Ch. 425 - Trapped
Panic surged through Simon as he tried to yank himself free, but the mental grip of the magic was as strong as ever, even if any attempt to visualize its flows around him collapsed amidst his rising panic.
The Grandmaster walked around Simon, never quite touching him. He never looked at the mirror, either. Instead, he moved around Simon, set his oil lamp down on the desk with a downcast gaze, and pulled out his chair, so that he’d sit with his back to the trigger rune, but he didn’t take a seat.
Apparently, if he doesn’t see it, the magic won’t work on him?he thought, wondering if there was some way he could use that, before the man distracted him by speaking.
“For weeks you’ve been sneaking in and out of here, and for weeks my little trap hasn’t gone off,” he sighed, looking up at Simon with a slight smile across his face. “I’d begun to think that you’d outsmarted me somehow, and that I’d need a better mousetrap, but now here you are.”
He studied Simon for a moment, then pulled out a diadem and placed it on Simon’s head. He shuddered at the touch, but couldn’t so much as flinch away. A thousand terrible ideas went through his head. First, he thought about the crown he’d seen in the burial mounds ages ago, which his evil twin wore. This one looked different, but the idea that this man might be trying to control his mind or corrupt his spirit terrified him.
“I’m not letting a man like you speak, or even move, so we’ll be forced to borrow the Crown of Jerrathon for the duration.”
The Crown of Jerrathon? What does that do? Simon asked himself.
As soon as he did, though, the man in front of him smiled as he sat and said, “Just a token from an old foe, long ago. He wasn’t born with the power of speech, and yet, he became a great mage, using this to overcome his deficit.”
Those words instantly answered the question. It didn’t exactly read his mind, but it broadcast his thoughts, at least a short distance, because his captor had heard him.
Could I use this to blast him with Meiren then? Simon wondered, dismayed to find the thoughts blasted out once more.
My every thought, he cursed internally, ignoring the fact that the Grandmaster could hear that too. My internal monologue betrays me.
“Internal monologue?” the Grandmaster asked. “How interesting. I haven’t heard that term before, but that’s it exactly. Thoughts don’t create magic, so you can do precisely nothing to me right now, except for telling me what I want to know. Who are you really, Sir Enis? Before you were the cripple or the chosen one, who were you, and why did you join my order?”
I’m Simon, and where I come from is none of your business, he thought definitely. It’s not like you’ve ever heard of Earth anyway. That reflexive voice betrayed him again, and instead of struggling to resist the magic of the spell that held him or the crown that shared his thoughts, he focused on stilling his mind. He couldn’t win against the magic afflicting him, but he could win against his own thoughts.
“Earth? I’ve never heard of that country before,” the Grandmaster said with a smirk. “Where is that? East of Charon? West of Ionia, and across the seas? I’ve read of several sunset lands, but never an Earth.”
Farther than that… Simon thought. Struggling not to say any more than that as he focused on stillness instead of struggle.
“Farther than the Sunset Lands? I suppose that explains the strange aura that the other masters speak of. You’ve come quite a way to infiltrate the Unspoken, then. Why?”
I’m here to learn to fight witches and protect my soul, Simon answered, cutting his thoughts off hard before he could overshare the reason why.
“Reasonable enough,” the man mused. “I almost believe you, but there’s more to you, isn’t there? I can smell it. My divinations told me you were special, but I was asking the wrong questions, wasn’t I? You’ve come here for knowledge, but I will know why.”
The man was leering and clearly reading more into the situation than was warranted. He thought that Simon had been avoiding his traps on purpose, when the truth was simpler; he’d just been too eager for his own good.
Still, he kept all of those reflections repressed and instead answered, My business is my own. I came to learn, and if you let me go, I will trouble you no further.
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“Well, that, at least, is impossible,” the Grandmaster answered with a shake of his head. “You know too much to be allowed to escape. You can either cooperate and join me, or I can question your corpse to get the answers I seek.”
Simon knew that was no hollow threat, but he ignored it for the moment. He would keep the man talking and look for a way out. The colors of your soul are wrong, Simon declared. You are too cruel for me to serve.
“And yet you serve me now,” the Grandmaster laughed. “You’ve done so for some time. How is it you can use magic and see the auras of others, though? That’s what I really want to know. I’d read that was impossible.”
You can only see the world as it is when you stop trying to change it, Simon countered, quoting the Oracle, but cutting off that thought before he accidentally used her name.
“That’s a strange attitude for someone who’s been reading their way through my library,” the other man mused. “I should have you flayed for that. I’ve worked for lifetimes to build this collection, and you just pilfered it for months.”
Almost a year, Simon corrected, hoping that if he made the man mad, he would end this faster. Even the ones you couldn’t read.
“Couldn’t read, huh?” the man chuckled. “Clearly, you don’t know the word of understanding, or its proper use. One simply needs a mirror to… Well, you’ve stolen enough of my secrets; you don’t need to know that too. Die in ignorance, or give me a reason to keep you alive so that you might assist me in my great work.”
I thought the Unspoken was your great work, Simon lied.
"This?" he asked, gesturing around widely enough that he almost fell victim to his own trap before he caught himself. "They are a means to an end. Without a castle and an army, one cannot win a war, and I will win this one. Now, will you help me in life, or in death?"
I’d rather die, Simon shot back, which was true. He should have played for time and tried to learn more, but his annoyance with the man was growing, and that made it very difficult for him to hold back his true feelings.
Being killed would grant him an easy enough escape. The reality knot would yank his soul away before this monster could raise him from the dead to speak, and he’d start a new run. That’s not what happened, though.
“Well, if you resist even my crown, then I suppose I’ll have to ask your soul directly,” he said before casting the spell Simon expected after he’d already bled out. The Grandmaster wasn’t waiting, though. “DnarthEszloum Oonbetit Karesh Jazaballa!”
Simon struggled to understand what the words meant in the moment the man pronounced every syllable of his spell. It was meant to command his soul and understand it, but Simon didn’t know the last word.
The mere idea that such a thing was possible felt like a violation, but fortunately, the magic never landed. Simon hadn’t yet worked out a tattoo or a brand that would kill him when his soul was touched, but the amulet he’d made was the next best thing. The bronze got hot enough to sear the skin of his chest for a moment, and then it exploded.
It was supposed to work by forcing the explosion through his chest and killing him instantly, but somewhere along the way, it must have gotten flipped around, because instead of killing him immediately, it drove the amulet hard against his chest, spraying out a wave of fire at his tormentor, the desk, and the wall behind it. The Grandmaster screamed in surprise, and for a moment, the room was filled with fire as the word of greater flame detonated. Technically, it was only half a word. The metal failed before reaching its full potential, but it was enough to do serious damage.
Almost as good, he thought as he crumpled, hoping that the Grandmaster heard that line at least. They were both dead now, but he’d had the last laugh.
Unfortunately, the explosion wasn’t enough to kill Simon, but it did shatter the mirror, erasing it from his vision. He would have been able to move if he had the strength. Instead, he coughed up blood and gasped as the pain of half a dozen broken ribs assaulted him.
I should have used a bigger word of power, Simon thought through the pai, as he noted his captor was still crying out in surprise as much as agony. Simon couldn’t understand the actual words through the ringing in his ears, but he hoped the Grandmaster wasn’t long for this world either.
That pain kept him awake, but only for a few more moments. Half a dozen breathless gasps later, darkness was taking him, and the last thing he saw was the burned face of the man looming over him. Then he was gone.
He expected to wake up in the bed in his cabin, of course, but instead he opened his eyes to find himself in the charred study seconds or perhaps minutes later. He didn’t know how long this had taken, but the lingering pain told him that he had a healing spell to thank for it, and he found the idea that this man had healed him revolting.
The Grandmaster, for his part, looked fine. His clothing was still burned and ruined, but the flesh beneath it was pink and pristine once more. “A clever surprise,” the man growled, “but not enough to—”
Bleary or not, Simon didn’t hesitate. As the man loomed over him, gloating, Simon shoved his wooden hand in the mouth of his opponent and said, “This is actually the second time I’ve killed you,” as he activated the wand of ruin, cooking his brain with a bolt of lightning.
Even as the old man’s body twitched and spasmed, he followed it up a moment later with fire, making the man’s head splatter in all directions. His headless corpse stayed upright a few more seconds before falling down on top of Simon.
Only then did he allow himself to relax. He lay there, body still on top of him, and chest heaving as he wondered what in the hell he was going to do next. One thing was for sure, though, he decided as he studied his blasted wooden arm. His time with the Unspoken was likely at an end.
“I should have spent more time with Varten,” he sighed as he pushed the corpse off of him, finally realizing what his future self had meant. He’d thought he’d have more time, but he’d been wrong. He had all the time in the world, but it was never enough.