99. Powderkeg

Chapter 099
Powderkeg

Arranging a meeting with Daimen was easy this time. Not that it had ever been truly difficult to do that, but after learning the basics of the local language and customs over the restarts, the task had become totally trivial. He just had to approach the Taramatula in the right way, and they didn’t even bother trying to turn him away – they went to fetch Daimen after only a few minutes of convincing, leaving Zorian to wait at the entrance.

He was currently flipping through Daimen’s notebooks to pass the time, ignoring the strange looks given to him by the gate guards. The notebook was coded, but that couldn’t stop Zorian at all. With his mental enhancements active, he could decode the text in an instant, so long as he knew the key. Not that there was anything really interesting recorded in the notebooks. Daimen had written those in consultation with Zorian, so this was more about Zorian reminding himself what they put in there than discovering something new and exciting. He thought about trying to strike up a conversation with the guards currently observing him, but he knew from previous experience they weren’t the talkative sort. It didn’t help that his grasp of the local language was pretty shaky still.

After a while, Zorian flipped through the last of the notebooks he had brought along and closed it shut. He impatiently rocked back and forth in place, taking in the sights around him through his various senses. In his mind sense and soul sense, the bees coming and going from the Taramatula estate looked like streams of tiny glittering stars.

Pretty. He turned his back towards the gate and observed the wall of plant life surrounding the estate. He had been here many times in the past, but he had rarely paid much attention to the lands surrounding the place. Ignoring the guards and their alarmed inquiries about where he was going, he promptly wandered off into the wilds and started exploring.

The jungle surrounding the Taramatula estate was kind of beautiful, he realized. No doubt a large part of that was deliberate design by the Taramatula, but still. There were paths cut into the vegetation to make the area more accessible to humans, and flowers were everywhere. Zorian followed the paths with no particular purpose in mind, mentally repelling snakes and biting insects whenever they got too close to him. No large predatory animals bothered him. The Taramatula had probably cleared them all out from the vicinity of their home.

Eventually he stopped walking, staring at a particularly large white flower that had a great many bees swarming over it. A voice sounded from behind him not long afterwards.

“It really is you. Damn it, Zorian, couldn’t you have waited at the entrance just a little bit? If you wanted to look at bees, there are like a million of them inside the estate…”

It was Daimen, of course. Zorian slowly turned around, observing his eldest brother with a complex expression. Interacting with people he had gotten to know as temporary loopers before the end was always rather uncomfortable, and never was this as true as it was right now. The last time he saw Daimen, his brother had sacrificed himself to ensure Zorian could get out of the time loop alive.

Xvim had sacrificed himself too, of course. So had many other temporary loopers. However, Daimen’s choice to burn his whole life force to stabilize the passage into the real world had left a particularly deep impression on Zorian because… it was Daimen. He would have never expected his eldest brother to sacrifice himself for him.

He had never completely forgiven Daimen for what happened in his childhood, he realized. Interacting with his eldest brother in the time loop, he grudgingly came to accept he was being kind of petty and that he needed his brother’s help, but a part of him would always see Daimen as an enemy. Now that part of him was angry and upset, because he realized he owed a life debt to Daimen now. Even if the Daimen in front of him knew nothing of it, Zorian himself could never pretend it wasn’t real.

“What?” Daimen demanded. He sounded pretty annoyed. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“We haven’t seen each other in a while, but I feel like I saw you only days ago,” said Zorian after a second of pause.

“Ha! Yes, your big brother is just as handsome and dashing as always,” Daimen said, puffing his chest in an exaggerated manner. He then gave Zorian a scrutinizing look. “You’ve certainly changed, though.”

Like always, Daimen doubted his identity upon their first meeting. Quite sensible, considering the distances he would have to traverse just to end up here.

“Yeah, well, people change rapidly during their teenage years,” Zorian commented calmly.

“No, it’s more than that,” Daimen said, shaking his head. “Even your posture is different. You look calmer. More confident.”

“Confident?” Zorian asked incredulously. He felt anything but confident at the moment. He was under a tremendous amount of stress at the moment.

“Yeah,” Daimen said. “It seems the academy has been a good influence on you.”

He looked around until he spotted a nearby fallen tree and then casually waved his hand at it. A gust of wind immediately blew away all the dirt and leaves on top of it, after which Daimen plopped down on the tree with a heavy sigh. He then gave Zorian a piercing look.

“Why are you here, Zorian?” he asked. “Actually, scratch that. How are you here?”

“Teleportation,” Zorian said. In reality he had opened a dimensional gate straight to Koth, but it was best to keep that secret for now. “I got someone to transport me directly to you.”

“Transport you directly… Zorian, do you have any idea how dangerous that is!?” Daimen spluttered at him.

“Of course I do,” Zorian told him. “It’s just that I had no choice but to do this. I had to talk to you as soon as possible.”

Daimen stared at him for a few seconds, discreetly casting a few divination spells at Zorian and considering something. Zorian patiently waited for him to finish and pretended he didn’t notice the divination spells directed at him.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?” Daimen finally asked with a long-suffering sigh.

“Yes,” Zorian admitted. “Big trouble.”

“I knew it,” Daimen said flatly. “Damn it, Zorian… this is the sort of thing I’d expect out of Fortov, not you. Alright, just… tell me what you have gotten yourself into and I’ll see how I can help you. But you owe me big time for this! How did you get enough money to pay for teleportation here, anyway? You didn’t steal from Mother and Father, did you?”

“No, I have plenty of money,” Zorian said, shaking his head.

Daimen swore under his breath. He seemed even more displeased with that idea than with Zorian stealing money from his family. In all likelihood, he assumed Zorian must have gotten the money illegally.

Which, now that he thought about it, was pretty much correct. He got most of his current funds by stealing them from the invaders, after all.

“Anyway, my issue is that invaders from Ulquaan Ibasa and the cultists of the World Dragon are going to jointly invade Cyoria on the night of the summer festival in order to release the primordial trapped beneath the city and harvest the souls of everyone currently living there,” Zorian summarized.

Daimen gave him a strange look.

“What?” he asked with an incredulous laugh.

“Ulquaan Ibasa, the isle of the exiles, is invading Cyoria through a permanent dimensional portal hidden beneath the city,” Zorian said.

“A-ha,” Daimen said slowly.

“Much of the city’s leadership has been subverted by the Esoteric Order of the Celestial Dragon, better known as the Cult of the World Dragon. They are working together with the Ibasans to keep the invasion preparations secret and will directly aid them when they actually invade the city,” Zorian continued.

“I see,” Daimen said, giving him a sour look. “You are definitely Zorian. Only he would come here with such a ridiculous story. A real imposter would surely cobble together a far more convincing scheme than this.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Zorian told him calmly. “Anyway, I don’t really expect you to do much about the invasion itself. That whole situation is kind of beyond you. Unfortunately, the invaders know I’m one of the chief people opposing them, so they’re going to go after you and the Taramatula to get leverage over me. That’s why I hurried over here like this. I had to warn you before it was too late.”

Daimen suddenly frowned, becoming a little more serious.

“Zorian, this isn’t funny,” Daimen protested severely.

“I know,” Zorian sighed. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for getting you into this mess. All I can do is offer you information, and maybe shelter, if you need one. Though convincing the Taramatula to evacuate their ancestral estate and leave it at the mercy of the invaders is probably a tall order, so…”

“You know what? I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Daimen told him, anger and annoyance mixing in his voice and posture. He got up from his seat and dusted himself off. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going back to my work. When you’re ready to have a serious talk, we can–”

Zorian took the imperial orb out of his jacket pocket and held it in front of him, in plain view of Daimen.

Daimen froze at the sight, staring dumbfounded at the orb for several seconds.

“Is that…?” he began.

“It’s the imperial orb, yes,” Zorian nodded. “Sorry about that. I know you’ve been looking for it for a while now, but I am in dire need of it.”

“What? Why…” Daimen said in an uncomprehending manner, unable to accept what he was seeing.

“Considering my earlier story, it should be self-explanatory why I need it,” Zorian noted.

“Not that! I mean… aargh!” Daimen groaned. “How did you get that!? Why do you have that? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Here,” Zorian said, reaching into his jacket pocket again and handing Daimen the notebooks he had written for himself during the time loop. “Read this and things will hopefully make more sense.”

Daimen quickly snatched the notebooks out of Zorian’s hands before giving the imperial orb an intense look. He then snatched the imperial orb as well before retreating back to his log to study them both. Zorian let the orb go, unconcerned. Daimen was a great mage, but he was no Quatach-Ichl. If Zorian wanted to get the orb back, he could do so at any time, regardless of Daimen’s wishes.

Daimen flipped through the notebooks with one hand while fondling the imperial orb in the other, occasionally muttering to himself in a low voice.

“What? This can’t be right… oh, I remember this one. I was going to check this in the next few months… how does he even know this?” Daimen muttered. “Wait a minute…”

He suddenly shut up and started pacing like a caged tiger, reading a particular passage. He eventually spun in place and turned towards Zorian in an aggressive manner.

“What is this!?” he demanded. “Did… did I write this?”

“Yes,” Zorian confirmed.

“But… I don’t remember ever writing this,” Daimen frowned.

“Yes,” Zorian agreed.

“Don’t you ‘yes’ at me!” Daimen protested. “Give me an explanation!”

“I can’t,” Zorian said, shaking his head.

“Oh come on, do you seriously expect me to believe you have no idea how this came to be?” Daimen said, waving the notebook in front of Zorian’s face.

“I know how the notebooks came to be, of course,” Zorian said. “I even helped you write them. It’s just that I can’t give you an explanation.”

“You… helped me write these?” Daimen asked, looking at him strangely. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No, ignore that question. Why can’t you give me an explanation?”

“Because lives depend on it,” Zorian told him. “I know I’m asking a lot here, but please trust me on this. The consequences of me telling you these things would be truly dire. My friend could die. I could die. The whole city of Cyoria could die.”

“That thing again,” Daimen frowned at him. “This… invasion of yours.”

“In the end, everything comes back to that,” Zorian confirmed, nodding. “Oh, and give me back the imperial orb, please.”

He stretched out his hand towards Daimen, observing his reaction. Daimen glanced at the imperial orb in his hand, and then back at Zorian again, his expression deep in thought for a moment.

Then he thrust the orb back into Zorian’s outstretched hand and returned to his log, flipping through the notebooks again.

“I don’t want to believe this, but there is so much stuff here,” Daimen eventually said, his voice a little more subdued. “These notebooks… they represent years of work, and I remember nothing of it. Did I really lose years of my life somehow? It couldn’t be. I would have noticed something this big, there is no way you can rip out such vast swathes of someone’s memory without completely messing them up!”

“As I said, I can’t talk about that,” Zorian told him.

“I can’t accept that,” Daimen said, not taking his eyes off the notebook he was reading.

Zorian ignored him.

“You’re in danger,” he told Daimen. “You and the Taramatula both. Originally I intended to evacuate my friends and Kirielle here to shelter them from the attack and unfortunately the enemy got their hands on that information. Now they intend to attack this place to get their hands on some hostages to pressure me with. You need to alert the Taramatula and prepare yourself for the incoming attack, okay?”

The author’s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Truthfully, Zorian could simply destroy Red Robe’s simulacrum once it arrived at Koth, ending the possibility of the threat that way. However, he did not want to do that. As callous as it was, he felt that making Red Robe waste all his time and mana on this was preferable to him scrapping the plan entirely and trying to get him in some other fashion. A predictable threat was better than a completely unknown one.

“So this invasion of yours is so powerful their reach extends all the way to Koth as well?” Daimen asked him, looking at him like he was an idiot.

“I already told you they have access to permanent gates, so why does this surprise you?” Zorian asked, giving him the same look back. “They only need one person to build a gate and they can shuffle their forces to and from any place on the globe.”

“And what do you mean you wanted to evacuate Kirielle here, isn’t she with Mother and Father?” Daimen continued, ignoring Zorian’s remark.

“No, she’s with me,” Zorian said.

Daimen made a show of looking around, even peering beneath the log he was sitting on. Zorian rolled his eyes at him.

“I left her in Cyoria, of course,” Zorian told him.

“You left her alone while you traveled to Koth?” Daimen asked flatly, sounding very unamused.

“Calm down,” Zorian told him. “It’s only for a few hours.”

“What? What do you mean ‘for a few hours’?” Daimen protested. “Traveling to Koth takes days, even with teleportation!”

“We’ll discuss that later, okay?” Zorian tried.

“No, we can’t discuss that later! This whole thing is insane and quite frankly I’m starting to question if you’re even actually Zorian!” Daimen said, giving him a heated glare. “My brother is fifteen years old and there is no way he would involve himself with something like this. In fact, even if he wanted to get involved, he doesn’t have the skills to do so! Who are you really and what did you do to Zorian?”

Zorian was silent for a moment. It was a good question, really. In truth, the real Zorian had died at the start of the month. He had stolen his body and identity, letting his soul move on to the afterlife. Daimen wasn’t actually wrong to think of him as an imposter.

If the Daimen in front of him knew the truth, would he consider him his real brother or would he do his best to avenge the real Zorian? Temporary looper Daimen felt that sacrificing his life so that Zorian could replace the original was right and proper, but this Daimen might not agree.

It was amusing, Zorian thought to himself bitterly. Years ago, he wouldn’t have given a damn about what Daimen thought of him and his choices. Now he found himself dreading his judgment, should his eldest brother ever find out the truth.

“The notebook in your hand,” said Zorian, pointing his finger at the book Daimen was tightly clutching in his hands, “is proof that things have happened which you have no memory of. Therefore, should it really surprise you that I am also not how you remember me? I could show you some skills you taught me. Minor things, but things that should be immediately obvious as your own magical insights. Would that convince you?”

“I need an explanation,” Daimen insisted, clutching the notebook in his hands so tightly his fingers turned white from blood loss.

“I’ll give you one at the end of the month,” said Zorian. “After the summer festival.”

That was amusing, too. Zorian had used this excuse so many times in the past, while he was still inside the time loop. The only difference was that, back then, this offer meant he didn’t really have to explain anything. The loop would restart before the deadline was reached.

“After this invasion of yours,” Daimen noted shrewdly.

“Yes. As I said, lives depend on it,” Zorian insisted.

“You expect me to help you out for a mere promise of an explanation after the deed is done?” Daimen asked him.

“No,” Zorian said, shaking his head. “All I want is for you to take my warning seriously and to make sure the Taramatula do the same. So long as you survive the month and protect your fiancée’s family from the invaders, I will consider this a success.”