The Newt and Demon

Zarali didn’t seem to suffer the same disorienting effects of the portal. Tresk and Theo fell to their knees, working to keep the contents of the stomachs from spilling onto Xol’sa’s well-kept stone floor. The Dronon woman swept her senses over the tower, tutting immediately.

“What a strange hodgepodge of power,” she said, pursing her lips.

The tower’s wizard came down the winding stairs, eyes wide with surprise. He relaxed upon seeing the trio gathered, letting out a steady breath. “Best not to sneak up on a mage like that,” he said. “Who is the priestess?”

“Belgar’s sister. Priestess of Drogramath,” Zarali said, puffing with pride. She then said something Theo couldn’t make out. The language wasn’t familiar to him, and by the look on the mage’s face, he didn’t know it either.

“I don’t think he knows what you said,” Theo said, rising to his feet. His balance was still shaky, but he stood by bracing himself against the wall. “She thinks you’re part of a race called the Bara’their.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Xol’sa said, descending the steps. “And I don’t believe she’s really your sister. Although, I’m willing to play along with a ruse, if that’s what this is.”

Zarali looked slightly offended, but Theo held up a silencing hand. “That’s quite fine,” he said. “It’s a very loose lie.”

“Very well,” Xol’sa said. “Is there any reason for your visit?”

“I’m interested in the power you sensed,” Zarali said, brightening up again. “My brother told me about your theory regarding different energies.”

The roof was ablaze with the familiar symbols, dancing in a circle to trace the curve of the tower. Theo couldn’t make out anything, even with his enhanced memory. Tresk’s eyes darted everywhere, as though she expected an ambush. The alchemist wouldn’t think less of her for the vigilance. These were strange times.

“I don’t understand any of the arcane languages, not least one so foreign,” Zarali said, turning her nose up at the display. She swiped her hand through the air once and a series of Drogramathi Sigils appeared. Those were things Theo could understand well.

Her webwork wasn’t as thorough as the one displayed by Xol’sa. It was a high-level assessment of the magical energies in the area with corresponding numbers in a unit the alchemist didn’t understand. What he could glean from the display was that Drogramath’s energy was the most prevalent. Zarali swiped her hand again and the symbol’s changed, displaying words that Theo could understand, but the content was mostly nonsense to him.

“I don’t know what a [Planar Mage] is,” Zarali said, tilting her head. “But I understand the dominance of power. The shade one house casts on another, and those in its embrace. Drogramath’s presence here is undeniable, but your approach is wrong.”

Xol’sa bristled for a moment, quickly regaining his composure. “I consider myself the foremost expert on the matter.”

“Perhaps,” Zarali said, squinting and poking a symbol on her display. It lit up, then faded away. “In terms of where this energy comes from, I would bow to a [Planar Mage]. This webwork is too complex for me. Explain your plan. Be brief.”

Xol’sa straightened himself up, snapping his fingers to extinguish his interface. He took his finger and drew a diagram in the air. It was the node theory he explained to Theo earlier. Starting from the left with a circle that must have been the swamp dungeon, and moving to the right with each node having a connection to only one other node.

“The power is entering the Swamp Dungeon,” Xol’sa said. “The problem is, it’s getting stuck there. There’s nothing instructing that power to disperse. The plan was to send it over to the other dungeons, but I’m having difficulty with my wards.”

“Well, that much is apparent,” Zarali said, chuckling. “What little I know of planar spellwork tells me enough. Your approach is too complicated, and besides you misunderstand the concepts.”

“Do explain,” Xol’sa said, puffing up.

Theo had never seen the extra-dimensional Elf so engaged. He also didn’t really understand what his sister was talking about. Xol’sa’s theory made sense to him.

“How much do you understand about dungeon theory?” Zarali asked.

Xol’sa shifted uncomfortably on his feet, some of that puffiness leaving his body. “Not as much as I’d like.”

Zarali dispelled the nodes in the air, grinning at the Elf. “I know as much as my Lord Drogramath sought to instill in me. I never understood why this information would be useful, but his plans can take centuries to come to pass. Think of the dungeons as a membrane. If you need a physical representation…”

Zarali sketched her own version of the dungeon’s connections. Instead of a linear progression, where each dungeon fed the other in a line, she drew an infinitely connected network. Her representation was only five dungeons big, each dungeon represented by a small circle, but it was confusing. Every circle was connected with a line to every other circle. Theo understood what she meant by a membrane now.

“Proximity matters, but every dungeon is connected to every other dungeon,” Zarali said. “So, think about the distribution of magical energy as a wave, rather than a linear propagation and your theory holds water.”

“Do you know what they’re saying?” Tresk asked, cocking her head. “Cause I don’t know what they’re saying.”

“Power transfers from one dungeon to all dungeons,” Theo said, keeping his voice to a whisper.

“A simple way of viewing the matter, Belgar,” Zarali said, craning her neck to grin at him. “You’re not my actual brother, but you’re not a dullard.”

Xol’sa danced on the spot, sputtering something. It was the most animated Theo had ever seen him. “That makes sense! Wave propagation! Like the ocean! One wave comes up to reinforce another, creating a cascade of power. By the Gods, you’ve solved it.”

“See?” Zarali asked, still staring at Theo. “Not evil. Just misunderstood.”

“I must show you my wards,” Xol’sa said. “Would you join me in the swamp?”

“Certainly,” Zarali said. “Belgar, would it be alright if I spent the rest of the day with this lovely Elf?”

Theo blinked hard, trying to line up his thoughts. “Sure,” he said, finally finding something simple to say. “You’re welcome to stay at the Newt and Demon tonight.”

“I have a spare room,” Xol’sa blurted out. “On the second floor—you’re welcome to it.”

“I’ll stay in the tower,” Zarali said. “Now, let’s get back to waves of energy…”

Theo turned on the spot without hearing another word and marched down the stairs. The interaction was too weird for him, and he didn’t want to think about any of the implications. Not of romantic intent, or Drogramath’s master plan. Tresk followed close behind him, stopping shy of the portal.

I’d rather not, she said, defaulting to the Tara’hek communication.

Theo stepped through without another word, falling to the ground instantly.

It feels like my insides are being turned to goo, Theo said.

They might be, Tresk said. What’s your read on her?

Theo had to think a while about that one. Zarali was weird, but he understood that it might have been a response to her grief. It could also have been an act, a cover to serve her master’s will. The only other option was she was insane. None of the options sat well with him, but the benefits were still undeniable. She helped Xol’sa solve his problem on a whim, planted with knowledge by Drogramath and sent to the swamp to see it through. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling powerful hands bringing him to his feet.

The alchemist thanked the towns person who righted him, patting the man on the shoulder and stumbling toward the Newt and Demon. He leaned against the front counter, garnering an amount of sympathy from Azrug. The shopkeeper was intent on making sure his employer was well before allowing him to leave. As he waited for the nausea to pass, Theo thought about his relationship with the young man. Azrug was more capable than ever, running the shop with ease and making more money than should be possible for a low-level merchant.

“Thank you,” Theo said, stumbling up the steps and into his lab.

The timer on his flame artifice had turned off, and the flask hadn’t overflowed. Fortunately, the example distillation he showed Zarali was small enough to avoid such a disaster. He didn’t want to consider the idea of getting poison essence all over his lab. Theo placed the essence in his dimensional chest and cleaned the still out with [Cleansing Scrub], eager to get back to some alchemy. Things had been too wild lately.

“How far does this path take you, dear alchemist?” a voice came from the far side of the room.

Theo nearly jumped out of his skin, clutching his chest and cursing at the darkness. Uharis emerged, sipping a cup of tea and managing a weak smile. Something lingered behind those stony eyes.

“I’ve had enough of mages today,” Theo said, scowling. “Enough of influences from outside forces, thank you. Leave a note and be gone, if you don’t mind.”

“What a cordial way to banish someone,” Uharis said, taking a seat.

Theo thought of calling Tresk to his side, but dismissed the idea. She wouldn’t be much use against a level 80 Archmage, even if she wanted to. The alchemist simply let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the table and leveling his hooded gaze on the mage.

“What do you want, Uharis?” Theo asked.

“Influences… That’s the right word,” Uharis said, casting his eyes over the lab. There was a forlorn expression on his face that sent a twinge through the alchemist’s chest.

“I assume you teleported into my lab,” Theo said, gesturing to nothing in particular. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing. You knew about the dungeon timer. You knew about our fate here—why do I have the feeling you knew about Zarali? Xol’sa? Damn! Did you know about the Harbinger, too?”

“Ah,” Uharis said, taking a long sip of his tea. Theo noticed how his demeanor had changed entirely. The drunk wizard thing was an act all along, not that it was hard to see through that. Only a fool would fall for such nonsense. “The Harbinger? Not at all.”

“So, why steer me away from an administration core? Did you really think that was a good pick, or was that another ploy?” Theo asked.

“I’ll be honest, Theo,” Uharis said. “I never expected this much anger from you.”

Theo? Are you alright? I’m suddenly super pissed, Tresk said.

I’m fine, Theo lied. He couldn’t hide the bile in his words, even through telepathic communication.

“What did you expect?” Theo asked. Whereas he always treated others with respect by giving them the full picture, Uharis hadn’t afforded him that luxury. “You haven’t been honest from the start. And would it kill you people to give me five minutes alone? It’s one thing after another with you.”

Uharis didn’t answer. He swirled his tea in contemplation.

“Answer some damn questions, wizard,” Theo said, slamming his fist against the table. “You owe me as much. If your intention was to drive me away from Drogramath, you’ve done the opposite. You’ve sent me into his embrace.”

“I could snap my fingers,” Uharis said, demonstrating by snapping his fingers. “And destroy Broken Tusk. I could think and wipe you from this plane.”

Theo had entertained threats like this in the past. A fire swelled in his belly, blazing into his chest. Memories of his time spent in Berlin came to the fore, unbidden and unwelcome. He didn’t leave that city with pride in his chest. There was never a word spoken to anyone about what was to come. He slipped in, gathered intelligence, and slipped out. Even as the kinetic orbital bombardment turned the place into a crater, he didn’t crow his victory from the rooftops. The alchemist doubted Uharis’ ability to kill a man, let alone an entire town. Least of all one belonging to the Kingdom of Qavell.

“Do it,” Theo said, leaning in. Sweat accumulated on his forehead, that fire burning harder in his chest. A core, bright like a star on a dark night, ate at that fire. It gnawed at the edges, consuming it and transferring it elsewhere.

Uharis leaned back in his chair, paling under the comment. Theo fought back his instincts, perhaps fed through the Tara’hek by Tresk’s [Assassin’s Core], but he spotted that weakness.

“Where I’m from,” Theo said, withdrawing an item from his inventory. He shook it, setting it down on the table. Uharis’ eyes went wide. “We don’t talk. There’s no room for talk. Things were too dire for that. The moment a leader hinted at encroachment…” Theo jostled the bottle again.

The improvised essence-based bomb might not have killed Uharis. There was a flaw in the design that rendered the yield under what it should have been. Something about the way the liquid turned to vapor during the reaction put a hard limit on how much essence could join the explosion. But in the lab? His dimensional storage was full of the stuff, not to mention the flasks of volatile liquid placed haphazardly around. It was one thing to hint at hurting what Theo had built over the season. But he saw the threat as war.

“And the moment someone hinted at war…” Theo said, trailing off as the fire abated but still fueled some madness in his mind. That’s what happened in Berlin. A nation crumbled under thinning resources. The alchemist pulled his necklace from under his robes, dangling it for the wizard to see. “Say it plainly, and don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.”

Theo knew his strength was nothing compared to the archmage. There was a gulf of power there that he couldn’t bridge, no matter how much alchemy he brought to the table. But as beads of sweat accumulated on Uharis’ forehead, he knew he struck a nerve.

“Sulvan thought…” Uharis said, trailing off. He clutched something under his robes, seeking comfort. “He sees something in you. Something he’s not telling me. He was right, and I was wrong.”

“What does the order want?” Theo asked. He could feel Tresk nearby, lurking somewhere in the shadows. Her anger seethed like a raging tide.

Uharis plastered a smile on his face. “Sulvan knows things. He founded the order. Fought against Balkor. Ushered a new era. Something larger than the order is at work here. Maybe larger than the pantheons.”

Theo leaned back in his chair. The wizard was an old fool, dancing to the song that Sulvan played. Like most powerful people, the Grand Inquisitor told half-truths, keeping his subordinates in the dark. There was a ring to the wizard’s words that seemed true enough, but he was more in the dark than the alchemist.

“Save your pity,” Theo said, leaning in once again. He let his fingers play over the bomb, watching as the wizard’s face switched from fear to pity. This place was better than Theo’s previous world. He wanted to protect his town. “I’m no one’s pawn and you’re not rigging the game.”

“I’d like to think I’m ahead of most,” Uharis said, puffing himself up.

“You’re behind,” Theo said. “Your whole damn order is behind. You’re looking for answers, but you’re blind. Coming here to make threats like you have your hands around my throat. Just means someone has their hands around yours.”

Uharis bristled at that, rendering the words true in Theo’s mind. The alchemist might have been a pawn, some minor player in a game he couldn’t understand, but he wasn’t the only one being led in a direction.

“Do you have a problem with Zarali?” Theo asked. “What if I dedicated the entire town to Drogramath, would you act?”

“Only the direct intervention of the Demonic Lords—”

“There,” Theo interrupted, holding his hands out, palms up. The anger had fizzled out, but he still felt indignation from the wizard’s sudden arrival. It was a trespass against the sanctity of his lab. Unannounced and unwelcomed. “That wasn’t hard, was it? The answer is that I’m too important to kill, no matter how many waves I make. Me, or Broken Tusk.”

A fire burned behind Uharis’ eyes. For a moment, Theo thought he pushed too far. But when the wizard’s expression softened.

“As if it were meant to be,” Uharis said. “As if the town was made for you.”

Uharis stood, crossing the room and approaching the door. Theo didn’t track him that far, he stared at the window as his body shook. A sweep of warm wind passed through the lab, something within the alchemist’s chest eating that just as it did the fiery rage. The wizard made a sound then teleported away with an ear-shattering explosion. The alchemist didn’t flinch, sitting on his chair with white knuckled fists. As soon as it started, it was over. He returned the unspent bomb to his inventory and let out a long breath.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Tresk said, emerging from a shadow in the corner of the room. “Nothing a few daggers can’t fix.”

The Marshling placed a calm hand on his shoulder, and the remnants of his rage vanished in an instant. Theo would have never guessed his reaction to the sudden appearance of the wizard. Too many things had pulled him in too many directions, but it all led back to Earth. That singular moment when he saw the Harbinger, standing there on that fated beach. Even now, Theo could feel the sun expanding at his back. The sensation of radiation burning through his environmental suit, then removing his helmet to choke on poison air.

“Through any means necessary,” Theo said, repeating something he’d heard a thousand times on Earth. “We’ll make this work. No matter who comes barging into town.”

Tresk didn’t respond. Her control of their shared rage was admirable, but he could feel something stirring in her chest. A need to protect him no matter what. Even now he could feel the poison dripping from her blades. She was ready to pounce on Uharis the moment things went sideways. That little Marshling was always there. Ready for a fight. The alchemist realized, perhaps too late, that he had to do the same.

“Through any means necessary,” Tresk repeated. “Come on. Don’t you have potions to brew?”

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