Mark of the Fool 5: A Progression Fantasy Epic, page 34
“Let’s be honest, he’s going to question things anyway,” Hart pointed out. “All he can do is whine and complain and then get over it. If he’s right there, it’ll be a real problem if we find something that he can’t know about.”
Alex fought to keep his face straight. He hoped that—whatever they found—it could help him with his own search for information about the Traveller. If only there was a way to translate her book.
“Well, quite right, and it does make absolute sense to keep on with things and strike while the iron’s hot, as they say,” the chancellor agreed. “Very well, let’s be on our way, and I hope that your hunt will be fruitful and may we discover the truth in all of this.”
“Yeah,” Alex said as he and Theresa shook each of the Heroes’ hands. “Let’s hope you learn something. If you don’t, feel free to come to us when you can, and we’ll try and put our heads together.”
“Aye…” Cedric said. “An’ I hope I gots this all sorted in m’head by then. It’s… a lot.”
“It is,” Theresa agreed, turning to Drestra.
The two women hugged each other.
“I hope you find Alric peaceful,” the huntress said.
“I’m not sure we’ll have to go there,” the Sage said. “We’re going to focus on the cave… but if we do, I hope so too.”
“Good hunting,” Alex offered.
“And to you too,” Hart said.
And with that, Baelin began to chant his words of power and the teleportation magic rose.
In a few breaths, Alex, Theresa, Brutus, and Claygon were at the teleportation circle in the encampment, and Baelin was leaving the Heroes near the Cave of the Traveller.
“Do you wish you could tell Selina?” Theresa asked as she and Alex walked along campus to the insula.
“Oh, by the Traveller, I didn’t even consider that,” he groaned.
They’d arrived on campus just a few minutes earlier with the cerberus padding ahead through the moonlight, his eyes shining, while the golem strode behind, gripping his new spear and wearing his new wounds.
First thing in the morning, he’d go to Shale’s, buy some clay, request a workstation and repair that damage. He hated seeing Claygon like that, and tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. ‘I wonder how long it’ll take?’
Selina was not going to be happy to see Claygon like this.
“In a way, I wish I could tell her,” he said. “On the other hand, I’m glad the oath magic stops me from telling anyone.”
“What do you mean?” his girlfriend asked.
“Well, learning what we did shook the two of us. It shook Cedric, it shook Drestra, and Carey looked like she was almost destroyed… Though I gotta admit, she pulled herself together more than I thought she could.”
“She’s braver than she thinks.” Theresa looked up at the moon. “She wouldn’t have come to see Ffion with us if she wasn’t. I know Selina’s brave too.”
“But she’s also young,” Alex said. “She prays to the Traveller and to Uldar. She believes in the Heroes and wants the dungeon cores gone. What happens if she starts questioning so much of what she’s always believed… when she’s so young?”
“Maybe it’s better if she is young,” Theresa countered. “She might be able to adapt better.”
He sighed. “Yeah, maybe… In either case, we’re not allowed to tell. And… even if we were, I kinda think it’s better to tell when we have the whole truth. I’ve been going crazy with all the possibilities, and I don’t want her going through that too.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right there. Even Mother and Father are going to have a hard time with this, so I’d want to give them proper answers and foundation, not part truths that just makes them have a bunch of scary questions… like…”
She muttered something beneath her breath.
“What was that?” Alex asked.
“Like if we have to fight our own god,” she muttered.
“Oh… oh.” He winced. “Yeah that’s… that… that’s something I’ve been trying not to think about.”
“It’s a possibility.” Theresa gripped her swords. “Oreca defeated a demigod, and the Watchers have told me stories about gods being killed throughout history.”
“Well, that’s sorta comforting, maybe,” he said. “Oh boy, well, we don’t know if we’ll have to do that. Maybe our faith lets us control the cores for… I dunno, some other reason besides: ‘Uldar hates us and he wants us to suffer with the Ravener.’”
“Maybe,” she said, drawing the swords. The blades gleamed in the moonlight. “Well, either way, I think things are about to become a lot more dangerous for sure. And I need a breakthrough.”
“A breakthrough?” Alex asked.
She nodded. “My great-grandfather terrorized pirates across the seas with these swords. My grandfather used to tell stories about them cutting villains in half with a single stroke and so on, but I haven’t seen anything like that. I mean, they’re very good swords. I’ve never held any other weapons that are so balanced. I’ve never needed to sharpen them, and no matter what I strike, they don’t break, dull or chip. But they only cut like regular swords do.”
Her frown deepened as she turned the blades. “Something’s missing. I’m missing something about them, and I really need to figure that out or I’ll never match the type of opponents we’ll be fighting.”
“Well.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “If there’s anyone who can figure them out, it’s you. You’re a badass, beautiful death machine, and right now, I have more faith in you than I do my own damn god.”
She laughed bitterly, blushing at the same time. “I don’t know if that’s the nicest thing a guy’s ever said to me, but I’ll take it. What about you? How’re things going with third-tier spells?”
He frowned. “In terms of summoning spells? I think I’m just about there,” he said. “Hopefully, the next few days won’t involve any more apocalyptic battles and maybe I’ll get a breakthrough soon myself. I’ll get back to practising tomorrow. Well, probably tonight, after a couple of hours of sleep.”
“Right.” She looked at Brutus and Claygon. “Well, we need to be ready for whatever comes next, no matter what it is.”
“Yeah. I’ve gotta get third-tier summoning spells soon then, and I’m gonna push hard to get them.”
Chapter 44
A Rude Breakthrough
Alex Roth broke through to third-tier summoning spells the very next day.
The day before had been a long, full one with revelations, feasting, and new friendships formed.
When they got to the apartment that night, he and Theresa had unpacked their gear, cleaned up and collapsed into his bed, exhausted. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, they’d lain awake even though they were dead tired, spooned together until finally falling asleep to the sound of the timekeeper in his room. Two hours later, Alex was well rested, while Theresa remained sound asleep, but both were up and heading to Selina’s friend Abela’s house when daylight came.
On the way back to the apartment, Selina had been talking non-stop, peppering them with questions about Crymlyn Swamp and the witches when Alex unlocked their apartment door and her eyes fell on Claygon sitting in the corner. Her jaw had dropped, and her anguished cry trailed her from the door as she ran to the damaged golem and threw her arms around his neck sobbing. Her fingers gently touched the gouges on his chest.
Alex and Theresa had looked at each other. Tears glistened in the huntress’ eyes, and he’d gone to his little sister and wrapped his arms around her. Brutus came up and licked everyone after being shocked from a deep sleep.
“What happened?” she’d asked.
And they’d told her about Zonon-In, and with each word, her grief had turned to anger. “I hate monsters.” Her voice was low. “They hurt Claygon, they always hurt everyone, but look at what Mr. Hobb did to them. They can’t hurt people forever.” Her words were like a promise as she wiped her tears away.
Alex listened to her, trying to soothe her, and not knowing whether to be worried, to approve of her resolve, or both. In the end, she’d only calmed down when he said he’d be going to repair Claygon as soon as he saw her off to school—right after his early morning class.
On their way to the junior school, she tried convincing him to let her help him since he “might make strange design changes” to Claygon—like he’d do something like that—but he’d promised he wouldn’t do anything to embarrass Claygon or her, and that made the dark cloud hanging over her face lift.
She’d remembered she had something to tell him when they got near the school entrance—something he’d actually forgotten about with all that had been going on lately.
“I’m just glad Claygon’s core wasn’t damaged, it’s like his heart… I wonder if you can honour golems at the Festival of Ghosts, but I hope we never have to find out,” she’d said.
The part about the festival had caught Alex completely off guard.
“Wait, is that coming up soon?”
“Yeah, Abela’s family’s going to an event on Oreca’s Fall,” she’d said. “It’s with a bunch of other families. We probably got an invitation too. Did you check our mailbox?”
Alex, during the mind-melting morning where he’d been thinking about the very real possibility that he—and his entire kingdom—had been betrayed by their own god had not, in fact, checked their mail yet.
“N-no,” he said.
“Well, check it. And talk to Thundar. He said he wanted to do something for it this year.”
“Yes, captain.” He’d saluted her.
For more times than he could count, she’d rolled her eyes and walked away.
And that was how he’d been reminded that the festival was coming soon. He would have talked to Theresa about it, but by the time he’d seen Selina off, the huntress had already left for sword practise with the Watchers.
He’d talk to her later, he had to get to class then head into the city to repair Claygon.
On the way to Shale’s, Alex had seen mask sellers everywhere, displaying their wares on every street corner and in every shop window. Decorations of all colours adorned front doors and townhouses, elaborate costumes crafted of everything from animal skins to gossamer hung on rows of racks inside, and merchants called out to passersby, inviting them to come in and, “find something nice for the family.”
Illusions of frightful spirits swooped high above a wooden wagon, then dropped down at shoppers. The merchant grinning beside it abruptly stopped grinning when a frightened lad kicked at the illusion, his shoe landing on the merchant’s shin. Alex stifled a laugh. Banners emblazoned with grape vines and wreaths streamed above every door and on every lamp post.
The sights had brought back memories of their first Festival of Ghosts last year with its warm nostalgic atmosphere. Friendships were being forged then. He’d looked across the street and noticed the only door free of decorations on the entire street was the bakery across the way from Shale’s. Lately, it hadn’t been open more than a few times a week, and cobwebs were a permanent fixture on the eaves.
As he opened the door to the workshop, he’d wondered how much longer it would be before the little shop would have to shut its door for good. Inside Shale’s, Alex was greeted by a bit of a stir when his coworkers caught sight of Claygon.
Sim had nearly dropped his tools, gaping at the damage.
“What the hell did that?” He scurried up to the golem, taking in the cracks up close. “Jeez, it looks like some kinda blade did it, but… even though I’m seeing it, I can’t believe it. When Shaleleath fought this big guy, I thought nothing would get through that hard shell, protective spells or not. You got lucky that the core’s not wrecked.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Alex patted his golem’s side. “Just when you think you’ve seen all the nasty things out there, something worse comes along. Me and my friends were lucky Claygon was there to protect us, but now he’s the one who needs repairing. Is there a free bay I can use?”
“I think there’ll be one in about an hour.” Sim shook his head in amazement. “Feel free to use it, and any tools you need.”
“Thanks, Sim.” Alex took Claygon aside to wait.
The repairs went well. They were fairly simple to do, and in less than two hours, he was done. Apprenticing at Shale’s building golems and getting paid for it was a dream. In a little bit north of a year, he’d learned everything he needed to know to fix Claygon all on his own—except for some help few people would ever get. Using the Mark, he’d mixed clay, infused mana, and bonded it with the golem’s body.
By the time he’d finished torch-drying the clay in place, Claygon looked just like he did before they’d ever laid eyes on Zonon-In and that war-spear. Alex smiled at him. ‘Selina’ll be happy,’ he thought.
Since his work had taken less time than he’d expected, that left him with a free afternoon to practice summoning magic.
On a lark, he’d gone to Professor Mangal and asked for permission to try third-tier summoning and she’d encouraged it.
“You have performed very well in class, Alex,” she’d said, going to a shelf of old books containing both written and practical assignments. “You have a strong grasp on the aspects of relational summoning as well: your paper on it was most insightful.”
“Thanks.” He’d used some of his experiences with Gwyllain to write that paper, and in it, he’d discussed certain concepts of reciprocity and how they applied to summoning. He’d found the concept inspired when he was researching the paper, and it seemed the professor thought so too.
She’d brought out a spell-guide. “This is a third-tier spell meant to summon a lantern celestial. They are beings of law, kindness, and curiosity, so even if you make mistakes with the spell, you are not likely to face a terrible fate. The most a ‘rampaging’ lantern celestial might do if it breaks your circle is to give you a lecture. Which, considering that you’re a student, you might find an additional lecture to be a terrible fate.”
Alex had laughed as he took the book and lowered his head. “Well, Professor, I’ll try to make sure I don’t get a lecture from it. And you.”
And that was how Alex Roth found himself staring at a floating orb of light in the middle of the Cells.
“Are… are you real?” he asked, checking the summoning circle on the floor.
“Greetings, mortal!” a voice like tinkling bells answered him. “How are you doing? Is it day? It’s dark. Are we in dungeon, mortal? Is mortal going enslave me? Do not do that, mortal.”
“Wait, what? No!” Alex said. “I’m not going to enslave you. This is a safe room. We’re in a summoning room at a magic school and… I just summoned you.”
“Good! This one likes being summoned. See lots new things!” the lantern celestial said cheerily.
“Yeah… I can… show you new things… it’s just… hold on one second—”
“What’s a ‘second’?”
“What?”
“What’s a ‘second’? This one no knows that word.”
“Second means second,” Alex translated it into a tongue of the celestials.
“This one no understand.”
He tried switching to a few different celestial dialects.
“This one understand those words!” it cried.
“Ah, good.”
“But what you mean ‘second’? You no say what is first! You not very smart for a mortal.”
Alex stared at the lantern celestial, wondering for a brief moment if he’d gone insane. “Okay, so let’s… okay. Just… a second is like a unit of time. Kinda like a heartbeat.”
“Oh, okay. What’s a ‘heartbeat’? Is that like when you beat a heart? And uh… if it is… what’s a heart?”
“Are you messing with me?” Alex demanded, wondering if Professor Mangal had somehow pranked him. He wouldn’t put it past her.
The lantern celestial bobbed back and forth in the circle, like it was looking around the room. “This one no see no mess. What to clean?”
“Okay, hold on, just… hold on one se—”
“Hold what? This one has no hands.”
“No!” Alex fought the urge to scream. “I… I mean wait for a moment while I look at this book!” He held up the spell-guide.
“Oh…” The lantern celestial’s voice hummed. “Why you no say so and keep saying stupid things instead?”
For the first time, Alex Roth considered strangling a monster he’d summoned. Instead, he squinted at the book, checking the diagram for the magic circuits.
‘Did I miss something?’ he thought, his finger tracing the diagram. The problem was that he wasn’t looking for what might have gone wrong… he was looking for what had gone right.
Third-tier spells were no joke.
Many of the most iconic spells in wizardry were third-tier: Fireball, Phantom Steed, Daylight, and even one of Isolde’s favourite spells, lightning bolt. For many armies fortunate enough to count spellcasters among their ranks, third-tier spells were some of the greatest magics their wizards could wield.
Just one wizard possessing third-tier spells could change the direction of an entire battle, or the way of life for a whole village. They were also a major jump in complexity compared to second-tier spells, with three magic circuits interlinked and firing at the same time. He’d expected that—even with the strange power he had inside lending him a hand with summoning spells—it should have taken him weeks of practice to reach third-tier.
His eyes slowly drifted to his notebook, focusing on the number of check marks he’d made, one for each time he’d cast Summon Lantern Celestial.
3.
It had taken him just three times to cast a third-tier summoning spell.
“Holy shit.”
“Language,” the celestial lantern chided him.
“Really?” He glared at it. “You don’t know most colloquialisms or mortal measurements of time, but you know swearing is bad?”
“Of course!” The celestial flared, as though offended. “This one not stupid like you!”
