“How long her principles have lasted?”
I look at the banners of the Empire adorning the buildings of Escalith. Another epoch has come to an end.
“And so the last of your imprints are slowly fading from this world… already.”
The city is celebrating a crowning of the first emperor. He would lead the united kingdoms of the continent towards the new era. The Council of Wizards will ensure that his rule would mark the beginning of an age of prosperity.
“Would you laugh, seeing this, Overlord?” the obelisk I created still towers at the central plaza of the great city that blossomed over the next grand cycles.
The lingering energies of the fight still prevailed around the city. What once made the area uninhabitable to anyone not proficient in manipulating mana, subsided over the time, reshaping the land. Now, it became a promised land to anyone practising the magecraft or searching for rare materials, that could only be found in areas rich in mana.
The Council. Should I finally seek a place inside?
Those I fought with are already long gone. I doubt anyone would still remember me for who I was. I could try to steer it back to the purpose she wanted them to be. I could push it differently, hoping to achieve what along with the Overlord we had once tried to.
“The intents both of you had, I never doubted them. Even at the very end. But as both of you had failed, would I dare to try myself once more?”
- Ion’s dream journal
“No, please, don’t!” a half-naked, burned man cried as he retreated. “I surrender.”
“Oh, just moments ago you and your friend were so eager to play with me,” she said coldly. “I will rekindle passion you felt.”
With her chant, a fan of flames starting from her hands engulfed the man. She sustained the spell until the screams died off.
Jane looked at the corpses of the two guards that were meant to take them to Leisha’s Crossroads. Sudomeas be praised the damned blasphemers couldn’t resist their urges. That gave her an opportunity to release herself.
She supported herself on the carriage. She felt so weak. Ion, that treacherous wizard, must have done something to her while she was unconscious. But she would regain her strength. She had more than just herself to take care of.
Jane freed other faithful and turned to look at Bran.
"Bran? Do you hear me?"
Her beloved only stared dumbly at the wall. If not for the fact he was breathing and blinking, she would have taken him for a sculpture. The sight made her want to cry and scream in anger.
"What they have done to you?"
“Lady, we should return. We must help priest Friedrich deal with the blasphemers-“
“It’s too late for this,” someone approached them out of nowhere. “They are already joined our Lord in His kingdom.”
Jane turned with a spell ready, but she recognised the woman. She was one of Friedrich’s older apprentices.
“It’s impossible! We couldn’t have lost! Liar!”
Immediately, an aura around the apprentice changed. Her presence became overwhelming, even more than Friedrich’s own when he used the most powerful of his spells. After a moment, it was gone. Yet the glimpse was enough for Jane to understand she wasn’t speaking to a mere apprentice.
“Friedrich had grown overconfident and paid the price for his foolishness. May it be a lesson for you, girl.”
“Some must have fled, we should gather them! Josh will surely-“
“Your brother faithfully served our Lord as long as he lived. A pity the soul so valiant had fallen so young. Yet, you already knew that.”
Jane fell on her knees. She didn’t want to believe her, even if it must have been truth. She always felt a connection between herself and her brother. A connection that was gone since she has awoken yesterday.
She clenched her fists. Not only had they taken Bran from her. They also had to kill her younger brother. He would never fulfil his dreams.
“We will gather the survivors and exact vengeance for everyone they have killed! With your help-“
The apprentice raised her hand, interrupting Jane.
“My role is to guide, not to fight for you. If you wish so, you can return, try to release those who were captured. You might even succeed. As for those who managed to flee, I’ve already met and directed them to Grasshaven. You should head there too. You are far too important to risk. However, the decision is yours. After all, it is you, mortals, who suffer consequences of their choices.”
Revenge. Oh, how Jane wanted to return to Crestfall and avenge the family she had lost.
“May we meet again,” the apprentice said as her silhouette unravelled and disappeared.
“What are we going to do now?” one of the freed faithful asked.
She was about to answer, but when she touched her womb, doubts surfaced. At least part of Bran, the true Bran that she loved, not the empty husk she could see before herself, still lived within her. She knew the child she was carrying was blessed by Sudomeas from the very first moment it came to be.
Patience. The traitor will suffer in his due time.
“We’ll take that cart. And head to Grasshaven.”
****
Arlen stared at the girl entertaining them with her stories.
She wasn’t the best storyteller.
The boy himself knew he would do much better than her. After all, as his parents were always telling him that he has a gift with the words.
Yesterday he even came up with a song describing the battle she told them about; he only had to change some things to make it more entertaining.
Living in the village, a little one according to their rare visitors, there weren’t many things to draw inspiration from. This was Arlen’s biggest problem; even with all his talents and imagination, he was still just a kid. If not for the stories, mostly those said by the travellers, he’d have no chance learning about the wonders of the world; mountains dwarfing those visible on the horizon, lakes as big as a whole Rikse, inhabited by ancient beasts dwelling deep underwater, majestic dragons ruling the skies…
As he listened to the girl’s story, Arlen had to admit, that he could have been too harsh for her. She was probably a much better storyteller than some of the mercenaries or merchants he had listened to before. Moreover, not only was she a wizard, but she also travelled with two elves and a dwarf! It was the first time he had seen the creatures like those!
Yet the girl storytelling aside, she could really cast spells! He even heard that whenever she’d wanted to, she might set a whole building on fire! Arlen was told that the girl did so when goblins attacked. A pity he couldn’t have seen this as his parents forced him to hide during the attack. He could have come up with a perfect story if he had seen the battle firsthand!
“Well, that’s enough for today,” the girl finished.
“Big sis, show us another spell!” some kid called.
“Sure,” she smiled.
The girl began a chant… and suddenly disappeared.
Children rushed to the place she stood moments before and waved their hands around, trying to catch the invisible sorceress, but it was all in vain. The kids tired for a few minutes before giving up, dejected.
“Arlen, wanna play with us? Knights and orcs!”
“Maybe later,” he answered, looking for a quieter place.
He had an excellent idea for a new story. About a farmboy who found an ancient magical sword stuck inside a rock. He managed to claim the weapon for himself and-
“Aw!” he heard a voice when he stumbled on something.
“Ha! Found you!” he called, firmly grabbing something invisible before him.
“It appears so. Would you be willing to release me in exchange for a story?” she paused for a moment, “I think I haven’t told that one before. Once, in a land faraway, ruled a powerful queen. It is said she was willing to teach magic to those who called to her in their dreams. Not just cantrips nor other tricks, but true, powerful spells. Her name was Ashara…”
****
‘Now I really make a fine impression of a necromancer,’ Ion smiled wryly looking at the reflection of his sunken, pale face in a bucket of water. He ran a skinny hand through his once raven black, now mottled with grey and white strands, hair.
‘Just add a black robe and a hood. I still have one in the bag.’
He must have lost at least fifteen kilograms since the fight. Yet the physical changes weren’t that concerning to him. He found a true problem while he meditated at night.
His lifeforce, once a blazing flame burning inside, was now a shadow of what it was before. He was still recovering, and so his lifeforce would eventually, yet he already knew it won’t return to its initial amounts. He must have lost a dozen of years, maybe even two. He was too afraid to consider it might have been more. True, the wizards might be able to extend their lifespans much further than a regular human, but the realization hurt all the same.
He knew some spells that could be used to bolster one’s lifeforce, yet it was a temporary boost, not a way to incorporate it permanently. Using them might quicken his recovery, maybe even slightly reduce the permanent damage done, but would get him only so far. Through, he was sure there must be a way to achieve the effect he desired.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Ion was going to find it. And not surrender his sanity to temptation he felt once he drained energy from Jane in the process.
The first step was to restore his voice. Not being able to use incantations, his repository of spells was limited to those not requiring them and those he has learned to cast silently. Sadly, Vampiric Touch wasn’t in any of these groups.
He turned to his spatial bag and arcane focus, both of which Sae brought along with his breakfast. The morning quickly turned to noon as he spent time gently channelling mana to restore the energy of his spatial bag’s core. After doing this for weeks at least three times a day, he could relatively easily forgo chanting.
Thanks to the nightly meditation, Ion managed to restore his mana to somewhat usable amounts, yet he still felt a little taxed once he finished. Ion wasn’t trying to fully charge the core; it might have destabilised it even further. Instead, he aimed to steadily replenish it over the next two or three days.
“Ha, I told you Ion wouldn’t be sleeping anymore!” the door to his room opened. “You simply needed to bring the wizard his toys. How are you?”
Ion looked at the group of friends who entered. His stomach growled as he noticed a plate of food they were carrying.
He focused on the spell and projected the voice, “Like a dead man. A starving one.”
A moment later he levitated the plate towards himself.
“Should you be casting spells so soon?” Dorian asked, concerned.
“He was probably doing this anyway, all the day since he woke up.”
“It should be fine, as long as it’s not something requiring too much mana,” Ion projected as he swallowed a piece of a chicken.
There were some perks to speaking through the use of spells.
“So what’s the deal with that spell you cast?”
He knew the question would be coming.
“I’m not sure… everything was fuzzy. It’s hard to explain. I wasn’t thinking about even casting a spell, but suddenly I just felt like I know what to say. And then I blacked out.”
It wasn’t far from the truth. And his explanation pretty much covered most of what he knew about…
“So it seems you are really a Gifted.”
‘There we go!’
“I already thought so. You have it well to easy when using magic… Why are you looking like this? It’s true!”
“To hear about things happening around the Gifted and really experience them… You really scared us here.”
This was the simplest and most probable, at least from their point of view, explanation. And who knows; for all Ion knew he might even really be a Gifted. Through, the accounts he read often mentioned a 'feeling how something should be done', not a vision.
"I'm not sure what scared me more, you getting hit by that spear or just killing that cultist brat we'd struggled so long against in a blink of an eye."
"You must have surely worn him down, I only got lucky at the end. It's not like I could even try casting it again."
Ion coughed as he thought about changing the subject.
"Have you really faked a cough with a spell?"
"Maybe... so guys, could you tell me what happened afterwards? Have we found anything of interest?”
“Only the spear that pierced you. And a shiny, completely nonmagical sword. I wanted to return to the fort and search for more, but they forbade me,” Sae glanced angrily at Dorian and Ciros.
They quickly recounted the events.
“So many people died. I too, almost. And all this, for nothing…”
“Not for nothing,” Ciros said. “We stopped the cult from spreading. Even if some of them fled, we slew the leader. When the news spread, people would become more careful and might manage to root the remaining.”
“Cheer up," Thaleus said. "Would you like to keep the spear? It’s your trophy after all. And you’re the only one out of us somehow proficient in utilising it. Of course, after we make sure the enchants on it aren’t curses.”
“They outvoted me on selling it.”
Ion felt a slight avulsion towards wielding something that almost killed him. Then shrugged. The same could be said about still utilising magic after he almost died from overchannelling.
“We’ll see. I doubt I would manage to wield it properly in the following weeks, months maybe. Where is it anyway?”
“We wouldn’t want to risk putting it into your bag so Reria warded it inside one of the rooms in the tavern. We thought that maybe some remaining cultists might try to steal it. But so far none tried.”
They talked a little longer letting Ion finish eating. Afterwards, they thanked the village herbalist, and Ion finally left the infirmary.
As he expected, walking was tiring. After a few meters had to resort to Thaleus’ and Dorian’s help. He briefly considered casting Feather Fall on himself, wondering whether it would make walking easier, yet was unable to correctly manifest the spell chantlessly. Maybe for the best. After all, he wanted to get back in shape, not start to permanently use magic as a crutch.
As they walked the street, Ion was surprised by the villagers’ reactions to them. Many cheered or even bowed their heads as they passed. Near the corner of a house, he spotted a group of kids carelessly playing in something Reria called "slaying an evil cult". He guessed a youth pretending to be struck to a wall by a broom was supposed to be him.
Whatever.
By the time they made it back to the inn, Ion was so tired that he immediately went to his bed.
****
“Wake up Ion, we have guests,” Reria shook him.
“What’s going on?”
Even from the room, Ion could hear muffled noises of many people walking on the floor below.
“The reinforcements from Leisha’s Crossroads arrived. Around fifty soldiers. Their commander wishes to speak with us.”
Ion grudgingly sat and prepared himself. Shortly after their group was led to the room in which, not so long ago, they had spoken with Niklas. However, contrary to the last time they had entered there, this time Ion immediately felt that they crossed the wards set up inside.
“Greetings. Please, take seats. Petra already briefed me on the situation. Name’s Ignatius.”
The wizard, looking to be in his forties gestured, and suddenly six chairs appeared.
“A dispelled illusion,” Reria said.
“Ah, keen eyes of youths,” the wizard smiled. “So, I’ve been told it was your… pursuit of the knowledge that caused the cult to be uncovered. Have you found what you were looking for?”
“Not really, unfortunately,” Reria said.
“We had no occasion to return to the fort after the fight. Maybe now, when your soldiers secure it-” Sae said.
“I’m afraid it’s not possible. If the situation was so dire as Petra told me, we would only protect the perimeter and the village. Only after representatives of the Church of Uther arrive we will enter inside. After learning about the activity of cultists in Leisha’s Crossroads they want to have the area as untouched as possible. Even if I doubt this – you hadn’t spotted any undead, right? – they believe the cases might be connected. We’re not in a position to deny a favour to the Church, not right now. Hopefully, Lydia sends someone quickly.”
“Lydia?”
“The head priestess; we are acquaintances. An old story…” he coughed. “Well, Niklas… I can’t believe he was killed, we’ve lost too many good people recently… spoke quite highly about your capabilities in his report. Even Petra, despite how the attack unfolded, couldn’t have put the blame on you. But to the point; seeing that you have both two wizards and a paladin in your group, maybe you have noticed something about the ritual, or the cultists themselves, that eluded Petra?”
“It wasn’t very aggressive, yet I believe the whole area became corrupted,” Dorian said. “Clerics would have to take care of this.”
“I see.”
“The mana seemed to be mostly drained around the ritual zone,” Reria followed. “Made casting spells more difficult.”
“Interesting, considering they probably began the ritual only after learning about you going to attack them. Or were they preparing it all the time earlier? Through, when conjuring, it’s one of the few methods which allow the caster to summon something more powerful than he himself. Draining ambient mana to do so is not something extraordinary.”
“One of the spellcasters, probably also a possessed one, fled,” Ciros said.
“I heard about this from Petra already. Maybe you’d be able to help me with her description. Not that I hope it could really help much.”
Ignatius created an illusory face and modified it, mostly through the guidance of Reria and Sae.
“Anything else? Maybe you’d like to add something?” Ignatius turned to Ion. As he gazed in the man’s eyes, much older than his outward appearance, he felt slight dizziness and could almost see illusory mirages appearing at the corners of his vision. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
The sensation passed as quickly as it started.
Ion gestured, answering with a spell.
“It is only a guess, but the cultists might have some sort of a sigil on their bodies. At least those we checked had. One of the possessed had one much more elaborate, comparable to a crest of sorts,” Ion felt as if he was still forgetting about something.
“I will look at our captives. It might be of use in finding runaways; at least until serfs don’t start using this as an excuse to deal with disliked neighbours... I must admit you have an interesting way of answering my question.”
“Currently, I can’t speak otherwise.”
The group explained Ion’s whereabouts.
“Yes, Petra said that you managed to weaken the possessed with evoked flames and then finished him with another spell. A bad example of overchannelling. And your paladin was unable to cure you?”
“Even with 3rd circle spell.”
“Well, normally I’d recommend you to wait here until clerics of Uther arrive. But I doubt they would have someone capable of casting anything above the third circle. Even Lydia, as far as I know, knows only a handful of spells from the 4th and 5th circle, and all of them are offensive ones. You should try in Windhelm or Grasshaven; followers of Shiela are often more proficient in healing arts, and there is quite a lot of them in the latter.”
Ignatius thought for a moment.
“Back to the spell you have used, you claim to simply have known what to cast… Gifted do seem to sometimes get an inspiration like this. I remember experiencing something like this at least a few times when I’ve been forced to suddenly improvise. Drawing mana harder than you should be reasonably capable of while at the brink of death is also entirely believable. Actually, if you don’t have anything against this, I’d like to see the spear used by the cultist.”
Not finding any reason to deny the wizard, they moved towards the room inside which Reria warded the weapon.
“You aren’t going to make yourself invisible and disappear with it, right?” Sae joked. “We have to somehow earn for living.”
“Of course not, it’s just my curiosity. Not every day one has a chance to see otherworldly armaments,” Ignatius smiled. “Quite crude work, the wards. If I’d liked to take it, I would have probably just stolen it. And… I’m not sure if you are aware, but setting wards like this, carving inside someone’s furniture, is usually considered a faux pas.”
They entered inside. Ignatius whispered a quick incantation before he touched the spear. As he inspected it, Ion had one more occasion to look at the weapon that almost killed him. He had to admit that it was a fine piece of craftsmanship. A dark silvery handle was covered with black lines that spread around it forming an intricate pattern, as much ornamental as runic. They converged to a gem embedded at the base of the spearhead. From this point, the pattern spread again, throughout the elongated, bladed head, which occupied upper one-fourth of the weapon.
“Interesting… the material resembles manabone.”
“Manabone?” Thaleus questioned. “I heard about it somewhere…”
“Elves of Isvaarheim tend to sometimes utilise weapons and armours made of it. It is said that some of them dedicate their whole lives to learn how to shape the mana and crystallise it, creating a solid matter out of it.”
“Isn’t every wizard doing the same?” Reria asked. “I mean whenever one tries to conjure or transfigure, the end result would be similar.”
“There is a difference. Not only the material created is at least as durable as mithril, more importantly, it also retains many properties the mana has. An extremely pure one. An ease of enchanting. With correctly prepared gems, a great mana battery and focus to channel and strengthen spells cast through it.”
“We’re rich, aren’t we?” Ion could almost see sparks in Sae’s eyes.
“Hadn’t we already decided to let Ion keep it?” Ciros asked
“Consult a cleric before; there might be some lingering magic that would make wielding it dangerous. Also, it’s damaged. Maybe the fiend hadn’t managed to fully manifest it. Or you used part of the spear energy to cast your spell when it pierced you… It makes me even more curious about the spell itself. A pity you claim to be unable to even reminiscence a chant. But maybe for the better, in your current state, it might have even killed you.”
“So no gold for it?”
“Well, the manabone might repair itself over time. However, if the damage is too great, it starts to slowly unravel and turns back into the mana. If so, better sell it before the weapon disappears. Otherwise, I’d recommend you to keep it; elves rarely sell items made out of this. It would be hard to estimate the item’s value. Of course, there is a possibility the material is something entirely different… or the touch of the Infernal Planes the item bears is too great for anyone to safely wield it and the item is truly useless.”
Ignatius put the weapon down.
“I believe that’s everything I wanted you to ask," he hesitated. "Maybe one more thing. Have you considered being hired for a more permanent job by House Faranger?”
They politely declined.
“I thought so. Still, if after a few years of pursuing the contracts you change your minds, don’t hesitate to ask. Stabilisation isn’t bad, especially in your line of work. Now, I believe I have some captives to check. Come by the morning, I will have a reward and a recommendation signed by the House prepared for you.”
Ion blinked and the wizard disappeared.
“Will he stand somewhere being invisible and wait until someone opens the door?”
“He left the room’s door open, and only made an illusion of them being closed,” Reria said.
True to her word, Thaleus’ arm passed through the wooden door as he examined it.
“Show-off,” Sae said and checked the spear. “At least it’s still there. Probably.”
“So what now?” Ion projected voice.
“With you back on your feet, it’s high time to think about leaving this village,” Dorian said. “I’d say, we’ll give you two or three days to get used to walking and riding a horse again. Then let’s head to Grasshaven.”
“We’d assumed that you’d still like to go to Cirran and Aethera University. I’d be glad about visiting Nelroddir; my father told me that my elven ancestors came from there, I’d like to see the lands with my own eyes.”
“And you forget about the greatest part of the journey; Ironward. A great fortress built by dwarves as a sign of friendship with humans. And even greater mountains spreading around it!”
“So a quick trip to Grasshaven; if we change horses in waystations along the King’s Road we should manage in less than a week. The longest part of the travel would be reaching it from here.”
“In Grasshaven we would search for a healer for you. Afterwards, we can hire ourselves to protect a caravan to Nelroddir, or, preferably, Cirran, if we manage to find one,” Sae nodded.
“Nothing can go wrong with this, right?”