Questing Sucks! Book II (44 page)

Sehn spat on the ground. “You mean to tell me that I’m not actually dead?” In an instant, he felt a renewed sense of hope and purpose. “Then what in the
fuck
am I doing here? Which way is out?” He spun around full circle. “Where’s the door to this shithole? Answer me!”

Archmage Bennet laughed. “There is no door. We’re in a magical prison unlike any other.”

“So?” Sehn looked at each of the old men. “Aren’t you supposed to be powerful mages? Use your magic and get us out of here. Perhaps if we leave now we can still make lunch.”

“I do wish that we could, Sehn of Elvar,” Archmage Uramore said. He twirled his beard. “But this is a prison of anti-magic. There are none who can cast spells in this place of hopelessness.”

Sehn moaned. “Just great.
Another
one of these places.”

“Another one of ‘these places’? What do you mean?” the one called Issius asked. He stood to his feet. He was taller than any of the other men, including the twelve who sat several feet away. “What do you mean by, ‘another one of these places’?”

“These bullshit anti-magic prisons,” Sehn answered. He swore loudly and stomped his foot down on the sand, fed up with all this nonsense. “This is, like, the second time in a week I’ve gotten myself trapped in an anti-magic prison. You know what? Nero! Do you have anything to write with?”

Nero stirred to full alertness. Apparently, he had been drifting off as though bored, staring into the nothingness. “W-what? No, Sehn, I don’t. I’m sorry!”

“Well then memorize this, my disciple. The Great Sehn has declared a new law. From now on, all anti-magic prisons are to be destroyed.” Sehn reached down, picked up a handful of sand, and then angrily threw it back down. “Gods curse it all! I can’t take five steps anymore without ending up in some magical prison with annoying mages asking me weird questions.”

Sehn refocused his attention on the Archmages. “What do I have to blow up to get out of it this time?”

“Blow up?” Issius asked.

“Yes, fool. Tell me what needs to be fireballed, and I shall destroy it.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Archmage Bennet said. His voice was youthful despite his age. “Only a tremendously powerful spell can open the dimensional gate leading back to our world. But it doesn’t matter, because no spells can be cast here.”

Sehn sighed. “That’s what they said last time.”

“I assure you, Sehn,” Bennet said. “It’s one of the reasons your appearance here is so…troubling. If you’re trapped here with us, you can’t fulfill your purpose.”

“Easy now,” Holy Magus Issius said. “Be careful what you tell the boy.”

“Does it matter, Holy Magus? We’re never leaving this place. Not even a God could use magic in this hellish pris—”

“
Remmos Salas
!
” Sehn shouted.

At least seven voices cried out in awe as, rather than a ball of flame, a bright spark, existing for no more than a second, appeared then disappeared in Sehn’s hand.

“Damn!” Sehn growled, feeling deeply humiliated and ashamed. He hoped his embarrassment did not show on his face. It seemed they were right; he really
couldn’t
use magic in this place. And here he thought he was going to amaze them all.

“H-how did you do that?” shouted Archmage Uramore, his voice shaky and startled. “Can the cursed truly be so…so magnificent?”

“It’s amazing. It’s a miracle!” Archmage Bennet cried.

“Thank the Gods,” Issius said. Other voices mimed his agreement, with one man even beginning to shed a tear or two.

Sehn tilted his head, confused. “Huh?”

Why were they all so excited? His spell had completely failed. All he’d managed was a tiny, insignificant spark, and these people were acting as though he’d just made it rain fire. Could it be that their eyes were so old that any sudden bright light was like an explosion to them?

“Can you do that again, please?” Issius asked. Sehn had not yet learned his name. “Please, one more time.”

“Fine,” Sehn grumbled, praying that it would work this time. Even though he didn’t care much for these old men, he still dreaded the idea of humiliating himself a second time. “
Remmos Salas
!
”

Once again, there was a brief flicker: a spark that lasted barely a second. Another failure. The spark lit the surrounding area for all of a moment then vanished completely, amounting to little more than a tiny, pathetic flash of light unbefitting Sehn’s glorious name. But the reaction from the mages was the same. All of them clapped, including the twelve who had remained mostly silent thus far. This only furthered Sehn’s confusion. Just what were they so happy about?

“It truly is a miracle,” one of the twelve less-elegantly dressed mages said. “Ah, forgive me for speaking, Holy Magus.”

“Go ahead, High-Mage Ludd. This is hardly our usual council hall. I revoke the call for silent observation.”

The one who’d been referred to as a “High-Mage Ludd” nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “For someone to be able to use any sort of magic at all…there is now hope.”

Sehn studied the mage’s expression, searching for any sign of mockery. When he was certain the man was not trying to humiliate him, Sehn’s lips twitched, then slowly formed into a grin. Finally, he understood what had them so amazed. It seemed that any magic at all—even just a spark—was something of a miraculous feat in this crimson hell.

Sehn raised his chin and let out a bout of roaring, haughty laughter. “Hahaha! Yes! Behold, fools! You have all just witnessed the Great Sehn’s ultimate magic, the Spark of Divine Hell and Retribution! It may not appear to be much, but anyone who touches this spark is instantly turned into a pile of ash. It is my ultimate magical attack. All shall bow before my greatness!”

Issius approached and put one hand on Sehn’s shoulder. “Sehn of Elvar, how would you like to learn a few new things while you’re here?”

Sehn growled and pushed the man away. How dare he suggest that Sehn ‘learn’ something? For some reason, the act caused alarm and anger to enter the eyes of the other fifteen men. It reminded Sehn of Patrick; whenever he toyed with the prince, the Kingdom’s soldiers seemed to take personal offense. And much like Patrick, this “Holy Magus” fool gestured at them to stand down.

Wise choice
,
mortals
,
Sehn thought, holding back another laugh.
With my spark of divine death of…whatever I named it
,
none of you shall stand in my way
.

“Sehn,” Issius said, “I’d like you to let us teach you a few things. Not much, just some things to broaden your horizons on magic. Perhaps six or seven new spells at the most, including the one to get us out of here.”

“Oh?” Sehn asked. “And why should I allow you to ‘teach’ me anything? The last time one of you mages tried to teach me something—the one called Mistress Orellia—I had to sit through a ten-hour lecture on boring nonsense about life essences and flowers.”

“Don’t worry,” Issius said. “What I’d like to give you, although unconventional, is a far more practical lesson on combat magic. And though it may not seem like it, even fifteen minutes of instruction from anyone here—let alone myself, the Holy Magus—is an honor any student of Magia would spend years to earn the right to. And you, my dear elf, will have us all to yourself.”

Sehn’s ears twitched yet again. “Combat magic, you say?”

Issius nodded. “Nothing you wouldn’t like. Each spell is devastating in its own right. There will be no such words wasted on teaching you ethics, or everyday practical magic. No, this will be purely the sort of thing I think you’d enjoy, Sehn of Elvar.”

“Hmm.” Sehn thought it over a moment. “Will it be more powerful than what the mage boy, Kellar, has taught me?”

“That depends. What did he teach you?”

“He taught me how to make a powerful explosion:
Remmos
MAHR
Vi
Nara Sallos RAHL
.
”

Issius smiled. “Ah, a nice one, that is. Truly a spell of mass destruction. But it is far more deadly to the environment than it is to another powerful mage. Any half-decent mage could erect a barrier to protect his or herself.”

For the third time, Sehn’s ears twitched. He leaned in closer. “Are you saying what you want to show me is even
more
powerful?”

Issius’s smile broadened. “What I’m saying, Sehn, is that if you allow me to teach you a few new spells, even the Gods will fear you.”

Something clicked in Sehn’s mind. It was time to do “that.”

Since Sehn was a small boy, there was an event so important to him that he’d prepared his entire life for it. He thought about it day and night: he’d
dreamed
about it. It was something he knew he could only do once, because any more than that, and it simply wouldn’t work. And now, as this mage, Issius, claimed he could turn Sehn into a being powerful enough to make a God fear him, he knew that the time had finally come. The moment he had been waiting for. He never expected it would be in a place like this.

Sehn, taking several steps back, lifted both his hands up, leaned his head as far back as it would go, sucked in a lungful of air, and then shouted, “No one shall stop me now! All bow before the Dark Lord of magic!” Then he followed his words with the longest laugh in his life. For nearly five minutes, he unleashed his supreme victory laugh.

“Ahaha. Ahahaha. Aaaahhhhhhaaa ha.
Ahahahahahaha
!
AHHHHHHAHAHAHA
!”

The only thing missing was a bolt of lightning and a stormy sky. Unfortunately, he’d have to do without them. Not that it mattered, for the time had come: it was time for the Great Sehn to rise. The Dark Lord was born, and all mortals would tremble. Especially Patrick.

A bead of sweat trickled down Sehn’s forehead. A few hours had passed since his brief moment of euphoria, and now he was left with a single jarring thought that played repeatedly in his mind:
being the Evil Dark Lord of Magic sucks
!

Why didn’t anyone tell him it was going to be this difficult? Venting his anger, he kicked up some of the red sand, miserable at failing yet another attempt to cast a spell. He knew he was under the watchful eyes of the Archmages, but he didn’t care what they thought of him. Right now, he needed to release some of his frustration, because nothing was turning out well. This was
not
how things were supposed to happen.

Had he been deceived? Was this some sort of hellish prank to be played on the damned? The Archmages claimed he was going to learn a few new spells, which would grant him incredible, destructive power, but so far the only results of his efforts were a scorched hand and a laughing Nero.

Dumb brat
.
Who does he think he’s laughing at
?

When the mages had told him of these new powers, Sehn had wanted to begin learning immediately. Sure, he had a few questions for them, such as why they were so keen to help him or, better yet, why they seemed so interested in
him
specifically. But the one they all called “Holy Magus” had refused to offer any explanation, insisting instead that he begin his education as soon as possible and not waste any more time on “futile ponderings.” Normally, Sehn would demand an answer before he’d even consider offering his cooperation, but in this case, he decided to go along with it. After all, they were promising him more power. Seriously, this’s power we’re talking about. Who could refuse? Not Sehn, that’s who.

And so, without a moment’s hesitation, Sehn had announced his willingness to begin learning. The Holy Magus, Issius, nodded to Archmage Bennet, the oldest mage of the bunch, who then limped his way over to Sehn. The old Archmage leaned in close, whispered fourteen strange words, and then with a smile and a chuckle, he spun around and rejoined the rest of the mages. At that point, Sehn had felt elated, fully ready to harness these new, unimaginable powers. His imagination had run wild with thoughts of conquest and glory.

Unfortunately, the way he’d imagined things happening, and the way they, well,
happened
, did not quite align. By his original estimation, Sehn figured he’d take three-to-five minutes per spell, or perhaps a full five minutes to reach mastery. He assumed that, with any luck, he’d have this whole business knocked out in about an hour or two, or maybe, just
maybe
, it would take three hours if he allowed himself a short little break to build penis-shaped sandcastles with Nero so the two of them could point and laugh at what they’d done. Though, on second thought, he doubted it would work without any water in the sand.

Three hours: that was at
most
how long Sehn felt he needed to truly become the
Evil Dark Lord of Magic
!

And so, with visions of greatness in mind, he had gone straight to work—only to find that this wasn’t so easy after all. Much to his disappointment, nothing happened the first, second, or even third time he chanted the fourteen-word spell, and the same was true of the fifth, sixth, and seventh time—and so on. Nearly five hours later, he was still reciting the same magical words without success. Again and again, he tried shouting, whispering, and even mumbling the spell, and not once did his labor bear any fruit.

Eventually he began to mutter the spell faster, thinking if he spoke the words more quickly he’d be able to learn the spell in less time. It didn’t work; instead of putting within his grasp a new, massive power, the hastily chanted spell left him in pain as it backfired several times, scorching his left hand on the last few attempts and coming close to blowing up in his face on the most recent go.

And now, hours later, he’d had enough. This clearly wasn’t working, and he was done making a fool of himself in front of these so-called “Archmages.” Whatever they wanted him to do, it wasn’t happening, and it wasn’t
going
to happen, either.

This is a waste of my time
!

“Don’t be upset, Sehn,” Nero said, his lips twitching as though he were holding in a laugh. “You’ve only been doing this for a day, so of course you’re not gonna be good yet.”

Sehn paused from blowing on his palm, which throbbed and burned, and then locked eyes with his stupid little disciple. “Silence, Nero. Just who is it you think you’re talking to? Who is not good enough yet? Me? Fool! The Great Sehn is always good—at everything!”

“Then how come Sehn is not using the spell properly?” Rina asked. “Rina is not sure, but she thinks that if Sehn is really good at everything, then Sehn should be good at casting his spell, too, because his spell is part of everything. Isn’t that true?”

“That’s, ah…”

The question caught Sehn off guard. He tried to answer, but his cheeks puffed up with air and no words would come out. He hadn’t been expecting such a perfect counter argument. Who taught this little girl such powerful, deadly logic? What made it worse was that there was no hint of mockery in Rina’s words; she seemed genuinely interested in hearing an explanation.

“It’s…what you’re not understanding, Rina, is that…”

I can’t believe a little girl has me at a loss for words
.
This is unacceptable
!

Sehn snapped himself out of it as he remembered who he was and whom he was talking to. Feeling heat rush back into his face, he glared at the little human girl. “You’re wrong, Rina. How dare you question the Great Sehn?”

She tilted her head sideways. “How come Rina is wrong?”

Once again, Rina’s retort caught Sehn off guard. Sehn took a deep breath. He would not allow a mere child to outsmart him. Although he was the master of the universe, master of swords, and master of magic, he was also the master of argument and debate.

“Because…because it’s my opinion, and I am Sehn!”

“Rina doesn’t understand.”

“Then I will explain.”

Sehn forced a smile on his face. It wasn’t Rina’s fault she didn’t understand anything; she was just a little girl, still learning the ways of the world. Rather than severely punishing her for her lack of knowledge, which would accomplish nothing, he needed to instead help her learn—and
then
punish her for having the audacity to disagree with her God-King, Sehn!

“It works like this, Rina. The Great Sehn knows everything; this is a thing; therefore, I know it.”

Nero, who until this point had been sitting down and chewing on his bottom lip while he dreamily ran his finger through the sand, raised his head and looked at Sehn, his lips wiggling as if his mind was working out something complicated.

“Hey, Sehn,” he said.

“What is it, Nero?”

“Aren’t you a gorilla, then?”

“W-what did you just call me, Nero?” Sehn shouted. He must have been hearing things. Nero wouldn’t dare insult him this way.

“Umm, it’s just that I was thinking, and umm, if what you just said to Rina is true, then isn’t it also true that you’re a gorilla?”

“Nero, have you taken a bite out of a stupid-melon? What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just that I was thinking about it…”

“And?”

“And…umm, you like bananas, don’t you?”

Sehn nodded. “Of course I like bananas, fool. The Great Sehn enjoys many types of fruit, but bananas are truly worthy of being called his divine favorite.”

Nero flicked his thumb against his chin. “Well umm, gorillas like bananas, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And you like bananas, right?”

“Yes, I just told you I do. What’s your point?”

“Gorillas eat bananas; Sehn eats bananas; therefore, Sehn is a gorilla.”

Is that…true
? Sehn wondered, becoming alarmed.

He felt every last drop of blood leave his face. Goose bumps formed on his arms and legs. For just a brief moment, he looked down at his hands, expecting to see a thick patch of black hair. Then he shook his head and muttered a curse at his own stupidity. Of course he wasn’t a gorilla. Why was he letting this dumb brat get into his head? And why was he wasting his time on this nonsense in the first place? He couldn’t afford this sort of distraction right now.

He pointed to the three Archmages and the Holy Magus, who all sat on the red sand with their legs crossed. “Do you want to know the real reason I can’t cast the spell, Nero? It’s
their
fault. They taught me a malfunctioning spell.”

“Really?” Nero asked, his eyes widening. “There’s such a thing?”

“Of course there’s such a thing, Nero. This sort of bullshittery happens all the time in the magic world.”

“R-really?” Nero asked in a surprised whisper. “I never knew that.”

“Well, you know it now. Every so often, the stupid mages create spells that don’t work, like this one. I’m just glad I didn’t pay anything for it, because I would’ve definitely returned it.”

“I didn’t even know you could return a magic spell.”

“And now you know. There is much you still need to learn, Nero, and that is why you’re my disciple. As soon as we get home, I’m going to show you the—”

“Ehem.”

Sehn forgot what he wanted to say as Archmage Bennet loudly cleared his throat. “Forgive my interruption,” the old mage said, “but the spell I’m having you learn is not faulty.”

Sehn turned in the Archmage’s direction. The old man was peering at him through half open eyes. With one hand, he fiddled with the golden pendant around his neck, and with the other, he scratched at the few patches of grey hair left on his otherwise bald head.

Not bothering to hide his annoyance, Sehn asked, “Oh? If it’s not faulty, then why isn’t it working?”

“You mean aside from the fact that we’re in a world of anti-magic? The problem lies within your soul.”

“My soul? You must be mistaken: the Great Sehn has no soul. He has only a blackened, evil cloud of malicious intent.” Sehn frowned. “And what is this spell supposed to do, anyway? Perhaps this would be easier if you brainless fools would tell me what kind of magic I’m trying to do in the first place.”

At first, not knowing what kind of spell he was actually trying to cast had not bothered Sehn. As long as it was destructive, it was good enough for him. But now that things weren’t going so well, he demanded answers. Just what was it they were having him do? He reasoned that it must be some sort of fire spell, as thus far, the only effect the fourteen-word spell seemed to have was to burn his hand. But if so, why did it not have “
Remmos
” in it? Sehn chanted the spell’s words in his head, imagining what monstrous power they might unlock.

Saelum Nara
Vi
Saan
.
Saelum Nara
Vi
Sein
.
Saelum Nara
Vi
Suun
.
Saelum
,
Arise
!

Archmage Bennet glanced at the Holy Magus, who returned a nod. Then he picked himself up off the sand and strolled over to Sehn.

“Do you want to see what the spell does, elf boy? I preferred not to show you until after you’d already cast it, as I’m afraid its power might spook you, somewhat.”

At Bennet’s words, the two Archmages, along with the twelve mages who sat together in a separate group, stirred and lifted their heads. Several grinned, and a proud smile entered Holy Magus Issius’s lips. Sehn wasn’t sure why, but this spell seemed of great interest to these men—or at least all but one. One Archmage in particular turned his head to the Holy Magus and frowned.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Issius?” he asked. It was the first time Sehn had heard him speak thus far. He was the youngest among the three Archmages and the Holy Magus, though he was still fairly old. His skin was dark in color, and his body surprisingly muscular for someone who had likely lived for well over sixty seasons. “We should discuss this before acting so carelessly.”

“I take it you are uncomfortable, Archmage Sevron,” Issius said.

“Aren’t you? We’re about to show this elf an Archmage’s hidden magic.”

“He was going to learn of it anyway.”

“Learning it is one thing. Seeing our own version of it…”

Sehn’s ears twitched. “Hidden magic?” he repeated. “You, mage-mortal, what is that? What sort of magic is ‘hidden magic’?”

Archmage Uramore, unlike the others, did not wait for Issius’s cue to speak. With an authoritative voice, he said, “There are some forms of magic known only to the Archmages and, to a lesser degree”—he gestured with an arm at the twelve mages who sat together in a separate group—“the High Mages.”

For the second time, Sehn’s ears twitched. Hidden magic? This was just the sort of thing that piqued his interest. For it to be hidden, that meant it had to be powerful, yes? What sort of all-powerful magic were these old fools keeping a secret? Whatever it was, it would soon belong to Sehn—as it should be.

Archmage Bennet, now standing before Sehn, held out his hand. Sehn looked down on it and raised an eyebrow.