BECMI Chapter 505 – Skipping Time

The Far Shore…

The Clash of Empires ended under the Banner of the Pax in the city of Helcard on the Isle of Kheper. King Antius of Eismoor served as neutral mediator between the two parties there.

The old agreements between the empires, thoughtfully lost or forgotten, were brought out of the ancient archives retrieved by the Mick, bringing to light the fact that the Island of Kheper and all lands to the north of Siricil were to remain inviolate and neutral grounds by both empires, keeping a buffer zone between them to stop the very war which they had just been involved in.

Delpha had no stomach for war after absorbing such a terrifying loss, the remnant states only united by their military and readiness to face down any mutual threats.

Siricil had no strength to go after Delpha after the colossal losses in men, material, and divine support, and their Emperor Magni had no desire to go on following the words of an Immortal who had manipulated him into nearly destroying Siricil entirely with her policies.

The end result was that all cities and realms on Kheper became free cities in name, if not entirely in fact. Clearly most were biased toward one side or the other, but their new rulers were all reveling in their new status.

More to the point, the nations of the Coral Islands and Oriculae, subjugated by Siricil for nearly a thousand years, took the opportunity to throw off their yokes and declare their own independence, much to the dismay of Emperor Magni, whose legacy of leading the shattering of the Siricilan Empire came true before his eyes…

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The tink of her grounding her sword echoed through the room, but not a step outside. The guards posted there heard nothing through the Sound Bubble that was also up.

The man in the bed had a sword in his hand instantly, sitting up and throwing off the covers to face any attacker.

The pommel of Tremble glowed softly, illuminating Sama Rantha standing there, staring at him, her heaven’s-blue eyes luminous and unmistakable.

She watched him pale, taking into account the wrinkles and graying of his hair, confirming the suspicions of other observers of the Emperor.

“Magni,” she said plainly.

“Sama,” he replied, slowly sweeping his legs out of the bed and getting to feet that wavered for a moment, making him wince, even though the grip on his Gladius, its eighteen-inch edge gleaming softly silver, did not waver in his grip. “Have you finally come to kill me?” he asked once, unsurprised but resigned.

“Magni, if I wanted to kill you, you would be long dead, and certainly would never have woken up just now. I wouldn’t duel you, I’d just stop your heart and be done with you,” she replied coldly.

He stared back at her, then sighed and tossed his Sword upon his bed, knowing it was fruitless. He was a Grandmaster of the gladius, one of the finest swordsmen alive and a former champion of the arenas who stayed in very good shape… but he was not her equal, and he knew it.

“Why are you here, Sama? To gloat at me as I fall?” he asked bitterly, trying to keep the sneer out of his voice and failing. “While your new pet nation rises, Siricil flounders and falls from your machinations?” he spat.

“I have always had issues with aspects of Siricilan culture. Does it surprise you that I did something about them, Magni?” she asked him evenly, her eyes unblinking and far more intense than his own, a predator looking only at defiant prey.

He sighed again, shaking his head after a moment, once-dark curls now going clearly gray. “Then why? If you think I will have Siricil join your so-called Federation…”

“The Federation would not take it. I am here only for you,” she responded evenly, this time flicking her gaze up and down. “Tenya has Cursed you. You will be dead of old age within a year.”

He straightened up, failing to hide the wincing across his newly-lined face. “She betrays the nation, she costs me the love of my own children, and now she Curses me for not attacking the Delphans as they retreat, refusing to lose more of my own men when victory came for nothing. What of it?” he asked her, clearly resigned to his fate. “I plan to raise my daughter and her consort up, if the Senate will take her, and there are no better candidates. She will be a better Empress than I was, if only because the whispers of that bitch will not be coming into her ears.”

“Well, wisdom at the end of your reign, instead of during it. Would that rulers could do the opposite more often, yes?” she chortled without the least bit of sympathy, even drawing a grim smile from him at the cutting remark. She wasn’t going to change for him! “No, I’m here because I’m not happy with your bitch of an Immortal bed-warmer, either. I was wondering if you would like some revenge.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He blinked at her. “Revenge?” he asked narrowly, but all his muscles tensed. “On… Tenya?” he asked further, almost incredulous, but not quite.

“She is murdering you slowly right now,” Sama replied, her teeth flashing. The eight canines there were oddly prominent to his gaze, like a beast waiting to rip out a throat. “You don’t have recourse, you don’t have another Immortal willing to intervene for you, you are all alone.

“I was wondering if you might wish to grab the chance to fight again.”

He took a long, deep breath, flexing still-callused hands as he stared at her, this utterly deadly woman who never spoke anything but razored truth to him. “You have my attention, Sama. What are you offering?”

“A fight is coming, in a very distant place. A fight that needs great warriors. And by great, I mean men like you, and your equals. The very, very best.

“If you are ready to leave this place behind, turn over your throne, and pretend to die in solitude, I offer you three things.

“One, I offer you the removal of the Curse which is forcing you back to your true age.” She had his IMMEDIATE attention with that!

“Two, I offer you the chance Tenya has denied you: the chance to walk into Eternity. I know you know of the Paths. You also know that no Immortal will touch you now, so the only one who can set you on a Path… is you!

“Three, the very best revenge is success. I offer you a crucible of combat, a fight against the greatest foes in existence, a battle in which men like you are merely the champions of companies, not the great heroes and generals of armies. A place where you can rise to a glory and status that shames what mortals can rise to, and mocks Tenya for not seeing what you truly are.

“Tell me, Magni, are you ready to fight before the eyes of the world and claim your recognition across the centuries, or die an old man in his sleep, dragged down by the chains of an empire which no longer loves you and a goddess who spurns you?”

He stared at her for a long moment, but as always, there was no falsehood in her eyes or voice, only wicked truth that would be there whether he liked it or not.

A return to the simple years of being a gladiator, of doing battle for the eyes of the world, just him and steel against a foe? Just survival and victory, not incessant politics, friends waiting to stab him in the back, followers loyal only to the next victory?

“What do I have to do?” he replied to her, his choice made with the decisiveness of a Siricilan who knew to take the best option for himself when it was handed to him on a silver platter…

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And so, within months Magni, born a son of Seacall, was gone from the throne and halls of power of Siricil, vanishing from the eyes of mortal and Immortal alike. If Tenya thought she had a claim on his soul, she never got to collect it, nor see the result of her Curse upon him, for the former Emperor walked through the Portal Across Time and out onto the Other Shore.

There I broke the Curse upon him, and sent him off on a mission on a continent around the world unknown to him, there to lead a rebellion against a domineering, slaving empire that was doubtless startlingly similar to Siricil, teaching the people how to fight… and then, if he could walk away, he could become Eternal.

He took the challenge up and strode away without looking back. I had no doubts he’d succeed, too.

No Immortals to satisfy this time. Just him, a blade, and the will to fight!

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Time passed on both worlds, and deeds great and small occurred. New heroes rose to power and fame with time, training, and travails, and moved into positions of power their elders quietly left behind them.

Around the world, great heroes looking for a better way who had been overlooked by the Immortals quietly vanished into mists and legends, walking away to pursue a greater destiny. Those the Immortals were interested in were not bothered so much, and indeed, found it easier to make their own legends with so many others not crowding them out… but the eyes of their rivals and opposites were also concentrated on them, and the Path to Immortality became as hard or harder than ever.

In the Sheikdoms of Zakarum, an unseen war was fought and won against the combined accumulated forces and followers of the Delphan Mage Wallisamp, who really thought it might be time to make his play for Immortality with so many of his rivals and peers gone.

Those hopes were soundly crushed as his accumulations of centuries were put to the sword or seized and taken away. Waiting Overmagi made sure he couldn’t contribute to the hidden subterranean defenses of his own realm, and he could only watch, then ultimately flee as the very skilled teams of delvers tore through his minions, traps, and defenses, took his hoarded wealth and equipment for their own, and left very little intact behind them.

Although vastly irritated, he watched the work of centuries of efforts go up in smoke and simply decided to relocate to another area without Overmagi around to contest him. He took his personal wealth and equipment and relocated far to the south of the continent of Olos, his research at least still intact, his personal strength still high, and started the process of attempting the Path to Immortality again.

Lost in the ruination of his underground realm was the removal of the Stone of Oblivion, the Artifact that erased all knowledge of Sythia from those who entered its massive area of effect. Its sacrifice in the northern parts of the realm, using Magian Fire-worshipers whose primitive arts were some of the last remnants of Sythian bloodlines for the ritual, was used to remold the land and raise the waters of the River Myah back to the surface from whence they’d been long buried.

Not at all coincidentally, this reshuffling of the land and waters utterly collapsed and buried the great network of subterranean holdings under the desert there, giving Wallisamp’s servants and minions nowhere to run, hide, or recover as the great river came surging down out of the mountains to the north as it had nearly fifteen centuries before, and even began to push some of the buried lands of Zakarum’s eastern shores back up out of the waters, resulting in some consternation and chaos when former ports found themselves high and dry an increasing distance from the waters as the lands rose and the sea receded…

But all was forgiven as the Myah returned, slowly and fitfully, step by step, the desert sating its thirst for every foot it advanced. But eventually the great river cut once more across the sands, the land turned green about its banks, and one of the great promises of the Prophet, that the desert could be made green once again, seemed to finally be possible!