The Divided Knight - Chapter Seventeen

The circular stone platform dominated the rear courtyard of the High Fortress. Etched into its surface was the shape of an enormous seven-pointed star, and words had been carved into it all along its outer edge. The words were all Eltaran – a spell that, for five hundred years, no mage had been permitted to learn or speak. As he stood in the center of the platform, waiting for the Sword Priests he had selected to accompany him on his journey to Eltara to arrive, Atraxos the Black read the words and sneered at the ignorance of the Conclave. You fools had such power available to you, but you were too afraid to use it. The world is truly better without your cowardly lot.

With a sudden frown, Atraxos looked up from his contemplation of the spell and turned his gaze northwestward. Three hundred leagues in that direction was Valewind, the ancestral seat of the Dukes of Telvany. Ever since having King Lyrian issue his decree calling for the eradication of the Order of Catharzen, Atraxos had known Duke Hilstren of Telvany would be a problem – anyone with ties as intimate to the Order as he had would be nothing less – but, today, a new, more arcane sense of that problem drifted in on the morning breeze. Prior to his most recent contact with the Demon Lords, Atraxos, powerful though he was, would have been unable to perceive the change from such a distance. He perceived it now, however, and it gave him a moment of pause. A new mage has arisen. The King's Guard alone will not be enough to deal with such a threat.

Three Sword Priests emerged from the High Fortress and joined Atraxos in the center of the stone platform. Each of them was dressed in black leather armor with sinuous forms the color of blood emblazoned on the front. They were each, like all Eltarans, more than six feet tall, and Atraxos felt a small measure of satisfaction that, because of his last contact with the Demon Lords, they no longer towered over him. Atraxos turned to them as they fell into place behind him.

“We have a problem,” Atraxos said, speaking in Eltaran. “A new mage has arisen in Telvany. He will pose a threat to us if he is not dealt with.”

“A single mage surely cannot pose too great of a threat, my Lord,” the tallest and most imposingly built of the Sword Priests – his name was Edrend, Atraxos remembered – said.

“He can if he forges too strong of an alliance with the monks. They are far more powerful than you realize. Edrend, I have decided you will not be accompanying me to Eltara. I want you take charge of the King's forces personally and strike at Telvany without delay. Show no mercy to anyone who stands in your way.”

For a moment, Edrend looked as if he was about to protest, but then he straightened to attention and said, “As you command, my Lord.”

Atraxos smiled. “Do not fear for my safety because of your absence, my friend. Your brothers, here, will more than suffice when it comes to my defense, and I now have abilities at my command which, should I need them, may make even their presence unnecessary.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Edrend said. He looked at Atraxos. “May I go?”

Atraxos's smile grew into a grin. “You may.”

Edrend placed his fist over his heart in salute, gave a stiff bow, and then headed back into the High Fortress.

“He will find it difficult to command the humans, my Lord,” one of the two remaining Sword Priests, whose name was Velatrax, and whose appearance reminded Atraxos of nothing less than that of a Vampire, said once Edrend was gone. “They fear us.”

“As well they should,” Atraxos said. “Once, all Eltarans were feared by the humans, and that fear allowed us to rule. And it will, again. When we are finished putting our enemies to the sword, this world will once again be ours, and ours alone. And it will not be the only one. The entire universe will be ours for the taking.”

“A lofty goal, my Lord,” Velatrax said. “But, if I may say so, it was an attempt to attain a goal similar to that one that destroyed our people after the last Mage War. Though we of the True were locked away, we were aware of what happened, of how the Elders listened to the counsel of forces they did not understand and were annihilated after making a futile attempt to set our people up amongst the gods. How can you be sure something similar will not happen, this time?”

For a long time, Atraxos said nothing. Then, he threw back the hood of his cloak, and, when he did, both of of the two remaining Sword Priests took a step away from him. That step was the only movement they were allowed, however – Atraxos, with nothing but a thought, and with hardly any effort, summoned a suspension field and placed it around them, encasing them so tightly that the only thing they could still do was breathe. “Look into my eyes,” Atraxos said, addressing both Sword Priests. “Look! See the flames, there, and know me for what I am! Already, I command powers neither of you have even dreamed of, and, once we go to Eltara and I seize the Amulet of Adarion, nothing will be able to stand in my way. I will be the Hidden King's instrument made flesh, and I will make worlds tremble. Do you still doubt me? Do you?”

“No, my Lord,” the two Sword Priests said in unison once Atraxos had relaxed the suspension field enough for them to speak.

Atraxos grinned. “Excellent.” He dismissed the suspension field and once again drew up the hood of his cloak. “We are ready to depart, then.”

“One other thing, my Lord,” Velatrax said. “If I may?”

“Speak.”

“What of the escaped Knight?”

The escaped Knight – Atraxos had learned that his name was Thaddeus Alvarem, and that he had quite an interesting history – had become a vexation that, until then, Atraxos had been trying to avoid thinking about. For hours, now, the escaped Knight had been hidden from Atraxos's senses, his trail coming to an end at the very foot of the Ivory Spires. Not only that, the sense Atraxos had had of the creature whom he was certain was the Knight's quarry – the elusive samaritan known as the Wanderer – had been lost to him, as well. If the finer details of the Knight's history could be believed, and the things the Hidden King had told Atraxos about him could be trusted, he and the Wanderer shared a single, divided soul. The Hidden King had seemed apprehensive when discussing the potential reunification of that divided soul, and Atraxos was sure he knew why – if the Knight and the Wanderer were reunited back into a single person, that person would likely go on to be the first Battlemage the world had seen since Solanas the Elder. Solanas had defeated Atraxos, once, and the existence of a new Battlemage meant there was a chance he would be defeated, again. I'm not the weakling necromancer I was, then, however. This time, I'm one of them, and not even a Battlemage of Solanas's ilk will be able to stand against me.

“We will find him,” Atraxos said. “And he will die.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Velatrax said.

Atraxos moved to turn away from the Sword Priests, but stopped short as he suddenly remembered something. Turning back toward Velatrax, he stepped up to him, raised his hand, and slapped him, the sound of the blow echoing throughout the courtyard. “You are no longer one of the True, Velatrax,” Atraxos hissed. “The True are our enemy. Never forget that.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Velatrax said as he recovered from the slap and drew himself back up to his full height. “Forgive me.”

Atraxos looked at him and said nothing. Then, he turned and spoke the spell that was inscribed on the stone platform. The lines that made up the seven-pointed star began to glow and there was a sudden roar as flames sprang up all around Atraxos and his Sword Priests. Though none of them was touched by the fire, it seemed to engulf them, and, when it died away a few moments later, they were gone – traveling by flame on their way to Eltara.