Grandmaster Arcanist [Chps 11-12]

Hey peeps!

Some chapters clumped together.

Shami

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE AUTARCH’S PLAN

The greenhouses in Regal Heights weren’t the most impressive I had ever seen, but it was the most exotic. Small trees with giant fern-like leaves grew in wide pots. Fruit with spines hung from bushes that grew near the gargantuan windows. Vines crept up the walls, snaking around metal posts and pillars.

I couldn’t identify most of the vegetation in the room.

Orwyn didn’t seem interested in any of it.

The two of us walked into the greenhouse, the heat washing over us like a warm fog. Three of the four walls were windows, along with the ceiling. This mansion was perched higher up on the canyon, which allowed for a pleasant view of the metal bridges across Hydra’s Gorge.

I stopped near the far window, my gaze on a few citizens as they went about their day.

So peaceful, even though there had been fighting all throughout here mere weeks ago.

“You wanted to speak with me?” I asked, never looking away from the sights of the city.

Orwyn stepped to my side, her movements gentle and practically silent. She fidgeted with her short hair, tugging on the ends.

“I think you should reconsider serving the Autarch,” Orwyn whispered.

I shot her a glare. “Is thatwhy you wanted the privacy? I already told you that I won’t serve him. Not now, not ever.”

“He’s very powerful, and—”

“He’s insane,” I interjected. “And he started the arcane plague. I just… I can’t forgive him for that.”

Orwyn turned to me, her pale green eyes alight with curiosity. “Why?”

“Why?” I balked. Was she serious? I almost laughed. “Where do I begin? His plague infected Gregory Ruma—my ideal as a child. It twisted innocent griffins living peaceful lives on nearby islands. I was affected by the plague, and it took Forsythe from Zaxis.” With a dark laugh, I concluded, “And that’s just a few reasons off the top of my head. If you gave me a pen and paper, I could write you a whole tome on why the man should never be forgiven for this oneheinous act.”

“He couldn’t begin the turning of an age without it,” Orwyn stated, no emotion in her tone. “Helvetti told us his plans. He needed a catalyst. Something to make the world’s magic grow.”

I stared into her eyes, wondering if she even knew what she was saying. Her expression was so neutral and blank—I had no idea what she was thinking.

“I don’t care what his intentions were,” I stated. “His wanton disregard for life is enough to know that I would never trust him.”

“But the gold kirin trusted him.” Orwyn had said that more enthusiastically than anything else. She stepped closer to me, her eyebrows slowly knitted. “You don’t understand. Gold kirin are rare. Beyond rare. When they arrive, they’re destined to bond with the greatest people. Only the greatest.”

Her excitement over this one fact barely phased me.

“I don’t care.” I stepped away from her, tense and frustrated. “He could be bonded with the a hundred of the rarest of all mythical creatures, and wouldn’t change what he’s done.”

“I’m trying to tell you that… Helvetti will win if you fight him.” Orwyn looked away. She placed a hand on the nearest window and sighed. “He has the most powerful of magic on his side. And if he’s bonded with more than one god-creature, you won’t have the might to best him.”

Orwyn had another arcanist mark—one on her forehead, just like normal arcanists. She touched the seven-pointed star, her fingers grazing the outline of the kirin.

It was true—kirin arcanists could bond with another creature. And according to everything I knew, the kirin’s magic empowered the other creature. That was all it did. Kirins didn’t have much magic themselves. They acted as an amplifier that empowered others.

So, if the Autarch gold kirin was the most powerful of all kirin, his god-creatures would be far greater than anything we had faced before.

But I still didn’t care.

I glared at Orwyn, knowing in my heart that she might return to the Autarch and fight against us. If that happened…

“Tell me,” I said, trying to pick my words carefully. “Do you follow the Autarch because you believe he’s the right man for the job? Or because you’re afraid of him?”

The question seemed to startle Orwyn. She hesitated, her eyes searching the distant horizon as though she might find the answer. When she finally turned to me, it was with a puzzled expression. “In my village, I was taught that kirins only bonded with great people. Not good people. Not bad people. Just… great people who were meant to rule.”

I waited, my heartrate increasing.

If she said she’d always serve the Autarch—and the Second Ascension—I would have to kill her before she left Regal Heights. I didn’t want that, but I couldn’t allow her to add her strength to our enemy.

What arguments could I make to change her mind? A great leader would find the right words.

Wouldn’t they?

“I suppose I’m afraid,” Orwyn whispered. She removed her hand from the window and faced me. “Because what if everything I had been taught was wrong? What if you defeat him? What if Helvetti wasn’t meant to rule, and my place by his side was incorrect from the beginning?”

“You’re not afraid of him killing you?” I asked.

Orwyn shook her head. “No. I… don’t usually think much of myself. I’m more afraid for other people.” She placed her hand over her god-arcanist mark. “All my life, I was told I would have great power. That’s what my kirins says—what she whispers to me. I’ve had a lifetime to think about what I would use it for.”

“What did you decide?”

“I’d use to make the world better.” She met my gaze with such confidence and earnest enthusiasm, that I knew she wasn’t lying. Something about her demeanor—the way she spoke. “That’s what I wanted. Helvetti said he would make that happen. He would seed the world with more magic than ever before.”

I said nothing.

“The Autarch has a glorious plan. He will become the most powerful god-arcanist, and then use his magic to improve everything.”

“Except for those infected with the plague,” I quipped.

Orwyn shook her head. “No. He said they would get cured once he developed his salvation aura. Helvetti thought of that, too. He thought of everything. Even the death of the apoch dragon.”

I almost wanted to admire the man’s ambition.

Almost.

“You already told me this,” I said. “This whole conversation is nothing new. Why rehash it? What made you even thinkthat I would change my mind?”

Orwyn hesitantly took in a breath. Then she clasped her fingers together and gripped so hard, her knuckles turned white. “I thought I would best you in a fight. With my kirin magic, my god-creature should’ve been more powerful. But that wasn’t the case. You and the fenris wolf arcanist won. But you didn’t kill me.”

“No,” I said with a sigh. “Because if we’re going to fix the arcane plague, we need all the help we can get. I wanted you to join us.”

Orwyn frowned. She never loosened her grip on her own hands. “Me?” she whispered.

“Yes. You’re a god-arcanist, just like us, and your magic is more powerful than anything else I’ve ever seen.”

“If we fight against the Autarch, we’ll die.”

“You thought you would defeat me, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

With a half-smile that made me feel like Zaxis, I confidently said, “Then you’re clearly terrible at judging who will win in a fight.”

Although I thought I came across as arrogant and rude, Orwyn finally relaxed her fingers. She turned her pale green eyes to my chest, examining my god-arcanist mark. “Hm. I suppose that islogical. Most of my training wasn’t in the art of death.”

She took that much better than I thought she would.

“But even if we can defeat the Autarch, it won’t come easy. It won’t come without a price.”

“I know.” I had known for a while. But any price was better than letting that tyrant have his way with the world.

Orwyn wrung out her hands. “I’m not concerned about whether I live or die, but I am concerned about… about the people under my care.”

“Akiva?”

“Yes.” She glanced down at the greenhouse floor. “And the Keeper of Corpses arcanist. They are both my retainers. They’re important to me.”

While I knew Akiva—the assassin who disrupted the whole Argo Empire—I didn’t know much about the Keeper of Corpses arcanist. We had fought him when we fought Orwyn, and she had pulled him from the battlefield before he could be killed, but I knew nothing about him as a person.

“Who is he?” I asked. “The one who bonded with the Keeper of Corpses.”

“Ezril Rivers,” Orwyn replied, her voice singsong.

But she didn’t elaborate.

I stared at her for a long moment, hoping she would enlighten me, but all she did was move her attention around to the plants in the room. For some reason, Orwyn seemed to dislike focusing on one thing for too long.

I forced a cough and then asked, “Why do you care about them more than your own life? That seems… odd. Even if you want to be selfless, you shouldn’t disregard your feelings.”

Orwyn shook her head. “I apologize. I just never feel the same way about myself as I do with others. As a child, my mother thought I was touched in the head. Once I bonded to a kirin, she never mentioned it again, but I knew she thought of me as strange. I’m just… I find it hard to think of my wellbeing.”

While I didn’t understand her situation, I understood it caused her some concern. She wanted to protect Akiva and Ezril Rivers, whoever he was.

“If you help us against the Autarch, I can probably have Akiva’s and Ezril’s previous crimes forgiven.”

I wasn’t certain I could, but the Argo Empire had technically sworn to me. The new queen answered to my summons, as did many other nations. If I wanted to forgive someone for a war crime, I probably could—but the more I did it, the less respect I’d have when interacting with powerful arcanists.

If everyone thought I was corrupt or abusing my position of power, how would I be any different than the Autarch? It was important to maintain my word and my reputation.

But we needed Orwyn’s might. If guaranteeing her retainer’s safety was the price, I was willing to pay it.

“Will you protect them?” Orwyn asked, her voice strained. She furrowed her brow.

“They’re your retainers. Why would I need to protect them?”

“In case I fell in battle. You would… protect them in my stead?”

Her concern for them went far beyond what I had originally envisioned. I crossed my arms and dwelled on her request. Would I want to protect Akiva the Assassin? It sounded silly, even in my head.

But if that was what it would cost…

“If I agree to protect them, will you help us?” I asked.

The warm afternoon sun sparkled through the many windows, illuminating the beautiful greenhouse. Orwyn had the appearance of a flower when she turned to me. Strawberry blonde hair, green eyes—gentleness in her demeanor.

“I’m afraid I’m making a terrible mistake,” she whispered. “Helvetti is a gold kirin arcanist, and you aren’t. My home village would be aghast if they found out…” Orwyn tepidly smiled. “But the Autarch will not forgive my failings, and I fear he’ll kill Akiva if we return without having done what we were supposed to. I can’t… I can’t live with that.”

“So you’ll help us?”

“Yes, Warlord. I will.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “What did the Autarch want you to do, specifically? Just kill me?”

“He wanted several things, including acquiring your runestones.” Orwyn tilted her head to the side. “But the worst was the spread of his arcane plague. He wanted you to become infected.”

“I’m immune,” I stated. “All god-arcanists are. I thought he knew that?”

“Oh.” Orwyn narrowed her eyes in concern. “I thought you went to Deadman’s Bluff? Surely you saw… Theasin Venrover’s son used his abyssal leech magic to alter the arcane plague. The vile disease will now infect those with god-creatures—and even those who are true form.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE ABYSSAL LEECH’S PURPOSE

“What?” I asked, my breath trapped in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. There was no way that was possible. No way.

Absolutely no way.

“Theasin Venrover desperately wanted a way to manipulate magic and bend it to his whims,” Orwyn replied, her tone just as emotionless as it had been. “There aren’t many mystical creatures with that ability. None as powerful as the abyssal leech, a creature once thought extinct.”

“Adelgis—Theasin’s son—had the abyssal leech in his body.”

I remembered the day it had been extracted. Adelgis almost died. His father was so obsessed with obtaining the creature, he didn’t care who he harmed to get it. And it harmed Adelgis. His magic worked in bizarre ways, sometimes out of his control. The abyssal leech was powerful.

Orwyn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. With an unfocused gaze, she muttered, “I think Theasin envied kirin arcanists. When Helvetti spoke about his gold kirin’s ability to empower his other eldrin, Theasin would remind him that whoever controlled magic would be the true victor in any conflict. Theasin was a saint to my people, but upon reflection, I think his words were seeped in jealousy.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“His mind worked in long-terms plans.”

Oh, I knew all about Theasin’s unrivaled ability to plan elaborate schemes. It didn’t surprise me at all that his disgusting fingers were still pulling the strings of our enemies, even from the grave. His ambitions had such a life of their own, they continued without him.

But if Theasin had created a version of the arcane plague that affected anyone and everyone, that meant…

I turned on my heel, my thoughts narrowing into a single concern.

“Thank you,” I murmured, purely out of politeness as I headed for the door.

Orwyn said something, but I didn’t hear any of it.

All I could think about was Liet. She had been hurt at Deadman’s Bluff. She never really recovered, even though arcanists had powerful healing abilities. And she hadn’t been herself, even though she tried to hide that fact.

Now I knew why.

***

In my panic, I scoured all of Regal Heights searching for Liet Eventide without really telling anyone else where I was or what I was doing. I hadn’t even bothered to speak to Zaxis or Lynus before leaving. I hoped they would forgive me, but this was too important to ignore for even a second.

I found Liet in one of the city’s many inns. The sign outside said it was Rocky Shrimp, a place to eat and find a bed. It was built into the canyon face, with balconies that overlooked the gorge. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so anxious, I would’ve appreciated the aesthetics, but as it stood, I barely saw anything as I made my way inside.

“Oh, Warlord!” someone gasped as I passed them.

I didn’t reply.

The interior of the Rocky Shrimpwas neatly circular. There was a chimney in the center of the room, with tables all around, to take advantage of the heat. The place wasn’t busy. There were four patrons, at the most.

Two of which were Liet and the minister of Regal Height, Vinder Akiona.

They were the only two arcanists in the room with glowing marks. The slight illumination from their seven-pointed stars was an indication that they had achieved a true form with their eldrin. It granted them powerful magics, and allowed their eldrin to transcend—and it should’ve granted them immunity to magical corruption.

Not anymore.

A bartender called out to me as I made my way over to Liet’s table. I didn’t really hear their words, and I didn’t care.

When I reached their table, Vinder was the first to turn to me.

He was a gargoyle arcanist. The picture of a winged beast was wrapped around the star in his mark. And strangely, just like Liet—and unlike almost every other arcanist—the man had gray hair. He appeared older, though not decrepit.

His hair was thinning, but his beard was thriving. Vinder tugged on it as he narrowed his eyes and gave me the once over.

“Warlord? You’re pale. Is there trouble afoot?”

“Liet,” I whispered, ignoring the man. “I need to speak with you right away.”

When she turned to me, our eyes met, and I saw dread there. Somehow, she, too, knew something was terribly wrong. But like always, her smile hid any fear or doubt Liet actually had. She glanced over at Vinder.

“I’m sorry, old friend. I’ll have to catch you up on everything later.”

Vinder lifted an eyebrow. For some reason, the man was dressed in fine clothing. A nice black tunic—open down his chest, as though he were proud of the hair there, too—held in place with a leather belt that had clearly never been worn before today. His trousers were crisp, and his boots shiny.

“You said once you got back, we’d have the whole day,” Vinder grumbled.

He didn’t seem to sense her fear. I decided not to say anything—Liet would know how to handle the man. They were good friends, after all.

“It’ll just be a moment.” Liet stood from the table, her posture straight, her demeanor cheery. “Now, let me show you the room they gave me, Volke. I’m sure you’ll appreciate the decorations.”

She motioned me to a door near the back of the circular room. I nodded, and then followed her away from the warm fire. The door led to a hallway, and then to a set of stairs that brought us to all the cliffside rooms.

Liet led me into her room—a spacious sleeping area with a balcony large enough for ten people. It was a beautiful sight, especially on such a nice day.

I barely gave it a glance.

Once the door was shut, I faced her. “You’re infected with the arcane plague.”

I didn’t have any way to soften the information. She just needed to hear it. Liet would know what to do. She was the leader of the Frith Guild, after all. She always had a plan, a method, a way to move forward.

“You’re certain?” Liet asked, far calmer than I thought she would be.

“Theasin used the abyssal leech he grew in Adelgis to alter the plague so it could infect people with true form magic. And god-arcanists.”

Liet’s eyes darkened as she turned her attention to the stone floor. Despite the dreadful news, she maintained her breathing and her heartrate. Panic didn’t overtake her. It seemed to give her clarity. A trait I wished I shared.

“I see,” Liet whispered.

A few minutes passed between us in silence. I didn’t have an answer for this, but I knew Liet would find one.

“Then it seems I should remove myself from the city,” Liet eventually stated. When she glanced back up at me, it was with a wary smile. “I was considering heading to New Norra, anyway. Now I have a real reason.”

“The khepera’s can’t reverse the plague if too much time has passed.” I knew all the limitations. I had once been infected, after all. Achieving true form with Luthair had saved me, but that option wasn’t available to Liet.

“Perhaps,” Liet said, her voice growing a bit bolder. “But there are other avenues for me. Obviously, I have yet to go insane… Though, something is off. I feel it in my bones. This version of the plague might be far worse than before. It will probably take me faster than it took others in the past.”

Hearing her say that drove a spike through my chest. I couldn’t speak.

But Liet must’ve sensed it. She offered me a reassuring smile—always bright, even when things seemed so dark.

“You needn’t fret! If the khepera can’t help me, there are other ways to handle the situation.”

“Like what?” I managed to choke out.

What did we have? There was no cure for the plague before the khepera, and if that didn’t work…

“You,” Liet said, no doubt in her voice. “You and the other god-arcanists are going to solve the problem, aren’t you?”

“W-Well, yes, but that requires us to develop our auras, and that can take time, and what if we can’t—”

“You’ll find a way,” Liet interjected, cutting me short. “Perhaps I don’t have much time, but there’s ways around that. The khepera can’t cure me, but they can delay my fall. Or perhaps I can find a skilled relickeeper arcanist. They have magics that can put people into a stasis.”

I held my breath. That was true. Theasin had used his relickeeper magic to once hold me hostage. Would that work? Would it keep Liet from becoming twisted by the arcane plague?

I ran an unsteady hand down my face, trying not to think about Gentel. What if the atlas turtle became a monster? What if she destroyed the Frith Guild?

What if I had to be the one to fight her?

The thought hurt worse than most injuries had I had experienced.

Liet placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, pulling me from my quicksand of negative thoughts. She kept her distance, her arm fully stretched out, as though she didn’t want to even risk infecting me, not even with a stray breath.

“I will find a way to delay this,” Liet stated. “Because I know you will eventually solve the problem.”

“So you’re just going to New Norra? What about everyone here and—”

“You’re the one in charge, Volke. You have been for a while. You’ve been doing a good job.”

My throat tightened. “But…”

“You don’t need my guidance.” She chuckled to herself. “It’s not like I can give you any. You’re a god-arcanist. You’re walking a path few have traveled. Everyone is counting on you. I’mcounting on you.”

The weight of her words stuck with me. She wasn’t afraid I would fail. It was the opposite. Liet was certain I would succeed. That was why she was willing to go to New Norra and delay the corruption of the plague. That wasn’t a solution—it was just her knowing in her heart of hearts that I would eventually solve everything.

I was amazed by her confidence, but at the same time, it was an honor.

Liet Eventide, a legendary arcanist, was depending on me. She trusted me with her life—with her eldrin’s life—with her guild. No title or celebration could equal such a recognition.

“I won’t let you down,” I said.

Liet stepped away. Then she brushed back her gray bangs. “Tomorrow morning, an airship will arrive in Regal Heights. I will board it, along with Vethica and Hexa, and a few others, and we’ll head to the Amber Dunes—to the city of New Norra.”

I nodded once.

“After that, everything will be up to you, Volke.”

“I understand.” I formally bowed my head. “May the good winds keep you safe.”