I feel bad for anyone who thinks they’re smart. Their lives must be so confusing.

* Presto

1 Hour Later (Highgarden Time) - Copycat - The Mithril Citadel

It was stupid to think I could stop The Last Battle without seeing it. I realize that now. I was being lazy and conceited. Too important to go to Highgarden. Too smart to listen. Too good to get my hands dirty. Well, that all changes today.

I’m on the foothills of a mithril mountain. High above me, a dwarven sorceress fires the power of a thousand suns at a hole of nothing that looms hungrily on the horizon. She’d handily blast it away, except it’s sustained by a barrage of magnetic force from a giant warlock hunched on a distant adamantine mountain.

Cosmic forces edge the hole of nothing back and forth. I’d call it a stalemate, but the hole is getting larger, greedily sucking up the energy trying to control it.

“That seems bad.” I muse.

“Yeah, it’s gonna kill us all. If we live that long.” A pair of elvish paladins skip down the mountain to confront me. Silver and gold, steel and silk. “Are you friend or foe?”

“Dunno.” I ready my broken spear. “I’m here to stop the apocalypse. That a problem?”

“Not with us.” The elves sheath their blades. “Are you alone? Can you help with our high energy problem?”

“Yeah, I’m alone.” Duke couldn’t make the jump. I couldn’t carry him. I’ll get a new bag of holding and go back for him. I’m gonna go back for everybody. But first I gotta save them all. Maybe. I don’t like the look of that black hole. “I don’t think I can solve your high energy problem. I could definitely make it worse. Do you have any smaller problems?”

“Probably.” shrugs the silver knight. “I just got here too.”

“Everyone just got here.” says the golden elf. “Highgarden time is brutal. My family has been storming the Last Battle for twenty generations, but this shit show started two hours ago local time. I just passed my great-great-great-grandfather and that fucker was younger than me.”

“That’s weird.”

“Right? He was canoodling with a halfling lass. How would I explain that to great-great-great-grandma? Good thing she died a thousand years ago.”

Another mountain javelins into existence. Its peak is crowded with wizards casting binding spells at the black hole. They manage to pull it towards them, where it immediately devours the entire mountain, wizards and all. The hole gets significantly larger.

“Huh.” says the silver knight. “I wonder what their plan was? Can’t imagine it was that.”

“Were they on our side?”

“Not sure. Don’t think it matters anymore.”

More mithril mountains are growing, with laser dwarves at the helm. The giant warlock is unimpressed. Sends each a black hole. Dozens of adamantine mountains rear next to him.

The ground between eruptions cracks and crumbles. Each crevice spews smoke, and darkness, and dark elves.

Around us, hordes of near-invisible elves skip downhill to savage their cousins. They collide in an explosion of illusions, hallucinations, and madness.

Magnetism, gravity, and light battle overhead. The psychedelic smog of war rushes us from below. Man, this is kicking off.

“Any good at mind magic?” asks the silver paladin.

“Not really.”

“Then you’re gonna have a confusing day.” He pulls his blade and advances into the haunted weirdness. “Try not to die. And if you do, try to remember you’re on our side.”

“Wait! Where’s The Bridge? Where’s The Burning Man?”

“I dunno! I just got here! It’s probably where the fighting’s the worst! Or maybe it’s hidden!”

“That’s not helpful!”

“Forward.” The golden paladin draws his blade. “The enemy is betwixt us and the Burning Man. Our way to him is through them.”

He bounds off to commit holy murder. The boundary between the high energy battle and the mire of the mind rushes up at me. Here we go again - another round of fighting strangers I can’t see for reasons I don’t understand.

Or maybe… fuck that?

I really don’t want another stealth battle against elves. Those never go well. Also, I’m not great against black holes. This whole scene is outside my area of expertise.

Also, I’ve been doing a lot of battling lately, without much to show for it. I don’t know how Tiger would stop the apocalypse, but if it’s by individually kicking the shit out of everybody, that’s not going to work for me. I simply don’t have the patience.

I just want to get to the Burning Man with as little bullshit as possible. From there, I’ll figure out my next step. It’s a shit plan, but it’s all I’ve got, and I refuse to get distracted by elvish stab wounds.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I try to coalesce this general feeling into desire magic. The reality here lacks both the solid group consensus of Lowgarden, and the fluid anything goes of Godhome. These desires are fierce and contradictory. Colossal jagged wants crushing each other with intense pressure. I let them push me around, without opposing them. Let’s see if I can slip through.

I sprint through the battle like a greased lightning bolt. There’s no straight path through - maybe no path at all - so I race madly in all directions. Up mountains and through caves. Around and about. Wherever one magic desire strains against another, I blow through the cracks and slip through the seams.

It works well, until it doesn’t. I slam into another sneaky trickster ghosting through the nonplaces. Our collision slaps me out of my groove and I skid to a stop in the shadowy, haunted, weirdness.

A dozen eyes focus on me. Shit.

The largest eye widens in surprise. “Copycat?”

Do I know that voice? “Yames?”

A huge beholder comes grinning from the mire. “Copycat!”

“Yames! You made it!”

“Yeah! You too!”

“Barely! Took the long way through Helhome.”

“No way. I’ve never been. How was it?”

“Un-fucking-believable. You should go. You would slay there.”

“Oh, I’d love to. If only I wasn’t so busy. Maybe I’ll take a personal day after I’ve snuck past enemy lines and murdered the Lords of Highgarden.”

“You’re sneaking past enemy lines? Me too! I’m off to The Bridge.”

“Well heck, follow my backtrail. I just came from there. Tell’em Yames sent ya.”

“I will. Thanks a lot, buddy. So good to see you.”

I wave good-bye cheerily as the slavering monster floats off to commit his atrocity. Nice to see a friendly face.

With a trail laid out, I quickly approach a sunny oasis deep in the mire of madness. There’s a small, hastily built fortification manned by dwarves in glittering armor. Also a large group of beholders muttering before it. They turn their deadly gaze on me.

“Hi. Yames sent me?”

“Did he!” Barks a grizzled aberration. “What’s our Yames up to?”

“Um. About his eyebrow in elf blood?”

The squad of beholders pause, then howl with laughter. “Good ol’ Yimmy boy. Alright, fall in. We’re planning our next push.”

I scootch into their monstrous huddle. I’m excited to be part of a plan. It’s been a while since I had one. Like, a full plan. Been stuck on first-thing-first since forever.

Griz growls out the orders. “This is the homestretch, boys. We jump that crummy little wall, eat a few dwarves, and it’s a clear run to the Burning Man. Let’s get this done.”

A chipper young beholder blinks politely. “Uh, I thought we were supposed to hold for reinforcements?”

“We were, but The Guardian seems to have fucked off. We can’t waste an opportunity to push through.”

The Guardian is not a title I know, but it fills me with a chilling, bone deep, dread. “Who’s this Guardian?”

Griz shrugs. “Supposedly The Bridge is guarded by a great crimson beast. But I don’t see him. I guess he’s not as invincible as legend says.”

I get woozy as my nervous system strongly suggests playing dead. I fight through the fatigue only because I know it’s futile. My subconscious has finally parsed the ubiquitous battle noise to submit a late warning that it includes booming draconic laughter.

The sunny oasis darkens as huge wings spread shade. “Scatter!” I cry, too late. A glob of blue fire slams into us. I wish to live. Hard. Thousands of orcs burst from me and are instantly immolated. I’m left broken in a glassed out crater. Smoking like an oil fire.

Fucking Apex.

“FUCKING COPYCAT!!” Two draconic fists pound down around me. A huge maw shouts in my face. “How many times do we have to do this? How long until you learn? YOU DONT GO ON THE BRIDGE!!!”

I cough. Get up on one elbow. Spit some greasy tar. “Pah! I don’t recall ever storming the Bridge.”

“Of course you don’t! I kill you so good you couldn’t possibly remember!! BUT YOU STILL KEEP COMING BACK!!!” Apex clutches his brow. “Honestly, you crawl ass first through three realms for this?”

I struggle to my knees. “Nine.”

Apex narrows his eyes. “What?”

I get one foot under me. “I crawled through nine realms for this.”

“No…” I’m close enough to feel him gasp.

“Forged in desperate battle…” he muses. “Why didn’t I see it? This is why I was chosen. What could be more desperate than facing me? I thought I’d have it longer. And I’d never choose to give it to Copycat. But when will I get another chance…”

“Um, sir?” A dwarf from the shabby fortifications hesitantly gets our attention. “Are you going to kill her?”

“Yes, yes.” Apex waves negligently. “I just have to give her something first.”

“It’s just, you swore an oath.”

“I’ve sworn lots of oaths. Don’t worry, this is all gonna work out.”

Apex strikes a rampant pose. His wings snap up, blocking the whole sky, except for the sun. It blinds through, turning the crimson dragon to an heraldic silhouette. He raises a fist and roars.

“LO! THE DAY FORETOLD FROM EARLIER TODAY IS FINALLY UPON US!! WHENCE I DELIVER ONTO A BELEAGUERED LONGSTRIDER THE BLADE OF DESTINY!!!”

He flicks his wrist and tosses a stick at me. Hey cool, It’s Presto’s practice sword!

I brandish the wooden blade threateningly, but Apex just watches me intently.

“Are you going to kill her now?” asks the dwarf.

Apex holds up one claw. “Give her a moment.”

I’m feeling quite edgy. Apex is acting weird. The sword is a potent weapon, but I already know its spells and none of them will scratch Apex. Maybe if I could use them all at once. Actually…

I look at the carvings and can see it. A space - crowded between and through the other runes - where a last spell could go. Dammit, I know that shape. I spent days building it on Gianthome.

Apex holds his cheeks, whispers excitedly. “She’s got it.”

I pull the knife from my boot. Carve - with quick, confident strokes - the arrangement of the tables from Presto’s bar. The secret rune. The king spell. The binder. The beacon.

As I carve, wild winds whip from all directions. My strength returns and movements quicken. Everything crackles with energy, until we’re incandescent with trapped potential. And the air pressure goes down, and down, and down.

Hurricane winds batter the dwarves on their little wall. “Apex! You’ve got to kill her!”

The dragon is vibrating with excitement. “I will! I will! Just a second!”

The ferocious sounds of the wind and the crackling energy coalesce into one mighty tone as I finish the rune. A titanic, all encompassing note that shakes the realm.

“Yes! YES!” Apex cackles madly. “That was amazing! Now use it! Use it! Give us rage! GIVE US RUIN!! BECOME DEATH!!!”

The realm groans. The energy between storm and ground cannot stand. Reality gives up. Everything goes white.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right Now - Everybody - Everywhere

Throughout the nine realms a mighty note rings. Drawing the attention of all, be they halfling or giant, living or dead. A simple message - both lure and balm - here lies a chance to start over.

Deep within the caverns of Darkhome, the reunified gnomic exiles are struck dumb. They know this message well, but are unnerved just the same.

“Presto lit the beacon.” says Oak. “But he’d never go to the Last Battle. Unless… is this it?”

All eyes turn to the big green dragonman. Cyan wishes he had someone to look to, but apparently we’re past that. The Silence hands him a blood stained note. He reads it. Grunts. Carefully folds his sister’s inheritance and hands it back to her. Stands.

“I don’t know if this is it, but I’ve had enough. Gather to me the gnomes of the apocalypse. Tonight we ride on Highgarden.”