Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 (19 page)

“Daylra...what are you
doing here?”

Basilard moseyed over
to his student. “I was trying to donate one of my
Road Romance
novels to
the school library. For some reason, it was rejected.” His gaze became a
glower. “Do not leave my supervision without permission. I don't care how old
you are on Threa; here, you are a minor under my responsibility, understand?”

Eric nodded, but he was
puzzled by Basilard's shift in tone. He was the Trickster's Choice, not a
celebrity. Most people did their best to stay away from him and avoid his
attention, as if he were a proxy for the Founder of Practical Jokes. Even the
sergeant only told him to get lost.

 The door opened again
and the photographer walked in. Annala ducked behind Eric. Her friends flanked
her, and Eric himself felt a shot of adrenaline. The photographer was Nulso. He
looked exactly as he did the day before, down to the final detail. When his
eyes spotted Annala, his smile broadened and he walked directly to her group.

“Golden Hair, you look
lovely today.”

 “Go to the Abyss,
Ordercrafter!”

“Don't be like that...”

He reached forward and
Eric smacked his hand away. Nulso’s scowl chilled his blood.

“Mind your manners,
boy. My promise does not include you.”

In truth, Eric was
terrified. He was no more powerful now than yesterday. It would be easy for
Nulso to kill him, but he refused to let that influence his actions. He stopped
letting others walk over him months ago and he wasn't going to start again now.

“You can't control me
with fear.”

“Do you know the word
for one who is most vulnerable but possesses least fear?” He raised his hand
and gathered mana. “Dead.”

A hand landed on his
shoulder from behind.

“You'd hate to disturb
a peaceful day, wouldn't you?” Basilard asked.

“Unhand me, Mr. Bladi.
If we come to blows, you know who will win.”

“Unless you use
ordercraft, it will be me.”

“I could kill you
before he arrives.”

A golden-brown spark
traveled from Basilard's hand through Nulso's body, making him flinch. “Are you
sure?”

The spark redirected,
retracted its steps, and zapped Basilard. He removed his hand and stepped back.
Nulso flared his aura and, suddenly, Basilard fell to knees, gasping and white
as a sheet. He recovered quickly, but it bought Nulso enough time to place his
hand on Basilard’s head. He looked down his nose at the kneeling mercenary.

“Mr. Bladi, I will not
tolerate any more inference. If I wish to kill The Trickster’s Choice, you will
not stop me.”

“Tasio! Tasio! Tasio!”

Tasio appeared over the
camera equipment. He waved at his granddaughter, then retracted four of his
fingers and waved the last one at Nulso. The man grit his teeth, turned away
from Basilard, and shouted, “Come along, Grunt!”

“The name's
Gruffle
,”
a voice outside heaved. “Not 'grunt.'”

“You
are
my
grunt, so my name suits you better. Hurry!”

Enter the troll that
tried to kill Eric on two occasions. He was so overloaded with equipment he
waddled his way to Nulso's side. It was similar to a dog at heel. He placed it
on the ground and said, “I know what you're thinking and I didn't break out of
jail. Our queen is a benevolent sort. She pardoned my crimes on the condition
that I do community service for a while and stay out of trouble.”

Translation: Kasile
turned him into a Nulso watchdog. I wonder how she keeps him honest…

“He's my grunt until
then.” Nulso looked past Eric to Annala, who was still hiding behind him and
trying to give the impression that she wasn't. “As you can see, he can't do
everything. I could always use another assistant if anyone is interested. It
wouldn't be the first time I worked with elves.”

“The first time ended
with you swearing eternal hatred against my mother, making a contract with
Order, and becoming an anti-magic drone!”

 
Nulso’s grin
became sinister and his aura shimmered into the eldritch light of Ordercraft.
Hands emerged from it and encircled the lady and her guards. Annala pressed
herself against Eric’s back as they reached for her. Tasio sat up and prepared
to pounce the instant he crossed the line again, but he didn’t. He and Eric
knew he wouldn’t, but Eric cursed himself nonetheless for lacking the power to
stop him anyway. When he finally withdrew and announced the start of school
pictures, there was no one left in the gym but them.

“Chaos vs Order is
known as the Conflict Paradox,” Annala explained. “When an unstoppable force
confronts an unmovable object, the most likely result is catastrophe. Thus, it
is written in the school rules that the building must be evacuated in such an
event.”

“Really?” Eric asked.

“Really. We have
drills.”

“In that case, the
number of pictures I will take is one, two, three…” Revas and Oito collapsed,
unconscious. “I’m sorry; only one.”

Annala gaped, grief
stricken. “What did you do?!”

“Nothing. Some souls
just aren’t hardy enough to stand close to me. Are you ready for your picture,
Golden Hair?”

She marched to the photo
stand, heels clacking and eyes scowling. She didn’t smile until Tasio gave
Nulso bunny ears and Eric used an Air Disk to give Tasio bunny ears.

 Nulso took the picture
and recorded a quote for the yearbook, and then she stepped away, but Nulso
called her back. The picture blurred, he said, and he needed to do it again,
but with a different pose to overwrite the first. During the second picture,
Gruffle stumbled into the shot and a third one was necessary. Annala stared,
tugging on her ear, and Nulso snapped a fourth picture. To reassure her, Eric
stood on the edge of the frame and Basilard stood next to him. After he finally
succeeded in taking a picture, he complained of the audio equipment
malfunctioning.

“The Trickster plays me
a fool. What are the odds of so many problems all at once?”

“Indeed,” Tasio said
coldly. “The odds are extremely low.”

Nulso needed several
different quotes in several different pictures before he declared a success.
Annala speed walked back to Eric’s (and Basilard's) side and stood behind them.

“That was suspicious to
the highest degree. It could not be clearer that he was not truly interested in
taking my picture for the school yearbook but instead collecting raw materials
to create a life-like illusion of me for some purpose of manipulation and
coercion. As the Elfin Tome states, ‘It is safer to trust a fiend from the
Torment Planes of Pox than an ordercrafter.’”

I hope he does
something horrible to her
, Shadow Dengel whispered.
Something
traumatizing that will make you hate yourself – more than you already do – for
the rest of your life.

Gruffle packed up the
studio while Nulso leered at Annala. She hid behind Eric and glared at them in
return. Tasio followed them out while Basilard read his dirty book and spied on
everyone over the cover.

“I would’ve used my bow,
but students aren't allowed to draw weapons outside of gym class.”

I don't need this.
Why can't I go back to gathering bird poop in obscurity?
 

Once Nulso was gone and
the school day returned to normal, Basilard said goodbye to Annala and dragged
Eric by his shirt collar off the school grounds. The students stared and
giggled at the sight. Eric tried to wrap a Dark Veil around himself, but
Basilard dispelled them with a gesture.

“This is part of your
punishment.”

“Punishment!?”

“Yes, for carelessness.
You wandered away from your assignment in the castle and Gruffle attacked you.
Then you wandered away a second time and monsters attacked you. Then you
wandered away a
third
time completely off the castle grounds and –”

“An ordercrafter
attacked me?”

Basilard yanked him for
the interruption. “Three strikes and you're out because
no one's
luck
lasts a fourth time.” 

The stares, laughter,
and gossip continued all the way through Warrior Town. One person thought the
Trickster's Choice being dragged by a Bladi was an omen and ran to Cleric Town.
Eric could imagine the whole city talking about his treatment by nightfall, but
it was faster. When Basilard pushed open the Dragon's Lair entrance, Mia had
heard about it and asked her uncle what she should post.

“Tell them he's getting
a special disciplinary training session for being an idiot.”

When he went down the
stairs to the Training Hall, he walked to the middle of the room, and dropped
his student on his butt. He snapped his fingers and Eric had a split second to
move before a burst of fire consumed him. A second followed and a third until
Eric was on his feet and facing Basilard with his staff out and held in front
of him. Basilard lunged and right hooked. Eric deflected it and was nailed in
the stomach by Basilard's left and, while he was stunned, his legs swept out
from under him. He fell back to the stone floor and rolled again to avoid a
knee jab. Once again on his feet, he swung at Basilard's ribs with his staff,
but his mentor stepped to the outside of it, grabbed Eric's wrist, and used it
to whack him with his own staff.

Tiza walked in on the
punishment spar, registered the beating Eric was getting, left, and then came
back with a friend and popcorn. She discussed the finer points of the duel with
Raki while they munched on it. When Nolien arrived, he started a running list
of all the injuries he'd have to mend when this was over. After ten minutes or
so, the show was over, and Basilard helped Eric stand up.

“What have you
learned?”

Eric gingerly touched
his eye. “Your right hand hits harder than your left.”

“
And?
”

“...Don't wander off.” 

“Good. Now for your
regular lesson.”

Basilard pointed at
five targets and his hand glowed as it charged the mana bolt. When he fired, it
separated into five distinct bolts and nailed all five targets. Basilard fired
again and, this time, the bolt split into ten. The bolts were smaller, but
allowed him to hit each target twice.

“This is known as the
Mana Barrage. It was developed to enable mages to fight when outnumbered. A
sufficiently powerful mage can bring down an army with this technique. As it
requires more energy than mana bolts or standard spells, it's also useful for
building mana reserves. Start with two and double it every ten repetitions
until I tell you to stop.”

Eric left the Training
Hall tired and sweaty. Indeed, he collapsed three steps outside of it.
I
haven't felt this jelly-legged since I began my training.
Basilard hadn't
told him to stop until he was launching one hundred bolts a shot. At that point,
each one was less of a shot and more of a glowing mote of dust. His mentor only
gave him a gulp of mana juice and told him to continue.

“Tiza, lift.”

The fighter knelt next
to the fallen mage and heaved him over her shoulder. Her knees wobbled as she
struggled to rise again. The sweat soaking her tunic was like ammonia. Basilard
was hard on her as well; pounding and slashing her personal spirit barrier and
bombarding it with spells. Sometimes, he shattered it intentionally to
acclimatize her to the feeling. As the team's tank, he explained, it would be
her duty to draw fire, cover for them in retreat, and, when necessary, carry
them out of danger even if she was exhausted. Eyes closed in focus, she climbed
the stairs to the surface.

Nolien walked behind
her, just as fatigued. While Tiza sparred with their mentor, he was in charge
of healing her on the spot. Every cut or bruise had to be erased immediately
before another three joined it and this meant preparing spells in advance and
thus constantly reciting them. All the while, he dodged Raki's attacks. He had
to keep his eyes on three people at once. Between her twin blades, mana bolts,
and other techniques, he was soon bruised and bleeding.

While the trio of
novices made the arduous trek from the training hall to the lobby, the two Bladi
warriors discussed their performance and progress. Raki had the same blood-red
hair as Basilard and the blood-red eye color too. This color was also shared by
the sword on Basilard's back, BloodDrinker.

“You’re pushing them
too hard.”

“I need to prepare them
for what they might encounter.”

“I understand that, but
at this rate, they'll burn out.”

 “There was an
ordercrafter at the school today.”

Raki stopped and
gulped.

“It was interested in
his elf girl and tried to kill him.”

Raki smacked her cheeks
and stepped in front of her uncle. “Uncle, please allow me to transfer into
Squad Four.”

Basilard smiled and
tousled her hair. “I appreciate that, but no. I need you here to watch over
your sister.”

Said sister was holding
her nose before they entered the lobby. She too questioned their uncle's
training regime and told him to include a shower break next time. With her free
hand, she reached into her pocket space and pulled out three evergreen air
fresheners. The novices were too exhausted to protest when she levitated them
on their necks.

“Two hours break and
we'll start round two,” Basilard said. “What do you want to do?”

It was unanimous.
“Eat.”

Even Nolien forwent
etiquette to eat as much as he could as fast as he could. As low as their mana
reserves were, the mess hall's juice tasted like liquid mana and the vegetables
like sweetest candy.
It's almost worth being run ragged; almost.
Tiza's
hand reached across the table to grab a biscuit from Nolien's plate, but was
smacked with his spoon.
Now that was worth it.

After eating and two
hours of rest, they returned to training. Basilard pushed them all hard, but
Eric hardest of all. They asked him about it and he said something about “linear
warriors” and “quadratic mages.” Then he ordered a group spar where he
mercilessly disabled them all. Nolien grumbled about “punishment for curiosity”
and, immediately afterward, he had to cure a burn on his left hand.