Firebrand

Atreus took the lead this time, carrying Martel’s lightstone. He did not set a brisk pace, nor did he seem indecisive. While they moved forward with caution, the spellbreaker never hesitated each time they reached a fork in the tunnels. With each step, Martel felt more at ease. There were no signs of debris here; the underground complex seemed sturdy and had withstood the destruction that had ravaged the rest of Archen. It had been close, but their escape no longer seemed in question.

Hours later, the spellbreaker stopped. “Up ahead is the central chamber. There may be wards or other such obstacles, so stay behind me,” Atreus warned them.

“Of course,” Eleanor responded, and Martel nodded vigorously.

“Will be nice to breathe fresh air again,” the Archean wizard mumbled, and they continued.

They took a turn, and down the corridor, Martel could see a doorframe. The darkness beyond kept everything else from his sight, but he knew what it meant, and that Atreus had been correct in navigating the labyrinth.

As for the spellbreaker, he held the lightstone at arm’s length in front of him. “I sense wards. Lots of them. As expected, the chamber is protected. Keep your eyes open, in case I overlook any.”

Now at an even slower pace, they moved forward, all of them glancing around. Martel ignited several floating flames to surround them. Despite their vigilance, they saw nothing. Only ordinary stone, carved with an earthmage’s precision, met their eyes.

Taking a deep breath, still holding out the lightstone, Atreus stepped over the threshold to enter the chamber. Nothing happened; no wards glowed, no traps released deadly magic. The other two joined him, only to stumble into him as he came to an immediate halt.

The two Asterians looked to see the same sight that had caused the spellbreaker to freeze. The edge of the illuminated ring from his lightstone fell upon a figure, standing tall. He wore robes dyed with many hues and a cloak clasped with a gem. Five skeletal fingers held a staff with a top piece containing several precious stones, as did the coronet on his skull. Blue flames filled the empty eyeholes of his skull.

“Visitors,” came the creaking voice, speaking Archean. “Welcome.” All of them stared at the lich. Martel had the urge to release spells, and he knew his companions felt the same; still, the undead mage had made no hostile movement. He stood, watching them placidly.

“Master Karolos!” exclaimed Atreus. The rıghtful source is novel fire.net

“Indeed. That I should be recognised and spoken to in my own tongue… Are you one of us, child?”

“I am. Atreus of the order of spellbreakers.” He inclined his head, barely, without taking his eyes off the lich. “We never met formally, but I recognise the coronet and staff you wield.”

“I had not expected any of our people to survive. I know the destruction must have been vast, for countless years have surely passed, and you are the first I have seen in all that time.”

“It has been three hundred years, master, I regret to say.”

If undead could sigh, undoubtedly the lich would have done so; his hands slid down his staff as he stooped over, leaning on it for support. “Nothing remains but ruins, I take it. And you, somehow.”

“How did you end up here, master?” Atreus asked. “What strange fate left you here, all this time?”

The lich’s teeth rattled. “The Stars play their jests on mortals, and none greater than how they played me. On that fateful day, I knew something was wrong. I felt the magic being released from deep underground. I hurried down here, using my private entrance.” He glanced to the side; at the edge of the light, the counters of a shaft could be seen. “Just as I came here, the destruction struck. I lost consciousness, who knows for how long. When I woke, I was as you see me now, trapped by my own wards that prevent all undead from moving about. A moment sooner or a moment later, I would have died elsewhere. The Stars decreed that it should happen here, in a prison of my own making.” Once again, the rattling sound came, reminiscent of hollow laughter.

“You retained your mind, master, unlike every other unfortunate soul in Archen. A testament to your powers as a mage.”

Karolos bowed his head; an odd look, seeing the spine lower itself. “You seek the way out, I take it? I shall not hinder you.” He ignited a small flame to his side, illuminating the shaft up. “The path remains open from when I used it all those years ago. Unlike me, you are free to leave.”

“You wouldn’t want me to remove the wards?” Atreus asked with a cautious voice.

The lich could not give an overbearing smile, but the same sentiment was carried through his voice. “If a simple spellbreaker could overcome my wards, I would not be worthy of my title as archmage of Archen.”

“Of course. My sympathies, master.” The spellbreaker looked over his shoulder briefly at his companions. “Go,” he spoke simply in Asterian.

Before they moved, Karolos spoke again. “If you would indulge me first… I have wondered for so many years what happened. What went wrong. Do you know?”

Atreus hesitated. “Yes, master. A conspiracy of maleficars created a portal not far from here. Their ritual went awry.”

“Portals. Our greatest magic and our downfall.” The lich sounded as remorseful as an undead being could. “But how could it go wrong? Surely they were not a handful of novices, meddling with powers far beyond their understanding?” His skull expressionless, his mood was hard to read as his flaming eyes stared at Atreus. “For that matter, how have you survived all these years? Unlike me, your heart beats. How is that so?”

“Begin walking,” Atreus mumbled in Asterian, still staring ahead. “Slowly.” He switched to Archean. “I was cursed, master. It kept me alive, though a cursed existence is not much of a life.”

“I can weave together the strands you tell me, to see the picture you fear to reveal,” Karolos spoke. “The maleficars failed because their ritual was interrupted. By spellbreakers. One of whom was cursed and thus still lives. Once again, I see the Stars playing their jest.”

Separating himself from his companions, Atreus inclined his head. “Indeed, master.” He whispered from the corner of his mouth in Asterian, “Get out while he’s focused on me.”

“I thought I was condemned to an eternity of imprisonment. Yet here you are,” the lich snarled, “the man who destroyed my ambitions, my city! Now you shall be my escape!”