Though they weren’t all that enthusiastic about it at the start, the twenty-ish guards who ‘volunteered’ to help with the cleansing of Roderick Asylum now found themselves gravely disappointed. They all had some experience working alongside mages – that’s why they were assigned to this post – but this had been the first time they’d seen someone like the Sage of the Sands. She was weird, awkward, and impossible to talk to, especially with those two monsters hovering around her. How she managed to keep her cool when sandwiched between a witch hunter and a saber-tooth was beyond comprehension. It was unthinkable for a fire mage to maintain a level head as much as she did. Well, she did have that spectacular outburst when she found out about the medicine cask, but that seemed like a warranted reaction.
Back to the main point, of all the other twinkle-fingers they’d worked with between them, Acolyte Two-Fifteen was one of the few who had earned the lads’ respect. She didn’t complain, act entitled, or slack off just because she was stuck with ‘mere watch-dogs’ like them. The church liked to put those with the gift on a pedestal, and way too many let that attention get to their heads. The sort of humility the Sage of the Sands exhibited seemed unusual for someone so talented, not to mention she had an earnest wish to save as many lives as possible. Compared to the usual blowhards, she was practically a saint. Granted, it was impossible to tell what was really going on inside her head since she barely spoke and covered herself up so completely, but her exceptional character shone through her actions.
She didn’t just take out the enemy with power and precision. The support she provided the guards was truly exceptional. Scouting enemy positions, intercepting incoming attacks, enchanting their weapons, creating cover through smoke-screens – who knew fire magic could be this flexible? Watching her in action one couldn’t help but wonder whether every Named Mage was that brilliant. The lads had absolutely no idea, as this was the first time they’d had the privilege of working with one so closely since previously they’d been stuck watching after freshly-graduated greenhorns who needed extra protection in the field. However, even if the mysterious sorceress turned out to be average or even subpar among her peers, not a single man here would ever doubt her commands. Forget merely salvaging this mess. With her at the helm, saving everyone still left at Roderick felt like a very real possibility.
“So, what now?”
“Guess we’ll have to retreat.”
“Not like we can do much else.”
However, reality was a cruel mistress. Only a select few knew exactly what the hell happened in the old chapel, but the outcome was clear for everyone to see. One very dead suspect and one very unconscious wizard. If rupturing the medicine cask turned the situation into a mess, this development made it a straight-up catastrophe. It was impossible to fight this moon fever thing without magic, and it didn’t seem like any of the lads were about to start shitting out thunder, so this rescue operation couldn’t continue unless the Lady Sage woke up. Brother Tacitus said that would normally take at least half a day, by which point the serum would have lost its potency and the lives of the remaining afflicted would be effectively forfeit. Honestly, so many things had gone wrong at Roderick Asylum that it felt like the place was cursed by something besides a dead moon god.
“Stop moping about, you lot!” Barett yelled to get the others’ attention. “We still have a duty to those with us right now!”
He and the rest of the troops were gathered inside the abandoned chapel’s wine cellar along with all the unconscious wizards, the Sage included. Brother Tacitus was upstairs investigating the body of the intruder and it fell to him to figure out their next course of action. So far his only orders had been to seek shelter until he was done with that, and Barett felt it necessary to remind the others that this wasn’t over quite yet. Even if they couldn’t cure everyone, they still needed to carry those who’d received treatment to safety.
“Easy for you to say, Evans,” a guard named Mike grumbled. “How are we supposed to drag so many people back with them zombies prowling around?”
The biggest issue was that, though the moon fever was cured, the victims were in a very delicate state. Simply jostling them too hard could easily sever the frayed thread between soul and body. That was why everyone freaked out when Tacitus threw the first rescued patient like a ragdoll, but he could be forgiven for being rough since more threats had shown up and he had to get the vulnerable man out of the danger zone. That was the exception, however. Each unconscious mage had to be carefully carried by at least two people, and there weren’t enough guards to safely evacuate everyone in one go. In other words, ensuring the entire group’s survival would require two or three very slow trips over open ground. It seemed almost inevitable the afflicted would stumble upon the procession, whether it was one of those still roaming the grounds or another who happened to wander out of the other buildings. The risk was immense.
“If it’s just a few stragglers, can’t just the big guy take care of them?” someone else suggested.
“The witch hunter? Not a chance,” Mike dismissed the idea. “I saw him bend one guy’s spine like a pretzel and he still got up like it was nothing.”
“No, not him. The other big guy.”
He jerked his head towards the corner where the Lady Sage was recovering under the watchful gaze of her faithful familiar.
“Ugh. How do I keep forgetting that thing’s even there?” Mike kept grumbling.
“That just shows how sneaky he is. But, think about it, didn’t he take down a few of the bad guys by himself?”
“Now that you mention it,” Barett cupped his chin, “I don’t think Lady Sage cast a single spell on him. I guess those burning claws were his own magic.”
“Right, right? So long as he’s around he should be able to take care of any stragglers that show up.”
“Great idea, except for one itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny issue.”
“What is it this time, Mike?”
“Can you even explain all that to a bloody monster?”
All of the guys turned to stare at the saber-tooth. The dingy wine cellar wasn’t completely dark since they lit a few of their lanterns, but that particular corner was rather removed from their little gathering and still had some shadows clinging to it. In this murky lighting, the massive feline looked like little more than a silhouette. His most defining feature was his one remaining eye, which glistened ominously as he stared right back at them. Having seen him in action, the guards couldn’t help but feel intimidated by Bahm even though he just sat there quietly. As such, the answer to Mike’s question was so obvious that it was basically rhetorical.
“No way in hell, right?” he said it anyway.
“I think it’s worth a try,” Barett disagreed. “Lady Sage trusts him, I think we can too.”
“Suit yourself,” the nay-sayer shrugged. “Just don’t expect us to come running when you get mauled.”
The senior guard ignored that comment and walked over to the saber-tooth, lit lantern in hand. Though he said all that, he couldn’t help but be afraid to approach a monster, no matter how tame it appeared. He subconsciously hoped the extra light might make it easier. It really didn’t as bringing it closer only reminded him of the species’ namesake. Those two enormous fangs looked silly in the drawings included in his old monster encyclopedia, but they were quite terrifying up close and personal.
“Uhm, excuse me, sir. We’ll be evacuating soon. Do you think you can cover our retreat?”
Bahm remained stoic and unflinching as he studied the man’s face. He could sense his fear, and was therefore quietly impressed he was able to muster the courage to approach him so directly. Frankly, the feline had some resentment against this human in particular because he failed to protect his master, but the familiar was guilty of the same flaw. Indeed, guilt was something the creature would never have been able to comprehend without Fifteen’s influence. He didn’t know what to do with this unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation, other than to resolve himself to avoid it in future. Incidentally, though he could intuit the guard’s emotional state, Bahm had absolutely no idea what the man just said.
“Worth a shot, I suppose.”
Barett couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment. It was clear that human speech was beyond this familiar’s present abilities. If his master was awake, then that’d be a different story since she could interpret, so to speak. Fortunately, Fifteen was indeed quite conscious. She just didn’t seem like it since the serum sedated her so thoroughly that she was unable to move a muscle. Not even her eyes obeyed her, but her ears and mind worked just fine. Thanks to those, she was able to grasp the situation and relayed some instructions to her familiar, who immediately stood and took a step towards Barett.
“Uh… yes?”
The man couldn’t help but instinctively flinch back, prompting the saber-tooth to suddenly put a paw on his shoulder. The beast’s claws dug into the gaps of the guard’s armor – not enough to cause any injury but plenty to firmly latch on. He was then rather abruptly dragged over to the Sage’s side and pushed to the ground right in front of her. There were some startled yelps all around and swords were drawn among the others, but everyone calmed down when they realized the creature didn’t have any hostile intent. Bahm might’ve been rough, but he was relatively gentle for a monster of his size and strength. There was some purpose to his actions, and Barett tried his best to figure things out.
“Let’s see… You want me to help the Lady Sage somehow?”
That much was obvious since the massive predator previously growled at anyone who dared to approach his incapacitated master. The witch hunter was the only exception, and even that only lasted until he finished moving her down here for her own protection. Barett’s suspicions were proven accurate when Bahm laid down beside him and pawed at the loose belt dangling from the mage’s hip. It was more of a bandolier, now that the man got a good look at it, and it was loaded with various crystal vials.
“You want me to give her a potion? Isn’t that dangerous?”
Common sense dictated that alchemical mixtures did not play nice with one another unless they were explicitly designed that way. There was no telling how any of those elixirs would react with the serum already in the woman’s system. Despite that, Bahm once again clawed at the belt. This time he didn’t do it just to draw Barett’s attention to it, but ripped one of its contents free of its bindings. It happened so suddenly that the man was unable to stop it from clattering to the ground. Fortunately, it didn’t break. It seemed the Lady Sage was wise enough to invest in shatter-proof crystal vials.
“This one? You’re sure?”
The saber-tooth’s head moved in a stiff yet undeniable nod.
“Alright, if you insist.”
Barett’s earlier statement about trust wasn’t just lip service, so despite his own best judgment, he grabbed the potion off the ground. There was no label, and its contents were a mysterious blue color that shimmered like the ocean in the dancing light of his lantern. The other men wondered if they should intervene, but deep down, they didn’t want to give up. Not after coming this far. If there was an even tiny chance this might get them back on track, they wanted to take it. Barett exchanged a few meaningful nods with them as he propped up the paralyzed Sage with one hand. It occurred to him that her face-wrap was in the way. He reached up to pull it down, only for Bahm to stop his arm with a heavy paw. The way those giant claws scraped against his bracers made it clear that the man would suffer greatly if he touched that fabric. The guard gulped nervously, then nodded, prompting the feline to release him. The senior guard did his best to part the woman’s covered lips and force the potion through them. Some of the strange liquid spilled or got caught on the black fabric, but he got most of it down her throat.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Barett kept holding the Sage up and wondered what he should do next when he felt a sudden surge of heat flow into the hand he was using to support her back. The sound and smell of sizzling flesh hit his nose in the next instant as the temperature continued to spike. By the time he saw smoke flow out of her robes and bandages, she was burning up so much that it honestly felt like he was hugging a piece of lit firewood. Then the woman started shaking and convulsing, leaving him at an utter loss as to what to do. Even so, he didn’t want to abandon the woman to whatever terrible fate awaited her. He then felt a sudden pressure on his bicep as Bahm’s jaws clenched firmly around his arm and yanked him away from the sizzling sorceress. The poor guy yelped in shock and struggled on reflex, but was swiftly dragged over to where his buddies were – outside the potential blast zone.
As common sense dictated, the conflicting mixtures produced a dangerous reaction, yet that was precisely what Fifteen was hoping for. The moon fever serum was clearly a potent and aggressive substance, but concentrated ashplume extract was straight up volatile. Between the two, it was a safe bet which one would come out on top. As her rekindled inner fire went berserk and burned through her veins, it also returned motion to her muscles. Fifteen’s shaking lessened with each passing moment as she desperately pushed herself to stand. Her knees wobbled so badly she had no choice but to lean on an empty wine cask for support, the old wood turning black and smoky at her touch. Her rampaging inner fire demanded an outlet lest she pass out for real, but it took longer than she’d hoped to regain her mobility and there was no time to reach for a spell focus. With no other option, Fifteen was forced to rely on what came naturally to her in the moment. A direction was the only thing her overflowing power needed, and under these circumstances, up was the safest option.
“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
She threw her hands up with a mighty yell as she conjured a massive pillar of golden flame. The scorching torrent blasted clean through the floorboards overhead, incinerated the pews above, punched a gaping hole through the chapel’s ceiling, and continued to rise until it reached a height of about twenty meters. Every part of the building was flooded with winds so hot it was as if they were imported directly from the desert. It was no surprise that, even though the wild magic only lasted a second or two, almost everything in its wake was left ablaze. Fifteen anticipated something like this, of course. She’d started her fair share of forest fires and knew just what to do, so there was no hesitation as she fished out the copper wand tucked away under her robes. She could have used it to blow off her excess energy in a more controlled manner, but it was an expensive article and she really didn’t want her first time using it to warp it into a useless hunk of metal. Thankfully, there was no such risk when it came to her next incantation.
“Ignum expulso contra unis.”
The simple grunts do nothing but stare slack-jawed as the rampaging flames were snuffed out and the sauna-like air instantly cooled to an almost freezing temperature. Fifteen was glad her gamble paid off. It was just unfortunate she had to show the lads something so dangerous. A quick glance their way confirmed her suspicion – their unblinking stares were filled with terror. This wasn’t good. Fear was a natural reaction she was already accustomed to, but it would be quite the issue if they were too afraid of her to follow her instructions. First things first, however, she needed to deal with the bucket-head peeking over the edge of the massive hole she just made overhead.
“Heh. I knew you were cranky when you woke up, but damn, sister!”
“My apologies. I got a bit, uh, fired up.”
“Ha! HAHA! A joke?! From you?! Did you catch a cold or something?!”
“Or something, yes,” she looked at her hand as she opened and closed her fist. “I feel a bit strange, but I’m fit for duty.”
“That’s good, because we have more customers on the way. Seems they were quite taken with the fireworks!”
Of course they were. She was pretty sure half the county would’ve seen her conjuration if the asylum wasn’t surrounded by cliffs. On the bright side, this was a good chance to mop up the rest of the roamers in one fell swoop, provided those guards weren’t too busy pissing their pants to help out. No, wait. Fear was a powerful motivator, wasn’t it? Indeed, thinking back to her academy days, the most intimidating teachers seemed to produce the best results. Her hand-to-hand instructor in particular. Perhaps if she could channel that man’s energy she might be able to scare the guys into action.
“You heard the man!” she yelled as forcibly as she could. “Off your butts and up those stairs! Move, move, move!”
That certainly did the trick, seeing as how the guards scrambled out of the cellar amidst a messy chorus of ‘yes, ma’am.’ Fifteen fetched her staff bundle from the corner and followed with Bahm right after. Just as Tacitus said, the afflicted were already converging on the old chapel. By her count, there should have been only two of them still in the open, but three times as many showed up. It would appear some of those still inside were drawn into the open. This sort of thing was bound to happen, but it was still quite troublesome. On the bright side, the enemy was scattered and their numbers weren’t as intimidating as the last group, so there was no reason to panic.
The rescue team repeated the strategy of using the witch hunter to confirm the afflicted’s abilities before dismantling them piecemeal. Thankfully, there weren’t any spellcasters in this bunch and five out of the six were subdued within the first two minutes. It was safe to say everyone was quite used to fighting the afflicted by now, but Fifteen made sure to nag the guards once or twice anyways. She was in ‘ruthless taskmaster’ mode after all, not to mention complacency could easily lead to tragedy. That said, when it came to the last afflicted standing, the sorceress decided to go off-script.
“Tacitus, leave that one to me.”
“What? You still wanna show off?”
“I need to confirm something.”
“Hah! Fine, have at it!”
“Will do. The rest of you, stand back!”
None dared complain as Fifteen broke formation and charged at the last target. This one was a soil-sifter who showed up late, so he was still a fair distance away. He seemed like a good test subject since his wild magic seemed a bit weak compared to the others, but those dagger-like stones he flung everywhere were far from harmless. Though she was temporarily inoculated against the magical disease, it wouldn’t be funny at all if she took a sharp rock to the jugular or something. The risk was far from minor, but well worth it if Fifteen’s hunch proved accurate.
The sorceress only briefly commented on it earlier, but something definitely felt off after her explosive recovery. She had no idea what the hell was in that serum, but it completely drained what was left of her inner fire on top of paralyzing her. Was that the secret to breaking Logoth’s curse? The condition didn’t affect those without magic in their blood, after all, so draining a wizard of their power was likely an intended effect. Perhaps that would trick or starve the infection somehow to weaken it. Fifteen could only guess at the specifics, but there was no denying the serum completely snuffed out what inner fire she had left. It kind of worked to her advantage, though. If her magic reserves weren’t so empty then that ashplume potion would’ve been even harder to handle. She hoped it would ‘burn out’ the sedative, but in hindsight it seemed as though reigniting her inner fire was what allowed her to move again.
In other words, the serum was still in her blood and somehow reacting to her restored power. It was the only explanation she could give for why that enormous burst of wild magic was such an odd color. Fifteen’s flames were far from uniform in hue and could gravitate towards unnatural shades of red and orange, but this was the first time she had ever produced such a radiant sun-like glow. The first conclusion her mind jumped to was that something was mixed into her magic’s fuel source, much like how certain metal powders could burn green or blue. Following that train of thought, it was quite clear what that mysterious additive was, though it was peculiar that it didn’t seem to affect her spells. The real question was, if her hunch was accurate and her wild magic was indeed powered in part by the medicine she was injected with, then what would happen if she hit one of the afflicted with it?
It was a dangerous gamble, but a sheltered flame did not grow. With that in mind, the sorceress zig-zagged her way towards the last out-of-control wizard. Shrapnel of all shapes and sizes brushed past her and a few jagged pieces managed to land on her chest, though the chainmail underneath her robes protected her from any injury more serious than a bruise. Gritting her teeth, she rapidly closed the distance to her target from about forty meters to a mere five. In truth, she probably could have hit the mark from her original position if she went all out, but she wanted to save the poor soul, not burn them to a crisp.
Once she was close enough to the afflicted, Fifteen thrust an open hand forward as if reaching for something. A plume of golden flame shot out of her palm. She clenched her fist just as her target was engulfed, causing the blaze to wrap around them and linger in place instead of dispersing. Only the afflicted’s silhouette remained visible as they thrashed and wailed in a rather disturbing manner. The spectacle lasted for several long seconds before the victim collapsed and the sorceress released her clenched fist so the golden flames would disperse. The target was down, so Tacitus was quick to show up with a fresh load of syringes, only to find out he shouldn’t have bothered.
“Heh. So is this rare, or well done?”
Barett couldn’t help but sprint over when he heard those words. He feared the mage might’ve gone too far, but what he saw was completely unlike what he expected. The afflicted tumor-like pustules were gone without a trace and the layer of moon-rock-like skin was rapidly peeling away into ashen flakes to reveal the person underneath. Not only was the curse broken, but the victim – a young woman in her mid-teens – looked far healthier than any of the other rescued mages. It was almost as if she could awake at any moment. Indeed, neither Barett, Tacitus, nor Fifteen were all that surprised when her eyes fluttered open and she began to stir.
It was therefore rather unfortunate that she immediately began to thrash and dry heave as the curse tried to reclaim her, but a quick jab from the ever-attentive witch hunter put an abrupt stop to that.
“Guess it wasn’t well done after all, huh?” he teased the sorceress.
“… Quite. I will do better next time.”
Regardless, she’d still call this experiment a resounding success. It would appear that the flames she produced with her conjuration inherited whatever curse-breaking properties were in that serum. That the affliction was weak to fire probably helped, too, but the implications of this discovery were far-reaching. If she could alter the ‘flavor’ of her wild magic with alchemy, then that would significantly expand her options going forward. On second thought, this was most likely a fluke caused by extraordinary circumstances. She’d know for sure later, but for the moment, it would appear she had acquired an extra tool to help bring this terrible situation to an efficient resolution. Admittedly, it wasn’t perfect, but she had a feeling the relapse issue could be solved if she ‘cooked’ the patient a bit more. She just had to be careful not to overdo it, lest she burn the actual skin. There was also one other flaw with the purging flame, though it concerned dignity rather than safety.
“Mr. Evans, stop gawking and find something to cover her up.”
The standard treatment method left the patient’s clothes mostly intact, but not even undergarments were left after that full-body immolation.
“Y-yes, ma’am! R-right away!”
The way he stammered and then practically fled made Fifteen regret the rough way she’d been treating the guy. She showed up out of nowhere, took over his unit, almost blew him up, had Bahm shove him around, nearly blew him up a second time, and now she was giving him lip for something that wasn’t his fault. The two of them seemed to get along for a bit, but she was certain he hated her guts now. It was a good thing he seemed to be a kindly fellow, otherwise he might refuse to cooperate. The way the rest of his friends shot nervous glances at her made it clear their opinion of her wasn’t much better. It still hurt, even if it couldn’t be helped. Fifteen was well aware she was somewhat of a freak, even by fire mage standards. It was a good thing she’d never see any of them again once this whole mess was over.
For better or worse, Acolyte Two-Fifteen was sorely mistaken about a great many things.
“Did you see that?”
“Incredible.”
“The Dawn hasn’t abandoned us after all…”
What her explosive recovery instilled in these men wasn’t fear, but awe. From their perspective, they just witnessed someone more or less come back from the dead. That pillar of golden flame? A defiant challenge to whoever or whatever was responsible for this dreadful curse, followed immediately by a column of sunlight that fell through the destroyed ceiling right on top of the brilliant mage as glistening particles slowly rained down around her. It was a sight so beautiful that it seemed divine in the simple grunts’ eyes. And then, after what must have surely been a harrowing experience, she instantly went back to business as usual, right up until she purged that horrible affliction with a fantastic new power. Granted, she didn’t fully break the curse, but a miracle was still a miracle.
The guards previously compared her to a saint in jest, yet after everything that just happened, that no longer felt like an idle joke.