Soon after they left and went back to the inn. Even shopped at a store or two, now the shopkeepers were much more receptive to Nic. It had been fascinating enough that they had still been opened, but it seemed that some of the stores just did have very different clients and those had other times when doing their shopping.

Suffice to say that Nic was drained. He just wanted to get a good full-nights sleep and nothing else. He was even too tired to complain about Kwez using his head as a resting place when they left the house and made himself quite comfortable in the wild bird’s nest that Nic called hair. It stayed there up until Nic just fell into the bed without further ado and was entering Morpheus’ realm just moments later. Ivan wasn’t far behind, though he was of the opinion of being rather out of it, as he had thought they had been followed at first but couldn’t make anyone out. Shrugging he lay down himself and was snoring lightly just minutes later.

Kwez on the other hand didn’t just stay awake, no. Attentively watching out the window the being watched the figures lurking in the dark corners. Master’s lackey had taken note but wasn’t in the best shape either, so naturally the magical way of hiding themselves did escape him. But he would be learning about that soon enough. Not to mention master himself, he had not noticed anything out of place, to preoccupied with other things. Whoever they were, they did not have intentions Kwez had any interest in allowing them to make them a reality. Silly people.

With joyful anticipation Kwez was listening to the slurring steps nearing, the floorboards creaking ominously. Foul tongues whispering of even more depraved deeds about to come to fruition. The grin Kwez had got broader and broader, eyes glowing brighter and brighter. The whole room was swallowed up by darkness. Now they just had to arrive...

Who sleeps, dreams. And who is dreaming isn’t committing misdeeds. If one factors now magic into it and especially if one had a strong desire to become an infamous warlock, so you can expect more than dark images to such dreams.

Nic had been aware of what his aspirations entailed. He also had noticed his dream changing in recent times, becoming crueler and much more gruesome than what they used to be. On the other hand that had a certain hopeful quality to it, it made his heart sing in joy and filled him with an anticipation of something grand coming his way. But there was another thing that had changed, they had turned incredibly realistic. Still as phantastic as solely nightly dreams have the potential to be but now as realistic as the world on the day could be observed.

Like now. He was on top of a hill, a steep one at that, the landscape quite barren, a wasteland. Above him the overcast sky, dark and gloomy, from time-to-time lightning illuminating the scene, a ghastly atmosphere. Around him the earth had cracks and fissures, craters telling of great devastation and from deep gorges heat rising and blazing red shining up, from the molten rivers spelling certain doom if one were to get to near.

The small plateau he was on could be reached with one of two ways, as much of the ground made any other way quite impossible or time-consuming. Both paths were easily visible, spanning to his left and right respectively. Some ignorant numbskulls, known as heroes to others, were on them and trying to box him in. No, that wasn’t appreciated.

Nic raised his hand and murmured age-old words that had been lost to the flow of time long ago. Inky black shadows gathered around him, flowing down his arm before rapidly shooting towards the nearest hero like a dark pyroclastic stream on one side. To the other a pack of shadowy wolfs raised up from the ground, effortlessly ripping apart the rushing giant of a man, the raised axe clanging to the ground with the hand still attached to the grip. Bright red blood sprayed in every direction, bones broke with audibly loud cracks, the warriors’ piercing shriek was cut off abruptly. As soon as he was gone the wolves made short work of the rest of his group.

From the other side a couple of magicians were nearing, golems in tow and shielding the other heroes from the shadows that had already hit a few things and left them in pieces. A skeleton or two with dilapidated equipment all being left. If was noticeable, that they were about half a dozen in number having to work together for the shield not to fall.

“How pathetic.”

The dark shades were still flowing from his hands, he just waved it a bit. A moment later the ground started shaking, breaking apart and adorned with many glowing cracks, that were increasing. Dark thorny vines shot out of the burning earth and entwined the magicians whose shield had not included the floor, as he had already assumed. Idiots.

In a flowing gesture an insidious dagger appeared, it did look terribly similar to the sword, he thought for a moment. He grabbed it without hesitation and his aura flared. Nic cut through the air, roughly in the direction of the immobilized foes, who all of a sudden were frozen in horror before falling in half, quite literally, dark miasma raising up from the cuts. Triumphant manic laughter filled the air, though his own voice sounded incredibly deep, but strangely coppery as well somehow.

Kwez meanwhile used the unreality of his master’s dreams in a similar way he already had done so in the swamp. Flickering he seemed to dissolve into the darkness having taken up the whole room until just his eyes were visible. Then the left eye closed, as did the right. The last seemed to hover, floating to his master’s head. Just above his milky eye it stopped, sinking into the organ as it was slowly closing as well. Wavering nothingness seemed to gather around the lad, deepening and growing, menacing and foreboding. All of a sudden his damaged eye opened, the other still staying shut. It was glowing in a red hue like fresh blood.

He vanished in a cloud of shadows in a nearly inaudible puff before reappearing in the middle of the room with another just barely noticeable puff. To his left a pack of shadowy wolf-like creatures broke through the window, which shattered in a loud burst. On the other side of him the door and wall didn’t fare much better in comparison, ravaged by dark pulsing thorny vines. Shrill screams full of pain rang out in the night, the streets were adorned with what was left of replaceable minions. The inns corridor to their room wasn’t much better of either, pasted with the ripped and sliced wannabes of capturers. The miasma permeating the air was a testament in regards to the distrust these fellows evoked, at least if you followed Kwez’ opinion.

Psychotic laughter broke free, stemming from the depth of the borrowed throat, the attacker’s blood splattering about and flowing like water. That would teach those fools what happened if you dared attack master!

It might be replacable minions at best, but their end would be something worth talking about. That should be quite appropriate as a demonstration of power. Snipping with his fingers Kwez turned to the window. It took but a moment for the wolves to appear. Growling he harshly gestured, snarling, the aura flaring for good measure before the nebulous creatures went on guard duty. Some where sitting on either side of the door to the room – or what was left of it – and others sat on the roof, just above the hole in the wall where the window had been. Unearthly ghastly howling filled the air, it was a sound long forgotten by about all. Yawning he put the body back into bed before emerging from it.

Seriously, the first thing master should do was increasing his mana reserves. They were beyond pitiful, really. Being exhausted that much after accomplishing so little, that was honestly not much to work with. Especially something so little.

“Nic!”

Absolutely no reaction. Ivan sighed. Now he had been trying to scream directly into his ear, after just dropping Nic to the floor had yielded absolutely no reaction at all. Heck, even the bucket of cold water had not garnered any kind of change in his friend. He was still deeply asleep and showed no sign of waking in any kind of way. Ivan was a bit irritated, since when did Nic sleep that deeply?!

Ivans hand swept through his hair. Nic wasn’t rousable, but it didn’t seem to be connected to his sleeping quality. If he had taken a closer look and thought about it a bit more he might have realized he had already seen this once before. It was a sign of magical exhaustion, once back at home his friend had after learning a few minor spells from the druid overdone it, so had been warned to not do so again.

Still, it was as it was, but not all that pressing. Compared to how their room looked and if that was anything to go by, well. They had more pressing concerns right now. Their room looked very much destroyed, by what Ivan did not know and why they had basically slept through the whole devastation was another mystery. And on top of that it seemed that Kwez had vanished into thin air. The urgent knocking on the door was another thing that was decidedly less than unhelpful as well.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Right, right, coming,” Ivan grumbled tensely.

With an uneasy feeling he finally opened the door, a strained smile on his lips. Even if his first reaction would preferably include extensive cursing, he was reasonably sure the inn keeper would not appreciate that.

“If I told you now, that I have absolutely no idea what happened here or how for that matter and if I was not exactly sure I could pay for the damage, what would, theoretically speaking, happen?”

It had been a bit of a blessing in disguise that Kwez had been absent. Because as soon as the inn keeper was done with calling him every name under the sun the little critter had made his appearance, arriving with the creepy demon child Devi or whatever. Regardless, she handed the inn keeper a letter and a hefty sum for the repairs, courtesy of her master. They would have to leave in any case, so Ivan got their things and Nic, following back to Alistair’s ... building. Let’s just call it that.

As soon as they were there he had deposited Nic on a settee who still slept away. When he finally got an explanation it was from Kwez who had gotten to Alistair when the whole fiasco had about been over. Seemingly Nic had released some impressive amount of magic and spells in his sleep which had repelled some ne’er do wells, which the critter had used in the situation. The first thought that entered Ivan’s mind was less than complementary as he was quite sure that it hadn’t been necessary to solve things that violently, but he kept that to himself.

Now that he knew he recognized the symptoms well enough. Which meant Nic would probably stay asleep for a good while longer. With that came the boredom.

Ivan had nothing to do and was useless in this situation. He had been getting restless in the last days anyway, so for whatever reason he had opted to take a stroll through the city, but wearing a cloak with a hood to hide his general features. Not on his own volition, as Deva had all but threatened to put it in him herself if he didn’t do so. Looking back afterwards he was even a bit thankful she had thought so, as he had soon noticed many whispers which were giving him a headache.

“Did you hear about Mafalda’s?”

“Yes, terrible, I tell you, terrible. Those dark idiots and their flexing, terrible!”

“They are getting cocky, something has to be done!”

Ivan was listening and for once taking note very intently of what was spoken. That was just one conversation he heard, but it did not stop there.

“The council now wants to –“

“– just thinking about it, they should –“

“– to the gaols, I tell you–“

“– right? Those strangers, knew they were bad news. Did you know–“

Whatever he happened to overhear, the basic tenor was about the same everywhere, at least on the main streets. But even in the side streets the activity had taken up a note, the hustling and bustling had become filled with a strange kind of energy that he did not like one bit. They probably should just up and run, as soon as Nic was awake that is. Some were even talking about a death sentence, eagerly advocating for it, that was the kind of spectacle Ivan did not want to see through. Not with his own eyes for sure.

“Not all that unexpected, that much is sure,” Alistair lackadaisically responded to his explanation.

“Why? If I understand that correctly the city could face a civil war?” Ivan questioned visibly confused.

“Look, this happening is a regular thing in All-Mag’Ick, nothing out of the norm at all. Every few decades our leadership changes, sometimes more representing the light, sometimes the dark, at other even balanced. Even a few years without leadership at all aren’t that much out of the norm.”

Alistair was fiddling with his various chronometers while casually explaining. His laboratory as he called it was illuminated in a rainbow of differing colors and the light was pulsing from time to time. But not at all bothered, even if Ivan and Nic now had the problem thrown at their feet.

As if having read his thoughts he went on, “Well, in the last decades the focus fell to the light, so to speak. On a fanatic level even, so we on the other side do as we always did – fall back a bit, fade into the shadows and wait for our time to strike. Then a bit of public warfare occurs, a reform follows and in a few decades it will happen the other way around.”

Ivan could hardly believe what the guy told him. That would be like half the village would wage war against the other just to attain a period of grudgingly accepted peace. And take some form of revenge at a later date to start the cycle anew.

“As those living in the city we of the darker nature do not have to fear as much of extreme retaliation as you as outsiders would,” Alistair added after a few moments, much like an afterthought. “That is why I will be helping you leave the city on a quieter route through the catacombs with the help of a few friends of mine. As soon as you are out of them you should probably get as far away as you are able to. The easiest would be taking a ship from Piskisport and sail to another continent altogether.”

“Where’s that now supposed to be?” a very much welcome voice asked sleepily. Ivan turned around and lo and behold, Nic was at least awake, if still a bit peaky looking.

To be honest he was probably only standing as he was leaning heavily against the door frame. Ivan wondered what kind of town that should be though, if he remembered the map there couldn’t be much more than a small village at best. And the small fishing towns he had in mind would not offer such ships for sailing across the ocean. Arguably, if he believed the map All-Mag’Ick was supposed to be a small cluster of huts as well.

“To the east, about two days travel time, I think.”

Some instruments produced tingling sound which had Alistair furrowing his brow.

“Why is it even that extreme this time?” Ivan finally inquired. The earlier behavior had indicated more of an attitude that nobody raised an eye. Not quite understandable how one came from that to calling for a death sentence in his opinion.

“That would be a fault lying with the council. They are of the opinion that the other possible route for your friend would not be barred by now. Or rather they take it to mean something it does not.”

Now that was strangely cryptic. Before he could ask anything else another apparatus was ringing and chiming, Alistair clicked his tongue at that.

“Regardless, they will get very persistent soon enough, so you’d be better off if you are gone sooner than later. Though I might have to explain a bit, hopefully I will not be regretting it too much as if I hadn’t.”

Nic had been listening with just half an ear after that, too absorbed in the going-ons about him. So, if he did understand it correctly, then some powerful bigwig was after him so he could become a mentor. Though, as Alistair had explained, what that guy viewed as one didn’t make much sense to him by definition and how one should be taught to be one was a bit beyond him as well. In the end he shouldn’t concern himself with it, as there was another route that one became one and it didn’t exclusively have to do with guiding heroes per se. The old magician had just patted him on the head – figuratively, thank whatever deity for that – and told him to just follow his goals.

Right, back to the more important things. Alistair’s friends were a bit of an unusual bunch and Nic wasn’t very trusting of them either way. Friends was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be traitor15 somewhere. It did sound farfetched, yes, but it was a risk that wasn’t something he wanted to encounter while navigating without being able to do so himself in catacombs and unknown cave systems adjacent to them. So, even those fellows he had disturbed in their rituals were more preferred, as he was quite sure they were less liable to get him killed. He was not yet ready to be pushing up daisies. And spending his time in some dungeon wasn’t much more appealing either.

“... what should be enough.”

What had he missed? My, Ivan had been listening though.

“Alright, let’s get going then,” Ivan jovially babbled.

Sighing he had to rethink that. His friend would probably not remember what was important when they needed it and if he had taken any information from this it was useless. Or would overlook details he didn’t deem crucial for one reason or another. Which might cause them trouble down the line they could have avoided in the first place. Well, Nic smiled despite his foreboding intuition. First they had to get through the underground labyrinths and then one would see.

**********

15The kind of people who let their kind of service cost a very pretty penny. Sadly, most never get the chance to fully enjoy said penny and more often than not that money went back to the one who paid it in the first place. Nobody liked traitors.