From the very moment we’d left the privacy of Deymar’s quiet little room, Oedenfron had changed in demeanour like he was flipping a coin. For all that his eyes were still red, his glare was steely, his gaze going before us like a pair of bloody knives – guards stood to attention as our silent trio approached, and fell in behind us where appropriate.
The earl’s house was not far from the palace. We followed the road from the courtyard along the cliff’s edge to a series of wide, sturdy bridges of iron-clad planks. The beams of varnished wood were so thick and heavy they were bound by chains rather than ropes, and the things barely shivered in the wind even when a strong gust caught us. As though they were islands floating above the city, the bridges led us along a row of big wooden structures. The houses looked from the connecting walkways like single-storey bungalows, but I could tell they extended down into the supports beneath.
Those living here had to be rich – not just because the location would command views equal to mine and the king’s, but because of all the colours. These winter gardens might’ve been meagre by the standards of Hightown, but they showed evidence of rudimentary druidry, the spending of considerable coin. Here amidst all this dreary greyness, the flowerbeds seemed awash not with roses and forget-me-nots, but rubies and sapphires, brighter against their surroundings than any terrace in Upper Tivertain, any plot on the slopes of the Westrise.
Our destination came into view, a sprawling property, its doorway’s arch clad in luminous creeping-ivy. Sword-armed guards on either side opened the way before us, and I could tell from the looks on their faces that this ghost was real, no flight of fancy bound solely to Oedenfron’s imagination. The guards eyed me with concern, fear, and even perhaps a little hatred – but, just as I’d seen on their lord’s face upon my summons, pure, honest relief was overpowering their other reactions.
He isn’t the only one to have run into the creature, I surmised – then second-guessed myself. That, or they just can’t wait for someone to put a lid on their boss’s insanity…
Inside, there was too much light. The curtains on the glass-set windows were thrown wide, and oil-burning lamps had been placed such that every nook and cranny of the hallway was illuminated; there wasn’t a single corner for the shadows to hide in. So much light, its very presence bespoke the fear in which the resident of this house had been languishing. I almost thought the place would’ve been less creepy with a few of those lamps snuffed out.
It wasn’t like ghosts were afraid of the light, exactly, anyway. They possessed more power at night, but no amount of lamps could bring back the day. Extinguishing every single flame in the building right now would no more hand the ghost free rein than igniting them at night would repel it.
Not to worry, in any case. My senses were at work, and I suspected I had a good idea what was going on.
“Where did she jump from, my lord?”
Oedenfron led the way through a smartly-upholstered lounge area, small but replete with rugs and ornaments and what seemed to be a thousand candles. On the far side, a door let us out onto a veranda overlooking the open ocean.
I stepped out into the wind, and looked down over the rail. Deymar had been quite correct. No one was surviving this fall. If Jenika had jumped here, she would’ve hit the water a good thirty, maybe forty feet out from the rocks –
“And her body wasn’t recovered?”
“There was nothing, no remains,” the king said tersely. “A netter-girl heard the impact – she saw the red water, and some clothing.”
“Her… her cloak,” Oedenfron whispered. “It is gone, too…”
His anguish was plain to hear in his voice.
I stared out at the sea, as if scrying in Northril’s ceaseless motions an answer to the conundrum.
Without a body, or a significant piece of it at least, I had no conduit to the soul. Searching Nethernum could take an inordinate amount of time and energy – where would I even begin? I’d never been. Personal effects could cut through all that nonsense, if I understood the texts correctly… It wasn’t something I’d ever attempted before, but without access to the actual spirit of the woman it’d be impossible for me to figure out what had truly happened here.
Unless…
Zab!
“Feychilde? Feychilde! How are things going? I see that we’re still in Telior. How lovely and dreary!”
I didn’t get the impression he was joking.
Zabalam! Can you give me an emotional read here?
“Whose emotions? Ah-h-h-h…”
I couldn’t sense his power at work, but I knew from the pensive inner silence that he was busy sifting through Oedenfron’s psychic energies.
Deymar looked at me in concern – I was still sucking on my lip, staring into space.
“It’s okay – I’m just…” I tapped the side of my head. “Give me a minute.”
The king and the earl exchanged a glance, and Oedenfron seemed reassured more than anything else, smiling softly, hope in the bloodshot eyes.
“He’s a tricky bugger, oh yes, Feychilde. Filled with thirst for women and wine. I could easily get him to dance to my tune, and –“
Oh, give that up, Zab. I almost sniggered aloud. We aren’t here to corrupt him further, we’re here to save him. What’s beneath the ‘women and wine’? Come on. Do you think he killed his wife, or do you think she jumped?
“By the Horned One! Slow down… I mean… I could guess?”
You can’t pick apart his mind like that?
“No, Feychilde… But I think you’re aiming in the right direction. He was relieved when you implied you were working on it. He doesn’t seem frightened of what you might find.”
That’s helpful. There was little chance he’d brought this to my attention with an ulterior motive.
I was being entirely unhelpful here, wasn’t I? This poor man’s wife had perished, he was being tormented by a malicious, unknown entity. I wasn’t even trying to bring him closure – I was pointing fingers, acting as an accuser rather than a healer.
Could you build an illusion of his wife?
“I… I don’t think so, Feychilde. I have no way to see her, hear her –“
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Ah, of course… I understand now. The lost items…
“You think –“
Never mind.
I’d known from the outset that there was no ghost present in this house – but the air had a certain familiar scent to my sorcerer’s-nostrils, and I could feel the presence of a lesser eldritch. I couldn’t really act until I had my eyes on it, or at least until its whereabouts had crystallised in my mind. It’d be best to go through the motions anyway. Jumping straight to the end might’ve been read as an insult to the Earl of Oedenfron. The last thing I wanted would’ve been for the earl to see this upstart mage as correcting him in some manner, especially given his current mental state. Far better to let Oedenfron take some steps in the right direction first, let him have a hand himself in solving the mystery of his ‘ghost’ problem.
Could the critter sense me, like I could sense it?
No, not from the way it hadn’t immediately fled. I wasn’t flashing around my powers, using no outward effects other than the instinctive circle-shield, and if the creature’s abilities permitted it even the merest perception of me, it surely would’ve run by now.
Unless it knows, and knows it’s incapable of escape. Don’t underestimate it.
I rolled my shoulders and my shields, fixed my devious grin and my trap. The creature probably laid low through the day, maybe even returning in dream-spirit to its own plane. Whatever the reason, it was here physically. That was all that mattered. I had a fix on its location now.
The two men saw my smile, and Deymar squinted at me quizzically.
“Personal things can help you contact a spirit, if it is close.”
“You – you vont –“
I shook my head. “You said things moved. Went missing. This possibly started within a year of her passing?”
Oedenfron stared at me in bafflement, but Deymar nodded, his eyes suddenly troubled.
“What would seek to know your wife – her appearance, her attitude? Her death?” I let every bit of portentousness I could muster into my voice, played the part of the archmage to the fullest of my ability. “What would seek to torment you? Do not think she has not been freed, earl! Come with me!”
I sensed the way my enigmatic questions infused them with curiosity, and they both stayed close on my heels as I stalked back inside the house. I didn’t want them to answer – I just wanted them to consider the possibilities. I would keep the momentum up until the moment of revelation now.
I pulled my diamond-tesseract across my shields as I moved through the rooms, stretching it to the next shape then the next, keeping my target blissfully unaware as I tightened the net. I descended a stair into a sumptuously-appointed dining room, toasty with a roaring hearth on every external wall – crossing it, another hallway and set of steps led me down into the private quarters.
“Hool Raz – my chamber –“ the earl choked as I pulled open a door.
“That doesn’t surprise me, my lord,” I murmured, ignoring his weak attempt to remonstrate and sweeping into the dishevelled room.
It was immediately apparent from the scents and mess that he didn’t let the maids into his bedchamber – the silken sheets lying twisted like a rope on the bed were not visibly damp by this time of day, yet the odour of sweat permeated the air.
“My lords,” the Earl of Oedenfron sobbed.
“Do not give up now,” Deymar said tightly.
I crossed to the ash-wood wardrobe, and as I reached for its handle the earl finally released a small shriek of protest.
“No! No, don’t,” he moaned, “please!”
“Be strong,” I murmured quietly, easing open the wardrobe door so that it made the minimum amount of creaking.
Inside, the wardrobe was inky darkness, clogged with cobwebs and scuttling things. A foul, soft mist seeped from the dead woman’s remaining clothing.
The two Telese nobles fell back, each making a strangled sound – but the sheer fact that the interior exuded such horror only reinforced my assessment of the situation.
I supposed I could’ve called on Blofm, checked things out properly to make sure it was safe, but in the end I just couldn’t be bothered.
The king and the earl looked at me like I was mad as I plunged my arm in at the top shelf, rifling through the belongings that were tucked away out of sight.
I seized its arm, and jerked it awake even as I pulled it into the light, dangling just beyond my circle.
“Here’s your culprit, chaps,” I said merrily, hoisting up the tiny, squealing creature. They stared like they’d been clubbed in the head. “It must’ve sensed your grief, Earl ya Oedenfron.”
“Unhand me, foulness!” it whined, twisting its little bird-legs, contorting its tail as if to hide itself, curl up on my hand. “I am a gremlin of the otherworld, and may not be imprisoned!”
“No, you’re an imp of the Twelve Hells. A devotee of pain.” I gave it a shake, and its miniature leathery wings fell open. “A good illusionist, but you can’t keep the stink of Infernum out.”
I could feel it trying, but the demon wasn’t even strong enough to put a glamour through my shield boundaries. Its every attempt failed and soon it gave up, hanging limply from my hand with its talons pointed at the floor. Just its pointy chin was upraised, looking up at me with dejection in its bean-sized red eyes.
It clearly hadn’t been around arch-sorcerers much. It met my gaze, only for it to flinch momentarily as the agony lashed it, binding it to me. Its name, its power and essence were instantly mine to command.
“Wh-what are you going to do with me?” it moaned.
“‘What are you going to do with me, Master.’”
“M-M-Master…”
“Good – now be quiet.” I cast my smile back onto the earl. “What do you want me to do with it?”
Oedenfron was still trying to control his shock. The horror was starting to leave him, the red sorrowful stare transforming once more to a hard glare.
“You mean – zis is – zis is vot… A dimon, all ze time? A dimon!”
“I’m afraid so. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a fake ghost.”
Not that this in any way compared with a dark arch-enchanter on the loose.
“And – Jenika –“
I shook my head. “I’m certain any priest with power would be able to tell you the same. She’s gone, Oedenfron. She’s gone, and she isn’t coming back. Whether that really makes you happy or not – I don’t know.”
He shuddered, closing his eyes and falling back to the bed. He placed his hand on his face, paler than his doublet.
“If you don’t have any issues with it, I have a punishment in mind for little Moanmouth here.” I shook my captive again. “I’ll make sure its remaining time on this plane is short.”
Oedenfron waved a hand in dismissal, then, seeming to realise the rudeness of his gesture, he swiftly glanced at me. The faint smile conveyed his gratitude.
I took my leave of the king, made my way back to the top floor, and exited the earl’s property alone. The guards all recoiled when they saw what I was swinging in my hand, so I whistled nonchalantly as I went on towards home, projecting far and wide that this imp dangling from my fist was no cause for concern.
Once there were no eyes on me – not overt ones, in any case – I quit whistling and spoke to it softly.
“Why were you even there? – what’s that name of yours… oh, gods… Skek-leg-nen-om? Skeklegnenom? No, no, that won’t do…”
The imp hissed, and actual steam escaped its little snapping maw.
“I wanted to be there!” it spat.
“Why? What goes through your little head, eh? You’re all so weird.”
“Weird!” It managed to sound offended.
“Yeah, weird!” I insisted, holding onto the rail with my free hand so I didn’t get blown off the wooden bridge I was crossing. “Like, you’ve been sitting in his wardrobe for years – for what? You fed on his sorrow?”
It made an irritated, tutting kind of sound. “I just want to make the world worse!”
I laughed. “Because that makes so much sense.”
“What’s the problem? What goes through your head, foulness? Why would you want to make this place better? Really, why?”
There were so many answers, each one a fragment of the whole, each one insufficient.
“That’s just a stupid question. You are aware there’s other gods than just Mother-Chaos, right? We need clean souls, doofus. Clean.“
“You listen only to the weak gods,” it sniffed. “The gods who would have you powerless!”
“It’s basic nature,” I went on, unperturbed. “We want to see other people smile, not cry.”
“But there’s no way to achieve it,” it sniffed. “Create one smile at the cost of a thousand tears and call it a victory if you will!”
I scowled. “That’s the fault of you and yours. The dark gods and their slaves.”
“Because everywhere there’s dissent, there’s a demon.”
That intrigued me.
“Well – is there?”
The beady crimson eyes met mine.
“Don’t be stupid! I was being sarcastic. Mortals…”
Retorts deserted me, and it got the last word:
“Every attempt to fix the world only breaks it again in new and unexpected ways, Master – Mother knows best. Only the fat have time to smile, and only at the expense of another. It’s basic nature. You’d do well to learn that, before the ground shatters under your feet.”
We’re all broken.
What happened to us? Did someone try to fix us? Is this what results?
I shook it into its native plane, walking the remaining distance alone.
Is it Mekesta? Her power in us? Is it the seeds of chaos we sow?
When I entered the tower, I shrugged off the questions of my apprentices and waved Moanmouth back into existence.
“Another volunteer,” I declared, and turned aside to grab a cup of wine. “Someone start hooking it up.”
“What’s this?” the imp chirped in alarm, squatting frozen upon the table-top where I’d summoned it.
I found my glass and crossed to the decanter. “You’re going to power a light.”
“A light?”