Chapter 228: Param, Burning

There was a time in the life of every man when he had to take a leap and make an impossible decision, Tallit decided. Not enough time. Not enough knowledge to understand the ins and outs. Much at risk, including his reputation. It was thus a great relief to have a clear, defined hierarchy of purpose. Tallit’s purpose had always been to serve the Academy. The Academy served its students. It was a guiding beacon he could use to lead him when nothing else would.

 

The procession coming from the port reached the inner wall leading to Helock’s noble district. They carried banners showing the symbol of Maranor. They were also heavily armed. Tallit turned.

 

“Sir?” Darla asked.

 

There was no need to reply. He removed an ancient key from a collar around his neck. More than just a key, it was a relic of the distant past, a bastion built by the generations that had preceded him just for such a moment. The time had come. With reverent fingers, he pressed the key into a depression. The massive core feeding the outer wards revealed itself as its protective panel lifted. A soft glow spread through delicate sigils engraved with silverite. Would it be that he had had more time to study them.

 

He leaned forward.

 

“The future is in their hands,” he whispered in old Viziman.

 

The wards accepted the keywords. A blue radiance spread through the room, bathing Tallit with shed mana. The core deployed as it carried decades of stored power to the outer walls, a last defense, an aegis built for a single purpose: to make the school inviolable. With deft hands, Tallit adjusted glyphs from a complex console.

 

“Exclude sixth steps and above. Localized contingency loops… block all offensive magic.”

 

He sighed.

 

“Allow access otherwise.”

 

The wards were limited by the Academy’s size. He couldn’t afford to overuse them. They would be needed to stop Oleander.

 

“And may the gods have mercy on us.”

 

“Sir.”

 

“I think it’s time. I will take full responsibility.”

 

Darla stood straight. She tended to be very open about her opinion in private. Her ramrod back and determined look told him that, if he had not made the right decision, at least he’d made the proper one. His hands touched the familiar sound enchantment. It recognized his authority. His voice traveled, carried by colorless mana to every corner of the Academy.

 

“Attention all staff and students, this is Dean Tallit. As the head of the Academy, you will proceed to evacuate immediately. Take your carry on bags and wait for the staff in the atriums of your respective dormitories. All other activities are hereby canceled. Staff to your positions please.”

 

It was so quiet down here. He couldn’t hear a thing. Weird how it worked. He felt like the skies ought to split or something, since he’d just broken with centuries of deeply ingrained tradition.

 

The Academy was neutral.

 

To go against Nero Oleander was to announce distrust. It was a conscious decision to go against him before he made his move. It was risky.

 

What if Viviane had lied?

 

“It was the right choice, sir,” Darla said with absolute conviction.

 

“We’ll see.”

 

Measured steps carried the pair upstairs to the lobby. His mana sense picked a ripple in the shield now blurring the city’s skyline. By the gods, how massive of a mana signature did that mad tyrant have?

 

“You should go to the portal with the others.”

 

“With all due respect, sir, absolutely the fuck not.”

 

“They will need your support.”

 

“And you might need a messenger. And besides, I am on shift at the front desk.”

 

Why did he have so many headstrong women around him? The gods had a sense of humor. The small moment of levity faded soon enough, but he felt better when he finally approached the gate.

 

A bald man was walking in as he arrived. A Shadowlander from the ashen skin and thick garb, his ‘guest’ had sharp, cruel features and a lopsided smile that was wolfish and threatening. He still bowed to Tallit with elegance. It somehow made him even more unsettling.

 

“Greetings, Dean. My master was wondering why you would deny him a visit?”

 

“This is merely a precaution for the coming of an unannounced, dangerous group.”

 

The man stayed where he was.

 

“Is the Academy not neutral ground?” he asked in a voice that made a token effort at sounding innocent, just enough to show obvious sarcasm.

 

“The neutrality of the Academy is predicated on the neutrality of Param’s politicians. Your master is not a Paramese.”

 

“Oh, but he is. Did he not enter this world in Enoria? Near Aristan, I believed,” the man feigned to ask.

 

“He is not here representing Enoria. He is here as the ruler of the Kingdom of Maranor. That is not a Paramese kingdom.”

 

“Not just yet, anyway,” the man continued.

 

He bowed again.

 

“My master has a message for you, if you will hear it.”

 

The students needed time.

 

“Of course,” Tallit replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

 

With a gesture, Tallit invited the man to sit at one of the nearby chairs, those arranged to welcome postulants and other guests. He didn’t offer him any drink, however.

 

The man placed his hands upon his knees. It had not occurred to Tallit but it seemed the man was completely unarmed. Not a single sheath could be seen on his drab clothes. He was, however, scarred like an old warrior. Tallit didn’t inspect him for courtesy was still the rule here.

 

And besides, Darla would do it and she wouldn’t get caught.

 

“Your master had a message, then? You may share it when you wish,” Tallit said to the man who had yet to introduce himself.

 

“Ah yes. Well, my master’s message is this. Please bear with me.”

 

He cleared his throat, then his voice took a calm cadence, even a lower pitch. Tallit wasn’t sure if he should laugh or take offense.

 

“There can be no neutrality in the face of a new world order. Peace can only exist when people know and understand their place, their role, and how to improve it. Peace requires uniformity of justice. Peace requires balance and unity and common effort, all those key elements of a proper order. This, in turn, requires that everyone participates. There can be no exceptions in that tight arrangement. You are either a promoter of this order, or you are actively going against it. Even inaction is rebellion when the nation demands your aid. By refusing us access to the school, you are showing us that you will not accept the new order.

 

The man’s expression turned sarcastic for a moment before he continued. Nevertheless, Tallit could see his master believed in those words.

 

“Children are precious. They are our future. My liege will never allow them to come to harm, for they will be the elites of tomorrow. You can trust that we will be understanding. Education will cover civic duties, but the other rules of the Academy have proven themselves to be healthy. They have protected the children from the outside world and from conflict for generations. We see no need to change this. You can continue your duties should you wish to, provided you accept to be a subject of the Kingdom of Maranor. We merely ask for access. Supervision, not action.”

 

Tallit mulled over the proposal, if only to give his people more time.

 

“You would really leave the staff in place?” he finally asked.

 

“My master believes that those who have reached the top on their own merits ought to stay there. As he said, we are only asking for oversight with the understanding that you know how to run the Academy while we do not. We have no reason to alter a functional establishment.”

 

The man looked a little bored. It was probably a good sign. Tallit checked him for weapons once again, still seeing nothing but that didn’t mean much.

 

“That sounds reasonable. What if your lord asks me to fight for his flag and I do not wish to?”

 

“This can be decided upon as part of a surrender agreement, but there must be other concessions. Everything is in balance. Not that I expect my master to need you on the battlefield, however…”

 

He shrugged.

 

“The tide of war is ever fickle.”

 

“I see. Next question.”

 

Tallit leaned forward until he was in the man’s personal space. The weird Viziman smiled, and Tallit felt like he’d put his face in a rathclaw’s cage.

 

“Should any of my students be relatives of those who oppose your rule, will they be allowed to leave unharmed to join their family.”

 

The man didn’t reply. In fact, he didn’t move at all. Slowly, a smile bloomed on his face.

 

“Of course,” he lied.

 

It was hilariously obvious.

 

“Would your master swear an oath on it? Say, an oath to Enttiku.”

 

But the man just laughed.

 

“Ah, I knew it from the start. You have heard of good old Nero, even in these distant lands. I suppose his reputation eventually caught up to him. Aaaah, that pisspot Crest did warn him it would eventually cause problems. Looks like the little shit was right. No way, of course we’ll hold the twerps as hostages. What do you think, that we’re some brothel pansies? So, we fight then?”

 

“I need to consider your offer,” Tallit suggested.

 

“Nah you don’t. You already decided. I just needed to make sure.”

 

The man’s smile widened.

 

“Guess that ends the truce.”

 

And Tallit had a knife planted in his left thigh.

 

***

 

Acuity reflex kicked in before the pain could register, even as the assassin was extended over the table. A fast cast of [Glastian Delouser] scorched him to the bone, leaving only a smoldering corpse behind. The waiting room was ravaged.

 

Now the pain hit.

 

“FUCK!”

 

The door opened in front of him, showing a young Shadowland mage in gray battle robes casting some offensive spells. Tallit called a fire spear that smashed into his opponent’s shield. The robe caught on fire, but gray mana smothered the attack. Air gathered around Tallit. With a wave of his hand, the dean drew gray from his own core and the choking spell dissipated. A gesture slammed the door close. He’d bought some time.

 

“I’m here!” Darla screamed.

 

She stopped in front of Tallit. His mind wove the sigils required to put the Academy on lockdown while she opened an emergency bag. The pain was making him sweat. It had been so long since he’d last killed, since he’d last been wounded. It all still felt strangely familiar.

 

Maybe they thought he was rusty. They were wrong.

 

“Pull it,” he told Darla.

 

She didn’t reply, but the sharp pain told him she’d done it. He only spared his leg a glance. Darla had pulled up his robe, revealing hairy skin. She was pouring something on the wound.

 

“Blood clotter doesn’t work. It’s definitely a skill. Here, drink this.”

 

She tossed him a vial he swallowed on the spot. General purpose anti-toxins. Very expensive.

 

“I’ll use icecap gauze and a tight bandage. You will need a priest in an hour or so but you’ll be functional till then.”

 

He grunted in answer. She was working quickly, but not quickly enough. People were banging on the door.

 

“It’s just a matter of time before they go over the walls instead,” he said, more to himself.

 

‘I’m so sorry,” Darla suddenly blurted, brown eyes widened by guilt. “I knew he was an assassin but he was also an envoy. I never expected…”

 

“My bad. No precautions.”

 

He sighed. A cool sensation was spreading through his leg, dulling the agony.

 

“And I wouldn’t have listened anyway,” he admitted.

 

That comforted Darla and that was all that mattered. It was stupid of Tallit to expect invaders to play fair to begin with.

 

“All done. I’ll get the others.”

 

“Right.”

 

She took off at a dead sprint while he ambled after her. A flick of his hand called the staff he’d left by the entrance. The cores in there fed his power. He had to use it like a crutch though, and that was vexing. Wouldn’t last. His fingers found an orb in his pocket. His voice rang through the entire Academy.

 

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“This is Dean Tallit. The Academy is under attack. Please follow the proper precautions. Combat staff, assume infiltration and protect the students, please.”

 

It was going to be up to him to hold the fuckers back. A deep gong reverberated throughout the massive outer shield as he left the administration building towards the inner park, like a battering ram striking a gate. Oleander. The shield was holding, for now.

 

He looked at the sky. It was time to get moving. His hands formed complex patterns to help him weave sigils in the air as he drew brown mana from his core.

 

[Earthen Rider].

 

The spell encased his foot in mud, then he was crossing the nearby patch of grass without moving his feet, dragged by the soil itself. He made sure to place his right foot first to lessen the pain… even then, he broke into sweat. It was a deep gash and the rush of battle wasn’t helping. More defensive spells followed. Maintaining them was going to take some effort.

 

[Ebullient aura of Tripaski.] [Sen’s Basalt armor.]

 

Where a composed man in robe stood, now was a fuming shape encased in heavy black stone. He finished just as the first of Nero’s vanguard crossed the shield, the same who’d tried to get into the administrative building. The man screamed something in that ashen tongue of his. Grey mana coalesced just as Tallit went on the offensive. A powerful air blade launched. [Archmage’s sense] forced his mind into overdrive. He was being distracted.

 

[Nyil’s Teeth]

 

The arrogantly named defensive spell lifted columns of stone from the ground, catching the fast blade thanks to Tallit’s mastery of the spell. His version had a solid dose of red mana that turned them into magma fangs. An electric charge hidden behind the spell fizzled in those defenses. At the same time, Tallit was done casting.

 

[Coalesce]

 

[Tallit’s Scorcher]

 

His signature spell surged across the open ground in a single line of pure heat charged with the meaning of burning. The powerful and deceptively fast attack speared through the gray mage’s shield, hollowing his torso in the same moment. He fell with a cry.

 

“You people are forgetting who…”

 

Archers crested the wall, led by a woman with black hair held in a long tail. Agile fighters followed. Arrows turned to soot before they could reach him, the iron in their tip melting into reddening blobs.

 

“… you are dealing with. [Azalis’ death wall.]”

 

Before Tallit had started casting, the meadow had been a carefully maintained garden designed to give the students a relaxing environment. By the time the wave of devouring fire launched towards the walls, it was a desolate inferno, the air warped by the high temperatures. Most of the soldiers were smart enough to fall back but a few made the mistake of trying to cut a path through the flames. It worked, then Tallit closed his hand. The splitting curtain closed again over the blademasters and they died a fiery end. One of them managed to jump over the working.

 

[Idran’s fly catcher]

 

A sphere of fire appeared around him as he had no way to change trajectory. The vanguard still managed to punch a hole through the quickly closing trap. Oleander certainly had some semi-competent underlings.

 

[Fireball]

 

Sometimes, simple was best. A torrent of small projectiles smacked into the opening, intercepting the man and killing him instantly. There were more archers and agile fighters bypassing the walls now, with heavier fighters probably climbing them. Once six or seven, the fastest, were past, Tallit lifted the Academy’s orb again.

 

“Activate wall defenses, section three.”

 

The next vanguard to try and cross had his fingers liquify though he managed to escape. Cries of pain and dismay emerged from the other side. Now only fliers could reach him until the spell arrays exhausted themselves. He turned his attention towards those he’d allowed to cross.

 

“Now where were we?”

 

The wiser agile fighters ran away from him as fast as they could. He let those who went towards the cupola leave while he speared two on their way towards the main dormitory, at the center of the park. Couldn’t have that. The teachers would handle the stragglers.

 

Powerful skills turned the arrows of his opponents into streaks of mana. One of them damaged the basalt armor. Tallit was finally getting warmed up, now that everything in a ten pace circle was on fire. Even the stone. Red and brown mana merged together.

 

[Pyroclastic flow.]

 

Tallit cleared most of the archers but the head woman was teleported out by some strange skill as the billowing cloud of superheated ash approached her. She reappeared on a nearby tower, then farther when a ward-powered spell almost hit her. A portal appeared close to Tallit, by the wall. He had it in a trap but something pierced through. The heavily armored soldier coming immediately after wasn’t so lucky.

 

[Crucible.]

 

The man tried to stop the fire converging on him with twin heavy shields. A vortex of power surrounded him and when it stopped, the armor was fused, the man thoroughly cooked.

 

“Stop coming,” the portal archmage screamed. “Stop! Wait for him!”

 

The archer told him something but Tallit didn’t follow. His most recent spell had been intercepted by a portal that redirected the [Idran’s Firetongue] towards him. Tallit seized and canceled the spell before it could test his defenses, then he struck the space mage’s new location just as he appeared.

 

“Gah!”

 

“You’re not the first teleporter I’ve faced,” Tallit mocked.

 

But inside, he wasn’t feeling so confident. It was the knife wound. He needed a priest, and quickly, but he could still go on for now. Outside of the walls, the shield shivered. It was already lucky Oleander hadn’t thought of trying another spot yet.

 

The pain flared again. At the same time, Tallit felt something in his blind spot. Decades of experience made him cast another [Glastian Delouser] in that general direction.

 

The assassin who’d wounded him turned aside with a laugh, his arm on fire. Tallit felt vertigo just as a powerful blue spell destroyed the defensive ‘teeth’. That was impossible. The assassin was dead. He’d seen his corpse. He was dead.

 

But here he was standing again?

 

“Perhaps introductions are overdue? My name is Jar’ko the Undying.”

 

An arrow finally pierced his defenses. A pauldron crumbled while the undying carved another hole in his armor. Tallit was on the backfoot, and Crest was casting. He had an ace, however. While his armor still held, Tallit cast his next spell.

 

***

 

Celerin Crest watched the Undying and Vanguard Eika the Elusive corner Tallit. The old fucker was resilient but he had no mobility, a weakness shared by red mana specialists with a brown secondary. If they could just keep it going… yes, the armor was getting chipped. Jar’ko was staying one step ahead despite a missing arm. Whatever skill kept him going must be struggling to heal him by now. Crest redoubled his efforts, casting gray and brown spells but giving up on blue ones. The ground of the Academy was now a bubbling cauldron not unlike a volcano. The forest was gone for over fifty paces, replaced by lava dripping from crooked rocks. More vanguard mages were going over the wall by flying, but the rest of them were blocked. He didn’t want to open another portal — the sight and smell of Durgan the Gate cooking alive would feed his nightmares for the next season.

 

“We need more people,” Eika screamed.

 

“We need Nero,” Crest realistically replied. The dean was a fucking monster. Oleander’s triumphant march was not going to plan. He swore and teleported another volley of fireballs coming from the beleaguered archmage. They exploded around only to add their heat to the hellish battlefield. Even with a bubble enchantment, it was getting hard to breathe.