Chapter 41 

The Elven peoples are notorious for the value they put in eugenics. Marriages between Elven families take into account the “quality” of each lineage’s blood before binding together. In fact, it is because of Elven culture that many people replace the term ethnicity with breed, regardless of species, even if no true breeding is involved.

Day 381 Quenchenday

The three Mystagogues exited the elevator in a calm and organized manner, but the moment they left the mirrored box, they each jumped into action. Thrasher took three massive strides forward before giving an over-exaggerated stomp that sent the tile floor rippling like a fluid ocean. Thallos rode the stone waves like a pro, even with his ruined leg. Meanwhile, I struggled to keep my feet, the waves reaching every wall of the room. 

Before the floor settled, Thrasher circled to my right in a ready stance. The remaining two professors rode the waves of tile and stone as if they had done so a hundred times before. Mysteriarch Kaydammin bounded from wave crest to wave crest as agile as a cat. As she reached the closest wave to Thallos, she didn’t even hesitate to lung at him with a thrust from her sparking Rapier.

Thallos spun on the heel of his maimed leg to sidestep the lung and responded to the assault by summoning a Longsword of shadow, as I had, but the shape of his blade was far more solid and clean. He threw the Dagger he had in hand at Thrasher, forcing the massive Orc to block with the head of his hammer. Thallos followed up the hurtle with a spinning reverse stab at Mysteriarch Kaydammin. But the High Elf deflected the massive shadow blade with her Rapier easily, forcing the thrust to pass wide.

The Human Mystagogue that I would refer to henceforth as The Warhorse circled to my left. As the Mysteriarch deflected the thrust, The Warhorse closed in with a wide swing from the Longsword in her right hand. With the blade closing in, Thallos did something I thought was near-impossible in his current state. He threw himself over the swing. His body seemed to move like liquid, his head behind the blade, back arching over the blade, his one good leg kicking out at the Mysteriarch’s Rapier hilt as he went. Suddenly, Thallos was on his back on the floor; The Warhorse’s swing continued unimpeded, and the Mysteriarch’s sword flew from her grip.

Without skipping a beat, the Mysteriarch reached out for her weapon, and it flew back into her grip as if it had never left. I knew that Thallos was on the floor because if he’d had both legs in functional order, he would have simply flipped to land back on his feet. It felt good knowing that I had handicapped the slither-spine as he was being bore down upon by three experienced fighters.

The Warhorse continued the horizontal slash of her Longsword but spun into and past it to throw an overhead Morning Star strike aimed for his head while he lay prone. Thallos rolled to his right to avoid the slam. He then performed kip-upped to his feet just in time to find Thrasher’s War Hammer swinging for his chest. The Wild Elf nimbly danced away from the heavy swing and stepped into the Mysteriarch’s lightning spell. 

Arcs of purple-white electricity danced from her fingertips and lanced to Thallos. I noticed a flicker of silver before a blur of motion. From what I had seen, it looked like he had blocked every arc of electricity with his shadow blade. 

Thrasher lifted his massive hammer, its head glowing a brown-gray color, but a half moment before he could bring the weapon down, Thallos flicked a gold spark into his face. Thrasher’s eyes were unfocused, and his weapon fell by the wayside.

The Warhorse adjusted her angle from the downward slam that missed by stepping toward Thallos, pivoting on her forward heel, and pulling a two-weapon-swing, Morning Star swinging low and Longsword swinging high. Thallos countered by stepping out of the Morningstar’s shorter range and deflecting the Longsword with his shadow blade.

The Mysteriarch closed in with a fist full of fire, but Thallos saw it coming and adjusted for The Warhorse to stand between him and the fist of flame. Thrasher shook himself free of the mind spell to notice the situation and charged in from Thallos’s bare side. The Wild Elf noticed the charge and took another sidestep to his right. This put Thrasher between him and the Mysteriarch.

But The Warhorse hadn’t finished yet. With her sword blocked against his Shadow Blade, she charged the sword Light Myst to cancel his Dark Myst even as she pulled her Morning Star’s head parallel with Thallos. Her light blade carved through Thallos’s shadow weapon like a razor blade through fat. As his weapon faded, she spun around with the momentum of her sword to point her mace head at him and release a shot. 

A bolt of fire and kinetic force struck Thallos and knocked him off his feet, a large burn wound at the center of his chest. The Wild Elf struck his back against the floor and rolled back into a crouch. In his right hand, he formed another blade of shadow, but this one gave flickers of dark purple while his free left hand reached into one of his many pockets.

As the three elite warriors closed in on the mad master, he jabbed a hypo-jection needle into his maimed leg; the flesh reconstructing at a rapid pace. The burn wound at his chest closed, but the shirt still bore the scorched scar. The Mysteriarch threw a bolt of ice as she closed the distance. Thallos batted aside the bolt, but as his shadow blade collided with her spell, she pressed the offensive with a flurry of strikes from her Rapier. Thallos couldn’t help but give ground inch by inch.

It was around that moment I thought about the physical cost of myst. I was almost completely exempt, and Rose was free from the cost because she had been using MyCast. But real casters paid a real physical price for their spells. Thrasher had used Earth magic, which drew minerals from the blood, and he had the slightest quiver to the grip of his weapon. The Mysteriarch had used lighting, a cross between fire, air, kinetic, and ice. That meant she paid for that spell with oxygen and minerals from her blood, and heat and hydration from her body. Yet she showed no sense of even the slightest weakness. I guess that just went to show the amount of power she could bring to bear. 

Meanwhile, The Warhorse had used Light, Air, Earth, and Fire. The prices for those were joy or passion for Light which I really couldn’t tell if she lost any at the moment. But a loss of oxygen and minerals from the blood as the price for kinetic was only slightly more visible. If I hadn’t known about spells and their costs would have just thought that she was barely winded and weak from her physical attacks. But body heat was another hard one to notice in the heat of battle (No pun intended). Was the master cold? Hard to tell as she tried to beat in the skull of the man who had ruined me over the course of almost two years.

Thrasher closed in with caution, swinging that massive Warhammer in wide arks to force Thallos back step by step. The tactic worked. He couldn’t lose a fraction of his focus from the massive maul because it was a threat that could put him down. The Warhorse and the Mysteriarch divided and moved to close him in from separate angles. Holding my breath, I watched as the net closed on the man who had ruined me.

But somehow, Thallos saw the tactic coming. With one of the wide swings of the Warhammer, Thallos jumped up and posted both feet against the weapon and used the momentum of the attack to help him kick off and land free of the triangle of capture. He pulled from his pocket some kind of smoke bombs and threw them at the three masters. As they coughed and tried to regroup, the Wild Elf circled around into plain view of me.  With his strange contraption in one hand, he reached out his other hand in offer to me. “Come with me, and we can find your mother.”

I had a moment of pure desire to meet the woman. A moment where I tried to forgive Thallos’s actions and find a reason to trust him. I had never had much of a family, and even if Thallos was sick in the head, he was still family to my father. He had quite a bit in common with the man who raised me, and he even had a better sense of humor and was more willing to help me. What if I lost a father to gain an uncle to help me find my mother? Was that fate? All of this flashed through my mind in the space between heartbeats, but I knew what I had to do.

My answer was obvious when I took a defensive step back, but his next move was a complete shock. Thallos looked past me and offered his hand again. “Come with me, and I will make you a legend.” His promise wasn’t for me. I turned to follow his gaze to lock eyes with Rose. I saw what he was trying and I couldn’t let it happen. I lashed out with the shadow whip I still had bound to my hand. My first strike merely wounded his right eye, drawing a scorched and necrotic line from his brow to his cheek.

The Primal girl glanced from me to the bastard, back and forth, again and again, before she gave me a look of apology and hurried to Thallos’s side. He commanded her to collect the box the device had come in, and she acted in instant obedience. 

When she moved to follow him, I felt my heart crack. When she followed his instructions without question, my heart broke. And when Thallos reached into his pocket to throw down an object that ripped open a portal, I took my second chance, striking out again with the shadow whip. The coil wrapped around his left arm, and I yanked back with every scrap of strength I had left. There was the sound of charring meat followed by a sound of tearing. The whole thing ended with a sickening squelch paired with the sound of flesh being thrown to the stone floor. I looked up in a panic to find Thallos missing his left arm, stepping through the gate. When Rose followed him through without even a glance back, my hopes for love shattered. The gate closed with a loud sucking sound, drawing in some of the dispersed smoke before it collapsed.

I fell to my knees, any spells I controlled vaporized with my loss of focus, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t even sob, I was in such deep shock. The closest thing to a father figure I had found since my original father’s death was my father’s butcher. I had trusted the man with my training and guidance, and he turned out to be a mad sadist. At the moment of shock, I was dimly aware that in the honest fight with him, he only drew blood once. Almost like he expected me to draw power from blood, so he used blunt force damage. Had he always been so twisted? 

But beyond the betrayal of Thallos, there was Rose. The girl who saved my life and took countless hours of her free time to teach me how to fight. One of my first friends and one of my closest friends that I confided in. The girl I could have loved and grown closer to. She left without a second look after the promise of glory. Had she always been so shallow?

Was everyone this way? Did everyone have secrets that would wind up burning me in the end? What about Nennel? What about Fermose? Were they hiding some kind of monster under their skin? Were they going to turn against me? Were friends always this painful? How was I supposed to live if the people in my life were all going to turn against me?

I lay there on my knees, tears streaming, face blank, body limp for an amount of time only the Gods would know. I was brought back to reality when I felt a massive, calloused hand touch my shoulder with a feather’s weight. I raised my tear-streaked face to see the Mystagogue Thrasher looking down at me with concern. My saviors. The three instructors of the academy came without question, ready to fight. Were they going to ask for something in return?

I hurriedly wiped my eyes with a balled fist, snorting away any snot I could before looking up at the instructors. Thrasher had a fraction of his massive hand gently resting on my bare shoulder. I saw concern in his eyes, and I felt hope. I turned to the Mysteriarch, and in her good eye, I saw worry. Did she really care? I looked to the third instructor and found an aged Human woman’s face. Crossways of scars lined the whole of her face, her right eye covered with an eye patch. She just looked annoyed.

“Iver,” Started Thrasher, “I got your message. I found support and came as quickly as I could manage. What happened?”

The Human instructor piped in, “Let’s start with that message. This fight pulled me away from a fine lunch to beat some ass. I’d like to know why I came down here armed to put down a beast.”

Thrasher shot her an annoyed look without turning away from me. “I only got the minimum details from his message. It read: ‘Thallos is schizo and trying to kill me. Come quick.’”

“That’s it? I was dragged away from my glorious turkey and swiss, because a student thought their mentor was trying to kill them.” She rolled her eye as she sheathed her blade with one hand and shouldered her Morning Star with the other. “If I had a copper for every time a student thought their mentor wanted them dead, I’d be able to buy a better meal than a turkey and swiss sandwich.”

Mysteriarch Kaydammin shot the woman a glare of exasperation. “Patients Navor. Let’s hear the boy’s story.” The headmaster of the academy turned back to me. Her expression was caring, her demeanor was gentle. She seemed to genuinely care. But the authority of the headmaster of the academy intimidated me into silence. I didn’t want to complain about something that was normal in the school. It would only look weak.

When I turned to Mystagogue Thrasher for some hint of how to act, I found him examining my bare chest. The massive Orc looked disturbed by what he saw, and I didn’t know why.

“Iver, where did all these scars come from?” The large man’s voice was gentle and soft, but it drew the other two's attention to my body.

“By the dark fragment! How did he get all those?” the Human Mystagogue almost demanded in shock.

I turned back to the Mysteriarch to read her expression, but the one-eyed Elf was featureless as a marble statue. I turned back to Mystagogue Thrasher and answered as best as I could manage while feeling like I had done something terribly wrong. “I-it’s from my training. I-I know I wasn’t d-doing well in the beginning,” I muttered, scared to make eye contact. But I forced myself to speak up and look Mystagogue Thrasher in the eye when I spoke next. “But I’ve really improved. I worked ridiculously hard to improve so that I would have fewer shame scars.”

“Shame scars?” Asked the new Mystagogue in clear confusion.

I sat back on my haunches and lowered my gaze to my knees. “I wasn’t very good at most of the Dark Hunter training other than crafting. And you know…”

I could hear the accusation in her tone when she said, “I know what?”

“Well, I was pretty bad at combat training, and Thallos made sure I had pain-reinforced assassin and spy training. You know, the normal. If I got a question wrong, I got injured. I just wasn’t good at most of it, but I worked insanely hard to get good enough to pass the stab training.”

“Stab training?!” Eyepatch exclaimed.

“Iver,” Started the Mysteriarch, “We don’t have any training like that. We train even the Dark Hunter students in safe and respectable ways. The only exception to that is on training quests, and even then, students are sent out with a mentor.”

“But it was safe and respectable.” I argued. I pointed over to Tessa as she lay on the floor. “We had Tessa as a healer to make sure we wouldn’t die.” 

“WHAT?!” they all exclaimed in unison. Thrasher hurried away from me to check on Tessa.

“Well, yeah. Thallos said Tess was getting extra credit for watching over our training and healing any damage. But Thallos stabbed her in the lower back when she was healing me after he went the way of Kassidan’s parade.”

Thrasher muttered to the Gnomish girl, and she muttered back. He delicately checked her wound before proclaiming, “She’s in no immediate danger, but her lower spine has been severed. We need to take her to the Med Center.”

I raised my hand in an offer, hoping for an escape from the interrogation. But Thrasher pinned me with a level look as he said, “Not you, Mr. Maverick. We still have more questions for you.” He turned back to the girl as he tapped his therra-node. “I’m summoning some med students and giving them clearance. They should be here within fifteen.” he laid a ginger hand atop Tess’s head as he muttered to her before rejoining the others in interrogating me.

“So, to be clear, Iver, are these scars from standard daily training?” The Mysteriarch asked. I gave a vigorous nod and responded quickly with “Yes, Mysteriarch K.”

Thrasher lowered his gaze to the floor as he scratched his brow. Mysteriarch K stood up straight and stretched her back, pressing her hands against the lower portion of her spine as she turned her gaze to the ceiling. The new Mystagogue rolled her eye in a very dramatic manner before massaging her brow.

“Iver,” started Thrasher. “We don’t have any training like that in any of our academies.”

“But Thallos…” I started, but Thrasher cut me off, “But nothing, Iver.” His tone sounded as final as a concrete block to the jaw.

Mysteriarch K leaned back in and asked in a gentle tone, “Did Thallos tell you anything that he wouldn’t want to be shared?”

My lips sealed in reflex before I thought about what my so-called uncle did. I gave a single steadfast nod in answer before opening up. I told them everything: the stab training, Thallos’s words about the hidden fragment and her hunger for hearts, the Order hiding shadows, and the hope of The Company. As I spewed everything out that had been building behind my lips, I thought of how Thallos had treated me for the past half-year and how it was all false. I looked back at his words as I repeated them to the masters, and I wondered how much of it was lies and propaganda for brainwashing me. He said the Order was made up of sacrifice-hungry goons hiding their acts behind a facade, but that all came from the man who said the routine stabbing was standard training and almost preached that it was okay that he killed my father.

I hated the man. I loathed him and his ideals. I was revolted by Rose for following him. As I verbally carved out every inch of my training for the masters, in the back of my mind, I wondered who was next. Who would stab me in the back next? Would the betrayal be for fame, money, success, or power? I only had two friends left if I didn’t include Tess. But at that point, was she just the same as the others? Using me? Toying with me? Was it fun to make me feel hope and trust before stripping it to the bone? Was it all some sick game to climb the social ladder that I had barely been aware was there? If that was the case, then what was the difference between Nennel and Mallrimor? Better yet, who was worse between the two? The traitor playing me like a tool, or the bastard breaking me down for fun?

All these thoughts passed back and forth in my head, echoing, repeating, fading just to come back again as I was honest with the masters. But I wasn’t even sure if they were safe.

“Iver,” Came the Mysteriarch. “We have never been so brutal as to perform ‘stab training’. I can promise you that the Dark Hunters aren’t some bloodthirsty cult. In fact,” she gestured to the new Mystagogue, “Mystagogue Terra Navor is a Dark Hunter instructor.”

Mystagogue Navor knelt down to attempt to look me in the eye, but I stalwartly held my gaze locked on my hands as I clutched them together atop my knees. She took my jaw in a gentle yet firm grip and guided my face to look her in her remaining eye. I stubbornly kept my eyes lowered. I didn’t want to see what I could feel in her gaze. Disdain, disgust, annoyance. If she was a Dark Hunter Mystagogue, then she would be just as hard as Thallos.

She knocked me out of my downward spiral when the old warhorse of a woman flicked me between the eyes with her free hand. I jerked back, more from shock than out of pain. “Don’t get caught up in your head, kid.” she shifted the hand holding my jaw to wipe away the congealing blood below my cut eye with a gentle sweep of her thumb. “How about we get you patched up at the Med Center? After you are back in one piece, we can sit down and have an honest talk, no lies, no secrets. I’ll tell you everything I can. The good, the bad, the respectable, and the dark.”

I gave her a look of heavy skepticism. The Mystagogue was an old matron of an iron warhorse, her right eye was hidden behind a form-fitted metal patch held on by three leather straps. Crow’s feet eyes framed her eye and patch. Her hair was salt and pepper and cut close to her scalp. Her face was hash-marked with a crosswork of scars. “Thallos already spoonfed me his propaganda. So now it sounds like you’re about to do the same. You’re going to tell me that Thallos’s organization is an evil agency and that you are the good guys.”

She flicked me between the eyes again, and this time, it stung. “You’re not listing, you twit. Open your ears, kid. If I were going to ‘spoonfeed you propaganda’, do you really think I’d tell you the darker side of what we do?”

I rubbed my forehead with two fingers to work out the sting. “I guess.” I conceded.

Navor pulled herself to her feet and offered me a hand up. I eyed the hand, thinking of all the possible ways such a simple gesture of trust and acceptance could end in total disaster. Where could it lead? Would I wind up getting used again? Would this lead to another year of abuse under the guise of training or seven years? No. I was overthinking it. She wasn’t Thallos. I couldn’t let fresh wounds ruin my future.

I took the proffered hand, and the warrior matron lifted me to my feet with ease. She patted the top of my head in a manner that made me feel like a favored pet dog. I shot her a peeved looked, but she didn’t pay it any mind. “Let’s start with a damage report. Where’s it hurt, kid?”

I took a mental tally of my pains. “Tessa partially healed me during the fight, but it feels like I’ve still got a couple of bruised ribs. My ankle feels tweaked. I think there might be something wrong with my shoulder, and, of course, there’s my eye.”

“You think you can manage the trip to the Med Center?”

I tested the functionality of my injured ankle. “I think I can manage.”

“Good. Your name’s Iver, right?”

I nodded in confirmation.

“Let’s get you down there.” She turned to Mystagogue Thrasher. “Meet up with us after you can verify the girl’s condition?” The colossal Orc gave a nob before turning back to Tessa with clear worry in his expression.

Navor turned to Mysteriarch Kaydammin. “And do you want to come with, Mysteriarch?”

The High Elf shook her head. “I need to inform the Master Mystagogues of the betrayal and set countermeasures into motion. I’ll check in after I’ve finished.”

“Confirmed, my lady.” Navor gave a salute before signaling for me to follow. “Let’s get going.”

”What about Tessa?” I asked.

Navor kept an even stride as we left the room. Her tone was totally unreadable. “The girl might not be in imminent danger, but I’d still rather not move her unless strictly necessary.”