A crowd of villagers began to disperse after I finished a story.
“Are you trying to scare off children again?” a friend asks me. “Some things are better left forgotten.”
Without giving me a chance to answer, a kid interjects.
“If wizards are really that powerful, why kings and nobles are always ruling over us? Why we don’t see their great magic everywhere?”
‘The forgetfulness of your species is both a blessing and a curse,’ I think. ‘Mere three hundred cycles was enough for you to have forgotten about her…’
“Your questions are connected. Imagine that you have ten powerful wizards, ruling over their territories. Each of them has been living for long enough to make numerous enemies, to gather countless treasures. One day, one of them starts using his magic, creating miracles across the lands he rules. Yet another sees him weakened after the spells he performed. Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to strike against him, settle old grudges, add to a territory of his own? The fight emerges, leaving the victor severely wounded. What do you think could happen later?”
“Another tries to gather his riches for himself?”
I look at the kid more carefully. Despite living her whole life in the countryside, she has a sharp mind.
“Yes. And so it continues, as strong perish or are forced to flee, with more trying their luck. And so the great war starts. The cycle continues as new powers rise and shine for a moment before turning to dust.”
“But if this is a truth, we would have heard about this!” the child surprises me again.
“I’ve told you the story, haven’t I? Throughout history, there were many records of things like this happening. And far more never mentioned, as there was no one left to tell the tale.”
- Ion’s dream journal
“Wake up, it’s your turn for a sentry duty!” Thaleus shook Ion awake, before throwing himself under furs. Dorian has made the same thing with Ciros.
Yawning, the wizard sat by the dimming campfire and cast Darkvision on himself; otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to see anything further from the light. The night was warm, probably one of the last this year. They have decided to camp without using his Shelter spell.
The forest around the campfire wasn’t thick yet. They were still inside a quite densely populated area. Looking at the north-east, one could easily discern the lights of Leisha’s Crossroads.
“There is something refreshing in sleeping under the stars,” Ion said.
It was a new thought to him, but after spending two weeks in Leisha’s Crossroads he felt oddly content finally leaving the city.
“Yes, there is,” the ranger nodded.
“About what happened in Leisha’s Crossroads…”
“Just don’t bother. We will wake up everyone.”
They already had a few arguments on the way about necromancy.
After few more failed attempts to talk with Ciros, Ion relented, and looked up, gazing at the stars. He would have liked to spend the time learning the spell which they have bought earlier today, yet as a sentry, he should stay vigilant. He wasn’t going to give the ranger more reasons to be annoyed. Even if he doubted that any beast that could try to attack them here, so close to the civilisation, would be able to pass unnoticed through the wards they had set up around.
He wondered about tonight’s dreams. He had nightmares again, but also fragments of visions. The visions he had been seeing since he started working in Silverfords’ estate. This time they were less fragmented, with more details, even if collaged with pieces of his nightmares. Maybe, during the following days, he would be able to fill the notes. Maybe he could place them correctly in the timeline he’s been struggling to create within his notes.
Maybe by filling the blanks and understanding them, he would get rid of the feeling of guilt and remorse he wakes up with? It wasn't so bad before they've left Silverfords' manor, but now he really began to wish for a night slept fully, without waking up due to the nightmare.
An odd sound coming from the road caught his attention. Ciros’ too, as the ranger deemed it necessary to wake up the rest of their group.
Ion extinguished the campfire with a cantrip; it should be enough to make them invisible from the road. However, they still could be heard; especially their horses; Ion could have set up a silence ward around them earlier, but considering the costs of inks it would require they deemed it to be an unnecessary precaution.
The sounds of hooves hitting the road were clear now. Ion noticed Reria clutching her staff nervously as she whispered a protective spell. As for Ion, he already maintained Arcane Armour almost constantly, so he just reached for his spear; more out of habit than really planning to use it.
As the lights – probably torches of the riders – were near them, Ion had an idea. With Minor Illusion, he quickly created illusory fallen trees blocking the way to their camp, hoping that the sight would deter the riders from charging to them. People without hostile intentions usually don’t travel at night, after all.
‘Extinguish torches, enhance your vision with spells,’ for a moment Ion saw Vision-he was leading an ambush at night, before returning to reality.
Yeah, eventual ambushers probably wouldn’t announce their presence with torches like the riders that were approaching. By now he could also hear them talking between themselves.
“We should be nearing Leisha by now. Before the morning we will cross the river and head towards Windhelm…” a male voice said, before suddenly brandishing his sword. “Something is there.”
Other weapons followed. The group of the riders – Ion supposed that there was thirty of them, started to form a protective circle. Most of them had swords or lances, but Ion spotted few with bows at ready. Many also held torches, making the group visible even without Ion’s Darkvision spell. And probably making them blind to everything outside the small radius of light.
“Be at ease, travellers,” Dorian called.
Similarly to Thaleus, he hadn’t had enough time to don most of his armour. Yet both of them already held their weapons unsheathed.
“Who are you?” a high-pitched female voice asked. He wasn’t able to spot its owner; she was probably in the middle of the group. Ion hoped that she’s not a wizard nor priest; if so, should the group turned out to be hostile, they would be probably screwed.
He channelled mana through his cloak, creating three illusions of himself; with such numbers disadvantage, he couldn’t risk getting hit with an arrow.
“Just a band of mercenaries, travelling from Leisha’s Crossroads,” Dorian answered.
“Is the city far away? I can’t wait to take a break in riding! Just what our parents…” from the centre of the circle the female voice sounded once more, quickly muffled by something.
‘So a kid, not a spellcaster? Good for us.’
One of the riders rode closer. The sound of an Alarm sounded, startling everyone’s horses.
“A wizard?” there was a faint tinge of fear in his voice.
Ion decided to play their fears.
“Even two,” Ion said, trying to affect the group with Fear spell.
Recently he became much better with remembering the spells, at least those he commonly used; it was the one which turned out to be quite useful during his stay in Silverfords’ Manor. However, dispersing it like that greatly reduced its effect.
“Why are you disturbing our rest? Either state your business or move on.”
The group looked to be on the edge; and from his visions Ion knew that afraid or desperate people were prone to making rash decisions, to fight or flee. He hoped that his push would be enough to convince them for the latter. All the same, he was already thinking were to cast Web to hinder enemy riders the most should they decide otherwise; Grease would have been preferable, but unfortunately he hadn’t expected it to be of use today.
“You won’t dare to speak like this to the heirs of House Ashe…” again, the girl’s voice was muffled.
“We will continue,” one of the riders decided, giving few commands and the whole group trotted forward.
“Well… That was anticlimactic,” Reria commented as the sound of the hooves disappeared. “I expected them to attack us.”
“It’s good that they hadn’t. There was twenty-six of them. On horseback. And neither Thaleus nor Dorian had their armours on,” Ciros said.
“They behaved like trained soldiers, not random brigands. The outcome would probably depend on your spells,” the paladin pointed.
“Assuming they lacked the support of spellcasters of their own,” the dwarf added.
“Have you seen their faces when Ion said that we have two in our group?” Sae smiled. "I doubt they had anything besides swords and bows to fight with."
“Depending on the effectiveness of Reria’s fireballs and my… variant of it,” so far he only had tested his Coldfireball two times on the living owlbears; the spell was effective on them; even too effective, making the creatures much harder to animate afterwards. “…we might have a chance to win. Later, we could retreat deeper in the forest and try to outmanoeuvre the enemy there…”
After the initial attack, they could resort to hindering movements of the enemies with spells, hoping to win an attrition war before draining themselves out of mana… and hoping to not face someone like a shadowdancer from Silverfords’ Vault.
“Still, why they were even travelling at night?” Reria asked.
“Maybe those were the cultists we are looking for?” Thaleus suggested.
“I doubt it,” Dorian stated. “If Reria’s guess is correct, then I should be able to sense the fiends possessing them. And I tried; it wasn’t anything like when Yugoloths were attacking us; they felt completely normal.”
“If those cultists are using farmers, they wouldn’t be able to get so many horses like those… they weren’t simple draft animals. They were bred for combat,” Ciros noticed.
“So the scouts for the army?” Reria guessed.
Even with Riksians pushing orcs back, there were still sightings of scattered orcish warbands around. Not to mention desperate people turning to banditry after losing everything during the invasion; some might have tried to return to their previous lives as soon as possible, but many believed that there was nothing to return to anymore, while some even began enjoying preying on the weak.
“They looked afraid. As if they were fleeing from something,” Sae wondered. “Maybe they were saving a princess, running away from an evil lord…”
“An evil lord?” Ion shook his head. “I can’t imagine something like this happening in Rikse…”
Reria coughed. “Said the necromancer feared by the whole city…”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Ion felt Ciros’ gaze on himself.
“Great Reria, continue reminding him,” Ion pointed at the girl and used a Message cantrip to project his whisper directly to her ears.
He coughed and spoke aloud.
“Well, the girl suggested that she was from a House of something… but what would make nobles flee from their lands?”
“Maybe she loved someone from an opposing family, and fled so they could be together?” Sae said with a dreamy voice and smiled hearing their sighs. “C’mon, it would make a fine story!”
“Nobles and their games. Their reasons don’t matter for us anyway,” Ciros finished their divagations. “There is no point in trying to sleep again so we might move out as well. And Ion, I’m quite good with lip reading.”
‘Nine hells!’
**
“Through creating undead, you are enslaving their souls, binding them in your service. Isn’t this enough to condemn your own?” true to Ion’s fears, the morning exchange between him and Reria was enough to trigger Ciros once more.
“No, I’m not. Animated bodies are just empty vessels, their souls long departed.”
“How can you be so sure of this?”
‘I carefully investigated it on vargrs, so I can be. A soul is leaving a body almost immediately after death. It isn’t possible to accidentally bind it, moreover, I doubt that I would be able to even if I tried. Through, that might be a bad idea to say this to Ciros.’
“Just think! Souls are taken by the deities! Would you really expect a wizard to be able to steal one from their domains?”
He heard laughter inside his head. Ignoring Vision-he, Ion continued.
“Yes, yes. I agree that it might be repulsive to see someone that you knew to be animated and that it is against the law, you made a fine point yesterday. But it doesn’t make it impossible to use necromancy to achieve something good.”
“Like what? Creating the undead to run wildly, attacking everything alive, like on the Haunted Battlefield?”
“It was a natural occurrence. With the number of violent deaths and residual energies from various spells, it was bound to happen spontaneously,” from what Ion learned, at some point during a war, fights between armies became so irregular and hectic that retrieving bodies for proper burials became almost impossible.
“At the beginning, maybe. But currently, the whole damned area is a paradise for wicked wizards, creating their small armies. Why do you think that protecting caravans travelling through there is a job well-paid?”
That surprised Ion. The records he had read simply stated that undead started roaming that area only after the most recent war. Ion sometimes wondered why even after more than a decade nobody took care of the problem; he assumed that both kings were happy to have undead acting as an obstacle for an invading army. Yet with time – through efforts of caravans and mercenaries – the animated corpses should have been finally put to the rest. If Ciros was right and some rogue wizards really took a residence in the area – probably no one really powerful as it would have been known then – the seemingly prevalent amount could be explained.
“If it is so, then it would be caster’s fault. After all, he should be responsible for the use of his spells.”
“But undead can’t be used for anything beyond the killing!”
“There are plenty possible uses! Protecting towns from bandits. Mining in a dangerous area without risking the lives of those alive. Just to name a few.”
“I wouldn’t like to see rotting corpses protecting my village,” Reria said, before returning to reading her spellscroll. “They smell.”
“Digging alongside undead?” Thaleus shook head. “Disgusting idea.”
Ciros nodded approvingly to their words.
“My point is,” Ion continued, “the necromancy is just a tool, nothing more. What matters is how you use it. Just like Reria could throw a fireball at a house to burn people living there. Would it make you abhor every wizard using evocation spells? No offence,” the girl only eyed him, not saying anything. “Thugs are using swords and bows to kill innocents, yet you have no moral qualms about using them, Ciros. There is no difference.”
“It doesn’t change the fact the necromancy upsets the balance of nature, the cycle of life–”
“Are you telling me that animating an undead, an empty husk disturbs the balance?” Ion asked. “Okay then, so what with resurrecting someone? After all, it’s still the necromancy! Would you say it is also something evil? The soul is called back. It can’t depart to gods. THAT should be forbidden, that disturbs the balance you are so concerned about.”
“It isn’t the same,” Reria cut in. “Those who died must be willing to return for such spells to work.”
“You see Ion, you are twisting everything,” the ranger sighed. “Moreover, gods must allow the priest to–”
“So as soon as more people agree to disturb the balance, it is suddenly fine? Isn’t this a bit hypocritical?”
Ciros seemed to be at a loss of words for a moment.
“That’s why spells capable of bringing someone back to life require a sacrifice,” Dorian interjected. “Even if the caster has skills and determination to perform them, he must also make an offering to the gods before petitioning them. Only afterwards they would decide whether to support him or ignore–”
“And because of those sacrifices they can pretend to not be uncaring bastards,” Reria muttered silently. “Isn’t this sadistic? If you don’t have anything to offer, if you are just too poor, then it would be your fault, not theirs…”
“It’s not entirely correct,” Dorian continued; one of the problems with having half-elves in the group is that they usually hear too much. “Yes, most of the spells require precious gems, like diamonds, axinites or enstatites. They serve as a focus for channelled energies. The energies which are more often than not enough to destroy even the purest jewels, unable to bear the power; it is simply how the spell works. So in a way you are sacrificing wealth to make it work. But that is not everything. The sheer amount of energy the caster has to provide during the ritual often drains every last sip of his mana, usually rendering him unable to do anything for the next weeks," the paladin smiles wryly. "Still, who can really understand the ways of divines? Maybe they made the spells work this way to limit means in which mortals may try to act against the natural order?”
Ion gasped. Dorian’s words caused a torrent of images to pass behind his eyes, causing him almost to fall from the horse. They disappeared so quickly that he might have understood only a fraction of them, but it was enlightening nonetheless.
“It isn’t just a whim of gods,” Ion said, with sudden merriment in his voice. “Even deities are unable to break the basic principle of the necromancy. Like mortals, they can only bend or substitute it, but the foundation still remains. It’s funny, you know? Because the pillar upon which this school is created, ironically, is a balance.”
Ion almost laughed seeing everyone’s gazes, especially the bewildered one made by Ciros.
“To heal a wound, a wound must be made. To grant a life, life must be taken. For everything that comes to being, a price has to be paid. Isn’t it truly simple? Yet, as the time passed, the necromancers understood, that the price isn’t as constant as they believed it to be. First, they paid it in lives, later in lifeforce, finally in mana. However, the law of conservation still remained. I wouldn’t be surprised if the necromancy was the most ancient school of magic. Only after the wizards of old had learned how to harness the mana for their spells, other disciplines came to be.”
“Outrageous theory,” Ciros shook his head.
“There is a story which was used to frighten fresh recruits in Vrolan’s army,” Sae recalled what she heard long ago. “Once, Vrolanian soldiers tried to conquer one of the barbarian tribes. After a heavy battle, they managed to slay the opposing army; the rumour is that the enemy fought to the last; even having five to one disadvantage none tried to flee. However, just as what remained from the Vrolanian forces was about to enter the tribe’s sacred grove, a young shaman blocked their way. When they refused to return, he chanted a spell, and in a span of seconds aged immensely. I was told that as soon as the wind blew, all that was left of him scattered like dust. But Vrolanians didn’t have time to ponder about his fate, because, at the same moment, they became surrounded by an army; the army they have just fought against. Only a handful of soldiers managed to push through the barbarians, now that the odds were more even, and returned to tell the tale.”
Dorian was deeply thinking about something.
“I heard about deities taking years of lives from their followers in exchange for granting miracles… I thought they were simply taking joy in their sufferings, but maybe there is more to this?”
“If only Lyssa had heard you…” Ciros sighed. “I’m becoming afraid that instead of finding a cult in one of the villages, you would start a one yourselves.”
“Can’t we just let it go?” Sae asked. “Let’s make Ion promise to not raise any undead and be done with this subject.”
“Fine for me,” the wizard agreed.
“Seconded,” Reria immediately said.
“It’s high time to finally cut that crap,” Thaleus said. “Travelling by horse, even without your constant bickering, is only a little better than digging sandstones from a mithril mine.”
“Of course you would defend him. After all, it was your idea, Sae, for Ion to pretend to be a necromancer…”
“Which, from what I remember, you approved, Ciros,” the girl immediately resorted.
“And it was to help a friend of yours, Thaleus, so you would never admit that it might have been a wrong thing to do.”
“There is a dwarven proverb. If you dig deep enough, you are bound to find some shit. So can you stay on the surface, Ciros? The plan worked, the undead were put to rest, priests finally decided to consecrate the whole graveyard. Townsfolk were given an opportunity to drink booze in the meanwhile. Everyone’s happy.”
The dwarf, the half-elf and well… a human? a quarter-elf as Sae claimed to be? – not that Ion really believed in this, but it didn’t really matter to him at that moment – continued to argue.
What currently mattered for Ion was that he was finally left in peace.
“Thanks for your input, Dorian. You made me consider things I might have never thought about.”
“No problem,” the paladin nodded and gave him a slightly curious glance.
Ion produced one of the spellscrolls they bought before leaving Leisha’s Crossroads from his bag and began studying it as they rode forward.
****
The journey was uneventful.
For most of the day, Ion was carefully pouring his mana into the scroll, ignoring most of the discussions. He finally reached the point where he anticipated its feedback. Just a few more hours of work and he would feel confident enough to copy it.
“Say, Dorian, as a paladin, you must have been serving a deity for a long time, haven’t you?” Reria decided to take a break in her studies. “At least that’s what Arde said about paladins.”
“It’s not always that simple. Most often yes, the paladin is serving a deity before it blesses him with powers. But there is also another possibility. If one is convinced about a path he wishes to take, ready for sacrifices necessary to fulfil his oaths, sometimes a deity might respond, willing to be a witness to them. As long as paladin’s tenets agree with deity’s own, it grants him powers to fulfil them. For me, it was a second case.”
“I see,” Reria nodded.
‘It’s not a big difference from warlocks, isn’t it?’ she pondered.
“It was Adrestia, who responded to my oaths.”
“Adrestia? I never heard about her.”
It wasn’t strange, considering the sheer amount of gods worshipped around the world; sometimes they even had only a handful of believers on a given Plane, having a far larger amount of devotees on another. At least according to Ashara.
Dorian laughed.
“Before, me neither. As far as I understand her, what appeals to her the most is a just retribution. A few years ago I’ve learned that she is quite popular among Vrolanian bounty hunters; they tend to call her 'She whom none can escape'".
“Well, that is something I could relate to.”
They were getting closer to a village; one of many around Leisha’s Crossroads.
“Hey girl!” Dorian called a nearby villager, “Could you tell us where to find an inn?”
“Inn, my Lord?” she stared at their group with wide open eyes, trying to take in all the details; horses, weapons, armours. Even with Ion and Reria wearing only simple travelling clothes, their group was something unusual for a farm girl. “That big building over here is a tavern, my lord.”
“You don’t have to call me a lord, we’re…”
“We’re adventurers!” Sae cut in.
“Adventurers?” the girl’s face lit up. “I have to tell Sarah, and the others too. Nobody would believe me!”
She hurried into the town.
“Life in villages like this can be quite dull…” Reria reminisced. „Having someone travelling through might be an event to remember.”
“That’s why staying there for the night would be a perfect opportunity to learn if anything strange is happening around!” Sae nodded.
They headed to the building the girl had pointed. Like other villages they have crossed since leaving Leisha’s Crossroads, it wasn’t anything special. Only a few buildings nested close to each other around the road, some further away, separated by plains on which cattle animals lived.
“We don’t see travellers often. I don’t even have rooms for rent,” the owner of the tavern said apologetically. “If it’s not a problem, I could prepare you a comfortable place to sleep inside a barn. You might also ask around villagers, they might let you use their own rooms for a night if you give them a few coins.”
They discussed the proposition for a moment.
“A barn will be enough, we are leaving tomorrow anyway.”
“Excellent! I will show you where to leave the horses. Berna! Prepare food for our guests!” the owner was excited at the prospect of travellers visiting his tavern.
Ion and Reria warded the area around which they tied horses, just to be sure to know if someone tries to steal them. By the time they returned to the tavern, it was already filled with people of all ages. It looked as if the whole village came there, lured by the rumours about adventurers passing through.
People were excitedly asking them about rumours from the world around. To the point they barely had time to eat something at all. The villagers have confirmed that the beasts were more active recently. Ion’s group has also learned that some cleric was passing through the nearby villages, gathering apprentices and heading further south, to Crestfall.
After a while, Ion and Reria began entertaining villagers with magic tricks. No matter if it were mere Dancing Lights or faint illusory creatures that assisted someone’s storytelling, they were welcomed with gasps of excitement. And further mugs of ale served to them; by villagers and the bartender alike, with the latter already marvelling the profit he made thanks to the guests’ arrival.
At some point Ion decided to give his Spatial Bag into Thaleus’ custody; when it came to safeguarding the item he deemed a drunken dwarf more responsible than well… drunken himself. Not that he really thought that any of the villagers could take it for what it really was.
After Dorian confirmed that he doesn’t feel fiendish aura from any of the villagers, Sae slipped out from the tavern, saying that she wishes to scout the village and find out whether they are hiding something from them.
“Make a dragon!” a cute girl sitting next to Ion pleaded. He and Reria were literally swarmed by youths by now.
“Make a dragon!” soon the crowd around started to call as well.
Not wanting to disappoint the audience by creating the same illusion again, Ion decided to try something different. He levitated a piece of raw meat using a Mage Hand and focused, gathering fire mana as he breathed, before suddenly spewing it out.
Dragon’s Breath wasn’t a very efficient spell; the caster was slightly altering his respiratory system so that he could condense the desired mana type inside, yet the process was ridiculously crude and unrefined when compared to a real dragon. He found out the idea behind the spell when he glossed over one of the books they stole from the Silverfords’ vault. After spending days constantly using Alter Self spell making this modification to his body was rather trivial, even if mana extensive.
Still, the sight of the young wizard roasting the levitating meat with his breath left the audience in awe. Especially after he breathed again, this time using cold instead of fire, covering the drinks with hoarfrost, chilling them. Prestidigitation wasn’t flashy enough.
At one point some of the villagers produced instruments. Reria and Ion were quickly showed basic steps of a dance which was popular around. For a moment even Ciros and Dorian joined them, not that Ion had much opportunity to observe, distracted by the girls he danced with.
When he felt his bladder slowly losing the fight against all the liquids he had drunk today, he slipped out of the building to a privy. On the way he vaguely recounted stories about wizards too lazy to go there themselves, choosing to only clean their clothes with Prestidigitation afterwards. Yuck!
On the way back he happened to stumble on the cute girl he danced the most today. They kissed. And instead of returning to the tavern they headed to a barn.