Mark of the Fool
Chapter 677: The Storm before the Storm

“Speaking of friends,” Thundar said. “What about the Heroes? Do they know what’s happening? I think they’d have something to say about all this.”

“Professor Jules sent Tyris to tell them,” Alex said. “But they haven’t answered her yet. I’m wondering how they’ll react.”

“I can tell you that Cedric will be very unimpressed,” Isolde said.

“Drestra even less impressed,” Thundar said.

“But what will they do?” Alex said. “A message like that’ll be pretty shocking to hear, but, whatever happens, I don’t expect them to start a rebellion against the realm or anything.”

As the words left his lips, a gentle tapping came from the window. Everyone startled, spotting a butterfly-shaped construct on the window ledge.

“It’s one of Professor Jules’ messenger constructs,” he said, as Khalik hurried to the window.

The construct fluttered inside, settling on the table with a note tied to its bronze leg.

Jules’ neat handwriting said:

She said she cannot resolve this on her own.

You and I will meet with the Wizard Council of Generasi in one week from today, at noon.

Alex’s jaw dropped. “Oh, by the Traveller…”

“What is it?” Khalik asked.

“I have to present myself before the entire ruling council of wizards,” he swallowed. “I’m expected to argue my case before them.”

###

The wind whipped Alex Roth’s soggy cloak.

In the distance, lightning struck the Prinean sea, illuminating thestorm. Black clouds roiled overhead as a cold rain lashed him and the crimson wind and rain shield above him.

Despite the chill, the young wizard didn’t seem to mind.

He was soaring through the sky—the city of Generasi far below—weaving through the storm with an Orb of Air covering his head. His eyes were fixed on his destination, his breath was even, his heartbeat steady. He felt like he was riding the storm as he teleported through the elements.

Lightning flashed above the raging ocean as Alex counted the seconds. “Ten…eleven…twelve…”

Thunder rolled, and exploded.

The young wizard vanished.

In one breath, he was hovering above the city, the next, he was over the raging sea. Thunder rumbled on the horizon while Alex peered through the storm, searching for the faint blue glow of Generasi’s lighthouse.

“Hard to know where I am,” he muttered, teleporting to the Barrens of Kravernus with its blistering sun and terrible heat. In the distance, the storm cloud hung—dark and threatening—looming over the city and ocean beyond it.

“I shot past the storm,” Alex said, pleased with the distance he’d travelled. “Let’s see how far I can go this time.”

The young wizard vanished from the Barrens, reappearing beneath the storm clouds, icy rain battering him.

“The good news is, I can teleport through the storm no problem, the bad news is, visibility is low.”

He scanned the sea, knowing roughly where he was from many hours practising there in good weather, but with fierce winds pushing him off course, he couldn’t be precise. Every familiar land or seamark was impossible to find in the storm.

“It’d be easy to get lost in this kind of weather,” he noted. “So, maybe to be on the safe side, if a storm catches me by surprise in the empire, I’ll have to teleport back to a place I’ve already been to since I won’t be able to rely on my sight for navigation. Not that—Oh shit!”

A blinding flash of light split the sky, illuminating the world as lightning struck the sea.

“Yeeeeeah, maybe now’s a good time to start the next test.”

Concentrating, Alex formed an image in his mind: a view of the storm from where he’d been, deep in the Barrens of Kravernus—seventy miles away. He thought of black clouds…

…and blue skies above them.

Fixing the image in his mind, he touched a glyph on his belt buckle.

The heat glyph flickered to life, surrounding him in warmth.

In an instant, he was gone, teleporting above the clouds, jumping over twelve miles.

Inky cloud cover and crashing waves vanished, and in a blink, he was floating in the vast blue sky with the sun and barely visible stars high above him.

Far below, the storm kept raging; black clouds were streaked by bolts of blue-white lightning. Thunder rumbled below…yet, it all seemed so small from his vantage point.

From where he floated, he was so far above the storm, it could no longer touch him. The lofty view made him feel like he had all the power in the world, looking down on it like a god.

“So this is what it’s like to be above it all…or nearly all…” Alex whispered, looking up at the muted stars. “Baelin’s view must be even more spectacular. I wonder how it feels, floating in the gulf between worlds, seeing stars up close while looking down on our planet?”

A twinge of envy hit him.

“I wish I could take his place for a while,” he muttered, watching the tempest below.

Beneath that storm, another one brewed: one crafted for him alone.

In less than twenty-four hours, he would meet with the ruling wizard council of Generasi; the most politically powerful force in the city of wizards. The rulers and commanders of the city.

Each wizard was powerful in their own right, wielding seventh-tier spells and above, but it was the strength of their words that mattered to him, not the strength of their magic. Tomorrow, they would decide his fate. If he argued his case well, he could continue living in Generasi, working with the expedition to destroy the Ravener. The city would serve as his base as he explored the Irtyshenan Empire.

He could continue growing his businesses…

…all would be well, or at least as well as it could be living with the threat of an entitled organisation dedicated to destroying him hanging over his head.

But, if the council decreed that he must be sent back to Thameland?

He’d have to disappear.

There would be no life in Generasi for the foreseeable future, not until the Ravener was destroyed, and perhaps not even then.

Alex had to face the real possibility that his life—as he knew it—would end tomorrow.

“Just like when I got Marked,” he whispered, considering his future. “But maybe I’ll be able to adapt again. I adapted to the Mark, after all…I adapted to mum and dad dying…I adapted to McHarris...”

His jaw clenched and he raised his head to the sky.

“I’m tired of adapting!” he shouted. “Can’t I just keep this? Can’t I just have this? I don’t want to leave Generasi! Don’t I deserve this?”

If the Traveller—or any other deity—was listening, they did not answer.

His face flushed red with frustration. “Well, nice going, Alex; here you are screaming at the sky like some maniac. Ugh. Come on, keep it together. You’ve done everything you can. You can do this. You can make your case.”

He thought about the preparations he’d made: growing his reputation, solidifying his name, making himself indispensable…all in the service of making it hard to just toss him away like a piece of trash.

He considered his meetings with Professor Jules; he and she had spent hours preparing for the meeting, but, how do you truly prepare for the unknown.

“I’ve, uh, never appeared before the wizard council before,” Professor Jules had admitted nervously. “I’ve met some of them…but never in such a formal capacity. I’m not sure how much help I will be, Mr. Roth. But I will try.”

And hopefully, their efforts would be enough.

They had to be.

“Maybe after this, life will stop throwing storms at me,” he said quietly, looking down at the clouds. He wrapped his arms around himself. “At least for a little while.”

He was shivering.

“By the Traveller, it’s bloody cold up here!” His teeth chattered. “Concord’s Guide to the Sky said high altitudes have little air and temperatures well below freezing, but I didn’t think it’d be this cold.”

The biting cold seeped through his wet clothing in spite of the warming glyph. His breath misted in the Orb of Air.

“Maybe I should get back,” he said. “The others are probably worried.”

Theresa, Claygon, and Selina hadn’t wanted him practising teleportation in such bad weather, but he’d argued that a storm was an opportunity he should take advantage of.

“When I’m in the Irtyshenan Empire, there won’t always be good weather,” he’d said. “There’ll be blizzards, ice storms, and Traveller knows what else for me to deal with; apparently whiteouts are common there. I need to test how extreme weather affects me when I teleport; if it’ll throw my aim off, or how it’ll affect my ability to navigate.”

His words, while true, were also an excuse to be alone for a while.

Over the past week, he’d been feeling like his nerves were on the verge of snapping, so he’d just wanted to get away for a while, to be distracted, and the storm was the perfect distraction.

“Alright, down below the clouds one last time,” he said. “Then, I’d better get back home. The lightning seems to have moved off a bit.”

Concentrating, Alex teleported below the clouds.

The roaring sea was now below him, and the raging clouds above.

“No problems teleporting below the clouds either—and I’m already warming up. Well—” He looked around. “—I still can’t see anything, though—”

He went quiet, squinting at the sea.

What is that?

He saw something.

Roughly a thousand feet below—a tiny orange light bobbed on the crashing waves.

Was there a ship burning down there?

Is some sea monster, luring unsuspecting seafarers.

He had to find out.

Alex teleported toward the light, aiming for a space in the sky roughly a hundred feet above it; he materialised, hovering over a ship struggling on the waves, a lantern burned in its crow’s nest. Most of its sails were furled in the high winds—keeping them from tearing from their masts. The only sails still flying were the topsail and headsail, barely keeping the ship from pitching over.

The boat moved through the rough waters at an angle, its crew desperate to keep it upright.

Alex spotted tiny figures staggering across the deck; most gripped ropes, pulleys, and rails to save themselves from being tossed overboard, but some careened across the deck, fighting to tighten loose rigging and tackle.

“Holy shit!” he gasped.

The storm had come on fast, it seemed the crew had gotten caught before they could secure the ship.

He concentrated, poised to teleport and offer help, when a sailor suddenly lost balance, flying through the air as the hull hit a surging wave. The young man’s cry was drowned by raging winds as he tumbled overboard—flailing—into the sea.

“Shit!” Alex teleported above the water, searching for the fallen sailor, blinded by the darkness. Quickly materialising in his lab, he grabbed the aeld staff, an instant later, he was back, raising it high, drawing on its power, conjuring a swarm of forceballs.

With a wave of his hand, he sent the balls of light through the storm, illuminating the sea.

The sailor was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on! Come on!” he shouted, frantically looking around. “He must be underwater! He’s gonna drown!”

Alex called on the power of his staff, drawing on a well of mana to summon a sixth-tier spell.

The air shimmered and a greater water elemental—the same one he’d conjured when he’d broken through to sixth-tier—appeared.

It splashed into the churning waves, raising a translucent tentacle.

“There’s a mortal under the water!” Alex shouted in an elemental tongue of water. “Please find him!”

With a deep gurgle, the elemental dove.

“Oi!” A deep voice suddenly yelled from above. “Who’s that down there?”

Alex looked up, craning his neck at a selechar leaning over the side of the ship—positioned to leap over the railing—gaping at him from above.

“Gel-Dor?” the young wizard shouted at the first-mate of the Red Siren, shocked at finding the crew of the ship that had brought him to Generasi, fighting their way through the Prinean in the middle of a storm.