by Eric Ugland
“Yes please.”
The girl set a chair between us and her, making something along the lines of a tiny coffee table. Then, she opened a drawer from her desk and pulled a few items out. She set the items on the chair, a shallow bowl about a foot across, a candle, and a crystal decanter full of a silvery liquid. It looked more than a little like mercury.
She poured the silvery liquid into the bowl. Then she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
The candle lit by itself.
I could feel energy thrumming in the room. Glowing runes started to swirl around her body, up and down. And then everything moving and spinning around dumped into the silvery liquid with enough force that ripples went across the vessel.
The ripples went back and forth, somehow building even though I didn’t see anything else going in there. The ripples moved faster until looking into the vessel made it seem like I was looking at static. An image was on the other side of the static, and it suddenly snapped into clear focus. Close up on her face. Pale skin, black hair, pert nose. Very elegant, very beautiful. And very angry. She was yelling, but I couldn’t hear anything.
The woman raged for a moment before someone must have answered whatever it was she wanted, because she calmed down, and leaned back against a tiled surface. The camera, for lack of a better word — which is essentially what it was, a magic camera of some kind — stayed a fixed distance from her face. There wasn’t a whole lot of background to see, which was a shame.
“Why can’t we hear her?” I asked.
“Choosy beggar,” the divinomancer said. She wanted to seem like it was effortless, but I could see her muscles tensed. This did take work for her. “The lady has her home warded, so even this is a minor miracle. Had our friend here,” she nodded her head at Rebecca, “not been so single minded, even getting a visual would have been impossible. But I like Rebecca.”
“And the gold she brings you.”
“That gold is what allows me to keep up with my studies. It is what allows me to remain here debt- and contract-free. And it is what allows me to focus on divination. Without—”
“I appreciate what she is doing for you,” I said. “Can you, like, I mean, is this happening right now?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell where?”
She smiled. “I can show you.”
Her eyes closed one more time, and she gripped the chair with both hands.
The view in the vessel pulled back, further and further. I could see the whole room — a bathhouse. A private bathhouse with a singular bath. But all the other aspects of the bath were there. The woman, Lady Von Boek lay in a tub, naked. Servants moved around, shuffled around. Four, five, lots of them. Most carried large jars, and just as one of them was about to pour, we pulled back out of the house, going through a window. We moved across the grounds of the manor, through the streets of Osterstadt, and slammed through a window in the Magic Circle until I was looking at myself looking at myself.
“Oh my god,” I said. “Now has become then.”
“Seen enough?” she asked.
“Can you go back to the lady?”
She sighed, but did as requested, and we were treated to the view of the lady in her tub. Close up again.
“Pull back, so we can see the whole room,” I asked.
“This is not a science, my lord,” she said through partially clenched teeth.
“Do what you can,” I said, wishing I had more gold to throw at the situation.
She did something, likely behind the scenes as they were, and then we were back at the larger view.
The attendants had left the room, and the lady relaxed in a steamy bath.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just not seeing anything to indicate she’s this child-killing—”
I stopped talking as the door in the bathhouse room opened, and two of the attendants shuffled in with a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen. A figure in a black robe followed.
The girl struggled, but clearly the attendants were very strong. They picked the girl up and held her horizontally above the bath.
There was a golden flash as the figure in black brandished a curved bronze blade. A large dagger of sorts. Well, more like a short sword. Very shiny, very sharp. I was quite glad there was no sound now, because it was very clear the girl was screaming.
“Where is this house?” I asked, a very grim feeling overtaking me. That is the moment I accepted the quest from Rebecca.
“I can guide you,” Rebecca said.
“No,” I replied, “you get Léon Glaton, and show him this.”
“You cannot,” the mage said. “This is not—”
“This cannot stand,” I said. “Fetch the viceroy.”
“But—“ Rebecca protested.
“You wanted this stopped,” I said. “We are stopping it. But we need some sort of authority to see what’s happening.”
Rebecca looked scared, her eyes were wide and she opened and closed her mouth a few times without actually saying anything.
“Tell Léon I am asking him to come, use my name. He will follow you.”
“I—“
“Go, now.”
Rebecca stood, but I grabbed her hand to stop her exit.
“You, mage,” I said, “can you hold this?”
“Until the candle goes out, but—”
“Then hurry, Rebecca.”
She ran from the room.
“Mage, help me, and I will help you,” I said. “Hinder me, and I will destroy you. Understand?”
She paled, but nodded.
“You know where this house is?” I asked.
She nodded again.
“What’s the easiest way to get there?”
“Go towards the mountains, find the nicest-looking road heading towards the Sea. Look for the biggest house.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For all of this.”
I snuck a look back at the silver in the bowl just in time to see blood pouring down out of the body of the little girl all over Lady Von Boek. Lady Von Boek appeared to be in ecstasy. I was disgusted.
And then I was running.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The directions the mancer gave me were simple to follow, and effective. It wasn’t far to the cliff face, and once there, the mansions were easy to spot. They were huge. Massive expanses of ground surrounded by ornate walls with huge gates guarded by men and women with arms and armor. Some of them looked at me as I hurried by, but no one made a move to intercept me. Not that I blamed them. I was in a rage. I have a feeling it was rather apparent, given some of the looks I received.
The Von Boek manor wasn’t subtle. A gilded ‘VB’ was emblazoned across the front gate, and the manor itself rose high and ornate behind the walls. There was a massive fountain, large enough I could see it from the outside. And, unlike some of the other homes, the guards around the VB place were numerous.
I stopped at the big black iron gates, staring through and looking at the building beyond. I walked the mental steps through the place, doing my best to visualize how the magical camera had gone through, getting an idea of the path I might want to take. I knew it was too late to save the girl. But while I didn’t need to catch Von Boek in the act, I wouldn’t have minded.
“You need something?” A harsh voice asked.
I didn’t want to interact with anyone. Especially not a guard. So I ignored the voice, and instead reached out and grabbed hold of the gate.
“What is it you think you are doing, cur?” The voice asked again, louder this time, which meant the guard was getting closer.
“Back off, pal,” I said, flexing and testing the bars.
“Release your grip or I will get violent.”
I turned to look at the person talking to me.
Male. Clean shaven. Clear eyes.
“You know what goes on behind these gates?”
“No,” he said, “and I have no cares to know.”
I flicked my gaze down to his hand, and
saw it on the hilt of a sword. He wore the Von Boek crest on a thick tabard, barely hiding the split mail armor behind it. He moved with a certain amount of comfort in his armor, meaning he knew what he was doing. At least enough to look the part.
“You protect an evil woman.”
“Her coin is as gold as any.”
“Hmm, I was starting to like you, bub. But now—”
He pulled his sword out and swung with a back hand at my neck.
I leaned back, letting the tip of the blade cut through some of my beard. Then I shot my hand out and got a grip around his throat.
“Sorry,” I said, picking him up and bringing him to my face. “Normally I might try a diplomatic approach, but I got a thing about hurting kids.”
He struggled, and his face turned a rather unpleasant shade of purple.
A cool feeling settled over me. Righteous anger had boiled over, and I was beyond everything but the desire to enact vengeance.
I threw the man as hard as I could across the road, and he smashed into a wall. I turned to the gate, grabbed hold, and pulled.
For a moment, nothing.
Then the metal started to groan in protest, and there was a sharp snap as the hinges failed, and I had the gates in my hands. I dumped it to either side of me, and I stared down the two guards who stepped out of a guard shack to confront me.
The woman had a sword out, and it wavered slightly.
The man next to her had his sword in his hand, but it was at his side, and he was shaking.
“What are you?” he asked.
“Run,” I snapped, “and you won’t have to find out.”
He ran.
The woman, a smidge more courageous, swung at me, but it was a pathetic sort of attack. She didn’t have a chance of actually hitting me.
I let her overextend, and then I stepped forward into as big a punch as I could, smashing my fist in to her side. Bones definitely broke, as her rib cage deformed, and she dropped to the ground, bloody bubbles escaping her lips.
An arrow thwacked into the ground by my feet. Then another, closer to me.
I chanced a look up, and I saw plenty of archers about, all either shooting at me or about to, so I sprinted for the front doors of the manor. I got hit once, the arrow slamming into my side, but it didn’t stop me or slow me down. I barely felt it. It just made me run faster, jumping up and slamming my shoulder into the big double doors.
Again, the hinges were the failure point, and the massive doors fell inward, crashing to the delicate stone floor with a resounding boom.
The interior was gauche. Gold filigree, stained glass, ornate columns, and a staircase larger than most homes I’d lived in.
Guards came running into the room, swords and maces out, ready to deal with the intruder.
I picked up one of the doors, and I spun it around before releasing it, the massive hunk of wood sailing horizontally through the air.
One of the guards, probably not the smartest in the bunch, tried to block the door with her sword.
It didn’t go well.
The door just flattened the guards.
I followed the door, jumping up onto it so I could leap onto the stairs. And then I was sprinting up, taking the stairs more than a few at a time, getting up to the second floor in record time.
Left or right— I couldn’t quite remember. I thought my labyrinthine recall would have told me, but standing there, I wondered if I had to have walked the path to remember. It wasn’t like I could just see it on a map or a picture. Or a magic video.
Guards were heading up to me from the left, so I figured I’d ask them.
“Which way to the bath?” I shouted.
One of them stutter stepped, a bit shocked, and he looked over his shoulder for a second before before resuming his run.
All six guards pulled blades and stopped as a group.
“Do we really need to do this, guys?” I asked.
The red-faced one in the middle sneered at me. “You will regret this incursion, cur.”
“Cur? Again? Is that, like, in the Von Boek guard handbook?”
He didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he lunged at me.
A little hip twist, and the blade skated by on the outside of the armor around my thighs. I got my arm out fast enough to grab his forearm and pulled him to me. Then I brought his arm down while bringing my knee up.
It sent his elbow the wrong way. He screamed, and I relieved him of the sword he wouldn’t be needing any longer.
The next guard was already engaging, though I think his buddies’ wounds had gotten him a little worried, because he definitely hesitated long enough it changed the course of his swing. I got my sword around in time to push it wide, then spun inside his arm with my elbow up so I could knock him upside the noggin. Dude dropped like incels speed dating, and I was on the other side of the guards.
I used the flat of the blade to slap one of the guards upside his helmet, and backhanded the guard on my other side.
Two left.
They looked at each other, then at me.
Then they ran the other direction.
I whipped the sword horizontally, letting go at the tip of the arc so the blade spun through the air. A pretty decent throw, it did exactly as I’d hoped, and tangled up the guard’s legs. He went tumbling down. I’d started running right after I let the sword go, so when guard one crashed to the ground, and guard two paused to look at what had happened to his friend, I was already soaring through the air, arms out. I slammed into the standing guard, and I brought him down to the ground. Perfect football tackle, thank you Coach McMurty. I popped up and dropped an elbow on the downed guard, breaking some ribs and knocking the fight right out of him — what little remained at least.
The other guard got to his feet.
I looked at his face, and I realized I’d been making some poor assumptions.
She got to her feet. Blood trickled out of her nose.
Gamely, though, she brought her sword up, and held it between us. It wavered ever so much, and I could tell it required the bulk of her courage just to stand and face me after I’d dismantled her crew without a scratch.
She thrust the blade at me, and I just batted it out of the way with an open hand. So she dropped the sword. It clanged against the stone floor.
“I’m looking for Lady Von Boek,” I said quietly. “I believe she’s in her bath. Care to point the way?”
Trembling, she pointed behind her.
“Black doors,” she said.
“You run along now,” I replied, striding away from her.
I heard her steps echoing off the walls. I imagined there was a great chance the guard was going to bring reinforcements.
The hall was long, but it was immediately clear where I needed to head. Namely, the great big black doors. The walls around the doors was made of black marble, but the double doors had no other colors. Not even slightly. They were made of stone, but some stone that was pure black.
I pushed them open, stepped inside, and realized how weird this quest was about to become.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Immediately, there was a stairwell down, and I tripped a little on the first step, but the stairwell was open on either side so I could see the large room the stairs led into: a massive space that was wide open. Everything inside was made of the same black marble as the walls outside, shiny and beautiful, lit by black candles that burned with a bright blue-white flame. The floor was mostly covered, however, by figures in robes, hoods drawn up over their faces. And there were a ton of them. Shoulder to shoulder from the base of the stairs and around. All the way on the other side stood the figure I’d seen do the cutting. The asshole who’d killed the little girl. The dick in the white robes.
All the figures looked at me as one. It was completely unnatural.
“You dare invade the Master’s sanctuary?” The figure shouted at me, his voice shrill and deeply unpleasant.
“This is the Master’s sanctuary?” I asked.
“The Master will not look kindly on this—”
“Hey, buddy,” I said, “any chance you know an asshole named Donner?”
White robes turned his head, and I caught the slightest glimpse of his face. He had a white goatee, a little long and wispy.
“I know no one named Donner.”
“Fuck me, is this a different master?”
“There is but one master!” he screeched.
I flexed my muscles, and then I cracked my neck.
“All right,” I said, “I guess it’s time you meet him then.”
“I have met him,” he said, “I serve him—”
“Dude, I meant me. Way to ruin—”
“DESTROY THE INTRUDER!”
All the black robed figures launched themselves towards me as one. Simultaneous. As soon as one of the robed figures hit the bottom of the staircase, I caught sight of a face. Intensely white skin, blackened lips, dark teeth, and eyes that were almost a reverse bloodshot, where there were just bits of white left in the sclera, and virtually no pupils. It was also, at least at one point, a girl. Her arms were extended, long slender fingers with horribly busted fingernails reaching for me as she screeched.
It probably would have been terrifying if the figure hadn’t tripped on its robe and face-planted into the stairs with a sickening crunch. Which was gross on its own, but then it moved up a notch when the robed figure behind turned the fall into a gruesome curb stomp, snapping the first girl’s jaw off.
I figured the girl would be out of the fight, but she got right up and rejoined the tide.
With a mental flick, I fired off the identification spell. Sure enough, my assumption was correct.
Zombie Thrall
Lvl 11 Undead
“Ugh,” I said, “zombies.”
I reached into the bag, and my mind went blank. As great as the bag of holding is, and it’s truly one of the greatest magical items in the world, there is one singular drawback. If you can’t think of what you want, there’s no way to get something out. You can’t reach around, feeling for something. There’s no way to get struck by imagination. It’s all about knowing exactly what you need, and in that moment, as a hundred (or more) zombie girls sprinted up the stairs towards me, guttural screams pouring forth from ruined vocal cords, I couldn’t think of a weapon.
