5 Picking up the pieces

05.02.2022

The Wizard sat at a table in a room where there was not much else. Just plain, matt walls, a door, the table and the chair he sat on. The stripes of light running along the edge of the ceiling were cold and clinical. Not a single aspect of this room was meant to convey comfort, and it was impressively successful at it.

His hands were locked in glowing, magic-disrupping cuffs. While they were not connected, allowing full range of motion, they would prevent him from theoretically porting away or causing any other form of magical disruption. They made his hands hurt as the active disruption radiated down his wrists and into his fingers. He held them firmly folded under the table, resting on his lap to keep both from twitching and giving away his restless nervousness. His fear too.

His eyes darted up to the wizard that had arrived moments ago and was now standing next to the door, looming over him like a gargoyle. Not saying a word. That hawkish beak of a face just watching him in utter silence. Seemingly waiting for something.

He remembered this wizard well, even though he had only met him once. That first time he hadn’t personally known him. But now those memories were impossible to forget.

And he felt like it was the very reason Yettadeimos, the Mindcrawler, was here now. To unsettle him, to break his resolve, to make him afraid of what would await him should he fail to answer whatever question awaited him now satisfactorily.

The Wizard had no intention to lie, nor any reason to do so, and so the blatant attempt of making him scared (successfully) was downright irritating. He was already stressed enough as it was, with the Hermit’s death, the Stargazer’s disappearance, the worry about the Warrior whose memories had just turned dark and the Kingmaker who now directly went against the Circle’s order – he was sure that would only make things worse. But he didn’t try to stop him, because he would have done the same. Just how it was supposed to be. Because they were the same.

He took a deep breath, meeting Yettadeimos’ cold glowing eyes again. Then, to maybe soothe his own fear, he said,

“I admit, I had hoped to never see you again.“

There was only the slightest shift in Yettadeimos’ face, his eyes just narrowing a little, the head tilting ever so slightly.

“You don’t remember me?” the Wizard concluded hesitatingly. It would be odd, but he couldn’t read the expression any other way.

“No.” Yettadeimos confirmed promptly, seemingly not even having to think about it. It raised a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then Yettadeimos asked, “When?”

The Wizard blinked, taken aback by the genuine sense of ignorance in the giant’s voice. Nevertheless, he answered grimly, “Not even a half-fourth ium ago.”

Yettadeimos nodded ever so slightly, it didn’t seem to jog his memories. “What had you done?”

“Nothing!” The Wizard rose halfway, his hands now on the table, the smooth magic of the disruptiv cuffs clicking against the metal, as he couldn’t believe the passionless and barely interested way Yettadeimos asked about one of the most terrifying memories he had as if he was talking about the weather. “You tried to find Zenozarax.”

“The one you warned about?”

The Wizard frowned puzzled. “You don’t remember him either?”

Yettadeimos just mildly raised his brows, it was the first real change in his face since he had arrived. “I am not the wizard you once met. I am Yettadeimos, but the one you have met is dead. I have no memories of that existence.”

The Wizard frowned, but stayed silent. And then it dawned on him – and at the same time he wondered why he hadn’t considered it before. It was so practical and purpose orientated that it should have been obvious to him. But he had never thought about this wizard objectively. The Mindcrawler was used to unveil plots and schemes against Mezchinhar, to find the chaos within their walls. Searching the minds of those suspected of malicious intent. But once he found it, once his mind connected to that of an actual chaos wizard – the chaos would be in him too. Of course he didn’t remember. They had killed him. Lords only knew how often.

Somehow that realisation made the wizard before him only more unsettling. An ever new blank slate with a purpose and no memories of what came before. And somewhere deep between his own fear and nervousness, he felt a sense of pity for that wizard.

And as Yettadeimos didn’t seem very interested in further conversation, the room fell quiet again.

The Kingmaker appeared through the portal straight to where he sensed the Warrior to be which turned out to be the Warrior’s cabin on the TSS Northforce.

His sudden arrival caused a surprised curse from the Northman who stood next to the bunk.

“Could you stop that,” the Northman growled at him, and the Kingmaker remembered that just moments ago the Warrior himself had startled the Northman just the same way. “Anyways, what’s wrong with him? He just dropped.”

The sudden shift in temperatur made his frozen cloak crack and a mist of ice fell from it with every move, turned to water by the time it hit the ground

The Kingmaker squatted down beside the bunk, gently touching the Warrior’s face as he answered quietly, “Grief, exhaustion, reunification shock – pick one.”

He took the Warrior’s hand and the magic between them tingled, the markings starting to glow as he embraced the Warrior’s exhausted mind, helping him to make sense of the scrambled mess of memories and thoughts. For a moment, the by sheer exhaustion delirious consciousness desperately clung to his, and briefly the Warrior was there, his eyelids fluttered, he wasn’t really looking at anything.

“...he’s gone,” the Warrior whispered quietly as if he had just been reminded of it. A shudder in his breath as he closed his eyes again. The Kingmaker gave his hand a gentle squeeze reminding him that he was there.

“I’m sorry…” The Warrior’s voice trailed off, becoming inaudible.

It’s alright. We’re going to fix this.

Can we?

“What’s he talking about?“

The Kingmaker heard the Northman’s voice and was almost startled by it. For a moment he had downright forgotten him to be there.

He kept the Warrior’s hand in his as his equal slipped back into unconsciousness. Leaving only two of the five parts he was actively present in his mind – and the sheer strain it caused made him nauseous.

“I just lost both the Scholar and the Stargazer,” he said gently, keeping his eyes on the Warrior. It was a tone of voice that was more unfamiliar to him as his mind desperately tried to compensate for the loss of two fifths of himself.

“And which one are you?”

“The Engineer. But not the one you’ve met before, that was the Stargazer...” he heard himself answer absentmindedly as he brushed some of the dirt from the Warriors face, inspecting the burns and scratches the battle had left him with.

“Hm. He’s going to be alright, right?”

“Of course.” Or at least he hoped so, because he needed the Warrior to be alright. There were still things that needed to be done. He needed to fix all this. To make it right again.

The Warrior had fully drifted into unconsciousness, taken by the rest he so desperately needed. But his hand lingered with the Warrior’s for a while longer, till the Northman said,

“What are you grieving about? He said Aeven is here. On this ship, right? And you can get your parts back.“

The Kingmaker stayed silent as he let go of the Warrior’s hand. Then he stood up, meeting the Northman’s eyes. And between the still lingering irritation he felt caused by this now self proclaimed god, the grief over what had happened, the unexpected relief that Aeven would be alright, and the stress he felt scratching in the back of his mind – he felt a clear reluctance to answer the Northman.

He had trusted this man, more than most mortals, and part of him still did. But the frustration of the last minutes – the last five years – the Warrior had experienced, tainted it with a bitter undertone.

Something changed in the Northmans face, a sign of disbelief. “Don’t you tell me you’re heartbroken about Zenozarax?!“

The Kingmaker looked back at the Warrior, and he felt that irritation now, too. But he didn’t answer. Not that that would stop the Northman.

“I blew myself up to stop him and now you regret it?” His tone was less accusatory than his words would suggest, they were, however, filled with utter bewilderment.

“It had to be done,” was all the answer the Kingmaker could manage to say. And it sent an awful twang of guilt through his heart as he remembered the pain in the Stargazers face.

“Wow. I can’t believe it. You of all people who had been hellbend on hunting that wizard down–“

A brief and extremely unexpected flash of irritated defiance flashed up in the Kingmaker’s face, shutting the Northman up before he could finish whatever he had wanted to say. It was an expression the Northman had never seen from him, definitely not directed at him. And the Kingmaker wished he could have stopped himself, so he turned away, trying to find his composure in the stoic calm that seemed so fleeting right now.

His voice was as calm and neutral as it could be when he answered, “I knew him well once.“

A fact he had never disclosed to the Northman. He had never needed to know. And the Northman stayed quiet for a moment, considering the implications of his words and the new context given to him.

“But it’s over now? He is dead?” the Northman asked, his gaze briefly on the Warrior, then the Kingmaker. He might have seen Zenozarax die before his eyes, but yet it was a question he had to ask. Because the Northman knew of the wizards’ nature well enough.

“Maybe,” the Kingmaker answered. And it was still a terrible answer. And maybe aware of that he added “Till Charon I would have said yes. I don’t think he was whole when he was frozen. Otherwise he would have tried to save himself. But after that… – it’s hard to imagine that he wouldn’t have created a contingency plan given the sheer destruction he had planned.“

“And yet you are grieving.“

A heavy moment of silence followed in which the Kingmaker looked at the Warrior. Then he said, “Northman. Zenozarax was once my teacher, but more importantly my friend. Be assured that I know of his death’s inevitability. But also understand that the acceptance of death of one once so dear to my heart does still pain me. Within the matter of minutes I now might have lost a once dear friend, the Scholar and the Stargazer at the cost of an entire planet – my grief is not yours to judge.”

The Northman stayed silent. He was not void of opinion, the Kingmaker clearly saw it in his face, but in a moment of quiet understanding he accepted Ravalor’s pain and the exhaustion he was going through. This wasn’t the time for discussion.

So instead he said, “What now?“

The Kingmaker looked back at him. “There are things we have to take care of,” he said slowly, “Aeven is asleep but he should wake up soon enough. Till then the crew must be briefed. I–” he fell silent, a sense of sorrowful exhaustion showed on his face. “We need the soldiers to keep it together. They lost many of their friends.“

“There should be a funeral service of some sort.” The Northman suggested calmly and the Kingmaker looked at him, nodding slowly.

“I guess there should be.” Then he added, “Would you speak to them?” A brief silence. “Please.”

The Northman just nodded once. He had never declined a favour Ravalor asked of him – and at least this one wouldn’t cost him his life.

The door opened and Grand Wizard Yoctoty stepped in.

The Wizard felt a misplaced wave of relief to see a familiar face. A familiar face that right now looked more than unhappy. He had never met this part of Yoctotyr before, he looked younger than the Custodian of Earth had. The hair was a bit longer, the beard shorter – both more dark silver than white. The frown in his face however was just the same.

“What have you done, Ravalor?” Yoctoty didn’t sit down. He stood before him, keeping a generous and safe distance between them. Yettadeimos was still where he had been standing the entire time, now looking down at both of them. Quiet, impassive and patient.

In stark contrast, there was no patience left in Yoctotyr’s tone. So the Wizard took a deep breath and explained as calmly and factual as he could,

“I noticed an abnormality in the caverns, and found Zenozarax beneath Treva. There was a riftspace and a dimensional portal. He was about to summon an entity to destroy that universe. There was no time left, I tried to warn you, but it was too late. I ordered the Northman to destroy the portal to stop the summon.”

“You knew what damage the destruction of an manipulated rift space with that kind of force would cause.” It wasn’t really a question, nevertheless the Wizard answered,

“I did.” He nodded. “The explosion, however, did not kill Zenozarax. The vortex it caused created a pocket dimension and a time anomaly – when my Warrior followed into the wormhole, he was trapped on the other side for almost five years. With the help of the Northman, the Prince of Treva defeated Zenozarax. He is dead now.”

His words were fantastic even to a wizard, but he saw that Yoctotyr wasn’t doubting them.

“I see.” the Grand Wizard said calmly, the irritation in his eyes however betrayed that impression. It wasn’t like the Wizard didn’t know why that was – after all, Yoctotyr had been on that planet too, either in the Dark Tower or in Obermoor. Grand Wizard Yoctotyr, Custodian of Earth, had lost a part of himself in the explosion of that earth as well. His earth. The one he had been watching over since they first had set foot on it over a half ium ago. Ravalor had taken more than a simple Part of him, he had taken that Part’s purpose too.

“How did you know?“

The Wizard shook his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t know.“

And where Yoctotyr may had believed him before was now doubt in his eyes. Then he asked,

“And yet you told the pathfinder what Zenozarax was about to do. You seemed very certain of it. Did you speak to him?“

The Wizard felt an ice cold fear shot through his body.

“Yes.” He said nevertheless. Every spark of self-preservation screamed at him to lie and to deny – but there was no point in doing so. They already knew enough to suspect. That was why the Mindcrawler was here.

“And he let you go?“

He swallowed hard. In an irrational moment of fear he wished Zenozarax would have actually killed him, leaving him at least a shred of plausible deniability. Almost his voice failed him.

“Yes.“

“Hm.” Yoctotyr looked down at him, and even though Yoctotyr’s frown was perfectly unmoving, downright professional in a sense – the Wizard saw the contempt behind the irritation. But he didn’t ask further.

“Ravalor you are expected to appear in whole before the First Circle momentarily. Have your other Parts arrive here, then you’ll be escorted by Yettadeimos to the chambers.” Yoctotyr didn’t expect him to answer as he was already turning to leave. Undoubtedly he would be present at the hearing.

“I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible right now.“

At his words, Yoctotyr stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at him. The Wizard however only saw the calm rise of Yettadeimos’ brows. He knew he had to comply now – but ... there were still things that had to be done.

“And why is that, Ravalor?“

“One of me is dead. Another has left. The third is unconscious. And there are still things I have to take care of first.” saying it out loud didn’t help making it feel any less surreal. The Wizard felt like he still hadn’t quite understood how things could have gone so badly this quickly.

Yoctotyr looked at him, a grim frown in his face. “If you’re not here when you’re summoned, there will be consequences.“

Just a fact.

He met Yettadeimos’ cold eyes again. A cold shudder crept down his spine and he took a deep breath.

“I know.“

The funeral service was a makeshift affair. The TSS Northforce was a combat ship and a wizard one at that, she offered no dedicated space for ceremonious gatherings, so the crew was assembled in the improvised mess hall.

Nobody had died on the ship and yet the number of soldiers standing before them now was a fraction of those that had left Obermoor mere hours ago.

Pain and grief was far hidden behind the smooth helmets as the Kingmaker spoke the names of those fallen. Their designation and more importantly the names they had chosen. He didn’t need a list for that. He saw who stood before him now and who didn’t. The Warrior had known them all and so did he.

None of them questioned the Kingmaker’s presence even for a moment, they knew he spoke with the Warrior’s voice now. They had been prepared for this.

If there were tears they were silent.

The Northman listened respectfully and quietly. The Kingmaker knew it wasn’t his idea of honouring the dead, but even before the vortex the Northman had been at enough of these quiet affairs to know the drill and what was expected of him.

When the Kingmaker stepped back the Northman took a deep breath before raising his voice just so that all could hear him well.

“For over four years each of you knew this day would come. It was the purpose of your awakening to fight and win this battle, to make sacrifice for a world you never knew any different. You came into a world where chaos reigned supreme and yet you prevailed.” he paused for his words to carry the weight of his tone.

The Kingmaker somberly watched him from the corner of his eyes. No matter his own irritation with the man, he sensed that the Northman had changed. He doubted he had thought long about what he would say after the Kingmaker had given him some cliff notes, but now the words came easy, like an old friend he might have almost forgotten about in the last thousands of years. A familiar role to play. He did not know them – and yet he sounded like he’d always been there with them. He had always been a good actor. And he wondered how much of who the Northman was now was just a role he played.

“You came together as friends. As family. Those that fell today will not be forgotten, their names will stay in our hearts knowing that our victory today would not have been possible without them!

“All of you lost brothers today, friends and loved ones. But even when the grief is strong now, you know it in your hearts that they made this sacrifice willingly. That they would be proud to see you stand here victorious.

“Remember them with pride and love – and–” the Northman smirked, his tone finally losing a bit of its seriousness. “After that, each of you deserves the strongest drink we can find to honour their sacrifice properly. Hopefully it will be better than Teseni’s moonshine.“

It had the desired effect, there were only a few quiet chuckles, still carrying the breathlessness of grief, but his words caused a slight wave of relaxation going through the crew again. That at least explained why the Northman had asked him if they ever had alcohol. The Kingmaker almost felt a sense of relief. If only he didn’t feel this tired. His mind was aching under the burden of trying to compensate for three parts of himself having fallen silent for now. And he couldn’t do it. It was too much.

He remembered the Wizard and the threat looming before him. But the Kingmaker wasn’t afraid. He was neck deep in it now – he couldn’t change that anymore. Least he could do was to leave things halfway in order and try to give the Warrior a chance to make it right.

“Thank you, for what you have done. North!” The Northman ended his little speech.

“North.” Came the mumbled answer from the soldiers and with that the makeshift funeral service was over.

There were no bodies to be either buried or spaced – they had left everything behind in a different universe, left within that burning nuclear wasteland. They had left behind a planet still in chaos, too. But there was nothing he could do about that now, so the Kingmaker tried not to think about it.

The soldier dispersed slightly, a low mumbling between them, while the Northman stepped close to him.

“Thank you.“

“You’re welcome.” The Northman shrugged slightly. “I assume you’re dreadful with these kinds of things.“

“I never had to,” the Kingmaker only admitted quietly, the quietness of the situation clearly having taken hold of his own thoughts. “I never desired to be in charge… of anything frankly. I’m not one to lead people.“

“Maybe. But I’d say you didn’t do too terrible, all things considered.“

“What prais from a god.“

“Oh, you’re still pissed at me.“

The Kingmaker didn’t answer. What seemed like vapid bickering in the current situation didn’t want to fit the mood. So the Northman followed his eyes, looking at the crew.

“Are you going to tell them what happened to Aeven?“

“Not all.” The Kingmaker barely shook his head. “But I trust them. They will follow him.“

“Meaning?“

“I can’t yet predict the state of mind he will awake in. If there have been damages. Most likely he’ll need time for his mind to accept what happened. To heal. Until then, if I can convince the Circle, he will be the captain of this ship. He needs a reason and purpose for being here he can easily accept. And it is what he has been trained for.“

“And you can roll off some of that responsibility of leading people again,” the Northman chuckled. His nonchalant levity didn’t mix well with the lingering regret the Kingmaker felt now more strongly. But of course the Northman would have had to have made peace with what happened a long time ago. For the Northman, earth as he had known it had been gone for thousands of years. Not for four and a half years. Or barely an hour.  

“That too.” He nodded weakly. There was never a captain on these ships, the highest ranking wizard on–board would be the Subcommander, with the possibility of either the Stargeneral or Fleetmaster taking control over the vessel if needed. Captain wasn’t a rank that existed within their fleet, but he didn’t think either the Northman or Aeven knew that.

Then he felt it. He had waited for it. The mighty force of a fleet jumping universes, ripping into this reality, making themselves known to him – a clear and unmistakable threat. He had made sure their own shields were down and momentarily he felt the scanning pulse pierce through the ship. The Northforce herself stayed quiet – he had made sure she would.

“Soldiers!” He raised his voice and the low chatter in the room immediately fell silent, being replaced by an awful tension. “The fleet is here and we will be boarded momentarily. Don’t be alarmed. Stay calm, keep your hands down, and follow their orders.“

“What–” the Northman began to ask but at that moment several bright flashes appeared in the mess hall and dozens of soldiers and a few warriors alike appeared between them, their weapons raised.

His own soldiers twitched back, but everybody adhered to his order. Nobody fell out of line as they were ordered to gather along the walls being closely watched by the warriors.

“No resistance. He’s here.”

The Kingmaker heard the firm voice of a warrior speak as the comotion settled.

Another bright portal appeared before him.

And then there he was, Fleetmaster Nemoneleus himself.

There was something horribly ironic about the fact that after all this time, now was the time he met the Fleetmaster, just when the Warrior was unconscious. But the Kingmaker guessed that might be for the better, as the ice cold stare of the Fleetmaster met his eyes – it might have broken the Warriors heart to see the Fleetmaster looking at him like this. The Kingmaker felt it too.

“Why did you run?“

“I had to be here.“

Nemoneleus looked at him with collected but dangerous gleaming eyes. Ready to judge him as an enemy to Mezchinhar. “You know what you are accused of.“

“I can wager a guess.” He almost bit his tongue and wished he had done so before he had answered because he knew now was a terrible time to make light of the situation. But he was growing so tired, the tension was strangeling and he just… – Nemoneleus continued, not even acknowledging he had said anything in the first place.

“191 wizards’ existences were destroyed on that earth.” The only thing that mattered. Not the billions of humans, animals, life itself that died there. And now with the Stargazer gone, the Kingmaker himself felt the sting of that thought as bad as he knew the Stargazer would. His mind was trying to fill the gap.

“There was no time. I tried to warn them but it was already too late.“

Nemoneleus didn’t look happy.

“Your warrior. He’s here?“

“Yes. I will come with you, but he has to stay.“

For a second there was almost something like grim amusement in Nemoneleus’ face. He wasn’t taken aback by the Kingmaker suddenly raising demands, it was more like a sense of pity for how futile that was. But as most wizards would, he gave him a chance to present him with an argument and information he might not know about.

“Why would I allow that?“

“It is of utmost importance that he stays. He’s unconscious now but when he wakes up he is needed here. He just saved the Prince of Treva, just as the purpose you gave me dictates, but he needs to watch him now. I’ll explain it all to you, but you don’t want to lose the Prince, do you?”

Instead of backing off, the Kingmaker made a small step forward, facing Nemoneleus directly and knowing he spoke less to the Fleetmaster than the First Circle themselves. Even this small step caused weapons to rise in his direction, but the Kingmaker was very aware of the invisible line between them he could not cross. Pushing just right to the edge of where the show of confidence would turn into a threat.

By now he was positively terrified of the possibility his attempt to sway the circle in his favour would fail, but his voice was firm and decisive. He knew not to show uncertainty, not in front of the Fleetmaster. And he also knew what note to strike – no emotional argument would get him anywhere, the only thing that mattered was purpose and duty. Maybe it was good after all that he was the one having this conversation now.

“The Prince of Treva? He who carries the Hammer? He survived?”

The Kingmaker felt an endless wave of relief as Nemoneleus actually took the bait. There had been an equally big chance of just getting stunned and dragged to Mezchinhar.

“Yes. But he’s in a vulnerable state. I had to transfer his mind. I can’t leave him now. It’s my purpose to keep him safe.” There was a brief moment of silence and the Kingmaker knew that Nemoneleus was speaking with the circle at this very moment, confirming his order.

“Very well,” Nemoneleus finally said. “You will come with me. Your warrior can stay, for now. I will assume command over this vessel and the fleet will escord it till this matter is resolved. If you attempt to flee, you will be fired upon. Acknowledge.” He wasn’t asked if he understood what was asked of him now, he was simply commanded to comply.

“Yes, Sir.” the Kingmaker said with a sober nod.

He had done everything he could.

Now the only thing left was to do as he was told.

He looked back at the Northman who had kept quiet. Not for a lack of things to say surely, the wizards’ native tongue did not elude him, but even he knew that they were in the presence of a wizard they didn’t want to irritate. Because he was ultimately a creation of wizard design too.

“Make sure I awake before Aeven,” the Kingmaker said, and after a brief pause he added, “Keep him safe.“

The Northman nodded.

Then the Kingmaker turned back to Nemoneleus who opened a portal. Then he was escorted off the TSS Northforce.

Ready to face the consequences for what he had done.

But he knew, nothing could be worse than the horrible silence of the part that abandoned himself willingly and the still lingering pain and grief that was the last memory of the Stargazer.

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