Mark of the Fool
Chapter 523: The Rescue Begins

“Stop, mortal!” one of Kaz-Mowang’s demon guards bellowed, pointing an immense spear at the staggering, purple-clad man. “You are trespassing in the depths of Kaz-Mowang’s halls! Flee, or die!”

“Please, mercy, I beg of you, great and mighty demons!” Kyembe cried, his voice cracking as though he were about to weep. “Do not send me back alone! I am frightened!”

More eyes turned, scrutinising the mercenary, demonic maws twisted in disgust.

Alex watched their reflections, his every muscle tensed. If betrayal were to come, it would come now.

“Please, you cannot send me back!” Kyembe begged in the demon’s tongue, falling to his knees. “I—I will die if—”

“You will leave mortal, or we will flay and devour you.” The second demon guard warned, taking a step forward.

“Wait!” the Spirit Killer sobbed. “There are others in the halls—”

And there it was; the betrayal. “Ripp—” Alex started.

“—they seek to kill me! They are armed and hiding nearby!”

“Hold on, a minute,” Alex paused his order. “Something’s off.”

If this was a betrayal, then why lie about nonexistent enemies? Unless…

And then Alex understood.

The guards’ eyes turned upward, some checking the surroundings, others examining reflections in the shield held by Kaz-Mowang’s statue. Suddenly, the Thameish wizard felt an immense rush of hot mana.

A demons’ eyes squinted, then went wide.

“There!” It pointed to the shield. “In the shield! Look, someone watches us!”

“What?” the other guard’s eyes burrowed into the reflection.

In that instant, their focus left Kyembe.

And he struck.

He raised his hand, his ring blazing white.

That distinctive crackle heralded a beam of white hellfire, hissing as it flew, striking a stunned demon in its chest without warning. With a muffled gasp, the fiend erupted into flame and white ash, vanishing in a rush of searing heat.

The beam leapt to the other guard raising its weapon in defence, but a spear was no match for hellfire—metal and demon disintegrated in flame. There had been no time for them to raise the alarm. No time to cry out. No time to alert Kaz-Mowang.

White ash and boiling metal fell, raining on Kaz-Mowang’s likenesses.

“Come!” Kyembe called over his shoulder, the hand bathed in golden light was already healing his burns. “The plan bore fruit and the path is clear.” He drew his sword.

“Well, I have to say, that was a pretty good way to do it,” Alex said, shuddering as he stepped into the hall. Hellfire was nasty, effective, but nasty.

A part of him wanted some.

“You’re crazy,” Ripp’s voice came from beside Alex. “Damned crazy.”

“We are in a demon’s palace.” Kyembe spread his hands. “At his trophy room door, to be exact, while—” Another distant explosion rocked the palace. “—a devastating battle takes place somewhere beyond our sight. My brother, I think we all abandoned sanity the moment we decided this was a prudent idea.”

There was a pause.

“Aye, see your point.” Ripp muttered. “So, that’s the trophy room, is it? Well, that’s someplace that’d singe the hair off ya.”

“I’ll say,” Alex murmured, noting the pull of the Traveller’s energy growing stronger. “Really matches paintings I’ve seen of the hells.”

Through the open maw of Kaz-Mowang’s carved image, lay an enormous chamber, even larger than the ballroom…

…and more dangerous.

Within about ten paces, the floor on this level ended. Some fifty feet below, a seething lake of liquid rock boiled, hissing and sizzling, burning away the moisture in the air. The lower floor was a sea of lava. Above it, a web of bridges and floating platforms crafted of enchanted glass and glyph-laden gold, spread out. The bridges had no railings around them and were nearly transparent, providing a…dramatic view of the inferno below, a feature well suited to demons.

The sight made Alex’s stomach clench.

On each platform, the spoils of Kaz-Mowang’s battles were on proud display.

Some bore enchanted blades.

Others held what looked to be baby teeth behind glass, laid out on velvet cushions.

Petrified remains of beasts, demons and humanoids were taxidermied and frozen in some final moment of terror.

The young wizard turned from the grisly prizes, opening his mana senses while trying to ignorethe growing call from the Traveller’s artefact. He felt the air, searching for signs of magical traps or wards: the thought of being surprised by something like a wall of concealed disintegration magic kept him focused.

His mana senses scoured the room, but found nothing.

He checked the doorway next, calling on the Mark, using it to find traps like trip wires or pressure plates.

He found none and was just instructing Ripp to scout ahead when Kyembe stiffened. “Down!”

An instant later, Alex heard what the Spirit Killer had heard.

The sound of bow strings being pulled.

Swearing, he hit the ground as a horde of tiashivas boiled from behind the wall on either side of the trophy room’s entrance, muscles taut and bow strings tensed.

Screaming in their tongue, they loosed a volley of arrows, skewering the air where Alex and the mercenaries were standing a heartbeat before.

These tiashivas were far bigger than any the young wizard had ever seen, and were well armoured in rune-encrusted ivory plate. Jagged weapons hung from belts resembling linked chains of vertebrae, and each demonic warrior moved with expertness, signalling long experience.

These were Kaz-Mowang’s elites who were now reaching for more arrows.

The Spirit Killer was on his feet in a breath, his ring gathering power.

“Ripp! Stop them” Alex shouted, his voice tensing.

“Got it, boss!” came the familiar cry.

The young wizard felt something pass at the speed of a swift wind. In a blink, twin cries came from ahead.

Ripp’s blurred among the fiends, bringing the fight to them. A demon was teetering, ready to drop like a falling tree—a long dagger was buried in its third eye—while two more dripped black blood from gaps in their armour.

Caught by surprise, the guards were recovering quickly, dropping their bows, new weapons replacing them.

The tide changed, suddenly Ripp was fighting for his life. The air around the swiftling was now a dance of spiked bone-weapons, striking at him with speed and brute power. Only the swiftling’s speed was saving him, but he couldn’t dodge every cut aimed at him.

With a battlecry in an unknown tongue, Kyembe surged toward the fight, his ring blazing and arm hissing as burns crawled up his flesh. The air thrummed, shimmering around his sword as hot, white light spread, reaching up, outlining the weapon like an eclipsing star.

Until it found the blade.

With a crackling roar and a blast of heat, steel erupted in a white blaze like the sun's rays.

Tiashivas whirled on the Spirit Killer.

And then they began to fall.

Kyembe was a blur among them, blade flicking like a viper. Hellfire cracked magic armour where he stabbed into gaps, finding the demons’ wounds, and in an instant, they erupted in a hail of white ash.

But, the tiashivas showed no fear, leaping at this new attacker with practised courage, giving Ripp the moments he needed to recover. He hacked at them, striking with hooked blades, slicing through vulnerable joints, then finishing the monsters when they fell.

Still, many remained, and though Ripp and Kyembe dodged and fought fiercely, their wounds increased.

Alex scowled, it was time to bring these demons’ wretched lives to an end.

Covered in invisibility, he added flight magic, catapulting through the air, and calling on the aeld’s blooms and haste magic, he cast haste on himself and his two companions.

Kyembe and Ripp became whirlwinds.

Steel flashed.

Blood sprayed.

Hellfire burned.

In heartbeats the demons were falling by the number, their ranks decimated as the two enhanced warriors shredded them.

By the time Alex had reached the battle, a path of death—paved with black demon gore—lay in Kyembe and Ripp’s wake.

He added body enhancements, giving them a boost, thenturned to the task of harassing Kaz-Mowang’s elite guards. He began to summon. Like ghosts, small waterelementals quietly appeared behind the monsters, then Alex shouted in a tongue of water.

Demon heads turned in surprise on hearing the voice…but they looked straight ahead, not down. From behind and below, summoned water elementals sprayed the tiashiva’s lower bodies as ice elementals froze the liquid. Instantly, the joints in their armour hardened in ice, freezing them in place.

And Kyembe and Ripp went to work, propelled by the magic covering them.

In no time, the swiftling and Spirit Killer were stepping over a sea of ruined corpses.

“You fight well.” Kyembe smiled at his small comrade.

“Aye, could say the same to you,” Ripp nodded toward the summoned monsters. “And your magic and these wonderful creatures were much appreciated, boss. Nothing like having a wizard as your boss, wouldn’t you say, Kyembe? I never thought I could move any faster, but there I was.”

“Your words are true, I might be able to heal faster with this haste magic upon us.”

“Well, you know what? I’m just glad I could count on your particular set of skills,” Alex removed theinvisibility as he flew. “Here’s something that should help you out.” He landed, pressing his hands to their backs, concentrating, channelling Mana to Blood, pouring life force into them.

Ripp’s wounds began closing, Kyembe healed instantly. “I could grow accustomed to this.” The Spirit Killer examined his mended arm.

“Glad to help,” Alex smiled. “Seems no alarms were raised—”

Another explosion sounded in the distance. The palace shook, stone dust rained.

“—unless you count that. So, what do you say we get finished before someone or something spots us. Huddle up everyone.” He glanced down at the water and ice elementals. “We’re going to make ourselves some anti-lava heat ‘armour,’ as I like to call it. Alright, my elemental friends. I want you to jump on us, sit on our shoulders and cover us in cold energy and water mist. Keep the air around us cool and moist, understand?”

The water elementals bubbled.

The ice elementals cracked, settling on the trio’s shoulders and spraying cooling mist and waves of icy power over them. The temperature surrounding them dropped, and despite the terrible heat coming from the lava below, Alex felt like he’d stepped into the coolness of the Crymlyn.

Taking a deep breath, he set his jaw. “Alright, here we go. I’ll make us invisible soon, but first, let's form a line and hold onto whoever’s in front of you. We don’t want to get separated.”

They entered Kaz-Mowang’s trophy room in a chain.

Light blazed from the lava below them, washing everything in a deep orange glow. As Alex put invisibility magic on them and the elementals, they picked their way along the transparent walkways, eyeing the surrounding trophy-platforms, examining their details.

The young wizard watched the floating glass and gold displays, being mindful of dangers while looking out for glyphs or signs of mechanical traps. He noted doorways cut into the walls, revealing a number of entrances into the chamber. Some were big. Some small. Some were partly hidden.

But, they were all quiet, unguarded.

With a sigh of relief, he prayed that things would remain that way.

Abruptly, the palace shook and the clear bridge swayed beneath them. Alex planted his feet, trying to keep his balance. Beside him, Ripp swore, but Kyembe was silent, his grip tightening on Alex’s shoulder.

“Oi, what’s Baelin doing?” Ripp hissed. “He’s going to shake this place apart at this rate.”

“Trust me, if that’s what he wanted, it’d be rubble by now,” Alex said.

“Aye, well, could you spare some flight magic, boss? I’d like to catch myself in case we lose our footing. I don’t think these elemental friends of yours will be much help if we plunge into that lava.”

“Yeah, fair point…wait…Kyembe do you have any experience using flight magic?” Alex asked.

“...some…” Kyembe’s tone was reluctant. “My mentor and teacher of wizardry once cast a form of magic that bore me aloft. But…I have little experience with manoeuvring in such a way.”

“Well, stay close to the ground.” Alex warned him. “And only use it to catch yourself in case things go wrong.”

“An idea I would not argue with.”

With a wave of his staff, Alex cloaked them in flight magic, glancing at the entrance, cursing every delay they had encountered. He felt like something was crawling up his spine, he expected to be caught at any moment.

‘You’re being paranoid,’ he told himself. ‘The demons are too busy with Baelin’s distractions. That’s the point of the distraction. And we—’

His thoughts halted.

There, across the enormous trophy room.

On a platform away from the walkways, a tall glass enclosure hung. Within it, was a plump velvet cushion. And on that cushion? A rectangle of black glass and silver trim that could fit into one of his hands. On the black was the image of a silverapple with glyphs carved into the object’s edges. Below? The Traveller’s lantern lay atop the surface.

A familiar power thrummed from it.

One that calledforhome.

Kyembe had been right, Alex realised.

This wasn’t a theft.

It was a rescue.