3 Charon

17.12.2022

Ser Valeron was an old knight already — especially compared to most of the others, whose youthful energetic ways made him feel older than he was. He had become a Knight of Amuthon at the age of 23 and had been finally stationed on Charon shortly after his 35th birthday. His first marriage had not survived the posting as his time spent on earth had been reduced to 4 weeks of vacation and 4 days of what they colloquially called “shore leave” per month and his then wife had refused to move to Otmar I  - the outpost surrounding the Fortress of Amuthon.

He had been heartbroken, of course, but convinced himself that it probably wouldn’t have worked out anyways. They never had kids and by the time he turned 49 he made peace with the idea that he probably never would have some. His mother had already passed and his father never talked about it with him. His father didn’t talk about much with him anyways. He had no siblings and his only aunt had moved with her husband to the Belgian Isles decades ago.

So, lacking any familiar reason to return to earth he had dedicated himself to his duty, rarely even taking the offered shore leave, only his vacation he still took with pleasure. Every year without fail he went to Fiji, got horribly sunburned in the first week and then spent his days lazing around and reading books. By the end of those four weeks he was always glad to return to Charon and be working again.

The first time that changed was in 1980, he had been 51 then. In that year he met a woman from the colonies named Calisto (A name that had been very popular when the Jovian system had been first settled but had fallen out of style since as she had told him. But it was a beautiful name for a beautiful woman — and he may have said it like that after one too many glasses of wine. Fortunately she had taken it well). They had talked, and laughed, and where first he had chalked it up to no more than a vacation fling, he found his heart heavy as he had to return to Charon.

They had kept in contact and from then on he took his shore leave every time he could and every year they spent his vacation together, on Fiji.

She only ever asked once about his work and when he told her that he couldn’t really talk about it she never brought it up again. He loved that about her. Because she accepted him and his life as it was.

In 1984 they married and finally moved in together, at least on paper as Ser Valeron of course still spent most of the year on Charon. They had entertained the idea of buying a house on Charon, the outpost, Otmar I, offered ample space for all Knights, their families and service personnel, but Callisto preferred to stay on Earth (saying she would miss the sun too much). Unlike his first marriage, this did not cause another divorce because both were fine with the way their relationship worked.

Since Calisto was quite a lot younger than him the topic of children came up more than once and both sides were very enthusiastic about that idea. But unfortunately any attempt they made failed.

On July 13th in 1986 Ser Valeron was murdered by his wife Calisto on their yearly vacation to Fiji. There was no murder weapon nor a body to be found — unless a lost traveler would stumble upon the frozen corpse floating in the oort cloud.

On July the 23th 1986 Ser Valeron returned to Charon, cutting his vacation short.

His colleagues noted that he seemed a little different than usual and he explained that Callisto had broken up with him due to their disagreement about children, as she actually did not want to have any. This was met with a lot of sympathy and words of encouragement and a few months later, when all the divorce papers were finalised and dealt with and the house sold, everything had returned to things being just as they used to be, with the only difference that Ser Valeron kept taking his shore leave, and did so for the next 6 years.

The year was 1992. April.

“God, this makes me nervous,” Ser Altalus said tensely as he kept staring at the screen before him. It showed nothing of interest. They were blind and deaf while knowing the enemy was approaching.

“They can’t see us. They will pass by,” Ser Valeron reminded the young knight.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. This is wrong. We should fight!” Altalus snarled, turning away from the useless screen. “This is obviously just a scouting vanguard. We can take them. Give earth a little more time to prepare while the main fleet is still this far out.”

Ser Valeron nodded thoughtfully. Altalus’ desire to fight didn’t strike him as very genuine, more like an act he played up to be called off by a senior knight such as Valeron himself. And so he played along. “Maybe you’re right. But it is not our decision. Trust the Grandmaster and trust the crown.”

“I do. Of course!” Altalus assured him with a little fear in his voice, he wouldn’t want to imply his loyalty was in question.

“Chances are good you will be fighting sooner than you like. Once the actual fleet arrives, Earth will recall us.” Ser Valeron moved his hand over the consoles, checking some of the internal security sensors. Everything was working as he needed it to work. Then he turned to the communication console. The display showed a large red warning informing them that they were on emission control and no messages could be sent.

“You think so? They’ll have us abandon our post?”

“If earth falls, they will learn of Charon one way or another. You know how goblins are. They would free him.“

In the brightly lit security control room, and away from Altalus’ idle gaze, the slight glow in the tips of Valeron’s fingers was noticed by no one. He was still very careful, because he couldn’t trust Altalus.

“The wizards wouldn’t let that happen,” Altalus said firmly.

“No? Where are they then? Last I heard there is still no single ship of theirs at the King’s side,” Valeron muttered and Altalus didn’t answer.

The panel was just that to humans, a simple view screen, but as most of the equipment in the base it was built by wizards and would allow them access the way wizards were intended to use them.

He turned back to Altalus and the view of countless cameras observing the in and outside of the Fortress of Amuthon. On one of them they could see the sun, just a small dot in the darkness. The moon’s rotation had turned them away from the incoming enemy force and so without any of the orbiting external sensors powered on they could not see them.

Then the communications console lit up and a loud blare went through the room, announcing a critical priority tight beam message from earth. Both knights jumped up and went to the console.

“This is for Grandmaster Borelius directly!” Altalus’ noted as the transfer finished and the message information was displayed. He sat down and Valeron watched him transfering the message directly to the Grandmaster.

“Maybe we get to fight after all,” Valeron muttered.

“Not we. They.” Altalus added, now sounding frustrated. Because if it would come to a fight, they both wouldn’t be fighting it. Their station was right here.

“Settle down,” Ser Valeron said and sat back at the security console. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.“

Reluctantly Ser Altalus’ did as suggested. But his eyes lingered on his wrist tab. Ready to jump up at a moment’s notice should he receive the order to fly anyways against all odds.

*

Zenozarax felt the anger burning within every atom of his being — but where a fire would ravage through its fuel and eventually burn out, this flame feasting on everything sane within him, surely having taken all that was to take already, was undying.

It was like an eternal flame deep within him, and it had lasted for weeks already, ever since he his visit to the Goblin King. And there was nothing metaphysical he could do to stop it. He had to take action and every day he didn’t he felt more and more restless.

He needed to do something about it to make it stop.

Though in the past restless nights, suffering the unbearable separation from his Wizard, he wondered if even that would help.

Once upon a time he wouldn’t have spent a second thought on Charon. Zenozarax had been on its surface a very few times back when he had surveyed the system, almost twelve thousand years ago. But beyond the ash grey frozen surface, tainted partially red by tholins like proudly presenting a bloody wound, there hadn’t been a good reason to pay too much attention to this unassuming satellite of Pluto.

But by the lord’s how much he just wanted to blow that whole moon to atoms. Something unfamiliar deep in the back of his mind whispered, urging him to destroy. The moon, the system, the galaxy, the universe — he would burn all of it to ashes.

But not yet.

Zenozarax knew any blunt attempt of retrieving (or at least to kill) his other Part had failsafes in place to prevent exactly that. That was the point. To lure him out here and try to save his other Part the hard way.

Nevertheless, as the Warrior stared at that dull reddish moon on the viewscreen, it really took all the restraint to smother the urge to just destroy all of it.

The only saving grace was that neither the Twilight, nor her sister ship Dawnbreak were equipped to deal that kind of damage. They were quick, nimble fighters, not destroyers.

The Fortress of Amuthon wasn’t visible, but it was there. And Quadirymir was inside. Had been for a couple of years, coming and going as he pleased. Whoever Quadirymir had been once back in Mezchinhar had undoubtedly been an Envoy. Infiltrating the Fortress of Amuthon couldn’t have been easy, requiring years worth of preparation, and in addition it was extremely dangerous. So close to the other Envoys posing as Knights of Amuthon in their own right.

Once more Zenozarax found himself in the unfortunate place of having to trust that wizard. Once the battle started, and they had that opening they were waiting for, he had no choice but to trust that Quadirymir wasn’t playing a completely different game than him again. The only comfort was that this plan really would be the most convoluted and most inefficient way of killing him Zenozarax could imagine. With all the preparations and work Quadiryymir had put into it, it seemed unlikely that he would betray them - at least in this battle.

Zenozarax knew he should be thankful (to an extent) that Quadirymir was giving him this opportunity. But if anything he was just glad Quadirymir wasn’t on his ship right now. The further away he was the better.

“The Deeproot forces will reach effective firing range in 30 minutes,” Moakatan announced, dutifully monitoring the advance of the fleet. They didn’t know they were here. Neither side did, and they intended to keep it that way.

“Amuthon has not yet lowered the barrier.“

“Hm.” Zenozarax frowned as he kept watching the moon. Arms crossed and back straight. “Do we have confirmation on the order?”

“Not yet,” Moakatan answered.

This was the first critical moment. The Fortress had to lower the dimensional shield surrounding it for them to teleport into it. With enough magic and force these barriers were breachable, but doing so would set off every possible alarm immediately.

And it only needed one. One misstep and his frozen part would vanish from his reach and centuries of preparation would burn up in flames.

“This seems a little bit too easy.” Xaronzul stepped up next to him, for a moment glancing at the view screen as well before his restless gaze jumped to Zenozarax, then to Moakatan who monitored the activities of the Fortress of Amuthon carefully. With how his eyes jumped from person to person it would have been easy to suspect the other chaos wizard to be nervous — Zenozarax though knew it was excitement.

“Easy?” Zenozarax replied dryly. From his point of view nothing about this seemed easy. Or well, safe.

Xaronzul grinned as to concede the point. “All I say is that I wish our reconnaissance info came from someone else.” Xaronzul was lightly bouncing on his heels, frowning at the viewscreen as if his will alone could make the fortress appear before them. “I mean, only one sentinel? There have to be dozens in there.”

“One he knows we can’t avoid.” Zenozarax reminded him. “We’ll stick to the path he suggested till we reach his dark spots. First then we’ll see how much trouble we will face. Even he can’t know how many wizards are really between them. Though by now I don’t think there will be as many left as you think.”

The great danger of their kind. It was ridiculous to imagine that Quadirymir had spent the last years side by side with some of the most order bound wizards, chatting, eating, and training with them day by day. And neither side was able to recognize the other for what they were. Each of them built and trained so well that they blended into this human environment like any normal human. Every magical trace and function was so well hidden and coated with deceptive layers of false information that not even the most advanced scans could reveal them for what they were.

Just proof that Mezchinhar’s paranoia was actually very well founded afterall. That Quadirymir had managed to stay undetected, despite the heightened sense of paranoia surely present in the stationed Envoys, was testament to his skill of deception.

Which in turn only heightened his own sense of paranoia. They waited in silence for a few moments longer until Xaronzul said,

“We could have done this ages ago.” He sounded uncharacteristically frustrated and for once he actually stood still.

“I thought you two agreed?“

Xaronzul scoffed so genuinely outraged that he temporarily drew the attention of everyone in the control room. “We agreed alright. Like god damn Gan and Helva we agreed.” Neither of the two had directly said so, but yes indeed, from all Zenozarax had heard so far it was a wonder that agreement had gone over without anyone ending up dead. “Wouldn’t have needed to happen if he had just done what he was supposed to do!” By now Xaronzul was again restlessly bouncing on his heels.

Zenozarax grunted in approval, unsurprisingly enough hearing it spoken out loud did not make the anger he felt because of it better.  

Their eyes met again, and once more there were things neither of them said but both knew. They couldn’t trust Quadirymir anymore to stick to a plan without going behind their backs based on his own plans. And sooner than later this would become a problem they had to deal with. But that felt distant now. Like a problem not really worthy of his attention. Not now. Maybe never again.

“Don’t fret…” Zenozarax mumbled more to himself as he looked back to that dark moon. “It won’t matter anymore soon.”

“Order confirmation received! We’re in.” In a paradoxical moment, Moakatan’s excited announcement sent a wave of relief through him as well as set the tension in the room to new levels of intensity.

“Fantastic! Let’s go people, you know what to do!” Xaronzul exclaimed with a clap of his hands, seemingly perfectly unaware of the tension and more taken by a sudden wave of hyped excitement. “Things will get hot out here, so stay safe!“

Suddenly the light in the command centre turned red, even before Moakatan announced “The tower’s shields are powering down! The eagles are launching! Shield frequency and security system parameters received, one lifeform present at port location!“

“Can you give us another?!” Zenozarax almost cut her off before she had even finished. Before them out of nowhere the Fortress of Amuthon appeared on the moon’s surface.

“No way, you need to go in 5 seconds or not at all!“

With a quiet nod and a last deep breath Zenozarax looked at Xaronzul, his own hand wrapped tightly around the grip of the knife on his hip.

The masks closed in front of their faces, hiding his own tension as well as the downright manic grin on Xaronzul’s face.

“Now!” Moa announced.

And then with a flashing swirl of light and darkness, both wizards disappeared from the command deck.

*

This was the second critical moment. They had only a detailed plan of the top levels of the tower, the parts where the stationed Knights of Amuthon as well as the wizards among them would spend most of their day. Even after years of infiltration, Quadirymir had never reached the rank to be allowed in the lower levels. And he couldn’t have gone there without blowing his cover. So down there, they’d be going blind.

The Wizard, frozen below, would be on the very bottom of this tower. But they couldn’t teleport directly there. Not only had they no idea about the layout but there was also the certainty that everything below the normal levels would be trapped and cursed to hell and back.

Both Zenozarax and Xaronzul appeared back to back in the communal area of the fortress of Amuthon - Zenozarax sensed Xaronzul move and before he’d even turned around he heard a gasp and a seemingly deafening crack snap through the room.

The one unlucky knight that had happened to be there fell dead to the ground before he even knew what happened. His neck broke with such force it had almost torn his head off.

Even before he had hit the ground, Xaronzul had drawn a knife from his belt and rammed it into the knights chest, the impact on the floor sounded deafening, but not as grizzly as the crack that filled the air as Xaronzul ripped the knight’s chest open from sternum to navel.

It was a mess, but the only way to really be sure they hadn’t just alerted an Envoy to their presence. Fortunately, in the gush of blood and guts there was no trace of magic — and both Xaronzul and Zenozarax relaxed again. At least a little. The dead Knight had his arm in a cast, it seemed an unlucky accident had been the reason he had stayed behind and not been sent out to fly like the rest.

This could have gone terribly wrong, but for now, luck seemed on their side. If this would have been a wizard, everything would have fallen apart right this moment. A deserted room would have been preferable, but when it came to teleporting, it was imperative that the wizard in question knew exactly where they were going.

The chaos teleport was a far more defused shift in the very fabric of reality than the violent snap between spaces that the normal portals were. Quantum states in the dark matter surrounding them switching states and places with chaos from one space to another — it was so subtle in the way it changed reality that it was near impossible to detect by external sensors. It was however even more dangerous than the use of portals. Because one wrong calculation and nothing would stop one from rematerializing halfway into a wall and dying instantly. With portals sometimes guessing was okay. Not so while chaos teleporting.

Even here the shift in natural chaos hadn’t triggered any alarm. For now they would read to any security system as only two more perfectly normal human beings. The moment they were to use any of their magic however, that pretence would go up in flames. The whole tower was probably lined with top of the line magic detection. They both knew that, and so instead of a magical blast the knight had met his fate by good old fashioned physical violence inflicted upon him by a being much stronger and quicker than he had been.

However, they still would appear on the cameras undoubtedly dotted around the room, and currently they presented the picture of two suspiciously dressed strangers that had appeared out of nowhere and a dead Knight of Amuthon.

Zenozarax briefly glanced around, trying to spot the well hidden cameras but found nothing. He knew Quadirymir was aware of where he was right at this moment and hopefully had taken care of the cameras. Just to be on the safe side he signed Xaronzul to hide the body from plain view while he himself went to the door.

Carefully he looked up and down the corridor outside, but to their luck, the fortress seemed deserted with possibly almost all available knights being either battle ready in the upper levels or already sent on the eagles into space. There could only be a few left to guard the way down. But there could be resistance. And some of them would be wizards.

He waved Xaronzul to follow him quickly. The body of the dead knight wasn’t very well hidden, having been halfway shoved under the sofa, but it was hidden from the door. The large stain of blood was harder to hide and in lack of any better option Xaronzul had simply thrown a thin blanket over it that had been on one of the sofas.

“Shield is back up,” Xaronzul whispered. While still disconnected to his own Wizard inside the tower itself, Zenozarax didn’t feel the slight shift in the connection to the outside. But they were now trapped in here — at least until they decided to break cover. “10 minutes till engagement of the fleet.”

Zenozarax nodded.

They ignored the deactivated port doors, one of them undoubtedly would lead them straight down but its activation would be monitored by automated systems outside of Quadirymir’s control. Instead they found the service staircase (which had been left unlocked earlier by one very forgetful Ser Valeron) and made their way down. Their entry was naturally logged and noticed, but Quadirymir would make sure he was the only one seeing it. Ser Valeron had enough time during these last years to make many very small changes that all were crucial now to hide their advance down the tower. Because it allowed them to move freely without being noticed.

The centre staircase was spacious but dusty. It was clear that most inhabitants of the tower had preferred the comfort of the port doors for the last few centuries. The space was maintained, but not more than that. And so unsurprisingly on their quick way down they ran into nobody.

“2 minutes.” Xaronzul said as they reached the very end of the stairs.

“He’s got to be close,” Zenozarax answered, then signed to be quiet.

With feather light steps they left the staircase. They stood in a circular room with five hallways leading away from the centre. The entire level was slowly spinning around its centre axis - just another security measure to make teleporting in even more dangerous. Both of them took careful notice of the speed and spin direction relative to the static stairwell.

Taking a deep breath, Zenozarax eyes lit up briefly and at once the torturing impressions from the Wizard flooded back into his mind. The delirious and agonising memories were still distant and unclear. But he also, finally, sensed a vague draw of his presence. He was close. Then he cut him off again.

He turned towards where he had sensed his Wizard to be and as quiet as possible they continued. Xaronzul gave a low click of his tongue and as Zenozarax glanced at him he saw him point along the walls. And he nodded. Lined into the very fabric of the structure he sensed the magic ready to tear them to atoms the moment they detected any use of their magic.

They reached a corner and stopped, carefully glancing around it. And their carefulness wasn’t misplaced.

In front of a door in the middle of the hallways stood a knight of Amuthon in full armour. Hands resting on the pommel of his sword that stood in front of him.

He was so perfectly unmoving that Zenozarax immediately knew that this wasn’t a human. Of course not. They wouldn’t leave this job to a human.

He leaned back, careful to not touch the wall and make any noise as he met Xaronzul’s eyes.

They had expected this and planned for it. It was a sentinel: His purpose wasn’t primarily to defend whatever was past that door but to act as sentient alarm in case anything did happen. To notify Mezchinhar’s army and trigger the security measurements inside the chamber behind him.

He would be disconnected from his other parts. In case he spotted anything out of order he’d reconnect and another part would immediately call in the disturbance. If he was killed before that, the other part would know immediately that something was wrong and again, raise the alarm.

So in any ordinary situation, they would be fucked right now. As they couldn’t engage him nor kill him, even if they were to dare using their magic and trigger the traps surrounding them.

But there was one little variable neither Mezchinhar or the Knight’s of Amuthon had considered.

Zenozarax grasped the knife on his hip, quietly drawing it. It’s cold spread into his fingers and he felt it’s excitement. He knew that it knew what they were about to do. And it was ready and eager to do so.

For a brief moment he closed his eyes, making sure the layout of the corridor was clear in his mind, every step carefully calculated, the rotation of the level carefully considered. There was no room for mistakes. He had one chance. The third critical moment.

Then he opened his eyes, Xaronzul had stepped a step away from him and then with a flash of diffused dark light he vanished from the very place he had stood and momentarily appeared right behind the faux-knight. For a fraction of a second his heart stopped as he appeared half a metre away from where he had wanted, probably due to the rotation of the level, putting him dangerously close to the wall, but he was just still in reach.

So he gave the Sentinel not a single chance to even react as the very moment he had fully reappeared the knife came down. Maybe for a split second the wizard had realised something was happening, but it was the same moment the Knife Izvi was rammed with such vicious and inhuman force into his back that it pierced even the plated armour. Immediately a pulse shot through the wizard’s body and within the blink of an eye, the faux-knight was under his control.

He was still there. Everything that made this wizard (whose name was Raion, Zenozarax now knew. An Envoy, going by the name Ser Gordon among the knights) was still intact, but he was now part of Zenozarax and completely under his control, by the magic of the knife.

If he wanted to, he could make this part of Raion reconnect with his other two parts and just kill him. But that would defeat the point.

Xaronzul came around the corner while Zenozarax pried the knife out of the armour. Quietly he signed him to stay close to the wall and as still as possible. Xaronzul did however make a quick circle with his hand, pointing out they had to hurry.

Raion grunted slightly as the knife was pulled from his back but stayed quiet beyond that. Just watching both of them silently. Via the com Zenozarax now heard the status of the fleet, about to engage. With Raion’s memories he knew the entire layout of the tower to the millimetre. He knew who was where and why right now. He heard the status of the battle reported to him.

And most importantly - he knew exactly who among the knights was actually a wizard in disguise.

*

Raion appeared straight into the security centre. As expected, immediately a notice flashed at the use of a portal but Ser Altalus was for a moment too startled by the appearance of their friend and colleague to take any action that might have saved him.

“Ser Gordon?!” he had jumped up, not even noticing that Ser Valeron hadn’t reacted surprised at all or even moved from the consoles. Not even noticing the brief flash of a blade. By the time he finished the name of the wizard he had trusted, the last sylaby already was a mere gasp as that cursed blade was driven deep into his abdomen.

“I had a feeling about that one,” Ser Valeron, aka Quadirymir, said unimpressed and opened some panels. “Need your clearance here, Ser Gordon.” Quadirymir leaned back and, after pulling the knife back out of Altalus’ body, he placed his hand on the console confirming all the changes Quadirymir had requested from the system.

Ser Althalus - or well, the wizard he really was - turned towards them and sat back down, seemingly ignoring both of them. An inquiry from the fleet came in to confirm clear skies behind them and Altalus answered them dutifully. Every part of him was continuing their work as they had done before. But in truth he was trapped now within his own mind, bound to Zenozarax’ will. The control the knife had over both of these Wizards was absolute. They didn’t even truly notice that anything was different. There was no struggle, no consciousness fighting against the foreign control - because by the force of the knife and using it as a proxy, these two wizards now acted as parts of Zenozarax, unable to even realise that they were different now or that what they were made to do was not what they actually would do in this situation.

“How many is that?“

“Four parts.” Zenozarax said through the voice of Ser Gordon.

“Shame. You sure we can’t take them all? We really could use the resources. You know, with all the rabble you choose to pick up again.“

“That one—” he nodded to Altalus, “—we can have, the rest need to stay where they are,” Zenozarax said firmly.

“Fine.” Quadirymir turned back to the console. “There. You should be able to cast now. But the moment you open that door, the failsafe will trigger. I can’t disable that from here. So make sure you’re all set up before you do that.“

Ser Gordon nodded.

*

“We’re clear.” Zenozarax announced and he heard the grin in Xaronzul ’s voice as he proclaimed a very excited “Hell yeah!” But the moment he raised his hands he hesitated as if concerned his own enthusiasm was getting the better of him. “You sure?“

“Well Quadirymir said so.” Zenozarax murmured, which earned him an disgruntled “Ech” from Xaronzul, then they turned towards the blasted door. “Give me all you got.“

“My pleasure,” Xaronzul cackled and the gloves and gauntlets of his armour started to light up, amplifying the magic from within him, erratic sparks danced over the dark surface as the imminent space around his hand started to shimmer and twist.

Zenozarax felt the chaos around them increase as it was drawn towards Xaronzul. As if the air was becoming more heavy and too thick to breathe, it was filling up every space between every atom and tingled within his own body.

Xaronzul may lacked the fine skill to weave this power into more cohesive and pointed spells or attacks, but he was an unmatched aggregator. On his own, his powers were crude and aimlessly destructive, but if paired with a wizard able to control this chaos, he was an invaluable asset.

The lights around them started to flicker as the chaos drowned the entire floor and every conduit within. Then it failed all together and the lights turned off. The only light left was the erratic dancing sparks now surrounding Xaronzul’s entire body.

With an unsteady giggle Xaronzul dropped his hand “That should do it!” He said, almost breathless.

“It just might.“

A flash of dark light appeared near them and Quadirymir appeared, the two knights under Zenozarax’ control in tow. “Now it’s all up to you,” Quadirymir said with a lopsided grin while Ser Gordon gave the Warrior the knife back. “Try not to die.“

Zenozarax didn’t bother answering as he sheathed the knife again. Then he raised his hands, took a deep breath himself, focused his mind, focused on the chaos around him. His hands lit up and at once, he pushed them together and expanded them out again and a flash exploded before them. It was a mere second in which that ball of light expanded so rapidly it was easy to miss that it was indeed a small sphere growing rapidly in size before it seemed to have vanished again. But the sphere of chaos was still there, surrounding them and then - stabilising.

The very moment Zenozarax dropped to his knees.

But he was still alive. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, taken by a brief flash of terror as he felt his own self tear apart as the chaos entity expanded around him. Disconnected, yet with the suffering Wizard on his very thought, he was much weaker than he was comfortable with. He realised that this one move, even though it was such a small sphere, had due to the lack of any channelling device almost cost him his life again. He shuddered as he pushed himself up again and wavered in his stance.

Neither Xaronzul nor Quadirymir said anything, nor made any attempts to help him, they just watched him tensely and with mild interest respectively. From the last fractures of communication Zenozarax had received from Ser Gordon he knew the fleet was second away from engaging. Now the channel was dead, cut off from the outside as everything else within the sphere of chaos.

“We have to hurry.” Zenozarax pressed through his teeth. “Open the door.“

The panel was useless and dead now and so Xaronzul fired a erratic flash of dark energy against the door which exploded into atoms before them.

Zenozarax would like to pretend he could have done the same, but in his current state he feared that would be just the thing to send him into the void for good. He had exhausted his strength, now he had to be more careful than ever.

Past the smouldering opening they saw a faint glimmer of half burned out magic that still tried to do what it was intended to do. The breaching of this room had triggered the final failsafe, an automated static portal that should open up below the containment chamber and make it disappear to a safe place.

But the portal couldn’t open anymore. The magic just twitched and gleamed weakly on the matt surface of the floor as they walked in.

Zenozarax felt downright sick as they approached the containment chamber. Not due to tension or nervousness, but because, as he stepped closer, and he finally saw his Wizard, almost frozen to the bone, he was more angry than he could ever remember being.

He didn’t feel what the wizard felt right now and by the lords was he thankful for that, because the memories alone drove him downright insane. A thousand years of this. Trapped within himself and this world of freezing cold. Unable to move, breath or talk. Pain biting into every atom of his being, foreign magic and curse forced through his veins, burning him from the inside, and yet with his mind torn enough for him to be unable to do anything about it. His own magic crippled within him — he couldn’t even end it himself anymore. And how often he had wished he could.

A cold shudder went down the Warriors spine as he realised that if only it would have been possible, on his delirious state of mind the Wizard might have chosen death over this continued existence of torture. And then the Warrior would have never woken up. Not as the wizard he was.

With forceful steps he closed the distance, standing in front of the container, propped up in the middle of the room like a priced exhibit to be watched and ogled.

The defreezing routine wouldn’t work now, everything here was dead, the sparkling pale blue liquid was already losing its stable temperature. And without a second thought the Warrior raised his fist and smashed the glass into pieces. The massive tank shattered, Dynazane gushed over and past him, it was so cold that the water in the air immediately froze, forming a sparkling cloud of ice crystals in the vapour. The Wizard fell, collapsing forward as the Warrior had already hasted up to catching him before he could have fallen.

And for a moment, the world was reduced to only the two of them. Recognizing and finding each other, as the Wizard woke from his dazed existence and realised reality around him again. Held firm and safe by the Warrior who had sunk to his knees without noticing. The Wizard’s body was still freezing cold, his hair soaked, frozen, and sticking to his skin.

The Warrior rarely spoke out loud to him, not like the Wizard would in turn, but right now he did. Gentle words of reassurance and care as he caressed the Wizard’s face. And finally, after what had felt like an eternity, the Wizard’s eyes found his. Their thoughts realigned. Time and space made sense again. And within the growing clarity, anger rose. And the Warrior embraced it, every spark of it as he knew it coursed through the Wizard’s body just the same. Because they were whole again.

“That goddamn cunt…” the Wizard said, his voice was hoarse and weak, and momentarily he coughed again, spitting more of the faint blue liquid from his lungs. “I’m going to kill him.“

There was no disagreement with that. Carefully but firmly he helped the Wizard up, having to steady him just for a moment as his knees seemed to give in. But then he stood. Hair still dripping wet. The faint mist of frost rolling from his body. While his every muscle was tense and still freezing cold, vengeance burned within his soul.

“Let’s postpone that shall we?” Quadirymir said, having stepped up behind them, leaving Ser Gordon and Ser Altalus near the door. Xaronzul eyed him suspiciously but kept quiet, again bouncing on his heels.

“Maybe not—” the Wizard hissed, magic ignited from his hands as he stepped forward - or at least tried to as he was caught momentarily by the Warrior as his legs gave in. While the Warrior already had enough time to process and, to an extent, get over the sense of betrayal, it now was set aflame anew by the clearing memories of the Wizard. Fortunately for everyone involved, while still feeling frozen to the core, the Wizard really was in no condition to fight anyone right at this moment. Nor was the Warrior, still exhausted by having been pushed to the brink of absolute chaos mere moments ago.

“I hate that he’s right and I’m all for viciously trying to kill each other, but, really, let’s get out of here first okay?” Xaronzul suddenly declared, sensing the very palpable hostility and growing increasingly restless.

“You want to keep the old man?” The Warrior said, demonstratively resting his free hand on the knife while keeping his other arm around the Wizard’s waist, stabilising his stance. He was still shaking badly and freezing cold.

“For now, yes. He may still have some use.” Quadirymir said. “Also the math doesn’t add up otherwise. Those two wouldn’t be enough for another part.” Quadirymir nodded to Gordon and Altalus.

“Very well.” He let go of the wizard and took Ser Gordon’s hand. A flash went through his eyes and vanished again. He was now primed with chaos and once they had left he would channel the chaos within the sphere to reach an unstable frequency which would lead to the detonation of the sphere.

“Move out.“

 

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