Chapter 21 : Screw the Arcopolis

Ah, the universe. A wonderful whatchamacallit, whatever the Nether it is. One that insists on throwing curveballs at me from every corner, and seemed to take an absurd amount of enjoyment in doing so.

So many curveballs to the face. Thank you, universe. I shall think of you when I receive my medical bill for brain damage.

"What do you mean, the real Nether?" I blurted, sitting on black dirt covered with grass the colour of marigolds, while the red sun hung overhead in a sky of permanent metallic gold.

Horus shrugged. "The Nether you know of is below us. It is merely the core of this world. This is the surface."

"But it's a known fact that the Nether is below the Overworld!"

"It is also a known fact that humans were supposed to be equipped with functional brain cells." He returned caustically. "Look how that turned out."

I bit my tongue and yelped, more in surprise than in pain. I resumed drying my hair in silence.

:I think, and therefore I am:

:Cut the crap. You of all should know better.:

:Then answer your own question. Who are you? Who are you really?:

:I do not know. But does it matter?:

:Why, yes. I should think so.:

There goes another curveball. Smack between the eyes. The hospital staff will be getting quite irate at me now.

What happened? Well, I had decided to take another look at the strange book I found in the dungeon...

The blasted thing had contrived to apear twice the size it was before. It was now bound in red leather in lieu of the former black, and the title now read 'A Guide To The Nether: Idiot's Edition'

I was torn between saving it to pawn off to a wizard and feeding it to the nearest available zombie. What has it come to, when even insentient constructions of paper and leather find ways to verbally hit me upside the head?

I eventually came to accept the fact I attracted weirdness like a creeper in a Notchmas tree attracts screams and delusional songmakers.

"I did not take you for the type of person who liked to study."

I jolted a little, the book flying out of my lap like a squirrel on a wild bid for freedom. "Will you stop that?" I muttered through gritted teeth.

Horus sat back and tilted his head innocuously. "Stop what?"

I retrieved the errant structure of paper that was probably older than I was. "Sneaking up behind me. You almost gave me a heart attack. And anyway, it's not nice to disturb someone when they're reading."

The sorcerer sat back and crossed his legs. After a while, he dipped his head by the tiniest fraction. "Then I apologize."

I dropped the book again and had another almost-heart attack. You? Apologising? I bit back a startled exclamation.

"Er, well... It's okay then, I suppose..." I trailed off uncertainly. There was no precedent for this. What am I supposed to do? Run away? Wait, that somehow doesn't seem like an appropriate response.

Which was a little confusing, because in my experience, running away solved everything.

"It is not such a long way." Horus had turned away by then. "If you walk fast." He started across the marigold grass plains, black coat flapping gently in the warm breeze.

"You- What?!" I dumped the mystery book back into my Inventory and bounded after him. "Hey! Stop being so cryptic! It's not nice!" I added as an afterthought.

He did not apologise this time. Which was one less heart attack for me to endure. Whew.

"Nether!"

Something shot past overhead with a buzzing sound, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. I patted my head frantically in case any unwanted flammables had strayed into my hair. "What was that thing?"

The reddish blur paused suddenly and resolved itself into the shape of a small horned lizard. It hovered in the air for a moment, insectoid wings blurring, and chittered at me in a wounded fashion. Then it poked my forehead lightly with the blunt side of a slim claw and darted away before I could react.

"Ow!" I said, more in reflex than any actual pain.

"Dragonsprite." Horus said offhandedly. "They don't like being called 'things'."

"It understands human speech?"

The dragonsprite was suddenly back again, chittering with positive disapproval. This time the poke had more force behind it.

"Ow."

"They don't like being called 'it' either." The sorcerer flashed me a look of what might be interpreted as amusement, if a shelf of ice could be interpreted as amusement. "That one is a female."

It- She hummed in satisfaction at the acknowledgement, looping through the air giddily and leaving showers of sparks in her wake.

"You can say dragonsprites are a distant cousin of dragons." Horus spoke blandly, but his eyes tracked the flight of the small sprite with something akin to interest. "They were based off the same template."

"Template?"

Horus looked away and shook his head. "Irrelevant."

The small dragon-lookalike uttered a soft bark, and settled on his shoulder, scales flashing all colours of the flame. Tiny sparks fell from it- her wings everytime they fluttered. They rolled off Horus' cloak harmlessly. He didn't seem to mind her presence.

Curiosity niggled at me to brush a finger against the winged lizard's scales, but caution warned me I'd probably catch fire. I settled for admiring it from afar.

We walked in silence after that. To my surprise, I discovered I didn't mind it as I used to. The silence, I mean. I no longer wanted to drown the world in questions or shake it upside-down for answers. Even though I did still have a lot of questions. Like : Why the bloody heck am I even here? What is 'here', exactly? And the ever-present 'Where can I get food?'.

And whatever the book thing was. I guess it must be a sign of the weird overflow showing itself that I didn't scream and throw it into the lake. The red lake, which was apparently situated in the Nether.

And then there was that, of course. Then there was that.

It didn't seem all that long before Horus suddenly called a halt on a grassy plain. Obsidian-coloured glass, I noted.

The sun was directly overhead in the golden sky. Trees swayed in the gentle breeze, glowstone leaves twinkling as they fluttered. The sorcerer sat down underneath a tree and leaned against the polished black wood. He gestured for me to come join him.

I edged over and sat down gingerly, patting the grass beforehand to check for any hidden nasties my laconic companion may have neglected to warn me about. When I failed to die, I plonked myself down in the grass with a deep, contented sigh. My leg was starting to complain. I'd almost forgotten I had an injury there.

The grass was surprisingly cool. I rolled around in it like an over-enthusiastic puppy. When I remembered I had company, I stole a glance over at the said company to discover him preoccupied with staring at a seemingly random spot in the ground some distance away.

Coast is clear. Proceed.

I rolled helter-skelter in the grass until I was dizzy to the point where I couldn't tell my face from my feet, whereupon I wobbled to my feet, and slogged over to the glowstone tree Horus was currently occupying. Bumping lightly into the trunk due to disorientation, I wheeled around, gave the ground a wobbly grin, and slid down into the dirt.

It felt nice to not be running away from something. I'd almost forgotten what not being rushed was like.

"Hey, dude." I turned to the sorcerer, expecting to be met with the usual cold blue glare.

Oh, gods. Another curveball.

I rubbed my eyes and mentally accused them of fraud. When that didn't work, I punched myself in the head -ow - but I still didn't wake up.

The goddamned murderous sorcerer was asleep.

I sat back and stared. Somewhere in the back of my head, a solitary brain cell was dancing the can-can and hitting itself in the head in the hopes that once it woke up, its owner would be on the floor (inevitable) next to a comfortable bed, in a safe place one might even be able to call 'home'.

There was a distance of roughly three meters between me and Potential Murder. I decided to keep it that way. The dragonsprite from earlier circled around the tree, pausing occasionally to chitter patronisingly at me in Squeak, Squeak, Buzz. She eventually settled on Horus' shoulder, nestling herself in the blue fabric and nipping curiously at a strand of black hair.

Gods, but he did look young when he wasn't killing anything. I supposed the layers of blood were a little misleading. If I didn't know this guy, I'd swear he was a perfectly innocent person who just happened to be lost in the Nether.

What a horrifying thought.

By this time, the heat was starting to eat through my skull and disturb my already disaster-stricken brain cells. I situated myself in the shade at the other side of the tree.

Sleep came easily in the snug, fuzzy heat.

The Arcopolis had a myriad of bells, all of which tolled at midday and midnight, and all at exactly different times. Which made noon and midnight living hell on the Overworld for anyone in a fifty-mile radius who wasn't stone deaf. The noonday pandemonium was usually started by the deep, sonorous tolling of the imperious gold bell on the Speaker's Tower, but sometimes the Felicity on the highest spire of the ACIS (Arcopolis Central Institution of Sorcerers) beat the Speaker's Bell by several hours later, while being exactly on time. Many a bright student wizard had tried to make sense of the confusing spacial-temporal spell that was the bell's power source, and exactly the same number of wizards had failed miserably. It was generally accepted that only the Gods understood the reasoning behind this mechanism, and even then, not much of it.

The long pure note emitting from the Singing Bell on the Grace Tower was suddenly and prematurely strangled by a very loud silence. The Necromancers' silver clapperless Ghost Bell had finally gotten into its act. Each ring blasted a wave of silence across the Arcopolis, though between the ghost rings one could still hear snatches of the other bells' clamour. The Necromancers had very pointedly primed their bell to be late in an effort to cut off the worst of the aural chaos.

The Necromatrix did not hear any of this. His chambers had been soundproofed thoroughly by a trusted wizard whose life was at too much risk to try hiding any nasty little surprises in the room, not that they wouldn't have tried. Most magicians would eat their own boots for a chance to off a high ranking sorcerer, not to mention the leader of a whole faction.

A ghost dropped an envelope on his ebony table and bowed. The Necromatrix sliced it open neatly with a dagger and shook out its contents.

He bent his head over a piece of seemingly blank paper. His hood was off, strands of black hair carefully shepherded to fall over his otherworldly purple demon's eye. His other eye, coloured an ordinary unassuming grey, returned to the blank page as he dismissed the ghost. He took a clean quill from a drawer and very carefully, pricked a finger with it and let a drop of crimson fall to the white page.

The drop of red sank into the page. Within seconds, ink swirled out across the previously blank page and clustered into neat strings of letters, scrawled onto the paper in a thin, spidery handwriting-

"A blood coded letter from one of your informants? Interesting."

Calmly, the Necromatrix folded the letter neatly in half, obscuring the writing from view. He threw it carelessly onto his table and turned to face the newcomer.

"You seem to enjoy intruding on my privacy." He noted coolly. "Care to tell me why?"

The Firelord shrugged. Leaning against a wall, she held up an obsidian arrowhead on a leather cord. "Hey, you did grant me unrestricted access to your tower."

"That does not mean you can come and bother me whenever your whims takes you." The Necromatrix folded his arms. "I do not invade your private quarters when I fancy a cup of tea."

"Well, I'm not saying you couldn't." The Firelord said, smiling. "You will go blind eventually if you see nothing but this disgusting black all day." She gestured carelessly at the midnight walls.

"I rather like the colour, actually." The Necromatrix said quietly. "I find brilliant reds and oranges a little overly pretentious."

The Firelord shrugged, unperturbed, the movement seemingly magnified by her red flame-patterned trench coat. "I think you'd look good in dark red."

The Necromatrix frowned at his table. "I think not. Dark red is not a colour I want to wear again. Besides, I'd assume you are not here to natter about my clothing choices?"

"You assume correctly." The Firelord smiled thinly. "Our dear Zacheus has been up to no good again, I'm afraid."

The Necromatrix sighed through his nose. There had never been good news when the Firelord chose to visit personally. Something had driven her out of her towers in such a decrepit state that she had not thought twice before heading straight for the headquarters of the leader of another faction, which was not a very intelligent thing to do in a place where poisoned floorboards and surprise unplanned skydiving were daily occurrences. Not that she displayed anything but her normal cool amusement, of course. That was a survival requirement.

"What has he done now?"

The Firelord lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you'd have noticed, what with your little spy operation and all. The Runemaster has been across the city, sketching his little circles in the nooks and crannies of alleyways and such. I doubt he's making an effort for the public good. The sneaky bastard's up to something."

The Necromatrix shrugged. "He's always up to something. Fish swim, humans breathe, Zacheus plots. We would be hypocrites if we were to accuse him of suspicious, unlawful behaviour." He pinched the black fabric of his cloak absentmindedly. "I seem to have collected quite the belt of skulls myself, no pun intended."

"Yes, I am well aware of that." They were both silent for a moment. "However, I am led to believe his currents plans may bring harm to us."

"He's always plotting to kill us off." The Necromatrix said caustically. "He's been plotting to kill off the Council since the our third school year at ACIS. The pompous fool bought an Fizzling Lightsneat in a glass cage to draw his idiotic blueprints for porcupine floorboards and long range acid launchers and other such nonsense at night. I never did get any sleep. It was by pure luck alone that I made it out of ACIS before I died of sleep deprivation."

The Firelord opened her mouth, worked her jaw in silence for a bit, and shut it again. "You were in the same grade in ACIS? You were roommates?"

"Oh yes." The Necromatrix said sardonically. "It was quite the unforgettable experience, I assure you. Certainly not one I'd recommend. Zacheus was rather imaginative when it came to the cause and times of death while making his plans. I suspect my influence had a part to play in this. He had not designed a single deathtrap before I arrived on scene."

The Firelord made an incredulous face. "But he's thirty-seven! And you look..." She bent down a little and squinted. "... Fourteen."

"Half-demon." The Necromatrix reminded her. "My mother wasn't called immortal because she used a lot of beauty products."

The Firelord scowled and shook her head. "I think we're getting a little off-topic here. Anyway, back to the subject at hand I suspect he's trying to link his circles up into one megacircle. Citywide. I, myself, don't like the idea of having another faction's magic in my sector one bit. Anything Zacheus has that can give him an advantage in my own territory is strictly a no-go."

"I've had reports of him up the Grace Tower and all along the Shadowlight Road." The Necromatrix noted. The Shadowlight road started in the Aether sector and ended in the Nyx sector, precisely cutting the Arcopolis in half. The Grace Tower was at the outermost point of the Sky sector. Draw a line between them, and you get... almost a perfect compass. All but missing the north point.

"He'll need to go to the Iron Crown next." The Necromatrix murmured. "If he hasn't been already."

The Firelord bit her lip. "I've got a team of tracers after him. It's hard to Trace in a place with so many magicians, though. Anyway-" She shook her head. "I've spent too much time here already. I have to go now. I'll drop by if I get anything new."

"Before you leave," The Necromatrix spoke just as she reached for the doorknob. "Would you like a look at the report I just received?" He held out the letter to her.

The Firelord looked at it for a moment and shook her head. "I'll trust you to make sense of it. You'll fill me in later?"

The Necromatrix nodded silently.

"Well, then. See you later."

She left the door open when she walked out. The Necromatrix sighed. He would have excommunicated a lesser magician for doing that.

This chapter is a little short.

I've been getting serious cases of writer's block recently, which is why I've been driven back here. Admittedly, the writing has not been going so well.

(Cue scream of frustration)

Anyway, the chapters will unfortunately remain quite few and far between, as my nonexistent muse has yet to respond to any of my requests /hysterical prayers.

Well, good thing is, the holidays are coming up. Bad thing is, I am going on a holiday. So yes, no updates for at least another month. Sorry again.

(#I tried to end on a positive note but it didn't work)

-Nano