“So that’s not a portal to hell?”
“No, Master Jeremy,” Sebas answered. “Think of it as a river of fire that starts at the center of the world.”
“There’s a hell beneath our feet?” Jeremy made wild gestures in outrage, “We’re living on top of hell?”
The butler took a sip of tea to calm his thoughts. He knew all about crusts, mantles, and cores — but it was hard to explain to someone from this world.
“We’re not, master,” he assured him. “The world’s center holds a swirling river of iron that protects it from the sun. That iron river is extremely hot — and the heat makes its way to the surface.”
“But the fires are purple — like hellfire!”
“That’s just sulfur,” Sebas explained. “If you add sulfur to a flame — it would turn purple.”
His master still looked doubtful. Explaining the layers of the world was hard enough — what more dinosaurs and evolution? No — the world didn’t go through those epochs, and there were dinosaurs in some far-off places.
“Fine,” Jeremy seemed to accept his words. “Since I’m not sensing infernal mana from the portal —
“Opening, maybe chasm.”
“Since I don’t sense infernal mana from the — chasm,” Jeremy’s eye twitched as he stared at him. “and you assure there’s no hell under there — then it should be safe.”
Sebas sighed, relieved that his master accepted the situation without much fuss — or landscaping. He could change the face of the land if he wanted to, so it was good that he made no attempts to dig down the tunnel or block the fiery pit.
“Who’s responsible for this new addition to my domain anyway?” Jeremy asked. “I was gone for less than a week, and somebody already made unwarranted changes to my yard!”
“You should probably talk to Warden,” Sebas suggested. “The chasm has something to do with the mana the farmhands use. He should have an idea of what happened.”
“You haven’t talked to Warden?”
“I have,” he answered. He talked to him almost immediately — though at that time, he was thinking about evacuating the children and the villagers, not adding a permanent attraction to the Corner Shop™.
“He said the Earth entity that governs the continent delved deep to find an ally against the invading mana,” the revelation caught Sebas unprepared at the time. He couldn’t grasp the fact that magic was not a natural thing in the world but something brought into it. “The entity found an ally in an iron elemental within the world.”
“The one from the swirling river of iron you mentioned?”
“Yes.”
His master looked quite perturbed. Sebas could sense that something in the conversation greatly bothered him.
“Is there something, master?” he asked. “Something I should know?”
“First, the ice — and now, this?” Jeremy snapped. “It’s like the world is growing desperate — like a drowning man in the sea grasping for anything to stay afloat.”
“What should we do?”
“We can let him drown — or we can drain the sea.”
***
The Corner Shop’s™ centaur-like golem raised its shield, blocking a downward strike from a floating sword. Upon striking the shield, the sword spun away, spinning in the air before dropping to the ground.
“It won’t work,” Dylan remarked. “There’s no weight behind the sword — nothing to hold it straight.”
Warden nodded. Flying swords were not so dangerous without someone wielding them. They could still cut or stab — but slicing something in half or penetrating more than two finger-breadths was close to impossible.
The door’s shop opened, revealing the figure of the Scourge. His eyes seemed steeled as he stared at the two of them.
“Warden, Dyl—“ he frowned as he recognized Dylan, before switching to a smile. “Take this to Shelby,” he motioned for Dylan to take the staff.
His cousin turned to him in protest and horror — but Warden merely urged him to take the staff and be done with it. Dylan had earned the Scourge’s ire for what he did to the soldiers. A little pain to remind him how he took things too far would serve him well.
Dylan took the staff and ran — screaming as he did so. The screams were more to stop himself from fainting than a mark of his suffering. He was no stranger to pain, having been the target of Staffany multiple times during their games.
It dawned on Warden that Staffany was the Scourge’s staff in golem form. Everything clicked — the painful touch, the cool air around it, and its healing abilities. But how come the Scourge referred to Staffany as Shelby’s toy — as if she controlled the golem?
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It was strange — but not at all important. He decided not to say anything about it.
“Shelby needs the Painful Staff of Pain to play with Staffany.” the Scourge remarked, seeing him staring. “She seems to have mastered moving the thing — would you want one if ever one was available?”
“Me?” Warden struggled at the offer. “I’m fine with this b-body.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t be expensive,” the Scourge spoke with a glint in his eyes. “One day, I’ll find a way to control golems with human thought. They could go around playing kickball or more dangerous things like climbing cliffs or walking on the bottom of the sea.”
“You can do that?”
“I can do that now without a golem,” the Scourge sighed, “But it costs 2,000 gold. I’m pretty sure that’s too high for most people.”
Warden was flabbergasted at the price. 10 gold was already a lot — but thousands? He started thinking of all the things he that he could buy with that much money — and how some people could easily spend it all on one day.
“Make sure nobody falls in the chasm,” the Scourge warned. “Your earth spirit friend or whatever caused that — now, we’ll have to make the best of it.”
They parted ways after a brief discussion of the chasm. The Scourge said something about resting for tomorrow’s meeting with the Duke, while Warden walked towards the chasm.
The Earth was unresponsive the past days — tired from its journey to the world’s center. He couldn’t even fathom how deep that would be — or how long it would take if they dug or used their earth magic to burrow.
A grumbling Dylan returned to his side. He was visibly shaken by his ordeal. Nobody got used to Staffany’s touch — except for Boot, who seemed unaffected by it.
“We should talk to Sebas,” Dylan suggested. “He should have an idea on how we can use our new abilities”
Warden nodded. It was time to talk to the butler.
***
Paperwork — there was always paperwork.
Magus Cartwright sat on a plain oaken desk, reading reports and writing a few of his own. He was once one of Bountiful’s strongest wizards. Now, he was bound to a desk — serving under the guildmaster.
One particular report caught his attention. It was dated four days ago and it concerned the Scourge and the portal to hell he had opened near his shop.
He was ready to toss the report out. Most people linked everything dark and evil to the wizard, but he knew the Scourge was probably responsible for a mere half of them. However, a second report detailed the same, then a third.
He could not disregard the reports. An open portal to hell so close to the city would be disastrous. It was a wonder no demons were flying about.
He stared at the sky to check, only stopping when his eyes started to tear up. Nothing — or nothing yet.
Cartwright took his silvered staff and donned his ermine cloak. A bit of formality was needed when meeting with the duke, and his cloak gave him an air of nobility.
The duke’s estate was only a short walk away — half an hour or so if he started then and there. Instead, he patiently waited for the guild’s coach — which took more than an hour to prepare.
Appearances were important when meeting with nobility. He couldn’t appear on the gates of the duke’s estate tired, sweaty and dusty. The coach was essential, and he enjoyed riding across the city.
The trip took another half hour. The coach driver took it slow, not wanting to alarm the multitude of peasants walking the roads. They stopped at the estate’s iron gates. The skull of a huge beast adorned the battlements above the gates, a testament to the duke’s power — or as rumors had it, a warning from the Scourge.
Word of his arrival was sent to the duke — and soon, Cartwright was walking the estate’s halls. His guide was a simple maid — silent and proper, but Cartwright could see the signs of several concealed weapons on her body.
Some of the duke’s maids also served as his bodyguards. They were trained assassins who could brew a batch of deadly poison as well as a tasty stew.
“What brings you here, magus Cartwright?” the duke welcomed him from further along the corridor. “I assume this isn’t a social call. Do you even do social calls, Magus?”
“Dire tidings, my duke — if the reports are true,” Cartwright answered. “And no, I have no time for social calls ever since my appointment.”
“Really? You’ve been adjutant for two years — surely, you’ve learned to delegate?”
“I take my post seriously, my duke,” he answered, a bit irritated that the duke would focus on frivolous matters instead of the problem at hand.
“What seems to be the problem?” the duke sighed. “It doesn’t involve Jeremy, does it?”
“If you meant the Scourge,” Cartwright recognized the name, “then sadly, it does.”
“What did he do this time?” the duke said as he began walking, urging him to follow.
“Several accounts say he opened a portal to hell near his shop. We need to gather men to put an end to it to prevent demons from entering the city.”
“Demons already entered the city,” the duke mumbled. “You said the Scourge opened the portal a few days ago? That’s quite impossible. I sent him to a faraway village to deal with a curse problem — he shouldn’t have been in his shop.
“But still, the accounts say a portal to hell exists near his shop,” Cartwright insisted.
“Are you sure it’s an actual portal to hell?”
“What more can it be, my duke?” he answered while pulling several reports from his pockets. “A river of violet flames, erupting from the ground, a never-ending chasm of fire and darkness, a warm refreshing spot to spend a night with a loved one….” Cartwright promptly threw away the last account. “Never mind the last one.”
“It seems at least one of your informants felt that this so-called portal to hell was safe enough to bring a lady friend or perhaps a guy friend.”
“The last one was a joke, my duke,” he protested. “An adventurer probably thought it would be funny to describe the fiery pit that way.”
“Have you seen this portal, Cartwright?”
“No, my duke,” he shook his head. “But I know from more than a handful of reports that it is one.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you,” the duke smiled.
The two of them stopped at a door. Their walk across the estate ended in the duke’s basement. Cartwright wondered what they were doing here. This was not the time for drinking wine and merrymaking — it was the time to plan what they would do against the Scourge and his horde of demons.
The duke opened the door. “After you.”
Violet flames and granite walls greeted him as he peered into the room. The duke had a portal to hell in his basement! Was he aligned with the Scourge?
“Coming through,” a voice warned as a man in white exited the room carrying several loaves of bread.
“Wait, was that a baker?”
Cartwright stared into the room, finding a handful of bakers and cooks using the fires that erupted from the ground to make dishes and pastries.
“At first, I also thought it was a portal to hell,” the duke laughed from behind him. “Now it’s just the kitchen.”