Mark of the Fool
Chapter 521: The End of Patience

“Do you think I am here to risk myself, or to allow you to risk my position?” Zonon-In’s eyes flashed, her voice falling so low that little sound seemed to come from her lips. Yet her voice echoed through Alex’s mind. “I am here to enjoy the party, mortal. Your affairs are your own.”

Her gaze burned into the jester as he prayed to the Traveller that she wouldn’t recognize him. He was nearer to her than he would have liked—closer than he’d anticipated—waiting for the moment her eyes lit up in malicious recognition, his stomach clenched.

But, she showed no sign of realising who he was…so far.

He pushed on.

“Yes, indeed, and I would never dream of asking you to do anything untoward or risky,” the young wizard promised, his voice falling to the lowest of whispers. “For no effort on your part, though, certain…parties would know of your aid. And…” He glanced up at Kaz-Mowang, the demon basked in fawning attention. “Any help is another chance for…competition to be cleared away.”

Zonon-In sucked her fangs. “Hmmmmmm…” her growl was low, reaching Alex’s ears and deep into his core. “Fair. It won’t cause me any strife to do this. But you get no more help from me, mortal. The risk is yours, not mine.”

“Fair,” Alex whispered.

“Be ready. I won’t miss the maze run for any of you, but…after...” Zonon-In paused. “Have we…met, jester? Have you visited the hells before?”

Alex fought a shudder. “I’ve been to the hells a time or two,” he said casually, not letting his tension show. “But, I would have remembered someone as memorable as you if we’d met on this plane before.”

She watched him for a moment before shrugging and sauntering off to join Kaz-Mowang.

Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and almost burst out laughing. He’d been right in front of the greater demon and she hadn’t recognised him, and that was a great feeling.

‘But, the faster we’re either out of here, or she’s dead, the better. ‘Honestly, both. Both would be good.’ his thoughts turned to his companions.

The demonic guests filtered out of the ballroom, giving him time alone with his team. In the end, just a few stragglers, servants, and fellow performers remained in the ballroom. Relieved, entertainers rushed the buffet tables, grabbing food and libations before the press of demons came back for more.

With a meaningful look at each other, Alex and company moved to a quieter corner of the large room, making a show of sharing lively conversation as they examined food on a table topped with bowls and platters of mostly recognisable fruits and vegetables, no wiggling meat for them.

“We’re a go,” Alex whispered. “Kaz-Mowang’s showing off his trophies after the maze run and Zonon-In’s going along for the tour.” He looked around, making sure no one was near. “That’s our in. We’ll follow them, find out where the trophy room is, and snatch what we came for.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Thundar said grimly, keeping his voice low. “We all going?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Ripp glanced over his shoulder. “A group of us disappearing suddenly would be noticed, and a big group roaming through the halls in this place would be noticed even more.”

“Are we splitting up, then?” Guntile cringed. “That never goes well.”

“Don’t see how we have much choice.” Ezerak sniffed some multi-coloured greens in bowls on the table, then began filling a plate. “We all stay? We can’t do the plan. We all go? Chances of us getting caught goes up. Kyembe, any thoughts? …Kyembe?”

The group looked over, the lean man had lifted his mask and was pouring himself a very large cup of wine. A heaping bowl of spiced fruit sat on the table in front of him.

“What?” He paused, realising they were watching him. “This is the part where we have either triumphed, or will be having our guts torn out and used for decoration. If the latter happens, I would like some wine in those guts.” The Spirit Skiller sniffed the wine goblet. “And this is a fine vintage; better in our bellies than in demons’.”

Thundar looked at him in awe. “Hells, you’re a genius!” He rushed to the table, pouring himself a mug of wine.

“Yeah, no argument here,” Alex filled a cup and drained it.

Kyembe had been right.

The wine was good. Very good.

“Right…” Ripp said slowly. “So, who goes and who stays?”

“I think I should stay.” Thundar put down his mug. “I’d rather go, but I was the centre of our performance. They’re gonna notice if I disappear.”

Alex nodded, thanking the Traveller that Thundar had suggested the idea before him. Better his friend was here, where there might be a better chance of him escaping if things went wrong.

“Good idea, Thundar,” he muttered. “Maybe…” He considered the mercenaries. “Two of you should come with me. Three stay here, three go hunting. Seems practical, everyone gets a fighting chance, and no team’s too big.”

“You’re the boss.” Ripp shrugged. “Who stays and who goes, then?”

Alex contemplated his choices for a time, considering his options.

They could all handle themselves in a fight, so that was a given, but he needed stealth as well. Thundar would need enough combat strength beside him if a horde of demons spotted him and whoever he was with.

His eyes fell on Ezerak; the former king could summon an army from his skin. Numbers would be key to fighting a horde of demons in this enormous room, but not quite as useful in a tight corridor.

Ezerak should stay with Thundar.

Alex looked down at Ripp.

Calling the swiftling fast was an understatement: he could move like a blur, he’d snatched a dungeon core from an army of Ravener-spawn before they could blink; he could be trusted, they’d worked together before, and he was deathly quiet when he needed to be. Ripp would go with him.

Which left the other choice.

He considered Guntile, watching her as she carefully palmed her stones, getting them ready should things turn bad.

He eyed Kyembe who was obviously enjoying his wine and shovelling his fruit like it was his last meal.

Alex sighed.

He trusted Guntile more than Kyembe, but if this ‘Spirit Killer’ was treacherous, better to have him close—in reach of Ripp’s knives—than out here with Thundar.

“Alright, Ripp and Kyembe, you’re with me.” Alex tapped his staff on the floor.

“Aye, thought I might be.” Ripp squared his shoulders. “Well, then, Spirit Killer. Hope that drink was good.”

“It was.” Kyembe wiped his mouth, his crimson eyes flashing. “Perhaps we can liberate some of it on our way out of this place. That and other treasures.”

“Liberate? No judgement, but you mean steal, right?” Thundar said.

The Spirit Killer shrugged. “Here there are only tyrants and monsters that rule. They do not know how to treat their wine. So I say it is not theft, it is a rescue.”

“I don’t think they’d see it that way.” Alex pointed out.

“Dead demons do not see much, my friend. And they need no wine.”

“We are terribly late!” the greater demon snorted, his palanquin shaking as he disembarked. “You fools will have made me miss the maze run!”

Beneath the palanquin, a horde of twenty demons shuddered under their master’s weight, discretely sighing in relief when he finally climbed down.

“Guards! To me!” the greater demon bellowed. “Wine, I seek wine!”

Exchanging looks of disdain, the tiashiva bodyguards grouped around him, forming a menacing troop of honour guards.

Yet, one seemed to pay his master little mind.

The scarred demon was focused on Kaz-Mowang’s palace, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

For the briefest moment he’d felt…a familiar power flare; a power that few other demons had his connection to.

But that could not be.

How would that mortal be here?

“I have new ones to show you, Zonon-In!” Kaz-Mowang laughed uproariously, the sound of his hooves clacking on stone. His gait was a swaggering one, as his laughter rolled through the hallways, echoing from pillar to post.

“I hope so,” Zonon-In sounded thrilled. “I’d say you were slacking, otherwise.”

“I never slack.” Kaz-Mowang boasted. “I come, I see, I conquer. The mortals in the maze run? They were from one of my latest conquests in the material world.”

“That explains why they seemed so delightfully…fresh.” The sound of her mouth-tentacles slurping across her lips was enough to chill the spine and turn the stomach.

“Charmin’.” Ripp hissed sarcastically while pressed to a wall beside Alex. “We’re gonna be trophies if he sees us.”

“Or he shall be ours,” Kyembe whispered on the other side of the young Thameish wizard.

“We’re not picking fights that we can avoid,” Alex whispered, peering down the corridor, keeping his eye on patrolling pazuzites strutting through the hall. He held his breath, waiting for them to pass.

They moved by without spottingthe concealed trio.

“Go! Hug the next corner!”

Alex crept from behind the wall, moving to the next corner and hiding there. Ripp and Kyembe were silent behind him.

“Still together?” he whispered.

“Here,” Ripp whispered back.

“I am with you,” Kyembe added.

“Stay close,” Alex peeked down the long hallway, watching Kaz-Mowang leading Zonon-In and a group of demons and mortals—mostly female—toward his prized trophies.

They’d been following the greater demon and company for a while now, watching as the bull-headed fiend stopped every few steps to proudly show his guests some bit of architecture that displayed his wealth and taste. Meanwhile, Alex and the two mercenaries had crept along behind them, hugging walls and pressing themselves against corners since they’d left the ballroom in the chaos of party guests returning from the maze run.

Briefly slipping into an empty chamber while the demon showed off his palace, Alex cast invisibility magic on the three of them, allowing them to stalk Kaz-Mowang’s party at a safer distance. The tiashivas and pazuzite patrols lessened, with many going to guard the halls around the ballroom, but their numbers were still more than Alex wanted to see, especially with those Omnesventae around.

Their illusion-piercing eyes could abruptly end the plan, so—when one appeared down a nearby hall—Alex, Kyembe and Ripp doubled back, retreating around the nearest corner until the fearsome creature moved on.

If Kaz-Mowang wasn’t as fond of hearing his own voice as he was, they might have lost him in the multitude of hallways.

‘Come on…’ Alex thought as they tracked the bull-headed fiend. ‘Where is this damned trophy room of yours? Why’d you have to build the biggest damn palace ever? For the love of the Traveller, why?’

Deeper and deeper they went into the gargantuan structure, passing seemingly endless rows of statues honouring Kaz-Mowang’s form, murals depicting his deeds—none were too insignificant—and suspended light fixtures glowing in his likeness. Everywhere they looked his image greeted them, bombarding them at every turn, threatening to disorient the trio, making it harder to recognise where they were, or where they had been.

Alex used the Mark constantly, drawing images from it, using them to keep track of their path. If not for its help, the complex web of hallways and neverending images of the palace’s master, would have left even the clearest mind in total confusion. The Mark provided a mental map.

When they finally got their hands on the prize they were here for, it’d be up to him to lead them out of there.

And fast.

‘That’s if we ever get to his bloody trophy room!’ Alex thought in agitation. ‘Does it even exist? Do you even havetrophies, or did that disgusting, long-winded, shit-sucking fly demon lie to me?! What’s the matter with you? I—’

“And here we have it, my most favoured guests!” Kaz-Mowang’s voice boomed from ahead.

‘…finally!’ Alex thought.

The trio crept around a corner, spying a massive doorway; not surprisingly, sculpted in a replica of Kaz-Mowang’s face, the mouth was wide open, serving as an entryway.

Two Omnesventa flanked the entrance, their many eyes searching the hall beyond their master’s guests. The three burglars darted behind the corner.

“We found it,” Ripp hissed. “Now what?”

“Lets pull back and wait until they go—”

Alex’s voice trailed off.

From somewhere inside the trophy room, a tickle of energy touched him, similar to when he was close to teleportation magic …but much more specific. The power felt warm, familiar…yet, he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Not since he, Selina, Theresa and Brutus had passed through a portal and appeared in the Rhinean Empire.

It was the Traveller’s power.

And in his core, something resonated with it.

As his master guzzled wine, the demon dubbed ‘Burn-Saw’ looked up suddenly.

“No, I definitely felt something,” he growled. “Hannar-Cim’s servant is here.”

Thundar glanced around the ballroom as he entertained a gaggle of succubi with his Kaz-Mowang impression. His eyes fell on a tiashiva with a massive scar running across his chest.

‘Wait, why’s that demon look so familia—Oh. Oh shit!’

Baelin glowered as Ezaliel’s minion prattled on about alliances, the meagre value of mortal life, and truces. Still seated in the offensive chair he’d been shown to in what felt like a lifetime ago, the archwizard gripped the armrests so tightly, they creaked.

‘Enough!’

He’d tolerated this charade for far too long and now, his patience had run its course. He could finally embrace his breaking point.

Alex and his team would have had enough time to act by now.

‘Time for the distraction to begin.’

“I have a counter proposal,” the chancellor’s voice boomed.

He reached out across his mental link. ‘To me, my friends.’

From a distance, he felt a planetary surge of mana.

His cabal was coming.