They arrived at the Last Leg Inn weary to the core. The attacks had abated about a week ago and the echo of the screaming ghost had run out shortly after that. Still, they'd had no rest, driven onward by the Grand Inquisitor. But they'd caught her now. David felt the faint impression of echo being used from the inn. He shared a wary glance with Nilia. Even though she was only a couple of years older than him, she was a proper inquisitor. Like he would be when he finished his apprenticeship. If they survived.
“That's it, huh?” Nilia said. “No more running, no more hunting. We've got her now.”
He gave her a grin he did not feel. “Think about it. Catching a real necromancer will give you amazing advancement opportunities. We haven't had one, since... Well, the last one that comes to mind is the Red King. She's not on that level. I hope.” Nilia paled noticeably.
David took a deep breath and focused on his prepared spells. He hadn't spent the weeks in the saddle idly. Two green twigs brimming with the echo of the countless saplings he had drained. Each one ready to sprout into razor-sharp vines. He was proud of his work. For a mere apprentice to build three functioning spells under atrocious conditions. He had to see about the functioning part but still. The necromancer would be in for a nasty surprise.
He shuddered when he felt the power Nilia's spell exuded. In her hand lay a gray unassuming rock, a rune of interwoven circles carved into its surface. Daniel resolved himself to learn more about the runes. His spells could be so much more potent. Alas, that was an issue for later. Their group stepped onto the courtyard in front of the inn. It was time.
With a flick of his hand, the Grand Inquisitor signaled the executors to proceed. The lead executor, Daniel hadn't bothered to learn his name, slammed the main door open. There would be no spell wasting today. Their executors streamed into the main room of the inn and the inquisitors followed, Daniel with them. Four of the executors slipped away to guard the rear entrances.
Daniel saw the fearful glances of the patrons, their previous conversations forgotten the moment they saw their Inquisition uniforms. Though they all knew why it needed to exist, nobody liked to meet the Inquisition. It was usually a bad sign. Daniel gave the patrons his best attempt at a dangerous grin and a merchant in front of him flinched back. He should do this more often. Then he remembered why they were here and his smile faltered.
All the while, the Grand Inquisitor had stepped to the bar, unhurriedly. He did not need to raise his voice. the inn had fallen completely silent. “We have located an extremely dangerous wild mage in this establishment. Anyone found collaborating with her will be executed. Anyone not following our orders to the letter will be executed.” He looked around the room into frightened faces. “Stay where you are and be silent. We will handle the rest.”
As the Grand Inquisitor turned to the owner of the Inn, who had scrambled counter, the merchant Daniel had scared lost his nerve. Grabbing his bag, he barged through the patrons obstructing his way and ran for the door. Before he was halfway there, an executor stepped in front of him and decapitated him with a clean strike of his unnaturally sharp sword. Then he stepped back to his position as though nothing had happened. Nobody else tried.
The Grand Inquisitor turned to the owner. For a moment he just looked at him, appraising him. “Show us your cellar? She is hiding in there.”
Silently, the owner gestured for them to follow him. They arrived at a heavy iron trapdoor at the back of the building. The owner tried to explain himself. “We... We barely use it these days. Believe me, we have nothing – “ He was cut off by the Grand Inquisitor. Then he signed Daniel to open it. He'd go first. Oh no.
Nilia gave him a pitting look, but there was nothing she could do. Cannon fodder, so that was why he'd been with them. Steeling himself, he heaved the trapdoor open and jumped down the ladder. Lantern in one hand, his spell in the other. Ready to strike. But the tiny branch seemed much less impressive now. Only a weak stub, like he was. Not even a proper inquisitor.
The first thing he noticed was the cold. It penetrated him to the bone despite his warm travel robes. His breath fogged, then formed tiny ice crystals before him in the air. A soft flute melody reached his ears. Just like the one the street performers of Angfurt used to play when he was little. Before he had to leave his home for the schooling of the Mages Guild. Only this melody was not lively and fast past like the one from the flute player he liked to visit at the marked. No, it was slow and gloomy. Played with the last breath of a dying man.
She was toying with him. He had to focus. He walked deeper into the dark of the basement, but his limbs had gone numb from the cold. Slowly, he advanced, scanning for movement. He would not go down easily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. A pair of eyes were reflecting the light of his lantern. Without thinking he unleashed his spell. The branch wiggled in his hand, then vines sprouted from it. Three, four, then five. He shouted as they shot forward, hitting something. He heard glass shattering, then the other inquisitors rushed into the cellar. August at the front with a roaring blaze in his hands. It illuminated the cellar with a flickering red light. His vines had caught a mirror.
There was no one there. They looked around, expecting an ambush, but nothing happened. After a moment, the Grand Inquisitor entered, examining his surroundings. There were only some half-broken magical artifacts here, leaking all their echo. The necromancer had tricked them. Again.
Nobody dared to speak. Daniel looked at the Grand Inquisitor and recoiled. His face was calm as ever, but his eyes burned with fury. “It seems we have been led astray. By now, the necromancer has surely crossed the border. I am afraid we can't follow her. The relationship of the Guild with the Northlands is strenuous at best. We cannot endanger it.” The Grand Inquisitor tore his view from the broken artifacts and looked at them. “Our work here is complete. I will ensure the Northlands are adequately warned of the fleeing mage, but that is all. They will have to deal with her from now on.” Then he turned and climbed out of the basement.
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The sun had risen well above the treetops and they had made good progress so far. After burying Olaf, they had wasted no time getting back on the road. More than one band of outlaws roamed through the forest. Lucia was thankful that this had minimized the amount of awkward conversations about what had happened. However, good things never last.
“Tell me, why did he kill him? What did your sword do to him?” Lucia opened her eyes to find Ingrid looking at her expectantly. “Will he change back eventually?” she asked.
“Hey, I can hear you, you know?” Sven remarked.
There was unfortunately no way around this conversation. Lucia addressed both of them. “I wasn't sure what touching the sword does to you when I first got it, but I have built up a pretty good picture. Sven's case all but confirms my hypothesis. The demon trapped inside, Baal, attaches to your strongest emotions and then separates them from you, turning them into their opposite. Sven was meek and fearful before and Baal transformed him into a fearless psychopath. Right?”
“Yeah, that's fairly accurate” Sven agreed. Ingrid gave him a dark stare.
Undisturbed, Lucia continued to explain. “I've been in contact with Baal as well and that was a rather intense experience, even for me.” That earned Lucia a wary look from Ingrid. “So, Sven awakes after Baal alters his personality, a literally mind-shattering experience, and uninhibited as he now is, does the first thing that comes to his mind. Kill Olaf.” She raised her hands, placating Sven. “Not that I'd judge.”
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Ingrid wasn't satisfied with this explanation. “But can you reverse it? Can you heal him or something like that? Or will this demon control him forever?”
“Oh no, you don't understand. Just like he said, it's still Sven you are dealing with, just an unhinged version. The demon is long gone from his head. And no, this is not reversible. The part of him responsible for fear and morality was completely annihilated. I could feel it happening, it was incredible. A couple more tires could lead to – “ Lucia wasn't the best in reading other people, but the look Ingrid was giving her probably indicated that she should stop now. Sven did not seem bothered in the slightest.
Ingrid expression was one of fierce determination. You must destroy it. The demon cannot be allowed to live.”
At that, Sven listened up. “Wait, no. You can't do that. Not yet. There is so much more Baal can tell me. I just need to know. I need to talk to him again. Please?”
Lucia threw her arms up, exasperated. “Don't you think I would have tried that already? That I carry this sword with me just for fun. It's not possible. It can't be destroyed.” Sven relaxed again, as far as that was possible with hands tied up behind his back.
Ingrid deflated a bit, but her look was still one of determination. “Yeah, I could have seen that coming. But I've still got some questions. I'd say it's time you get your story straight. Who are you really? I think I deserve to know that now.”
Sven tried to raise his hand, but failed miserably “Tell me too, Tell me too.”
“Well, everything I told you is true. My name is Lucia. I am a mage. The Inquisition was hunting me. There isn't much more to tell about me. Maybe that I'm a necromancer, but you should have guessed that by now.” Hearing this, Ingrid looked even grimmer. Sven in contrast failed to stop his face from a full-on manic grin.
“That's amazing. How did you learn it? Weren't all necromancers killed after the Red Rebellion? Wait, I don't actually care about that. How did you get the sword and could you give it to me? Pretty please?”
“I care about how you learned to become a necromancer. Usually, I avoid prying too much, but you just killed 23 people with a flick of your hand. Tell me something that lets me sleep tonight.” Ingrid's voice was stern, but now there was a pleading look in her eyes.
Lucia thought for a moment. She wasn't keen on getting her throat slit while she slept, so she had to tell them a bit. Maybe Sven would try to slit her throat anyway, but that was why his hand were bound. The best he would manage was to gnaw through her throat. If he managed that he deserved it, she decided.
“I've been around a lot. I learned much of what I know on the Green Continent. They value necromancers highly there, mostly because of our healing powers. I could demonstrate?” The look of disgust on Ingrid's face was enough of a clue to discard that offer immediately. “I came back here, to the Middle Lands I mean, because – “ Lucia stopped. She didn't know why she had gone back, it had been just an impulse. “I went back to the Threewater duchy and built myself a bit of a life there. Some guy came by and gave me the sword after he'd had his fun with it. After a while, the Inquisition decided to pay me a visit. I had to make a run for it, and the North seemed like the best choice.”
“The Everwood is much closer to Threewater. And much more open to refugees than the North nowadays. Why didn't you go there?”
“Personal differences.” Lucia did not elaborate further.
With this glimpse of her past, Ingrid relaxed. A bit. “Do you have more of those bones? Like the one with which you killed the bandits? It might come in handy if we are attacked again.” She tried to play it cool, but Lucia noticed her unease.
Lucia sighed. “No unfortunately not. It is quite a lot of work, crafting these spells. It was supposed to be my protection against an Inquisition attack, if they managed to hunt me down. But I guess that danger has gone, by now.”
“If I may be so impertinent.” Sven interrupted. “If you are out of spells it might be a good idea to free me in a fighting scenario. I had a lot of training with the sword and without my former limitations, I should be a force to reckon with. Also, this rope is annoying as hell. My nose itches and I can do nothing about it.”
“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Ingrid.
“It might be a good idea to warm up with your new merchant partner. If you don't decide to kill him, you'll have to eventually.”
“I don't want to talk about it,” snapped Ingrid. “He remains bound until I decide to free him.” Sven shook his head slowly, contemplating this cosmic injustice.
“Oh well, 's your call.” Lucia laid back against the wagon and rested her eyes for a moment. Nobody had tried to stab her, making the conversation a win in her books. She drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
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Although Sven spent the next two days of their journey tied up and ignored, he was not idle. Exploring your altered personality can be very time consuming. As it turns out, it is quite difficult to examine your mind using your mind. There was just no baseline. After a handful of fruitless attempts to discern the changes Baal had brought, he decided to work with hypothetical scenarios. Something solid and reasonable to start out.
How would he kill Lucia and Ingrid? A very good question. His hands were still tied behind his back, but that wouldn't be a problem if he managed to get them by surprise. He had noticed that Lucia slept during her night watch, so he could wait until that had happened, then step over his bound hands and strangle Ingrid while she slept using the same rope she used to bind him. He had to smile a little at the thought. Then he would have to dispatch Lucia and flee with the sword. She always kept it close to her, so there was little hope of stealing it without waking her. That would be more difficult since he didn't know what she could do. He'd have to be quick then. Just grab the sword and stab her immediately.
So far so good, but now came the difficult part of the thought experiment. What would he have done differently before encountering Baal? He frowned, thinking hard. He used to be fearful, right? Maybe the idea of strangling Ingrid would have frightened him. She was bigger and a bit stronger than him, after all. So grabbing the sword first, killing Lucia in the process, and then dealing with Ingrid. Something was still off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. No matter, it was close enough. A more cautious approach for a more cautious Sven. Satisfied, he leaned back on his bench.
In truth, he wasn't interested in killing them, yet. Ingrid had taught him how to use a sword after all, and she'd been a good travel companion during the last year. And Lucia was simply too fascinating to kill so soon. He wanted to know more about Baal and even though his whispered promises had been enticing, he wasn't foolish enough to take a demon at his word. Taking a necromancer at her word was equally foolish, though.
Ingrid stopped the wagon, interrupting Sven's ruminations. “Time to stop for the day. The horses need to graze and we need some firewood for the night. The weather looks stable enough, but it's going to get cold. It should be safe enough, there'll hardly be any bandits this close to the Northlands.” With a sigh, Sven jumped from the wagon and held out his arms towards Ingrid. Ignoring him, she freed the horses from their harness, then marched off into the forest. Maybe killing her wasn't such a bad idea after all.
They gathered around the fire which banished the cold night from the perimeter of their camp. Even Lucia had joined in. “Last night in the Coldwood, huh?” Lucia said. “I have to say, you've been great travel companions so far.” Sven looked at her questioningly. “I enjoyed the lack of interaction and sleeping in the wagon, mostly. Anyway, I wanted to give something back, to say thanks in a way.”
Ingrid gave her a disgusted look, but that was expected. Sven would not let this chance go to waste. “Can you tell us something about Baal? Something a bit more detailed than your previous account.”
For a second, Lucia only looked at him, thinking. Her face betrayed nothing of what was going on inside. “Sure, knowing won't kill you. As long as you don't tell anyone. Baal is a creature of the Deep, the infernal realm, the place you go when you sleep.” This earned her confused looks from Ingrid and Sven.
“Isn't that just Mage Guild propaganda?” asked Ingrid. “The place of corruption from which the mages draw power. It actually exists?”
Lucia sighed. “They have worked hard to confuse everyone, huh? The answer is yes and no, but let me start at the beginning.”