Defying the Council ((Arcon's test for Dreadlord))

[Kura]

Arcon was back in his rooms at the fortress, practicing combing his sword, dagger, and the power, when his arm was suddenly covered in goose bumps. He thought idly that it must be Terra, and thought very little of the intrusion, until his door flung open, banging off of the stone walls with a loud bang. A dreadlady he had never seen before, but looking over her curvaceous body he would love to see more, stood stoically in the entrance to his chambers. He lowered his blades, but held onto the source, not sure exactly what was happening. “Adept Arcon Dadread, come with me. You are to be tested for the rank of dreadlord this day, no speaking, and absolutely no channeling, I have permission to break the peace.”

 

Arcon immediately let go of the source, stunned by what he had just heard. Not the part about him being ready to be raised, that was far past its proper time, but that she held permission to break the peace of the shadow… She could kill him. Abruptly she turned, setting a brisk pace through the halls of the fortress, leaving Arcon to jog to keep up with her, knocked out of his stupor.

 

He could never get any of the fully ranked Dreadlords to speak of the test, not even the normally free-with-information Thom Malard. As such, he had no idea what was to be expected of him, and his quick mind was running through scenarios. Would it be another maze, like his adept test? He doubted it, the shadow was not known for being repetitive. Finally, he gave up. He wouldn’t know until he entered the testing grounds.

 

Speaking of which, the dreadlady stopped abruptly in front of a pair of double doors, a set of doors that Arcon knew very well. The Mae’Shadar council chamber. A sudden flood of desire nearly overwhelmed the pale faced Adept.  He had dreamed of sitting on that council since he learned of its existence. “Enter; the test will take place within.”

 

He pushed open the doors, stepping inside. For the first horrifying moments, it was pitch black. Resisting the urge to seize the source, he stepped forward. Four brilliant lights lit up the room, his arm tightening up providing further proof that two of them were made of the female half. “Arcon Dadread, you have been deemed worthy of the test for the rank of Dreadlord. Be warned, the peace of the shadow does not apply in this room.” Arcon nodded, figuring that this would be an all out test.

 

“Step forward, and embrace the source. These four dreadlords are your opponents.” Not even his father’s training could keep his eyes from widening at those words. Four dreadlords? How the hell am I supposed to survive! There must be a trick, there must! Regardless of his inner turmoil, he stepped forward. He would not appear weak, not here. He drew deeply on the source, filling himself with the one power until he felt he was about ready to burst, the taint still bringing bile to his throat after all of these years.

 

“Begin.” Arcon dove to the left, the spot he was standing suddenly filled with shards of ice and exploding earth. He wove quick weaves, air razors and fireballs, at the dread ladies, hoping that they would be distracted by the visible weaves and ignore those they couldn’t see. He felt each one of them cut to ribbons, and wove air just in time to shield himself from a return assault. Five seconds in and he was already on the complete defensive, as wave after wave of assaults battered his defenses. A stream of lightning finally broke through, sending Arcon spiraling to the ground. He shook off the hit, weaving several scythes out of fire and air, sending them spinning towards his opponents. As expected, each was blocked, but he quickly followed through with a sleep weave.

 

The weave was inches away from sinking into a dreadlady when it was sliced, and Arcon winced, weaving waves of fire in short bursts, and cutting weaves himself as he was assaulted. They moved to surround him, and Arcon gritted his teeth, preparing himself to weave his explosive fireballs, when suddenly, a Mae’Shadar shouted, “Stop!” Arcon froze, he knew that voice. It was the same woman who sent him to the darkhound pits all those years ago…

 

Watching the dreadlords, noting that they didn’t release the source, he followed suit. “You have failed Arcon, good bye.” Dread hollowed out his heart, but was quickly forced out by pure, unbridled rage. No! He had not fought so hard over all these years to be stopped now! He screamed- his control bursting as he came to one conclusion. He would not die alone. He moved to draw deeper on the source, sending out a ring of fire with the same kick that his explosive fireballs had, only on a much grander scale. Just as he could feel the power crushing down on him, it was gone, cut off from the source. He clawed at the shield with every ounce of his willpower, trying to burst through the barrier to the power.

 

The assembled dreadlords gazed at him, some smiling, some horrified. He was willing to destroy them all when they denied him his place. Knowing that none of the women were strong enough to cut him off, Arcon realized that only their combined powers had saved their lives. They had linked to stop him. Just then his dagger appeared in his hand, and he cocked it for a throw at one of the dreadlords whom he knew wasn’t holding the link, and again her voice cut through the air. “Stop. Go back to your rooms; you will swear your oaths in the morning.”

 

With that, the Mae’Shadar council filed out of the room, followed shortly by the dreadlords, as Arcon digested the news. It was just another part of the test… and I passed. I will be a dreadlord! He stretched out for the source, letting it trickle into him, thankful he didn’t burn himself out in his moment of rage. He walked slowly back to his rooms, breathing shallow the whole time. He forced a sleeping draught down his throat, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to rest without it, and laid down to rest.

 

---

 

Arcon was already awake when the knock came on his door. He was dressed in his finest silks, groomed to perfection as the door opened. A dreadlady smiled in at him, and gestured for him to follow. “Do not channel in Shayol-Ghul, the Great Lord does not approve of it.” Arcon nodded his head, following without a word.

 

After a seemingly endless journey, he found himself at the mouth of a great cave. His guide stopped there, “Arcon Dadread, enter and swear your vows to the Great Lord of the Dark, and receive your protection from the taint on Saidin.” Again, speechless, he entered the cave. Long, jagged rocks forced him to duck down as he passed through, the entire passage resembling a great stone gullet. Finally he found himself at the center of the cave, in a small chamber. Suddenly, he felt a great pounding in his head that brought him to his knees. “ARCON DADREAD, DREADLORD OF THE FORTRESS! YOU COME HERE TO SWEAR YOUR VOWS TO ME!” It could only be him, tears streamed down his face as he realized the Great Lord was speaking to him directly

 

“Yes! A thousand times yes master! My life and soul are yours!”

“THEN SWEAR IT! SWEAR UPON YOUR SOUL THAT YOU WILL SERVE ME UNTIL I BREAK FREE OF THE WHEEL!”

“I swear it Master!”

“THEN TAKE MY PROTECTION DREADLORD, RISE AND SPREAD THE SHADOW THROUGH THE LAND!”

 

Arcon convulsed as he felt strands covering him, no, that wasn’t right. They were inside him too, filling him with a vile sinew. “Thank you Great Lord!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, laughing joyously as he exited the cave. The trip back to the fortress was agonizingly long, he was itching for the chance to seize Saidin. When he did finally reach his rooms, he drew deeply on the source, again until he could feel the pleasure turn to pain. He couldn’t help it, he laughed, a thunderous sound.

 

It was pure! By the Great Lord the taint was gone!