Chapter 13: The Daughters of Nix
I
The night was dark, too dark even for the owls that cooed far off in the forest - unable to see their prey. Mist hovered about the trees, remaining just below the canopy. With only Life Sense to guide me, all I saw were the silhouette of trees and boulders, marked by the microscopic life which flourished on their surface.
Ever since I left the Phillips “cursed” house, making perhaps the greatest blunder of my entire existence, I had been running. My gait resembled the shamble of any other zombie, my injuries so severe. My mind still raced even though it had been some thirty minutes since I began my flight, yet I pushed on doggedly; despite the fact I had not caught sight nor sound of a pursuer.
If my mind hadn’t been running at the speed my legs could not, perhaps I would have noticed the strangeness of my surroundings. Although I only saw the outlines of obstacles, it would have been enough; if only I weren't still gripped by frantic befrazzlement.
The tall golden objects that grew far wider at their tops and I assumed to be trees, were slowly becoming evermore twisted. They began to give off a sinister fragrance. Branches rising and falling from the earth like dolphins from the ocean. The clear, deciduous forest morphed into the silhouette of a monotone jungle. I didn’t notice.
Brambles sent forth their probing tendrils, scraping away what remained of my doublet and leaving my bone-thin chest bare. I didn’t notice.
The wet squish of damp leaves changed, each step now punctuated by the crunch of dry needles. The spines working their way into my leather shoes. I didn’t notice.
The call of the owl was cut off abruptly, leaving in its place an oppressive silence. I couldn’t notice.
Why? I had retreated to the one place all can call their own, my mind. I wanted desperately to figure out the mess I had made for myself but I knew it was already too late. My body knew long before my psyche had meandered its way along the path my vessel had already sprinted down.
Howard, that was who weighed most heavily upon my conscience. He was one who I might have dared to have counted among my list of friends, one of few. I had left him to the mercy of his family, but who else could be trusted to be merciful?
A burden I felt nearly as heavily was the fact I left without solving the “Curse”. In a way, I did, or I believed that I did, but I had never gained all the facts.
I thought the man we had fought was the cause of the families deaths, given he was sneaking in through a hidden tunnel - that was a safe assumption. I thought he was a mind mage based on the core of the tiny curse that was haunting the Phillips. On that account I was proven correct.
The rest was speculation however; I thought he was likely the son of the late Porcus Villam, because he was the last of my suspects and someone was hiding out in his old farm. I thought he may have been of a family that had fallen from nobility, losing the support of the Phillips being the final straw. I had made this guess when Howard had mentioned the only mind mages he had heard of were part of a noble family that had once helped conquer the town of Dommoc but had since fallen. I had no proof, the real answer could have been something in between. The lack of knowledge ate me up inside.
There was also the question of who that mysterious “D” was in the System message. It led to a thousand other questions that I had been trying not to think about as they would occupy all my thoughts: what was the system? could it be controlled? did the gods of a world have any sway?
All these thoughts ran about my head, ripping away parts of me in layers of embarrassment, anger, and self loathing. I didn’t even notice something was amiss. I ducked under a vine that hung from a tree, in an area where vines were not supposed to grow. I dodged a mosquito the size of my palm. I stumbled through a thicket.
Finally I came to a stop in a clearing, separated into four parts. In the pale moonlight my zombie eyes could make out more details.
Wait, wasn’t the night moonless when I left, it should be two weeks until the next full moon. A small voice in the back of my mind tried to say but it was squashed. I stopped in wonder at the sight before me.
The first quarter, the one I entered into, was blanketed with yellow buttercups which shimmered as a mild wind blew through. The quarter opposite was blanketed in snow, clouds above letting flakes fall only on that patch. From beneath the snow delicate snowdrops poked their heads up tentatively.
How is the moonlight coming through those clouds? That voice again asked but was again ignored.
The quarter to my right was filled with vibrant flowers of all types; daisies, pansies, poppies and marigolds. Fat buzzing insects of yellow and black bobbed between them lazily. Sunlight reflecting off their black eyes.
Sunlight, what the hell?
The final quarter was drowned completely in constant, heavy rain and I couldn't make out a thing.
None of this, however wondrous, had ceased my flight. There was one thing and one thing alone that had my attention. A throne waited at the centre of the four quarters, just begging for me to sit on it. It may have been made of simple carved wood and resemble a high back chair but it had the aura of a throne. The environment seemed to agree as none of the turbulent weather came close to touching it.
I took a step closer without realising.
This isn’t right! My inner voice screamed but was drowned out by the sweet smell of butter cups. All it managed to achieve was a brief turn of my head. I glimpsed behind me to see nothing, only empty space. The site didn’t unnerve me; it was supposed to be like that - all that really mattered was the Thone. I took another step forward.
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Suddenly a ripple went through the yellow flowers which coated the earth. From beneath each head, about the size of a coin, came one of those giant mosquitoes.
How is that even possible, they couldn’t fit under there.
It made perfect sense, of course the Throne would test me, I needed to prove myself to it. Drawing mana through my already exhausted pathways I cast Flame in an arc about me, turning the insects to ash.
Stop! A part of me screamed as it felt the microscopic tears throughout my mana network. If I keep this up all of me will be without magic, not just my left arm.
I couldn’t stop, I needed to get to my Throne; each shuffling step more hurried than the last.
The next to attack were the bees, their eyes changed from a passive black to an angry red as they swarmed across the line from day to night. I tried again to burn my foe but their furry exteriors resisted the flames.
My network’s integrity has deteriorated to 30%! my inner voice panicked, I couldn’t hear it as the blood thumped in my ears,
My heart doesn’t beat. What is this?
These foul creatures needed to die, they separated me from my precious seat. One of them reached me and stuck a stinger the size of my finger through my thigh. I growled in anger and pain.
I can’t feel pain!
I started firing Wind Blades indiscriminately into the pack. This time it had the desired effect and bits of fuzzy flesh and wings when flying everywhere. The yellow carpet was stained by a greenish ichor. I grinned in manic glee even as three more holes were torn in my body, the area’s swelling as the venom was injected.
20%!
I couldn’t stop myself, my need for violence warred with my need to rule over all; to rule from my Throne. Eventually when all the insects were dead the thought of the Throne won out and I continued my merry skip towards it. Saliva bubbling from the corner of my mouth.
Archmagi don’t skip!
For some reason I stopped skipping. It didn’t matter, nothing could hold back my excitement as I continued towards the centre of the clearing with regular steps.
One of the snowdrops, half buried in the snow, twitched.
Duck!
I ducked without knowing why but it was a good job I did. The flower launched itself from the white blanket and towards my head. It passed above as I was crouched and I saw a white furry form trailing behind the plant. It landed and snarled. This snow fox was trying to stop me from taking my rightful place. It needed to die. The flower growing out of the creature’s head swayed from side to side as it bared its teeth.
Withdrawing my fibula from the spatial pouch with my one good hand, the other hanging limply by my side, I started firing off tiny bead-like Necrotising Bolts with abandon. The beast was agile however and pranced aside, dodging each attack and coming in closer. It whizzed past and bit off a finger from my left hand. I roared in fury and kicked at the thing, I clipped its shoulder and it was sent spinning. The next attack hit but I didn’t have enough concentration to condense Necrotising Bolt as I had been doing. The snow fox was struck by a wider, bubble-like, version of the spell. Its hair greyed, not that you could tell, its teeth yellowed and the flower growing from its head wilted before the beast finally succumbed to old age, its flesh sloughing off in patches of black ooze.
I smiled in victory.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
The smirk was wiped from my lips as from behind me there came a chorus of growling. I turned around slowly to see more than a dozen snowdrops shivering in the snowy quarter. I was set upon by a pack of angry foxes trying to tear me limb from limb. Using Wind Breath to batter the small creatures I was able to keep most of them off me.
10%, this body will be useless soon!
One of the more sneaky ones had managed to flank me and bit hard on my behind, nothing I could do would remove the fiery furball.
Blinded by rage I yanked at the animal with Soul Manipulation, given its relative weakness I was able to tear its soul clean from its body at the cost of some minor damage to my own. Even in death its spirit tried to bite and scratch but it was completely in my power. Its body fell to the ground dead but its soul remained in my hand. Looking at its siblings, being battered about by my wind, I locked eyes with the largest of them. We stared at each other as, with great glee, I took the soul, raised it above my mouth, and dropped it - swallowing it whole.
What?! Why did I do that? I had been planning to run rigorous tests with souls before I tried anything so reckless. Anything could happen, it could erode my own soul, I could become cursed, my mana paths could start to repair? What was happening, the network has increased to 20% integrity and this body’s mana capacity has increased. Why is this; because mana and soul stuff are so closely linked? Is this how gods get their power?... The back of my mind, the ego, kept setting up and knocking down one hypothesis after another while the id, who was in charge, revelled in the looks of fear on the fluffy creature’s faces.
With two simultaneous Wind Breath’s I knocked them all into a pile and caught them with one after another, wide area Necrotising Bolts. I limped over to the slowly melting foxes and took from each of them their soul. They were in such a miserable condition that ripping them from their mortal shells was easy and I suffered no damage to my own soul.
…50%... my inner self commented before returning to its theories.
I continued my zombie shuffle towards the Throne. When I had almost reached it and I could hear the joyous cheers of my people, something came out of nowhere and sent me flying backwards. For some reason I didn't have the same instinct to dodge that I had before. I looked up from where I lay on the blood slicked butter cups to see a tentacle as thick around as my head slither back into the impregnable rain. When it had fully retreated, there remained no sign of its presence. Hot with anger, I used Flame to create a bubble of fire around myself as I stepped, once more, towards the throne.
When I came to the same point, I looked over and sure enough a tentacle whipped out of the water. It struck my shield and withdrew, still steaming. A high pitched shriek could be heard from the final quarter and I laughed in victory.
Congratulations:
* You have learned the Flame Ward Spell.
Fascinating, I wonder why I unlocked that… my tiny voice asked before prattling on with more and more questions.
Injured and dripping black blood I finally laid a hand upon the Throne. The energy that had until this point fueled me left in a rush and I was left mentally and, somehow, physically exhausted. Needing a rest I sat heavily in the chair. The two halves of my mind slid back together and I was forced to come to terms with what I had done. Looking out, I saw the torn apart remains that stained this once wondrous view. Then all I could see was purple. I fell unconscious for the second time as an undead.
“He’ll do nicely, don’t you think? Sister,” one voice spoke in the purple, orange sparks appearing at her words.
“He will prove fun.” her sister confirmed in a tone that would have even made their mother shiver.