Mark of the Fool

Alex had no idea how long they’d been travelling across Och Fir Nog.

Many minutes, but probably less than an hour.

They passed marching and spawning Ravener-spawn, new births slowed by his magic starving the Ravener of fear. For now. At least, for now.

As they flew onward, the fleshy dungeons fell away, leaving only remote fae villages, the land growing wilder. The trees were taller. The meadows were filled with thorny bushes.

The light seemed dimmer, somehow.

Soon, even those villages fell away, revealing a deep, labyrinthine wilderness.

And at last, the engeli whispered. “We’re coming to the end of the path. I do not sense the divine trail extending any further ahead.”

“This must be where they entered the fae wild after they took the throne. Do you sense multiple paths?” Alex asked. “Like, did two divine sources travel along the trail we’ve been following, or just one?”

She shook her head. “Still only one, archwizard.”

“Let’s hope we find the second path,” Alex whispered. “There’s got to be another one.”

They flew above the wilderness until—at last—they came to the spot where the path began. It was in a little clearing deep in a dark forest, but was otherwise unremarkable. There was no sign of anyone having been around there in quite some time. No fae gate. Nothing.

Alex scanned the area. “Any other paths?”

“No,” the engeli said. “But I will fly nearer and have a closer look.”

“Wait…hold on for a minute…” The young archwizard’s eyes narrowed.

Something didn’t feel right.

The woods where they were, were quiet. Too quiet. The rest of Och Fir Nog had been alive with the sounds of combat, cries of Ravener-spawn, and the movement of fae travelling betweensettlements. Alex had even noticed different fantastical beasts, similar in some ways to those native to Thameland: elk-like creatures ten feet tall at the shoulder, with bodies made of root and antlers twisted from vines, birds glowing with strange witch-light, whose cries sounded haunted, like ghostly songs, plus other unique creatures he didn’t know the names of.

Yet around here, nothing stirred.

Nothing either resting, living, or dying.

There was nothing but the path, and it ended abruptly.

And what would one do if they were to follow such a path and find that it ended so abruptly?

“Land and investigate,” he whispered.

“What was that, archwizard?” the engeli asked.

“Hold on, I want to try something.”

He raised his hands

The world slowed down.

His streams of consciousness concentrated, casting five ninth-tier spells at once.

Five castings of Shred Magic: an incantation that would tear apart any spells or magical effects within a targeted area, as long as the magic did not eclipse the caster’s own power.

He directed the spells at the clearing below and the forest beyond. Five shred magic spells exploded from the young archwizard’s body in waves of shimmering force, spreading over the wilderness.

There came a sound like glass shattering.

Magic was ripped asunder, shattering an illusion spell.

Below, the world shimmered, and what was once an empty forest, was now revealed in its true form; a woodland teeming with Ravener-spawn and fae soldiers, crouched low, prepared for an ambush.

Monsters and soldiers froze as their cover was peeled away, their surprise attack thwarted.

The trap was quickly destroyed.

Fae magic cloaked in the clearing, activated. Grass briefly withered—turning to sludge—as the cursed magic was stripped entirely away, returning the flora to its normal state.

Then, the last bit of hidden magic drained away.

And…

“Archwizard!” the engeli hissed. “I sense another path! There was another divine source here that was taken elsewhere.”

A ferocious smile took Alex’s features.

Below, the fae looked around in alarm.

“We are under attack, send the Ravener-spawn—” A fae—a knightly looking male in armour—began shouting.

The world slowed around Alex.

First, he cast Wall of Roiling Mana four times. That would seal them in. He cast another spell.

He’d only need that one to finish what he was doing.

The world sped up again.

Mana poured from Alex’s being as the complex spell array formed in his pool.

Above the young archwizard, an ancient symbol of power formed, enhanced with soul rending power, then shattering.

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The air growled like menacing beasts.

Skies abruptly darkened, then brightened.

“That…that power!” the fae commander cried. “Everyone, scatter!”

Fae tried to flee, but in their fear…

…four walls of prismatic light sprang into being on all sides of them.

Several fae were too late to stop their momentum, they passed through the walls, their screams filling the air as Alex’s magic rampaged through their bodies. Wall of Roiling Mana created walls of mana, structured to disrupt and damage anyone’s mana pool if they tried to pass through them, showing them the effects the hard way.

Any fae who’d touched the walls, instantly collapsed, their own power turning against them, rampaging through them in a mana reversal. Bodies withered, cracking, mana wreaking havoc inside them, destabilised by Alex’s spell.

Death quickly followed.

The fae leader despaired. “What is this? The mortals…how are they so powerful!” he cried. “Fly! Fly up—”

He looked to the darkened sky.

It was shifting, quickly brightening.

Then, a falling star appeared, streaking across the sky at horrifying speed.

It was huge, at least the size of a carriage, eliciting cries of fear, especially at the moment it began fragmenting, breaking up high in the sky, to rain down on the forest below, wrecking trees, churning earth, pummelling Ravener-spawn and fae into paste.

A second heavenly body appeared a heartbeat later, this one nearly the size of the Roth family bakery.

It too broke apart, raining shards of burning rock onto trees, pulping more fae soldiers and Ravener-spawn.

“Alright, quickly, let’s hope the worst has passed!” their commander yelled. “Fly up now and…oh…oh by the fae lords…”

A third meteor…another falling star was streaking toward them. The first two had been the prelude. This one was the true spell.

It was moving faster than the first ones…and it was much larger.

A mountain-like rock, the size of an entire Generasi city block, split into a deadly shower of building-sized fragments, concentrated on the forest below.

“We should go,” Alex said, touching the engeli and teleporting just beyond where the spell had automatically raised a barrier, meant to protect the land from its impact.

He and the engeli were a thousand feet away, now, and could see the fae and Ravener-spawn rushing about, desperate to escape the meteor’s fragments that burned so blindingly bright, moved much too quickly, and were far too big for them to escape it.

It impacted the forest, and the land within the barrier buckled. Even beyond the barrier, the sound was deafening. The terrible heat and pelting wind turned trees to dust from the airburst.

Fire roared into the sky, ejecting hundreds of stones, rock shards and debris through the air.

They rained down—building-sized chunks of earth and stone—colliding with all it struck.

Clouds of dust wafted through the area within the barrier…slowly beginning to clear.

Revealing the devastation left in its wake.

The forest, the clearing and the enemy army lying in wait, had been reduced to swirling heaps of dust within a crater of earth, tree bark and stone, smouldering from the meteor’s tremendous heat.

‘If it weren’t for that barrier, I think a whole lot of Och Fir Nog would’ve been destroyed…no wonder the spell shields the surrounding area from some of the effects… Wait, oh by the Traveller, the barrier would also concentrate the pressure of the blast inside,’ he suddenly realised that the spell’s greatest mercy for the world, was also its greatest punishment for its targets. ‘That spell uses a lot of mana, even for a ninth-tier spell, but it’s definitely worth it.’

He looked at the astral engeli, who seemed impressed, but unfazed.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised. She can only be conjured by ninth tier spells, except for certain strange, old rituals,’ he thought. ‘She’s probably used to archwizards and the powers they call on.’

“Can you still sense that second divine path?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It leads to the west, I can follow it as easily as the one we took to get here. Do you need to rest, archwizard, after the great amount of mana you used?”

Alex’s mana pools were generating more power at an incredible rate.

“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t use that kind of spell every five minutes,” Alex smiled. “Come on, let’s go.”

He kept close to the engeli.

Aenflynn cursed. “Fall!” he shouted, whistling and wielding his old friend’s divine power.

The energy poured out, he willed it to turn this foul goatfolk inside out.

Contemptuously, the ancient spellcaster brushed aside the divine force with a quick word and a surge of mana so great, that it would have buckled most fae lords at the knees.

Aenflynn could feel the life and soul withering magic, and barely managed to block in time with a quick whistle and the flick of his hand.

“Perhaps you should give up,” the horned menace said to him. “I cannot promise that you will live if you do, but your death will likely be swifter than if you insist on dragging out this inevitability.”

Aenflynn smiled. “Inevitability? I do not think so.”

He whistled once, and an existence-annihilating blast of divine power manifested, only to be instantly erased. The fae lord flicked his wrist, trying to alter reality to rid the area around him of mana, wanting to turn all non-fae flesh near him into weeping pustules.

But something, some kind of…magic was restricting the divine force.

Limiting him.

“What are you doing?” Aenflynn demanded.

“As I stated before, I have fought deities and have constructed spells to make the battle more…sporting,” Baelin said. “None of this simply ‘willing me out of existence’ or ‘remaking the world to your advantage’, for you. My magic will limit you.”

“Clever.” The fae lord smiled, revealing his sharpened teeth. “My compliments to you! But such mighty magic cannot last forever.”

“It might or it might not, but that is irrelevant,” the archwizard smiled. “It simply needs to last long enough for me to send you off to the after-world.”

“Words are easy to spout,” Aenflynn’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers. “But you will find that deeds are far more difficult to perform.”

He was about to strike out again when a blindingly bright light passed through the sky in the distance, shattering as it was falling.

A second falling star fell in the same way, impacting everything it struck.

Then another.

That third one held his attention.

A terrible impact seemed to shake the very realm to its core. Aenflynn could feel his teeth rattle through his connection to the land…and for a moment, rage nearly overwhelmed him.

He could feel a new scar on Och Fir Nog, one that would take much time to erase. Much time even by fae standards. Few dared to wound a fae lord’s territory directly.

Even fewer lived to tell of it.

But Aenflynn could only stymie his wrath.

The wizard before him was too dangerous to ignore, and too unpredictable to leave unchecked. He could not allow this ancient beastfolk near Uldar’s throne: if any of the mortals would be able to tear through his wards of divinity and fae magic, it would be him.

…or at least…it should have only been him.

When did the Thameish gain another archwizard for their cause?

“Who do you fight with?” the Fae lord asked, eyes fixed on his opponent. “Such a spell is not within the grasp of a freshly whelped mortal mage. Even the Sage was not capable of such power when last I saw her.”

The archwizard’s chest swelled with pride and he stood a little straighter in his armour. “Archwizards begin their journeys into power by beginning as freshly whelped mages. Some walk the path to its culmination. Some run it. …others sprint it.”

Displeasure curdled in the fae lord’s soul.

This was unexpected. He had expected power from these enemies, but nothing like this.

He resisted the urge to visibly turn his attention to the throne.

There was another card that would be played soon enough…but it needed time to be ready.

And for him to have that time, he would need his ally to remain alive.

With his connection to Uldar’s power, he whispered to the Ravener across the distance.

‘They are coming for you,’ he projected the thought. ‘I will hold them as long as I can, but you must prepare.’

The reply came shortly.

‘Adjustments are being made. The mortals did something to deny me the fear the creator wished for me to feed upon,’ the Ravener answered in Aenflynn’s mind. ‘But I will be ready. Victory is still within grasp.’

‘Let’s speed up our ability to grasp it, then,’ Aenflynn thought.

With a subtle twitch of his finger, the Fae lord opened a divine channel to the Ravener. A tiny one.

One that a narrow flow of divinity could pass through.