The Council
In a hidden chamber crammed away in the space between spaces, eight of the most powerful mages in the world were tucked tightly in, crowded by smoke, chatter and most of all, ego.
Gregorian watched them, scrying from afar as he was whisked across the world, squeezed through a tunnel no larger than a penny.
They sat gathered around a wide lacquered table. It engulfed the center of the room, its golden outer edge carved with stories of those gathered.The center of the table was hollow, housing a floating blue crystal. It was a miniature of the larger version in the great hall. Its diminutive size hiding the true power churning within.
The Council bickered; each weighing their accomplishments against the others; tongues crossing like swords.
"Whaaaat do you suppose he wants this time?" Nico slurred. An orb of wine danced and bounced in the air next to him. A mouthful traced its way to his waiting tongue before he prattled on, "I have far too much business to attend to these days without catering to the Elder's every worry."
The space at the front of the room warped and tore and Gregorian stepped in, a gust of frigid air chasing him in as the portal snapped close. His features collapsed into a scowl as he
surveyed the room.
He locked eyes with each of them, most turning away. Guilty hounds, tails between their legs.
The mana flowed thick here, one of the last wells on earth. He pulled at it greedily, then put it to work immediately. Lightning and arcane energy coiled around the gnarled staff clutched in his grip. His throat grumbled and vibrated with power as he infused his voice with a boom that shook the art from the walls.
"WHERE WERE YOU?"
Silence followed, the ringing in your ears after a boom. Some sat back in their chairs, edging away, while others stared, eyebrows raised, mouths open.
The orb of wine collapsed, splashing the ground and Nico's spotless robes.
"G-g-grand Elder, what do you mean?" Nico spluttered, trying and failing to compose himself, jerking his robes from the puddle.
Deep in Gregorian's pockets sat the 8 gems he had been pumping power into. The calling cards of the Council. The very artifacts he had given them expressly for days like this. He clutched them with trembling fingers and flung them, scattering all eight across the table.
"I have been calling you for hours." He stared at each of them, waiting for something. An apology. An excuse. A fucking doctor's note. Anything.
Instead they all exchanged confused looks–cows appearing in a slaughterhouse without the slightest clue as to how they arrived there.
Chun was the first to speak. "Elder, I keep my gem on me at all times." She reached into her blouse, Gregorian turning his gaze up and away, and dispensed a topaz gem the size of a fingernail, "I assure you, no alert came through."
The anger leaked out of him, suspicion replacing it.
He raked another glare over the room. It came to rest in a darkened corner. The shadows sprang to life and a figure emerged.
Laz stepped forward, face aglow with mirth; a youth that belied his true age. Beauty that hid rot like flowers over a grave.
It didn't take long for Gregorian to do the math.
"Since you're all present and I don't recall organizing a meeting, it's safe to assume that Laz called you here?"
Seven nods answered him, Laz only smiling.
His mana was replenishing, and thoughts of violence followed. The horrors he could unleash upon this man. He would turn his blood to acid and his bones to spines that tore at his meat with every move.
But the existence of magic was at stake. The safety of those without power in the balance. Those desires would have to wait.
"Perhaps you would like to speak privately, Greg?" Laz asked, his voice syrup and sugar.
Greg? You contemptuous little shit. Gregorian's thoughts spiraled. He took a breath.
Laz's eyes sparkled, watching with undisguised glee.
Gregorian turned to the room instead.
"You've all felt it. Magic is waning. In some places it's nearly gone." Gregorian paced around the room, watching them all. They averted their eyes, none of them wanting to admit the truth. "With the world beasts dead–"
"That you ordered us to kill," Lee chimed in.
"Yes, Lee, that I ordered you to kill. For good reason. You seemed keen to do it too."
Lee grumbled something unintelligible. The man was a gun, happy to be pointed in any direction, and just as happy to point fingers when the consequences came.
"With the world beasts dead, magic is leaving the world faster than we're making it. There aren't enough mages left to replenish what is used every day."
Wood scraped and Nico stood up, grabbing his cloak from the back of his chair. "Not this nonsense again. We've gone over this a thousand times, Elder. It's irresponsible to train the blanks. Who else could wield such divine powers, but us."
Anyone else Gregorian thought bitterly. All of us had started as blanks, and most had risen to their stations not through talent or good deeds, but stubbornness and greed.
Nico headed for the door and Gregorian reached for his power but stopped. Nico stiffened. He turned abruptly, legs moving stiffly until–like a poorly operated marionette–he was moved back to his seat.
"It's very rude to walk out while ol' Greg is talking," Laz reprimanded sweetly, his voice straddling the line between a reprimand and a threat.
Nico's face was pale, head sweaty, and he promptly turned his attention back to Gregorian.
"My apologies, Elder. You were saying?"
Gregorian took a breath, and let it spill out. "I understand that the blanks don't much like our community. The war had an effect on us all. I'm aware of that. But things are different now. They're not as superstitious as they were, and we're not nearly the threat we used to be." Gregorian lied. They were more of a threat now than ever, especially himself. But threat only existed with action. Action he had no intention of taking. "But we need them. Something is breaking into this world. I have no doubt some of you have felt this coming for a while."
He eyed Njeri for a moment. There would be a discussion later on why his resident diviner didn't think it wise to alert him of an impending invasion.
This was a big pill for the Council to swallow. It would be difficult to sell, but he'd have to try. He couldn't be waging a war on two fronts. "We'll start small. Train up a manageable sect of blanks. This is not an overnight solution. It will take years to return the lost mana to the world. The best time to start was a hundred years ago. The second best time is now."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room and he could taste the dissent.
"All due respect, Elder," Laz said, stepping out of the shadows, "But I don't think a single person here wants us training up any old blank that comes to our doorstep. We've all seen what happens when magic is given to the wrong sort. We deserve a say in who receives the gift."
A gentle murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Gregorian pulled his hand over his face, trying to wipe the disdain from it by force. He was unsuccessful.
Snakes moved in the shadows, striking only when their prey was unaware. Gregorian was shocked that Laz didn't slither when he moved.
The bastard had orchestrated this whole thing. Hardly a coincidence none of them had received his summons.
Gregorian could wipe him from existence with a gesture and a thought. But Laz would never allow it to come to that. While his ambitions were better suited for the position of elder, his methods worked better behind the scenes. Should he truly want Gregorian gone he would set pieces into motion that would topple his empire.
Fear was not an emotion Gregorian allowed himself. But he respected Laz. He wouldn't be where he was if he didn't.
"There is no time for this," Gregorian growled, brimstone stoking his words. "I told you something is…"
"Oh, you mean the tears?" Laz asked innocently, "Don't you worry. I've been working on a little project to keep those in check. For a time at least."
He knew? And he didn't help me close them?Why? Did he want the world to perish?
He was off balance. Laz was far too prepared for this, and even now, Gregorian could feel the bar of the mouse-trap about to snap his spine. But what was he to do?
"I'm willing to bet my position as Elder that you have a plan then?"
Laz's smile grew wider. A sickening display of pearly white teeth, a sinister smile on a body too young for its owner.
"Don't tender your resignation… yet. You are quite correct. I do have a plan."
Gregorian gestured with his hand. Get on with it.
Laz unleashed a word of power, and a book popped into existence. It was a book the same way the Grand Canyon was a hole. It thumped onto the table, sending out a plume of dust. Its cover was aged, torn, and held together only by hopes and prayers. Thick pages were yellowed and ripped. The cover was bare, adorned only by text along the spine–shining gold and bright in the dim room.
The Arcana Games.
A series of gasps, hoots, hollers, cheers, laments, groans and whistles sounded from the Council.
"Those are outlawed!"
"There hasn't been one in centuries!"
"It's not humane!"
"Where could we host such a thing?"
The voices gathered into an indecipherable storm until the pressure in Gregorian's head threatened to burst from his skull.
"ENOUGH."
Laz circled the table, a shark, toying with its food.
Gregorian eyed him, weighing his options.
The Arcana Games were a defunct, archaic trial held purely for entertainment by their ancestors. A collection of blanks would be brought to a trial ground and over the course of a month, would be tested in each of the eight schools of magic. The sole winner would be granted a boon that would ensure their legacy. The rest would be…disqualified. Forgotten by history.
"Elder, it's outlawed for a reason. The games are far too barbaric for… a civilized society." Even as Chun spoke, looking around the room, she doubted her own words.
"Well last I checked," Lee boasted, "We make the laws around here. Besides, things have been a bit boring lately. I could use some entertainment!" The dolt rubbed his hands together as though preparing for a meal.
Gregorian turned back to Laz. The can of worms had been opened, and if it meant training more mages, he would play along. "What are the terms?"
"450 competitors, 50 per Councilor. Whichever Councilor has the winning student will decide who we raise up as the next generation. Or if we raise up anyone at all," Laz explained.
"Woah, woah, woah," Nico said standing up, dragging a line of wine from a bottle and forming another orb, "There is NO way the Elder gets 50. Not with his resources. His power! That's hardly fair."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. If Laz's smile got any larger, his face would split in two.
"Ahh, yes, Nico. An astute observation. How… rare for you. I have to agree. Our esteemed" Laz purred, drawing out the word, "Elder, has earned his position through power and proficiency. He, without a doubt, surpasses all of us in talent and resources. So perhaps he should be relegated…"
Laz placed a finger to his lips, tapping them twice, taking his time.
"A single student."
Refusal bubbled up in Gregorian's throat before a voice, different than the one that just spoke, but still all too similar to it rasped in his mind.
"Fight me on this, Greg, and I will make sure those tears stay open until this entire world is a grave. I win either way. You've already won the games once. Don't try to hide it. You don't need fifty chances. Call it to a vote if you wish, but look around, you know you'll lose. Bend here, and we can work together on the rest."
The voice was dusty cobwebs and poison in his mind, and Gregorian grimaced, shaking his head as though trying to dislodge the intruder.
He wanted to argue. A small handicap was one thing but this completely hamstrung him. Yet, something in him came to life. He yearned for a challenge. The idea of pitting one of his own against 400 chosen by these pretenders and seizing victory made him feel like he was 100 again. It would come to a vote and he would lose. He mentally counted and knew the outcome already. Then, an idea occurred to him, and he had to fight to hide his smile.
He had the perfect candidate.
Around the room, the others looked at him, expecting defiance.
"That's fine. One Competitor it is," Gregorian said, doing his best to look crestfallen.
The room let out a breath, and excitement festered. He didn't feel the same. He had already survived once. It was the worst time of his life. But it set him on his path and made him who he was today, allowing him to rise to the position of Elder. And the very first thing he did when he got there was outlaw the games.
Now they were back and he was going to be responsible for it.
"Where will this competition be held?" Gregorian asked, already knowing the answer.
"I think it should be somewhere that still has a massive mana reserve. Somewhere we're all familiar with, and a place that can comfortably house 400 untrained mages flinging around deadly spells. No?" Laz proposed.
Gregorian nodded. It was decided.
"Shelve whatever projects you're currently working on," Gregorian commanded, once more filling his voice with authority. "We're already working on borrowed time. We'll hold this competition in 6 months. You have until then to find your 50 students. As I only need to find one, I'll spend my time fixing up the Octaviary and getting it ready for our visitors."
"I already have my 50," Laz said with a smile. "I'll assist with the setup. I have some… fun ideas in mind."
Gregorian grimaced but nodded. He would need all the help he could get.
With that the meeting was dismissed, and one by one the Councillors spread out to every corner of the world, each seeking a champion.
Gregorian and Laz stood facing each other, alone.
The space between them broiled over with mutual contempt.
"What are you really up to?" Gregorian challenged.
"Well, telling you wouldn't be very fun would it?"
Gregorian fixed him with a scowl, but relented. There was no time to play these games.
He hadn't seen his student in nearly twenty years.
It was time to pay him a visit.