The New Emperor

"I don't need you to come with me," Dran said. He stood in a room of perfect ice. Crystals grown over the course of hours, so flawless they were transparent.

"This is important," Marius responded. "You need all the help you can get."

"Marius, I know you want what is best for me and the cause, but your presence will be counterproductive. When the time comes, I will be sure to make use of you, just as I will use every resource at my disposal."

Dran spoke the True Name of ice. The crystals around him reassembled themselves into a suit of armor, covered in protruding spines, so transparent a casual observer might not even see it. Dran spoke the name again, and the spines receded.

"Marius, in a few hours I will either be commander of the world's largest army, or else dead. Either way..." Dran thought about his fellow potioner. His rival, his student, and his friend. "Goodbye, Marius."

As Dran walked through the Etoran camp, he could feel his heart pounding. He knew the danger he was walking into. A few people had approached him, wanting to confront the strange outsider. They were dead. Dran was not in a mood for distractions.

As he walked, the tents grew bigger. They grew grander. Dran was no longer surrounded by foot soldiers. He saw officers. Then nobles. Finally, he reached the center of Etoran command. A large tent. Dran stood outside for a moment, savoring the last moment of life as he knew it. Then, he stormed in, a flurry of snow at his back, his voice booming with the sounds of magical enhancement. "My name is Dranarius Caesorium. I am your rightful Emperor."

The generals drew their swords. "You are no Emperor. You are a sorcerer. Prepare to-" The man had trouble finishing the sentence with a shard of ice lancing through his skull.

Dran approached his cousin's corpse. It was dressed in a frankly absurd quantity of regalia. Dran wondered who had decided to bring that much royal clothing to a field of war.

The crown rested upon Anaxus' head. The Caesorium's were a powerful family of sorcerers, and their magic would not allow someone from another line to wear their crown. Dran cracked a smile at his countrymen, who thought that simple charm was a blessing from Thacanarion.

"Let this be a lesson to anyone who doubts my lineage," Dran proclaimed, as he lifted the crown from his cousin's head, and placed it upon his own.

There was a look of moderate surprise from the onlookers. "We leave tonight," Dran ordered. "My cousin's senseless war is over. Without this army, Koteph will break. We will rebuild the Empire. It will be strong in war and wealth and magic. Get to work."

By this point, the generals had begun to come to terms with what was happening. They knew that explicit rebellion dissent would get them killed. Better to play along, leave, and crush this pretender beneath the entire Etoran army.

Dran knew what they were thinking of course. "You," he said, pointing at an unlucky general. "You would rebel against me. Don't deny, I saw it in you mind." Dran could do nothing of the sort, but he expected this crowd lacked a detailed knowledge of what magic could accomplish. "You die." The man died.

Dran waited, as the generals got their word out. There was a new man, a stranger, who seemed to be of the Caesorium line. He was the Emperor. For the moment at least. After waiting what he judged to be the optimal amount of time, Dran flew into the air to address his subjects. He did not get the chance.

The Poisoner is Called

Emperor Anaxus III had finally done it. He had ordered the death of the shade Koteph, and the order had gone through. News of the death in the enemy camp was quick to reach the Tower. It was the talk of everyone.

"I suppose it was inevitable," Dran said. "But, nonetheless, it is a surprise."
"For someone to die like that," Marius said. "It must be horrifying."
"Death is horrifying enough. Additional theatrics are for the simple-minded."
"Evidently Koteph thought it was necessary."
"He was sending a message to simple-minded people. He had a clear message for the Etorans. Their leader had resisted Koteph's commands, and he wanted to make sure no other Etoran would do the same."
"Do you know who is going to succeed him," Marius asked.
"Well, he has no living relatives except some bastard children back in New Etor. And me, I suppose. I expect the Empire will fall apart within a decade."
"You... you're his heir."
"In the sense that my banished father was his uncle, yes, I am the heir the Etoran Empire. I suppose I should make you call me 'majesty'."
"You should rule, Dran. This is your chance. You have the potential to be the greatest member in the greatest line of  Mage-Emperors ever to exist."
"The Etorans aren't exactly looking for Mage-Emperors, my friend. The bastards in New Etor have better chances than do I."
 "They don't have a fraction of your power and intelligence."
Dran stood up. "I'm going to go use my power and intelligence to whip up another batch of skinmelter. If you have anything to say that isn't goading me into a suicidal power grab, you're welcome to join me. Actually, you're not. Someone needs to re-calibrate the Aeolin balance for the thigmoturges we're making."

Dran was absorbed in his work, so he hardly noticed the Master of Potions walk in behind him. "Marius is right," Lencius said. "You could be your cousin's successor."
"Really," Dran laughed. "You know, my father spend the better part of his life trying to take back the Empire. But even he wasn't foolish enough to act on that urge. And he was far more powerful than I. A fact he demonstrated to me on a great many occasions."
"Koteph's monsters are nearly gone, thank in no small part to your poisons. If you pick up the Etoran crown and deprive him of his second army, it will be him alone against all the sorcerers of the Tower. You will save the world, Dran. Is that not worth risking your life for?"
"Only if I have a chance at succeeding. My father never thought he could succeed, why should I think I can do better."
"Because your father thought you could do better."
"Excuse me? What do you know of Phorius Terrorslayer's thoughts?"
"I know exactly what he thought of you, Dran. All the ingredients for all the potions you brewed every year of your life, they came from me. Your traveled the world, you must have realized that. But perhaps you never appreciated how frequently those travels brought him to the Green Tower. He would come to the hub of the world's sorcery, and I would supply him with ingredients and books, and he would tell me how brilliant his son was. He would speak of your cunning, or how quickly you had mastered the True Name of ice. He would go on for hours about your adventures in potionry. To hear him talk, no sorcerer in the world was a match for your mind. The Etoran Empire was hardly large enough for you. You would rule your family's land and more. When you came to the University, I asked to have you as an aide. I wanted to see this prodigy Phorius was so proud of. And you are every bit as capable as your father described. Phorius was lacking in a great many regards, Dran, but he never lacked confidence in Dranarius Caesorium. It seems only you have that lack."
Dran pondered his mentor's speech. He took a moment to decide if he believed it. He took a moment to evaluate what impact he could have on the war.
"Very well, Lencius. I shall consider how best to reacquire my family's crown."  

The Ethics of Flesh and Flame

"It is beyond the pale," I said. "Utterly and completely." Dran and I were sitting in his laboratory (at this point, it was his in all but name) discussing the actions of out mutual friend. I was looking out the window, watching to pillar of fire die down as Dragoneyes returned to our Tower.
"You are too quick to judge," Dran countered. "You don't look far enough into the future."
"He is butchering people. Skinning men alive. Even the monsters of Ochekol'kan don't do that. For the most part."
"He certainly has his reasons."
"No reason could justify what he has done."
"If he succeeds, he will save lives."
"That isn't why he does it."
"What does it matter, what his motivation is?"
"Dragoneyes is using his grand principles as an excuse to murder thousands of people. Thousands of your countrymen, in fact."
"Etorans aren't my countrymen, Amniel. If they had wanted that, they shouldn't have sent my father to live in exile. But their country has nothing to do with this. Dragoneyes is trying to learn the True Name of flesh. With that power, he will be able to heal the sick and wounded, and make the old young again. That justifies whatever cost may be incurred in gaining his power."
"Dran, you don't understand what a human life. They can't be bought and sold in the hope to make a moral profit."
"Consider it this way," Dragoneyes said. I was startled to see him entering the room. He wore a heavy suit of armor, and yet he moved silently and gracefully. "If I had the option of saving a hundred people or a thousand, which would you recommend doing."
"That isn't the same, Dragoneyes. You are using the promise of doing good to justify your desire for power." Perhaps it wasn't wise of me to provoke him like that. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so harsh with someone so powerful. But Dragoneyes did not seem to take offense.
"What else would I do with that power?"
"What else would you do with power? People have been chasing power as long as there have been people. Very few of them have turned around and started using their power for the greater good."
"Haven't you used your power for the greater good."
"I didn't get my power by killing people."
"True. But I don't think I am so different from every other sorcerer. We study the world around us, with the goal of using our powers, for the most part, for the greater good."
"Sorcerers are policed. We are kept in check. No sorcerer is powerful enough to overwhelm the rest. If one goes bad the others will work to mitigate what he can do. Once you have the power you wish, there will be no such restrictions on you. The world will be at your mercy."
"And what reason have I given you to think I will not be merciful," Dragoneyes snapped.
"You kill anyone you think threatens Cassinder. You kill people if you think it will make you more powerful. You can be vindictive, and you known to act before full thinking through the consequences of your actions."
"Amniel, it is you who have not thought through the consequences of my actions." Dragoneyes let us behind.
"I wonder where he is going," Dran said.
"Probably to rest."
"Or to see your sister."

Dragoneyes looked at his hand. He could see beneath the skin. He could see the muscles and tendons, the nerves and the vessels for blood. He could see all that complexity. And, if he stared deep and long, he could see the edges of the True Name of flesh. He didn't need the edges. He needed the meat.
If Dragoneyes were to work his magic on Cassinder, he would need to be certain of his power. He would need to know the True Name of flesh like he knew the True Names of fire and iron. Better than he knew the Names of ice and stone. He would need the utmost precision to stop the spread of poison through her body. Even more delicacy to undo the damage that had already been done, so that she might live to see old age.
That was another question inside the mage's mind. Old age. Should he permit it?
Part of him thought it was natural. That it was what a man or woman was meant to do. To live a full life, to grow old, to die.
But another part of him thought of a world with no aging. Like the elves had enjoyed. Did one elf ever walk up to another and ask why his skin never wrinkled. Did he ever express sadness that he would never lose his teeth and hearing and memory. Did any elf ever express regret that after sixty years they would lose the abilities to walk and see and taste? Somehow, Dragoneyes doubted it. Aging wasn't necessary. Dragoneyes wouldn't allow it. Once he had the power he wanted. The power he needed.

Destroyer

Between Dran's pillars of poison and Dragoneyes' pillars of fire, Koteph's supply off monsters was beginning to dwindle. The shade was relying more and more upon his Etoran allies. And describing them as allies would be extremely generous.

"I could remove their entire army," Dragoneyes said. "I could do it right now. Their army is made of men, men know fear. If they saw the extent of my power. If they saw me tear the flesh from a thousand men's bones, the would fear me, and they would leave."
"If you do that, you leave the Tower vulnerable to attack."
"It is a risk I am willing to take."
That was touching, seeing as Dragoneyes wouldn't be one of the people at risk. "Are you sure that is why you are doing this?"
"What are you implying, Amniel?"
What was I implying? I didn't know. I just found Dragoneyes' behavior suspicious. Dran would know what to say. He would have his suspicions, and would voice them, and they would prove themselves correct. But suspicion did not come so naturally to me. It required effort.
What could be Dragoneyes' motivation? What did he want? What could he be after? My sister. He wanted to save her. "You want to fight humans so you can kill them. You want to learn the True Name of flesh."
Dragoneyes sighed. "I do."
"You can't do this, Dragoneyes. You have a responsibility. If you let your love for my sister cloud your judgment, you might destroy every person alive. This is bigger than Cassinder."
"Yes, Amniel, it is. Do you think I will stop after I save your sister? I will use that power to shred Koteph, and all of my other enemies. I will heal the sick and the crippled. I will make the hungry full again. I will be able to stop men from aging. Think of all the pain and suffering in the world. I will be able to stop so much of it. That is the power I want. And yes, it is bigger than Cassinder."
I didn't have a response to that. Dragoneyes didn't give me a chance to think of one.


Dragoneyes stood in the middle of the camp. Some brave souls stuck at him with swords. But nothing made of iron nor bronze nor steel could harm Dragoneyes for he knew their True Names. Some men threw rocks at the mage. But he knew the True Name of stone as well. One person came at Dragoneyes with a torch. He didn't blink. Fire had been the first True Name he had learned. Dragoneyes calmy dismembered the men attacking him. He sliced them to bits with their own swords. He laid their flesh out upon the dirt, examining it. More men came. They were added to the pile.
But when Dragoneyes looked at the bleeding spread of ruined human bodies, he did not see a True Name. He did not see salvation for Cassinder, or for the countless others who needed his help. He sent out a wave of flame, and consigned the flesh to oblivion. With a word, he lifted up the ground beneath him, flying into the sky, and crashing into the ground some distance away. He began his work again.

He did it seven times. Seven times Dragoneyes landed in the midst of the Etoran army. Seven piles of men shorn apart by their own blades, for the mage to study. Seven times he looked into the flesh, and didn't see the one thing he wanted.
The seventh time, he looked up, and saw a man fleeing in the difference. A man who stood out among the crowds. He had a power to him. Not the magical power that Dragoneyes had seen so many times before. This was a different shade of power. Dragoneyes was looking at the Etoran Emperor.

"Surrender," Dragoneyes ordered the crowned man before him.
"I will not." The man was kept a calm exterior. He knew the power of the man before him. But he knew surrender was not a option. Not with the current state of the world.
"You fight because you are afraid of Koteph. You think he will kill you if you resist him. Rest assured that I will kill you if you don't."
Dragoneyes saw the fear buried inside the Emperor. He had seen Dragoneyes' work. He had seen what the mage was capable of. Dragoneyes saw the word forming in the Emperor's mind. Destroyer.  

The Name of Poison

I found work deep within the bowels of the Tower. I worked with Dran. With the True Name of air, I moves waves of his poisons over Koteph's armies. Even at a great distance, I could feel their lungs swelling, failing. I could feel the breathing stop as men and monsters succumbed to the work of The Poisoner.

I expected it to be satisfying. They had poisoned my sister, and now I was poisoning them. But it wasn't satisfying at all. I just didn't find killing an enjoyable activity. I suppose that might be a good thing.

I was with Dran, watching him work, thinking of ways I could increase the efficiency of his creations, when I began to hear screams fill the air. I heard crashing and tearing in the distance. I walked toward the window, hoping I wouldn't see Koteph storming the lower levels of the Tower.

I didn't see Koteph storming the lower levels of the Tower.

Dragoneyes was standing in the middle of Koteph's army. A flock of monsters was struggling to fly away from him. Dragoneyes used the True Name of air, and sucked them in closer. Even across all that distance, my magic let me hear their cries. It let me smell the scent of their flesh as Dragoneyes ripped it apart with metal hooks. "What is happening out there?"
Marius joined me. The student strained his eyes so see what happened. Dran joined his partner. "What is he doing?" Marius asked.

"I assume he is destroying the same creatures that injured Cassinder," Dran answered.

"Vengeance?"
"No. From what I can see, he is tearing them apart. He seems to be discarding most the the body, but examining part of it. I suspect he is studying their poison. Attempting to find its True Name, so that he can save his love."
"That wouldn't work," I said. "For something made from a living thing, the True Name would be too complicated."
"Didn't he once use the True Name of flesh? Isn't that how he healed your sister after our first battle with Koteph?"
"But..."
"The laws of ordinary mages don't apply to him, and he knows it."

When next I saw Dragoneyes, he looked strange. His clothing, his metal armor, his rings and his swords, all of them looked brilliant. Clean and whole, as if he had just put on his outfit for the first time. He knew the True Names of cloth and iron, so his clothing would always look the way he wished. But he couldn't keep the blood and gore off of his hands, out of his hair. His skin was covered in the reeking fluid. Beads of water were moving over his body, slowly soaking up the monstrous fluid, but blood was still oozing over his flesh. "I failed," he said. "I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't powerful enough. Your sister will die because my eyes were clouded today, because they didn't see as they should."
I didn't know if that was prophecy or just pessimism. I was afraid to ask. "Did you get a small sample of the venom? Perhaps with more time-"
"No, the venom degrades. There is no point in saving a vial of it. If I ever want to see it again, I will need to kill more of Koteph's beasts."
Dragoneyes saw the question forming inside of me.

"Koteph knows what I want now. He has sent the monsters I need far off. If I go to hunt them again, I will need to abandon the Tower."
"You can't do that." Even I knew that my sister's life wasn't more valuable than the Green Tower. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
"I know my duty, Amniel. No matter how much I care for your sister, I cannot risk the world for a chance to save her life."

The Poisoner

I was, of course, still angry that Dragoneyes had kept his relationship with Cassinder secret. But I had begun to accept that they might genuinely be a match, and that they had the potential to bring each other happiness.

Speaking of matches, my own love live was rather less... lively. Areline continued to regard me the way one might regard a particularly crazed hermit who has taken up residence in the outskirts of a nearby village. In that she was willing to tolerate me so long as I kept my distance, and criticized my personal grooming. "Is it so unreasonable that I can't be bothered to shave. I have at this point slain no fewer than eighteen monsters in the past four days."
"If your beard grows any more tangled you'll be mistaken for the nineteenth," the retorted.

"That seems very unlikely!" Perhaps not the reply of a rhetorical master.

We bickered for a little longer, until her brother brokered a peace. Othin was good at that. He could make friends with everyone. He was interested in everything. He spoke to Neriel with authority when discussing history, and impressed me in his studies of the True Name of air. He was truly his father's son.

Othin got us all discussing the relative merits of the the various types of Etoran cuisine. The discussion was going very nicely when Koteph blasted his way into our room. At that point, the discussion ceased rather abruptly.

I was terrified. There was no Dragoneyes to save me. No Archmage who would hold Koteph off. The shade was effortlessly was more powerful than the four of us put together. I summoned a whirlwind, for all the good it would do. Koteph effortlessly dispersed it.

"You know why I'm here." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, uttered by an inhuman mouth on an inhuman face. The shriveled, corpselike man sent out a spell, and the four of us were immobilized.

"I know why you're here," I said. "And it is a waste of your time."
"Yes, I see that now." He ran his fingers against my face. The texture was off. "An intricate spell. You know I want the True Name of air, and you aren't the fools I had hoped you were." Koteph took in the details of the enchantment. "Impressive. And I came very close to triggering it. I suppose I had better not use my magic here any more. Otherwise it might prove... more fatal than intended."
He didn't want to kill me? Didn't he know that I was useless to him? "But there is another, here. Another who could be useful."

My heart pounded. This was my fault. All my fault. "Othin. Son of Taerin. You shall open the door of air, and help bring Ochekol'kan into the world."

He grabbed my paralyzed friend, lifting the full-grown man like I would lift and pen, and left us. It was some time before the people combing through the debris of Koteph's attack noticed the three sorcerers standing still at their posts. I wasn't halfway through reversing the shade's work.

"Your foolishness has cost me my son! My heir!" The Archmage wasn't pleased. Not in the least.

"I- I'm sorry." That didn't seem like enough. What could I say? It hadn't occurred to me that theoretical information I had been teaching his son might attract Koteph's attention. I had simply lectured away, eager to discuss sorcery with anyone, not stopping to consider the consequences of my actions.

"You ought to be far more than sorry. Even as I was directing the sorcerers to help heal your sister, you let my son be taken by that... creature!"

Something wasn't right. ''My sister?"

Taerin's expressing went from anger to something harder to place. Shock, perhaps? "I assumed you had been informed. You sister was ambushed by one of Koteph's flying creatures. A Sassile, of some sort. She is not well."

Me, Dragoneyes, Dran and Cassinder. All together again. Except that Cassinder was unconscious, on the verge of death. "I can slow the process," Dran said. "The right potion can stop the spread of the venom. My assistants are making it as we speak." Assistants?

"I ought to be able to do something," Dragoneyes said. "If I knew the True Name of the venom, I could save her. If I knew the True Name of blood, or flesh." He caressed my sister. My sister. "I called upon the those names to save her once before. Why can't I see them again?"

"Perhaps it is a sign that she will live without your interference," I suggested.

"I can see the True Nature of things, Amniel. Yes, she will live. She will be kept in this state for some time. She may be conscious, briefly. But she will deteriorate. Further and further. Her flesh will rot before she dies. Her skin will decay. We can preserve her life until her heart becomes a lump of dirt. But it won't mean anything to her." Dragoneyes burst into flames. Searing heat came off his body. I put up a spell to cool myself. Dran did the same. Neither Dragoneyes nor his lover needed to deal with such trivialities. "Leave us," he ordered. I left him to be with my sister.

"It is an irony," Dran said.

"What is."
"Oh, you wouldn't appreciate it. But earlier today, I received a new nickname. The Poisoner." Dran grinned the grin of someone who considered 'The Poisoner' to be a desirable nickname.

"Because of the noxious concoction you hurl at our enemies?"
"It certainly is not a reference to my cooking, Amniel. But that is not what I wished to speak with you about. I wanted to discuss why Koteph didn't kill you."
"I have given it some thought. It is because I know the True Name of air. I am his reserve. His replacement, in case Othin fails to learn."
"Yes. Which means that he is working on a way to counteract your safeguard. Since sentimental reasons prevent you from being killed, that means we simply have to act to keep you out of the shade's hands. You will spend your time in the Tower, now. I have some work I think will suit you."
"Have you talked to Taerin about this?"
"I'll speak with him when he is less distressed. He is in an unbalanced state at the moment."

"I see."

Taking orders from Dragoneyes, taking orders from Dran. Or the Poisoner, as he liked to be known.

Etorans in Exile

Anaxus III considered the three men standing in front of him. Lords Orin, Tong and Bordar. Norgad lord who had pledged their support to the Empire in exchange for a share of its plunder.
"You cannot continue this battle." The Norgad Lords were adamant.
"You agreed to fight this war alongside me. Are you betraying your Emperor?"
"We agreed to help you storm a defenseless Tower. We never agreed to a siege where sorcerers would rain down flaming boulders upon our men."
"An unfortunate complication. But the sorcerers grow weaker every day. We will still be victorious. It is only a matter of time."
Orin stepped closer to the Emperor. "We are not alone in our unease with the war. Every day we are away is another tax upon the society built by your people and mine. Many of your advisers agree that the Empire is overstretched. Many of your generals would rather be quelling unrest back home. And in your absence, some are considering causing unrest back home."
Anaxus would never take these foreign nobles' word on anything. But he knew they were right. He knew that this was war cost costing blood and treasure he couldn't afford. It had been fifty years since the Etorans had waged a war so far from home. Anaxus had thought his Empire had recovered from its tragedy, but he was questioning himself.
If the war dragged on, his governors would rebel. The Norgads and the Irinians would invade. His nobles would seek to overthrow him, and his army would desert him. Anaxus couldn't allow that.
If Anaxus surrendered, he would appear weak. He would appear foolish. It would damage his reputation, but his Empire could survive. Except that Anaxus couldn't.
Koteph would murder him. The sorcerer would kill the Emperor for his betrayal. Anaxus knew he was mortal, and knew nothing he could do could prevent Koteph from killing him. Almost nothing, that is.
Anaxus would just need to have Koteph killed in his sleep.

Lencius, Master of Potions, thought of his two pupils. Initially, there had been resentment between them. Hatred, almost. Marius had been jealous of Dran's wit and talent. Dran had been jealous of Marius' experience, and his group of friends. But the two of them had come to work together. Dran tutored Marius on all the esoteric topics he had learned in his exile. And Marius had introduced Dran to the other students he had met at his time at the Green Tower.
There was a camaraderie between them now. They were as close as any students Lencius had ever taught. They were explaining new weapon of Dran's devising. "A poison gas," he explained. "We can launch it into the midst of their army, and kill thousands at a time."
"That is horrifying," Lencius responded.
"We need to kill those thousands anyway. This just lets us do it more easily."
"I wasn't condemning you. I was stating a fact. How do you get the raw power?"
"Ice," Dran said. "As heat flows from hot to could, we siphon some off and use it to power-"
"I'm familiar with the procedure, Dran. I taught a class on it. Although in my class we used the flow between a fire and a bucket of water, not between melting ice and open air."
"Well, nobody in this wing of the Tower knows the True Name of fire. So ice it is."
Lencius was impressed. Dran was a brilliant potioner, and a powerful mage. Those two traits weren't often united in the same individual. Adding in Dran's clever nature and resourcefulness, and Lencius had no doubt that the student would one day outshine the Master. Perhaps all the Masters.
"Impressive," Lencius said. "How much can we make."
"We can have the system up and running in a few more days," Marius answered.
"What system?"
"It was Dran's idea," Marius explained. "He thinks that if we want to make a lot of a potion- really a lot- our best shot is to enchant the materials. To use spells so the beakers and flasks stir and boil themselves at the appropriate time. We have the plans. We will feed in the raw materials, provide the occasional spells, and the system will spit out twenty flasks of completed potion every day, ready to be vaporized and hurled to the enemy camp."
"So, you plan for the potion to be made without... potioners?"
"For the most part," Dran explained. "There are some parts that are easier to do by hand, of course."
Lencius had a brief vision. Of Dran created a thousand such systems, pouring out the noxious potion, flooding the landscape with poison gas. But he knew that couldn't happen. Dran was a good person. Only a man of unbelievable cruelty could ever be capable of such a thing.