The Trials of M
By: J. Charles Ramirez
Tags: Serial Fiction, Litrpg, Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Novel

Chapter 11: You Cannot Change Your Own Future

The man looked with open astonishment at Magnus’ weapon, darting between looking at Magnus himself and the sword.

“How.” the man questioned.

“You know how, Joranduin.” Magnus replied.

The man before him stood in a loose stance, his sword pointed at the ready but otherwise he was relaxed. He had silver-blonde hair that fell to his nape, cradling his ears and young face, a few longer strands falling softly before his eyes. He was dressed casually; no armor but instead a well tailored gentleman’s suit that accentuated his lithe form. His handsome looks struck a sharp contrast to the murderous intent that dripped from him. He brushed the hair away from his forehead and behind an ear. A tattoo of an eye shone prominently on his brow in that same shade of his weapon, just as Magnus’ own brand shone.

“That’s impossible. You never received your contract!” Joranduin announced, obviously displeased.

“Yet here I am.”

“Yes. yet here you are! Stealing from my patron. One of the tenants of Eirskottir is never interfering in another God’s territory.” He growled in frustration. “No. You are no Eirskottir. You and that blade are not worthy to be.” Joranduin then lowered himself slightly, readying his attack. “You know the punishment.”

“Death it will be, then, old friend.” Magnus replied gravely.

“Death, indeed.”

Joranduin took off towards Magnus at an alarming speed, catching Magnus off-guard, but able to react just in time to avoid a heavy overhead slash from his opponent. Joranduin flourished his sword and stood back to a relaxed posture, smiling. As he did, a gash appeared down Magnus’ midsection, blood trailing down and splashing on the stone. He buckled for the briefest of moments before steadying himself again, suffusing his body with mana.

Joranduin’s sword was thin, its blade long and straight with a flowery hilt protecting the tang. Much like Magnus’ own weapon it gave off an unsettling aura. Despite its unusual appearance, Magnus was certain it hadn’t connected with him and yet, here he was bleeding from it.

Instead of allowing the flow of the fight to be determined by his enemy, Magnus decided to charge straight forward, sweeping his blade in a wide horizontal arc aimed for Joranduin’s midsection. He missed by a hair as the thin man deftly avoided the attack, but Magnus was already following up with a spin that lashed out an arm, Magnus hoping to catch the man with his claws. Once again, he caught the air and was rewarded by a devastating kick from Joranduin.

Magnus took a step back and drew more mana into himself, pressing on with a savage flurry of attacks. Each stab, thrust, swipe, or cut connected only with empty space as the man continued to expertly move out of harm’s way. After a few more futile attacks from Magnus, Joranduin replied with a cut of his own, dragging his blade through the air as Magnus pulled out of its way. Once again, a swallow cut appeared across Magnus’ chest, stretching from his collarbone to below his ribs on the opposite side.

Magnus had a look of sheer confusion cross his face as he looked down at the cuts he sustained during battle. He hadn’t had direct contact with Joranduin’s blade, but yet, here he was being wounded by it all the same. Joranduin laughed, mocking Magnus’ ignorance.

“You look so stupid, Magnus.” Joranduin chuckled again, “You have absolutely no idea what’s happening, do you?”

Magnus could only growl in reply, and pressed onward. Magnus continued to attack with his weapon, but Joranduin seemed to always be one step ahead. I’ve got to slow him down somehow, he thought as he dragged his sword across the ground to kick up dust and debris aimed at Joranduin, who in return, jumped back in retreat, scoffing at the tactic.

“Not on my suit, you mangy beast! Some of us like to have clean clothes.” He hollered as Magnus closed in, coming in with a quick lunge towards the man’s midsection. Once again, Joranduin sidestepped the attack and dodged it perfectly, despite still having his eyes closed from the dirt. He spun in place and backhanded Magnus with a fist that held surprising power from his slender frame. The attack put Magnus off balance, but Joranduin allowed the opportunity to pass, instead retreating a few more paces.

“Coward!” Magnus roared, anger fueling him. Unable to make contact with his foe, he was essentially robbed of his main strategy; absorbing so much of the foe’s mana source that they gradually weakened while that same mana fueled Magnus’ increasing strength. He could only hope the provocation would inflame Joranduin and cause him to attack more aggressively. There was a limit to how much mana Magnus could continue to use to reinforce his body, and he was quickly closing in on empty. He couldn’t even spare any to initiate his mana beast transformation; the term he coined when he first learned of how his body reacts when he infuses mana into himself past his limits.

“I am a coward, Magnus,” he said, smiling, “that’s why I don’t start fights I won’t win.” Joranduin then lowered himself close to the ground, spreading his limbs out in a wide stance. His sword shimmered for a moment, then reshaped into two small daggers which he held in both hands, one reverse gripped and one pointed outwards. “Let’s get a little more serious, friend.”

Without warning, Joranduin disappeared from his location on the ground and appeared above Magnus, a tremendous leap taking him the entire distance in the blink of an eye. He came down hard, both daggers cutting downwards at Magnus. This time, Magnus reacted by catching the blades with his own sword and immediately trying to absorb their mana. The daggers faltered for a brief second, then appeared in both of Magnus’ shoulders. He screamed in pain.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Joranduin questioned, ripping the blades free and kicking off of Magnus’ chest, flipping over in the air and landing back nearly where he leapt from initially. “See, you’re so painfully slow,” he spoke, tossing the daggers in the air, juggling them between his hands as he paced in a steady circle around Magnus, “you’re whole strategy so far has just been to grab me, then hit me as hard as you could. I mean, it even looks like you still can’t cast any magic just like back in training. Honestly, how do you even manage to summon the Eirskottir’s blade?”

“I haven’t seen you cast any magic, either.” Magnus retorted.

“Oh no my dear man. You see, I’ve never stopped casting magic since our fight began.” Joranduin relished the look of confusion on Magnus’ face. To him, nothing was sweeter than someone who didn’t know as much as he did. “You see, Ialdin’s Knowledge is much more… potent than most people realize. No, it’s not just knowledge of the past that is within the realm of his influence, he has given me the gift of foresight. I can see your attacks before you even launch them. That kind of ability gives my weapon a very interesting property, you see.” Joranduin flashed a wicked grin at Magnus, “this mana ensures that my blades attack before they even move in the present time. Basically, by the time I begin to swing, the blades have already completed the motion and I’m just catching up.” He pointed a dagger at Magnus, continuing, “Against me, you cannot change your own future.”

“You’re always so quick to spill your secrets, Joranduin.” Magnus reprimanded him.

“Knowing about my abilities and being able to defend against it are two vastly different things.” He darted behind Magnus before he could realize again, “I’m faster than you are, and that’s all that matters now. You can’t escape my blade.” As if to reinforce that point, Joranduin’s daggers caught Magnus in his arms before he could turn to attack, and just as quickly as he arrived he retreated again.

Magnus realized he was very nearly being overwhelmed. Was he always this strong? He thought to himself, No, they always told us the Awakening would change us. Magnus sighed. There has to be a way to fight this. Magnus knelt down, preparing himself to run. Joranduin noticed this too and tried to close the gap, but Magnus was ready and pushed off from the ground, throwing himself backwards into the swirling blue dome.

He hadn’t had a chance to move the little mana he had from within himself to create an aura around him and the gravity of the densely packed magic forced Magnus to the ground, halfway through the field. Joranduin stopped well short of the field and looked down with derision.

“You idiot. That’s going to kill you, you know.”

Countless shards impaled Magnus’ body as the mana that flowed was mostly crystallized, and it took precious moments for Magnus to stretch his mana outwards to begin the absorption process. Almost immediately following Magnus could feel a flood of power entering him, and he took some excess mana and put it back into his muscles, this time allowing more mana to seep deeper into him, soaking his bones and tendons in turn. He rose as the mana continued to fuel him, rapidly changing his form and size. Joranduin looked on in horror as Magnus stood tall under the onslaught of forceful mana growing stronger and larger with every passing moment. Soon, Magnus could feel his reserves bursting at the seams, and stepped out from under the fountain of power he had uncovered. After a moment, Joranduin appeared again in Magnus’ blind spot and slashed with his blades.

Acting on instinct, Magnus decided to attempt something he hadn’t tried before. He knew even with the increase in physical prowess he obtained by refueling he still didn’t have much of a chance if he couldn’t stop Joranduin’s attacks from connecting. He was a bigger target, now, and his senses were a lot sharper meaning even the pain seemed worse; he could acutely feel each gash he had withstood in the fight so far. The only way to turn the tables now was to try something he had only theorized he could do. Magnus dragged all the mana he could spare towards his center, infusing it with Hesh’s imprint, and forcefully expelled it from himself.

The result was something akin to an explosion. The ground quivered under its weight and Joranduin was thrown past the waterfall of mana, crashing to the ground by it with an audible crack, the torrent itself was disrupted by the void and erased any trace of mana in the air. Magnus fell to a knee as he realized an unwanted side effect: the explosion had eaten all of the mana he was using to reinforce his body and the recoil of the instant removal was jarring. Without any more reserves of neutral mana, he was defenseless.

Looking over, he could see Joranduin lying motionless on the ground, drops of blood splattered in a few locations. Slowly Magnus rose and forced himself a step at a time towards the ever-present mana dome separating the two warriors, the attack he unleashed only stopped its function for a few brief seconds. He nearly crashed in front of it and plunged his right hand in, taking in as much as he could as Joranduin stirred awake.

To his credit, Joranduin took the damage much better than Magnus had expected, and he was dashing towards Magnus before he could finish absorbing a proper amount of mana. Joranduin bound through the mana completely ignoring the shards that stuck into his shoulders and back and swiped with his hand, completely missing Magnus by inches. Joranduin stared down at his empty palm.

“Where’s…?” he started before Magnus interrupted.

“Gone.” he spoke definitively as he plunged a fist that was instinctively reinforced into Joranduin’s chest, forcing him downwards back into the ground which buckled and cratered under the impact. Joranduin didn’t move after that.

Magnus bent down and placed his hand on Joranduin’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat. Once he confirmed Joranduin still lived, he stood back up to leave, saying, “I’ll let you live, this time.” As he walked towards the exit, thoughts of his childhood came to mind.

* * *

Everywhere he looked the scenery was unfocused; layered in alternating facets of streaking lights and unsteady walls. Magnus had forced himself past his own limits, and nearly killed himself in the process. He knew he had barely won against his former friend, and his final gambit was closer to the throes of a dying man. The desperate technique would have cost him his life if his enemy had paid slightly more attention. Magnus knew he couldn’t worry about that at this point; he needed to move as quickly as his limbs would take him. Although he was sure he defeated the strongest member of Ialdin’s guard here, even an average soldier would no doubt pose a deadly threat.

As he braced himself against the wall of the stairwell, Magnus mentally inspected his body, attempting to sense how many injuries he sustained. He could tell he had at least a few broken ribs and he had lost count of how many cuts Jordanduin was able to inflict. Many of them were superficial, but there were a few that were deep enough to require some serious attention when he made it out of the enemy’s stronghold.

He clambered over the final steps in front of the long hall of horrors, his legs unsteady from both his blurred vision and his weak muscles. He gripped the frame of the doorway as he passed the threshold, and looked down at his hand noticing a slick substance left on it. It was hard to see in the low light, and upon further inspection, he smelled it’s metallic nature. Ahnkiin’s blood? He must have taken a hit from Joranduin; it landed before he could teleport.

He continued down the hallway without incident. As he approached the next set of stairs, he saw three men unconscious on the ground. He gingerly stepped over them with much effort, a foot landing in another puddle of blood below. Magnus could feel his worry growing over Ahnkiin, but forced himself to let it go. Worrying about him now won’t serve anyone. He should be able to patch himself up.

Magnus nearly collapsed as he tripped over the final two steps into the public library area. Fortunately, nobody was around to see and he snuck his way around the unseen edges of the floor like they had done when they entered. He was still losing strength fast, and couldn’t find a new source of magic to absorb. He couldn’t both use his mana to keep his body moving and generate new neutral mana at the same time, and releasing his reinforcement would cause him to collapse. He also couldn’t absorb the mana that naturally existed in organic objects, like the stones around him. Hesh’s magic was potent, but it could only take in mana that was intended for magical application and repurpose it. How, then, did his void explosion spell work? It had somehow caused a chain reaction that wiped out even the neutral mana that Magnus had stored; completely undermining everything Magnus thought he knew about his power.

Magnus strained against the door, attempting to open it. It wasn’t nearly as light as it had seemed before, but somehow he did it. As he walked towards the alley that they had started this heist from, onlookers stared in open disgust at the bloodied Oth’tun. He made it a few steps into the darkness before collapsing on the soiled path, his mana had run completely dry.

* * *

Magnus woke slowly, a soft breeze billowing through the curtains of their modest accommodations in The Gold Feather. Ahnkiin stood above him, bloodied rags and bandages in hand as he worked meticulously to clean and repair Magnus’ many wounds. Ahnkiin smiled down at Magnus as he noticed his friend wake. A large gash decorated Ahnkiin’s dark blue fur, the moonlight offering a glimpse of the shredded shirt he wore.

“Looks like we will both have scars after today, yes?” Ahnkiin said. His soft words were a comfort to Magnus, who had been endlessly worried over the psychological state he had witnessed from Ahnkiin earlier that day.

“The book?” Magnus spoke wearily. In response Ahnkiin lifted an edge of his cloak he still wore wrapped around himself and saw the aged tome tied neatly and securely to the fabric.

“Better to keep it hidden, I think.”

Magnus groaned in response, and fell back into unconsciousness for a time. The sun hadn’t yet begun to rise when he woke for the second time. With a heavy hand he rubbed his bleary eyes and roused himself, slowly rising from the bed. He could feel his wounds pulling at their bindings and stitchings as he attempted to sit up, taking extra care to move slowly and with purpose. Magnus wouldn’t trust himself to stand and walk, yet, but there was something about lying down that made him feel more vulnerable and weak. Palvar stood by the still open window, staring down at the road.

“How’d you make out?” Magnus asked.

“A lot better than the two of ya, that’s fer certain.” Palvar shared a warm grin with Magnus. “My makeshift ram with the door managed ta take out most of the buggers,” -he shrugged- “by the time I cared ta look back, nobody was chasin’ me.”

“It seemed our little ploy with the cloak did its job, then.”

“Aye.” Palvar looked over towards Ahnkiin, who seemed to be resting on his bed. He didn’t speak for a long time as he watched the blankets rise and fall with each of Ahnkiin’s breaths. “You need to take better care of that one.”

Magnus looked back up at Palvar with a hint of hesitation. Palvar noticed it immediately.

“I mean it. Ever since he found ya in that alley he’s been taking care of ya over himself.” Magnus looked down at the floor in response, shame weighing down his broken body. “For hours he poured mana into ya, channeling all the healing power he could. We both knew ye couldn’t recover with it, but he just kept saying that yer body will know what ta do with the mana he was giving ya.” Palvar rubbed at his eyes, the emotion welling inside of him threatening to escape, quivering in his voice.

“He got hurt.”

“Aye. Bad.” Palvar lifted his hand pointing towards a large basin on the ground filled with water and bloodied bandages. “Most of that blood is his. He refused to even let me stitch him up until he got ye finished up. That little cat nearly died fer ya. He is not yer servant. Stop letting him believe he is.”

“I-”

“No.” Palvar shut Magnus up, then walked over and sat next to him.

“Look, none of us know each other that well. I only help ya because I’m honoring me ancestor. I help him” -he lifted his head back towards Ahnkiin- “because I care fer him. Few men are as honorable as that one, not even ye are, Mag.” Palvar sighed in frustration. “I’m not gonna stop helping ye two. I won’t betray ya. I’m just saying me peace.” The large man then walked unceremoniously out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Magnus could only watch as Palvar left, contemplating what had just occurred. Ahnkiin woke only a few minutes later behaving much like the joyful companion always had.

“I am glad you are awake, my friend.”

“I have you to thank for most of that I hear.” Magnus responded, smiling at Ahnkiin.

“It is what anybody would do, in the same situation.”

Magnus was unsure how to respond to that, and wasn’t entirely sure that was very truthful, either. In fact, he wasn’t clear on how long he had been in that alley, but he was certain Ahnkiin wasn’t the first to notice him there, bleeding to death on the stone.

“I am sure you would like to look through the book now, yes?”

Magnus’ breath stopped in his throat. He nodded quickly and attempted to wrest out the anxiety welling in his chest. Ahnkiin slowly approached, taking care to steady himself as he walked, and took a position next to Magnus. Silently, he withdrew the book and handed it down to Magnus.

The book was white, impressed with the symbol for each of the nine gods of Liuwrend. In a small font near the top of the cover read simply “The Nine’’ in black type. Curiously, his brand didn’t burn or glow as he touched the book, as it had when he was searching for it. He flipped through the pages in a cursory glance, then flipped back to the beginning of the book, reading snippets at a time.

“What does it say?” Ahnkiin asked as he lowered himself down to sit.

“This thing is like a history book. Here on the first page it just says ‘The world is broken into three parts, each ruled by their own, each given creators and destroyers.’”

“Does that mean the Nine are not the only gods?”

“Growing up, Dottie always told us that Atul was governed by forces outside of the control of our gods. I never had much reason to question it further, but I suppose if Ialdin wrote it here, it must be true. There must be a third continent, then.”

“This is only the first page and already I must question my own knowledge.” Ahnkiin pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s not really my concern right now.” Magnus flipped over to about halfway through the book, skimming the passages on a few pages before he stopped to read aloud again.

“‘The land of the Gods and of the men are merely mirrors of themselves; with many ways to travel between the two, but the land itself chooses who is worthy. The Godstone Gates stood long before anything else, gifted to mortals by the land to those who possess the strength to rule over it. And so, seven mortals etched their name into the land, chosen as protectors and providers to further the land’s prosperity and life. Their names were Fincoris, the God of Illusions, Aphaeleon, the God of Laws, Shydde, the Goddess of Beasts, Lilea, the Goddess of Life, Khetros, the God of Death, Ialdin, the God of Knowledge, and Thaldir, the God of War. Their power was a gift, to contrast the natural born power of Hesh, the Goddess of the Void, and Yldos, the God of the Elements and Creation. They were to usher in a new era of peace and evolution. Instead, they unwittingly began the death of Liuwrend.’” Magnus took a sharp breath.

“I… I think I know what a Godstone Gate looks like. I think I found one when you lost me in the forest.” Magnus looked over at Ahnkiin with wide eyes.

“Are you certain?” Ahnkiin asked.

Before Magnus could answer, however, loud footfalls thudding up the stairs and stormed into the room. Palvar stood there, surprise and fear decorating his features.

“Scions!”

Magnus and Ahnkiin leapt from their feet just as Nik backed into the room, pleading with someone in the hallway to prevent from making a scene. A few moments later, Roniv, the Scion of the Third Ray entered with two other unknown Scions behind.

“When the good general commanded me to find the intruder,” Roniv said with disdain, “well let’s just say I was happy to oblige in finding and arresting the two delinquent Oth’tun that he wanted captured.”

The small room was dwarfed by the large assortment of persons now crowding inside. They all were nearly shoulder to shoulder, and fighting would have been near impossible in the confined space, not that Magnus was in any shape to do so. I knew we were on borrowed time. I don’t think I can get us out of this, not with these injuries.

“Kneel and accept your shackles!” Roniv commanded the air, compulsion magic flooding the atmosphere. Instantly, Palvar and Nik both dropped to their knees as Magnus and Ahnkiin managed to resist. Magnus glanced over at Ahnkiin who displayed a wicked grin, and Magnus was once again surprised at Ahnkiin’s speed of comprehension, already being able to utilize his mana to fight against the Scion. He could see the tension behind his friend’s breathing, however, and knew he had precious few moments before Roniv broke through his defenses.

“The kitties have claws, do they?” Roniv regarded them. A scowl deepened across his face as his piercing green eyes looked down his nose at them. He stomped a single boot on the floor and commanded the world around them again. “Kneel!”

The room shook with tremors after Roniv spoke, the mana packed tightly into the air. Magnus could feel the power the man held, and watched silently as Ahnkiin exhausted himself and fell to his knees. Even with his reinforcement technique, Magnus knew he couldn’t win against Roniv right now, and despite not being compulsed, he fell to his knees in defeat. At that same moment, something behind Magnus fell to the ground, something that he had forgotten he still kept.

As the sack hit the floor, Magnus could hear the head rolling free, coming to a stop a short distance away. Magnus tilted his head ever so slightly, seeing just in time the head beginning to float from the ground. Black tendrils of smoke and ash poured from its stump of a neck and formed into something resembling a body, the wispy trails of magic flowing upwards and covering the head. Four gleaming yellow eyes gazed through the shroud as horns of many points grew from the scalp. Roniv was the first to speak.

“Who are you?”

“Silence, child.” The form spoke cruelly.

“I am Roniv, Scion of the Third Ray, and I asked you ‘Who are you’? Magnus could feel Roniv exploding with magical ability, attempting to compulse the entity behind him into compliance.

“And I said silence.” The form lifted up an incorporeal limb and suddenly Roniv’s mouth disappeared, a fleshy patch taking its place. Roniv began to panic as he noticed the change and claw at his now missing mouth. He scraped with his fingers so strongly that he ripped and tore pieces of the flesh off, and began to bleed from the wounds. The other two Scions who had come with him stepped forward to challenge the magical beast but also found themselves lacking mouths with which to speak.

“Now,” the monster cooed, searching the room before landing on Magnus, “ah, yes. There it is.”

Magnus and the others stood slowly, watching the new form of the troll’s head float over towards them, reaching down to grab the book that Magnus still held. Instinctively, Magnus flinched backwards and pulled the book out of the monster’s reach.

“Cheeky one, aren’t you? But then again, you always have been.”

“You won’t take this book.” Magnus spoke.

“I do not want to take the book, Magnus. Merely… destroy it.” The form said. “You see, Ialdin has a terrible propensity for, well, let’s call it disobeying, especially when it comes to things better left forgotten.” Magnus eyed the beast with caution. “Now, I’ll deal with that little display of disloyalty later, but first, I must thank you. That book has been hidden from my eyes for a very long time. Thanks to you, I can finally destroy it.”

“You dare think I’ll let you?” Magnus said. Palvar and Ahnkiin looked suspiciously around, both seemed to be searching for an advantage of some sort. Nik seemed to be frozen in place, out of fear or lack of strength Magnus was unsure of.

“Child. Don’t presume to be able to defeat a god.” The form began to grow in size and density. “I am Fincoris, and I have been meaning to kill you for a long time.” Suddenly, a vacuum began to swallow all of the magic out of the air, the amorphous form the center of it. “Oh! I almost forgot. Thanks for carrying around one of my minions, it made it so much easier to find you once you got that book out for me.”

Just as soon as it had started, the beast who called himself Fincoris stopped whatever he had been doing and for the briefest of moments, the world stood silent. There was no sound or movement, and everything seemed to grow brighter and overwhelming. Magnus was the last to realize what was happening.

A blinding explosion with the force of a sun collapsed in the center of the room where Fincoris had stood, its forceful wave of energy blasting outwards in all directions. It was devoid of mana making it impossible for Magnus to guard against. Magnus stared wide-eyed as the shockwave shot towards him, and just then, someone stepped in front of him and covered his body with their own. Magnus looked over to see Nik instantly vaporized by the explosion, his own consciousness broken by that same force.