RE: Monarch

Frigid air rushed by my ears as I fell into the newly created chasm. I pinwheeled in the air, rotating in vain, trying to visually locate the cowled magician. There was a red glow as I pushed mana through the inscription on my left arm, summoning fingers growing long and pointed as I summoned the demonic gauntlet, dark metal materializing over the length of my arm, extending my fingers in razor sharp claws.

The molten anger in my chest intensified with every passing second, and I held it at bay, trying to keep the conversation and resulting plan I’d made with Morthus at the forefront of my mind.

/////

Once Vogrin returned, Morthus had left his sick bed, and I’d assisted him as we moved to an unused wing of the tower. There were a few kossboards, as well as various tables for cards and bone-betting. I found myself wondering what exactly they gambled. Many of the men and women of the sanctum were hundreds of years old, and had already left the majority of their wealth to later generations. We had taken a seat around a circular, red, soft-lined table that was meant for hosting some sort of complex game involving dice.

Absentmindedly, I lifted the dice in my hand and dropped it back down to the table. It always seemed to land on the same side, displaying a single ivory teardrop set against a crystalline indigo inlay. I wondered idly if the result was good or bad.

“This is mostly conjecture, but we can assume, based on the company he keeps, that your opponent is capable. Extrapolating that, and the level of tactics he’s displayed, along with his more underhanded methods, we can safely assume that he’ll see any trap you lay for him coming. Even if you do successfully provoke him.” Vogrin stared at the dice board, and moved two black betting markers around, which he was using to indicate the location of the mana charges.

“Which is why he can’t see it.” I said irritably. “You’re confident the location you chose will work?”

The muscles in Vogrin’s implacable face tightened. “Certain. There is a small chance—directly correlated to his levels of paranoia—that he may scan the entire mountain and discover the chamber we located with the help of your colleague's artifact. But if properly motivated, I doubt he’ll take the significant time required.”

I grunted an affirmative, and dropped the dice onto the table. One again.

“Where to begin?” I leaned forward, arms on the table, staring down. “We have no indication what his abilities are, what magic he has access to, whether he’ll be able to immediately escape once we spring this trap.”

“Doubtful.” Vogrin shook his head. “On the last point. I know you’ve seen some more fringe uses of teleportation due to our…” Vogrin glanced over to Morthus. “Mutual benefactor. But the reality is much less interesting. If you have it inscribed, you need at least a minute uninterrupted.”

“He likely won’t have flight either.” Morthus added. I tapped my fingers. That tracked with what Saladius had told me about flying. Too expensive, not worth the effort.

Vogrin inclined his head in agreement. “That leaves, what? Cohesion? Gravity alteration? The former can be countered easily enough, and the latter has the same issue as teleport when it comes to a longer cast time.”

“So, he’s not likely to escape.” I confirmed. “That only leaves the problems of alchemical poisons, exotic weapons, spells I’ve never seen and have no clue how to defend against, and of course, the weaponized corruption.”

Morthus studied me from across the table, silent. But Vogrin chuckled.

“What?” I snapped at him, clenching the dice in my hand.

“Nothing, master. It’s just very rare to hear you like this.” Vogrin turned away under my withering glare, unwilling to explain further.

“What’s he talking about?” I asked Morthus.

Morthus’s lips quirked upward. “There’s an unknown factor in every battle. One of the first things a solider learns to let go of is that it’s impossible to account for every variable. I believe what the demon finds amusing is that, despite all your experience, you sound like you’ve never been in real combat before.”

I was about to open my mouth to say that I had. Then I realized they were right. The things I was complaining about were the sorts of problems people in conflict had to deal with every day. Sure, there were times when I’d had no idea what I was up against and still come out on top without looping. The scrap with Ephira, a half-dozen smaller conflicts in the Sanctum itself against lesser foes. But I’d gone through all of that, with the complete and sometimes foolhardy confidence that if I died, I could simply do it again.

That wasn’t the case here. There was no guarantee that the checkpoint had moved, and in fact, I was almost certain it wouldn’t. The Black Beast had intended to hammer a lesson into my head that the loops could not be abused for sentimentality. Following the ancient adage of things-that-can-go-wrong-usually-do, it would come as no surprise that if I failed to kill the cowled magician, I’d start in the same exact place. Maya’s life was on the line.

“Does your—shall we say—timidity, come from one of the issues you cannot speak of?” Morthus asked.

I met his eyes. Despite his feeble manner, the intelligence there was sharp as an assassin’s dagger. Vogrin was suddenly paying very close attention to the exchange.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Suffice it to say that I am accustomed to going into conflict with significantly more information.”

“Then you must proactively prevent him from bringing unknown elements to bear against you,” Vogrin said.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“We talked of placing the needle in his eye.” Morthus leaned forward, his eyes glittering, “But that’s only the beginning. You must hammer it home. Stay on the offensive. Don’t let him breathe, even for a moment.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Vogrin crossed the table to my side. “Mostly incorporeal and invisible, except those few seconds when I take form to carry out my side of things.

“That’s another thing,” I said grimly. “Between the inscriptions, the demonic gauntlet, and having you summoned, I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to maintain things. Even with the ambient mana, and augmentation potions.”

Morthus winced. “Veldani won’t like it, but she has a few things that will help.”

“And I will be offering some of my internal stores.” Vogrin said quietly.

Morthus stared at Vogrin. “Don’t accept that,” he said quickly, before I could comment. I got the sense that I was missing something vital.

“This is none of your affair, infernal.” Vogrin bristled, crossing behind me to stand in front of Morthus.

“It is an infernal’s duty to stand in the way of a demon’s greed.”

“Strongly spoken for one who can barely rise to his feet.”

I held up a hand, stopping them. “While I appreciate your concern, I think it’s unwarranted here. I don’t really trust Vogrin. No offense.” When the demon shrugged, I continued, “But I’m confident that, at least in the short term, he has my best interests at heart. So to speak.”

“Of course,” Vogrin hissed, sounding pleased.

“And what would you ask of Cairn for this service?” Morthus asked, voice hard, all business.

“Nothing. Our greatest concern is his longevity.”

Morthus gave me a look that was almost pitying. “Be careful Cairn. They give generously. But they will always get their due.”

A foreboding silence fell over the table. I dropped the dice twice more. The second time, instead of a single teardrop, it landed on the symbol of a lightly colored claw instead.

“I have a theory, on why this particular enemy has shaken you.” Morthus finally spoke.

“Other than the fact that he’s a capable magician with access to advanced magic and endless resources?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Morthus said. “And you’re not going to like it.”

////

I didn’t.

As the world spun, I finally located the falling mage. His cowl was fluttering in the air. He was weaving a spell from silvery mana mid-fall, threads flowing frantically into a pattern.

Relentlessness is your greatest asset.

I called the air, weaved a horizontal platform from nothing, pulled my legs up to my chest and kicked off with both feet, diving towards him. He noticed me just in time and lost concentration, backfire from the spell upending him and sending him spiraling in free-fall.

I used little bursts of air from the palms of my hand to course correct, guiding me to him. When I hit, it was like impacting a wall. The man was lean, but what muscle was there was developed.

I struck at him with my razored fingers and he grabbed my wrists, careful of the blades. Of course. If he’d been watching me, he’d know about the alchemy, the poison. His hood had fallen back, and his dark skin and golden eyes betrayed Dulen heritage.

“Fuckin—” He stopped suddenly when I broke his grip, driving a thumb from my unarmed hand into the nerve cluster between shoulder and clavicle, feeling it dig deep into the flesh. He shrieked in pain.

I grabbed for my sword and tried to pull it free, finding it stuck. He sneered at me, managing to pin my hand to my sheathed sword and preventing me from drawing it.

Seething, I powered the haste inscription on a single leg, used two simultaneous bursts of air to rotate backwards, and struck out at him as I flipped backwards. The magician caught my leg beneath his arm and uttered a heavy grunt.

“We’re both going to die, you idiot—“

I lashed out at him with my other boot. This time it connected with his chin, transfer of force sending him spinning away from me. I twisted towards the ground—

And barely caught myself on a cushion of air, an inch above the ground. To my right, I saw the magician lounging on what looked like a cloud of pure blackness, pushing himself to his feet.

We were deep within the mountain. The whole problem with my usual method of controlling the battlefield was that my opponent was the sort most likely to see through it. Any environment that would lend itself to traps he’d be wary of, and likely have more than a few methods and techniques to spot them. So, the solution was to transport him to my battlefield, where it wouldn’t matter if he spotted the charges. Where it would already be too late.

Sure enough, one of his light-gold eyes glowed red as he surveyed the chamber. It was cavernous, with a single fissure that parted the center, belching dark smoke. But his eyes locked on his feet.

He swore.

Then I snapped my fingers again.

The aegis he cast around his ankles was obliterated as Vogrin triggered the charge, and the force of it rocked the chamber, bits of rock falling down around us. The cowled mage cried out in pain as he was thrown by the residual force. Still, he maintained the focus to stop himself short of the next charge, momentum dying as it exploded several feet away.

It didn’t matter. Now that I was focused, drawing in mana, I could see the glow of dozens of charges, crosshatched in placement, buried just beneath the surface.

He’d gotten the message when I’d attacked him during the fall. There would be no conversation, no banter, no witty repartee. I had no intention of letting him breathe. He reached out quickly to the side, dark mana shrouding his hand, then covering three of the mines closest to him.

But I had already pulled my sword and called the flame. The inscriptions burned, and my legs ached, as I flew towards him.

There wouldn’t be a second chance. This ended here.

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