Mark of the Fool

Chapter 868: Trying to Reach the Ravener

“Before I answer your questions, I must ask one of my own,” the Ravener started. “How did the Mark of the Fool become the Mark of the General once more? What did you do? The creator desired for that Hero to be eliminated. They were too arrogant. They did not know their role. Generals became Fools in Uldar’s divine plan, and so they were given a more appropriate name and role.”

Alex felt its attention crawling over him.

“To revert the Fool back to what was never to exist again is an abomination,” scorn filled the Ravener’s voice. “It is arrogance. It should not be possible. How was it done?”

The young wizard’s hand fell to a purse on his belt.

Within, lay the Coin of Silent Friends. He held it in his hand for a moment.

“All there is to tell you is that a lot of progress has been made since Uldar created you and the Marks.” Alex squeezed the coin. “Someone very clever and very brave sacrificed everything for that progress. It was because of her work that I was able to undo what Uldar did.”

“What?” the Ravener’s response was flat. Irritated. “Impossible. The creator is…a paragon of wisdom and knowledge. There is no possible way for mortals to undo his works.”

“Truly? Is it truly not possible?” Merzhin asked gently. “Are we not here after undoing his works? Child of Uldar—” The Saint looked at the Ravener. Alex could feel the construct’s attention shift to Merzhin. “—this cycle has changed what was unchanging. All is different now, and can never return to the way it was. The hidden church is destroyed. The Heroes are united in a way previously unseen and—for the first time—are united against Uldar’s legacy. Our allies have crafted new developments from your dungeon cores, and those developments will likely change the world.”

“You prove only your arrogance with such words, Saint of Uldar,” the Ravener said. “Many cycles—more than you can truly comprehend—have passed since Uldar began the eternal cycle. There have been many changes. Many permutations. The march of time washes away anomalies. There have been other Usurpers—those that controlled dungeon cores when they should not have—but they have been wiped away. It is the ultimate arrogance to think of yourselves as any different. You will also be washed away.”

The Ravener paused. “You ask why?”

“Why are we to be washed away?” the Saint said. “What will that accomplish?”

“It will fulfil the purpose set for us—”

“You’re lying,” Alex said.

All eyes turned to him.

“What?” the Ravener said.

“You’re lying.” Alex pointed at Uldar’s corpse. “You trying to ‘wash us away’ won’t fulfil any purpose that he meant for us. The entire purpose of this conflict was to try and channel enough faith into him so he could heal himself. That’s impossible now, since: he’s dead. We can’t fulfil that purpose, so there must be some other reason why you’re doing this?”

Silence followed.

“You do not have to continue on this path, you do realise that, don’t you?” Merzhin cut in. “You are like us: Uldar might have crafted a purpose for you, but now you are free.”

“Free?” the construct asked. There was a mocking note in its voice. “Free from what? From purpose? My existence was defined and my role was immutable. There was no uncertainty. No confusion in the endless march through eternity. Now there is only confusion.”

“And you can guide yourself through that confusion,” Alex said. He used the Mark of the General to focus on having his words sound appealing to the Ravener. It guided him in adopting subtle mannerisms from Uldar’s speech pattern, wanting to sound comforting to the construct. “You do not have to continue slaughtering people. I’ve seen visions of the culling and know that you also have the capacity to create. To rebuild. Certain Ravener-spawn within you can bring peace, and growth and fertility to the soil. They can rebuild what’s been burnt away. You do not have to be an instrument of destruction. You can choose to be different, and I think you were choosing to be different.”

He looked at Merzhin, the Saint picked up where the archwizard left off.

“You had begun to aid the people of Thameland,” Merzhin said. “You were helping in ways both subtle and obvious. Yet, now you seek to obliterate us again. I ask why? From one Child of Uldar to another…there are no more of his secrets that are lost to either of us, and no reason to hide our reasoning from each other.”

“I owe you no reasoning,” the Ravener’s voice reverberated through the cavern.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But understand this: we are all Uldar’s orphans,” Merzhin said. “We are all children of a dead god, and—for the first time—we can speak to each other. Does that not make you curious?”

Alex jumped in. “For thousands of years, you’ve had no one to share your reasoning with: now Uldar is dead and—if you persist in this—this will be your last chance to speak to other children of his. Is there nothing you want to say? Do you want to silently destroy us without airing your grievances?”

The General put a bit more of Uldar’s mannerisms into his tone, trying to reach the construct.

Silence followed for a time.

Then the Ravener spoke, seeming to bristle.

“An airing of grievances,” it said. “Yes. Perhaps that is in order. Know this, then: for a time, I did consider changing my purpose to be one where aid was given to Uldar’s kingdom. His petty, treacherous little kingdom.”

“Petty?” Drestra’s voice crackled.

“Treacherous?” Cedric scoffed.

“Yes, treacherous,” the Ravener continued. “If you know all that came before you, then you know why Uldar was forced to start the cycle. No sooner than your ancestors were safe from destruction, they gave no more thought to the one who had brought them life, light and succour. They abandoned your god when he needed them most. What is the mortal expression…? The stick and carrot. He gave the carrot to you mortals. He tried coddling you in return for one simple thing: your worship. Instead, you took his gifts and him for granted. And—when the carrot did not work—he was forced to use the stick.”

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The construct seemed to vibrate. Its voice shook the cavern. “I am the stick. I am the instrument that harvests from you the only things of value you could provide to our creator: fear and faith. And so began your endless cycle of pain. A cycle you deserved. Had you loved him? Had you cherished him? Had you worshipped him, he could have healed from his injury. Then no suffering, no pain would have come to pass. But, you failed him. And now he is dead.”

“Exactly, he is dead,” Alex said, forcing his voice to stay calm. “And so are our ancestors. They’re dead. And he didn’t ask for help.”

“You would blame him for his own demise?” the construct asked.

“I think he needed to take some responsibility,” Alex said. “He once wandered the world taking in knowledge, and learning from others. Instead of doing that again, he simply curled up on his throne and waited to die. He didn’t even go to his own people for help. If he had worked with the greatest mortal minds in Thameland, he might have been saved.”

“If he had shown you weakness, you would have abandoned him all the quicker,” the Ravener scoffed. “And if other deities and beings knew that Uldar was weak, they would have invaded and destroyed your petty kingdom.”

“All the more reason to build…you…then,” Claygon spoke up.

The Ravener turned its attention to the golem for a moment. A long, silent moment and then…

“What are you?” it demanded. “You have energies similar to mine, but are different. What are you?”

“I am…a golem. I am…my father’s son. I am…my family’s protector,” Claygon floated forward. “I was…forged to that…purpose. But…father also…gives me choices. He fills my mind…and lets me…be myself. I am a protector…but I am also a learner…a singer…I enjoy walking beneath the sun…I enjoy talking and listening. I enjoy…music…I am many things. I choose what I am.”

The golem focused on the Ravener. “I saw…the hidden church…choose to follow a path mindlessly…down to their ruin. They were mortals…born able to choose any purpose…but they chose death, suffering and futility. Now they are…destroyed. Uldar…set their ancestors down the path of destruction…when he should have chosen a better one to offer them…”

“Explain,” the Ravener said. “Explain how you—a walker, a listener and whatever else—might question the purpose of a god.”

“I question it…because it has only resulted…in pain. And…death. His path…was wrong. If it was right…then Thameland would be at peace…it would love him…the hidden church would be alive…and would not have had a reason to be hidden in the shadows…” the golem looked up at the god’s corpse. “And…he would still be alive. What if…instead of making you to destroy his own people…he had made you to protect them?”

The Ravener was silent.

Claygon continued. “Think about it…you say that…others would come to Thameland to destroy it if he was weak. Well, you are strong…so, very strong. You would have been…his kingdom’s guardian and protector. You would have been there to…annihilate gods…and tyrants who came to destroy him… while…he and his scholars and wisemen…could have figured out a cure…for his poisoning.”

“What good would that have done?” the Ravener demanded. “He tried protecting all of you once and you forgot him.”

“Would he have been forgotten…if he told the truth?” Claygon asked. “Would everyone have abandoned him…as you said? I have seen many who have died in this war…most are not forgotten. And…faith alone might not have been what was needed…mortals are clever. Had he worked together with his own people…maybe he could have helped himself…after all…my father is the General again. You said…that was impossible…but it was not.”

“Claygon’s right,” Alex said. “You talk about his purpose for us and his legacy. But his legacy didn’t even help him. Why continue to follow it? You started helping, so why stop? Why just destroy?”

The Ravenver thought for a long moment.

“It is not too late to stop,” Merzhin pushed. “You could call off your Ravener-spawn. This fight is purposeless now, and so let healing begin. You do not need to create more suffering. You could—if not be the protector—you could be the one to end all of this. So, why not? You have the ability to choose. Why follow the same path?”

“I am not following the same path,” the Ravener said. “I have decided my own path: and know this. I am giving you a trial. We are all inheritors of Uldar’s legacy and his kingdom. But your ancestors proved unworthy, and so I will give you a trial. Defeat me in combat, and you will have earned my protection. Fail, and you will have earned your destruction.”

“A trial by combat?” Alex’s eyebrow rose. “Really? That’s what you’ve decided?”

“Why, though?” Merzhin insisted. “You could simply end this suffering and—”

“Your suffering is less than inconsequential to me,” the Ravener said flatly. “Combat is what I was created for and it is the same for the Heroes of Uldar. We are meant to battle each other in the ultimate contest of arms; what better way than a contest of arms to decide what the path for the future will be? After all, are you worthy of inheriting Uldar’s kingdom? How can you be if you cannot even prevail against me? If you are meant to inherit his kingdom, then you will be able to defeat your greatest obstacle: the stick. Only then will you earn my aid.”

The tone of the Ravener’s voice made Alex’s hackles rise.

“If we pass your trial, you will help us, is that what you’re saying?” Alex asked. “Forever?”

Silence.

“You will know my aid.”

“And what about our descendents? You said that individual anomalies are washed away over time and that the cycle continues…that doesn’t sound like the mindset of one who thinks our battle against one another should have any permanent rewards.”

The black orb flinched in the air, as though struck.

“You are a clever one,” it said. “Indeed. Your victory and worthiness will not necessarily be shared by your descendents. Trials must continue.”

“Until when?” Merzhin asked.

“Until you fail,” the construct said simply.

“So we struggle forever and the only release is death,” Merzhin said.

“Perhaps, that is one way of wording it. But mortal life is fleeting. You struggle. Then you die. Even Uldar struggled then died. What was good for him will be good for you,” the Ravener said.

Alex looked at Merzhin.

The Saint slowly shook his head.

The others tensed.

So this was the Ravener’s game…a ‘trial’.

But this was no trial.

This was—

“This is a punishment, isn’t it?” Alex asked. “You blame us for your creator’s death. So you’re going to punish us while disguising it as a trial.”

“That might be, but hidden motives will make no difference to the result,” the Ravener said simply.

Alex had heard enough.

There’d be no way to get the construct to stand down.

So it was time to throw it off-balance.

“Well, if that’s the way it’s going to be. When we win, I’m going to desecrate Uldar’s corpse. He was a coward. A piece of filth and a fool. He should’ve been the one to have the jester’s mark branded on his poisoned skin. I’m glad he’s dead: just one less shortsighted, cruel tyrant in the world.”

“...what did you say?” the construct’s tone spiked.

“I said that he was an addled, animalistic piece of garbage and I’m going to dump him somewhere like the trash that he was. ”

“Insolence!” the Ravener shouted. “You are the one that is filth. In his kindness Uldar granted you knowledge, protection and—”

‘Now!’ Alex thought to Claygon. ‘Fire at Uldar!’

The gems flared.

“You had your chance…you chose wrong…” Claygon said, turning his fire-gems on the god’s body.

“No!” the Ravener shouted.

Fire-beams lanced out, shooting across the lake at frightening speed.

The Ravener reacted, interposing itself between the beams and its creator’s body.

A blinding explosion ripped the air.

Chaos-tinged explosions shook the cavern.

The Ravener roared.

“Take down the Ravener-spawn and that construct!” Alex called to the team. “This is it! Make it count!”

The companions surged forward.

Suddenly, light flared from the heart of the flames.

A beam of searing energy launched, striking Claygon squarely in the chest.

Metal screeched.

The golem was pushed back, hitting a cavern wall, shattering stone. His iron form clanged like a bell, as though announcing the start of the Ravener’s trial.

The battle for Thameland’s future had begun.