The Henge Sorcerous

[Caden Law]

Lightning struck.

Caden collapsed again, barely able to keep himself up on one knee at this point. It didn't help that his final opponent seemed content to let him wait, and for once in his life, the Wizard didn't have it in him to try and exploit the opening that time gave. He had lost too much blood. He was too exhausted. The only thing even keeping him alive at this point, let alone mobile, was a combination of spite, stubborness and magic. It wasn't that a mere lesser man would have collapsed and died by now. Greater men would have done that well before the Skyrider, maybe even before the Scholar. And the more that Caden thought about it, the more he realized that greater men had fallen by now.

Commander Law, Hero of Raiaera. Forged upon the anvil of war; he was called to greatness and he answered it. Repeatedly, he fought and laid it on the line for people he did not -- could not know.

Watchman Law, Clerical-Wizard and husband of Veshua. He was noble in the way that fathers and men of the church should be.

Sage Blueraven, scholar and master of the arcane. A lesser kind of greatness, of humility, but genius and talent second to none.

Sir Caden Law, the Spring Knight Rising. He had made the choices, and a Thayne had called him by a Title that held more weight than the rest of them combined.

And the Skyrider, a Caden Law perhaps forged in the skies of Kebiras. A revolutionary, maybe, or perhaps just a vagabond trying to find his way home. His magic told the story of a fighter, his style told the story of courage.

They were all dead, and only the lowly wretch remained. The Wizard Blueraven. Caden Law, seventh of eight, who had a question that still wasn't answered.

"On your feet!" Spoke a Voice of power and strength, if not reason or wisdom. "STAND UP!"

Caden complied. A few seconds later, there was a familiar chuff and his sword lay in the snow before him. Chuff, and there was his bowie. He snorted congealed blood from his nose, then wheezed and forced himself to stand straight, tall, rigid. The man standing before him would expect no less.

He was different from the rest of them, except maybe the Spring Knight. Broader, more muscular. His eyes needed no glasses, and the iris was the orange of his patron. His hair was butchered short, something approximating a crewcut, and he had probably thrown away the Hat years ago and the coat with it. He wore the garb of a warrior-cultist in the most literal sense: Bands of cloth around his feet, leaving his toes exposed; a long brown kilt beneath hanging plates of armor on the outer leg and straight down from the belt buckle; a tattered short-sleeved shirt beneath a black iron chestplate of Kachukian origin, heavy matching pauldrons covered in spikes and the vambraces to match. Last was the cloak, tattered and hooded, clinking with every step as if to indicate the chainmail woven in.

He carried a sword much too big for Caden himself to even lift. Four-handed on the hilt, its pommel flanged like a tiny mace head, sporting a thick cross guard bordering a wide, sturdy blade that was more like a slab of silver and onyx than shaped steel. Runes were carved and etched in orange along the blacker portions of the blade, each one misting slightly in the cold evening light.

And there was another thing that reminded Caden of the Spring Knight: Lines. Displayed much more prominently upon the stranger's arms, his feet, face and neck. Thick orange things that were patterned in perfect symmetry, and as the blade began to glow so did the lines on his skin.

"So," Caden said to himself, stooping down to try and pick up his blades. He came up clumsy, sheathing the knife and his wand in the same motion. The sword and rod stayed out. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Orange eyes narrowed, but Blueraven did not falter. He was too tired to be intimidated or frightened now. "I want to know something about you before I bury you."

"I serve no petty court," Spoke the stranger in his skin. "When Raiaera fell, I ran the Wilds of Tembrethnil. That's all you need to know."

He raised his sword, awful thing that it was, and the air burned with power all around him. It knew no solid shape, the way that the myriad Blueravens' powers had. It was truly wild, truly uncontrolled by anything but the loose constraints of savage intent. Caden responded in kind, drawing his rod and sword up and crossing them momentarily before assuming a defensive stance taught him by a dwarf in the mountains: Feet spread, sword low, rod straight out.

"Do you still have a Name?" Caden asked.

"I don't need one."

"Too bad," Caden said. "I dub thee-"

[Caden Law]

Banecrow struck, hard and fast, before Caden could even finish reNaming him. The Wizard didn't have much chance to defend himself and, in what little crimson reflection he could muster afterwards, it probably wouldn't have made a difference either way. First came the ground; a pillar erupting beneath him and throwing him skyward. Then the pillar collapsed as he started to fall, and while Caden tried to cast some spell or another, Banecrow smashed the pillar out of the way with one hand and followed with the flat of his sword.

It was like getting hit by a battering ram that wanting to be a catapult. The sword took Caden in the middle, its path arced and Caden was dragged along until Banecrow chose to launch him skyward. Snow and orange light burst all around the Wild Wizard as he threw Blueraven, erupting with a sound like screaming eagles and mythic thunder. It was all Caden could do to slow his own fall, and all that did was to control the angle of how he landed. Snow formed a huge pile behind him, and his body carved a trench clear to the ice and permafrosted dirt below.

Banecrow waited a moment, his power still clearly building. He took one step forward and the whole battlefield shook. He raised his sword and the aurora above split in response. He took a swing and the air between he and Caden blurred orange. A trench scorched itself into the ground at the same time. It was all the Wizard could do to roll out of the way, and even then he was close enough for a shockwave to flip him from front to back in the process.

"Five down and this is the best you can do? I should have gone first!" Banecrow roared, his Voice almost loud enough to match a whispering Thayne. This close in, it actually managed to reopen Caden's wounds and cloud his vision for a moment, though neither was enough to stop him from struggling back to his feet.

"Stop dicking around and be done with it then," he Said.

Banecrow surged forward, geomancing with every step so that the ground itself moved with him. Caden barely had time enough to duck out of the way; he didn't bother paying attention to Banecrow's attack, nor did he pause to watch the chaos wrought by it. He reached into the ground with magic and willed up another pillar, elevating himself just in time to avoid the follow-up strike -- which, incidentally, cleaved Caden's little pillar in two at the base. Banecrow struck again as Caden fell-

Metal shattered.

Caden landed a few seconds later with a broken sword and an arm that was finally paralyzed from the amount of damage he'd taken. Banecrow came for him with a Scream that rattled the Wizard right to his bones. He pointed the rod anyway. Banecrow struck.

Gravity Gambit: A swirling mass of gravity and anti-gravity. By its very nature, physical attacks enter one way and come out one of a hundred thousand others, and almost always with some kind of damage taken in the process. Caden had bent an assassin in half with it once, and broken at least a few swords with it as well.

Banecrow's attack hit the Gambit and stalled for a little while. That was it. There was no lasting stop, no damage to the mad mage's sword, not even the slightest change of direction in his attack. It bought Caden enough time to get to his knees, then Banecrow split the magic in two and cut the tip off of the arcanist's rod like a hot knife through butter.

Magic destabilized and exploded in a glorious arcane fireball, and only pure luck meant that the blast went for Banecrow's face instead of taking out the Wizard holding the rod to begin with. Blue light became white became orange turned to blue again; feathers rained down in every direction...

And Banecrow's hand erupted from the flames, utterly unscathed as the mad mage took the Wizard by the throat and ripped the broken, dying rod from his grasp. Banecrow had thrown away his sword out of what looked like sheer spite, and power now built in his hands and the world was going black and-

Caden drew his knife.

It sank right through Banecrow's elbow at the joint. The mage howled and Caden ripped the knife out without thinking. He ducked and Banecrow punched the Hat right from his head, impact ripping the belt off and scorching the material black in the shape of a fist. Caden threw himself forward and jammed the knife up into his other self's armpit.

The pommel exploded in a tiny geyser of magic.

Banecrow smashed Caden in the face with an elbow, but the strike wasn't anywhere near the level of what he'd been managing at the start of the fight. Caden stayed conscious, gritting his blood-stained teeth and trying to wrap himself around Banecrow's midsection -- anything to keep the knife in and keep the power bleed going. It wasn't easy. Banecrow had been in a lot of scraps. He knew how and where to hit, but he had forgotten how to deal with pain and fear. Every punch he threw became sloppier, weaker, less effective. Caden began to absorb the power from his other self directly, enough that his limp arm started responding again. He adjusted his grip, drew in power for his legs and stood, hoisting Banecrow up in a knife-riding bearhug.

It wasn't quick.

But it was what he had to do to survive.

Three minutes later, the mad mage finally stopped struggling and went limp. He gurgled up some blood and Caden dropped him lest they both fall. The Wizard staggered back and braced himself on his knees, watching his lunatic counterpart flop to the ground.

Banecrow held on for a while after that, but every single breath was squirting a little less blood out of his mouth and nose. Caden had gotten a lung, maybe part of the heart too. No more magic to draw on, and all the Mad Mage of Tembrethnil could do was bleed out, as pitiful in dying as anything Caden had ever seen.

The body disappeared. The terrain collapsed, craters and trenches filled with snow, and all that remained was a single pillar at the heart of an imprehensibly vast henge.

A few seconds later, the Wizard threw up and fell to his hands and knees. A few seconds after that, his body was wracked with spasms and he collapsed to his face in the snow.

[Caden Law]

Caden awoke not to the cold comfort of a cage, ropes around his limbs or even a knife at his throat; only an uncertain warmth that his body told him was wrong and experience told him was worse. He pushed up on sore and tired limbs, every single bone from his fingertips to his sternum to his toes feeling hollow while his head felt heavy and clogged. His throat was so parched that Caden almost immediately collapsed in a fit of coughing, each one spraying the snow with little red and brown chunks.

He fell to one side and lay still, just trying to breath and bring his temperature out of delerium and back into actual warmth. It wasn't easy, but the Henge had a lot of background magic by its very nature. That was the chief reason he and the others had been able to throw around so many heavy-duty spells with such little restraint. Excepting, of course, the Spring Knight Rising and the Mad Mage. Whatever they had been wielding, it was nothing Caden knew of.

He rolled onto his back and slowly but surely sat up. By this point, the Wizard was covered in snow and patches of frozen blood and sweat. He was an ugly trainwreck that happened to pass itself off as a human being. Up he went on tottering legs, yawning every few breaths from sheer exhaustion. He reached out one hand, felt around in the air and called up his Hat.

It was scorched, floppy without the stiff leather belt, and would've probably gotten him killed in some parts for crimes against fashion. Caden dusted the soot off and put it on anyway, then pulled down his blood-stained goggles until they hung around his neck. Out came the glasses, instantly fogging and unfogging as cold vied with magic for influence. Magic won. Caden put the glasses on and drew in more power, until the patches of ice melted from his skin and clothes, each one vaporizing until only naked scabs remained. The gaping injuries to his side were less severe now, having healed a little at some point during the fighting, but Caden lacked the skill or affinities to treat them properly on his own.

He called up his knife, sheathing it where it belonged. Called up his sword and, upon seeing its broken blade, threw it away just as quickly. Caden didn't even bother with the Arcanist's Rod. Once a focus is compromised that severely, it's more of a hazard than a tool. The best Caden could hope for was that the rod had emptied itself of stored magic and wasn't in danger of exploding or worse.

He cleared his throat a few times just trying to say, "Well," and only got it right after coughing up a red wad of something or other. After that it was, "Well...that was all perfectly useless."

Caden looked around now, taking in the world of Althanas and trying hard not to think about the six dead men with his face, or the lives that they had left behind, or the choices that had lead them to the mass grave he dug. Wizards are murderers by nature. There's a lot of window dressing, but any Wizard worth his Hat is bound to kill someone at some point, assuming someone else doesn't kill them first.

Blueraven just never expected to be killing himself, let alone that he would do so repeatedly for the sake of-

-what?

No way to hide from it now, and the Gods had left their perches. He was alone, his only company the question: "What the hells was all that for?"

He looked around again. The Henge was still as colossal as it had been throughout the trial, and every step Caden took away from it had no effect on that. The Wizard studied a bleak landscape, and then he noticed something.

The aurora borealis wasn't there anymore.

The stars were all gone.

Not even the moons lingered.

He looked back to where the mirrored stones had been and six of those were gone too. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Caden reached for his wand and knife-

And he wasn't alone anymore.

The Ancient One, the Sage, the Wilder, the Strong One, Queen of Seasons and Lady Entropy all stood around him, giants by man's standards but nowhere near the size of mountains. The Ancient One held a sword at the rock, and the Strong One grasped his war-axe with a terrible finality. Power surged and wove itself around the Queen, spring growth and summer songs, autumn decay and winter despair. The Lady grasped at nothing and pulled Unmaking from all around her, willing it into the shape of something that could've been a short spear or a long sword. Wilder's wings spread wide, each and every feather standing on end as suns burned between them.

Only the Sage remained calm, as he ever did.

Let her speak.

The Strong One bellowed inaudibly, if only because the sound was too loud for any part of Caden's existence to register. The Ancient One was much more subdued in his displeasure, voicing it only as a growl that threatened to knock Caden over and blow his eardrums out.

Hers is the Seventh Rite, Spoke the Sage God, inclining his head respectfully.

...and there she was.

There she was. Permanent like a mountain or a lake or the color of the sky. Permanent like distant suffering or the death of a friend's loved one. Permanent like the certainty of the grave. Something so blatant and unavoidable that, after a while, you just stop noticing it all together. Someone who had been there all along, because she was everywhere that wickedness dwells -- and it dwelled deep in the hearts and minds of all living men, be they Wizards or not. Looking upon her now, in comparison to the other Gods of old, Caden was almost surprised by how small she was. How easily he could see himself standing face to face with her. How easy it was to relate to the primal darkness that made life worth living.

Evil is something you can meet on even terms. It's the only thing you can always meet on even terms. That's why evil is so seductive.

And the Scarlet Silk Queen was nothing if not seductive.

She looked like a true Drow -- a Dark Elf from an era when the elder peoples and the Gods weren't so distant from one another. All the features were ones that Caden was, to some extent, familiar with and lustful of: The high cheekbones, the narrow jaw, full lips and barely slanted eyes; thinly arching brows and a long neck leading to dainty shoulders; a figure like a slendger hourglass and long, long legs. The differences started with color: The pale skin Caden had grown accustomed to was darker with her, more like glossy obsidian than anything merely organic. Her hair was long, silky and red. Her eyes were like glittering rubies in a pitch black void. She wore little; just enough to feign modesty, and all of it was barely opaque enough that the mind inevitably filled in any missing details.

And her smile was the kind of thing that made it awkward to stand up straight.

Well said, my bookish old lover and comrade. Mine is the Seventh Rite, the Scarlet Silk Queen declared, her Voice simultaneously managing to live up and down to her namesake. All six of you have tried to give him what he came here for, with special tests of character not seen in this Circle since times Forgotten by mortal histories. And all six of you have failed. Only I remain.

You cannot be serious-

The Sage God deigned raise a hand, or at least the idea of one. She can and she is and it is her Rite. The three of you saw to that when you came here.

The Strong One, the Queen of Seasons and the Wilder all looked at the Sage, their gaze intense enough to blast a hundred or more miles of snow into the sky beyond him. The Sage's calm was such that every last flake returned to its place within seconds.

And then the Lady Entropy spoke up, laughing with each word. He's right, you know. While the first three of us all had a stake in the Wizard's progress so far, none of you did. She has a stake as well.

By coming here and taking part, you expanded the trials to include all of us.

The Strong One bellowed again. It fell to the Queen of Seasons to say, She is not one of us.

And it was in that moment that the whole debate was settled. Not by the Strong One and his hatred, the Sage God and his reason, or even Entropy and her unpredictability. It was the Ancient One who lowered his sword first, and said only, Right are the furious naysayers in all their reason. Magnificent is the schemer and manipulative the chaos beside him. I choose to side with them in this matter, but only to an extent. The choice is none of ours to make.

It must fall to the Wizard. This is his trial. It will be his destiny decided here tonight.

None of the three dissenting Thaynes argued. The Ancient One had seniority by default, and though the Scarlet Queen wasn't counted among their proper ranks anymore the vote was still, technically, four to three. All that remained now was the matter of whether or not a pebble might cause an avalanche.

Caden stood up again, struggling under the weight of gazes older than his mortal mind could comprehend. He considered the Gods, and he considered his selves. The Commander with his scars and the Watchman with his duty; the Scholar with his power and the Knight with his resolve; the Skyrider and his freedom and the Mad Mage with his power. And all of them with pride, with purpose, with their own forms of honor and dignity that he had never known. Every single one had been a reflection of who Caden could have been.

All that remained was the question of who Caden would be.

What was it all for? the Scholar asked, and Caden still didn't know.

Well, Wizard Blueraven?

The Wizard grit his teeth in a fierce, bloody little smile-

"Let's go."

-and lightning struck...

[Caden Law]

...and when the light faded, only Caden Law remained. He stood in two places, his likenesses little more than opposition incarnate.

To one side, the Caden Law of Althanas, the Wizard Blueraven. He stood slumped and exhausted, paler than normal and wearing the blue coat and hat of a man who'd gone through war and come out worse for it. An empty sword sheath hung at his side, his hands were already filled by a bowie knife and a wand, respectively, and his expression was a bloodied mask of determination and false bravado -- one that was worn over absolute doubt. He had nothing left worth losing.

To the other side, the Caden Law summoned by the Seventh Thayne, Champion of the Scarlet Silk Queen. He was a Wizard in red, almost indistinguishable from his worn down counterpart in every other way but one. They were the same height, weight and build. They had all the same scars, they wore the same goggles and glasses, and their Hats would've been the same shape and style if not for battle damage. The newcomer even had the same sword, and carried with him the very same rod that Caden had only so recently lost. He stepped into the world with eyes closed, and here too would be a difference. Before that was another one.

Lines tattooed into his skin, covering his face in web-like pattern that was symmetrical on both sides. It was all red, all of it, and even at this distance Caden could see that it followed the same pattern as the Spring Knight Risen and the Mad Mage Banecrow; even the places where the lines converged were the same. Only the style and color differed.

They matched the new Wizard's eyes, red as anything Caden had ever seen, and he knew now that this had been a mistake. It had all been a mistake.

But it was a mistake worth making, and Caden had few enough regrets to at least try and go out snarking: "Red Raven, Red Raven, how does your power grow..."

"Redcrow, actually," said the other Wizard, in a voice that wasn't at all dissociated from Caden's own. "And my power grows just FINE!"

Redcrow's webs glowed and he swept his hand down as he Spoke, and a great translucent fist trailed it at a distance. Blueraven had just enough time to dive out of the way before the fist slammed into the ground where he had been standing, but he was utterly helpless to avoid it when Redcrow backhanded him a second later -- not up close and personal, but with the same conjured hand as before. It hit Caden like a moving brick wall, casting him some twenty or thirty feet along the ground and fading out before it could come for a third strike.

"How about yours?" Redcrow asked, just vicious enough to match the same tone Caden had used when he confronted a Death Lord in Tembrethnil. The same tone he used before that whole place went nuclear.

Wand in hand, Caden came up with a spray of Magic Missiles. Redcrow summoned his own wand into his grasp and met spell for spell -- and even though his missiles were fired later, Blueraven's spell didn't even touch him. Redcrow stomped forward, thrusting his wand out. Caden brought up a wall of solid rock and a single Arcane Blast completely annihilated it. Blueraven fired off a blast of his own immediately and Redcrow shot it down; blue fire danced into red, and the red was very obviously winning.

Redcrow grabbed him this time. The hand conjured into being before Caden could even see it coming. The next thing he knew, Redcrow hauled him in with one great pull and a Scream of, "GET OVER HERE!"

"Gladly!" the blue Wizard Shouted back, inhaling the power behind whatever spell Redcrow was using. It was disorienting. Familiar and unfamiliar at once, following all the same lines as it ever did but in ways that were impossible to explain.

Blueraven worked through it. He hit the ground rolling in front of Redcrow, dodging a massive hammer-shaped forcefield that bore a passing resemblance to Redcrow's wand. Blueraven came up swinging with his knife and Redcrow had already dodged it, was already drawing his sword, was already getting blasted with a Magic Missile at near point blank range -- and had already blocked it with another force conjuration, one resembling an overgrown faded red elbow that completely shielded him from frontal attack.

Conveniently enough, the Wizard's left elbow was bent into the path of Blueraven's spell.

"Figured you out!" Caden declared, violently twisting the ground beneath Redcrow's feet. The other Wizard simply spun with it, drawing his sword and taking Blueraven across the chest with a shallow cut as he went.

There was another blast of raw force, and this time Caden was relatively certain it was shaped like the tip of Redcrow's wand: Roughly hexagonal and flat. He was too busy flying backwards to study the details any further. Blueraven hit the ground rolling and immediately willed stone up beneath him, catapulting himself up and to the left. Less than a second later, a great ethereal blade swept beneath him and sent up a wave of snow in its wake.

Lightning ripped through the night, and the Gods had little to do with it. Caden rolled the boulder in front of himself and it was almost immediately little more than arcane vapor the color and shape of red bird feathers. Blueraven tumbled back down to the ground and shot off a volley of lightning in kind, but Redcrow simply sidestepped it and paused.

The pause was worrying.

After so many battles where a pause just meant Something Worse Is About To Happen, Caden had good reason to be worried.

He came up slinging magicks and shifting and melting runes into the ground around him, tapping into the leylines of the Henge for strength. Redcrow just smiled, and a great circle of red and gold feathers danced around him like racing flames as he said-

"Siege Arcana."

"Rise!"

The earth beneath Wizard Blueraven shot up as a pillar, rising two or three hundred feet into the air by the time Siege Arcana slammed into it. The effect the spell had was instant: The makeshift tower snapped in two at the point of impact, imploding into a tiny black-and-red ball of glass that immediately detonated. Ground boiled and froze where molten shrapnel hit, and the Wizard himself only avoided shrapnel because Redcrow didn't trust him to die from it.

A great red hand clenched shut around him. The next thing Caden knew, he was being pitched to the ground like a cheap toy ball in the middle of a temper tantrum. Geomancy was the only reason he survived, as Blueraven pointed his wand earthward and shifted a tunnel into his path. He vanished from sight just before a whole spray of raven-shaped Magic Missiles could take his head off.

"Now that is a new one!" Redcrow commended him, just before slagging a runic circle into the ground around him. The red Wizard drew in power the way a drain sucks in water, such that magic visibly channeled into the lines on his skin, beneath his clothing, and it even fell into his mouth and eyes, ears and nose. He threw his hands up, the whole Icehenge raised a few inches for miles and miles in every direction.

He threw his hands down, and the result was exactly the same.

Redcrow paused after that, panting and looking around.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are! I know you're not dead yet!" he Shouted into the night.

Four narrow pillars of rock shot up around him. The Wizard tore them down before Stone Maiden Mausoleum could form. A few seconds later, he was running away from that spot. Blueraven somehow managed to follow him, throwing up one Mausoleum after another, until Redcrow had smashed three and didn't bother with any after that. Caden nine before the ground finally opened up.

Out came the man in the blue coat, and Redcrow ran him through with a colossal sword made of pure willpower; a redlight version of the very blade in his right hand.

All he hit was a rock in Blueraven's coat.

"Shi-"

One of the Mausoleums erupted into a spray of rocky shrapnel, and try as Redcrow might, he wasn't blocking it this time. Blood sprayed where stone bullets found their mark, and while none of the wounds were especially deep or disabling, they hurt and that was the entire point. Redcrow collapsed with a roll and Caden came running out of the broken Mausoleum, wand leveled and spell already in mid-cast.

Arcane Blast.

It would've been a deathblow, except that pure human error made it miss.

Redcrow came up swinging and Screaming, and a massive phantom arm swept through the air and bowled Blueraven over like a straw doll in a hurricane. He went flat against the ground, rolled almost belatedly and came up so disoriented that he fell right back down. In a single bated breath, Redcrow burnt runes into the snow, the ice, the stone all around the blue Wizard, and then said a single Word that cut off all magic within.

"You bastard!" Caden screamed, throwing his knife and-

It fell short.

Blueraven ran to escape the Circle and there was a massive stone wall in his path. He tried for another way out and met only the same. One by one, Redcrow cut off his adversary's avenues of escape, and then sealed him in from on high with an arched roof. The end result really did look like a mausoleum.

"Sorry," said Redcrow. "But this is where you die."

"Wait!"

Against all better judgement, Redcrow did.

"At least tell me what you are! At least tell me the difference between us!"

"Power," said Redcrow. "Power and not much else."

"How?"

"I did what I had to," said the Wizard Redcrow with not a single shred of remorse. "Goodbye."

[Caden Law]

Time slows when you're about to die. Caden had experienced it before. It slows enough for strange things to happen, for possibilities to play out in depth. For resolve to come, or will to falter.

As he heard the spires launch from Stone Maiden Mausoleum's walls, all Caden could do was ask himself, What happened? How? Why?

What solitary event changed him from a fugitive Wizard to a loving husband and town Watchman?

How did he go from being a vagabond mage to a heroic Commander in the Raieran War?

Why did a hermetic scholar devote himself so utterly to the mastery of the arcane, knowing he would probably never use it?

And as he thought about these questions, Caden could see where the world splintered. He could finally pinpoint the moments where he became himself, and they all splintered off.

Commander Law was never taken to the future, to N'Thayn'sal, to see his homeland in chains and his world dying slow and hard. He spent his life a hero on the front lines, hard enough to survive, never dying that one heroic death that Caden himself was supposed to get in coming years. He fought because he knew duty, never because he truly knew love.

Watchman Law never spent a morning by the lake, wondering if anything bad would happen if he didn't attend his studies so that he could watch the sun come up and see the birds flocking south from parts unknown. He grew up to become an upstanding member of society, and he waited for Veshua to return, and made the proposal when the time was right.

The Scholar in Yellow journeyed to Raiaera sooner, and as a consequence found the libraries of Istien open and inviting. He discovered lores forgotten by men, and dedicated himself to their research and propogation -- and their protection. Alone he stayed within Istien's libraries, taking up a staff to protect that knowledge and wrapping himself in the Sage's colors because that pursuit was all he had left.

The Skyrider was what Caden would have been if he had chosen to escape the skyship Red Skull before it could leave Kebiras. He was a freedom fighter by chance, because Kebiras was too full of strife for him to be anything less. He was a Skyrider by choice, because ships would never do and he didn't want the responsibility of command. He loved the skies, and he loved the freedom, and he loved little else.

The Spring Knight Rising faced death in a place that Caden did not yet know, and he did what he had to because he was afraid and saw no other options.

The Mad Mage ran from death in the wilds of Tembrethnil, until he had escaped Felhammer's hordes only to find himself in the court of a different beast altogether. He ran from the Wild Hunt, and when he finally bested it, had no choice but to accept its boon if he wanted to be free of the Death Lord's pursuits. He did what he had to.

And finally, Redcrow.

It might have been in the wilds of Tembrethnil.

It might have been in the cold valleys of northeast Salvar.

It might have been when he laid it on the line for Evernorth.

...and it might have been here, and it might have been now.

But Redcrow did what he had to, because he didn't want to die. And all three of them pulled it off using the same power from different sources to different ends. The lines they wore were already there, just beneath Caden's skin, between his body and his soul. Between the numbers lay the intricacies of asymmetry, and while Caden's journey hadn't quite been a homecoming and he had long felt marked as the Wizard that did it...

...in other lives, he had taken a different path.

In other lives, he had chosen differently.

In this life, the Laws of Wizardry could be broken within the Henge Sorcerous.

"I'm not dying here either."

[Caden Law]

Blueraven did what he had to, and he did it well.

Redcrow's Mausoleum shattered out in every direction as a pair of great blue hands swept through its walls, scooped away the surrounding snow and warped the red Wizard's Circle of Nullification into a proper Circle of Power. The hands faded away just as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving behind a tall man in a beaten-up blue Hat, its tip billowing in a wind arcane and all too visible. Sapphire ravens raced through the air around him, leaving trails of feathers in cresting paths along the Circle's boundaries. Power flooded in and out in the same foggy breaths, sorcerous silver that burned bright as a morning star.

Redcrow stood his ground in mute shock, and Blueraven met him with only a cold determined Stare that still boiled the snow and blood from his adversary's clothes.

"What made you change?" Blueraven asked, his Voice audibly heavier. It blurred the air around his mouth and lit the whites of his eyes blue.

Redcrow didn't waver. He dropped his wand and drew his rod in the same motion, slagging a Circle of Power around himself as he Spoke in answer, "One apocalypse or a thousand. I chose N'jal's. At least with hers, the world will be born anew! At least there's still hope! What did you choose, Blueraven? Whose apocalypse will you bring?"

Caden Law smiled the Sorcerer's smile, and the air to the side of his face shifted in echo.

"I chose to live, Redcrow. I'm not compromising. There won't be any apocalypses."

Hope glittered -- literally glittered -- in Redcrow's eyes as the realization dawned on him that-

"You don't have a patron."

"I don't need one."

Redcrow took aim with his rod then, Laughing loud as the Circle around him filled with red and black crows -- Missiles and Sieges Arcanae, blended seamlessly through sheer force of will.

Blueraven drew back with wand and knife, bracing the one against the pommel of the other. His own Circle filled with nothing but thin outlines formed from the feathers and the ravens that represented his power.

The Sorcerers struck.

[Caden Law]

There was at last a great flash of lightning within the Icehenge, and the whole village outside shook with the roar of thunder at point blank range. Several of the tents fell over, as did several of the Berevarans and a number of the pack animals. Only the stubborn, finnicky goat Charger dared to remain standing, accompanied by the Wizard Greyspine and only a few of the natives who weren't immediately cowed to their knees in fright.

When the light faded, the eight of them emerged in pairs: Strong and Wild, the Queen of Seasons and the Lady Entropy, the Ancient One and the Scarlet Silk Queen, the Sage God and the battered, bloodied, grinning form of the Wizard Blueraven, carrying his shredded coat on one shoulder, knife and wand holstered on his belt. He was Marked now, and would carry it for the rest of his life: A blue angle on his right cheek, accompanied by fading crow's feet under both eyes and other lines and angles slowly but surely fading as he moved away from the Henge.

Before Greyspine could speak though, the Strong One halted the procession and the Thaynes spread out, each one becoming a giant among mortals as they went. His was the first Voice heard, and the only confirmation anyone really needed.

The Wizard Blueraven, Caden Law of Salvar, has passed his trials.

This alone would have been reason enough to throw celebrations...

And in doing so...the Wizard has earned a Boon from each of us. Seven has he fought, Seven shall he receive.

...but with those words, it was already a legend among the tribes bearing witness.

Caden half-swaggered, half-staggered to the middle of the circle of Thaynes, and each of them came to him in turn. First was the Lady Entropy, grinning from ear to ear like a temple street harlot on a particularly good night. Of her, Caden asked, "Undo the harm you caused Shaman Redhide."

Gods shouldn't pout. Entropy did anyway. She nodded her head in acquiescence and said, As we are departed, so shall the Shaman's spirit be restored.

She courtseyed and was gone. Second was the Strong One, huffing fire from his nostrils as he looked down on the puny little Wizard who had bested his champion. Of him, Caden knew well enough to ask only, "Fix my sword and rod."

It is done, said the Strong One, holding out his massive hand and dropping the weapons perilously close to the Wizard's head. Caden didn't have it in him to jump, and the God left in disappointment. He stalked away into the night, leaving howling wolves and rising stars in his wake.

Third was the Scarlet Silk Queen, and of her Caden did not know what to ask. He thought about it at length and finally said, "Don't bring about the Days of Torrent?"

She laughed, dainty and not at all spiteful. Then she patted him on the head and Said only, No. Try something else.

Caden grimaced, thought some more and shrugged. "Fix my clothes?"

Done, and better, she Said with another of those devilish smiles, and Caden's clothes were suddenly clean and whole once again. My finest silk, for a Sorcerer's garb, she added, and was gone before Caden noticed the changes to his coat and Hat.

Fourth was the Queen of Seasons, and of her Caden could only think to ask, "Could you undo whatever curses she put on these things?"

Smart, she Said, and tiny ethereal spiders jumped away from both the Hat and coat. Like the Strong One, the Queen left with a little more fanfare: Billowing snows and autumnal leaves accompanied by spring flowers and summer showers -- where the rain flowed up and away.

Next came the Ancient One, and were it possible the great draconic skull would've been smiling. With the way moonlight was reflecting off of it, it still looked like he was smiling. Of him, Caden asked, "Some decent armor."

About time you saw its use, the Ancient One said, and produced a very familiar piece of battered steel chock full of holes, dents, scratches and worse. He tapped the interior and Caden's old Conscript Breastplate repaired itself in an instant. He tapped it again and the metal polished itself clean as symbols and patterns of blue and black lines intwined across its surface, all centered around a single raven at the chest. He handed it to Caden and waited for the Sorcerer to put it on before smashing a fist to his own chest. Caden knew well enough to parrot the gesture, and the Ancient One walked away at that.

Next was the Wilder, who favored Caden in the way that a colleague might. Of her he didn't know what to ask, and that was fine: Would that I may, I seek to delay your boon to a later date. I have need of you, Wizard-Sorcerer, as does the world.

Caden sighed, but for once he did not even think about complaining.

A trade for now, she said, touching Caden's forehead and reaching into his skull as she did it. This didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, at least not physically, but Caden didn't appreciate the slishing sounds between his ears. A few seconds later, the Wilder drew out a tiny glowing sphere and Caden no longer had the sense that he was in Berevar. Or anywhere for that matter.

The Thayne had taken his global positioning sense, and now she twisted it into something else: A compass that looked like a stopwatch made out of glass, its needle and directional markers all colored gunmetal black. Tiny candle flames burned at the edges, each one literally marked desired destiny. He looked up and all she had to say was, Go to Knife's Edge. Give this to Rayse. You'll know him when you see him and the rest will be clear enough from there.

And then she was gone, and only the Sage God remained.

He stood before the Wizard with a cryptic, unseen smile and his hands in his robes, saying nothing for the longest time.

Of him, Caden asked, "I have no patronage, do I?"

You have accepted none, and such offers are rarely made twice...not even to the most valued pawns.

"...then my power is my own," Caden said, flexing his fingers and his newfound Sorcery with them: A blue hand appeared over the real one, shadowing its movements and fading away. Caden felt a sense of discomfort afterward. He knew then to ask, "Knowledge Arcana. Sorcery."

There was a blinding flash of yellow behind his eyes, shining out through every single orifice in his head from the pores of his cheeks to the ungrown hair of his scalp. When it passed, the Sage God said merely, The rarest boon is the one granted to you, by you. In ages past, only a handful of magi were able to access the power you have now without some sort of divine favor. They were stronger. Greater.

And now, those that remain are Forgotten.

You are as much a Sorcerer now as any since the closure of the Tap, and your potential is much the same.

My final advice to you is this: Don't let it go to your head.

He was gone a few seconds later, as was the ring floating above Icehenge.

Caden stood still after that, staring up at the sky and then back to his hand. He flexed again, the mark on his cheek glowing in kind. The power came less willingly this time, but it still came: A translucent hand forming over its flesh and blood counterpart, shadowing each movement in kind, and then fading away. This time he felt somewhat lightheaded, and he knew exactly why.

"Sorcery uses one's own soul to channel the raw magic of the Tap itself," he explained to noone in particular. "While the soul regenerates based on emotion and physical wellbeing, time and other factors, it can still...be used up...if you're not careful," he mused, deciding at once that some powers were best left to emergency considerations.

Not long after that, the Shaman's spirit quite literally swirled back into existence with a mute scream. It took one look around, Said, "I need to rest," and vanished just as quickly as it appeared. Caden sighed.

A little while later, Greyhide finally worked up the nerve to tell his former protege, "We need to talk about everything that happened to you in there."

[Caden Law]

Caden stayed until morning two days later.

At least from a clock's perspective. It would've been another few months if he stayed until the sun came up again. He explained the entire ordeal to Greyspine and, eventually, Redhide as well. From his battles with himself to the grand finale, where Blueraven's Sorcery stabbed through Redcrow's and took him with a murder of raven-shaped Magic Missiles.

As it turned out, all of his arcane magic now had a certain avian theme to it. Caden didn't mind so much.

When he left, Greyspine finally dared to ask him, "Did you find a reason yet?"

"Yeah," Caden told him as he put Charger's saddle back on and strapped it tight. The ram bucked a little, but grudgingly accepted. The Wizard turned to his old mentor with an honest smile, the first one to grace his Marked face without the weight of worlds on his shoulders, and he told the old man, "I don't wanna die."

Jolstice frowned.

And Caden continued, "And I don't want to see the rest of the world die either. One apocalypse is too many. I'm not about to let a thousand happen without a fight."

The older Wizard let out a sigh of relief at this and asked, "Where will you go now?"

"Knife's Edge. I'm apparently still on a mission from somebody else's god. So." Cue the shrug. "And if I'm right...then this is just going to be another apocalypse I have to prevent sooner or later anyway."

"You don't have to do this alone, you know."

"Why d'ya think I'm leaving you with the N'Thayn'sal Grimoire?" Caden asked. "I copied everything in there already. It's up to us to spread the word. Get out there and kneecap the forces of evil before they screw us all over."

Jolstice grimaced at this, but it was a half-hearted effort to keep from smiling. "You want me to handle Kebiras, don't you."

"Only until I'm done with Althanas as we know it."

"And how am I supposed to do that at my age?"

Caden looked around at the Berevarans, and at Redhide. Then he shrugged, smiled, and said, "You'll figure it out. If an idiot apprentice like me can pull it off, you probably won't even break a sweat."

He mounted up and rode off before the old Wizard could finish laughing. Blueraven raced into the night, and before long the chuff, chuff, chuff of Charger's hooves hitting the snow became too quiet to hear.

"Boy's gonna be the death of me," Greyspine mumbled.

"He is what you made him," Redhide pointed out.

"No," the old Wizard said. "He is what he made himself."

END

[Caden Law]

REQUESTED SPOILS

Oh boy...

Sorcery: As a consequence of his passage through the Icehenge, Caden has acquired the ability to use Sorcery. This reflects itself in three ways: (1) Caden is able to create force field constructs in the likeness of limbs or weapons. At present, the size, strength and resillience of the constructs is limited; he requires a very, very high magic environment to create anything more than three times the size of whatever body part or object he's replicating, can lift no more than 300 pounds, and the resillience is no greater than Iron. He can only project one construct at a time. (2) Caden can use Sorcery to temporarily boost his conventional magicks. In gameplay terms: Individual spells gain an extra level (pushing most of them to a maximum Level 4) while general powers get a boost in terms of area of effect/speed of casting. 3) Caden's Voice can now cause extremely minor effects of its own, such as jostling snow or loose dirt. This has no meaningful effect on a character.

The Sorcerous powers will be further clarified at Caden's next character update. Weaknesses include: Caden cannot use them with any hard frequency. He can only cast one Sorcerous spell per post and can only cast a maximum of three in a row before he starts to suffer from physical damage, fatigue, and probably the law of diminishing returns. He requires a cooldown of three posts for every Sorcery, and the cooldowns stack (1 Sorcerous spell = 3 posts, 2 Sorcerous spells = 6 posts, 3 Sorcerous spells = 9 posts).

His status as a Sorcerer has physically Marked him. The brand resembles a stylized blue 7 on his right cheek. When using Sorcery, the Mark glows. Extended use of Sorcery leads to other Markings appearing for the duration of the spell, but only the cheek Mark is permanent. It cannot be removed.

Knowledge Arcana: Sorcery: Boon from Khal'jaren for Caden's trial in the Icehenge. Much of this knowledge is locked away, to be uncovered instinctively rather than written in a book. For the most part, it's how Caden knows not to overuse Sorcery and kill himself. This knowledge is strictly limited to the applications of Sorcery, how it relates to the Tap, and its interactions with Caden's existing Wizardly powers. It does not grant any historic knowledge, nor does it apply to...pretty much anything else, really.

Raiaeran Conscript's Breastplate: Steel, Above Average quality. Originally given to Caden during the Siege of Eluriand, he gave it up after heavy damage suffered during the Scourging of Tembrethnil. It has been returned, repaired, and slightly improved by Draconus the Ancient. It bears several symbols and lines, the most striking of which is Caden's newfound personal heraldry: A blue raven on the center of the chest.

Upgrades to existing equipment:

Caden's Wizard Hat and Coat have been modified courtesy of both N'jal and V'dralla. Both now consist of N'jalian Spidersilk with a decreased weakness to fire (re: It only burns as quickly as regular silk would). Both are considered Masterwork quality. Any money that would've been gleaned from this quest can be used to pay for these upgrades.

Misc:

Caden has lost his GPS Sense. Y'edda took it and refined it into an actual physical item known as the Compass of Destiny. This item will only remain in Caden's possession until my next thread, at which point ownership will either default to Rayse Valentino (who can barter over its make and abilities on his own if he wants to keep it) or it will be Lost for the Questing of whoever else wants it. Assuming it isn't destroyed.

EDIT: Caden has also lost Greyspine's Grimoire. He retains the information about the myriad N'Thayn'sal apocalypses in his own Grimoire, but that's about it.

[Duffy]

I’ve been reading this since the start, and have to start with an opener, why aren’t you on my bookshelf yet?

Continuity - 8 The sense of progressing trials and moving from one stage to another and Caden’s demeanour and appearance and physical changing done was nigh short on fantastic.

Setting - 8 A little less rock, and more of these fantastic descriptive passages, you add humour and subtle metaphors to give more life than long winded detailed descriptions ever could, good work.

Pacing - 7 Lost a little here, the tempo in the action, as fantastic again as it is is a little jarring.

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Dialogue - 10 With the exception of the use of the S word too much, some of the best dialogue I’ve had the pleasure to read on Althanas. The coloured text isn’t too obnoxious, and easily identifies who is speaking.

Action - 8 Great, enduring and involving. Perhaps you could’ve delved into Caden’s somewhat vast repertoire a little more, and mixed it up somewhat, but other than that, it’s clear as day and gripping.

Persona - 9 Historical and character references really helped add to Caden’s personality, you really get the sense of him being who he is, no questions needed. I can’t help but draw comparison to Rincewind with magic, but it’s a fitting and honourable title.

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Technique - 9

Mechanics - 9 One or two minor slip ups, to the point where I’m not sure if they’re intentional or not. It’s so polished and gleaming you couldn’t forgotten to use capital letters and still gotten a 9 though!

Clarity - 9

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Wild Card - 8 An absolutely pleasure to read, truly it was. Less use of shit wouldn’t go amiss though, running jokes are cool but I only laughed at them because I’m immature Another Judge's Choice recommendation coming your way sir!

Total - 85!

XP and Gold - 5,123 xp! (Gold taken as per spoils request.)

So awesome sauce is this, all spoils approved! If you can fit them all into your bio