Questing Sucks! Book II (40 page)

At some point in the past twenty minutes, the sun had risen in the sky, casting a warm, early-morning glow over the city of Hahl. It was hard to believe that night had come and gone so quickly; Sehn, who had been too distracted to pay attention, only noticed the change as the light illuminated the one known as Archmage Duncan. Now that he could observe the mage in daylight, he got a fuller sense of the man’s condition.

Even with his discolored skin, his unbearable odor, and his lifeless eyes, under the dark of night, he could
almost
be mistaken for a human. But not anymore. Now that day had brought forth its revealing light, the image of Archmage Duncan dispelled any lingering doubt that what stood before Sehn was anything more than a monster—anything more than an animated corpse with the ability to speak. An imitation: a cheap, poorly constructed mockery of life. But it didn’t even matter, because regardless of what appearance this creature chose to take on, one thing remained as clear as the waters of life: it was still a total bitch and the Great Sehn wasn’t afraid of it.

I’m not
!

“Well, well, well,” Archmage Duncan said, holding his staff—his Item—with one hand and caressing it with the other. “That was a bold move, elf, but I am willing to forgive you for it. It is only natural you wished to test my power, but as you can see”—he smiled, and a horrible acidic stench hit Sehn’s nose—“it takes more than a child’s trickery to rob me of my prized possession.”

Sehn ignored his words. As disgusted as he was that his attempt to steal the Item had failed, matters that were more important needed his attention. As he stared into the Archmage’s soulless eyes, he suppressed the urge to turn around and bravely move in the opposite direction. There was just something so unsettling, so…empty about them. Sehn couldn’t escape the sense that what he saw before him should not exist. Still, this was no time to let fear paralyze him.

“Where are the children?” he asked. “Tell me at once, damn you! If you return them to me safely within the next minute, you will only be forced to spend three eternities in hell instead of five. I suggest you take me up on my offer; I hear it becomes unbearable after the first eternity.”

Duncan stopped caressing his staff. He held it in one hand, resting the base of it on the ground. “You haven’t been listening to me, have you?” He paused a moment as though waiting for Sehn to respond. When Sehn said nothing, he continued. “As I have already told you, I’ve come here to return them to you.”

Sehn, keeping one eye on the Archmage, craned his neck slightly to the right and measured his distance to the guard barracks in front of him, where he’d been told the children were held captive. As much as he’d enjoy humiliating this old corpse in glorious combat, the safety of his two disciples mattered more than his desire to shed blood. Perhaps if he was fast enough, he could kick down the locked door, charge inside, grab the children, and then worry about the Archmage once the two of them were safely away from this place.

As if reading his thoughts, the Archmage wiggled his forefinger. “They’re not in there anymore, Sehn. They haven’t been for quite some time.”

“Where are they then?” Sehn whispered, the intensity of his words a surprise even to him. “Tell me. Where are Nero and Rina? What have you done with them?”

“Don’t worry. Their fate was not the same as those who occupied this place.”

“The soldiers?”

“Yes, the brave soldiers of Hahl—or so I’ve heard them called.” He sneered. “They didn’t seem very brave to me.”

Sehn’s hand was still on the hilt of his sword. Days’ worth of anger and frustration begged for release. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Where are the children?”

“As I have told you several times now,” Archmage Duncan said. “They are being kept safe, and they will be released if you grant me your power. What I ask of you is so simple; truly, if you would only cooperate with me, not only would I release the children, but I would leave you unharmed.”

“Explain,” Sehn demanded.

“It’s quite simple. All I need you to do is continue on your merry way to the human city, the Pillar of Hope. Once there, you’d only need to place your hand on the Item contained therein and recite a simple phrase I would provide for you. And that’s all. Just say the words I tell you, and it’s all over. Ah! And there is no possibility of betrayal, as I will be hundreds of miles away while this is happening.”

“And what makes you think I would trust you, mage-fool?”

The Archmage smiled. “I have been called a liar by many, and for good reason. In truth, there is little reason to trust anything I say. But in your case, I have no reason to lie. I would normally devise a different sort of scheme, one that would see you dead once you’ve done my bidding. But I am a practical man—or at least I used to be, when I was still a man. As I see things, you are destined to die soon regardless, and so my master and I have little need to hunt you down. Once you’ve done as I’ve asked, I will allow you to do as you please. You will be free to pick some quiet corner of the world and die in peace—with the little ones, of course. You can have them back, as I will have no need of them once you’ve done as I’ve asked.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Well, I hope you don’t,” the Archmage said. A mocking frown appeared on his face. “Otherwise, I will have no choice but to kill your little friends and everyone you care about until you give me what I want. I’ll start with the little girl.”

Something snapped in Sehn’s mind. At the Archmage’s words, he felt a change within himself—an altering of his will. Sehn, without even a shred of uncertainty, knew now that he had found something he’d be willing to kill for. And not in the way that he’d “killed” so many others. No, this was the real kind of killing: the permanent kind. There would be no warnings, poetry assignments, or any other convenient ways of sparing life. If left with no choice, he would end whatever life this creature had within it.
That
was how far he now realized he was willing to go.

Sehn squeezed the hilt of his blade so tightly that his knuckles ached. “Take those words back,” he said, “or they will be the last you ever speak.”

For a brief moment, Sehn thought he saw something flicker in the Archmage’s eyes—something resembling joy.

“I’ll not take my words back, Sehn. You have a choice to make: do as I ask, or refuse me and watch as I take from you what little you have to give. Either way, the result will be the same. Spare yourself the pain and cooperate. Otherwise, I will be forced to prove to you that this is not a game. If you test me further, I will cut off the head of your little—”

Sehn had heard enough. It was time to act. He drew his sword, but unlike other times, the intent to kill was genuine. Holding nothing back, he gripped his blade with both hands and unleashed a powerful upwards slash aimed at slicing the Archmage’s neck.

He wasn’t fast enough. With a speed unexpected of such a rotten, barely held together body, Archmage Duncan managed to lift his staff off the ground, high enough to parry Sehn’s blade. When the two weapons collided, Sehn grunted as a painful jolt traveled down his wrist. There was a sharp ringing sound, and a piece of metal flew towards Sehn, close enough that, had he been leaning just an inch more to his right, it would have poked his eye out.

Sehn dashed backwards and away from the Archmage. He was confused. He glanced down at his weapon—and gasped. His elven blade, the prize he had taken from Calen back home, was now destroyed. More than half the blade severed clean off the weapon, leaving Sehn holding an unsharpened stump only slightly larger than a dagger.

How was this possible? The Archmage’s staff was made of wood, and Sehn’s weapon was forged of the finest, most expensive elven steel of his people. An authentic elven blade was said to surpass even the jewel-encrusted ceremonial weapons that human royalty kept at their sides.

Is it because the staff is an Item
?
Sehn wondered.
That must be it; it’s the only thing that makes any sense
.
Curse this creature
!

“Such futility,” Duncan said. “Have you had your fun?”

Sehn refused to answer. He spat in the foul thing’s direction. He’d come too far to stop now. There was no longer any turning back. If the Archmage did not return the children and swear an oath to do them no further harm, then Sehn would find some way of killing him.

I will not let him win
!

Sehn dropped the remainder of his blade. He extended his arm, opened his palm, which was no longer holding his weapon, and shouted, “
Remmos Salas
!
Remmos Salas
!
Remmos Salas
!
”

Three balls of flame shot forth from his hand. Oddly, Archmage Duncan did not attempt to dodge. He didn’t even shift on his feet. He stood with his staff still raised in the same position in front of his face. Sehn swallowed his fear as he watched his magic soar across the short distance and slam one after the other into his enemy.

All three struck their target. The first hit the Archmage squarely in his face, followed by the second and third, which pummeled his midsection. Yet Duncan did not so much as flinch; Sehn watched, frustrated and confused, as his magic failed to inflict any noticeable damage on the child-stealing monster. Not even his robes caught fire. Strangest of all was the barest hint of emotion Sehn detected as the Archmage shifted his gaze, looking down at his own chest, where two of the fireballs had hit, then back at Sehn.

“I don’t understand,” the Archmage said. “I cannot tell if this is some sort of joke you are playing or if you are taking this seriously.”

Sehn gritted his teeth. He had nothing to say to this fool. Once again, he shouted the words of his best-known spell and unleashed another five fireballs upon the Archmage. Just as before, Duncan remained perfectly still and took each of Sehn’s projectiles head on. The moment the flames touched his skin, they extinguished, leaving not even a scorch mark. It was as though Sehn was launching air and not fire at the wicked man. What nonsense was this?

“You
are
serious, aren’t you?” Archmage Duncan asked. “Gods be damned! This is your level of magic? A
Remmos
with the conjugation
Sallas
…this is all you can do?” For the next few moments, the Archmage released a bout of cackling laughter that ended in a coughing fit. Once he appeared to regain himself, he asked, “How can this be all you know?”

Sehn swelled with a murderous rage. “
Ralos MAHR
!
”

The ground beneath Duncan’s feet cracked and broke, causing a hole to form. But once again, Sehn’s magic failed to have any effect. As though expecting such an attack, Duncan calmly took a step backwards and avoided stumbling into the shallow pit.

“Curse you!” Sehn shouted. “
Ralos MAHR
!
Ralos MAHR
!
Ralos MAHR
!
”

The ground shattered one place after the other, and each time, Archmage Duncan effortlessly stepped around, in front of, or over the breaking ground. He moved slowly, as though there was no more effort required than that which he would need to avoid squashing a bug wandering alongside the road. Sehn had never felt so humiliated—and frightened.

This shouldn’t have been possible. How could something like this be happening? He was the Great Sehn! He should have been able to obliterate this cretin with a single thought! And yet all of his strongest magic fell flat before the Archmage.

“I was not prepared for this,” he said. “I was led to believe that you were an elf of substantial power—but this, this is pathetic. Have you any strength within you at all? In Magia, there are students with less than a month’s training, and even
they
can put on a better show than this. Are you even trying?”

“Silence, fool!” Sehn roared. “I’m…I’m fucking warming up, okay? I forgot to stretch this morning! Gah, I hate you so much! How dareth thee insult mine greatness!”

Sehn bent his knees; he raised his blade, readying himself to charge forward and slice the Archmage’s head off. Then he remembered he wasn’t actually holding a sword anymore. His blade had been broken, and he’d dropped whatever had been left of it on the ground. The result was that he was now standing in a half-crouch with his fist held above his head, gripping nothing but air. He quickly opened his hand and lowered it to his side, embarrassed by the stupid mistake.

“You’re quite the fool, aren’t you?” Archmage Duncan asked. “It seems you are lacking in both brains
and
power.”

The Archmage’s insults elevated Sehn’s anger to new, untold heights. For nearly an entire minute, Sehn unleashed a string of vulgarities so vile that he actually managed to offend himself. He continued to shout until he needed to pause for a breath. Then he continued where he’d left off. By the time all was said and done, there wasn’t a foul word in existence he hadn’t exclaimed.

Right now, he’d give anything—even if his soul—just to be able to see the Archmage in pain.

“You will pay for those remarks, coward! I will bring forth the wrath of heaven and hell upon you! You shall be crushed under the weight of my divine judgment!”

Sehn hissed in rage. He wanted so badly to bash in this rotten beast’s face—he wanted it so badly that it actually hurt. It wasn’t fair! Thoughts of what he would like to do flooded his mind, and yet he could do none of them, because he no longer had a weapon and his magic sucked ass. He was desperate…so desperate to teach this Gods-cursed scum the error of his ways.