly care if we placed tenth!”

“Yeeaaaah!” Alex cheered, pumping his fists as they watched the illusions being transmitted from the cave. “Good job, Isolde! Damn good job!”

His team joined in celebrating, whooping, clapping, and hugging each other. Even Grimloch snarled in satisfaction. Alex had Claygon raise his fists in salute. In another part of the camp, the Ursa-Lupines were either stunned into silence or groaned like someone had just told them their grandmothers all hated them.

Derek, with his head hung low, appeared on a stone disk, visibly trembling in rage, as waiting medical staff began checking him for injuries.

“Alright, quiet!” Thundar said to his team. “That’s two more points. Come on…”

The team turned to an illusion that displayed the countdown marking the Grand Battle’s end.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

A bell rang.

There was dead silence as scores rose on a separate illusion.

Alex gasped.

In first place was Tyris’ team. They cheered in the distance. The Outcasts were next, cursing in disappointment at coming in second, not first.

But in third place…

“We did it!” Theresa screamed. “We medaled!”

The entire team erupted, jumping and hugging each other, overwhelmed with joy. Some were actually wiping tears from their eyes. Alex vibrated with excitement as the last of the competitors were teleported to the beach for a final check-over.

They’d done it.

For them, the Grand Battle was over.

Kybas trembled as he peeked out from his tunnel.

There was something up ahead, in among the trees, though he couldn’t see what it was.

He slipped out and crept a bit closer, staying low. The brush was flattened, leaves were shaking like something stood there, but there was no one there.

A male voice began to chant strange words to a spell from within the brush. The very words seemed to sting his ears. They were harsh sounding. Ugly.

Something was going on. Someone invisible was chanting right above his burrow. But, what did that mean?

Ugly words for a spell. An invisible spellcaster.

‘The demon summoner,’ he thought, his heart beating faster. ‘It’s the demon summoner!’

Kybas crept away, his mind briefly going to the warriors in his family. Proud fighters who’d never let such a criminal get away. Except goblins fought with bravery and numbers. If he attacked alone and was killed, no one would know. Then everyone would be in big trouble.

Silently, he slipped back into his burrow and sprinted toward another exit with Harmless scampering close behind. They passed through his empty garden, his only thoughts on getting to the end of another tunnel, and the horror of what he’d just seen.

When he’d entered the botanical gardens earlier, he’d heard someone. Someone who could help.

His ears twitched, he could hear them now.

‘Yes! They’re still here!’ he thought.

He and Harmless ran toward the noise until they reached a familiar face. Professor Salinger was crouched over a pot, testing the soil.

“Professor! Professor!” Kybas cried.

Salinger turned. “Hm, Kybas? What’re you doing arou—”

“No time to explain, we’ve got to go get help then get fighting!” he whispered in excitement. “The demon summoner’s here! Someone invisible’s in the gardens and I heard them chanting!”

Salinger glanced between Kybas and the dark gardens. “Do you remember their words?”

Kybas repeated some of what he’d heard.

The professor went pale.

Then his jaw hardened.

“We need Baelin. Now.”

Chapter 77

Fanaticism and Divinity

The demon summoner had taken every precaution, but knew there was a risk. Sometimes though, a risk had to be chanced if the cause was just.

And there was no cause more just than this.

As they chanted, the noise of mindless cheering in the stadium as filthy priests spoiled a contest celebrating mortals’ triumphs over the divine, came to mind.

They shook their head. It always started that way.

With cheers of approval.

Priests would make their way to communities, often wearing threadbare robes, and work a little miracle here and another one there that the people would cheer. That got the priests invited to stay. The demon summoner’s own community was an example of their subtleness.

At first, they’d been unobtrusive—even helpful—building a little temple for themselves and doing good works. The people started depending on them.

Then came the asks.

They started small by asking for volunteers to help clean their little temple.

‘Oh, it would be good for the children,’ they’d said. ‘It will give them something to do and grant them the virtue of a good, hard day’s labour. We wouldn’t want them to be idle, would we?’

Then came the asks for coin.

‘Children! Our temple has fallen into ill-repair, and its beautification would please our deity and help the community!’ they’d cried. ‘Please, do not mire yourselves in selfishness. Remember the wonders our deity has worked for you. Open your purses! Open your chests! Open your coffers and strongboxes! A little from each is all that’s needed!’

The people had given generously and the temple had swelled and swelled and swelled. Suddenly, it was the largest building in town and the priests no longer wore threadbare robes.

‘Our deity would want us to be presentable!’ they had claimed, with smiles that sparkled just as brightly as the sapphires encrusted in their holy symbols.

The asks for time came next.

‘Attend! Attend! Come to our speeches!’ they had said. ‘Listen to our holy words so that our blessings may fall upon you!’

The demon summoner held back bile rising up in their throat.

Over three generations, those ‘holy words’ had wormed into the minds and souls of the people. Many were so blinded and twisted on the inside, they’d become monsters capable of things that would have been unimaginable before.

Then, they were ready for the priests’ final ask.

‘Our deity requires fine souls to attend them in their divine palace! Who shall have this eternal blessing and live forever in the light of our deity?’ the priest had smiled with dead eyes. ‘Who will take on this honour?’

Pretty words.

Pretty words when just one would have sufficed: Sacrifice.

There were eager volunteers to attend the deity, but sacrifice was not so pretty a thing to see. It made some stomachs turn and finally opened some eyes… But too late. The community was too far gone.

People whispered against the priests and were rooted out. Brother sold out brother if they spoke against the priests. That had been the fate of the demon summoner’s own father. Sister would tell on mother. Daughter on son. Eventually, all the whispers went silent.

As sacrifices grew, the deity grew more powerful, yet ever hungry. The community took to taking unsuspecting travellers against their will, slipping into villages and abducting those peacefully asleep in their beds, then blaming monsters, goblins, beast-goblins, and wicked fey.

But secrets always come out in their own good time.

In the demon summoner’s youth, the rulers of the region stepped in with a punitive force of soldiers, wizards, and those of the Delvers’ guild. The wicked priests were imprisoned, and the community was freed. Some were too far gone to be saved and were imprisoned alongside their beloved priests.

The summoner’s mind had at last been unshackled. And they’d cursed themselves for staying silent, paralysed with fear.

Never again.

They’d travelled, saving others from cults.

Life debts were made.

Bonds of friendship were formed that carried all the way through years of study at Generasi. At this wonderful place that kept the evils of the divine suppressed.

But the threat was brewing even here.

Even the chancellor—who seemed to understand the threat better than most—was letting the toxin grow and spread. To work so closely with Thameland’s church would only invite the infection in.

It needed to be cut out. Just like that disgusting display in the Grand Battle.

People had to be made to see… Made to fear.

The demon summoner spoke carefully, pronouncing the words of both the spell and the name of the abyssal knight being called with precision. The name was long and in a language that no mortal mouth was meant to utter. But long days and nights of practice let it roll off the tongue. Demons were creatures of whim, though pacts could be made with them. They could be understood, controlled. At least directed. A crude tool, they were, but if one knew what they wanted…

Ah.

Here it was.

The air swam in front of the summoner as a dark presence entered the world.

Mana flared in the summoning circle—a clever crafting of their own design. The symbols in the circle were designed to not only contain the creature, but make it invisible, unseen by anyone. Even from the one who’d called it.

“Welcome,” the summoner said. “I’m pleased that you answered. I do not take your time for granted, and hope to never waste the gift that you grant me.”

There was a moment of silence.

“There is no wasted time for one whose time is infinite,” a voice like crackling flame answered. “What do you call me for?”

“A request to bring your servants and your soldiers here to spread terror and kill those who serve the divine.”

“This suits me. More suffering to the servants who once chained me,” the invisible abyssal knight said. “And my debt?”

“Lessened,” was the demon summoner’s response.

“You have called on me many times, and each time you only say the debt has lessened,” an iron hard threat entered its voice. “Why should I not say it is paid in full?”

“Because you owe me your life,” came the same reply the demon received each time it brought up that point. The summoner continued. “And we both know a life debt is a heavy debt to owe. I can never take it lightly. I have not gone back on my word once since our relationship began… and I can now offer future payment.”

“Future payment?”

“Have you or your servants ever had dealings with something called the Ravener? It is a threat in this world.”

“Only a little,” the crackling voice said. “Some whom I cross paths with and some of my servants have been summoned by mortals to combat this being. The name… it is somewhat familiar, but of little consequence. Merely another threat to mortal kind like so many across a thousand worlds.”

“This threat might have a resource you could use,” the demon summoner offered. “I don’t have full details, but one who also owes a life debt to me is involved. The resource lies in the hands of those who serve a deity, but they have never harvested it to its full potential, from what was said by those with knowledge of the situation. I think something of that nature would be better used in your hands, my friends’ hands, or even mine.”

“What is this treasure?”

“We can speak of that after you fulfil our bargain. I need you to kill three centaur priests. Make the meaning of terror known to anyone near. Show this place the truth: that involvement with the divine only brings pain.”

The demonic knight said nothing. His silence bore his agreement.

The summoner explained Oreca’s Fall Island in detail, its location, and what the demons should expect to find there.

“The horned wizard is there?” the abyssal knight hesitated. “I have lost a very powerful resource to his actions.”

“You do not need to battle him directly,” the summoner said quickly. “Kill the priests, distract him. Hmmmm… Actually, there is a stadium close by. Attack there as well, offer a taste of fear to as many as you can like you have done in the past. They need to be educated in what it means to tolerate priests, and attacks in two locations will be a good lesson and a good distraction.”

“Very well. I am in this world because of your magic… I shall call my armies as you ask.”

The abyssal knight reached his power back to his home of smoke and brimstone, and called for his demons.

Then he paused, as if listening to something.

“Are you not alone in this place?” the demon’s voice crackled.

“Hm?” The summoner looked around. “Yes, I’m alone.”

“Mmmmm,” the abyssal knight growled. “Not so. There are voices nearby. Voices speaking in whispers… But they cannot escape my senses. They are talking about you.”

The demon summoner cursed the bad timing.

“Then get rid of them.”

“Baelin?” Professor Salinger said quietly to the wind. “I don’t have much time; I think the demon summoner is in the botanical gardens. I’m contacting the Watchers now.”

The professor finished the spell, and Kybas heard the wind gust, carrying the message away. Salinger cast the spell again and wind swirled around him.

“Gemini, the demon summoner might be in the botanical gardens. Send help as quick as you can.”

Salinger cut off the spell and the wind swept away. “Alright, Kybas, they’ve been informed. Let’s get going.”

“Come on, Harmless, we’ve got work to do,” Kybas said.

He started back in the direction of the summoner.

Salinger’s hand fell on his shoulder.

“Hold on, now,” the professor said. “We should leave them to battle wizards. You’re between first and second year, and I’m not a combat wizard. Let’s get to safety and leave this in the hands of prof—”

Crack!

Something snapped in the foliage around them.

Kybas’ ears twitched.

“Wait, Professor,” the goblin said. “Something… there’s something out there.”

He strained his eyes at the greenery.

His ears continued twitching.

A heartbeat later, bat-winged creatures burst from the brush. They were slightly taller than Kybas, with long, wolf-like faces above humanoid bodies. They shot toward the two wizards, screeching and belching a foul gas.

Salinger froze in surprise, but Kybas was already chanting a spell, and Harmless was bounding forward.

Raising his hands, the goblin shot mana bolts at the monsters’ wings, clipping them, knocking them from the sky. They landed hard on the stones near Harmless who leapt on them with his jaws snapping. His teeth clamped down on demon wings and he rolled across the ground, pulling them with him.

They screeched.

Salinger winced as he raised his hands in the air. “Defend us, my friends!” he shouted.

Rrrrrmble.

The earth shook.

Rrrrrriiiiip!

Vines and snaking roots tore from the earth around them, shooting into the air, then coiling tightly around approaching demons.

“Let’s get them, Harmless! You too, Professor!” Kybas roared at the top of his lungs. “For the Chulu! For Generasi!”

Harmless seemed a lot more enthusiastic about the battle cry than Salinger did.

Something prickled against Alex’s skin. A crawling sensation, like teleportation or summoning magic was coming from someplace nasty. The feeling was very familiar too.

And it was coming from close by.

“By the Traveller, no,” he murmured. “Oh no, no, no.”

His team had been regenerating their mana and celebrating, while medical staff offered mana soothing and other potions, finishing their more thorough examinations.

“What is it?” Theresa said.

“Something’s coming!” he shouted, drawing eyes from everyone in the camp. “Something real nasty! Get ready!”

Horror surged through him.

The summoning magic… It came from all directions. From deep in the island’s core, from the sea, and from all around the camp on the beach. An army was coming, much bigger than the demon hordes that had attacked Carey London’s rally.

The staff and competitors looked at him and each other in confusion.

Then they heard Baelin’s voice.

“He is right!” the chancellor roared. “We are under attack from the demon summoner, brace for battle!”

A breath later, portals opened all around them.

Horrors poured into their world.

The demons came in all shapes and sizes. Small, with wolf-like faces and bat-like wings. Others as tall as Thundar’s seven feet, with cloven hooves, bloodred bodies, and horned heads. A third eye like Claygon’s glowed in their foreheads, seeking targets to sink their massive bone axes into. Others resembled insects that towered over Grimloch, covered in frost and swiping giant scythe-like arms. From the Prinean, demons emerged onto the shore with needle-like fangs—a cross between selechar, frog, and scaled fish.

The evil was everywhere, and the competitors no longer had spell-marks to whisk them to safety if they were injured. At least Alex and Baelin’s warning stopped what would have been a catastrophic ambush from happening. Those on the beach weren’t caught completely unawares.

“Finally!” Grimloch roared. “A real fight! Let’s get ’em!”

Alex’s team didn’t hesitate.

Spell-marks or no spell-marks, they’d been through plenty of deadly battles together.

As Grimloch surged toward the nearest group of demons, Theresa drew her sword and knife, charging alongside a snarling Brutus. Svenia and Hogarth raised their spears and followed right behind. Thundar took a moment to cast a body enhancement spell on himself before charging in after them.

Alex wasted no time sending Claygon into battle.

‘Go!’ he thought. ‘Crush every one of those filthy things you see. Use the fire-gems and blast the icy ones, and smash the ones with three eyes.’

Claygon’s hands snapped into fists and he rushed along the beach, kicking up sand with every massive step.

Whooom!

The fire-gems charged as he ran.

Khalik chanted a spell.

Fwooooosh!

The sand burst up around him, and his hands moved like he was directing a symphony. White sand coiled up into whip-like constructs that shot toward their attackers. Lightning crackled around Isolde’s fingers as she soared into the air.

Alex’s mind raced.

He didn’t have much time to cast his full arsenal of defensive spells.

‘Go for an offence that strikes hard and fast: shock and awe,’ he thought. ‘Shock and awe!’

“Cast Orb of Air on everyone!” he shouted to his team.

He pulled out a potion of booby-trapped flight and started casting Call Through Ice.

All around, the beach had erupted in chaos.

Baelin floated above the battlefield and spread his hands over the multitude of people and demons below. Mana roared through the air, shaking the very world. A wave of power burst from his hands, rushing into each competitor, staff member, and referee. When the power touched an ally, a silver light would envelope them, Greater Force Armour enwraped them, and a forceshield materialised in front to deflect demon attacks.

Ram shot through the air, encased in the silvery light, firing black bolts of power that pierced demonic hides like a hot knife through butter.

Vesuvius spewed lava and flame on a clot of demons, while Tyris blasted them with her spells. Hanuman and his team leapt into the fray. The Outcasts…

Alex zeroed in on them.

Demons were bounding toward them, fighting hard to push past wizards to reach their target. Five three-eyed demons went for the elemental knights.

‘Priests,’ Alex thought. ‘Of course the demon summoner would be going after the priests.’

He turned back to his friends as he finished his spell and raised the bottle of potion. The portal appeared, sending the potion at the group of demons his friends battled.

Then he felt something.

He looked back at the Outcasts.

A three-eyed demon had stopped its attack on last year’s champions. Its head tilted to one side, a look full of puzzlement filling its face.

It shouted to him in a language he’d never heard before. Alex’s frown grew as he stared at it. Then, it spoke directly to him in a language he understood.

“You!” it roared. “I knew your death was a lie! You grow sloppy. I’ve heard the trickle of your power in recent times through the planes, and now I find you here in that false form!”

Alex had no idea what the demon was talking about. He did know that he’d caught its attention as soon as he’d cast Call Through Ice.

A teleportation spell.

Chapter 78

Wrinkle of Recognition

The world seemed to slow around Alex while his mind worked to process this exchange.

A demon had spoken to him—directly to him—like it recognised him… Like it knew him.

‘No, maybe not me specifically,’ he thought. ‘Maybe it recognised that strange power I feel with teleportation spells.’

The battle raged on as the demon approached, its body language a jumble of menace, viciousness, happiness, sadness, pain, openness, secrecy…

It was such a chaotic mess. He couldn’t make sense of it. And something else was sending chills through his whole being. The third eye shining in its forehead bore into him, studying him, like it was looking at something that went much deeper than skin and bone.

It spoke again. “You cannot hide. I see it. I see that power. I smell it.”

“I don’t know you, demon,” Alex said, moving a hand into his potion bag.

“Do not lie, Hannar-Cim!” the demon snarled, speaking a name Alex had never heard. “Yushaero of the Enemy, making a pretence of death was clumsy. You must learn to hide yourself better! These young ones might not know your scent, but I was on that battlefield. I saw you. Smelled you. I know you.”

‘Maybe you don’t know me, but you do seem to know this power,’ Alex thought, remembering how Professor Mangal talked about immortal spirits walking multiple worlds in multiple eras. He supposed this demon must’ve been around during the Traveller’s time. But what was this about power through the planes? About faking death?

“You’ve got me,” Alex lied, hoping to keep the demon occupied. “I’m trapped here in this mortal form!”

“Do not lie!” it roared. “I see the lie in you plainly. Why are you hiding behind insulting childish evasions?”

Alex stepped back, trying not to make any sudden movements.

“I’m not lying!” he said, and that was true, technically. He was trapped in a mortal form. Where—as a mortal—he was supposed to be. “You’re the one who’s lying. I’ve never seen you before!”

“The Battle of Hirshin-Eos,” the demon snarled. “I was there when you appeared amongst our legions and slayed our captain. I was intrigued by your warrior skill, but not your act, and memory lasts long in our realm… and grudges even longer.”

Alex’s mind raced, thinking back on his lessons of Thameish history and geography. Was there a Hirshin-Eos somewhere? He couldn’t remember ever hearing about such a place, even using the Mark. Maybe the demon had a different name for a battlefield in Thameland. Though it could be referring to something else.

“What’s your name, demon?” Alex asked, scanning the creature’s body for unique features. Scars traced all over its form: scores of old cuts, puncture wounds, and abrasions. His eyes took in each one for a deeper evaluation later using the Mark.

He focused on a particularly deep scar that streaked across the entirety of the demon’s chest. It was ragged, like the jagged teeth of a forge-hot saw had been dragged along the creature’s torso. Alex winced. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much that must’ve hurt.

The monster snarled. “No, I don’t think so. No name for you.”

“Alright, I’ll just call you Burn-Saw then, until I find out,” Alex said.

The demon snorted. “Call me whatever you please, Hannar-Cim. I’ll not let you summon me to do your bidding later. I won’t be one of your slaves.”

“Slaves?” Alex asked. “What sla—-”

Whoosh!

“Shit!” he ducked.

A large demon’s scythe-claw soared through the air, nearly cutting him in two. As it fell to the sand, he noticed the red dripping off the edge.

He quickly looked back at the demon.

This was a fight for their lives. Losing focus was like offering up his own head to these attackers.

There wasn’t time for questioning demons.

It was time for fighting.

He backed away from Burn-Saw, trying to work out a way to capture him. If he had information about the Traveller, Alex wanted it.

If he could get a message to Baelin—

He looked up and cursed inwardly.

The chancellor was gone, probably hunting the demon summoner.

Whoooosh!

Behind, blasts from fire-beams and spells, mixed with the harsh sound of demonic cries unfolded. He turned sideways, glancing at his friends while keeping the demon in sight. They were all okay, especially with Baelin’s protective spells around them.

He turned back to face Burn-Saw and slipped a booby-trapped potion of sensory enhancement from his bag. If the demon’s senses were so sharp—it did have three eyes after all—then the potion’s effects should be devastating.

“You know,” Alex said. “If I knew your name, then I’d know who it is that has a gru—”

Alex whipped the potion at the creature before finishing his own statement. It reacted with supernatural reflexes, snapping his axe up.

Crunch.

The bottle exploded against the bony edge, emptying into the air, and enveloping the demon in potion-gas. It laughed mockingly and began to charge, but the laughter abruptly turned to a choked cry.

“My eyes!” Burn-Saw screamed as his free hand pressed to his third eye. “My ears! What did you do, you witch!”

Alex didn’t bother answering, casting Summon Elemental Beetle Swarm instead, one of the fastest spells he could conjure thanks—ironically—to that strange power. The Mark’s interference slammed into him.

“There you are!” the demon roared, moving forward.

With a cry, Alex danced backward, falling into both the Cleansing Movements and the Spear-and-Oar Dance, but sand shifted under his foot.

He stumbled.

Crash!

The axe slammed into his forceshield as he fought to recover his balance.

‘Right, don’t use the spell that he can sense, idiot,’ he scolded himself.

He slipped around the flailing, blinded demon, moving to put as much distance as he could between them while he began conjuring Wizard’s Hand.

The monster said something in its grating, demonic tongue.

Whooosh!

From the side, a wave of figures surged at Alex, forcing him to cut the spell and duck. A mass of bat-winged demons clawed at Baelin’s greater force armour.

Alex ducked, dodged, and danced through the chaos, kicking up sand as the monsters swarmed him from all sides

Crack! Crack!

Claws, fangs, and teeth slashed at the magical armour. He wished the Mark wasn’t a hindrance so he could cast faster, but with so many demons attacking him, spell casting had become impossible.

He needed another solution. He took a booby-trapped sensory enhancement potion and shattered it amongst the demons, disrupting their senses.

Then he used the Cleansing Movements and the power of his own body against them. Hanuman fighting multiple enemies in the Grand Melee came to mind, and Alex remembered how some of those competitors became obstructions to one another, and then found themselves stumbling into Grimloch’s club.

Obstructions…

He spotted the disoriented Burn-Saw flailing around half-blinded, still clutching his giant bone-axe.

An idea came to the young wizard.

He danced toward the demon, calling on the Mark to help him read the path of the axe’s swings. His booby-trapped potion was affecting the swarm of wolf-faced demons, some fell to the ground, some followed him, clumsily mashing their fangs and claws against Baelin’s defensive spells.

Those spells were a lifesaver. His own forceshield would probably have shattered by now. The demons were small, but they were clustered around him, and from the sound of the impacts, they hit hard.

He was pretty sure Burn-Saw would hit a hell of a lot harder, though.

He danced into the big demon’s path while his hands pulled and pushed demons off his armour and redirected them. Alex moved the creatures into each other’s path, knocking them around and disorienting them further.

Whoosh!

Burn-Saw’s axe cut through the space around him.

Alex yanked another small demon off his armour and tossed it away toward Burn-Saw.

Chop!

That was one down.

“What was that?” the demon roared. “Was that you, Hannar-Cim?”

Alex smiled. “How about you tell me your name and I’ll tell you what just happened?” he said, putting as much ‘smug jerk’ tone into his voice as he could to provoke the creature.

Predictably, the enraged demon roared and swung his bone axe while Alex tossed another demon like a handball.

Chop!

“Hah! Got you!” the monster snarled.

“Oooo, swing and a miss,” Alex said. “Tough luck, Burn-Saw.”

“Do not mock me!”

Whoosh!

The axe swung again and Alex guided more attackers toward their ally, then danced away.

Chop!

“Oooo, so close that time,” Alex tutted with his tongue. “Care for another try?”

“Raaargh!”

Chop!

Another vicious demon was split in half.

“I’ve got to say, that’s no way to treat your friends.”

Frustration drove Burn-Saw on, and he charged Alex, slashing in a fit of frenzy.

Alex grinned, remembering what Professor Jules once said: ‘When a demon has a desire, it acts upon it most of the time.’

‘Not much for self-control, are we?’ he thought as he guided more of the demons into the path of Burn-Saw’s axe. The horde thinned as the demon wildly slashed through his allies.

One screamed something at him. So lost to his blind rampage, the enraged demon struck at the voice, slashing the potion-afflicted creature in half.

“I’m glad I’m not your friend,” Alex chuckled.

Professor Ram soared through the air, firing force bolts into demons while finishing another spell.

A pitch-black wall of force sprang up on the ocean side of the camp, blocking the fish-like demons from reaching it. He flew over another group of enemies and cast an incantation. A pair of the scythe-clawed demons screeched as their gravity reversed and they soared helplessly into the sky. He whirled on a pack of flying demons and blasted them with a cone of midnight-dark force, tearing their bodies apart.

Demons fell by the second, torn to bits by dozens of spells and weapons wielded by the competitors from the Grand Battle and the other wizards.

Though not all was going their way.

Some on the beach weren’t warriors. They were students who’d entered a competition for fun and prizes. They had no experience in battles of life and death, and it showed. While the experienced or well-trained combatants formed a line around the camp to keep the demons out, most of the inexperienced ones hesitated or fled like prey seeking safety within the interior of the camp, giving the demons something to chase and a chance to breach the perimeter. Flying wizards engaged the demons from the air, striking down as many as they could when they entered the camp, but they couldn’t get them all.

And the demons that got through, were doing damage.

From above, Ram saw mortal blood staining the sand as he watched the medical staff using blood magic to help as many of the wounded as they could. Even from his distance, the number of terrible injuries was worrying.

One of the centaur priests was trying to break away from the battle to help with the healing, but the swarm was too thick around the Outcasts. Many of the demons were concentrating on the three centaur priests fighting with divine fury, using their shining, miracle-crafted bows. Their battle mages and elemental knights were also wreaking havoc on the demons.

And they weren’t the only ones.

The team with the four-armed golem and giant shark man was also devastating. Eliminating demons with skill, coordination, and experience. The evil creatures’ bodies littered the sand.

As for Alex Roth…

He seemed to be another target of focus for the demons. They swarmed the young man while he danced, throwing them into each other’s attacks. Dancing in the middle of combat was one of the silliest things Ram could think of, but it was attracting demonic attention to him and away from the wounded. Was that on purpose? Just like when Roth was in his class, Ram couldn’t tell if he was a genius or a complete fool… Perhaps a bit of both.

Whooom!

He pulled his attention back to the horde.

More portals opened when demons fell, spilling a fresh crop onto the beach. Some materialised inside the camp and had to be hastily dealt with. He swore out loud. If the wizards teleported back to the city now, this unending army of butchers would follow.

Everyone would have to hold here for a time. Besides, who knew what was going on back on campus.

Baelin appeared in the botanical gardens.

‘Hobb,’ he thought. ‘I’m calling in a favour. We have a situation at the stadium that requires your special skills. Demons are running rampant there and that must come to an end, if you understand my meaning. Primary restrictions are removed.’

‘Of course, Chancellor,’ the polite, devilish tones answered in his mind. ‘They will be as tidied up as a proper ledger.’

‘Thank you.’

Baelin turned to the trees, honing in on the crash of spell and demonic power. Speaking an incantation, he cast a spell of his own personal design: Teleportation Net.

An invisible field of power spread over the botanical gardens. If anyone tried to teleport out, they would be in for a most nasty surprise. Through an act of will, his eyes changed, shifting to seeing a world lit not by light, but by heat.

His vision became a bloom of oranges, yellows, and reds where things were hot, and blues where things were cool. Finally, he conjured a number of Wizard’s Eyes and sent them into the greenery.

“No more teleportation,” he said as he flew through the gardens. “No more invisibility. Come, you wretch. There will be a mighty reckoning today.”

Chapter 79

The Prey that Fights

“He’s here,” the abyssal knight announced.

“What… Who’s where?” the summoner asked.

“The powerful wizard. The horned one that bears the likeness of Baphomet,” the demon said. “I feel his power. He is here in this green place.”

The summoner’s blood ran cold.

One of the rules they never deviated from was to only summon the abyssal knight in remote places away from prying eyes. He would always appear in close proximity to the summoner’s chosen target, yet distant enough to avoid capture. Until this moment, that rule always guaranteed safety.

The summoner’s heart began beating faster. “This means a change in plan. I’ll return you to your realm then teleport away. We’ll have to end the attack sooner than I wanted, but it can’t be helped now.” They became silent, thinking. “I suppose the message I wanted them to hear was sent, even if it’s less ‘shout’ and more ‘whisper.’”

“Dismiss me all you wish, but do not teleport.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a strange magic in the air. I do not know its full purpose, but if you teleport, it will snare you.”

A cold sweat trickled down the demon summoner’s spine, their heart pounded.

“Oh no.”

There was no way they could take on the chancellor. Whether invisible or not, Baelin could break them with a word, and if the ancient wizard was here, Watchers couldn’t be far behind.

What to do?

“Your roots are planted deep in your abyssal domain, yes?” the summoner asked.

“They are,” came the crackling reply.

“And you remain in good favour with your demon lord?”

“I do. Lord Dagon’s whims have favoured me for a thousand of your years.”

“Then if you are killed, you will reconstitute?”

The demon did not respond for what seemed like forever. “Do you wish for me to battle this wizard?”

“Are you afraid?”

“I am not. Though the horned one’s reputation is towering, even within other planes. Any immortal would not enter into such a battle lightly,” he said. “If I am killed, I will be reconstituted in my domain, yes, but in battling this wizard, my name will be known to him. If I am captured and not killed, that could mean my enslavement for eons.”

Crash!

Judging from the shriek, something sentient had exploded in the distance. Time was running out.

“You owe me a life debt, Ezaliel,” the summoner pressed. “You’re bound to me by your words and the magic that lies between us. I call on your aid now, using that debt.”

“This task will risk my life and more,” the abyssal knight said. “Know this, mortal, if you call upon the debt now, then all that is owed between us will be counted as paid. All future relations will be built on new offerings and services… or they will not be built at all.”

The demon summoner cursed inwardly.

This had been a colossal blunder. All because of a rash choice. They should have controlled the impulse to act since the chances of discovery were that much greater with so many people around.

“Fine,” the summoner’s voice held a tone of regret. “Hold Baelin off until I’m past his spell, then the debt will be fulfilled and you’ll be sent back to your plane. Agreed?”

“So the pact is spoken,” the demon said. “So the pact is sealed.”

“Very well,” the summoner stood and broke the summoning circle.

The abyssal knight’s form shimmered into being.

The demon-summoner blinked in awe. This wasn’t the first time they’d seen the demon—Ezaliel’s—true form, but his beauty was nothing less than astonishing.

To most, the word demon brought images of terrifying predators to mind. Horned, bat-winged humanoids, muscular males or alluring, curvaceous females,, giant, single-horned ogres, and even massive serpents. Whatever the form, they came with too many teeth and too many points on their bodies.

But being creatures of chaos, demons could be of any shape.

Ezaliel was crystalline in structure—like a diamond come to life—almost ten feet in height and about the same in width. His form was carved like a perfectly cut jewel with thirty rhombic faces. Each face displayed otherworldly lights swimming deep within its jewel-like structure. The lights shone like the shimmering hues in Noarc’s Rainbow Tower. And while pretty, they also disturbed one’s senses like a predators’ eyes shining through a dark jungle… like the light of stars that had grown sick. At times, they flared bright enough to light up the surrounding plant life, twisting the leaves and making them shimmer as though one was viewing them through bubbling water.

Something mimicking sound escaped the abyssal knight, as rhythmic as breathing. The summoner wasn’t so much hearing, as feeling it crawl through their ears.

They lowered their gaze and swallowed.

Ezaliel radiated a beauty that was unlike anything known in this world.

He was also terrifying.

“Good luck, my friend,” the summoner said.

“I offer the same to you, little mortal,” Ezaliel’s voice crackled, his lights pulsating in time with his words. “Go. But know this, if you are caught and deny me future reward, you shall know my wrath. My memory is long.”

Silently, the crystalline demon floated into the air, then glided through the foliage like a stalking predator. Small beams of light sparked out of the rhombic facets, striking the greenery as he went .

Anything they touched broke. Shattering into dozens of twisted, flat fragments of thinly sliced cross-sections. The sight reminded the summoner of a sheep’s brain dissected long ago in a junior year alchemy class.

“Good hunting,” the summoner said, eager to escape the gardens, but their steps halted almost before they could whisk them away to safety. “Wait! This magical net—how far does it extend?”

Ezaliel pulsated in place, his lights flaring.

“Fifty of your paces beyond the glass of this green place. Perhaps fifty-five or so. Are we done?”

“Er, yes, and again, good hunting!” The demon summoner ran for freedom.

“They won’t stop coming!” Salinger cried, shouting a spell that filled his plants with glowing, green energy. Vines, roots, and branches whipped all around them, striking at demons again and again. The flying, bat-winged creatures splattered as massive boughs hammered them. But for every one that perished, two took its place.

Demons of all sorts and shapes appeared, some had three eyes and held bone axes, some looked like ice-covered insects that towered above them.

“Stay near me, Harmless!” Kybas shouted. “Stay at my side!”

Crash!

Harmless’ jaws snatched another winged demon from the air and flung it on the stones. His teeth were covered in demon flesh and his body was filled with enhancement spells his master had cast on him.

As he turned toward Kybas, tearing sounds ripped through the trees.

A massive demon’s scythed-claws chopped through Salinger’s vines, freezing them with every slash. Ice covered the flora, weakening the plant life and slowing the attacks. Demons came for the familiar and the two wizards in a wave.

“No, no, no!” Salinger yelled. “Keep back! Get back, you demonic bastards!”

Kybas inhaled deeply, his breath rasped.

“Go, Harmless!” he said.

He was low on mana and worn out. If he was going to be killed by demons, there was no reason his familiar should be killed too. But Harmless refused to leave.

“Go, Harmless!” Kybas cried. “I don’t want you to die!”

“I don’t wanna die, either!” Salinger screamed.

“What if nobody dies?” a deep voice asked.

Whooooooosh!

Salinger screamed as a tornado whipped to life around them.

The whirlwind tore through the foliage, lifting demons with its deafening winds. It didn’t matter how big they were: they were still sucked into the hungry storm.

Scrrrrrrp!

The monsters shrieked, ripped apart by something hidden in the winds.

Kybas squinted.

There were knife sharp chunks of obsidian tucked within the deadly tornado, which—by some magic—rotated in the opposite direction of the twisting cyclone. The sharp edges sliced through demons, reducing them to wet ribbons in heartbeats.

“By my ancestors,” Kybas swore.

Salinger gaped.

Even Harmless gaped.

Then all three yelped as a horned form emerged from a section of the tornado.

“Greetings,” the chancellor said, his voice as calm as if he were on a pleasant summer’s evening walk. His eyes shone with odd red, blue, and orange lights. “The Sharp-Storm spell is a tricky thing. Very hard to get it to do exactly what you want it to. So, I’d strongly suggest remaining in the eye of the storm. You’ll be safe there until I remove the trash from the gardens.”

Kybas, Salinger, and even Harmless nodded as one.

“Here.”

Baelin waved a hand.

A few rather comfortable looking chairs appeared beside the trio. “Do relax. I’m sure you could use a rest. I shall be back, shortly.”

Salinger, Kybas, and Harmless could only watch as Baelin floated through the death-dealing storm as though there was nothing there but a light breeze.

Silence hung in the air, broken only by the sounds of dying demons.

“Well, uh,” Salinger coughed into his hand. “Let’s uh, have a seat, I suppose.”

Kybas couldn’t tear his large eyes away from the spot where Baelin had gone. “I want to be him when I grow up.”

“I think we all do.”

“There you are, my skittish little friends,” Baelin said as his Wizard’s Eyes caught two rather interesting forms among the demonic riff-raff moving through the foliage. He didn’t recognise the person running toward the edge of the gardens, but he could see their heat despite the invisibility spell cloaking them.

The other form was a creature made in the likeness of crystals.

“Ah, so it is you who’s been causing so much misery,” a sharp edge tinged his voice as he said Ezaliel’s full name in the tongue of demons.

He brought up a mental image of a vast library floating in a black void. Books shot off the shelves—astral representations of the physical copies he owned—and they opened before him. He’d chosen those on higher demonology.

Baelin scanned about a hundred pages of lore on the abyssal knight below, then he banished the astral image.

“I see,” he said, his voice like flint. “You did have some nasty abilities. Including dreadfully sharp senses. You can hear me, can you not?”

“…I can.”

The crystalline form emerged from amongst the plant life.

“You’ve caused much trouble.” Baelin extended to his full height. “You’ve harmed and killed those in my city, terrorized my colleagues, and even delayed an expedition that promises great reward. Stand down, and I shall send you back to your domain with only mild scarring after a little… punishment. After all, deterrents are demanded.”

The demon responded with violence.

Its otherworldly lights flared then shot through its many inner lenses, condensing into tiny, precise beams of incredible power.

Those beams shot from the facets.

Baelin raised a hand, erecting a multilayered barrier—part of a protective spell he’d set up years ago—that blocked them.

The first layer—a wall of force—stopped the physical impact. The second—a curtain of utter darkness and cold—robbed the beams of their light and heat. The third—a spell that ate away at magic—robbed them of much of their power.

Still, he was a bit surprised.

Though the beams were blocked by a few more layers of protections, they’d penetrated surprisingly far.

No sense in playing games, then.

Baelin chanted words of power that conjured a host of glowing symbols in the air. Symbols created by ancient wizards to be the bane of certain powerful demons. The abyssal knight shuddered when their light touched his body, suppressing some of his strength.

The chancellor followed with one single powerful word, bearing a resonance so destructive, that the demon would shudder apart.

Ezaliel shifted a rhombic facet until it shone and gleamed like a mirror as the magic flew toward it. Baelin’s spell struck, deflected off the surface, and shot back toward the chancellor. He brushed it aside with a single hand.

And smiled.

This demon wasn’t going to go quietly. A poor choice indeed. But, if that’s what it wanted, then he would oblige. After all, the best part of any hunt was when one’s prey proved to be a challenge.

Chapter 80

Reckoning

Alex dodged across the beach as Burn-Saw rushed after him, churning loose sand beneath his hooves.

“Little wretch!” The demon screamed, half-delirious with rage and sensory impairment. “You coward! This is how Hannar-Cim, the great Yushaero acts? Where is that power that destroyed my commanders? Cease your foolish, childish games. Fight me!”

“Listen, friend.” Alex ducked away from an axe swing. “If this is how you do against ‘childish and foolish games,’ I’m not sure you even deserve my best. But here. A consolation prize.”

Alex threw another bottle of booby-trapped sensory enhancement potion into the demon’s axe, shattering it.

Potion-mist covered him.

“Raaagh!” His axe swung wildly.

“Raaagh?” Alex mimicked, keeping his tone light and mocking, heightening the demon’s frustration.

“I give you a gift and all you can say is ‘Raaagh’? Don’t they teach manners in demonland—Whoa!” An axe swing fell short of Alex’s forceshield. “So close!”

He ducked another then looked around. The horde of flying demons swarming him were gone now. Most were cleaved apart by the three-eyed demon’s axe, while others fled to seek easier prey. Probably a far safer choice than being anywhere near their ally’s axe.

Alex was alone with Burn-Saw. There were demons clustered near the Outcasts, fighting to get at the priests. The wizards, Grand Battle contestants, their familiars, professors, and anyone else who could fight, were mounting a strong offensive against them. The bodies of dead demons covered the beach. Where they fell, the sand had turned blue-black with their blood.

His eyes searched for his friends and found them doing what they did best.

They’d formed a tight group with their strongest fighters on the outside. The attacking demons were met with all of Theresa’s speed and power, Thundar’s might, the primal force that was Grimloch, and the unstoppable onslaught of Claygon. The golem’s fists were laying into demons nonstop, knocking some back through their portals.

An insectoid ice demon leapt at him. Scythes slashed across his body, leaving no marks on the clay armour. The demon stilled at that. Claygon’s fists didn’t hesitate, sending its head soaring through the air.

Other groups fought on.

Hanuman’s team battled with the same resolve as their attackers, cutting down opponents by the heartbeat. Vesuvius and Tyris’ team had turned their side of the battlefield into bubbling lava pools.

But not every defender fared as well.

The demon horde had greater numbers. Violence and war were just a natural part of their natures. And if there had been less wizards, raw power, and magics present, the situation would have turned catastrophic long ago. Baelin’s protective spells had given the defenders an edge… at first.

Their protections were strong, but with time, enough solidly placed blows were weakening and even piercing them, and their magic couldn’t stop the demons from catching and dragging defenders down like hunted prey. Fighters were trying to pull the monsters off their fallen allies, but there were too many. Not everyone could be rescued.

That left the demons free to claw and slash at the protections until they shattered and…

Alex winced at the screams.

Invaders kept emerging from portals all around. Those connections were growing between his world and the demons’ domain. As demon numbers increased, so did the shrieks of mortals. On the sand, red blended with blue-black demon blood.

The young wizard’s insides tightened. There was little he could do alone about the course of the battle. Even his friends—each skilled and without a Mark hindering their abilities—weren’t able to turn the tide as the demons spread like a plague.

If this went on, in time, everyone would be overwhelmed.

But if everyone teleported away to Generasi… Alex shuddered as he imagined this horde following them and getting their claws into Selina and the Lus.

He shook his head. No, that must never happen.

‘Let Baelin and the Watchers handle stopping the cause of all this. Focus on what you can do, not what you can’t,’ he thought, bringing his attention back to Burn-Saw.

“Listen to me.” He stepped behind the demon, trying to put as much intimidating baritone into his voice as he could by using the Mark to match Baelin and Grimloch’s terrifying tones. “You’ve been fighting this entire time and the only thing you’ve hit are your own allies. Drop the axe and we can talk. I know you don’t want me to get serious, right? Stop this while you still can.’”

“Quiet!” the demon snarled, swinging at him.

“You seem to know something about our past.” Alex stepped around the blow. He wasn’t about to let on how little he actually knew about what the demon had been saying. “This battle is going to go very badly for your army. Very badly. If it’s not me who gets you, it’ll be one of my allies, or even the great, horned wizard.”

When in doubt, threaten your foe with Baelin.

The demon snarled.

“Empty threats!” His axe cut through the air. “The horned one cannot stop us! No mortal can!”

“You call them threats, I call them a warning, and they’re not empty,” Alex said. “We’ve killed more of you than there are of u—”

The demon roared with laughter, his voice like gravel.

“This is no meagre force summoned by mortal rulers who call themselves demon kings, Hannar-Cim. It is not as it once was,” Burn-Saw snarled. “We are not alone, nor are we bound by weak spells and mortal commands. We were called on this day by one who is unequalled—our abyssal knight.”

“And that’s supposed to impress me?” Alex said, hiding the fact he was kind of impressed by the title. ‘Abyssal knight’ sounded like something that would be real low on his list of things to mess with.

“It would, if you had sense!” the half-blind demon’s axe blurred as he raged on. “There are more of us in our liege’s armies than there are mortals in your entire kingdom. Maybe tenfold your number. Cut down as many here as you like. Your forces are powerful, but we are merely drops in a sea. If you strike these bodies down, we will reform by the power of our master.”

“‘We will reform?’” Alex repeated the demon’s words. His mind went to what little he knew about what happened to summoned creatures when they were struck down. His elemental beetles bodies went back to the elemental plane. He didn’t know what happened to other summoned beings when they were killed.

‘Reformed’ might mean the demons on the beach had a similar protection, which could explain why they were attacking so recklessly. In a way, they weren’t in any permanent danger.

“Well,” Alex said. “We can deal you some ‘strikes’ that’ll stick, if you don’t start cooperating.”

“Hm,” Burn-Saw paused, looking at Alex as if seeing him for the first time. “Threats, threats and more threats. You have grown chatty in your old age, Hannar-Cim. What happened to the pitiless, swift… hm. Hm. Hm. You are different, and that form… hm. Hm. Hm. Maybe this new form is not an enchantment or reincarnation. Maybe you are not Hannar-Cim at all.”

“Say that again and I’ll destroy you,” Alex said.

“Aaaaah, now I understand why you play these games,” the demon snorted. “You must be a servant of the Yushaero. A pawn.”

“You felt my power,” Alex said.

“I assumed wrongly.” The demon’s voice was calmer and Alex didn’t like that one bit.

The hulking creature stood up to its full height. All three eyes closed and his face was turning more peaceful. Even through all the chaotic body language, Alex could see the demon’s demeanour was more controlled now.

“Yes, a servant maybe,” it continued. “A child? One who has tasted her power, but to whom it does not belong. Wretched mortal, where is the Yushaero?”

“I am Hannar—” Alex cut himself off, realising his mistake before he’d finished the sentence. The last time he’d outright lied—

“Aaaaaah, now I smell it,” the demon said, all three eyes moving rapidly beneath their eyelids. “Deceit. I see now. You have no true power.”

‘I have power, idiot, but I want to question you, not kill you,” Alex thought. His control of the situation was slipping. Dealing with an enraged, blinded demon was one thing. Dealing with a composed immortal was something he wasn’t too eager about.

He scanned the creature’s scars again. There was no way he was capturing it now.

Alex became very still, feeling a swell of…

Summoning magic. Demon forms began materialising around him. Three looming monsters. Alex jumped away as they solidified, swinging their axes.

Bang!

An axe-head drove into Baelin’s forceshield, and the power of the blow was enough to catapult Alex through the air. He hit the sand and rolled, kipping up to his feet. The trio charged him, all nine eyes blazed.

In seconds, he was dancing and dodging through a storm of chopping axes.

“Catch him!” Burn-Saw roared. “Catch him, brothers, I will throw him in the chain-box. He speaks many words.” With his eyes still closed, the three-eyed demon smiled, revealing razor sharp teeth. “And I bet he’ll speak the words I want him to speak when the cranks are turned a few times.”

Alex swore beneath his breath, his hand slipping into his potions bag.

Crash!

The three demons flipped their axes to the flat sides and drove the menacing weapons at him, straight into Baelin’s forceshield and greater force armour. Despite being knocked around, he kept digging for a potion.

He finally gripped a booby-trapped flight potion, but he couldn’t use it. Demons in wild, uncontrolled, flight would create chaos for everyone on the beach, including his allies.

There was another option.

Alex focused his thoughts as the three demons swarming him. Burn-Saw charged, joining them. He opened his red eyes, seeming to have recovered from the booby-trapped sensory enhancement potions.

This was a problem. Alex was barely dodging three demons, a fourth would be impossible.

Crash!

An axe broke through his forceshield.

‘Shit! Come on. Come oooon!’ he thought

The demons slammed their weapons into Baelin’s greater force armour on all sides. He bounced around from the impacts, his feet unstable on the bloody sand.

Crash!

An axe head smashed the force armour.

“Oh shit!”

Panic filled him as the weapons came at him from all sides. He dodged the first. Barely ducked around the second.

Slam!

The third clipped him in the ribcage.

Schnk!

Burn-Saw grinned, turning his axe blade, then slashing at Alex with the edge. The young wizard screamed, recoiling as the blade caught his forearm. Instantly, searing pain tore through him while blood wicked into his shirt sleeve and ran along his forearm. Burning spread across his entire torso.

Alex stumbled back, clutching the gash. The demons laughed.

“That was a gift for all of your jabbering, mortal fool. Now I have you!” Burn-Saw roared.

“Funny,” Alex grunted, his breath strained. “I was just about to say the same to you.”

He leapt backward, throwing himself in the sand.

Whooooosh!

Claygon turned his head at a sharp angle like an owl, firing on his master’s position while laying into demons in front of him.

Boom!

Flame and hot sand blew through the air, consuming Alex’s attackers. He shielded his eyes from the flames as they screamed, then abruptly went silent. Panting, he slowly got to his feet, watching the all-consuming flames. The demons didn’t incinerate as quickly as other monsters Claygon’s beams had touched, but the fire-magic wasn’t exactly slow in turning them to embers either.

Burn-Saw’s form soon carbonised.

“I’m going to learn your name,” Alex said. “And then you and I will have a talk. I’ll be seeing you again.”

Turning, he walked toward his friends—applying pressure to his wound as Mr. Lu had taught him when he was small—and focused through the Mark’s interference to cast spells as he went.

“Why must we play these games?” Baelin sniffed.

He made a gesture and spoke an incantation.

A cube of shining force, covered in symbols that were a bane to demons, began shimmering into being. Ezaliel’s crystalline form flashed, transforming into a ray of light which shot away from the chancellor’s spell before it could capture him.

The demon reformed a heartbeat later and fired multicoloured blasts from its facets. Each ray of power curved through the air, aiming to strike at Baelin from all sides. The chancellor sensed different types of magic pouring from each beam and swept out his hands, speaking another spell.

The beams shuddered, then began weaving together, forming shining ropes and orbs of power which leapt into his palms like a trained pet. With a simple wave, Baelin launched them back at the abyssal knight.

As they whipped toward the demon, Ezaliel spun in the air, his lights flaring like the sun.

A shimmering shield appeared, and the redirected magic wicked away like water. It struck the foliage, withering the greenery’s lifeforce and warping the plants until they were turned inside out.

“Nasty array of effects,” Baelin noted. “But nothing I haven’t seen before. You cannot win, demon.”

“You will eventually run out of mana, wizard,” Ezaliel’s voice crackled.

“Will I?” the ancient wizard said. “Perhaps I will. Perhaps I will not. It does not matter. The only thing you are accomplishing is ruining campus gardens. As of now, you’re as much a threat to me as a common hare. Still, this grows tiring. The purpose of our little exchange has passed.”

Baelin’s eyes flicked toward the edge of the gardens.

“I’ve already taken measures to capture your scurrying little friend.”

Baelin thought he sensed a displeasure coming from the creature.

“What do you mean?” it asked.

“I mean that your master is not the only one here who utilizes summoning magic,” the chancellor said evenly. “It is quite a handy discipline—not my personal preferred form of magic; a touch too impersonal for me—but it is one I have mastered, along with a host of others throughout the ages. My summoning was cast while I moved to confront you, and my own otherworldly servants are—at this very moment—running down your master like hounds pursuing a fresh meal.”

“I have no mortal master, wizard, and I sense no such entities.”

“It doesn’t much matter what you sense or do not sense. Just know that it is fact. Your master,” Baelin said, emphasising the word. “Is not the only one practised in magic to fool the senses. So again, this grows tiresome, why don’t you simply come quietly. I will study you for perhaps a century or so—when my time allows—and then, you can return to your domai—”

Ezaliel’s inner lights flared brightly. The world shimmered around him.

Baelin spread his hands. “Come, then. Break yourself on the walls of futility.”

Chapter 81

Mine

Every object the demon’s radiance touched shattered like light passing through a prism. Plants, soil, and stone were undone down to their component elements before Baelin’s eyes.

The chancellor’s jaw hardened as an ancient tree collapsed, turning to black carbon, gases, and its component metals. The stones separated into quartzite, sand, metals, and other precipitates.

‘Admirable control over the physical form,’ Baelin thought. ‘The ability to break down one’s body into energy and reduce objects to elemental components: just as the books stated. Though they did not mention the speed and proficiency. Hmmm, this should be a good counter…’

Baelin’s lips moved, casting several spells while he willed the demon-bane symbols toward the abyssal knight. Ezaliel’s prismatic shield shuddered around him, splitting and solidifying into a dozen floating winged shapes that curled protectively around his body, reflecting away the symbols’ light.

Then each ‘wing’ shuddered.

Thooom!

A hail of crystal fragments tore free. Shards ripped through the air—snapping and popping like fireworks—destroying trees and more as they struck the earth in a massive explosion of dirt clouds.

Baelin’s multilayered shield materialised around him.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

The crystalline missiles pricked the shield, protruding like arrows from a wooden target. The noise from the sheer amount of speed and force created by the shard storm roared in Baelin’s ears as his symbols passed through the crystalline storm and surrounded Ezaliel.

He directed more mana into the symbols and they burned with bright light and force. The demon’s form shuddered beneath their magic as the chancellor spoke his incantations in an unending stream of casting.

He unleashed his wrath upon the creature.

Rmmmmmble.

The first spell shook the gardens. A swell of mana shifted through the air as molten power solidified around the abyssal knight.

Crack!

Then the reality surrounding them shattered.

Whooosh!

Eight portals burst open around the creature, each leading to the cold blackness that lurked between stars. The air screamed as it was sucked into the endless dark while the demon was frozen in place. The pull from all sides kept it motionless, while the icy darkness plunged its core to a glacial cold.

Crack!

A long, jagged crack lanced through the crystalline form as a howling sound escaped it. To Baelin, the sensation in his ears was like the feeling of panicking ants scurrying through them.

He snorted in distaste as he struck with his next spell.

His hand extended, fingers pointed forward like spears, and released beams of utter darkness from the tips. They hummed with necromantic energy and coiled through the demon’s wing-like protections, sinking deep within its body.

Ezaliel’s inner lights withered as its essence was drained away by Baelin’s terrible magic.

Weakness eroded through him.

But Baelin was far beyond mercy.

The ancient wizard extended his other hand, emitting five beams of light that began to circle the creature from above, from the back and sides, and from below. Each beam left a solid bar of radiance in its wake. Every pass crafted a prison around the creature. One that no spell, skill, or feat of strength, could undo. The cage closed in around the abyssal knight, tightening like an insect’s cocoon.

Ezaliel’s crackling voice shrieked in desperate echoes.

It rapidly transformed into another ray of light to escape through a shrinking gap in the bars. Baelin’s beams prevented that.

Pling!

Ezaliel flailed within its cage, reduced to nothing more than a captured fly inside a glass jar. There was little time before its prison was complete.

It hovered, seeming to make a decision.

With a shudder, it returned to its crystalline form, which cracked as power built within it. The lights inside flared as bright as miniature suns.

Crack!

“Oh, you are a cowardly one, aren’t you?” Baelin snarled.

Boom!

The crystalline demon swelled, then shattered into thousands of shining particles, scattering and disappearing like stars in a cloudy sky.

Baelin cursed as he dismissed his spells. The radiant cage vanished and the portals slammed shut with the sound of a thunderclap.

“Self-termination,” he growled. “A cowardly move… Though logical under the circumstance. Blast it, now I shall have to content myself with your master.”

Baelin connected with a Wizard’s Eye, noted its location, and floated through the wreckage of the foliage to the edge of the botanical gardens where sounds of a struggle emanated. They appeared to be only a few yards ahead, and his altered sight saw blue shapes restraining a struggling orange one. One blue figure had clamped a hand over the captive’s mouth to prevent spell casting.

Through an act of will, Baelin shifted his vision back to normal eyesight then dismissed the enhanced invisibility spells he’d placed on his summoned servants. Four war-spirits shimmered into being, surrounding an invisible figure on the ground fighting to get free.

As Baelin floated to the combative demon summoner, he spoke a single word of power and a sound like shattering glass filled the air. The figure of a portly young man was revealed. There was a vague familiarity about him.

“Finally, you vile little wretch,” Baelin said, his voice like steel.

He glanced toward the stadium—through the glass walls of the gardens—and saw figures flying in his direction on stone disks: the Watchers of Roal. They had responded quickly, though the battle here was finished.

“You, child, have been a menace to all of Generasi,” the chancellor said. “Today, your ugly display ends. Your demon took the easy way and destroyed its physical form, no doubt to reconstitute itself in its own realm.” He slowly shook his head. “I have a mind to pay it a personal visit, but alas, such a visit would likely trigger the wrath of its lord and lead to even more unpleasantness with demons invading Generasi. Still, there are means available to dissuade him from further trespass in this world. He will come to understand that, in one way or the other.”

He clapped his hands once, making the summoner wince and his eyes grow wide.

“For now, I’m afraid this leaves you as the only culprit available. The city will, with full justification, want their pound of flesh, as will the Watchers and me, of course. You are a very popular young man, in a sick sort of sense. How… unfortunate for you.”

The demon summoner shouted something into the war-spirit’s hand, but the words were garbled.

“Save your strength,” Baelin said. “You will need it. You will need all of it for the trials ahead of you.”

“Victory!” Ram shouted from above. “Baelin destroyed the demon’s leader and captured the summoner! We have victory!”

Alex had known that even before Ram uttered the word ‘victory.’ He’d felt the connections between this world and the demon’s realm breaking as the portals began closing. At last, the battle on the beach could end, but there were no cheers or celebrations.

The damage the demons had done was everywhere.

Scorch-marks, blood, debris, and the broken bodies of both defender and demon choked the beach. Defenders groaned, some wept, clutching deep wounds, while others were… too still.

Too silent.

“Lady Von Anmut! Svenia!” Hogarth cried.

He pressed a cloth to Isolde’s back while medical staff were heading in their direction. Svenia’s mood was solemn as she clutched a wound on her side from a demon’s scythe claw. Her chainmail saved her life, but the injury meant she could only keep fighting with one hand, and the flying demons had used the advantage to surge around Isolde, claw through her defensive spells, and tear into her back. The cloth Hogarth pressed against her back was starting to drip.

“I-I’m alright,” Isolde insisted. “I am fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Thundar said, joining Hogarth with a strip of cloth he’d torn off his tunic to help stem the bleeding. Khalik was going to Svenia, while Theresa and Brutus ran to Alex.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Your arm…”

“It probably looks worse than it is,” he grunted. His torn shirt sleeve was saturated with blood. A trio of healing wizards were on their way with their kits of potions, salves, and dressings.

“All things considered, we got off light.”

People who’d been near Alex’s group seemed to have fared better than others in the camp. The cabal and their allies had been highly effective in mounting a strong offensive against the demons. Since they’d had a lot of practice fighting monsters, they knew to take the fight to them, which helped keep a lot of people near them safer. Plus, they had Claygon—who was almost an army on his own.

The same couldn’t be said for other areas of the beach.

A heart wrenching wail rose up from the Outcasts.

Their team surrounded a pair of figures. Two of the centaur priests lay on the sand. One barely moved, and both were covered in blood. One of their legs was resting at a strange angle, like it was shattered.

The third centaur had pressed his hands against his teammate’s wounds and was loudly praying to the four winds. His hands shone with healing divinity that bathed the wounded one in light.

Even from his distance, Alex could see the other fallen centaur was dead. His body had been ravaged.

A thundering, agonised cry tore through the camp, and Alex saw a panicking Tyris tending to Vesuvius’ face. Dozens of gashes marked the vulcanchelone’s armoured face, and the poor creature looked miserable.

Shiani, Rhea, and Malcolm were carrying a weak Rayne to the closest group of medical staff. The skinny young man was bleeding from his forehead and torso.

Still, Alex would say he was one of the lucky ones.

Others on the beach looked like they’d tasted the full brunt of the demons’ rage.

He shuddered.

Now, he had two reasons to hunt down Burn-Saw: information and revenge.

Such would have to wait for later.

For now, he turned his attention back to the healing wizards working on his arm as they offered him a potion and continued cleaning his wound. All the while, worry ate away at him.

How were Selina and the Lus? What would he find in the stadium when he finally got there? He was almost too scared to find out. But he had to know. Alex prayed to the Traveller that Selina, Theresa’s parents, Sinope, Nua-Oge, and their other friends were okay.

Back in the stadium, Amir stumbled around in a daze, almost in shock at the scene before him.

The aftermath of the attack was visible everywhere, and pained cries hit him from all sides. He wrapped his arms around himself, thankful that there were less dead and wounded than he’d feared there would be.

Far less.

The Watchers had done their work, slaying demons with sword and spell, suppressing their numbers.

Amir gagged.

A blue figure stood atop a hill of dead demons that looked like they’d been through the grinder in a butcher shop. Those audience members who weren’t too squeamish watched Hobb’s horned form stand atop his kills like a conqueror. The registrar’s fine clothes had not a single drop of demon blood on them. The ancient devil was flicking his hand, and with every flick of his wrist, an invisible force swept demon corpses into an empty point in space.

They vanished like they’d never been there.

Amir looked up into the seats, searching for any sign of Donovan, Ursula, or anyone else. He didn’t see anyone he was looking for anywhere.

So much destruction, and things could have been much worse.

“Leopold, what have you done this time?” he whispered. “After all I—”

“The demon summoner has been captured!”

Amir startled, looking up at a Watcher who was swelling their voice with magic until it filled the stadium. “I repeat, the demon summoner has been captured!”

A roar of relief and anger swept through the stadium.

It was all that Amir could do to hold himself upright. The graduate student’s mind whirled with terrible possibilities. Would Leopold be tortured? Executed? Banished to some demon realm?

Amir shook at the thought. He was his friend and a man he owed his life to! He couldn’t just… he had to…

“Do what, Amir?” he whispered to himself. “Go try and fight the Watchers, the chancellor, the entire city? It’s done. It’s all done.”

Without another look back, Amir decided to get away from the stadium, looking to put distance between himself and what happened there. Crossing campus at a brisk walk, he reached his apartment in the eastern insula without anyone speaking to him, even though he’d expected to be stopped and arrested.

Closing the door, the soft click of the lock was usually comforting, but today, it locked with the finality of a jail door. He began stuffing a bag with clothes, coin, and his most precious belongings: his favourite textbooks, a few alchemical projects he’d been working through on his own time, and the silk robe his proud parents had sent him when he’d been accepted into graduate studies.

It had been expensive, and his family wasn’t the wealthiest.

He looked at the blue silk for a long time before stuffing it into the bag. What would they say? What would they do when he walked through the front gate of their courtyard, covered in road-dust, sand, and shame. Trying to push everything from his mind, he took one final look around the apartment, then shut the door.

Campus was quiet as he made his way toward the gate, though with every step, he almost wanted someone to call out to him. To stop him.

For what would be the last time, he passed by the library, the main castle, and the Cells. He kept walking until the front gates stood tall before him. He let his eyes trace each and every contour of their design before he finally stepped through them and into the city.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

If he did, he would break down like a child. Instead, he kept his eyes down as the news spread through the streets around him.

“The demon summoner’s been caught!” someone cried.

“I’d like to give that bastard what’s coming to him!” another shouted.

Folk cheered.

Amir’s panic and shame grew, but he tried to push it all from his mind.

He needed a plan if he was going to make it two steps from Generasi.

“I just have to reach the port,” he said quietly. “Leopold’s not the type to crack, so I should have time to… No, no, that’s foolish. They could come for me while I’m sitting on a ship that’s waiting to leave. No, I should head south over land. Maybe even cut through a part of the Barrens.”

The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed to him.

“Yes, that’s it. I’ll go south and stick to the deep parts of the wilderness. Maybe I could even summon something to fly me across the southern Prinean. And then… and then…”

Slowly, the former graduate student came to a stop amongst the cheering crowds.

His mind flashed back to those still forms in the stadium. Every single second of his silence had caused those deaths and wounds. All that suffering.

A silence that had been bought by a life debt, loyalty to his friend, and a desperate hope that he could convince someone he cared about deeply to step off a path of destruction before it was too late.

And now it was.

It was several stages beyond too late.

He looked down the street for a long moment. A part of him screamed to keep moving and get out of the city before someone thought to question him. Even if Leopold didn’t crack, it wouldn’t take a genius very long to figure out how the demon summoner had information from inside the expedition team.

He needed to go…

Shame gnawed at him.

He needed to—his hands trembled.… He needed—his entire body trembled.

Amir started moving again.

But not toward the southern gate. Not toward the port, either. He didn’t stop walking until at last the squat form of an investigator’s station loomed ahead.

Before he could lose his nerve, he kept on toward the gates—flanked by iron golems—until an officer stepped out and held up a hand.

“Afternoon, sir, can’t let you go any farther unless you state your business,” the man said.

Amir’s voice trembled. “I’m here to report a crime.”

“I see. Whose crime, then?”

The man who once protected the demon summoner bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at the officer.

“Mine.”

Chapter 82

The Bonds that Heal

Alex couldn’t remember the last time he felt so tired.

He’d been teleported into the middle of the stadium by one of the referees, and immediately began searching for his family and friends.

“Selina!” he cried. “Mr. and Mrs. Lu!”

He desperately scanned where they’d been sitting in the stands, finding no trace of them. The stands were mostly empty now. Some spectators had been able to run for the exits when the demons appeared, some fought, others hid under their seats, some were wounded, others dead. Everyone left in the arena had been ushered down to the stadium floor. Watchers and medical staff were caring for the injured in and around a series of triage tents while Alex looked for his loved ones.

As he walked by, he realised the wounds he was seeing weren’t as numerous or as serious as those suffered by many on the beach. ‘That’s a relief,’ he thought, looking down at his own arm. It was healing now, and had been wrapped and put in a sling. It throbbed at times, and there’d be a long, ragged scar to remember Burn-Saw and his axe by.

The thought that Selina, the Lus, Nua-Oge or Sinope could have wounds like his or worse, made him even more anxious since he had no idea where they were.

“Selina!” he shouted her name again, but the crowd was too thick and their voices too loud. Watchers shouted, directing people to the infirmary tents, medical staff called to each other for supplies and assistance, while spectators were doing what he was; calling out the names of missing loved ones.

No one paid any attention to him. Sadly, his situation wasn’t unique.

Shimmer.

Things became even louder.

In groups, the beach defenders appeared on the stadium floor. Many soon began calling the names of their friends and loved ones who’d been in the stadium. Alex heard the same fear in their voices as in his.

“Mother! Father!” Theresa cried, gripping Alex’s shirt as soon as she appeared. “Selinaaa!”

“Sinope!” Khalik shouted. “Sinope, are you well? Sinoooope!” He turned to Najyah. “Go, seek them out!”

With a single beat of her wings, Najyah launched into the sky and soared over the crowd, scanning everyone below with her sharp eyes.

“Sister!” Grimloch roared, his powerful voice cutting through even the noise of the crowd. “Nua-Oge! Where are you?”

“Borrowing Claygon for a second!” Thundar shouted, climbing up the golem’s side and crouching on his broad shoulders. The minotaur put his hand up to his eyes, blocking out the sun to peer over the crowd. “Heeeeey! Selina! Mr. Lu! Mrs. Lu! Nua-O—”

A screech tore through the air above, and for a brief, wild moment, Alex thought the demons had returned. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“Najyah’s found them!” the prince pointed up at her. “Come, they’re this way! Heeeeeey! Sinope! Selina! Mr. Lu, Mrs. Lu, Nua-Oge! We’re coming!”

The group—with Thundar clambering down off of Claygon—ran through the paths between the triage tents, passing medical officers, Watchers of Roal, city and school officials, the wounded and their loved ones.

Theresa had a tight grip on Alex’s hand and they half-pulled each other along as they raced toward their family.

“I can hear them!” Theresa cried in relief, her voice shaking like she was ready to burst into tears. “Thank the Traveller, I can hear them!”

As they pushed through, Alex strained his ears until at last, the faint sound of their voices began to reach him through the commotion.

“—esa!” Mr. Lu shouted. “Theresaaaa! Alex!”

A few heartbeats later, he heard Mrs. Lu, then Nua-Oge calling for her brother, and Sinope calling Khalik’s name.

And finally… a very young voice.

“Aleeex! Alex!” Selina’s voice was screaming, her figure appearing just past a break in the crowd.

“Selina!” Alex shouted, sprinting toward her. His wounded arm bounced as he ran, but poultices did their work to keep the pain down.

They pushed through the crowd until the Roth siblings crashed into one another. Their arms wrapped around each other, and—as Selina burst into tears—all of Alex’s relief, fears, exhaustion, and just the sheer amount of strain he’d been through, hit him all at once.

His face grew hot; tears welled in his eyes.

Beside the Roth siblings, Mr. and Mrs. Lu grabbed their daughter and clutched her close, crying with relief. Mr. Lu was shaking as Brutus licked all three of them with all three tongues. Grimloch grabbed his sister and hugged her to his massive chest, while Khalik and Sinope stared at each other.

A moment of silence passed between them, then Khalik spread his hands slightly. The invitation for a hug was there, open, yet not demanding. The dryad hesitated for a breath before stepping forward and hugging the prince.

Svenia and Hogarth leaned on each other’s shoulders, while Isolde watched the others embracing with a bit of a distant look.

Then two massive arms wrapped around her from behind.

Thundar hugged her tightly, and it looked like Isolde was about to say something. A glance at his face stopped her words. Though he didn’t make a sound, the minotaur’s eyes shone, and he quickly shut them.

A red tinge crept up Isolde’s face until her distant expression crumbled, and she hugged her friend right back, trembling with relief.

After a moment’s thought, Alex reached out to Claygon. A heartbeat later, he felt his golem’s arms gently wrap around himself, Selina, and the Lu family, holding them all together.

For a moment, all of the strain and terror they’d just experienced slid from their shoulders, and they drank in just two emotions:

Relief and joy.

“It could’ve been much worse,” Mrs. Lu was saying. “When that Watcher shouted demons were coming, I thought we were all going to be killed. Thank Uldar for the Watchers and for that… terrifying blue fellow from the front desk. If he’d been on the demons’ side, we’d all be dead!”

The group had moved from the triage area on the stadium floor to seats at the bottom of the stands in a quieter spot. They all sat together while they recovered, sharing stories about what they’d been through.

“They started pouring out of thin air,” Mr. Lu said. “Never felt anything like it. Like something was crawling across my spine when I looked at them. I froze up.” He shuddered, then looked at Sinope and Nua-Oge. “But these two young ladies didn’t. They acted fast with their spell casting and protected us. I’ll always be grateful to the two of them.”

Nua-Oge nodded, leaning against her little brother in the seats just above Mr. and Mrs. Lu. “I’m glad the Watchers reacted as fast as they did too. It was like they knew the demons were coming. As soon as the portals opened, they were blasting them and summoning monsters to fight.”

Sinope gripped Khalik’s hand in the row just below the others. “Some of the audience fought the creatures with their own spells and weapons too. Many fought fiercely like we dryads do. But still, the demons kept coming. A little way into the attack, though, the… blue, horned one appeared. What he did…”

She shuddered.

“…I think it would be better for all our stomachs if I didn’t go into it further.”

Alex noticed Selina, Nua-Oge, and both of Theresa’s parents nodding. They all looked a little sick.

“I’ll spare all of us that, but as gruesome as it was, it saved many. I have to say I’m… impressed, with the warriors of this city.”

“Mhm,” Mr. Lu said. “They really did protect us.”

“In some ways… it was like having the Heroes of Thameland right here in this stadium.” Mrs. Lu looked at her husband. “They protected us from those horrible monsters and kept us safe.” She sighed. “It makes me feel better. Maybe tonight we can sleep in peace knowing they’re around.”

“I’m just glad you’re all okay.” Theresa gripped both her parents’ hands, sitting between them.

There was a long moment of quiet.

“What happened to your arm?” Selina asked Alex.

“Oh, I got nicked and sprained my elbow,” he said, putting on a smile. “With the sling and all, it probably looks a lot worse than it actually is, but it should be okay in a week or so.” He tried to keep his voice light. “The medical staff would’ve fixed it up even better if they could’ve used blood magic on me, but they need lots of mana to help people that were hurt more than me.”

“I’m glad it’s not bad.” Selina gripped his good arm.

“Me too, me too.”

Alex looked out over the stadium floor, watching the healers tend the wounded.

Blood magic. He’d need to focus on learning it.

Now that the demon summoner was caught, the expedition should soon be back on track. Hopefully, there’d be enough time for him to learn a blood magic spell that could convert mana into healing energy before they left for Thameland.

A stronger summoning spell would be useful too. During the Grand Battle, his elemental beetle swarms were a big help, and it made him want stronger monsters to summon even more. If he’d had a few more allies to conjure, then maybe they could’ve grabbed Burn-Saw.

His mind went back to the scarred demon.

He’d need to ask Professor Mangal and Baelin how a wizard would go about finding a specific creature on another plane. Though he figured Baelin would be busy for a while, with all that had happened today.

As though sensing his thoughts, Isolde brought the chancellor up.

“It was fortunate that Baelin used protective magic on us,” she said. “Were it not for his spells, I think things would have been much worse on the beach.”

“Good, I’m glad you had his protection,” Mr. Lu said. “Just like the Heroes or my great-grandfather, that’s the role strong folk should have in life. To hel—”

“Excuse me.”

Everyone turned to a tall, blond young man standing by their seats. With him was a redheaded woman, a squat beastman, another tall muscular looking fellow, and a short brown-haired woman with pointed ears and red eyes who wore goggles fastened around her head.

Alex remembered them as part of the first team they’d eliminated from the Grand Battle. He hoped they weren’t here with some sort of grudge because they’d knocked them out of the contest so—

“We just wanted to thank you,” the blond man began. “And uh… well, we were near your team on the beach when the demons attacked everyone. We don’t really have much experience in fighting since we’re just doing a summer prerequisite course for battle magic, and we only entered the Grand Battle for practice and some fun. You guys mostly kept those demons out of the perimeter, so they went after you and not us. And you beat them like a rug!” He laughed, but soon turned serious again. “So, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know if we would’ve all made it. Anyway, I… we only wanted to say thank you.” He extended his hand.

Alex reached out and shook it, followed by his teammates. The blond man’s gesture was repeated by his other team members who expressed their gratitude with equal emotion.

The red-eyed woman said, “If you’re ever in the Brass Grapes, we’d definitely like to spring for the drinks. Just as a little thank you.”

Wishing everyone well, they left, heading back toward the triage area.

“Well, don’t that just tickle the spirits,” Thundar said. “Best damned thing I’ve heard all day.”

“It feels strange to me…” Khalik said. “We only focused on our own fight, but we affected the battlefield more than I thought.”

“They should thank Shiani, Rayne, Rhea, and Malcolm’s team too. And Tyris, Vesuvius, and Hanuman. Especially the Outcasts.” Alex grew sombre. “The demons went after them hard, and they’re the ones that paid for it most.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “And they should thank Baelin as well. I still wonder how he knew the demons were coming so quickly. If someone warned him, then they deserve thanks as well.”

“Are you alright?” Kybas asked Harmless, checking his familiar over for the fifteenth time. Baelin’s spell had long faded, and they were left surrounded by destroyed demons and plant-life. “None of those nasty demons hurt you, did they?”

Harmless was unharmed, luckily, and relief washed through Kybas.

“Oh yeah, ask if the crocodile’s okay,” Professor Salinger said, inspecting his ruined plants. “But not your old professor! Oh no, sure, I might’ve been nibbled on a few times but, eh, what’s the trouble in that! No worry for old Holden—”

“Ah, sorry, Professor,” Kybas said, his worry renewing.

“No, no, no!” Salinger waved his hand. “It’s a joke, a joke. I swear, youngsters can’t take a joke these days.” The professor shook with nervous energy, but a giddy relief filled his voice. “You saved my life!”

“N-no, Baelin saved our lives.”

“Yeah, but who told me there was a demon summoning ruiner over there, ready to probably kill me while I tottered around like some ancient florist trying to arrange his flowers? It was you! You gave me the warning so I could call for help, and you also helped fight those filthy creatures off.”

“Ah…” Kybas shifted back and forth, very conscious of the fact that the only reason he’d heard the demon summoner was because he was here harvesting mushrooms in secret.

“He’s right, you know.”

Both Salinger and Kybas startled as Baelin floated out of the devastated foliage with his hands behind his back. “I had come to see if you two were alright, but from the sound and look of things, you are none the worse for wear.”

He looked at Kybas. “You were the one who discovered the demon summoner in the gardens, my young friend?”

“Uh… yeah, that was me,” he said, terrified that the chancellor might somehow know exactly what he was doing in the botanical gardens while the Grand Battle was taking place.

Baelin smiled broadly. “Excellently done, my little friend! Excellently done! Your warning saved many lives today and led directly to the capture of the demon summoner. It is exactly this sort of thing that makes me so proud of the students of my university.”

“Huh?” Kybas cocked his head.

‘But… I was just harvesting mushrooms!’ he thought.

“I shall see to it that you are rewarded with the University’s Milnos Thalaniel Award for Excellence in Service, along with an accompanying scholarship!”

The little goblin could hardly breathe.

“And I am sure that the city will provide you with some sort of financial reward as well, even if I have to supply the funds for it myself. I know how those bureaucrats can be, pinching every coin. Hmmm… perhaps ten—no, twenty thousand gold, I should think. The demon summoner was a city-wide threat, after all.”

Kybas’ jaw dropped, and the rest of him almost followed.

His coin troubles would soon be a thing of the past for a good long while.

He looked down at his familiar, his shock giving way to a brimming excitement. “Harmless, I’ll be giving you enough mushrooms and potions to make you the size of a dragon.”

The croc looked up at him with his cold reptilian eyes before letting out a groan of satisfaction.

Chapter 83

The Bonds that Harm

“Imagine my surprise when I learned you were a former student of Generasi,” Baelin said.

The ancient wizard sat at a white table across from a young man who had so many white chains wrapped around his body, he more resembled a mummy in metal wrappings, than someone living. Each link was covered in glyphs forged into their surface: enchantments which disrupted mana for spellcraft. It was obvious that the city was taking no chances with this particular criminal. Behind Baelin stood an officer with one hand on a glyph covered sword, ready to act if anything went wrong.

The chained man—the demon summoner—sat with an utterly defeated look about him. Baelin observed nervous twitches shuddering through his body.

Rttttle.

His chains rattled, the only noise in the room. In the unnatural silence, they seemed to grate against each other like the heavy chains of a ship’s anchor.

“Leopold Richter,” Baelin said. “Graduated with high honours. Refused graduate studies much to several professors’ dismay, and began your work life at Howard & Family, a spell-guide publishing business. You’ve had little to do with your alma mater since.”

“What are you doing here?” the young man demanded.

“Technically?” Baelin glanced back at the officer. “Visiting a prisoner.”

“Why?”

“For information,” the chancellor said. “A student used the teachings of the university to cause chaos throughout the city. To me, that implies, perhaps, there was a failure in administration. I intend to fix that, and so you have the rare opportunity to tell me your story.”

Leopold looked up a little, though he wouldn’t meet Baelin’s eyes.

“My story?”

“Indeed.” The ancient wizard tapped the table. “These attacks were not random. They were a message, I gather.”

The young man’s breath sucked through clenched teeth.

“But messages can be misinterpreted or lost.” The chancellor leaned forward. “So, I wish to hear what your message was, by your own words. It shall help me amend the policy of the university, if changes are needed.”

“And why should I tell you anything?” the demon summoner asked.

“Because you likely will not get many more opportunities to do so.” The chancellor gestured around the room. “I suspect white walls will be your surroundings for perhaps the rest of your life, should you avoid outright execution. How many more times will you speak to another person who is not a guard or fellow prisoner? How many more times will you be able to share your message?”

Leopold sucked on his lips and Baelin noted the facial tick.

“You shall not speak to me again after this, most likely,” Baelin said. “Why not take this chance to let your cause be known?”

The chancellor watched Leopold’s reaction carefully. There had been many times in his long life that he’d been close to folk as they were about to take their last breath or undergo some sort of terrible transformation to their life. At those times, nerves, pain, and fear would often drive them to speak of their thoughts to any ear willing to listen. Even if that ear was not the friendliest.

And now…

“Generasi needed aid,” Leopold said.

There it was.

“Aid?” the chancellor stifled his anger at the very use of the word to refer to what the young man had done.

“You know what I mean better than most, Chancellor,” he said. “Priests and deities will ruin this city one day. They will twist it into something monstrous. I’ve seen it happen.”

“What do you mean?”

Baelin listened as Leopold told a story of his youth and the community he grew up in. The chancellor nodded along as a horrifying tale unfolded. One of evil cultists and hungry deities. The ancient wizard’s jaw tightened at the words, unable to remember how many times he’d seen similar occurrences in villages, cities, even entire empires over the millennia.

Yet his heart remained cold toward Leopold.

“And that’s it,” the young man said. “I wanted to protect the city from fanaticism. Priests’ gifts might be enticing, but they always come at a terrible price. Always.”

Silence filled the room, broken only by their unnaturally loud breathing, the clink of chains, the shifting of their clothing, and the slow thunder of Baelin’s own ‘heart’.

“I understand… that most, won’t see it the way I do,” Leopold pushed on. “But steps needed to be taken, that’s the way I saw it. If there’s any policy change that would prevent actions like mine or something even graver, then I implore you, do this: punish students who even suggest that priests come onto campus. End any association with the Church of Thameland. Ban the use of divinities from the Games or other events associated with the university. That way, the school can continue being an example to the rest of Generasi: a living message that priests in this city must remain on the outside of our society. Tolerated. Not celebrated.”

Another silence.

“…I see. And you are done?” Baelin said, putting his finger through his beard-braids and twisting them around it. “Perhaps there is a point to what you suggest. Indeed, we have grown closer to the priests of Thameland for our upcoming work, and this might indeed set a dangerous precedent.”

Hope leapt into Leopold’s eyes.

Then Baelin continued.

“Is that truly what you expected me to say?” The chancellor stared down the demon summoner, who looked away. “We agree that priests can be dangerous, and I have made my opinions on deities well known. I have even built that into school policy. But what you have done is many steps beyond that. The irony of your situation is that in combating fanaticism, you yourself have become nothing more than a fanatic.”

He rose in his seat. “While many priests are fanatical in their servitude to deities, you are fanatical in your opposition to them. You allowed your cause to overwhelm you, and in your zealous attempt to serve it, you have only hurt the fine residents of Generasi and weakened your own purpose. In killing a priest of the four winds at the Games, you crafted a martyr out of a warrior simply looking to participate in the Grand Battle.”

Leopold swore beneath his breath. “I acted hastily this time, but Baelin—”

“Chancellor!” the ancient wizard said.

“Think of it, Chancellor!” Leopold leaned forward in his seat. “We wizards often have to engage in cruel things to advance our understanding of magic and the universe. Generasi students move on to do great things throughout the world, often involving destruction. This is the same thing, and what I was trying to do was attempt to bring the good of such actions back home to the realm that took me in!”

“I am very well acquainted with the nature of cruelty for benefit,” Baelin said. “But the objective benefit of your actions is far outweighed by the suffering they have caused to wizards, students, and citizens; the damage it has done, and the delays in research you have caused. Not to mention the waste of your own gifts. This is a blasted shame. A strong relational bond with an abyssal knight could have brought so much benefit to the university, had you channelled it for something reasonable—such as research—instead of zealotry. But… I have the information I came for, and I am not here to debate you.”

The chancellor stood while Leopold watched him with a mix of disappointment and desperation.

“You should count yourself fortunate.” Baelin adjusted his robe. “If it were left to me, I would have placed you in the torture pits of Kālasūtra, where your soul would be cut with burning saws and axes for more years than you could possibly comprehend. The punishment you will receive here, while grim, is but a summer walk in comparison. Goodbye. We will not meet again.”

“Chancellor!”

Baelin did not stop.

“Put in a good word for Amir, for pity’s sake,” Leopold pleaded. “He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be here. Plea—”

Without waiting for the demon summoner to say another word, Baelin stepped out of the room while the officer shut the door behind him, cutting off Leopold’s voice.

The room that the chancellor visited next was not what one would call pleasant, but it was far less stark than the white interrogation room Leopold sat in. Walls of stone—covered in glyphs that disrupted spellcasting—formed the structure. At the top of the chamber was a window sealed with steel bars covered in the same glyphs. Natural sunlight filtered through clouds and onto the face of Amir Abu Saleh.

If Leopold had looked defeated, then Amir looked ready to pass from the world. The young man seemed like he wanted nothing more than to just crawl into a hole somewhere and die. He barely moved at the sound of Baelin’s hooves coming down the hall, and he didn’t raise his eyes when the chancellor stopped at his cell, flanked by well-armed officers.

Anger and disappointment waged a battle within Baelin as Amir slumped like he wanted to melt into the stone bench he slumped on.

“Hello, Amir,” Baelin said.

The former graduate student finally looked up.

“I’m sorry,” Amir said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorr—”

“Stop. It is too late for that.”

Amir let out a whimper.

“Why?” Baelin asked.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Why were you party to this?”

“I thought…” Amir’s voice was small, choked. “I thought I could fix things, Chancellor. I—”

The ancient wizard took a step forward. “Thought you could fix what?”

“All of it.” Amir trembled. “I… I thought I had it a few times. I talked Leopold out of a few attacks. Night after night, I’d just talk to him, trying to get him to pull it back. What was done was done, but if he’d just stopped—”

“Why not simply come forward?”

“Because it would have ruined his life. He… I don’t know, he’s my friend. I owe him everything, a full life debt.”

“A life debt? Why do you owe him so much?”

Amir swallowed, glancing out of the window. “It was just before I came here. I was on my way from home in a caravan looping around the Prinean. I thought I’d see a bit of the world before university. I’d just been accepted and I felt like the king of everything. While the caravan was stopped in a town, I went to a tavern and bought some wine. Something was in it.”

The young man folded like a whipped dog. “I woke up somewhere awful, deep underground. There was a cult and they… they were performing some sort of ritual. I watched them do it to other prisoners. They would make this potion by turning their flesh into a liquid that ran off their bones. The priests collected it in brass bowls, drink it, and offered it to servants of their god they’d summon. Day after day, I’d see my turn coming closer until I was the only prisoner left. And then, Leopold came…”

“Go on,” Baelin said.

“He used to go around rooting out cults. He’d found that one the day before, and crept into their lair and laced their drinking water with potions. He doped them up to make them groggy and heave their guts out. They couldn’t stop dry heaving. While they were trying to recover, he summoned demons to set on them. And he wasn’t as strong back then, so it was dangerous for him, but he still came back to save me.

“I was so weak and couldn’t help. The cultists and that deity’s servants put up an awful fight, but he wouldn’t just go and leave me behind… and he could have. He got me to safety, then went back and finished them off with help from every demon he knew how to summon.”

Amir swallowed. “And so, my life debt was forged. He came to the university the year after me, and we’ve shared a bond ever since. He still hated all priests, all of them. He only told me how much he hated them while he was here and—I have to admit—I did too, for a while. I got over it, but he never did. He just couldn’t. I thought I could save his life, like he saved mine. Talk him out of things… But when today happened, it all went wrong… things went too far. If I’d just been beside him when those centaur priests used their miracles…”

Silence fell, and Baelin let out a breath.

“Misguided, I am afraid,” the chancellor said. “Your loyalty is misplaced. Many have suffered due to it, though I know all too well the drive to save a friend.” He exhaled. “Professor Jules will be very disappointed in you.”

“I know… I know,” Amir muttered.

“I suppose there is little more to say,” the chancellor said. “I suspect the law shall be easier on you than it will be on your friend. It could be that you will see the light of day outside of these walls, though you’ll never be permitted to pass through the gates of the university again. Reflect while you are imprisoned, and perhaps—if you are allowed to walk free—you might still make something of your life. Perhaps that loyalty of yours will find a better recipient next time.”

Amir hung his head as Baelin walked away.

Chapter 84

Getting to Know Someone

“The festival of ghosts will be different this year, I think.” Khalik poured himself a third cup of wine before sliding the pitcher back across the table.

“Thanks, man,” Alex said, pouring himself a second cup. It was a bit of a struggle with one arm in a sling, but he’d rather help himself as much as he could. He was also glad he could call on his Wizard’s Hands when he needed them. For a moment, the moon peeked out from behind dark clouds above them and shone across the jug’s polished surface, reflecting off the table. “Yeah, we’ll definitely feel it even more than last year. There’s gonna be a lot of people to say goodbye to, even though… I mean, it could’ve been a lot worse, I guess.”

He couldn’t count how many times he’d said and heard, ‘it could’ve been worse’ since the demon summoner’s attack. Others had been repeating those same words, often sounding like they were trying to console themselves.

What happened was an awful thing. And if there was one thing the people of Generasi were good at, it was finding the positives in dark situations and moving forward.

“True,” Khalik said. “Few in number did die, when all was said and done. And the truth is, if it weren’t for your and Baelin’s warnings, and if the Watchers hadn’t been ready, then it would have been much worse. I am sure that is little consolation to those who had people they cared about die. When it is a loved one, one death is too many.”

Images of his home in flames worked through Alex’s mind.

He took a long sip from his cup.

The prince and Alex had been sitting on Khalik’s balcony, passing the pitcher back and forth for a while. Selina, Theresa, and Brutus had fallen into a deep sleep, while he’d tossed and turned until finally giving up and going to look out the window. A light had been on in Khalik’s apartment, and since Alex knew he was alone, he wondered if he might like some company. So, he’d paid his friend a visit.

There was a lot that had been keeping both of them awake. For Alex…

“You know, there’s still a big part of me that’s having trouble believing Amir knew who the summoner was and didn’t say anything,” he said. “I mean, the thought had crossed my mind that something was going on with him. It definitely had, but… hearing it announced, was kinda like taking a hard punch to the gut.”

“Maybe you hoped you’d be wrong,” Khalik suggested.

“Yeah, I definitely did, and that’s the truth.”

“Were you two friends?”

Alex took another long sip of wine. “I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t say friends, actually. We just talked while he was supervising me in potions, and like a handful of times after that. I mean, we were friendly enough… ugh.”

There had been some bad moments, after he’d found out about Amir’s connection to the demon summoner, where he’d blamed himself for the last attack. He’d gone through different scenarios over and over in his mind, imagining himself telling the investigators his suspicions about Amir and preventing that final battle.

He’d always come back to the same conclusion: his mind was looking at things with the advantage of hindsight. He’d done that before… a lot. After his parents had died, for the longest time, he’d keep coming up with a bunch of possible options and means that he could’ve used to save them that night or ways he could have noticed the fire before it had spread so much.

For the longest time, he’d lived with a bunch of ‘what-ifs.’ Eventually, he had to just make peace with the fact that there was nothing he could have done. Time and Mr. Lu had helped him get to that place.

It was the same with the Amir situation.

Now after Amir’s arrest and confession, it suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable to think he should have gone up to the nearest Watcher and shouted, ‘Amir’s suspicious!’ with all the conviction in the world. ‘He’s the summoner probably!’ he would’ve said. At the time, he had no evidence. He hadn’t even been convinced Amir was the summoner. And he’d also thought about the damage an accusation without any proof could have caused.

‘What-ifs’ could drive a person crazy. The truth was: there was nothing he could’ve done, and no amount of hindsight was going to change that. Even if there was something he could’ve done, no amount of hindsight would let him go back in time and make different decisions.

“There is nothing you could have done,” Khalik said, echoing his thoughts. “Often, the only person who can save someone is themselves. We did well. We saved folk and we fought demons. That is good enough, I think.”

“Yeah…”

“How have Mr. and Mrs. Lu and your sister been taking things?”

“All in all? Surprisingly well,” Alex said. “They’re a little shaken up—all three of them—but they’re doing alright, all things considered.”

“That is good.”

“And what about Sinope?” Alex asked. “How is she doing?”

“I… do not know.” Khalik took a long drink of wine. “She is alright, I think. The dryads live in the wilderness and are not strangers to violence… but it’s just…”

“Just what?” Alex asked.

Khalik was wearing a look he’d never seen him wear before. Normally, he was always comfortable, if not outright brimming with confidence. Now, he almost looked a little lost.

“I… am not sure what to do. What we are,” the prince admitted.

“What do you mean ‘what we are’? You’re a prince and she’s a magical forest lady. That’s like something right out of a fairy tale.”

“And that is exactly—well, part of the issue,” the prince sighed.

“How so?”

“Bah,” Khalik said. “Think of what just happened. Now is not the time to bring up relationship troubles.”

“No, no, man, now is the perfect time for that.” Alex leaned over the table. “We just had an apocalyptic battle against shithead demons and watched people die and… it was rough. I kinda want to talk about something normal for a bit.”

“Hmmm, a fair point.” Khalik put down his glass. “Well, we are… I am not sure if you could call it courting, but we were having fun visiting each other. Something like friendship with the promise of more, I suppose? It is hard to describe. Then what happened after the Grand Battle put things… Do I go and support her? Does she do the same with me? Do we not speak to each other and leave one another alone? I know what I would do if she were my lover, but… we were not quite there yet.”

“What do you mean: not quite there, yet?”

“You know… that in-between place where you are sort of courting, but more just feeling each other out.”

“I think your experience with women is a hell of a lot different than mine, Khalik.” Alex shrugged.

“Suffice it to say, I do not know what to do,” the prince said. “And then she is different from me. We are different from each other. Did you know that dryads do not even need lovers? When a dryad’s tree becomes old enough, they seed, and a baby dryad might be born from one of the sprouts. There is no need for men: courtship, loving, marriage is… it is just for pleasure for them.

“For me, there are politics to consider. I am a prince, even if I am not heir. Who I marry is more a matter of state. And what happens when I graduate? Let us say we are in love, then. Do we transplant the tree she is bound to all the way to Tekezash? Do I stay here? I do not know.” He shook his head. “Ah, my thoughts chase themselves fruitlessly.”

“Well, that might be a ‘later’ problem,” Alex said. “I don’t know anything about dating dryads, but I do know about overthinking problems you can’t really do anything about right now. Leave that later stuff for later. For now, me and Theresa talk all the time about… everything. Maybe talk to Sinope about what you’re thinking.”

Khalik thumbed the rim of his glass. “I do not want to push if such a conversation would be… less than welcomed.”

“Well, asking’s a lot better than letting it lie there, I think,” Alex said. “The worst that can happen is she says: not now.”

“That is a good point,” Khalik finished his wine. “Thank you, you helped clear my head more than the night air and the drink. But speaking of talking about things… What of this Hannar-Cim thing? Did you speak to Baelin yet?”

“He’s been busy,” Alex said. “I’m going to see Mangal during her office hours tomorrow. Kinda wish classes weren’t delayed like the closing ceremony for the Games is. But, I get why they have to delay everything. Oh right, get this: the day that the closing ceremony’s held? That’s Theresa’s birthday.”

“Truly? I shall have to get her a gift. As for the timing, I am not sure if that is good or terrible,” Khalik said.

“Yeah, and then it’s mine soon after that. Then it looks like the beginning of the expedition will be soon after. Lots of things are coming fast.”

“They tend to,” Khalik said. “They tend to.”

“I would not recommend searching for demons, Alex,” Professor Mangal said as she inspected a summoning circle drawn on a piece of parchment. “Especially so early in your studies in summoning.”

“Well…” Alex said. “I’m not planning to go after it like next week.”

Unless Baelin offered to go after it next week.

“Hypothetically,” he continued. “How would one track down a demon if they don’t know its name?”

Professor Mangal gave him a look over the summoning circle. “Are you joking, Alex?”

“Not even a little.”

“…Revenge?”

“Pardon?”

“I am asking if you are searching for vengeance,” Professor Mangal said.

“A little,” he didn’t bother lying. “Like I said, not yet. So… how would one find a demon?”

“What did it look like?”

Alex described Burn-Saw: detailing his horns, build, three eyes, and the scars along his body.

“Hmmm,” Mangal tapped her chin. “It sounds to me like you are looking for a Tiashiva: a minor demon of marauding and enlightenment. They roam the hells in packs, much as common bandits do in our world.”

“Marauding and enlightenment?” Alex asked. “They don’t sound like they go together.”

“Enlightenment can come in many forms,” his professor said, turning to a painting hanging below a window on a nearby wall.

Her office was a lot like the summoning tower: a bit on the creepy side. Statuettes, paintings, and other artworks of pretty horrifying looking otherworldly creatures filled the room, and her desk top had demon faces carved into it, and leg supports of bleached wood engeli and elementals. The window was of stained glass, and its coloured light fell on a painting below it.

It was a scene with a horrifyingly ridiculous amount of violence: demons and monsters were tearing each other apart in a fiery wasteland that resembled flesh and blackened clots of blood. Bodies lay everywhere.

“Do you see this?” She pointed to the painting. “It is called Slaughter in the Flesh Fields of Avernus. At first, it only looks like senseless violence.”

“No argument there,” Alex said, squinting at the painting. He shuddered, looking away. It was a little too soon to be looking at demons ripping up any living thing. His lunch felt like it wanted to escape his stomach suddenly.

“But there is a rhythm and sense to the art piece,” Mangal said. “Its painter—a former soldier—once said that all violence in the universe follows a certain rhythm, and that great warriors and killers understand that rhythm, much as a great musician understands the rhythm and melodies that make a good song. He found he reached a higher understanding of the universe by being immersed in violence, just as one might by viewing a still pool of water and the moonlight it reflects.”

“The pool sounds a lot nicer,” Alex said sourly.

“I agree. The point is, it’s been theorised that the third eye of Tiashivas represent their higher understanding of the violence they commit. It is their way of connecting to the universe much as you or I might engage with it through philosophy or art. The third eye also grants them sharp senses beyond that of the physical.”

“Don’t I know about that last part,” Alex said, adjusting his sling. “Okay. So how would I find one of these things?”

“Finding one of them? Easily? That would be a hard task. They are numerous. More numerous than we can comprehend. Which is why finding a single one—without a name—is next to impossible.”

Alex fought the urge to curse. “Okay, but wizards are always making the impossible possible. How would I try?”

“…You really are set on this, aren’t you?”

“It’d help me learn?” he offered.

She sighed, then pointed down to the summoning circle. His eyes followed her finger, studying the spot on the parchment she indicated.

“Is there… a spell that can locate it? One that uses summoning circles?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” she said. “But if I were going to attempt to even begin to do this… Well, I’d take into consideration that the best way to find a demon?”

She glanced back at the painting. “Is to get to know other demons.”

Chapter 85

Demonic Reconnaissance

“You mean like, summon any demon I can and ask them a bunch of questions about the one I’m after? Or try to work out a deal with them?” Alex asked his professor.

“In a sense. There is a bit more nuance to it than that,” Professor Mangal said.

She waved a hand.

Crack!

Alex startled as one of her statues—an ugly creature perched on a shelf—moved, shifting in place with a cracking and grinding noise. What looked like a little stone gargoyle shuddered as it came to life. Its bat-like wings unfolded around itself and its eyes—previously nothing more than grey stone—lit up like glowing red orbs.

The creature preened itself before fixing Alex with a stone-still stare. It was almost cat-like in its quiet observation of him, but there was an old intelligence in its eyes, like it was evaluating him with centuries of insight. For an instant, he was uncomfortably reminded of a Baelin stare, and instinctively stepped back toward where Claygon stood.

“Paz, do not scare the students,” Mangal chided.

It continued to stare at Alex, as though it hadn’t even heard the professor’s voice.

She sighed, then said something in a language that was unsettling to hear—nails practically scratched the inside of the ears. Alex looked at her sharply: the words she’d spoken were very similar to Burn-Saw’s.

Instantly, Paz turned his head toward her and replied in that horrible language. His voice was loud, the tone high-pitched like angry, swarming, biting-flies.

Mangal said something else, and the little creature gave what sounded like a displeased grunt, flapped his wings once, took to the air, and hovered in front of a bookcase while scanning the volumes. Paz didn’t come across as having the most pleasant of attitudes.

Its horrible voice remained pricking at Alex’s ears.

“Was that the demon language?” he asked his professor.

She gave him a look. “There is no such thing as ‘the demon language,’ Alex. That is like saying the ‘human language’ or the ‘dwarven language’ or the ‘dragon language.’”

“Well, we do have the common tongue that a lot of people speak,” Alex said a little defensively. “It might make sense that demons have something like that too.”

“Perhaps, but it is a matter of scale. The common tongue might seem omnipresent to us, but it has its limits in terms of its geographical reach. Which is less and less the closer you get to Tarim-Lung or in southern kingdoms like Tekezash where other languages hold more sway. And that is only if you take this world into account.”

“This world?”

“I prescribe to the Many-Spheres Theory, Alex,” she said, referring to a magical theory that stars nurtured different worlds, complete with life, plants, civilization and their own magics. “We have seen other planets through our telescopes and I have spoken to spirits and beings from other planes who have walked on planets other than their own. They claim that the other worlds are dead, but I am not so sure. I have travelled briefly to other planes myself, and have met other mortals there that speak no language I have ever heard before. Either they are from a place in this world that is incredibly remote… or…”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Or were from other worlds…” Alex mused, thinking about this ‘Hannar-Cim’ and the Traveller.

Maybe there were other worlds. Burn-Saw had said something about a place called Hirshin-Eos. Alex had checked the library up and down for a map showing such a place. He’d found nothing, even after going through old maps to see if there was any reference to a lost kingdom or fallen realm by that name.

His mind returned to the idea of other worlds with interest.

“Has there been any proof that there are other worlds?” Alex asked.

“No hard evidence.” Mangal looked at a globe resting on her desk. At times, the terrain on it would shift, displaying different locations on different planes. “There are wizards and priests who have claimed they themselves have visited other worlds, but many have been proven to be no more than charlatans. If anyone has successfully reached another world—and has produced hard evidence—they haven’t published any papers on the subject or said such in public.”

“Why wouldn’t they? That sounds like it would be really exciting.”

“There could be many reasons.” Mangal made an expression of distaste. “Think of it. Archwizards tend to hoard power. If you had discovered an entirely new planet, complete with its own resources, magics, and cultures, would you be so quick to give everyone else access to it? Especially those who are your enemies?”

Alex thought about that, remembering his conflicted feelings about Claygon not being unique anymore when other wizards got access to golem cores made from dungeon core remains.

“Probably not,” he admitted.

“Exactly, and as for what many otherworldly creatures say, their information can only sometimes be trusted, if one is asking them about the material world,” she said. “Always remember a key part of summoning: the creatures you bring to our world are from entirely different planes of existence. Where they are from, their senses do not work in the same way as ours. They likely have very different values. And while a demon or engeli—for example—might speak or even look somewhat like mortals, they are creatures of a completely different existence. Their perspectives are vastly different from ours, and sometimes what they see as undeniable, is impossible for us to begin to comprehend.”

She touched her globe, shifting it from a sphere of stone covered in mountains, to an orb of fire that burned different colours. “And the same works in the other direction. To an earth elemental, any liquid that is red in colour is no different from blood to them. They do not feel blood’s warmth and life like we do, and do not understand its power over us beings of flesh. Do not necessarily trust everything you hear from your summoned allies, even if you have a strong bond with them through relational summoning. Then—on top of misunderstandings—there are otherworldly creatures that simply lie.”

“There’s a lot to keep in mind,” Alex said, remembering how Burn-Saw mistook him for this Hannar-Cim just from him casting a teleportation spell. To the demon, the feeling of that energy was much more of an identifier than Alex’s physical features.

“In any case, we’ve strayed off topic,” Professor Mangal laughed. “The point is, there are many, many, many, more demons than there are living creatures in our world. By orders of magnitude, so it is theorised. There are a multitude of demonic languages, each with a thousand dialects. Do not assume that because you can speak and understand one demon’s language, that you will be able to do the same with all of them. They are not a monolith, and they are organised by—Ah, here it is! Excellent timing, Paz!”

Paz fluttered down and dropped a massive book bound in black leather onto Professor Mangal’s desk. It had lettering in a ruby-coloured ink on its front cover.

“The Thirty-Third Volume of the Demononomicon of Ig-Tasha,” Professor Mangal said with admiration in her voice. She conjured a set of teal-glowing Wizard’s Hands to open the book in front of her.

Alex leaned over to take a look at the pages. They were covered in a neat, spidery script in a language he’d never seen before. Nestled among the script were illustrations of various frightening monsters—demons, he assumed—some of which looked like artists’ renditions in their natural environment. Other images looked like anatomical drawings from a textbook on anatomy.

“You will not have access to this book until you have mastered fourth-tier spells,” she said. “But when you do, I highly recommend reading each volume at least once if you choose to pursue knowledge on demonology. It is considered a good beginner’s guide.”

She paused on an image of what looked to be a jewel with rhombic facets.

“Demon societies are often organised in much the same way our mortal kingdoms are, in a sort of feudal system. Abyssal knights are lower ranking members of the demonic ruling caste: the elite fighting commanders of demonkind. They, in turn, serve demon lords who, in turn, serve demon princes and princesses.”

“And these princes and princesses serve demon kings and queens?” Alex asked.

“Yes and no. There are only a few that claim the power necessary to cause demon lords to bend the knee, as it were,” the professor said. “And usually, they do not hold such lofty stations for long. Demons are creatures of whim. The more powerful they are, the more likely they are to rebel against their rulers.”

“Right…” Alex said, looking back at the illustration of the jewel. “And what’s that jewel you’re looking at? Some demon treasure?”

“That is Ezaliel, the abyssal knight Baelin confronted during the attack,” she said. “It is an old, mysterious and powerful being even by demon standards. It or he—depending on how you conceive of the creature—rules a vast domain in the hells called Orapkarowe: a mountainous realm of blood and diamonds, with peaks that rise ten miles into prismatic skies. Blood rains from black clouds to nurture ‘plants’ made of living flesh.”

“Uhm… that sounds… pretty terrible,” Alex said.

“It is, and it is completely inhospitable to mortal life without powerful protective spells or divinities. I would not recommend you ever go there. What I would recommend is that you summon demons from this particular realm and ask if they know the demon you search for by some physical mark or other descriptor. The fact that the demon you seek participated in this battle will further narrow your search as a way to identify it.”

“That’s a great start, Professor.”

“Ah!” She held up her index finger. “Remember this, the size of an abyssal knight’s domain is equivalent to that of our entire world.”

“…What?” Alex couldn’t even fathom such a place.

“The hells are vast beyond comprehension. You are looking for a single individual in a realm that is equivalent to our entire planet. At minimum, your search will be a struggle. Now, there are demons who possess more knowledge than others—and who are familiar with more of their kind—like how merchants, information brokers, or bureaucrats would know more people in our city than say, a random bandit or farmer.”

“Right…” Alex said. “But if I was to go to random merchants in a small town and say: ‘Hey, do you know a person with this kind of scar?’ then—while they’d stand more of a chance of knowing the person I was looking for—the chance would be much lower in a city as big as Generasi.”

“Indeed, and you are looking for a single demon not in a place the size of a city, but in a realm the size of an entire world,” she said.

“Ugh,” Alex said.

“Exactly. ‘Ugh.’ That is why I would suggest you forgo any journeys for vengeance and go back to living your life. If it is any consolation, demons often kill each other: likely your enemy might live a short life.”

Paz let out a strange, blood-curdling call, and Mangal smiled and petted his bald, horned head. “Oh, now you respond to me when I am not speaking your language. Yes, yes, Paz, I know that is why you are here.”

Alex looked between her and Paz for a long moment, thinking about demonic languages. “Say, Professor, what if… I was to ask for a book on the tongues of demons? Would you have any recommendations?”

Her eyes lit up. “Ah, now that is a much better use of your time. Whether or not you decide to proceed with this folly-filled search of yours. I can recommend several books on vocabulary, grammar, accents, musicality, tone, and audio-prestidigitation.”

“Right, right… wait, what was that last word?”

“Some languages are literally impossible for human mouths to pronounce without… help, such as many demonic dialects and those of elementals. Audio-prestidigitation utilises skill and mana in tandem to allow human mouths to pronounce such alien words.”

“Huh, cool,” Alex said.

“It is indeed very cool. Here, I shall make you a study list of books and recommend a reading order.” She drew out a piece of parchment and began writing down titles. “We will be studying the languages of other planes later in the course this summer, so be assured that your efforts will help you do well on later assignments as well as the final exam.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll try and make you proud.”

“Oh and…” she paused her writing. “What you witnessed the other day is… horrific. Do not be afraid to talk to someone about it when you are ready. Seek help. Calm the mind. Engage in meditation as well. Do you know of this practice?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve done all of that,” he said. “And I’ll continue to do all of it.”

“Good, good,” she finished scrawling her titles. “It is my hope that such a thing will remove your need for vengeance.”

‘Maybe,’ he thought. ‘But it won’t remove the fact that I need Burn-Saw to talk to him.’

As he and Claygon left Mangal’s office, he suddenly felt a lot of sympathy for the authorities in Generasi. Finding someone without many details to go on was a hell of a task, as it turned out.

‘No wonder they had such a hard time catching the demon summoner,’ he thought. ‘I wish I could just cast a spell and have magic give me all the answers.’

Unfortunately, such spells—the kind from tales where witches saw the future and the secrets of the universe in crystal balls—were pure fantasy. If he was going to find Burn-Saw, he and Baelin would need to work on it the hard way.

Alex continued mulling it over as he and Claygon walked through the halls, drawing eyes as they went. By now, his four-armed golem was a fairly common sight at the school. Their performance in the Games along with the attack on the beach had really increased the attention they got.

‘It’s a good thing the priests of Uldar still can’t come on campus,’ he thought. ‘Despite Carey’s best efforts… I wonder how she’s doing, anyway?’

The last he’d heard, she’d gone to see her family for the summer in the Rhinean Empire.

‘The more my name gets out there, the harder it’ll be for anyone to push me around,’ he thought. ‘Of course, the more my name gets out, the easier I am to fi—’

He paused.

“Oh, by the Traveller, I’m so stupid!” he said, drawing looks.

He’d been thinking about things the wrong way.

Finding Burn-Saw was a good idea, but he was one nameless demon out of billions. But the demon had given him a name: Hannar-Cim. What if he and Baelin summoned different demons and asked them not only about Burn-Saw, but also about this Hannar-Cim?

‘It must be a famous enough name. Burn-Saw said this Hannar-Cim did some serious damage to the demonic army he was part of. Which probably means other demons should know the name too, or they might know the title he mentioned: Yushaero, or this Hirshin-Eos battlefield. Information about those things would probably be much easier to find. Alright, Hannar-Cim or the Traveller or Yushaero. Let’s see exactly what you’ve been up to… and if you’re really dead.’

Chapter 86

Justice and Blood

In the next few days, Generasi focused on healing and justice.

First came the grim task of collecting the bodies of all those who had fallen and returning them to their families. Alex and his friends made sure to stay far away from the stadium as it was being cleaned up. The Watchers were surveying and purging the battlefield on Oreca’s Fall Island of any remnants of the attack.

Over the dark hours of a single night, the Games’ venues and infrastructure also disappeared. Through labour and magic, the campus returned to its normal state with all of the fanciful buildings gone like they’d never been there.

It was as Thundar had said. In a way, it was sad to see them go, but for many folks, they would have made for grim reminders of the tragic end to the Games. As things returned to normal in Generasi, talk and speculation increased about what the fate of the demon summoner would be.

The city didn’t make them wait long.

“Leopold Richter!” the announcement had roared. “Charged with treason, mass murder, and abuse of wizardry, is found guilty and sentenced to Execution by Erasure.”

Alex soon learned what that meant.

Leopold would be brought in front of City Hall, shackled with magical cuffs that prevented spellcasting by disrupting his mana, and placed on a wooden platform. For added precaution, the former demon summoner would also be blindfolded and given a paralysing potion that stops all movement in his limbs.

Once secured and well-guarded, a masked wizard known as a Deleo—one of Generasi’s executioners—would stand across the square on another platform. An audience was also permitted to gather and witness the punishment. Leopold’s list of crimes were to be read by one of the magistrates, followed by an opportunity for the doomed man to speak his final words.

Once the magistrate declared the sentence be carried out, the Deleo would then cast a spell known as Disintegration—a beam of energy that utterly disrupts one’s form down to the very smallest parts of their being.

In an instant, Leopold would be reduced to no more than a pile of the finest dust. The dust was to be taken by the Deleo to an unknown location, where the remains of all those who’d been executed throughout time, were taken. Some thought it to be a remote dumping ground on the far end of the world, others thought it was in the ocean somewhere, while still others believed it was located on another plane of existence. Wherever it was, once all the dust was scattered there, the Deleo returned to the city, and in a witnessed ceremony, declare the sentence carried out.

“Being blasted to dust,” Mr. Lu commented after the announcement was made. “Grim way to go. Though I guess it probably wouldn’t hurt very much, and if it did, he deserves it.”

“I dunno, Mr. Lu,” Thundar said. “Sounds to me like being torn down to your tiniest bits would hurt more than anything.”

“None know for sure if it does, since all those who undergo the process are very dead,” Isolde said, the back of her dress slightly misshapen by the bandages covering her back. “But I can say that historically, execution methods were far more brutal in Generasi. Before the wizards migrated here, the nobility of the time executed such a criminal as Richter by roasting him alive inside a bull forged from brass. With time, executions were carried out using fire magic, as well as lightning spells. There was even one execution where magic that conjured acid was used.”

Both of Theresa’s parents looked at her, horrified.

She continued quickly. “It was used only once before it was declared so barbaric, that it should never be used again. Shortly after that, the idea of using Deleos and their disintegration magics became the sanctioned method.”

Mr. Lu snorted. “And I thought the beheadings, quartering, and gallows from back home were bad.”

“I’m still pretty sure those are bad, Mr. Lu,” Selina said.

Whether disintegration was less or more brutal than the execution methods practised in Thameland, Alex couldn’t say, but he did approve of Leopold’s fate.

And the people seemed to approve of it right along with him.

Cheers swept through the streets for a day and night, with drink flowing wildly at every bar and tavern in Generasi. The noise from the Brass Grapes carried halfway across campus all night.

But things were a lot more muted when Amir Abu Saleh’s crime and sentence were announced.

“Amir Abu Saleh, for the crime of obstruction of justice resulting in death, he shall be punished by fifteen years of imprisonment and hard labour,” the announcer’s magically enhanced voice had boomed through the city. “Followed by immediate banishment and exile from Generasi upon completion of his sentence. Never again will he be allowed to set foot on any of the lands ruled by Generasi authority, under penalty of death.”

The reaction to this was far more mixed.

There were no celebrations that night. Some expressed their anger at the sentence, calling it too light. Others deemed it was appropriate. Amir’s family and friends had very little to say.

While Professor Jules definitely had something to say.

Alex ran into her while they were both on the way to the library, and she seemed her usual busy and proper self. Even her body language showed that all was normal… But there was something in her eyes.

“Quite frankly, Mr. Roth,” she said as they walked toward the library side by side, Claygon following behind. “I am mostly relieved that the criminals have been caught, that no more death and mayhem from this idiocy will occur, and that the expedition will begin its preparations again shortly.”

“When do you think the expedition will begin?” Alex asked.

She blew out a breath. “The pause has been most inconvenient. We will have to do some replanning before we begin in earnest. Supplies will have to be re-organized, and then there might be the issue of the weather changing on us since we will be beginning later than originally planned. We must also inform your king that our ‘little domestic problem’ has been resolved.”

“Will he understand? What is King Athelstan like?”

“Oh, I haven’t the foggiest. I’ve never met the man, only Baelin and the ambassadors from the city have.”

“Ah, okay,” Alex said. “Have you seen Baelin lately?”

“Not yet. I fear he will be busy until after the closing ceremony for the Games,” Professor Jules said. “There are going to be special speeches, considerations, and additional rewards handed out I hear.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

Alex wished he could talk to Baelin sooner, but there was no helping it.

The student and professor fell into silence for a time, simply listening to the wind and the birds above.

And then…

“That foolish, foolish boy,” she sighed. At that moment, she looked like she’d aged twenty years. “He had such a bright future ahead of him. So bright. I thought Amir might eventually earn a place teaching here, and perhaps tenure at some point in the future.”

“Yeah…” Alex was a little unsure of what to say. “I dunno if I should feel bad or angry, or what… Maybe all of it.”

“Mm,” she mused, glancing in the direction of the city. “Well, he is being punished, that is all that matters. And as for his fortune, at least he can make something of his life.”

“What do you mean?” Alex looked at the direction of the city as well. “Exile seems pretty bad to me.”

“It was a merciful sentence,” she said. “He is still young. After fifteen years, Amir will merely be in his late thirties.”

“Oof, that’s old,” Alex said.

The professor looked like she was going to say something very pointed, then decided against it. “No, it is not old, Mr. Roth. It is still reasonably young. He will pass fifteen years, and hopefully, will make use of that time to contemplate what brought him to this terrible point in his life.”

“But what about the exile?” Alex asked. “He’ll never finish his studies here.”

“True, he will not, but Amir is a capable wizard able to cast fifth-tier magic and produce magical items of a similar level of power. If he travels far, far away from here, then he will have the chance to make something of his life. Life does not end when you turn forty, Mr. Roth, and the skills of a graduate of Generasi—even if he did not complete his graduate studies—can carry him far.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Alex said. “He could become bitter and take it out on others. Start attacking people or doing what Leopold did.”

She paused in thought. “Perhaps… I do not think that is the kind of man that Amir is, but it has become abundantly clear to me that I know far less about my students than I thought. Though, if he does begin slaughtering others indiscriminately, that is not Generasi’s issue. Often wizards that go on rampages, do not last all that long in this world.”

She sighed, and when she spoke next, there was a bitter edge in her voice.

“Speaking of students, why are you heading to the library?” she asked. “Classes do not begin again until the closing ceremony for the Games. You’re not looking for anything sinister yourself, are you, Mr. Roth?”

“Just doing some studies on demonic language and blood magic is all.”

“Charming,” she said sarcastically.

Blood magic.

Alex took a deep breath as he looked over the spell-guide for ‘Life to Mana’ carefully. After what felt like months, he was finally ready to begin diving into it. It would be a tricky spell to learn. There were plenty of risks when it came to spellcraft and the Mark’s interference, but since blood magic connected a wizard’s mana to their lifeforce, there were extra dangers to worry about.

The spell-guide warned about some of those special dangers. With a normal spell, making a mistake in the spell array could cause a mana reversal or other catastrophic consequence, but blood magic connected a wizard’s mana pool to their lifeforce. The book gave all sorts of awful examples of aspiring blood mages who’d accidentally drained their lifeforce dry, or funnelled their mana into their lifeforce until they burst like a bubble. A gory, meat bubble.

Alex—having no desire to become any type of bubble—had taken extra care with this spell, which was why he’d picked this particular area to practice in, as opposed to his usual spots.

He and Claygon had set themselves up in a small area of parkland outside the university’s main castle, closest to the door that led to the campus infirmary. If he messed up the spell enough to wreck his own lifeforce, he wanted to be as close to medical staff as he possibly could be.

The area was fairly busy. People were going to and from the infirmary doors every few minutes: mostly family members visiting loved ones who’d been injured by the demonic invasion. A few glanced at him as they went past, with most recognizing him and his golem, but no one stopped to make conversation. The little bench he was sitting on was right beside a bronze fountain forged in the image of the infirmary’s symbol: two snakes curling around a tower, with all three shooting arcs of water into the air.

The flowing water reminded him of the flow of mana and life through the body, and the practice of life enforcement. He couldn’t help but wish he could learn it. It had taken Theresa and Grimloch’s abilities to levels that surprised them, levels that would really enhance Alex’s training in blood magic.

But, because of the Mark, he knew it would be too dangerous to try since it was not only a divinity, but to use it, one’s mind and spirit had to remain perfectly calm. His mind could never maintain that level of calm, not with the Mark’s interference slamming into it for trying to have anything to do with divinities. With spell casting, he had his experiences before he got the Mark to help him through the interference, but he had nothing to draw from with divinities. Even just trying to test for any affinity with life enforcement, could kill him deader than the soil in the Barrens.

Theresa had said only a minority of people who tested for her life enforcement class were compatible, and that her professor didn’t let anyone who couldn’t achieve a calm state of mind even attempt it. Even people who’d tested and weren’t compatible, but could achieve a calm mind, ended up in the infirmary when they failed.

With the Mark interfering, if he only ended up in the infirmary, he’d be lucky. The chances that he’d be compatible were small, but the chances that he’d be super dead if he merely tried testing for an affinity with it, were massive.

As much as he’d like to try life enforcement, it was something he’d have to stay away from, at least for now.

Still, he had a lot of years of learning ahead. If he ever managed to figure a way to get rid of or even master the Mark, life enforcement would be high on his list of things to test for. Though that was a future problem.

For now, he needed to deal with more immediate problems.

“Alright, blood magic,” he said, conjuring two Wizard’s Hands. “Let’s see what you got.”

Chapter 87

Life to Mana

Alex’s Wizard’s Hands flipped through the pages of Life-to-Mana’s spell-guide as he gently scratched the skin around the dressing under the sling on his left arm. The healers had warned him that his arm might get itchy, but to never remove the elbow splint or the dressing on his forearm.

If he didn’t mess around with it and made sure to exercise that hand, then they should be able to take the splint and sling off in a couple of weeks, and finish whatever healing he might need on his forearm with blood magic. There were times when he thought he’d go crazy from the itching, so, as far as he was concerned, those weeks couldn’t pass fast enough.

One Wizard’s Hand turned the spell-guide’s pages until he found what he’d been looking for—the description of the spell-array and the accompanying diagram for its magic circuit. Over the years, other mages had scrawled little notes and reminders in the margins, complete with doodles.

Some were pretty funny. There was one of an odd-looking vampire wizard with the caricature of a heart skewered on top of a pointy staff which made Alex laugh out loud. It seemed someone had kept their sense of humour even while taking such an intense course. That sounded like his kind of person.

He took out a page of notes he’d made with a detailed plan on how to tackle learning the spell. Since he’d never practised blood magic before, he wanted to be extra careful and had gone over past experiences learning other spells to come up with his plan. He looked over the notes one more time, took a deep breath to calm his mind, then began the first words of the incantation.

Immediately, previous failures slammed into him. He guided himself through, slowly and methodically, taking his time with the spell-array.

There was no rush. He had no classes to worry about, preparations for Theresa’s birthday were well underway—he and her parents had been enjoying themselves in conspiring when she wasn’t around—and Shale’s Workshop was closed for a few more days out of consideration for what happened on Oreca’s Fall Island and at the arena.

There was just him and the spell to worry about.

For at least an hour, he spent his time making sure he’d forged the first part of the magic circuit correctly, and that the foundation for the rest of it was solid. The last thing he needed was a sloppy beginning. Once he was sure the first part of the spell was constructed, he…

…went over it in obsessive detail for another half hour. There was no room here for careless mistakes.

“Alright, alright,” Alex finally said as he was starting to go cross-eyed from concentrating so hard. “Time to move on now, man. You’re just delaying the scary part. Let’s get on with it.”

He referred back to the spell-guide to make sure he hadn’t missed anything for the next step. The second part of the magic circuit was the section responsible for connecting his mana pool with his lifeforce. This was where things could go horribly wrong, and it was also one of the most complicated parts of the spell-array.

When activated, this part would generate a sort of gated funnel to serve as a bridge between his lifeforce and mana pool. Within the funnel, there’d be three ‘gates’ acting like carefully controlled filters, sort of like the strainer Theresa used for her pine needle tea. The first gate was similar to a dam, controlling the amount of lifeforce that flowed into the funnel. It would abruptly close after the proper amount had run in.

The next one filtered the lifeforce. Life energy was as complex as, well, life itself. Some forms were very similar to mana, while others were completely different. Sort of like how a glass of wine was actually composed of multiple different substances, something Alex had learned during distillation practice back in an early alchemy class. He snorted at the memory, still surprised that no one had tried drinking the stuff. After all, they’d actually distilled pure alcohol. Then again, maybe the quicksilver incident had scared everyone too much.

In this spell, the gates would filter the lifeforce so only its energies most similar to mana would be channelled into the mana pool. The other energies were necessary for a living being, but would be much harder to convert to mana, so they’d be pushed back into the rest of his pool of life. The funnel would then disintegrate, breaking the connection between his lifeforce and mana pool so there’d be less chance of something disastrous happening.

Once the life energy was in his mana pool, another part of the magic circuit would act as a sort of conversion chamber and change the life energy to mana. The chamber would then release the new mana into the rest of his pool, and the magic circuit would fade as the spell completed.

Alex was amazed at the efficiency of the process. Very little energy would be lost through conversion. These sorts of spells hadn’t always been so efficient, because with early versions, there was no conversion chamber.

If a wizard kept casting spells, exceeding the amount of mana they had and used it all up, a magic circuit would have to rely on life energy instead, weakening the caster’s lifeforce. Originally, blood magic spells functioned in a similar manner as to what happens to the body during a famine—as he’d learned in magic lore—when starvation breaks down muscles, fat, and even the organs as it tries to stay alive. Alex shuddered, remembering the diagrams illustrating the process and end result.

Because of a blood mage named Liza Athori, the discipline had gone through a minor revolution when she created the conversion chamber part of the magic circuit. Her discovery saved a lot of wizards’ lives.

“Maybe I’ll think of something that’ll get me one of those fancy footnotes. Some new process that’ll be named after me. Maybe the dungeon core substance…” Images of priests sprang into his mind. “Maybe not.”

While the conversion process was important, Alex was a lot more concerned with making sure the funnel was formed correctly. He focused harder on that part of the spell array than any other. If any of the gates were malformed or didn’t form, his lifeforce would gush into his mana pool like a river until his body turned into a dried out husk.

Since he had no interest in being mummified—despite amusing images of himself scaring his family and friends—he kept his focus on avoiding mistakes there.

Alex took a deep breath, centering himself, then cast the foundational part of the magic circuit again and began creating the funnel. It was a very tricky process. The Mark’s interference, complexity of the spell, and nerves combined, he kept repeating the same mistakes.

Soon, he was damp from a cold sweat, battered by a constant stream of past failures at spellcraft—and now, a steady throb was beating through his skull.

‘Ugh, now I’m frustrated and soggy,’ he thought, wishing he’d brought along something to dry off with. He took a few breaths and dove back into the spell.

He kept himself focused, slowly making progress constructing the funnel while sweat dripped down his hair, face and—that was a lot of sweat. Had he sprung a leak? He stopped the spell.

Alex shook himself and looked around for the first time in what felt like hours. At some point, the sky had clouded over—the weather magic preventing rain during the Games had been cancelled—and rain was pouring like it was making up for lost time. People ran through the parkland, some casting wind and rain shields on themselves, struggling with wax covered umbrellas, or simply getting drenched.

Alex wiped his face with his shirt, then froze.

“Oh shit, my books!” he cried, looking at his basket of books beside him on the bench. To his pleasant surprise, they’d hardly gotten wet, considering how hard it was raining. He looked up. ‘The bench isn’t sheltered by a tree or anything so how come they—’ He startled: Claygon’s arm was extended and his hand was open over Alex and the forceball, partly protecting them from the rain.

“Did… did I do that?”

He wondered if, when he was wishing he had something to dry himself with, his thought had been transmitted to Claygon. That didn’t seem very likely, which meant… his golem had initiated an action on his own.

Maybe.

“Big guy, can you hear me?” Alex said, excitement rising in the pit of his stomach.

Claygon remained perfectly still and Alex patted him.

“Hello?” he said.

No movement.

Should there be a mind forming in there, it wasn’t fully conscious yet. Though, maybe it didn’t want to talk to him yet. He was a little disappointed.

“That’s okay, take your time,” Alex said, casting wind-and-rain shield three times: once for himself, once for his books—to be extra cautious—and once for Claygon. Then he went back to the spell.

“Okay… I think I can get this in a few more tries. I’m almost there.”

Diving back in, he continued constructing the funnel. On the fifth attempt, he got the first gate right. Then, after a few more run-throughs, he formed the others perfectly. He repeated the process a dozen more times before feeling satisfied with the results.

“Alright,” he said. “Only one thing left to do.”

Once again, he constructed the funnel, guiding his mind through the Mark’s torrent of failures, and allowed that part of the circuit to activate. The funnel attached itself to his lifeforce and mana pool, forming a bridge. Alex gasped. It was as though someone had poked him with a stick somewhere deep inside his being. A heartbeat later, he felt a new sensation wash through him. It was strong, even through the Mark’s interference.

Lifeforce began running through the funnel and into his mana pool. It was not a good feeling. In some ways, it reminded him of how he’d felt when the mana vampire was draining him, though this was less striking. In heartbeats, it was over, followed by an odd shifting inside, and a slight mana jump.

Without the conversion chamber though, he didn’t feel his mana increase by much compared to the fatigue setting in.

“That conversion chamber must really get that efficiency up,” he said, standing up and stretching. His left arm had begun to hurt. Around him, the rain had lessened, but it was turning dark.

“Jeez, how long have we been out here?” Alex absently said to Claygon. “I guess maybe we should get going.”

With his two Wizard’s Hands and his one good one, he packed up and started toward home after noting his progress in his blood magic notebook.

25%.

All in all, he’d gotten a little faster at learning spells.

On the walk back to the insula, he began thinking about the expedition and skills he might want to learn before it began.

“I don’t have a way around the Mark for capturing Burn-Saw alive,” he said to Claygon. “I’ve got quite a few solutions for killing things, but really nothing for taking them alive. I mean, I could always just have you grab them, but if there’s anything that the fight on the beach taught me, it’s that you can’t always be there to smash or grab stuff.”

He needed something he could use to capture things directly. His alchemy textbook contained plenty of potions to make people sleep. He might be able to come up with aerosolized versions of those like his other booby-trapped potions. The ingredients for them weren’t cheap, though he did have more coin now, and they weren’t ones he could get from his lab-time with Professor Jules.

No, they would be for later. What could he use from the potions he could make?

“There’s got to be a way to slow things down. Can you think of anything, buddy?” he asked Claygon.

No response.

“Enh, worth a try,” Alex said, returning to the problem. “I wonder if I could somehow reverse the effects of a Haste Potion? Yeah, maybe try that. But I can’t keep relying on gassing things with potions. So many folks in the Grand Battle had Orbs of Air, I need another tool.”

His mind returned to the idea of creating a staff. While his winnings from the Games were a nice boost to his funds, staves could be extremely expensive and he didn’t want to burn that much coin on tools and supplies. What he could do was begin looking up ways to craft one and make a plan.

As for ingredients…

“If I used more dungeon core substance—like I did with you, buddy—then I could probably replace some of the more expensive stuff… What can I do before the expedition? How to capture things… A chain, maybe? That’s not a weapon, and if I put shackles on—Naw.” He shook his head. “The Mark’s definitely gonna get pissy if I start swinging a chain at someone. A net? A rope? Bolas?”

He’d have to look around and see if there were any rope tricks that people used to tie up enemies or other creatures from a distance.

“Okay, so I’ll check out the rope stuff tomorrow—No, can’t. Theresa’s birthday and the closing ceremony is tomorrow. Next day, then.”

When he got home, he’d have to check on the preparations for the party and see what else the Lus had been working on. Even Selina had—

A figure caught his eye.

There was also a familiar, three headed hound padding through the rain on the path ahead, but it wasn’t Theresa walking him.

Selina had one hand clutching an umbrella, while the other held Brutus’ leash. A bag hung from her shoulder, and she was walking slowly, looking more toward the sky than the direction they were walking in.

Something about her seemed different.

Older.

Grimmer.

The wind blew, billowing her cloak as his eyes caught sight of the sheathed knife thrust through a leather belt around the waist of her trousers. Through the rain, it was like he wasn’t seeing his little sister, but rather a hint of the woman she would grow up to be.

“She looks a lot like Mom,” he whispered.

A wave of emotions swept through him, only interrupted when she spotted him and Claygon and waved from across the grass. She gestured with her umbrella, telling him to come closer, then pointed at her bag.

Chapter 88

Flowers for the Fallen

“Hey, Selina,” Alex said as he and Claygon trudged up to her on the path. The golem’s massive clay feet splashed through the growing puddles on the cobblestones.

“Hi, Alex,” she said. “Are you all done with your spell practice stuff?”

“Well, ‘done’ might be a strong word, I—Argh!”

Brutus padded up to Alex, shook the water from his fur—with all three sets of jowls flapping—then licked the young man’s face.

“Aggggh,” he groaned, suddenly splattered in fur filled rainwater and dog drool.

Brutus had been spending a lot of his time shedding lately.

Selina immediately did what any good sister would do—start laughing until she turned red in the face.

“Aw, thanks, thanks a lot,” he groaned. “I’ve just been assaulted and you’re laughing. Ugh.”

Out of spite, he took the end of her cloak and wiped his face.

“Hey!” she cried.

“Not laughing so hard now, are we, you little… something,” Alex said, remembering Kybas and the possible unpleasant nature of his old nickname for Selina.

“Little what?” she asked, her green eyes narrowing.

“Nevermind,” he said. “Uh, where was I? Oh yeah, I got started on the spell. It’s… I think it’s going well.”

“That’s really good,” she said, looking at his basket of books. “I can’t wait until the fall so I can start learning magic too.”

“It’ll be a lot of theory for you at first, Selina,” Alex said. “They don’t start the junior school out with spells.”

“You started that way. You learned a spell behind our backs all by yourself,” she said, glancing at his forceball.

“Yeah, well that’s not the right way to do it. And I didn’t do it behind your backs, I just did it in secret.” He wrapped his right arm over the injured one. “Anyway, what’s up? Did you want to show me something?”

“Yes. Here, hold this for a second.” She handed him her umbrella then opened her bag.

He leaned over and peered inside: several small bouquets of white lilies, all wrapped in wet cloth, were inside.

“They said we can bring flowers to the ceremony tomorrow,” Selina said, “and offer them to the people that died.”

“Really?” Alex looked back at her. “I didn’t know that.”

“I found out earlier, so I asked Mr. and Mrs. Lu if I could go and get some for all of us.” She looked down at the flowers with an odd expression. “I got some extra ones too, for the people fighting at home. The Heroes.”

She looked up at him. “And yeah… that’s what I wanted to show you.”

“It’s a good thing what you’re doing,” he said. “I think the people who died because of the demon summoner, and the ones who died because of the Ravener, would have appreciated you thinking about them.”

“I hope so,” Selina said. “It’s the least I can do.”

He tilted his head. “What’s with that look?”

“What look?” she asked.

“The one you just had? Are you mad about something?”

Brutus sat down beside him. For some reason, the need to get out of the rain… wasn’t nearly so urgent.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex asked.

“I dunno.”

Her frown deepened and her big brother tried to figure out what to say. On the one hand, if there was something wrong, he wanted to talk to her about it. On the other hand…

He looked down at the knife that Theresa’s parents had given her. Maybe he shouldn’t keep trying to pull every little thing she was thinking out of her.

“Alright,” he said. “If you figure things out, you can tell me, okay?”

“…Thanks,” she said. “You want to go back home now?”

“Yeah, good idea. We’ll get those flowers in some water and get them ready for tomorrow.”

“Today we are gathered in celebration, gratitude, and grief,” Baelin’s magically augmented voice boomed over the stadium, cutting above the murmur of the crowd and the hiss of rain on the rain cover above.

Once again, the seats were filled, and everyone watched the chancellor as he floated above a central platform where the glass cauldron that held the sword of Roal stood. He was flanked by Watchers of Roal, officials from the city, and nearly the entirety of the university’s faculty. In front of the platform lay a great stone basin filled with water.

Dozens of lilies and other pale flowers floated on the water’s surface: offerings for those who had fallen. On the sides of the basin, the names of everyone who had lost their lives in the attack had been carved in remembrance.

“One week ago, our city, our university, and our campus were beset by a vicious wretch who thought to place his own beliefs above the lives and desires of the fine folk of this city,” Baelin said, and his voice seemed older than usual. More tired. “While it is an immeasurable tragedy, it is also a triumph. Those who strove and fought on the beach of Oreca’s Fall, in the stadium where we are now gathered, and in the botanical gardens—those who made the ultimate sacrifice, and those who thankfully, were not made to—are to be commended. Their efforts made the toll that we all paid much lighter than it would have been without them.”

He gestured down to the basin. “Hence, this monument will honour, not the tragedy that befell us, but the triumph of those who fell and those who survived the day. As the third chancellor of the University of Generasi, I have the deepest gratitude for all of your efforts and sacrifices.”

Alex sat with his family and friends, holding Theresa’s hand. Selina—seated on his other side—had her hands folded in her lap. Their group was sombre, and while there weren’t any tears today, displays of grief were everywhere around them.

The Watcher with the eyepatch—Gemini—floated up beside Baelin.

“Today!” she shouted. “We honour the triumphs of the past as they seed the triumphs for the future. In battle, magic, research, and craft, the victories of tomorrow are built on the efforts and successes of yesterday, and yesterday’s sacrifices!”

“The battles of yesterday—” the Watchers roared in unison, startling some of the city officials “—seed the victories of tomorrow! Glory to those who still stand! Glory to those who have fallen! May we never forget them!”

“In a grim sense,” Gemini continued, “this year’s closing ceremony for the Games of Roal is the closest to the very first celebration of Roal’s triumph over Oreca. The namesake of our order did not succeed without sacrifice or without loss of life. Many Generasians perished in the battle against Oreca, his priests, sea-beasts, and divine servants, and that first ceremony honoured those who fought, stood, and fell!”

Her good eye looked at the sword of Roal. “And today, we will do the same! Not only will medals and prizes be granted to those who won the Grand Battle and the Games in Roal’s honour, but we will also recognize and reward those who fought against the demon summoner! Please rise and proceed to the stadium floor when your name is called!”

Gemini stood tall, squaring her shoulders with military discipline, and announced name after name of participants in the Grand Battle. One by one, Alex and his friends rose from their seats and made their way down to join the growing crowd on the arena floor. The participants were directed to form two lines, one on either side of the memorial. With the basin in the centre, it became three lines—the memorial for the fallen formed the third.

Other names were also called—a new row formed—and Alex saw Ram and other referees from Oreca’s Fall make their way down to join it. Next to be honoured were those who had fought in the stadium—including Hobb—and a number of Watchers were called from their places standing at attention near Gemini, joining the line with all who helped end the assault on Generasi.

Professor Salinger and Baelin joined the group as equals to the rest.

“And finally, for his most crucial role in locating the demon summoner and in the battle within the Botanical Gardens, I call Kybas of the Clan Chulu to take his well-deserved place here!”

Alex was stunned.

He hadn’t heard that Kybas had been involved in stopping the attack. And what was he still doing in the botanical—

“Oh shit, the harvest,” he whispered.

Theresa glanced at him but didn’t say anything.

Kybas came down the stairs with a mix of pride and nervousness as every eye in the stadium followed him. Harmless was by his side, as always.

The two of them took their place among those who had been part of the battle.

“Those who still stand are now assembled!” Gemini spoke again, placing her hands behind her back. “I will now call the names of those who were injured and are still receiving care. To each of you, know that you are not forgotten!” She read their names, then said, “The names called now are the last, but they are not the least. They may not stand with us, but they are here in spirit. Please honour them with a moment of silence as I call each name!”

One by one, Gemini announced the names of the fallen on Oreca’s Fall Island and in the stadium, and the mood turned more sombre. Above, the rain hissed on the rain shield. Pockets of weeping travelled through the arena, breaking the silence.

‘This probably was what it felt like during that first ceremony to honour Roal. A mix of pride, pain, and joy,’ Alex thought as he stood with his head bowed.

Once Gemini had called the last name and finished honouring them with a moment of silence, she spoke again: “And now, we shall proceed to the final part of the ceremony—the awarding of prizes for this year’s Games of Roal and commendations for those who participated in the battle.”

At that point, Baelin stepped out of line and joined several officials. They went down the line, presenting awards: each person who fought against the demons received the University’s Milnos Thalaniel Award for Excellence in Service, which was a silver button forged in the shape of an elven wizard holding two staves.

Alex was surprised he recognized the wizard. His was one of the two giant statues that stood in the courtyard of the university’s castle. Milnos Thalaniel was the second chancellor of the university, the one who held the position just before Baelin. Alex had never heard of the award before, but Isolde had whispered it was a very significant one to receive.

His chest swelled with pride as it was pinned on his shirt. Next, he was presented with the bronze medallion for the Grand Battle, along with a purse of coin equivalent to fourteen hundred gold pieces.

Baelin gave him a respectful nod and then continued down the line. He pinned the award on Theresa next and presented her with her bronze medal and coin, then he moved down the line to rest of their teammates. As Alex stood among these folk who had—either by choice, desperation, or simple circumstance—fought against the demonic horde, he had a revelation about Thameland.

‘This must have been how it felt for past Heroes,’ he thought. ‘At least for the Chosen, Sage, Champion, and Saint.’

He remembered stories of days-long celebrations held to honour the Heroes’ triumph over the Ravener in past cycles. All of Thameland had been made safe, the people had returned home, and the Heroes were celebrated in triumph.

‘How would that have felt?’ he wondered. ‘Standing in the capitol, knowing that everyone in your entire kingdom is celebrating your victory and your sacrifices?’

Then his thoughts turned bitter.

‘And how would it have felt for Fools who made it to the end? Standing with your companions, knowing they had a bright future while you were doomed to go back to obscurity… or even mockery.’

His attention shifted to audience members who wept as the awards were being handed out. Their weeping grew louder when pins—and one medal—were laid at the foot of the memorial.

‘No, that’s not what I should be thinking about,’ Alex thought. ‘Fools might’ve had it bad if they made it through the cycle, but at least they got to live. How does it feel for those folks up in the stands? The ones with dead loved ones. How does it feel to see the living getting awards, while their loved ones are only names on a cold slab of stone?’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘And how does it feel watching awards being placed at the foot of some cold memorial while knowing they’re going to people who aren’t with you anymore?’

He swallowed hard, thinking of the expedition and something Isolde had told Mr. and Mrs. Lu one day during the Games: that Baelin wouldn’t always be there to help and protect them. While going on the expedition had him excited, there was something that was true: they were heading into a war zone.

He was going back into the belly of the beast to take its resources, its secrets, and hopefully, learn ways to end the beast forever. As far as he knew, what they were about to do had never been done before. That in itself was terrifying. In the end, the Heroes had never destroyed the Ravener permanently, yet each cycle they always won by carrying out Uldar’s plan.

He, his friends, Baelin, and what the expedition would be doing wasn’t in Uldar’s plan, it was something different. A completely new path. An unknown one. The Heroes tread a known path, and from what he’d seen, it was still scary. He was the Fool, he wasn’t supposed to be on a path to learn more about the Ravener and maybe end him permanently. There was no roadmap for him to follow.

There was only a new path filled with unknowns.

Chapter 89

Memories, Recognition, and Inheritance

‘Ihave a feeling this won’t be the last memorial service I attend,’ Alex thought grimly, his eyes falling on the stone monument as a morose feeling welled up in his chest.

A grim image formed in his mind. Another monument being erected somewhere in Thameland or Generasi, one with familiar names etched into the stone: Lady Isolde Von Anmut, Prince Khalik Behr-Medr, Thundar, Son of Gulbiff; Grimloch… Maybe even, Theresa Lu.

He shoved the image away, his mind turning to a graveyard in Alric where two gravestones stood, each bearing a name: Roger Roth and Anna Roth.

His and Selina’s parents.

Alex’s opinions about those stones had shifted over the years. At first, he’d hated them. Those tombstones had seemed like nothing more than a sick joke. Two cold pieces of rock sticking out of the dirt to replace their parents—with nothing but cold ash and bones buried deep below. And he was supposed to like them? It was hard to even look at them without getting mad. He remembered one awful evening when he’d stood in front of them for hours, screaming for them to give his mother and father back.

Yet, time went on, and so had he.

The emotional wound began scabbing over, then faded to a scar. It still hurt, it always would, but it wasn’t as raw anymore, and that slow healing changed how he saw their graves. Once, they’d been two rocks that were poor replacements for his parents. As the years passed, he’d come to see them as someplace where he could go… to talk to them.

The stones became banks on a vast lake, and if the wind blew just right, maybe someone could hear him on the distant shore.

Emotions welled up in Alex, and his face grew hot. He looked up at the audience.

‘I hope they can heal someday, and that goes for everyone from Thameland who has loved ones fighting there.’ Frustration tugged at him. ‘Still, what would be best is if there’d never been a demon summoner. Or a Ravener.’

Alex recalled something he’d thought about yesterday while practising Life-to-Mana: how he would’ve liked it if there could be a note in a book in the future about some incredible contribution he’d made to magic.

‘What would be even better is if a history book had a notation that said: Alex Roth helped destroy the Ravener of Thameland once and for all. Yeah. That’d be a pretty nice way to be remembered… and it’d make for a lot less memorials.’

“And last, but definitely not least,” Baelin announced, cutting through Alex’s thoughts. “All who stand before you are heroes in the eyes of the University of Generasi, but there is one who deserves special commendation.”

The chancellor was standing beside Kybas—holding a silver pin—while a city official smiled down at the confused looking goblin wizard. A plaque and very large sack were gripped in the official’s hands.

“For his pivotal role in finding the demon summoner and bringing his whereabouts to our attention,” Baelin continued. “And for risking not only his own life, but the life of his familiar as well, I recognize Kybas of the Clan Chulu with the Milnos Thalaniel reward.”

Baelin placed the pin on Kybas’ shirt while the city official made his own announcement.

“And for his service to the city in capturing a dangerous criminal,” the official said in a warbling voice. “We award Kybas of the Clan Chulu with the Generasi Award for Heroism and Service, along with a twenty thousand gold coin reward for the capture of the demon summoner.”

‘Holy shit, go Kybas!’ Alex thought.

He began to clap, and applause soon swept through the stadium. The little goblin’s eyes—filled with shock—darted between the official, the audience, the plaque, and the sack. He smiled, then gave a shy bow to the people in the stands.

The applause thundered throughout the arena for a long time before slowly dying away to let the ceremony continue. Friends and family of those who died—both in this attack and in past ones—were invited to speak, and they expressed feelings of anger, sadness, grief, loss, and even gratitude. Alex listened to every word, letting them wash over him, giving them the respect of hearing what they needed to say. When the last person had shared their grief, Gemini floated back up above the sword of Roal.

“And now we have honoured the triumphant, the living, and the fallen,” she said. “Know this, participants—as I close these Games of Roal—you can walk with your heads held high. You have done things that would make Roal proud. You are the sort who make others safer just by being near you, and that is a rare breed in this world. Walk tall.”

She floated down to the glass cauldron, wrapped her fingers around the hilt of Roal’s sword, and drew it from the seawater.

“With that, I declare these Games of Roal closed! Walk tall, friends. Walk tall!”

As the ceremony came to its end, folks began milling about in the centre of the arena, talking for a time before going their separate ways. Shiani, Malcolm, Evynder, and Rhea made their way over to Alex’s group, visiting for a while before Alex excused himself to go looking for a certain goblin. He and Claygon found the very overwhelmed-looking hero surrounded by a crowd peppering him with questions. Some were congratulating him and thanking him in earnest, while others—many who wouldn’t have given him a second glance without the pin on his chest, and plaque and sack of gold in his hands—were asking if he and Harmless could come to their businesses or houses for ‘a nice visit.’ The scene was a little too familiar for Alex. He well remembered being mobbed after winning the Dual by Proxy. Kybas clearly wanted to escape, so Alex called to him.

“Hey! Kybas!” He waved his good arm enthusiastically.

“Alex!” Kybas spotted him and grinned, relief washing over his face. “Excuse me,” he said to the swarm of people around him, trying to get away.

The little goblin and his crocodile familiar pushed through the crowd as Alex let Claygon lead the way toward them.

“Congratulations! You deserve this, mate,” Alex said, leaning down to clap his friend on the shoulder. “What you did helped so many people. Seriously.”

“T-thank you, Alex,” Kybas said nervously, but very brightly. “I’m sending a message to my Clan as soon as I can. I think they’ll be proud of me. The ancestors too.”

“They’d better be,” Alex said. “I’m guessing you’re going to be renting some mushroom beds?”

“Oh yes, yes!” Kybas grinned. “I’m going to grow so many mushrooms and make so many potions for Harmless! By the time I’m done, he’ll be able to use that big lava turtle as a warming rock!”

“Hah! Wouldn’t that be a sight.” The young man laughed, glancing at the crowd. “Actually, I want to talk to you about something. Something private.”

The pair moved away from the crowd, well out of earshot. He leaned down and spoke quietly into one of Kybas’ large ears. “Hey… did the harvest go okay? No one caught you or anything?”

“No,” Kybas whispered. “I was scared about that. The demon summoner came around my tunnels just before I got the last of the mushrooms out and I had to hide them when I went for help, then sneak back to get them and fill the tunnels a few days ago. It was close too. The school’s started replanting the botanical gardens… they would’ve found my tunnels, then I woulda been in big trouble. Not good for me and Harmless, not good at all!”

“Well, you got all your stuff out, right?” Alex said. “Even if they found them, there was nothing to connect you to them anymore.”

“I dunno.” Kybas scratched his head. “I kept thinking that, but then I started thinking ‘What if I forgot something? What if I left a footprint?’”

“Yeah, I get that.” He remembered his own paranoia after being interrogated by those investigators, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Well, all’s well that ends well. You’re flush with coin, and you got your stuff out completely free and clear. This is a good time to be Kybas.”

“Yeah,” Kybas took a quick look at the crowd at his back. “I think a lot of people think it’s a good time to be Kybas’ friend, but I don’t remember any of them being my friend before I got these coins.” He gave the bag a little shake.

“Yeeeeaaah, they kinda have a little bit of ‘thirsty Derek odour,’ don’t they?” Alex said.

“Eh? Thirsty Derek?” Kybas asked. “Who’s that?”

“He was in our alchemy class,” he reminded the goblin. “You know… red hair?”

“Oh yeah… I don’t remember him much.”

“Huh, okay. Well, you didn’t miss much. And speaking of missing things…” He glanced over at Theresa. “Listen, it’s Theresa’s birthday today.”

“Happy birthday to her!”

“What I’m saying is, maybe you can tell her yourself. I’m sure she’d love to have you drop by. Come on, come and celebrate with us!”

Kybas looked at the group for a long moment. “You know… if it’s all the same to you, I think I ‘peopled’ enough for one day. I kinda just want to go relax in my room. Maybe I’ll come by a little later?”

“Alright, man.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder and told him where the party would be. “Rest up, and if I see you there, I see you there.”

For the daughter of tavern owners, there was really only one place on campus they could’ve held Theresa’s party.

A bunch of tables had been pushed together at the Brass Grapes to form a single massive one, with Theresa sitting at its head. On either side, rows of family and friends were seated. The cabal was there, as well as Grimloch, Nua-Oge, Sinope, Hogarth, and Svenia. Most of their friends from Baelin’s class had come—including a newly healed Rayne—and some of Theresa’s other friends from life enforcement, including Shishi.

A chair scraped the floor as Mr. Lu stood up. “To our daughter: a happy birthday to Theresa!” he cried, holding up a goblet. “A medallist in those fancy games and a fighter of demons!”

“Father!” Theresa protested as her mother laughed. “You’re being too loud!”

Mrs. Lu held up her cup. “Saviour and warrior! Champion of—”

“Mother!” the colour drained from Theresa’s face as she looked around the bar; other patrons were looking at them with interest. It was a good thing Alex and the Lus booked their table at the Brass Grapes well before the Games even started. After the memorial ceremony, the bar had filled up with people toasting friends who’d fought, stood, and fallen during the attack. There was no way their group could’ve gotten a table if they hadn’t made those reservations.

Everyone took a long sip of their drink for the toast; most had wine or beer, but some—like Selina, Shishi, and Malcolm—stuck to water.

Khalik, of course, drank stronger stuff. “I also propose a toast,” the prince said. “A happy birthday to Theresa, and all honour and glory to those who fought and fell at the Grand Battle.”

“Hear, hear,” Rhea said.

“Mmm,” Grimloch grunted.

“To those that fell,” Theresa said, raising her cup.

“You know, this is the way to do things.” Thundar went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, hesitated, then grabbed a napkin instead. “In my herd, we celebrate births and deaths at the same time: ‘Glory to life at its beginning and end.’That’s what the elders say.”

“A good way of putting it,” Isolde said.

“Yeah…” Selina agreed. “I like that.”

Soon, the waitstaff brought out a feast. Roasted venison, beer-battered fish, greens with a garlic dressing, spanakopita and crispy falafel with goat cheeses on steaming platters. The aromas made Alex’s mouth water, and just before they were about to tuck into the meal, Mr. Lu tapped the side of his goblet.

“Sorry to interrupt before we eat this wonderful spread,” he said. “But there’s something we need to do first.”

He looked to his wife then moved to the front of the Brass Grapes to an area where cloaks and gear was stored.

Mrs. Lu cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s eyes.

“Theresa,” her mother said, leaning over and placing her palm over her daughter’s hand. “You have grown into a wonderful young woman. It seems like I blinked and that baby that kicked and screamed so much became that young girl walking into the forest and bringing back wild beasts.” She glanced at Brutus, who watched her from Theresa’s side. “Then she transformed into the grown woman who’s getting medals, and silver pins, and… who people are thanking for the things she’s done. You’ve really grown. Which is why, well, I know gift-giving was supposed to be after supper, but we’re your parents. We’ll do what we want until you stop us.” She smiled, squeezing her daughter’s hand.

As she finished, Theresa gasped, looking past her mother. The older woman’s smile grew. Alex turned and gasped.

Mr. Lu was on his way back to the table with a pleased expression.

In his hands, he carried a long, thin object. One Alex recognized well.

The second of Twinblade Lu’s swords.

Chapter 90

Grand Gifts and Unholy Friendships

Theresa, Alex, and Selina stared at the sheathed blade in Mr. Lu’s hands. The blade and its twin had held legendary status in the Lu household while they were growing up. Always to be kept stored away from prying eyes and curious little fingers.

They’d gotten used to seeing Theresa carrying the one she’d borrowed, but to see its twin in Mr. Lu’s hands now had taken all three of them by surprise.

“I won’t lie,” Mr. Lu said as he walked up beside his daughter, who was in a state of shock. His grip tightened on the sword’s scabbard. “For years I wondered what to do with my grandfather’s blades. Which of our children to pass them down to. There was always the traditional way: grandfather passed them down to his eldest son, and my father passed them down to me, his eldest son. Always eldest to eldest.”

He chuckled. “But our eldest son—Albert—had no interest in either of them. He made that very, very clear. Even said if I ever gave them to him, he’d cart them off to the nearest merchant and sell them.”

Theresa made a sound like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on, which Alex found to be amazingly cute. “He wouldn’t!” she said in alarm.

Mr. Lu gave a wry smile. “Maybe not, but I don’t really have any interest in forcing burdens on people. And swords… well, they’re always burdens. They’re a responsibility, and I lost sleep trying to figure which of our other children should take that responsibility. That is, until Theresa took the decision out of my hand by sneaking away with one while my back was turned.”

Theresa looked down, and Mr. Lu watched her evenly. “I won’t lie, that did upset me. You needed a weapon, Theresa. Did you really think I would’ve said ‘no’ if you’d just asked me for them? You needed them.”

“I’m… I’m sorry. There wasn’t time,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

“Well, there’s time now. And you’ve shown your mother and me that these swords can do a lot of good with you.” He presented her with the blade like he was a high priest conducting a coronation. “Grandfather’s sword always looked lonely in your hand. I think it’s time for its twin to meet it again.”

Mrs. Lu rose from her seat and smiled at her daughter. “Happy nineteenth birthday, Theresa.”

Theresa stared at the sheathed blade for several heartbeats. Her eyes began to shine, and she jumped up and wrapped her arms around her parents.

“Thank you!” Her voice was choked with what sounded like a host of emotions. “Thank you! Oh, by the Traveller, thank you!”

Alex himself began to choke up, and he heard a sniffle come from nearby.

‘Selina must be feeling this too. I guess—Thundar?’ He’d turned to see the muscular minotaur leaning away from the table with a napkin pressed to his face.

“I just got something in my eye. Bloody dust!” he grunted.

“Yes, it is called a ‘tear,’ Thundar,” Isolde said, and she too looked a little red around the eyes. Alex noticed her cradling the hilt of her stiletto.

Selina looked like she was quietly sniffling into her napkin.

“Thank you… thank you so much,” Theresa said. “I’ll try to bear both of my great-grandfather’s swords in a way to make both of you proud.

“You’d better,” Mr. Lu said. “If after all this you go and sell, break, or lose them, then I’ll never be able to show my face to your uncle again. He wanted those bloody swords so much when we were young.”

“Really?” Theresa said. “Why didn’t grandfather give them to him then?”

“Because he was just that right mix of ‘wants them too much,’ ‘wants to use them too much,’ and ‘knows too little about how to use them.’ They would’ve gotten him killed. Your uncle can make swords, but he sure can’t use them to save his life!”

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Mrs. Lu giggled.

“Not if you don’t want the rest of our stay with him to be as unpleasant as a boil on a moose’s behind.” He laughed.

“Now that we have that taken care of, let’s eat!” Everyone dug into the feast laying before them, though Theresa could hardly think about food. She kept staring at the curved sword on the table in front of her with a mix of awe, excitement, and nerves.

Alex could sympathise. That weight of responsibility… He’d felt it all too often.

As the party went on, topics shifted. Shishi, some of Theresa’s other friends from life enforcement, Isolde, Khalik, Thundar, and Grimloch all lined up to see the fabled second sword of Twinblade Lu.

“I cannot get over the sheer craftsmanship,” Isolde murmured. “Just look at it.”

Theresa didn’t unsheathe the sword in the bar, but Alex noticed the hilt and crossguard had been freshly cleaned and polished. The scabbard looked like it had received some love too. The leather was bright and the brass was polished to a perfect shine.

“That gift comes at a good time,” Khalik said to Alex. “It will serve her well during the expedition.”

“Yeah.” Alex speared a piece of fish, while trying to manoeuvre around his slung arm. Every now and then he’d have a Wizard’s Hand feed him, but kept it to a minimum when Isolde made a comment about ‘unseemly behaviour in a public place.’

“I will take some comfort knowing that we are properly equipped,” Khalik said. “Between those swords and Grimloch’s armour, the Games proved very fruitful in bolstering our resources for what’s coming.”

“Mhm. It’s a good thing too,” Alex said quietly. “I’m sure the Ravener’s monsters won’t exactly lie down and hand us the dungeon cores.”

“Indeed,” Khalik agreed. “I suspect or at least hope the attack by the demon summoner was more dangerous than what we shall face in your homeland. Though one never knows.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “We’ll just have to meet that challenge when it comes, just like we did on the beach.”

“True, we will not be alone. Still, though…” Khalik said, glancing down at Alex’s sling. “How is your arm?”

“It’s alright,” the young man said, gently touching the sling. It was making eating the birthday meal a little more complicated than he would have liked, but he’d made the best of it so far. It could’ve been a lot worse. “It’s inconvenient, but it doesn’t hurt or anything. Mostly just itchy these days, and I’m supposed to get this thing off soon.”

“That is good news. In any case, let us not dwell for much longer on such grim talk. We celebrate Theresa’s birthday. This is a time for joy, not dread.”

“I hear that, brother,” Alex said.

The party continued, and people at other tables came and went. Eventually, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the Brass Grapes. A short figure had slipped into the bar—looking all around—then brightened when he spotted the long table.

“Kybas!” Theresa stood up. “Welcome! Alex said you might come!”

“Sorry I’m late,” Kybas approached with his familiar at his side. “Is there room for Harmless and me?”

“Will be once we get another chair.” Grimloch turned around, grabbed an empty seat at the next table, startling the guests sitting there.

“Grimloch!” Nua-Oge chastised him. “You should’ve asked if they were using that!”

He growled. “You using this?” he said to the people at the table.

“Even if we were, we aren’t anymore,” one of them said.

“Good.” Grimloch dragged the chair over then pointed at it. “Sit.”

“Grimloch, I—” Nua-Oge started to say, then just pressed her mournful face into her hands. “Nevermind. Just nevermind.”

“Alright, I never minded.”

“No, Grimloch, I—”

“I don’t mind either!” Kybas said. “I like this group. You all know how to do things right!”

He jumped into the chair as Grimloch gave him a grunt. “Hm. That we do. What was your name again?”

“Kybas, and you?”

“Grimloch. Who’s your little friend?”

“Harmless!” Kybas grinned evilly. “I am feeding him lots of body enhancement potions so he grows up very big and strong! And killy! Then when bad guys are running and screaming, I can say: ‘No worry! He’s Harmless!’”

The shark man actually looked startled for the very first time since Alex had known him.

Then he did something absolutely terrifying.

He laughed.

Deep, booming, harsh laughter that sounded more like boulders grinding together under water, filled the bar, drawing horrified looks from every other table.

“That’s brilliant.” Grimloch grinned.

“I know, right?” Kybas grinned back.

Everyone at the table looked at each other in alarm, as though something unholy had just been forged. The thought of Kybas and Grimloch getting along actually chilled Alex’s blood.

“What have you done?” Khalik whispered.

“I don’t knooow?” Alex whispered back.

“Ooo! Just in time for dessert!” The goblin rubbed his hands together as he saw the waitstaff approaching.

Warm butter cookies, slices of tiramisu, berry tarts, biscotti, and candied chestnuts were brought to the table, much to the delight of everyone there, who then promptly began ignoring the horrifying conversation taking place between Grimloch and Kybas.

Well, everyone except for Selina, who seemed to be listening with interest.

‘Well, that’s unnerving,” Alex thought.

By the time dessert was done, he felt like he’d swallowed a large bag of rocks, and everyone else appeared to be in the same state of food-coma. Quickly—before anyone fell asleep—they got to the gift-giving part of the celebration.

“From me,” Isolde said, handing Theresa a fine poniard. “I saw you staring at it in the weapons shop more than once, and I thought it would look much better on your belt than it did hanging on their wall.”

“Thank you so much, Isolde,” Theresa hugged the taller woman.

Her other gifts were things she also had a connection with: a nice collection of world maps from Khalik, beads that folk used when meditating from Shishi, an antique book about life enforcement from Nua-Oge and Grimloch, a new leather quill filled with arrows from Thundar, a pair of very realistic looking clay figures of her and Brutus running that Selina had carved, and a lot more good stuff she really appreciated.

Alex had decided to go all out with his gift.

“Happy birthday, Theresa,” he said, handing her a box that was long, broad, and not too deep.

“What’s this?” she asked, shaking it.

“Don’t shake it!” Mr. Lu chastised her. “Come on, Theresa, you’ve turned nineteen, not five.”

“Father, I won’t see twenty if you keep embarrassing me like this!” she protested.

“Well, that’ll be bad, but if you do keel over from embarrassment in the next year, at least you’ll do it with a cool new toy,” Alex said. “Open it.”

Everyone leaned toward Theresa, trying to get a better look as she undid the clasps on the box. She gently lifted the lid, was as though opening a treasure chest in some ancient temple.

She gasped, drawing out a curved, C-shaped object. It was crafted from a mix of fine wood, the horns of a bone-drinker, polished brass, and glue made from the bones and tissue of monsters from the Barrens.

“Alex, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she excitedly hugged him. “Thank you so much!”

“What is it?” Nua-Oge asked.

“It’s a composite bow!” Theresa said, grinning like a happy child. “It’s got the power of a longbow or even more, but it’s smaller and more compact! It’s perfect for hunting!”

“Yeah, and the draw weight is a heck of a lot higher than the bow you’ve been using. With the right arrows, that thing could punch through chainmail and thin plate armour. Now the downside is that wet weather can mess up the glue that binds the horn and wood,” Alex said. “But your bow had an alchemical treatment to seal the glue. You could drop it into the middle of the Prinean and it won’t come apart. It isn’t enchanted, but it’s what alchemists would call ‘enchantment ready.’ Which means the materials will take mana well. And it’s got glyphs inside that’ll make it easy to enchant. So, if you want, you can get magic effects added later.”

“This is great,” she said. “And the brass… it’s going to go well with the golden string I got from the archery contest!”

“Right?” Alex smiled. “That was kind of the idea. A really cool bowstring deserves a really cool bow for its really cool archer.”

“Gross,” Selina said. “Now you’re really sucking up!”

“I am not!”

“He is, Selina, he is, but by the Traveller he’s doing a good job,” Theresa said.

As the gift-giving came to an end, everyone drank and talked a little longer before pouring out of the bar and heading home.

Theresa came up beside Alex as they walked through the moonlight.

“That was amazing,” she said to him, her parents, and Selina. “Thank you so much.” She looked down at the sword on her waist, the velvet bag with the clay figures inside, and the box with the bow in it—which she clutched to her chest like a precious baby. “I can’t wait to use them.”

“I’m glad you’re so happy,” Mrs. Lu said. “And I’m glad we got to celebrate with you before we leave. Now, we just have one more birthday to go.”

She pat Alex gently on his shoulder. “Just a couple of weeks until you turn nineteen too.”

“Yep,” he said. “And I expect you all to absolutely spoil me. I can even come up with a gift list. An expensive one!”

“Pfeh,” Thundar grunted. “So much for ageing gracefully. You didn’t even get me anything for my birthday!”

“You didn’t tell anyone when your birthday was!” Alex protested.

“Excuses, excuses,” the minotaur snorted like he was offended.

“I think we should get him the greatest gift of all,” Khalik began.

“Oh no,” Alex groaned.

“—Expulsion.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Perhaps we should frame him for a crime,” Isolde tapped her chin in thought.

“He probably already did something. You know how much of a hardened criminal he is. I heard they even dragged him down to the station. Shady, if you ask me,” Thundar glared at him suspiciously.

“You’re all traitors!” Alex shouted.

“Oh dear, Theresa, I didn’t know you were dating a hardened criminal.” Mrs. Lu looked at Alex with feigned worry.

“Ugh, with friends like you, who needs the Ravener?” he said mournfully.

It had been a full day for everyone. It began with paying respects, sorrow, and recognition, and ended with a much-needed celebration. Wounds had begun to heal into scars, and some folks could think about moving forward to brighter tomorrows. All in all, it had been a bittersweet day.

Alex looked forward to getting his sling off. Though he was worried about what his arm would look like under the magically treated bandage.

Wounds might heal, but scars tended to stay.

Chapter 91

Scars

“So there has been no pain at all?” the blood mage asked Alex as he examined his sling.

“None,” Alex said. “My arm was itchy until a couple of days ago, but even that’s almost gone now. It’s healing, I’d say, though I’m obviously not the expert here.”

“Good, good,” the medical staff member jotted down a note and readjusted his monocle. “Sounds like things are healing up nicely.”

Alex and the older man were sitting in an office painted yellow and blue in the infirmary. The door was closed, but the sounds of people bustling back and forth in the hall could be heard. Along one wall sat rows of medical supplies.

Tools like callipers, bandages, splints, and basins stood beside alchemical supplies like mana-soothing potions, poultices that enhanced natural healing, and mana-powered tools for physical exams. Another shelf was overloaded with books on anatomy, encyclopaedias of poisons, herbs and curatives, and texts on the spread of disease.

“And tell me, do you notice any issues with range of motion on the left side of your body,” Shannerhart, the medic, asked, peering at Alex’s eyes one at a time.

“Not a bit,” the younger man said. “If anything, it’s just the sling that’s slowing me down now.”

“Good, good, good.” Shannerhart scrawled another note in Alex’s chart. “And you’ve had no fevers? No sicknesses? No issues with manipulating mana or channelling into magic circuits lately?”

“Nothing like that. I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“So you are,” Shannerhart said. “I must say, young man, you have done excellent work when it comes to taking care of your body. Too many students come to this school and only focus on feeding their minds, building their magical prowess, and pickling themselves with wine and ale. They neglect the physical until they find themselves sick.”

“Why, thanks, I’ve been trying to keep healthy,” Alex said, flexing his free arm. “I’ll be honest, one of the annoying things about the sling was that I couldn’t exercise, and I missed that.”

In the space of a year—thanks to his Mark-assisted training program, and support from Theresa, Khalik, Thundar, and Grimloch—his body and endurance had grown to a level where he could do physical things he’d never dreamt of doing before.

He could run for miles before he got winded, and the weight he could press above his chest was more than double his entire body weight when they’d arrived in Generasi. A year and a magical Mark could change a lot about a man.

“Well, keep it up,” the blood mage said. “As long as you don’t overdo it and cause yourself an injury. And watch your back. Imagine that sprain in your arm but across your lower back instead. It’s the sort of thing that could weaken you for life.”

“Oh, I’m being careful.”

“Good, good. In any case, from what you report, it seems there are no issues with infection, disease, poison, or curses. Demons can inflict very nasty wounds, so this is a good thing. And I apologise again that we couldn’t use blood magic to heal the sprain faster. But, I’m sure you understand what we were up against.” Shannerhart adjusted his monocle and sighed. “There are still many recovering who’ve suffered significant injuries from those demons, and we had to use our mana reserves strategically when there were so many in need.”

Alex pointed to his sling. “Yeah, I understand. I’d be a pretty big jerk if I was like, ‘Why didn’t you prioritise this little sprain over someone’s broken leg or clawed up body?’”

“Well, you’d be surprised how often we get complaints like that,” Shannerhart said. “Now, you have some people waiting for you in the waiting room, I believe. Let’s not keep you and them here all day.”

Slowly, he took off the sling then asked Alex to roll up his sleeve and extend, stretch, and move his arm slowly. Then, he took a look at the dressing. “Now, according to your medical record, your wound was quite deep. So, just to warn you, there might be some scarring.”

“Well, at least it’s not on the face, right?”

“Hah!” Shannerhart laughed. “Some would say that gives the face character. But in either case, let’s see what that dressing is hiding.”

He carefully snipped the bandage with a pair of silver scissors, then began to unwrap it layer by layer. Alex’s cheer soon faded as the skin on his forearm was revealed for the first time in over two weeks. Normally, dressings were changed once per day for a wound like his—according to the medical staff on the beach—but his had been soaked in a solution of potions that kept them clean and repelled water and infectious agents.

The healing poultice had long turned dry and crusty, and beneath that…

“Ooo, that’s quite the scar,” Shannerhart commented.

Under the bandage, a long, raised, reddish-brown, ugly, welt-like scar ran along the length of Alex’s forearm. It was ragged, like a dull blade had sawed through it. No wonder it’d bled so much. Disturbingly, it reminded him of the scar that led him to call the demon responsible for it, Burn-Saw.

“Well,” Shannerhart said. “It could be a lot worse.”

‘People keep saying that,’ Alex thought.

“If it’s any consolation,” the medic said. “It looks nasty, but it shouldn’t cause you any discomfort, pain, or loss of motion as time passes. I’ll give you an ointment to rub it with every night for the next few weeks. It should keep the scar from tightening, if you use it faithfully. Don’t forget now, some women like that kind of thing. Makes you look more adventuresome.”

Shannerhart winked with the monocled eye, giving him a bit of a creepy look. Alex just smiled politely.

‘I’m sure Theresa’s parents won’t like it.’ He turned his arm back and forth, examining the scar from every angle. ‘And neither will Selina.’

Seeing the scar made everything that happened recently snap into sharp focus, like it was a preview of things for the future. He swallowed. A year ago, getting a scar like the one running along his forearm would have scared him into forgetting all about expeditions, and looking for a nice job behind the biggest, safest desk he could find.

But Wizardry was dangerous. And the more Alex learned about the world, the more he came to understand that even if he didn’t go looking for violence and danger, it would have no problem coming to him. The demon summoner, mana vampires, and the Ravener, proved that.

Sure, he was still nervous about the expedition, but he, his friends, and colleagues from the university would be tackling a dangerous foe head-on, instead of letting it run rampant.

Some of Gemini’s words from the memorial ceremony came to mind: ‘You are the sort of people that make others around you safer just by being nearby.’

Just like the silver pin he’d received from the university, this scar was a badge representing that. He’d bear it with pride. Especially when Theresa’s parents weren’t looking.

“We could probably make it fade somewhat.” Shannerhart adjusted his monocle while he leaned over and examined the scar again. “A little bit of Skin Renewal Poultice and it would be much less noticeable. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“No, not really,” Alex said. “I think I’ll keep it just the way it is. If anything, it’ll remind me of… a lot of things.”

“Very well, then.” Shannerhart moved away. “In that case, I declare you a free man, Mr. Roth.”

Alex thanked the blood mage and left the examining room, stepping into the busy hallway while adjusting the sleeve of his shirt before he entered the waiting room where Theresa, Mrs. Lu, and Selina sat. Mr. Lu was probably outside with Brutus and Claygon.

“Alex! How’d it go?” Theresa asked, quickly getting to her feet.

“I only have three days to live,” he said mournfully. “I came to say goodbye to you all.”

All three of their faces immediately went from ‘worried’ to ‘unimpressed.’

“Aw, that’s too bad. I guess that means there’s no birthday for you,” Selina said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, did I say three days?” Alex said, enjoying the fact he could raise both hands again in a ‘slow down’ gesture. “Sorry, the pain from this deadly wound must be messing with my mind. I meant to say, like… two weeks and three days. Just enough for you to get me birthday pres—Hey, wait! Wait, where’re you all going?”

His family was swiftly walking toward the door without a single look back at him.

“How dare you abandon a dying maaaaan!” he called after them.

They walked faster, trying to exit the building as quickly as possible. Pushing the doors open, Selina even turned to shut them before he could get through.

“Hey!” Alex followed, bursting through the doors after them.

A startled Mr. Lu and Brutus turned toward him.

“What happened?” the older man asked.

“Mr. Lu, they’re so cruel to me!” Alex said mournfully.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’m dying, and they’re abandoning me—”

“He’s not dying, Father,” Theresa said dryly.

“Oh, that’s fine then,” Mr. Lu said and casually joined his wife, daughter, and Alex’s sister in walking away. “If you’ve got the energy for jokes, then you must be fine!”

Alex sighed, looking over at his golem. “Oh, Claygon, you’re the only one that appreciates me.”

His golem did not make a single movement or noise in response.

Alex was sure he was just imagining a look of disappointment on Claygon’s sculpted face.

After Alex had given his family a serious report on how he was actually doing, the young wizard took his golem and went to see someone he’d been hoping to meet up with for at least a week.

Arriving at the top of the castle, his knuckles were poised over a set of fancy double doors, when they suddenly opened on their own.

“Ah, Alex, I’ve been expecting you,” Baelin said as he, and a small army of silver-glowing Wizard’s Hands, wrote and signed a mountain of paperwork spread across his desk. “I unfortunately do not have much time to chat today, but I am glad to see you came by.”

“Glad you made time for me, Baelin,” Alex said, shutting the doors behind him. “Is uh… now a bad time?”

“Nonsense, I was in need of a little break anyway. The last week has been a marathon.” Baelin finished signing a final sheet of parchment, then slid it away with a look of disgust. “Have a seat.”

The chancellor looked at Claygon, examining the golem for a moment. “And how are you, my large friend?”

The golem did not respond.

“Ah, well, worth a try.” He turned his gaze back to Alex as the young man sat down in front of the desk. “No further signs of developing intellect?”

“Well, about that,” Alex said. “That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

He told Baelin about the incident with the rain, where it seemed like Claygon had shielded him and his books on his own initiative.

“Fascinating,” the ancient wizard said, drawing his hand through his beard-braids. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” the younger wizard said. “Do you have any idea what could be going on?”

“Hmmmm.” Baelin tapped his fingers on the table. “There have been incidents of magical items gaining intelligence in the past quite spontaneously. I once knew a warrior whose blade had a simple enchantment that sharpened its edge and made it nearly impossible to dull or break. After carrying the thing for a while, the sword suddenly began speaking and singing, if you can believe that.”

“That sounds like it could be… annoying.”

“Oh, it was. Dreadfully so. Unfortunately, no one was able to determine how the change had come about. As I said, there is some spontaneity when it comes to magical items and constructs gaining intelligence. I suspect that in your Claygon’s case, the only spice that will stimulate his growing mind will be time, though I am not sure. And what about evolution?”

“There’s been nothing on that,” Alex said.

“Ah, I suspected as much. With golems made from chaos essence, their triggers for evolution vary as much as the roiling bed of chaos itself. However, while the dungeon core’s substance shares a lot of similarity in composition to chaos essence, it is a different material, after all. I suspect the trigger for Claygon’s evolution will likely come from other dungeon cores, their monsters, or this Ravener.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable,” Alex said. “I guess we’ll see when the expedition starts, then. Speaking of that, when do you think we’ll be going?”

“End of summer most definitely,” Baelin said. “Everyone is anxious to get started, but, if I am to have the time to spare to see to this properly, we will have to settle all of the paperwork in the aftermath of Leopold Richter’s atrocities against the city before we can embark. His attacks have also caused some… concerns, among other officials. People are arguing that more muscle will be needed to protect the less combat-ready researchers. That involves discussion, sourcing, and the hiring of warriors and battlemages.”

“Well, better to do this with the best resources instead of rushing in too early.”

“Agreed. Now, how is your arm? I see your bandages are off.”

“Yeah, there’s a scar there, but I’m just thankful I still have the arm… Which reminds me,” Alex said. “I think I have a lead on the Traveller.”

“Truly.” Baelin’s eyes grew sharp. “Do tell.”

Chapter 92

An Ancient Search

“Hannar-Cim… Hannar-Cim,” the chancellor rolled the name around in his mouth. “Interesting… There’s a familiarity to it.”

“Really?” Alex sat bolt upright.

“Yeees… Hold for a moment.” Baelin’s eyes glazed over as though he were seeing something that was invisible to the naked eye far off in the distance. “Yes, I remember now. Roughly five hundred years ago, I summoned a demon for the purpose of killing a number of rats creating havoc in a cellar, and—”

“Wait, hold on, you summoned a demon to kill rats?” Alex leaned forward in disbelief.

“Of course! Why not?” the chancellor held a look of honest confusion. “Now mind you, it wasn’t a very strong demon, but demons can make exceedingly gifted pest exterminators. They are perhaps the second most naturally gifted killing agents in all the planes.”

Alex swallowed. “What’s the most gifted? Dragons? War-spirits?”

“The common housecat.”

“What? That can’t be right.”

“Several extinct species of bird, small mammal, and reptile would beg to differ were they not, of course, extinct,” he said. “In any case, it was a Bu’Bu: a small demon that amuses itself by scaring children and feeding on small animals. This particular one did make a strange request of me when I summoned it. I used subjugation summoning to bind it to my will, but it still tried to bargain. It asked if I knew where to find a ‘Hannar-Cim.’”

“Holy crap, this is big,” Alex said excitedly.

“Indeed… And it is not the first time I have summoned a demon who has asked if I know so-and-so mortal. I think many demons believe the material plane is much smaller than it actually is and merely assume we all know each other.”

Alex felt his face flush with embarrassment. He’d sort of made a similar assumption when he’d thought all demons spoke a single language. But, Baelin didn’t need to know that.

“Did you look into the name?” Alex asked.

“It pains me to say it, but I only did a cursory search,” he said. “Demons often try to bargain for information or knowledge on mortals who have wronged them or may have given them petty slights. Most often, the mortals they seek are long dead. I searched through certain reference books at the time, made inquiries of a few friends, and when I found nothing, I assumed the demon had just named some petty summoner who called it long ago. Now, with hindsight… I regret that I did not dig further. Pfeh, if you live long enough, Alex, you can come to regret your every action if you let yourself.”

“I’ll uh… keep that in mind,” he said. “Can you summon the demon again? Maybe it could have learned something in the last half-thousand years.”

“Hrm, we can hope,” Baelin said. “Before I do, though, you said the other words were… Hirshin-Eos and Yushaero. Those titles I have not heard before. And you said that this ‘Burn-Saw’—I see your skill for naming things has not grown—called out these names after it sensed the energy that comes over you when you use summoning or teleportation magic.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I think it has something to do with the Traveller,” Alex said. “I know there might be other variables at play here, but the timing was too… specific. I could be wrong, but I think it’s pretty safe to assume she’s who he was referring to.”

“Indeed, indeed. At any rate, while the data is not firm enough to create a conclusion, it is definitely firm enough to warrant more investigation. Now, then. Let us begin with our closest lead.”

Baelin rose from his chair. “If you would be so kind as to stand aside, Alex.”

The young wizard got out of his chair and moved beside Claygon while the chancellor stepped around his desk. Baelin extended his hand before him and spoke the words of an incantation, which Alex recognized as the words of a first tier summoning spell.

He could feel the connection form between this world and the faraway hells that demons called home. A circle drew itself on the floor of Baelin’s office and the air shimmered within the space.

There was a shift in reality and then a creature came boiling up out of the stone. It was a sleek, vicious looking thing, that appeared to be a lean, hungry cross between a goblin, a monkey, and a hairless cat. While it had eyelids like a cat, its eyes were strange. Almost like glass balls with multiple lenses in them. They sort of reminded Alex of the flies’ eyes he used to look at when he was small and caught insects to examine them.

It had a long tail that separated into four ‘fingers’ at the tip, and from the centre, a vicious looking stinger protruded.

“Hello—” Baelin said a name that came out like nails scratching along stone in one of the many tongues of demonkind. “It has been quite some time since we met, has it not?”

The creature let out a horrible screech at the chancellor.

“I see that time has done little to improve your mood or your manners.” Baelin sniffed, then made a face. “Or your smell for that matter. So let us keep this unpleasant business brief. Do you remember asking me about this name: Hannar-Cim?”

The demon gave him a dull look, then made a screech that sounded suspiciously like a question. Alex focused on the Mark, trying to let it help him start picking up the demon’s language, but he had too little experience listening to demons speak. The Mark had no memories to draw from to help him.

“You do not remember?” Baelin asked. “I know it was some time ago, but you seemed so intent on getting an answer from me at the time. Do not tell me you have no memory of this now?”

The demon screeched at him.

“Aaaaah, there it is. And where is he?”

Another screech.

“Ah, that is a pity. Then tell me everything you know of this Hannar-Cim.”

Alex listened as Baelin went back and forth with the demon, trying to find some meaning in their conversation. The only thing he got for his trouble was a dull headache from all the screeching.

Finally, Baelin waved his hand. “Very well, you are dismissed.”

The little creature vanished from the world, and Baelin turned to Alex. “Well then, that was illuminating.”

“What’d it say?” Alex asked, almost desperately.

“Very little… and yet very much,” Baelin said. “It did not know much about Hannar-Cim, and it had even largely forgotten the name. Seems that when I had summoned it all those many years ago, it questioned me on behalf of another demon who was of higher station in the hierarchy of its domain. That was the demon looking for Hannar-Cim.”

Something in Baelin’s voice made Alex think there was some ‘not-so-good-news’ concerning this other demon.

“And that other one is dead, isn’t it?” he asked. “Or gone?”

“You were right the first time, I’m afraid,” Baelin said. “Some time ago, the abyssal knight that ruled this creature’s domain angered an abyssal knight-errant: a sort of wandering warrior in the hells, much like how mortal knight-errants function in your land or the Rhinean Empire. They quarrelled, and the knight-errant won handily and consumed his rival before setting upon and killing all of his enemy’s servants. This creature’s immediate superior was among the ones destroyed. Permanently.”

“Damn,” Alex swore. “I guess it was too good to hope the answer would be right there. It doesn’t sound like the whole thing was a bust, though?”

“It was not. For one, our little friend did refer to Hannar-Cim as a she.”

Alex’s heart jumped. “That’s… that’s one thing in favour of this Hannar-Cim being the Traveller.”

“Indeed, and there is more,” the ancient wizard said, and Alex could have sworn he heard a young man’s excitement in his voice. “The creature did not have all of the details, but it appeared that a price had been placed upon this Hannar-Cim’s head for a humiliation she had subjected another abyssal knight to, though it was unaware of which one that was. I also know it has had no dealings with any demons from Ezaliel’s realm, which shows that this Hannar-Cim’s influence extends beyond one domain in hell. He also said he’d been instructed to search for her with discretion.”

“Right…” Alex mused. “Maybe Burn-Saw and the demons that attacked Generasi aren’t the only ones that know about her. Burn-Saw was pretty open about accusing me when he saw me. There was nooo way he was trying to be discreet—the exact opposite actually.”

“Hm, that could mean that whichever high-ranking demon was humiliated by this Hannar-Cim, might be dead or has given up on attempting to hide the event. Things are often in flux within the hells, so anything is possible concerning that, really. Now, there is another piece of information we have gathered that the demon did not tell me directly.”

“What is it?” Alex asked.

“Think about it. Think about when I summoned this creature.”

“You mean right now?”

“The first time. What did I say?”

“You said it was… five hundred years ago—Oh shit, that’d be a little more than a hundred years before the Traveller would’ve been born.”

“Indeed.” Baelin looked at Claygon’s face, carved to look similar to the goddess statues in the Cave of the Traveller. “This Traveller is most curious. A book with a language that I do not know, that not even the members of my cabal know… Ancient Heroes that seemed to have participated in battles a hundred years before they were born… And recent sightings on other planes. Well, hasn’t this become an interesting mystery. It might be enough to convince my cabal-mates to take more of an interest in the subject.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex said with excitement. “We’ve learned some things. We definitely learned some things. I guess we could also be completely wrong and this Hannar-Cim could have nothing to do with the Traveller.”

“Indeed…” Baelin said. “On the one hand, this Hannar-Cim was a woman and so is the patron saint of your homeland. It seems this ‘Burn-Saw’ had direct contact with Hannar-Cim and identified something in your mana—when you used a teleportation spell—as something so familiar, it was convinced that you were this person. Those things indicate a link between Hannar-Cim and the Traveller. And yet, there are disparate time periods, which indicate there might not be a link. Hm.” Baelin tapped his chin. “I will see if your high priest or your king might permit me to take a quick look at that cave you used to get to Generasi. More clues likely lie there.”

“I wish I could come,” Alex said. “But those priests would sense me around there.”

“Well, you will likely be busy with investigating the dungeon cores and their capabilities,” the chancellor said. “Not to mention the search for any demons that would know of Hannar-Cim, which I shall conduct together with you. Now, one unfortunate matter is that this demon has not heard of any sightings of Hannar-Cim in recent times. It only knows what it found out from its deceased superior ages ago.”

“Ah okay,” Alex said, puzzling things over. “So, Burn-Saw’s heard of Hannar-Cim being sighted in the planes more recently, but this demon hasn’t. Huh.”

“Indeed. Well, ‘the hunt is on’ as some would say,” the chancellor said. “Let us see how difficult it will be for us to find our quarry.”

He glanced up at a timekeeper on the wall and made a face. “Well, would you look at the time? I fear that is all the break time I have for now. Later, we shall look into this with more depth. I must admit, I am eager to see what we shall uncover.”

“Yeah, me too, Baelin, me too,” Alex said. “Oh, uh… Can I ask you one last question?”

“Certainly, as long as it is a quick one.”

“Is there life, on other worlds? On the material plane?”

Baelin raised an eyebrow. “Alex… I faintly recall saying I had time for a ‘quick’ question, not ‘please confirm or deny several incredibly contentious theories that have plagued wizards for some millenia.’”

“I thought you might be able to answer fast. You know, with a yes or no. That sort of thing. I was wondering if Hirshin-Eos was maybe in another world. What do you think?” Alex asked.

Though he had a feeling he would be wasting his time, he tried reading Baelin’s body language, and got nothing. The chancellor was still. Almost stone-like in stillness. As Alex was observing the ancient wizard, he got the distinct feeling Baelin was observing him in exactly the same way.

“Then I shall answer with only one word: perhaps,” Baelin said. “There is evidence for such a concept and evidence against it.”

Alex remembered something Mangal had told him, about if archmages had discovered other worlds with life and resources, they wouldn’t exactly go around telling everyone else their secrets.

“Yeah… okay,” Alex said. “Well… let’s just say you happen on the knowledge of this Hirshin-Eos, wherever it might be. Do you think you could tell me?”

“Why yes,” the chancellor said. “I will tell you as soon as I know. After all, I am a professor. What good would I be if I didn’t teach?”

Alex got the distinct feeling that while Baelin did teach, he didn’t necessarily teach everything he knew.

Chapter 93

Late Summer Days

As the days passed and both the demon summoner and the Games of Roal receded into memory, things started to return to normal in Generasi.

Classes resumed, that atmosphere of competitiveness as folk had prepared for the Games faded, and summer grew closer to fall. Soon, the greatest concern the students of the university had, wasn’t who would win medals and prizes for feats of combat and magic, or where the demon summoner would strike next. They turned to more ordinary things, like assignments and upcoming exams. Life had returned to normal.

As normal as life could be in an entire city of wizards.

The summer semester—though extended for an extra week—raced toward its conclusion, and Alex found himself and his friends once again buried under a small mountain of work.

Isolde became her usual intense study-mode self. Exhausted as the days went on, spending more time in the company of books than people. The cabal met up to study together through the remainder of the semester, with Khalik and Alex quizzing each other from their magical botany notes.

“You would think the destruction of the botanical gardens would have made Salinger go a little lighter on us,” the prince groaned as he copied a diagram of a magical plant from a textbook. “I think he’s actually become even more filled with zeal!”

“Yeah, I thought he’d be busy focusing on replanting,” Alex said. “Somehow he’s found plenty of time to make us identify every bloody plant that’s ever felt the touch of sunlight and mana.”

“Can’t be that bad.” Thundar looked up from his own books. “You think it’s going to help with the expedition? I mean, identifying plants sounds like it’ll be a good skill to have when we’re out in the wilderness.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “It’s definitely going to help. For now, I just want a break. Ugh, well, we’re getting through it, and at least it’s better than fighting for our lives.”

“Indeed,” Isolde’s voice came from behind several towers of books. “I have the sense that soon we will have enough excitement in our lives. I, for one, welcome a return to normalcy.”

“I suppose I do too,” Khalik agreed. “Speaking of things returning to normal, how are those skin-renewal treatments going?”

“Quite well,” Isolde said. “I am fortunate that the claws did not penetrate much deeper than they did. The scarring should be essentially invisible soon enough. And Svenia has made a full recovery.”

“Good, is she back to work?” Thundar asked.

“Hogarth and I insist that she rest for a little longer, though she grows restless. She feels she is more than ready to return to her duties.”

“She’s not the only one who’s been eager for things to return to normal,” Alex said.

Shale’s Workshop had called the staff back to work shortly after the memorial service. Lagor had been busy, picking up the slack for his assistants while Shale’s was closed for the period of remembrance. And though they were back working at full capacity, he seemed to be giving Alex special consideration even after his sling had come off.

“Don’t push yourself too hard now,” the crafter had said one shift. “The tool room does need reorganising, but it’s not urgent or anything. Take your time with it.”

“I’m alright, I’m alright, boss,” Alex had laughed. “I’m not made of glass. I’m fully recovered and ready to go, seriously.”

But Carmen and Ekebe—who’d been hired to replace Minervus—were going out of their way to see that Alex had a lighter load.

“I’ve got this, Alex,” Carmen had said toward the end of one shift. “Why don’t you head out a little early, I can finish cleaning up.”

“Carmen, I’m fine,” he’d said. “You’re the one with little ones waiting for you to come home. I’m good.”

It was actually a good thing Alex was healthy again. Shale’s needed all-hands-on-deck. After the demon summoner was caught, there’d been a spike in orders for golems for both personal defence and the defence of customers’ estates.

“This always happens,” Lagor said. “About thirteen years ago, a great flock of harpies made a lair about fifteen miles up the coast. They would swoop down on the countryside and attack estates out there, and all sorts of rich folk began wanting golems. At the time, we were working nearly twenty-four-hours a day just to fill all those orders, just like now. Good for business, bad for health. Ahh, it’ll all balance out, it always does. Not everybody can afford what we make, so when the wealthy get their orders filled, things’ll quiet down.”

Working a few night shifts on top of his regular evening ones since things were so busy, meant Alex would still be there when the day shift came on duty. He’d run into Sim Shale a few times and their encounters had been surprisingly awkward, which confused Alex. Sim had seemed so friendly at the Games.

At first, the boss’ son seemed to be going out of his way to avoid him. The young wizard began to wonder if he was harbouring ill feelings about his Duel by Proxy loss. He soon found out there was something else going on.

Bright and early one morning, while Alex was taking off his safety equipment, he overheard Sim talking to another staff member just outside the room he was in.

“—keep thinking that could’ve been me on that beach,” he heard Sim’s voice saying. “You know, if Bruce and Kato had been free, we would’ve had enough people to form our own Grand Battle team like we were planning to. And we would’ve been there.”

“It didn’t work out that way, Sim,” another voice said. “Just thank your lucky stars your friends couldn’t make it. I was in the audience, and trust me, that was bad enough. Can’t imagine what it was like for the ones on Oreca’s Fall Island.”

“I don’t… I keep wondering if I could’ve made a difference,” Sim said. “It keeps playing out in my head at night… Agh, but I’m no fighter. We all think we’re fighters until the fight actually starts.”

“True enough. Say, there’s that one guy that was at Oreca’s Fall, right? Roth, from the night shift? You talk to him?”

“Shh! He might still be here! Last thing I want is to bring all that stuff up to someone who went through it.”

Alex listened as their footsteps moved away from the door. He was a bit stunned. Aside from having one nightmare and a general sombre feeling after the battle, he’d bounced back fairly well emotionally and physically.

Meanwhile, Sim was beating himself up and he hadn’t even been there. Alex didn’t quite know how to feel about that. It reminded him in a way of how things usually went when people learned his parents were dead, even though years had passed.

Their eyes often went wide, some would gasp, some would gape, many would stutter apologies for something they’d had nothing to do with.

Some would say: ‘Oh, poor you, I understand how much that must hurt.’

While McHarris had actually said: ‘I feel your pain, Roth. An uncle of mine got caught under his collapsing barn a few years back,’ and then he’d gone on for what felt like forever about his own tragedies, forgetting about Alex’s.

It seemed people assumed he must still be in emotional agony, but his pain had lessened. He’d learned to live with the loss.

There was a time when he’d even questioned himself, wondering if there was something wrong with him because years later he wasn’t still emotionally destroyed. Had he gotten over their deaths too easily?

Sim’s reaction dredged up those old questions, but now, they were about not still being a wreck because of what happened on the beach.

Most people meant well, but got uncomfortable around grief and wouldn’t know what to say. Instead of saying that, they’d make assumptions about what the other person was or should be feeling. There was no one way, or one right way, to get through things.

The demon summoner made a living hell for a lot of people, and some would be broken for the rest of their lives. Just like with other tragedies, dwelling on them wouldn’t make any of them disappear like they’d never happened.

Leopold was going to be executed and Amir was in jail. Justice was going to be done.

All Alex could do was move on, remember, but not dwell.

“It’ll get easier, Sim,” Alex said to himself quietly as he put the last of his supplies away. For a moment, he remembered when Minervus had been in these very rooms. Now, he rarely thought about him. “Life happens, and to get through, we just gotta keep moving forward.”

Maybe one day he’d get to tell Sim that.

“The thing to remember is that while there are different types of soil, you can convert one to the next,” Salinger said from the front of the class. “And that’s a very important skill for any wizard who plans to specialise in magical botany. Non-wizards have to contend with being completely at the mercy of nature and climate. We? We can tweak things a bit. And that’s an important thing when you’re faced with a problem like this.”

Salinger gestured all around the class.

It was early morning in the botanical gardens, and instead of being surrounded by the lush vegetation the class was normally nestled in, their lesson was practically taking place in the aftermath of a war zone. Replanting had been going on for a while, but the gardens still looked like they’d been the scene of an incursion from a horde of vicious demons doing what demons do…. Destroy stuff.

A lot of the earth had been torn up. The stones showed signs of having been recently repaired by magic, and much of the plant life were just sprouts emerging from the earth.

“Sometimes you need to give the soil a bit of a magical push to get plants growing the way you want,” Salinger said, scooping some dirt from a pot and crumbling it between his fingers. “Especially if it wasn’t the best soil to begin with. I once had a garden that was mostly clay. Great for growing irises, hostas, and echinacea, but not much else. Well, one month, we had so many downpours, all that water eventually swept most of the plants and a lot of the soil away.”

He placed his hands on his hips. “I took a look at the ruins of my garden and analysed the remains of the soil, and what I had left was junk: lots of rocks, very few nutrients. So, I cast a little spell called Alter Earth Composition, which doesn’t do much for the average wizard, but boy, can it do wonders for those of us who like to dig around in the dirt.”

To illustrate his point, he cast the spell on a pot of clay, and slowly, the soil changed until it had become a rich loam. A few months ago, Alex wouldn’t have recognized the difference between loam and mud.

“That is a useful spell,” Khalik said quietly. “I’ve already learned it in my earth magic class.”

One of the students put a hand up before Alex could respond.

“Yes, Avery?” Salinger nodded at the student.

“Could the spell be used on a mass scale?” Avery asked. “It sounds like it could revolutionize farming around the world.”

“It has,” the professor said. “And it’s been used here in Generasi a lot, but there are limitations. One problem is that magically altered soil—like a lot of transmuted materials—tends to revert back to its natural state after a time, and the greater the change in soil composition, the quicker it reverts. For example, if I tried to change pure sand into the freshest, moistest compost, it’d become sand again in a few hours. However, there are some ways around this.”

He gestured to some containers of sand, water, and composted plants. “If you know the composition of both the soil you want to change, and the soil you want it to be, then you can get a little creative. If I added compost and water to the sand, then its composition would be much closer to compost. Then, when I cast the spell on that mixture, it’ll last a hell of a lot longer, maybe even become permanent.

“Though you can’t just go around making any soil you want without considerations. Climate is always king. If you look around and see that the soil in the area you’re in is of a certain type, then there’s probably a good reason for that. Earth that’s permafrost is never going to grow tomatoes. Even if you thaw it and change the composition, it’ll freeze back up in no time because it’s too damn cold.”

He looked over at bees pollinating a pot of flowers nearby. “Another thing you have to pay attention to are the type of animals around. Just because you change the soil, doesn’t mean there aren’t species of nasty little insects and other small, hungry creatures about who’d be looking to eat your mana rich plants before you can harvest them.”

Alex carefully made notes on what needed to be considered for the spell. When he finally started growing his own potion ingredients, he’d have to remember what to do in case the soil composition needed adjusting.

A thought hit him. He wrote a single word in his notebook: Quicksand? He thought about changing soil to quicksand and then lying in wait for enemies to step in it or even get chased into it. That would be a great trap or a way to alter terrain.

He tapped his pen against the page, thinking about how dungeon cores could shift terrain in dungeons.

That would be something worth studying. The mechanisms for how dungeon cores altered the earth around them. Could they only alter the shape of the terrain or could they also alter soil composition?

“I’d suggest practising with the spell. It’s definitely going to be part of the exam,” Salinger said. “Which will be here before you know it, folks.”

‘And so will the expedition,’ Alex thought. ‘And my birthday.’

It was strange.

His nineteenth birthday would be the one-year anniversary of him receiving Uldar’s Mark. And while he’d made a lot of peace with the attack on the beach, he hadn’t completely done so with the fact that he’d had a jester’s face imposed on his shoulder for a year now. He made the best of it, but it could be very limiting.

And soon, instead of running from Thameland with the Mark, he’d be going back there with it.

Chapter 94

Birthdays and Miserable Businessmen

Alex stood before the mirror in his darkened room, examining the golden symbol on his shoulder. The mocking jester’s face stared back at him, its grin as malicious as ever, faintly glowing like some self-satisfied tattoo. Alex inspected it to see if it had changed. Did it actually look different or was he imagining things?

He peered at it in the low light.

Yeah, it definitely looked smaller.

A chill went through him.

‘Why is it shrinking?’ he wondered. ‘Is something happening to it? Is Uldar going to—No…’

He peered closer, stretching the skin with his fingers.

No, it hadn’t gotten smaller, his shoulder had gotten bigger. The Mark had remained the same size.

He sighed, not knowing if he should be relieved or not.

“You’re imagining things,” he said to himself. “Nothing’s going to happen. You haven’t read of anything happening, and you’ve never heard of Marks going through changes.” Then of course, there wasn’t really any detailed information written about the Marks that he’d been able to find so far. Who knows if they did change.

Still, on the eve of his nineteenth birthday—nearly a year after he’d gotten the Mark—he couldn’t help but wonder if something was going to happen.

He shook himself.

“You’re just speculating, man,” he told himself. “Nothing’s going to change and nothing has changed. The only thing you’re doing is making yourself tired. Technically, you’re not really going to be nineteen until late tomorrow evening, so stop thinking about stuff you can’t change for now.”

One thing he could change when it came to the Mark was to get Thundar to teach him some body illusion spells to hide it. If anything happened in Thameland and his shirt had to be off around other people, it needed to be concealed. Maybe he could talk to him about that tomorrow.

Turning away from the mirror, he went to the window and opened the shutters to let the night air in and watch the starry sky for a while. The sky was clear and the moon was full. A cool breeze played over the skin on his bare torso, but it was pleasant.

Very soon, he’d be looking up at the moon from Thameish lands. The expedition was structured in a way that he and his team would be teleported to his homeland for a block of days, then teleported back to Generasi for on-campus days. While the expedition would count for two of his courses—second year Art of the Wizard in Combat and Alchemy—he’d be taking three other courses back at the university.

“Exploring, researching, and fighting deadly monsters on site, then back here for my other classes,” Alex said. “I’ve got to plan my schedule so there aren’t any conflicts between classes and my shifts at Shale’s. It’s gonna be a hell of a year.”

The expedition was taking over his thoughts, and he was finding it harder to think of anything else as the time drew closer.

“Come on, man,” he said quietly. “Future problems for the future. Let’s just think about today.”

Closing his shutters, he did a few sets of pushups, then turned in for the evening.

The next morning, he awoke to the most wonderful smell drifting into his room. His eyes shot open and he flew out of bed.

The scent was very familiar.

Dressing at the speed of a sprinting swiftling, he bounded out of his bedroom to find he was the last person to wake up. A big breakfast was laid out on the table: flapjacks with fruit syrup and whipped cream, thick, greasy bacon strips, and spicy sausages. The perfect breakfast feast.

A platter in the centre of the table caught his attention. There, in all of their delicious glory, was a hill of cookies that made Alex’s throat catch when saw them.

He’d know his mother’s recipe anywhere.

“Happy birthday, Alex,” Mrs. Lu said with a warm smile as she placed the last dish on the table.

Selina and Theresa were already in their chairs while Brutus sat beside his master, looking at the breakfast with three pairs of longing eyes.

“You’re up, finally!” Selina smiled. “I nearly went crazy, I wanted to eat so bad—Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

“And so the dead arise.” Mr. Lu smiled, pulling out the chair between him and Theresa. “Come, my dead young friend, have yourself a feast.”

“Happy birthday, Alex,” Theresa smiled warmly. “Come and eat before it gets cold.”

Alex sat down with his family, and being in their company, let his fears from last night melt away.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since you left Alric,” Mr. Lu said. “In some ways it feels like you were there just yesterday, in others it feels like it was ten years ago.”

“I know,” Alex said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it myself, Mr. Lu. Sometimes I just can’t. So much has changed since then. This time last year I was still at McHarris’ place… Thankfully, for just a little while longer.”

“Right, McHarris,” Mrs. Lu made a sour face. “A poor businessman and a worse neighbour. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

“Last I saw him he was being grappled by Peter and Paul,” Alex said.

“Wait, really?” Mr. Lu asked. “McHarris is a piece of work, but I didn’t think he was a criminal.”

“Did… did I never tell you about… the eggs?”

“No, not a word.”

“Oh well, then,” Alex slapped his hand on the table. “So, the day I got fired—”

He regaled them with the story of how he’d discovered McHarris using bad eggs in stuff he’d been selling to his customers, and how he’d managed to get the guards set on him.

“Ew,” Selina made a face. “Ew! Ew! Ew! I had some of his cookies. Ew! I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Selina, don’t you dare,” Mrs. Lu warned her. “I didn’t slave away since long before sunrise just to have you throw up all your food back onto the table.”

“I won’t, but the thought of eating rotten eggs is nasty,” the young girl said. “Ew!

“Well, he got what was coming to him,” Theresa said as she cut some sausage.

“No arguments here,” Alex said. “I do kinda wonder what happened to him after that.”

“Oh, we saw him at the port,” Mr. Lu said. “When we were leaving Thameland. He came later than everyone else and he looked like he’d gotten beat up.”

“Aw, man, he’s not in jail?” Alex asked.

“He wasn’t last we saw of him,” Mrs. Lu said. “I guess ‘getting noncombatants’ away from Thameland trumped keeping him in the dungeon. Don’t know what happened to him when we got to the Rhinean Empire, though.”

“Good riddance,” Theresa said. “I wonder what happened to Peter and Paul.”

Her parents shook their heads and said they didn’t know.

“Maybe we can try to see how they are when the expedition’s on,” Alex said. “We’ll be in a different part of Thameland, but maybe we could get a message sent over.”

“If you find out,” Mrs. Lu said, “send us a message so we’ll know. Remember, some of the guards used to come to the tavern for their evening meal. I’d like to know if they’re alright.” She sighed, looking sad. “I’m sorry we won’t still be here when your expedition starts, but we have to get back to the boys soon.”

“We’ll miss you,” Alex said.

“Pfeh, I just hope Evan’s gotten all that stuff about going back home to fight out of his head,” Mr. Lu grunted. “The boy doesn’t know a spear from a candlestick, and he wants to go and fight monsters. Fighting men would be bad enough, but monsters! Ridiculous. I’m not even sure if I should tell him that you two are going back. Might give him ideas.”

“If you do, tell him we’re not going alone,” Alex said. “Some of the greatest minds in wizardry and some of the best fighters are going with us. It’ll be a lot different than a bunch of guys going back home with some spears and swords.”

“I’ll be sure to emphasise that should it come to it,” Mr. Lu said. “Hopefully that gets the idea out of his head. I told my brother to beat it out of him, if he had to.”

“You know what? Tell him that I’ll beat him up if he doesn’t stay put,” Theresa said. “Even if I have to track him down halfway across Thameland. And I won’t be happy if I have to do that.”

Mr. Lu snorted. “That might provoke him even more.”

“After a couple of punches, it’ll provoke him a lot less.”

Alex snorted. “I’m pretty sure your punches these days would do a lot more than simply ‘provoke’ him.”

“Well, if he’s bedridden, then he won’t be going anywhere and doing anything stupid.”

“Hah!” Mr. Lu said. “By Uldar, where did my cute daughter go, and who gave me this living weapon instead? Ah, nevermind. Finish up, breakfast, all! If we don’t, we’ll waste the whole day.”

“You know what my favourite thing about your family is?” Thundar said. “All your birthdays are around the same time, so it’s just wall to wall feasts.”

“Indeed, but my waist is not going to be very happy with me by the end of all of this gorging,” Khalik said, patting his belly. “Still, I’ll be glad to finally see what this place is like. The last time we were to come here, we missed out thanks to that mana vampire.”

For Alex’s birthday supper, his friends decided to take him to the restaurant he, Khalik, Thundar, and Najyah were heading to when they’d gotten jumped by the mana vampire. He was a little irritated they hadn’t gotten over here since the attack, but the truth was, they’d been busy and had pretty much forgotten.

The campus restaurants were nice—especially the one he’d taken Theresa to for their first date—but this place felt like it was on an altogether different level. It reminded him of the patrizia’s ballroom. With high vaulted ceilings and plenty of space. And where the roof of Isolde’s cousin’s ballroom was glass, the restaurant’s ceiling was the illusion of an undersea world.

Illusionary fish, whales, sharks, and merfolk swam overhead. An appropriate theme considering it was a seafood restaurant.

The group had a secluded table on the patio overlooking the canal at the back of the restaurant. Selina was nodding and waving at gondolas and other watercraft passing below. Glowing candles floated in midair, each burning with a different coloured flame that gave off no heat. They made the atmosphere even nicer.

In some ways, they reminded him of the light from his forceball as it shone in his room when he’d gotten the Mark a year ago.

“This place is expensive,” Mr. Lu said as he speared a piece of calamari. “But by Uldar is it worth it.”

“Agreed,” Grimloch shoved a massive piece of shark steak down his throat while others watched, bewildered.

Only Thundar looked completely unconcerned. “Relax, that’s no more cannibalistic than me having a nice piece of beef.”

“And that still seems strange to me,” Isolde muttered.

“Hah, me too, even after nearly a year. By the sapphire sea, I can’t believe we’ve known each other for almost a year,” Khalik said. “Time passes quickly. Especially when people have gone through as much together as we have. To think, the last time we were to come here, the evening became about a mana vampire attack and not a celebration meal.”

“You know… there’s been some hard times,” Alex said. “But seriously, these have been some of the best times of my life. Even considering recent events.”

Theresa reached over and squeezed his hand. “Some of mine too. And I think it’ll get even better for you once you see your gift.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said. “We all pitched in a little to get something for you that I think you have been wanting for a while.”

He gestured to someone inside the restaurant, and a porter began pushing a cart toward the patio laden with a set of tools and containers. Alex’s eyes grew wide.

It was a full set of beginner’s alchemy tools.

Flasks, beakers, magic tools for heating, a sample of Kamookak’s moss and…

Alex’s jaw dropped.

“Is that a mana spectrometer? Those things cost like ten thousand gold coins!”

“Aha!” Khalik and Isolde exchanged grins and the prince said. “You would think so! And it would have, were it new, but this is a used device we managed to find at a business liquidation sale. And, to be honest, it was a little on the broken side.”

“I spoke to Professor Jules after we bought it,” Isolde said proudly. “And she agreed to repair it. She wanted you to be aware that this is an older model and to not expect it to be quite as accurate or as quick as those we use in class, but said it should serve your purposes. And she also asked me to wish you a very happy birthday.”

“Wha—I—wha—” Alex stammered. “I don’t care if the thing was a box of scrap when you bought it! This is… Do you know how far ahead I’ll get with this?”

Now, he could begin making any potion he wanted. He would just need to rent some space and then craft away, once he got the ingredients he’d need. And, he had more than enough coin to buy them now. Hells, he might be able to buy some mushroom samples from Kybas to get his own potion garden started.

“What kind of business was it that failed?” Alex asked.

“Well, it was a shop owned by a country nobleman,” Khalik said. “It was shut down because, apparently, he was deeply embroiled in the middle of criminal activities and many of his assets were seized.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “Word is he hired thugs to raid a rival’s orchard or something of that sort.”

“His loss is our gain,” Alex said.

“Quite. I shall expect you to make many potions for all of us on our trip,” Isolde said.

“Isolde, you’ll be swimming in potions! I’ll—Hey,” Alex said. “This noble. You said he had thugs raiding an orchard?”

“We weren’t given all the details,” Khalik said. “I believe it was a nobildonna’s apiary he was raiding and not an orchard.”

Theresa froze. “Did… did these thugs use a vespara?”

“I do not kno—” Khalik’s jaw dropped. “No! It couldn’t be!”

“Who?” Alex said. “Who was the nobildonna these thugs were raiding?”

“Goodness,” Isolde’s eyes widened in realisation. “Do you think it… I believe it was Nobildonna Moggi.”

Alex burst out laughing, cackling like a witch, and Theresa joined him a second later.

“That must’ve been the guy!” Alex cried. “The guy that hired those vespara trainers!”

Khalik and Thundar collapsed in laughter, while Isolde just sat, dumbfounded at their raucous behaviour.

It seemed like one thing hadn’t changed between his eighteenth and nineteenth birthday: he was still making life miserable for shitty businessmen. Still, a year after they had come to Generasi, Alex had to say…

His nineteenth birthday was turning out to be a whole lot better than his eighteenth.

Chapter 95

Fingers and Departures

“Good, very good, everyone!” Professor Mangal congratulated her students.

All throughout the chamber, students stood beside summoning circles, and within each crouched a slavering Bu’Bu—a demon like Baelin had summoned. The monkey-cat-goblin-like demons peered around, waiting for orders from their summoners.

“Congratulations, you have successfully summoned your first demon,” she said.

Sighs of relief went through the class. Alex glanced around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to him and leaned toward his small summoned demon and whispered: “Hannar-Cim?”

The demon stared at him blankly.

“Yushaero? Hirshin-Eos?” he tried.

Still nothing.

Then the creature moved. Alex’s heartbeat quickened in anticipation. It was raising a hand. Was it going to sign to him? From his study of languages, he’d learned there were languages used by the deaf, certain secret societies, and spies that communicated using hand and finger signs.

Was this creature preparing to do that?

Alex leaned in, watching it closely, activating the Mark to help him learn what it—

Aaaaand, it was holding up its middle finger.

‘Does that gesture have the same meaning to demons as it does to people from Thameland, I wonder. Did it cross planes?’

The Mark then ‘helpfully’ flooded him with memories of all the times people had offered him the same gesture, and used those memories to ‘help’ him determine the meaning.

‘I know what it means!’ he assured the Mark mentally, scowling as the monster burst into what sounded like hard laughter.

‘Confirmation!’ Alex continued scowling.

“I got a demon that thinks they’re funny, eh?”

For a moment, he was tempted to use the subjugation summoning spell’s power to order the creature to pinch itself, but he didn’t think Professor Mangal would approve.

‘No, no,’ Alex said. ‘Such aggression requires an appropriate and measured response.’

Frowning, Alex Roth gave the demon two fingers.

The creature’s laughter faded and its fly-like eyes glared at him.

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s right,” Alex said.

The creature then gave him the finger with both hands, and grinning like a mischievous child, used the fingers on its tail to give him the finger a third time.

“You think you’ve beaten me, eh?” he whispered.

‘Well too bad for you,’ he thought. ‘A Hero of Thameland never fights alone. Claygon?’

Behind him, Claygon uncrossed both sets of arms and gave the little creature the finger four times. The demon’s smile faded.

“Yeah, that’s right, six to your three,” he whispered. “You can even use your feet if you want to, it doesn’t mat—”

Why was the room so quiet?

Alex slowly looked up to see the entire class staring at him, including the professor. The brave Hero of Thameland bravely hid his hands behind his back like a guilty child.

“…and as I was saying, class,” Professor Mangal said. “The summoner should not go out of their way to antagonise creatures they summon. Especially demons, even if they are bound by subjugation type summoning.” She looked at Alex pointedly. “After all, you never know if you might need to summon the creature again or if they know another demon that could make your life very difficult in the future.”

“To be fair,” Alex said to the class. “He literally started it.”

“Alex, this is a demon that specialises in scaring children,” she said. “It is not one known for its maturity.”

“Yeah, but like… I don’t want it to think it can do whatever it wants, right?” He looked around at the class. Some of the other students were snickering, but most were turning their backs on him.

Professor Mangal sighed. “Alex, please do not anger demons, even if they are getting on your nerves… Generasi has suffered enough of their wrath.” She clapped. “In any case! You have now successfully summoned your first demon. Can anyone tell me why demonic summoning is so commonly used among wizards?”

Alex raised his hand. He’d done today’s reading more than a month ago and was eager to make up for that earlier outburst of childishness. “Demons and devils more easily serve and interact with mortals. Demons will act on whims, so if the summoner can fulfill one of their whims, that’s a good way to get loyalty from them. Devils are creatures of law, pact, and contracts. They’re eager to forge contracts, so you can get their services pretty easily too… for a price.”

“Exactly.” Professor Mangal walked through the class, weaving between the different summoning circles with her hands clasped behind her back. “That is precisely the reason why demons and devils were among the first and most commonly summoned creatures in the world. We have less to offer elementals, engeli, and other sorts of spirits.”

She turned to the closest Bu’Bu. “But keep in mind what a demon is. Your subjugation magic will make it follow your orders, but when you move on to binding or relational contract summoning, demons can slip out of your control if you are not cautious. Remember well the folly of Lord Velix.”

Alex remembered the name from a story in the textbook, and he recalled the passage.

A man named Lord Velix had once coveted the neighbouring lord’s land and wife, and wished to take both. Yet, his domain was poor and he had little in the way of an army to put to field.

He contacted a local witch and asked if she could arrange a meeting with a demon.

“I can, my lord,” the witch had said. “But remember, demons are creatures of whim: if they are fond of you then they will do much for you. If they are not, then they will cause you tremendous misery and seek to find loopholes in a binding contract. Make the wording tight in any contract you create. I’ve had experience with these sorts of things, and we can craft the contract together. My price will be high, but it will be worth it. Just remember: be careful with how you treat your demon throughout its service.”

And so, Lord Velix had thought he’d understood her words.

He paid the witch handsomely, and together, they crafted a contract that would have made a Rhinean solicitor proud. With it in hand, he summoned a powerful demon with a large army. Lord Velix plied the demon with meat, slaves, treasure, and items to expand its power. He spoke with the creature long into the evenings, using his skill with the social circles of nobility to encourage the demon to favour his company.

And it did.

Greatly.

The Lord thought he had done well, for he imagined the worst he could have done was to treat the demon poorly. The demon worked within the bounds of its contract and destroyed the neighbour. The demon’s horde shattered the enemy’s army, conquered the land, and slew the enemy lord.

Throwing the dead man’s screaming wife over his shoulder, the demon returned to his master.

Lord Velix was happy, and released it from its contract so he might enjoy his newfound spoils. However, the demon’s affection for Lord Velix was deep, so deep that it did not wish to be parted from him.

And demons are creatures of whim, above all, and whim is the twin of impulse.

The demon dropped the woman and picked the lord up instead, throwing the screaming man over his shoulder. As a portal opened back to the hells, the demon took his ‘new friend’ with him. His neighbour’s wife escaped and Lord Velix was never heard from again.

“And that is why it is also important to know what a demon is saying, as you never know what its own plan might be,” Professor Mangal said. “So, with that in mind, your second to last assignment will be to learn to speak five phrases to your summoned demon, ask it for its name, then pronounce that name perfectly. Remember the power of names. Now, let us go into the ways that demonic tongues can be spoken by human mouths.”

As the lesson went on, Alex absorbed everything he could about demonic languages. He’d already been going through books from the list she’d given him, but actually hearing the languages spoken was quite an experience. Professor Mangal’s translations were giving him a foundation of memories to fuel the Mark.

After what turned out to be a very heavy class, they were actually able to end early. A rare occurrence.

“Remember, review chapter thirty!” Professor Mangal said as the students filed out of the classroom. “The material there will most definitely be on the final exam.”

“Can’t believe we’re almost on top of finals already,” he heard another student mutter.

Alex could hardly believe it either.

The summer semester was coming to an end and he’d soon have to choose his courses for the fall. Two would be covered by the expedition. He had second year magic lore to do—which was compulsory—and he was thinking of taking blood magic and another summoning course for the last two.

His progress with Life-to-Mana was going well, and with practice, he’d managed to complete around 45% of the magic circuit. He was also looking into more second tier summoning spells to go along with Summon Elemental Beetle Swarm. There was a tempting spell that summoned a hellhound—a vicious, canine devil—but he didn’t really want to go all in on fire in terms of means of attack. Still, hellhounds had other uses, such as tracking, sharp senses for keeping watch, and scouting. They were very clever too. It was something to think about.

The semester was moving along, exams were coming, and some of last year’s students were returning to school and settling back into their dorms and apartments. The new crop of first years would soon start to arrive, and that was leaving Alex feeling a little nostalgic.

It felt like yesterday that he, Theresa, Selina, and Brutus arrived on campus on Lucia’s sky-gondola.

‘I wonder how she’s doing,’ he thought, though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever know the answer. He hadn’t seen her at any of the sky-piers in months and hoped that was a good sign.

What was definitely good was that they’d started preparations for the expedition. The team had finally met a couple of times. The first meeting mostly dealt with the fallout from Amir’s betrayal, and new rules regarding the sharing of information with anyone outside the expedition team.

The second detailed logistics.

“We will be assigning each of your exploration teams a medical blood mage,” Professor Jules said. “They will be tasked with caring for your health if Baelin cannot be present to use spell-marks to ensure your safety.”

“Aside from that,” Baelin said, “we will be providing you with enchanted camping provisions for those days you must overnight in Thameland. You will naturally be expected to make reports on each outing.

“Identify flora and fauna or at least document those that you do not know. Note weather, any ruins, or construction of any kind that you find, and of course, any dangerous monsters you cannot subjugate. Collect samples from any monster you slay if it is from a dungeon. You will be provided with field guides, which are not exhaustive, of what sort of monsters are created by the Ravener. Oh, and if there are creatures there that prove to be natural to the location but are still dangerous, do not engage. Report the information and we shall see if such local creatures can be studied, then relocated.”

Magical equipment for the construction of the campsite was being organised, and the hiring of extra combatants was almost complete. Local guides were also being sourced, though there were apparently issues with finding those who knew the area and were free to serve as guides.

“Your departure is quickly approaching, so prepare accordingly,” Baelin said.

And the expedition teams weren’t the only folk getting ready for departure.

“There’s a lot more to pack now than there was when we got here,” Mr. Lu said as he surveyed his and his wife’s luggage. He squinted in the evening light. “You really spoiled us with all of these souvenirs and gifts.”

Atop one of the packages lay a piece of parchment showing proof of passage for two booked on a merchant ship. Mr. and Mrs. Lu would be departing for the Rhinean Empire in the morning.

Chapter 96

Family’s Parting on the Eve of Change

“Father, you forgot your pipe,” Theresa said, waving the pipe as she poked her head in from the balcony.”

“Hoo! I would’ve missed that!” her father said, taking the prized pipe, then tapping it in his palm. “All those fine herbs Alex gave me would’ve gone to a right waste if I’d left this behind.”

“Oh, Alex, tell me you didn’t!” Mrs. Lu looked up from organising their clothing. “You know how much I hate the smell of that stuff!”

Alex raised his hands in a ‘not guilty’ gesture, laughing nervously. “I picked the nicest smelling herbs I could find, Mrs. Lu. Smells like incense from Ar-Bishah. Mr. Lu’ll impress your friends!”

“More like make me retch with that habit of his,” Mrs. Lu sighed then turned toward her husband. “Zimo, please don’t smoke anywhere near me when we get shipboard. You know I won’t be able to get away from you puffing like a dragon!”

“I won’t, I won’t, I promise,” Mr. Lu said, also raising his hands in a ‘not guilty’ gesture.

Mrs. Lu returned to organising their luggage while Theresa went to help her mother. Her father leaned in toward Alex, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Technically, if I go up on deck and maybe lean over the ship’s rail a bit, the pipe’ll be over the ocean, not on the ship. And that’s the ticket, my boy. Just so long as I don’t fall overboard.”

He winked, then turned to busy himself with packing sets of hardened glass steins he was taking back with them. Glass goods were a lot less pricey and of much higher quality in Generasi than in Thameland or even the Rhinean Empire. Mr. and Mrs. Lu had bought several sets for the family inn, and a nice set for his brother.

They’d even bought a whole lot of goods for resale back in the Empire. Fleeing Thameland had been hard on most folk, especially financially. For the Lus, it meant leaving the inn behind, which was their sole source of income. Any opportunity they found to earn a bit of coin, they took. Mr Lu had explained that to Theresa and Alex when they’d asked why her parents had been scouring local shops for so many fine wares.

“Right, there’s just one more thing,” Theresa said to her mother as they finished buckling the last piece of luggage. “Alex?”

Grinning, he nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Lu. “I’ll be right back.”

Alex headed down the hall to his apartment to fetch an iron-plated box he’d hidden under his bed. Selina was just finishing up drying her hair after a bath in the downstairs bathrooms, and Brutus looked up bleary-eyed when he opened the door.

“Are they all packed?” his sister asked with a note of sadness in her voice.

“Almost,” Alex said. “We’ve got one more thing to do then it’ll be bedtime. We’ve gotta be up bright and early in the morning.”

“Alright, hold on a sec, I wanna say good night,” she said, slipping on her shoes. As they stepped into the hall, Brutus’ heads flopped back to the floor. “I wish they could stay longer. It feels like they just got here.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Alex said. “I’m gonna miss them too, but they’ll be back.”

“Yeah, but we won’t see them as much anymore.” She frowned. “And when the Ravener’s gone, they’ll go back to running the inn and they might not have time to come see us at all.”

Alex looked down at her. “That’s true, and if they do visit, they won’t be able to stay as long as they did this time. Plus, getting here from Thameland takes even longer than from the Rhinean Empire. But remember, there’re always ways around that and I’m gonna work on them.”

“Hm,” she grunted.

“What is it?”

“Later,” she said as they reached the Lu’s door.

When the Roth siblings entered the apartment, Mr. and Mrs. Lu looked up and spotted the box Alex held.

“What’s that?” Mr. Lu asked.

“A gift,” Alex handed him the iron-plated box.

“Oof, what kind of gift? It’s heavy.” The older man groaned as he hoisted it onto the table.

“Well, the only way to find out is to open it up. So, here you go,” Theresa said, handing her mother a small key.

With a puzzled look, she slipped the key into the lock and raised the lid.

“By Uldar’s beard!” Mr. Lu swore.

“H-how much is in here?” Mrs. Lu gasped.

“Two hundred gold coins,” Theresa smiled.

“Just a little gift from your daughter, Selina, and me,” Alex said, putting his arm around Theresa’s shoulders. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Wha—we-we can’t accept this!” Mrs. Lu stammered.

“Oh, yes you can, please, Mother,” Theresa said, closing the box. “It’s yours. We want you to have it. What good is having coin if you can’t share it with the people you love?”

Mr. Lu stared at the box for a long moment, eyes shining. “It’s too early for you to start taking care of your parents. You’re too young and so are we.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Theresa said.

“And me,” Alex said. “And if I get my way, there’ll be plenty more where that came from.”

“Don’t tell anyone you have it,” Theresa cautioned. “And be careful. And don’t let my brothers spend it.”

“Oh, we’ll make sure it’s used well,” Mrs. Lu said. “Thank you so much, Theresa, Alex… and you too, Selina.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done so much for Alex and me,” Selina said.

“It’s not just for these coins, it’s for…” Mrs. Lu sniffed. “It’s for being the best children anyone could ask for.”

“It’s the least we could do, Mother and Father,” Theresa lowered her head to them. “I just… loved having you here.”

“We’ll be back,” Mr. Lu promised as he and his wife gave their daughter and the Roth siblings a tight hug. “We’ll come back as often as we can.”

The next morning was an early one.

At the crack of dawn, the Roths and the Lus were up and loading baggage onto Claygon’s powerful form while he crouched in the hallway with all four arms extended. Most of the smaller bags were being ferried into his arms by Alex’s Wizards Hands. It made for a very efficient operation in the insula hallway.

While the adults weren’t showing any sign of tiredness, Brutus was constantly yawning and Selina kept wiping sleep from her eyes.

Then a familiar voice came from down the hall.

“Am I too late to help?” Khalik asked, striding toward them while straightening his shirt. “It would be a little unneighbourly of me to lie about while you are all loading yourselves up like pack mules. Though, I can see Claygon is doing most of the heavy lifting.” He laughed.

“Ah, you’re at the tail end of things,” Mr. Lu said. “But, it’s the thought that counts. Can you join us at the docks? Unless you’re busy, of course.”

“Nothing would make me happier than to see you off,” the prince smiled. “Come then, let me help you with the last of these bags and then I guess we shall be off.”

With the prince jumping in, they were finished loading up Claygon in no time and could finally be on their way. Together, they handed the Lu’s apartment key to the superintendent, then caught a sky-gondola straight to the docks.

The trip to the port was a much pleasanter one than the trip to campus on the day Theresa’s parents arrived. This time, there was no demon summoner attack to drive the city into a panic, just the quiet, normal activities of an early morning in Generasi.

“I have to admit,” Mrs. Lu said, “as much as Generasi didn’t make a very good first impression, it really made an excellent second one. I’m going to miss this place. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Mr. Lu agreed. “I just wish the trip to get here didn’t take so long.”

“About that,” Alex said. “I’m making learning more teleportation spells a priority. By the time I graduate, at the very latest, I’ll be able to just teleport you here. It’ll literally be quicker than walking from your apartment to ours in the insula.”

“Listen to him, now,” Mr. Lu said. “Talking about such wonders as if they were nothing. I swear, my sense of what’s possible and what isn’t is going to be all twisted around when we get back to my brother’s.”

“I know,” Mrs. Lu agreed. “I feel spoiled here. Even walking to the well to fetch water will feel like so much trouble.”

“My teacher and some of my classmates said that as the mana goes up in the world, then a lot of the stuff that only works in Generasi now, will spread everywhere,” Selina said. “Maybe everyone will be able to teleport anywhere one day.”

“That is true,” Alex said. “Though that’ll probably take hundreds or thousands of years for the rest of the world to reach the ambient mana levels that Generasi has. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can build some magical devices to make your lives more comfortable. It’ll take time—magic apparatuses that function outside of Generasi’s ambient mana aren’t exactly cheap—but I’ll see what I can do. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll make you something that’ll let you teleport on your own.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Theresa said. “It’d take a lot of the fun out of travelling if you could teleport wherever you wanted. You’d never see the world that way, just the bits and pieces around where your trip started and where it ended.”

“That does not sound so bad,” Khalik jumped in.

Alex glanced at the prince, remembering that his journey from Tekezash had been difficult.

“Think of it this way,” he continued. “If easy teleportation for the world becomes possible, then people will not have to worry about travelling in fear of monsters, bandits, evil folk, or even the weather or seasons. Leave the long way for those who want to experience all the world, and let quicker ways be for those who want to travel just for the sake of reaching their destination.”

“Hm, maybe you have a point,” Theresa said. “I know I’d feel more comfortable if you could just be magicked home, Mother and Father.”

“Haha, then Alex will just have to keep working hard,” Mr. Lu laughed.

“Alright folks, we’re here,” said their sky-gondolier as he began his descent.

Returning to the docks, the briny scent of the sea and the crashing of the waves brought a feeling of nostalgia back to Alex. He half expected to turn around and see The Red Siren docking into port, and wondered if Fan-Dor and Gel-Dor were at sea somewhere nearby. It’d be nice to see them again.

Once they’d left the sky-gondola and reached the waiting ship, it didn’t take long for the Lus to register, board, and for everyone to pitch in and unload the luggage Claygon carried. When everything was stored away in the cabin, the first mate soon called out over the docks.

“Last call!” he roared in a sing-song voice. “Time for departure! Board now or get left behind!”

“Looks like this is it,” Mr. Lu said.

“I’m going to miss you.” Selina hugged the Lus tightly.

“We’re going to miss all of you too,” Mrs. Lu hugged Theresa, Alex, Selina, Brutus, and Khalik. She even patted Claygon.

Mr. Lu exchanged a firm handshake with Khalik, and then patted Claygon on the back.

“Remember, stay on the roads,” Theresa said. “Don’t travel at night. If you meet bandits or monsters, don’t—”

“Oh, Theresa, we’ll be fine,” Mrs. Lu placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s not as if we haven’t travelled to the Empire before.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Theresa said, her eyes moving back and forth between her parents. “Just… make sure you write as soon as you get home. I’ll be worried.”

“Oh, you mean like how you wrote to us so diligently about everything happening in Generasi?” Mrs. Lu asked pointedly. “Including all the dangers?”

For an instant, Theresa stilled, then her parents burst out laughing.

“When are you going to let that go?” the young woman asked.

Mr. Lu shrugged. “Maybe on the death bed. Maybe longer. Who knows?”

“But listen, I know your…trip is coming soon,” Mrs. Lu said, referring to the expedition. Her eyes looked from Theresa to Alex, and then to Khalik. “And I know you’re going to make everyone proud. Still, be careful over there. A month or two ago I would’ve asked you to forget about this expedition altogether but… what was it Miss Gemini said at the ceremony?”

“Something like ‘you’re the sort of people that make others safe by being around,’” Mr. Lu said. “When all those demons attacked, I expected the worst was going to happen. But what did we see? You all came back to us nearly unharmed, and you had people thanking you for saving them.”

“You’re our daughter,” Mrs. Lu said, before turning to Alex and Selina. “And I’d say you’re our son and daughter too, if I weren’t afraid of disrespecting your parents. All three of you have grown so much. Alex, Theresa, things will be better for many folk if you step up and face down the demon summoners and Raveners of the world. I know that, and it makes me so proud of you. And, you’ll also have a team behind you.”

She looked at Khalik fondly. “And I know you’ll take care of each other, just like your professors will take care of all of you.”

“We love you,” Mr. Lu said to Alex, Theresa, and Selina. “Always. And we will write as soon as we get home.”

There was a deep bark and Brutus licked both of Theresa’s parents’ faces.

“And we’ll miss you too, Brutus!” Mrs. Lu laughed.

‘I love yous’ and ‘farewells’ were exchanged, and more than a few tears shed before Alex, Theresa, Brutus, Selina, Khalik, and Claygon left the ship. Shortly after, the gangplank was raised and the ship slowly made its way out of harbour and out to sea.

“Goodbye!” Selina cried, waving.

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Lu!” Alex shouted.

“Farewell!” Khalik called.

Claygon waved with two arms.

Brutus whined.

“Goodbye Mother, goodbye Father!” Theresa called.

Mr. and Mrs. Lu’s voices drifted back to them over the water as they shrank into the distance.

And soon, they were gone.

Chapter 97

Finals and Final Preparations

“And there they go,” Alex said as the ship disappeared into the horizon. “I hope they get back alright.”

“Let’s just say they will,” Theresa said. “And not invite trouble.”

“I’ve been praying to the Traveller that their trip’ll be easy,” Selina said. “I hope it’s a lot easier than ours was.”

“I hope so as well,” Khalik said. “I will pray to Zat-Ashtar that their journey will be quick, easy, and comfortable, and that all they find at home is pleasant: as they left it or better.”

“Thanks, Khalik,” Theresa said. “Come on, let’s get back to campus. If I stay here any longer, I’ll just keep worrying myself half-crazy.”

They turned away from the sea and left the harbour behind. On their way back to the sky-pier, Selina came up beside Alex.

“Can we talk when we get home?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I’ve got some time before it’s back to blood magic.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“What are we going to do when you finish school?” Selina asked her brother.

The question surprised him. “What’s brought this on?” Alex asked.

They had taken Claygon and Brutus for a walk, while Theresa was doing her morning meditations, and Khalik had gone home to catch some sleep before getting back to cramming facts about magical plant characteristics into his brain.

All around campus there was a franticness filling the air that happened just before finals. Even though there were less students than there would be in fall, winter, or spring, there was still a lot of activity going on.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lu leaving,” Selina said. “They won’t be able to see us very much anymore, and we used to see them every day. I was thinking that when the Ravener’s finally gone, we’ll see them even less, like we talked about.”

“Yeah, but like I said, I’m going to learn teleportation spells, then we can see them every day if we want.”

“Yeah, but… from where?” she asked. “Are we going to stay in Generasi? Are we going to the Rhinean Empire, will we go back to Thameland if the Ravener’s gone?”

“You’re really thinking far ahead, aren’t you?” Alex said. “Well, for one thing, since you want to learn to be a wizard too, there’s no way you’re going anywhere until you finish your four years of university. After that, you’ll be grown and can go wherever you want.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the castle, imagining Selina being around his age, attending the university with her own group of friends and schoolmates. Her own Khaliks, Isoldes, and Thundars. Hopefully, no Dereks.

“I might be doing graduate studies too, so we’d be here at the same time,” he said. “Won’t that be cool? Maybe I’ll be a teacher’s assistant for one of your labs.”

Selina made a face. “You’d torture me.”

“Oh, yes, I’d be the hardest marker you’ll ever have,” Alex grinned. “Unless you take force magic with Professor Ram, then I’ll probably be in second place.”

“I’ll just avoid all the classes you help in!”

“And I’ll lie about the ones I help with.”

She rolled her green eyes. “I’m trying to be serious, Alex. What happens when you and I graduate?”

“That’s going to be something we’ll have to deal with as time goes on,” he said. “Look at this.” He gestured around them to the stately buildings of campus and the students bustling about. After his performance at the Games, he’d noticed a growing trend of students carrying their books and supplies around using forceball-hung baskets, forcedisks, or even Wizard’s Hands. It was kind of amusing to see some of his habits spreading.

“Look at him,” Alex pointed back at Claygon. “If you told me a year ago that our lives would be so completely different, I would’ve called you crazy. And it’s only been a year. Who knows what’s going to happen in four years? More than eight, for you. Take some advice from your big brother, just worry about what’s ahead of you. Time changes things. You can’t do anything about what’s happening in the next country, but you can do something about what’s happening over the next hill.”

Selina looked at him sceptically. “I don’t think Isolde would say that.”

“Yeah, but Isolde has the next sixty years of her life planned out. Look, maybe we’ll stay here, maybe we won’t. For now, we just need to focus on what’s next. You know, maybe as you grow up, you might find you want to plan the next sixty years like Isolde. Then, you can do that, it’ll be your choice. One thing I do know for the future, is that we won’t need to worry about where we are, because with teleportation spells, we could go anywhere we want. We could travel some place, then teleport back to Thameland, Generasi, or wherever, and turn in for the night. That’s the kind of future plan I’m pretty sure about.”

“That sounds really cool,” Selina said.

“Well, one day it’ll be our reality. Just wait and see.”

In the days following the Lus departure for the Rhinean Empire, time flew by.

Since the summer semester was extended, final exams were later than they normally would have been, which added to the confusion of first and upper-year students arriving back on campus, while preparations for final exams were going on. There was a rush of students studying in the library, on campus grounds, practising their labs in the Cells while at the same time, there was the controlled chaos of move-ins and course selections.

Alex had made sure to pick his three choices early: compulsory second year magic lore, second year summoning, and first year blood magic with a plan to work hard enough to challenge the exam for credit, and get into second year blood magic in second semester. He’d been careful to choose courses so his three classes would fall on the same days he worked at Shale’s to avoid schedule conflicts, and the need to juggle his time with the expedition.

Preparations were really becoming solid now.

During one meeting, it had been announced that the professors on the expedition team were entitled to use the time away from campus as a sabbatical year, and students would also be permitted to withdraw from classes for a year without penalty. Alex didn’t want to pursue that, as it would’ve meant graduating later and probably losing his job at Shales.

They had also erected a new compound on campus. It was called the Headquarters of Thameish Expeditionary Forces and had been magically built on an area of the university’s property near the sea. The area was surrounded by glyphed walls some twelve feet high, and housed a laboratory, a storage building, meeting rooms, an infirmary, washrooms, and a small armoury. A detachment of Watchers had been assigned there while equipment, food, medical supplies, and alchemical supplies were brought in over a period of days.

Even though the Watchers were there permanently and the compound was never left unguarded, every member of the expeditionary team was provided with a unique circular card to allow them entry through the front gates and into most buildings. Some areas were high security and heavily patrolled, barring access to anyone who wasn’t a high-ranking team member. The Watchers’ duty also included questioning, checking and recording identities, and time and purpose of anyone wanting entry to, or exit from, the compound.

After the demon summoner, Baelin insisted the expedition be absolutely secure, even if some folks felt inconvenienced. No one complained since the memory of the demon assault was still raw.

As the mountain of equipment grew, the surveying teams—including Alex and his friends—spent hours training and being drilled in proper sample collection practises, proper documentation, and proper communication. In many ways, it felt like they were taking another summer course, one that was driving some of his cabal members half-crazy.

“At least much of it is review,” Khalik groaned after emerging from a long, dull training session one day. “Salinger has already taught us a great deal about sample collection.”

“You’re both luckier than me,” Thundar grunted. “I’m learning all that stuff from scratch. Feels like my head’s spinning.”

“We’ll have to burn all of it into memory, guys,” Alex said. “Where we’re going, we’ll need to have all this stuff down cold.”

He remembered his, Theresa’s, Selina’s, and Brutus’ experience with the silence-spiders. It might be tempting to think—since their group had come through the demon fight—that they’d be alright with any danger Thameland could throw at them.

Except dangers had a way of letting one know they’d been taking them far too lightly.

At least the training sessions at the compound were a good review for Alex and Khalik’s magical botany final.

Salinger’s exam was part massive written test, part displaying and being quizzed on plants the class grew during the semester, and a final part centering on oral identification of poorly potted magical plants, then re-potting them with the appropriately amended soil.

Alex felt comfortable that he’d done well when he and Khalik were on their way out of the botanical gardens clutching their re-potted plants. Professor Salinger had insisted each student take their plant home and ‘take care of them like you would a newborn.’ Alex wasn’t really interested in having a newborn, plant or otherwise right now, but there was no arguing with Salinger.

Professor Mangal’s final summoning exam was nowhere near as benign as magical botany’s.

First, there was the written test defining the three types of summoning, an analysis of hypothetical word problems of summoners calling otherworldly beings, and then a final section involving translating names from otherworldly languages to the common tongue.

For the word problems section, the class had to break down the written examples, explain what the summoners might have done right from a theoretical perspective, and what they might have done wrong. Then using a mix of theory and personal experience, discuss what they themselves might have done differently and explain their thought processes behind those ideas.

After the written exam, there was a break, and the practical exam took place on the following day.

Professor Mangal instructed the class to summon an elemental beetle, an elemental beetle swarm, and finally, a Bu’Bu. In the case of the demon, they had to communicate with it using words they’d learned in that particular demon’s language.

Alex had done rather well on that part of the exam—between studying and getting some insight from Baelin about when he’d summoned and questioned the Bu’Bu about Burn-Saw—he’d picked up a comfortable introduction to some of the demonic languages. Baelin had emphasised that summoned creatures were beings of chaos and the languages they spoke were very precise. Almost every nuance in pronunciation, speed, audio-prestidigitation, and tone could completely change the meaning of words and sentences. The Mark really helped him in getting the fine points down.

One of his classmates had made the same mistake he’d made the first time he tried elemental beetle—she was nervous from exam pressure and mispronounced a name. Instead of stopping, she panicked and repeatedly tried to correct her pronunciation. The result was utter chaos.

Her summoning circle soon contained the Bu’Bu she was supposed to be calling, plus two other creatures from different planes. They proceeded to attack each other while trying to escape the circle to get at the students. Everyone panicked. Alex moved beside Claygon, prepared for whatever might happen. Professor Mangal swiftly intervened and dismissed the hostile entities. She then used the incident to highlight the importance of not being distracted, of using calm and proper pronunciation of names, and never giving in to panic, repeating words which hadn’t been mastered, since doing so could be deadly.

Alex figured his classmate wouldn’t do well on that part of the exam, but Mangal talked to the petrified young woman about learning techniques to calm her mind if she wanted to continue with summoning. He doubted he would ever forget his own mistake, which reminded him of Amir.

His mistake had aged him a thousand years, but he’d learned a lot about being precise from it, and he imagined Amir was learning a lot from his own mistakes as the days passed in prison.

After the summoning finals were finished, he got back to learning the rest of Life-to-Mana.

Alex didn’t have much more of the spell to learn, so he focused hard on practising, until a few days later, he could cast 100% of it. His feelings were mixed. It was a good spell to know, but he disliked the unpleasant feelings that came with casting it. That sensation of his lifeforce being funnelled into his mana pool wasn’t something he wanted to experience too often. Although, the upside was that Life-to-Mana was foundational for the next blood magic spell he planned on learning.

Mana-to-Life.

At first look, the spell seemed to be simply the reverse of Life-to-Mana, in that it funnelled his mana out of his mana pool and converted it into lifeforce. There were differences, with extra sections of the magic circuit that made sure the converted mana wouldn’t unbalance his lifeforce. Unbalanced life energies could cause long-term, often debilitating health problems.

It was another spell to be careful with, but it was really valuable in giving him the ability to accelerate healing. Now that he’d gotten his first blood magic spell down, Alex began working on a new second-tier summoning spell: Summon Aervespertillo.

Aervespertillos were creatures from the elemental plane of air bearing a strong resemblance to a large bat in every way but one. Their wings were massive, as were their ears, except they had no eyes, They navigated and communicated completely by sound and feeling vibrations in the air.

They could also let out a startling sonic screech to stun enemies, and if enough of them screeched at the same time, even deafen them. For scouting, especially at night, they’d be very useful in the Thameish wilderness, and since they could fly, Najyah and any of the team using flight magic wouldn’t have to take to the skies and patrol alone.

Alex was pleased his preparations were coming along nicely.

He’d also started making use of both his alchemy kit and his connection to Kybas. Sourcing mushrooms from the goblin-wizard—which Kybas let him have free of charge as he considered Alex his and Harmless’ friend—he’d started his own alchemical ingredients garden. For now, Alex was only going to grow a couple of ingredients for two potions: Potion of Haste altered to do the exact opposite and slow opponents down, and a Sleep Potion that would send creatures off to dreamland. This would give him two more aerosol potions for his arsenal.

“A sleeping potion’ll be super handy if we have to capture beasts and bring them back,” Alex said to Isolde as he worked the soil in his potion garden. The young woman had come along with Khalik to see how things were progressing.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Isolde said.

“Indeed,” Khalik said. “Better a deceived or unconscious foe than a fighting one. Thundar has also been working on his illusions, inspired by Wolud’s skill, no doubt. Having more deception on our side will put us in an even better position. I have to say, I like the direction our preparations are taking.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Alex agreed.

He’d also started working with Thundar to come up with an illusion spell to hide the Mark on his shoulder. When they managed to perfect the spell, it’d be a nice bit of spell-work to add to his spellcraft, and he could also stop worrying about the Mark being seen by curious or problematic eyes in both Thameland and Generasi.

“I suppose we shall soon see if all of our preparations are enough,” Isolde said. “We should be getting the call to proceed any day now.”

Less than twenty-four hours later, they got news from the higher ups. Their team, along with other survey teams, would be heading to Thameland during the week before school began. They’d be meeting with the locals, getting an introduction to the location, and starting to scout the area.

Generasi’s expedition to Thameland was a go.

Chapter 98

The Usurper Returns

“Our first few days in Greymoor will be a deep dive into our territory.” Baelin floated in front of a wall-sized illusionary map of the region. “For three days, we will be setting up the main encampment and investigating the region. Each team of surveyors will have their own assigned area to begin investigating and clearing out. You will be camping there each evening rather than returning to Generasi, and ensuring you get a feel for the terrain during both daylight and nighttime.”

He moved the illusion to focus on one particular village.

“We will initially teleport into the village of Luthering and meet the military force stationed there under the command of Sir Sean Swift.” The ancient wizard expanded the illusion so the expeditionary team could see the village’s basic structure. Alex noted its walls and central buildings: a large tavern and a church.

His eyes lingered on the illusion of the church.

Baelin had spoken with Alex briefly before the meeting. By the chancellor’s request, it had been arranged that the priests normally stationed in the village would be travelling to Devonport in the south when the expedition arrived, ensuring they’d be away from Luthering. The excuse Baelin had given to the Thameish authorities had been largely true: he wouldn’t welcome zealous priests questioning their right to be there or imposing themselves on the teams.

Some eyebrows had been raised, but the request was granted. After all, Thameland would be benefiting from the expedition in many ways, so giving in to the request was considered a small pain, annoying the priests, for big gain. Despite the agreement, the chancellor would be going through the portal first to make sure no priests had lingered.

Baelin turned from the illusion and let his eyes fall over the briefing room filled with rows of chairs holding members of the expedition.

The survey teams had grown beyond what they were before Leopold’s final attack. Mercenaries, combat-honed students, and other volunteers—all vetted and well-trained—had swelled their ranks into what felt like a small army. Among the new faces, Alex recognized some familiar ones.

In one corner of the room sat Tyris Goldtooth, leaning back with her feet up and ankles crossed on the back of an empty chair in front of her. She was listening intently while picking her teeth with what looked to be a golden toothpick. Across the room sat the diminutive figure of Ripp, the swiftling he and Theresa had met at city hall when they were looking for a bounty for the second part of their first date.

There were others who’d competed in the Games of Roal, who Alex knew by sight but not by name. He was kinda disappointed and also relieved not to see Kybas there. The goblin-wizard deserved to do what he liked best, enjoy his moments of peace, tend his garden, feed Harmless, and watch him grow.

Of course, that meant Alex and his companions would be doing the opposite of enjoying moments of peace, but that’s what they’d signed up for. He checked his friends’ body language and expressions.

Isolde looked stern. Thundar fidgeted. Claygon, was just Claygon, of course. Khalik had squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. Svenia and Hogarth whispered to each other. Theresa sat bolt upright in her chair with her deathstalker expression on.

And Grimloch…

Was Grimloch licking his lips?

Alex shuddered. While most of his friends were feeling like he did—filled with anticipation and nerves—Grimloch appeared as though he was simply heading to the market to grab a nice snack.

Well, if he liked ‘Ravener-spawned monster’ he’d find plenty of snacks in Thameland.

“Each of you shall receive a kit,” the chancellor said, cutting through Alex’s thoughts. “It will contain magically treated bandages to ward off infection, poultices to accelerate healing and dull pain, dried rations, and a canteen for water, wine, or whatever beverage you decide to fill it with. One note to all. I will personally rip apart the first person I become aware of who drinks to excess on this expedition or who shows up for our work already in any state of drunkenness.”

Several people in the room laughed. Alex didn’t join in, he knew better.

Baelin wasn’t joking.

Exaggerating, maybe, though not by much. Anyone whose wits weren’t sharp, would be a liability to the expedition and their team members.

“You will also find a compass, spyglass, notebooks, pens and pigments for use in marking trails and making rough maps. We will bring cartographers in later to do more precise mapping once all of our territory has been explored and your reports of the terrain have been processed. Finally—though you should all be capable of producing magical light—you will find lanterns and alchemical oil within each pack, as well as a fifty-foot length of rope. The kit is somewhat weighty, but they are designed to evenly distribute the weight and lessen the burden on your body.”

Baelin raised a hand, calling a pack from a table across the room where dozens had been laid out in a row. The pack had the five towers of the university emblazoned on the front. “Do not lose these bags. The enchantment on each functions outside of Generasi’s ambient mana. They are not only expensive, but more importantly, contain much of what you will need to survive should something go awry. The enchantment acts to preserve foodstuffs, keeping them stable longer.”

He gestured to a side pouch on the pack. “Use the side pouches for small sample collection. Over time, you will be provided with larger sample bags to allow you to gather more. Next—”

Reaching into the bag, he took out three cylinders: one blue, one yellow, and one a deep, bloodred.

“Your flares. Some of you have mastered the fourth-tier spell: Talk Through the Wind, but many have not. As such, each team will be provided with a messenger construct. However, for emergencies, each team member will have access to these three fireworks designed to explode in the air in its corresponding colour once the pin is pulled.”

He tapped a brass cap with a pin in it. “The blue firework will signal that you have found something of major, immediate interest, and that all surrounding surveying teams should congregate on your position. Yellow will indicate you have encountered danger of some kind and would like assistance, but are under no immediate threat of harm. Red is for emergency situations. Only make use of the red flare if you are in imminent danger and require all teams to move in to provide immediate aid. Are there any questions?”

Someone raised their hand. “Will you be there, Chancellor?”

“I will be with you in Greymoor on the first day of exploration, but I have other commitments on the following days.”

Silence filled the room.

“Fear not. I have full confidence in your abilities, and there will also be a detachment of Watchers accompanying you for added security.” He looked at the teams of surveyors. “Remember, you are all highly competent and experts in your own particular fields, whether that be academics, exploration, or battle. Fear is rational, but do not let it master you. Now, any other questions?”

The room was silent.

Baelin drew himself up. “Very well. Let us not delay a moment longer.”

Professor Jules cleared her throat. “Alright, the following medical staff will be assigned to each team of surveyors!”

The medical staff watched as each team stood. “Hugh House is assigned to Team 1—”

A lean man with a walking stick got up and introduced himself to his team.

“Neil P. Howser is assigned to Team 2—”

A young, blond man made his way over to the next team.

“We are next,” Khalik said.

“Hiiragi Makaira is assigned to Team 3—”

A young woman with short, jet-black hair quickly stood, smoothed her clothing and walked—with short, quick steps—to Alex’s team.

“It’s a pleasure to meet everyone,” she said, looking up at them. She was even shorter than the squat Hogarth. “I hope that we can take care of each other.”

“Likewise,” Alex said, shaking her hand. “You don’t know us yet, but I can promise we’ll use everything we’ve learned from combat to look out for you and ourselves. That’ll keep the need for blood magic down.”

“I second what Alex said.” Khalik shook her hand and introduced himself. “Let’s see if we can ensure you will not have to lift a finger.”

“Indeed, no offence to your skills, but the less you are called upon to use them, the better,” Isolde said.

“No offence taken,” Makaira said. “I wholly agree. Healing is a skill where it would be better if it’s rarely needed.”

“Team members!” Another professor called for everyone’s attention. “Collect your kit from the table then proceed to the teleportation chamber!”

“Here we go,” Alex said, glancing at his friends.

The teleportation circle was wide enough to transport about twenty people at a time—less if they were Grimloch or Claygon-sized—to their destination. The chamber surrounding it was large enough to accommodate a small army. Located on the outskirts of the complex closest to the sea, the building itself looked capable of withstanding an ogre siege.

Iron beams reinforced the stone structure, and what looked to be steel forged doors, provided entry. Watchers of Roal stood on guard both outside and inside the building to prevent anyone from breaching the teleportation chamber or intruding from the teleportation circle itself. From what Alex had been told, a situation like that shouldn’t happen, but with magical creatures, one should never trust in absolutes.

“I expect you to conduct yourselves as proper representatives of the university!” Professor Jules announced. “Treat the locals, whether they be authorities or otherwise, with respect! Remember, you are not only serving as ambassadors of our academic community, but also of the city of Generasi. There’ve been more than enough expeditions ruined by partricipants treating local guides as though they were slaves or vermin. Conduct yourself politely, professionally, and with efficiency—”

“And have a plan to kill anyone you meet,” a student whispered and his team members joined each other in suppressed laughter.

“—and in a dignified manner. You are wizards and academics, not barbarians going raiding.”

“But maybe just a little like barbarians going on a raid,” Baelin said, earning a glare from Professor Jules. “Raiding this Ravener, to be precise.” Alex laughed at that. “Alright, Team 1, proceed to the circle!”

The first group made their way to the circle accompanied by a detachment of five Watchers and Baelin. He nodded to the rest of the teams. “I am going to activate the teleportation circle. If I am not back here within a count of thirty, prepare for battle and do not enter the circle under any circumstances.” His announcement was met with nervous nodding.

Raising his hands, the ancient wizard chanted a spell that made the air thrum with power. Alex felt immense teleportation magics connect two distant points in space. The circle began to glow beneath the team’s feet, growing into a shimmering portal of light.

The light flared.

Those standing in the circle sank into the glow until they vanished, and the circle of light shimmered in silence for one second.

Then two.

Then three.

The waiting teams shifted uncomfortably and apprehension crept over them.

“Ten… eleven…” Alex counted, his hand resting on his bag of potions. “Twelve… thirteen… four—”

A horned head rose from the pool of light, and relief swept through the room.

“All is well on the other end, so the other teams may proceed. Team 2, you can safely enter the circle,” he said, then glanced at Alex. There was a subtle nod of his head.

That was the signal. No priests on the other side.

The chancellor once again sank beneath the circle of light.

“You heard the chancellor!” Professor Jules called. “It’s time to go, Team 2!”

The second team sank into the pool of shimmering light.

“We’re next,” Theresa whispered.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “We’re finally going back home.”

His grip tightened on the strap of his bag and he adjusted his right shoulder. ‘Well, Mark of the Fool,’ he thought. ‘If you wanted me back there… I guess in a way, you’re getting what you wanted. But I’m going back in my own way, not yours.’

“Team 3, please proceed to the circle!” Professor Jules cried.

With a final look around and a nod to each other, Alex and his group stepped into the pool of shimmering light. It flared beneath their feet, and for a moment Alex caught the scent of fresh rain.

Then, they were sinking, watching the chamber and Generasi rise then disappear around them. For a heartbeat, Alex was consumed by a whirlwind of sights and sounds from a thousand broken images originating from a host of planes.

His gut shifted.

The crown of his head broke the surface of another portal. He felt cool, damp air brush his hair as he re-entered the material world. Heartbeats later, his head and shoulders broke the surface of the pool of light, then one by one, his team appeared.

Alex blinked rapidly at the sudden change of light and scenery.

Gone were the reinforced walls and magical lights of the teleportation chamber.

They’d been replaced by a cool light from an early morning sun filtering through dull, grey clouds. A damp chill suffused the wind, mixed with the scent of fresh rain, mud, and manure. An odour Alex hadn’t smelled in over a year. Buildings made of dark wood and topped with thatched roofs had horses, mules, and armed men and women walking between them. The scent of horse was strong, but there was also something else.

Something almost overpowering.

“It’s cold,” Khalik said, pulling his cloak tighter around his broad shoulders.

“Get used to it, this is normal,” Alex said. “Welcome to Thameland, friends.”

After a little over a year, the Fool had returned home.

A titanic orb of darkness pulsated somewhere deep within the earth, hovering over a vast pool of black, stagnant water.

The cavern around it had been expanded, and dungeon cores were embedded in the walls to reinforce them. Monsters had been spawned by the thousands to fill a network of tunnels which had grown into a seemingly endless maze.

The Ravener was filled with energy. It had escalated its efforts like in ancient times, encouraging its monsters to rampage throughout the countryside.

Fear flooded into it from all corners of the land, and with that fear, came power. Growing power.

And yet, something had shifted.

Something in the south of the realm.

A tiny ripple of energy from the one who had controlled one of its dungeon cores. And something else. An anomaly. A mana signature that was somehow… familiar.

But right now, other things were of greater importance.

The Usurper had returned to Thameland.

And there was work to be done.

The story will continue in Mark of the Fool 4

Thank you for reading Mark of the Fool 3!

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ALSO IN SERIES

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four

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Nothing lives forever. Not even the Gods... A clock hangs over the head of every mortal. Counting down to the inescapable day that the Goddess of Death claims them. That is the way of the world. The natural cycle of mortals. The Gods, however, were said to live for forever. To exist so far outside of the natural laws of the universe that even their crimes can't be punished. But Knell Coba, at great cost, realizes this is nothing but another lie. The Gods can be tricked. They can be defeated. They can die. To most, seeking the head of the Goddess would be the actions of a madman. But Knell knows that nothing exists forever. Together with his loyal crew, he can use his cunning and grow strong enough to get his revenge... no matter the cost... Don't miss the next action-packed LitRPG Series from Actus, bestselling author of Blackmist and Cleaver's Edge, about a tactician with access to a System, his crew, and his quest for mortal revenge.

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Alphonso Richt— Expert botanist. Genius chemist. Recently unemployed. Burning down the lab will do that. But every cloud has a silver lining, and after being let go from his most recent job for unsanctioned experiments, Alph is given the chance to blow off a little steam with a cutting edge new game that isn’t even out of beta. It's called Nova Terra. Logging into a fully developed fantasy world, Alph discovers a new field of study called Alchemy that instantly captivates him, allowing him to bring his unique insights and scientific knowledge to bear as he explores the wonders of magic. Plus, no one really cares if his potions explode in the game. Mad Master Alchemist is a new LitRPG story from Seth Ring, bestselling author of Battle Mage Farmer and The Titan Series. Set in the world of Nova Terra and starring the unforgettable Alph, if you like immersive storytelling, rich fantasy, and epic adventures with a slice of friendship thrown in, you’ll love this novel. Pick up Mad Master Alchemist today and uncover the mystery of Nova Terra!

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Or perhaps more traditional fantasy?

Kullen is the Emperor’s assassin. The sharp hand of justice. The Black Talon. Gifted a soul-forged bond with his dragon, Umbris, Kullen is tasked with hunting any and all who oppose the Empire. But when the secretive Crimson Fang murders two noblemen before his very eyes, Kullen must discover the truth of who they are and what they want. What he uncovers is a web of lies and deceit spiraling into the depths of Dimvein. Natisse, a high-ranking member of the rebellion known as the Crimson Fang, has no greater goal than to rid Dimvein of power-hungry nobles. Haunted by her past, fire, flames, and the death of her parents, she sets out to destroy the dragons and those who wield them as unstoppable weapons of destruction. Until she too finds herself buried beneath the weight of the revelations her investigations reveal... The Empire is under siege from within, and one man, dressed in black like the night, stands at the epicenter of it all. Black Talon is the first book in the Dragonblood Assassin Series from #1 Audible and Washington Post bestseller Jaime Castle & Epic Fantasy legend Andy Peloquin. It's perfect for fans of the Forgotten Realms, Joe Abercrombie, David Dalglish, and Kel Kade.

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