Chapter 10

Asmodeas opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar room. He was sunk deep into the embrace of an enormous leather armchair, the smell of worked leather filling his nose. Az was sitting facing a crackling hearth, the warmth of the fire within a comforting heat on his skin. There was another armchair, identical to the one he occupied, next to his own, and seated upon it was a man whose image was burned into his mind; Iskander.

Az felt the panic that had been rising in him since he had awoken in a strange location fade away; if Iskander was here then he could not be in danger. The immortal mage had a large book opened on his lap, and seemed lost in the words within. As Az stirred, Iskander snapped out of his reverie, and regarded the young student with his sapphire eyes, “So you have awoken,” he closed the massive book almost gently, and turned his full attention to the boy before him, “You did not panic. Good.”

Iskander paused for a moment, regarding Az in silence. Az wondered if the Chancellor was waiting for him to respond, but the man resumed speaking before he had a chance to gather himself enough to formulate a coherent sentence.

“We are within the world of dreams, in a space of my mind’s creation. This realm has many names, but in essence it is the world of thought and spirits that overlays the physical reality we experience. I called your mind to this place once you entered the world of dreams in your sleep. Even now, your body rests in the physical world; I will return you before too long, lest your body fail without your spirit to guide it. Do you understand, Asmodeas?”

Az’s mind raced to process all that Iskander had told him. He nodded finally, “Yes, Chancellor, but… why.. I mean, may I ask why am I here?”

The immortal nodded, “You may. There are some matters that I wish to discuss with you; matters best discussed in private. And there are few places more private than where we are now.” A mischievous smile passed over the Chancellor’s face, adding a strangely boyish quality to his appearance.

Iskander’s expression returned to its usual impassivity, “Some nights prior to this evening, I observed a disturbance to your fate. Something influenced the planned course of your life, and so I have acted to ensure that this deviation in fate does not spell calamity for you, or the people of Macedar.”

Fate? Calamity? Az felt the first stirrings of panic and confusion rising once again, and opened his mouth to speak, only for Iskander to hold up a hand to cut him off, “Peace. I will explain all that you need to know. No, before you ask, not every action of mortal hands is predestined. The fate I speak of is the most probable future, the natural development of reality. There are many in this world that contain the sight necessary to look into the sands of time and see what may come to pass. Perhaps it is a skill you will learn one day.

“The actions of the powerful - Gods, mages, rulers of men - regularly change and rewrite the content of the most probable future. In most cases, these changes are small, and the general shape of the future comes to pass as foreseen. There is one, rather significant, exception to this rule. The Fallen One, Betrayer of Man, the Evil Below, the Chained Father. He has many names, many guises, and his touch upon the world is chaos incarnate.”

Iskander leaned forward in his chair, the intensity of his stare pinning Az to the back of his armchair, “And that brings us to you, Asmodeas Tantalus. Through design or circumstance the influence of the Fallen God has touched upon your fate. The course of your life is forever altered, things that were near certain in your future thrown into flux, and some yet to settle even now.

“It is my belief that this event came to pass through pure chance, so you need not fear that you have somehow drawn the attention of the Chained Father. Now, let us come to what must be done to keep your fate constrained to a path that is beneficial both to yourself and to Macedar. Firstly, you must continue your studies in “Free Spellcasting.””

Az’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “It was you?! Ah, forgiveness, Chancellor, I did not mean to interrupt, it’s just…. why?”

The ancient mage simply cocked his head, no sign of irritation showing on his face, “If you would allow me to finish, you would know the answer to your questions,” he admonished gently, “Yes, I denied your request to transfer from that class. As to the “why” of the matter, well, there is much in your future that remains unclear to my sight, but in the glimpses I have managed to steal I have seen Dorian beside you. I believe that his instruction and more, his friendship, will prove to be essential to keeping your future on a course that closely follows your original destiny.”

“Ah, excuse me, Chancellor… but what was my original destiny?” Az asked, somewhat fearful of angering the mage.

Iskander only smiled, his eyes twinkling in the firelight, “I sometimes forget the audacity of young men. It is only natural that you should hope for some glimpse of your future. Very well, I shall indulge your curiosity. In the more probable courses that your life could have followed I saw greatness in many of them. You are a Tantalus, and you are every bit as deserving of the reputation that name carries as your brother is. So, now you know what we are working to preserve; your future, and to do so means, for you, receiving the perhaps unorthodox instruction of Dorian.”

Greatness.. Az’s spirits soared at the Chancellor’s words, only to sink somewhat at the mention of the strange mage he was being forced to study under, and, it seemed, to befriend.

Perhaps seeing the emotions warring within Az reflected on his face, the Chancellor continued, “I will not deny that Dorian is a rather unique individual, and his teaching style is certainly unorthodox. Do you think, however, that I would allow a class to be taught in my Academy that was of no merit, and by a charlatan or a fool no less?

“Dorian performed a great service some years ago both to me, and to the people of Macedar, and in return I offered him shelter and security from those who would seek vengeance for his deeds, on the condition that while at the Academy he would impart some of his knowledge upon the next generation of mages.

“He is a young man, and yet he has already accomplished things that bards would sing of for generations, if only they had heard the tales. Most recently he defied the authority of the Jade Mystic, a witch of such might that even I would not cross lightly, and escaped with his life after accomplishing his goals in her lands. It is for this deed, that filled me with such mirth as I have not felt in decades, that I shelter him within the city.”

Some remnant of that mirth flickered over his face, and Iskander leaned back his chair with a contented smile, “There is much that you could learn from Dorian, if only you are willing to. Stay in his classes for the next few weeks; if you feel that I am mistaken in their merit then you may leave, and I will compensate you for the time lost with personal instruction. Is that agreeable?”

Greed surged within Az, and he hurried to agree, “Of course, Chancellor. I have faith in your assessment of the class and I shall endeavour to learn as much from Dorian as I can.”

The thought of receiving personal instruction from the immortal mage was mind-boggling. It was well known that Iskander did not take apprentices; his time was simply too precious. Still, if Az were to maintain that Dorian’s class was a waste of time, he would be directly refuting the Chancellor’s words. That was a danger that he did not feel confident of his ability to escape unscathe. It reinforced Iskander’s high opinion of Dorian though, for him to make such a promise to Asmodeas.

Iskander nodded knowingly, “I am certain that you will. Now, I have kept you long enough. Be certain that I will be keeping a close eye on your development Asmodeas; greatness is no longer guaranteed to you, and as such you must strive for it with every breath. I expect that you would have done so even if I had not summoned you here tonight, and my expectations are not often wrong. It is one of the perks of living as long as I have. Goodnight, young Tantalus.”

Az tried to return the farewell, but his vision was blurring, the edges growing dark and before he could utter a word he was gone, sleep pulling him down into its depths.