“I didn’t know maps could do that,” Lunar admitted as she led the way to the exit. “I know magic can do a lot, but I didn’t know it could do that.”
“It is a magic unique to Shadics,” Enocavian elabourated. He spoke matter-of-factly, without a hint of boastfulness or arrogance, as he folded the novel. “A school of magic known as writkansis. Mastery of scripts, offered to few.”
“How’s it work?” she wondered, and he shrugged.
“I can use magic, not explain it,” he replied, and she arched a brow before Michael piped up.
“Same here. I know how my magic works, but I don’t know if I can explain it. You just know how to use it and can teach others how, but only if they know what they’re doing too.”
“It is akin to a third limb,” the mage decided in the wake of Michael’s admission. “If you do not have one, it is difficult to explain how to use it. You cannot explain how it works, only that it does.”
“That’s comforting,” Lunar grumbled. “Was hoping I could learn something.”
“There is always hope for the future,” Enocavian said, an idle flick of his wrist forcing the cavern’s mouth to gape in the wake of the lowered wall. “Shadic schools of magic cannot be taught. Gratsinmornian schools, on the other hand, could. It is a shame and a boon that your father has not opened academies for those in the magical arts.”
“He’s barely opened any academies at all,” Lunar mumbled, sighing. “We barely even have any battleschools. Makes you wonder where the crays all the soldiers are coming from.”
“This war will be fought with inexperienced conscripts,” Enocavian determined, watching as Michael and Lunar shuffled to their horses and prepared to mount. “What are you doing?”
“We’re getting ready to ride,” Michael remarked, and the mage lifted a brow.
“You’re not intending to ride the whole journey?” he asked. “Mount Vreskie is nearer the Khavellian-Gratsinmornian border than it is my home.”
“Not like we have another choice,” Lunar remarked, though Enocavian made a negative gesture and motioned for them to gather their belongings. She did so, curiosity building, as he ordered them to send the horses away. She complied hesitantly, while Michael took a little convincing, before the horses were set free. Lunar continued to frown at Enocavian. “I’m guessing, given that you just got rid of our horses, that there is another choice.”
“I didn’t want to walk alone,” Enocavian said, and silence gripped the air for several seconds. Lunar and Michael’s glares turned hostile, staring at the mage in furious disbelief as he offered them both a cocky grin. Their anger did not die down, even as he kept up his disarming smile before he dropped the act with a laugh and clapped his hands.
Before Lunar could reply, the ground lurched beneath her feet. She shouted out as the wind howled around her, her vision going awry as the forest gave way to a discord of lights and colours. The wind picked up, furiously shrieking around her ears, while the lights disappeared and left her in darkness as her body lifted from the ground. The sensation of being thrown sickened her, the anger replaced by nausea as she was thrown through whatever spell the mage placed on her. Her stomach burned, her head swam, and she let out a pained cry until she felt solid ground beneath her feet and yelped before stumbling to recover. Her vision swam, and she was left deafened for a moment, but the stench of smoke struck her first. She dared open her eyes, straining to focus on her surroundings.
No longer was she in a lavish field of greens, with the rich air of Gratsinmorn’s nature surrounding her. Once her hearing returned, the sounds of the forest were gone and replaced with a more sinister bubbling. The low slide and groan of a material she knew far too well. The stench of burnt blood filled her nose and poured into her lungs, the unbearable heat grinding at the young woman’s bare skin as she felt an itch spread across her body. She stared down and paled as she realised the heat had left her skin dry and chapped in only moments, and she stared around her person for anything that could save her. But only dead, burnt grass surrounded her; the trees and earth were eroded until all that remained were huge piles of ash, a few of which looked suspiciously Yunarvian. In her coughing fit, as the lingering smoke and ash took its toll upon her, she could see shards of metal poking from the ground. The greedy tongues of flames from the approaching streams of magma flicked up at her, and she struggled to regain composure as Michael’s cough joined hers.
Then, all at once, the sensation cleared. Her skin became comfortably moist, her coughs accepted fresh, clean air, and the unbearable heat kept at bay. The air was still hazy, but the lingering ash did not sting her eyes, and the unpleasant stream of lava became scarcely audible. She stared around in shock, wondering if she had been taken elsewhere, but she was still within the unbearable desert that was this fiery wasteland. For a moment, she wondered if the old tales of a damned afterlife could be true before her eyes settled upon Enocavian, who was lazily sprawled across the air.
She blinked a few times, staring at the pale man before determining that he was, indeed, lounging across the air itself as if it were a chair. Seated, with his leg on an invisible armrest, he smiled at Michael and Lunar, who had stopped coughing long enough to stare blankly at him. Lunar wanted answers.
“Where are we?” she demanded. “And what is happening? Did I die? Did you kill me, and I’m in Konda’s grasp?”
“And how did you get us here?” Michael added. The mage just smiled, quirking his head before directing his gaze at the source of the lava. Lunar followed suit, and her eyes widened as she saw the mountain looming above her.
Soaring far above even the mightiest of Gratsinmorn’s castles was Mount Vreskie. Even Castle Gratsinmorn, one of the grandest creations of the Gratsinmornian empire, could reach halfway to the top. She’d seen mountains from afar as a young girl and heard of the grandeur of the natural structures. And she’d climbed a few, plagued by curiosity and a determination to discover what lay at the top, finding beautiful sights from atop. But none were so grand as Mount Vreskie nor so dangerous. The mountains had been a journey to climb, requiring equipment, clothes, and no small amount of food and water to reach the top. But Vreskie towered over them all and spewed fire to shield itself from those who would dare to try and take it down. Lava flowed lazily down in rivers, finding its way to the ground and pouring through the earth, and Lunar gulped.
“That’s not a mountain!” Michael snapped, breaking through her thoughts as he stared angrily at the mage. “It’s a volcano!”
“What an astute observation,” Enocavian remarked sarcastically, and Michael glared.
“You said it was a mountain! You didn’t tell us it would be a fire mountain!”
“You never asked,” the mage laughed, and Michael threw his hands up in frustration. On the other hand, Lunar just looked at the mage with renewed curiosity.
“How can we breathe here, then? Fire mount- Volcanoes are known for being inhabitable.”
“You will find my utilities are many,” the pale man replied. “I can shield you from the volcano’s wrath. I cannot say the same for the draconic that calls this home.”
“Thank you. But you’re telling me the draconic lives in this?” Lunar exclaimed. Enocavian nodded, gesturing for his dumbfounded companions to follow as he strode toward the volcano's base.
“This is where he thrives. Few can survive the trek, and those that can die to his talons before they reach the summit. However, the handful that brave the climb will never find his home, for he lives within the Vreskie’s heart.”
“Lemme guess. He’s the one who makes this volcano erupt,” Lunar guessed, and the mage’s nod sent her heart to her stomach. “He really is a Dakwon…”
“The Dakwon are not Gods. But some are mighty enough to match the title,” Enocavian remarked, and Lunar sucked in a breath. Michael’s questioning stare was met with an answer. “I have studied them for some time.”
“Well, this is a gigantic gamble, isn’t it?” Lunar wondered, aimlessly following the mage. “Either we get this unstoppable force of nature, or it kills us.”
“He is not unstoppable,” Enocavian assured her. “More powerful beasts than he have been subdued. But he is cunning and relentless. We should play to his intellect, for he is an intelligent beast. Perhaps not wise, but he is remarkably sharp.”
“Sorry, we’re going to talk to him?” Michael demanded. His expression had been approving until now, for even his skeptical words could not hide the faint glint of hope in his eyes. But now, he was furious. “I thought we would fight him, then convince him to join us!”
“We will,” Enocavian said simply. “But we will play to his intellect when we speak to him.”
“Well, that was a given,” Michael snapped, and Enocavian laughed.
“Hence why your interjection was not entirely necessary,” the mage remarked, and Michael glared at the cocky mage before angrily turning away. Lunar hurried to smooth relations.
“So it’s obvious that you teleported us here…” Lunar began. “Wouldn’t that make this entire journey a joyride? If we recruit the draconic, you could teleport us everywhere else!”
The mage’s laugh shattered her hopeful spirits, disappointment filling her gaze as he responded.
“If only it were so simple. Teleportation requires precise locations and is more difficult with more companions. Even now, I could not bring us more than a few hundred laks from the volcano; I may have simply given the draconic a meal of charred Yunarvians.”
“That’s the Gratsinmornian explanation,” Michael remarked dryly. “I thought you were Shadic.”
“I am conversational in both,” he decided. While Lunar doubted that he was just conversational, given what she had seen, Michael had other worries.
“That’s impossible,” Michael declared confidently, despite Lunar’s warning look. “Shadic and Gratsinmornian magic are too far apart. You have one or the other, and if you think you have both, it is probably Gratsinmornian.”
“Your opinion is noted,” Enocavian said, and Michael glared at the mage.
“It is not an opinion. You can have one or the other,” the former guard insisted. “So you have Gratsinmornian magic.”
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“Michael…” Lunar warned, and he just fixed her with a blank stare. She saw a flicker of something behind his eyes, but it fled before she could place it.
“I’m just saying he’s full of crayfeed,” Michael protested. “There’s a reason we have different schools of magic. They’re wildly dissimilar.”
“Michael,” Lunar repeated. “We were taught a lot of things back at the castle. And we already know most of what we were taught was wrong. What makes you think this is any different? Maybe he does know two schools of magic. Maybe he knows three, considering he uses a spellbook. The more he can use, the better for all of us. He’s an ally now, and we need to trust him.”
“He appreciates your confidence,” the mage added to the side, and Lunar flushed as she remembered he could hear her. And Michael finally subsided, sighing as he stared angrily at the mage.
For a moment, Lunar wondered if Michael was jealous of the mage. It wouldn’t be a ridiculous proposal, considering Michael was used to being exceptional. He’d always been unique thanks to his magic, but now he was facing someone who had more of it and could use it more effectively. And worst of all, the mage appeared to use two types of magic, which, to Michael’s credit, was indeed a near-impossible task. The knight was frequently guilty, at least in Lunar’s eyes, of trying to be the best. It would take a lot to assuage that feeling if it was what he felt. But assuaging that feeling would be downright insulting if it did not exist, so she just continued the march up the hill.
No one saw the figure dart across the landscape behind them.
The sweltering trek was little short of unbearable. The near-vertical incline of the hill alone was tormenting, but Lunar knew it was only the mage’s magic that kept her from breathing in the ghastly air around her. The smoke was aching to cripple her, but it remained at bay thanks to the idle charm of Enocavian’s spell, and she could tell Michael felt the same. The volcano’s furious cocktail, a bubbling river of scorching magma, sent tongues of flame to lap at the climbers, with a few errant streams flowing through the stone. She had stopped staring down upon them, for the sight of the lava chewing effortlessly through solid rock put her heart in her stomach.
But Lunar knew she was tiring nevertheless. Even as she drew out her scythe, burying the sharp edge of its stave into the stone and using the massive weapon as a walking stick, her movements were sluggish. Michael did the same with his sword at first before deciding to grab a rock from the mountain. His skin took on its consistency, and he used what little leverage it offered to continue the climb, but Enocavian remained the only one who could survive the onslaught of nature’s fiercest hill.
Lunar cast a jealous look over at the mage, who was lazily sprawled across a hovering cloud of smoke. With that same infuriatingly cocky position, arms behind his head and legs crossed on an invisible leg rest, he simply floated up the volcano. She hissed a few curses, hating how easily he could travel and wishing she could use any magic at all, when he glanced over and grinned.
“You know that the scythe was meant to be a throwaway,” he said. “You weren’t supposed to catch it.”
“Blah blah blah,” she grumbled out, continuing to climb. She gritted her teeth as he continued to speak.
“We should take a break,” he decided, and Lunar glared over. He met her with a calming gaze, and her fury wavered as she saw the gentle look in his eyes. “Rather, you should take a break. If we battle the draconic, we will need our strength. No use climbing the volcano only to pant at the beast.”
“You need your cannon fodder to be full of energy?” Michael sighed, and the mage sighed.
“I’d prefer if the cannon fodder stayed quiet,” the mage complained. “He tends to blab.”
“Hypocrite,” Michael muttered under his breath, and Lunar stifled a giggle as she saw the mage’s brow arch. But the mage did not reply, letting Michael grumble as Lunar sat down to rest. Predictably, the soldier piped up again. “No. We need to go fight that thing!”
“As I said, we will need our strength. Breathing heavily is a tactic only he can use to wreak havoc,” the mage advised, and he paused before Lunar agreed.
“Michael, we barely stand a chance at full strength. We’re literal toast if we get tired.”
“Fine,” Michael growled after a few moments, dropping to the ground and heaving a breath as he stared expectantly at the mage. The pale man stared back before Lunar fished into her pack, pulling out a water flask and a little bundle of dried meat. She dined on her snack on the edge of the volcano, and Michael realised he should probably do the same.
As the two former royals drank, ate, and rested, the mage rose. Lunar offered him a drink, but he lifted his hand in polite refusal. His gaze was cast ahead to the volcano’s summit and the vast, torched landscape below as if scouting for the beast. But by his reaction, he could see nothing, and Lunar frowned.
“If you’re going to scout, you’ll need water,” she scolded him, and he glanced over.
“I rarely need refreshments,” he said simply before cutting off Lunar’s response with a raised hand. His chin was tilted up, and Lunar frowned. Michael glanced up as well while the mage closed his eyes and lifted his hands to the hazy air. Silence followed as the mage held his palms to the sky as if he sought to catch whatever he sought. But as a few moments passed, Lunar realised a sound had replaced the group’s heavy breaths.
Wingbeats. Powerful, heavy wingbeats.
Before she could speak, a deafening roar filled the air. A shriek of rage erupting from a massive beast as a crash rang out. The wingbeats became louder, and Lunar scrambled to her feet. Michael was already braced by the time she seized her scythe, but Enocavian’s hand raised yet again to calm them both as he stared out over the plains.
“He has found prey,” the mage murmured. “We are not the only ones who have sought to meet him today. This is good.”
“Good?!” Michael demanded. “We’ll have to deal with two enemies!”
“He will tire,” Enocavian declared. “The Kingdom would not waste the lives of its elites attempting to slaughter him, though its knights are force enough to tire him. Our only worry should be that we see him at all once he has torched his foes.”
As if on cue, another roar filled the air. The rushing howl of flames sent Lunar’s nerves on edge, and she gritted her teeth as the haunting echo of the beast’s cry rang free. She could see nothing, but she knew the battle was unfolding, and she stared back down the volcano, seeing nothing but flatlands beyond.
“Where in Thavin’s name is he?” Michael demanded, and the mage lifted his shoulders.
“Around us,” he replied. “Torching your soldiers.”
“Couldn’t you use your magic to find him?” Michael wondered.
“No. Magic is not an act of futile hope. It is a dangerous tool that will prove fatal to its user if they overextend themselves. When it comes to the draconic, attempting to find him could prove to be fatal, which is why I avoid large-scale confrontations with the Kingdom’s elites. Their numbers could overwhelm me, but their highest calibre of soldiers is what I fear most.”
“You fear things?” Michael wondered, and the mage’s narrowed eyes met his.
“He who brands himself fearless is the greatest fool,” he retorted. “Fear is a guide. And it guides me to avoid conflict with your mightiest. The Royal Juggernauts, as you may know.”
“Royal Juggernauts? I’ve been a knight for thirteen years and never heard of them,” Michael exclaimed, and Enocavian drew an exhausted breath. But the mage could not respond before the thunderous beat of wings returned, and a shadow passed over their temporary camp.
Lunar sprang to her feet, whirling around as she seized her scythe and froze, for it was as if a second mountain had risen from the ground, tearing free of the volcano and rising to shroud the sun’s fierce stare. But it was not a mountain; instead, the beast they had come to convert. But now would have to kill, given the titanic beast’s readiness for battle. The enormous creature, cloaked in black scales broken only by the bright red ventrals of his wings, loomed and leapt forth to land on the surface. His white underbelly threatened to crush Lunar, though a foreign sensation grasped her by the waist and yanked her away. Even without looking, she knew the mage had saved her, and she readied her polearm to battle before the beast lowered its neck and let loose a torrent of flame.
The flame was a terrifying sight. A dark, navy blue, which broke through the mage’s charm and dared to melt the surface of Michael’s raksteel coating. Lunar felt the heat blast her in force as the flames drew near and scorched the ground, blazing through the stone and screaming as it flew toward her. She could not even brace herself for the coming storm, for the stones had been dislodged from the weight of his landing, and the volcano was littered with fissures and breaks.
But the blaze parted. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was divine intervention before Enocavian called out for the Gratsinmornians to move. His voice was clear, even above the din of the torrent of flames, and both Michael and Lunar hurried to heed his words as they stumbled back. Though their retreat only bought them a moment, that was all the mage needed as the flames met a wall, spraying uselessly against an invisible barrier. And Lunar took her chance as she readied her scythe and waited for the blaze to end before leaping forward and bringing her polearm in a violent strike for the creature’s lowered jaw.
It was difficult to tell if the quaralak noticed as her blade skittered across his thick, reptilian scales. It certainly did not notice Michael’s attack either, as his blade was dulled by its jab into the beast’s belly.
Lunar leapt back as the beast’s tail attacked. An appendage laden with thick, heavy muscle, yet more of the reptilian scales, and several long, razor-sharp sparks protruding from its surface. And such a lethal weapon was swinging at Michael, who could only brace himself as a swift uppercut motion from Enocavian forced the beast’s head to lurch back. The powerful impact echoed across the surface of the hill, and reduced at least some of the momentum behind the tail as it smashed into Michael’s side.
The raksteel knight was sent flying beneath the impact regardless, saved only by Enocavian’s outstretched hand. Several dents were punched into the soldier’s chest, but they disappeared as the mage waved, while Lunar leapt to take advantage of the lull. She pulled her scythe back and swung it with all her might at the beast’s belly, trying to drive the sharp black edge of her weapon through its scales and into its flesh. But the scales, again, held their ground.
The beast could not press its advantage. Enocavian had already launched himself toward the draconic, a trail of wispy, colourless energy from his palms as he flew up and smashed his fist into the quaralak’s throat.
The creature’s scream rang out above the impact, sending it backward. In the wake of the mage’s magic-infused strike, the titanic beast was thrown backward with a pained cry. Its wings unfurled, the gargantuan appendages spreading to slow its momentum before they beat. Once, then twice, and the creature was righted, though Lunar saw a few cracks in the surface of its formerly impenetrable neck. She readied her scythe for another pass, waiting for the quaralak to descend upon her, as it hovered in the air, its wingbeats thundering and echoing through the battlefield.
Then the beast spoke.
“Ka’nw, Vreski,” it declared. Its voice was a deep, chilling rumble that uprighted the hairs on Lunar’s neck. She felt a cold sensation of dread creep along her spine, and her grip tightened as he, in a conversational tone, bellowed to the volcano and its lands. So effortlessly, he spoke a word, though Lunar mistook the foreign babble for a garbled hiccup.
Except the hiccup had just erupted the volcano.
It was as if the beast had awoken an old Dakwon Fovantine. A deity rising from its slumber to inflict agony on those daring to threaten its presence. For the ground began to shake. The mountain rumbled and shuddered beneath the eruption's power as the vent unleashed its rage. The heat of the bleeding mountain set free with its blazing concoction, plumes of smoke erupting from its terrible cocktail. Large streams of the liquid blaze, magma and acid in equal quantities, began to ooze down the hill towards them as the draconic roared in victory and triumph.
It was out of the rebels’ range. Lunar did not have her bow; even if she did, her arrows would do nothing against the beast. Michael had his sword, but throwing a melee weapon was about the stupidest thing the soldier could do. So both merely stared at the beast as the tide of approaching death rushed down the hill. Lunar braced herself for a fiery end while Michael stared defiantly up at the monster. Even in death, they would be defiant.
Enocavian, however, was not ready to die.
The beast could only scream. The mage had turned to the red river and extended his hands, demanding its obedience to his touch. The liquid crashed against a shield, halting cold as if striking an insurmountable barrier. And there it built, a rising pond of Yunarvis’ strongest acid before it began to rise. Lunar and Michael stared in awe as the lava took flight, a titanic wave of molten rock and bubbling torment crashed down upon the draconic’s back. And for all the power the mountain of a draconic held and all the muscle within its massive wings, it must have been injured, or crippled, by the mage’s magic. For its wings could not save it, and the volcano’s concoction bogged the beast down and buried it under a pile of glowing red coals. More magma flowed from the hill and onto the trapped beast, though each wave that fell upon the monster cooled as soon as it fell still, likely by Enocavian’s work.
Lunar stared in horror and shock as all that became of the mythical Dakwon beast, a mighty creature told only in legends and to coax naughty children back to their rooms at night, and the slayer of so many thousands of Gratsinmornian soldiers, was a titanic blister on the side of the volcano. It was fortunate, Lunar thought that the draconic was well away from the group when he had gloated over his victory, for the pile of magma that he had been buried beneath was grand. She could only assume he had been stunned by the mage, for there was no other way the beast would have simply watched when he had been buried in the rubble.
The volcano still emitted plumes of smoke, but the cocktail had come to a halt.