Chapter 41

“On that legendary eve, King Lennox would tremble.

For one Appeared to oppose him, and with Mages to assemble.”

Chief Justice Resin, year 2004

Proof

A red extension—the top, wide and circular—flew at Oliver’s face. He raised the Staff of Life up and successfully blocked the attack. Lennox surged forward, pushing Oliver on his heels, swinging his staff horizontally.

The clangs of wood on wood filled the air. Besides that, nothing could be heard. Not even a breeze. People watched in stunned silence as they witnessed the most important battle in centuries.

Lennox’s red extensions were twelve feet long and their flat, circular tops were six feet in diameter. Although the extensions’ masses were huge, they weighed no more than the staff itself, so Oliver could block it with his white staff alone.

Lennox swung hard, trying to knock Oliver off of the wall walk.

Oliver planted his feet as Ashley had taught him and held his staff with two hands, blocking most attacks and dodging a few others. Lennox scored a hit on Oliver’s hand, but he maintained his grip. With a fierce twirl, Lennox hit Oliver hard in the shoulder and ribs.

But Oliver didn’t flinch.

“Smoke and ashes!” Lennox said, surprised.

Oliver smiled and narrowed his eyes.

He twirled his white staff in the elm Carving. Before he could finish the routine, Lennox shoved an extension at Oliver, pushing him near the wall’s edge. Oliver waved his hands frantically, his heart thumping, barely leaning forward enough to stay on the wall. Just as his feet reclaimed purchase on the wall, Lennox’s wide extension slammed into Oliver’s face.

With barely a second of recoil, Oliver raised his staff to block another attack to the face.

Lennox looked perplexed. “You can’t keep up like that for long!”

“I don’t have to,” Oliver said as he spun his staff to block four more blows.

Lennox swung his staff hard from the side with the intent to break Oliver’s staff in two. In the middle of his swing, his extensions vanished… extinguished.

Lennox lost his footing in his follow-through and tripped, barely catching himself before falling off the wall walk. He stared at the dull tips of his dual-oriented staff, his eyes wide.

“Just until your magic runs out,” Oliver said.

He charged Lennox, aiming his staff’s sharp tip to stab him in the heart. With fear in his eyes, the Forid king pushed himself out of the way just in time, barely escaping death. He raised his extinguished staff to block Oliver’s attacks as he backpedaled.

The viewers below gasped as they watched Lennox Elmson, the so-called Guardian Reborn, pushed on the defensive by a small man who nobody knew a month earlier.

Oliver kept swinging, attacking Lennox in a flurry of spins and jabs. “If you concede,” Oliver said, “I will let you live! As long as you command your army to surrender!”

“Never!”

Oliver pinned Lennox against the wall walk’s railing, putting all of his weight onto his staff. “I know the truth, Lennox. I know you’re a fake. I was a fake at first, too.” Lennox furrowed his eyebrows, struggling to get any weight underneath him to push Oliver off. “But, now I know who I am. Life chose me. You’ve been deceived by Ignis.”

“No.” Lennox stuck out his chin. “Life speaks to me every day, Oliver Kapur! You’re the one who is deceived! You and all you Ascendists have been duped by the enemy, believing in a mortal guardian who travels to and from the Ascensions! It’s ludicrous!”

Oliver shook his head. “I’m not the Ascended Guardian.”

Lennox narrowed his eyes. “You’re right… you’re dead!”

With that last word, Lennox heaved Oliver off of him with his feet. Quick to take advantage of the opening, Lennox brought his staff down, batting Oliver across the face.

Again, Oliver didn’t flinch. Lennox stared in surprise.

Oliver twirled his staff in a mahogany Carving. He backpedaled as he spun his staff, staying away from Lennox’s barrage of attacks. Finally, sparks flickered to life at the white staff’s tip, ready to electrocute.

Lennox saw it and froze in place. Oliver lowered the staff, aiming its tip at Lennox, and Cast a blindingly powerful lightning bolt. Without any options left, Lennox barely dodged the bolt by leaping off of the wall walk.

✽✽✽

Silas watched in awe as Lennox jumped off of the wall. A desperate move. Although Silas absolutely hated the man, he had to respect his determination.

Lennox was fortunate. The roof of a small house was close enough to the inner wall for him to land on, though the landing was far from soft. He hit the roof hard and rolled off of it to the cobble-stoned street.

With a grunt, Lennox pushed himself to his feet and walked with a limp. He reached out his hand to one of the Forid mages nearby. “Give me your staff, now!”

The white-robed mage hesitated for a moment, and then complied.

With a fresh staff in hand, Lennox twirled it vigorously while limping on one foot.

Silas had the temptation to run up and stab Lennox in the back, but he withheld himself. This was a battle Oliver had to win. He’d interfered in their last duel and that hadn’t gone so well.

Oliver ungracefully floated down using ebony and willow, obviously still struggling to master flying. He landed with a thud, twirling his staff in the ebony and willow carvings again. When he finished the routine, the magic ceased.

Everyone watched in awe.

Not because of his below-average flying skills, but because his staff could cancel Casting its magic at will. Nothing like that had ever been seen or heard of, except for…

“The Guardian’s Staff,” Silas said. Several Forid mages looked at Silas, considering his conclusion, and nodded.

Lennox noticed everyone staring at Oliver and his staff. “That staff….” He swallowed, extending his hand, almost pleadingly. “It belongs to me!”

Oliver didn’t respond. He casually strolled toward Lennox.

Lennox snarled. “Without that staff, you are nothing! I will take it from your cold, dead fingers!” He finished a mahogany Carving and quickly cast a bolt of lightning at Oliver.

“NO!” Silas shouted. He cringed, momentarily blinded by the flash of light and shaken by the thunder. Oliver hadn’t cast a shield in time to block the lightning! he realized. And it looked like Lennox hit him directly in the chest! I should have… wait… what?

Silas’ jaw dropped as his vision cleared.

Oliver was still alive.

Unfazed by the blast of electricity, he continued to stroll forward.

“Impossible!” Lennox stammered. He lowered his staff and Cast another lightning bolt.

Silas watched in awe as the searing beam of electricity struck Oliver in the torso. The shock caused him to pause for a brief moment, his muscles clenched… and then he kept walking, maintaining his narrow gaze on Lennox.

Silas couldn’t believe his eyes. That lightning should’ve stopped his heart! How is he not dead?

Mahogany was renowned as the deadliest wood, even deadlier than ash, because it would stop the heart in an instant. A burned man could still be healed, but not when electrocuted. There wasn’t enough time to heal him. And yet, somehow, Oliver lived.

A wondrous murmur spread throughout the crowd of warriors. They were asking each other the same questions on his mind.

Maple… Silas thought. With a staff that never runs out of magic. He scratched his beard. Oliver cast maple with the Guardian’s Staff and he never canceled it. Somehow, it must be healing him constantly, even though he’s not touching its tip. That’s why he feels no pain.

“The true Guardian?” muttered a Forid mage.

“Life is protectin’ him.” A Barklian soldier said. “He cannot be gettin’ killed.”

The onlookers fell silent, thinking.

“Then… what does that make Lennox?” another mage asked.

✽✽✽

Lennox’s eyes darted around. He could hear the uneasiness in the crowd. Sweat beads appeared on his forehead. This isn’t good.

He looked at Oliver, who continued to stroll forward. He looked nothing like the Guardian of Magic should look, and his magery skills were merely above average. And yet, somehow, he was bettering him in combat and was somehow immune to pain. “Is this some sort of trick?” Lennox asked.

“No trick,” Oliver said, stopping a few paces away from him. “Just magic.”

Unnerved, Lennox reached out his hand toward a group of white-robed mages, demanding an ash-willow staff.

But it never came.

He turned to look at his people. The Forids and Barklians had spare weapons to give him, but they held on to them firmly. “An ash-willow staff!” he demanded once again. “He surely cannot endure fire!”

Still, no one gave him what he wanted. They stared at their king with treacherous eyes.

“Smoke and ashes, are you all fools?” Lennox asked. “How can you all be so blind? I am your king!”

“But you are not our Guardian,” A Forid lieutenant said.

“You have been decievin’ us, Lennox Elmson!” said a mage in blue robes with high-ranking embroideries. General Dale.

The general turned toward his fellow Barklian soldiers. “We have been followin’ a false guardian who did be turnin’ us against our Salverian allies.” He pulled an elm wand out of his robes and Cast an extension. “And he will be payin’ dearly for his lies.”

Lennox’s veins began to bulge. Not Dale, he thought. I knew he had some doubts and I should’ve stymied them long ago. “I have only ever delivered you the words of Life!” he said. “I have led you all to greatness and through the very walls of Magen City! How can you even think about giving it all up after we’ve come so far?”

A crowd of blue-clad soldiers and white-robed mages were slowly closing in on him, backing him up against the wall. They tightened their grip on their sword hilts and staves. His fingers fidgeted on his mahogany staff. He felt like a wolf caught in a trap, with nowhere to go.

As Lennox backed away, he saw Oliver smirking at him. That ashen fool! Lennox thought. He’s turned my people against me! How did he get that staff? Could he actually be—? No. I’ve seen Life! There has to be some mistake!

Dale swung his extended wand in front of him. “I am bein’ convinced you have been leadin’ us in the wrong direction, Lennox. I have been havin’ a feelin’ that somethin’ was wrong. What with your strange consultin’ sessions with the supposed Tree of Life in your tent? And now—after seein’ what this man can do—I am knowin’ the truth.”

I’ll have to show him the truth. Lennox gulped, looking at the men surrounding him. I need a way out of this. He spotted what he needed.

Lennox opened his mouth, as if to argue, but he quickly aimed his staff at a mage who approached him from the left, striking him down with a lightning bolt.

The Barklians and Forids recoiled from the blast. Lennox grabbed the electrocuted mage’s black staff and quickly Cast its magic before they reached him. It was an ebony-willow staff, so Lennox launched into the air.

Arrows and lightning bolts were loosed, but none of them scored a hit. Lennox soared over the walls and over his army on the other side of the walls. As he flew, more arrows and bolts whizzed over his shoulder. Looking back, he saw Dale and several other mages fly over the walls, following him.

I can’t outrun them, Lennox thought. I’ve only got one place to go. They’ll see Her.

He flew downward and landed in front of his tent and ran inside. It was dark, so he grabbed a spare oak wand hanging on the wall and Cast its light. There She was! The man-sized pine tree stood still, awaiting his call as always.

“Life!” he said. “Life, I need your help! Oliver Kapur turned my people against me! They’ll be here any second to kill me! Please tell me what to do!”

Life was motionless.

“This is no time for games, Life! They are coming! Appear to me at once!”

A quarter minute passed without so much as a needle falling off Her branches. Lennox heard the sound of mages flying toward the tent.

Desperate, Lennox pulled on Life’s branches. “Why won’t you move? Why won’t you answer? Please! Please…”

He heard the sound of a dozen or so mages land outside the tent and walk toward its entrance.

Looking at the tree that wouldn’t come to life, Lennox’s jaw dropped in realization. “You’re not Life, are you? You’re a… a fake?” He crumpled to the ground, his heart shattered to a thousand pieces. “Just like me…”

He looked away from the tree and fell to his knees, his heart falling with him.

Deep down, he knew it was all fake—he knew it—but chose to ignore the clues, letting himself be deceived… enjoying the praise and power of being the Guardian of Magic. Deceived by… the enemy. By Ignis. Just like Oliver’d said.

He knew he didn’t have the real Staff of Life. He knew all the bloodshed was wrong. He knew the Tree of Life didn’t match the descriptions from the Holy Instructions. He knew all of that… but he created a blind spot for them. “It was all a lie,” he muttered.

Several mages stomped through the tent, four Forids and one Barklian. General Dale led them with an ash-willow staff in his hand, its tip already lit with a small flame, revenge in his eyes.

He looked at the motionless tree. And then at Lennox, who quivered in fear.

With a snarl, he twirled his staff in the willow Carving. “BURN TO ASHES, LENNOX ELMSON!”

Lennox clenched his eyes shut, anticipating the pain. This was his fate. The fate of a false guardian. The recompense of Ignis.

Dale and the other mages Cast jets of fire at him and the tree, consuming them whole.