Chapter 5: Rebirth

    Darkness engulfed the archwizard known as Deklos.  The match with Lideus Magus had ended, and Deklos was lying on a cot in the north waiting room of the arena.  One eye cracked open, flooding his vision with light.  He sat up and stared dumbly into space for a moment.  Then memories of the events that had brought him to this point came crashing down on him.  He saw the Midnight Flux crushing down on his opponent, the crowds cheering him as he walked over to the prone form of his opponent, a movement noticed too late, and the hushed crowds staring down on the defeated archwizard.  He had lost, and to his shame the entirety of the Dark Lands had seen his prideful folly and watched his horrible fall.  He remembered everything, and then something broke within him.  If he knew what rain was, Deklos would say that today torrents were pouring down on his soul.

    The archwizard slowly rose from the cot that he had been laying on, and looked around the room.  A few mages still stood around, waiting for their match to come up, but it seemed that the semi-finals of the Tournament of the Magi had almost come to an end.  Knowing full well that there would very likely be little to no change in the Council of the Magi or in the current holder of the title of Archmagus, Deklos decided to head home early.  He left the waiting room, turned right, and walked down the hallway of the arena.  The hallways were deserted, leaving Deklos alone among the tapestries that told the stories of past tragedies.  He did not look at these, however, but merely kept walking down the corridor with all the energy of a corpse.  Every once in a while he would faintly hear the sound of the crowd cheering on the combatants in the arena.  He did not listen to this, but stared off into space as he slowly staggered through the hallways of the arena.

    Deklos found his way back to the Registration Hall, and saw a deserted wasteland that had once been called a festival.  The crowds were all watching the final matches, so the vendors had either relocated to the stands, or else had packed up for the day and joined the throngs in watching the spectacle of the semi-finals.  Booths sat empty, tables were deserted.  Broken cups were scattered here and there across the floor, and torn cloth lay strewn about.  The Registration Hall had become a mirror of Deklos' soul, reflecting back to him the despair and desolation that he now felt.  For a while, he stopped to stare at the state of the hall, but then continued his march back to the City.

    The roads were empty.  No longer were they a stream of humanity flowing from the City to the Tournament Hall, but rather a dry creek bed.  The roads were still marked with footprints, evidence that people had walked this road not too long ago.  Now, however, one trail of footprints led from the Tournament Hall back into the city, a single line down the path in a direction opposite that of all the others.  Deklos journeyed across this barren wasteland back to the one place that he could call home, back to a sanctuary where he could be safe for a time.  As he walked along, a new trail began to form in the dirt alongside his footprints, a scattering of wet marks in the dirt.  Beside the footprints that marched away from the Tournament Hall could be found a trail of tears.

* * *

    The lights of the city dimmed outside, casting Deklos' apartment into near darkness.  After returning from the Tournament Hall, Deklos had not bothered to eat or drink.  He had not even bothered to turn on the lamps in his apartment.  Instead, he had simply walked over to the chair in his living room and sat down.  For what seemed like ages, he merely sat there with his head in his hands, barely making a single sound the entire time.  He replayed the events of the day in his mind, drawing from his memories to recreate what he had experienced: the thrill of his practice session where he was watched with awe, the fury of battle as he fought against the other archwizards, the crackle of energy as he brought down the full might of the Midnight Flux on the magus, and the overwhelming sorrow and bitterness of defeat.  He saw in his mind's eye the looks on the faces of those in the audience: sad faces, hurt faces, angry faces, faces in agony, and faces of contempt.  He saw all these faces, and then finally he saw the jeering face of his opponent, Lideus Magus, smirking as he looked down on Deklos in victory.  A tortured sob escaped Deklos' throat, and a single tear fell from his eye.

    'Defeat...I have been defeated...' Deklos thought in his sorrow, 'All those people watching my fall, watching my disgrace.  I thought that the Tournament of the Magi would bring me acceptance, that I would never again need to fear the label of "traitor" that had been forced on me for all those years.  I would have won all that, too.  I had it in my hands, but that... that.... vile two-faced magus stole it all away from me.  I saw the faces of the crowd, faces that saw me as a conquering hero as I struck down one of the magi who ruled this land.  But then, all those faces fell and became faces that saw me as a disgraced traitor.  Those were the faces of people who saw a man who reached too high, and challenged powers that could easily strike him down.  The next tournament is in two years.  I'll find a way to beat him by then, a killer technique or spell that will strike him down.  In the next tournament, I...WILL...WIN!'

    For the first time since he was defeated by Lideus Magus, sorrow was banished from Deklos' presence, and was replaced by unbreakable determination.  The will to win no matter what the cost and the insatiable thirst for revenge filled him.  Deklos' broken soul became as stone, unfeeling and unyielding.  He rose from his chair and cast a light spell, casting a brilliant light across the room, revealing his bookshelves.  The archwizard walked across the room, picked up a random book off the shelves, and began to read.  He would find a way to win, even if it killed him.  Hours flew by, and still Deklos read on in the magical light of his illumination spell.  When the lights of the day-lamps turned on the next morning, the archwizard still sat against the wall, an open book in his hand and piles of tomes littering the floor around him.  A haze had settled over his mind by now, and the fiery determination that had so filled him the night before was beginning to burn out.  The weary archwizard put down his book and slowly pulled himself off the floor.  He walked to his bedroom, and collapsed on his bed.  His spent body fell into a deep sleep, and he spent the rest of his time off from work resting and allowing the wounds inflicted upon him in the tournament heal.

* * *

    The next day, Deklos taught his classes on applied magic as he always had, introducing his students to new topics for them to memorize and fielding all sorts of questions from his students.  Not surprisingly, one of the major topics for discussion in most of his classes was the tournament that had finished a few days prior and the political changes that would come with it.  None of the Magi had been defeated this year, so the highest positions of government would not change.  However, there were new competitors this year to actually challenge the Magi in magical combat, including the ever-so-talented Professor Deklos.  His students were somewhat in awe of him due to his performance in the Tournament, especially those that were unaware that he held the title of Archwizard of Combat Magic.  This near-worship on the part of his students nearly managed to cool the flames of vengeance that burned within him, but the desire for revenge flared up once again whenever a student would ask him about his duel with a Magus.  His answer to such questions, of course, was always the same: that he did his best, but the Magus was simply a more skilled mage.

    He barely made it through the day.  Deklos was most gratified that some of his students still looked up to him, but the question of his peers worried him.  Many of them now looked at him oddly, as though his performance in the Tournament had revealed to them a side of him that they had never seen.  Every once in a while, another professor would congratulate him on his performance in the tournament, but for the most they avoided the subject around him.  One such encounter occurred between classes.  He was sitting down to eat lunch with some of the other professors, and the conversation turned to the tournament the previous day.  Of course, every professor who bore the title Archwizard in some variety of offensive magic was in the tournament, though many lost fairly early on due to the fact that most professors rarely trained in combat magic unless that was their specialty.  They talked about their own battles and commented on the performance of one another, but none of them talked about Deklos' battles or performance.  He sat there conversing, but it was almost as if none of them knew that he had been in the tournament.

    After lunch was over, Deklos returned to his office to think while pretending to be looking over research papers.  He had quite a few that still needed grading, but his reputation and person-hood took precedence over getting grades done on time.  On the way there, he walked by a few groups of students.  Whenever they saw him, the whispering would begin.  Whispering and sideways glances at him, as though someone had told them that he was a traitor that sought to overthrow the Council of the Magi.  At last, Deklos came to the relative sanctuary of the north wing of the university.  He ascended the stairs, entered his office, and closed the door behind him.  He sat down at his desk, and thought about what to do to regain the respect of his students and peers at the university.

    'I didn't find anything that would help me win.  Nothing that will help me become respected by all.  A few students look up to me now, but now everyone treats me like a freak or a villain.  They talk about me in hushed tones, looking at me with knowing glances.  Professors that once associated with me will no longer acknowledge my existence.  I need something that will help me win next time, something to help me reclaim all that was stolen from me by Lideus Magus.  Perhaps a better shielding spell, or a stronger offensive spell that will truly take him down.  Something...'

    A voice snapped Deklos back to reality.

    "Professor?" A student asked.  Deklos looked up, and saw that one of his students from "Introduction to Applied Magic" had opened the door slightly and peeked her head into the office to ask him a question.

    "Yes, what is it?"  Deklos responded, trying to communicate with his tone of voice that he was busy.

    "I had a question about making artifacts.  I know that I'm supposed to draw element into the Focus Stone, but...why do I have to pull only one element into the Stone?  Wouldn't a mix of element be more useful?"

    Deklos sighed.  'I just explained this in class before lunch,' he thought before explaining, "I went over this in class.  The effects of an artifact with a mix of more than two elements becomes unpredictable.  If you know what you're doing and are focusing completely on the artifact, you can draw the element out of it manually and cast a normal spell that way.  But what's the point of that?  Just cast the spell normally.  We make artifacts for emergency situations and for everyday use by those who don't know how to cast magic."

    "Umm...I think that makes sense..." the student started, "but that doesn't explain why we shouldn't make an artifact with two opposing elements.  If you drew the element into separate Focus Stones, wouldn't it be safe?"

    'Not again,' Deklos thought.  After a brief pause, the professor finally drew in a deep breath and answered, "Yes, that would work.  But what would you use it for?  The last time a normal spell with opposing elements was tried, the mage casting it ended up baked when the spell went out of control.  We have some references to a similar spell called in some old documents, but the knowledge of casting it was lost with the archwizard who designed the spell in the first place."

    "Oh," the student simply said, the comment about baked mage obviously having frightened her, "Ok, I think I'll go now."

    'Peace at last,' the professor thought, 'Now that I think about it, though, a spell like that might be what I'm looking for.  Spells based on antipodal elemental fusion theory are supposed to be several orders of magnitude more powerful than a normal spell.  I could make that magus stay down next time with such a spell.  Perhaps I'll ask someone from the Magic Theory department about it later.'

    With that last thought, Deklos turned to grading papers.  He had his answer.

* * *
    After his next class, "Advanced Applied Water Magic," Deklos paid an acquaintance of his a visit.  In truth, he knew very few professors from the Department of Magic Theory, and all of the archwizards who had taught his magic theory classes when he was a student had all retired by now.  However, he managed to remember one professor from that department very distinctly:  Archwizard Tierth.  Deklos walked the halls of the north wing, looking for this man who might well hold the answers to his questions about a way to win in the next tournament.  Eventually, he came across a doorway with a sign on it that read:

Professor Tierth Valen
Archwizard of Magic Theory

    Deklos knocked on the door twice, and then waited.  There was no response for a while, so he knocked again.  There was no response once more, so Deklos turned and began to leave.  Then the door opened, revealing a man with unkempt hair and a wrinkled blue robe.  The man looked at him for a few seconds before speaking.

    "What is it?  I was in the middle of an important proof.  What is it that you think is worth wasting my time."

    Around the time that Tierth said this, he noticed who he had just spoken so rudely to.  Deklos turned around once more to face Professor Valen.  Upon realizing that he had all but insulted Archwizard Deklos to his face, Tierth suddenly became very afraid.  He still remembered quite vividly how effortlessly Deklos had defeated him in the tournament, and knew that should Deklos desire it, Tierth would not exist on the mortal plane much longer.

    "Ah...I mean...uh...ah...how can I help...you?" the terrified archwizard managed to stutter.

    Deklos replied, "I'm Deklos.  I'm sure you remember me from the tournament...."

    For a moment, both archwizards simply looked at each other in silence before Deklos began again, "I... need your help with the theory for a spell I want to create."

    A look of relief flooded over Professor Valen's face.  Then, he realized that the very archwizard who had defeated him so soundly had come to him asking for help.  Pride, among other emotions, welled up inside the man.

    "Come in, come in," Tierth said with joy in his voice as he waved Deklos into his office, "Tell me, what can I help you with?"

* * *

    Deklos strode into the library, a sheet of paper in hand with a list of recommended books written on it.  He had finished up all the classes he had to teach for the day, and he decided to get a head start on researching the theory behind antipodal elemental fusion before going home for the day.  He briskly walked up the staircase to the third floor, and then began his task of find the desired books.  He had been up here often to research various forms of applied magic, but never had come here to look at the books on theory that were to be found on this floor.   It took him close to an hour to find the books he was looking for -- apparently those who sought the knowledge of theoretical magic were very messy and disorganized -- but he eventually found what he had come for.  While he was here, he also picked up a book on the theory behind advanced shielding magic as well.  The archwizard checked out these books and took them to his office to read before heading home for the day.

    As he read the books regarding antipodal fusion magic theory, Deklos was amazed at the original basis for such theory.  The introduction traced the roots of this branch of research to one of the legends of the Dark Lands, the stories of the Champions and Holy Warriors of the Greater Elementals who were blessed with great skill in magic as well as fortified strength with which to wield weapons.  Many of those chosen were simply ordinary people who were seemingly randomly blessed with power.  Unfortunately, this blessing was also a curse, for most of them led very sad lives, having to give up everything for the Greater Elemental, even life itself.

    Of course, this recounting of legend was merely preparatory material to build up to the retelling of an old story that supposedly took place during the Great Wars.  Sometime during these wars, an epic battle between the Champions of the Greater Fire Elemental and the Greater Water Elemental took place.  They were perfectly matched in combat, due to the fact that they were identical twins fated to battle each other.  They used every trick that they knew to defeat the other, but they were so evenly matched, a duel of weapons did no good.  They tried a battle of weapons augmented with magic, but this was equally worthless.  Finally, the rivals decided to a final combat: a magical duel.  However, each of them was also a talented caster.  They battled it out with magic, but here too they were evenly matched.  Frustrated, the Fire Champion gathered his strength to release a incredibly powerful blast of barely focused offensive fire magic.  His twin saw this, and tried to counter it with a similar spell.  The blasts of magic met each other head on, and combined.  The resulting magical blast killed both of the Champions, and created a vast wasteland in the blast zone. This, the book recounted, is the first documented event that caused theorists to think about the concept of antipodal elemental fusion.

    The book he was reading went on to describe various ideas as to how this might work, followed by the results of experiments that disproved these ideas.  What disturbed Deklos the most about these experiments was that in most of them, the mage performing the experiment was wounded by the spell in some fashion.  Some were mentally scarred from trying to maintain a spell gone out of control.  Others were physically handicapped when the targeting of the spell went wrong.  In fact, there was not one documented experiment in which a fusion spell was successfully cast without injury to the caster.  Deklos did not let this deter him, however, and he continued to glean information from the books about the spell that he wanted to try.  The rest of the books were completely theoretical, with no documented experiments to prove or disprove the ideas.  The reason given for this was that no one was willing to put his or her life on the line to test these theories.  Deklos merely smiled at this explanation, and began to assemble the separate ideas that he read about into a single, workable spell.