RE: Monarch

Was it responsibility? Duty?

“Come on,” Saladius said, looking more than a little annoyed. “Where’s that killer instinct from before? Get off your ass and try again.”

The goal of this particular exercise was using short bursts of mana to deflect projectiles. It was an undeniably useful skill. I’d seen it a few times in the enclave, but almost always from high-level magicians, and I’d assumed it was something beyond the scope of what I could do, like creating a forcefield, the category of spells simply beyond my mana capacity.

As it turned out, the deflection had nothing to do with mana. It was just a question of timing. And the timing was a complete pain in the ass. I staggered to my feet.

“Are you sure there’s nothing more productive we could be doing?” I asked. Considering how little time we have at our disposal.

Saladius crossed his arms. “Oh? Is this your way of telling me how much better you are than the rest of us demis?”

“No, it’s just—“

The elder stretched, and a knee-high wave of air came crashing towards me, biting into the ground, kicking up sand. I leapt over it, arm up protectively, blinking furiously to clear the sand, only to find that Elder Saladius was gone.

It’s hard to say what tipped me off. It was like the feeling you get when a stranger is looking at you from across the street, a whispering of paranoia across the neck. A phantom touch.

I jerked backwards. The attack missed me by a millimeter, the edge of Saladius’s fist sliding past my face close enough that I could see the pores before the motion blurred and I back-stepped, scowling.

“Really? Throwing sand? Isn’t that kind of a cheap shot?”

The elder grinned. “Nope. That though, that’s a cheap shot.” He pointed behind me.

The wave of sand had reversed course and crashed into the back of my knees. I fell again. I was becoming far, far more familiar with the fine detail of the desert ground than I would have liked. The wave reached Saladius, and he batted it away like an errant fly. How had he done that? Curving projectiles to course correct was necessary, vital even. But the general laws of motion still applied. You couldn’t cast a fireball and make it zig-zag.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

Air was supposed to be Saladius’s weaker element, since void magicians awakened to void first. But his mastery was staggering. Comparing him to Nethtari and Kilvius, hells even Ralakos, the difference in mastery was unbelievable. He was older, yes. If I had to guess, thirty to forty years older than Ralakos. But he didn’t move like an old man. He moved like a demon.

I raised my head up from the awkward cushion of sand to look at him and felt a jolt of alarm. He plunged straight towards me, legs unmoving, as if he was flying. It was like being caught in the path of a runaway horse.

I rolled out of the way and received a cuff on the back of my head for the attempt, then popped back up. “How?”

Saladius smiled widely. I was briefly gripped by the thought that I preferred him when he was constantly sulking and sullen. He was still floating an inch above the ground. I studied him closely. He was moving slowly, his feet shifting reflexively to minute changes in weight. I mentally replayed the moments preceding the smack to my head.

“That’s not flight,” I observed. When Ozra had flown, it was as if he commanded the natural forces of gravity himself. This was something subtler. Redirecting Momentum? It reminded me of the night of my awakening. How the wind had raged against my back pushing me forwards, legs barely able to keep up.

His smile disappeared, leaving a lingering scowl. “Fine, ruin my fun. No, it’s not flight. True flight exists, but it’s a mana hog, fiendishly difficult to master, and has left more than a few naturally talented of our ilk splattered across the rocks for petty hubris.” He slowly shifted across the sand and around me in a slow semi-circle, allowing me to study the construction. “This, is much more practical.”

I studied in silence for a few minutes. Surprisingly, Saladius stayed silent, allowing me to take in the complexity of what he’d done. It almost looked like a platform, only less corporeal. Tiny grains of sand floated up from the desert floor and ejected to all surrounding sides.

Since he didn’t seem to be rushing to offer any advice on execution, I started with the obvious: casting an aegis facing straight downward, facing the sand, but I was unused to maintaining a shield untethered to my arm, and it obliterated under my feet, nearly toppling me again. Saladius howled with laughter and I felt my cheeks grow red.

I glared. “Well? Are you going to tell me how it’s done, or just poke fun at me until I figure it out?”

“You didn’t fall for the ‘how do I fly’ bit, so I had to change tact.” Saladius snorted. “Though, shield on the ground, that’s a new one.”

I stared at him until it seemed he was finally done laughing.

“This is really something you should have learned earlier.” He indicated the platform beneath his feet. “Not this, exactly, but something like it. Can’t speak to the state of the enclave, but I can’t imagine there’s a lack of at least semi-competent air magicians.”

There were. I frowned, thinking back. The problem was, they all wanted me to start slow. Breathing exercises. Alignment with my element. Worse, they always wanted me to start in the same place, essentially offering me a feather when what I really wanted was a hammer, a way to achieve even a fraction of the power I’d achieved that first night. There was likely a part of me that had avoided the secondary element as a matter of course, as it was too raw, electing instead to build on my knowledge and ability with the flame.

“I awakened recently—“

“Lie.” Saladius’s smile disappeared instantly. “Lie again and I’ll have nothing more to do with you.”

Shit. How was he reading me? “Okay…” I said, slowly, “I awakened some time ago. Decided to focus my efforts elsewhere. Mostly on the demon-flame. It seemed more relevant and logical to do so.”

“Mostly true. Wrong, but true.”

I ignored his blasé tone. “It’s the fulcrum of what I need to succeed. It’s stronger both offensively and defensively, better projectiles, better shields. And as my first element, it’s meant to be naturally stronger.”

“Rendering that second element you’ve established practically useless.”

“In my case, yes.” I shrugged. There were exceptions. Using it as a delivery vector for alchemical mixtures, or for sparring, when I couldn’t risk seriously injuring the other party.

“I mean, why even bother? It’s not as if there’s a massive population of infernals and elves that would quite literally kill for a second awakening.” His voice was derisive, but it was too late to back down.

“I had my reasons,” I said, more heatedly than I would have liked. “And it’s not as if I ignored it entirely. Just in terms of basic utility, it already does what I need.”

“There. That word right there. Utility.” He pointed at me. “You obviously know what it means. The alchemical solutions in your bag. The scrolls. The inscriptions. It seems as if you’ve gone out of your way to prepare yourself with every possible resource available to you, except, of course, for your natural gifts.”

“It… failed me.” I said quietly.

“Ah.” Just the one word said so much. There was understanding in his voice now.

“It came to me at a critical moment.” I smiled, remembering the power. Buzzing at my fingertips, so strong and raw it felt like it might tear out of me. So reminiscent of when I’d set the Everwood on fire and swallowed the flame. “There was… a problem. In the enclave. One demonic in nature.”

“I’ve heard whisperings, but nothing concrete.” Saladius admitted.

“It faced me with a unique problem. An infuriating one. Aside from sealing them away, the dantalion doesn’t work on demons. I needed another source. Another well to tap from. And when I awakened, in that moment, it felt like the answer. Like I’d been given a gift from the gods. Like fate. Only to have it taken away.” I pushed mana out through my hand, lifted a miniature small tower of sand and letting it collapse, falling to ruins.

Saladius’s voice was cautious. “What you’re describing is called a flare. The stuff of stories and legends, really. Heroes awakening when they need it most. Mostly hogwash, but there’s a few records of it happening.”

He had my full attention now. “Really? It’s happened before?”

Saladius nodded, his posture somewhat defensive. “Yes. It’s not common knowledge. Because, generally, it doesn’t happen to heroes. It’s most common in rogue magicians and necromancers, usually half-mad, usually preceding a violent end. It speaks to the erosion of the soul.”

That quieted me. Ralakos had spoken on the nature of porous souls, but what Saladius was saying didn’t really track. “I thought it was impossible for a person to suffer enough in a single lifetime to achieve that degradation.”

He waved the thought aside. “Never been my field, Animism. Doesn’t interest me. Too much philosophical nonsense and navel-gazing. And there’s no way to know for sure, but…” He sighed. “All beings have capacity for great good, and great evil. But the state of the soul tends influence that one way or another. Like a plow along a furrow. The more it takes a particular path, the harder it is to jump the rut. Nature, rather than nurture.”

I shivered, trying to push down the memories.

He seemed to note my discomfort and slapped me on the back. “Point is, you’ll likely never be as strong as you were during the flare, but there are things air magic can give you that the dantalion can’t.”

“Utility,” I said, happy for the change of topic.

----

As the afternoon progressed, it struck me that Elder Saladius was not nearly as bad of a teacher as I’d initially thought. He was coarse and crass, and did not suffer fools, but his approach was fundamentally different from the cautious faux mysticism from the teachers at the enclave. Instead of the almost infuriating focus on meditation, he approached things in a much more classic manner: Carrot and stick. First he demonstrated a handful of things that I was more than interested in learning.

The localized levitation was the first. Then, he spoke to me from a distance away at the level of a whisper, his voice carried by the wind. Then he disappeared—there was a trace of movement, but only barely, before he kicked the back of my legs and chided me to pay more attention.

Some I’d never heard of. Some I had, but had disregarded until seeing them demonstrated. All had incredible applications. He gave me a handful of drills for learning them.

Then came the stick. He was absolutely merciless, correcting and shouting down the smallest mistakes. I took it in stride, wanting to make the most of it, knowing our time with him was likely short, that as soon as Bell fully recovered and our path was clear we would be on the move again. I practiced until I could no longer stand, then sat down and continued.

Jorra and Maya were sparing while Elder Saladius watched. Bell was inside, indisposed. It was a bad match up, with Jorra on the losing side. Maya had more confidence and experience, but the issues went deeper. Jorra backpedaled, doing all he could to stay out of range while she pressed the attack. I identified the problem immediately. He was used to fighting Bell—either peppering her from long range or using his whip to trap her sword. The problem was, every time he tried to tie up Maya’s staff he was putting himself in range of her hands, and all it took to paralyze him was a touch on bare skin. And when that happened, it was pretty much over.

How would I handle Maya? Not this Maya, but the one from before. The one presumably armed with both demon-fire and life magic. My initial thought was that I wouldn’t. I’d take all possible measures to avoid direct conflict, ambush, or catch her in a cross-fire. The thought was disturbing, and I didn’t want to follow it any further. So, I reframed it in the context of a tournament spar.

Light armor, but full coverage, not leaving a single patch of skin bare for her to touch. Doused in rose-water, it would serve the dual purpose of taking the bite out of both her elements. Then, all I’d really have to look out for was the bow.

Damn, I was doing it again. Even in a ridiculous fantasy scenario that was about as likely to happen as Thoth bending the knee and swearing allegiance, the majority of my plans involved an unhealthy amount of preparation.

The localized levitation and distorted-step were both beyond me for the moment, the latter doubly so, but throwing my voice with the assistance of air magic was something of a parlor trick that could be learned in a matter of days. Still, that didn’t mean it was easy. I pushed myself up from the slouch and refocused myself on my target, the side of Jorra’s head.

My drill for this particular exercise was to say a simple word over and over, paying special attention to how my mouth formed the sound. I’d chosen “Yield.” It seemed practical, something I might actually say to an enemy. Then, it was a process of setting up a relay, little pockets of air that would vibrate, carrying the word, ideally silently for anyone else but the recipient. Then, it was all a question of execution.

Over and over again, I mouthed the word as I cast. Yield.

Finally, it worked. Jorra’s screech of alarm was almost embarrassingly high-pitched, and he whipped his head in the direction the sound had come from. Maya’s staff came in hard and fast, striking him in the legs and toppling him to the ground.

Jorra glared at Maya, who looked utterly confused, and only Saladius seemed to have an idea of what happened, smirking in amusement. Yes. I could definitely make use of that. I stood to my feet, still a little weak, and trotted over towards them.

“It wasn’t me,” Maya held her hands up in surrender.

“Oh yes, the spooky voice hissing ‘yield,’ in my ear wasn’t you.” Jorra struggled to his feet.

I raised my hand, awkwardly. “It was me. Clear interference. Spar’s a draw.” It was a generous ruling, especially considering how soundly Jorra was being trumped, but Maya wasn’t bothered, and he seemed more than happy to take the result.

Maya ruffled his hair. “Congratulations, little brother. First draw of the day.” She looked to me. “New trick?”

“Expanding utility.”

“Slowly.” Elder Saladius added, unhelpfully. “Very, very slowly.”

Maya looked between the two of us. “You’ve bonded.”

“No.” I said.

“Hardly,” Saladius retorted.

“Sure,” Maya said, turning her attention back to Jorra. “Another?”

“Ha. And give you a chance to upset the draw? Gods no. Plus, I want to check on Bell.”

Maya and I exchanged a knowing look. We fell in line after Jorra, trudging through the sand. My mana supply was only half recovered, and my body felt stiff and heavy. There was a bump as Maya leaned over and nudged me with her shoulder.

“And to think, I was worried when neither of you were there this morning,” She said.

“We, uh, bonded over ancient history,” I grinned. Something that felt very much like a foot kicked me in the back of the leg, though Saladius was on the other side of Maya. I took a step to keep my balance. He was well ahead of us. How had he heard me? Was it somehow possible to use air magic to listen in from the distance? Amplify?

Maya bumped me again.

“Sorry,” I said, all too aware of the fact that Saladius was apparently listening. I kept my explanation as generic as possible. “We just cleared the air. Clarified things.”

“I had, perhaps, forgotten your ability to charm those who fall into your web,” Maya smirked, looking over her shoulder at me.

“Don’t say it like that. Like I’m a spider lying in wait.” I groaned.

She began to list on her fingers. “My family, Ralakos, the rangers, the half-demon queen of the enclave underworld,” she threw the last one in almost casually, and her eyes went to my sword.

I coughed to hide a laugh. “Oh yes. Persephone. Captured in my thrall. Definitely not worried about the problems she might cause in the future.”

“I have heard she is quite beautiful.” Maya said, and there was that trace of something in her voice again, too subtle to identify.

“Scary,” I corrected. “She’s scary. The sort of person who’s used to getting what she wants and knows exactly how to get it.”

“That wasn’t a denial,” Maya observed.

I blew air up, stirring my bangs. For all the talk of spiders I sure felt like I’d walked into a web. This tension hadn’t been there when she’d left. Where was it coming from? If she’d known the old me, it’d make more sense: general concern that I’d be out drinking and whoring the nights away. But she didn’t, so the line of questioning puzzled me. Maybe I just gave off airs.

Maya bumped me with her shoulder again. This time I bumped her back.

“She is aesthetically beautiful, yes. But she’s way out of my age range. Not to mention, I can’t even imagine that right now. Anything along those lines. Gods, I don’t even know what I’m going to do with Lillian.” She’d been so high on my list of priorities. Marrying her. Protecting her from my father. Making her my queen. Righting the wrongs of my past life. But as the list of things I’d have to accomplish grew and grew, I found that she kept slipping down the ladder of priorities, until now, where she sat apart from the list entirely, a question mark scribbled next to her name.

I couldn’t imagine bringing her into my world, where violence was constant and death was always a step away. And it would get worse before it got better.

“Oh,” Maya said, her response only slightly delayed. When I glanced over to her, her face was neutral, giving away nothing. Hopefully, that had satisfied whatever had stoked her curiosity. If there was anyone I needed to believe I was taking all this seriously, it was Maya.

We entered the hut, and Jorra went immediately to Bell, who was snoring quietly in her cot. He took the damp cloth from her forehead and tested her temperature with the back of his hand, then dipped the cloth again.

Elder Saladius leaned close to us, keeping his voice down. “She is doing better. The fits last no longer than a week. After a few more, she’ll be right as rain.”

I nodded. Hopefully, by that time, whoever had been tracking us would have followed the false trail Vogrin laid down out of the desert chamber, and we could continue on our way. In an ideal world, I would have spent a few months here with Saladius, honing the element I had mostly neglected. But nothing about this situation was ideal.

“Alright. I am going clean to the best of my ability and turn in. Sleep well.” Maya put her hand on my arm, then turned and bowed to Elder Saladius. Saladius nodded, and Maya left. Saladius turned to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re actually an idiot, or smarter than you let on.”

Completely unsure where that point was coming from, but not wanting to upset the uneasy balance we’d finally achieved, I shrugged.

----

It took some time to fall asleep. As usual, the images tore at me. One scene in particular came to the surface. I was in Ralakos’s study, in the midst of a discussion. It took me a moment to place it. It was the last time we’d talked in the final loop, before I’d made my deal with Ozra. The words were a dull roar at first, lips moving but nothing but static and white noise. Then slowly, things came in to focus.

“Is this really necessary?” Ralakos asked me. He was trying to hide it, but he looked unsettled, disturbed.

“Yes.” I could hear the distance in my voice. The apathy. The cold, ruthless calculation that had gripped me like a vice. I’d told myself it was the end, but subconsciously, I still thought it wouldn’t be over. That I’d have another chance to do things right.

“If there is any other way—“

“There isn’t,” I snapped. “Considering what I’m sacrificing, I’d think you’d be slightly more cooperative.”

“I am grateful. But that does not change the fact that I dislike this course,” Ralakos said, steepling his fingers. “It doesn’t feel right. Whatever he’s done, he is still one of my men. So let me ask you once more. Are you certain?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

----

There was a feeling at my neck, a warmth that grew continually hotter until it burned.

I woke up and yanked the amulet away from my skin. There was no light coming from under the shutters. It was the middle of the night. I could only think of one reason why Vogrin would have woken me so harshly in the middle of the night.

The perimeter was breached.

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