1. The Stage Supreme¶
Place Unknown - Year 4587 AIW
3rd Day of Isaa-endwendhi - The Month of the Crying Gods
In dreams, memories often haunt us.
Red fire scorched the city. Rising like an ocean wave, the red tongue of flames rose upwards and over the golden walls of Emansun. It swept through the city, driving the Warlocks inwards, away from the walls that magically healed themselves as the fire burned.
There
Emansun - 3300-2-17
A ragged horse cart trotted along a stone-paved road that had recently been repaired.
It was a bright dawn. Not yet completely day of course, because if it had been, farmer Meelo would have had to turn back – it was useless to get to the city after everyone else had finished setting up their stalls.
Meelo looked over his back suspiciously at the road; he had come across no trouble along these roads before. The idea was almost ludicrous, this country was the safest in the world. The sounds of his rickety cart and the wagon behind it holding his stores of corn and barley would fetch a good price. The green pastures of the valley had rewarded everyone well this year. Harvests had been plenty in the last ten years, since the Sorcerer-King’s coronation. All was well.
Looking ahead he spotted three short figures on the road ahead and raised an eye in surprise. Children out on their own? Straasfore was safe but people needed more caution in their lives.
“Hello there!” Meelo called out, waving his hand while pulling Corri to a halt. The dun coloured mare tossed her head and snorted. The three short figures stopped and turned and Meelo vaguely felt that he had made a mistake.
They were wearing strange clothes, open vests over thin sleeveless shirts and long flowing skirts, all of a monotonous auburn colour. Two of them held bright silver staffs that were as tall as them. The third carried a staff-shaped object wrapped completely in a brown cloth on his shoulder. Strange attire, but the strangest was the fact that grew more apparent as he got closer - they were not children.
The tallest of them was the one carrying the wrapped staff and he could not have been more than five feet. Neatly trimmed beards darkened their chins and their hair was bright red.
“On your way to the city?” he asked.
One of them, the second tallest, stepped forwards and replied, “To Emansun.”
Offering them a slight shrug, Meelo asked, “So where are you from? I’ll bet my horse that I haven’t seen you around last harvest.”
The short man shook his head, “No, you haven’t. We’re travellers, from the Midlands.”
Meelo whistled, “Travellers? I’ve met merchants from as far as Drome and Alahairetaandanell, but I haven’t seen anyone in –” he checked himself and shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Get on the cart, I’ll give you a ride to the city.”
The man shook his head, staring apprehensively at the taller one. “We don’t want to slow you down sir.”
Meelo shook his head and gestured with his hand for them to get on. “If the Sorcerer-King got the wind that Meelo had let guests to his kingdom go without the barest display of hospitality, he’d not forgive him!” The Sorcerer-King didn’t know Meelo personally, but he was hospitable to everyone.
The three men looked at Meelo and the one who’d done all the talking offered a half-smile.
“Very well sir, we accept.”
After a few minutes, Meelo returned Corri to her trot, with the three Midlanders settled on the cart behind him.
“Is it your first time coming to Straasfore?” Meelo said, turning around to look at them.
The man who’d done all the talking was sitting closest to him, his other companions looked on silently as he replied, “Yes, we just arrived a few hours ago and began heading straight to the city.” He pointed at the way-signs along the side of the road. “Those make it easy to travel.”
Meelo nodded. “All his work you know. This kingdom has never been more prosperous than since the Sorcerer-King took over it.”
The Midlander looked interested as he asked, “Since he took over it?”
“Beat the Overlord and his people didn’t he? He ran the Terian scum out of our lands and back to their own. Straasfore was free after four hundred years,” Meelo turned around mid-sentence and looked at the blank expression on their faces. “You don’t mean you haven’t heard the story!”
The Midlander shook his head, trying to appear apologetic. Meelo took in a deep breath to show them how important that was. He hadn’t heard of anyone who didn’t know what this kingdom had gone through.
“I had it from my father who had it from his grandfather, you see, the old kingdom of Straasfore was a beautiful place,” Meelo paused, searching for words, “It was spectacular, the work of the Warlords, who had such strange powers. Now the neighbouring kingdom of Teria was jealous of that kingdom and wanted the power of the Warlords so they attacked when they knew the Warlords couldn’t fight back.”
The Midlander raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “They conquered this country and killed all the Warlords that they could find.”
Meelo waited for a reply and went on when he got none.
“For three hundred years they ruled without contest, and married the women from the Warlord families. Their children were born with a little of the Warlords’ powers and they called themselves Warlocks, just to make themselves sound different from the Warlords.”
The Midlander raised an eyebrow — he did that a lot — but said nothing.
“Now some of the Warlords who had gone into hiding began to return. Or their children returned, but their power had greatly reduced. They called themselves Wizards instead, though I don’t know the difference much.”
The Midlander nodded, as though he understood something Meelo didn’t.
Meelo ignored him and went on. “The Wizards fought against the Warlocks as hard as they could and they were not winning. Not until he came.”
“The Sorcerer-King?” one of the younger Midlanders asked.
“Well yes and no… his name was Memlus Arelus, he was the first Sorcerer. He gathered the remaining Wizards and attacked the city of Emansun, reaching the court of the Overlord himself.”
Meelo looked skywards and then sighed, “But he died in the attempt.”
The Midlander leaned forwards. “How?”
“No one knows. The Overlord said he killed him but no one believed that story. Some say the Sorcerer stopped himself, learning about the future.”
“The future?”
Meelo smiled. This was the best part of the story. “Yes, it was foreseen that the one who’d liberate Straasfore from the grips of evil would come from the house of the Overlord itself! His own son Krono-Kroman in fact.”
“Why did the Overlord’s son try to liberate Straasfore? Wasn’t he going to be the next Overlord?”
“The Overlord had two sons and he held a contest to see which of them would inherit the throne. But before the contest could end fairly, his other son, Yagnik, murdered him with the help of his ministers and threw Krono-Kroman into a dungeon.”
“Why didn’t he kill him as well?”
Meelo frowned. The Midlander was asking difficult questions now. “I’m a simple farmer, stranger. I do not understand the whims of kings.” When the Midlander didn’t reply, Meelo went on, “Krono-Kroman escaped from the dungeon and fled to the forests where he found Memlus Arelus’s students, or they had found him. In the months that followed Kroman trained his fellow men and built an army and plotted revenge. Soon Krono-Kroman was back with his army to fight the new Overlord, Yagnik. With him at their helm, the Wizards waged war against Emansun and all of Teria. In that battle, it happened - Krono-Kroman became a Sorcerer.”
The Midlander nodded slowly, taking his time about it now. “What happened to the Overlord? Did the Sorcerer-King kill him?”
Meelo frowned. “No, he spared him and any of the ministers who wanted to leave. Led them to the border of Straasfore and allowed them to go to Teria.”
The Midlander said nothing but looked pensively at his companions as though he was talking to them through his mind.
Meelo began talking about the city of Emansun, he told them how old it was and what a magnificent sight its golden walls were. He told them about the second palace at Emannun, the city the Sorcerer-King had built in memory of the town that had assisted him in the battle, and about the forest of Ten-Alar which was rumoured to house the half-immortal Elwash.
Meelo soon ran out of things to say although he felt he needed to say some more, to tell them about the Sorcerer-King’s powers. But before he had a chance to speak, a sight that could mute even a bard’s voice began rising out of the horizon- the glorious citadel of the city of Emansun.
The citadel dazzled like the sun and appeared like a giant crown placed in the middle of the land.
Perfect, almost fluid, golden walls rose from the ground and stood blazing in the morning sun. There were no crevices, gaps, or scratches on those towering structures, no damage to show that they had witnessed and withstood years and years of war. The citadel stood in proud glory and at pivotal locations, angular bastions projected from the walls. Meelo had seen them guarded by wizards all the time whenever even the slightest hint of danger crept up. There had been some minor scuffles in the past, but Teria had never managed to gather an army large enough to try and take Straasfore again.
The Midlanders were impressed by the sight, Meelo observed. Of course they were, no other city had golden walls.
He looked ahead as he led Cori to a slightly faster trot, staring up at the main portcullis. From a flag post above the wall hung a bright red banner on it was a picture of a golden eagle with an emerald serpent in its talons; the banner of the Sorcerer-King. The flag of Krono-Kroman – It promised security and the flashing red, gold and green exuded overwhelming power.
Meelo breathed in deeply with awe and pride – these Midlanders were in for the sight of a lifetime.
Ali rubbed his eyes. It was early in the day, but he wasn’t going to miss this for his life. Anything but this.
He could see the whole world.
Well, the world that mattered to him at least, which was as big as he’d imagined. Bigger.
He swooped down like a falcon at a certain city, still under construction, most of it largely sparse, unoccupied land but recognisable by the characteristic golden walls that surrounded it.
“Emansun,” a deep, booming voice said. The voice came from all around him, making him wonder how the people below, minding their business, hadn’t looked up in awe and wonder.
“It used to be such a small city. One can only wonder what people thought of it back then. They did not have any idea of what greatness awaited them. Unless, of course, they looked at Golden Walls.”
The golden walls shimmered as Ali veered around and caught a faceful of them. It was a sight he saw every day, following his father as he went out to with the goats. The intricate patterns on the walls were awe-inspiring, so well-carved that it was hard to imagine that Human hands made them.
“The Warlords were all-powerful, the greatest wielders of the Energy of the Universe.”
Ali’s vision flickered for an instant as he shot out into the sky again, and saw innumerable lights, all of them flowing as though they were the wind itself.
“One can’t see the Energy, it is invisible. Neither can one feel it, it is ethereal. It takes no space, yet it is omnipresent. It is not cold, yet it can freeze. It is not hot, yet it can be used to burn. It does not increase or decrease with time, it Is, Was and always Will Be.
The colours twirled, flowing through Ali’s body. He nearly tasted something as the streams flowed through his mouth.
“The Warlords wielded this Energy and shaped the world.”
Ali jettisoned down towards the city of Emansun. It had grown in the moments he had spent away from it, the idea was nearly overwhelming. How many years had passed?
Men were building a towering citadel in the centre of the city, it had a crystal dome and a black tower rose out of it. Red lightning arced from the tower to the clouds, controlling the weather overhead.
“Their wonders were infinite, from horse-less carriages —” Ali veered over a large shed outside which several steel chariots were lined up, the chariots moved at the vocal commands of the passengers, steering past obstacles with ease.
“— to soldiers of metal to man their towers.” Night shrouded the city as Ali flew to the eastern tower. A troop of soldiers raced towards the city, shouting indecencies. Ali whirled around as he heard something whistle through the air.
A thousand steel-tipped arrows shot out at the advancing troops. Ali flew towards the eastern tower of the golden walls and saw steel-clad soldiers raise metal bows to the air, aiming their next assault. The realization came slowly. Their movements were too mechanical to be Human.
“The Warlords quickly became unchallenged, and they could have taken over the world. But they didn’t.”
The sun burst through the night clouds and Ali hovered above the gates, watching as thousands walked into the city. There were people of every colour, race and origin among them.
“The half-immortal Elwash came too, for knowledge to give, and knowledge to seek.” Ali saw them, taller than most people, and clothed in shimmering clothes of gold and silver. They seemed to glow with the Energy.
“Great kings came to kneel, greater Emperors came to seek counsel.” Ali floated over the crowds in the inner court of the great citadel. He could spot men and women in regal attire, crowns and diadems on their heads as they bowed before these beings of power and fame.
“The Warlords were revered, and loved. They were just and the land prospered.”
Once again Ali flew into the sky, he could taste the rain drops in the air, smell the effervescence as the raindrops touched the soil. Lush saplings grew to their full height around the city, into the forests Ali knew as the Ten-Alar.
“All was well,” the Voice paused for dramatic effect. Ali loved the feeling. He knew what would come next. How many times had he heard Berid and the others tell him this story during their rehearsals? Ten? Twenty? He’d lost count. To think that they got a chance to perform at the Stage Supreme!
“-until the Energy-pulse.”
The dark cast its shroud over the land again, and Ali held his breath in anticipation.
Light split the darkness and again the darkness wrapped the land. Twice again this happened until instead of a multitude of colours there were just seven. The majestic rainbow spread across the land, from horizon to horizon.
Ali gasped as he swooped down towards the walls. A large army had amassed in front of it. A giant cylindrical object hanging from a series of wooden trusses hurtled back and forth at the great gate.
The gate came crashing down amidst screams.
“Separated from Straasfore by the Garein Mountains, Teria had grown in its shadow. Its ruler, called the Overlord, was jealous of Straasfore and the secret behind the Warlords’ powers. He struck as soon as he learnt that they had lost control over the Energy.”
The soldiers rushed into the city. The metal soldiers did not move, and it seemed that in their confidence in their powers, the Warlords had neglected to maintain a Human army for defense.
Ali watched a man, clothed in auburn robes with golden embroidery walk into the great palace of the Warlords. He sat upon the silver throne and laughed raucously at his achievement.
“The Overlord ordered the deaths of all those who had ruled Straasfore.”
Soldiers marched into the courtroom dragging women behind them, throwing them at the Overlord’s feet. The old man watched with lecherous desire.
“He took their women, believing that through them he’d have heirs who had the same powers as the Warlords. Terians began moving to Emansun, and in the centuries that passed they ruled over the original Strasforians, taking their children for servants and their women for concubines.”
Ali flew through the streets of Emansun. He saw a smith quenching a piecework and drawing it out of the bucket. Dissatisfied with his work, he growled and tossed the metal at a boy working the bellows. The boy screamed as the still-hot metal seared his skin.
“In the years that followed, the Energy had changed. There were still Energy-wielders, there always are. The new breed of wielders called themselves Warlocks, they needed the assistance of precious stones embedded into staffs or wands to help them channel the Energy to do their will.”
Ali watched children line up behind an old man wearing long black robes. One fat young boy no older than Ali himself stumbled forth, volunteering for some activity. The old man grinned, showcasing several missing teeth as he spread his arms wide. He demonstrated, raising the thin, foot-long golden wand he held, and waited for the boy to imitate him. The boy flourished, moving as though he knew better than the old man and that obviously earned him a whack on the back of his head. The old man took in a deep breath and said something Ali couldn’t hear. The fat boy followed suit and closed his eyes. Another whack in the head for closing his eyes when he should have been watching with diligence. The old man smirked, he was clearly enjoying this. Then he drew in the Energy, just as he drew breath.
Ali held his breath.
The violent essence of the Energy seeped in through the wand, spiralling around it until it reached the man’s hand. The red-tinted Energy slowly turned yellow, and then blue as it entered the man’s body. It filtered out of his eyes, his mouth and his feet, changed somehow. The young boys watched in delight as the man raised his wand and a brilliant light burst out of his wand, creating an intricate pattern of blue and red in the air above them.
Ali looked up for an explanation, the voice from before had been silent, as if allowing him to notice what had happened.
“The children were trained to filter the Energy of the world through their wands, and in years of training, became so besotted with their techniques that they deemed it a sin to channel the Energy without a wand. And that was how the Overlord succeeded in his total annihilation of the legacy of the Warlords.
“There were others who did not need any assistance. They were persecuted, killed for being the descendants of the Warlords. They were always born into poor homes, and learned to hide their powers as best as they could. But they couldn’t hide for long. The Energy always manifests itself.”
Ali veered towards a small village by the eastern border of Straasfore, ten Warlocks were hunting down the people living in the village, killing everyone they found.
“Sometimes, the Overlord commissioned mass-murders to cull the people’s blood of their heritage, as if that was possible. In one such incident, a young boy was the sole survivor of a clan that the Overlord’s men targeted.”
A young boy, thin and frail, no older than Ali himself perhaps, ran from the Warlords who hunted him. He hid behind a tree only to have the tree obliterated. He ducked from their attacks and ran into a forest. The Warlocks ran behind him, stopping as they reached the forest. Long and eerie moans rose out of the black woods; Ali recognized the forest. It was the sole divider between Straasfore and the east. No man dared venture into this place. The Overlord’s men laughed, they knew the boy would die a more gruesome death in the forest than in their hands.
Ali rose upwards, and felt the Energy rush past him again. His mouth was full of various tastes, he saw the great palace at Emansun being constructed after Terian fashions; domes, and singular towers were the favourite in that age.
“Forty years the peace of the Overlord reigned supreme. Forty years after that young boy escaped into the Black Woods.”
Ali was back above another village, the plain was full of such small villages at that time, and he saw a group of Warlocks round together eight children. The oldest of them looked a few years older than Ali, perhaps fifteen. The youngest of them was barely able to walk. A woman screamed as the youngest cried out, and the warlock leading the mission flicked his wand in her direction absently.
A torrent of fire and lightning burst out at her, burning her to a crisp. Her screams rang in Ali’s mind. He could smell the foul scent of burnt skin. Turning away his head in disgust, Ali watched the children huddle together around the fifteen year old, terrified beyond their years.
“The Overlord’s reign was built on one principle. Kill all those who could prove a threat to Warlocks everywhere.”
The warlock raised his wand, a menacing look of hate on his face. He opened his mouth to shout a spell, and the rest was madness.
The earth upheaved where the man and his team stood, tossing them into the sky. Thunder sounded out of a clear sky and a circle of lightning formed around the children, warding them against the warlocks.
The ground began to move like waves in an ocean, and the children huddled closer, guided by it somehow. The Warlocks looked around, trying to gain some manner of second wind before they were attacked again. Where had the attack come from?
It was all Ali could do to keep himself from cheering in mad delight.
A man stepped out from behind a tree. He had been hiding there, biding his time. The Warlocks snarled at him and flicked their wands out towards him. He didn’t have a wand on him.
He didn’t need one.
The warlocks’ assault scorched the tree the man had been hiding behind into oblivion. That only made him angrier. He raised his hands and the wind obeyed his whim.
The warlocks dropped their wands, reaching for their throats. They rose off the ground, as if hauled by their necks. Blood dripped from behind their eyes and their ears.
The man walked towards the children, he was short, but the way he walked made him seem taller. The purple jacket he wore was alight with the Energy. The circle of lightning parted to allow him in, and he knelt in front of the children, spreading his arms wide.
The younger ones ran to his arms, weeping. He carried the youngest boy on his shoulders and held the others close.
The warlocks dropped to the ground, their hearts had stopped beating.
He looked at the land and then at the children. Ali remembered the doubts he’d had when he first heard this story, years ago. Did the man have doubts about his next actions? Did he wonder whether he should attack the Overlord or take care of the children?
The man whose name would be burnt into the annals of history decided to take care of the children.
“Memlus Arelus. He was already known in the Midlands as a student of the illustrious Ematandi, and friend of Merlock the High Eldar Wise. His power was assumed to be the strongest among the all Energy Wielders. He took those eight children into the Midlands, and trained them in all he knew. He returned ten years later, to free his people.”
Ali flew into the air, hovering above Emansun again. It was night, but the city was lit up in a series of explosions.
Warlocks clashed with a group of invaders, their skills no match for the midland-trained wizards.
The world around Ali changed, and he found himself in a large throne room. He was in the Overlord’s palace.
Eight of the nine wizards were inside, fending off fifty warlocks who were forming a protective ring around the Overlord.
“The children had become men. Trained by Memlus Arelus, they were more than a match for the Overlord’s Warlocks.”
Ali knew their names of course. Everyone did.
Todo
I seem to be missing three of the ministers’ names.
Raikhon, Sartern, Karzon, Nala, Armexo, (missing 3 of them?). They were some of the most powerful Wizards to have every lived. And each of them fought alongside their master and foster father, Memlus Arelus.
“But against the might of the Overlord’s secret weapon, they had no hope.”
As the clash seemed to come to a close in the Wizards’ favour, the Overlord reached for what appeared to be a mere crown and placed it upon his head.
A chaotic outburst of Energy lashed out at the nearest Wizard, stripping his life instantly.
Raikhon collapsed, his body limp from the attack.
The fight took place in the courtyard of the Overlord, today the secondary courtyard of the current ruler of Emansun.
The courtyard was a large space, once beautiful, but it was in shambles, half of it covered in flames, the once white and gold walls were covered in soot. The rich tapestries on the walls were burnt to ash, and the dome in the centre of the yard had shattered when someone hurled lightning at it.
Raikhon’s fall silenced the room, the Overlord rose to his feet, covered with a purple aura that exuded sheer power. In that instant, all was lost.
“But again, Memlus Arelus would prove that he was more legend than man.”
Arelus ran to Raikhon’s side, ignoring the Overlord’s presence. His favourite student had fallen, and that was enough for him to snap.
Snap indeed.
Energy burst out of Arelus, hurling shock waves that shattered the pillars that held up the roof. The ground heaved, sending everyone in the room, friend and foe alike, flying for cover.
“The Warlords were once the mightiest Energy Wielders to exist. However, they believed that the truest form of Energy Wielding was Sorcery. No one had ever broken that barrier. The Warlords had tried, and failed. The Warlocks dismissed it as myth, and the Wizards never aspired for that sort of power. But this lone Wizard, student of the greatest teacher in the Midlands, had managed to unlock its secrets. He had become a Sorcerer.”
Memlus Arelus’s body glowed with the Energy. His hair changed colour, turning white-blonde. No, even his hair glowed. Lightning arced from his eyes as his pupils vanished. His eyes were completely white now.
“Overcome by fear and envy, the Overlord lashed out at Arelus.”
Arelus waved his hand, sending a gust of wind towards the Overlord and knocking him out of balance with relative ease. He lashed out again and pinned the Overlord up against a wall, crushing his legs with his throne.
The Overlord screamed, and his ministers, warlocks all of them, tried to run to his assistance. Arelus turned his head, shooting fire from his eyes and forming a wall of flames around the courtyard. The Overlord was beyond help now.
With everyone out of the way, Arelus focused on his dead student.
“Again, Memlus Arelus chose to do what no one else in his place would have.”
Or could have, Ali thought. Who else could transfer his life into another, bringing someone back from the dead?
Arelus placed both hands on Raikhon’s chest, sending pure Energy into him. Raikhon’s body rose and fell with the lightning. It felt like the Energy was jolting him back to life.
And it did. Miraculously, the Energy brought Raikhon back to life.
As Raikhon breathed again, Arelus trembled, his heart beating to a stop.
He had given up his life to save his own.
“Raikhon, wait for my heir.” The Sorcerer said with his dying breath.
As Memlus Arelus’s body fell to the ground, the walls of flame disappeared, and the Overlord broke free of the throne. His body fell to the ground as well, but he was only crippled. Writhing in pain, he screamed for his ministers to apprehend Arelus’s followers.
Ali zoomed into the skies again, watching as the eight wizards were imprisoned in a secret dungeon, far from Emansun.
“The rebellion died, and no one questioned the might of the Overlord for the next sixty years.”
Ali flew over Emansun once again. Time sped up, people went about their business, the struggles of their forebears constantly in their mind.
Todo
Improve this section.
“The Overlords were not benevolent, but they turned their mind from war to diplomacy. The Overlord who rose to the throne in the next few years was Jremkarst, he was not a very gifted Warlock, but he was sympathetic to peace. To that end, Jremkarst decided to expand his influence through diplomacy and he reached out to the western nation of Drome, marrying twice. First, he married a Cterian, and second, he married Kedhana, the third daughter of the Dromius.”
Note
Everything that follows this point is a work in progress. Portions of it are/may be missing and it is not recommended to read beyond this point.
This note is valid as of the build date for this version of the file.
Todo
(Ali sees a very whitewashed version of Krono-Kroman’s childhood)
(He also sees Kroman fall in love with Asya instantly, at a waterfall and he sees her in the nude. [Not what really happened but well, what I would have written as a 16 year old.])
(He sees Kroman being called back to the palace at Emansun. His father has died. His brother usurps the throne, and throws Kroman into a dungeon.)
(He sees Kroman break out of prison, saving a group of Arelus’s comrades.)
(He also sees Kroman’s assault on Emansun, and it manages to skim over most of the battle except how Kroman assaulted the main gate and found Yagnik. It increases his suffering in Yagnik’s hands and lengthens his transformation into a Sorcerer.)
(The voice speaks of Kroman and Asya’s marriage also.)
Asya clapped fervently. The entire story was grossly inaccurate, and if Kro had been here, he’d have hated attending it.
She turned around and nudged Nala, who was staring with an open mouth.
“Was that supposed to be educative?”
Nala was about 80 years old, but no one could tell at first glance. None of the 8 Wizards who had been trained by Arelus looked their age. Nala was the first woman to wield the Energy in ages. She headed the school of Energy-Wielding for young children, and she was also one of the most powerful Wizards around. She constantly advanced her skills and trained like the soldier that she was. That was primarily the difference between the real Nala and her portrayal on the Stage.
They were all soldiers. Memlus Arelus had raised them to fight.
Raikhon walked sideways, avoiding stepping on the feet of the other people sitting near Asya and made eye contact.
Kro, you were right. He’s angry.
She felt the ring on her hand. Crafted by Elwash to allow them to share thoughts and exchange messages telepathically as long of one of them was an Energy Wielder, the other ring was on Kro’s finger. She knew that he couldn’t hear her thoughts across such a distance. He wasn’t close, not in the least.
“Where is he?” Raikhon’s voice was hushed, he was worried that he wouldn’t like the answer.
Asya grinned. Nala hit herself on the forehead in realization.
“No!” The two Wizards said together in realization.
Asya laughed softly as she made her way past Raikhon, patting the elder man’s cheek.
There are several ways to look at Emansun’s great Sorcerer-King. You could look at him in awe, as the legendary being he is supposed to be. You could also fear his power, unreal and seemingly uncontrollable. Or, you could watch him as he picks an unnecessary fight with a friend just for sport.
Definitely the only way to understand Krono-Kroman.
Sin watched Kro as he faced his opponent, another legend in his own right – not that Sin would ever admit it, of course. He didn’t particularly like Gradii. These humans were more difficult to understand. They had a military existence, constantly training for battle, and they were endowed with incredible powers.
Kro took two steps towards the bulky man in front of him. The man flew at him, heat waves bending the air around him. He struck a powerful blow at Kro, who blocked it with an invisible wall of Energy.
You’re good, Ransu, but you need to put more effort if you want to beat the Sorcerer-King.
Sin had to admit, Kro was an incredible sight even when he wasn’t using his Sorcerer form. He stood there, black-haired and so short that no one would have suspected him for what he was. Then again, Sin wasn’t quite sure what Kro was. He knew Kro didn’t know much about his powers either.
Ransu reeled back and his hands lit up in fire. He yelled something, Sin wondered if the Gradii actually took to naming their attacks now.
“Fire fist!”
Sin groaned as a giant fist of fire flew towards Kro. The young wizard raised a hand and traced a circle with his palm. A golden-blue ring formed around his wrist. He thrust his palm forward and instantly a wave of sheer Energy shot out towards Ransu’s fire fist.
Not to be outdone, Ransu shot yet another fist out at Kro’s attack. The attacks collided, sending waves through the air around them. Sin held his ground, he almost lost his balance just then. He was tempted to test his own power in that environment, but he knew better. Elwash powers weren’t meant for wanton destruction such as this.
Kro grinned. He advanced, running towards Ransu with his arms extended outwards on either side. Ransu could have leapt out of the way, but of course he wouldn’t.
Kro forged the Energy into giant arms, extending outwards on either side. He swung his arms forward, clapping, and the arms of Energy followed suit.
Ransu bent immediately, huddling in a ball as the palms closed around him.
The resulting clap resounded through the hall, and the audience cheered.
Sin shook his head. Gradii were Energy Wielders, but not exactly the same as Kro and the other Wizards. They weren’t the same as the Warlocks of Cteria either. They were… strange. Sin’s father Esanara claimed that the Gradii were a young race of Humans. The next form of Human evolution, Esanara had said.
They were a clan of soldiers, their origins unknown to all but their highest ranks, and they were few in number. There was only one place where you could find Gradii, and that was in Strasfore. They’d inhabited this region for ages, and they had always avoided detection by the Cterians. Sin laughed. It was quite clever.
The Gradii controlled Elements of the World. That’s what they called it. Each of them had access to one form of the Energy. One of them, a deaf man called Joxatar, controlled Sound, keeping all the sounds coming from the Lookout, their “town”, hidden.
Note
Joxatar controls the frequency of sound.
The hall lit up with crimson and golden light.
Sin frowned. Almost all Gradii had only one element. A rare few, Sin knew only of three such, had two. This particular one, the Lord of all Gradii, had more.
There was a reason why he was called Ransu of the Three.
Lightning and fire burst out of the clutches of Kro’s Energy-clad hands.
They struck out at Kro. He reacted instantly, putting up a shield.
That was what Ransu wanted, of course. The Energy hands dissipated the moment Kro changed his focus, and the Gradius was free once again.
Ransu was undamaged, his right hand emanated flames, while his left controlled the lightning.
Sin would never admit it, but Ransu was a sight to fear.
Ransu walked towards Kro, increasing the intensity of his attacks. Sin understood why Kro wouldn’t let his ministers know that he’d come to fight in Ransu’s “tournament”. The Gradii were never ones to go soft on a contender. Why would they? They expected the same in kind. They healed faster than Elwash.
Ransu stopped and raised his hands, forming a giant ball of lightning and fire.
Kro released the shield and braced himself, his fists aglow with the Energy.
Sin smiled. It was about damn time.
The Gradius hurled the ball at Kro. The wizard put out his hands and stopped the ball midway with the Energy. Neither waivered as they pushed the ball towards one another.
The ball grew in size, fuelled by Ransu’s fervent push, and Kro’s seemingly endless Energy. Ransu didn’t look like he was going to keep up this pace any longer.
“Fifth Song! Flame Vines!”
The ball exploded, sending fire and lightning out towards the audience. Before it could reach anyone, a torrent of wind surrounded the arena, cutting off the attack before it could do any damage. Sin scoured the audience for sight of the Gradius who’d done that. He hadn’t met the Wind Gradius before.
The flames and lightning cleared away,
At the epicentre of the conflict, the area was scorched. Cracks spread across the floor, branching out like the lightning that possibly caused them.
Kro stood there, unscathed by the Gradius’s attack. Sin smiled approvingly. Kro had grown a lot in the last few years. Training like this amplified his base form, giving him greater control over his powers. Even Memlus Arelus would have been shocked at how strong Kro was even without using his Sorcerer powers.
But of course, his opponent wasn’t a weak Warlock.
Ransu breathed out, closing his eyes as he did so. For a moment, the hall was eerily calm.
“Sixth song! Full Flame Body!”
The audience burst out in cheers as Ransu glowed crimson once again. Flames covered his body like armour, and he rose off the ground. The air around him rippled, the heat was unbearable as the red flames spread outwards, arcing from one hand to another.
Kro nodded, as if in approval. He spread his legs and closed his eyes as he pulled in the Energy.
For a few moments, it was as though time stood still. The flames froze in place, and the rippling air froze.
The cracked and scorched ground splintered. The fractured rocks rose upwards and fell. Once, twice, thrice.
Kro’s hair stood on end, his clothes quivered with the Energy.
The flames rippled through the air once again as a purple dome formed around the wizard. Inside the dome, Krono-Kroman changed.
The splintered rock burst to powder, and the air cracked as if thunderstruck.
Sin had seen this tranformation dozens of times throughout the years, but it had never ceased being a sight to amaze.
Kro’s hair changed color, coated in white Energy. His pupils shrunk, his eyes were completely white now. His skin darkened, acquiring a dark bluish sheen because of the Energy.
“Finally,” a voice spoke behind Sintrei.
Another Gradius walked up to Sin, standing next to him. He was almost as tall as Sin himself, and he had a clean-shaved head. His eyebrows and facial hair were red, like Ransu’s flames.
“Radell,” Sin nodded. Radell was the Gradius of the Mist. He was a formidable foe, Sin remembered that he was one of the Gradii who’d come with Ransu to fight the Overlord’s armies during the coup.
Sure enough, it was quite a bit cooler now that Radell stood close to Sintrei. Smoke-like mist rose around him. Sin shook his head at the Gradius’s battle-hunger. This one was fuming that he couldn’t fight Kro! Or was he disappointed that he couldn’t fight Ransu?
“The limiter is six today. This shouldn’t take too long, if Krono-Kroman raises the stakes.” Radell stated.
“The limiter?” Sin replied before he could catch himself.
“Yes, the Gradius Song Limiter.” Radell said, as if that should make sense to anyone.
Sintrei remembered a little of the Gradius Limiter from his studies.
As far as he knew, there were about two dozen levels of power a Gradius could reach with their Element. Two dozen songs, they called them. Whatever that meant. They exercised control over their powers by limiting themselves to a random number. He wondered if this extended to their real battles as well. Knowing them, it probably did.
Finally, Sin intoned. They were about to get serious.
Krono-Kroman, the King of the Wizards was gone, and the Sorcerer-King stood in his place as the dome exploded in a soft burst of Energy.
Kro felt light headed. The transformation still did that to him. He tried to train as much as he could, but he seldom got a chance to cut loose and attack without being worried about someone’s health.
With the Gradii, he didn’t need to worry. They’d heal from any injury. In fact, he had his doubts about what Ransu’s true power limits really were.
What was the limiter again? He wondered. He looked at the gong hanging over the arena. It had the number eight emblazoned on it. That meant Ransu still had two songs he could use.
Two songs from each of his powers. That made a difference. That made all the difference.
Ransu of the Three was no ordinary Gradius.
Kro drew a deep breath. If he was going to be any challenge to the Lord of the Gradii, he had to up his game. He compressed the air as it went in through his throat. It was heating up, but he concentrated, extracting a ball of heat in his hands. The Energy had rules. It had to be conserved. The only thing Kro had control over was the direction whether it could flow. And the timing of it.
He melded air so that it would flow through the room in a spiral pattern. Sweat trickled down his face. The additional temperature around Ransu wasn’t making this any easier. He would need to take that into account.
Ransu wasn’t going to give him time for any of that.
Well, that’s why I have two lungs full of compressed air.
Ransu had total control over his original element, lightning. However, he favoured fire because it needed practise. Just like Kro, Ransu was constantly pushing himself to learn to control his elements.
Remember, he has a third element. It might not answer, but it is there. A voice rang in Kro’s head. He smiled. Keep out of this, grandfather.
I cannot, this is an interesting fight.
Kro drew in more air and arched back. He sensed Ransu drawing closer. The Gradius was going to use fire first.
“Seventh song! Spear of Flame!”
Ransu extended his right arm out, fingers extended as well as though he was slicing through air. He might as well have been, as a sharp spear-like flame burst from his arm, extending towards Kro.
Careful, air fuels flames.
Kro exhaled.
The spiral of air that he had been working with was almost ready, but he was using this dense ball of air as a distraction.
Ransu swore.
The moment the blade of air cut through the ball of concetrated air, it exploded.
Todo
Kro and Ransu begin their battle.
Kro doesn’t turn SK until Ransu starts level five. The battle is evenly matched till level five, and Kro turns on the heat on Ransu.
Ransu fights back, turning up to level 6, the Full Flame Body. He injures Kro, and that’s when Sin intervenes, firing an arrow from Enlya into the midst
Kro is injured, and Sin refuses to let the Gradii help him, using the Teyan-mass to take Kro back to Elvindore.
(Chapter ends with the journey.)