The contrast was stark and that my spell had done more than just conceal the area was incredibly obvious. The whole valley was covered in grass with a few shrubs visible, at least where Dura Firebringer and her explosive spells hadn’t burned that away, but the area where the mist had been was… not. There was no green in sight, not a single blade of grass, only dirt and not even a healthy-looking, deep-brown dirt. To me, it looked more like the dust you would see on construction-sites, sterile and dead, a grey dust that made you choke just from looking at it.

The Centaur-camp was still there, standing out like a sore thumb in the area that deserved the name desert. An area devoid and hostile to all life, at least for a time.

“We really need to get better at gardening.” I quibbed to Lenore, mostly to hide just how shaken I was. It was strange, I had no problem to throw lethal magic at other beings, to strike down centaurs or wolves with my spells, even killing them by the droves didn’t bother me, they were just enemies. But seeing the devastation left behind by my magic, the death I had brought to the vegetation, the desolation left after I was finished, it shook me.

I was just standing there for a moment, taking a few, deep breaths to restore my equilibrium, which was still shaky after the exertion of the last night. The orcs, who had been watching us, were now seeing the revealed area as well and were starting to stir. The guards currently on watch didn’t start moving but I could hear a few orders being given.

By the time I was back in balance, a few orcs were moving towards the barren area, with me watching them. I had no real desire to move in myself, even if there might be loot to be found in the centaur-camp. Instead, I was more interested in understanding the spell Lenore and I had conjured up and its after-effects. The smell of Death-Magic was strong in the area, stronger than I had anticipated with my lowly skill-level but there might be another reason. Other than Death, there was a pungent smell that I could only call fear in the air, a smell that was lingering despite the fact that the mist was gone.

“Do you smell that?” Sigmir asked, causing me to look over to her. Her nose was crinkled and when my eyes flickered to Ylva , who was sitting next to her, the raised fur was obvious.

“I smell something but what do you smell?” I asked, curious what she was perceiving.

“Fear. Cold sweat, stale urine and prey.” Ylva answered instead, her tail starting to lash back and forth, as if she wanted to start prowling after the smell, to sink her teeth into whatever prey there was.

“Curious, indeed.” I muttered when the silence of the early morning was broken by the orcs who had entered the centaur-camp, causing a ruckus. It was quite obvious that they had found prisoners, otherwise I would have expected shouts of alarm and sounds of battle, not calls for help.

“Want to see what is going on?” I asked Sigmir, interested in what they had found but not willing to go in alone, not as shaky as I still felt.

Sigmir simply nodded, while Ylva stood, walking on my other side, her tail still lashing behind her.

Together, we walked over the dead soil, the dust clinging to our boots, a stray thought making me think of the world’s biggest litter box, but I quickly banished the thought, focusing on the present and the potential for enemies hiding in the camp. It really wouldn’t do to die to some half-mad centaur that had hidden in their camp, just to strike at the first fool to wander near their hiding-place.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The orcish shouts for help guided us through the centaur-camp while I was examining the damage the camp had taken. For a spell that had been supposed to target only living things, it was quite impressive, with tents destroyed and trampled. The centaurs must have been near insane in their struggles to escape my magic, confused and reduced to their basest instincts, just as I had hoped. A growl from Ylva showed me just how insane I had driven the centaurs, the noise bringing a centaur-corpse to my attention, one of their spears stuck in her side, blood pooling below.

A closer look made me even more curious, the blood wasn’t the right colour. Fresh blood had a crimson tone to it, the exact colour varying depending on the wound’s location, dried blood turned a deeper shade, almost brown or maroon, but the blood here, it had turned a blackish purple. Reaching out, I rubbed some of the blood-soaked dirt between my fingers, getting a good sniff and nodded to myself. A mix of miasma and Death-magic, obviously not enough to draw Nethersprites but it meant something.

Curious, I reached out to the dead centaur and quickly realised that she hadn’t died from the speak stuck in her side, that had merely crippled her. Even the blood loss, with the weapon still inside, wouldn’t have been enough to kill a centaur with a few levels. But blood-loss, combined with the spear-wound and quite a bit of damage from my Death-Magic, that might have been enough. There were traces all in her body, of slow decomposition, but even those didn’t look like they had actually killed her, merely caused her crippling pain.

“What do you think?” I asked Lenore, curious about her opinion.

“Her mind. There is only so much a mind can take and when working together, our Mind Magic is scary.” Lenore replied, the mental undertones uncertain. “My memories are just as vague as yours, but just from the hazy memories of the powers we conjured up I can tell you that getting stuck within the area would be a death-sentence for any centaur. Hopefully, the kidnapped orcs have a different mental make-up or they might all be dead.” she added, causing me to nod in agreement. If we had accidentally killed all orc-prisoners, the goodwill we had acquired would be gone faster than mist in the morning sun.

With that in mind, I stood, brushing off the dirt from my hands, and continued on towards the orcish calls for help, easily finding the comotion. A couple orcish warriors stood around a group of downed orcs, still breathing but obviously not in a good shape. They were shackled with iron manacles, their hand and feet bound, sturdy-looking chains connecting them to each other and a a pair of wagons, one of each side, making sure they couldn’t reach either.

Not that they looked like they would have been able to do anything, even if they had been able to reach the wagons, they looked… bad.

There was no real way to describe it, despite the fact that they looked like orc-warriors in their prime, with strong muscles and ferocious vigor, there was something about them that reminded me of old people, of hospitals and the slow, creeping decline that came with age. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the reason for that impression but it was there.

“Step aside, I might be able to help them.” I commanded the healthy orcs, after deciding that none of them looked like they would be able to tell what I was doing. Sure, they would be able to tell that I was healing them but I doubted they had the arcane knowledge to identify blood magic. It was a bit of a gamble but I was curious to see the effects of my magic on a living subject, curious enough to take the risk of discovery.

The orcs, after a short glance to me, stood aside, letting me get closer. The downed orcs reacted a little as well, cringing at the sound of my voice, but they condition prevented them from even trying to get away.

Kneeling next to one of them, I carefully stretched my magical senses, getting a feel for his body. He, like the centaur I had examined earlier, had suffered from my Death-Magic, parts of him had started to decompose, despite the fact that he was still alive.

In a way, it was the easiest damage to heal, essentially he had lost health-points, this kind of damage was the one with the clearest link between the condition of a body and their HP. Just from the damage, I could tell that he had lost roughly fifty-percent of his health to my magic, nothing that couldn’t be solved.

Letting out a slow breath, I started to draw a runic formation on him, preparing to repair what I had broken. There seemed to be little to learn when it came to the spell-effect, other than, prolonged exposure to Death Magic is unhealthy. A most obvious lesson.