Chapter 17: Kormal

Not many years after you were born, an alliance was brokered between my family and the Tarrus Empire. We would procure information on the Mystics still within hiding in the Ministries. We would also lend our services for a limited period of time in exchange for our eventual freedom. The Desolate One and his Mystic servants had abandoned us, so I harbored no ill feelings of betraying them. All notions of ambition and glory had long faded from my vision: survival for myself, my family, and my heir were my only concerns at this point. But alas, even noble intentions seem to be thwarted by the mighty hand of fate.

Humphrey just stared at the viewscreen in shock, not knowing what to do or what to think. It soon no longer mattered as the pain brought on by the Fallen’s wrath made all other concerns seem secondary.

“You have exacerbated our trials, you witless mortal! We are confounded by your incompetence!”

“I executed the plan flawlessly!” grunted Humphrey in between wails of agony. “It was your drug! If it didn’t work, it’s not my fault!”

“You dare defy us! Your masters!”

More pain brought Humphrey cringing to the floor holding his head as he felt his brain imploding. Knowing that arguing would only get him killed, Humphrey reasoned that his best chance of survival was to beg. “I can still do it! I can kill the Uruks boy, but I just need another chance! I need more time!”

“There is no time left in heaven or hell for you!” responded the voices with even greater vehemence.

Humphrey felt something oozing from his ear, and he realized that it was Dark Water mixed with his own blood. Sensing that his life was about to end, Cornelius Humphrey searched his mind for the slightest minutia of leverage that he could use to negotiate his way out of this situation. Then, just as he felt the last of his strength being drained, Humphrey thought of something that he hadn’t before, something that the Fallen had only hinted to, but never fully affirmed.

Knowing that if his guess proved incorrect, it would mean instant death, but also knowing that there was no other alternative, Humphrey blurted, “You’re the ones who are running out of time! You’re the ones who are defying the masters!”

Silence! No response came. The pain did not vanish right away, but it seemed to lessen somehow, as if the Fallen were so dumbstruck by his statement that they lost some of their concentration on torturing him.

Hoping that this silence was a confirmation of his suspicions, Humphrey pressed on. “I’m right, aren’t I? Killing the brat wasn’t in the itinerary, was it? Maybe capturing the Hamashe girl and that Lurranna guy was part of the plan, but there’s something different about this kid, isn’t there? Something you’re afraid of. But your boss thinks differently, so instead of doing what he says, you’re going behind his back with this little assassination plan of yours. The way I see it, if you kill me now, you might be able to cover up your little double-cross, but you sure as hell won’t find anybody else to do the job.”

“Arrogant oaf! We are the Fallen. We witnessed your pathetic species come into conception eons ago. What service could you provide us that we cannot do for ourselves?” The voices were as biting as ever, but Humphrey could feel the pain slowly weakening second by second.

“You hired me, didn’t you? That must mean that as bad as you are, there must be a whole galaxy of things out there that are just as bad. Maybe even worse. That’s why you need a middleman. You’re not ready to play your hand yet. Believe me, there’s no one who knows more about a gambit than a gambler. You need me to finish the job, and something tells me that you don’t have time to find a replacement.”

More silence. Suddenly, Humphrey heard someone walking down the corridor towards him. He realized that his disguise was off because he was in too much pain to maintain the psionic illusion. Still wrenching from the pressure that was being applied to his head, Humphrey whispered as loud as he could dare, “Listen! You better make your decision fast. If this guy sees me now, my cover’s blown. So make up your damn minds already!”

More silence. Humphrey could hear the guard getting closer. Finally, when it seemed like it was too late, the Fallen spoke. “Very well, Cornelius Humphrey. We shall give you one last chance. Make preparations to destroy the abomination and procure the Light and the Darkness before our arrival.”

With one last stab of pain, Humphrey was finally released from his psychological prison, and quickly donned his disguise once again just before the guard walked through the door.

The man smiled in a friendly manner before a more concerned expression crossed his face and Humphrey was tempted to believe that he had been discovered. “Hey there, Tim. You don’t look so good. Do you need to take the rest of the night off? I know you’ve been working pretty long hours lately.”

Humphrey smiled, and said, “Actually, I’m feeling just capital.”

The guard nodded and turned to leave as he said, “Well, just let me know if you start hearing voices in your head.”

As the guard left, Humphrey caressed his aching forehead with lingering fatigue and said, “Trust me on this, pal. You have no idea.”

Saria frowned at the communique from Mozar that hovered across her desk. Victor Harock, the other Wielder Councilor being considered as her successor, waited patiently by Saria’s desk as he stood at attention. Victor, wearing the dark red Fire Ministry uniform instead of armor, looked a bit younger than Eramar, though the two were about the same age. He had brownish green eyes, long, dark ginger hair, a smooth, lean face with a long nose, and a black tattoo of a snake-like Dragon going down one side of his face.

Victor put a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, still waiting for the reason he’d been summoned.

Saria did not know how much she should tell him, but she knew she couldn’t let the situation stand. “I’ve just received an update from the bounty hunter I’ve sent to investigate a possible plan to kidnap Ryan Uruks. He says he’s on the trail of a Mystic named Cornelius Humphrey. He also says that this Humphrey has the ability to mimic the psions and DNA of others when he transforms. That means he can walk right into our most secure facilities, and our scanners and sensory-types won’t be able to tell the difference between him and the genuine article. Only telepathic scans would be able to reveal his identity, and those are a little more difficult to maintain with a large staff.”

Victor considered all this as he nodded. “Do you believe this Mystic is masquerading as one of our staff here at the Ministry?”

Saria shook her head. “No. According to Mozar, he’s somewhere on the Moon of Galsin among the overseers for the Second Level Exams. He probably came in through one of the transports carrying novices training to be Monks. The Monastery always was too lax in their security for my tastes, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Saria had to pause a moment before she continued. Though she preferred Eramar as an aide, she was glad he wasn’t around to hear this next part. The last thing she wanted to hear was ‘I told you not to trust that old dog’.

“But perhaps even more disturbing is what Mozar just admitted to doing. He attacked one of our examinees thinking it was Cornelius in disguise. The Mystic managed to leave his scent on Ryan Uruks, and he used some kind of drug to send Mozar into a frenzy.”

Victor frowned in confusion. “So, the bounty hunter you hired to protect Ryan actually killed him?”

Saria huffed. “He didn’t kill the boy. He came to his senses before that. But now our own security team is on Mozar’s tail. He’s asking me to call them off before he’s forced to defend himself. Given his recent incompetence, I almost don’t want to.”

Victor remained silent. This is why Saria preferred Eramar. He made suggestions. They weren’t always suggestions she liked, but they were appreciated at times when she found herself at a loss for answers.

When the silence lingered, Victor finally realized that he should say something, and asked, “But, you’re not going to do that, are you? You believe the best course is to allow Mozar to continue his investigation?”

Saria nodded slowly, though she wished she had a better alternative. “Mozar knows this Mystic. If Humphrey is as crafty as he suggests, we may have a difficult time finding him ourselves. And this may be an indication of an even greater threat to Galsin on the horizon.”

“So,” started Victor in uncertainty. “What is it that you would have me do, my lady?”

Saria stood up, speaking slowly. “I’ve already informed security to give Mozar a wide berth, and instead search for any missing personnel. It’s likely this Mystic has assassinated at least one or two staff members and assumed their identities. I want round-the-clock security check-ups on Ryan and the other members of Squad 99 at all times. The examiners are not to interfere with the tests, but those students will not be left alone. I need a Wielder to go in person to see to it that the examiners understand the importance that my orders are carried out to the letter.”

Victor put his hands behind his back, looking uncomfortable as he glanced from side to side. “Then ... then do you wish me to postpone my mission to the Water Ministry?”

Saria’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“The Ministry of Water,” he explained. “The trading mission. Sun Gems in exchange for supplies. Do you wish me to cancel my trip there and send someone else in my place?”

Saria almost cursed under her breath. This is why I need Eramar. He’s the one who’s supposed to remember all these extraneous details for me.

Saria shook her head. “No. Maintaining good relations with the Water is crucial at this juncture. You are respected among them. They might consider it an insult. We’ll just have to send another Wielder from the council. Are there any available?”

Victor shrugged as he considered. “There’s the youngest member, Varnus.”

“The half-Elf?”

“Yes. Most of the Wielder Councilors are off-world overseeing the Third and Fourth Exams on our other bases throughout the Empire. A few are tied up with tax negotiations in the Senate. Varnus is busy as well, but his presence is not as needed in politics. He’s a relatively new face to the field of Ministry politics. He can take some time to see to this request.”

Saria nodded. “Good. Inform him immediately. He will oversee the defense of our base on Galsin and coordinate with the Monks as needed. Afterwards, proceed with your own assignment Wielder.”

Victor saluted before walking out of her office past rows of working clerics busy typing at their desks.

Saria leaned back in her chair, folded her hands, and sighed. Eramar better get back from his sabbatical soon. I don’t care how much Amelia has been asking for time off with him. If things continue as they are, I’ll probably need his help to deal soon.

Eramar sat across from Dr. Amelia Wilson at their favorite restaurant - well, Amelia’s favorite restaurant. The Lucky Leprechaun. And who were the owners of this fine establishment. None other than Leprechauns?

Eramar had to contain a sigh. It’s not that he didn’t like Leprechauns, it’s just that he didn’t understand them very well. It wasn’t just the fact that much of their culture revolved around the concept of luck, a belief that he would never endorse. It was more along the lines that everything about them annoyed Eramar ... the way they talked, the colorful way they dressed, the nefarious deals they liked to make behind closed doors. Dealing with a Leprechaun was like dealing with a used spacecraft salesman. Plus, there was this one particular Leprechaun whom Eramar had known for years that kept calling him ‘laddie’ despite the fact that Eramar was quite a few centuries older than him. Thisimius the Ogre mechanic called him ‘laddie’ too, but Eramar let that slide because Thisy really was older than him. But the most annoying thing about the Leprechauns was their incessant cravings for potatoes. Honestly, there wasn’t a single item on the menu that didn’t involve potatoes in some form or fashion. There were even some beverages that included potatoes, much to Eramar’s dismay.

Eramar felt so distraught that not even the dazzling formal maroon dress Amelia wore could lift his mood completely. Although she did make for quite a sight, much more so than Eramar did in his black tux. Amelia insisted that he looked dashing in his dinner attire, but he always felt out of place wearing such things.

The restaurant itself was fairly nice, no complaints there. Floating chandeliers dotted the entire expanse of the great hall that was the dining room, giving off a comforting yellow glow that perfused throughout the great chamber. There were several white metallic platforms all floating atop each other. Each circular platform served as the dining area for the guests with a round, hand-crafted wooden table at the center and the guests seated around it. The idea was that guests could enjoy their meal while floating amidst the great chamber and taking in the sights as the platform moved around randomly. Each of the dozens of floating platforms that dotted the chamber were remotely controlled, making it impossible for them to collide with one another. The Leprechaun waiters would appear via the small teleporting pads that floated alongside each platform.

The whole place just brimmed of money as gold-encrusted clover leaves dotted the walls of the massive chamber, reflecting the light of the floating chandeliers. The view was indeed nice, but Eramar had lost his interest after the first dozen times that Amelia had conceived of some excuse for him to come to the restaurant with her. It was not as if it wasn’t a nice place. It was a very nice place if you liked booking a table months in advance while enduring outrageous prices for dishes that amounted to little more than baked potatoes easily replicated by food dispensers at home.

“Oh, lighten up, dear! We hardly ever come here,” Amelia said with a laugh as she noticed Eramar’s dower expression.

“For good reason,” grumbled Eramar, leaning his head against his fist with his elbow on the table in a clear sign of protest. “That Leprechaun waiter that we always get stuck with won’t stop calling me ‘laddie’ despite the fact that I’m older than him by quite a few centuries.”

“He’s got a name,” replied Amelia in a distracted tone, as she perused the menu, as if there would be anything else to find besides potatoes, and occasionally cereal oddly enough. “It’s O’Connell. You know they’re touchy about their names, especially since many humans stole those names in that one country from Ancient Earth. What was that country called again, the one the Leprechauns visited and secretly started a cereal chain using humans as puppets?”

“I don’t care what country from Ancient Earth that the Leprechauns visited thousands of years ago. All I’m saying is that for a species, they could stand to learn a little more manners, that’s all.”

“That’s profiling, dear,” Amelia rebuked gently, her eyes still glued to the menu. “As an Elemental, you must rise above such petty tendencies.”

Feeling the sting of her words, Eramar crossed his arms in indignation as he searched his memories for a retort to use against her. Finally, Eramar said the first thing that came to mind, which probably wasn’t the best choice. “Why do you bother looking at their menus? As if they’re going to serve something besides potatoes. If you ask me, you could do with a little less starch anyway.”

Now that got her attention. Eramar felt the air thicken as Amelia put aside her menu and stared at him coldly.

“Welcome to the Lucky Leprechaun, lads and lasses,” interjected the voice of their waiter.

For once, Eramar was actually glad to hear the voice of O’Connell the Leprechaun, even if everything about him was still annoying. The Leprechaun stood about three and a half feet tall with a small top hat covering a head of curly, red hair. The hat was green and had a cloverleaf attached to the side, giving the leprechaun a very classical, mythological feel. He wore a small apron over a brightly green colored tuxedo, but this plush exterior could not hide the scent of alcohol that emanated from his breath. He had a short, well-trimmed red beard and pointy ears like an Elf. His eyes were as green as his clover leaf, but Eramar still doubted that the leaf brought him any luck at all.

The funny thing about Leprechauns was the tendency to get them confused with Dwarves. As an Elemental, Eramar had to learn many years ago how to tell the difference between male Leprechauns, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Dwarves usually had darker hair, and their beards were much longer, more unkempt. Plus, Leprechauns were the only ones of the three species that possessed pointy ears and they usually stood a head shorter than Dwarves. The thing about Gnomes was that they usually wore a pointy red hat, stood no taller than three feet, and their beards were pure white. That and the fact that the Gnomes had beady little black eyes and razor-sharp teeth usually differentiated them from Dwarves and Leprechauns.

“What’ll be your order then, laddie?” asked O’Connell the Leprechaun with a happy grin on his smug face.

“O’Connell,” grunted Eramar, struggling to keep his tone civil. “Your name’s O’Connell, right?”

“That be me name, laddie. Don’t wear it out,” explained the waiter, still smiling happily.

“See, that’s the thing. My name’s Eramar. I’ve been coming here for years now. And every time I do, I have to explain to you that I’m your elder by at least five centuries.”

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Sure, you’re no spring chicken, but I’d never have fathomed in me wildest imaginings that you were so up there in the years, laddie.”

Eramar closed his eye and sighed as loudly as he could while holding his nose. “You did it again!”

“Honey,” cajoled Amelia in a cooling voice.

Eramar looked at her defiantly while waving a hand towards the waiter. “He did it again! Look, O’Connell. I’m an Elemental Wielder. Do you know what that means?”

“You shoot a bunch of phooey and stuff out o’ your arse?”

Amelia giggled, and tried to hide her smile behind the menu.

Eramar had to physically restrain himself from doing something very violent to the obstinate Leprechaun. Eramar spoke with as much civility as he could muster. “No. It means that I am partially immortal. I am, in fact, a little over five millennia old, and that should at least entitle me to the courtesy of not being referred to as ‘laddie’.”

The leprechaun just stared at Eramar with a blank expression, as if contemplating the secrets of Universal Theory. Then, his smile returned just as quickly as it had vanished as he said, “So what’ll be your order then, laddie?”

I think he’s doing it on purpose, thought Eramar to himself.

Before Eramar could say anything, Amelia spoke in a warning tone. “Eramar.”

“I know. I know,” consented Eramar with a sigh. “Just tell me what the specials are for today.”

“Ah, I’d be delighted. We be having for our entrees, of course, the classic Ireland-style baked potato, along with the potato salad, the potato sandwich, and the potato steak. Oh, and if you be feeling a little peckish there, laddie, we have a lovely side dish including fries, chili fries, cheese fries, and chili cheese fries. In case you didn’t know, fries be from the potatoes. They just sliced smaller.”

“I know fries come from potatoes. Everyone knows fries come from potatoes!” protested Eramar, his voice growing steadily louder.

Amelia glared at Eramar with an exasperated look of foreboding, “Eramar,” she said in a tone no longer gentle.

“What?” Eramar said with a shrug, struggling to keep his voice even. “I’m just saying. They have all this pomp and glamour. It costs me a fortune to get a table here. I usually have to wait for a month just to make a reservation, and all they serve here is blasted potatoes!”

Eramar heard Amelia gasp as O’Connell stared at Eramar with a look of astonishment. Eramar looked around and saw that Leprechaun waiters were staring at him all across the restaurant, from the floating dining tables to the balcony that surrounded the whole chamber.

Eramar was a little confused. Sure, he was acting out slightly, but it wasn’t as if he was shouting. He was just ... speaking firmly.

“What? Was I talking too loudly?” asked Eramar in a quieter voice. “I’ll speak quieter if that’s what you want.”

“No, Eramar. It’s not that,” whispered Amelia urgently.

“I can understand that it might be seen as rude for me to act out like that. But I’ve been coming here with Amelia for years now. Isn’t my opinion as a regular customer valid?”

“Eramar, sweety,” said Amelia as she took Eramar’s hand and spoke gently. Eramar got the sense that she was somehow worried for him, as if he had done something that warranted concern. “Bad-mouthing potatoes is considered a capital offense for Leprechauns.”