“We’re changing course?”

“Yes. I got a lead on where our source might be.”

Gwenyth leaned back in her chair. “Did information come from the clerics?”

“From one of my contacts,” Arthur revealed.

“You look surprised,” Gwenyth pointed out. She remembered their conversation in Norum, back when Arthur had debriefed her on his connections in Valenfrost. He had told her then about his contacts.

“I didn’t think they’d find anything,” Arthur explained. “Only used them as a precaution for any threats. Now, however, it seemed as if one of them found something.”

“Where is it?” William asked. The herald’s seasickness looked to be no more. In fact, he looked healthier now. Gwenyth guessed he had finally overcome it.

Arthur looked down at the spell crystal he held in his hands. “They wanted to meet in Vindis. Said they’ll give me more information there.”

“The floating city?” Gwenyth raised an eyebrow. That was a week’s journey, at best. Not to mention the factors such as bandits, rogue waves, marauders, and rival clans. It was a dangerous journey, one that should not be made so carelessly. “Arthur, is your contact trustworthy?”

“They are,” Arthur stated.

“If you’re hiding something again…”

“I’ve told you what’s necessary.”

Gwenyth bit her tongue, forcing herself not to respond with something biting. Arthur was irking her more and more as time went on. Ever since that incident in Buravon, the elf felt like she was being kept in the dark. Arthur was drip feeding her information and was skirting around topics. In any other situation, she would’ve beat it out of him. Yet she resisted. Arthur was the only one here who knew what was happening. Eilif, William, the rest of the crew, they were all as clueless as she. If she were to fight him, it would only worsen things and prolong their mission.

‘Perhaps that is why he keeps it to himself. Assurance that we won’t mutiny or try anything.’

Gwenyth had to admit, the former apostle was smart. Still, she couldn’t shake off the suspicion that there was something else going on behind the curtain. A sinking feeling that she had many times before in her lifetime. It was there when she lost her arm; it was there when Lumen City initially fell, and it was there when she stopped afoot Buravon.

‘What did you involve me in, Alfred?’

Gwenyth thought back to the Wizard who sent her on this quest. What was supposed to be a repaid favor had turned into something with malicious implications and consequences. Abominations and Outlanders, stories and horrors that had now become reality. Was Delphine even attempting to fix it all, or was she just tying loose ends? Was the man they were hunting even a threat? Is he truly the enemy? The mission was to kill him and seal the fracture he had created. Gwenyth wondered if that was the truth or a fabricated excuse concocted by the Lumen council.

Gwenyth moved her focus to William, who looked just as frustrated as her. He, too, had signed on to help save the ley lines, not to be led around like a blind fool. The herald had been subjected to scenes of death and misery he had seen since his time in the Outsider Wars. The elf sympathized with him, knowing that he was just as frustrated and angry with the situation.

Still, both of them had to bite their tongue and obey the orders they were given. Gwenyth knew that arguing and fighting were only about to slow their progress down. They still had a job to do. Arthur would continue to lead them around and the elf would bide her time. When the time was right, she’d make sure to keep Clarke from endangering everything.

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James gave a satisfied yawn as he stepped onto the cobbled ground of the harbor. He was finally back home. After two long weeks, he was back on solid ground.

“Can’t wait to get some actual sleep for once,” he murmured to himself. It had been so long since he slept in peace. The fact that he had shared a tavern cot with Harald was already uncomfortable enough. Vindis, as it turned out, was not a quiet city at night. Nighttime was filled with the sounds of cats meowing loudly, drunken brawls escalating in the tavern, couples fucking, and the constant noises of the rushing canal made it a nightmare to sleep.

It was now in the past, thankfully. James can now slip into his comfortable cot, with heavy blankets and a nice smelling hut. Even Dimitri and his crew headed off to their homes, which lay in New Aldren. James didn’t blame them. The longship could have its cargo lifted the next day. As the man walked toward the shaman’s hut, he was intercepted. Not by one man or woman, no, but by the many followers of his clan. Men and women crowded around him, excited to see him back safely.

“My Jarl! How was your trip?”

“Did you revitalize our town?”

“How was Vindis?”

“Have you brought more powerful followers?”

“Are you alright my lord? Are you hurt?”

James raised his hands as he tried to quiet them all down. “The trip was fine… What? Who told you that? No, I didn’t bring any powerful followers. I’m alright, thank you… Why are you crying?” He had no idea this many people were in his clan. He could have sworn they were limited to the Aldren survivors. Yet here he spotted Yorktown’s people in the mix, along with town guards and even some merchants. They all bore the white raven, the symbol either painted on their grabs or sown in.

‘Where did you all come from?’

That was all James could think. It was nearly dark, the only remnants of the sun being the faint orange tinge in the horizon. That there were so many people out here meant that they had prior knowledge that he would be here.

“Alright, back it up!” A voice called out. James turned to the source of the voice, only to find Helen and some guardsmen. “Clear out and give him some space!” She shouted. Her commanding voice convinced the crowd to back away, allowing James to catch his breath.

“Sorry about that.” Helen sighed as she approached James. “They somehow caught word that you were coming.” That only confused James even more. How did they catch word of that? How did anyone know that Draugr’s Haunt was coming? Helen noticed his confused expression, causing her to speak up.

“Ah, forgot. You’re not caught up to date.” She chuckled.

“Caught up to date?” Seamus called out. The young man was currently helping the rest of the group off the ship.

“Lowe’s crazy Wizard conspiracy was right,” Helen revealed.

James furrowed his brow. “Crazy Wizard conspiracy?” This was the first time he was hearing about this.

“You didn’t know, James? I thought Seamus might’ve been the one to tell you.” Helen gestured to the younger man. Seamus blinked a couple times, his expression revealing that he was processing the situation.

“Right…” He face palmed himself. “I was supposed to tell you a couple months back, but the Olafson emissary came and everything that happened after got in the way.”

“I see,” James sighed. “Well, what happened? What was Lowe’s crazy Wizard idea?” He asked.

“Well, it started with the gnome,” Helen started. “He believed that Yorn’s court Wizard, Falrick, was hiding out here in Yorktown, disguising himself as one of Aldren’s survivors.”

“Wait, seriously?” James felt even more confused.

“Believe me, I had the same reaction.” Helen muttered. “In short, we weeded the old geezer out and he’s currently detained.”

James had no idea what to make of it. A Wizard hiding out in the town? Posing a survivor nonetheless. He counted himself lucky that he didn’t have to deal with that mess.

“I will say, however, I envy not coming along with you.” Helen admitted. “You lot probably had a time in Vindis getting drunk off your asses.”

“Actually,” James chuckled nervously. He turned to the longship, watching as Elaine and Malik stepped off the deck bridge. Their reactions to the quiet town were mixed, to say the best.

“You’d be surprised…”

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The room was silent, other than the crackle of flames and the occasional cough. The longhouse was supposed to be a place of council and meeting, yet this silence pertained.

The Wizard looked at the occupants. The only ones he recognized were the people who had detained him in the first place. Dahlia, Helen, Haggard, and Lowe. It was them and… him. Seamus Halvorson sat across from the table, along with James Holter and a group of people he didn’t recognize. Seamus looked just as surprised and nervous as the Wizard. Falrick still avoided eye contact. It wouldn’t do good to keep gawking.

Falrick felt uneasy, not because of his situation, no, but of the necromancer that sat nearby Holter. He was in the background, simply watching with a slight smile on his face. Falrick felt disgusted at the sight of him. Necromancers were the lowest kinds of magic users. They defiled corpses, desecrated burial grounds, and sacrificed people for their rituals. The one who was accompanying Holter looked no different.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Falrick looked at the rest of the occupants. A couple of human guards, as well as what looked to be an orc. The Wizard had to do a double take at the oafish creature. The orc looked different from the savages Falrick had encountered back in Aldren. This creature looked orderly and had its coarse hair swept back. Its mannerisms were also something strange. It acted polite, its chin raised and eyes forward. Falrick had to force himself to stop staring.

“I guess if no one is going to say it, I will,” Holter’s voice sounded out. “We are having this meeting because apparently we need to be briefed on everything since my departure. Not sure why this couldn’t wait til morning but…” The Jarl shrugged. “Let’s start with the reason for this meeting, regarding the Wizard known as Falrick. You wanted to see me, about?”

“My stay within your clan,” Falrick answered.

Holter raised an eyebrow. “From what I’ve been told, you were initially against that idea. You even destroyed a building in your attempted escape.”

“That was… an overreaction,” Falrick admitted. The room was filled with murmurs and hushed words.

Holter raised a hand to quiet them down. “Why do you want to stay with us? Why did you change your mind?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but that is a matter I’d rather speak privately about,” Falrick responded adamantly. “It is a sensitive subject, one I’d rather not delve into publicly.”

Holter nodded. “I can understand that. We can talk about that after this meeting. Until then, Falrick, you’re just going to wait for me to finish up with everyone else.”

The Jarl droned on a bit more, mentioning some names the Wizard wasn’t familiar with. Yet nearly everyone around seemed to know what it was about. Holter and his fellow followers talked about everything else that had happened in the past weeks. They regarded the orc, which Falrick now knew was named Silas, and his proposal of hiring orcs into the clan’s fighting force. They now had a time and place for when that deal will be sealed.

There was also talk about a potential business idea, one that involved the drunk dwarf at the table. They planned to sell alcohol to upcoming traders and passing merchants. Falrick himself wasn’t sure how that was going to work out, but he had some doubts. Holter mentioned his deal with a trader from Vindis and his new followers. Elaine and Malik. The bard woman was nervous behind Holter, doing her best to blend in with the wall during the entire meeting.

Holter explained her situation and how she proposed a way for their clan to make money. Before he could have her speak out her idea, however, the poor woman locked up and refused to go up to speak.

‘A bard afraid of speaking in front of people. How curious.’

Falrick was entertained at the sight. His amusement fell short once he saw the necromancer step up. Malik had a sense of dread that followed him everywhere he went.

Everyone in the room was visibly uncomfortable at the sight of the necromancer, their gazes breaking away from his piercing gaze.

“Greetings!” Malik called out. “I am Malik Ymir. I am but a humble necromancer from Vindis, now a new follower of your Jarl.”

More murmuring. Haggard spoke out the loudest. “Necromancer? You reanimate and desecrate bodies?”

“I’d rather not use the word desecrate. I like the term reprocess.” Malik’s comment only seemed to agitate the drifter.

“So you’re a coward, then? You hide behind the undead and violate the deceased? Only weak men resort to such tactics,” Haggard commented.

“Oh, believe me. I am far from weak.” The necromancer chuckled. “I don’t need any undead to take care of you.”

Haggard shifted in his chair before he set his hammer on the table. “I’d like to see you try,” he growled. Before anyone else could say or do anything, Malik took a step forward. Everything seemed to slow down. James was mid-way from getting up. Dahlia was making her way to intercept. Haggard had his hammer at the ready. Falrick was sure he was about to witness a brawl happen in front of him.

Instead, the necromancer only made it two steps before he doubled over. A loud fizzle was heard throughout the longhouse, accompanied by pained laughter. Falrick stood up, trying to get a better view. His eyes widened when he saw the necromancer’s hand. Purple magic sparked and crackled underneath the man’s bandages. While obscured, Falrick could recognize that magic anywhere. This man was pacted. The question as to whom was answered quickly.

“Ah! Almost forgot about that condition,” Malik chuckled behind gritted teeth. “Right, James?” He muttered out. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks. All eyes went to Holter, who stood silently. Falrick didn’t know what to think about the implication, no, the reveal.

The Jarl turned to the longhouse full of allies and newcomers. “It’s… It’s a long story.”

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“You did what?!” Dahlia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Of all the stupid things James could have done, this was one she never expected.

“It was out of necessity!” James argued.

“Pacting with a fucking necromancer was necessary?” Dahlia hissed. She had to make sure not to raise her voice too loud, despite her seething anger. While arguing, both of them were still in the proximity of their allies, who were on the other side of the longhouse’s doors. The couple had taken a sidebar after everyone found out about Malik and James’ pact.

“It was that or dying!” James pointed out.

“James, pacts are more than serious! They’re life sentences! You might as well be signing off your future to that madman!” Dahlia felt a genuine shock at the idea of James doing something like this. It went against his beliefs, something he expressed strongly the first time they met. Seeing him resort to dark magic of this magnitude was something she didn’t see coming.

James sighed, his eyes avoiding contact with hers. “I was cornered. I had no other choice but to offer him what he wanted. I thought a pact would restrain him enough.”

Dahlia frowned. “What exactly did he tell you?” She asked. “What did he promise?”

“He didn’t promise anything,” James revealed. “He wanted to study me, to see what made me and Faust tick.” The blond man visibly clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I didn’t want him to follow me in the first place, but he and it was clear it was that or… well, I already told you.”

Dahlia crossed her arms. “What were the conditions set?”

“He has to protect my allies and not kill unnecessarily. I gave him rules of engagement and restrictions on what bodies he could use.” James hesitated for a moment. “In return, he gets my body after I die.” There was silence in the air. Everything seemed to stop at that moment.

Dahlia stared at James, unsure if she had heard him right. “He gets your body?” was all she could ask.

“After I die.”

Dahlia didn’t know how to feel about this. She wanted to yell, to scold, and to call him reckless. Yet she knew it would do nothing. The pact had already been made.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked. “When you pass away, do you think he’ll abide by your conditions, then? Do you believe he’ll spare us after your body hits the ground?” Her words seem to hit James like a splash of cold water.

However, the otherworldly man still continued to look off to the forest nearby. “I’m not going to die. Not for a long time,” he muttered.

Dahlia frowned. “How can you be so sure? We still can’t heal your wound or prolong your bond.” As much as she wanted to, keeping James alive was proving to be nigh impossible. The wound was fatal, and the bond was a result of circumstance. The necromancer could probably find a way, but he clearly had no plans to revive James. He just wanted his body.

“I have a lead on something. Someone who can strengthen me. Someone who could give me answers,” James revealed. “It came to me during my time in Vindis.”

Dahlia felt skeptical. For all she knew, a drunk or escort babbling could have approached James about nonsense. The blond man seemed to realize this and quickly rushed to put her suspicions to rest.

“It wasn’t what you think. I saw it in a vision,” James stated.

“A vision?” Dahlia raised an eyebrow.

“I was under this dream-weaver spell,” James started, his gaze breaking away from the shaman. It was clear he didn’t enjoy recounting this memory. “Some witch put me under to keep me out of the fight. Had me stuck in a dream loop of my world. I only broke out of it because of that vision.”

Dahlia felt a sense of dread in her gut. “What was the vision, James?”

“I was back in the lake again. Like the other times…”

Dahlia remembered those dreams. James had told her about them, how he would show up and be subjected to vague words and premonitions about his life. The shaman had her theories about their origin, but never came to a clear conclusion. Now, it seemed like James now knew.

“The two moons went red. Blood red,” James continued.

“Blood moons,” Dahlia whispered.

The clan leader stopped for a moment. “I saw the same thing in Seamus’ memories, back when I tried to wake him. You know what they are or what they mean?”

“Blood moons are divine omens. No one knows why they appear or what god commands over them. All that is known is that when they show up, mass death is inevitable,” the shaman revealed.

“Mass death?”

“Bloodbaths. More specifically, the ones that catch the attention of the gods,” Dahlia explained. While mass bloodshed was commonplace around the world, Blood Moons weren’t a regular occurrence. They were rare, to where it was speculated that they were caused when gods took notice. The raid on Yorn’s fort was the last recorded instance of the omen. That’s why you saw them in Seamus’ memories.”

“Christ…” James muttered a curse from his homeworld.

“What else happened in your vision?”

“I saw it again. The damned slab. It was black this time, with red runes. Then I heard her,” he delivered the last word with a sense of agitation.

“Who?” Dahlia pressed.

“She proclaimed herself as Iendis, daughter of Myr and sister of Thien,” James revealed. “She talked to me, saying that she had been watching me for a while now.”

“Iendis?” Dahlia repeated. That was a name she didn’t expect to hear.

“Do you know anything about her?” James asked.

“Not much. I know about her brother. Thien is the boatman of Dremor, tasked with bringing dead souls to Helheim. There are children’s stories about Thien, how he would infiltrate the minds of children, only to terrorize and feed off their despair…” Dahlia shivered.

“That’s probably how Iendis got inside my head,” James realized aloud.

Dahlia remembered the stories about how the boatman sought children to devour their dreams and perhaps themselves just to keep himself fed. Now they seemed so real. The shaman shivered again, her childlike fear from so long ago now slowly returning.

“Iendis told me to seek her out in the east. By the edge of Valenfrost,” James explained. “She told me her worshippers will guide me to her.”

“Her worshippers…” Dahlia trailed off. She thought hard about the implications this Demi-goddess was sending to James. The promise of power and answers was common bait for nefarious deities. Myr himself was guilty of this. Yet, Iendis had been watching James since his arrival. She knew about his past dreams, judging from the visual similarities of these visions. If she had an ulterior motive, she probably would’ve led James to her worshippers in the beginning.

“We’re going to her.” Dahlia finally decided.

James blinked in surprise. “Are you sure you don’t want to think this over?”

“No. If there’s a chance she knows how to save you, then we’re taking it.” Dahlia knew that this was quick. Hel, she knew this was too brash and unwise. The honest reason she was doing this was because time was growing short. The Sommar solstice was already here and fall would soon come. It had been three months since James’ incident with Faust and there hadn’t been a single lead on what could save him.

Not only that, but Dahlia would be damned if she gave that necromancer what he wanted.

“We’ll go after we finish with Silas’ orcs. Until then, I’ll see if I can dig up anything on Iendis,” Dahlia explained.

James nodded. “Got it, but, are we…?”

“We can argue later. For now, let’s head back in there. They deserve an explanation for that pact you made.”