10 Zenozarax IV (Wizard)

17.02.2024

For most Chaos Wizards, the concept of spreading their Parts out as much as possible, to not have two of them at the same place, was even more vitally important than it was for the ones still linked to Mezchinhar.

But it was also, with every part, an increased risk of being found. So even between those trusted, it wasn’t unlikely to not freely share the amount of parts one possessed or worse their location.

By the fact of how Xaronzul had joined them, Zenozarax who had effectively become his soulturner was aware that he had three parts. The third, the Engineer, only appeared on the Edge of the Universe when both the Twilight and Dawnbreak were far away. Where he went when they were at dock, not even Zenozarax knew (even though he assumed him to be with the colony fleet). Not because Xaronzul didn’t trust him, but because it was safest this way should Mezchinhar ever get a hold of any of them.

Moakatar and Sukatar kept the existence of any other Parts even closer to their heart, with only ever having revealed two of them. Xaronzul’s theory, after careful deduction, was that their third Parts were living somewhere in an idyllic beach house sipping cocktails all day — which neither of the two had ever denied or confirmed. But if that was the case, good for them.

Quadirymir was hard to keep track of, Zenozarax assumed there to be at least three parts, if not four, but only one of those had kept a consistent face during the last millennia, and in due time even that one would change he was sure.

Zenozarax himself was the odd one out in that regard - with his history being well known and the fact of what happened on Charon, everyone was very much aware that at least until Charon, he really only had two Parts.

Which was something especially the young wizards that had chosen to follow him found puzzling.

Yes, having three parts would mean some further redundancy, that was true. Zenozarax wouldn’t deny that. Being only of two meant he was in mortal danger the very moment one part of him died. A state of being which was arguably quite the norm for most living beings in the multiverse, and while he had gotten used to it, the idea of truly dying frightened him now more than ever before.

But building a third part would cost them more resources than they had, take a considerable amount of time outside of Mezchinhar, and also, and frankly that was the most weighted argument against it; he didn’t really want a third part.

He had been alive for almost a billion years, and by now, this, his two Parts, were so firmly established into the idea of who he was, that the idea of so drastically changing himself seemed weird. He was of two — he couldn’t even properly conceive of three.

Maybe he was old fashioned like that.

Back in the day, three parts was usually all the parts a wizard would think they needed, and keeping it at two was just as common especially for wizards that usually stayed in Mezchinhar with only their Warrior travelling the multiverse at the Orders command.

He had passingly taken notice over time how three became the new two, four parts being not that uncommon and sometimes even five.

Ravalor was of five now. Even imagining it seemed outlandish to him. But then again. There was the Stargazer — and he was unstable, too unstable as that he was of use to Mezchinhar. And then there was the Scholar. Zenozarax now painfully understood that he was the very reason for the horrible state his most trusted friend was in. He had done this to him, driven him to this point.

His heart got heavy at the memory and the reminder that Ravalor had been there, in the tunnels, still after over two thousand years. So in reality Ravalor only had ever had the true range of motion with three of his five parts. Making that two when not counting the Warrior for Zenozarax knew too well that one had no real agency over their fate. That made it seem more reasonable.

Either way, right now he had only one Part of Ravalor on the Edge of the Universe. And that one was not okay. Not even physical which worried him on top of everything else.

Ravalor was still limping despite his best efforts to clear out the debris in his leg. Not unexpected, but unfortunate. It would be a hard sell to convince the others to offer up enough izthra to rebuild that leg properly for a wizard whose alignment was vague and unclear at best at this moment. If he were to return to Mezchinhar, which he’d need to do at some point (it was inevitable) then he’d be fixed up for free. So doing it now with their sparse resources would be a waste.

Xaronzul probably wouldn’t complain, the others would be harder to convince. And they would be right to object. It didn’t make sense logically — but subjectively he just wanted to…

What exactly? Make a symbolic effort to “fix” Ravalor? Was he really that arrogant to think that that would make much of a difference? Or was it just his emotion driven heart again, wanting this wizard to be okay?

“I like that look on you.“

Zenozarax’ face relaxed as he looked up. “What look is that?“

“The dark, brooding one,” Quadirymir said light heartedly as he strolled into the workshop.

“I’ll make sure to be all smiles and rainbows then.“

“How can one wizard be so petty?” Quadiryimir sat down a little too close to him as to be accidental. “Honestly though, I’m worried about you.”

Zenozarax almost laughed. Quadirymir sounded absolutely genuine, of course he did, he was a god damn Envoy, but what he said was so outlandish that it wouldn’t pass as true even if one were to give him the benefit of the doubt.

It actually amused him. “Are you now? I didn’t take you for someone too worried about anyone else but yourself.”

“Which makes us rather similar I’d say, but it’s true,” Quadiryimir noted as he leaned forward a little, not wavering once in this tone. “Listen, in all honesty—”

He really needed to stop saying these things. They only worked on people who weren’t aware who he was. It had worked on him once too, until he had realised that Quadirymir had never spoken a honest word in his life. And Quadirymir knew that Zenozarax knew that and yet they kept up this exhausting charade.

And so Zenozarax found himself listening, looking for what ulterior motive had driven Quadirymir down here today.

“I am worried because you don’t seem very stable as of late. I know a lot of things didn’t go as you planned, and part of that is my fault I will not deny that. This weighs on you, naturally. Your big dream has passed you by, and you blame me for that. And I’m sorry for that. You won’t believe me, but I am.”

“You are sorry that I blame you?”

Quadirymir smiled. “I’m not sorry that I made a decision that was in all our best interest.”

“Right.”

“But that is besides the point.” Quadirymir rose back up. “First you’re indeed all smiles and rainbows. Now you’re suddenly all distant and brooding again for no reason. And I hate to see you like this too.” Zenozarax knew that was a lie. Usually the worse he felt the more questionably enamoured Quadirymir got with him. “You have your ships back but you rarely bring them here anymore bare some repairs. I thought you were ready to move on, but now you’re just bunked up in this lab day in and day out. Scavenging and scraping together this humble existence. That’s not you. Live a little. Do something.“

“And what would that be?” Zenozarax finally laid down his tools.

“Oh, no, you got me pegged all wrong here. I don’t want you to do anything in particular right now. At least, I don’t have any devious hidden plans for you. The suspicion is dripping right from your face so I know that’s what you’re thinking. But no! I’m just speaking as a friend. Go buy yourself a fancy new robe or one of those tooth achingly sweet treats from that one place you liked so much. I mean, just something, I don’t care.“

Their eyes met for a long while, the bullshit was so thick one could almost cut it with a knife. And they both were aware of it.

But before any of them could say something more, a heavy tremor shocked the Dark Citadel and not a second later alarms blared. It was the first time Zenozarax heard them on this station.

Both of them were up to their feet immediately, the emergency screens that lit up all over the room reported within a fraction of a second an explosion in the docks.

“An attack?” Quadirymir asked tensely, looking for Zenozarax’ lead, suddenly all that playful bullshit had completely vanished from his voice, but Zenozarax didn’t look back at him. Spotting the relevant information before Quadirymir did.

“That was the Twilight—” and before Quadirymir could say anything else Zenozarax disappeared.

Just to momentarily reappear in absolute chaos in the docks. Gravity was gone, the Twilight hung dislodged from her drydock port in the vacuum, still tumbling, crashing into construction beams and support pylons. Her wide, dark pointy fins floated with the grace of death in the vacuum, but the long tail in its momentum crashing through a walkway was a quick reminder that it was tons of metal and magic in uncontrolled motion.

Zenozarax could hear and feel the grinding and crashing as it reverberated throughout the structure of the station as his boots settled down onto the catwalk. There was debris everywhere.

He pushed himself off the ground, stabilising himself in the vacuum around him and, with the marking in his arms lighting up, he took hold of the natural chaos surrounding the tumbling ship, thickening the dark matter around it till the ship slowed and came to a halt.

Then he saw Moakatar appear about 150 metres away from him in mid air, the hopefully only unconscious body of Esa at her side. As she saw him she raised her free hand, a light appeared and in rushing vaeh she said, “Explosion near the CC and secondary docking clamps. Cause unclear. Chance of further explosions uncertain. I can’t find Xaronzul. Sukatar is evacuating the upper decks, she took some damage. The entire top is vented. There may still be goblins.“

He nodded, acknowledging the brief report. Moakatar teleported again, appearing near the walkway and secured Esa with help of his mag boots on the grating floor. By then Zenozarax had already pushed himself forward. The fire the explosion had caused had died with the vanished air, now there was only a big hole where the command centre used to be. With the upper deck in this condition he couldn’t dare to teleport in, the chance to rematerialise within debris was too high. Quickly he pushed himself inside and landed on the floor where his own magic settled himself firmly on the ground despite the lack of gravity. Everything was slower still. As quick as he could he checked room to room, near some vents he found two unconscious goblins who appeared mostly unharmed besides some minor burns where their skin wasn’t covered by their fireproof robes. He immediately grabbed both of them and teleported back into the station.

He left them there as he returned back to the ship. Since these were goblins used to space, and properly adapted to it, this brief amount of vacuum hardly would kill them. But that window was running out quickly.

By the time he found another one, the young Habin Fen, he knew it was already too late. Nevertheless he brought him to the other too who already came by. He didn’t stay to see them realise their friend was already dead.

Back at the Twilight he finally saw Sukatar. Or at least he knew by context that it had to be Sukatar because most of her face and hair was gone, leaving one eye glowing and flickering, the other pitch black.

“Are you alright?” Zenozarax silently asked via a quick light from his own hand as she pushed towards him.

She answered. “I’m fine. Though from the look on your face it probably doesn’t look fine. All vented rooms are checked. Everybody is out.“

“Good. I got Cab Fen and Jennax Fen out, Habin Fen was already dead.” Sukatar’s destroyed face twitched to something that might have been a distraught expression if there had still been artificial muscles to make it. Zenozarax continued, “Have you found Xaronzul?“

“No.“

“Alright, get inside and patched up. Me and Moa will find Xaronzul.”

“He was right in it.“

“We’ll find him.“

Sukatar nodded and disappeared in a swirl of light. Only a moment after a bright light from the top left got his attention and he saw Moakatar flashing her light.

“I got him.”

The vacuum seemed clear up there and he teleported up, appearing next to Moakatar. And his heart sank.

She didn’t say it, she didn’t have to. This part of Xaronzul was dead. Half of his body was completely gone, the force of the explosion, the intense heat and debris hand torn his body apart. This wasn’t damage that was possible to repair.

“Get him to the lab.“

Please log in to leave and read comments.