Chapter IV: The Great Magus

Chapter IV:

The Great Magus

 

1

 

After eight peaceful days of travel, the group arrived in Roid, the imperial capital of Valis.

The city’s streets bustled with great throngs of people, and both sides were lined with lively shops. The country may have been at war, but that was a faraway concern for the city’s residents.

As it was built on a delta, the buildings were short, and even the spires of the royal castle jutting up from the cityscape were smaller than those in Alania or Kanon. Instead, the castle of Valis was a sprawling complex surrounded by a moat and stone wall, taking up the greater part of the city center.

Radiating out from the castle, streets twisted and turned seemingly at random, and the simple, regular facades of the architecture made it difficult for newcomers to find their way to the castle gates. Waterways cut through the city, more obstacles to easy travel. Valis may have been built on flatlands, but the city’s layout made it a fortress.

“This is Roid? It’s smaller than I expected,” Deedlit remarked rudely, not caring that Elm was in earshot. Parn gave her a glance and a sneaky nod.

“It is small compared to the great city of Allan. But I can promise you that these are the most loyal citizens you’ll find anywhere.” Elm stopped and greeted the crowd of people in front of them, who bowed their heads and made way.

After a long ride, the group finally reached the castle gates and crossed the drawbridge into the courtyard. They dismounted there—it was custom to walk the rest of the way to the castle.

The carriage carrying Princess Fianna stopped as well, and the princess slowly descended, daintily holding the hem of her dress. The castle guards who caught sight of her called her name and waved, delighted at her safe return. Fianna waved back with a bashful smile.

Elm led the princess and a small group of knights into the castle; one of the knights led Parn’s group to a luxuriously decorated parlor to wait. It was furnished with plush sofas and a large table imported from the continent. A glass-doored cupboard was stocked with expensive-looking liquors, and a variety of goblets were arranged conveniently within reach. One entire wall was taken up by a massive painting depicting a battle with a demon, and the high window on the south wall was fitted with stained glass depicting the supreme god Pharis, which cast bright shapes throughout the room.

That single room was about the size of Slayn’s entire house.

“I guess we shouldn’t help ourselves to the booze,” Parn said to Deedlit with a question in his voice and shining eyes. Deedlit flatly refused to answer and settled on the sofa as Parn gazed longingly at the bottles.

The expensive liquors didn’t interest Ghim; he just fiddled with a dwarf-made craftwork and paced the room.

“It’s rather nerve-racking,” Slayn remarked, though he still spoke in his usual gentle manner. The furnishings didn’t interest him, and he was considering taking a book out of his bag.

“A fancy room like this isn’t meant for a guy like me,” Wood­chuck complained as he perched uncomfortably on the sofa. “I feel like I’m locked up in a gilded prison… I don’t feel much like drinking, either. I hope they don’t take long.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door and two soldiers entered. Woodchuck nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound—the group couldn’t contain a laugh at his frazzled reaction.

“His Majesty the King is ready for you. Please follow me.” The soldiers bowed and motioned for them to follow.

The courteous reception from such fine royal soldiers made Parn suddenly self-conscious. The hand on his sword shook, and he couldn’t help but notice every bit of grime on his armor. He tried to wipe down the dirtiest parts with a cloth, but it was too late to do much.

As they made their way toward the throne room, Parn was impressed at the sheer size of the castle, and he glanced around restlessly, trying to take everything in. At one point, they passed a group wearing different armor from the Valis knights. The two groups saluted each other in silence and exchanged watchful glances.

“Did you see those knights?” Slayn whispered to Etoh.

“I did. What about them?”

“They must be from Flaim, the desert kingdom. They had the hawk crest on their right shoulders.”

“The Flaim Order of Knights! Are they going to war with Marmo, too?”

“It would be good news if they were,” Slayn replied. The Knights of Flaim were renowned for their bravery throughout Lodoss.

Flaim had begun as a desert tribe known as the Tribe of Storm. It had been mired in a years-long war with another desert group, the Tribe of Fire—otherwise known simply as “the savages.” A few years earlier, though, the Tribe of Storm finally achieved a decisive victory, crowned a king, and established the nation of Flaim. King Kashue, also known as the Mercenary King, was rumored to have sword skills unparalleled in all of Lodoss.

Flaim would certainly be a reassuring ally in the war against Marmo.

The group finally reached the end of the winding hallways and reached the throne room. They waited outside the door for a few moments and then were ushered into a large hall.

The throne room was huge and open, imposing and stately. A crimson carpet ran across the stone floor and up the steps to the throne—the back wall held a giant portrait of the king, with the silver cross, the Valis coat of arms, and the holy symbol of Pharis next to it. Valis knights, courtiers, and women in beautiful dresses lined the edges of the path. Parn felt almost dizzy at the sight.

I am the son of a Holy Knight, he told himself and did his best to stride down the carpet with confidence.

King Fahn sat before them on his throne. He wore a loosely tailored gown and had a beard that could rival that of a dwarf. He was at least sixty—the wrinkles etched into his face were a monument to his countless accomplishments. When he looked down at the six adventurers, his gaze was like the ocean, intense, kind, and overwhelming. Feeling those eyes on him, Parn felt almost suffocated. He dropped to one knee, and his companions followed suit.

Several others stood near the legendary king. First was Elm, the court wizard, who had changed into a magnificent white robe. Beside him was an old man in a gown embroidered with the symbol of Pharis—Genart, the high priest of the Pharis temple. Etoh was dazzled to be in such a holy presence.

Another man in a crown sat in a temporary throne beside King Fahn. Slayn noted the hawk emblem embroidered on his attire.

That must be the Mercenary King Kashue…

The Mercenary King had a black beard and sharp eyes like a bird of prey. His seat beside the King of Valis indicated that they were in an equal alliance, so Flaim must be planning to join them in the war against Marmo.

The king’s voice resounded throughout the hall, gentle but dignified. “You must be the adventurers who rescued my daughter. As King—and as a father—I thank you from the bottom of my heart. My daughter should be here to thank you in person—forgive me for her absence, but she is offering prayers of penitence at Pharis Temple to atone for her sins. She is a handful, but her mistakes in no way diminish what you’ve done. Please accept this token of my gratitude.”

At his words, one of the courtiers stepped toward Parn with a heavy sack. He kneeled and presented it with a few respectful words.

Parn decided it would be rude to refuse, so he accepted it with a bow. “Thank you for this.” The bag was heavy in his hands—there had to be a ton of gold coins inside.

This’ll make Wood happy, he thought, handing it back to the thief.

“Be at ease. I may be a king, but I am also a father welcoming those who saved his daughter’s life. I should be the one to kneel to you.” He turned to the crowd. “I want everyone here to know that I shall punish my daughter, not as her father, but as king. For sneaking out of the castle without permission and causing this trouble, she will spend the next two months confined to her room, forbidden from going out in public…”

There were a few gasps from the crowd, but most of the gathered people nodded in acceptance. Two months’ probation was a heavy punishment, and being trapped in her room would certainly feel like being in prison for a young woman.

“As for the woman who kidnapped her, she appears to be a wizard serving Marmo. I have received a report from Elm and compared it with what my daughter told me. I would like your perspective, as well—you are the only ones to survive a confrontation with her, after all.”

Parn shot Slayn a look. Slayn nodded and stood, scanned the room, then bowed deeply.

“My name is Slayn. Like Lord Elm, I studied under the great Professor Larcus at the Wizard Academy in Alania. The witch Karla’s magic was like nothing I’d ever seen. She used magic in the ancient language and Earth Goddess Marfa’s holy magic, and she cast extremely high-level spells with ease. The power of her spells might even surpass that of the late Professor Larcus. I apologize for this comparison, but not even Lord Elm has the power to strike down five Holy Knights with one fire spell.”

“I certainly do not,” said Elm. “Fire magic is powerful, but I cannot imagine our knights being defeated in one strike.”

“But that’s exactly what she did,” Slayn emphasized. Murmurs cut through the crowd. It was hard to believe that Marmo had a wizard like that as an ally, but if it were true…

“Silence.” Fahn raised his right hand and the noise stopped. “You’re saying that this witch is more skilled at magic than my trusted Elm?”

“I’m afraid so,” answered Slayn, and kneeled once again to indicate he had no more to add.

“More powerful than Elm, considered Larcus’s best pupil? She is a fearsome witch indeed. Do you know who she is, Elm? Her name was Karla, correct?”

“I found Slayn’s story hard to believe as well, so I searched my memories to see if anything came to mind—and I recalled a legend.”

“Of course you did. What was it?”

“Long ago, when an ancient kingdom ruled this land, magic was much more powerful than it is now. Wizards of that time were far more fluent in the ancient language we use for our spells today—we would likely sound like babbling infants to the wizards of long ago. When the kingdom fell, all its wizards shared its fate…except, they say, a single sorceress who managed to escape harm. Her name was Karla. Since then, a sorceress named Karla has appeared periodically throughout Lodoss’s history.”

Fahn shook his head. He raised his left hand from the throne’s armrest and pointed at Elm. “Are you saying that this legendary sorceress is the same witch who kidnapped my daughter? It would be a simple thing for a witch to change her appearance…but if your theory is true, she would be more than five hundred years old.”

“I don’t have proof—only a hunch,” Elm replied. “But now that Professor Larcus is gone, the person most likely to know the truth is the Great Magus Wort.”

Fahn laughed. “That eccentric old man?”

“He may be eccentric, but he is extremely knowledgeable. And I don’t know any other way to ascertain the truth of her identity.”

“I suppose you’re right. But who will go all the way up into the Moss mountains to ask him? The war with Marmo will only get worse—we cannot afford to lose a single soldier.”

Elm looked at the king, his expression serious. “If Karla is truly a survivor of the ancient kingdom, we will be up against magic far beyond what any of us can handle. I heard that Kanon’s Shining Hill fell when a giant meteor dropped from the sky, destroying its walls—even Wagnard, Marmo’s court wizard, doesn’t have that sort of power. We need to know what we are up against.”

“You truly feel strongly about this…” Fahn shot Elm a wry smile, then nodded. “We can’t send just anyone on this mission. The old man never leaves his mountain tower, and he hates visitors. To get there, whoever we send will have to pass through the dwarven ruins to the south—the Tunnel of Evil. It’s infested with ogres and dragons.” He turned to a man with a decorated helmet. “Leonis, I need you to select someone suitable from among the order—”

“I can do it,” Parn chimed in. He hadn’t been sure whether he should volunteer, but once he spoke up, he found himself sure it was the right choice. “If you choose one of your Holy Knights, they will leave a hole in your defense that can’t easily be filled. I could stay here as a mercenary, but that would be much less use to Valis.”

Fahn looked down at the youth kneeling before him and felt young again. “Is that Tessius’s son?” he whispered to Elm.

“It is,” Elm murmured in reply.

Parn did resemble the Holy Knight Tessius in both face and voice—and probably in action as well, as he had just chosen to fulfill a thankless but vital role over honorable service in battle. Fahn had all but assumed that the young man would ask to join the Valis knighthood. Elm had mentioned that Parn was more than willing, and had recommended him as an upstanding young man suitable for the position—though there was much he would need to learn.

His bravery in rescuing Fianna made him worthy of the title, and he was Tessius’s son. But if he were given a knighthood for only those reasons, the young knights who had never heard of Tessius would be upset. They had spent years training as squires, after all, and were only awarded the honor of knighthood once they were recognized for their skills and character. But if Parn fulfilled this ordeal, those young knights would have to accept him. Not everyone knew Tessius, after all, but everyone knew of the southern dwarven ruins. That tunnel was one of the most treacherous parts of Lodoss, rivaling even the Forest of No Return.

“Parn,” the king began, “I am sorry about Tessius. We couldn’t give him a burial with honors, and the stress drove your mother away from Valis. I would like you, at least, to fight with me as an honorable knight. However, you need to pass a test to join our Order. I will send you with a letter for Wort. Show me that you can accomplish this task and I will ask you to serve under me as my vassal.”

“Upon my life,” Parn said, heart practically bursting with joy.

“The journey to Wort’s mansion will be difficult—as I said, you will have to pass through ruins swarming with deadly creatures, and the witch may come after you again. You would still go?”

“Of course,” Parn replied. He felt like a hero—a modest hero, maybe, but that seemed more fitting, anyway.

“Wonderful! I haven’t felt such hope in so long…” The Hero King laughed, stood, and clapped his hands. “This is a great day. First we welcomed a justice-loving desert king and now a brave son of Tessius. There is no doubt in my mind that we will be victorious in this war. Everyone, prepare to feast! We will enjoy ourselves tonight!”

The crowd let out a cheer. The double doors swung open, and servants swooped from the throne room to begin the preparations. When the time came, music rang out and the banquet began.

Kashue, King of Flaim and the guest of honor, was not even thirty years old. He had been known since his youth for his brave deeds, and had defeated the enemy Tribe of Fire and established the Kingdom of Flaim when he was in his early twenties. He was crowned the “Mercenary King” as a nod to his beginnings as a mercenary, but his skills at both swordsmanship and statecraft were incredible. Though his country was less than a decade old, the hearts of his people were one with King Kashue.

The desert savages, worshippers of the Dark God Phalaris, had been constantly at war with both the Tribe of Storm and the Kingdom of Valis. Immediately after the foundation of the new country, the new king had sent a messenger seeking an alliance with Valis, and Kashue himself had come to celebrate King Fahn’s sixtieth birthday in person. Fahn said that his friendship with Kashue was one that transcended age.

The Mercenary King commanded the attention of the entire party—young knights gathered around to hear of his heroic exploits, and noblewomen tried to catch the bachelor king’s attention.

The knights also clustered around Parn, treating Tessius’s son like a long-lost friend, praising his bravery for risking his life to save their princess, and praying for his safety on his journey to the tower.

Crowds had formed around Deedlit and Ghim as well, since elves and dwarves were rarely seen in the Valis court. Questions rained down on Deedlit with barely a pause in between, and she couldn’t conceal her confusion. She answered perfunctorily and wondered how human noblewomen could bear wearing such cumbersome dresses.

Ghim had no patience for the curious stares, but he could distract with his skills as a craftsman. He appraised the ladies’ jewelry and even improved some pieces with a quick tweak to enhance their presentation. It was like a one-dwarf workshop had sprung up around him as the ladies of Valis brought him their jewelry, one after another.

Young ladies also swirled around Etoh, who was now wearing his priestly robes. In Valis, Pharis priests were respected even more highly than knights. He was greeted personally by High Priest Genart and offered a position at the Great Pharis Temple in Roid.

Genart explained that he was in the process of reforming the order of Pharis with King Fahn’s support, but it was not progressing as planned. The order of Pharis stood for discipline and law; as a side effect of that, the organization tended to prioritize seniority and time served over ability—stodgy habits that the high priest was attempting to shake. He asked Etoh to assist, and the young priest gladly accepted. After all, if Parn became a Valis knight and Etoh joined the Pharis order, the friends could keep working together.

Slayn, clad in a brand new Sage’s robe, was deeply involved in a serious discussion with Elm about the witch’s identity, the war with Marmo, and the governing of Valis. Besides teaching magic, the Wizard Academy taught a variety of academic disciplines, all considered necessary to the proper ruling of a country. As the only Academy-educated wizard in Valis, Elm rarely had a chance to discuss such things with a peer.

Elm had hoped to organize a council of wizards at court, but Valis had been wary of magic for an extremely long time. Few young people aspired to be wizards, certainly not enough to form a proper school. Elm was a passionate devotee of Pharis and loyal to Valis, making him an even rarer case. Though he hadn’t originally intended to, Slayn found himself offering advice.

The banquet grew more cheerful and rowdy as the night progressed. But while most of the companions basked in words of gratitude and endless offers of wine, there was one who stood alone.

Woodchuck could feel the stares of contempt and disgust. He could almost hear the whispered discussion of his occupation and wondered, How were my actions any different from Parn’s? as dark embers of resentment flickered in his mind.

 

2

 

The banquet continued late into the night, eventually breaking into courtly dancing. Parn and his companions couldn’t keep up with the intricacies of court manners, so they eventually found sanctuary together in a corner of the hall, drinking and talking among themselves as if in their own private refuge.

“So now Parn’s dragging us all deep into the Moss mountains, huh?” Deedlit needled him, but deep inside she was secretly pleased that her journey with these people would continue. If Parn became a knight of Valis, there would be nothing to keep the two of them together.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to force you into this—I want you all to come with me, but I know you have your own goals. We’ve just gotten this huge reward, I understand that you might not want to risk your lives again—and I’m prepared to go alone.” Parn’s reply was quiet but determined, and his eyes never left Deedlit’s face.

Deedlit was taken aback. She had expected Parn to be stunned or at least surprised at her reaction, and then she could graciously volunteer to come along, demanding his gratitude. But Parn’s intense determination put a stop to that; she wrapped her lithe arm around him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

“You’ve grown into a fine warrior,” she told him. “You win, for now. I’ll follow you.”

“I’m coming too,” Ghim slurred excitedly. “Now, don’t thank me—this is my problem, too.”

“I’ll gladly join you this time,” Slayn said. “I can’t pass up a chance to meet Wort.”

“Do I even need to say anything, buddy?” Etoh said with a sunny smile.

They all turned to Woodchuck.

“I know, I know, in for a penny, in for a pound. I’ll go with you—I know you’ll end up needing me, anyway,” he said cheerfully, hiding his darker thoughts.

Even if we make it back somehow, you lot will be the ones they thank.

Woodchuck turned toward the center of the hall so no one would notice his dejection. The others followed his gaze.

At the center of the great hall, King Kashue was dancing gracefully with one of the noblewomen. He had only been king for a short time, but he had perfectly mastered the etiquette and decorum of the court. The nosiest of the noblewomen were gossiping about where he might have gotten lessons. Some speculated that he might be Kanon’s third prince, who had run away more than seven years ago, or a royal who had drifted in from the continent. Kashue himself never discussed his origins. When asked about his past, he replied that his present was everything.

King Fahn stayed at the banquet for only a short time, retiring early. Without the king’s attention presiding, the ceremony and formality of the party loosened as the night grew later.

Woodchuck, Ghim, and Slayn crept away and withdrew to their guest rooms, but Parn lagged behind, not wanting the night to end. The crowd around him had thinned until the only one left at his side was an unexpectedly cheerful Deedlit. She hadn’t eaten or drunk much and wasn’t speaking to anyone—she’d refused all requests for a dance from the knights, saying that elves had no such custom. Yet she seemed unexpectedly happy just to sit beside him.

Etoh had tried to return to his room several times, but each time he was stalled by one of the young ladies, asking for Pharis teachings or stories of his adventures.

“He’s so popular,” Parn pouted, watching his friend.

“Of course. He’s attractive enough—and considering the devout Pharis following here, it’s no wonder a young priest is drawing attention,” Deedlit chuckled, leaning against the wall beside Parn.

“May I join you?”

The sudden greeting interrupted their peaceful bubble, which annoyed Deedlit. She turned to the newcomer harshly.

“What do you want?” she huffed.

“What a stubborn elf,” he laughed loudly.

Parn was struck silent—the man talking to them was the King of Flaim himself. “F-forgive me,” Parn quickly apologized with a bow.

“At ease,” the king replied. “No need for decorum—I was once a swordsman for hire, just like you.”

“I-is there something I can do for you, sir?” Parn couldn’t help but be nervous, but Kashue’s frank manner was helping to relax him.

Deedlit, on the other hand, wasn’t bothering to hide her displeasure—she pursed her lips, vowing not to speak to him at all.

“Nothing in particular,” the king replied. “I was just in the mood to talk to a young warrior about his adventures.”

“O-of course…” Parn said. He began to tell the story of their rescue of the princess. While he talked, he watched the King of Flaim, hoping to observe how he was different from Parn himself, thinking that he might become a better man if he could just bridge the gap between them.

Kashue seemed to enjoy Parn’s story, even giving advice during the battle scenes based on his own experiences. He had a wealth of knowledge about battle tactics for one-on-one combat and had survived countless chaotic melees. He even offered to give Parn a sparring lesson the next day.

As Parn’s story wrapped up, the clear voice of a troubadour rang out. The man picked out harmonies on a lute as he sang a song of heroic deeds—an epic poem about the war against the demon gods.

 

Brought to this world through our most dire mistake,

the fearsome Demon King whose tale I tell,

left death and dire destruction in its wake.

With kingdoms destroyed, the world to darkness fell.

 

But light then gathered there to fight its war,

the humans rose, armed with shield and sword,

the elves with bows arose from forests far,

and dwarves joined in with axes freshly forged.

 

Forces of light, a shining sun of hope,

banished the awful darkness from this land.

A shout of triumph rang from shore to shore,

from forest, mountain, ocean, sky, and sand.

 

Abysmal labyrinth hid the kingly demon,

its final stronghold, the city of the damned.

From hidden portal by its horrid throne,

the fiend’s hand reached and cursed the land.

 

A hundred chosen heroes ventured there,

challenged the fell labyrinth—and died.

Corpses grew cold, but their inner light flared,

a radiance that left evil no place to hide.

 

Seven heroes fought the Demon King,

six survived and thus the world was saved,

the knight, the royal hero with sword a-shining,

Fahn of Valis, chivalrous and brave.

 

The warrior, Beld, who smote the demon lord,

and lost his soul when he struck the killing blow,

the priestess, Neese, Marfa’s child, dearly adored,

and the wizard, Wort, who knew all there was to know.

 

The dwarf there was, too—Flebe, the last one of his line,

a lost country of stone, and he the king—

and last, the nameless warrior-mage long gone.

Together, all put to right the evil of which I sing.

 

The song ended, and the room fell silent. Then someone clapped and raucous applause broke out—the Valis knights cheered their Hero King and called for the overthrow of the Dark Emperor Beld.

Parn knew that the events of the song had really happened—the epic battle against demons had occurred only a few decades before—and now, another war was about to break out on Lodoss between two of the heroes of that last war.

What an ironic fate, Parn couldn’t help but think. Why had Beld abandoned his heroic nature and become Emperor of the dark island? Why had he destroyed Kanon? Parn just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

The dancing resumed with no end in sight. Kashue ignored the ladies vying for a dancing partner, seemingly content to keep talking to Parn, who couldn’t imagine a better opportunity. He had the personal attention of a legendary king who had started out as a mercenary just like him. Parn remained rapt, absorbing every single thing the king said.

Deedlit listened to their conversation with her back to them. She watched the dancing, which was reminiscent of the time she had met Parn, during the festival in Allan. However, it also roused nostalgic thoughts of her home in the forest.

She had expected to be bored and unimpressed with humans, but it seemed that there were leaves of truth and insight scattered through their short lives. It would take some time to sift through what she’d discovered. Deedlit glanced back at Parn, who was still talking to Kashue with a serious look on his face, and found herself thinking that she wouldn’t mind taking the time to watch over this young man’s life.

 

3

 

A hideous, hunched goblin soldier marched back and forth before the castle gate.

Emperor Beld of Marmo looked on, wondering which was more normal—the goblin’s wretched nature or his own twisted heart. The demonic sword at his left hip rattled as if mocking his thoughts. Beld gripped the handle forcefully, like he was strangling a hated enemy.

“What’s wrong?” a voice came from behind. “Odd to find you so thoughtful in the middle of the day.”

It was Wagnard, the court wizard and Beld’s most trusted advisor.

“I was considering the hideousness of that goblin gatekeeper. Shining Hill was once called the finest castle in Lodoss—now look what it’s become under its new master.” Beld’s jet-black cloak billowed around his blood red armor. The demonic sword let out another unearthly cackle.

“I heard that Karla’s plans in Valis have failed.”

“Yes. But no matter. I will defeat Fahn without having to resort to cheap tricks.”

Beld took a moment to look at his advisor. Wagnard wore black robes. It was rumored that he’d dyed his Academy robes with the blood of a dark elf.

Like the dark elves, Wagnard used the black magic of
Phalaris. Physically, he was also much stronger than the traditional wizard and was an expert swordsman. To most sword-hating wizards, that alone was enough to brand him a heretic. Despite his great power, however, Wagnard only used magic under the most extreme circumstances. In truth, he was unable to use it most of the time. His master, Larcus, had cast a forbidden spell on him—whenever he cast a spell now, no matter how simple, his body was wracked with unbearable pain. Most people would immediately lose consciousness when experiencing pain that intense, but Wagnard had endured. He even learned how to conduct complex, hours-long rituals without his concentration slipping.

It was that sinister strength of will that gave Beld complete confidence in the wizard—and that had earned him the title “The Black Mage.”

“The witch failed in Alania, as well. It seems she has less talent for scheming than she does for magic.”

“You think so? She has always been shrewd, and she has plots within her plots. She still says that all but Valis will self-destruct.”

“That’ll save us a lot of trouble, if it’s true.”

“Did you bring a report, Wagnard? I thought I saw a messenger arrive on horseback.”

Wagnard laughed dryly. “You see everything, Your Majesty. I did receive a report from the spy I left in Valis. King Kashue of Flaim recently arrived there with a hundred knights. It seems that King Fahn will soon bring the battle to us.”

“So the day has come.” Beld smiled thinly and looked up at the sky. “Hide the sun during the battle. Goblins don’t like sunlight.”

“Understood. Where is the witch now?”

“She should be in Moss. She said she had a scheme to finish up there, after which she wanted to see an old friend.”

“She sounds busy,” Wagnard said. “Why is she even working with us? What is she after?”

“Why indeed?” Beld remarked mysteriously. “It’s more interesting when you don’t know.” With that, the Emperor turned with a flip of his cloak and went inside, footsteps ringing on the stone floor. Wagnard followed his lord as silent as a shadow.

 

Deep in the mountains of Moss, Parn and his companions struggled up the steep mountain path. Two weeks had passed since the group left Roid. They had made it through the ruins of the dwarven stone kingdom, battling evil creatures on the way, and were now getting close to Wort’s tower. Due to the dangerously steep path, however, they had to pause every few steps to avoid losing their footing. They were all sweating hard from the effort.

“What a terrible place to live,” Deedlit sighed, leaning heavily on the dead branch she’d picked up to use as a walking stick.

“Agreed. Isn’t this Wort an old man? How can he live out here?” Woodchuck asked.

They scrambled along the ridge of a craggy mountain where only sparse grass grew. Earlier, Slayn had been buffeted by a strong gust of wind and slid down a slope—Woodchuck had had to pull him back up with a rope. Etoh healed his wounds afterwards, but the experience had left the wizard both wary and grumpy. Since the incident, he’d been so focused on his footing that he barely said a word.

“Is that it?” Woodchuck asked from his place in the lead. He straightened up and used a hand to shadow his eyes, staring into the distance.

Deedlit could just make out what might have been the tip of a tower—though it also might have been a mountain peak. Slayn began murmuring. They all recognized his farsight spell and so waited for his verdict.

“No mistake—it’s a stone tower,” Slayn said cheerfully. He quickly cast a floating spell just to confirm, floating up until his feet were about level with Woodchuck’s head. “We can get there in a quarter day,” Slayn continued, but no one seemed particularly relieved—at that point, even a few more hours of hiking seemed way too long.

“Let’s rest a little while longer, then push through,” Parn said, and he plunked himself down on a nearby rock. He pulled out a hand towel and mopped his damp brow—there was no way to escape the summer heat, especially for a man in heavy armor.

 

Little did Parn and his companions know, but they were being watched at that very moment. Not far from their resting spot, at the top of the tower they’d just spotted, two wizards gazed at an image inside a crystal ball.

“These are the ones who managed to outwit you?” an old man said with a derisive snort. He wore a grey robe and his hair—once raven-black in his youth but long since faded to white—grew long down his back. He was clean-shaven, so there was nothing to hide the deep wrinkles of his aged face, but he still had a curious twinkle in his eyes.

“Say what you want, Wort. Even I am powerless against fate,” the second wizard replied. She wore a purple dress and her white teeth peeked from between voluptuous red lips. The jewels on the thin circlet on her forehead sparkled like a pair of eyes. She appeared more thoughtful than angry as she watched the people in the image.

She was the witch, Karla.

The dimly lit, circular tower room held only a table and four chairs near the room’s center. There were two doors. One simply led downstairs, while the other was a glass door that led out to a balcony with a view of all of Moss—all the way to the faraway Lake Above the Clouds.

The crystal ball in the center of the table could allow the wizards to see even further than that. Manipulated correctly, it could show any place in Lodoss.

“What’s your plan? Will you go out and crush them?” Wort asked, mouth pursed like he’d bitten into something bitter.

Karla let out a bewitching laugh. She’d used her magic mirror of truth to find out Parn’s group’s next destination. After finishing her business in Moss, she’d made her way to the tower a full two days before their arrival to wait for them and now, at last, they were finally here.

“You make that sound easy,” she said, “but they’re surprisingly shrewd—especially that wizard. He may be young, but he’s quite capable. I might have been careless, but they’ve still outwitted me twice now.”

“With five hundred years’ experience at your beck and call, that makes them quite an impressive band of adventurers. I hope you won’t kill them before I’ve made their acquaintance.”

“Does that mean I can kill them after?”

“Somewhere out of my sight,” Wort replied, his piercing gaze locked on Karla’s face.

“Is there anywhere on Lodoss you can’t see?” Karla asked with a laugh. “As long as you have this crystal ball, that won’t be possible.” With a hint of laughter still on her lips, she turned her cold eyes to meet the old man’s. “All right, Wort. I won’t kill them out of a personal grudge. That just isn’t my style. At any rate, my work in Moss is done—so as long as they leave me alone, I won’t make the first move. But…” Karla paused, letting her gaze fall back to the crystal ball. “Will they forgive me? And if not—if these travelers want a fight—I will be allowed to defend myself, won’t I?”

“I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“Don’t worry—I’m not seeking a fight. I like them; I’d much rather they joined me. Still, I’m sure they’ll try to defeat me again. That young warrior hates me from the bottom of his heart.”

“What are you thinking?” Wort asked with a stern expression.

“Hmm, what indeed?” she said. “What do you see when you look at them? He’s just like you or Fahn back in the day—guided by destiny, overcoming deadly obstacles, rushing headlong toward his goal. One day, I’m sure they’ll face me as deadly foes.”

“Huh…”

“I’m sure they’ll ask you where I am. You can tell them. You know where I live, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Wort answered glumly. “I’ll keep my promise. I won’t assist Fahn—and in exchange, you’ll sever ties with Beld. If we got involved in this battle, it would just mean far more casualties on both sides. But our agreement doesn’t include them.”

“Are you going to attack me for the sake of complete strangers? That goes against everything you believe in, Great Magus Wort. You’re the only one who knows just how futile it is to fight me.”

“I do…” He had thought that he was unbeatable in a magic battle. But he could not vanquish the witch, because doing so would mean his own destruction—and not even Wort knew how to neutralize her without killing her.

“It’s a shame,” Karla said, rising from her chair and giving the adventurers in the crystal ball one last look. She then stroked the crystal ball’s surface lovingly, and the image faded into darkness, leaving the ball a black glass sphere once again. “Now then, I should get ready. I’ll prepare some drinks and a light meal—they’re my guests too, so there should be nothing odd about me cooking for them. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like to eat, Wort—my culinary skills are quite impressive.”

“Not yours. Those skills belong to the woman you’re controlling,” Wort spat.

“Exactly—but this body belongs to me now. Leylia, the Marfa priestess, is gone. Body and mind, I am Karla.”

Wort avoided her gaze and activated the crystal ball once more. This time, it showed an image of Beld’s face—unchanged since they had gone together into the Deepest Labyrinth to defeat the Demon King. The demonic sword he bore had kept him young. He was only a few years younger than Wort, so he should have been an old man, but he was frozen in time by a curse—the same curse that bound him to become the overlord who would unify Lodoss.

In the final battle against the Demon King, a Pharis priestess sacrificed her life to save Beld. She had entrusted him with her final wish: eternal peace on Lodoss. The only way to achieve that was for a great king to unify the island.

Beld was trying to fulfill that wish.

The priestess was called Flaus, and she, Wort, and Beld had travelled through all of Lodoss together. Beld’s heart had died with her; his soul still wandered the eternal abyss in the depths of the labyrinth. All that remained of him was a shell, acting only to realize her last words through conquest.

Fahn also tried to realize Flaus’s dreams—though in a different way. Beld and Fahn both wanted the same peace for Lodoss, though the paths they took to get there couldn’t be more different. And the dream remained elusive.

“Such tragic folly.” Wort felt anger bubble up inside him, ­toward the grey witch who had let herself into his tower with not the slightest shame. This woman, sole survivor of the ancient kingdom, had cleverly manipulated his friends’ genuine emotions just to maintain a balance in the world—the triumph of not black nor white, but the grey in between. Wort could almost see the outcome of the battle to come. He had no way to change it and Karla knew that, so she’d come to stop him from trying to intervene.

And Wort had agreed to her terms. The witch stood in the shadows of history, using brave heroes as pawns in her game. Her existence was why a unified Lodoss had never been achieved since ancient times.

Wort continued to gaze at the Emperor of Marmo, pity in his eyes.

 

4

 

“We’re finally here.”

Parn panted with exhaustion, bent over with his hands on his knees. Even after they’d spotted the tower, getting there had taken longer than they’d expected—there were so many switchbacks and detours on the mountain trail that they began to suspect the old Magus had done it on purpose.

Throughout the grueling day, Parn had gotten more and more annoyed with the mage and their whole situation. And annoyances aside, a peerless mage choosing a life of seclusion despite his great abilities made no sense to Parn.

“It’s just like King Fahn said,” Parn had complained over and over throughout the day. “He’s a stubborn old man who hates everyone.”

Deedlit had voiced her agreement every time Parn said it, but eventually it got so tedious that she finally snapped, “If you dislike him so much, why don’t you just go back to Roid?” They’d traveled in stony silence ever since.

That kind of argument had become more common between them. Parn was becoming more assertive, which meant more bickering. And for every noble thing that came out of his mouth, he’d say something equally immature later. She didn’t dislike that part of him necessarily, but it confused her. For every two steps Parn took toward his true potential, he seemed to take one step back.

Still, though, Parn had seemed different since leaving Roid. Inspired by King Fahn and King Kashue, he was finally growing into a leader.

Slayn had noticed the change in Parn, too. He felt like he had to advise him less often. Slayn had told the others that, after their current journey ended, he was going to help Ghim find whatever it was he was looking for. The wizard was sure that Parn had started to walk down the right path and could practically see their futures—Parn would become a knight of Valis and Etoh would join the Pharis Temple in Roid. Slayn and Ghim would continue their journey and Woodchuck…well, who knew what Woodchuck would do next?

Deedlit was also unsure of what to do next. If Parn was knighted, there would be no reason to stay with him. But she didn’t want to journey alone, and she had no intention of going back home. She just couldn’t decide. She kept telling herself that it wasn’t worth worrying over—maybe, once this trip ended, things would fall into place.

From the outside, the Magus Tower was unadorned and plain. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a regular castle watchtower. It was perched on an empty, rocky mountain peak, and they couldn’t help but wonder how someone could live there.

As they carefully made their way to the double doors leading into the tower, their breath caught in their throats. The door handles were shaped like dragons.

Parn raised a hand tentatively to knock, but before he could do so, the door slowly creaked open on its own.

“Whoa!” Parn shouted, pulling back. “Heh…what a joker. Does he want to give people heart attacks?” The interior of the tower was dimly lit and difficult to see, but when Parn leaned closer to look inside, the lights came on by themselves. “What the heck is this?!”

“It’s just simple magic. He’s a Magus, after all—even his basic spells are extraordinary.”

“He’s showing off!” Parn objected.

“Let’s just go inside already. Yelling out here won’t solve anything,” Deedlit said, stepping through the doorway.

“Hello!” she called out. “I am Deedlit the elf, here on a mission from King Fahn of Valis!” Her voice echoed in the empty tower. The only things inside were a staircase heading down to the basement and another staircase that ran up in a spiral along the wall, ending at a single door.

Deedlit waited, but there was no response to her call. “Now what?” Deedlit turned to ask an anxious Parn.

“He better not be gone,” Parn answered, shuddering at the thought. The thought that they might’ve come all this way only for the Magus to be out just wasn’t funny.

“It seems someone’s upstairs—I can hear talking.” Slayn lowered his hood and stepped inside. “I can also feel magic here—many spells that only a great wizard could cast.” Slayn cautiously approached the spiral staircase and stood on the first step to test it. Under his foot, the stairs suddenly flashed with pale blue light and started ascending with a low groan. “Well, this is convenient—if only they could cast this spell on the stairs of the castle of Valis. I had quite a bit of trouble with them.” Slayn let out a laugh and turned to Parn as he was carried upstairs.

They had spent three days at the castle after the ball, deeply meaningful days for Slayn and Parn. Slayn had had a chance to peruse the rare and valuable books in Elm’s collection—and, as he’d promised at the ball, Kashue had given Parn sword lessons. Etoh was appointed an official cleric by High Priest Genart and assigned to serve the Valis court upon his return. They both wanted to assist in national affairs. Ghim had taken ten gold coins from their reward and crafted something in the castle smithy. Only Deedlit and Woodchuck had spent their time idle.

The moving staircase carried Slayn steadily upwards. “Don’t go by yourself!” Parn shouted, jumping onboard in a panic.

I guess it probably won’t eat me, Woodchuck told himself as he gingerly stepped on. The other three soon joined him.

The landing in front of the door was small—not really large enough for six people to stand on. They clustered there awkwardly for a moment before Parn spoke up.

“Excuse me,” he called out. “I’m Parn, a travelling warrior, and I’m coming in.” He pushed the door open—this one didn’t open on its own. Beyond was a spiral passageway, a gentle slope with a rough-paved stone floor for surer footing. Parn continued onward, and the others followed behind—but this time they only took one trip around the tower before they reached a pair of doors, side by side.

Listening carefully, they could hear voices coming from the door on the right. Parn wondered who on earth would visit such a place—well, other than him and his friends.

“Excuse me…no one responded when we arrived, so we let ourselves in. Oh! I’m Parn, a traveling warrior,” he announced to the air again.

“Get in here already!” a gruff, elderly-sounding voice responded. That had to be the Great Magus Wort.

Parn breathed a sigh of relief to find out that the Magus was home. He slowly stepped inside, already in a low, respectful bow—but when he raised his head, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“K-Karla…” he groaned, trailing off into shocked silence.

Deedlit’s hand flew to her mouth—her other reached unconsciously for her rapier. “Why are you here?” she asked, her face gone pale.

“You will not fight here!” the old man yelled sharply. At his words, Deedlit felt her muscles freeze by the power of an outside source.

Finally, Karla spoke. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to start anything here. I just wanted another chance to speak to all of you. So, come in.”

The table in the center of the room held a glass for each of them, with several bottles of wine, roast venison served on a platter, and fresh fruit and vegetables piled high. The mages had clearly been waiting for them.

“All right, we’ll listen,” Parn agreed. He was still in shock, but he took Karla’s words as a challenge. He crossed the room and sat down, prepared to draw his sword at a moment’s notice. His hateful glare never once left her face.

Ghim took the other empty chair unprompted, and the other four fanned out behind them, still standing. Woodchuck cowered as far from Karla as he could manage, trying to look inconspicuous.

An awkward silence filled the room.

Karla offered drinks, then poured herself a glass and gracefully drank to show that it wasn’t poisoned.

“The glasses and wine are from my personal collection, so don’t worry,” the old man chimed in.

“Let’s talk first,” Parn said, leaning forward. “What are you doing here? How did you know we were coming?”

Karla smiled at the furious young warrior and settled in the seat next to him. Ghim kept staring, inspecting her from head to toe—Karla gave him one glance before turning back to the warrior.

“I don’t have to answer that…but I will anyway. One of the reasons I’m here is that Wort and I are old friends. We once fought together, side by side. Another reason is that I wanted to see you all again. And as for how I managed to find you—that was the simplest of all.” Karla leaned her elbows on the table and clasped her hands, fingers intertwined. Most of them were adorned with rings of different shapes and sizes; they knew from the previous battle that they weren’t just ordinary jewelry. The witch could wield powerful magic with the shake of a finger.

“You said you want to talk to us?”

“I have a proposal. Like I said before, I value all of you highly. Won’t you join me? I’d be happy to put our…unfortunate previous encounters behind us.”

Parn’s eyes widened in fury. He opened his mouth to yell in a fit of anger, but restrained himself out of respect for Wort.

“There, I listened,” he said. “Did you actually think we would agree? We’d never work for Marmo.” His voice cracked with rage, but he managed to keep himself from yelling, at least. He couldn’t believe she had such a low opinion of him, to think he had it in his nature to sell his soul to evildoers.

“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” Karla responded with a sigh. She swirled the red liquid in her glass, which reflected the lights of the room. “I am not Beld’s minion. I cooperated with him for a time, but my goal is noble. You know of the ancient kingdom, correct? It was a magical civilization that thrived in Lodoss, and in fact, across the entire world of Forcelia. Do you know the real reason it was lost?”

“Legend says a powerful magic spell went out of control,” Slayn chimed in, “though that was long years before all of our time, so we have no way to know the truth,” He looked over to Deedlit to see if she had anything to add, but she shook her head.

“I wasn’t born yet, and the elves don’t pay much attention to human events,” Deedlit explained.

“The wizard is basically correct. In the last years of the kingdom, the wizards built an enormous device that would generate inexhaustible magical power to use for infinite spells. By implanting a small crystal ball into their foreheads, connected to this device beyond space and time, they shared this infinite magic power. The experiment succeeded and the civilization prospered—spawning an age of great magical invention. Entire cities were lifted into the skies or floated in the oceans. They had complete control of the spirit world, even using dragons as servants. But the wizards lost the ability to use magic without relying on the device. When they attempted the ultimate spell, the device couldn’t sustain it and was destroyed—leaving no wizards left who could use magic.”

“Around that time, the savages began to attack in earnest. The powerless wizards couldn’t defend themselves and were wiped out. It took less than five years for all that they’d built to be reduced to nothing…”

Parn listened with his arms folded across his chest. His gaze was locked on the witch’s pale face and blue eyes so intensely it was like he’d forgotten to blink.

A long moment passed. When Parn realized that Karla was likely waiting for an answer, he mumbled, “So what?” He didn’t understand the point of her story.

“You don’t understand why it fell into ruin?” she asked, closing her eyes and searching through her memories. Images of the greatest wizards slaughtered one after another came rushing back to her like it was yesterday. Her memories never faded because her existence was memory itself. “The world should never rely on a single power. No matter what it is, it will ultimately lose control and lead to catastrophe. The ancient kingdom perished trying to establish a supreme magical civilization, but magic isn’t the only dangerous power. Fahn’s ideals, Beld’s ambition—they are equally dangerous.

“There must always be balance. Once that breaks down, catastrophic destruction is unavoidable. But it’s impossible to maintain a perfect balance—the scale will tip one way or the other, even more so when trying to balance the entire world. But what if the scale is endlessly rocked back and forth, so neither side can ever attain full victory?” Karla paused, thoughtfully swirling the wine in her glass, following the liquid with her eyes.

“Look at it at any given moment,” she went on, “and it will seem that one side is winning. But looking at the greater pattern, it might as well be balanced in the middle. I have meddled throughout history to tip the scales because it’s what’s best for Lodoss. Fahn’s faith in the light of law, Beld’s destructive power…if either gained supremacy, Lodoss would stabilize under a single power. But that stability wouldn’t last forever. In the future, when it finally crumbles, the destruction would be so great that the war between the gods pales in comparison, and civilization would collapse again. It could even cause the end of the world.”

“You must realize that what I’m saying is true,” she said, “so I’ll ask you again—join me, and save the world from destruction—”

“Is that it?” Parn asked in a low voice. Karla nodded, waiting silently for his reply. “Then here’s my answer—no. We’re not going to join you. Maybe there’s some truth to what you’re saying, who knows? But no matter the reason, toying with people’s hearts and lives is never right! How many have died in the battles that you caused?!” Parn stood up and slammed his fist on the table. An empty glass fell over and rolled into a wine bottle with a clink.

“Even if many more lives are lost when the day of destruction arrives?” Karla asked, her expression unchanged. She met Parn’s furious gaze unflinchingly.

“Even if that’s true, a single human being shouldn’t be allowed to manipulate destiny! That should be left to the gods!”

Karla simply nodded once, then stood. Everyone braced themselves, but Karla simply walked past them, straight toward the door.

“Then I’ll leave it at that. If you disagree with what I’ve done, fine. Try to stop me if you want. I’ll take you on any time.”

“Then we’ll settle this right here and now!” Parn shouted, hand on his sword.

“I told you, no blades here!” the Great Magus said sharply.

Karla waved her right hand at Parn, preparing to meet his attack—but before she could activate her magic rings, Ghim grabbed Parn from behind.

“Parn, wait! Just wait!”

“What’re you doing, Ghim?! You’re going to let Karla escape?!”

“Ghim’s just saying not here,” Deedlit said, helping the dwarf hold him back.

“I apologize, Great Magus Wort,” Slayn said to the old man with a bow.

“You should mind your manners,” Karla said with a cold laugh, and continued on.

“May I ask one thing?” Slayn asked. Karla paused and looked back.

“What is it?”

“Have you really lived for five hundred years? There’s no known spell for eternal youth—at least, not among Academy wizards.”

“Why do you want to know? Would you seek out this spell if you found out it existed?”

“I don’t know. I’m just surprised that you’ve lived so long, even for a wizard of the ancient kingdom. Even in ancient texts, I’ve never seen an immortality spell mentioned. Just the knowledge that one exists would be a great motivation for the wizards.”

“What an interesting way you think.”

“Is it?” he said. “Perhaps not as interesting as you. With your powers, there could be other methods to save the world from destruction.”

“There aren’t. I’m not omnipotent. I can only affect the balance on this island, and I can only exist like this because I’ve always remained hidden in the shadows of history. If I had stepped out into the open even once, someone would have killed me. My role in this modern era is over—everything has already been set into motion, so I will retreat into the shadows until I am needed once more…” Karla turned back to the door. “Wort, I will take my leave. Brave adventurers, may you receive Marfa’s blessings.” At last, she opened the door and left.

Ghim, keeping with his grip on Parn, continued to stare at the door until her footsteps had faded.

“Great Magus Wort,” Parn said, turning his furious glare on the old man. “We have a lot of questions for you. That’s why we’re here.”

 

5

 

After Karla left, Deedlit eased herself into the now-empty seat. She took a glass and poured herself some wine. Behind her, she heard Etoh let out a long, relieved sigh. With Karla gone, the mood was significantly lighter, but the encounter with her had been such a shock that no one had regained their composure yet.

Parn was conflicted. After what happened, he couldn’t trust the old man—he seemed just as bad as Karla. Wort seemed unconcerned about Parn’s wary attitude. He took a glass of wine and a piece of meat from the platter and began to eat.

“I don’t blame you for distrusting me,” Wort began, his mouth stuffed with food. “All I can say is—I’m the one and only Wort, and I’m not Karla’s ally.” He raised his glass to Parn in a mocking toast; in response, Parn’s glare grew even angrier. The old man kept speaking, not responding to his change in mood. “There’s some truth to what she says—I did once fight at her side. But so did Fahn, Beld, and Neese. We fought our way through the Deepest Labyrinth. Though back then, Karla didn’t look like the beautiful woman she is now—she was a warrior in a clunky mask and armor…” Wort paused to look around the room, and grinned.

“What?! How?!” Parn exclaimed. “I know the saga of the Six Heroes…the last of them, the unnamed warrior-mage. That was Karla?! She was really one of the heroes of the Demon Wars…?!”

“The demons definitely changed the balance of the world,” Slayn said calmly, but his wide eyes betrayed his astonishment.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Woodchuck asked, confused.

“Like the young man here said, Karla was the warrior-mage, one of the Six Heroes.” Wort laughed and raised his glass to his lips. “You might have assumed that she’s lived for the past five hundred years looking exactly as she does now, but that’s a mistake. That kind of magic has never existed, not even in the ancient kingdom. She is powerful, but even the greatest ancient wizards could only extend their lives for two hundred years at most. But Karla came up with a way around that limit.”

“Is it to control someone else’s body?” Ghim mumbled, sinking into his chair.

“Ghim!” Slayn was surprised at Ghim’s insight, but it also made a strange kind of sense, considering some of the dwarf’s behavior. “Does this mean you’re ready to tell us what you’re looking for?”

“Yes,” the dwarf said with a deliberate nod. “It’s time.”

“I didn’t expect a dwarf would be the one to figure this out!” Wort said with a gleeful laugh. “Have you researched ancient magic?”

“Of course not. My kind have nothing to do with magic.”

“And yet you’re the one who first arrived at the truth. Good for you,” Wort replied. “Like this highly intelligent wine barrel of a dwarf says, Karla transferred her consciousness into an object and has kept existing all these years by controlling the mind of anyone who wears it. Did you see the circlet on her forehead? That it Karla’s true form, though whether or not she is truly alive is up for debate. Her consciousness has stayed unchanged for the past five hundred years—since she abandoned her original body. I wouldn’t consider her human; she’s a ghost.”

“So the woman we’re seeing is Karla’s victim,” Parn said. He was slowly beginning to believe the old man, at least a little. He reached for the food and accepted a glass of wine when Deedlit offered it.

“Exactly. When Karla’s latest body is destroyed, the circlet casts a spell to take over the mind of whoever destroyed it. The magic is so powerful that nobody can escape. That’s why Karla can never be defeated—even when someone succeeds, they just turn into the next Karla.”

“I don’t want her defeated. I promised I’d bring that girl back home,” Ghim said glumly.

“You mean the woman Karla is controlling?” Slayn asked.

“Yeah. I know who she is. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw her portrait, and even after we met her, I still had my doubts. But when she cast a holy spell of Marfa, I knew it was true. Her name is Leylia, and she’s the daughter of Neese, Marfa’s high priestess—and one of the Six Heroes. Neese is a friend of mine; I told her that I’d bring her missing child back to her if I could.” Ghim sighed. “This also explains the riddle she told me—that her daughter is alive, but doesn’t exist. That really does describe Leylia in her current state. After all, Karla isn’t alive, but she certainly does exist.”

“So that’s your story,” Slayn sighed, struck with admiration.

“Hold on…so we can’t beat Karla? But we can’t just let that witch get away with this!” Parn shouted in frustration.

“Were you listening?” Deedlit huffed in exasperation. “We can’t fight her! Even if we win, the magic of the circlet will take over our minds!”

“Then how do we rescue the girl?!” Ghim shouted, looking at all of them for help.

“There may be a way,” said Wort, glancing at each of them in turn. “It’s very dangerous…but not impossible if you have the courage.” Wort stood up, strode to a stone wall, and tapped it. The wall shuddered and opened, revealing a small room full of what looked like useless clutter. He disappeared into the room but kept shouting back to them. “The magic of the circlet activates when the body is destroyed, so all you have to do is tear it off her while she’s still alive.”

“Easier said than done,” Etoh chimed in, calling out in Wort’s general direction. “I’m sure you know how difficult that would be. The witch uses powerful ancient magic. Capturing her will be far more difficult than killing her.”

“Obviously,” Wort replied. They could hear him rummaging through something. “Ah, finally!” he exclaimed, sounding delighted. He emerged from the room, holding a small stick. “Like the priest said, you have no chance of beating her head-on. And, no offence, but you lot aren’t heroes like Beld or Fahn—even your wizard here isn’t as well versed in the ancient language as I am.” Wort casually tossed the stick onto the table. “So I’ll give you this magic wand—it’s a relic of the ancient kingdom. Cast the spell correctly, and its magic will be released.”

“What does it do?” Slayn asked, picking up the stick with great interest. It wasn’t made of any metal or wood he recognized, and it had ancient runes carved into its surface. “Te-u-ra? Is that the spell?”

“Yes. I think you’ll find it quite useful—it nullifies all magic around it. Of course, that means you won’t be able to use your own magic, either.”

“So we can use it to keep her from casting any spells and capture her alive!” Parn said excitedly.

“I’ll be useful at that point, I bet,” Woodchuck declared. “I can sneak up behind her and snatch that thing off her forehead.” He’d gotten bored listening to them, but he knew it was finally his time to shine. “But what will we do with this circlet?” he said. “Destroy it? Sell it? It looks like a valuable piece of jewelry.”

“It would be wise to destroy it while the wand’s magic is in effect. Leave it and who knows when it’ll find another victim.”

“But isn’t there a way to resist its control? You know, take her magic powers but leave your own consciousness intact? Maybe there’s a way to defeat the spell that takes you over if you know what’s coming. Then you could bring back some of this lost ancient magic.”

“Are you out of your mind, thief?” Wort glared at Woodchuck. “If you could resist the spell, then yes, you would obtain all of Karla’s knowledge and memories. And that would be priceless. But it’s impossible. Think about it. Many of the people who Karla has dominated over the years must have been powerful—they had to defeat her, after all. But they all fell to the circlet’s spell. You shouldn’t entertain such foolish thoughts.”

“I guess,” Woodchuck said with a shrug.

“That’s all I have to say to you. Return to Fahn and tell him all of this. And make sure he knows—I will not pick a side, and Karla will no longer assist Beld, either. You all, however, can fight to your hearts’ content.”

“Can you tell us one more thing?” Parn asked, leaning forward.

“What is it?”

“Tell us where to find Karla.”