Mark of the Fool

The moment Alex teleported with Merzhin, he knew something had changed.

As he and the Saint catapulted through space—images of locations from across the planes racing by—it felt as though they were no longer travelling alone. Hannah’s power pulsed like a beating heart, reacting to…he didn’t know what.

It felt as if another presence was travelling with them, and Alex could…was that a voice?

He strained to hear.

Yes.

Yes!

It was a voice—a familiar one—calling to them.

What was it saying?

The words weren’t clear, but by the tone, it sounded…worried?

Alex tried listening closer, suddenly reappearing in fae wild before he was able to decipher them.

Merzhin reappeared beside him an instant later. Alex turned to the Saint, getting ready to say something, but…words failed him.

His breath caught.

“By the Traveller,” he whispered.

“What has happened here?” Merzhin gasped.

“Death. Death’s happened here.”

From horizon to horizon, much of Och Fir Nog had been obliterated.

When Alex was last here, the clouds in the night sky had obscuredthe highest towers of Aenflynn’s castle.

Below them, on the peak of a lofty mountain, the palace had once risen from a forest of gold and scarlet, filling the sight-line. An irregular facade of silver stones had once been there, glittering in the moonlight, highlighting walls, roofs, and a host of towers spun from autumn leaves stronger than steel.

But now, the forest was gone.

Much of the mountain was also gone.

Forests, meadows and peaks had all been reduced to no more than a flat grey plain, dotted with craters. An unbroken expanse of lifeless sand, covered in craters, alive with flame. The air was heavy with sheets of ash and dust so thick, that the moonlight was dimmed by the haze.

There were no signs of life anywhere.

No Ravener-spawn or fae stirred on the dusty plain.

And the two responsible for this devastation, still battled each other relentlessly.

Floating high in the sky, Baelin and Aenflynn warred like enraged deities, unleashing spells and divinities against each other, reducing their surroundings to dust, and with time, could have brought entire civilizations to their knees.

Midnight black clouds, swirling with blood red and stark white spears of lightning, whirled around the two ancient energies—thunder rumbled as horrors clashed within those clouds.

Engeli, demons, devils and elementals were aligned with Baelin while an army of legendary fae soldiers gave their allegiance to Aenflynn.

They clashed, coming to the battle through portals, ripping each other apart within the clouds.

Blood rained from the sky, wetting the grey, dead earth.

And in the eye of this bloody storm, Aenflynn streamed oceans of divine power. Radiant lights, plagues of black death, and waves of divine fire poured from the fae lord, often cancelled by Baelin’s terrible magics.

The ancient archwizard—his full armour ablaze with power—conjured colossal tentacles, terrible snarling faces threateningwith bewitching eyes as bright as stars, primordial winds, and crushing voids, were also cancelled by Uldar’s divine power.

Aenflynn was scowling. “Retreat, old one. Your power is great, but not great enough, you will not prevail here.”

Baelin’s face was unreadable behind his metal helm, but his voice was strained and filled with bloodlust. “You know, if I had a copper coin for each being that made that threat to me, I would perhaps have long doubled my considerable wealth.”

He raised his hand, miniature stars formed around it.

“But if I were to have a coin for each being that made good on that threat…” The stars flared around his hand. “…I would be utterly destitute.”

They shot from his hand, most were batted away by the fae lord’s stolen power.

Every star but one, fell to the lifeless plain, exploding with earth-shaking power.

New craters formed in Och Fir Nog…

…though not from one errant star…not yet.

That star raced toward Aenflynn’s castle, light streaking behind as it sped away, striking an unseen force then bouncing off, falling to the dusty plain below.

An explosion followed, as another crater formed in the dusty plain.

“Do you have any idea how long it will take me to fix all of this?” Aenflynn demanded, sounding more than a little put out. “I shall make a trophy of your head and mount it on my wall!”

“Funny, I was planning on doing exactly the same to yours,” Baelin replied.

Alex winced as the two ancient beings shook the world with their power.

“Ya know what, I’m thinking maybe we should stay out of this one,” he said to Merzhin, before eyeing the castle. “It seems our fae friend has some sort of protective shield over the entire castle, which explains why it’s undamaged while everything else is…destroyed.”

Alex looked over the castle intently.

In the courtyards, fountains flowed with liquids the colour of cider and mead, and every garden was abundant with magical fruit trees bearing fantastical fruit, their skins were near bursting. Stables and kennels housing war-horses, war-deer, coursing-hounds and other beasts capable of racing the wind stood undamaged, the animals feasting peacefully.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

At the end of a bridge, towering front gates forged of green copper with ivy wrapping around them, spanned a river that somehow flowed up the mountain and into the castle, then into a reverse waterfall, surging upward into the endless sky, misting into fluffy clouds of grey and white.

All looked peaceful.

Idyllic.

Yet, two things did not fit with the image of idyllic.

For one, Alex knew very well the evil that this castle represented.

Secondly…the waterfall flowing up and into the sky?

It was choked with ash.

He looked at the Saint. “You think we’ll have any problems teleporting into the castle? That protective shield might keep us out.”

The Saint was silent. His translucent form was paying attention to the castle.

“If Army of Heroes weren’t filling me with courage, I might be choking,” he finally said.

Alex looked at him closely. “Why? What’s wrong? Can’t we teleport inside there?”

“Yes, we can. I believe we could even walk in, if we weren’t spotted,” the Saint said. “And from what I’m sensing, the shield is there to prevent hostile magic from destroying it. Directing it to that specific purpose helps strengthen it against Baelin’s magic.”

“Makes sense,” Alex whispered, looking at the fae lord high above them. “He must be really focused on Baelin and that’s good for us, but…if that’s all fine, what’s actually wrong?”

“I am sensing the throne, and the ward around it…” the Saint shook his head. “It is powerful, Alex. There was a lot of divinity and time spent building it. I am not sure if I can break through. I…no, I think I can. It is strong, but not invulnerable.”

Alex looked at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get it done.” Alex touched the Saint, teleporting again.

Again, they passed through the space between planes. Images of different places raced past them. Again, Alex heard that voice. He focused on it …realising…

Hannah.

It was Hannah’s!

But what was she saying?

Before he could understand, he and Merzhin appeared above one of the palace’s many courtyards.

A place abundant with heavily ladened fruit trees, flowering rose bushes, glowing blooms, and guards. Lots and lots of guards. Fae knights and Ravener-spawn stood at attention at the foot of the tower, alert for the slightest whisper of trouble.

Fortunately, Merzhin and Alex were not only invisible…but the faes’ eyes weren’t watching the skies.

The Saint and the General exchanged a quick look, then were gone, teleporting through a tower window, appearing at the base of a spiral staircase.Alex scanned the area for defences but sensed no magical traps, and neither his astral engeli nor Merzhin had cautioned that there were any other divine protections on the tower itself.

All the defences must’ve been focused on the chamber where the throne is kept.

Alex teleported them to the top of the tower and the pair floated above the stairs that stopped at a broad landing carpeted with fallen leaves of red and gold. More fae knights stood at attention there.

‘Eight guards,’ Alex thought. ‘Each one has magical weapons, and a horn to sound the alarm, calling for reinforcements if anything goes wrong.’

He looked at Merzhin for a moment then teleported the two of them a dozen miles away.

“What?” Merzhin startled when he reappeared in the fae wild. “What happened?”

“I wanted to ask you something, but I couldn’t talk in case those guards heard us.”

The Saint shook his head. “And so you teleported us a day's travel away to have a conversation?”

Alex shrugged. “I had no idea if they could hear us.”

“...fair point,” Merzhin agreed. “So what did you wish to ask me?”

“The ward on the room: you sensed it right?” Alex asked.

“Yes,” Merzhin said, smiling. “What about it?”

“I—Wait, what’s got you smiling like that?” Alex asked.

The Saint’s eyes seemed to shine. “I think I might have been a little pessimistic in my earlier assessment. From closer, it appears the divine ward is not as resilient as I thought.”

“Oh?” Alex’s heart jumped. “So you can get through it? What’s changed?”

“There was a lot of time and power put into it,” Merzhin said. “But the faith behind it isn’t the strongest. The fae lord wields Uldar’s power, but he’s not a believer in him, which I think left the divinity a little…erm, what’s the best way to put it…hollow.”

“Hollow…” Alex squinted. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yes. Faith is about belief, and miracles worked with less faith behind them do not reach their full potential,” Merzhin said. “I think our fae enemy forgot this simple fact. But what is it that you wished to ask me?”

“Oh, where exactly is the divine ward in the room?” Alex asked. “Will it stop us from entering? And is there enough room for us to teleport inside?”

“There should be room for us to teleport inside,” Merzhin said. “The ward is somewhat offset from the walls.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Alex rubbed his hands together. “Alright, then let’s get back. I’ll look through the keyhole to see where we’re going, then we teleport inside. Okay? We’ll have to keep our voices down.”

“I shall not utter a word until we can see the throne.”

“Perfect,” Alex said. “Then let’s go.”

He touched Merzhin’s shoulder and teleported to the landing outside the throne’s chamber. The young archwizard watched the fae knights—each one a little taller than an average human man, with distinct elfin features and broad shoulders—and they showed no reaction to the Heroes’ reappearance.

Slowly, both young men floated toward the door, breaths held.

The fae knights neither moved, nor did their eyes follow.

They didn’t even seem to blink.

With one last cautious glance at the guards, the General of Thameland put his eye to the keyhole, taking in the room beyond.

There.

There it was.

Uldar’s throne had been positioned on a dais in the centre of the chamber.

Alex clutched Merzhin’s shoulder and together, they teleported to their goal.

As they passed through the space between planes.

Hannah’s voice grew stronger.

Alex smiled.

She was getting so close to being able to return to the material world.

So close.

So very close.

Still smiling, he appeared in the throne room, Merzhin soon appeared beside him.

The chamber was richly appointed, smelling of fresh pine and scented blooms. Ivy crawled over its walls and various benches and chairs had been placed along them.

An overstuffed chair—almost a throne in its own right—faced the centre of the room. Beside it, a table was set with a bottle of liquor of some kind, and a multi-faceted crystal glass.

These things didn’t command Alex’s attention, particularly.

But, the walls certainly did.

Peeking through the ivy, was mural after mural of Aenflynn leading his fae in different battles, triumphs, and conquests. Uldar was prominent in some of the images, right by the fae lord’s side, sharing feasts, victories and toasting each other in celebration.

They were depicted with the utmost care to their likenesses.

Separating the murals and ivy were massive windows, each large enough for Drestra to fit through…in her true form.

Alex frowned.

Strange.

He hadn’t seen those windows from outside.

His eyes slowly turned to the throne, sitting in the centre of the room, atop a dais, in a place of honour. The white stone had been meticulously cleaned: black stains on the armrest were long gone. Laying on the seat, was a comfortable looking gold coloured cushion.

Alex made a sour face as he floated toward the throne.

Merzhin caught his shoulder. “Wait, do not approach the dais too closely.” His eyes narrowed. “The ward surrounds it…perhaps twenty feet out.”

Alex followed the Saint’s gaze, drawing an invisible circle around the dais in his mind. He pointed. “So around there?”

“Yes, go no closer than that.”

Alex nodded, floating forward until he hovered a few inches from the unseen ward.

He glared at the throne. So much pain had come from that simple looking chair.

And now, it was time to destroy it.

He glanced at the door. No guards had appeared, and there was no sign that they’d been discovered either.

Merzhin floated up beside Alex. “Alright, then.”

“Do it,” the young archwizard said. “Show Aenflynn your faith.”

Merzhin took a deep breath, extending his hands. Power radiated from him as he concentrated. His voice was clear. “In the name of Uldar, God of Thameland. In the name of the Traveller, Saint of Uldar. In the Name of St. Merzhin, Saint of Thameland…I banish you! Begone! I hereby deny this barrier!”

Power flooded from Merzhin’s hands, and the ward was exposed, materialisingaroundthe throne.

It was a glowing sphere of white light, some forty feet across.

And it began cracking.

Alex smiled.

This was it.

This was—

Suddenly, a sense of wrongness washed over him.

The power inside him flared, screaming as his mind raced.

Why couldn’t he see the room’s immense windows from outside? Wouldn’t that mean there was already some illusion on the tower? And if the windows were hidden…what else…

His heart pounded in his ears.

He recalled Hannah’s voice, calling out as they teleported.

Giving him warning.

“Stop, Merzhin, stop!”

“Too late,” Aenflynn’s voice echoed through the chamber.

At the same moment, a second divine ward sprang to life.