Eilif stood in oblivion, ankle-deep water extending beyond the dark horizon. He looked around this plane, his sights settling on a distant figure of a man. He sat upon what looked to be a throne of mist, his head resting on an inquisitive fist. The figure stared at Eilif with eyes of crystalline purple, his gaze piercing through the immortal man.
“You’re early,” Master said.
“I wanted to get started on preparations,” Eilif answered, his voice coming out smooth and unbothered. Not filtered into a rough mess by that troublesome mask he always wore. No, in this plane, Eilif was truly himself.
“Preparations?” the Master inquired.
“It is not easy to get around Valenfrost without making a few alliances,” Eilif said. “The ocean is vast, and the islands, uncountable. I found it best that I’d make a deal with a clan or two.”
“You didn’t promise them too much, did you?” Master asked as he looked down at his free hand, which clenched and unclenched.
“No,” Eilif said. “If anything, their wants align with our interests.”
“Oh?”
“Quite a few harbor much hatred toward Holter’s clan,” the immortal man explained. “It wasn’t hard finding a decently sized group willing to wipe him and his people out.”
“Interesting,” Master muttered. He leaned back in his chair of mist, his hand moving to rub his chin. “Try not to let them get away with too much, Eilif. There is still the matter of Halvorson.”
Eilif nodded. “Of course. I would never forget.”
“Good,” Master said. “Do try not to kill him outright. We still need his memories to figure out the location of Yorn’s last vault.”
“What of Holter, sire?” Eilif asked.
Master shrugged. “He is of no importance. From what Onnes tells me, he is just another Outlander chosen by Iendis and Thien. Nothing to do with us.”
Eilif nodded. “Of course, sire.”
“How has your healing been?” Master suddenly asked, curious eyes focusing on Eilif’s form in this realm. The immortal bounty hunter followed the gaze, his own focus moving to himself. His body was cracked and broken, visible cracks seeping a glowing light. His soul manifested.
It was a strange thing for Eilif to take a good look at his own soul. He could sense the parts that were broken beyond repair, the sections that were never to be healed again. Terrifyingly enough, Eilif could still sense the tugs of his old self, the screams and pleas for the release of death.
That was enough to make him grimace.
“Eilif?” Master prodded. He did not ask again.
“Sire, it has been… slow,” Eilif admitted. “I find it difficult to converge my ley lines and focus on healing. Even my face has not been fully repaired after these years.”
“I see,” the being muttered. He leaned back in his throne, eyes almost piercing Eilif like icy daggers. The immortal man resisted the urge to shiver at that sight. Without a word, his Master raised a hand, the glow from his gaze flashing brightly for a moment. Shamefully, Eilif flinched at the motion, his body stiffening.
“Don’t worry,” his Master laughed. “I’m not going to flay your soul. It’s broken enough already. No, my friend, I am gifting you something.”
Eilif blinked and felt something hot flow and course through him. He first thought it to be some sort of Convergence but dismissed the thought. This was clearly something else. Similar but different altogether.
“This… This is one of Eli’s Blessings,” Eilif realized with shock. “Potency.”
“Enough time since his death has passed,” Master explained. “His first Blessing returned to me recently. The other one, Mist, still needs some more time to come back. The eye holding that Blessing has not yet been destroyed.”
“I see,” Eilif muttered as he patted his chest. The warmth encompassed him like a hot drink, flowing into his veins and muscles. “I shall use it with the utmost care.”
“Use it sparingly,” his Master ordered. “You do not possess an eye, so the Blessing is limited. Use it only when the situation deems it necessary. Once you burn through it all, you will be on your own. Now, get on with your quest. There is much for you to accomplish.”
With a wave of his hand, Eilif was dispelled from the mindscape, and the world around him brightened to an extraordinary extent. The next thing he knew, he was back in the world of the living.
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Eilif awoke in a ship’s cargo hold, the light of the morning shining through the small windows in the hull. Across from him sat Kira, the woman’s sultry dress now replaced by black trousers and a gray shirt, all of it covered by a black cape. She, of course, hated this outfit.
“Any updates?” she grumbled, her eyes watching the morning light seep in. Through the low lighting, Eilif could clearly see how her irises were glowing.
“Keep your eyes hidden if you’re not going to keep up your casting,” Eilif commented. “Rumors of beholders are already rampant through the south. Best we don’t cause a panic because you were too lazy to recast your illusion spells.”
Kira gave him a look of disgust before displaying her middle finger to the immortal man. “First of all, we’re alone. Second, if anyone from the crew of this accursed ship even notices, we can always kill them and burn the vessel.”
“Not the point,” Eilif sighed. “We must stay conspicuous. Holter knows about me, and there is no doubt he has his allies looking out for someone with my visage.”
Kira shrugged. “You’re immortal, right? The mask shouldn’t be too hard to remove, and it won’t kill you.”
Eilif was silent at that. He ran a gloved hand across the mask and brass goggles, his fingers feeling the engravings of the smile that had been carved into it long ago. That hand soon moved to his chest, where he could swear he could feel the warmth from his vision earlier. He wondered about his meeting with the Master and the gift that had been handed to him.
Eli’s Blessing of Potency. Not as flashy or strong as the Blessing of Mist, but inherently more useful. With it, he could drastically improve his healing and spells, practically making him an unbeatable force that could shrug off even a beheading. Yet it had a catch. Eilif closed his eyes and focused on the warmth, the Blessing. Yes, while there, it was clearly finite. He had to limit its use, perhaps in bursts.
“I’d rather not,” Eilif muttered. He decided that perhaps Kira should be kept in the dark about his Blessing. At least until the time came. “While I am immortal, my healing has… degraded these past decades. What has happened to my face will take months to heal properly. The time it takes matters little to me, but…”
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“Master needs us,” Kira said with a sigh. “I see now. You’d run around with that thing on your face for a few more agonizing years as long as it means our Master’s objective is completed.”
“I would gladly give up conformity just to see the day he achieves his dreams,” Eilif said. “Even if I don’t live to see it.”
Kira raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, she looked all around the cargo hold of the ship, her gaze settling on a nearby barrel that was tied down. “What sort of ship did you get us onto?”
“Trader ship,” Eilif revealed. “Aligned with the Boar clan. They’ll be stopping soon at a nearby town to resupply and rest. There, we’ll get off and head to another ship.”
“How long until we reach the southern edge?”
“Well, that would take perhaps a week. At best.”
“So slow…” Kira groaned.
Quite. Yet Eilif didn’t fret about the time. He was immortal, after all. His perception of time had warped these past centuries, and his memories of his past were a blur to him. Then again, that had more to do with his creation than lifespan.
Eilif was somewhat both an anomaly and a natural part of this world. Damned to be a part of it for as long as the magic that held his tissue and bone together would last. There was some hope of an eternal rest in the form of his recently hampered regeneration. His body produced blood by the pint rather than gallon, and most wounds healed over the span of days rather than hours.
That didn’t include the nasty injury that was his jaw and throat. Held together by his mask only, the injury would take far more trouble and time than it was worth to even heal properly. During that time, he wouldn’t be able to talk. He probably wouldn’t even be able to move that much without messing with the healing process and permanently malforming his mouth.
‘Maybe with a little burst of Potency…’
He shook his head at that. No, Eilif would have to bear with the pain for now. This Blessing had been one that was not granted so carelessly. Master trusted it with him for a reason. There was always a reason. It was clear to Eilif that his creator was close to getting what he needed to achieve their long sought-after goal. He alone had done so much for the cause. All that was needed from Eilif were the things he couldn’t do himself, lest he ousted himself to the world.
“Tell me,” Kira called out, interrupting the immortal man’s thoughts. Eilif raised his head at that, his gaze on the young woman.
“What do you see in that Jarl?” she asked.
“The old man?” Eilif asked, recalling one of the clans he had made a deal with.
“He seems too… obsessed with taking down Holter,” Kira said. “A vendetta almost. Yet they have never met before.”
“Well,” Eilif started. “Well, for starters, he sees him as nothing more than a peasant. An outlander that doesn’t deserve the title of Jarl, no matter his standing.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Well, there’s also the fact that Holter had forced him to a position of helplessness he had never experienced before,” Eilif pointed out. “Brought him down to his level, I suppose.”
“I guess that makes some sense,” Kira muttered. “I still don’t see the obsession most people have over Holter. Sure, he forced a couple old Jarls to his terms. That’s still not interesting enough to warrant our involvement.”
Eilif shrugged. “Some folk are intimidated by massive change, and others are utterly terrified of it. Besides, aren’t you obsessed with Halvorson? Our own target?”
Kira flushed at that, her lips curling with a grin. “He’s a far more interesting person. He killed Eli, you know.”
“I know,” Eilif said. “But Eli was, at best, a competent pawn. Seamus killing him is surprising but nothing extraordinary once you look at the facts. He was accompanied by two Wizards and a decent fighter. All of which barely made it out with their lives. Seamus only delivered the killing blow.”
Kira scoffed at that. “You obviously didn’t see what I saw.”
“You were scrying the fight?” Eilif asked carefully, with clear surprise in his voice. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. His master had probably done so as well, and the same was going for all of his children.
“I always am,” Kira said, her finger tapping the side of her head. “Seamus delivered the killing blow. That much is true. But you didn’t see the casting he used.”
“It was a Power Strike, no?” Eilif asked. That made the most sense. Power Strike, if used well, could have broken through the mist Eli was using. “That or Precision Strike.”
Kira shook her head, a heinous grin forming on her lips. She leaned back against the hull of the ship, her eyes glinting with purple shine. “He used Flash Strike.”
Eilif stiffened at that, the air growing quiet as he mulled over her reveal. “That so?”
Did none of the others even bother to tell them this? Not even his master mentioned such a thing. Then again, why would he? This information did not concern Eilif, although it did slightly unnerved him.
“You know what that means, no?” Eilif asked. There was now no doubt about why his master wanted Halvorson dead. Not if it meant leaving any trace of him behind.
Kira nodded with a disappointed pout, a sigh escaping from her. “I still want to peer into that head of his. To figure out what makes him the way he is.”
Eilif knew exactly what she was talking about. He himself had told Kira about the time Seamus had fought against the witch Lydia back in Vindis. He had meant to relay the story to his master months ago but hadn’t found the time to do so. Kira, on the other hand, was more than happy to hear it.
It only increased her obsession with the young lad, her focus solely on peering through his thoughts and memories. The mystery behind his state of mind excited her to no end. That much was clear in the way her body shivered every time she talked about Seamus.
‘As long as it doesn’t get in the way of our quest, I don’t care.’
Eilif was simple: do the job and come out on top. He had no desire to figure out men's inner workings and life goals. He only wanted to please his master and finish what he had started centuries ago.
“Have you ever been curious about such people? Don’t tell me you never looked at anyone before,” Kira prompted.
Eilif disregarded the question, but not before a brief thought passed over his mind. For a second, an image materialized in his mind. A memory from a distant time, at a place where the sun shone through all the hours of the day. An image of someone that he had once known, back during a simpler time.
Before Eilif got involved in the games of meddling Gods and men. Before he had this accursed name. Before he had died.
“Eilif?” Kira asked, her head tilting as the immortal man stirred uncomfortably. He looked up at the hatch that led into the upper decks, where the crew moved to keep the ship moving. There, he saw the curious glance of a young boy who had been recruited to mop the deck. The boy quickly moved at the sight of Eilif staring at him, removing himself from where he was standing.
While quick, the immortal man had noted the way the boy’s face had paled when he saw Eilif looking at him. There was a chance he hadn’t heard much, only the tail end of whatever worthless conversation they were having. Then again, Eilif wasn’t his master’s favorite for being careless.
“Get your things,” Eilif said. “Time to go.”
“We’re moving ships again?” Kira groaned.
Eilif nodded as he stood, his hand grabbing his daggers. “Stay put and get what you need. I’m going to kill everyone on top. When I’m done, we can go.”
“I can’t join in on the fun?” Kira asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” Eilif said simply. “We’re perhaps a couple miles from the nearest outpost. Good chance there might be witnesses. On the off chance, I’d rather risk a confrontation rather than your particular talent getting exposed.”
“So considerate,” Kira thanked mockingly, her hand waving Eilif off as he headed to the hatch.
“Just keep to yourself. And recast your illusion magic. I can already see it faltering,” Eilif chastised before he opened the hatch.
He would kill the shipmaster first. Sow in an air of chaos before he picked them off one by one. The boy who was listening would be last. In a sickening way, Eilif almost wanted him to learn that he was the reason behind all their deaths.
It was dirty work, but Eilif was made for such duty. It was his purpose.