Archon of Strife: Segment Four

From where Kael was sitting – or tied up, rather, there seemed to be a god in the high heavens looking down upon him with some real displeasure. First being knocked out last night, then chased by a giant beast, and then arriving home only to be subdued and made into a human pincushion. Clearly there had to have been something Kael had done to anger someone farther up the line.

Luckily, the two brutes betting on their aim didn’t have much to back up their words, consequently managing to secure only two piercings in Kael, who for his part let out a decent cry after the first, despite his damaged throat, before being gagged to prevent further noise. It was this sound that seemed to have been the final straw in waking some light sleepers in the village, which might have been good if more bandits had not shown up just then and brought about the first fatality.

It was old man Haddock who finally worked up the courage to put an end to the betting match on Kael’s life. Nearly a minute after the bandits had scored a second hit in Kael, the old man charged the nearest from his house with his pitchfork held out in front of him (the only weapon the old farmer had). There was a three second gap between the man’s short cry of fury and him closing the distance to the nearest bandit, who was about to throw another dart. The thug needed nearly a second and one half to react, and then immediately turned to his partner for assistance. His ‘friend’, however, only took two steps backward with a quick glance to the former’s coin purse, attached at the belt. It almost looked like Haddock hadn’t left enough time for the bandit to move out of the way of the large pitchfork (circumstantially not an easy thing to dodge) when the old man suddenly stiffened and then crumpled to his knees with the rest of his body following to the ground, a long spear-like object protruding from his chest. From a mere thirty feet away coolly approached an annoyed-looking blonde in armor, followed by several men with unmounted horses. The woman’s expression only turned from angry to enraged when the shutters of two of the houses around the square closed a little too loudly to avoid attention, and other sounds were audible as well from other houses now.

But as bad as the situation had become, it still had a long way to go before events had played out. Kael was grimacing and looking at the two injuries he had sustained – one a shallow cut where a dart had glanced his ribs on the right side, and the other a painful wound in the front of his left leg just above the knee, when the man who couldn’t get the other two brutes to listen to him earlier came back to the town square with a woman on his back. When he dropped her to the ground unconscious and her face revealed to Kael that it was Katrina, a sickening feeling went through his stomach and he began to struggle furiously at his bonds. The blonde woman, however, was too busy reprimanding the newcomer to pay Kael any heed, and the only attention he received was a smirk or two from her other companions. It was now that Kael was just getting over his disbelief, his fear, his inability to cope with these unforeseen, malevolent circumstances. And that only left anger.

"Tilem: The world named after the great archmage Undratilem, who supposedly sacrificed himself to put in place a portal to a new world. All the worlds inhabited now, some few dozen, are the results of great leaps of magic, as in this case. To create a portal to another world – the only way to move from one world to another - the finest practitioners of the magical arts have banded together over the centuries for whatever the reason be, whether to attempt exodus from a war, solve overpopulation, or just find new raw resources, and spent every last ounce of magic and being they could muster in one of the most secretive rituals known to only the most advanced of magi. From the fruits of their labor have come portals to entirely new planets, but without any guarantee to their condition. Of the thirty-eight planets known and accessible by portal, only twenty-two can support life. Of those twenty-two, eight have severely broken magic flow or none at all. And of the remaining fourteen, thirteen are ruled by Archons.

Well, I suppose you could say twenty-six can support life, but the only life of value to us are the humans, really." Vendastrus smiled to himself as he revised his statement before continuing with the lecture. "But while humans seem to have the most potential in magic of any race and have opened every portal in existence save the first three, they are too weak to survive such a monumental achievement, and thus the best of hundreds of years have sacrificed themselves throughout history to open portals."

"But father, then aren’t you ever concerned of an uprising? If the millions of slaves on this world ever turned to the use of magic, then would you not face a considerable threat? And why do you say ‘supposedly sacrificed’ when you speak of Undratilem’s fate?" Vendastrus’s daughter, Vestha, was the subject of his lecture today and her impeccable thirst for knowledge pushed past her manners, driving her to interrupt and ask questions. Vendastrus didn’t mind, however, for if she never asked a question then he would wonder whether she really paid any attention to his lecture at all.

"You see, young one, this is why no portal has been opened in the last thousand years. It is not because all generations since the last great opening are selfish about their lives or do not wish to breach new soil, but because the Archons cannot let any humans gain enough power to accomplish such a task, for it would instead be used to end our rule. The yearly purge of those adept to magic is one of the most important events to our survival that goes on in any Archon’s kingdom – even on the Archon of Benevolence’s world.

"Really?" the young drakeling asked.

"Of course," the elder dragon responded. "For even though she rules without fear as we do, and without many of the circumstances of our world, like slavery, she realizes that evil-hearted humans come into magic just as easily as those hearts with good intentions and that even her rule could come to an end at such hands."

"And what of Undratalum?"

"Undra-tilem, Vesthra, and what made him so special was that he went to another world alone. Before this feat the smallest group to ever achieve a portal was just over twenty humans, many hundreds of years old, their lives extended by their magic. And the reason I say supposedly is because he was able to create his own portal, undersea no less, not only without the notice of anyone or anything else on his world, but also shielded the world from Archon influence before any Archon could stop him. Because of this it is believed by some that he lived through the ordeal, unlike all the weaker humans who attempted portals before him.

"But that doesn’t make sense father. Even if one human could manage such a thing, you can’t choose who can enter the portal as much as you can control who crosses a bridge, unless he guarded it?" As his daughter said this Vendastrus’s eyes flickered with slight frustration and narrowed, but the dragon continued with his lecture without telling his daughter that no Archon had an answer for this question, and none had yet entered the world.

"Yes, and that is why the fool single-handedly drove the Archons to rise from our thousands of years in the shadows to control the worlds we have now; we saw how powerful the humans could become if left to their own devices."

"Then could he not be biding his time on that world, just waiting to strike?"

"No," Vendastrus answered. "Only one of us, Strife, believed it possible that he survived, especially after agents scoured the world for any trace of the mage." The dragon’s mood darkened at the other Archon’s mention from his own lips, and Vesthra could tell the lecture was ending soon.

"But then why is it left to be a free world, like those where magic does not flow?" his daughter asked, eager to absorb as much information as possible before her time today was over.

"Because, my dear. Without an Archon to lead the assault, the denizens of Tilem banded together and resisted our rule. In the end it was just too much effort for a world that we could not easily rule even when finally made to succumb to our will." With this last answer Vendastrus began to morph into his human form, an agonizing three minute process made only bearable by an Archon’s immense magical prowess. When he finished he found himself gazing upon an immensely beautiful woman by human standards with deep blue hair broken only in color by two long, black bangs running down in front of her pupils like icicles. Vesthra opened her mouth to ask another question of her azure-haired father, but was quelled before she could even start.

"That is all for today, Vesthra. I expect you to tend to your other duties today as well, despite the long lecture. And with that he turned from her and walked deeper into the chamber, summoning a small orb in his hand when he was sure she had left and he was alone in the darkness of his study in the mountain. At first he could see his scarred, scornful face reflecting back in the sphere, visage one would expect from the Archon of Hatred, but the image gradually blurred as he swept his other hand repeatedly across the orb, adding blue here, green and brown there. When he was at last finished he held in front of him a miniature replica of the world Tilem.

"The last world to search, Strife. And this time there’s no escape." As he said this he crushed the illusory orb in his hand, bathing himself momentarily in light before leaving only darkness and gloom.