ALLEIN
German, "alone"
Till we can become divine, we must be content to be human, lest in our hurry for change we sink to something lower. -- Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers
It was unfortunate that Diarnlan had never thought to check what the date was. She was taken as much by surprise as everyone else when a very dusty woman barged into the grocery store and screamed, "Monster!"
At first Diarnlan thought she meant the human variety of monster. So did several other people, judging by the chorus of voices asking, "Who?", "What happened?", and "Call the police!".
The woman staggered over to lean against the shop's counter. She nearly knocked over a sweet jar in the process. Diarnlan noted that clumsiness with disdain. Everyone else was too preoccupied to care -- including Teivain-ríkhon-hrair. She dropped the chocolate bars she'd been debating whether or not to buy and didn't even notice they had landed in someone else's basket.
"It crawled out of the sea," the woman said when she got her breath back. Diarnlan felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. "A horrible thing like a huge frog." The sinking sensation got worse. "It attacked a village. They tried to kill it but they just injured it. It's gone on the rampage all along the coast. Soon it'll be right in the midst of us. I near killed my horse trying to get here to warn you."
In a split second Teivain-ríkhon-hrair went from standing in front of Diarnlan to hovering next to the woman. "Where is it now?"
"Somewhere in the countryside. I don't know where. But it landed right on top of my house and squashed it flat! Lucky we were all at work or it'd have killed us!"
The mage didn't wait to hear any more. She was out the door before the woman had even finished talking.
Diarnlan looked at the bag full of toys that she'd been handed and asked to carry. She eyed the basket full of sweets that her teacher had thrown down so abruptly. She heaved a sigh. I suppose I'll have to pay for that.
Luckily she could conjure money. She would have been in difficulty otherwise since she hadn't brought any with her. (Technically it was illegal to conjure money because of the difficulty in deciding whether it was genuine or not. In practice everyone was willing to look the other way as long as you did it discreetly and in moderation.)
She paid for the sweets, put them in a paper bag, and left the shop much more sedately than her teacher had. Now she faced a problem. Should she intervene or stand by and let Teivain-ríkhon-hrair handle the situation?
Obviously she should do nothing. Getting involved with these fiascos was how she got dragged into the spotlight. If she wanted to stay alive she had to avoid fame at all costs.
She got the distinct feeling Saungrafn was unhappy with her decision. It tried to telepathically nudge her in the general direction of the monster. Diarnlan steadfastly refused to oblige it. Instead she followed at the tail end of the herd of people running for safety.
You should do something or your teacher will be angry with you, that pesky little voice whispered.
Diarnlan rolled her eyes. She stopped to cast a ward across the street behind the fleeing crowd. It wouldn't stop a skrýszel, but she could point to it as proof she had indeed done something.
Eventually all of the people took shelter in temples or shrines. Perhaps they thought the gods would protect them. Perhaps they just thought those stone buildings had already lasted for centuries, so surely they'd survive a monster attack. Diarnlan neither knew nor cared. She did know that she didn't intend to go into a crowded building just so she could be elbowed in the ribs, have her feet trodden on, and generally be pushed around by panicked idiots. Instead of going anywhere near those buildings she calmly continued on her way out of the city.
Only when she reached its outskirts did she realise this had given her the perfect excuse to leave without being noticed. Everyone was far too preoccupied with their own worries to care anything for the disappearance of one magician. Teivain-ríkhon-hrair would never be able to find out what happened to her. She'd be thought dead, and then Karandren would definitely have no reason to go looking for her.
She cast a teleportation spell to send the sweets and toys to her teacher's house. Then she set off in the general direction of the coast -- taking care to go in the opposite direction to the last reported sighting of the monster.
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"Your behaviour has been a disgrace ever since you arrived here. Never in all my years of teaching have I met such a trouble-maker and bully. I've tried to make allowances for you because you're so young and have been brought up so badly--"
Until now Karandren had sarcastically nodded along to everything the headmistress said, rolling his eyes and not even trying to hide his yawns. Now his head snapped up. A faint flicker of red appeared in his greenish-gold eyes. Back in Miavain everyone nearby would have known that was a sign to take cover and pray they weren't the ones who'd bear the brunt of his wrath.
Rothnát didn't even notice the warning sign, much less recognise it. "I thought, the gods alone know what your parents have taught you. So we can give you more leniency--"
"There is nothing wrong with the way I was brought up," Karandren interrupted sharply.
If he had been older -- and if he had studied dark magic in this lifetime -- his magic would have already lashed out at his surroundings and likely destroyed most of them. Even in this much younger and less powerful body his magic filled the air like electricity before a storm. The papers on Rothnát's desk rustled and fluttered although there was no gust of wind to disturb them. A few shadows began to creep up the world-tree hologram as his spell reacted to his fury.
Rothnát glared at him. She continued not to notice the warning signs. That was the trouble with suddenly becoming fourteen again: no one took you seriously even when you were threatening to kill them.
"Don't interrupt! Well-brought-up children know not to interrupt their elders."
That was rich. She was barely sixty while he was well over ninety. Karandren stood up to his full height, once again internally cursing how short he was, and gave her the look that had scared a Miavish priest to death. Literally; the man dropped dead of a heart attack. Unfortunately she remained completely unmoved.
"Sit down, you spoilt brat. I haven't finished yet. If you don't make a real effort to improve I will have no choice but to expel you."
"Who do you think you are?" Karandren snarled. He thought he looked as frightening as he had in his previous lifetime. Unfortunately he'd once again forgotten that to most adults a teenager in a rage only looked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. "I am a king! I know more magic than you can ever comprehend! I won't let anyone talk to me like that!"
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The headmistress laughed in his face. "You? A king? You've been reading too many fairy-tales. All of your behaviour today has confirmed my opinion you shouldn't be allowed to stay at this academy."
Furious, Karandren lashed out with a spell aimed directly at her desk. It should have smashed the wood to splinters. Instead it only knocked a few papers onto the floor. The desk itself remained stubbornly intact. He didn't leave so much as a scratch on it. Karandren gaped at it, dumbfounded. How could he have failed so badly?
Rothnát didn't even notice his attempt to destroy her desk. She picked up the papers, grumbling about open windows and documents that wouldn't stay put. When she straightened up Karandren sat as still as a statue in his chair, too shocked even to move. His mind ran over everything he'd done. What had gone wrong with his magic? Surely he wasn't that powerless?
"As I was saying," the headmistress continued, "your behaviour has confirmed my opinion you should leave the school at once. I've given you a second chance, a third chance, and I believe even a tenth chance. You refuse to improve, so out you go. I'll write to your parents now. Go to your room and start packing."
It was a testament to how shocked Karandren was that he left without protest.
He didn't go back to his room. Instead he went out to the furthest part of the school-grounds, to the lake where his bully had drowned. He paced back and forth on the shore, attempting different spells until he figured out what was wrong with his magic.
There was nothing wrong with it. It was simply a fourteen-year-old's magic, with all the limits that came with that. He had exhausted its supply with the spells he'd already cast. Now he had none left to use. And he had just been kicked out of the academy.
For the first time in over eighty years Karandren thought of his parents. They would be so ashamed of him being expelled. Worse, they would find out about today's events and demand an explanation. The thought of his mother learning he had ever used dark magic struck terror into his heart.
No, he couldn't go home. He couldn't face all their questions and he couldn't pretend to be the son they'd last seen during the winter holidays. That innocent, childish boy was gone forever. A vicious old man had taken his place, and his parents would know something was wrong at once. There was only one thing to do. He'd have to leave and find another teacher. At least this time he knew to avoid Diarnlan.
...On second thoughts, why should he avoid her? Now he had the chance to make her as miserable as she had once made him.
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When Karandren's parents arrived to collect him they found he had mysteriously disappeared. All that remained was a note placed on his pillow.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I've gone to study with a Great Mage so I can become a better magician. Don't worry about me. I'll be back soon.
Karandren.
They went straight to the headmistress to demand an explanation. They were just in time to see Karandren's dragon spell activate.
"Heavens above!" his mother exclaimed. "What has he been meddling with?"
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Karandren himself set off for Diarnlan's house. Like almost every other decision he made lately, this one was made on the spur of the moment with no consideration of the possible outcome or consequences. When he thought about it he inevitably dismissed with a shrug all the things that could go wrong. Diarnlan might recognise him or she might not. She might take him to her teacher or she might not. They might have a full-scale fight or they might not. He wouldn't know until it happened, so what was the point of worrying?
As he drew nearer to the village he noticed strange markings in the fields. They looked like something very large and heavy had dug its claws into the ground. But they weren't close together. Instead they were scattered at a considerable distance from each other. They went in roughly a straight line from the village to the sea.
Or perhaps from the sea to the village.
The memory of the monsters sprang into his mind. After the fiasco in the headmistress's office he should have been more worried by that thought. Instead he remembered only how easy it was to kill monsters. Diarnlan had killed lots of them. He had become more powerful than her, so they shouldn't be any threat to him. He continued blithely on his way.
When he came within sight of the village he stopped and stared. What in the world had happened here? Most of the buildings were just piles of rubble. The only people around were scurrying back and forth across the destroyed main street. Some of them carried injured people on stretchers.
Karandren eyed the chaos with bemusement. The village hadn't been nearly this badly damaged the last time. Diarnlan must have taken too long to kill the monster. Where was she, anyway? Why weren't they all hailing her as their rescuer?
Eerie silence reigned over the village. No cheers from a delighted crowd, no proclamations from the self-important mayor, no sign of the monster's corpse. He continued on his way feeling more shaken than if he'd come face to face with the monster itself.
The road to the beach was so badly damaged it was like walking over a freshly-ploughed field that had been struck by a flash flood. His feet sank down in pools of water that collected in the furrows. The ridges of earth gave way when he stood on them. There was no solid ground to walk on. Karandren scrambled up onto the field beside the road. He promptly found himself standing in a gigantic footprint.
The footprint was wider than many houses. Each of its toes were longer than he was tall. Karandren did some quick calculations on how large the skrýszel must have been. Strange. He distinctly remembered that the first skrýszel Diarnlan killed was much smaller than that. In fact it was the smallest monster ever to crawl through the veil.
Something didn't add up here. And it couldn't be put down to his memories underestimating the size of the monster, because he clearly remembered standing next to the creature's corpse. He had never been so close to a skrýszel before; he would never forget how small he felt beside it. He was more likely to overestimate its size than underestimate it.
He'd just been shaken before. Now he was practically terrified. But worse was to come. He trudged across the field, dodging the worst of the craters and trenches. There were no other footprints in sight. That was downright terrifying because of its implications. Just how large was the monster?
When he rounded the corner he got his first glimpse of Diarnlan's house. Immediately he sensed there was something wrong. Its shape seemed ever so slightly different than it had been before. Karandren sped up. With each step he got a clearer view. Now he saw what was wrong. Half of the house was still standing, yes. But the other half was a mound of crushed wood trampled into the ground.
Diarnlan's dead.
The thought filled his mind even though he tried to fight it down. It seemed utterly impossible. Never had he considered the possibility his arch-enemy could be killed by anyone but him. Last time she'd survived so many monsters and battles and only he had been able to kill her. Surely that meant-- She couldn't--
Karandren vaulted over the fence that still stood around the remains of her house. The front door had fallen off its hinges and all the glass was missing from the windows. He took a step through the doorway. The floorboards creaked ominously. He thought better of it and went round the side of the house.
For the first time he saw the full extent of the damage. Apparently the skrýszel had stood on part of the roof. The roof collapsed beneath its weight and so did everything under it. All that was left was just part of the outer wall. Everything else -- roof, ceilings, walls, and furniture -- was completely crushed and smashed until it was unrecognisable. He couldn't find any sign of a body. If Diarnlan had been in the house -- and where else would she be when the monster first attacked? -- she had been crushed like everything else.
Never in his life had Karandren thought he would feel upset about Diarnlan's horrible death. Technically he wasn't upset about that; he was upset that someone other than him had killed her. But any passer-by who saw him fall to his knees amidst the rubble and bury his head in his hands would have thought he had just lost a good friend instead of an old enemy.
In spite of what it looked like Karandren wasn't crying. He was thinking as hard as he could. His thoughts ran so fast that they got tangled up in each other.
Diarnlan was dead. There was no one who could stop him now. The skrýszel was still out there somewhere -- probably still alive because Diarnlan wasn't there to kill it and how could any other magician achieve what she hadn't? Only someone who had defeated Diarnlan herself was powerful enough to kill it. Therefore he should hunt it down. After he killed it he'd become famous. He could do whatever he wanted. He could conquer Miavain again. He could conquer both Miavain and Avallot. Hell, he could conquer the whole continent, the world, the entire world-tree if he wanted to!
He jumped to his feet. No time like the present. He just needed to find that skrýszel.
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Meanwhile Diarnlan -- alive, well, and completely unaware of what had happened to her home or what conclusions her old pupil and enemy had drawn from it -- had just embarked on a boat for Byuryan.