Battleground 1 - 21

BATTLEGROUND - 1

Doncantilus Angus, High Mage of the line of the Basdugril and the last of the Blue Wizards, watched the Battle of Klasgon distractedly. Men who had no reason to fight one another battled it out, tirelessly wreaking havoc on one another using weapons enchanted with magic. They were but pawns in a game of power. Not many of them understood the true nature of what was at stake and fewer more had any inkling as to what was coming irrespective of which side ended up victor or vanquished.

But they fought. Hard. As men of honour and valour always did through the centuries of conquest that Corizon Earth had existed. Called upon by Lords and nobles to whom they’d pledged allegiance, they popped up the standards of their armies and marched into one battlefield or another with shouts of courage and bouts of confidence. The ones who survived did so with pride and gallantry long enough for the next call to arms.

From his vantage point, Doncantilus saw the Lord Israphdos Baskogols lift up the Axe of Flaville as the minions of Goshetrasto threatened to swarm around him and attack from all sides. Israphdos was King of Flavostratum and it was his responsibility to defend the land of his fathers from the marauding Goshetrasto horde of King Bothelius Armistain’s charges. Theirs was a generational enmity transferred from father to son of every line between both kingdoms. No age had passed without witnessing bloodshed on these grounds of war. Supported by the magic of sorcerers and spells of wizardry, ancient wounds between these two never healed and scars reopened for the flimsiest of reasons.

The bright sparks of sorcerous light brightened the battleground when the Axe Israphdos raised struck the ground at his feet. The magic of the Axe worked as Israphdos gave voice to the ancient enchantment that powered it. The effect was devastating.

To the casual observer, it might have appeared that a truckload of inflammable substances came in fatal contact with a flame that triggered an explosion of the most extreme proportions as a considerable radius around the King burst into a gargantuan conflagration that left a yawning chasm in the solid ground where the Axe struck. Everything within that radius – living and otherwise – was unrecognisably charred to death.

Everything but King Israphdos.

BATTLEGROUND - 2

Then, King Israphdos rose from his crouched position and readjusted his battle gear while looking around with the satisfaction of one admiring the beauty of his art. But respite was brief. He was King and kings at war weren’t allowed the luxury of rest. He picked up his shield and scaling the chasm his Axe created, he screamed his way back into the thick of the fight beyond the radius he'd just incinerated.

Doncantilus Angus wasn’t a casual observer. He knew very well the magic that wrought that Axe into life and knew what spells Israphdos had crafted to actualise that devastation. He admired the king’s courage. This wasn’t one who simply sent men to die like his father and grandfather before him. Much like his great-grandfather, he went in front of them and these valiant men, as a result, were ready to run at any enemy no matter how frightful in their king’s name. Many of them had as much magic weaponry and spells with them and Doncantilus saw these at use liberally in the fight he was witnessing. On both sides. Some dark magic and some not.

The Blue mage could even perceive the use of necromancy at work within the battlefield. It was a worrying confirmation that there was more at stake here than this battle of enemy kingdoms. This was why he kept watch from his vantage point. His intuition had never failed him for the best part of 850 years. It wasn’t about to begin today. Not with so much evidence as he’d been able to …

Doncantilus Angus perceived it before it was apparent. And he was prepared for it.

BATTLEGROUND - 3

The evilry of the spell aimed at Doncantilus burnt through the duplicate form of himself he’d projected by magic to fool would-be physical or magical attackers. He identified the source of the evil spell with one spell of his own and incinerated it with another. But Doncantilus frowned as the blue smoke from his spell hissed out of the charcoaled remains of the apprentice who attacked his duplicate form from behind the disguise of an invisibility cloak.

That was too easy. He expected to be attacked by a proper mage who’d give him a worthy battle not an apprentice on his first time out in a proper fight where one’s ability to attack had to be matched by a propensity to defend (physical or magical) if one was going to live long enough to see the next dawn. This was disappointing. And not what Doncantilus spent considerable magic to prepare for.

Was he therefore anxious over nothing? Were the warring kings who disregarded his premonitions right? Had his intuition read more from the events leading up to the fight? Could he be simply getting the vibes twisted? It wasn’t as if …

His forewarning powers were slightly late but his grasp of his magic wasn’t. Even though he got the inkling of malicious intent weaved at him very late, countermeasures were at the tip of his tongue and at the tip of his fingers at all times. His well-honed skills recognised the immobility spell whose origins were traceable to the earliest stages of magic and his reflexes countered it with an incantation of reflexion which often sent the spell back to sender.

BATTLEGROUND - 4

It was often a time-honoured act of magic where you repelled the spell by returning it to the sender’s address quickly if it catches you off-guard so that the intervening period allowed you to settle enough to face the adversary. If the adversary was just as skilled, it returned to him without effect. If not, it went back with the purpose the person wished for you before you deflected it.

Here, as the form of Doncantilus’ attacker gradually materialised in front of him, he knew he’d not been wrong and his intuition once again proved accurate. And to confirm the power of his attacker, the deflected spell simply bounced off the shape of the mage like a gentle breeze on a sunlight flower.

Doncantilus knew immediately that this wizard was why there was a battle on these grounds. This mage was the architect. Today’s edition of the generational conflict between the kings was a ruse, Doncantilus concluded immediately he identified the Black cloak of the figure. It was always going to be a Black, of course. He surmised from the evidence he’d gathered prior to this battle that this mage was aiming for the Portal of Za’an magically accessible in the Age of the Ox and located here to open for him to have access to the Realm of the Unliving.

Opening it always required human sacrifice. In the hundreds.

BATTLEGROUND - 5

And since no mage, not even a Black was going to be allowed the killing off of so many humans, down through the ages, all evilly ambitious wizards have instigated animosity, enmity and war on these grounds in the Year of the Ox for the selfish intent of using the bloodshed as key to the Portal of Za'an and from thence, passage to the Realm of the Unliving. They couldn't resist the powers that Realm promised any evil Lord willing to risk entry.

All signs Doncantilus had seen had pointed to the malicious instigation of battle between the two kings and the fight today was the culmination of a very intricately planned strategy to enter that Realm. But as long as Doncantilus Angus, High Mage of the Basdugrill lived, the Battle of Klasgon was not going to give the access the Dark mage planned to him.

“Reveal yourself,” Doncantilus demanded with steel in his voice. As he did that, he silently wove within himself a spell to ward off fear and confusion.

BATTLEGROUND - 6

Doncantilus needed to be fully connected to the essence of his magic. It was something dragons and DragonLords like the Black wizards knew very well that if you introduced fear into any mind, it was the emotion with the power to drastically eliminate faith from such a mind. As soon as faith was reduced, the power of the mind to act decisively was ablated. For a mage or sorcerer, a dip in belief in one's powers, a reduction in faith, often meant a loss of absolute control of their magic rendering them little more than mere mortals.

It was well Doncantilus pronounced that spell because he was not prepared for the revelation he had initially demanded. While he expected to see Chaudron Cordillion, the Overall Superior of the Black Mages and the only one powerful enough to instigate this battle, on the one hand, and, on the other, daring enough to attempt a Portal takeover, nothing prepared him for Bellion.

“Hello, Angus Basdugrill, the Blue,” Bellion greeted formally. “Nice to finally become acquainted with the famous Blue.” His smile was evil and voice ancient. He spoke the tongue of the Blue Wizards intentionally to make it apparent that he knew as much of the Blue House as Doncantilus.

BATTLEGROUND - 7

It was only Doncantilus’ spell that kept the Blue mage’s disarticulation at bay. The implications of Bellion’s appearance here were straightforward.

The Black mage, Bellion, was among the four from the four Houses of Black mages in line to succeed Chaudron Cordillion at his death. The others were Sethovus, Gaulodras and Pengotrim. By virtue of experience, depth of appreciation of the Black Mages’ place in the balance of the dark arts and sorcery, sensibleness and appreciation of the other family of mages, Bellion who had demonstrated, over and over again, an acute disdain for the balance of the order of things and had therefore proven himself ill-prepared for any sort of leadership of the Blacks – a role Sethovus seemed to have been born for and favoured to succeed Lord Chaudron

Doncantilus was putting two and two together.

“Yes, yes,” Bellion’s voice bore evidence of triumph, “I see you begin to come to terms with how I have come to be the one to achieve what I fail to understand why it has taken the Blacks so long to accomplish.” The evil smile never left his face. “And so far, it’s been all too easy.” His eyes left Doncantilus’ briefly to glance at the raging armies clashing along in the Battle of Klasgon. That smile was ever widening. His objective was within reach.

BATTLEGROUND - 8

“Those better than you didn’t attempt this mindlessness,” Doncantilus gave answer, drawing Bellion’s attention, “because, more than you, they understood that unless the implications of opening the Realm of the Unliving to our own realm here can be adequately handled with a level of control only possible within a conjunction of powers of all colours of mages, it is foolish, to say the least, attempting to take for oneself the power you desire in that realm.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” an obviously irritated Bellion chorused. “You think I didn’t hear that much from my Lord Chaudron? Or should I say, my late Lord Chaudron?” he said with his penchant evil smile as if he were telling a story of his favourite sleight of hand. He noticed Doncantilus’ face harden at the news.

“How does the death of a High Mage of the Blacks offend you so?” he queried. “When, if you’d both met in battle, Lord Chaudron could have not thought twice of making sure you didn’t survive it?” his eyebrows raised in finishing.

“Because of something you’d never understand called RESPECT, Mazutadrin Bellion,” Doncantilus shot back. “The Overall Superior of the Blacks deserved to have died as he’d lived, a legend rather than at the hands of a spoiled brat with piffling knowledge of how magic works to maintain the balance of the order of things. A fool who thinks only of power for its own sake and who will do anything, even burn his Lord and brother Lords while they trustingly put their security in his arms.” There was fire in Doncantilus’ eyes.

BATTLEGROUND - 9

In a flash, for the first time, the smile vanished from Bellion’s face and icy flames flared in his eyes. But the smile returned just as quickly in all its evil glory. “So, you figured it all out so quickly?” Bellion was giving him an appreciating smile this time, “The legends about you, Angus Basdugrill, the Blue, do not give you as much credit as you obviously deserve.”

Doncantilus couldn’t care if it was a sincere compliment or not. He kept all concentration on his magic. His senses informed him that under Bellion’s breath, the Black Mage was issuing spells that were searching for weak spots in Doncantilus’ ethereal defences against fear and confusion, wishing to weaken it and attack while Doncantilus’ guard was down. Flattery was effective in this light. If the person wielding magic dwelled on any sort of flattery, the person's grasp of magic suffered lapses that the knowledgeable spell-caster chanting the appropriate incantation can exploit. And Doncantilus couldn’t fall prey to that.

From the corner of his eyes, Doncantilus saw flashes of light issue forth from the battlefield in the Battle of Klasgon as more enchanted weapons came into the fray. Bloodletting was rife. He could smell it from where he was confronting Mazutadrin Bellion. And it occurred to him that while the Black Mage sought loopholes to exploit in Doncantilus’ shield, Bellion was buying time. The more people died in the Battle, the more blood was spilled in the human sacrifice requirement for the opening of the Portal. Bellion’s goal was gaining steam on the battleground. Doncantilus knew it was time to act.

As if reading his thoughts, Bellion attacked first.

Doncantilus, however, was ready. He felt that magic. He knew that spell. It relied heavily on the sorcery of the Black House.

BATTLEGROUND - 10

Doncantilus spurned the spell of decapitation that Bellion cast at him with the Unspellation Chant of the Blue Mages. It broke down a Black wizard's hex from its evilry, ridding it of its magical intensity. Bellion couldn't decapitate an Angus, not one of the House of Basdugrill. However hard he tried. Weaving his arms in a practiced sequence around his head twice, Doncantilus shot a powerful ray from both palms uttering the words, "Oid Cyfuldre" that gave them potency.

The Black mage produced a Ball of Movdivis with the palms of his hands to suck the power of the blast from Doncantilus’ ray and converting the power generated from the Ball and the potency of the ray into one force of energy, aimed it all at Doncantilus, releasing it as such a blinding speed, it burnt everything along its travel path towards the Blue mage.

This wasn’t Doncantilus’ first encounter with a Black. Lessons learned from the several exchanges he’d had with all those he’d combated previously came to the fore. He’d lost not a few of those fights because he’d failed to quickly grasp how the Blacks could engage with their magical powers for longer than any other colours of mages. It wasn’t only due to how much more powerful evil enchantments were but also because each spell and use of magic generally took from the essence of the one wielding it. With every use. That essence was necessary to power the spell.

A Black mage's countermeasure consisted mostly in using the magic expended by his adversary against the adversary. In so doing, the Black utilised much less of his own magic and therefore less of his own essence. So as the adversary burned more of his essence and the Black burned less, it was only a matter of time before exhaustion took over the adversary and handed the upper hand to the Black.

Bellion had just demonstrated it again and it took some potency in spell crafting to ward off the power of the returned ray from the Ball of Mordivis. And a good portion of Doncantilus' essence. But Bellion wasn’t simply interested in waiting for Doncantilus’ spells to use in retaliation.

BATTLEGROUND - 11

As the air cleared from Doncantilus’ blocking of that powerful ray, he saw Bellion’s lips move in incantation and his right hand shoot back to power a spell which the Black mage hurled in Doncantilus’ direction screaming, "Aeojisth Banostrisdun!"

It was a spell of control and Doncantilus’ intuition warned him against what he’d only now considered doing as the power of the spell came at him fast. Doncantilus who had inculcated some of the dark arts of the Blacks in his time at the Tower of Shoikran High had the inclination to use it against a Black mage to let him know he wasn’t the only one versed in that art. But, intuition made him realise that Bellion was aware he desired to do just that and therefore gave him a Control Spell to try it out with.

The outcome, if Doncantilus had attempted it, would’ve given Bellion complete and total control of Doncantilus’ magic because of all spells, the one a mage never ingested to add to theirs and use against a Black mage was the Control Spell. It only needed to enter the magic field of another mage to hand over all control of that mage to the Black mage who cast it.

Doncantilus went with intuition and countered the Control Spell with the ancient incantation of Misdirection. Consequently, the Control Spell lost track of the object of its aim and trailed off harmlessly into space.

Forewarnings of magic were a mage’s saving grace if powerful enough to identify the spells and magic approaching the mage who set these Forewarnings. Doncantilus was the last surviving Blue because of Forewarnings. Again, it saved him here. His magic of Forewarning was already animating his reflexes, giving it a boost the moment Bellion brandished the Blade of Mazutadrin and lunged at Doncantilus, targeting the Blue mage’s heart with the accursed tip.

BATTLEGROUND - 12

The Blade proper to the House of Mazutadrin was famous for slaying the Serpent of Tartargorusvan which had the power of rendering a mage powerless simply by hissing within hearing distance of the mage. Although Bastovis, the Black, who went on the mission to kill the “Nemesis of Mages” as the Serpent was known, alongside a Blue mage, Pastoragdis and White mage, Flanagat, died in the epic fight, Bastovis made sure to pierce through the scaly serpent and ensured it died before death claimed him too.

The cursed tip, a product of spell from the Black, Blue and White Houses of magic, was so lethal, it was agreed that never was it going to be allowed that the Blade be wielded by any one wizard using it alone. Thus, they kept it locked away at a location whose entry required the magic spell of all three contributing Houses.

Dread threatened to break through Doncantilus’ shield against fear. How did Bellion have this in his arsenal? He’d have needed the spell of a Blue and Doncantilus was supposed to be the last surviving Blue. He’d never have assented to allowing any made wield this Blade how much more a Black and a Black with the dark ambitions of Bellion. These thoughts threatened to expose him to fear. It was expected of anyone who faced an adversary wielding such a Blade, especially a Black mage. Their evil gave the Blade more potency.

Doncantilus steeled his mind. The mind had to keep the shield against fear up and strong. It had to focus on keeping far from the tip of the Blade of Mazutadrin every part of his body with the power of his magic and the reflexes of a feline. He couldn’t keep all these together unassisted. He conceded that much.

BATTLEGROUND - 13

Therefore, Doncantilus reached into one of the pouches of his robes for a matching magical artefact, the Halionorbstra or the Orb of Halionstra. As he handled the orb, it began to glow blue, sipping magic from Doncantilus’ essence and in turn feeding the mage's essence from its own alchemy.

The Orb was forged by the magic of the Mages of the Commune before the ages of the Colours. It belonged to a time when magic was neither Black, Blue, White or Green. And working as one, the true essence of magic at the heart of the Halionorbstra was a combination of sorceries. It had come into Doncantilus’ possession by its own volition and it meant that the Orb had chosen him and entrusted to him the responsibility of preserving the nature of magic and keeping the Realm of Corizon Earth without interference from dark magic from other Realms.

Doncantilus applied the magic of the Orb using its potential to be whatever the wielder wanted it to be in the counteraction of adversarial magic. He said the words that transformed it into an effervescent barrier that shimmered with silvery charm and engaged a rampaging Bellion, blocking the latter’s unrelenting strikes against the him with the Blade of Mazutadrin.

He noticed that his use of the Orb enraged Bellion because unlike any other magic defences against the Blade, Bellion couldn’t use it to drain away at the essence of Doncantilus’ magic. Without the Orb, the repeated attacks with the Blade could’ve either drained Doncantilus of his essence or scored a prick on some part of the Blue mage’s body and brought the fight to a quick end. But the more he persisted, the easier it was for Doncantilus to evade his strikes. In fact, Doncantilus, with a few lines of magic, occasionally turned the Orb into a sword and launched a few attacks of his own against Bellion. Doncantilus saw that this annoyed Bellion a lot and it made him pleased as the battle raged.

And in this annoyance of his adversary, Doncantilus saw a precious opportunity.

BATTLEGROUND - 14

The lessons from previous battles with Blacks and from Shoikran High were paying dividends. He'd quickly exploited the minutest perception of uncontrolled rage he felt enter Bellion's aura of magic. His knowledge of some of the dark sorcery of the Blacks told him the rage was inimical to the mage's control and this had helped him penetrate Bellion's defences so fleetly that the wizard had neither time to react nor spells to cast before his body was smashed against the boulder outcrop.

However, there was nary a time to catch a breather. In a flash, Bellion was before him. Gone was all weakness. Absent was all fear. And now, he was spoiling for an all-out assault to even the scores. And that was what the Blue mage gave him.

As they battled, Doncantilus came to an inkling of the stubborn mind of Bellion. They had been going at it for a long while. The Blue mage had had to use spell upon spell to defend himself. Bellion was using his magic to transport himself at will to attack Doncantilus from all corners. One minute he was lunging at Doncantilus from the front. The next, he’d vanished and attacked from behind Doncantilus. Next, he burst forth from the ground, attacking from beneath and then, he dropped on Doncantilus from above.

It was all Doncantilus could do to keep up having his forewarning spells working overtime. He didn’t see anything else but the single-minded purpose for which he’d set himself and nothing was going to stand in his way – not a Blue wielding the Halionorbstraboff.

BATTLEGROUND - 15

Doncantilus noticed a brief lull in the barrage of attacks from Bellion and it took a while for the Blue to understand what was happening. But hearing Bellion’s voice chanting behind him, he understood. The Black mage had put away the Blade and was now desirous to engage Doncantilus directly, spell-to-spell. Blue and Black.

Doncantilus cast a glance at the Battle of Klasgon. He liked what he saw. So, he pocketed the Orb and taking a deep breath, readied himself. His own chanting began deep inside of him. He wove about himself the magic of the ancients, the spells of Being he’d acquired over centuries. He felt the knowledge flood his consciousness and the power of the magic flowed within him. Bellion knew much of the Blue as well as Doncantilus knew of the Blacks if not more. This was as worthy an adversary as he’d prepared for for today.

So, when Bellion struck, Doncantilus responded.

BATTLEGROUND - 16

The blaze of one magic counteracting another could be seen from other kingdoms. Bellion’s spell-weaving had him levitated from the ground as he cast and cast spells of malicious composing at Doncantilus. Seeing the adversary elevated, Doncantilus took to the air too, weaving his magic at four points: elevation, guard against fear, attacking and warding off attacks.

Bellion wanted control of this battle now and thus, flipped the script.

He sent the Wisps of the Tuka’drai against the obstinate Blue. These were soot-black, ethereal, ghostly predators brought to life by a spell of the dead, a Black mage's specialty. Doncantilus remembered he’d perceived the use of necromancy in the Battle of Klasgon and could now confirm that not only was he right, he also now knew from whence those enchantments came. He’d learnt the art of crafting a countervailing power against the Tuka’drai at the Tower of Shoikran High. Only that there was a grave issue with it.

The magic to combat them were a set of spells which could only temporarily hinder the Tuka’drai. Because they were undead predators sustained singly by the essence of the Black who summoned them, they could not be stopped until that sustenance ceased. And as Doncantilus had already established, Bellion was too stubborn. This implied that he’d be needing to use most, if not every ounce, of his essence to stay alive against a horde of wispy black predators he couldn’t kill in any permanent way.

And Bellion had summoned an entire planet of them.

BATTLEGROUND - 17

If Doncantilus had had the Orb with him in his hand rather than beyond his immediate reach, he’d have evened the odds and fought the gossamer Tuka'drai with the knowledge that the Orb would keep him from draining all his essence defending himself against the phantasms.

But because the Orb was immune to translocation spells, he’d need to reach into his cloak to retrieve it physically. He knew Bellion was waiting for him, watching him intently, daring him to make that move. If he attempted it, Doncantilus had a fair idea of the countermove Bellion might play. The Black mage could dispossess him of the Orb or, more than that, Bellion could seize the opportunity of Doncantilus’ divided attention and the quadruple fronts on which the Blue’s magic was multitasking and land victory by casting a spell Doncantilus may be too late to counter, forewarnings or not.

He wasn’t ready to take that risk. Not now.

So, he fought the Tuka’drai with his magic and the lessons from Shoikran High. He felt his essence drain as the untiring pack came at him again and again, relentless, persistent, unappeasable. Bellion kept the magic that fed the undead, vile creatures going as they implacably continued snapping at Doncantilus, gnawing away at his essence. The Black mage’s focus was intense. He meant to keep at this until it was optimal enough to finish off this increasingly irritating mage standing on his path to infinite power.

BATTLEGROUND - 18

Doncantilus saw how intense Bellion was watching him and he decided to use that to his advantage. By now, he believed his other measure was already in effect. So, he suddenly stopped battling the shadowy figures of the Tuka’drai. And even though they came at him ferociously, he allowed them, simply staring at the distant battleground where enchanted weapons were freely brandished as two kings and their band of nobles were locked in an internecine confrontation.

Smiling at what he saw, Doncantilus slowly looked from there to the Black mage so that Bellion could see the triumphant grin that split his face. Doncantilus was pleased with the confusion his reaction caused for Bellion. The latter followed Doncantilus’ gaze and almost immediately the Black mage’s magic wavered. Bellion didn’t like what he was seeing.

The Battle of Klasgon had stopped. And the Portal remained firmly shut. This wasn't going as planned at all for Bellion.

BATTLEGROUND - 19

The Battle of Klasgon had stopped not because one side had triumphed over the other, as Bellion strategised for. The combatants may have caught sight of another fight going on here between the Blue and Black mages and every one of the battle-scarred, blood-stained valiant fighters still alive had picked an interest in this fight over theirs. This was how Bellion read what he was seeing. The soldiers of both sides had their weapons down and they stood side-by-side looking intently at what ensued between the mages that belonged to different Houses of the Dark Arts. They were enraptured with what they were witnessing.

“FOOLS,” Bellion screamed at their faces. His voice betrayed the emotion of disappointment he must have felt at seeing such an early end to the battle.

Their cessation of hostilities before sufficient blood had been shed enough to open the Portal of Za’an and thus create the enablement for him to use his acquired magic from killing Lord Chaudron to gain access to the Realm of the Unliving spelt failure for Bellion. He couldn’t fathom it. Not after all he’d gone through to reach this point. All the deaths it’d taken to get here.

“Fools!” he screamed again, softer this time than the first as realisation dawned on him all the more. There was furious ire in his eyes. It appeared as though bursts of flames escaped his nostrils with every angry breath he drew.

BATTLEGROUND - 20

At some point, Doncantilus, nigh-fainting from exhaustion but holding strong by magic, thought Bellion was going to go overboard in his rage and chant the Spell of Iumdoosk which invoked the flames of hell to turn everything around him to ashes.

The Blue wizard had witnessed Lord Chaudron the Black do it and had barely escaped with his life. So, Doncantilus had already began the first lines of a magical, shimmering machicolation with one hand on the Orb hidden within his robes to effectively counter such a disaster and save as many lives as possible.

But, Bellion shocked the Blue mage. The Black did mutter some words of magic under his breath. But it was not Iumdoosk. Doncantilus watched the mage's lips closely trying to figure out what invocations were being woven. And just as the Blue thought he'd figured it out, Bellion was gone in an instant, vanishing from their view, leaving in his wake a plume of smoke.

His hold on his magic wispy predators still snapping at Doncantilus petered out. The Blue mage fell to the ground, exhausted.

BATTLEGROUND - 21

Though exhausted, Doncantilus was relieved and pleased. He had kept the Black mage from access to another realm and that meant more to him than anything else. In addition, he had proved to both bellicose kings, Israphdos and Bothelius, that at no time in the ages that their ancestors fought on these grounds was the fight in either kingdom’s favour. There was always a power beyond them, instigating them to fight, baying for the shedding of blood for purposes both sinister and nefarious.

To achieve this, he’d employed the use of quislings.

These quislings the Blue wizard had sneaked into both factions. Their purpose was simple. They were to engage in the Battle of Klasgon normally with the rest of their legions. But they were to keep an unwavering eye on Doncantilus’ position which he’d provided them beforehand. In the event that there was any sign of even the minutest fracas within the area of the Blue mage’s position, they were to immediately inform both kings with aplomb.

It appeared that they had followed through accordingly. The kings had thus called off hostilities as the words he’d spoken to both but which neither had initially heeded turned out to be true.

As Israphdos and Bothelius came before him to apologise for their blindness and to resolve to listen carefully when next he brought wise counsel their way, he knew he had one less issue to contend with. But he wasn’t naïve enough to hold the false hope that this failure would keep Bellion from his desire to reach the Realm of the Unliving. This was just a clog in the wheel. Bellion would now look for another wheel.

And now, the Black mage knew who was ready to stop him, how that obstacle matched him power for power and the artefacts at the Blue’s disposal. He was going to come prepped next time.

Doncantilus would have to be two steps ahead of him again when that happens.

- END