Davyd stared in horror as first Tremalyn crumbled into a heap on the floor and then Toric screamed. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before. Nothing compared, not the shouts and wailing of those dying on a battlefield, not the mindless screams from slaughtered animals, not even the horrible shrieking of a lich he fought when he was younger. This was a primal and powerful wail of utter despair and agony. Suddenly Toric was lying on the ground and floating above his body was a terribly bright globe of light. It hovered for a long moment before sinking back down into the young dracuman’s form and the scream cut off like a switch had been thrown.
As soon as he had control of himself again Davyd crushed the calling stone.
Within seconds there was a bright flash of light and a circle of six soldiers stood looking outward with two magi standing in the center of the circle. All eight of them were armed and ready for a fight. Davyd spoke the codes quickly, lest he be targeted as an enemy.
“Pigeon, Delta, Niner, Six.”
The reaction squad relaxed and both magi stepped forward. The taller one spoke to Davyd.
“What happened, Centurion?”
Davyd reverted to battle quick description, pointing at the relevant crumpled bodies as he spoke.
“Toric is a local, came in to apply for recruitment. Tremalyn there was administering the Question and Anchor, and I think he overpowered the Anchor. Toric is a dracuman. Tremalyn collapsed as soon as the spell was cast, I am a null and I felt him cast it. Toric screamed the worst scream I have ever heard anyone make, and I have heard death knells from a lich, and countless mortals. Then he collapsed and a bright ball of light appeared from his body, it then sunk back into his body and the screaming stopped. Then I crushed the stone.”
The taller mage looked at Davyd in shock and then spun to stare at the heap of flesh and bones that was Toric. He lifted his hands and removed his helmet and revealed the features of a High Elf. Barking quick orders the smaller mage went to Tremalyn as he knelt to check on Toric. Two soldiers went to secure the door and the other four pulled Davyd closer to the two unconscious men.
The Elf ignored all that went on about him and spoke to the comatose Toric.
“You may not be able to hear me young Toric, but if you can just hang on please. Your kind is far too precious to the world to die from such a tragic event. My name is Drak Tellis of the House of Loquain. Focus your will and do all that you can to live, you can beat this Toric. You must beat this.”
Looking back over his shoulder at the shorter mage, Drak issued a quick order.
“Evelyn, take us home, as gently as you can. This foolish mage has committed one of the gravest sins imaginable for magi; and it is up to us to fix it.”
The female mage nodded once, sharply and gestured for Davyd and soldiers to come closer. Once everyone was within a certain distance she made a few curt gestures and snapped her fingers. There was a bright flash of light and a twisting of space and it was over. They were deep inside the Inner Citadel of Imperial City.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Drak bent down and with a grunt he employed his seldom used elvish strength, lifting Toric from the floor and striding toward the door. Three orders over his shoulder set the men and woman upon their own tasks.
“Evelyn, get whatever help you need and take the mage for treatment and make sure his magic is bound and he is confined. Men, go on a rest cycle, dealing with this may take me a while. Centurion, you are with me, let’s go.”
Once again a few words from the tall elf set his squad scurrying about their tasks and Davyd fell in behind him. Davyd was silently cursing himself for not doing something to stop Tremalyn when it was obvious he was in over his head. After a few moments of trudging through quiet halls he mustered the courage to ask the High Elf the question that was most burning to him.
“Sir, what has happened to Toric? He is a good lad and was very much looking forward to serving the empire. I have been talking to him about joining for months now and I find myself nearly as worried as if he was my own kin. Oh damn, I should have told his father something. And will he be alright?”
Abruptly Davyd managed to cut off his stream of words as he realized he was babbling like a worried mother at what was most probably not just any mage, but a High Elf Mage that was of a noble house.
Drak raised an eyebrow at the centurion trotting by his side, but did not comment on the long spiel. He spoke as best as he could while he carried the enormous young man through the thankfully wide halls.
“The Anchor spell was specifically crafted, designed, and trained for a single use upon a human soul. All non-human applicants are supposed to be brought here to Imperial City for anything more than the Question. Not only did the Mage Tremalyn attempt the Anchor upon a non-human, he compounded his error by trying to simply over power the spell and make it work that way. There is never supposed to be that much energy directed at the soul of a mortal. If Toric had been human he would have died instantly. The light you saw rise from his body and then return was his soul. He is just barely alive, and I am uncertain how. I checked him as soon as you told me what had happened and half of his soul is untethered from his body, floating in the aether. The other half remains within him, connected by a single filament to the half that is absent. What the mage did was necromancy, and ignorance of what he was doing will not save him from that judgement. As to the question of if Toric will recover, the answer is I do not know. Do not let your worry for him bother you, it shows your character. His family will be notified when we have some answers, and I will see to it that you remain with him until he awakens or passes from this world. Hopefully he will get better and having a friendly face around should make him more comfortable. Now I have a question for you, centurion. A few questions actually. Do you know the identity of his draconic parent? Also, what is your name, I do not want to keep calling you centurion? Lastly, I will need you to write out a report with as much detail as you can remember and I will personally cast a spell of retrieval on your memory of the entire event. Can you handle all of that?”
Davyd hung his head as the gravity of the situation became apparent. He had known it would be bad, but dying from necromancy was the worst thing he could imagine. He cleared his throat and replied to the Mage.
“First of all, my apologies Sir, my name is Davyd. Secondly, no I am sorry to say I do not know the name of Toric’s draconic parent. I do know that it is his mother though; his father is human and runs a tavern in the southern district of Fell Bridge, the town we were in, called The Dragon’s Home. I will be pleased to do everything I can to help. The report shouldn’t take very long, but I am a null and I don’t think memory spells work with me.”
Drak turned down a new hallway and took three steps before gesturing toward a door with his chin. Once Davyd opened the door Drak strode through and into a moderately busy hospital ward. Three mage healers and several orderlies stepped up to help put Toric into a bed and Drak ordered for Davyd to remain with him while he went to confer with the healers and call for a Master-class Mage to come and take a look at Toric.