Chapter Eighteen
Fear was what empowered him, as he walked the halls. His hand traced the brickwork of the ancient school.
He knew it's cracks, where it had aged, and where masonry had prevailed.
He sighed heavily, pausing by a statue.
It saluted, and he nodded, "Report?"
The statue's voice echoed hollowly, "The Sixth Army of the Shadowlands is one day out, inbound."
Draco's face fell, "Then the Seventh is close behind. The Shadowlands are empty... And I doubt the Charter will hold those who were protected by the Shades."
The statue put a hand on his sword, "What are your orders, Headmaster?"
Draco winced, "Prepare for the death of the school. We will fight till we have all died... But this battle is already lost."
The statue moved away with a solemn grace, it's orders already passing to the others.
All over the school he could hear dull thumps as its protectors once again prepared to defend it.
Draco smiled grimly, the living statues were without a doubt the greatest invention of Headmaster Anderson, when he founded the school.
He foresaw the challenges to come... Draco winced, he wondered what Anderson would have done had he discovered the school together.
The man had been a prodigious talent, a master of Vitamancy, Aquamancy, Pyromancy and Ventusamancy.
His death had ended the age of the Founders, and the school had been slowly dying ever since.
It became harder and harder to find stable talent.
Accidents like Professor Bracken had continually occurred, year after year. Though, normally it wasn't a student who fixed the problem.
Ilgun scrambled over the rocks, his old evlish fingers struggling to find purchase, sending stones scattering down on his pursuers.
Queen Applesilver's magic had worked wonders.
The whole of the Bloodbound Pact had been evicted.
However, it also meant that anyone who had ever betrayed another had also been evicted.
And through his obsessions over his work, he had betrayed many people.
He felt his foot slip, and he crashed down into the darkness.
Ilgun smiled, despite the pain that told him he had broken his leg, or at least fractured it.
He was alone, if for but a moment.
He cast a quick spell, giving the ability to see in his small haven, and saw that he was in a cave, the ground covered nearly an inch in bat droppings, but the bats were still quietly asleep.
Ilgun waved a hand as he muttered, sending them into a coma.
Now he was free to work.
He needed to find a way back into the Elven Kingdom, without breaking the spell.
Ilgun frowned and began to sketch in the sand.
He knew a little about the spell, and a few other things he could guess, but his knowledge of it wad far.from sure. His scrying had been interrupted by an axe landing next to him.
And he couldn't scry without line of sight.
So what did he know?
It had been cast with Aimimancy, using Queen Applesilver's blood. She had been the last of the Applesilvers.
Which meant that only a Silvergate would now be able to tweak or break the spell.
However, those half-Elven pigs were busy attempting to defend the world from the Shadowlands, thinking that they alone could save the world.
Ilgun snorted at their arrogance, and cringed as he heard cries from above, his attackers searching for him, he had little time.
So, he couldn't tweak the spell.
So what exactly did it do?
It had evicted all dwarves, trolls and possibly traitors, possibly elves of ill-intent.
Evicted.
Ilgun smiled in the dark, Queen Applesilver had evicted them from the borders of the Elven Kingdom.
All he had to do was create a pocket inside the Kingdom that was its own space, not part of the Elven Kingdom, but protected by its spell and borders.
And Kilroy had taught him how to create a portal safely.
Little Slate knew he be not clever.
He be slow and very stupid.
He stood within a circle of the Brutes, the hard trolls, who had formed a wall, a brick against any who would interfere.
Little Slate stared at the circle, which lacked the body of the troll they be losing.
Isaac Isaac.
This was his goodbye... What did he used to call it? Furn... Furnaral?
Little Slate sighed heavily and walked forward, ready to address the people who had chosen him as Troll King.
Words disappeared.
Little Slate felt his shoulders buckle and tears form in his diamond eyes.
He felt a large hand land on his shoulder, and saw his big brother, Schism. He nodded, smiling, despite the tears in his own eyes.
Little Slate stood a little taller, and felt something deep inside him move, "Isaac Isaac was one of us!"
He heard the trolls snap to attention, as if they could feel the same thing.
"He was Troll King. He was strong. He was smart." Little Slate paused, surprised by the wolf-like anger in his voice. What did Isaac Isaac call it? Fearo... Never mind.
The new Troll King beat his chest, "We miss Isaac Isaac."
Then he raised his head to the sky, and let loose the trollish cry of... Pain.
He heard his brothers and sisters do the same.
All trolls screaming in pain.
Bea...you...to...full.
Beautiful.
A tear slipped down his stony face.
Suddenly his emotions changed, as he heard a crash of steel on steel.
He spun, glaring, and saw the dwarves that had surrounded them, attacking.
Little Slate let out a roar of rage, felt it consume him.
This was rage.
War-anger.
"Beaters! Defilers! Cutters and biters!" He roared, naming their crimes, the ways they broke Troll rule.
This was a Goodbye!
Little Slate snatched up his club from the ground and rushed towards them, followed by a thousand raging trolls.
Bracken screamed in agony.
It was all he had known, since Kyle Kilroy had torn his heart from his chest.
Kilroy was wrong.
Some things were necessary, and fear was nothing to be feared.
Why couldn't he see? The world needed Aimimancers.
Needed them.
To guide them, to change them, to remake them.
Without them, the world was lost.
The world stopped.
A thousand angry souls paused in mid-attack, and Bracken glared at the source.
He seemed alike to a man, but looks were deceptive.
Power emanated from the man like nothing Bracken had ever felt.
The figure smiled, "I have need of you, Bracken."
He frowned, "More torturous than this place?"
The figure shrugged, "A matter of perspective. I need you in the living world."
Bracken stood up, blood pouring off him, reshaping constantly, "What is it that you need me to do?"
The figure smiled, "Kill a dragon."
Bracken raised an eyebrow, "Kill Bellum Draco?"
The figure shrugged, "After that, you're free to do as you wish. You'll have both your soul and body. Your debt to me will not exist... So long as Draco dies."
Bracken grinned, "Then resurrect me already."
Wes strode into the room, grinning from ear to ear. He saw the elf turn, and glance over him without recognition.
Hardly surprising, the.portraits were terrible.
He shrugged, "Hi there, Braun. Got any brawn to back you up?"
The scythe appeared in the elf's hand, and he glared, "Who are you?"
He laughed, "Politeness first, fighting later. I am Wes Anderson, and in fact, I'm one of the Founders. I helped build this College, and seven others... It was an amazing age, Braun. We were pushing the limits of magic, and still, we were.finding new magics... That being said, I never did get a chance to learn Messormancy."
Braun glared at him, "Then you'd be dead. I don't see a debt in you, though."
Wes.rolled his eyes, "There is a debt. But, he gave me a body and the cost is simple. Your life."
Braun launched himself forwards, the thin blade slicing the air in front of him, but Wes simply laughed. A strand of Vitamancy wrapped around the scythe, causing it to attack it's master.
Braun dismissed it, and Wes felt something dark grab his soul, attempting to eat it.
He ignored it and grabbed Braun by his shirt and yanked him into a headbutt, dropping the man on the floor.
Wes looked down at the dazed elf, "Is that really all you can do? A bit of wild Messormancy and you're done?"
He shook his head, as a sword of fire and wind appeared in his hand, "Say hello to the King for me."
Candice pushed her hair out of her eyes as the sand began to whip up around them, she spoke muffled through the cloth over her mouth, "Welcome to the outskirts, Kilroy."
Kyle seemed entirely unfazed by the sand whipping at him, and shrugged, "Sort of."
Candice frowned, "What do you mean?"
Kyle out a hand in the air, a clump of sand surrounded him, and he smiled grimly, "This is a magical occurrence. Not just the weirdness of the Shades. We have a welcoming party incoming."
Candice shrugged immediately tensed, two flames burning in her hands as she struggled to see through the dust that was pricking at her face.
Normally the sensation would feel like a relief. Feel like home... But not here.
Not now.
Kyle suddenly tensed, "Messormancy. Hide."
Candice dropped to the ground, allowing the sand to hide her from sight, her.flames winking out.
She heard footsteps at length, grinding and crunching as they stepped across the ground.
The sand suddenly stopped and collapsed to the ground.
She heard a voice, but she couldn't tell how close it was. It vibrated the ground, and latched onto the fear inside her.
"Come out, little play things. I have a lesson to teach."
There was a gust of air and Kyle exploded out of the sand beside her, in fact, she was nearly certain that he had managed to turn himself to sand.
But she knew the risks, and shot up as quickly as she could, which felt sort of slow motion.
A fireball shot from her hands, vanishing from sight as the flames grew too hot to see.
There was a man standing there, smug and sure.
In other circumstances Candice would probably wonder what he'd be like in bed. As it was, the gorgeous faerie sort of ignored the impact of her fireball as the ground beneath him turned into a hundred spikes ramming through his body.
Kyle instantly began muttering, preparing a spell, but the faerie opened his hand, a scythe appearing in it.
He brushed the spikes away like he was shooing a fly and stepped forward, the blade of the scythe swinging almost casually at Kyle.
The necromancer grabbed the blade and wrenched, tossing the scythe aside, his hand became a sword and he rammed it through the Reaper's throat.
The Reaper rolled his eyes as the scythe vanished midair, and reappeared in his hand. He headbutted Kyle backwards and swung his blade upwards.
Kyle.collapsed onto the ground as the sand turned red.
Candice suddenly realized that she was now the focus of attention.
The Reaper grinned, "The Shadowlands are closed, even to the last of the Silvergate clan."
Then she was on the ground, unable to breath.
Her thoughts were scattered, fleeing her, but the last thing she could think was simple enough.
She was dying.
Abigail stepped back into the room, a plate of food in her hand, "Braun, I actually managed to find something edible!"
The salad tumbled, the plate shattering on the ground.
Abigail was beside Braun before it had begun moving, her hand touching his cheek, staring at the hole were his heart used to be.
He was gone.
She heard a juicy crunch and looked up, staring at a man she had killed, eating a heart.
Wes grinned, "Hey girl."
Abigail stood up, the lights in the room began to flicker.
Wes dropped the heart, wiping his hands on his pants, "Oh, I'm sorry, did you care.for him?"
Abigail clenched her fists, feeling the familiar feeling of wood.as the scythe appeared in her hand.
Wes shrugged, "Aren't you a little.curious? You killed me. I was already a ghost, so you kinda exploded my soul... But here I am, in.the flesh."
Abigail sneered, "I can see the magic binding you. You were sent to the Clearing House when I killed you... Now the only question is, which member.of the Court.sent you here."
Wes shrugged, "Oh well. I guess there's nothing else to say."
He yelled a spell, the entire contents.of the room was tossed backwards by the wind, but Abigail's hair barely moved. She smiled softly, "That all you have? I thought you were a Founder?"
Then she swung her scythe, and the wind reversed, pinning Wes to the brickwork, cracking the wall.and shattering the windows.
She strode.forward, feeling the magic inside her like an old friend. She knew it now, understood it's nuances.
She placed the tip of her blade on the inside of Wes' left leg, and.grinned, "Don't screw with things you don't understand, boy."
Wes winced and tried to smile, "It was worth a shot."
Abigail spun around, her blade a blur.
She heard him slump to the ground as blood dripped from the scythe.
But she wasn't done yet.
She felt the soul twitch, and spun back, holding out her hand.
Wes gasped, suddenly dangling in the air.
Abigail cocked her head, "You're not going back to the Clearing House, not this time."
Wes' terrified face sank to a deathly yellow, "Please... Mercy... Just bind me here... I'll be a ghost. I won't be able to do anything!"
Abigail shook her head, "You ate the heart of one of the few people I have ever been able to call a friend."
She clenched her fist, and the soul turned to confetti.
A brick tumbled from the roof above her, and she winced.
He had been a Founder... And now his magic no longer worked.
A doorway collapsed with a sound akin to thunder, and Abigail winced, sitting down beside Braun's body, feeling the soul still bound to his body.
She smiled, breaking the tender threads, letting him go free.
But as Braun's soul vanished, moving on, something went with him. A small spell.
Abigail felt her face harden and she stood up, and the room she was in stopped collapsing. She needed to concentrate. This was something dangerous, insane, and.totally her.
She flicked her wrist, generating a wand.of Messormancy and Vitamancy.
It had been a long time since she held.a wand, almost felt like a lifetime. She smiled, for Kyle, it had been.
She flicked her wrist.fluidly, and a circle embedded itself in the floor.
Another circle appeared somewhere else.
Now all she had to do, was join them.
For Kyle, he had had to steal energy from the end of the universe. For her, it was simpler.
She stole hers from the other end of the tunnel.
The circle flickered for a moment, and then there was an ungodly roar as the Portal opened, and more magic than she had ever felt began to tear through her, just to sustain it remaining open.
There was a pop, and a Dryad appeared beside her, "Stop! This is madness!"
Abigail shrugged, "That's what I'm best at, remember?"
Duke shot a bolt of Vitamancy at her, and it lodged somewhere inside.
Everything changed.
The anger inside her, the rage that dwelt just below the surface, it stirred.
She'd always felt like she was watching, when the Messormancy overpowered her, like a hungry tiger on the attack.
Not this time.
It was hers, her rage. Her anger. Her power.
She reached out and seized his soul, sitting there in.the fabric of magic, and twisted.
Duke screamed, dropping to the ground, holding his head. Abigail sneered, "You are Broken."
He stared up at her, "Why? Why would you do that?"
Abigail sneered, "And now I'll take your soul."
She moved faster than he could even breathe, and his head tumbled to the ground.
She turned back to the Portal, ready to take her to the Other Side.
"I am Death, and your debt is done."