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A man sat atop a rock at the edge of a cliff, but the rock made the entirety of the cliff. He was old. The years showed on his eyes. They were tired, weary. Lines heavily accented his face. His skin was shrunken to a point that it outlined the skull that it hid beneath it. He had been the magus of the age, and he wanted rest. Rest he knew that would come before the hour ends. But today, he had to fulfill his final mission before he could pass on from this life. He had to pass on the knowledge of the magic to one whom would be the magus of a future generation. He would come; though neither could be seen nor heard nor felt. The magic told him that the future magus would come accompanied by the dark stranger.
From far away his acolyte watched on. Hungry for power. Hungry for the world. He wanted power, and with what his master had taught him, he knew he was ready. He would let his master finish his rites, and then suck the power from his dying body. He watched his master talk to the air. He smiled to himself. His master talked about someone of power visiting the lost isle of fragmented Atlantis, but nobody came. He wondered if his master was getting senile.
He walked closer to his master; the wind brought him bits of the conversation his master was having to an unseen visitor. He felt a chill run down his spine. Was his master talking to a demon, an angel or a Lord of Order or Chaos? Nevertheless, he had to kill his master to gain the Shard of K’tara. The one amulet that would bring him power above all creation.
‘Master’ he whispered to gain his master’s attention. His master paid him no heed, instead he kept warning the invisible visitor about the mystic arts. The acolyte felt his master intended the message to be his. His brow knitted closer to each other. He felt his blood rush to his head. He balled his fist. Then, he heard his master bidding the visitor away. Now was the time. He stepped closer, as he demanded the location of the precious Shard that could trap the essences of Chaos and Order alike.
‘The stone is not for one as evil as you.’ His master spoke softly, slowly. Every word now seemed an effort.
‘But not to be kept by one as weak as you.’ The acolyte retorted. ‘You can hardly stand, how can you safeguard the Shard?’ he added.
‘Power is not in the physical state. It is in the mind. Have you not learned anything from me?’ His master replied, his hairless brow crossed.
‘I have learned all I needed. How magic works, and how to achieve the ultimate power.’ The acolyte raised his voice in a sense of triumph, the winds howled with him and thunder cracked as lightning flashed across the sky.
‘But you never cared to learn how to control them. You did not even bother to learn the laws of the universe.’ His master pointed out.
‘I’ll show you control.’ The acolyte said calmly. ‘I’ll show you control!’ He yelled as an affirmation. His hand wove an intricate choreography of motion as he whispered a spell. His eyes sparkled with delight as he watched his master stand there and made no effort to counter his spell.
He whispered words that were now forgotten, and names no longer mentioned, not even in whispers. He invoked spirits of long forgotten deities and summoned the strength of the elements.
At last, his incantation was complete. His master’s soul departed its body as it fell limply like a wet rag. The acolyte guided the soul, and controlled it to pass through his forehead, as his mind searched for the secret the soul kept well hidden. He prodded and reached, until satisfied, he let the soul go.
His lips offered a wide grin. The feel of victory gave him a rush he had never felt before. The Shard of K’tara was now within reach. The universe will be his. He will be the magus now and forevermore.
Slowly he left the place. He walked lightly. There were no witnesses to his deeds, save for the winds that still howled. He left the place. Too soon. He was not able to hear the warning of his now dead master. ‘Those who seek to abuse power find themselves the prisoner of it’. The caution was scattered in the winds.
An old man lay dead on top of a rock, which was shaped like a skull, at the edge of a cliff on the ruins of sunken Atlantis.
Fifty Thousand Years After
The house the Nelsons created inside the Fate’s talisman resembled much what they used to live in, but with improvements they have always wanted, like for example, the tea room they were in as they talked with Hector Hall, current possessor of the mantle of Fate.
Kent Nelson took a sip of tea from out of his cup and placed the teacup back on the saucer that waited for it in the table. He relaxed a bit and leaned his back comfortably on the chair.
“I really miss that old helm.” He said, as if concluding a sentence. “Back then I did not want to wear the Helm of Nabu all the time. I want to discover the magic all on my own. Of course I had had training before I used what I’ve learned, but the satisfaction was different when you know you have accomplished something out of your own efforts.” He continued.
“So, where do you think your half-helmet had gone?” Hector asked.
Kent Nelson looked beyond for a while, not minding the question for the time being. “Damned if I know.” He snapped back to reality, and looked at Hector in the eyes as he answered the question.
Hector opened his mouth in protest of his latest quest, which he felt nothing more than a wild goose chase. But before he can utter a word, Kent waved his hands in front of him and quickly offered some information.
“But, there are still some who walk the earth with knowledge of its whereabouts.” He said as he once again reached for his teacup.
“Aren’t you being a bit unfair to that lad, my dear?” Inza stood on the doorway that leads to the tearoom, questioning her husband’s motive on the entire affair.
“Nonsense.” He replied to his wife. “At any rate,” he began, as he turned his head back to Hector, “I have faith that you can go about this errand without further help from me.” He continued, then gave Hector some assurance of help when he would need it, just in case.
Hector left the house inside the talisman, put on the Helm of Nabu then passed through the walls of the door-less, window-less tower. He lifted his head and held the edge of his cape and took to the air, in search of the missing helm.
The acolyte has successfully trapped the essence of a Lord of Order by tricking it to manifest itself on earth. Tricking a Lord of Order was an easy task. They were more trusting than the Lords of Chaos. Chaos Lords needed sacrifices or evidences of your worth before they would even communicate with you, and once you finally do, one must have a steady mind to be able to withstand the turmoil that goes on constantly.
But now, with a trapped Lord of Order, they were sure to come.
He lit the candles one by one, each time invoking the name of a Chaos Lord. When he was able to light all fifty candles, he burned a handful of incense, wagged them in the air and whispered a prayer to the Chaos Lords. He planted the incense in a pot filled with soot and let it burn. He picked the Shard up and placed it on the middle of a pattern of a wheel littered with geometric shapes, on the floor. Then, he waited for them to come. He summoned only fifty of them. That was all he can afford to call. More than that would lead to chaos.
One by one he heard Chaos arrive. He heard a whisper, here and there, coming from everywhere all at once. He wanted to cover his ears but did not, instead he raised the Shard from the floor with both hands and said, ‘Chaos Lords, I offer you the essence of Order. I have trapped it that you might find me worthy of your service.’ The Chaos Lords continued to chatter their incoherent language, then one by one they were silenced. He panicked. The Chaos Lords were not impressed by his feat. They were leaving him. ‘No!’ he hollered. ‘Don’t go!’ he pleaded. ‘They chose me to stay,’ a booming voice erupted from the center of the room. ‘My Lord, come and take my humble offering,’ said he as he genuflected in the presence of the Chaos Lord. There was a purple glow expanding mid-air from the center of the room. He stepped back and left the Shard levitating. He could no longer hide the smile forming on his lips. Triumph at last. Within hours, the power of Chaos and Order combined would be his.
Present
“You think he would come, master?” Zander, his acolyte asked.
“Yes.” He replied as he watched Dr. Fate take to the sky on a pool from the floor.
“Yes, he will come. We have what he wants. Now, go and put it on and ask him to come.” He directed his acolyte.
“Yes, master.” Said he as he bowed before his master. He carried the half-helm, placed it over his head then whispered a spell of teleportation.
Meanwhile, Dr. Fate was soaring through the air, making a mental list of people to visit.
“Zatanna could be in a mission with the Reservists,” he thought, “Maybe Madame Xanadu could help me. If she hadn't gone missing with the rest of the Sentinels, I'm sure she could read of its whereabouts in my fortune.” He decided.
Then, he thought he heard the wind call his name. He spun around mid-flight to see if someone was behind him. There, Zander hovered, behind him wearing the half-helm that once belonged to Kent Nelson.
“I have, or rather, my master has an offer for you.” He said, his arms folded across his chest, his feet tip-toed on air. Dr. Fate was caught off guard. He mumbled, then regained composure.
“Who? Where?” He briefly asked.
“If you would just follow me,” he opened a portal and gestured at Dr. Fate, inviting him in. Dr. Fate hesitated. He saw where the other end of the portal led. He felt the evil escaping through the portal. He could smell the decay and the corruptness the place harbored. But nonetheless, he stepped in. It was, after all, his last chance to retrieve the helm.
He started to chant his incantation for the transfer of power. He would suck both Lords dry of their essences and power. Soon, he would be the most powerful being alive, and the world would bow down to him in fear.
Phantom winds swirled through the room. He began to chant louder, while inside the Shard both Lords placed a curse upon themselves. They were done, and they waited. There would be only the tiniest chance of hatching their well-crafted spell, and if they missed their one window of opportunity, they doom the universe. Order’s sense of justice would’t allow that, and Chaos’ sense of pride wouldn’t as well.
The incantation was at its climax. Both Lords began to be drawn towards him. From inside the Shard, they could not cast any spell, so a prepared spell in the form of a curse would be the most effective counter measure. Although it offered a limited range of choices, they had no other option available for them.
The phantom winds blew harder as two spirits left the Shard one after the other. First, the Chaos Lord’s essence entered him then the Order Lord’s. In each one, an audible boom resonated across the room as they hit him on the chest. Then, the phantom winds stilled. Silence. Then, the curse was reviled to him. His eyes opened wide as well as his mouth. He got what he wanted, and his master would have thought that he got what he deserved.
“I heard both of them inside my head. They both gave me something I could not remove. In my greed for power, I failed to take measures to safeguard myself.” He concluded. “I lost the Shard after that. Until now I never knew it whereabouts.”
“And what was the curse?” Dr. Fate asked, not removing his eyes away from him, but fully aware of his acolyte’s activities. So far, everything looked normal, as normal as they could be.
“The Lord of Chaos gave me ultimate evil. The need to kill, to destroy. I thirst for blood. The feel of death around me. But the Lord of Order gave me ultimate conscience; thus, I can not, in my heart kill nor destroy anything. It has been more than fifty thousand years now, and the thirst for killing strengthens inside me, as well as the conscience.” He revealed.
“What would you want from me then?” Dr. Fate asked.
“I need you to kill me.” Was the reply.
Dr. Fate was surprised by the request that he was not able to respond right away. He gathered his wit and saw the acolyte was as startled as he was.
“What if I don’t? I don’t kill.” He replied.
“Then that would leave me no other course than to destroy the world, and me along with it. You see, I don’t like suicides. That would be idiotic. But mass destruction, perhaps that would release the evil voices inside my head, and through the same destruction I will perish and silence the voices of conscience as well.” He laid out his plans, unknowingly rubbing his hands together as if he savored the thought of all the deaths he could cause.
“And, if you do accept it, you will get the half-helm and the powers I wield. Of course, the curse that comes along with it. Everything will be transferred to you.” He announced quite ceremoniously, with his arms waiving on the air.
“I’m giving you four hours. No more, no less. Think it over, get back here and tell me your decision.” He said as he turned his back on Dr. Fate. He waived his hand and Fate faded from sight.
“Master, was that your plan?” the acolyte asked, worriedly.
“No. I have something far more brilliant than that. I already readied a spell that once my sprit leaves my body, it will be transferred to body; while his spirit will be transferred to my body.” He replied.
“But why just now? Why did you not do that ages ago?” said Zander.
But this time his master kept silent.
Dr. Fate found himself back to where he was before Zander, the acolyte, asked him to meet his master. He wondered what to do. Maybe he could call for help from other the mystics. But he did not have enough time for that. And killing him would be out of the question. Deep inside, Dr. Fate knew he did not have the power needed to stop him. Him, he thought. I never knew his name.
“Elrich. His name is Elrich. He has been living for more than 50 thousand years now.” Kent told Hector. “I really thought I would have to fight him eventually…” He trailed off.
“Then you knew how to defeat him.” Hector interrupted.
“I studied how to. He, after all, had the power of both Chaos and Order. He is, right now, the second most powerful mystic in all the land.” He spoke, rather dramatically.
“Who is the first?” Hector asked surprised.
“Not now. Not yet. But soon. Tim Hunter. You might have heard of him. He still needs more training. But there’s something you should know about the art of magic. It’s what every stage magician knows and practices.” Kent started his lengthy lecture.
“Master, he has arrived.” Zander announced.
“Wonderful!” Elrich cried in elation. “I thought you would not return.”
“You left me no choice.” Dr. Fate answered, as he hovered on air, careful that his feet would not touch the ground. His cape covered his body, with his amulet exposed.
“Shall we begin, then?” Elrich asked.
“Hold.” Dr. Fate said then paused for some time. “How do I know this is not a trick of yours?”
“I give my word. The helm is yours after you have killed me.” He said, then turned to his acolyte. “Take the helmet off, Zander. Then leave it near Dr. Fate’s foot that he might trust our intention.”
Zander did as he was told. He walked towards Dr. Fate and then stooped to place the helmet on the ground. He felt a strong surge of power that surrounded Dr. Fate. A surge he had not felt earlier. He began to suspect something was afoot. He opened his mouth to say something to his master, but the latter waved his hand for the other to keep his silence.
“But master…” Zander tried to protest, but his master took the sound away. Zander started to talk, but no word was heard, as if he was inside a soundproof field.
“Now, shall we begin?” Elrich said.
Dr. Fate obviously shook. Elrich mistook it as a sign of fear or nervousness. He started to recall his spell that would transfer his spirit to Dr. Fate’s body.
“Yes.” Dr. Fate finally spoke. The amulet gave off a glow, his eyes flashed and an eerie light shimmered around his cape. Elrich’s body collapsed, his spirit darted towards Dr. Fate. He was not able to hide his elation, that a scream of laughter filled the room.
“Triumph at last! You fool! You never knew what you agreed on!” Elrich screamed in joy. His plans were bearing fruit. Soon, he would control Dr. Fate’s body, and the other would be trapped in his useless body, head filled with noises of evil and conscience.
“Neither did you.” Dr. Fate replied.
As his sprit drew near, Elrich felt a familiar energy from Fate’s body. “No.” said he, but it was too late. The spell was cast and his body lied hapless on the ground.
As his sprit hit Dr. Fate, a loud boom joined Elrich’s cry of defeat. He knew he has lost, and life was over for him.
Dr. Fate’s body seemed to collapse. There was a loud clunk as his helmet hit the ground. Zander walked closer to Dr. Fate’s garment, unsure of what happened, when it suddenly burst forth with life. Dr. Fate stunned him with a spell, picked up the half-helm, then reached out and picked the Shard up.
“Enjoy your eternity,” Dr. Fate greeted him like one would to a guest. “I’m quite surprised that you never thought what the art of magic was all about.”
Three Hours Ago
“The art of magic is in the trick.” Kent revealed.
“What do you mean?” Hector asked for a clarification.
“You cheat. Give him something he won’t expect. Like a joke. It works because after following a single line of thought, the punchline would be delivered. Although connected the rest of the joke, it would be something unexpected.” Kent elaborated.
“So, what should I do?” Hector asked.
“Simple. You will need the simplest of spells. One is levitation; second will be simulacrum. You will need to be able to cast your spell while inside the medallion.” He said.
“In here? Why?” Hector asked, still a little puzzled by the plan.
“We use this,” Kent said, raising a shard with his hand, “In your stead.”
“What’s that?” Hector asked.
“The Shard of K’Tara. The one thing that could trap a Lord.” He replied.
“Are you sure it will work?” Hector asked.
“Positive.” Kent said, winking.
The End...
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