The Keys to Ascension Page 19

  Parto relaxed to enjoy food and lax conversation with Lizeto, but he couldn’t chat for long. After swigging down the rest of his sweetened water, Parto said, “Man, I have some business questions to ask your father. You mind if we have a chat?”

  Lizeto shook his head, chewing his beef’n beans loudly. He swallowed some, then slammed more in his chow hole with his hand. In a muffled, wet voice he said, “Yeah, man. My dad is your dad. We gotta help each other out, you know?” Some beans and the red sauce slimed down his chin.

  Parto laughed. “You’re gross man.”

  Lizeto swallowed a little more before topping off his big mouth from the bowl in front of him. “Na man. I’m’a multitasker. My dad’s knights should train you like me. I’ve always seen the training as a waste of time.” He gagged, beans’n beef flew from his mouth.

  Parto dodged his head left as the food flew past him.

  Lizeto continued chewing and talking. “I’m a ruler not a warrior. But without my boys!, Sedeux just isn’t as fun. I still play and am the best, but I’ve really gotten into horsing and swording and…” he lifted a chicken leg and tore off a chunk off it. The meat mixed with the food already in his mouth. “and lancing’n stuff. Even gotten pretty good with a crossbow. Skill in sport translates to skill in warfare, man.”

  Parto nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I’m ready to see the count when you are.”

  Lizeto gulped down some sweetened water before standing and wiping glumped food off his chest, leaving a stain.

  He asked some servants to find his dad. They did, and the boys walked through the gothic fortress until they found the count lounging on a chair reading some documents, wearing all black as usual. A thin, white glove covered his left hand—a glove Parto had never seen before.

  They stood in front of him. “Dad, got a minute?”

  The count lifted his eyes, examining his son before setting down the documents on a table next to him. Focusing on Parto, he said, “Hi, Parto. How are you handling the mines?”

  He gave a weak smile. “As well as anyone can, I guess. It’s hard work, but I can handle it.”

  “You’ll make it. You’re a strong, smart man; just like Themeno.”

  “Yes. I actually wanted to ask you about my family. I have no one left to ask about them. Do you know why my mother had to go away? They say she was a maleefa. Was she?”

  Lizeto’s dad let out a slow exhale before breathing back in. “That’s what they say. I honestly don’t know. But as is painfully clear to everyone,” he rubbed his gloved hand, “I have wizard friends. If she did use magic, you shouldn’t think less of her. Magic is a tool, not an inherent evil.”

  “But. Sir. That’s Blasphemy.”

  Lizeto snorted. “Now don’t go tell the inquisition on my dad! Ha ha! Dad, I told you Parto was a Divinity lover.”

  “Lizeto.” his father scolded. “Be respectful. If you’re not careful, you’ll get yourself executed.”

  “C’mon, dad, show Parto your scar.”

  “Son! This isn’t a cool scar. It’s a burn put into my hand by an overzealous emperor who claims a god’s authority as his own. It is the symbol of oppression permanently and painfully seared into my flesh. It reminds me every day that despite all my power, I am still a slave. It drives me to find more power, so one day we can set things right. The Divinity’s excrement to this burned hand.”

  He faced the back of the gloved hand toward them, then pull up the glove. There, burned into his hand was the symbol of The Divinity. Parto didn’t feel sorry for the count. The count was a maleefa sympathizer, a blasphemer, and worse of all…a non-believer. Parto wished he could slide a blade through the man’s heart, but he had no order, and couldn’t kill his best friend’s dad.

  Fortunately, inquisition training taught him to put on a false face. “Sir, I’m sorry. If you ever remember anything about my mom, please tell me. Or tell Lizeto, I trust him.”

  The scowl slid away from the count’s face as he pulled the glove back down. “Your mother was one of the smartest ladies I ever met. Yet, she was also beautiful and kind. Your father had a lot of land and money, but nothing was more valuable than her.

  Then why did he turn her in?

  Ch. 36

  Black lightning struck in front of the dark spires that went out then curved upward atop of the tower. Giant and regular sized bats flapped their wings, flying in different directions as their sharp teeth bit air like they practiced piercing flesh. Tyzonio, the dark wizard, brooded atop his tower that sat on an island in the middle of the sea. The isle was his fortress, but also his prison. He paced back and forth, unable to contain his frustration.

  Speaking outloud even though he was the only human within a hundred miles, he said, “Forbidden from my key ally and friend, I can no longer plot in the lands that will someday be free. I can no longer see the reason for all my work—the peasants oppressed by nobles, the emperor, and their false god. I will enlighten the entire land about the tyrannical myth that is The Divinity and set the people free from their enslavement by the wealthy.”

  He held out a hand. A bat landed on the back of it, carefully wrapping its curved claws around the edge of Tyzonio’s black glove. He stroked his creature’s back. “Oh, for now, you will be my friend, little bat; you and my high beings I suppose, until that day when my army is complete, and my minions will come forth from the caverns and liberate the peasants of Hyzantria!”

  Another bat flew toward him. He held out his hand where the bat landed and squeaked.

  “Three members of the council? Here already? Great. They won’t care about my expulsion from Hyzantria. They won’t care that if I step foot on the land of my birth, an inquisition will spill my blood on that fair earth. But they are my allies in this quest for fairness for all people.”

  “Bshtoon, you up?”

  Tyzonio lifted a vial from his jacket pocket. A black widow’s long legs stretched inside the glass. From it, came the voice of a high being. “Yeah, sup?”

  “Your power is closed to me. Can you open it?”

  “Uuuuuh. You said we were gonna rule over dancing festivals. When’s that gonna happen?”

  The dark wizard’s body deflated. “I told you a thousand times. We must enchant more troglodytes and beasts of the underground so we can defeat Hyzantria in battle. Then, the peasants will rejoice and be happy.”

  “And dance real entertaining-like?”

  Sighing, Tyzonio said, “Yes, of course. Now can you open your power?” The magic flowed through his veins. He called forth the nearest giant bat. It grabbed a carriage and landed it on top of the tower. Tyzonio stepped in, then watched the ground come closer as the bat glided toward the three approaching people.

  The flying mammal descended, setting the carriage on the road before angling its wings and lifting back into the sky. Tyzonio stepped out, looking at the three council members. They all wore wizard’s robes. An old man with no hair and a splotchy complexion stood in front of the other two. One behind him was portly with thinning black hair. The other, a woman, wore a veil over her face. Her green eyes and brown hair attracted Tyzonio’s gaze.

  “Greetings,” the man in front said. “We heard of your unfortunate incident and have come to ensure that the plan still moves forward.”

  “Come.” Tyzonio turned and strode ahead. His visitors followed as he spoke. “Nothing will stop me from achieving our goals. Peasants will own the land. All will be educated. The poor will go without want of food, shelter, or love. The jobless will work for the state, which will serve the good of all, not the good of the aristocrats. Society will act like one community, helping each other thrive. People will act based on how their actions better others, rather than how they better themselves.”

  He turned, spinning with a huge smile, stopping after he faced the persons. “Won’t it be grand?”

  They stared at him blankly as a few bats flew by in the background. The old man nodded. “Yes, it will. You’re a visionary.”


  In front of the man’s face, Tyzonio flashed a finger toward the sky. “No. We are all seers. Seers of a better society. A better world.”

  He stared at them with an open mouth smile. Pleasure rolled through his mind like he dreamed of riding a rainbow unicorn through lands of happiness. Oh how pleasant life will be when I remake the world. Justice will finally be the norm, rather than the exception. Fantastic things will be. Fantastic!

  “Right.” The old man said. “Tyzonio. The army?”

  The dark wizard led them into rocky caves and below the island. Torches on walls lit the caverns as the group descended into cool, damp air.

  Two greenish-white troglodytes stood blocking the way. Their large jaws hung open filled with two rows of teeth. They noisily breathed through two angled slits above their mouths. Rigid ears stuck out from their heads and the creatures had the thinnest of slits for eyes that would not be seen if someone didn’t look closely.

  As Tyzonio approached, they stepped to the side. The humans walked through many crisscrossing tunnels. Hundreds of spear-carrying Troglodytes passed them.

  “Man,” the younger man said, “how many of these do you have?”

  “Ha ha. Tens of thousands, and I find more every day. I developed a time spell, so even when my high being is not turned on to me, they stay under my control.”

  The group approached a large cavern that sunk into the ground. There, huge, pale, hairless beasts that stood upright like men thrashed against each other with their large, blubbery hands. Near the top-front of their bald, white heads, they glared at each other with single giant eyes, moaning as they fought.

  The younger man covered his mouth. “These are the palberos?”

  Tyzonio nodded.

  As he scanned the deep room filled with fighting palberos that thudded against each other with liquidly splats, the guy whispered, “There are hundreds of them.”

  “And many more in the depths.” Tyzonio stepped forward.

  “We’ve seen enough,” the old man said. “You do good work. Keep it up and we’ll crush Hyzantria. Once you’ve achieved key victories, our nobles should be able to turn their local forces to our side. Don’t let your guard down, but I sense we’re fated for triumph.”

  Smirking, Tyzonio said, “As do I. As do I.” He paused for a moment. “It’s amazing so many nobles would support ending their power and wealth. I guess not all of them are blinded by their privilege.”

  “Yes,” the old man said. “It’s a good thing.”

  Ch. 37

  The long spear flew toward Theto’s heart. He grit his teeth, having no time to avoid the pain of death. Something from outside his body, outside the very world, connected to his soul. A rush of energy flooded through him and out the front of him. He could somehow sense the curved shield of power in front of him. The spear dinked off it like it hit thick plate.

  A storm of hooves roared from the side. The easterners’ shouts sounded over the horses. A mass of armored knighted charged them. The five easterners yelled in their language before fleeing.

  Theto’s heart raced. His mind seemed blank as he stared at the mass of knights that had miraculously appeared to save them. His certain death was somehow saved by magic, then these warriors. He patted the gerbil through his clothes. “Gooood gerbil, gooood.”

  The girl’s beautiful kitten-like face flashed through his mind. She saved my life. She linked me to this high being. He gazed off. “Thank you, Proteen. Thanks.” The high being didn’t respond.

  Armored horses and men surrounded Theto and Hibb, all facing south—toward Blastonin.

  Hibb nodded for Theto to move with the group.

  He did so blindly, like a cow following a herd just because that’s where the herd went. I should be dead.

  Speaking calmly, Hibb said, “Your first close one with your own demise. It can put you in a state of shock. But Theto, you need to get over it. We live in a dangerous world. Just know that your uncle loves you and saved your buttocks.”

  The last part seemed to spark a flow of normal thoughts. “Huh? Uncle…you didn’t save us, these knights did.”

  Hibb smirked. “You’re still a pretty crappy mage.” He busted out laughing.

  Theto crossed his arms. “Nothing’s that funny…” He closed his eyes. Higher energy radiated from Hibb and into the small band around them. I guess it didn’t make sense for a random batch of knights to come save us and then escort us without speaking a word… “Yeah, good illusion, man. Good illusion.”

  #

  Theto walked alone toward an orangish-brown temple. Head-sized pearls lined the walls of the rectangular two-story building. From the middle of the structure, spiraled a tower that rose far above, tipped by what looked like a colossal pearl. Hibb had said people could see out it, even though it wasn’t transparent from the outside.

  Theto thought about Hibb’s advice. Don’t join the best school. Those guys are the best, but the training is also the most dangerous. You’ll make a great battlemage, but there’s no use in dying during training. If Theto was gonna dedicate his life to being a battle-mage, he was gonna be the best. He worked hard at sedeux, becoming one of the greatest players his age. Magic and battle would become his new sedeux. Except this wasn’t a game; it was life. Maybe if his skills developed high enough, he could survive passage east and find his mother.

  A man walked from the temple. “Welcome to the Atella School of the Blastonin Military Order. What’s your business here?”

  “I wanna join.”

  The man put his hands together and smiled warmly, then tilted his head toward the temple. A pulse of sound blasted from his mouth. Facing Theto, he said, “Okay, follow me.”

  They entered a large and rectangular room. At the end sat one man behind a table with a few papers and pens on it.

  Theto’s escort smiled. “Goodbye, friend.” Then he left the way they came in.

  Theto approached the table. “I want to join the order.”

  The young man behind the desk smiled. “Sure thing! Just put your name and signature here and we’ll start your initiation process.”

  Theto pulled the paper toward him and grabbed a pen.

  “Wait!” The man leaned forward. “Many die on their first day of training. Do not sign that paper unless you’re prepared to forfeit your life.”

  Uuuuuuh. Screw it. My life is destroyed. If I die, I die. If I live, then I will have the power to stop my future family from being destroyed.

  He signed his name, then placed the pen back on the table.

  From each side wall, doors flung open. Two men in chainmail sprinted from the right, and one from the left. The first fist arrived from the right. Theto flung his head back, dodging a punch, but the other two men kicked at his legs. Theto nimbly danced away from them, glancing at the man behind the desk, expecting him to help, but he just watched.

  Theto yelled, “I don’t know how to fight!”

  Stone-faced, the men advanced. Their movements weren’t wild like the brawlers in sedeux riots. Each step and strike came with speed and precision. Theto couldn’t think, he just went into sedeux mode. Evading countless attacks like these guys tried to tackle a ball, except they didn’t attack a ball, they attacked him.

  They kept trying to back him into a corner, but Theto wouldn’t allow it, he needed room to dodge whichever way. A fist came for his head. He leaned right, allowing it to buzz by. A kick flashed toward his gut, Theto curved his torso out of the way. Then, a surprising roundhouse flew toward his skull. No time to dodge, he gritted his teeth. The energy flowed through and out him. The man’s food slammed into the magic shield, releasing a loud crack as the assailent hollered and landed on his other foot.

  He, and the others, kept attacking. A hand grabbed Theto’s shoulder, then flung him to the ground. The biggest of the attackers leapt in the air above him, before slamming into the magic shield and rolling to the side. Another kicked at the side of Theto’s ribs. He wanted to leap up, but didn’t have time, the foo
t connected, creating a double CRACK! as pain shot through him.

  Theto jumped to his feet and dodged a few more fists and a foot, then the man with a broken ankle flashed a fist from behind. Theto gritted, the shield went up, but too late, it had no effect. The fist pounded his skull. Theto collapsed forward, his face slamming into the floor. The three men pounced. Theto put up the shield permanently above him, but it didn’t cover his sides. One opponent stayed above him in case the shield went down. The others pummeled him from the sides.

  Theto rolled and lifted his body to dodge attacks, but most connected. Pain exploded all over him. Many bones screamed through their cracks and breaks. Blood poured from his face, but the attacks continued. Then, two of them jumped away. A guy on his right flashed open his hand, releasing a tremendous force, blowing Theto through the air before he crashed into a wall and then onto the floor.

  Theto moaned, clinging to consciousness. The men disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, behind the side doors.

  Slow steps sounded off the floor. Through blurry vision, Theto saw the man who used to sit behind the desk.

  “Get up,” he said. “Follow me to your bunk. You’re in luck; food is served at the cafeteria in an hour. You are now a novice of the Atella School. Achieve intermediate rank and you will be a member of the Blastonin military order and able to accept mercenary jobs. Until then, you’re just a novice student. A student whose death is likely.”

  #

  A high-pitch noise pierced Theto’s ears, then went away before slamming again back into his head. The sound pulsed every few seconds, forcing him from his grogginess. The room of bunks and novices lit up at every pulse of the sound. The others awoke and strapped on boots. Theto vaguely remembered being told to wear what he’d train in the next morning. As he lifted his torso to sit up in bed, he realized he was on a top bunk, and the pain from yesterday’s beating struck through him.