Master Arcanist [Chps 8-9]

Merry Christmas! More chapters coming for the holiday season!

- Shami

CHAPTER EIGHT

A GOD’S MAGI CROSS

There were only four of us here.

Illia, Zaxis, Odion, and myself.

“We know other people who can bond with you,” I said. “People worthy of becoming a god-arcanist. I can go get them.”

“We needn’t look any further,”the fenris wolf said. “There are three people here worthy of my magic. I can feel it in their veins, with every beat of their heart. The Child of Astros is bathed in blood, and the Children of Balastar both harbor desires for strength.”

Nicholin shivered. With his ears back against his skull, he whispered, “Well, I’m plenty strong.”

The frozen lair reminded me of the stories I had heard of the first fenris wolf and his arcanist. They had been a team who had hunted down other god-arcanists and their creatures. Not just anygod-creatures, but the ones who had created armageddon auras. According to the first world serpent arcanist, the fenris wolf duo had a habit of acting on their own, with reckless abandonment for their own safety.

Illia often did things on her own. She had gone after the Dread Pirate Calisto when she was barely an apprentice arcanist. She wanted power to right the wrongs of pirates—to erase them from the oceans and seas.

Zaxis was as reckless and impulsive as they came. He often threw punches first and asked questions later. If he were any more overzealous, he’d be dead. He wanted power. Not because he needed power, but because he hated being weak. Like me, he wanted to defend others, not passively watch as evil affected the world.

And Odion… I had known Odion for only a few short months. He was the king of a nation, but young and audacious. We had a duel to the death the first day we met. Who did that? And I know he valued power over all else. I sometimes wondered if he had sworn to me if only to learn enough from me to do things like god-creatures for himself.

I understood why Vjorn thought they were worthy arcanists of his illusions and ice.

“Mighty Vjorn, I don’t want to bond with you,” Illia stated. She placed a hand on top of Nicholin’s head and backed away. “The day I met my eldrin in the Endless Mire is the day I finally felt in control of my destiny.”

“Yeah,” Nicholin said, his ears shooting straight back up and his tail wagging. “I’m a master of fate!”

Illia closed her one eye and smiled. “And to be frank… Master Zelfree has helped me understand that sometimes physical strength is not the only way to handle my problems.” She offered Vjorn a slight bow of her head. “I’m honored you consider me worthy, but—”

“I’m more worthy,” Nicholin injected.

“—I have to decline,” Illia said with a slight smile.

A tightness settled in my chest. I had felt this way once before, but I was struggling to remember why.

“I’m sorry, Mighty Vjorn,” Zaxis said as he stepped closer to his phoenix. “I already have an eldrin.”

Forsythe quietly chirped—a sound both sad and hopeful. “My arcanist… I’m tainted.”

“I don’t care.” Zaxis knelt and then wrapped his muscular arms around his delicate phoenix. “I’m not going to desert you. We’ll do this together, just like we’ve done everything else.”

The phoenix wrapped his scarlet wings around his arcanist, his heron-like head nestled on Zaxis’s shoulder. For a long moment, no one said anything. The tightening in my chest didn’t relent. Anxiousness consumed my thoughts. What were we going to do?

“I have an idea,” I said, my voice an icy echo in the cavern. “Which if… we found a relickeeper arcanist? They have an ability to freeze people and things in a sort of stasis. Maybe then we can halt the progress of the corruption and find Vethica to cure you and—”

“We don’t have enough time for that,” Odion stated, no emotion in his words. “Once a mystical creature is infected, there’s not much time. Less than two days. It’d take longer than that for us to get to someone.”

Technically, I knew the location of a relickeeper—he was studying the Crystal Lake—but Odion was right. We’d never get there in time. Even if we had left yesterday. He was too far away.

“I have no qualms with reality,” King Odion said as he turned to the wolf. “I’m ready. If you need, I’ll summon Hasdrubal to my side and free myself from the bond with my own hands.”

Vjorn turned his canine head, his fangs visible.

“No!” Forsythe cried. He leapt away from Zaxis, his wings spread, the fire of his body burning brightly. “My arcanist deserves the very best.” With a few powerful flaps, Forsythe took flight. He swirled around, blazing and bright, his soot sprinkling down. Then he landed next to the wolf’s paw. “I implore you. Bond with Zaxis. I won’t be the reason he stumbles at the door of greatness.”

“Forsythe,” Zaxis growled. He pointed to his feet. “Come back here, right now.”

The phoenix turned his head away—defiant and confident. “Never.”

In that moment, I could see Zaxis’s personality clear as day in his eldrin. So stubborn. So assured he was right. The old legends said an eldrin already became like their arcanist because they grew by feeding on the arcanist’s soul. I agreed. It eventually happened.

The fenris wolf chuckled, his breath as winter as the end of the year. “Indeed, you are both worthy, but I only wish to bond with someone sure of path—and ready for the strain of leading the world.”

“I’m ready,” Odion said.

“Zaxis is ready,” Forsythe stated, no hesitation.

“Don’t do this.” Zaxis stomped forward, his shoulders tense. “We’re leaving, you understand, Forsythe? I don’t want this.”

His phoenix flew away before Zaxis could reach him.

“If you are truly ready, there should be a way to pick amongst you. The best of the best.”

“Zaxis doesn’t want to,” I said.

Odion nodded. “I agree. I’m the best by default. There’s no competition.”

“No!” Forsythe swooped back down and landed next to Odion, his feathers fluffed. “I’ll be your competition. I want Zaxis to become a god-arcanist. It’s his destiny.”

Zaxis turned on his heel and faced Illia. “Teleport and catch him! I don’t want to lose Forsythe.”

A brief moment of still silence filled the lair. The wolf watched with keen eyes. When he opened his mouth, his black tongue shimmered with saliva. “Enough. To settle this, we will have a duel.”

“I agree,” Odion immediately said. “A magi cross.” He pointed at Zaxis. “You and I will fight this out.”

Zaxis said nothing.

“If my arcanist refuses, I’ll fight in his place,” Forsythe proudly stated.

“So be it,” Vjorn said. “The arcanist—or mystical creature—who survives the fight shall have the right to decide who bonds with me.”

Odion nodded once.

“But—” Zaxis caught his breath, his hands balled into tight fists. “I don’t want this.”

Forsythe’s body brightened again with a flare of inner fire. “You’re only as good as the things that stops you, and you’re much better than this arcane plague. I don’t want to be the reason you falter on your path to greatness.”

“You’re the only reason I’m on this path to begin with.” Zaxis stepped closer, slower and more confident. “Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to say goodbye.”

His phoenix’s inner fire waned a bit, a little colder and dimmer than before. But then he held his head a little higher, his golden eyes twinkling. “We’re a team, aren’t we?” His voice slightly cracked as he said, “And teammates don’t hold other teammates back.”

“I care not who fights in the duel, so long as they understand the terms,” Vjorn said. He stomped a paw, and the cavern iced over again—a drastic change happened all at once. The plants disappeared, the walls became smooth, and the path disappeared. Only the boulders remained.

The icy cavern had become smooth and wide open, like an arena for battle. Odion knew what it was for, and took his position on one side. When Forsythe went to take his position on the other, Zaxis stepped in front of him.

Instead of having another argument, or hashing out what had already been said, they just stared at each other, having a silent conversation all their own. Finally—reluctantly—Zaxis headed for the opposite side of the arena. His eldrin hopped to the side, to a position to better watch the battle, and I suddenly remembered where I felt this odd twist in my chest before.

Evianna’s sister had died during a fight to the death.

I had been forced to watch from the sidelines as Lyvia fought her brother, Rishan. The moment she died had scarred my soul. To this day, I sometimes had dreams where I swooped in to save her.

Would I be forced to watch the same thing happen to Zaxis?

Before that could happen, I took a hesitant step toward him.

“Don’t,” Zaxis growled, like he could hear all my inner turmoil. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“But—”

“I’m going to change my mind. Don’t watch if you can’t handle it.”

Illia glared at him, her lips tight. “You better not lose,” she whispered, though it was much too quiet for Zaxis to hear. “If you do, I’ll never forgive you.” Nicholin nodded along with her words, his nose twitching, his blue eyes watery.

He never turned to face her, and I wondered if it was because he was afraid to.

Odion in his white plate armor, and Zaxis in his red scale armor. They weren’t properly matched. Twilight dragons were creatures of light and dark, and phoenixes were beings of healing and flame. If I had to guess, Odion had the advantage.

Vjorn moved to the edge of the arena, his frosted black fur standing on end. Licking his lips, he said, “The last one standing is the winner. Child of Balastar, Child of Astros, are you ready?”

Both Odion and Zaxis nodded.

“Then you may begin.”

In similarly brutal opening moves, Zaxis lifted his hand, and so did Odion. Without much need to aim, Zaxis unleashed a torrent of fire across the room, melting more of the ice and creating a wave of steam that filled the area. Heat and pressure missed in equal parts, and for a moment, it was difficult to breathe.

Odion didn’t evoke anything nearly as destructive. He flashed a light so brilliant and blinding, anyone staring in his direction would be affected for at least a couple minutes. Even Vjorn turned away, his eyes squinted.

I held up a hand, one eye burned by the light, and the other eye shielded just in time. With half my sight blurry from light, I watched as Zaxis stopped his evocation and rushed forward. He practically ran through his own flame to throw a superheated punch, his metal knuckles glowing hot.

The flames and light cleared just in time to see Zaxis strike Odion across the face. I thought the fight would be over in that one blow—the knuckles took a chunk of burned flesh, maiming Odion’s face.

Forsythe’s feathers fluffed, his eyes went wide. Illia and Nicholin smiled, both practically on their tiptoes.

But I had fought Odion—I should’ve known he wouldn’t go down so easily. He stumbled back, and then grabbed for his two-handed blade. In a fluid motion, where he regained his stance and slashed at the same time, Odion twisted around and cut with his blade.

Zaxis jumped back. When he went to lunge forward, Odion was ready. With expert skill, Odion slashed Zaxis along the arm, cutting part of Zaxis’s armguards in the process. Plague-ridden blood splashed across the half-melted ice.

The sword was a longer-range weapon. It gave Odion reach. Zaxis’s punches hurt, but they were limited by Zaxis’s arm length.

Zaxis’s arm healed in mere seconds—it was the phoenix’s ability he had the best grasp on. But he must’ve known he was at a disadvantage, because he held up his hand a second time and evoked enough more heat. More steam. More melted ice. It was difficult to see.

This time, Zaxis didn’t even bother approaching. He backed away, evoking more and more fire. He created a river of flames that coursed through half the cavern.

But I knew it wouldn’t last. Odion had the ability to shadow-step. He could dive into the darkness and move away, just like how knightmare arcanist could. I held my breath, waiting to see where Odion would appear.

“The tension is killing me,” Nicholin said, his voice quiet and strained.

The entire time, all I could think of was Lyvia. In her fight, I had thought she would win, only to slowly watch her lose right at the end. Would that happen here?

That was when Odion stepped out of the darkness. He rose from the shadows, his sword in both hands. He appeared behind Zaxis—a classic maneuver, something even the wolves in the illusion forest had tried against us.

Thankfully, Zaxis was ready for it. He spun around, and evoked fire from his other hand as well, creating a small tornado of flame that startled Odion. The two separated, and Zaxis tried to hit him with even more fire. Unfortunately, Odion evoked another flash of light, his twilight dragon magic so strong, it burned my eyes.

I couldn’t see.

CHAPTER NINE

THE FENRIS WOLF ARCANIST

I just heard the fighting as Zaxis, and King Odion continued their magi cross.

There wasn’t the clang of metal swords, or the bashing of shields—it was just the whoosh of hot fire, the sting of burning steam, and shouts of pain and frustration as both fighters persisted. I rubbed my eyes, desperate to see the details, but also fearful of what I might find.

“You got this, Zaxis!” Illia shouted from my side, her voice strained, but loud. “You can do it! I know you can!”

Even Nicholin added to the cheers with, “I take back everything negative I said about you! If you win, I won’t pester you anymore, I promise!” He squeaked out a sad noise. “Please don’t die!”

Could they see? I didn’t know.

Finally, bits of my vision returned. At first, it was shapes, and then vibrant colors. When my sight fully returned, Zaxis was bleeding from both his arms, and Odion was mostly unscathed. Whenever Zaxis took in a breath, his whole body shuddered. He kept his mouth partially open, gulping down air whenever he could.

I stepped forward, tense. Although I didn’t want to play favorites, I couldn’t help myself. I had known Zaxis all my life. He had been with me on the Isle of Ruma, on Calisto’s pirate ship—even fought with me during the Sovereign Dragon Tournament.

“Zaxis, you never give up!” I shouted. “Don’t start now!”

He straightened his posture and brought his knuckles up.

Odion lunged forward, his two-handed sword held high. Nicholin squeaked and covered his eyes with his tiny paws.

Although he was clearly exhausted, Zaxis expertly side-stepped out of Odion’s swing. The white blade nearly caught his shoulder, but he managed to flow with more fluidity than I had seen from him.

As Odion stumbled forward, Zaxis unleashed another torrent of fire, this time striking Odion on the back.

Odion’s armor managed to take the brunt of the attack, but to my surprise, Zaxis lifted his other hand and evoked more fire—just not at Odion. He washed the ground in a torrent of red flames. At first, I didn’t understand why he would do such a thing, but then I realized.

The fire was dispelling the shadows.

Odion couldn’t step into the darkness if there was no darkness.

Unable to quickly escape, Odion shouted in agony. The phoenix fire engulfed him in heat, burning most of his silvery hair and charring his smooth skin. In a display of sheer willpower, Odion managed to concentrate long enough to evoke a third flash of light.

This time, I shielded my gaze before I was blinded again.

Zaxis was as lucky, however. He gritted his teeth, growled some sort of curse, and then flailed his hands around, throwing wave after wave of flame around their mini arena.

The fenris wolf stood and paced, his giant tail swishing, kicking up winter winds with each movement. His eyes never blinked as he observed the battle, as though he couldn’t risk the smallest detail. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I hoped it wasn’t for an excuse to deny either of them.

Forsythe took off from the floor, flapping his scarlet wings with enough force to circle over the battle arena. His gold eyes glinted as he watched—it seemed like he wasn’t blinking either.

The tornado of fire didn’t stop Odion.

He gripped his blade, waited until there was a slight opening in Zaxis’s flailing pattern, and then rushed forward.

I gritted my teeth, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Still blind, Zaxis didn’t get out of the way in time. Odion slashed down with his sword, cutting through a portion of Zaxis’s salamander armor and then straight across his chest, a vertical slice splashed blood across the charred floor.

Zaxis shouted as he stumbled back, unable to evoke his fire since losing focus.

Odion hefted his weapon, smoke lifting off his weakened body.

I didn’t know what to do. I watched, unable to breathe.

To my surprise, Illia placed her hand on my shoulder, her fingers digging into my flesh. I felt her anxiety and dread as she tightened her grip, her attention squarely focused on the magi cross.

Without Zaxis’s fire to hinder him, Odion dove into the darkness, shifted across the floor, and then stepped out of the shadows a few feet behind Zaxis. He lifted his sword—obviously struggling to do so—and then went for the final strike.

This was it.

The fight was over.

I almost did something. Almost used my magic. Almost stopped the fight.

Odion stepped quickly, and with power behind his overhead swing. He bought it down, and even though Zaxis’s back was to him, Zaxis lunged to the side, dodging the blow. He tumbled, still weeping blood at a hideous rate, but leapt back to his feet. While Odion was still gathering his strength to lift his blade again, Zaxis stepped in for a punch.

He struck with knuckles, punching Odion hard across the jaw. Then he threw another punch. And another. Using both hands to pummel the dragon arcanist.

Forsythe screeched in triumph as Odion hit the ground, his face raw, bloodied, and misshapen.

Zaxis jumped on top of the man, his fist poised to strike again, but…

Nothing happened.

Odion was on the ground, his nose so broken he couldn’t breathe through it. He took in wet gulps of air, wet and charred, practically cooked from the levels of flame that Zaxis had created.

Now the fight was over. All that was left was for Zaxis to finish the deed.

But again, nothing happened.

Zaxis stared down at the broken Odion, his fist still held high. His knuckles—red hot—burned away all blood and skin. When he couldn’t bring himself to kill a defenseless man, Zaxis stumbled off of him and then crumpled to the floor, his own injuries too much.

They were both dying.

Illia let go of my shoulder and ran forward. Vjorn stepped in her path, preventing her from interfering. His cold winter fur, and intense eyes, was enough to give a combat veteran nightmares.

“The fight is over!” Illia shouted, her arm held out.

“They both still live.”

“Zaxis won’t kill Odion.” But Illia didn’t have the patience to explain why she knew. Instead, she disappeared in a puff of silvery glitter, and then popped into existence next to Zaxis, completely ignoring the fenris wolf’s wishes.

Illia knelt next to Zaxis and gently touched the side of his face. Then she touched the slash wound on his chest. Zaxis flinched slightly, shuddering from the obvious pain. Odion’s sword, The White Curse, was an artifact of considerable power. It made healing much harder… Zaxis was having a harder time.

It didn’t look like much of his injuries had healed at all.

“Everything will be okay,” Illia whispered.

Zaxis ran a shaky hand through her hair, but didn’t reply.

“Leave him be, Child of Balastar,” the wolf commanded, his voice a cold chill all its own. “Let them finish what they started. Or else I’ll have to end this myself.”

I motioned to Illia to return to my side. She clenched her jaw, clearly upset, but when she was given no other options, she teleported away from Zaxis, and reappeared next to me, her silvery glitter puffing into existence with each quick teleport.

Then Zaxis stood—like Illia’s mere presence had somehow given him the strength to keep going. He pushed his way to his feet, and then walked over to Odion. With a sigh, he turned to face Vjorn.

“I’ve won,” Zaxis said, his voice raspy. “The fight is over.”

“The Child of Astros still lives.”

“I don’t care. He’s… He’s…” Zaxis placed a hand on his face. He rubbed his eyes, and then his nose. “Master Zelfree said I needed to learn to rely on others more… To not think I had to do everything myself. King Odion helped us in the fight against the Second Ascension. I’d relied on him… And he never let me down. I can’t kill him now. Not when he can’t even fight back.”

“He will die on his own. No help is required.”

Zaxis struggled to stand. With a haggard breath, he turned to Odion. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to heal the man. But he didn’t have the energy, or the concentration to pull it off.

“I don’t want to win,” Zaxis said, weak and his volume fading. “I didn’t want this.”

Forsythe circled down. With a few gentle flaps of his wings, spreading soot across the blackened floor, he landed next to his arcanist. “You won. I knew you would, my arcanist.”

Zaxis dropped to one knee and hugged Forsythe tight. His phoenix draped his wings around his shoulders, returning the embrace with loving heat.

They remained still for a long moment. I wanted to walk out and speak to him—to tell him there weren’t many other options—but Forsythe knew. Zaxis’s eldrin had forced him into this, knowing their time was limited.

“It’s t-time,” Forsythe said, his voice catching with emotion. He broke away from Zaxis’s grasp and then took to the air. “I wanted more time—maybe to become gigantic, or true form, like Luthair—to finish the adventure.”

His body blazed with an inner fire, intensifying brighter and brighter.

“But I’m not afraid. I learned from you, my arcanist. You push forward… No matter the fear, no matter the challenge, no matter consequence… I’m so glad I learned from the best.”

His body pulsed with fire, becoming a brilliant gold, growing to the size of a pyre.

Then the flames exploded outward, a burst so glorious and brilliant, I couldn’t look away. The gold flames washed over everyone. Me. Illia. Nicholin. Odion. Zaxis. Even the fenris wolf, who didn’t flinch of look away, his cold gaze locked onto the phoenix throughout the entire explosion.

I thought the flames would hurt, or at the very least, burn my eyes.

But they didn’t.

They felt warm. And comforting. And like… they were filled with an unstoppable energy that needed to fuel us all.

Once the flames died away, leaving the room a glow with magic I had rarely felt, I had to wipe tears from my eyes. Forsythe was as bright as a star. And he proved that, without a doubt.

When I finally turned my attention to Zaxis, I nearly caught my breath.

He was healed. Completely. Forsythe’s healing flames had cured him of all injuries. And it was the same with Odion. The King of Javin pushed himself to his feet, his feet no longer pummeled, his body now whole.

Despite being healthy and unharmed, Zaxis fell back to his knees, the arcanist mark on his forehead fading into a dull scar—a slight indent in his skin, like a marring.

“Forsythe…”

King Odion took a deep breath, and then exhaled. He didn’t look at me, nor did he turn to Zaxis. He just stiffened his shoulders, and then headed for the tunnel out. He walked with weak steps.

“Wait,” I called out. “Odion! There might be other ways to—”

But he didn’t stop or even turn to me. He continued outward, his white armor blackened from the intense fire. And although he had been healed, it didn’t restore his hair. He reminded me of a corpse I had once helped Gravekeeper William bury, but the thought didn’t stick with me long.

Vjorn bounded out into the arena as golden embers rained down around us, like fireflies falling to the earth. Bathed in glorious healing magic, Vjorn stood directly in front of Zaxis.

“Zaxis Ren,” the fenris wolf said. “Your eldrin’s thoughts, as he immolated himself to save you, would’ve been enough to convince the apoch dragon to bond with you.”

“I don’t want it,” Zaxis whispered, his gaze on the ground.

“There are people in this world who brought a deadly plague to you and others. They infected your blood, and your eldrin, and now you wish to waste your eldrin’s gift by giving up?”

Zaxis snapped his gaze up, heat in his movements, even as he got to his feet.

“A hunter’s job is to make sure those same people are brought to the ultimate justice. The world serpent needs conviction, but we need to make sure this crime never happens again.”

Zaxis couldn’t speak. He stood with confidence, his shoulders squared and stiff.

“I’m so glad I’m here for this,” Nicholin whispered. “Forsythe is in my memory forever, as golden flames.”

Zaxis held out his hand.

“We will be the winter hunters, bringer of justice.” The fenris wolf exhaled hard, rushing his frost breath over the room, covering everything in thin rime. “The time is nigh. Bond with me, Vjorn the Second Fenris Wolf, and become an unparalleled hunter of corrupted magic.”