Chapter 12: Murder at The Vicarage
I
The fleeting hours of the night went by in a mutual silence. On my part caused by Dante’s disrespectful comment, having hit a deeply buried insecurity about my current condition. In his case it was caused by a mixture of embarrassment and worry.
Not long before dawn, we found a suitable place to make camp. Having been unable to find any camping supplies in fort Far-Reach, Orlando had been kind enough to lend us a tent so long as it was returned to the Church of Light in Market Basing, the next town on the road. Much to his men’s chagrin.
The silence persisted as we erected the structure, breaking only for the occasional grunt of direction or word of correction.
The tent being made of canvas, albeit waxed canvas, would not be able to completely block daylight. Because of this, we chose to build it in a dugout under a dead tree, also keeping us out of sight of the road.
Despite our best efforts, the cramped conditions and hours of required waiting, eventually broke the silence.
“Why did you say that?” I asked, when it finally became too much.
“I didn’t,” Dante replied meekly.
I had expected some excuse, as a matter of fact I thought it quite likely that he would blame this other persona of which I had seen glimpses. However, his sincere tone gave me pause.
“Explain that to me,” I proposed, regaining some of the dignity my age should bestow. Really I was being rather childish.
“Hmm,” he began undeterminedly, his eyes fixed on his feet as he pulled them away from a stray sunbeam that evaded all our protections.
I gave him a moment to gather himself and eventually he spoke.
“There is something I haven’t been telling you…” he trailed off as he looked up to my covered face.
“Yes?” I encouraged, having managed to let go of my own feelings.
“I… It’s… when,” Dante began before curling up further. “When I awoke as a revenant I was given a choice by the system?”
“And this was?” I prompted gently.
“The text was an ominous red I believed to be weird,” Dante said, avoiding a direct answer. I just looked at him, waiting. Eventually he caved.
“It said:”
Choose:
1. The power to get your revenge.
2. Death.
I waited to ensure he was finished.
“There’s nothing wrong with choosing to live,” I replied, in my best impression of a comforting tone. Having spent the majority of my life sequestered in research, I was not the best at this sort of thing.
“No, that’s just it. I chose death.” Dante insisted. At the quizzical tilt of my head, he continued. “It wasn’t immediate, but having found myself bereft of all memory I was left with nothing but my feelings to guide me. I found very little malice in my heart. In truth, who I was, deep down may have wanted to die.”
Unable to think of what to say, we sat again in silence. I began to wish I had spent more time with the Archmagus of the White Tower. She was the only one of The Seven, devoted to the healing arts - in both body and mind.
“And yet, you are not truly dead.” I interjected when I finally felt it was time to move on.
“No, no I'm not,” Dante said, taking a breath he continued. “I chose death, I know I did, and yet power was the only option which lit up. The next thing I knew something had changed.”
“Changed, how?” I pushed.
“It was as though the system message turned to smoke, it engulfed me, forcing its way in through my nose and mouth until it could rest within me.” Dante explained energetically.
“It sits there, watching and waiting. This thing, this beast, it preys on my every insecurity whispering in the back of my mind.”
“That's your conscience,” I dismiss.
“No, no!” he insists.
“Fine, What does it say?” I asked, trying to hide my desire to cut him open and examine his brain.
“It promises me things… Strength; so that none may trample over me again, so that my enemies might flee before me, before testing their fate, so that none upon this mortal plane might contest me, and the blood of thousands can flow like rivers, dawning the new age.” Dante elaborated, with each line, growing in fervour and volume. His teeth and fingernails sharpened, his ears began to point, and a red glow started emitting from his eyes. It was only stopped upon receiving a solid clout to the back of his head, whereupon the symptoms immediately reversed and I was rewarded with an annoyed look from Dante.
“What was that for?” he complained
“Just testing an Hypothesis.” I explained in a neutral tone.
Taking out my notebook, I turned to the back and began to write.
“What are you doing now?” Dante asked with childlike curiosity, some of it having returned after removing such a heavy weight from his chest.
“Well, I believe I might be able to help you.” I explained, noting down the symptoms and some possible spell components.
“Really, do you know what it is?” Dante asked hopefully.
“A demon.” I said plainly.
“A demon?” Dante asked, shocked.
“Hmm, oh, yeah probably a small one. An imp maybe.” I replied offhandedly, my mind having latched onto the problem at hand as I sketched out spell diagrams.
“You knew, and you didn’t say anything?” Dante yelled incredulously.
“I thought you had a contract.” I explained as I calculated the correct volume of holy water.
“How would a contract have helped?” Dante pressed, desperation in his voice.
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“Usually when a person and a demon share a body it is either possession or a contract.” I elaborated.
“Usually?” Dante spluttered but I ignored him.
“If it had been the former I would have been forced to kill you on sight, but, since you appeared to be mostly in control with some occasional lapses; I assumed you had a contract with odd stipulations that allowed for occasional control.” I provided.
In his inattention, Dantes leg had slipped down, passing through the ray of sunshine. After he had finished cursing and jostling, he gathered himself.
“So you can get rid of it then?” Dante asked, once had calmed down.
“Yes… but I won’t.” I replied.
“What! Why?” the Bard demanded.
“Because doing that could kill you, I can’t be sure but based on your description of how you merged, I think it most likely.” I said, finishing off the spell formulae.
“Oh,” Dante said in response, “So what are you trying to do?”
“I am devising a spell, based on my extensive interactions with demons, that should be able to draw it out at least partially. So that you might form a contract with it.” I supplied, as I dotted the Is and crossed the Ts.
“I see… Wait, why do you have extensive interactions with demons?” Dante asked, as soon as his brain caught up.
“Well, I went through a phase of using them as test subjects. They seemed perfect; immortal, very high magic resistance, and generally evil.” I answered.
“Why did you stop?” he followed up.
“I ran out.” I said simply.
“You ran out, how could you run out? I thought you said they were immortal.” Dante inquired.
“There’s a difference between immortal and invincible.” I explained, “But in this case you’re right, demons can reform on their home plane. The only problem is that it can take anywhere from a decade to a millennia, depending how powerful they are. Even then I wouldn’t have run out if one didn’t require a demon's name to summon them. Sometimes I would get lucky and a demon would be helpful enough to provide me with another's name, in order to stop the experimentation. Even so, most did not, from the account of the last demon I summoned I appear to have quite a reputation in their realm.” I said, handing him the spell diagram.
“What’s this?” he asked
“That’s the spell that will let you form a contract with your demon. And probably won’t blow you up.” I said, adding the last under my proverbial breath.
“What?” Dante asked distractedly, looking over the diagrams and formulae uncomprehendingly.
“It’s about seventy-thirty or so… oh you meant the spell, we’ll need your testicles weight in silver, a ruby, and half a pint of holy water.”
Dante proceeded to ask a number of questions about how exactly it all worked. As a result the rest of the day was spent with me exuberantly explaining the basics of magical theory and Dante following along as best he could.
Thus, the day passed rather quickly and night once again fell. Having gotten his teeth stuck into the topic Dante continued to ask me questions as we packed up camp and began our walk anew. Between interrogations Dante returned to composing his song, now sporting the working title of Lightning Strikes The Fort. Having gotten over the worst of the mana sickness, I was now able to properly appreciate the music. I still wouldn’t be able to cast without severe pain for the next week or so, but at least my head no longer thumped.
As we walked the scenery slowly began to change. First, was chimney smoke dotting distant hilltops, seen through thinning trees. Then, came small paths and trails that acted as tributaries to the road on which we now walked. Next, were occasional hamlets which appeared at the side of the road. All building an impression of civilization.
Finally, near the end of the night, the Town of Market Basing came into view as we crested a hill.
“Is that it?” I asked, it was still miles away but from here what I saw was a rather quaint town which had only just outgrown its walls - a church prominently placed at its heart.
Dante only shrugged in reply.
With our destination just out of reach for the night we diverted from the road and made our way across some overgrown fields toward an abandoned cabin, who’s roof still appeared mostly intact.
Now settled in for the day, I found it high time to test the two new spells the system had given me. Preparing myself for the pain, I activated Wind Breath. I was able to just lift an olden wooden board from the floor when the pain overcame me and I cried out. Dante came rushing over but I was quick to mollify him. Still, he appeared most uncomfortable as the screaming continued throughout the day. On the bright side I was able to discover the use of the spells. Wind Breath acted like a short range telekinesis and, although in my current condition I was unable to push the limits of the spell as I had with necrotising bolts, the low mana cost and broad application left me hopeful.
Shocking Aura on the other hand was far simpler, depending on how much mana I used for the spell I could create anything from a field that gives you a slight shock to something that paralyses the muscles.
Although both spells were not as efficient nor as powerful as their ritual counterparts, I was still giddy with excitement. Perhaps that was why I hadn't thought much about screaming at the top of my lungs in pain.
The door opened and an elderly man poked his head in.
“Are you quite alright? I hea…” The grey haired man trailed off as he was staring right at a skull. I had undone the coverings so I might get a better view of my experiments.
Still frozen in a mirror of the intruder's shock, I was unable to reach as out of the corner of my vision I caught a flash of sharp teeth and glowing red eyes.
Thump.
The rather pleasant looking fellow was laid out flat on the ground, his head ringed with a growing pool of blood. Flabbergasted, I looked at Dante. Where once was a kind boy with a love for music, stood a no-doubt possessed man. Horns began to grow from his head and he was running straight at me, mace held high.
Shit! I thought as I finally kicked into gear and dodged his wild charge. I looked around desperately for something I could use, Dante had begun to grow on me and I would rather not have to kill him.
The door was open, letting in daylight around a body that was still breathing. Seeing that, a plan came to mind. Continuing to evade the demon’s persistent attacks, and even occasional bites, I made my way toward the door. With the Light behind I didn’t see it until I accidentally stepped into it. The foot in question became instantly inanimate and fell to the ground. Thinking quickly, and off balance, I used the change in mass to power a roll which put me behind the half open door. Holding on to the door for support I pulled it all the way open and flooded most of the room with light. Dante dropped to the floor limp, unfortunately the horns on his head continued to grow.
Slamming the door shut I plunged us back into darkness. By the time I came to the dying man's side, the demon was already twitching. Quickly I spoke the arcane words of a spell, my hand on the elderly man as I bit my tongue against the pain of moving my mana.
What I was about to do was considered forbidden magic but given I was already a lich I figured it couldn’t get any worse. Dante was up and charging again just as I finished the spell. The intruder's life force became fainter to my Life Sense as a cloud of black mana emerged from him and swallowed what Dante had been.
When the dust settled Dante was huddled on the ground snoring away, his horns neither grew nor shrunk. What I had done was essentially placed him in stasis so long as this elderly man was alive, which didn’t appear to be long.
Pacing back and forth rapidly I thought frantically for a solution, all I had done was buy time. I cursed my growing headache, if this continued I’d end up with mana poisoning again. Finally it hit me.
If I was able to connect my death force to this man's life force through an opposite exchange I should be able to keep him alive long enough for me to get the spell components to activate the working I had devised.
But I can't do a spell like that without the right components… unless. I could piggyback the effect on another spell.
I darted over to my knapsack, fumbling with the lid and withdrew the illusionary beetle. Opening the jar and grabbing it before the mist could take effect, I began chanting a spell.
This Binding would tie me to the elderly man in the way I had hoped, but the true effect of the spell would give me the illusion of his appearance.
Mana swirled and I was unable to hold it back, it felt as though a thousand stars burst in my eyes, then, blackness.
When I came-to, it was still daytime but it clearly hadn’t been long. Looking down, Dante was still fast asleep and the elderly man’s breath had steadied. Relieved I let out a breath of my own and it was as if I truly did. When I saw myself I was honestly surprised, I had taken on the exact form of the old man, less the head wound.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, it was a spell I myself devised and if it was performed correctly, it should have one other key feature. Tentatively I opened the door, placing one fingerbone in the light. I was satisfied when there was nothing but a cold tingly feeling. My connection to his life could protect me from the sun.
With not a second to lose, I took off running. I got no end of strange looks from farmers and merchants on the road as I ran but I didn’t care. In no time at all I was at the towngate, just as I was about to enter a guard stopped me.
“Mr Pool, they need you at the vicarage, there’s been a murder.” he respectfully reported.
Shit! was all I could think.