87: The Mages' Showcase

87: The Mages' Showcase
It was a grand hall abuzz with expectancy, the air heavy and punctuated by the scent of burning torches and polish. Massive chandeliers hung above the hall and bathe the space in golden light to illuminate the gorgeous banners of twenty-five kingdoms draped across the walls. The floor-a sprawling expanse of smooth marble had been cleared for the upcoming display; it was to be a show of magic that has long been a tradition among the kingdoms.
Elara sat at the head of the hall on her throne, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the gathered nobles and monarchs. The tall figure beside her was Alden whose arms were crossed in front of himself; his mere presence was enough to command attention. The kings and queens of the visiting realms were seated along the sides of the hall, watching the assembly with their own respective degrees of interest, while very close to their guards and above all their mages, robe of power-wearing mages of the kingdom, stood at-attention at the open space before them.
Elara stood up and announced in her seamless voice traversing the great hall, "We have not gathered just for politics but to show strength," she said. "Let every mage from each kingdom show the candle's brightest measure and we'll see the high measure of magic from the realm."
There came a murmur that rippled through the hall, and the first mage stepped forward.
Emerging behind the impassive visage of the towering mountain was a woman garbed in emerald robes from the kingdom of Vaeloria, raising her staff with its crystalline head pulsing with energy, thrust forward; immediately, the temperature of the hall dropped. Ice, etching in delicate styles, spread over the marble floor, then threw high into the air in the shape of massive ice spires glittering with deadly beauty.
"The Frost Pinnacles," she proclaimed steadily. "A spell that can create unbreakable fortresses or impale an entire army in moments."
The audience murmured in appreciation; the frozen structures refracted the warm torchlight between them in beautiful patterns, slowly melting to her command.
And next, a giant from Ortheos, clad in deep red robes, came forth, his fingers sparkling with raw energy as he raised his hands toward the ceiling. Torches flickered, then burst forth wildly into a huge storm of fire erupting into the air; it swirled violently before forming itself into the shape of a dragon. The beast let out a silent roar, its blazing wings stretching wide before it dissipated in a burst of embers.
King Gregor smirked. "Impressive as always."
One by one, these mages displayed their might-some whirled deadly whirlwinds while even others twisted by sheer will the stones underfoot. A few would manipulate light itself, creating dazzling illusions twisting the fabric of reality.
Then came the seven.
Tallest among them-three black crow-clad robes swathed a towering figure, whose shady contours obscured his angular outline: at first sight, one had already assumed-the most protruding part was actually his unnaturally pale skin which seemed to have been steeply drenched in midnight darkness-by contrast with his beady black eyes shining with something that could all but be described as almost divine madness. As he stepped forward, the very torches in the hall dimmed slightly, as though the light itself recoiled from him.
His hand came up, and the shadows at his feet writhed and coiled upwards as if alive into tendrils. Then thickened the darkness to shapeliness-hulking creatures with glowing red eyes stepped out of the void; their bodies, however, flickered like mist yet were solid of presence.
All this took place in collective silence.
Alden's expression was unreadable but sharpened his gaze. "Shadow magic," he muttered largely to himself.
The voice of the man was calm and unwavering: "The Abyssal Summoning. These beings obey only me and then fade at my command." He snapped his fingers and the creatures returned back into the floor without a trace.
A few nobles shifted their seats in discomfort and bent heads down to whisper. Shadow magic was rare, even terrifying.
Elara inclined her head, acknowledging in silence. "A rare gift," she said. "And a most formidable one."
With that, the next mage-an old man wrapped in a gnarled staff entangled with glowing ivy-advanced in. He knelt, placing both palms to the ground. An instant later, seams of the marble ruptured, opening into enormous, twisting roots that exploded forth and twisted, curling into massive wooden beasts-living constructs with glowing green eyes, their bark-covered limbs moved in deliberate, slow power.
"They will fight, defend, and even heal," he said, voice deep and steady. With a wave of his hand, the roots retreat, mending the marble in their retraction.
Then the third mage, a woman draping in dark blue, raised one finger. Before her, the air quivered, bending and twisting until-suddenly-She was not there.
A gasping ripple moved through the crowd.
Elara's eyes shot through the hall in search. A heartbeat later, and the woman reappeared behind the amassed nobles, a ghostly afterimage lingering where she had just been.
"Space-folding magic," she concluded. "I can go anywhere within my sight."
King Leontius's fingers tapped with intrigue. "A powerful tool," he mused, glancing at Alden. "I imagine an assassin with such magic would be a nightmare."
Alden remained silent, earnestly watching the upcoming mage.
This young man was ringed in silver at each finger as he raised his hands and seemed to alter the weight of the gravity governing the room. The nobles actually felt their seats lighten while their goblets started to float just above the table. A few gasps escaped as he clenched his fist and everything snapped back into place.
"Gravitational manipulation," he said, lowering his hands. "A simple demonstration."
Elara continued to stare at him, storing away the potential dangers of such magic.
The fifth mage stepped forward, his skin faintly glowing like something with an inner life. He took in a deep breath, and at the next instant, he moved.
No, he blurred.
He was at the center of the hall one moment, and the next moment he was at the farthest end, then back again, all in a single breath. His movement was absolutely seamless, faster than any human eye could follow.
"The magic of acceleration," he explained without a hint of breath. "No blade can touch me."
There was no boasting in his voice, only truth.
The sixth mage, a woman clothed in deep red, moved up, hunching her shoulders. She inhaled, and a gust of wind swirled around her and solidified--taking form.
Elara's breath caught just for a moment.
Staring at the mage was a perfect reflection of herself.
The illusion moved, blinked, and even smirked.
"Perfect replication," said the mage. "Not just in appearance, but in voice, movement, even mannerisms." The illusion flickered and changed, shifting into Alden, then King Aldric, then fading away.
Alden's face was impossible to read, but Elara sensed the tension coursing under the tight control.
At last, the last mage stepped forward. With that, he said nothing except that he had lifted his arms.
The torches of that room wavered for the last time; in a split second they bent toward him insidiously. The flames leapt from their iron sconces and danced like living serpents around his arms. He twisted his hands, and the fire turned black.
With a darkness and through the unnatural flames cast eerie shadows on the stone walls. There was a moment the essence itself of the fire seemed to change from heat to something else.
Something hungry.
Alden narrowed his gaze.
Then, as quickly as it had come, it disappeared, and the torches resumed their steady glow.
The mage lowered his hands at this point. "A real elemental alteration," he said simply, "Fire that does not burn but devours all."
There came a heavy silence.
Then Elara stood up.
"Your kingdoms have all successfully proven their worth," she proclaimed steadily in a voice that seemed to carry the heft of steel. "And with this demonstration, you have shown us the future of magic itself."
The nobles muttered in agreement, yet the tension still hung heavily in the air.
Alden leaned slightly toward her, voice low. "The world is changing," he murmured. "And not all of it should exist."
Elara let a moment of silence linger before replying as her eyes scanned the mages in attendance. Power of the balance itself could shift in these abilities.
And she knew exactly what she wanted.