The Divided Knight - Chapter Three

The High Fortress had been a place of magic since long before the time of the Conclave. It had been built a thousand years ago, when the Torvaran Empire had been at its height, and Garris Galgana intended to restore it to what it had been back then – the true seat of power in the land, with the fools in the royal palace below nothing more than the puppets and mouthpieces of the mages who ruled over them. To do that, however, it was necessary for him to extinguish every possible source of opposition, and at least two sources still remained – one of which should never have been allowed to live as long as he had, and had now, with the help of the second source of opposition, managed to escape.

“You look troubled, Garris.”

Garris looked up from his brooding. Suspended in the air before him was the ethereal, glowing form of a man dressed in heavy robes. At once, Garris thought there was something familiar about the presence, but he couldn't quite place what. It didn't matter, though. The presence was nothing more than the spirit of some long dead member of the Conclave, and, here in the High Fortress, where Garris had surrounded himself with spells of protection the likes of which had long been forgotten by anyone associated with the Conclave, it had no way of harming or affecting him in any way.

“You have a lot of certainty in the strength of your wards, Magister,” the presence said. Its bearded face smiled. “I shouldn't need to remind you, though, that, were they really as strong as you believe, I would not be able to appear before you now.”

“Who are you?” Garris asked. “Why are you here?”

“Don't you recognize me, Garris? Or, should I say, doesn't what's inside of you recognize me?”

That was it. That was why the presence had seemed so familiar. The soul Garris had absorbed when he'd found the tome that had allowed him to resurrect the Order of the Crimson Serpent – a soul that, even now, kept itself largely hidden from him, only making its existence known when it had some suggestion or bit of knowledge to impart – recognized it. Or, rather, it recognized him, and that recognition stirred a sudden strong revulsion inside Garris, who found himself baring his teeth at the spectral figure. “Solanas,” Garris hissed.

“Indeed. The first person to ever claim the title of Magister, more than three thousand years ago. I've come to warn you that your plans will not succeed.”

“You were the one who allowed the Knight to live. You were the one who helped him escape!”

“I am. Even as we speak, Brother Thaddeus seeks the means to your end.”

Garris sat in silence for a moment, considering the figure's words. “And what is it he seeks? Who is it?”

The spirit presence's smile turned smug. “If you think that I would be foolish enough to tell you that, I'm afraid you're mistaken. I will tell you no more than what I have. Be afraid, Magister. Your end will be here sooner than you know.”

Garris matched the spirit's smile with one of his own, and when he spoke, it was not with his normal voice, but with a voice that was a curious blending of his own, and of that of the soul he had absorbed. “I think not, Solanas. You forget, you are in my realm, now, and are but a spirit. You may have been able to stay the execution of your precious Brother Thaddeus, you may have been able to help him escape, but, now that I know who and what you are, your powers are useless.” Garris stood, and was pleased when Solanas's spirit seemed to flinch back. He pushed back the hood of the blood red robe he wore. “You will tell me what it is you sent the Knight after. And then you will be disposed of, just as you should have been all those years ago.”

For a moment, nothing happened. And then Solanas's spirit surged forward, not stopping until it was only a few feet from Garris. The sudden movement startled Garris, and he nearly flinched backward, himself – an act that would have wound up with him falling backward into his chair – but he managed, somehow, to hold his ground. Still, he was left wondering. Had he underestimated the spirit he now faced for a second time? Not even the other soul within Garris – the one who had known Solanas personally, who had given Garris powers he had never before imagined possible, but who still refused to reveal its own identity – was certain.

“You are lost, Garris,” Solanas's spirit said. The blue glow of its eyes had turned into a sapphire blaze. “You think you command here, but you no longer even command yourself. I am ready to be destroyed, here. I prepared myself for it long before I showed myself to you. But, if you destroy me, you also destroy whatever is left of who you are. That will be the opening the soul you absorbed – the soul of Atraxos the Black – needs to take full control. Garris Galgana, who was always nothing more than a middling mage, who disgraced himself and then fled, never giving himself the opportunity the face the judgement of the Conclave, will be forgotten forever. Is that what you want, Garris?”

The spirit's words stung, reminding Garris of how cowardly he'd felt when he'd fled the Conclave three years before. But would staying have made any difference? Even if the Conclave's judgement had been lenient – a thing that was never certain, especially when it came to a mage who had misused his powers, as he had – he would have still been nothing more than a mage of average talent. Nothing he would have done would have ever set him above the others. He would have been forgotten. But I still would have been a part of the Conclave, he thought. Wouldn't that have meant something?

Don't be a fool, Garris. You have always wanted glory. Always sought power. Through me, you can have both.

It was the first time the soul Garris had absorbed had spoken to him directly. Its voice was deep, stentorian, impossible to ignore. That its voice was that of Atraxos the Black, last of the Necromancers, was something that could not be denied. And wasn't that voice right? Hadn't Garris always wanted exactly what it claimed it could give him? Hadn't that been what had driven him to misuse his talents in the first place? I fled the Conclave not because I feared its judgement. I fled the Conclave because the Path of Light was too limiting. I fled the Conclave so I could learn what I needed to do what I wanted!

The Conclave would have killed you had you stayed. Their Path of Light would have given them no other choice. And now you have returned.

And taken my vengeance!

Yes. Your vengeance. Now, destroy the annoyance the spirit before you has become. Rid the world of its pathetic presence.

Garris made ready to act, then paused a second time, remembering. What of the Knight?

Worry not about him. He will be my concern.

Garris found the statement confusing, and was about to question Atraxos's soul further regarding what it meant, but all thought of doing so vanished as he suddenly felt power surging through him. It was the same power he'd felt when resurrecting the Order of the Crimson Serpent – it almost amused him that he hadn't recognized that act for the necromancy it had been – and the only choice he had was the use it, lashing out with it and hurling a wave of destruction at the spirit presence of the first Magister of the Torvaran Empire. Solanas's spirit attempted to defend itself but, in the end, it was just a spirit, and so being, did not have the power necessary to turn back what was thrown at it. A brilliant flash of light and a clap of thunder filled the great hall of the High Fortress, and, when they were gone, only the body of what had been Garris Galgana remained.

Atraxos, now the sole occupant of Garris's body, would have chosen a different vessel if he'd been able – this one was far too short for his liking, and not very solidly built – but it would do. After all, this vessel was going to be the one that would allow him to touch the physical world again after more than four centuries, and, because of things he had learned during his time of imprisonment, Atraxos need never worry about this vessel failing him. He had become immortal, and, now that the Conclave was well and truly gone – the Knight who had escaped would be easily dealt with, no matter what errand Solanas had sent him on – nothing could stand in his way.

Atraxos spread his arms wide, threw back his head, and laughed.