Tank looked around suspiciously. The tavern was almost empty.
There was an old
hag sitting collapsed in the corner, barely recognisable as a
human being (if
indeed she was human at all). He could sense a subtle gathering
of power in
this place, yet could not feel its source. As he scanned the room
carefully,
he could also see three orcs and a handful of trolls. This was
definitely not
one of the better inns around.
"Why did he insist we meet here, of all places?"
he asked himself rhetorically as he waited with a barely
controlled impatience.
Of course, he knew the answer. The man he was to meet blended in
here, he was
part of the crowd. Tank himself would never have been able to set
foot in a
place like this. A very basic illusion spell had transformed him.
He now looked
like a large ugly mean troll that no-one would risk attacking. He
turned
swiftly as someone entered the inn. A small weaselly man, looking
furtively
around him slid up to the bar and stood there nervously. Tank
approached him
and watched his expression turn to one of fear. As Tank stooped
over him, he
cringed away.
"Are you Sorse?"
The man was obviously too scared to answer, but Tank couldn't
risk giving away
his identity to a stranger. He shook the little man menacingly.
"I said, are you Sorse? Answer me!"
The little man managed to stammer out
"Yes, yes, I'm Sorse, that's me, please don't kill
me..."
Tank let go of him and said pleasantly
"I am Tank. Can we talk here?"
"But, Tank's human... you're a.... well... you aren't what I
expected."
"Ever heard of the powers of illusion? Now, are we safe
here?"
"No, no, we should go back here."
The scrawny little man led the way through a dimly-lit low
doorway to a small
dingy room and shut the door firmly.
"No-one will bother us here."
"So, what information do you have for me?"
"It's about Stress...."
"Ahhh.... good."
Tank smiled evilly.
"I can tell you where you can find her, but it'll cost
you."
"How much?"
As the little man started to speak, the door was flung open and
the old hag
that Tank had seen outside in the tavern staggered in. Tank felt
the hairs on
the back of his neck stand on end. He could feel the background
power in the
room start to rise. The fiery amulet he always wore around his
neck begin to
glow softly with a gentle heat.
"I thought you said no-one would bother us", hissed
Tank, "Get rid of
her."
The little man walked over to the hag and was just about to order
her out of
the room when he seemed to falter slightly. He clutched at his
chest and slid
to the floor, face contorted agonisingly. Tank felt the upsurge
of power, and
instinctively raised his personal shields, just in time to
deflect a blue
lightning bolt of pure energy. He stared at the old hag and said
incredulously,
"You!"
As he stared at her, she seemed to shimmer and suddenly she was
no longer the
foul hag that had entered the room. She stood proud and tall, a
beautiful
elegant blonde wearing a long silver dress and a silver necklace
with a
lightning bolt pendant.
"Stress!"
She smiled at him icily.
"Surely you didn't think I'd allow him to tell you? Credit
me with a
little more intelligence please. And now....."
She fired another lightning bolt at him so fast that he barely
had time to
deflect it. He said, fast
"Surely you know the rules, no fighting near normals! We
should go to
the Duel Ground."
She stared at him for a moment then relaxed,
"Of course we should."
and she smiled sweetly at him. A cloud of silvery mist coalesced
around her and
cleared away to nothing. Tank was a little suspicious about her
almost eager
acquiescence and decided to play it safe. He let his illusion
spell drop and
stood revealed as a tall strong man, with an aquiline face,
piercing brown eyes
and long black hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Most women
would have called
him handsome and many had in the past. Now, however, he was
obsessed with one
woman, the one woman who could rival him. He knew he was destined
to become
ArchWizard when the present incumbent passed on. Unfortunately,
Stress had
become so powerful that she was likely to thwart his plans unless
he dealt with
her, and soon. He sighed heavily. She was a beautiful woman, and
if only she
hadn't been a wizard he would have relished the idea of forming a
relationship
with her. He chanted a short Incantation of Invisibility and
vanished in a puff
of smoke. He decided to go over to the Duel Ground and see what
trap she had
set for him.
Stress waited at the Duel Ground, tapping her foot impatiently.
She
wondered what trickery he was up to that was taking him so long.
He was her
main enemy - she knew that if she did not kill him or remove his
powers for
good then he would destroy her. She gathered her power around her
like a cloak
and waited. The Duel Ground was a small clearing in a large area
of uninhabited
land. Enclosed by trees, it was shielded thoroughly so that no
magic could
escape and do any damage to any normals. Tank stood there,
invisible and
shielded, and watched her. As far as he could see, she hadn't set
any trap for
him. This was puzzling. He hoped he wasn't underestimating her as
he had done
in the past. That time she had nearly killed him. It would not
happen again.
He thought back...
He had been self-obsessed at the time, self-important, he could
see
that now. He had been known throughout the land as the ArchWizard
Elect and
everyone knew his name and face. He had received the homage due
his exalted
position and had enjoyed every minute. He had had his choice of
everything in
the land - food, wine and even women if he chose. And he often
did choose,
from amongst the kingdom's most proud, elegant and fair maidens,
be they wed
or unwed. He had even chosen some of the wives of the nobility on
occasion and
they had been granted to him albeit extremely unwillingly. He
knew he was
making enemies amongst the peers of the realm but he did not
care. After all
he was the ArchWizard Elect and would rule over them someday.
Then, unbeknownst
to him, a group of these disaffected noblemen got together and
devised a plan
to bring about his downfall, the one plan that had even a slight
chance of
succeeding. They chose, from amongst the ranks of the minor
wizardry, a wizard
who, they believed, had the inherent power to defeat Tank. A
young girl, called
simply Stress. They had tutored her as best they were able in
strategy and
tactics of fighting an enemy known to be extremely powerful. An
old wise mage
had been found who would teach her the arcane arts she would need
to rise in
power. She had far outstripped his meagre teachings and he had
imparted his
last secret to her as he lay dying. He told her the location of
the Cave of
All Knowledge. The whereabouts of the Cave was a closely guarded
secret, known
only to the top echelon of wizards in the realm. She had made her
way there
alone as decreed by the Sacred Laws of MageCraft and had learned
her mystic
arts. She had learned them all too well, thought Tank bitterly as
he
remembered the day they had met.
He had heard that there was to be a Fayre on the lands of one
Lord
Fasengal, a lord who was known for his liking for young,
beautiful women
surrounding him. It would be amusing to attend and take his pick,
he had
thought, not realising that the whole idea of the Fayre was a
trap set to catch
and destroy him. He had arrived at the Fayre late, to make an
appropriate
entrance. As he had crossed the stone lintel into the large
cobbled courtyard,
the hum of chatter and bustle had abruptly ceased. Looking around
him,
satisfied he had made an impression on all present, he had noted
the large
number of colourful stalls displaying trinkets, household goods,
and every
possible foodstuff you could wish to buy. He had realised that
this was
obviously an important Fayre and he would have been expected to
attend anyway.
He had strolled casually through the thronged crowd towards the
castle keep.
As he had expected, Lord Fasengal had come out to meet him and
had bowed
before him as was fitting, but with a barely concealed distaste.
Tank
remembered thinking that he ought to watch the man for a while,
that his
attitude only boded trouble. Lord Fasengal's lady wife, the Lady
Becra had
curtseyed low as had her retinue of ladies behind her. Almost
immediately,
Tank had noticed one girl he hadn't seen there before. A tall
willowy blonde,
she had caught his eye instantly, especially as she seemed so
palpably innocent
and naive. He had smiled at her and she had immediately smiled
back shyly. It
had seemed that she liked the look of him too. He had been
pleased, as he
preferred them willing.
Walking around the Fayre in company with Lord Fasengal and his
lady
wife, Tank had contrived to drop behind until he was walking
level with the
girl. He had smiled down at her and asked her name.
"Stress, my Lord", she had replied demurely, not
looking directly at
him.
"Look at me, child", he had commanded and had forced
her chin up until
her eyes met his. He had felt a shock pass through him, almost
like a spark of
lightning. He had seen into the bluest eyes imaginable, as deep
as still pools
of clear water and as blue as cornflowers. He had known even then
that she
would be important in his life, but at that stage he had assumed
erroneously
that she would be simply one of his women, perhaps the woman he
would take to
wife. It had not seemed necessary to inquire into her
antecedents, a wizard
could have or marry whomever he deemed worthy regardless of
birthright. She
had blinked shyly, and he had realised that he had been staring
deep into her
eyes for the space of twenty heartbeats or more. He released her
chin and
strode up to Lord Fasengal.
"That one, Stress. She's mine tonight." he ordered
coldly.
"As you wish, my Lord" replied the man with an air of
veiled insolence.
He had again reminded himself to watch the man closely, then had
strolled back
to join Stress. He had remained at her side for the rest of the
day, totally
bemused that such a slip of a girl could have an effect on him.
Lord Fasengal
had watched him and smiled secretly. The day had passed all too
quickly for
Tank's liking. He had enjoyed the feeling of actually thinking
about another
person's feelings although he had wondered what was so special
about this
girl that he should fall for her here and now.
Later that night, there had been a tentative knock at Tank's
door. He
had grinned wolfishly and, dressed only in his black trousers,
had gone to
answer the door. Stress had stood there dressed only in a sheer
white silk
robe, and looking more than a little scared.
"Come in, child" he had said gently, and she had seemed
to relax
slightly.
He had led her over to the bed and they had been both seated side
by side on
the edge. She had not seemed to have any idea of what was
expected of her.
"Have you ever been intimate with a man, child?" he had
asked her
almost tenderly.
She had blushed a delicate shade of pink.
"N-No, my Lord" she had stammered nervously.
He had smiled down at her scared face and had decided to be
gentle. He had
given pleasure as well as taken his own that night, he remembered
almost
fondly. Then, and his face darkened with suppressed fury as he
remembered,
afterwards, he had lain there, feeling relaxed and satiated. She
had proven to
be an intuitive lover, surprisingly good for a virgin. He had
just been
dropping off to sleep, all his protective shields down. his
defences lowered,
when a blast of pure raw ice-energy had shattered its way through
his system,
destroying his careful power-barriers that all mages were taught
never to
break. His own power had backlashed through his amulet and
channelled itself
through his unprotected body in a maelstrom of vicious flame. As
his vision
had been obscured by the rising power-flames he could see her
face, no longer
innocent and naive, but triumphant and powerful. Secure in the
knowledge of
his defeat, she had let him see her for what she was, another
wizard and what
was more an ice enchantress, and a mortal enemy. Gathering the
shreds of his
control over his power, he screamed out an instinctive
translocation spell.
He had spent days in the protected grotto at the ArchWizard's
palace,
alternately writhing in agony or raving deliriously about the
vengeance he
would exact upon her for her betrayal at his moment of
vulnerability. The
ArchWizard had not been able to interfere with the healing
process, as it was
a process of natural selection amongst wizards. Those who could
survive such
attacks would ultimately be stronger. Also, this was not the
first attempt on
Tank's life. He had been attacked before, and survived. The
ArchWizard just
hoped he could survive this also. His flesh had been semi-melted
by the
hideous energies that had poured through him and his whole body
had been
deformed and warped by the flux that had coursed through him.
After many months, he had fought back to almost his former
strength.
He could tell his powers were slightly diminished by the attack
which had so
nearly cost him his life, and he had given thanks to his God that
he still had
any power. By rights, he should have been left a helpless
vegetable after an
assault of that magnitude. She had nearly cost him everything, he
reflected
bitterly. He remembered a conversation he had had with the
ArchWizard at the
time.
"My son, you must accept that you now have a rival for the
ArchWizard
nomination, and a powerful one." the ArchWizard had said
quietly.
"I must destroy her" he had said bitterly and with a
great anger.
"Do not do anything rash. She is strong, and you are weak
still. As
fire can destroy ice, so ice extinguishes fire. Be wary."
the ArchWizard had
cautioned wisely.
The ArchWizard was neither a fire mage nor an ice enchanter. He
was part of
one of the oldest disciplines that existed, an earth sorcerer.
There were many
classes of wizard in the kingdom of Krystalar, each affiliated
with a certain
element or type of magic. There were the fire mages, the ice
enchanters, earth
sorcerers and spirit magicians who dealt with air magic, the
magic of the
winds. Then there were perhaps the most powerful of all in an
evil way, the
necromancers. Their magic concerned death and blood, every
incantation
requiring blood or pain to work. Any warlock associated with this
type of
magic relished the pain and suffering caused by their
incantations. Going
back a hundred years, there had been a furious battle with the
necromancers.
They had seen that the normal people living in the realm could be
enslaved and
made to do their bidding. They had delighted in the suffering
they had caused
until all the other wizards and an angry army of peasants had
banded together
and banished them in a pitched battle that had lasted for
seventeen days. Many
of the wizards had been killed or diminished in power and many
peasants had
died, but the necromancers had been defeated in the end.
Unfortunately this
war of wizardry had led to a general dislike and distrust of
magic in general,
for too many people had been seen to die horribly in agony at the
hands of the
necromancers. Many towns and villages banished magic totally, and
some even
had bands of vigilantes who called themselves witchhunters. These
people
became the ultimate authority on who was a witch and therefore,
under their
rules, must die. Luckily, it had soon been seen that these people
were
exceeding their authority and settling old grudges. The hatred of
wizardry had
slowly been forgotten. However, amongst the wizards, hatred of
their own kind
was rife. Each discipline tended to have its own character traits
- the fire
mages were impulsive generous people, with quick tempers that
would flare up
just as fire does when stirred up. Ice enchanters were cold
people, calculating
yet intensely loyal. They did not lose their tempers quickly, but
bore long
lasting animosity for those who were foolish enough to cross
them. Earth
sorcerers were very blunt, down to earth people. Their characters
were very
open, and they never lied. The spirit magicians were dreamy
people whose power
lay in the winds and words. They wrote wonderful stories and
poems, but always
seemed to live in their own little world. Each discipline bore a
dislike of
the others instinctively built up by the rivalry between them.
The worst clash
however was between fire and ice. These two hated each other with
an
unrivalled passion. Every fire or ice wizard, as he was schooled
in magic, was
taught to hate the other.
"Ice is fragile, fire is strong. I will destroy her. This I
vow." swore
Tank grimly.
He could remember his fury and rage at her betrayal, especially
when he had
realised that she had set an allure spell on him to ensnare him.
An allure
spell was not really an illusion as such. It preyed on the mind
of the target,
making the attributes of the caster more noticeable, beauty,
grace and
elegance would be instantly obvious to the target. The problem
with these
spells was that they were virtually undetectable once set, as
they required no
magic to sustain, they fed off the indefinable power of the
atmosphere mainly,
to create an attraction between two people. He stood in the Duel
Ground now
staring into her proud face, still stunned by her beauty. An
allure spell
never wore off unless the caster released the target, and Stress
had not done
this.
Stress was also thinking back to her past, but she was thinking
of a
different time, the first time she had met Tank. She doubted he
would remember
as they had exchanged barely three words and she had been
different then, but
she remembered it as if it were yesterday. It had been back in
the days when
wizardry was hated vehemently. She had disguised her magic as
best she could
and had survived undetected for many years, until one day she was
walking down
the muddy main street of a small town and a group of ten riders
wearing red
cloaks had encircled her. They were each wearing gold medallions
around their
necks with the symbol of a hand grasping a lightning bolt etched
on the front.
'Witchhunters!' she thought, with a small shiver of terror. 'They
can't
know! Play it cool. Tell them what they want to hear. Be
convincing.'
The leader of the gang of thugs spoke
"Yes I'd say she's a witch all right. Good looking girl too.
Maybe a
little party with us could force the magic out of her."
The men grinned and the leader looked at her with a look she
knew. He wanted
her, she could tell. She was wearing rags and was grimy from head
to toe, but
obviously these men weren't fussy.
"Get hold of her, and pin her down" the leader ordered.
She decided that this was a good time to run, and run she did,
screaming her
head off. However, the men were on horseback, and easily caught
up with her.
She started kicking screaming and biting, and the leader laughed
"Quite the little hellcat, isn't she? You won't have so much
spirit
once we've finished with you, my pretty"
He grabbed her and tossed her easily through the window of a
nearby inn. She
landed hard amidst a pile of broken glass, winded but as yet
unhurt. She had
a quick glimpse of where she was. It was a typical tavern, grimy,
dank and
musty. There were people here at the tables, none remarkable
except for one
unusual man. sitting at a table near the broken window. He was
tall and
handsome, and wearing a simple black tunic with a black cape held
at the
shoulders with gold clasps. Gold? She stiffened slightly. Only
the most
powerful influential people could afford gold. He had to be
either a wizard or
a lord's man. The lord here had been in favour of burning all the
wizards
and had actually burned three that he had caught. She scrambled
hurriedly to
her feet, and looked around her frantically. She knew what the
man must be
seeing. A grimy figure, dressed in filthy rags, with a stained
cowl covering
face and hair. She turned swiftly as the witchhunters burst
through the door,
and the cowl fell back from her face. Even through the covering
of dirt that
smudged her classic features, she still looked very pretty. She
backed away
as the witchhunters advanced on her. and shook her head to try
and clear her
thoughts after the fall.
'No chance of magic,' she was thinking desperately, 'too many
witnesses.'
She cast around desperately for an idea, any idea of how to get
out of this.
She could not fight ten men alone. She knew that these men were
just claiming
she was a witch so they could have their way with her and still
be protected
by their lord's laws. She cursed the necromancers silently for
bringing about
this hatred of magic. The man she had seen earlier was looking
disgusted with
the whole scene and suddenly he got to his feet and crossed the
room. He
tapped the leader on the shoulder.
"Stand aside, peasant" was the response. "This
does not concern you!"
The stranger smiled. It was not a pleasant smile at all. It gave
whoever was
on the receiving end the impression that they had just offended a
really
important person and they were about to find out just how much in
broken
bones. The leader started to get a little nervous
"I said, stand aside." and his voice trembled slightly
so it had the
effect of being more of a plea than an order. The man didn't
looked at all
worried that he was facing ten armed men. In fact he looked as if
he was
enjoying this.
'Another fool determined to get himself killed,' Stress thought.
The
leader regained some self-control.
"I will ask you one more time. Stand aside, this is not your
concern!"
His voice was arrogant and sure of itself. She knew who he was.
He was called
Cyrinos, and he was a very powerful man in the area. His hand
reached down for
his sword, but never made it. The tall stranger's hand moved
suddenly and
buried itself in Cyrinos' solar-plexus without seeming to move
through the
intervening air. As Cyrinos doubled over he was rendered
unconscious by a
quick chop to the back of the neck.
'Then again, maybe not,' thought Stress as another was dealt with
by a
high kick to the forehead and a third dropped with a headbutt.
'Can't let him have all the fun,' she thought as she picked up
her
quarterstaff. The witch hunters were so busy trying to deal with
the stranger
that they didn't notice Stress sneak up behind them. She dropped
two before
they even noticed she was there. Two of the remainder turned on
her. She
drove her quarterstaff hard under the chin of the first whilst
tripping the
second up with the other end. As the first crumpled to the floor
unconscious
she leapt onto the second as he fell, driving his head hard
against the floor.
She looked up ready to deal with the next one, but the stranger
had
already dealt with the remaining three. The first he had casually
thrown
through out through the window, the second must have been
crippled by the power
of the kick that was dealt to his midsection and the third was
groaning through
a broken nose and shattered teeth. The stranger walked over to
her, smiled and
offered her a hand to help her up.
"Hello. My name is Tank. Are you hurt?" he asked.
She slapped his hand aside and stood up.
"I didn't need your help," she snapped.
"Sorry I interfered," he said, "but I hate
witchhunters as much as
you seem to and I simply couldn't resist."
'Cocky one this,' she thought. "Maybe, but do you know who
you just
assaulted?" she asked pointing at Cyrinos.
"I don't know, some farm boy who got too big for his
boots?" Tank
replied with a smile.
"That is Cyrinos!" Stress said, in amazement that he
didn't seem to
know who Cyrinos was.
"And? Is that supposed to mean something?" he asked
raising an eyebrow.
"Cyrinos is appointed head witchhunter by the Lord Nerol
himself," a
voice from the door roared. Both Tank and Stress looked up. An
armed party
stood in the doorway. "To assault him is an insult to our
lord!" Tank smiled
evilly.
'He has one serious death-wish', thought Stress.
"No, that is not an insult to your lord," Tank said
with a large grin
on his face, "To insult your lord is to call him a fat
pompous twit, which he
is by the way."
"Insolent cur! You go too far!" the voice roared.
"I haven't even started yet, and if I had known who this
piece of
filth was I wouldn't have gone so easy on him," Tank
murmured stamping down
hard on Cyrinos' leg, breaking it. The man in the doorway reached
for his
sword.
"Pull that and things will get ugly!" Tank threatened.
"You will die for your insolence!" the thug cried.
"Eventually, but not today!" Tank smirked. His hands
flashed and a
dagger flew from its concealed sheath and buried itself up to the
hilt in the
thug's throat.
"What's that? I can't hear what you are saying?" Tank
asked as the thug
fell to his knees.
"Let me guess.... 'charge'?" Tank leapt forward at the
rest of the mob
who began to pour in through the door. One raised his sword and
swung it at
Tank. Tank blocked it with his forearm.
'That should have sliced his arm off,' thought Stress as she
leapt into
the fray.
"I'm glad I sewed these metal bars into my sleeves,"
said Tank,
grinning, "not only does it make a saving on blood but it
puts them off-
balance!" Whilst the thug was still staring at his sword in
puzzlement, Stress
dropped him with a hard swipe of the quarterstaff.
Tank's hand flashed beneath his cape and drew a long sword from
its
scabbard. The sword was very old, and glowed with a golden hue
from the
reflected sunlight. Tank began to move with the smooth, calm
grace of an
experienced sword fighter. He had beheaded four of his opponents
before they
had a chance to regroup.
"Throw down your weapon and we may let you live," cried
one of the
witch hunters, "or face us and die!"
"Damn!" Tank murmured, "there is no easy way out
of this one."
"I still have my sword, why do I need to surrender?"
asked Tank.
'He's not so cocky now,' thought Stress, 'I haven't cloaked two
people
in a long while. I'm not sure I can do it.'
"Yes but we have thirty swords to your one!" yelled the
new self-
appointed leader of the gang. Tank appeared to make a decision.
'He's dead,' thought Stress, 'and he looked so nice!'
"Yes, but none of your swords can do this!" remarked
Tank. His eyes
flared for a second and then his sword seemed to catch fire. Tank
cackled and
raised his sword. The witch hunters decided they had had enough
for one day
and turned tail and fled.
'Oh no,' thought Stress, 'he's a fire mage!' She wondered for a
second
whether she should stay, this Tank seemed so nice, but then
self-preservation
took over and she cast the spell of cloaking and faded into the
background.
Tank had felt the sudden ice-power build-up and spun round
instantly
on the alert, but Stress was gone.
"An ice enchantress, that's all I need." he said aloud
grimly. The
loathing that had been drummed into him since childhood, the
instant hate
between the two opposite factions of magic: fire and ice burned
deep in his
soul.
"Next time," he vowed to the empty air, "I will
kill you."
Stress waited, invisible in the background and watched.
'You have to find me first' she thought smugly. 'And you don't
even
know my name.'
Then the nobles had approached her and she had jumped at the
chance.
She had learned a lot more about Tank, and knew him to be
arrogant and
thoughtless of other people's feelings. She did not think he
would make a
good ArchWizard. Also she knew deep within herself that she would
make a good
Wizard and had the power to become a rival possibly for the
ArchWizard post.
They had trained her for a year themselves on attack and strategy
and this
training was to be very useful in years to come. Then the ice
enchanter they
had found had come and tutored her in magic. He had been
astounded at the raw
power he had seen within her. He had helped her make her own
pendant, her
talisman that would channel her power safely through her without
consuming her
completely. Only wizards of the ninth circle and above required
these talismans
as any lower it was safe to channel that energy through their
bodies. Wizards
were regarded as of the first circle to the twelfth, twelfth
being highest.
The enchanter who taught Stress had been of the tenth circle but
once she had
reached the tenth circle he had not been able to teach her any
more. He was
very old, and this tutoring was his last service to save the
wizards from a
grave mistake, that of promoting Tank to ArchWizard. When he had
taught her
all he knew, he had told her the secret of the Cave of All
Knowledge, where
all wizards must go to learn the final arcane arts. She
remembered that time
in the Cave very well. It was a cold January night when she set
out. alone, as
was required. She carried nothing with her, for her arts could
provide warmth
and food when necessary. She trekked through the snow, and
followed the
directions the old mage had given her. Eventually, she came to a
cave
entrance, and she knew this must be it, the Cave of All
Knowledge. It was dark
inside the cave, and looked ominous. She knew it wasn't going to
be easy to
survive the ordeal that lay ahead of her, and that if she failed,
she would
die. She summoned up all her courage and stepped into the cave.
As soon as she set foot in the cave, it was lit from somewhere,
she
could not tell where, by a soft incandescent light. She gazed
around her in
wonder at the gorgeous crystals lining the walls of the cave.
There were
diamonds and rubies worth a king's ransom just lying on the
floor! However, she
reasoned this would be the first test, for she knew that to pass
this test,
you had to be totally unconcerned with personal gain. She herself
did not feel
any need for precious gems, when a simple illusion spell could
create them
for her. She walked past all this splendour, and into the next
cave. Here,
there were books lining the walls, books on any subject you could
name. A
little voice in her head said, 'You know, if you read these
books, you would
know everything! You would be the ruler of the world, the one
everyone respects
and admires. You would be ArchWizard, and Queen of the World.'
She laughed to
herself. Yet another attempt to distract her from the true reason
she came
here. She passed on. In the next cave, she saw the first person
she had seen
since she entered. A very handsome man was standing there, and as
she entered
he looked up. She could see the amazement and admiration in his
eyes. He walked
over to her and took her hand. Then finally he spoke, and his
rich deep voice
echoed through her soul.
"You must be the most beautiful woman in the world." he
said, "I was
told to come here, to find my dreams and true happiness. And I
found it. You
are my happiness."
He smiled at her, and she felt her heart begin to melt.
"Come away with me" he said, "I am a prince in my
lands, beyond the
sea. You will be revered and loved by my people, and we will be
wed in a
ceremony such as you have never imagined."
She shook her head, trying to clear it of the confusion she felt.
For
she was attracted by this man, and she felt that she too would
find happiness
married to him. Then she threw her head back and laughed. The man
looked
confused.
"Why do you laugh, light of my life?" he asked,
puzzled.
She smiled sadly at him and walked away. She had finally realised
that this
was another trick to distract her from her true purpose.
"Don't go! You take my happiness with you! Don't leave
me!", he cried
after her, his voice poignantly sad.
She almost stopped and went back, then shook herself mentally,
and continued
going. She looked back over her shoulder, and the man was no
longer there, the
cave behind her in darkness.
As she entered the next cave, she realised she had come through
the
first barrier, that of temptation. She had refused the
distraction of personal
wealth, learning and love. Now she was to be tested on a
different level, that
of power. She had a split seconds warning, enough time to erect
solid barriers
of power around her, before the first blast of power struck. She
could not see
where the attack was coming from, but she endured it all, the
lightening bolts,
the fireballs, the other spells cast at her. And her shields
held. Finally the
attacks died away, but she still did not drop her guard. Which
was just as
well really, because a few minutes after the last attack, time
enough for any
inexperienced person to conclude the attacks were over, a final
blast of raw
power consumed her. She stood firm and unharmed within it, and
then it all was
over.
As the air around her cleared, she saw a human-like figure, made
of
pure light, approaching her. It spoke, and its voice echoed in
the clear air
of the cave.
"You have passed the first two tests, those of personal
gain, and of
strength. Why now do you come here?"
"I come to entreat learning. Learning not for personal gain
but
learning for learning's sake." she replied.
"Then come, learn." the figure said.
And learn she had. She had soon come to realise that the tricks
she had known
before were just that, child's play compared to the things she
knew now. She
learned to use her magic instinctively, to conserve energy
wherever possible.
She learned many new techniques, and many new spells.
Finally after spending 10 months locked away in the Cave, the
figure
approached her one day.
"You have learned all I can teach you", it said.
"Now you must go forth,
and continue learning from experience. You have done well."
"Thank you", she replied. and with a sense of ineffable
excitement, she
had left the Cave.
The Lords who had arranged her training had been more than a
little
worried about her absence during the months previously, and were
overjoyed to
see her again.
They had.... and an indefinable sense of danger made her throw
her shields up
quickly, just before Tank hit her with a pure blast of fire.
She cursed herself for letting herself get side-tracked into
memory when
she was standing on the Duel Ground with such a dangerous
opponent. Of course
she promptly retaliated with a lightening bolt of full strength,
that she could
tell had strained his shields badly. She hated to admit it to
herself, but her
shields hadn't exactly dealt with his attack easily either.
She wondered which
way this battle would go. She had won one, but that only meant he
would be on his
guard and more determined than ever not to let her win another.
All of a sudden the
very earth shook beneath their feet. She hadn't known he had
that kind of power!
The sky darkened, and looking at him she could see it wasn't
him who was doing
this. He spoke
"Then who...?". puzzled.
They both knew there were not any other wizards with their
strength, save of course
the ArchWizard, and they knew he would not do that. Still neither
of them dropped
their shields. Now would be a perfect time to strike.
All of a sudden, the sky and earth blurred around them, and when
it cleared
they were both somewhere else. They were standing in a small
grove of trees, inside
the ArchWizard's residence. The ArchWizard was facing them,
looking more than a little
worried. Tank was the first to speak.
"What was that? the earthquake surely was not natural! and
as for the sky,
it went black!"
Stress cast him an icy glare.
"If it suits you to tell us, Your Highness.", she added
sweetly.
The ArchWizard smiled worriedly, and started to speak.
"The necromancers have discovered linking."
Tank and Stress both gasped in dismay. Linking was an old
technique, used by wizards in
the Golden Age, long ago. When linked, five minor wizards could
equal the ArchWizard
in power alone. This was a worrying development in the ongoing
battle with the
necromancers. The old ArchWizard spoke again,
"You two must put aside your differences. The world needs
you to save it from
becoming a place of evil, of pain, of terror. You must work
together, find the secret
of linking, and stop the necromancers. Fire and Ice together will
be strong."
and he collapsed onto a seat, as if exhausted by all this.
This time Stress spoke first.
"How can we work together, we hate each other! And anyhow,
we'll just be trying
to get the other killed the whole time, you know that, it's
in our nature! It'll never
work!"
The ArchWizard spoke again, his voice gentle.
"It must work. You two are our only chance. Forget the
battle for my place. If
you do not succeed there will be no ArchWizard place for either
of you!"
Tank looked at Stress thoughtfully.
"I'll do it if she pledges not to try to harm me while
we sort this out. I
can't keep my shields up all the time."
Stress nodded grudgingly
"I'll promise that, if he will promise the same."
Tank extended his hand gingerly, and she took it. They both
dropped their shields
cautiously, expecting to have to put them up again as the other
attacked. The ArchWizard
nodded, pleased.
"Good" he said, "Now get out there and get me some
answers."
They both grinned at the same time, a curiously similar grin.
"Let's talk this over at my place" said Stress.
Tank looked a little dubious, then remembering her promise,
acquiesced.
They both vanished before the ArchWizard's eyes.
"I hope this works" he said doubtfully.
They both appeared in Stress' garden, a lovely place, sunny all the time, whatever weather it might naturally be, with a riotous mass of flowers everywhere, and birds singing. Tank looked around. "Nice" he said, trying to be polite. "Thanks", she said, surprised he was even making an effort. She looked at him, wondering whether in fact she had been wrong about him for all these years. Then she remembered all the stories she had heard, and all the things she knew about him, and of course the fact he was a fire mage, and decided no, she hadn't been wrong at all. "Well, as we have to work together" she said icily, "do you have any suggestions where we should start?" He was a little surprised at her tone, as he would have thought it would be easier to try and get along while they had to work together. "Well, what do you know about linking for a start?" he asked, keeping his tone completely neutral. She looked around her garden, trying to remember all she had ever heard about it. Her gaze wandered over the little arboretum at the end of the garden, over the multicoloured roses climbing the little trellis. "Well" she said, "I know it was a very simple practice in the olden days, and I know that any wizard of the fourth circle could start or participate in a link. I know that no more than eight wizards could be in a link at any one time, or they would be burned out, and I know that no more than two wizards above the tenth circle could be linked. Apart from that, I don't know much. Anything else you'd care to add?" Stung by her tone, and her implication that he could not possibly know more than her, he replied "Of course, you know that the geomancers, the earth sorcerers, developed the technique first of all, to deal with the earthquakes that were rocking the earth at the time. But you knew that, I'm sure." She glared at him. She hadn't known that, and she was sure he guessed that. "Of course I knew that", she replied loftily. He continued "Then I suggest we go and have a look in the geomancers' library in Daralan. If anywhere has a record about it, there will be one there." Annoyed that he had thought of this when she hadn't, she said "Well of course. Shall we?" She would have left him standing if he hadn't been in her garden, and although they were pledged not to hurt each other, he had made no promises not to hurt her property. "After you" he said maliciously, knowing what she must be thinking. "No, after you, I insist." she replied with a mocking smile. He grinned evilly, and vanished in a swirl of flame. She looked round once more, and followed him. They appeared in a large thoroughfare in the middle of Daralan, just outside the main library. There were quite a few people around, as it was the middle of the afternoon. These bystanders, seeing Tank and Stress together in the same place, and not knowing about the deal the ArchWizard had made them make, all scurried for cover like so many mice seeing a predator. They obviously thought large amounts of magic were about to start flying through the air and wanted to be as far away as possible. Seeing this, Stress couldn't restrain herself and burst into the first real laugh Tank had ever heard from her. He grinned at her in response. They turned and went up the steps to the library, leaving a lot of very confused people behind them. The library was an ancient building in the centre of Daralan, no-one knew when it had been built, only that it had been there as far back as records went. They walked through the main doors and into the central chamber. This was a massive room with a high arched ceiling. It was totally empty except for one old man, the Librarian. They walked up to him. As soon as he noticed it was them, a look of terror came over his face. "Please, think of the books!" he implored them. They exchanged another smile. They were going to have to get used to this reaction. "No, no, we aren't here to fight." Tank said. "We just need some information." Stress said gently. "Oh", the old man said, his face brightening. "That's all right then." "Now what were you looking for?" Tank and Stress looked at each other. They knew they shouldn't tell anyone about the new development with the necromancers, as it would create wide-spread panic. "We're looking for any very old books you may have on magical techniques." said Tank. "Oh.. er.. let me think... we don't have that many of those.. in fact.. I don't think we have any.. no wait, there is one.. that's strange.", the old man wondered. "What's strange?" said Stress, trying not to let her vague exasperation with this bumbling old fool show. "No-one has wanted that book for as long as I've been here, and now twice in as many months. And he was a wizard too" he replied Tank looked at Stress triumphantly. They both knew what this must mean. They were on the right track! "Could you show us the book?" Tank asked politely. "Oh.. er.. certainly. This way." he mumbled. They followed him through stacks and stacks of books, on every subject you could name, some worn and well-read, some looking as if they had never been touched. Stress had never been here before, and she looked about her in wonder. She had never seen so many books together. Tank saw her gazing around, wide-eyed, and smiled to himself. She really was very naive, despite her great magical skill and knowledge. She sighed to herself. It seemed like they'd been walking through shelves of books forever, and it was beginning to feel like they were pressing in on her. She shivered slightly. She hadn't realised it was cold in here. Then the old man stopped. "Oh dear" he said inadequately. "What? What's wrong?" said Tank sharply. He could see something was very wrong. "The book, it's.. it's gone!" the old man said sadly. "Gone? How could it be gone?" asked Stress, more than a little annoyed that this chance to find the knowledge they needed was gone. "Well, I don't know." said the old man in confusion. "It was here when I showed the other wizard." "When was that?" asked Tank gently, realising that annoyance would not get them anywhere here. "Six weeks ago." he said sorrowfully. Tank realised the old man was blaming himself, when in truth he could not have done anything to prevent the book's loss. "It wasn't your fault" Stress said, surprising Tank again. "There was no way you could have stopped any wizard from taking the book." "Yes, it would have been easy for any wizard to simply jump into here, take the book and jump out, once he knew where it was. And you weren't to know he would do that." Tank added. "But can I ask one thing?" Stress asked. Tank looked at her in surprise. What was she going to ask? "In future if any wizard comes and asks to see a book, please move it, and tell the ArchWizard about it?" "Why certainly...." the old man quavered. Realising this had hit him harder than they knew, Stress smiled at him. "Now we need to go and try and get this book back for you." she said to him. "Er.. of course.. " he muttered, completely bewildered that anyone should try and steal one of his precious books. She looked at Tank and they both walked away, retracing their steps through the labyrinth of books. "I do feel a little sorry for that old man" she said, "It's almost like he feels someone has kidnapped his child" Tank nodded solemnly. He was wondering to himself when this change had come about. He wasn't thinking of her as the hateful ice enchantress anymore, but as a rather interesting companion. He hoped she didn't hate him either, but he knew that from their upbringing, she probably did. She, however, was feeling rather confused herself. The tact and diplomacy he had shown in dealing with the old man were totally against all she knew of him. "I think we should probably go back to the ArchWizard and report this to him. Maybe he will have some ideas where we should look now." Tank said. Stress nodded abstractedly. She was still wrestling with this change in him, and wondering if he really wasn't as bad as she'd always known him to be. They vanished together. The ArchWizard looked up as they popped in. He smiled. Then, seeing their faces, his smile vanished. "What is it? You look like you've found a gold coin, only to find it's fools gold." he said. "We know how the necromancers found out about linking." Tank said sombrely. "But that's good!" the ArchWizard beamed. "It was a book in the library at Daralan", Stress added. "I knew you could do it!", the ArchWizard exulted. "But.. you said 'was'?" "Yes", Tank said. "It was stolen from the library shortly after another wizard, who I can only assume was a necromancer, visited the library and viewed the book." "Oh dear" said the ArchWizard. "This does put rather a nasty twist on things." "Have you any other ideas about where we could find out about it, or should we try and get the book back from the necromancers?" Stress asked. "Well..." said the ArchWizard, thinking. "I can't think of anywhere else that would have a record of linking. It was considered too dangerous a process, which is why it was allowed to be forgotten. In fact there should not have been any records left at all." "Dangerous?" asked Tank. "Why dangerous?" "Well apart from the obvious, that wizards linked can wield much more power than any other wizards not linked, there is a distinct danger of burn-out, unless the linked wizards are very well trained and very careful." "Ahh", said Tank. "So does this mean that the necromancers will probably burn themselves out and we just have to sit the trouble out meantime?" "No, not at all. If they were not very careful, if not well trained, they would have burned themselves out when they first tried it. As obviously they did not, we can tell we are dealing with a very dangerous enemy." "So we should try and get the book back from the necromancers?" Stress asked. "Yes", the ArchWizard replied. "Although it will not be easy, as doubtless you know. Even I do not know where their stronghold lies, and they will have the book well hidden, because they will know this will be our first response. I wish you luck." As this was an obvious dismissal, and they could see he was tiring rapidly, they excused themselves and left. They went back to Stress' garden to talk things over. "That book should have been warded!" Tank said, annoyed, "If it had been, they could never have read it, let alone used the techniques!" "Yes, but I'm sure they would have found a way." Stress replied practically. "Besides, to make a ward that couldn't be broken somehow would take a group of linked wizards, you know that. We were taught that long ago. And somehow I don't think this book was written with the wizards' permission. Otherwise it too would have been destroyed when the other records of linking were." "That's true." Tank replied, his first annoyance over now that he had to think of practical ways to solve this problem. "So, to sum up. First we have to find the stronghold of the necromancers, then we have to get in there somehow and find the book. Then we have to stop them linking any more somehow." he said. Stress laughed. "Well that is oversimplifying it a little, but basically yes. It does sound remarkably easy put like that though, and you and I know it isn't going to be easy at all." "All right, have you any ideas how we should find their domain?" Tank asked. Stress thought for a minute. "Well the only thing I can suggest is we use the normal channels, like we used to do to find each other. Ask around, have the word put out that we are looking, and offer a generous reward." "No, we can't do that" Tank said immediately. "I thought about that. It's too risky. The necromancers will be bound to find out we are looking, and take immediate action. You or I alone cannot hold off eight ninth circle wizards linked, they would certainly destroy us to protect themselves." "You think of something then" she replied, piqued that he had shot her suggestion down in flames, and that she hadn't thought it through enough. "I can't think of anything at the moment." he confessed with a rueful grin. "I was hoping you could." His admission removed her annoyance and she began to think in earnest. If they couldn't use the normal channels, there really was no other way that she could see. "I don't suppose you know any other wizards who have had dealings with the necromancers for some reason who would know?" she asked hopefully. "I could try and think, but you know most wizards won't even go near one of them let alone their stronghold." She nodded. "I have an idea" he said. "How does one go about joining the necromancers? I know it's different for each discipline." "Well I believe they do hold ceremonies where any potential wizard who wants to join can attend and be looked over by them... No! We couldn't!" she looked at him, slightly shocked. "We could never pull it off" "I think we could. If you or I, or maybe both of us, were to go to one of these things, I think we could convince them to accept us" he grinned evilly. She started to think about it, and the more she thought, the more she realised that this was the only way they were likely to find out what they needed to know. The necromancers would sense the raw power in both of them, but then they would with any talented newcomer. She grinned up at him. "You know, I think we could pull it off." "Now how would we find out when and where one of these ceremonies takes place?" she said. "Easy!" he said triumphantly. "The ArchWizard will know. He always knows these things. How else would anyone be able to attend?" "But will they hold one so soon? Won't they be expecting something like this?" she asked, more than a little nervous about the whole thing. "You know the necros!" he laughed, "They won't think anyone could fool them!" She nodded unwillingly, for it was true. The necromancers did believe themselves superior to all other wizards, and they would never guess that anyone would even try to fool them. "Well I suggest that we go back to the ArchWizard in the morning, and ask him." she said. Tank nodded, and said melodramatically "Then I will bid you farewell, my lady." She giggled. He did seem to have that effect on her. As he vanished into the wisps of flame, she did feel a brief wish that he had stayed longer, then shook her head angrily. She didn't want to feel anything for him, but a distaste that she had to work with him and a wish that they might get this thing over with so she could go back to hating him. Tank, in his castle far away, was also thinking about her. Could it be possible that she was so different now from the person she had been those years ago when she had nearly killed him? Next morning, he appeared in her small dining room as she was breakfasting. She looked up, surprised that he had not thought to ask permission to join her. 'Just like his arrogance' she thought. Just then he spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't 'knock' but I thought of something else that might be rather important. You use ice energy, and I use fire. Neither of us would know how to use blood energy. What if they want to test our power? Our techniques?" She nodded. "I know, I thought of that. Then I remembered. The wizards who attend this 'initiation' will be very weak wizards, they won't be using any kind of specific power, just background. We can surely remember how to do that, although it has been a while." He grinned. "You're right. That would work. Just as long as we are VERY careful." "We can do that." "Yes, I think we can. Now shall we visit the ArchWizard, or would you like to finish your breakfast?" he said, mocking her slightly. "Oh, I'm finished, but thank you for the courtesy." She replied sweetly, and he couldn't think of anything to say in reply to that. They vanished together, her in her cloud of silver mist, him in a swirl of flame.