25 Zenozarax VIII (Wizard)

08.06.2024

This was woefully suboptimal.

It was terribly frustrating.

Mind-bogglingly irritating!

Figuratively chained to this god awful machine Zenozarax had never felt as helpless and maybe even useless, which in turn made him feel embarrassingly petulant and stubborn, which in turn annoyed and irritated him even more — and he still couldn’t do anything about it. It was a magnificently shitty spiral of frustration and he would swear he had never before been this irritated by doing nothing. While that was certainly not true, it was however the reason Zenozarax, for the first time in his long life, actually, really, truthfully reconsidered the possibility of building himself a third part in the future. But just maybe. And that was the biggest maybe. Given his age, it would easily double if not triple the amount of time needed to rebuild a part, which made it even more unappealing than it already was. But what he wouldn’t do to just have that extra range of motion now. To move freely with another part while the Warrior had to be rebuilt.

Adding to his own troubled thoughts Zenozarax sensed the distress and then the pain from Aeven and the correlating stress of Pelagius. Soon followed by the clear sensation of Aeven’s death. It was one way of taking care of it, he supposed. But he hated that feeling. No matter which of them two died, it felt like a ugly, numb spot appeared somewhere in his mind that he couldn’t ignore nor fix. It was different than the complete blindness of where his Warrior should be. But in a way no less unsettling.  

Zenozarax wondered what had happened. He wondered if Ravalor had been there too, and if so, he hoped he didn’t take any more damage. It was callous not to not worry about Aeven and Pelagius in that regard, but their effective immortality made that rather pointless.

Overall he had to hope this disturbance in his awareness wouldn’t negatively affect the delicate process of rebuilding his Warrior. It hadn’t (as far as he could notice) the last time as he had rebuilt the Wizard after the Hammer had vaporised him on earth. But now it felt different. Both Pelagius and Aeven felt closer than before he had picked them up and realigned the curse within them. Maybe that was good. Maybe not. He really could only hope for a good result.

Both Sukatar and Xaronzul were in their respective chambers to rebuild their own missing parts. Zenozarax was already tense enough as it was about that. He preferred to make sure himself the rebuilding went as flawless as possible for his companions, especially Xaronzul always needed careful attention in that regard given the ingrained natural miscommunication within his neural network. It wasn’t an issue with the body itself, so it could not be fixed like that, but it sure could be made worse by shoddy work.

But Zenozarax couldn’t allow his own progress on the Warrior to be left unattended. Not with Quadirymir being around. As someone who prided himself on total self-reliance, Quadirymir naturally was sufficiently skilled as a Soulturner himself even though Zenozarax doubted he’d ever have gotten a formal education in it. But he was good enough at it to pose a potential threat to the soundness of his new Part. Especially now that trust was very hard to come by.

So Zenozarax would see to his own build while he had asked Moakatar to see to Xaronzul and Sukatar when they needed her. Sukatar would probably be fine on her own, but Xaronzul (even if he wouldn’t need special attention) was as far removed from being a Soulturner as possible — he simply lacked the sense of detail for the job.

A communications request chimed on the console to his right and — having rerouted the controls to a more manual panel earlier that would allow him to at least accept these without having to use the magic of his hands, so he accepted it with the press of a plain button.

“Heya, boss.” Xaronzul spoke up the moment the link was established. Already from those two words Zenozarax knew Xaronzul to be horrifically bored.

“Is something wrong?“

“No, nahh. Just checking in. Making sure nobody spontaneously died or something. You never know with this stuff.“

So everyone on the Edge of the Universe was still alright one way or another.

“Actually, in theory this is really safe.” Zenozarax said as he leaned back. “But I take it you’re bored?“

“What gave that away?” Xaronzul chuckled. “So, I was thinking about what you said about the familiar for the Twilight. I gave Moa the data you gave me. It did work, but there were some readings she got back that were a little odd. It’s sensitive system data so she doesn’t want to send it around all willi nilly.”

Hm. If Xaronzul thought relaying the information of Ravalor’s newest prophecy here was risky, it was safe to assume that it would reveal too much about things Quadirymir wasn’t supposed to know about. That in and of itself told him enough and frankly he should have expected it. Anything revolving around Ravalor directly was sensitive information.

“Odd in what way?”

A short pause.

“Inconclusive pretty much. Suddenly died on us and nobody knows why. Not sure if it’s something you put in, but she keeps looking,” Xaronzul said.

Zenozarax frowned. Lords this was a horribly inefficient way to communicate. Right now he wanted to ask Xaronzul clear and precisely what exactly that was supposed to mean. Ravalor had seen him in that vision, he played a part in it? And it involved Ravalor dying? Or himself dying? He had to assume that was roughly what Xaronzul was saying.

A horribly thought occurred.

If the vision was still so vague, but Ravalor knew Zenozarax to be in it…

Zenozarax would like to believe Ravalor wouldn’t consider the possibility of Zenozarax being the one to kill him. But precedent had beaten them to it.

Of course, there was no way Zenozarax would do that now.

But, unfortunately, he had thought the same up until the moment he had actually killed Ravalor the first time. But that had been back then. There was definitely, for sure, no way he would ever do it again! But did Ravalor know that?

…

He needed to talk to him!

“Hey, I know you’re probably all ’I need to fix it myself right now because it’s my ship’, but I think it’s fine. She will figure it out.” Xaronzul said knowingly and with that he figuratively shot the sudden impulse to leave and talk to Ravalor, straight in both kneecaps, letting it crash painfully to the ground. Zenozarax cursed him quietly. But Xaronzul was right to keep him where he was.  

“Alright. But keep me updated.”

“Sure thing.“

“What about the auxiliaries?“

Xaronzul didn’t answer immediately, and Zenozarax sensed he didn’t immediately know what he was talking about. He just kept quiet, giving Xaronzul a moment to figure it out. Fortunately he did.

“Yeah… little trouble there with the usual, but nothing major. Just usual. Minor repairs needed,” Xaronzul said, it sounded like he was frowning.

“Hmhm.”

“There was—“

A bright and dark swirl materialised before him and Zenozarax barely kept himself from ripping his hand from the panel by surprise. He felt a deep pang of irritation as he cut the connection to Xaronzul with his right hand and frowned at the wizard that had just appeared out of thin air before him.

“The doors are locked for a reason,” Zenozarax murmured, leaning back forcefully relaxed.

“Figured as much,” Quadirymir said chipper. “Everything alright?“

“Splendid.”

Quadirymir smirked, acknowledging and surly revelling in the obvious frustration and irritation his arrival had caused. Then ignoring all that and without invitation Quadirymir sat down not too far from him at the workstation that usually would be occupied by a soulturner at this point. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“This.” Quadirymir nodded to the pool. “And everything out there.“

“That’s pretty broad,” Zenozarax said, barely able to press the words through gritted teeth. It was a power play, plain and simple and no way around that. Both surely acknowledged it as such, Zenozarax bound to this device, inflicted with an artificial helplessness as long as he didn’t want to start over from scratch, and Quadirymir plainly ignoring the common courtesy and security protocols of not disturbing a fellow wizard while rebuilding a part. Maybe even a hint of threat in it — reminding Zenozarax that this was Quadirymir’s station, and he would go wherever the hell he pleased. And so, he acknowledged that fact by asking downright diplomatically, “Anything specifically you’re looking for?“

“Oh, plenty.” Quadirymir chuckled. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me anything. I usually figure it out on my own sooner or later.”

Zenozarax gave him a shrug and expression that said as much as ’Then what the fuck do you want?’

“Alright. Here’s one question for you. A thousand years ago, Xaronzul went up and stole the entire fleet. Now he has returned with your two flag ships. Where is the rest?”  

“I don’t know,” Zenozarax said.

“I don’t believe that.”

“But it’s true.” And it really was, in a way. The rest of their ships, at least those that were still maintained and the few that had been built since, were with the colony fleet. And Zenozarax, right now, didn’t know where they were. It was safer this way. The fewer people knew the better. There was an encrypted port beacon there  allowing those who had access to the physical key to go there wherever they were. And currently the only one who could freely move between here and there was Xaronzul. But where “there” would be, Zenozarax couldn’t tell.

Quadirymir mustered his face, reading the truth behind his words. There was a benefit in being colloquially known as a bad liar. When he told an obfuscated truth he was usually believed.

“Alright. Not out of reach but out of knowledge. Reasonable,” Quadirymir concluded cirrectly. “Here’s another one. After the jump to K-51 the Twilight ported out of there a little over two minutes after that. But she first showed up here hours later. Where would they have gone in the meantime?”

“Triage,” Zenozarax said stiffly. “There were wounded that had to be taken care of.“

“But you didn’t bring them here.“

“Are you suddenly a doctor in goblin physiology? I don’t think so. If you wouldn’t despise them so much, you’d know that any injuries need to be treated immediately and with great care. Care you wouldn’t bother giving them.“

Quadirymir rolled his eyes. “Fine. Good excuse.“

“Excuse?“

“Everything you’re telling me these days sounds like excuses and justifications.” Quadirymir almost pouted, then abruptly a smile twitched on his lips.

“Okay last question.” Quadirymir stood up, making it definitive that this conversation was indeed soon over.

“Is that a promise?” Zenozarax still wanted to make sure.

“Sure.” Quardirymir’s smile was radiant and unbothered by his tone as usual. “Do you have any idea of what Ravalor is up to these days?”

An ice cold shudder shot through Zenozarax as he tried, good lords how he tried, to keep his face as neutral as possible. Even hearing Quadirymir utter the name was something he didn’t want to hear — ever. But right now, in this context, it felt dangerous. Because he feared that there was a reason behind the question.

“No,” Zenozarax said. Keeping the answer as short as possible. And again, it was literally partly true. He knew where one part of Ravalor was, but not what the whole of him was doing.

“Why not?” Quadirymir inquired, very slowly making a few steps to his side.

“I thought it was the last question.“

“No no, this is part of the last one. Why don’t you know what Ravalor is up to?” Quadirymir grinned, clearly delighted that, yes indeed, he was making Zenozarax uncomfortable right now. It was that last expression Zenozarax saw of him as Quadirymyr stepped out of his field of view. It made him even more tense.

“Why would you need to know that?” Zenozarax asked into the room.

“I don’t need to know. But you should, and if you don’t, I want to understand it. Because with all your great dreams, your gloriously failed conquest — there was linchpin in all of these. And it wasn’t me. And so whatever you plan to do next, I find it utterly puzzling that you would not keep an eye on the one wizard that made you fail time and time again.”

Zenozarax narrowed his eyes but stayed quiet. Fearing his words would betray him. But Quadirymir didn’t require an answer to continue. Suddenly his voice was right behind him and way too close.

“Right in this moment, your beloved Scion is out there, fighting tooth and nail to resurrect the one glorious wielder of the Hammer Izarax to — well his true glory. You might have killed him, but you know how they are. Of course they had a backup. And now he’s hellbend on regaining full access to a tool whose only purpose is to kill us. And you — you’re not simply ignoring it, which would already be bad enough, no, you don’t even know about it in the first place. And whatever you plan to do next, whatever purpose you pick up will fail because of it.” Quadirymir raised up, stepping forward again, back into his field of view and still watching him unnervingly closely. His tone had been nothing but factual and if anything openly puzzled. But now Zargohtrax could see there was unmistakable glee in his eyes.

Zenozarax felt his heart beating hard in his chest. He tried to breathe calmly, but he felt like even the slightest twitch of his body would not go unnoticed by Quadirymir.

“How do you know that? About what he is doing?“

“It’s what I do. I kept an eye on him after your most recent, oh pardon me, your second most recent death.” Quadirymir leaned back with crossed arms and a complacent smile.

This was bad. He had meant it wholeheartedly when he had told Ravalor that having drawn the attention of this wizard was bad. He had deliberately tried to stay away from Ravalor for that very reason.

“What does that mean, keep an eye on him? What are you doing? If you laid a finger on—”

“Nothing,” Quadirymir quickly assured him as he leaned back against the pool, seemingly outraged about the implication of him causing anything on the scale from mischief to genocide. “I mean I haven’t caused him any harm if that’s what you want to imply. I meant it when I said I want to smoothen out our relationship. Killing Ravalor would be most counterproductive to that, don’t you think?“

“It would.” His thoughts were rushing, considering that damn prophecy, Ravalor, on the Edge of the Universe, but also back in Mezchinhar, and back with the Hammer.

“Listen to me. You don’t want to hear this, but it’s true. That wizard is dangerous — to you. And you need to be the one to deal with it. One way or another. Or else he will be your downfall sooner or later. If you let him continue beeing such a willful blindspot, he will kill you. I have seen him, Zenozarax, watched him, and he isn’t like us. He will never be like us.”

“Get out.“

“Zenozarax, I—“

“Out!” He bellowed and Quadirymir jumped up. For a fraction of a second there was a nervous twitch in his eyes, maybe even the hint of a genuine frown. In his anger Zenozarax wanted it to be genuine, but he knew to not even trust those seemingly natural microexpressions.

“Alright. I get it.” Quadirymir stepped back. “But at least you listened.” Then he disappeared again in a swirl of light and dark light.

Zenozarax had listened. But he wished he hadn’t.

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