29

As it turned out, Angli’s claim that Oliver was abysmal was spot on. Upon meeting the fabled sword master, he was quickly beaten black and blue. The man had black hair, almost as brilliant as Illari’s blonde, only it held depth that her hair lacked. His eyes were a deep brown color. Within them, Oliver could see great sorrow.

The man didn’t deign to speak. He jumped straight to kicking Oliver’s ass as soon as he introduced himself to the sword master. His methods were brutal. He had a cane, a simple yet ornately carved cane, and he wasted no time swinging it directly at Oliver’s head. After he regained consciousness, Oliver complained about the treatment, only to receive another crack on his head. He fell to the ground, a ringing headache splitting his mind.

“What the hell is your problem? I wasn’t ready to spar! Give a guy a warning next time!” He shouted at the stone-faced man. When Unval responded, it was with a voice so calm, he could have been discussing the weather.

“I was under the impression that you wished instruction,” he replied.

“I do want instruction. Instruction, not to be abused.” Oliver complained.

“In a real fight, your enemy is not going to tell you he is about to attack. He is not going to ask if you are ready before spilling your guts. You are lucky the tool in my hand is this cane, otherwise you wouldn’t have even been given this chance to whine.”

“You still could have told me we were starting,” Oliver persisted.

“Begin!” Unval exclaimed before launching himself cane first at Oliver.

Oliver rolled out of the way, barely better off with the warning. He stumbled around, narrowly dodging every strike the man threw at him. The floating island he had been brought to suddenly seemed entirely too small to continue evading the man. Oliver dipped, dropped, rolled, jumped, slid, skidded, spun, and, most commonly, flopped out of the way of every attack the man sent at him.

He accrued many bruises as his evasions continued to be imperfect. Still, his skills had improved with the weeks of training Angli had put him through. His reflexes were quick, and once he knew that the man wouldn’t let up or give him an ounce of ground, it was easier to adapt.

Just as he thought this, Oliver suddenly made a backward step that had no solid footing. His entire body flailed as his foot stepped into open space off the edge of the island. He felt gravity take him as he began falling backward.

Before his whole body left the island, a hand shot out lightning fast and grasped him by his shirt. Unval held him suspended over open space for long seconds. Whether or not Oliver recognized it as such, it was a lesson about watching his surroundings. It was not only the opponent one had to watch for. In a fight against a worthy foe, the very landscape around you became a weapon. After a lengthy yet silent berating, he roughly pulled Oliver back, letting him flop messily onto the ground.

“You have the means to fight back, yet you don’t. Is the blade you carry merely to keep your empty head tethered to the ground, or does it serve another purpose?” Unval asked scoldingly.

Oliver didn’t answer immediately, he only stood and drew the Holy Sword. He set forth harnessing the energy it contained. He let it condense on the edge of the blade. After a minute, there was a soft vibration coming from the blade. Unval looked at him uncertainly for a moment. It was almost like he didn’t know what to make of the action. Oliver just let more and more energy build before calmly responding to his question.

“You better hope it’s the former, otherwise you can kiss your little walking stick goodbye,” he said.

The look on Unval’s face changed in a blink, and Oliver could see he was starting to take Oliver seriously. He assumed a ready stance, neither retreating nor advancing. He seemed content to wait and let Oliver attack. Since he was being so generous, Oliver saw no need to hesitate.

He took a step forward and with all the intensity he could muster, swung the Holy Sword at Unval. The air itself seemed to split as the energy he had harnessed was all released toward the asshole in front of him. The short distance left no time for Unval to react, and the attack slammed into him with the fury of a tidal wave. He was blown back and off his feet. He flipped like a pinwheel and tumbled off the other end of the island.

At least, that’s what should have happened in Oliver’s mind. In reality, the attack met with Unval’s raised cane. It hit with no small amount of force, certainly capable of blasting a man from a floating island, but the energy was easily countered by the simple wooden cane the man held. Oliver watched as the cocky man lazily flicked his wrist. The massive energy he had blocked disappeared, but an instant later, Oliver heard a deafening blast above them.

He looked up to see an island far above get noticeably shook by the impact of his own attack. To his astonishment, when the smoke and debris cleared, he could see the rough facsimile of a face carved into the bottom of the island, it was sneering and had its tongue out, almost like the island itself was mocking his failure. Oliver just looked back at Unval with wonder in his eyes.

“I can see why Illari wants me to train you. You have no control.” He said derisively before turning and walking away. Oliver watched him depart with astonishment plain on his face. Utterly uncertain of what he was supposed to do, Oliver returned to Illari.

True to her word, Illari was ready with an instruction regimen when Oliver returned to the room. Apparently, this Ilgna person had sent Illari back with numerous texts. Some detailed combat techniques. Others were strategical works or technological innovations. Some contained Incantations for healing himself if ever his body became afflicted with similar ailments again. It was a massive pile of work. When Oliver protested, Illari simply smiled at him before responding in her gentle voice.

“Death is always an alternative to dedication,” she said.

“Where should I start?” Oliver asked after her words had sunk in.

So, she told him of the regimen that they had come up with in his absence. Each day would begin with two hours of study over his morning meal. He was to work on at least four different texts during that time, dividing his time between them until breakfast was over. Then, he would return to Unval for instruction.

Those lessons would last two hours each as well. Meals and more study would lend a break between sparring matches, and at equal intervals he would return throughout the day to either studying or sparring. He wanted to protest, but Illari’s statement came back to him. Death was a constant alternative to being prepared for what came. So, Oliver swallowed any reservations he had with the plan that more powerful entities had devised for him and agreed to what she said.

30

Oliver spent a massive amount of time getting his ass kicked by Unval in the following days. He learned a lot, mostly he learned how to take a beating. He was unsure how getting utterly dominated by a sadistic old fart was supposed to help him learn anything. When asked, Angli maintained that his body and soul would remember the abuse and be better suited to avoid it in the future. Still, Oliver couldn’t see any fruit from his labor. To him, it was an endless stream of abuse, broken only by meals, rigorous study, and sleep.

His body steadily accrued aches and sores from the daily abuse. They grew worse with each passing day, and to make things even worse, Illari refused to ease his pain more than once a week. She posited that if his body didn’t have time to experience the pain, it would never have the means to overcome it in the future. He supposed the logic was sound, it just hurt like hell to stand, sit, lay, walk, talk, and breathe. It could be worse right?

One thing that confused him greatly was that there were at least a hundred different islands around him, but except for Illari and Unval, he hadn’t seen a single soul. The entire beautiful world seemed to be deserted. He asked Angli about it, and she told him that only the chosen were allowed to remain there. She didn’t elaborate further.

After weeks of abuse, wherein Oliver actually started to understand the function of the Holy Sword, Illari told him he had a mission. It was with great relief that Oliver received the news that his time was up. He and Angli had been in the Holy Land for over two months.

In that time, he read dozens of books, learned numerous spells, and developed much more discipline with his mental capabilities. Despite that, he felt he had learned exactly nothing about combat, but even Unval insisted his progress was exemplary. He had no wish to argue with the man who spent the whole time beating him blue and bloody while insulting his heritage and upbringing, so he just agreed when Illari said it was time for them to leave.

Apparently, there was some unknown beast causing trouble and she wanted to use it as a basis for his skill progression. As far as all were concerned, the beast was now his problem. He was interested to see how far he had come as well.

So, with no small relief, Oliver and Angli were ushered from the Holy Land and back into the world of mortals. His time in the Holy Land seemed unreal after departing. He had spent months there, but even with the relentless beatings and odd behavior on the part of the two people he met there, the time was spent quicker than anything short of entering Sleep. As he passed through the veil dividing his world from the Holy Land, he noticed that it was the middle of the night. With solemnity, he stepped out into the forest.

31

“Nice of you to send me out in the dark to kill a vague monster with no help or information on the monster in question.” He said out loud.

“Nice to know you appreciate the opportunity to prove yourself,” came a voice in his head different from Angli’s, which was the only voice he ever heard there.

“Woah! Illari is that you?” Oliver asked.

“Clearly,” she said with amusement.

“Can you always hear me?”

“No, I only hear you when I wish to or when you speak to me,” she replied.

“And you wanted to hear me just now?”

“No. You were speaking to me, were you not?”

Oliver didn’t respond. He supposed he was. He had simply never had a person respond to his private bemusement. Then again, he had also never had so many voices in his head capable of responding. His life had certainly become crazy.

The problem of the darkness remained and responding to his latest brain guest would only delay his departure. Besides, she was entirely too odd for him. She still hadn’t divulged any information whatsoever after kissing him, and for all the world continued to pretend as though nothing had happened. To fix his eye problems, Oliver decided to peruse his mind’s list of spells.

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Oliver had felt rushed by circumstance to become as powerful as possible as quickly as possible, so in his time within the Holy Land he had begun making a much bigger effort to explore the myriad of powers that had appeared in his mind. He had started this process on the journey through the forest but hadn’t made nearly as much progress as he would have liked. His time in the Holy Land had provided the perfect opportunity to study himself further. Now he looked upon his awakened spell wall.

There were so many, yet he felt as though he had only scratched the surface. He unlocked a spell called Quake, which made the ground pulse hard enough to unbalance most people. He had a similar spell which formed a sheet of ice ten square feet across a patch of ground. It was simply called Freeze. Both were area of effect spells, and he knew from experience that indirect magic could be as deadly as a fireball to the face. They had a subtlety to them that an inexperienced combatant would miss.

He also discovered some direct attack spells. He had a spell called Shard, to summon jagged spikes in a very small area. The spikes were different sizes, but none thicker than his wrist. Still, the stone was sharp enough to stab flesh, and he had no doubt that he could use it to great effect in the right circumstance. He had a spell called Flash which did exactly what it sounded like. Similar to Light Burst, but more powerful, Oliver could send a blinding flash of light into the eyes of anyone within his line of sight. He only needed to see their eyes and his spell could target them. Subconsciously he realized that this was an aura targeting spell and therefore one he was immune to.

He had other utility and attack spells unlocked as well, many of which he could not see himself using often. Angli had told him it was common for him to have a decent number of similar and seemingly useless spells. Even with all of the spells he had found, nothing he found could help him see in the dark. She said if he never used them, over the years his mind would push them to the back, and they would fade away. No matter how gifted he may be, his mind could not retain information that was never used. His mind would automatically let go of the knowledge to make more room for spells he used more often or new spells he wished to learn.

As Oliver was setting out on his newest harrowing journey, he decided to try a new spell. He had been watching it for a while. When he first noticed the wall of spells in his mind, it had been locked behind mental barriers. Just like the others, he tried to study it and unravel its secrets, but his efforts were in vain. For months it eluded him. As he had unlocked other spells however, the barrier had slowly peeled away. He had not had an opportunity to test it out during his time training. As he gazed upon it now, it flared to life and became fully revealed to him.

It didn’t feel like the rest. Its aura was a swirling mass of many colors. It didn’t have an end. He could see colors within its depths that he had never seen before. Dark colors, light colors, opaque colors, reflective colors, Oliver was mesmerized by it for several seconds.

The name of the spell was Free Form. Judging by the name, he had to form what he wanted to happen with his mind and if his hunch was correct, he could craft a unique spell based on his intent. He decided to test it out.

“Free Form night vision,” Oliver thought, instinctively flourishing his arm.

Immediately, his eyes cleared, and he could see his surroundings as plain as day. A slight tremble overtook his legs as the magic taxed him. He was surprised at how easy it had been to cast. He laughed out loud at his amazing luck. The odds of having such a unique spell unlocked in this very moment when he needed sight were slim to none. Then again, he seemed to come out of every situation against the odds the universe gave him. Having found this latest boon of his magic, he saw no need to limit himself to night vision.

He thought about some other upgrades he needed, and soon he had increased his running speed, reinforced his legs to prevent twisting an ankle, he even made an invisible aura several meters in diameter around him which alerted him if any living being breached its borders. Soon he had cast numerous spells around himself. And none took more effort than to imagine what he wanted. Oddly, the flourish needed for each was both similar to the others and unique. It felt as though he was drawing his spell into the air, and for each new use, a different stroke was needed.

He worried about the rule of magic stating that concurrent spells cost exponentially more, but to his delight, each additional casting seemed to only add to the wide net that was Free Form. It was like adding several spices to his food while everyone else was making multiple meals at once. In effect, it made his simultaneous spell ability much greater than anyone else.

“What an amazing spell,” he thought.

He had plenty of spells unlocked by this point, some utility, some offense, some defense, but this spell seemed to be a failsafe for if he didn’t have a spell ready for the occasion. From what he had heard, most Orenda could learn a spell called Spell Verse, which basically allowed for on the spot creation of unique spells similar to Free Form. The major difference was that Spell Verse relied on two key things.

First, the caster had to speak the structure of the spell into existence entirely before the spell could take hold. This was true of all Incantations, but it made use of the spell difficult for combat. Secondly, the spell would have to be intoned in the form of a verse. If a magician wanted to boil water for example, they couldn’t just say “Boil my water,” they would have to make up some nonsense along the lines of “Much like pots of scalding oil, bring my water to a boil!”

Oliver seemed to have just discovered a powerful advantage he had over others. He only needed to think of what he wanted and, to the extent of his magical capabilities, his will materialized. He didn’t believe the spell had no limit; he simply hadn’t tried something complicated with it. Still, the ease and variety that he could now call upon would make him unparalleled in a magical conflict. After marveling for a few more minutes, he set off.

32

Oliver ran into the night for hours. He was traveling back the way he had come. Soon he was deep within the forest again. He had to eventually cast a spell with Free Form which kept him energized and oxygenated. Illari had given him a basic direction to travel in, but he had been given no specifics. Basically, she said “Run over that way and kill the thing you might find at some point.” He had no idea how far he would have to run, so he simply ran. Angli had been busying herself with study in his mind since before his departure, and so she missed all of his new magical buffs being cast. As she came back to awareness within his mind, she quickly had questions about what she had missed.

“What are all of these spells around you? How can you see in the dark?”

“I had to cast spells to help me get away. I had no light, so I made my eyes night compatible.”

“I can see as much,” said Angli perhaps a bit derisively, “what I wish to know is how you’ve managed to cast so many spells within the same spell aura?”

“What do you mean? I just made them.”

“You… made them?” Asked Angli, sounding confused this time.

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Almost any spell you or anyone else can use has a very rigid and perfectly defined set of limitations within which it must operate. Your wind spell, for instance, might be able to summon the most wind anyone has ever seen, but it cannot summon even an ounce of rain. Every spell in existence has a similar set of rules it cannot break. And every spell in existence has an aura, much like every person does. And I can see very vividly that each of these spells has the exact same aura. How is this possible?”

“I unlocked a new magical ability. It’s called Free Form.”

“You… can use Free Form?” Asked Angli, sounding for the first time as though she was in awe of something.

“Have you heard of it?”

“You’ve inherited an ability the likes of which has only ever been recorded in one other person. He lived eons ago, as the legend goes. He was neither human nor elf, neither dwarf nor gnome. He sided neither with the demons nor the angels. His true nature was not known by any. But those with the most knowledge Du Varia’s history seemed to think he was the remnant of a race long extinct.”

“What was his name?” Oliver asked, feeling suddenly as though he knew the answer.

Angli didn’t respond for a moment. He could feel her inspecting him from her vantage point in his mind. She always seemed to pick apart his brain before answering him. It was like she read his words from within his mind, where the whole truth of his queries was plain to see. When she spoke, it was with the tone of one testing the waters.

“Silas,” she said slowly. She let the word hang, waiting for his reaction to her statement.

“He seems to be coming up more and more, doesn’t he?” Oliver said evenly.

“I’m surprised at your calmness. I can feel how badly you want to know about him. Why are you so curious? It feels almost obsessive. The restraint in your voice doesn’t hide the longing your thoughts betray. So, what is your interest in Silas the Divider anyway?”

“What do you mean? Everyone seems to know him but me. He basically showed me how to use the Holy Sword himself in a memory, and now it sounds like he was the greatest hero in the history of our world. I can’t explain it, I just feel like his story is important to know.”

Angli did her silent introspection again. This time she seemed to find less fault in his words, but he could feel the suspicion she still aimed at his words. To her credit, she wasn’t a nosy person, and therefore didn’t demand more adequate reasoning. She accepted that Oliver probably didn’t truly have the words he needed to express his need for information, so she conceded.

“He was the one who gave us our world. Illari made no exaggeration when she said the world owes him more than any other.”

“What did he do?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. Illari has never shared anything about him with me. She only maintains that he is responsible for saving all of Du Varia several millennia ago, and that he used a spell called Free Form to do it. The Guardians show him much reverence, though none will speak of him.”

“And who are the Guardians?”

“The protectors of the Holy Land. The only plane still compatible with all types of energy. Illari is one of them.”

“What is up with her anyway?” Oliver asked.

“She is older and more mysterious than you could possibly imagine. She was chosen to guard the Holy Land along with a few other Angels and Demons. Not every member of the races believed the conflict was justified, and eight were chosen, four from each side, to uphold the peace. It was Illari who helped Silas create the Holy Sword. It was said to have a twin. He bequeathed one to each side of Du Varia. They were to be used to purify any harmful energy that may have emerged. One of them made its way to me down through the ages, and eventually to you.”

“So, he gave the Holy Sword to the ancestors of our family thousands of years ago? Wait, that was Illari? She had black hair, and these massive colorful wings. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” Oliver couldn’t decide which topic to broach first.

“My hair has lightened in my many years. As for my wings, there was a price to pay. Not even the Guardians could escape the consequences of the war.” Illari interjected responded in his head. He had totally forgotten that she was capable of hearing his thoughts.

“The price was your wings?”

“Yes. And it was a small price for the damage done,” she replied.

“Hm,” Deciding to ask more later, Oliver moved on to the next topic he had questions about.

“So, we have always had the Holy Sword? Has it just been passed down through each generation all the way to me?”

“Not quite. It has been lost many times, but just as Silas intended, the Holy sword invariably came into possession of the one who needed it the most.”

“And the twin that exists on the other side? I’m assuming it has somehow come into possession by Ro.” Oliver could still feel the clean and cold blade piercing through his entire being.

“Exactly. We own one sword. The other is in Ro’s possession. Its existence here is a problem no matter who has it. One sword per plane. That’s the rule. The one on your back is the sword of light. The other sword belongs to the mortal plane of dark. I don’t know how he got it, but we have to return it to its rightful place. If it’s over here, there’s nothing stopping the positive power from permeating on the other side. The world is unbalanced once again. And it’s our job to fix it.”

“Hm.” Oliver wished he had received more information for his trouble but he supposed he would have to figure things out for himself.

“Stop here,” Angli suddenly said.

“Why?” Asked Oliver. They had been talking for so long that he had forgotten he was even running. His body had been on auto pilot as his mind recreated the tale he had been told.

“You’ve been running long enough. The sun will be rising in a couple hours, and you should get some sleep before it does.”

“Okay,” Oliver said. He felt kind of weary despite his stamina, so he had no objections.

“Before that, I want to see how much you can do with Free Form. It can’t take the place of another spell, but it’s nature should allow you to simulate the aura of another spell. That basically means you should be able to perform any spell you see, although there may be a higher energy cost than if you cast it naturally.”

“How do you want to test it? You’re not going to cast spells on me, are you?” Oliver asked with amusement.

“No, come with me,” Angli said.