Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 (24 page)

“This ‘ship’ came in
about half an hour ago. It’s all that remains of
The Tiger’s Breath
that
Her Majesty sent out two months ago; ship gone and data gone. If it weren’t for
the order girls, the crew would be entirely gone. We can’t let them into port
because they have a live mutation onboard. If that thing gets past the wall's
repulsion runes, it would wreak havoc in the city.”

“Hmmm...Just a minute.”

Eric leapt down to the
water and accidentally displaced enough of it to rock boats and splash people
near the coast. When they saw the floating, spear-waving mage, they shook their
fists and their middle fingers at him. Eric ignored them and explained the
situation to his team.

“Nolien, what do you
think we should do?” Basilard asked.

“Help them, of course.
It is a healer's duty to cure any pain he finds and relieve any suffering he
can; that's the Griffocratic Oath! If the Royal Ordercraft team has them
stabilized, then I’m sure I can heal them.” He cast a float spell on himself
and grabbed Eric's hand. “Let's go!”

Eric pointed his staff
at the wall. “Up, up, and away to save the day.”

A moment later, they
were back up on the wall and looking down on the ship.

“Hello down there! The
Trickster's Choice is here to overturn your fortune!” Then he turned to Nolien.
“What do we do?”

Nolien jumped.

Eric shrugged and
jumped.

Nolien landed above the
boat and slowed himself down enough to dissipate the rest of the energy with a
roll. He came out of it on his feet and instantly examined the injured mage.
Eric landed outside the boat, created a small wave, and walked to the side of
the boat.

“Got any fish?”

  Malize smacked him.

“This is not the time
for jokes!” she shrieked. “Tsilear is mutating and Verde is at Death's
Doorstep!”

“Tsilear!?” Nolien
pointed to the morphing glowing
thing
on the deck
.
“
That's
Tsilear?”
He looked around in bafflement until his eyes fell on Eric's crystal. “Eric!
Place your staff on Tsilear's chest. The
Soiléir
should draw away the
ambient chaotic energy.”

“Whatever you say, doc.”

He laid his crystal
point first on the suffering man's chest and the grey light inside flashed.
Immediately, all the golden-brown energy rushed into the crystal and into the
grey light. This time it flashed golden-brown and the same color flashed in
Eric's eyes.

“Oh yeah, that felt
good.”

 Nolien examined
Verde’s injuries and his expression grew graver by the second. The damage was
deep and numerous; muscles, nerves, and even bones were severed. There was some
kind of poison in addition to infection. “This man is in critical condition.
How did he survive this long?”

“Jasmine is preserving
his life with her power,” Kimberly explained. “So long as he is within her
barrier, Death cannot reach him and his soul cannot leave.”

She explained further
that nothing in Verde was technically dead because the ordercrafters froze him
in time shortly after the injuries. While this kept him alive, no one could
heal him until they let go. As soon as they let go, his injuries would kill
him. Magical healing would only prolong his agony. Nolien pulled his medallion
out of his vest and stared at it while muttering, “I will prescribe regimens
for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never
do harm to anyone.”

The face of the griffin
in the medallion shifted into that of Tasio. Nolien scowled at his defacing of
a family heirloom but nonetheless heeded The Trickster’s hint. With the
griffin’s staff, Tasio pointed at the griffin’s sword. Nolien nodded and The
Trickster vanished.

His staff lightly
touched his patient's chest while his right hand covered their eyes. It
provoked whines of pain and Nolien closed his eyes against them.

“Wiol, heed my prayer.
Your child hears your voice and feels your presence in the life-giving air.
Look into the winds of change and if such a future exists where this one
survives, then I beseech thee to grant me the power to make it happen.”

The sky blue of wind
magic blazed from within him. The wind picked up, scattering clouds and rocking
the boat. When he told the ordercrafters to release their barrier, his voice
reverberated. Eric’s mouth dropped in shock. This was not mortal magic; it was
divine magic!

Taking a deep breath, he
exhaled and, in doing so, he pushed that power into Verde's body with his staff
as the conduit. Winds rushed into him and an air of holiness surrounded him.
His tormented expression eased into comfort and his body shifted. To Eric’s
surprise, the winds weren’t mending his injuries but cycling Verde’s whole body
through various degrees of health.

After ten seconds of
this, Nolien was exhausted. After twenty seconds, ethereal light poured from
his orifices. After thirty seconds, his body became transparent. Verde had
shifted through a dozen and more states of illness and death. Of these, only a
couple were survivable and only barely.

 Nolien grasped his
medallion and whispered, “I am the standard-bearer of the Astral Queen. I
possess the authority to perform this feat. This medallion is proof of my
claim.
Heal this man!”

Verde arrived at a
state of perfect health and Nolien terminated the spell in that instance. He
gave thanks to Wiol and passed out.

The air of holiness
faded and the winds calmed. Kimberly contacted the Wall Guard and, this time,
her ship was granted access to the harbor. As the weather returned to normal
and the ship came to port, one guard asked another, “Who is this kid that the
divine wind answers his call?”

“You idiot! He’s part
of the Heleti family from the Eastern District.”

Basilard stood with
Tiza at the port, wondering what caused the delay. When Tiza saw Nolien
unconscious, she tried to jump the remaining distance, but Basilard
nonchalantly held her back by her shirt collar until the ship officially
docked. Then she jumped and fretted over the fallen healer.

“What happened?!”

“Just a power blackout.
It’s like you and Videlicet Mens,” Eric said. “He'll wake up soon.”

The orc Eric didn’t
recognize cut off a few pieces of Tsilear’s body and placed them in petri
dishes. Her fairy partner thanked Tsilear for his contribution to Medical Mana
Mutation and promised that the ICDMM would cure him soon. They paid their
mercenary counterparts and departed.

Now that the Tsilear’s
mutations had settled, he was trapped in his freakish form. It made the
sailor’s eyes hurt to look at him for more than twenty seconds. Only his head
remained human and so his sanity was intact and he was fully aware of his
surroundings. He sneered at Nolien's state.

“Fool. I taught him to
avoid spells like that.”

“Go the Abyss, you
freak!” Tiza shouted. “Tenderfoot's amazing!”

“He incapacitated
himself to save someone in critical condition. In a combat situation, he would
put himself in danger and cost more lives because of his inaction. I should
have known he couldn't overcome his upbringing. Training him was a waste of
time.”

“Creep! You wouldn't
dare say that if he were conscious!”

“
Revitalize.
” A
large ball of energy passed from one of his many hideous limbs to Nolien's
body. The younger healer's color returned and he sat up. Tiza smiled, but
before she could say a word, Tsilear repeated everything he just said and
included, “A healer with a bleeding heart will kill himself.”

“Are you finished?”
Kimberly asked.

“Yes, thank you for
waiting.” Then to his teammates, he said, “Malize, did you call Mia? She must
be worried sick about us.”

The ordercrafters
levitated him between themselves in a square formation. His mismatched limbs made
walking on his own impossible. Verde was placed into a stretcher and carried alongside
him by members of the city’s emergency dock force. Malize and Laharg followed
them on their way to the Heleti General Hospital. Nolien watched them go and
then looked down in shame. He brightened up when Tiza kissed his check.

“Don't listen to him,
Tenderfoot. What you did was incredible and you saved a life. You're a great
healer and I'm glad you're on our team.”

Nolien blushed and
fumbled for a response. At that moment, Tiza realized that a crowd had gathered
around them. She blushed in embarrassed anger and smacked Nolien's shoulder.

“Don't let it go to
your head! You still passed out, which means you still have no idea what your
limits are, just like in the Yacian Caverns. You're lucky we’re in a city
instead of a monster nest!”

The next morning, when
Team Four gathered for the day’s mission, Mia was playing PacMalaga. Her face
was fresh, her eyes were bright, and her hair was shining. When she heard the
door ding, she stood up and greeted them with a true smile.

“Good morning,
everyone!”

“I see you’re doing
better,” Nolien said with a smile of his own.

“Yep! Verde’s
recovering and Tsilear’s condition is reversible, so I got plenty of sleep.”

“What about everyone
else in the guild?” Tiza asked. On her right hand was a tiger’s eye ring and on
her left was a sapphire.

“I worry about them, of
course, but I know they’ll be fine. I don’t give missions to people that have a
high chance of killing them. It’s just that mana mutation is something else. I
didn’t want them to go, but Tsilear did his ‘we have a job to do’ line and
petted me on the head.” Her face puffed up in darling anger. “When he comes
back, I’m gonna smack him!”

“It doesn’t matter how
experienced you are, how powerful your spirit, or how great your magic,” Basilard
explained. “A mana storm will kill you, and if it doesn’t, then it will
certainly kill the person you were when it caught you.”

The last moments of
Patrick Lumberson flashed before Eric’s eyes. To have something eating away at
your identity; corroding it until only a monster remained. He shuddered. It was
too terrible to think about, so he changed the subject.

“Who wants Dengel
today?”

“It's easy money. You
should be happy.”

“Indeed!”

Mia expanded a window and
swiveled her screen to show him a series of online articles: “The Trickster's
Choice Slanders the Founder of Magecraft,” “Age and Skill vs Youth and
Treachery,” “Dengel’s Vessel; A Study of the Underappreciated Generation.”
There were more, but the one that incited him the most was “Young Mage Spreads
the Fame of Dengel Tymh.”

“Some of these have
thousands of hits. Impressive, huh?”

Eric's shoulders
tensed. “Mia, you're lucky you're so cute.”

 She threaded her hands
under chin and batted her eyelashes. “I am, aren't I?”

Basilard extended his
hand for the mission bill, but Mia didn’t hand it to him. He made a “gimme”
gesture and she still didn’t hand it over.

“Yes, you’re cute,
you’re cute. We all agree. Now we need the mission bill.”

“I can’t give you the
bill.”

“Why not?”

“You already have it.
It’s in your pocket.” She reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “See?”

Basilard snatched it,
examined it, and ignored his giggling niece.

“Team, we’re going to
the University of Roalt.”

The brief reappearance
of the Windistotle of magecraft had triggered a vigorous surge of study and
Eric's exclusive with the
Darwoss Herald
sent historians into a frenzy.
The University of Roalt's History of Magic Department had received a flood of
research material and needed someone to organize it while it waited to be
published. It was the perfect job to push on novice mercenaries.

However, there was also
a certain professor who had need of Eric specifically. He believed that Dengel
studied mana mutation as part of his well-documented fascination with chaos
magic. He wanted to talk with his “landlord” (the word was italicized in the
mission bill) in the hopes of confirming this hypothesis.

The air was crisp and
clear on their walk to The U of R in the Blue Town of Knowledge and Insight.
Its threshold was a grand arc welcoming in students. The last time Eric set
foot on a campus, he was dropping water balloons on a parade. He snickered at
the memory, then another one popped up.

We both enjoy a
trickster's fun.

Nothing has changed,
Shadow Dengel whispered.
You have not changed. You're just in denial.
You ARE The Trickster's Choice!

“I AM NOT!”

Everyone stopped to
stare at him. He grumbled and moved on.

At one end of the university
stood the memorial auditorium and at the other stood the student union; between
was a grassy courtyard. Tall and pillared buildings stood to either side of it.
Trees were planted at even intervals alongside wooden message boards. The
former was dropping leaves, but the latter was so choked full of fliers that they
hid each other from view. One involved a party of some kind and another
advertised a new club involving “bugs and nec-” something or other.

The History of Magic
Department shared a building with all the divisions of the overall History
Department. The brick walls and granite pillars bespoke the age of the
building. A signpost next to it declared it was among the first established
when the university was founded during the reign of King Trol III in 1500 AA.
Nolien arrived first and held the door open for his teammates. Eric looked back
to see Tiza's reaction and was surprised to see there wasn't one.

What did I miss?
The thought weighed heavily on his heart. While he was gone, his teammates had continued
to bond without him. He didn’t blame them because it wasn’t their fault. The
only one worth blaming for lost time was Tasio.
I don't care what
explanation he has; it wasn't worth it.

The first-floor
entrance reflected the age of the building despite its modern trimmings. While
lit with modern lights and carpeted with modern techniques, there was no
denying that this building had stood for hundreds of years. Beyond visual
signs, there was a spiritual indicator. Across the walls were pictures of
founding faculty and noteworthy alumni, and Eric felt the presence of each one
of them. It was so faint he could barely feel it, but it was there.

“Eric,” Basilard asked.
“What is the difference between a ghost and a spirit?”

“Spirits are milk and
ghosts are the stain they leave behind in glasses,” Eric answered. “Are all old
buildings like this? The Dragon’s Lair isn’t.”

Basilard chuckled.
“That’s because Aaloon clears everything out every year. He doesn’t want ‘the
dragon’s strays making a mess in his home.’”

“It’s a health and safety
concern,” Nolien said. “If too much spiritual residue is concentrated in a
single location, it can lead to spell contamination and sympathetic
hallucinations. This building, however, is a designated historical reservoir.”

“Hallucinating real
historical events is useful?” Eric asked.

Nolien nodded. “Just
don’t cast anything too complicated while you’re here.”

Tiza closed her eyes
and, suddenly, the room was filled with the images of humans and
demons/beastfolk, orcs, and even an elf.  All of them were carrying scrolls
somewhere, pacing in deep thought, or arguing with someone. She moved her hand
through one and it dissipated, then reformed elsewhere.

“Cool.”

Basilard took out the
mission bill, looked at the room signs, and then directed his novices to the
lower level stairs.

As the team descended,
the carpet was replaced by dusty stone and the building became slightly more
worn. Framed glass pictures on the walls gave way to raised reliefs of
religious art. Naturally, all of it was flamed themed. The light stones of the
lower floors rested in holders that made them look like old-fashioned fire
torches.
Does the professor wear a pointy hat?

At the end of the
stairs, they walked until they found the right room. Unlike the pine fresh
upper floors, this area smelled strongly of dry, dusty tomes and dry, dusty
stone. There was also a strong aroma of coffee. They all mixed together in a
strange and pleasant aroma.

The door they were
looking for was marked with a plaque stating:
Professor Haburt Kloac,
Greater Scholar of Classical P.A.A. Society.

Tiza paused to take off
her rings and hide them in her pockets.

“What do those do?”
Eric asked. “I’ve been thinking about it all the way here and the only solution
I’ve come up with is ‘magical elemental tool.’”

“Ding ding, give the
Dimwit a prize,” Tiza muttered. “They’re an earth amplifier and a wind negator.
Spider Daylra insisted I wear them for this mission. Apparently, she thinks
I’ll be attacked by sylphs, and for some reason, she told me not to let this
egghead know I have them.”

“It’s a mystery, all
right,” Basilard said airily.  

He pushed the door open
with one hand. Inside the office were two desks, two drawers, and a sub-room
filled with manuscripts, scrolls, and constructions of tree bark. At the desk
to the left was an orc and fairy, but Eric didn't care about them. Their client
was the human at the desk to the right.

He was of middle age,
but clearly on the latter end due to his patches of grey hair. Around his
shoulders was a bejeweled cloak and atop his head was a big hat. It was
decorative with its embroidery and symbols, but instead of being pointy like a
tower, it was round like a blimp. Under the hat was a pair of thick glasses
with swirly lines in the frames. At the sound of the door opening, he stood up
to greet his visitors.

“Are you Dengel's
ve-landlord?” he asked Basilard. “You're a lot taller than I thought.”

The orc sighed.
“Professor Haburt, take your glasses off...”

“Oh yes, of course.” He
removed the frames from his eyes and shoved them beneath his hat. “Sorry. I'm
studying a text written with invisible i –”

When his eyes met
Tiza's, they expanded; his irises shrunk and his face paled. Tiza's breath
caught in her throat and she backed away from him. Her sword was forgotten at
her side.

“Tiza?” Nolien asked.
“What's wrong?”

She didn't respond. She
just continued backing away.

Nolien grabbed her
wrist. “Tiza!”

“Oh!...uh...yeah.” She
smiled sheepishly. “What's up, Tenderfoot?”

“You looked like you
saw an S Class. Scratch that; you saw an S Class the other night and you didn't
flinch.” A coldness appeared in his eyes. “It happened as soon you took off
your glasses,
Professor
. Will you shed light on this, please?”

The man didn’t say a
word at first. Then he muttered, “Abyss take The Trickster...”

“Well?”

“Nolien,” Basilard
said. “We are here to do a job for Professor Haburt, not interrogate him. If it
makes you feel better, Sathel already did worse than whatever you’re thinking
of a long time ago. You can ask her for the results when we return to the
guild. That is, if Professor Haburt allows it, of course.”

“No –”

Nolien reached into his
shirt and pulled out his medallion. It was silver and depicted a griffin and a
monster wielding a sword and staff each. It was the same medallion that aided
the divine magic he cast at the harbor. He made sure it caught the light of the
lamps so Haburt could see it clearly.

“Not at all. Now where
were we? Oh yes, I would like to speak with Mr. Watley about his former
freeloader.” Eric snickered. The professor rose a degree in his esteem. “The
novices can stay busy organizing the research material flooding my office.”

Eric sat down across
from Professor Haburt while his teammates sat behind the shelves of scrolls
further within the office. Nolien placed himself between Haburt and his
teammate, and she still shivered when she passed him. Eric filed this away to
puzzle later.

“So what do you want to
know about Dengel? A spell he developed? A report of a conquest? Some
particular about his life that I memorized because he
would not stop talking
–
”

“The last one. Did
Dengel ever mention a lair of any kind? I don’t mean your guild.”

“Hmmm...We were in
Roalt's sewer system, looking for Her Majesty's kidnappers....all we found were
monsters native to the region. He said he made better defenses...”

“Did he describe them
in detail?”

“
Did he!?
He
wouldn't shut up! Curses and golems and cages and spells and self-activated
poison-tipped arrows!”

“Really?! Then you
might have what I need! The keys to the fabled Final Lair of Dengel! Mr. TA,
exposition please.”

The orc sighed again.
His fairy partner continued working on their lesson plan while he stood up and
lectured on Dengel and his legendary Final Lair.

Like many contemporary
elves, Dengel left home to see the world with his own eyes and learn whatever
he could about it. Unlike his contemporaries, he spent most of his time
conversing and studying with humans. One of the most famous of his
associates/clients was a Ceihan Emperor, but he worked for many authorities all
over the Isaryu continent and beyond.

Ancient mage lairs were
continuously being discovered and the first thing any archeologist did was to
determine if it belonged to Dengel. Some scholars argued that Dengel did all of
his academic work
before
joining the Dragon's Lair. After that, he was
busy helping the Mother Dragon start the guild and carrying out its missions.
His scholarly work slowed down and he instead focused on writing instruction
books for his subordinates. Among these was
Introduction to Magecraft.
After
his retirement from the Dragon's Lair, Dengel disappeared from historical
records. Given his frequent appearances in earlier periods, this led many to
believe that he also retired as a scholar. However, others believed that Dengel
became a hermit to better continue his earlier research in chaoscraft.

The subject of his
instruction booklets was magecraft. It was fueled by mana, the most diluted
form of chaotic energy, and the most abundant. Tracing back to the primordial
sea, the higher levels of concentration were life energy
kon
, soul
energy
paku,
and, finally, pure chaotic energy, referred to simply as
“chaos.” Each one fueled a greater level of magic and its user could easily
overwhelm those using a lesser form. The mage who became a chaoscrafter would
be god-like in their power.