“Roan is dead, Baltair is dead. Baltair’s body is host to some powerful other soul, that isn’t even the main necromancer. We have an army of undead dullahan and water fey to deal with, and that’s just the surface level.” Oz sighed heavily, wiping his face down as they walked away from the lake. Roan’s robes faded beneath the murky surface, and then a pale hand wrapped around his body’s waist and yanked it down. “The field is stacked against us.”
“We don’t have to defeat them. We just have to figure out who they’re connected to and return to the Mages’ Quarter,” Aisling pointed out.
“Right. I mean, that’s doable.” Oz took a deep breath and nodded. “A little deeper. Right.”
He pressed his hands to his face, thinking. We stand out like sore thumbs at this point. Even if we can pass as mortals, at best, we get drawn into their traps, and at worst, we’ll be notable for being mortals, since all the mortals are dead.
What I need is an illusion spell. A powerful one. One that can disguise all three of us, that even a higher-ranked mage won’t immediately see through. He pursed his lips, thinking, then nodded. Fflyn, can I leave this body to you? I need to go find fey illusion magic.
I’ve handled it just fine until now, Fflyn commented dryly.
Indeed you have. I’ll be right back. Call if you need me.
With that, he cut the spell off. Light swirled around him, and he landed back in his body with a jolt.
Oz took a deep breath, sucking in the musty, still air of the library. Dazed, he stared into the middle distance for a moment, his wrist dully aching. He rubbed it idly, fishing an antidote out of his pocket as he walked. The now-familiar bitter tone quickly passed over his tongue, and he chased it down with a swallow of water from the cup he’d left on the table.
More fey magic. Well. I know where to find it, at least.
Down into the basement. Tossing a quick nod at Fenrir, he activated the fey and dark magic shelves. More familiar with the books, he quickly picked a few illusion-y-sounding tomes from amid the fey volumes, tugging them free of the vines that encased them. I really have to figure out what to do about the fey books growing vines. I can’t just let them do that. Right? It doesn’t seem good. But then, maybe it’s natural for fey tomes, and there’s nothing I can or should do to fix it. I need to do some research into magical book preservation. Are there books on that in the library? There sure should be. If such a thing as book preservation exists in this world…
He turned to go, then paused. His eyes lingered on the dark magic books, oozing strange black goo over the shelves. One of them, bound in a strange, hard white material not unlike bone, caught his eye. A few strange characters marched down the spine in a dark brown-black ink. He hesitated, then, before he could double-guess himself, snatched it off the shelf.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The tome fell open on its own. An image of the tree that had decapitated all the villagers appeared on the open page. Opposite it, a description read:
Useful for rapidly acquiring pristine corpses, a corrupted fairy tree is a must for anyone who wishes to create an army at haste. To corrupt the tree, first acquire a few low-level fey. Nixies, pixies, or their ilk will do. In a pinch, fey beasts will suffice. What matters is that the creature possesses a significant quantity of fey blood. Kill the fey, and drain their blood into the fairy tree’s roots. As time passes, the bark should blacken, and the willowy branches, grow longer. No longer will the tree sprout buds, nor leaves. At this point, the tree has been corrupted, and can be expected to kill anything weaker than it that stumbles into its radius.
Oz pursed his lips. He hesitated a moment, then snorted under his breath and snatched up the book. Fine, fine. Temptation succeeded. After all, if someone is following this book’s recipe to create an undead army, this book will prove essential to predicting their moves…if not tearing apart that army of theirs entirely!
Turning the book in his hand, he checked the cover. CALAMITY, it read, in all caps.
Oz snorted. Hell of a title. Someone was a bit of an edgelord, huh? Putting the dark magic book under his arm, he flicked to the end of the fey books, checking their activation mechanics. Read under a tree. Read in indirect light. Read beneath a clear sky.
I can fulfil all of those. No problem. Oz swapped the books under his arm, then paused. He lifted his hand, feeling his elbow where he’d tucked the dark magic book. A strange brownish-red liquid stained his hand.
Is this book bleeding? Gross. Making a face, Oz pinched the book between his thumb and forefinger. He hurried back up the stairs and beelined for the World Door, the bony tome dripping blood behind him.
At the World Door, he paused. A strange, stained cloth swayed gently on the back of the door, caught in a wind only it sensed. As Oz approached with the dripping book, its ends fluttered away from the door, almost reaching for the book.
That’s the cloth that ate my blood, isn’t it. Oz eyed it warily, then looked at the book he held. On one hand, feeding it evil dark magic blood, probably not a great idea. On the other hand, my book stops bleeding all over the library, and the sheet is kept happy.
The sheet’s already a magical bloodsucking sheet. What’s the chances it isn’t already evil? A little more blood won’t hurt. The description of corrupting a fairy tree flashed through his head, and he sucked a breath through his teeth. Probably.
Well, the fairy trees are corrupted by feeding them blood of the same type—fey—as them. This demon sheet is…probably evil, but anyways, it’s not like it will get more corrupted by sipping a little more blood. And also, this thing is dripping all over the marble. Mind made up, Oz grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around the book. The sheet snuggled up to the book, drawing tighter.
What the… Oz pulled at the sheet. As expected, it loosened with no problems. Was it just my imagination? Or is it really alive?
With a shrug, he stepped out into the field.
This time, there was no sign of Linnea. The golden grains bobbed lazily on the wind, which ruffled the trees in the distance and kicked up the surface of the pond. Oz took a moment to survey the scene, then jumped out into the long grass. Operating his movement technique, he quickly closed the distance to the lakeside forest. I can do ‘indirect light’ and ‘under a tree’ in the forest, and it’s no more than a matter of stepping out from under the trees to catch the ‘open sky’ condition. As expected, it’s perfect!
Carrying his three fey books and the swaddled dark magic tome, Oz hurried toward the forest.