37
Oliver traveled long and hard over the next several days. He tried several times to successfully create a Master Ward, but each time, some subtle detail eluded him, and he was left exhausted, and in several cases, unconscious. Luckily, he never taxed himself so hard as the first time, so he was able to regain his wits after only a couple hours on each occasion. He woke more frustrated after each failure. He just couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong.
“It’s clear to me that simulation of someone else’s energy flow is much more difficult than simply creating a similar spell from scratch. I didn’t foresee you having this much trouble, however.” Angli remarked after a few weeks of failures.
“I can see exactly what to do, I just can’t seem to simulate the individual powers the right way. I’ve tried every way I can think of, but it always snaps.”
Oliver looked within himself for all the different spells he was able to access. He had wind magic, he had ice magic, earth magic, support magic, defense magic, the list just kept going. By this point he had Incantation level mastery of every spell not still locked behind his own mental barriers. He also found that he had many abstract spells, such as one that made his breathing silent.
He knew that many spells he had would simply be forgotten as he relied on Free Form, but he resolved to remember as many as he could. He was also determined to use a different spell if he had one. After simulating his own energy to cast one of his spells through Free Form, he realized just how much more taxing it was.
Depending on the spell, it may take between ten and a hundred times as much energy to synthesize a spell from Free Form as it would cost to cast it naturally. And the more energy it took, the worse his body was taxed. It was no wonder he was having trouble with a Master rank spell. After he learned this, he stopped putting so much effort into simulating energy.
One thing he was able to learn from the ordeal was of much more value than simple imitation. He learned by casting his freezing spell and using intense analysis that he was able to create a magical counter signature for any spell as long as he was able to analyze the entire process as it happened and didn’t miss any details. To put it simply, if he could study a spell from start to finish, he could devise a method to counter it.
This was tricky in the extreme though since most spells happened in an instant and gave little indication when they began. He would have to pay close attention to any gestures or words of power that were directed at him. Still, Oliver could see that creating his own counter to a spell could be much more beneficial than simply trying to copy a spell without the necessary energy.
Oliver was elated to discover just how versatile his spell was. In a moment of inspiration, Oliver had tried to cast Free Form in conjunction with Freeze. To his delighted astonishment, he could use it to augment or alter any spell in his repertoire.
He practiced several different ways to alter his existing spells, and he was further delighted to discover that as long as the original magical signature was used, Free Form was able to change the nature of the spell for very little energy cost. The greater the change, the greater the energy needed, but even some pretty massive changes were possible for less than it would have cost to create the spell from scratch.
Though Oliver was excited about his discoveries, as well as optimistic about the future, a nagging part of him worried that even all of his newfound ability wouldn’t help him against the icy sting of Ro’s sword piercing his flesh anew. It was a thought that he couldn’t escape. It came to him in his dreams. It haunted his subconscious while he was awake. And deep down, he knew that his pain had only just begun.
38
Oliver spent all his free time while traveling training with Angli in the Endless Expanse. Oliver had spent his life training his swordsmanship, but the more he practiced with Angli, the more he realized his tutelage had been woefully underwhelming. Angli could do things with a blade that Oliver had never imagined.
He studied her techniques scrupulously, hoping to pick up a few tricks to give him an edge. As the days passed though, it became clear that there was no shortcut or substitute to the centuries of experience Angli had. He had to admit that he had such a long way to go before he could hope to equal her, much less Ro.
Oliver soon came to the edge of the forest, and thence into the mountains. He passed by the spire where he had spoken with the dragon, but it was bare. He wondered why a dragon would abandon its perch. Having no suitable guess, he moved on. After weeks of wondering through the wilderness towards his greatest foe, they came upon a traveler.
The man was short. He wore a green cloak and had a bow on his back which marked him easily as a rogue. His clothes were well made. In fact, there was a clearly marked sigil on his back. The sigil was odd. It seemed to begin with a rune which read “Con”.
But after the first part of the rune, the lines devolved into a mess of tangles and became impossible to decipher. The man would have been an odd enough sight to warrant all of Oliver’s attention if he had been alone. Instead, he was accompanied by a group of armed soldiers.
His company didn’t appear to be a cordial one. There was a large group of people dressed in uniform trying to surround the man, who had already placed himself in a defensible position with his back to a large rock. Oliver could barely hear the voices of the men from his distance, but with a quick use of Free Form, he could make their voices out clearly.
“I told you before, Con,” the soldier who seemed to be in charge spoke, using the last word as a spear, “that you are in direct violation of the king’s law. You are required by law to report to the captain of the guard for placement. Why have you failed to do so?”
“That’s not my name,” the lone man responded in a bored tone. He didn’t sound the least bit intimidated by the group of armed men pointing their weapons at him.
“Whatever your name is, this is your last warning. I have been given orders to bring you in alive or dead. What is it going to be?”
“You will need to do better, sergeant,” the man responded.
Oliver watched impassively as the group riled themselves up. There was hooting and hollering coming from several mouths for a long minute. Eventually, the sergeant calmed his men, though they seemed ready to break lines and attack at any moment.
“I have been more than reasonable with you Con. This is my duty. I will not be insubordinate, and neither will you!”
“That’s not my name,” the man responded again. After a moment of pause he went on.
“And I regret to inform you that if you continue to beat this dead horse, I’ll be forced to curse you.”
There was a stunned silence following the man’s statement. No one believed the lone man could be stupid enough to make such a threat, much less act upon it. Oliver was intensely interested in the man. His aura was familiar to him, but at the same time he was certain he had never met the man before.
While his attention was focused on auras, something much more concerning grabbed his attention. He noticed it first when looking at the leader of the soldiers. Upon further inspection, he noticed that every soldier was corrupted. The aura of each was strong, but the natural shine in every aura Oliver had ever seen was gone. Instead of having an inner light, each of the soldiers’ auras seemed to shine through a thick layer of smoke. They were muddy. The best way Oliver found to describe it was that the men’s auras had been tainted with a foul substance.
“Angli,” Oliver began.
“I see it. These men are not right,” she said.
“Illari, are you seeing this?” Oliver asked after a moment.
“I am. It is just as I feared. The Dark Plane is bringing corruption to our world. Ro is almost certainly responsible. These men, and I am guessing every other person he has been conscripting to his cause has been muddied by the power of the Dark Plane. It is absolutely imperative that we fix this now, before it goes any further.” Illari responded.
39
“Oliver, listen closely. Within the Holy Sword are numerous safeguards which stop it from being corrupted by the energies it takes in. Reana will purify the energy within the sheathe. It is Reina which we need now. Unlike the metal properties of Reana, Reina cannot harm flesh. This is fortunate, because cutting these men to pieces would only release the negative energy with their deaths. It would return with them to the void. Instead of becoming purified in the sheath of the Holy Sword, which is what normally happens when Dark Matter is expunged, the auras of these men will go on to unbalance the power system.”
Oliver was speaking to both Angli and Illari at the speed of thought, but at the last words, he had to pause. This seemed like a trap. Suddenly, Oliver knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that these men were here for him, not whoever this Con character was.
Ro, presumably, had sent these tainted men out all over the countryside to “gather more forces” but Oliver could now see that they were truly meant to find him. This was the Headless Spires, the mountain range that divided two countries. The soldiers would have no right or need to search beyond their nation’s borders for recruits, even the Blessed sort. In truth, they had been sent here because Ro knew where he would be coming from. The harassment of Con was only a cover; a pass-time.
If they sensed the power within him, even a glimpse of it, they would accost him in a much more violent way. He would be forced to retaliate, and one or more of these men would die on his sword. If what Illari said was true, Ro wanted exactly that to happen. Oliver should have had no way of knowing that killing the men would release the negative energy into the Web of Life. Thanks to Angli, and more importantly Illari, Oliver was able to see through the ploy.
“How do I extract the Dark Matter?” he asked. He had watched Angli fight, but he had never even been able to split the Holy Sword. He had always drawn Reana, he never had need of Reina before. Luckily, it made no difference. Oliver found as he grasped the hilt, the blade was extremely intuitive. If he wanted to draw Reana, he could. If his mind sought Reina, that was what he drew. It was like moving his left hand instead of his right, a matter of reflex.
“You need to focus on the energy flow of your target. Look closely at their aura. There must be a source. There is a point where the corruption stems from. It may only be the size of a pinprick, so you’ll need to look very hard. When you find it, use Reina to stab that exact point it emanates from. It may be difficult to pinpoint, but you should be able to remove the corruption without killing them.”
“How do I stab an area so small with a blade?” Oliver asked.
“Make the blade smaller,” Angli responded, speaking up for the first time in several seconds.
Oliver silently pulled Reina from his back and examined it. The sword itself was formed of energy. It was almost clear, but the slightest sheen of gold could be seen to form the outline of the blade. As he pondered it, he imagined it thinning. To his surprise, it automatically began shrinking. He could make the blade thin all the way down to the size of a needle. He could also lengthen the blade to four feet. It remained equally balanced and weighed almost nothing no matter how he changed it.
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Oliver was amazed that it could be so simple. He didn’t let his wonder distract him though, he immediately began inspecting the soldiers using Free Form. It took some time, but he was able to determine the point in each person where the Dark Matter originated. Before he could act, the soldiers made a move.
“I’m not telling you again, Con, I’m bringing you back with me.” The lead soldier said.
“I’m not telling you again,” the man said with a noticeable amount of ire in his tone, “that is not my name.”
“I have nothing else by which to call you. Your clothes say Con. So, I’m going to call you Con. Is there a problem with that?” The man asked with scorn.
“Only an imbecile like you would be unable to read the word on my back. Few can make out the whole thing, but even an oaf like you should be able to read more than three letters.” The man was starting to speak with an equally sneering tone to that of the soldier. He let his insult ring in the air before he continued talking.
“Your small brain is making your ignorance more apparent. I warned you that I would have to curse you. Now you’ll see the truth of my words. The full word on my back, it spells Conundrum.”
The man in charge was outraged by his continued belittling, but as he stepped forward to strike the youngster, his target made a sound. It wasn’t a word. It wasn’t even a coherent language. Still, when the sound was made, there was an immediate effect on the leader of the soldiers.
“Achoo!” Con exclaimed.
The instant that followed was barely enough for Oliver to sense the expulsion of magic before Con’s target stumbled back. He immediately grabbed his nose; his eyes became watery. He looked on the verge of sneezing.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he exclaimed in quick succession before his face suddenly cleared. He shook his head, like he was trying to shake a nasty thought.
“You think you can get out of coming with me? I’ll beat you within an inch of your life and drag you back with me you lit-” the man’s face clouded, and he again looked like he was about to sneeze.
“Have fun with that,” Con said, turning away from the conflict. He hopped up on the boulder he had been keeping at his back and sat down. He waited for the soldier to settle before explaining what was happening.
“You have my curse upon you. The curse of Conundrum. From now until your very dying breath, you will be cursed to sneeze. The true conundrum is that you are now and forever incapable of letting a sneeze out. No matter how much your nose itches, no matter how many times you try, you will live in perpetual discomfort. Enjoy,” Con said with a smile.
Oliver was actually impressed. He could easily see the versatility of such a spell. The man could fight all he wanted, but within half a minute, he would become incapacitated by his need and subsequent inability to sneeze. Such a curse in the middle of a fight would mean certain death if the man had been alone. His platoon of fifteen fellow soldiers stood ready to fight but making no moves.
“Get the bastard! Uhh! Uhh!” the sergeant exclaimed between urges to sneeze.
Chaos quickly broke out as the men jumped to obey. Con didn’t retreat. He simply sat on his rock as if waiting for something else to happen. With a jolt, Oliver realized that he was missing his cue. He leapt toward the group, bringing the Holy Sword down in a stab at the nearest soldier.
40
The man didn’t even see him coming. His needle thin blade pierced the heart of Dark Matter in the center of the man’s aura easily. The basis of power instantly collapsed, followed closely by the man himself as Reina sucked the Dark Matter inside of it.
The soldiers had no time to react to his presence, and he had already incapacitated four by the time any of them realized he was in the fray. Con noticed him immediately, underscoring the idea that he had known Oliver was there. Swords came out, and Oliver had to dodge more than one counterattack before striking again. They tried to organize, but Oliver had the element of surprise, as well as the benefit of better training.
The leader of the group fell to Oliver just as easily, dropping like a sack beneath the attack. To Oliver’s amusement, the man continued to sniffle on the ground like his nose was itchy. He shuddered to think of how he would fare under similar circumstances. Luckily, Oliver could nullify any such curse with a spell of his own.
Before Oliver made it through a dozen men, he noticed that one of them stood back from the group. He watched Oliver move with keen eyes, following his fast movements easily from man to man. Oliver paid him little attention until the last man went down. When only the two of them remained apart from Con sitting on his rock, Oliver inspected his last foe with interest.
“He is an Orenda,” Oliver thought to himself as he looked upon the man.
He had an aura brighter by several levels than the others. He had a surety that the others, even the sergeant lacked. He stood watching Oliver like a predator. Oliver knew he was looking for the right moment to cast a spell. Oliver faced the man silently, waiting for the attack to come. While he waited, he used Free Form to inspect every inch of the man. As he did, he saw that the man had already begun a spell.
His lips moved slightly as he muttered the Incantation needed. The man’s aura was red. Oliver could tell that his magic was most likely to be heat, and fire based. He had no other tint to his aura, which was a telltale sign that the man was specialized to fire. Oliver tried to circumvent the man’s spell using Free Form, but he hadn’t seen the beginning of the casting, making it impossible to cancel out the spell.
His efforts were not for nothing, however. When the enemy mage unleashed his magic, there was a noticeable hesitation in the flow of magic. The Orenda was visibly confused as his magic resisted his efforts to cast it. Oliver was surprised too. He hadn’t expected to be even partly successful.
His surprise was turned to shock as the fire that exploded from the man’s hands leapt into existence. If Oliver was surprised, his opponent was outright flabbergasted. Apparently, the energy Oliver had attempted to stop had built up at the point of release. As his magical cork was expunged, the magic released in a giant blast rather than a funnel of flames as was perhaps the intention.
The Orenda was sent stumbling back as his arms seemed to encounter a brick wall at high speed. He cried out at the release in power and fell to the ground. His arms steamed like wet rags over a fire. He was not dead, but visibly injured. He groaned on the ground for several seconds before attempting to rise. Unbeknownst to him, Oliver was ready.
The man fell to his back as his hands and feet flailed on a thick sheet of ice beneath him. He tried several times to get up, but no matter how he slid and slipped, Oliver kept the ground beneath him thoroughly slick with ice. After a few minutes, the man found his actions to be pointless and simply stared at Oliver.
If he was more trusting, Oliver would never have been prepared for the attack that came next. In an instant a lightning bolt struck. Oliver stood impassive as it did. The man’s attack was aimed for Oliver.
Unfortunately for him, Oliver was ready for that too. This time when the spell began, he witnessed it in its entirety. The spell started with a targeting. This automatically eased Oliver’s mind.
He was immune to targeting spells, according to Angli and Illari. Still, he had no intention of wasting the magic or testing his luck. As the man began his spell, Oliver was already casting his own spell. He cast Free Form, changing the target of the spell.
It was a simple redirection, yet when the spell was cast, the lightning that struck hit with such force that the man flew out of the ring of ice. The force of the lightning strike was such that a massive clap of thunder accompanied it. The man’s body was devastated. He was riddled with burns, his clothes smoldered heavily, and his body was racked with spasms. He lay crumpled in a heap a short distance away.
“Quickly Oliver!” Illari said.
The man’s life force was fading. The others had all been taken care of easily and were no danger, but the Orenda still had Dark Matter in him. If he died now, the whole point of Oliver interfering would be wasted. He quickly walked to the man and extinguished the spark of evil in him.
He felt bad for his actions, despite knowing the man intended for him to be the crumpled heap. He just felt wrong. It wasn’t this man’s fault. He was a pawn, carelessly tossed away. The rest would recover, go home to their families. But this man, because of him, never would.
He watched the man’s chest rise and fall more slowly with each uneasy breath. Bile coated his tongue, and his stomach started to turn. Despite his turmoil, he refused to look away. He refused to dishonor this man by turning his back on his final moment. He knelt next to the man and spoke softly.
“I am sorry. Please, never forgive me.” Then he turned away, clearing his face.
“Thanks, mate.” Con suddenly said from his rock.
Up close, Oliver could see that the man was truly young, barely an adult. He had shaggy brown hair, but his blue eyes stared intelligently from behind the locks. He gave off a very fluid aura. It was not a solid color like the mage he had fought. His aura was a mix of several light colors, including green and purple.
He obviously had more than just one trick up his sleeves. The bow on his back didn’t look well made, but he had a finely wrought quiver which held exquisitely fletched arrows. Oliver could tell by the way he held himself that the man had great confidence and a charisma to match it.
“I had to act. These men were unwell,” Oliver tried to explain.
“Oh, I don’t mean that,” the man said with a wave at the several men on the ground, “I’m talking about my Blessing.”
“Your Blessing?” Oliver had no idea what the man was talking about. He almost said as much before recollection came to him.
“You allowed me onto your grounds to be Blessed. It’s been more than ten years, but I remember you like it was yesterday,” Con said.
“I am not responsible for your Blessing. Only the worthy are chosen. It is not me you should thank, but our beautiful planet.” Oliver responded.
“I thank Du Varia every day for the gifts I received. But you’re wrong. I do owe you.”
“Why is that?” Oliver asked warily.
“You don’t remember me? You stopped that man from taking my Blessing from me on the day of the Choosing.” Con said.
“You’re the kid!” Oliver said, finally recognizing the boy he had helped back then. It was no wonder he thought the man was familiar. He really had met the guy; he just didn’t have a fully formed aura because he had been a kid at the time.
“I’m the kid,” Con agreed.
“Pretty cool spell you have there,” Oliver complimented him.
“Thanks. It’s called Conundrum. You probably figured that out already. It’s versatile. As the name suggests, it creates a problem for the target which forces them to pay full attention to the spell. It can be any kind of issue too, big or small. I was considering making him shit his pants, but the last time I did that the guy died. The smell was horrible.”
Oliver was tempted to laugh at the man, but the situation didn’t seem fitting. Despite that, he had to admit that the scene Con painted in his mind almost forced a chuckle from his mouth. He realized that the man was probably not named Con, but when he asked, he said Con was a good enough moniker, despite his insistence that the soldiers not call him that. Oliver didn’t have the interest to question the man though.
“I’m just passing through here on my way to the capitol. What can you tell me about it?” Oliver asked.
“I can tell you that you’re in for a massive headache if you plan on walking into Cavania. They’re looking for you,” Con said, gesturing to the men on the ground.
“I assumed as much. How do you know they will recognize me?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, they will recognize you. The big baddie, he put signs up in every city. He’s calling you a ‘danger to the common good’; everyone is supposed to report to the militia if they find you. The signs say you’re extremely dangerous and not to approach you. I don’t know what you did to piss them off, but the second I saw your face, I knew I needed to get away from civilization. I checked your estate first, but the place was deserted. I figured the next place to look would be across the mountain range. Figured you may have been hiding out in Alvania. I didn’t expect to run into you so soon.”
“How long have these signs been up around the country?” Oliver asked.
“They started putting them up a few months ago. That’s also when they started trying to make the Blessed sign up for the army they’re building.”
“Any idea what that’s about?” Oliver asked. He wanted to take the opportunity to find out anything he could, and Con seemed like the best and only option he had available to him.
“I have no solid idea, but they’ve been harassing me for months now. I’ve had to blend in and keep my head down a few times. One time I heard an Enduriel talking to a Brute he was conscripting about their “glorious mission” and the best I can tell; they’re getting together to go out in search of some kind of crazy powerful magical item. The guy didn’t seem to really know what he was talking about, but the Brute signed up quick when he was done talking. If it wasn’t bad enough to brainwash every powerful soul in the land, something seems to be corrupting their spirits. I felt it in these guys, just like I feel it in more and more members of the army. I don’t know what is causing it, but I can tell that it’s harming them.”
Oliver was surprised that the man could give him as much information as he could, as well as his intuitive observation about the soldiers. Reading auras was a rare ability, and the way he described them, Oliver didn’t believe that was what he was doing. It seemed to be some kind of instinct. Oliver was happy with the knowledge Con had, but the information he was given gave him a sinking feeling. Ro was up to something huge, but if Oliver had to face some kind of massively powerful magical artifact, he didn’t know how to prepare.
“Thank you for your time and knowledge, I have to go now,” Oliver told him. He expected Con to insist on accompanying him, but the man remained on his boulder and didn’t object when Oliver continued his journey. Before he was too far away, Oliver turned to make a request.
“Do me a favor,” he said.
“Sure,” Con replied.
“If you see any more of these people with tainted souls, just run away. Don’t kill them. If too many die, the whole world may become unbalanced.” Oliver could tell that this made the man want to ask a thousand questions, but he simply nodded and waved to Oliver.
Satisfied, he continued walking along the trail through the mountains. While he moved, an intense three-way conversation raged in his head. None of them knew what fresh hell awaited them, but it was clear that Ro needed to be stopped sooner rather than later. Angli was subdued, as she always seemed to be when they spoke of Ro, but she offered her opinions where asked.
Illari was outright vehement over the need to storm the metaphorical and literal castle and put an end to the tyranny Ro had in store for the world, but even she admitted she had no idea what Oliver would have to do to get to that point. Oliver simply let the others speculate as he resumed his run through the mountains.