Mark of the Fool

“Just keep going, I got you!” Alex shouted, pouring his mana into the Champion.

“Hah! Don’t gotta tell me twice! This feels amazing!” Uldar’s Champion laughed, the sound roaring through the moors.

Heavy links that formed a massive chain whirred through the air above Hart’s head, the oak of a man swung the attached ship’s anchor in great arcs, cutting the air with a noise like a trebuchet stone soaring for a fortress wall.

His bare torso dripped sweat and was flushed a deep red, chest muscles flexing, veins prominent against moist skin. His lips curled back, eyes burning with exhilaration.

“Look at this! I feel like something outta some legend!” Floating high above the snow, the Champion shifted his grip on the colossal chain and angle of his swings, training muscle groups cording his trunk.

With every swing, he raised his legs, quadriceps bulging beneath his trousers. A half-dozen thick leather straps were attached to his legs, each connected to iron chains dangling some ten feet below, suspending rocks sizable enough to strain the back of a young giant.

Hart would lift then swing his legs, controlling the stones’ movements. Muscles, joints, and tendons strained with each motion.

Alex sat on Claygon’s shoulder—gripping his aeld-staff and anchoring himself, focusing on Warp Flesh and Mana to Life a safe distance away from the laughing Hero.

“How is it, doc?” Hart spun like a top, anchor and boulders whirling all around him. “You need a break?”

“Do I need a break?” Alex laughed. “You must be out of your mind, I could do this all week!”

‘For the love of the Traveller, take a break you damned maniac!’ Alex actually thought. ‘Your body guzzles lifeforce like a…well…like your mouth guzzles booze! I’ve run Hsieku’s technique through my mana pool so many times, its fibres are literally going to grow arms so they can beat the shit out of both of us!’

“Hah!” Hart laughed. “A whole week? I just might take you up on that.”

With a whoosh, the Champion flipped in the air, swinging the ship’s anchor on a low angle. Iron struck snow, sending a cloud of white drifting through the wintry air.

“We can’t stay that long, Hart!” Drestra shouted, a note of longing obvious in her crackling voices. “...no matter how much we might want to.”

“Hey, never mind that big bastard, don’t pay attention to him, pay attention to this big bastard,” Thundar was staring down at the two Sages of Uldar standing before him. “Hmmm, not bad. Not too bad at all.” He took a look at her feet. “But, your Illusionary double doesn’t look like she’s standing in the snow. That’s the thing with illusions: easiest way to see through them is when they don’t interact right with the environment. It’s something you need to remember when you create them.”

“Oh, damn,” Drestra laughed, her true form looking down at where her duplicate’s legs ended, vanishing where its ankles met unbroken snow.

“Yeah, it’s just something to watch for,” Thundar said. “Oh! And while I remember, keep in mind that your illusion won’t leave tracks in the snow. So that’s something you’ve got to watch out for. It’s all about the details.”

“You’ve really thought this stuff through.” Drestra and her double floated above the snow as she examined it thoroughly. “If I’m flying, though, I won’t be touching the snow, so that wouldn’t give the illusion away, right?”

The minotaur grinned. “Now that’s using that big, Sage-y brain of yours. Next, we’ll go over some enhancement spells…they’ll help you and anyone you fight beside…especially the guy getting stabbed right now.”

A short way off, Isolde was stabbing Cedric in his gut.

“Ah, yes, this is excellent work!” She said enthusiastically, driving her dagger into his stomach again and again. “You learned Greater Force Armour incredibly quickly!”

“Aye, well, s’agood thing too…” the Chosen sounded uncomfortable. “You’re uh…not holdin’ back, are ya?”

“Baelin emphasised the importance of not doing so,” she said, aiming for his neck. Her blade glanced off an invisible barrier of force. “And he was quite correct, I can see that now. Though, I must admit, I was horrified at the idea at first.” She stepped back for leverage, firing a force bolt at his rightthigh. A crack came as the spell splintered against the Chosen’s armour. “Think of it this way: it is far better that you discover that your force armour has weaknesses when I, with my thin arms and dull knife, is attacking you, rather than a bone-charger rushing at your skull.”

“Aye, that ain’t wrong…” he muttered. “Feels wrong, though.”

“Embrace the crazy, Cedric!” Hart roared. “It’s the path to unlimited power!”

‘Well, he’s not wrong, there,’ Alex thought, his eyes scanning the Heroes.

It was a day since the trio had spent hours in an operating room augmenting Hart’s body; the plan to elevate the Heroes’ skills and powers was proceeding better than he’d expected. Both Chosen and Sage had nimble minds and were quick learners—Drestra in particular—they’d grasped the utility spells Baelin had selected for them as fast as, or faster than, any student enrolled at the university.

‘Well, those big mana pools let them practise a lot,’ Alex thought. ‘Should’ve known they’d catch on fast.’ He looked up at the Champion. ‘But Hart’s the one who’s gotten the real boost.’

As Alex watched, marvelling at his transformation, the Champion swung the colossal weights like they were as light as pebbles.

Alex felt a measure of pride.

When he used the process on himself, he’d been building strength for a year—and had a solid foundation—but Hart was altogether a different story. He was a big man, born with great strength, deep stamina and easy agility: a natural athlete. Then, the blessing had come, and he’d been Marked as Champion of Uldar, empowering his body far above human limits. With the Mark and his natural abilities, he could have easily wrestled Grimloch, despite the sharkman cultivating his lifeforce.

Now, less than twenty-fours hours later, he’d transformed, unlocking vast depths of physical power, his strength had nearly tripled…and those gains showed no signs of slowing.

‘He could be at least ten times stronger by the time he plateaus,’ Alex thought, continuing to feed the big man’s lifeforce. “Possibly twenty…maybe more. He’s faster and tougher too. Good. Ravenver-spawn or demons won’t know what hit them. And if the church wants to come against us? Oh boy.’

Alex’s attention turned to his notebook, willing Wizard’s Hands to make a new notation. ‘I should be able to finish my preliminary paper soon, just have to name the process,’ he thought. ‘Roth’s Radical Rebuilding of Muscles has a nice ring to it, maybe I’ll pitch it to Baelin.’

He glanced at the book that Claygon was quietly reading, then at the stack sitting in one of the golem’s palms.

‘All those books remind me; classes will be starting soon,’ he thought. ‘Back to learning more spells, blood magic and alchemy. And I still want to find a spell that lets you see in the dark: no way I’m going back to the Hells without something like that.’

He watched Hart swinging his chains for a time. ‘I‘ve got the bakery to check on, see how the work’s coming; I’ve got Toraka’s golem to finish too…lots to do…and I definitely want that stuff done before I go looking for information about the Traveller.’

He rested an elbow on his dangling legs, chin slowly falling into his palm. ‘On the chance that something happens to me down there, I want the bakery finished and that golem complete: that’ll give Selina and Theresa a place of their own to live, and a nice nest egg to keep them comfortable. Oh, shit, Claygon’s speakerbox. I definitely want that done…’

His eyes fell on Thundar, reflecting on their trip to the Hells. ‘And I need to start thinking about who I’m going to hire to go down there with me. Ripp’s a must: his speed’ll be key for infiltration and information gathering. But…shit, who else?’

Alex considered whether he knew any warriors and spellcasters who’d be willing to cross the plains for a generous payday. None came to mind; none to suit his purposes, anyway. ‘They have to be good in a fight, obviously, but—as the terror-field really showed us—they’ve got to have a strong will and be able to keep their wits about them. Even if I bring the most vicious warriors ever to walk the earth, it won’t help if their minds crumble as soon as some hell-magic gets to them.’

He tapped a finger on his knee. ‘They also have to be trustworthy…which means either I’ve worked with them before, or they come with really good recommendations. Or, they come from a guild or mercenary group that’s highly recommended. Hmmmm, maybe some of Hart’s people?’

Once again, his eyes fell upon the enormous warrior. ‘Maybe…but then again, the Ash Ravens don’t sound like the type to walk into the Hells. If I wanted to kill a wizard? Sure. But literal armies of demons? Probably wouldn’t take the job. Also, getting involved with someone who knows any of the Heroes is probably not the smartest thing a missing Fool should be doing.’

‘Maybe I can ask Baelin: he used to work for kings, hunting assassins…maybe he’d know some good people. Yeah, I’ll ask him about it next time I see him. In the meantime…I wonder when Zonon-In’s going to show up with another demon lieutenant for him to beat the shit out of?’

“Mercenaries, you say?” The ancient wizard stroked his beard-braids as the wind rattled their bronze clasps. “An interesting question.”

“A life-or-death question, to be honest,” Alex said. “Literally.”

The pair of wizards stood on a balcony high up on the Research Castle with the cool night wind blowing lightly through the moors. Layered in fur—atop a warming spell covering his body—Alex found himself a little envious of Baelin’s natural coat of fur.

‘It must be good for dealing with the cold,’ he thought. ‘It’s probably pretty awful during Generasi’s hottest days, though.’

“Indeed, the choosing of mercenaries is a life-and-death matter. Often for the mercenaries and—sometimes—for the wizards hiring them.” The chancellor nodded. “It is a skill that many Proper Wizards must master: minion recruitment.”

“Oh…uh…I wouldn’t really call hired people ‘minions’?,” Alex said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, what would you call them, then?” The ancient wizard raised an eyebrow. “Followers, perhaps? That would imply they are following you due to a cause, or your personality. Cohorts? I’ve heard the term used for the closest of followers—for some reason—but you are not seeking such a thing.”

Baelin chuckled. “Alex, you are literally seeking to hire individuals to help you in a task because strangers are more expendable than friends.”

“Uh…that sounds awful when you put it that way, but…yeah, I guess,” he admitted.

“And they are following your commands because you are paying them. Mercenaries? Yes. Hirelings? Another correct term. Minions? Absolutely. You are hiring minions, like a Proper Wizard would!”

“Okay, okay!’ Alex threw up his hands. “So, how do I hire good minions?”

“Now you are asking the correct question, and let me tell you, that is a dilemma that ancient warlords, powerful archmages, and the wealthy have grappled with for time immemorial. How does one find competent minions? How does one build trust? How do they function as a conqueror’s force.”

“Whoa, Baelin, I’m not trying to build an evil doom army here,” Alex raised a brow.

“Not yet. In any case…you’ll want competent individuals willing to work for payment who will venture into the Hells willingly, and not melt the first time a succubus or incubus looks at them while biting a lower lip. I understand.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where to begin,” Alex frowned. “The monster hunters in Generasi seem good, but…I don’t know many of them. And it’d be better if I could find actual specialists in demon-slaying.”

“Hmmm…what would you be willing to pay?” The archwizard asked.

“Not my soul,” the young wizard didn’t hesitate, making his position crystal clear.

“Oh, bah, that would be boring…” Baelin looked off into the distance. “There is a place where I think you could find what you are looking for: stout-hearted adventurers with iron will, luck and skill. But…it is a place that is difficult for even I to locate reliably. It…moves about, for lack of a better way to say it. Once I do find it, though, the payment will be expensive.”

“Less expensive than putting my life in shitty hands? I’d have to say that being cheap could come with a pretty high cost.” Alex's tone was grim. “I’ll pay what I have to.”

“Very well,” Baelin said. “Give me some time, and I shall take you there.”

“Really? I thought you said it’d be hard for you to locate.”

“It is, but I know someone who tends to keep track of it. He shall find it quickly.” The goat beastman said.

“Who is it?”

“A member of my own cabal; it has been far too long since we last met. Perhaps it is time we meet again.”