Mark of the Fool
Chapter 604: The Second Trump Card

Alex Roth had come to the Games of Roal with two trump cards up his sleeve, each born from realising that for him to understand the Traveller’s power, he’d had to recognise that destination point, and origin point, were key.

Knowing those two things, he’d been able to make Hannah’s energy flare inside him, letting him control it as naturally as he could his own mana. The first time, he was shocked to find himself teleported ten feet across a hill in Greymoor. The second time, he’d gone eleven feet.

He’d immersed himself in the days and weeks leading up to the Games, exploring the new ability he’d finally grasped, learning how to manipulate and tie it to spellcasting.

Every bit of effort had paid off when he’d gained what felt like a wondrous pair of gifts.

The first one was revealed during his fight with Ram; he’d discovered he no longer needed to touch someone to use Planar Doorway on them. All he had to do was focus on where they were as the origin point, and where he wanted them to be as the destination point, to teleportthem without ever laying a hand on them.

He’d practised for days after he’d first discovered what he could do, transporting objects across his room, repeating the process over and over again, but never touching a single object.

Practising had borne fruit against Harsha Ram and Prime in the arena…but it was the second thing that he’d gained that had been the most exciting, something he and his teammates had taken great pains to hide from everyone else around them…until the time was right.

Which was, right now.

Reaching deep within himself, he’d found he was able to touch the Traveller’s power.

He could teleport without spell or alchemy.

And no one had seen that coming.

Not even Hanuman.

“What’s going on?” the life enforcement practitioner cried, as he and Alex appeared inches beside Vesuvius’ beak.

“Boo!” Alex shouted.

The massive familiar startled, swinging his head to the side, still spewing lava.

“No!” Tyris cried.

“Too late,” Alex said, as he vanished, taking his staff from Hanuman.

The life enforcement practitioner—now at a complete loss as to what was happening, stared in confusion and—was suddenly drenched in Vesuvius’ lava.

“What’s going on?” Tyris cried, looking around. “He’s not casting spe—”

Alex appeared in front of her.

“Argh!” she cried.

“Argh?” He took her by the hand. “As far as last words go, ‘Argh’ is pretty shit.”

They vanished together, with Alex laughing madly as he and the cursing battlemage hurtled through the space between planes.

They materialised on the ground.

Directly in front of Grimloch, whose maul was raised. His lips pulled back in a predatory grin.

“Last chance to pick something else as a last word,” Alex said lightly.

Tyris stared up at the sharkman. “Shit.”

The word was punctuated by a terrible crash, and the lava mage vanished beneath the sharkman’s maul.

“Well, it’s not creative, but at least it’s a classic.” He smiled at the gaping Ursa-Lupine Brothers. “I knew that was a trap, by the way: didn’t know the details, but I know bait when I see it. Anyway, I’ll be right back.”

He reached inside himself, focusing on both where he’d left his other teammates, and where he was, floating a few inches above the grass.

Hannah’s power sang within him.

And he vanished.

An instant later, he was beside Theresa, Thundar and Brutus. “Trump card’s out in the open, but Tyris and Hanuman are gone. Who’s up for some exercise?”

“Oh, me, me!” Thundar shouted, his grin wide and his eyes shining. “Never had such an easy battle, I could get used to this!”

“Hah! I hear you!” Alex said, still high on pulling out his trump card.

He grinned at Theresa. “Honey, want to go fight a lava turtle?”

She gave him the smile of a predator. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Brutus barked.

“Well, then, off we go! All aboard the Good Ship Roth!” Alex laughed.

Theresa, Thundar and Brutus touched him and—together they vanished.

Half a heartbeat later, he appeared in the grass, then his friends materialised around him.

All remaining Ursa-Lupines and Hydras gaped.

“Don’t know why you all look so shocked, I told you I’d be back,” he said lightly.

“Brutus?” Theresa glared at the allied wizards.

His six ears perked up.

“Walkies, fetchies, and bities!”

The cerberus let out a happy bark as he, Grimloch and Thundar charged their retreating opponents.

“Alright, brace up, honey,” Alex said, touching Theresa’s shoulder.

They vanished once more, appearing just above Vesuvius’ head. The familiar who was looking around for his master, froze when a pair of leather boots landed on his head.

“Hi Vesuvius, it’s nice to see you,” Theresa said, her deathstalker face on.

The beast let out a groan.

“Say hi to your mommy!” Alex saluted him, before teleporting back to the rest of his team.

The traveller’s power still blazed in him; and as he called upon it, he could feel some of its energy lessening. But he had more than enough for what he wanted to do.

He reappeared in front of Khalik, Isolde, Najyah, Hogarth and Svenia. “We’re winning!”

“As expected,” Isolde said, lightning crackling around her fingers. “Shall we clean up, Khalik?”

“Like we were sweeping the floor clean of debris,” the prince grinned.

With a gleeful laugh, Alex hugged his friends, teleporting them into the fray.

The ambush was a disaster.

Cursing to himself, an invisible Wolud Ranier flew between the trees as fast as he possibly could, eyes on the battle unfolding through one of his Wizard’s Eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit!” was all the distraught mage could say.

The field burned, sweeping up wizards and mercenaries. That golem was blasting everyone and their summoned monsters to oblivion. Isolde von Anmut, her bodyguards–whose names he didn’t care to know—Thundar, son of Gulbiff, and Khalik Behr-Medr and his familiar were raining destruction down from all directions.

Brutus the Cerberus had joined that sharkman, Grimloch, and the two of them were tearing through panicking allies who were desperately trying to escape.

Above, Theresa was floating down from the sky, her blades shining in both hands. There was no sign of Vesuvius anywhere.

Meanwhile, Alex Roth was teleporting around the battlefield as easily as he might casually walk across a room. The hulking wizard was making him dizzy, vanishing in one heartbeat, and appearing beside one of his allies in another, then teleporting them into the path of one of his friends.

When elemental beetles landed on invisible competitors, Roth would teleport beside them, grab them and transport them to who knows where. But, wherever that was, they definitely weren’t coming back.

“Never seen anything like it,” Wolud muttered. “Never seen anyone teleport so fast. And that’s without even casting spells! How in blazes is he doing it?” Wolud Ranier took a breath. “Okay, stop panicking. You’ve got to get out of here. Got to find somewhere to hide and survive.”

His plan was simple.

By now, Wolud knew very well that there was no way he was going be winning first place. His team had been all but annihilated, and—if there was anyone left besides him—they’d be scattered to the four winds.

There was no way he was going to beat an entire team by himself, let alone succeed at challenging Roth’s group to take first place.

‘No, this is the perfect time to find a place to hold up, wait for the storm that’s Roth’s team to pass, and then slip out. Cloaked in invisibility magic, I can use my illusions to hunt down individual members of other teams.’

He could capture their flags and get points from all over the island.

If he moved carefully, he could squeeze out a third place win.

Maybe even second.

“Ugh, if only I could use fifth-tier spells,” he grumbled. “Oh well, no sense in crying over that. Just need to hide for a bit, and then—”

“Hide from who? Little old me, perhaps?” a female voice came from behind him.

Wolud whirled, hand raised and mouth open, ready to cast a spell.

His eyes darted around, scanning the trees for any sign of a pursuer. But, he could find no one.

“Try up here,” the voice called again.

His eyes slowly rose, locking onto a celestial fox sitting on a tree branch, her three tails slowly wagging back and forth. “Hello, I can smell you, you know.”

“Shi—” Wolud began casting.

The celestial fox raised her head, letting out a horrific, vulpine shriek that echoed through the trees. Her snout pointed downward, straight at the invisible illusionist, eyes burrowing into him.

Her screams continued echoing through the wilderness.

Hairs on the back of Wolud’s neck stood up.

He desperately tried finishing his spell.

A hand fell on his shoulder.

Fingers clenched with a grip of steel.

“Where ya going, Wolud?” Alex Roth asked him, his voice dripping with malice.

Ranier finished his spell, casting Planar Doorway. He vanished through the planes, images of different worlds blurring by him, until he reappeared in a meadow about eight hundred feet to the south.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Alex said, his hand falling on Wolud’s shoulder again.

“What th—” Ranier cried, as he was dragged back into the space between planes.

Disoriented, he hurtled along like a ball through a narrow tunnel, and when he reappeared in a burning field, his equilibrium was completely off, leaving him struggling to stop his head from spinning. He felt sick.

“Present for you, Thundar.” Alex took his hand off Wolud’s shoulder.

His world turning, Ranier slowly looked up, finding a towering, grinning minotaur beside him, his mace raised high, ready to fall on his head.

“Oh, this is bullshi—” he protested, as Thundar’s weapon came crashing down.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in a circle on a beach, being swarmed by medical staff. His eyes were darting back and forth like he was in REM sleep.

“You too, huh?” Tyris called from nearby, sitting atop Vesvuius’ shell.

“Yeah…” Wolud grunted. “Yeah…”

Right then and there, he vowed to never enter the Grand Battle again if Roth and his team of monsters were in it.

“Oh, the inhumanity!” the announcer screamed. “The mortality! The devastation! The anti-Golem-team alliance is destroyed! The remaining team members are being hunted down one by one like muupkaras in the Barrenswhen the bone drinkers are hungry! The crowd is loooooving iiiit!”

His cry rose over the stadium, echoing through the stands as the audience roared.

“Goodness, this is loud.” Carey winced. “Is it always like this?”

“Not always!” Owen—another member of the expedition team—cried. “People rightfully have a lot of energy this year, considering what happened last year!”

“Right!” Carey shouted, her voice barely audible above the crowd’s screams.

On the illusionary screens, Alex and his friends were tearing through the island with the efficiency of an iron golem grinding up beast-goblins.

He teleported around the battlefield, scouting alongside Najyah while directing his team. The last members left of the alliance that had formed to stop them had been hunted down, and now his team was eliminating every other team they came across.

By now, the flags floating behind them looked like a small armada as they moved through the competition with efficiency.

Carey let out a self-conscious snort.

‘Here I am thinking that I’ve become something of a fighter for Thameland,’ she thought. ‘But my friends and colleagues are what real fighters look like. Well, at least I can still handle myself in the field, and that’s what matters most.’

Gently, she reached for a pendant hidden beneath the neckline of the colourful, floral dress she was wearing.

‘And this is rather marvellous, I must say. I get to see my friends achieve a victory they clearly deserve. Yes, Cary, just enjoy yourself. It's not time to be self-critical, let your mind leave your troubles behind for the day.’

Having the Grand Battle as a distraction was a welcome thing for her. Lately, her trips to Thameland had become…complicated.

It was becoming harder and harder to hide her rejection of having any faith in Uldar, as well as her growing interest in another deity. Yet, she wasn’t ready to reveal any of that to Merzhin.

Not yet.

Not until she came to grips with where she truly stood, which deity she would worship, or if she would even worship any at all.

Unfortunately, hiding all this from him had left her dreadfully anxious, perhaps even a little paranoid.

Lately, when she went out on an expedition, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her.

“Najyah reports no other teams near us,” Khalik said, his smile broad and his arms folded across his chest.

He pointed to the mountaintop. “Why not take the peak now? We can wait there for anyone who wants to come after us.”

“Why bother?” Thundar said. “We’ve basically won already.”

“Don’t say that, you’re just asking for someone to come out of nowhere and wipe us out,” Alex said, looking up at the mountain.

“Do not be superstitious, Alex.” Isolde smiled. “We have destroyed our greatest competition, while suffering no losses. In the end, victory is ours. And you ask why bother, Thundar? Because, we have won, effectively. Last year we were defeated on the foothills of this mountain. Would it not be poetic to finish the Battle on the summit?”

“I like that idea,” Theresa said.

“I…agree…” Claygon said.

“Alright,” Alex said. “Let’s get up there.”

Together, the team made their way toward the peak of Oreca’s Fall Island and took their place at the top. Still alert, they set up watches and a perimeter, and camped out on the peak of the mountain.

At that’s where they waited, looking down at small skirmishes between the remaining teams. The competition fought each other fiercely, determined to capture as many points as they could for the coveted second and third place spots…but no one tried to scale the mountain.

When the bellsounded, announcing the end of The Grand Battle, Alex's team celebrated, hugging each other after having spent the rest of their time on the mountain peak, unassailed, and unchallenged.

“You were right, Isolde,” Alex finally agreed. “This was poetic.”

Everyone almost looked a little teary-eyed.

“And look at us, we did it, we’ll be taking first place in the Grand Battle of the Games of Roal.”

“Congratulations to us!”