Firebrand

Martel opened his eyes, conscious of the fact that he was yet to die. The injury on his chest hurt, but he no longer felt that it oozed blood. With the lich’s departure, the phantom wound had closed itself. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed his last healing tonic and swallowed it. It would appear that he would live another day.

Eleanor, who seemed in the best shape, relatively speaking, crawled as much as walked over to his side. “Martel?” she asked, and her voice carried such frailty, it made his heart break.

“I’m fine,” he told her as she knelt by him, caressing his face. “I think the wound closed once he disappeared. I’m a little shaken, but I’ll be alright. Atreus?”

“I shall check on him.” She stood up and hurried over to the Archean mage. “He breathes still. I think he did what you are wont to do and exhausted himself until he passed out.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Martel grumbled, though in fact, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Realising he would live after being certain of death had a marked effect on his mood. “He saved us.”

“That he did.” Eleanor pulled Atreus up to sit against the wall. “That said, I lack the strength to carry him out of here. I hope he wakes up soon.”

Her wish made Martel wonder if time was an issue; could the lich return? Propping himself up on an elbow, he stared at the Phoenik symbols on the ground. He imagined them suddenly flaring up with light, Karolos returning for a second bout. He thought about doing as he had tried to before, summoning magical strength to simply smash the tiles, but the notion alone made him nauseated. Instead, he pulled out his gold-edged dagger and threw it to land on the nearest symbol.

“What was that?” Eleanor asked, hearing the sound.

Martel pointed to where the golden weapon glistened in the radiance of his lightstone, lying some feet away. “I’m hoping some gold keeps the portal from working. Just in case that undead bastard is considering coming back.”

“Good thinking. I imagine he has had enough of this place, though, after three centuries.” “You’d think.”

They rested for a while, eating the last of their rations and waiting for Atreus to come to. Martel could feel he had demanded too much of himself, physically and magically. He remained weak, and his spellpower barely seemed to replenish itself. He would need several nights’ sleep, and maybe a few more tonics if Martel could find the ingredients to make them. Still, he felt grateful. They had faced the archmage of Archen and survived. His gratitude inevitably became tinged with guilt, however, knowing they had also let him escape.

“We’re all alive, I notice,” Atreus remarked, stirring from his involuntary sleep.

“Yes. And you? I’ve never seen any wield as much spellpower as you can bring to bear,” Martel admitted. The spellbreaker’s reserves of magic were impressive.

“I’ve been brought to the brink many times. You learn to draw more, or you die,” he replied with half a smile. “But I think I am well enough to move about. We should take our leave. Have you checked our exit?”

Eleanor nodded. “The shaft has a ladder built into the wall. I did not dare look elsewhere, considering the wards that might be placed on any treasures or such kept here.”

“Wise, though I doubt anything was kept here. I sense nothing, at least,” Atreus told her. “If any artefacts survived both time and the magical ravaging of Archen’s destruction, it would be those born by Karolos.”

“A pity,” she mumbled, touching the hilt of her sword that she had acquired in the Archean outpost in Nordmark.

“Let’s get out. We can discuss what to do next once we’re above ground.”

Martel happily concurred. “Yes, please.”

They ascended the ladder with its steps built as part of the construction, solid and sturdy. Squeezing past the debris at the top, the trio climbed out and found themselves among the ruins again, on the ground floor. “Seems a little odd it ends here,” Martel considered, looking around in the dark. Night had fallen; they had spent the entire day underground.

“I imagine the shaft originally rose much higher,” Atreus remarked, “hidden inside in the walls. Maybe Karolos made it himself. He was – is a gifted elemental mage. Perhaps he made the ritual chamber for the maleficars too.”

“You think he was in league with them?” Martel asked. Unable to follow the conversation, he had simply assumed that the lich had gone mad from isolation.

“That seemed obvious. Did you not hear him?” Eleanor glanced at him.

“I can write my name in Archean, that’s about it.” ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel~fire~net

“To think of all the hours I spent tutoring you. For nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Though speaking of such matters, I would imagine that Archen had a library?”

“Certainly,” Atreus confirmed. “Many wonderful volumes of knowledge and lore. I believe if you take three steps to the left, you’ll be standing in what’s left of it.”

Eleanor let her eyes sweep over the ruins, where nothing but moss-covered stones remained. “Oh.”

“Let’s get to camp.” Martel was more than ready to rest, and part of him hoped this was it; any desire to explore Archen had been more than satisfied at this point. He let his hand slip inside Eleanor’s and squeezed it. While they had faced mortal danger many times before, they had survived by their own abilities. This had been luck, or more specifically, the presence of a stronger mage. Matters could easily have gone differently, leaving one or both of them dead, and Martel would have been unable to affect the outcome either way.

They set into motion, moving through the dark ruins towards their camp outside the walls. Martel’s lightstone illuminated the road, and they had no further trouble with any undead; they walked the beaten path, sticking to streets they had already cleared of trouble.

Looking at the spellbreaker ahead of him, Martel figured he should ask whether they were done. “Atreus, is this it? Have we done what you came here for?”

“We have. More undead may lurk around the city, but none of them have the power to be a threat. The ritual chamber – and unbeknownst to me, also Karolos – was always the danger.”

“A danger we have released,” Eleanor remarked.

“Yes. And I have no knowledge of where he might have gone,” Atreus admitted. “I imagine he went to a place where he has resources, but it doesn’t have to be any of the known Archean outposts. He might have had a secret lair where he now recovers his strength.”

“What will we do?” Martel asked.

“I will find him. Sooner or later, he will reveal himself. And once I face him at my full strength, I will destroy him,” Atreus vowed with a cold voice. “But,” he continued in a neutral tone, “it might take years before he does anything that gives me his scent. And I do have other plans to set into motion.”

“Such as?”

As he walked ahead, Atreus’s companions could not see his face when he answered. “I want to rebuild Archen.”