Chapter 21: Ghost Bursting

When the two boys finally made it through the dark maze, and caught sight of the glowing spirit. Wand was the first to react, firing off a Wind Blade, with much more power than before, it slid through the apparition with barely any effect, before slicing a dust sheet and the portrait beneath. When he caught my eye he seemed rather sheepish.

“You can’t hurt me, the great and powerful–” the noble began but I cut him off.

“Great job, a bit jumpy, but you shaped the spell much more precisely that time,” I congratulated, some of the tension leaving at my words.

“How DARE YOU–” whinged the ghost. Again, he was interrupted, this time by a clap round the ear, courtesy of Soul Manipulation. I then proceeded to hoist the figure by the scruff of his neck, my other hand holding back whatever drivel it tried to spew. Although my Strength was low, it was insurmountable to an immaterial person, especially when backed by the skill. The boys approached, Staff looked like he wanted to ask how I was holding a ghost but he refrained. The glowing blue stone Staff carried, lit up the room around us. When the two boys stopped in front of me expectantly, I began the lesson.

“What is this?” I asked, shaking the subject. The two looked at one another before talking.

“A Ghost?” Staff asked, unsure of himself.

“Yes, indeed!” I encouraged. “What can you tell me about ghosts?”

“We were sent here to find one and get rid of it?” Wand asked when Staff didn’t answer.

“Did you not research them before embarking on this mission?” I questioned. The pair exchanged guilty looks. I let the silence stretch, only broken by the ghosts' muffled invectives.

“They’re undead?” Wand finally said in a questioning tone.

“Very good,” I responded, “they are categorised as undead, but since they have less of a connection to life than, say, zombies, some argue they should be seen as more dead. Then again their souls are far more intact so the opposite assumption would be also fair.” I caught myself waffling so I stopped. “Anything else?”

Emboldened by Wand’s answer, Staff spoke, “they can be dispersed with enough mana.”

“Yes, this is true, however that may be too much for you two. I’m sure you weren’t sent out here without anything to banish it?” I proposed.

“Can’t you get rid of ghosts by fulfilling their final wish?” Staff asked in response.

“Yes, excellent. There is only one problem; what if, for whatever reason, you cannot or will not grant them their desire?” I supposed. A firefly lit up in Wands eyes as he withdrew a vial from his robe.

“Holy water!” he proclaimed. The nobleman's eyes widened at the sight and his protestations doubled.

“Not so fast,” I said hastily, taking an involuntary step back. “There was one more thing that you failed to mention.” I only received confused looks, “the difference between a ghost and a poltergeist?” I urged.

“Ohh, a poltergeist can interact with the physical world and a ghost can't,” Staff blurted out.

“So is that a poltergeist?” Wand asked, realisation dawning.

“No.” I said with a wink.

“Then how are you…” Staff began.

“When I discovered this thing,” I cut in, shaking the party in question, “he told me he had kidnapped someone, how might this be possible.” Staff looked frustrated but didn’t continue.

“If he really isn’t a poltergeist,” Wand said, looking at me sceptically, “he’s lying.”

“A fair assessment,” I granted, “but in this case he is not, how might he have abducted someone.”

“Err..” Staff said, wanting to get back into the discussion. “He tricked them?”

“Excellent, points to Manticore,” I declared, mirroring their earlier reference. Apparently it was a bigger deal than I had surmised as they both subtly, but visibly, celebrated.

“Htt hmm,” I interjected, calming the pair. Just then the nobleman slipped my grasp.

“I said I would tell you where he is if only you solved my riddles,” the fatso blubbered. I plucked him once more from the air and restrained him.

“Why don’t you listen to him?” Staff asked, confused.

“A good question, thank you. Do either of you know why I won’t let him speak?” I asked. Silence. “Ahh,” I sighed, “although this rat might look harmless, and indeed he can’t harm you directly, he is smart enough to have tricked one person already. His greatest weapon is his words. What is a magi… I mean Wizard’s greatest weapon.”

“His magic?” Wand proposed.

“His mana,” Staff said at almost the same time.

“Wrong on both counts. It is his mind,” I revealed, pointing to my skull. “Now, assuming this ghost has managed to capture someone, where might that be?”

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“It would have to be somewhere in this house, probably somewhere in this basement since we were up stairs.” Staff responded.

“And why’s that?” I pushed.

“Because there were only sightings of ghosts at this old manor,” Staff said, unsure.

“And usually ghosts are bound to the place they died,” Wand added.

“Correct, although there are exceptions,” I answered.

“But, I don’t see anyone else here?” Staff said, shining his light about the cellar.

“Look carefully,” I said, indicating an empty bookshelf up against one wall. Truth be told I was cheating, doubly. My Detection skill made me look in the right direction and my Life Sense told me there was a tunnel behind it, but Dante was still out of the range of Soul Manipulation. It took the boys a good few minutes to uncover the scuffs marks on the floor and the hollow back that indicated a hidden passage.

“But how do we open it?” Wand asked, looking for a mechanism.

“You don’t,” I said, gesturing for the pair to step back. “I think it highly likely that there may be traps.” Looking at the bookcase with concern, they stepped away. I readied a spell. A bubble of necrotising energy the size of a person wobbled across the intervening space, when it splashed against the bookshelf the wood began to rapidly rot. Chunks flaked off as the spell remained in place, within only thirty seconds, all that remained was a pile of dusty old scrap-wood, revealing a passageway beyond. It was cramped, filled with cobwebs and covered in dust.

“Bloody Nora” Staff gaped.

“Bet you that was a high level Expert Spell,” Wand whispered, elbowing Staff.

“That was a Basic spell,” I rebutted, not really understanding the distinction.

“Impossible!” Staff protested, “Basic Spells only have basic, small scale, effects. Everyone knows that. You just melted a whole book case.”

“I just altered the spell shape slightly, changed the consistency of my mana at certain points, varied the speed at others, and added more mana to the whole thing,” I replied, cocking my head.

“But Basic spells only go up to level 10, the System wouldn’t tell you to do stuff like that until a spell reached at least level 30, 40 maybe,” Wand replied, uncomprehending. I looked at the pair, baffled.

“Why would I need to follow the System's directions when casting?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Our teacher says that we should only follow the pattern the System has laid out,” Staff said.

“Otherwise we might lose control of the spell, then ‘who knows what might happen’,” Wand added, clearly imitating someone.

“Nonsense,” I said, waving away the notion, “every good experiment has its risks, usually explosive. But I haven't blown anything up in nearly a month,” I said truthfully. “Unless you count that lightning spell… No, the fort’s still standing.” I didn't miss the look the pair shared as I led the way into the hidden tunnel.

The passage ringed the outside of the cellar before descending. Whilst walking down the steps, I heard a Cachuck and the stairs flipped into a slide; sending us hurtling down into darkness. The ghost took the opportunity and fled into the walls laughing wickedly as it did.

Clack, Thump, fwack. When we had untangled ourselves and run out of groans and complaints; Staff walked over, collecting the fallen glowstone.

“You’re a very bony old man,” Wand said, rubbing his head where it had been struck again by a staff. I only chuckled darkly in response as I surveyed our surroundings. Foof a stone door slid down, sealing us in an underground chamber, maybe ten by ten feet. Skeletons littered the floor, these did not possess the spark of undeath. Evening light came in through slits about fifty feet above, other stone doors lined the walls at various heights, indicating a number of means of ingress. In one corner, cradling something, was a sobbing Dante. Wand noticed him and, grabbing Staff's arm, approached.

“Are you alright?” Wand asked, clearly concerned.

Through tears Dante spoke, “look at her,” he wept, holding up his lute to show its shattered condition.

“I’m sure you could fix…” Wand began to but stopped at a shake of my head. “You can always get a new one,” he tried instead. Dante cried harder at this.

“She is special, there will never be another,” Dante sobbed.

“Why?” Staff asked gently, placing a consoling hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I Don’t know,” he cried, desperation in his voice. The ghost chose the worst time to reappear. Twenty feet overhead, well out of reach, he stuck his head out of the wall.

“You fool,” it began in a mocking tone. A full powered Necrotising Bolt whistled through him boring a finger sized hole into the stone behind. The spell did no real damage but the amount of mana it contained effectively paralysed the undead. It dropped like a leaf to the ground. I bent down, popping its soul in my hand like a bubble, leaving my phalanges covered in a pale blue goo. The boys no longer seemed surprised by my actions and continued to comfort the distraught Bard. I had intended to keep the rat-faced man for testing but it would appear he was too much of a handful. Not willing to waste a potential spell component, I scraped up the ectoplasm, slapping it into jars that surprisingly hadn't broken in the fall.

“Might I borrow this?” I asked Wand, softly.

“Sure,” he replied, handing over his wand, looking at me inquisitively. The boy's attention was diverted as I began my working. I used the Wind Blade Spellshape but instead of an arc, I drew a spiral with the wand. Pointing up I began in the centre and descended as I went out. The ensuing Wind Blade shot up, drilling through the ceiling grate.

Congratulations:

* Wind Blade has reached Lv.3

“Here,” I said, handing back the wand to Wand, as debris fell around us. Looking up, I calculated: 1.45 maybe 1.5 times the strength of a spell without. It no doubt had a cap on strength, but I needed to get myself one of those casting tools, preferably many. Unwilling to show my ignorance to my students I chose not to ask where they got them.

“It will take me a while to create a path out,” I said, using Necrotising Bolt to disintegrate hand holds in the rock. Staff only nodded in response. There were faster methods but Dante still needed time, not just for the sun to set. It may have only been a lute but I could see Dantes soul and it was truly hurting. I had known grief, that lute clearly had some connection to his past life, yet he still could not remember.

It was night by the time we all clambered from the pit. Dante had gone almost catatonic, his eyes vacant as he followed us. The boys offered to host us in their camp but I lied, and told them I ought to see if Dante had any family in the nearby city. They agreed and we parted ways, promising to find my office at Woden’s for another lesson. That did make me feel rather bad and as soon as we were out of sight I changed the face of my illusion. I took on the appearance of The Archmagus of The Black Tower. A man who appeared taller than he was, slender and stiff; short, black hair and a goatee. His stern demeanour seemed to best fit my mood as I tried to maintain a comforting silence with Dante. Before long, we came to the road on which we spent the rest of the night, travelling to our first city.