Chapter 873: Confinement

Chapter 873: Confinement

Another divine ward sprang up, forming a half-sphere of divine light, sealing Merzhin and Alex in the throne’s chamber.

Both young Heroes were now trapped between the first ward sealing the throne, and the second one sealing them in. They had little space to manoeuvre, perhaps only about five feet between the two wards.

The Saint shielded his face from the ward as though he was facing a white-hot blast furnace. “The power coming from it...it’s incredible!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Aenflynn’s voice purred, then a rumbling sound came from the side of the room.

Another effigy of the Fae lord—almost identical to the one of earth and rock that greeted Alex and his companions when they’d arrived in Och Fir Nog— stepped from the wall. This one was crafted completely of stone.

He smiled at the two Heroes—gave them a friendly wave—then casually took a seat in the chair beside the side table with the decanter on it. Humming to himself, the Fae lord uncorked the bottle and poured himself a drink.

“You know,” he sniffed the contents of his glass. “The secret of this honey wine’s recipe has been passed down through generations of fae. It actually predates your kingdom.” He sighed, taking a long sip. “It was a favourite of The Stalker—or The Guide as you called him—and I’d promised him the secret of where to get it once he’d slain the two of you. Alas, you are here and he is not. And so, I drink this glass in his names. His many, many names.”

The stone effigy took a long drink as though it were flesh.

Alex glared at him, then looked at Merzhin. “Can I teleport through this new ward?”

The Saint extended his hand toward the second ward, a growing unease on his face. “No. It’s like the one around the throne. Trying to leave here through any means would destroy you—body and soul.”

Alex cursed loudly.

“You would be wise to listen to your small friend,” Aenflynn said cheerily. “These wards are quite deadly to anyone attempting to pass through them, even using teleportation.”

Alex’s jaw clenched. He looked at the wine. “You planned this.”

“Not exactly this, no,” Aenflynn said. “But I did anticipate that someone would attempt to steal the throne from me. It made for the perfect trap, wouldn’t you say? I am a little disappointed that I only managed to capture two of your number, but I am not one to spit on gifts.” for new novels

Alex looked at Merzhin. “Can you get through the ward?”

“I am trying,” the Saint said, both hands rising toward the ward. He spoke softly. “The power’s intense... Quite intense.”

“And well it should be!” Aenflynn said cheerfully. “After all, what you are looking at is the result of months of work and experimentation. If it could be shattered so easily, then I would be forced to question my own competence.”

Alex snarled at the fae. “So...what is this then?” he gestured toward the barriers. “What are you planning here? Obviously, this was meant to trap, not kill us. So what is it you want?”

“Ahhh, very astute,” Aenflynn said. “You have more value as hostages than you do as corpses. Much more value. A pair of corpses would only be good as extra fertiliser...but alive...you have value.”

“If you think Baelin or anyone else’s going to stand down because you caught us in your little trap, then you have another thing coming,” Alex said.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But that is why I thought we could have a little chat.”

“Chat?” Alex scoffed. “I don’t know how you’re projecting your consciousness into that puppet, but you need to pay attention to your opponent outside.”

As he spoke, he directed two of his streams of consciousness to examining the divine wards and the chamber. If he could find something to help them get out of here...

“Oh you mean the old goat-thing battling me in the sky?” Aenflynn chuckled. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about me in that context. Your old friend is about to have his own problems. Insurmountable problems...right about...now.”

“Alright, I think this has gone on long enough.” Aenflynn erected a barrier between himself and the ancient archwizard before him. “You are quite the warrior, my friend. I’d venture to say that if I did not have Uldar’s throne in my possession, you would likely have bested me by now. But, I have the upper hand.”

A nimbus of light built around the Saint of Thameland as power pulsed from him. Divine energy met the divine wards, passing through them and reaching beyond.

Ripples spread through reality.

Light continued building in the wards.

“Uh...Merzhin...” Alex said.

The Saint was doubled over, his skin looking paler, and clammy.

Power continued growing in the divine wards.

“Merzhin!” Alex called.

Expressionless, the Fae lord whistled.

“Merzhiiiin!” the young archwizard screamed.

Waves of light exploded from the wards, each ward emitting the type of heat hot enough to melt enchanted iron, and turn bone to ash.

...but the waves passed through Alex and Merzhin with little more than a tingling sensation. They then dissipated, vanishing as the wards returned to their original state.

“Oh...oh by the Traveller, we’re alive!” the young archwizard shouted.

“We are,” Merzhin panted.

“You are...” Aenflynn sounded disappointed. “Perhaps your old friend is right. You are resourceful.”

“Yeah, I’ll say!” Alex grinned, casting mana to life on Merzhin. “Well done with that interdiction.

Merzhin glared at Aenflynn. “This thief knows what he’s doing when it comes to Uldar’s power.”

“Thief, am I?” Aenflynn raised an eyebrow. “That’s the second time I’ve been called that in the last little while,” he muttered, displeased. Scowling, he looked into Merzhin’s eyes. “Uldar was a friend. I am no thief: I am simply using a friend’s tools in my time of need. And even if I were a thief, what would that make you? You call out to this ‘traveller’ instead of Uldar,” the fae lord tut-tutted Merzhin. “That makes you akin to a divine adulterer. Running to the skirts of another deity after all that Uldar did for you people. Bah! Ungrateful wretches?”

“Ungrateful?” Alex scoffed. “What in all hells do we have to be grateful for? This friend of yours created a terror-construct to kill us, generation after generation. How does that earn loyalty?”

He recalled a conversation he’d had with Khalik long ago. Alex then repeated the prince’s words to the fae. “Any king who rode around murdering their own subjects at his whim and taking their possessions like a common bandit, would likely have a dagger where his heart used to be, and a head separated from his neck. And I imagine the same goes for deities if their worshippers are strong enough; deities are just monarchs with a fancy name and unique powers when you really break it down.”

“How nasty of you,” Aenflynn said. “Ah, well, I am not here to convince you of your folly.”

“So what now?” Alex spat. “No hostages for you. Our friend’s going to rip you in two.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. You do not get to be as old as I without a few back up plans, little mortal. Like the one that’s been underway for hours now.”

“What th—” Merzhin gasped, his eyes wide. He was staring at Uldar’s throne. “The power around the throne...it’s growing, and fast!”

“Do not worry about that. That is not your concern. This is: guards! I have two mortals in need of company! It would seem that my hospitality is not being accepted!”