Mark of the Fool
Chapter 632: The Five Heroes

Alexander Roth looked at the top of Uldar’s Rise while the night deepened, feeling as though he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

There—rising before him—the place he’d sought since he’d turned eighteen and Uldar, the god of his homeland, had left his mark on his life. Two long years; a blink for an ancient like Baelin, but an eternity for a young wizard, especially one in his situation.

Alex had grown in many ways.

He’d certainly changed.

Those around him had grown and changed as well.

Thameland was different.

As was Generasi.

A great many things had turned for the better over the course of this cycle; discovering the wonders dungeon cores could be useful for could revolutionise magic, the Heroes were fighting not only to stop the Ravener and end this cycle, but to end all cycles and destroy the Ravener forever, the Traveller’s legacy was growing, blooming into something beautiful and far more powerful.

Villains had fallen.

But, there’d been high costs to pay as well.

People had died when the Ravener’s hunters had come seeking his life. Wizards had lost their lives in the attack at the Games of Roal. The expedition had bled hard when the petrifier came calling at the Castle in Greymoor.

Carey had lost her faith, as had Theresa, Selina, most of the Heroes, and Alex himself.

And now?

Carey was gone, her life lost because of Uldar’s servants.

Her death didn’t seem quite real yet, after all, her spirit was still there, close enough to touch.

And yet, he couldn’t sit with her over a cup of wine and a pastry at the bakery, or enjoy a delicious meal among a crowd of friends at a fancy restaurant, or even just pat her on the shoulder in acknowledgement of a job well done. He would never see her in school again, or puttering around the halls of the Research Castle. She’d never join another expedition, or have another debate with Merzhin.

Professor Jules’ time with her in the lab had ended.

Her spirit was with them at the moment—through the concentrated divine power of the Traveller and the young woman’s own faith—but that moment would soon pass.

Then?

She’d be gone…

…along with countless other folk who’d died in Thameland in cycle after cycle, while those living in peace in Uldar’s Rise had apparently simply looked on.

How many soldiers had been maimed?

How many families had lost their homes?

How many Fools, their lives? How many other Heroes, theirs?

The numbers were uncounted and even uncountable, and all of that suffering and loss had happened under Uldar’s silent watch.

And now? Now it was time for the god to answer some questions.

“Since I don’t have a living body anymore,” Carey said, the note of sadness in her voice warring with resignation and determination. “Uldar shouldn’t be able to harm me, so, I can go and get us the answers we need.”

“Uldar?” Merzhin looked up, his eyes shining. “You can let us meet Uldar, Carey?”

“What are you people talking about?” Watcher Hill asked.

But Alex was already on his way to the top of the Rise. He doubted even Baelin could stop him now.

Carey’s spirit was floating after him.

“Wait for us!” Theresa cried.

“No way you’re leavin’ us behind,” Cedric added.

“Father…I am ready…” Claygon said.

“I can bring us there,” Carey called out, raising her hands.

Alex felt the Traveller’s power gushing from her like a waterfall, and suddenly, her flickering soul was beside him, the two stood on the ruins of Uldar’s Rise.

A heartbeat later, the others appeared.

“Ah, I won’t be doing that too many more times,” she winced. “It likely cost me some of my time here.”

“Carey!” Merzhin cried, “you cannot—”

“I can and I must, we must act now.” She looked at Alex. “Hannah’s power is our best chance at getting the door open. I already feel her knowledge moving through my soul…it’s astounding quite how much she learned about passing through the barrier between planes! But, enough of that—”

“—you want to join forces, combine your power with mine and give us the best chance, right?” Alex asked, looking at what seemed to be empty air.

Within that space, he could feel the weakness in the barrier between planes.

“We should wait for Baelin to return, this could be beyond us,” Watcher Hill said.

“Normally, I’d say the same thing,” Alex said. “But we don’t know when he’s coming back. In the meantime, we’d have to defend this place; the hidden church is still out there somewhere, and they’ll be looking for ways to take their home back. We don’t know what other weapons they have or what other allies they might have, either.”

That was what he said to the Watcher, and while true, he hadn’t voiced his deeper desires; in truth, he was tired of waiting for answers. He needed them. That need had burned in his chest for much too long. The source with the answers was right here.

He needed to question this absent ‘god’ that had cost, and ruined, countless lives.

And to get those answers, well…damn the consequences.

“But you’re talking about entering the realm of a god!” Watcher Hill looked wild around the eyes. “And…even though Roal did slay a demigod, the fact is, we are not Roal.”

“That’s why I’ll be going through the portal, to find out what lies on the other side,” Carey said. “To be blunt, I am already dead. I can explore his realm safely.”

“Besides,” Hart said, his voice a low growl. “If this useless piece of shit we call a god was going to get off his useless ass, then he would’ve done it by now.”

“Hart!” Merzhin cried. “Your blasphemy—”

“Shut the hell up, Merzhin,” Hart growled. “Listen, it’s taking everything I have not to punch your face in until there’s nothing left but a bloody smear. Uldar’s useless! You’re useless!”

“Hey, hey,” Cedric said. “Merzhin turned things around fer us, right in the end there.”

“Yeah, in the end.” Hart glared daggers at the Saint. “You could’ve broken outta here, Merzhin. Maybe you even came here of your own free will, didn’t you? Now Carey’s dead because of you, and a lot of other people are too, and it’s because of you!Well, you, and Uldar. I mean look at this place—” He gestured to the ruins of the valley. “—don’t you damn well think that—if he really gave a shit about us—he would’ve shown up to help his people out? We’re standing on his front door step, aren’t we? He could’ve walked right through it whenever he liked. But, no he abandoned everybody.”

The Saint muttered something under his breath.

“Merzhin, no,” Carey’s spirit said.

“What’d you say?” Hart demanded, taking a step forward. “Go on, say it again!”

“Leave it, Hart,” the Chosen warned.

“No, I want to hear this,” Drestra’s voice crackled.

“I said that you and Uldar have much in common!” Merzhin screamed, his voice echoing over the valley. “If he is an abandoner, then so are you, how dare you judge him, you self-righteous hypocrite! You abandoned me for months! I know you did not care for me, but was I so evil? Was I so monstrous that you decided to cut me out and bury me in silence! You left me alone! How are you any better than the sin you accuse your god of?”

“Really, Merzhin?” Drestra’s voice crackled with heat. “You put this on him? Don’t blame us. You choose to argue for Uldar even after all you’ve seen? And how were we supposed to tell you anything? Uldar’s church is the enemy! Look at how you’re reacting right now. Can you blame us for not saying anything to you?”

“I…deserved something!” he cried. “I tried to help you all! To help all of Thameland! Even a kind word—”

“You refused to even use my name,” the Sage fired back.

“—and you were always looking for an excuse to try and leave our land’s war to save your own skin…or should I say scales!” Merzhin snapped. “You were a dragon, and you held that back from us? Such power could have saved many lives when we were fighting the Ravener-spawn, you selfish—”

“Hey!” Thundar shouted, stepping beside Drestra.

“Oi! Enough of that!” Cedric said. “Let’s leave it.”

“We don’t have time—” Carey’s spirit started.

“Oh, quiet!” Merzhin suddenly shouted at Cedric. “Look at you, the grand Chosen of Uldar, always trying to sew peace between us while keeping your own secrets and choosing your own sides.”

Cedric’s face turned red.

“I hardly think that’s fair,” Isolde started.

“I don’t even know who you are!” Merzhin shrieked, turning to Alex. “Perhaps you are with the Fool, who has been hiding for Uldar knows—”

Alex held up one hand. “No,” his voice was as still as death, the Mark guiding it to a tone that clearly left no room for questions. “All of you, stop it. Now! Ya, we’ve got a lot to talk about. We’ve got anger. We’ve got questions. We’ve got tears. But we also have to leave all of that for later; right now, we only have Carey with us for a little while, and she—who just gave us our damn lives—wants to help us get answers from Uldar himself. Let’s not waste her gift. Alright?”

The Heroes flinched at his words.

Merzhin looked as though he would say something else, but a glance at Carey finally sealed his lips.

“Well said, Alex,” Carey floated forward. “Now let’s hurry, we have a door to open.”

“We do,” Alex said. “Let’s get some damn answers.”

Together, the two wizards channelled the Traveller’s power and reached out, Carey London’s spirit and Alexander Roth, touched Hannah Kim’s power.

A warmth filled Alex’s chest as her energies flared inside.

“Yes…at last…” he heard her voice whisper. “Three hundred years after my death…we have finally found you, Uldar.”

He felt the Traveller’s energy pour from Carey’s soul, uniting with his own.

Together, they imagined Uldar, thinking of statues carved in his likeness.

They felt the weakness in the barrier between worlds.

And reached forward with Hannah’s strength.

There was a muffled crack, like glass breaking beneath water.

Then came a louder sound like something crunching.

Cracks spiralled through empty air, ablaze with white light.

Alex roared.

Carey screamed.

The Traveller’s power flowed.

And—with a sound like a mountain breaking—the door burst open.

A portal appeared in space, expanding like the maw of a gaping beast. Holy light spilled into the night. A choir’s song filled the air, composed of celestial voices. When the door had fully opened, the group was standing before a staircase of white stone, wide enough for even Drestra, in her true form, to pass through many times over.

The walls were as white as snow.

The floors, the same.

Orbs of sacred light—hovering below the towering ceiling—shed holy radiance.

Uldar’s sanctum spread before them.

There for them to enter.

“We…we did it…” Carey said, her voice faint. Her form flickered. “I’ll hurry through—”

Suddenly, there came a surge of mana.

“Hello, children,” an ancient voice spoke. Deep. As powerful as the bones of the world, yet softer than any cloud. “Welcome to the sanctum. Come forth, and receive my guidance.”

“Uldar!” Merzhin screamed. “I hear him, I hear his voice!”

With a wail, the Saint charged through the portal and up the stairs.

“Bloody hell, y’fool, come back!” Cedric cried, racing after him.

“Feeding frenzy! Never ate a god before!” Grimloch grinned, charging up the steps. “You owe me some blood!”

“What are you all doing?” Khalik cried.

There was a clang as Claygon’s iron foot stepped onto Uldar’s stone steps. “I…will protect them…father…”

The golem charged up the stairs after the others, taking three at a time.

“Aw, hells.” Alex took a deep breath.

He wanted answers.

He needed them.

Before he could rethink it, he was charging up the stairs after Claygon.

“I’ll watch your back,” Theresa yelled, swords in hand. “Be ready to teleport us out of there if things go wrong!”

Brutus barked beside her, bounding up the stone steps.

There came a thunderous footfall on the stairs behind them. Drestra had returned to her true form, and Khalik, Isolde, Hogarth, Svenia, Cedric, and Thundar were on her back.

The dragon shot up the steps, wings pressed to her sides, gliding toward Uldar. Najyah soared above her.

Behind them, Hart and Tyris—mounted on Vesuvius—the battlemage had enchanted him with a flight spell—floated after them.

“Protect the students, Watchers! For Roal!” Watcher Hill shouted.

The guards of Generasi followed.

Left alone, Carey looked around the empty space, then up the stairs in shock.

“Blast it!” her soul cried. “I did not die for this!”

She flew after them.

“Uldar, I am coming!” Merzhin called to his god from ahead, racing up the stairs in front of Cedric.

The Chosen followed closely, not even pretending to be trying to catch him anymore.

As one, the group moved deeper into Uldar’s sanctum, desperate for answers.

The staircase spiralled endlessly, unadorned except for the occasional statue of Uldar, or his imposing angelic servants. As they made their way through the sanctum, the celestial song grew louder.

“I can feel your power, Uldar!” Merzhin sounded like he was near tears.

“Is he attacking?” Theresa shouted cautiously.

“No, s’just what he means. This place is full o’divine power,” Cedric marvelled. “Makes that First Apostle feel like a bloody ant. I think m’knees are gonna buckle.”

“It is the fulcrum of all of our faith!” Merzhin shouted. “It’s so beautiful, it all comes from here! Look at the walls, the glory of Uldar is laid bare!”

Alex glanced to the side, startling.

Though stark white, the walls had been carved with murals on either side of the stairs. Each one was a scene of a group of Heroes battling the Ravener; every generation’s Heroes were chiselled in stone by a loving hand.

They were the perfect artistic record, stretching back for cycles; Chosens, Fools, Saints, Sages and Champions, facing armies of Ravener-spawn over different battlefields across time.

Each Hero was different. Sometimes the Champion was a gallant knight. Other times, a hulking barbarian. Sometimes the Fool was a jester or a sailor, other times a merchant.

But—across different murals—all five Heroes were shown battling together, beneath each of their images was a carved inscription, stating which Hero they were and their given name.

Alex cursed himself; if these were in chronological order, then he’d already gone past the Traveller’s image, it must’ve been in a lower mural, closer to the bottom of the stairs.

“How many cycles…” Merzhin said in wonder. “How many….cyc…what is this?”

The Saint came to a dead stop.

Cedric nearly tripped over him. “Oi, watch it! What’s wrong wit’ch ya?”

“This…this cannot be right…” Merzhin slowly approached a mural on the left side.

Everyone stopped, some catching their breath.

“What’s wrong?” Carey’s spirit soared to Merzhin’s side.

Alex slowly followed.

“This mural is odd,” the Saint said. “I see the Saint, Chosen, Champion and Sage…but there is no Fool.”

“Did ‘e die that cycle, maybe?” Cedric asked.

“No, you don’t understand. There’s another Mark here,” Merzhin sounded confused. “There’s no Fool, but there is a fifth Hero, and they bear a strange Mark, one I’ve never seen before…”

Alex’s heart skipped a beat.

“The inscription below them says…” Merzhin peered at the words. “What in Uldar’s name is the Mark of the General?”

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