“The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin
Led by the guardsman, who still looked disgruntled- probably the result of witnessing their creative entering techniques- the group soon reached the ground floor.
Alyssa rubbed at her neck for the umpteenth time and felt a small hand on her wrist. Turning, she saw Alea, and the smaller girl firmly shook her head.
Nodding in acceptance, she raised the collar of her coat and forcefully stuffed her hands into its large pockets.
Mireille gave her a concerned look, to which Alyssa replied with a slight shrug.
The castle seemed even more dismal in the light of day, if not as spooky. The dust was more visible, and the absence of people was somehow more pronounced during the daytime than it had been in the middle of the night.
Outside, they could hear some shouted orders, and the guard perked up at that. "Her lordship was adamant that there be a muster of the soldiers as early as possible. She has quickly taken charge." There was a bit of admiration in his voice.
"What about the undead? Any problems?" Alyssa asked.
The guard turned his head and looked at her before focusing ahead, "Yes. A lot, actually. After the duke died, some of them went feral. But most, thank the gods, simply did what they did before. But no one knows if that will hold up in the coming days." He sighed.
"And you don't know what will happen if they are all laid to rest." Alyssa nodded to herself. "With the kingdom poised to punish the duchy and its army dependent on the 'new' additions."
Startled, the man looked at her again. "We would never stoop so low as the former duke."
"You can thank the rebellion if the duchy is not broken up," Alea said softly. "But I think the queen will have more use for an intact fiefdom and its remnants of an army dependent on her goodwill than a host of succession problems and nobles clamoring about the precedent." The last was spoken more to herself as the guard seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by the topic.
“I wouldn’t know.“ He murmured back before quickening his pace.
The group passed a great doorway and entered a dining hall. Jamila was seated at the head of a large table, and there were some servants going about the business of serving her and some richly clothed townspeople, a few that seemed to be officers and some mages.
Looking up from her talk with a grey-haired man wearing the ornate clothing of a wealthy merchant, she gestured for them to come closer.
“Ah, there you are. Good morning. Don’t stand on ceremony, have a seat.”
A few of the officers regarded her with disapproval, but Jamila simply ignored them.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Mireille plopped herself onto a ready chair, grabbed a bowl with scrambled eggs, and began to shovel that and some ham onto a dinner plate.
After all of them had found a chair, which was not difficult given that the hall was large and the people relatively few, Jamila addressed them. “Thank you again. I don’t know what you are planning, but if I can be of help, ask. I think it's best to talk after eating. Then we will have a bit more privacy.” She gave them a half-apologetic look before a serious-looking woman on her left audibly cleared her throat before beginning another bout of discussion.
“Let’s leave her alone for now.” Alyssa eyed Mireille, who seemed to be in heaven as she ate the scrambled eggs by the mouthful. Alea nodded.
Inspecting her gains at the breakfast table would raise eyebrows...but what the heck. Alyssa put the tome on the table, shoving plate and cutlery carefully to the side, and then tried opening the damn thing.
Which did not budge.
A servant came over and, with only a slightly disapproving glance, removed the unused dinnerware.
Inspecting the tome again, she did not see any physical obstructions and began to examine the thing with her magical senses. Speaking the spells under her breath, the tome began to glow in an ominous black light tinged with violet and purple. Runes were barely visible in all that miasma. With a slight snort, she grabbed at the void energies, pulling them into herself. This lightened the whole, and she began to see the glyphs more clearly.
She grimaced before remembering where she was. Schooling her features, she tried to decipher the somewhat archaic forms and managed adequately. Something about blood and bloodlines. ‘Probably bound to the duke's family. Perhaps I can ask Jamila for a hand.’ She grinned before again getting ahold of herself.
Her nearest neighbor was scooting his chair carefully away from her while keeping a nervous eye on Alyssa.
“Asandria?” She muttered under her breath.
‘I don’t think the situation is so urgent that you have to experiment with a void-touched artifact in the company of strangers.’ Asandria said with a wry tone.
“I only wanted to have a look. Perhaps it can really help me.” She refrained from touching one of her non-healing wounds, but only just.
The breakfast went by relatively quickly, and even though the officers, townsfolk, and lesser nobles in attendance would have liked to occupy Jamila for longer, she finally sent them out with assurance for later talks. Only a few guards and Leopold remained.
Jamila sighed deeply and then smiled at them even as it was a bit pinched-looking. “Thank you again for the help. I know getting me this post was incidental to killing Grandfather, but I’m nonetheless still in your debt.”
“Cutting off the Heartstealer's influence was our primary goal. It was self-defense, really, with your Grandfather sending his troops, his undead, and everything else after us or the town we were in, or both.” Alyss grimaced. “I’m only glad that it all seems to work out in the end.”
“We could use some help.” Mireille put aside a half-eaten piece of sausage long enough to interject. “What? It's true.”
“What kind of help do you need?” Jamila replied calmly.
“A laboratory for Alea, supplies, and perhaps a guide for getting through the mountains. Cold weather gear. Enchanted if possible. Mana dust.” Mireille thought about each point and folded a raised finger as she counted down.
“Mireille…” Alea looked a bit uncomfortable.
“That can be arranged. But if I may ask. What is it you are doing with all of this, and what about a guide? To where?” Jamila leaned back and looked at Leomund, who shrugged.
“I need to get to Ulsolm...and...kill the Heartstealer.” Alyssa hesitated a bit before firmly stating the last.
“What?!” Jamila looked at her incredulously. “It’s not my business, and I will be sure to help, but why do you think you have a glimmer of a chance?”
“I have the spirit of an ancient elven sorceress with me, and she has knowledge that will help me have that chance. I have my abilities, an artifact for controlling undead, the Saintess of Jaros, and some other advantages. I know that this sounds like madness, but what other way is there? An army? Which army? What I hear is that Rivenlorn is fighting a losing battle. And Margrinar is divided by rebellion and treachery. It will only grow worse with time. The Heartstealer was not even actively participating in the whole mess. Now she is waking up, and you see what even a bit of attention from her brings!” Alyssa became more and more passionate as she talked.
Jamila frowned. “I will not judge your chances of success, but even as what you said is certainly impressive...I will help you as far as I’m able. So laboratory. Leomund will show you. Cold weather gear. I will have someone from the quartermaster's office come by your rooms later. Mana dust. Leomund again. If you need more help, please mention it to one of the servants or, better, Leomund.” She grinned at the mage, whose smile was a bit tired but genuine.
“I have to thank all of you, too.” The mage rubbed his hands together. “I think I will have the court magicians post at least until the army arrives. That is days longer than I hoped to be alive.” He grinned. “On another note. I will be happy to show you around. My apprentice is already in the primary lab and is taking stock of our supplies. It's looking good, actually. This was one area where the old duke was conscientious.”
“Anything else?” Jamila looked from one to the other. “As much as I would welcome a bit of a reprieve, I have to continue organizing the duchy, so please excuse…”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“There is one more thing…” Alyssa spoke up hesitantly while raising the tome.
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Alea and Butler One were escorted toward the laboratory by a talkative Leomund.
Mireille went back to their room, aiming for some more sleep.
Alyssa meanwhile…
A study had been made available on the ground floor. The room, though unused, was reasonably clean and well-maintained. The large chests and shelves held mostly dust and some old records regarding taxes of some sort or other, but the desk and chair were in order, and the mage globe shone with a pale, even light.
“Miss, please ring if you need anything.” An older, experienced-looking servant pointed at a rope leading to a hidden bell somewhere outside. With another bow, he excused himself and closed the door, and then there was only the sound of footsteps slowly fading away.
Alyssa put the heavy tome on the desk and, with anticipation, opened the dark cover. Jamila had been less than thrilled but, after inspecting the book, had acceded to donating a few drops of blood- which had sufficed to suppress the spells holding the cover closed.
Delving into the writing, Alyssa was forming the words with her lips as difficult as the passages were for her while hours passed in silence. Only occasionally, Asandria would give some advice.
“This is a distorted account of someone wanting to become a lich?” Alyssa raised her head and looked at Asandria.
‘Seems that way.’
“Damn.”
‘It contains a lot of useful and very esoteric necromantic knowledge. Not everything comes with thoroughly tried and tested spells, formulated for ease of access. This is not some work meant for a school. It's partly out of pride and a bit of scientific spirit that this was made. What else should someone who already did all of what is described get from scribing such a work?’
“Perhaps he meant it as a sort of legacy for his family?”
‘Would you want your children or relatives to become an intelligent undead?’
Alyssa tried to wrap her head around it and then sighed. “I would not. But there are many, many things I would not do, which people do nearly daily. Perhaps it's something only a certain kind of person understands. New Life indeed.” Paraphrasing the title, she slammed the book shut, cursing as some of the runes glowed, probably locking it again.
‘Now, you would have to ask Miss Jamila for another bit of blood.’ Asandria shook her head in bemusement.
“Don’t remind me. Can this damn cover be stripped?” Alyssa turned the tome and eyed the bindings, but all seemed to be nearly supernaturally well made.
‘I would think that this is something the book would be warded against. If you try, it most likely will destroy the whole work.’
Pushing the tome away from her Alyssa straightened and looked through the grime and ice-encrusted small window. It seemed to be early afternoon.
“No sense in wasting any more time.” Alyssa stood up.
‘What about the skull?’
“Oh.” Alyssa sat back down again and fumbled the gilded skull from her bag. Concentrating, she focused on the connection her spell had forged and forced the spirit to coalesce.
A mist billowed from the empty eyesockets and soon a hunched-over, ghostly woman. Face lined and aged looking with black emptiness instead of eyes and an archaic servant uniform appeared.
Giving a small shiver at the sight, Alyssa focused once more. “Who are you?”
‘Gaddy Hatsfield.’ The voice was like a soft exhalation but filled with boundless malice.
“You are mine now.”
‘I know.’ With a distinct pause, the spirit added- ‘Milady.’
“What did you do before I caught you?”
‘I was left to guard the contents of the cabinets. Milady.’
“Nothing more than that?”
‘Nothing….’ The word echoed before falling silent once more.
“So you can levitate some objects. Oh! And you could use some tablets or prepared scrolls. That could be useful.” Alyssa mused.
The old face formed a grimace, and the clawed hands fidgeted in agitation. ‘No more….’
“What do you mean? Speak plainly.”
‘The power...was not mine...it was in the room...the runes…’
“You mean now that you are here, you cannot do anything?” Alyssa frowned and looked at the ornately decorated skull and back to the spirit.
‘Can still be of use, Milady. I can cook and clean, mend and sew.’ The ghost said in a sing-song voice.
“I don’t need cooking. Cleaning, perhaps. Sewing?”
‘I can sew everything.’ A grin stretched briefly across the transparent features.
“Mh. Later, perhaps.” With a disappointed sigh, Alyssa forced the ghost back into the skull before standing up and stretching. Even as the movement did no longer provide relief from not-so-sadly absent back pain, it was still pleasant in a way.
“Asandria?”
‘Yes?’
“All that for a ghost with those horrible features and no real utility or power? That can’t be right.”
‘Don’t underestimate some nobles and their idle experiments. A powerful Elementalist once enchanted the statues in his garden to hold elaborate dances on the nights of the full moon. He even went so far as to give them- at least in appearance- different personalities with rivalries and friendships, eloping lovers, and all that drama. It was well received for those few who could see it, but as it was his private gardens, it first became famous after his death when his heir sold it.’
“And then?”
‘The power waned over the years, and the last I heard of it, there were only the shadows of the statues still dancing in the magically charged hour just before moonfall. And perhaps it still continues to this day.’
“Why did he do it?”
‘I can only guess. I knew him most from stories. But on the other hand.’ Asandria inspected the skull intently. ‘This specter is not weak. Perhaps she can really sew anything. You should think about what that could mean.’
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Alea was following Leomund, and the latter was quite busy praising his good luck and skills.
“And the Lady Jamila soon noticed my flair with earth magic.” He proudly gestured but then deflated a bit. “Means I have to brush up on the construction aspects a bit more. I fear the lack of manpower might force me to help out quite a bit more than I would ever want, really.” Finally realizing Alea’s lack of response, he turned and looked at the girl. “You were quite brilliant, by the way.” He chuckled. “Brilliant! Get it? Hrm. Sorry about that. I’m still a bit giddy to be alive, actually. Did you have any questions?”
Alea thought a bit, then answered softly. “I would only require access to tools fit for repairing and maintaining constructs. Mana dust would be quite welcome if possible.”
“Oh. None of that. The Duchess was quite adamant I accommodate every reasonable request. Now that my rivals for workspace in the lab are mostly dead or fled, I have more than enough to share.” He rubbed his hands in anticipation.
Soon, they reached a large, iron-bound door. Selecting three different keys, Leomund began to unlock the complicated arrangement of different locks before the door finally swung open to the sight of several large tables with alchemical and magical apparati, a furnace, an athanor, and runic circles inlaid with precious metals.
But the things that most stood out were the ripped-out drawers, scattered documents, and the books haphazardly strewn on the ground. Some beakers and delicate glassware were also lying on the ground, cracked or even blown to pieces. There even were some burn marks around some of the more thickly armored chests.
“Damn them!” Leomund exclaimed. “To the hells and back with them. You can’t treat good books that way!” Cursing, he knelt and began to gather some of the more intact books and papers.
“Butler One, could you help him please?”
“It would be my pleasure.” The somewhat melodic but still obviously artificial voice answered.
As the two worked with Leomund, soon assisted by his apprentice, the room returned to a semblance of order, and Alea began to repair the damage to Butler One’s chassis.
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Night fell swiftly and early, as the season demanded, and in one of the guest rooms, two people stirred.
“Did you sleep well?” The words conveyed the smile gracing Iseret’s face.
“I don’t sleep. It's not the same.” Grumbled Vanessa. “How did I end up this undignified?” The smaller vampire was securely held by the larger snake-woman.
“I might have had a more uneasy sleep and pushed you out of the bed. Best to make sure that didn’t happen.” The smile became more pronounced.
“Hmpf.”
“You do your remaining dignity no favors.” Iseret teased, obviously in good spirits.
With a quick wriggle, Vanessa left the bed, and with a whispered spell, her clothes lost wrinkles and dust stains, becoming once more pristine. “We can’t afford to laze about. What if the girls cause more trouble? Bad enough, I can’t really do much against the curse of the damned eye. It's a waste of time.”
“I had a look in the afternoon, and all was well. Alyssa was trying something with a book she recovered. Nothing too serious as far as I could tell. Mireille was still resting with Alea repairing her construct.”
Vanessa hesitated before turning around and looking at her friend. “Thank you. It always worries me when I cannot be there myself.” Tapping her belt pouch with her fingers, she frowned. “What about the captured priestess, Jill?”
“I don’t know. I saw her, as did you, last when she went down into the crypts. She probably is still there. Cleansing.” She shrugged.
“And Jamila? I don’t completely trust her even as I trust her self-interest.”
“She seems to be doing a good job. There is already an alderman hanging from the gallows for still being loyal to the lich queen.”
“Who is that stupid?” Vanessa shook her head.
“He was bought with a promise, it seems. Probably something about a loved one. The Heartstealer might have some more tricks up her sleeve, or at least her minions did.”
Iseret stood up and stretched, her lithe form swaying sinuously before the single mage globe, casting a host of shadows on the barren walls.
Vanessa, who had begun to reply, became silent. With an embarrassed expression, she tried to turn away only to be caught in a soft embrace. A sigh of contentment escaped her before she regained her composure enough to put up a token struggle. “Let go! We have too much to do…”
"I overheard something concerning though," Iseret murmured while burying her face in Vanessa's hair, breathing deeply of the floral scent the vampire used in her cleaning spells.
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A rune-sparrow flew through the closed window, its wings sparkling before folding against the small jewel-like form. The voice of Vanessa came from the open beak, and Mireille winced. “I need to talk to all of you. Please come to the dining room on the ground floor. Vanessa.”
“As if I did not know it was you. Slavedriver.” Mireille pressed her pillow down on her head and shivered as a corner of the strategically placed blanket shifted, exposing her midriff to cold air. Gasping, she pulled it back only to have her feet exposed in turn. “Damn you!”
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Shortly after. All the girls had received a similar sending. They met in front of the dining hall.
Iseret waved them over while Vanessa was busy staring into the darkness outside with her best brooding expression.
“We might have a problem. Those damned undead really did it this time.” Vanessa turned and started without preamble. “There have been rumors of the Great White waking.”
“Who the hell is the Great White?” Mireille yawned sleepily. “And why am I reminded of the big fish those silly old buggers wanted to fish out of the saint's river in Saintscrossing.”
Vanessa looked at her disapprovingly before continuing. “If you had let me speak, you would know by now. The Great White, also known as the Frost that Burns, the Ice that speaks, or more ancient still, the Splinter of Dusk, is a great white dragon. And he was seen by loggers out over the western mountains.”