Chapter 9
Mack Nert Patrick would have breathed out a sigh of annoyance if he had any air with which to breathe. Perhaps fortunately for his image, he was undead, and so could not. Known to almost everyone else as “The Great MAWeater, Dread Necromancer, Lord of the Maw, Keeper of the Dark Tomes of Yore, Lich beyond the pale!” Or was it pail? He’d never been sure. The phrase wasn’t in any of his books, not even the so-called “Dark Tomes of Yore,” his former master’s notes. He’d just heard his master use the phrase a few times to describe what Yore had meant to become. All before the accident of course, which was not his fault. It just couldn’t be. The portion of his master’s notes which he had thus far deciphered made it quite clear, really. Don’t stand in the circle as the clock strikes two hours past the height of the new moon.
He shook his head to dispel the unnecessary memories as he looked at his handiwork. Hing, his oldest and best friend, had neatly tied up two of the flesh things. Woman, he thought they were. He used to dream of having this many women around. Maybe once he worked out the rest of the notes and found a solution, he would dream again. Or fulfill the dream even. That was what he’d originally wanted, wasn’t it?
It had been so long now, he mused, as he used more magic to drag the wyvern, beaten badly by his tentacles but still conscious, into a sphere it couldn’t escape to make it easy to transport. The knight was still lying against the wall, paralyzed by his mere touch. That annoying minor wizard was in a puddle of some fluid against a stalagmite, shivering as he looked down at her. Hing carried the mildly interesting one and the- “Say, Hing, isn’t this one of my friend Corvik’s maesters?”
She was obviously a hobgoblin, a species of living thing he was almost as familiar with as humans. They came through all the time with offerings of test subjects. Such friendly flesh things, hobgoblins. Helpful and charitable, yes, that was hobgoblins for you.
“I- probably,” Hing said, still eyeing the doorway, through which he was certain the lizard was coming. A lizard who breathed fire. What a silly idea. Only Dragons could breathe fire, and not even most of those. “Maybe she was leading it here. I think our iruxi foe is what Corvik mentioned. The thing he was trying to capture, but couldn’t. He said it would follow him,” Hing explained, throwing her to the ground at Maweater’s feet as he walked around his master to start tying up the last one. The interesting one, the elf, was unconscious. Hing has beaten her bloody after she failed to hurt MAWeater, even as she tried to fight him off. He’d managed not to kill her. MAWeater considered a thought. Perhaps he should have just paralyzed her, but he’d been so disappointed he hadn’t wanted to bother.
“Really Hing, you’re supposed to pay better attention to these things,” Maweater admonished his friend. “I’m supposed to concentrate on the research into undoing our curses, and you handle the rest,” Maweater emphasized. “I was just getting started on one of the new subjects! She’s probably just straight dead now, since I can’t observe and adjust and administer healing as needed. I liked the cat, her fur looks soft, I didn’t want to waste her this quickly. Well, I suppose we did just gain replacements. We’ll give the iruxi to Corvik after I use it for some tests. Once we find it, at least.”
He trailed off, his non-existent ears picking up a rhythmic thumping sound echoing ahead of something, which came out from his own doorway. “Oh, maybe your little friend is here. Stay visible and distract it, I’ll just vanish and ambush it,” Maweater said with a chuckle. He had prepared his Isolation Sphere twice for the day, so he’d try it first. Capture alive was the goal, afterall. First, he cast a concealment spell, vanishing from sight as he walked around behind a rock thrusting up toward the ceiling. He never could keep track if they were called stalagmites or stalactites.
Hing groaned, but obeyed, grabbing up the elf into just one hand and putting a knife to her throat with his other. No Hing, Maweater thought at his friend. I want that one alive! Use a different one! He insisted. Hing tossed the elf down and bent to pick up the hobgoblin instead.
There was a flash from inside the tunnel, and a bolt of lightning sprang out and struck Hing dead on! Maweater reflexively blinked in surprise, despite his lack of eyes to require it, losing vision for a precious half second. Hing didn’t look badly injured, yet it was clear he was surprised, and he’d failed to pick up the hobgoblin.
Less than three seconds after the lightning bolt, a black something moving too fast for Maweater to really see it burst out of his doorway in a cloud of momentary smoke. It went straight for Hing and something long and jagged swung down at his friend. Hing darted aside from the blow, but a second blow fell as quickly as the first and in a spray of ichor, Hing’s hand went flying.
Hing’s hand was flying? Hing didn’t have a hand. It, it was flying. His hand, his friend’s hand, was flying! “You HURT MY FRIEND!” MAWeater roared, flinging aside his cloak in dramatic fashion as he brought his hands up. As he was still invisible, no one saw this, but they heard him. They were familiar words to many of the assembled, if they still had the mind to interpret them. “Glow Ember, erupt! Fireball!” Maweater shouted, throwing the heightening fireball, a full Zeta grade, at the creature. He was supremely confident it would not hurt Hing.
Hing had a ring to protect against fire, and he was very agile. Maweater grinned in anticipation of the charred body of his foe as the fireball cleared away. However, nothing was there.
Suddenly, a second fireball blossomed on top of Maweater himself, and it took him by surprise. Had he been paying better attention, he’d have heard the firmly, but not loudly, spoken incantation. The lizard stood some sixty feet away, holding a wand pointed directly at Maweater. “There you are, you undead shitstain,” it growled at him.
Maweater wasn’t paying attention again. “My hat! Mother’s hat!” he shouted, patting at the cinders on the extremely old and worn hat, checking it for damage. “How dare you hurt mother’s hat!” he shouted at the lizard, enraged.
It ignored him, dashing forward, only to be intercepted by Hing. Hing swung a dagger in his remaining hand, trying to cut the creature in its shoulder and deliver a paralyzing poison, one which was quite potent. The dagger deflected off the lizard’s scales and Hing nearly stumbled as it raced past him.
It was once more wielding two swords with sawtoothed blades, and it swung both with remarkable speed at MAWeater. Once, twice, thrice, and then three more it swung them! MAWeater tried to endure the flurry as he gathered his mystic energies again. “
The lizard kept pace with every step, and strode right through his sphere of force even as it formed, still following him. This time, however, as it did, Hing leapt upon it from behind, tackling it. “Get off me, damned wight!” the creature shouted, and grabbed at Hing.
MAWeater took the chance to retreat as it grappled with Hing, casting a spell of false life on himself to make up for the damage done by the relentless creature. It seemed completely unharmed by the earlier fireball, and had even cast one of its own, if far less potent. Hing was having no luck hurting it, and it was clear his friend couldn’t long survive a grapple against it.
MAWeater drew himself up, steadying his mind and will. It was on him, as usual, to rescue the day! So a lowly fireball hadn’t been much use, he had strong spells at his disposal. There was one in particular he kept ready for especially troublesome enemies. This particular spell would do nothing at all to his good friend Hing, but would severely hurt the lizard that attacked them. “
It sliced right through the grappling pair, and MAWeater felt elation rise at his success. Elation which lasted only until Hing was thrown free and a sawtoothed sword sliced his leg off at the knee. The second sword stabbed down and impaled Hing through the chest. This blow thankfully still didn’t end the undead wight. Hing kept right on struggling. “No! NO NO NO! That’s not how this works!
The lizard was laughing. “Fuck! I thought this would be a mad, desperate, ruinous battle,” it chuckled as it yanked its sword out of Hing’s chest. MAWeater ran forward, hoping his paralyzing touch would save his friend, but he was far too slow. The lizard swung once, twice, thrice, then three more times. Hing didn’t have Maweater’s defenses, nor his endurance. Five hits. Jagged blades slashing and tearing the undead flesh and bones away, and then Hing’s head was ripped free and went sailing away.
“Hi… Hing…” Maweater said meekly, staring in horror at his friend’s disembodied head. The lizard stood tall, turning its gaze upon Maweater. The lich shivered. He felt no cold, save the cold of the grave. He felt no fear, not even of the grave. He was undead, beyond life, immune to death. Immortal, unaging, unkillable, the master of his domain, and… and... “
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Agritus Aquitaine still couldn’t bring herself to move. Even lying in a puddle of her own urine, she couldn’t move a muscle. Her gaze remained fixed on the spot where the undead monster had stood, almost a full minute before, staring down at her. Before Coal arrived and drove it off. Before Coal killed the wight. Alone. Unaided. Coal had used spells in the battle, three times. Once, before he entered the battle. She could tell he was moving faster somehow. A spell of Haste, perhaps. A lightning bolt and a Fireball, at least one cast from a wand. Impossible. One couldn’t use a wand and not be a caster. One couldn’t be a caster and fight like this. There was always a trade off.
Yet one could. Coal. Coal could. Coal had. It was even more mesmerizing than Franklin had described it. Agritus Aquitaine felt something course through her. Need. Desire. The power. The might. She wanted it. She wanted to have it for herself. Could following this monster lead her down the elusive path? Could staying close to this iruxi, watching, glimpsing, studying his impossible prowess, open the way forward for her? Was it possible?
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A hand shook her shoulder, and suddenly her body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, all nerve and fear released from her. Coal stood over her, concern evident even on his reptilian face as he reached down to lift her up. “You ah, slipped in something, Sir Knight,” he said gently, pulling her to her feet with ease.
Some part of her mind engaged, muscles remembering how to move, and she managed to stand. “It’s Ser, actually. Suh-err. Ser. I realize the distinction is subtle, but do please get it correct,” Agritus requested. “I am not a man. Men are Sirs. Women knights are Sers, if you please, Master Coal.” She had no idea why her first instinct was to correct his grammar.. Still, the ice was broken, her lips were working.
“Ser, eh?” he said, rolling it around on his tongue. “Understood,” he replied. “If you wish to clean yourself, please do so. You are the only one still in fit shape to help me with the others, and I cannot find Ssol.”
“Ah, yes, as you desire,” Agritus replied, waking fully to their present circumstances. She was, she was alive. Intact, even. Everyone was alive, somehow. Dust was all that remained of one undead, and the other… “Where is it?” she asked, pointing to the place it had stood at, just before it… well all she could call it was vanished.
“Contingency spell. I didn’t expect that,” Coal replied, sounding annoyed. “I’d prefer to have killed it outright. Of course, that would still only have bought the world a month or so, but I suppose a month is a long time, in comparison.”
“A month? A contingency spell? Did it teleport?”
“Yes, and it took the head of the other one with it. That was a lich. Have you heard of them?”
“A lich?” Lich? Yes, that word was… Agritus felt herself grow pale. “THAT WAS A LICH? A real lich?”
“I’m rather certain of it,” Coal replied as he tended to Catherine. Agritus, taking his lead, pulled a potion out and started walking towards Franklin.
“A real lich.” An undead spellcaster, created by its own hand in life. A deliberate attempt at immortality through undeath. The binding of the soul through foul and unspeakable rituals to some object of immense power. So long as the object survived, the lich would never truly be destroyed, no matter the damage to its physical shell.
Of course, she wasn’t supposed to have read the book detailing this knowledge. At this point there was little the Academy librarian could do to her however. At least until she returned to the Capital. Punishment also presupposed discovery, she reasoned.
There was work to do before she could worry more about discovery, Agritus considered as she stood before Franklin. The woman was- ugh, how to describe it? Agritus popped a stopper out of a potion bottle and tried to open Franklin’s mouth. As the idiot was still paralyzed, it wasn’t so hard to open her mouth and pour a potion down the throat. However, there was a slight issue. Agritus had no idea how to fix the paralysis. At least, she assumed Franklin was paralyzed. Her eyes were still open and seemed to be aware of her situation, but she wasn’t otherwise moving.
The number of problems this was going to cause if they couldn’t fix it, Agritus didn’t want to contemplate. General Gargant could easily ruin her career if his wife and former squire was permanently disabled. Was this permanent? There was magic able to remedy such maladies, spells she herself had seen in action, but she had no capacity for them at present. Her forte was arcane magical research, the sole discipline incapable of fixing this problem without using magic far more complex than the situation called for. Maybe. Theoretically speaking.
I kind of hate you, she thought to herself, looking at her superior, helpless on the floor. I kind of pity you too. How much of your life did he warp? Did you even want to be a woman, or was that his decision too? Gargant is a good general, but I bet he’s a shit husband.
Agritus turned to look at the rest. “Master Coal, I believe she is paralyzed,” she called out. “I have no means of fixing the condition, do you?” The iruxi’s spines reflected the pale light of their magical light sources, including the glowing halo above Franklin’s head. He turned towards her, and Agritus couldn’t help but watch in awe as the light seemed to light an aura overflowing with power for a moment before he walked over. An empty potion bottle lay next to the elf maid, Catherine. She had also somehow found time to clean every speck of blood from her uniform, though it had accumulated more tears. Did the woman know some useful household cantrip? With these ex-questers, historical precedence suggested a high probability of “Yes.” Maybe Agritus could inquire later to see if she already knew the spell.
Master Coal looked down at Franklin, eyes studying her. After a moment, he reached into his pack and pulled out a bottle, clear as water. “This will do the trick, I think. Lich paralysis is magical and permanent, but it’s not hard to remove with the right potion or spell,” he explained aloud. “At least, I think,” he muttered as he turned to walk away. “If that doesn’t work, she’ll have to wait for a Cleric to help her.”
Agritus held up the potion, examining it closely. She pulled the stopper out and almost licked the potion. This could cure magical paralysis? He seemed to have an endless supply of potions, and she wondered if there was an occasion where he would run out. Could she, perhaps, save a little to test later? The potion was clear, she’d never seen its like before. In all her life, she’d never seen a clear potion before. This had to mean something, didn’t it?
Agritus pulled a small vial out of her pouch, pouring the tiniest amount of potion she dared into the vial, then sealed it and set it away. That done, she turned to the task of trying to pour the potion down Franklin’s throat. “I think I’m supposed to make some manner of quip right now, but nothing comes to mind,” she said aloud as she managed to wedge her superior’s mouth open and carefully pour the potion in.
In a moment it was gone, and she watched, waiting. Did it work? Did she disturb it by taking a little for testing later? What would she do if- “COUUUUUUUUU, hah hah hah, by Pleasure’s tits, Agritus, why did you play around for?” Franklin demanded, coughing and glaring with annoyance at Agritus as she lay on the ground. “I could have been paraylzed for life!”
“You don’t seem to be,” Agritus replied, offering a required hand to Franklin, who took it and pulled herself to her feet. She nearly toppled the mage, but Agritus had braced correctly. “Welcome back, Ser,” she said perfunctorily.
“I- thank you, Knight-Spear,” Franklin replied, and the pair tread back to the rest. Franklin was not uninjured, but neither of them had suffered the kind of serious wounds the elf or hob had endured. Given the way Master Coal was wrapping the hob’s arm, it was likely her arm was broken. Did he have no potion to correct her? Was it just something he was unwilling to do?
“This should hold for now, Mala,” he said patiently to the hob.
She felt her arm, and then smiled up at him. “Indeed, my Lord! This will suffice for the time. You were masterful in driving your foes from the field. I do think they fled outright,” she noted, looking towards the doors. “Should we explore inside?”
“They said something about a cat. Please, there were only two Amurran, cats, at the battle. It has to be Marta,” Franklin pleaded her case before Coal could answer. “We have to go look for her.”
“Ssol has already wandered inside, I passed him as I was leaving. That Leshy is a surprising individual,” Coal replied, looking towards the door. “Everyone here needs a rest, our supply of potions and curatives is limited.”
“Every second of rest lets Mara get further ahead!” Catherine protested. “We cannot dally!”
“We have to. I’m still only one man, I can’t fight through all of them, rescue Mara, and protect all of you at the same time. You’ve got to be fit to see to yourselves when we catch up,” Coal countered.
“My God is correct. This is why even gods have servants, afterall. It would be wise to seek out Ser Starr’s companion, if we are not to continue in haste,” Maladictus spoke up. “I can walk, I will gladly go inside,” she volunteered as well.
Catherine’s eyes lit up with anger at first Coal’s and then the hobgoblin’s words, but the fire died as quickly as it rose, and she hung her head and nodded in agreement. “You are right,” she agreed morosely.
Coal chuckled. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Very well! Agritus, stay with Catherine out here. Retreat inside if anything else comes, but do not fight. I will take Mala and Ser Starr to search for her friend and Sun Shining on Leaves.”
He turned to the wyvern. “
“
It blinked at her for a moment, locking gazes. “
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“How will you deal with the guardian statues?” Franklin asked him as he walked up to the door into the lich’s lair.
“Oh, those things? Only the one that operates the door is real, all the others are clever illusions,” August replied. He casually decapitated the skeleton which operated the door, and it collapsed. It did not seem to be dangerous, even to the battle weary women, but it was best to be sure. “Come on,” he urged, walking quickly forward.
The two women followed him into the tunnel. One was eager, cradling her arm as she trotted at his side to keep up, watching the illusions beat fruitlessly at both of them as they walked past. The other was reluctant, hesitant, but determined to seek out her friend. She flinched twice before she became convinced the illusions could do her no harm, but afterwards she kept up just fine.
“The lab was this way,” he said, pointing down the path he used while chasing the wight. There were numerous minor undead in the chamber, yet all of them were so weak even the two women seemed to find it easy to brush them aside. Most seemed to be used as labor, and were unarmed. None seemed to be intelligent, either. They’d simply stand where they were until they saw movement and shamble forward to attack without any tactics.
It wasn’t a long walk, perhaps a few minutes, but partway to the curtained room at the back, Coal spotted a light bobbing ahead. The passages weren’t well lit, and this light was strong and clear. It quickly became visible as a person, and August deduced it was Ssol after only a moment. “My friend, you’re alright!” he called cheerfully. The noise disturbed an undead servant that had been standing in a corner outside the light, but Franklin sliced its head off before it moved more than ten feet.
“Ah, Coal, indeed, indeed, I myself am fine,” the leshy agreed, but without the usual cheer Coal associated with him.
“What did you see in the room ahead?” August asked, guessing that was where he came from.
“Nothing good. Ser Yearga was not inside when I reached it. There was lots of blood and even cat fur to suggest she had been, but none of the skeletons within are amurran,” he explained. “My deepest sympathies, Ser Franklin,” Ssol said as he bowed low to the knight.
“She’s… you’re sure she’s not there? Could she be somewhere else? Are there rooms past that?” Franklin asked, taking several frantic steps forward. She then broke into a sprint without waiting for an answer.
“I found no way out or other rooms!” Ssol shouted after her. August sighed, and sprang into a quick sprint as well. He did not try to stop Franklin from running, he simply kept the knight from injury. He stood silent vigil as she frantically searched the room.
It was a large room, the largest he’d seen after the illusion filled hallway. Tables were spread all over. August was certain several had contained living creatures or undead when he’d been inside before, but all but two were empty. A smoking pile of melted bones suggested the work of Ssol, and there was nothing else alive or moving in the place but himself and Franklin. Corpses, partly transformed into skeletons, adorned two tables. One was an old woman, another a young girl. The girl wore rags and seemed to have a stench to her, but the old woman looked to have died recently.
After a few moments of frantic search, as Ssol and Mala caught up, Franklin straightened. Her eyes looked red, yet August didn’t think she’d been crying. “If you please, Master Coal, might we search the rest of the lair, just to be certain?”
He nodded, following along as she sought out every nook and cranny. Ssol had pulled out a notebook and a pencil and was writing notes about everything in the place. There was even a treasure room, but they found no signs of Ser Yearga.
When August and the others returned, they traveled around thirty minutes further down the tunnel, to get away from the stink of the undead, before everyone else collapsed into sleep. He stayed up to keep watch. Their prey had gained a little ground, but he was certain they could make it back. There was a last surprise, however. When the rest awoke to continue, one stayed back.
“My kind require little food and nourishment,” Ssol explained. “However, we do need sunlight. This quest will take weeks, I suspect. I will remain here my friend, hoping you won’t mind. I shall seek out clues to the lich’s location, catalogue the lair, and return to the surface to give report of the chase thus far.”
“If you wish,” August agreed, a little sad Ssol was not continuing on. The leshy was the first creature he’d met in this world, and he realized he was very fond of the animate plant.
“I cannot sustain myself in these tunnels for too long, sadly. I require water and sunlight, and the latter is not here. I would quickly become a burden on a long chase underground. I wish you all good hunting! I shall share all my discoveries on your return!”