Black Magus

<<"So, how fast can you two fly?">>

In another one of those eerie moments that were happening far too often, High Matron Etyl and I shared an incredulous expression as we turned to the strange half-blood. <> I echoed, eliciting a boyish nod.

<<"Yes. Faster than sound I hope? About 340 meters per second.">>

<<"Why would I waste the energy to fly that fast?">> High Matron Etyl asked with an air of exhaustion.

<<"It's fun.">> Amun shrugged. <<"But if you can't it's fine, I'll give you a lift.">>

<<“Fun.”>> She scoffed. <<“How ridiculous.”>>

<<"Why not just teleport there?">> I openly wondered.

<<"That's boring. Besides, you never know what you may miss.">> He waved the matter off with one hand and conjured his strange magic with the other, lifting the ground we were standing or sleeping on from the dead world to accelerate us to such ludicrous speeds in seconds, all while keeping our feet planted to this patch of ground as our faces pointed down to the Mortal Plane; a dizzying orientation to say the least.

<<"What is this magic?">>\

<<"Gravity.">> Amun distantly replied.

<<"To the Hells with that!">> High Matron Etyl sneered as she gazed at the sleeping humans. <<"Tell me what you did to them.">>

"Loup-Garou," Amun explained without doing so at all. His switching to the Common tongue only seemed to exacerbate our confusion. "Skoll and Hati were initially normal dire wolves. I met them when I was around seven years old. Over the years, I turned them and about twenty other creatures into shadow beasts by trapping them in my umbral dimension until they changed; just like Grandpa Azrael. When I ascended, those creatures were included in my divine portfolio and split among the domains. Wolves are part of the World Weaver's domain. Skoll and Hati, however, tried their best to deny the boons of divinity, so they became celestials instead.

"Because of their initial ties to death and darkness, their spirits and souls split from their bodies after death and went on to possess these two." Amun jerked his chin at the siblings. "Alone, that would've made them quite feral. The beastly humanoid husks you saw would have been Skoll and Hati's new bodies, hardly able to talk and unsettling to look at. Their company would make things difficult, so I cursed them and their descendants for all eternity. Now, neither the siblings nor the wolves remain. They've fused into a shapeshifter with three forms and very specific weaknesses. Somewhat akin to vampires, they can pass their curse to another through a slobbery bite. They will become lesser versions of their progenitors, or they can perform a ritual to make their spawn more like themselves. In either case, they are not thralls, nor are they undead.

"They are Loup-Garou: Werewolves."

"That seems more like a blessing to me." I mused, looking over the siblings with newfound interest. Indeed, there were already a few changes. The boy was more tanned and his hair had faded to black while the girl’s skin and hair grew paler. His flowing black hair had gold highlights, as did her hair have streaks of blue. Thawed and thick ice was spread beneath their bodies. But only the boy seemed to have fangs protruding from his slacked jaw. Then I caught sight of the rotund one, Blude.

She was staring at Amun as if they were talking, but his eyes remained poised forward while her expression changed from curious trepidation to relief, then to wonder as she looked back on the black shapes breaking the northern shores.

"Is it wise to open your ranks to those you have slighted?" I found myself laughing as the human settlements sprawled beneath us. But Amun answered without pause.

"The civilians of Shujen hated the monarchy and their soldiers. High tributes or taxes, zealous rulers, constant war, corruption, and a low quality of life will do that to any society. As they say, 'Anarchy is only nine missed meals away.' To that end, Zaraxus won't demand anything from them; nor will he govern them. He will, however, prey on any corruption that spreads through the city and ensure no one attacks them, as corrupt people and good soldiers make great undead. That'll remain true for his replacement, as his true role is by my side. In due time, just like in Bakewia, as their quality of life improves, their trust in one as dark and devilish as me will increase while their fear of the undead diminishes. By the middle of the year, that'll yield ten times the allies and recruits for my Legions than we're getting today. Not to mention," he added with a raised finger, "the novice monks and those who use this place as a testing field will now have greater foes to fight during their Walks.

"The humans, goblins, and orcs of Shujen are fairly weak, after all, hardly using anything besides might and basic spells."

There was far too much logic behind that reasoning to be a coincidence. From the start, Amun only killed the guards and soldiers that attacked him. The civilians were left unharmed, albeit traumatized and ungoverned. Then there was his story of hearing whispers from the Peninsula; of those who were worthy of accompanying him. But… if that was his entire reason for coming here- for becoming a monk… I knew not what to think of that.

<<“Legions?”>> Matron Etyl pointed out. <<"You keep referring to that.">>

<<"My guild. The military-industrial empires to my magically industrious empire of empires. Those who allow me to experience the realms vicariously. My beloved explorers. The Legio Noctis. Plural, as there are eleven of them. For now.”>> Amun airily smiled.

High Matron Etyl laughed heartily while my mind turned. <<“To have a guild, you must have a divine tree.”>>

<<“Oh?”>> Amun snickered back, his finger raised to point out the blue rock floating high above. <<“It's a good thing I have one then. That aside.”>> He paused, lowering his finger and his gaze to me. <<“What do you think of the other monks? Peter, Rua, and Veil of Shadows.”>>

<<"Exceptional.">> I said with all honesty. <<"Few humans have the fear of death removed from their hearts. Even fewer can stand against drow. Those who can stand in the domain of drow without fear are rare, even among them.">>

<<"Yes.">> Amun nodded. <<"And, how many drow do you know who could stand against Zaraxus, with or without fear, even before his promotions? Or Lana, the barbaric shadow? Do you think they could?">>

The pieces fell together for both of us at the same time. But our reactions could not have been more different. My eyes grew wide. Hers compressed into slits. <<"How many others?">> She hissed.

<<"All but eight students of class 999, so forty-seven.">> Amun grinned. <<"They are my first officers, who spent the latter half of last year under my tutelage. Plus whatever subordinates they now have. Coincidentally.">> He sighed, wiping his grin away in a long breath. <<"That very reason is why I must put my training on pause. I need to gather the other half of my party, you see. Not to mention, move further down my other paths.”>>

<<“Your party?”>> I recoiled.

<<“The Elven Devil’s Troupe, if you will.”>> He snickered, gesturing to Iris; Blude and her two girls; the two sleeping brutes; and, strangely, to me. <<“This is about half.”>>

<<“Half?”>> I laughed in disbelief. <<“How many more do you need?”>>

<<"For now, four. A bard, a druid, an alchemist, and a fighter.">> He smiled enthusiastically, gesturing again to Blude, Iris, and the brutes. <<"We've already got three future rogues, a future cleric, a monk, and now, a barbarian plus a ranger. Everyone but me will be a warlock, so, aside from that, we'll only need a witch, a wizard, and maybe a paladin. But they come later.">>

<<"A witch?">> High Matron Etyl tilted her head, but I was certain Amun's gesture and addition of a monk to that list did not slip past her. On the contrary, I was sure this was meant to cover up that fact. Or, knowing her, to point it out to me by mentioning my twin brother, the Second Son and Heart Keeper of House Za’Darmondiel. <<“Why do you need a witch? Given that destructive light you presented, one would assume you could heal, no?”>>

<<“I can, but I will not without conditions.”>> He smirked.

<<"Surely you can wait.">> I began. <<"With your progress, you can finish your training by the mid-year. You would even threaten to beat my record if you do.">>

<<"That is my deadline to form this party.">> He said, unrelenting. <<"But worry not, I estimate it will take no more than a month to return. Though, I am sure it will take significantly less.">>

<<"Object all I may, it is not my choice to make,">> I sighed. <<"I cannot keep you.">>

<<"All the more reason to pick up the pace then.">>

To little surprise, my nieces and nephews were eagerly waiting at the entrance with Amun's apparent subordinates. Their faces sat torn between every conceivable emotion as they flicked their eyes between our comparatively large group, unlike the object of my anxiety. Abbot Eiriol was poised as regally as ever before the entrance, smiling with only the faintest traces of emotion as we landed with a respectful bow.

"I dare say, this Walk has been the most fruitful I have witnessed in decades." She began, paying no heed to the High Matron dragging her priestesses into the Halls. "Having arrived just before the Tenth Step, you can now call yourselves full-fledged monks." She declared with a wave, prompting the slaves to rush out and distribute their red sashes. "However, your journey to becoming a Master is hardly over. We will waste no time continuing your paths."

The sharp infliction of her words prompted the remaining monks to clap their hands together and bow. And wordlessly, Abbot Eiriol motioned the other groups inside, then turned to Amun and I. <> The crafty Abbot snickered.

<<"I have other paths I must step down and companions to gather.">> He bowed again, a strange sight, considering what I now knew. <<"I can guarantee it will take no longer than one month.">>

<<"No matter what you say, the Bodhi Tree’s policies prevent me from keeping you here, Amun.">> The Abbot said… gently? <<"On the contrary, this is a prime opportunity.">>

A long breath- no shuffling of snow or the ruffling of leather, no clatter of weapons or sloshing water- a long breath was all that composed the long seconds of her stepping into the hut and returning a moment later with a fine silken bag that was thrown to me. Yet her eyes remained steeled on Amun.

<<"I know you will not appreciate hearing this, Amun. The First Son of the High Matron, Etan of House Za'Darmondiel, my dear great-grandson, was born for you, Telin’s Champion. He has studied all things drow since the day he was born and pushed through the Astral Path in record time. If only to teach the Eternal Champion come the promised time. This was my task.>> She stepped closer, hugging her hands closer to her belly while they shifted madly.

'I know of my granddaughter's task to teach you of your drow heritage, but I know not what she knows of you, Amun, nor do I know what they have planned for either of you upon your return. However, I now know you would rather let the realms themselves die than allow tragedy to befall those close to you. I ask that you allow Etan to be one of those people. 'And, Etan.' She turned a glistening pair of violet eyes my way. Eyes that reflected a similar hue as I stared into them. 'I have sinned against the Demon Spider, and my station is exceeding its use. More importantly, I have sinned against you, indoctrinating you in ways worse than High Matron Etyl. Your life had never been yours. For that, I apologize and seek- foolishly so- to redeem myself by asking you this: Continue to teach Amun for the rest of your combined days, but only if you wish to.

‘But what you must do, is leave this place with him and never return. This is what I have always wished for you. Now, it is my greatest fear, for if you return.' She paused her hands, glancing at Amun before returning her eyes to me. ‘Zimysta will fall.’