Magician Reborn (Book 2) Page 19

  The ripples in the Aether grew in intensity, which told Forx another magician with extraordinary power had joined the fight. The only worrisome point being this newcomer was not of the Dark, but rather his power was something different; similar to the Light, yet with an alien feel, as though the magician was channelling another kind of mana.

  “Idiots, they had one simple job, who could they be fighting in the middle of the desert?”

  With the ambush out of the question, Forx considered returning to his Master’s side, but before he could open the carriage door everything turned brilliant white. The vast amount of energy unleashed in such close proximity knocked him to the floor, but he hardly noticed since every fibre of his magical being felt like it was on fire. Eventually the world returned to normal.

  Forx, still on the floor curled up into as small a ball as possible, slowly became aware of his surroundings. His vision was blurry, his skin felt numb and was soon followed by sharp pins-and-needles all over, and even thinking about touching mana at the moment made him nauseous. With the Aether so violently disturbed it was like being in a small dinghy in the middle of a stormy ocean. At least the train had stopped, he was thankful for that. Getting any closer to whoever had cast that final spell was sheer lunacy.

  For what seemed a very long time, Forx was content to remain still, but eventually he had to move and, on unsteady legs, got to his feet by clawing his way up the carriage wall. Managing to half walk, half stagger, back to his Master’s room, he stopped just before opening the door. A devious thought crept into the lesser demons mind, and he wondered how badly affected his Master was.

  Perhaps he too had been rendered unconscious for a while, which meant now might be the perfect opportunity to strike. Heart racing rapidly, Forx cautiously entered the darkened room. He would have to act quickly to gain the upper hand, but as he turned on the lights he found the carriage deserted.

  Surprised, the lesser demon wondered if his Master had figured out the plan and decided to make an escape. Without access to his power Forx couldn’t magically locate anyone, let alone his Master, who also had an uncanny ability to conceal his presence from demon-kind. Frustrated, he slowly made his way forward towards the engine room to speak to the driver.

  Sand crunched and shifted underfoot as the Master slowly made his way across the desert. He had felt the blast of magical energy, as no doubt ever other magician in the world had, but something about it felt familiar, and rather than run away from the source as his initial instincts had screamed, he had opted to ignore the feeling and take a leap of faith. This time it seemed to have paid off.

  Off towards the East the horizon was slowly changing colours from dark black to a deep blue, and with sunrise not too far away he had to work quickly. The epicentre of the spell was just ahead now, and although it was still dark he could just make out a shape on the ground that was not the usual bush scrub or rock. It was a young man, a magician more precisely, one that was incredibly special and yet painfully ignorant of his true potential. The mana channelled into the spell had been overwhelming, and as a result the light mage had run the risk of burning out his ability. Thankfully that was not the case; he was merely unconscious and would be for quite some time. His recovery from such an ordeal would likely take several days, just in time for the Masters plans to come to fruition.

  In the dark, the Master bent over and picked up the unconscious form and made the trek back to the train; that was if his barely competent minion hadn’t decided to leave already. Forx had his uses, the Master mused to himself, but lately it seemed as if the lesser demon was distracted with something other than the important mission laid before them. Suppressing a sigh, the Master shifted the awkward weight on his shoulders.

  With the end nigh, there would be an abundance of choices for a new Commander to lead the armies of Hell unleashed upon this unsuspecting world. Blood will run in rivers and the bones of the fallen will be piled high for him to mount his throne. A new Age of Darkness shall begin, with the Balance tipped heavily in his favour. And not even the Shadowmage was capable of interfering now.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Which way?” Silver asked.

  “Just before losing him, I felt his presence to the South. It’s not much further, maybe another ten minutes; however for quite some time I lost the link. He’s now travelling East,” replied Simon, “fast.”

  “That means he’s heading towards Chicago,” chimed in Archer. Silver nodded in agreement.

  “Judging from what he unleashed here not too long ago something went wrong, and we need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

  “You think Xander has gone insane?”

  Silver gave an uncommitted shrug. “You said it yourself Simon, the barriers separating Alex’s consciousness from Xander’s were being torn down, we don’t know how or why but it doesn’t seem as if he’s in the right frame of mind.”

  “Who knows,” said Archer, “maybe he’s just very pissed off at what we did to him for all these years.”

  “It was the only thing we could do at the time.”

  “I know,” she said, “but it still doesn’t make it right. But if Alex was after retribution why not come back to the camp, or try and reach us in Los Angeles where we’ve been working for the past few weeks?”

  “I heard a rumour about L.A., what was going on?” Simon asked.

  Silver considered using the official cover story concocted by the High Council, but then Simon would most likely pick up the lie. Besides, he was the only psychic available to help track Alex’s movements and, if necessary, neutralize the unstable magician. “The Creeping Doom plague was spreading throughout the underworld. We thought the modified virus had been eradicated, but whoever created the blight has unleashed it here in the States, and unfortunately has spread too far and too quickly for us to effectively contain.”

  “What will happen if it gets out of control?”

  “Like any deadly pathogen, magical or mundane, that threatens to destroy civilization, it must be eradicated. A diseased limb must be severed to save the rest of the body, and unfortunately that means cutting away some parts that are still good. Hopefully that will be a last resort, we have a lot of magicians fighting in the underworld to try and stem the infection rate.”

  The three magicians lapsed into silence as they contemplated the near future and what was about to happen. If the Doom virus broke containment it would spread throughout the population like wild-fire, and with no cure the only way to stop it would be mass genocide on a scale to make the Black Death seem insignificant by comparison.

  Continuing to fly eastward they soon passed from pre-dawn darkness into light, still without a clue where they were going.

  “Master, are you sure it was wise to have him brought here?” Forx looked worried, and he fervently hoped it didn’t show in his voice.

  “He is the key. Without him all of my plans would be for nought.”

  “He is too powerful, and very dangerous,” the imp whined. “He must be destroyed.”

  “Kill him, Forx, and you will forever feel torment unlike anything you’ve felt before. I would personally see to it myself.”

  “As you wish, Master. What would you have me do now?”

  “With full control of this facility I only require the time to calibrate the equipment. I estimate a few more hours until all is ready. In the meantime go and secure the perimeter with wards, we don’t want any unexpected visitors spoiling the grand finale.”

  Forx bowed low and retreated from the laboratory. The huge machines gave off an unusual energy that made the lesser demon uncomfortable which, when added to his already paranoid state, made him agitated. Passing through vacant security checkpoints he ignored the few recently created ‘undead’ shuffling around the corridors. Most still wore their uniforms; that of security guards and scientists in long white lab coats. The ‘undead’ plague, while merely a diversion from their true intentions, was certainly helpful in recruiting unwilling sub
jects. But Forx couldn’t help but wonder why the Master insisted his plague victims remain alive. They were mindless beasts of burden now, good for very little except spreading more of the magical disease to others. While the Creeping Doom had little effect on demon-kind, the grey energy-draining fungus was still considered a nuisance.

  Outside in the fresh air, Forx continued around the huge complex, laying down spells of warding and protection as commanded by his Master. Anyone clever enough to figure out the Master’s real motives would not be hindered by the spells, but at least he would be given ample warning of their arrival. One small problem though - with only a handful of ‘undead’ slaves they would offer little resistance and be quickly destroyed. Time was now of the essence, and Forx sought to buy his Master as much as possible.

  After several laps of the main complex, Forx decided to head back in and work on creating at least a token defence against a possible attack. As unlikely as it seemed any magicians would show up, he still wanted to be prepared. Had one of the scientists or security guards triggered an alarm even the humans might send a token force to investigate.

  Passing through the main foyer, Forx looked up at the large five-lettered sign that designated this facility: FERMI. This vast underground complex was paramount to his Master’s designs, which somehow included the strange electronic machinery in the main laboratory. Returning to the business at hand, the lesser demon made sure if anyone came through the main entrance would be given a very warm reception.

  Chapter Twenty One

  From horizon to horizon the barren wasteland seemed to stretch for eternity. Only days before the land had been lush fertile forest surrounded by rolling grasslands populated by wild horses. Life had teemed amongst the trees, feeding on berries and small insects that flittered from flower to flower. But now everything was dead, destroyed by a war that no longer existed.

  The Shadowmage walked over what once was sand, but the destructive energies unleashed by both sides had caused the sand to melt and fuse together into razor-sharp shards of obsidian that now broke and cracked underfoot. Smoke filled the air from smouldering pyres where the dead had been piled and set alight, not even dignified with a proper burial, but that was war.

  It saddened him to think how much destruction had been caused, and while he didn’t feel personally responsible he had to take some of the blame. It was just his way. He had tried to do what was right, but history would probably remember him as the greatest monster of the Mage-Wars. It didn’t matter much now, time would erode even this wasteland and life will return. He was sure of that.

  “The Book, where is it?” A lone figure strode purposefully forward, obscured until the last moment by smoke.

  “Hidden, even from you, General Zedekiah.”

  “Please, Marduk, as one brother to another, at least use my real name.”

  “You are no kin of mine Zareth,” said the Shadowmage with conviction.

  “And yet once, long ago, we strode across this universe side by side, destroying all those who stood in our way, not even the fabled Dragon Host could oppose us. We ruled everything and did as we pleased.”

  “A life I renounced,” said the Shadowmage quietly, “and one I’ll never willingly return to.”

  Zareth, Demon Lord, sneered at the sentimentality. “Your loss, if it were your choice. You’re bound by Fate to follow whichever path is required to restore the Balance, and eventually you’ll have to don the guise of evil, of death and destruction, true unadulterated malevolence.”

  The Shadowmage remained silent. He knew Zareth was talking for the sake of it. Seemed the demon lord liked the sound of his own voice more often than not.

  “We could have been Gods! True Immortals, unstoppable, and it is still within our grasp, all you need to do is hand over the Book.”

  Looking passively at the shadowy figure standing a few feet away, the Shadowmage merely sighed and shook his head. “You haven’t changed a bit Zareth.”

  “And you’re as much a fool as before!” The demon lord raged.

  The body once belonged to his long-time friend Zedekiah, but the soul within reeked of ancient evil. What humanity this monster once possessed was long gone, consumed by lust and greed for more power, and a burning desire to once again rule over everything. Granted, he too had tasted the same dark dream, but it was not who he was, or ever wanted to be.

  “If you want the Book, come get it.” Power swirled around him and in blink of an eye disappeared in a flash of sparkling white energy.

  “Always the one to play these ridiculous games, but this time I will make sure you never win again.” The shadowy form of Zareth was momentarily concealed by a sudden swirl of smoke, followed by a crack of thunder as he teleported after his nemesis. Initially the landscape barely seemed to change, but Zareth knew he was no longer on Earth.

  Looking around he suddenly realised his mistake. “You know this place cannot hold me,” he said with a mirthless chuckle, “I escaped once I can do it again. Do you hear me? Shadowmage!”

  “No need to yell,” the whispered voice seemed to come from every direction, “this shall be your final prison Zareth, for eternity, locked with my own life.”

  Dread realisation dawned upon the Demon Lord and he hastily sought to escape from the desolate realm. But no matter how hard he tried Zareth could not draw upon his own or any other nearby source of power. Completely cut off, isolated, and imprisoned. “No! Shadowmage, brother, I beseech you. Please don’t leave me here!”

  From a darkened crevice nearby, Zareth sensed something, a mere flicker of power. Hastily he scrambled over jagged rocks and skirted pools of bubbling sulphur that cast a hellish red glow on the fractured landscape. He was all too familiar with the environment, having already spent a long indeterminate amount of time on the blasted piece of rock. The small planet, adrift in a vast nothingness, was mostly composed of volcanic rock and flowing magma that criss-crossed the cracked surface in a bizarre spider web. Isolated from other realms this one also had the added benefit of containing practically no mana, so anyone stranded here was not likely to leave unless another source could be found. Unfortunately Zareth had already exhausted those a long time ago when he first sought to escape.

  Teetering on the brink of an ancient abyss, Zareth recognised the only structure that had existed on this blasted piece of rock: ominously but accurately named the Pit. Some poor trapped denizen had spent a good deal of time carving out a staircase. It wound down through the rock surface and into several grottos that overlooked an underground lake of lava.

  Scrabbling down the side of the crevice Zareth, in his haste, tripped and fell the remaining dozen meters, landing heavily at the feet of a lone figure.

  “That looked painful.” The Shadowmage couldn’t quite hide a flash of mirth from his voice. He knew the fall hurt the demon lord’s ego more than anything physical.

  “Shut up,” growled the demon as he tried to sit up, but a broken shoulder made things awkward so he lay there on the hot stone. “You know I will one day find a way to get free, I don’t care how long, but when I do the world you saw fit to deny me will be destroyed. I will possess that Book, mark my words.”

  The Shadowmage paced slowly around the confines of the Pit, a large leather-bound tome in his hands. Occasionally flicking through the pages he softly spoke, and every completion of one revolution he would pause and begin again. Each page shone brightly, illuminating the magicians face as though the words and illustrations themselves were made of light. The Shadowmage unabashedly cried tears of joy as he beheld the wonders contained within the pages, and wherever a teardrop fell upon the dark blasted stone a single pinpoint of golden light shone.

  Having walked around the cavern several times a rough circle was now inscribed upon the floor in golden droplets. Standing in the middle of the circle, the Shadowmage continued to read from the Book. His voice incrementally grew in volume until it was like a raging hurricane blowing around the small confines. Zareth cowered at the Power
behind the mystical language and sought desperately some way to escape what was soon to become his eternal prison.

  Holding the book high overhead, the Shadowmage cried out as a pillar of light burst from the pages, spearing the darkness of the void above. “To right the wrongs of so many lives, I bind you here, Zareth.” The words washed over the demon lord, binding his essence to this forsaken world.

  Slowly the Shadowmage became translucent as he used his own life force to finish the spell, and with this final act of sacrifice he disappeared in a twinkling shower of light. On the ground where he had stood was etched an intricate design of stars, circles and mystical symbols. Nursing his broken shoulder, Zareth examined the patterns but couldn’t fathom their meaning. Most likely, he thought, some special form of magic of the Book to keep him bound. With nothing to do for a long time, Zareth grudgingly resigned himself to waiting. Another opportunity to escape will come, of that he was certain, and when he did eventually leave this hell he would have had plenty of time to formulate the perfect plan for revenge.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Stooped over a monitor and keyboard the Master furiously typed what should be the final execution sequence. The huge machine, housed in a special containment room nearby, had been powering up for the past hour or so. Once properly calibrated, the super-collider would soon smash particles at each other close to the speed of light. If his calculations were correct, the ideal condition for creating a stable portal should be achieved with this machine. It had happened once before, albeit by accident, and technically should work again.