“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
“The undead need to be gone by the time Jill wakes,” Alea said quietly into the silence.
“I concur.” Iseret nodded, still holding the khopesh dripping with dark fluid.
The body of Amber burned with cold flames and slowly melted away. The small girl that had accompanied the woman stood to the side while gazing expressionlessly at the fire.
Alyssa slowly pulled Mireille's hands from her eyes and looked around. Asandria stood beside her and inspected her critically. ‘It could be worse. But what were you thinking?’
“I knew that I would not be badly hurt, and the warrior and the patrols… They were nearly here.” Alyssa said in a subdued tone.
“Talking to Asandria?” Mireille asked her, not easing up on the hug.
“Mh.”
‘I hope they have some necromantic texts here. We need more information than I have on the subject to restore you.’
“What is with her?” Alyssa motioned with her chin toward the child-like undead standing beside the burning corpse.
‘I will free her. Don’t think I will make a habit of helping you with irrelevant things, but this is too much even for me.’
“Thank you,” Alyssa said quietly before tugging on Mireille’s shoulder. “Mireille?”
“Yes?”
“I need to see.” Pushing her friend back, she looked down and quickly wished she had never done so. The force-bolts from the missiles and the firebolts from the one cultist had done a real number on her. She was only thankful that a dull ache was the only thing she was feeling from the wounds she was seeing. Deep craters marred her torso where flesh had given way and bone splintered. The white bone was slowly knitting back together, but the flesh merely curled in along the edges smoothing out but not covering the deep gashes. Beneath all that, she glimpsed muscles that were similarly damaged but, as far as she could see, healing nicely. Swallowing, she raised her arms and, to her surprise, discovered that both were nearly intact, and the small scratches she had acquired were already healing in the void-rich environment of the cemetery.
“Did they get me in the face? Don’t dare to lie to me!” She fixed her gaze on Mireille.
“No. Seems pretty normal.”
“And she died just like that,” Vanessa said quietly, looking at the crumbling remains of Amber. “I had a lot of problems with her. I couldn’t get to her, and her void magic was stronger when I faced her. Perhaps the distance to the void gate was a problem for her.”
“We will probably never know.” Iseret shrugged and gave her sword a quick slashing twist shedding the dark blood-like fluid that had been coating her blade before fixing the weapon on her back. “I do think she will be at peace. Charys has her eye on us all now.”
The wind blew over the plaza, the mausolea ringing it buried in snow, frozen ivy climbing over old frescoes and reliefs. The center seemed hot somehow, and drifting snow only briefly touched the ground before melting and then evaporating into a vague mist-like steam.
“Anyone still alive?” Mireille looked around.
“No, I don’t think so. But we should check.” Iseret answered before turning to Vanessa. “Could you look after Alea and Alyssa? I will go and accompany Mireille.”
Vanessa only nodded before giving her a brief, tired smile. She looked at the small undead girl fixedly, and only she and Alyssa saw when Asandria stepped near, brushing across the blonde hair with frozen ice stiffening some strands. The girl looked up at her, and for a moment, the eyes came alive, containing boundless grief.
‘Sleep. My child.’ With a sigh, the small body tumbled to the ground, and for a moment, starlight suffused the plaza, the snow dazzlingly white in its brilliance.
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Far to the east and across the mountains, a beautiful face turned, and with tense lines around the corners of her mouth, the woman looked over the pallid stone columns rising from the ground with the remnants of walls interspersed between. Several armored giants, eyes glowing with baleful energies, turned at her regard and fell to their knees, shaking the ground.
So quick were her movements that the illusion did not quite keep up, and bones shone under the light of the fading moon as the hem of her robes shifted, and wrists without a scrap of flesh were exposed.
The Heartstealer spoke words of power, and a lens made of ice formed before her, magnifying everything as she surveyed all the miles and miles between the city of broken ivory and the mountains. Nothing moved that was not under her direct control. Elves scurried between their menial tasks shifting the last piles of skeletons and dead bodies unto ritual circles where wight mages and necromancers, elf, human and even orc were preparing to do her bidding.
With a slashing motion, the spell ended, and the ice shattered. Clenching her fists, she turned and looked up at the distant, icy stars. A sneer marred her perfect features.
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“You! I will forge a crown of your bones, drink the blood of your veins and warm myself by the fires of your burning soul. Princess.” The last she spat, and around her, the snow sizzled as darkness billowed from her robes.
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“Thank you.” Alyssa stood beside Asandria while petting Cyrus, who seemed distressed by her wounds, licking the most severe laceration on her torso before she pushed him away.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Looking at the eastern mountains, a brief smile flashed across her features before her expression stilled again.
“What now? They were all dead, by the way.” Mireille trudged up to them through the snow kicking to loosen the frozen mush sticking to her boots. Iseret followed her much more sedately before then taking her place beside Vanessa.
“I think we should have a look at the town. And we shouldn’t forget Jill. Incidentally- How is she doing?”
Alea answered, “She was hypothermic, so I have spent some time healing her, but we should try to get to shelter.” Shivering, she brushed across the metal plate that was the central piece of the heating enchantment. Cecily leaned over her shoulder to take a look, and she finally managed to adjust the temperature to her liking.
“I think I saw a house someway further down the hill toward the city,” Mireille spoke up.
“The priestess would fare much better in warmer surroundings,” Alea added.
Vanessa shrugged and tore her gaze from the fallen child.
It fell to Iseret to carry Jill, and after she had secured the still-unconscious woman on her back, they walked past the silent statues and tombstones further down the hill. Snowed-in hedges kept a sort of order that quickly gave way to baroque meanderings trying to separate the haves from the have-nots.
And then there was the cemetery gate. An ornate wrought iron affair only slightly rusted with the gate standing ajar. As Vanessa passed beneath, some runes flickered for a moment, and a feeble resistance tried to keep her inside. With an unwilling shrug, she broke through. The same, if a bit weakened, happened when Alyssa strode through the passage.
Iseret eyed the feeble wards with a look of disdain.
“They simply ran out of crystal dust.” Vanessa’s voice broke the silence. “What with all the undead prowling about.”
Iseret simply shrugged. “Judging by the size of the graveyard, they should have been strong enough.”
“You may be right. But it might have also been some time since the dukedom invested in such things. The present regime should be quite disinterested in keeping undead out of anything.” Vanessa gave her a half-smile.
With a groan, the bundle on Iseret’s back moved, and the snake-woman quickly lowered her to the ground before taking a cautious step back.
And not a moment too early as the priestess blinked, focused, and then quickly sprang to her feet while brandishing her dagger. That seemed to be a bit too soon for comfort, and she swayed, grabbing her head with the other hand. Grimacing, she visibly fought against headache and nausea.
“Don’t move! You have a concussion.” Alea took a cautious step forward. “If you move too quickly, it will only get worse!”
“Did we…did we get them?”
“Yep, all dead,” Mireille spoke nonchalantly, but a slight quaver betrayed her unease at the words.
“Thank, Ielenia. The truce was said to last until we had the danger contained.” Jill looked at them with a bit of worry.
“I don’t think that was all of them. In fact, I’m sure that there are a lot more where those came from.” Iseret shrugged.
“What she means is that the truce still stands,” Alyssa said gently.
Focusing on her, Jill did a double-take. “What in the name of the White happened to you.”
Wincing, Alyssa pulled the slowly self-repairing clothes over her more obvious wounds. “I was injured during the fighting.”
A bit of disgust warred with grudging respect before the priestess got a hold of herself. “Are you...going to be alright?”
“Yes. Please, I would like to change the subject.”
“I was only concerned...” Jill began, then thought better of it and fell quiet. “What now?”
“We are looking for a place to shelter us. Some of us need to sleep, as probably you do too?” Vanessa spoke up.
“Yes. That would be best.” Jill rubbed her forehead, her eyes still a bit unfocused.
“Can you manage on your own, or should we carry you?” Alea asked, having gathered her courage.
“I…” The priestess breathed deeply, in then out, “...will manage.” Shaking herself, she followed the group as they resumed their walk.
Soon they came upon a small house, probably once belonging to a grave keeper or priest, nestled in between large oak trees and standing beside a well circled by a stone wall with a winch and bucket to access the water. Now frozen, in all likelihood.
The door stood open, and the interior was cold and dark.
Iseret raised her hand and then quickly and stealthily entered. After a few minutes, she came back outside. “There is no one inside, and I think the grave keeper was probably one of those in the cemetery. I found some extra robes.” Dangling a set of cultist robes and a mask before her before throwing it on a low table just inside the entrance.
The house had two stories, with the ground floor having a kitchen, pantry, and common room. The first floor had a bedroom, a guest room, and a small study as well as a sort of bath. The latter was much less luxurious than what they had grown accustomed to in the wisteria dorms and Margramus mansion but a clear upgrade to sleeping outside.
The majority of the building was made of wood, and some stone bricks in the kitchen area. The outside was overgrown with ivy, frozen and snowed in as it was at the moment. And the roof was fashioned of dark shingles.
Soon a crackling fire filled the hearth, and the room slowly began to warm.
Mireille was shivering and pulled Alyssa to one side and Alea to the other, closer to herself.
Alea seemed flustered by the attention, while Alyssa seemed uncomfortable. Cyrus laid his head on her lap, turning just so that one eye looked up at her pleadingly. Sighing but smiling a bit, she scratched him under his chin. Lashing contentedly with his stinger just missing Jill, as the priestess entered with another armful of wood, he ignored the angry looks he was getting.
Vanessa sat on the bed in the guestroom while brushing her hair. Iseret leaned against the door, lost in thought. “What are you thinking?” The vampire asked.
“Oh, nothing of great import. And you? You have been quiet since the death of Amber and Lily.”
“I don’t know what will happen now. Will the gate truly close now that the anchor has been removed? And...I pity her. She was an intelligent undead, just like me. And she had an agenda beyond killing everything. But due to her circumstances, she could never simply exist in peace.”
“She was nothing like you.” Iseret retorted quietly. “She was crazed by her loss. Did you not mention that you killed her ‘daughter’ and that said daughter was around thirty years of age or even older? She put the soul of her daughter into the dead body of someone’s child. She was never going to simply ‘exist in peace’.”
“You are right. Perhaps I did wish for her to have had such thoughts. But I truly think she only wanted to be with her family.”
“I think Charys will grant her wish. In a fashion.”
“Let’s hope you are right.”