The Mage's Passion

by Reed James

  Sophia, her robe half open, covered her hands in her breast milk. The creamy liquid smelled sweet, momentarily banishing the reek of the orc. Sophia smeared the milk on my blade and chanted, “Saphique, the Virgin Goddess that loves all women, bless this weapon so it may protect its bearer. Let this sword shine bright, a beacon to defend all women.”

  A pinkish hue suffused my sword. The orc pulled its reeking body out of the hole. I swung. My blade passed through its body. The dark magic animating the corpse ended, and it fell in to pieces before me. I glanced out of the temple. More of the zombies roamed the temple plaza.

  “Come on,” I shouted.

  Sophia pulled out her enchanted dagger. It glowed pink, signaling danger. Maybe I should make her carry it around more often to give us warning. I charged towards the entrance, Sophia following. Thrak, Faoril, and Xera were in trouble.

  I burst into daylight and hewed my sword through another zombie.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Warlock Unleashed

  Xerathalasia

  My bow was useless. And I doubt my knife would fare much better.

  The zombies I struck scrambled up the side of the temple after me. I climbed higher and reached the roof, racing towards the front of the building. I needed to find Faoril or Sophia. Their magic would be needed.

  I reached the edge of the temple and gasped.

  In the temple plaza below, Thrak cut his way through the horde of zombie orcs, the limp Faoril clutched in his arm. He swung his ax in powerful arcs. His weapon was as mundane as mine, but it was brutal, hewing through limbs and torsos, leaving a pile of writhing bits as he fled from something even worse.

  A twisted spirit ripped up paving stones and hurled them across the plaza at Thrak. They crashed about the orc, exploding with sharp cracks. The thing was twisted and monstrous, towering half the height of the temple I stood upon. It was a wizened, twisted woman.

  “Serisia,” I whispered in horror.

  The magic whispering on the wind came from the spirit. The necromancer who sent the zombies had harnessed Serisia and twisted the poor, sweet spirit into madness. She raved as she tried to kill her husband and Faoril.

  Footsteps crunched behind me.

  I whirled and reflexively fired an arrow. It took the zombie in the chest. No blood leaked out. The zombie didn't even flinch or notice my arrow. It and a second dead orc, half its skull missing, advanced on me. I cast my gaze around. Angela burst out of a nearby temple followed by Sophia. The knight's sword glowed pink and cleaved through a zombie with ease.

  Sophia had enchanted the knight's sword. Could she bless my bow?

  I scrambled down the side of the temple, the zombies following clumsily.

  ~ * ~

  Fireeyes

  I smiled as Angela emerged from the temple, her sword enchanted by divine magic. She hewed through a zombie with only one arm then pivoted and slashed through a second. She was skilled and had great stamina. I had witnessed her prowess once before.

  I would not make the same mistake twice. I downed a vial of the simulacrum's pussy juices and lifted my simulacrum and myself up onto a nearby temple to have the high ground. Angela yelled, waving towards the orc barbarian. He carried the limp body of the mage.

  The phantom had already been worth the effort expended to summon her.

  Without the mage to interfere, I could safely unleash the elements. Fire gathered in my hand, then I hurtled a ball of crackling heat at Angela. The knight pivoted and dived, her armor flashing as my magic crashed into the paving stones and set fire to the dry grass growing through the cracks.

  I frowned. She had quick reflexes.

  I hurtled more fire, the air dancing around the balls. Angela dodged and weaved as my fireballs exploded around her. How did the blasted woman move so well? She had speed, stamina, and agility, and the strength of her sword was unmatched.

  She glared at me as I sent a wind whipping at her to bind the bitch. She slashed her sword at precisely the instant before my wind would have struck her. The sword's enchantment parted my spell, and the wind exploded.

  It threw her back, but she landed in a roll and came up.

  There was more about her. I sent out life magic to probe at her, a divining spell. I was missing something about this female knight. My magic wrapped around her as I continued hurling fireballs while directing my zombies to swarm her.

  The god Gewin wreathed her. She had participated in a ritual. A powerful one, and the warrior god had blessed her limbs and skill, increasing her reflexes and strength. I would have to use even more spectacular magic to take her down.

  I downed another vial.

  “Master,” the simulacrum said behind me. “The elf.”

  My eyes were drawn to Xerathalasia. She raced along the temples, chased by a pair of my zombies, and rushed towards Sophia. The acolyte cowered behind a piece of fallen ruin. A primal growl escaped my lips. Pain flared in my chest and belly. This body had never felt the elf-bitch's arrows, but the agony and humiliation of dying to the elf was seared into my soul.

  I sent my magic at the elf. Angela could wait.

  ~ * ~

  Xerathalasia

  “Can you enchant my bow?” I shouted as I raced towards Sophia. She huddled behind a stone, watching fire rain down from a nearby building. The necromancer stood atop it, a naked, bald woman beside him.

  A simulacrum. Her face appeared familiar. Was it the same simulacrum that had been with Fireeyes? Why would she be here? Why would another mage want to kill us?

  “I can,” Sophia nodded, her hand darting inside her robe to fondle her breast.

  A wind ripped across the plaza. The grass bent. The necromancer's voice screamed on the wind. I gasped as it struck me like a solid object. The world spun about me and then I crashed into the side of a temple.

  A bone snapped in my leg. Agony flared as I crashed to the ground. My hands clenched about nothing. I had lost my bow in the tumble. I pushed myself up, glaring at the warlock standing atop the temple. Fire billowed in his hand as he stared at me.

  Even from here, his eyes burned like coals. Like Fireeyes's. Somehow he had found a new body, younger and stronger, to inhabit. And he wanted me dead.

  I forced myself to dive into the temple's half-collapsed entrance as the fire burst outside, the heat rolling over me. I screamed, crawling deeper and deeper into the temple as the stones cracked and groaned. Fire washed through the walls. The stones glowed cherry red.

  ~ * ~

  Thrak

  I ignored the fireballs slamming into the temple. The heat rippled across the battlefield. I hoped Xera was still alive. But I had to get Faoril to Sophia. She was the only one that could heal her, and we desperately needed her magic.

  Behind me, Serisia gibbered, no longer coherent. She was utterly consumed by her madness as she rampaged after me. Stones crashed around me. But I was almost to Sophia. I swung my ax and cut down a zombie between us.

  I only hoped it wasn't too late to—

  The world exploded behind me.

  ~ * ~

  Acolyte Sophia

  Danger hurtled from every direction. Poor Xera might be dead. The mad mage on the rooftop kept hurtling down his fire. The heat washed over me as I huddled, my dagger gripped in one hand. Thrak, carrying Faoril, raced towards me.

  Behind him something foul hurled stones. The face was twisted and ugly, but I could see traces of Serisia's beauty. My stomach sank. Poor Thrak. I had hoped this would never happen. But phantoms always went mad in the end, turning on those they loved out of jealousy.

  I shoved my hand into my pouch and pulled out the ampoule of holy milk I had made after meeting Serisia. My body trembled as the spirit loomed large, racing closer. Thrak dodged a stone, then cut down an orc zombie.

  A fireball exploded behind him.

  I screamed as Thrak and Faoril were thrown forward. They landed hard, Faoril rolling limply across the ground and lying on her back. The entire side of her head was covered in blood. She was
badly hurt before the fireball threw her.

  “Mine!” Serisia gibbered, froth pouring from the spirit's mouth.

  Her clawed hand reached out and seized Thrak as he struggled to rise. The orc roared in pain as the spirit's claws sank into his flesh. She lifted him up into the air, her mouth open wide. It was full of teeth.

  Serisia prepared to eat her husband.

  I threw my ampoule of Holy Milk. It was blessed by Saphique. It was potent stuff. It could break curses and exorcise spirits. The bottle glinted as it twisted through the air. It reached the height of its arch and began to plummet.

  My stomach sank. I didn't throw it hard enough.

  It was the only one I had. Why hadn't I made more? I had the spare ampoules.

  I tensed as the ampoule hurtled towards the ground. My stomach curled. I held my breath, not even flinching as a fireball burst nearby. Serisia's mouth opened wider as she pushed her struggling husband's entire upper body into her cavernous opening.

  The glass struck the spirit's shin. It shattered. Pink light flared as the milk washed over the spirit's leg. Serisia let out a howl. Black energy appeared around the spirit, billowing like an inky, foul smoke. The pink light crashed into the smoke. The smoke swirled around beams of radiance, struggling to consume it.

  But Saphique's light burned majestic.

  ~ * ~

  Fireeyes

  My eyes scanned for Angela. I had lost her trying to kill the elf. I had no idea if Xera was even dead. I hoped she was. I threw a fireball at the orc then kept at my search. Serisia's gibbering grew triumphant as she seized him.

  “Where are you, Angela?” I snarled. “Do you see her?”

  “No, Master,” the simulacrum calmly answered.

  “Las-damn her. Where could she have gone?”

  Smoke drifted across the plaza from the many fires my magic had started. It obscured some of the ground. I sent wind to sweep across the plaza and gather up the smoke. What was hidden was revealed. Angela wasn't hiding in the smoke.

  “Where—”

  Magic exploded from Serisia. Pink light flooded across the plaza. My control over the phantom vanished, ripped away by the Goddess Saphique. The spirit let out a last, maddening gibber, and then she billowed away to the Astral Realm.

  My eyes spotted Sophia where she huddled. The bitch had exorcised Serisia.

  Fire crackled on my fingers. I knew who had to die next.

  ~ * ~

  Thrak

  The pink light engulfed me.

  I'm free, Thrak, Serisia whispered in my mind as I fell to the ground. I'm so sorry. It wasn't me. The voice made me do it. But I'm free. Sophia did it.

  I grunted as I crashed into the ground. I looked up, tears burning in my eyes as the monstrous, twisted thing that had been my wife billowed like steam. The pink light wafted it away. The steam diffused, fading into nothingness.

  I love you, Thrak. Serisia's voice was so faint. I am glad for every heartbeat we had. I know she'll take care of you. Love you. I'll be waiting for the pair of you. Watching... loving...

  “No!” I screamed, my hands reaching up, trying to grab the fading mist. But you couldn't clutch vapor. The mist spilled out from between my fingers before vanishing. “No!” My fist slammed into the ground. She was gone.

  Truly. Irrevocably. Gone.

  ~ * ~

  Journeyman Mage Faoril

  I jolted into consciousness. My mouth stained with sweet, creamy milk. I bolted up, staring at the wide-eyed face of Sophia. Energy suffused my body. I was alert and strong. There was no pain in my body. The soreness of the last two days of searching, the lingering ache from days spent riding a horse, to the massive blow to my head that had plunged me into unconsciousness had all vanished.

  Sophia held a vial clutched in her hand. She had used a potion on me. There must not have been time for the acolyte to use her healing magic.

  “Where's Serisia?” I demanded, trying to get my bearing. I was outside. Fire crackled across the plaza. Zombie orcs lumbered towards us. Thrak was nearby, sobbing on his hands and knees as he punched the paving stones, blood matting his side.

  “Exorcised,” Sophia answered. “Listen, there's a mage. He's throwing fireballs down at us.”

  Sophia pointed at a man who threw a fireball. The air hissed as it streaked right at us. I sent out my magic. Stones shuddered as a wall of earth ripped up before us. The fire crashed into the wall, flames licking over the top.

  “Who is that?” I demanded.

  “I have no idea,” Sophia countered.

  “Stay here,” I told her. I pulled out another vial of cum and downed it, adding to my reserves of power. “I'll deal with the mage.”

  Sophia nodded emphatically, her green eyes trembling.

  “And...find Angela. I don't know what happened to her.”

  “I will,” I answered.

  I strode out from behind the barrier. Another fireball streaked down. I summoned the wind, catching the ball and deflecting it into a pair of zombies. Their dead flesh burned like wax candles, consuming the zombies.

  Smiling, I lifted into the air. I did not recognize the mage. He was Thosian and young, with a face tanned by the sun. He had broad shoulders and the frame of a man who spent his days laboring in the field instead of one who spent his time in study.

  And he had a simulacrum.

  Fireeyes's simulacrum.

  “You're him,” I gasped. “Fireeyes.”

  “I am,” the man answered, a grin spread across his young face.

  He had found a way to transfer his soul. Greedy excitement filled me. “How did you do that?”

  Fireeyes laughed and sent his magic crashing into mine.

  ~ * ~

  Knight-Errant Angela

  I heaved myself up onto the roof of the temple. When Fireeyes stopped attacking and switched to Xera, I took the chance, darting down the side of the temple and reaching the back. Then I climbed. It was hard. My fingers ached, two bleeding from the rough stones.

  I had ignored the pain and made the top.

  The mage dueled with Faoril, who flew on the winds. Fire and wind exploded between the two, filling the air with ear-splitting detonations. My ears rang. I flinched against the powers unleashed. The building trembled beneath my feet.

  I drew my sword and advanced on his back.

  “Master,” the simulacrum shouted as I advanced.

  My stomach tensed. I charged, raising up my sword.

  The mage never turned, focused on his duel with Faoril. The pair poured all their magic into killing each other. My boots crunched on the stone. My armor jingled. The mage kept ignoring me. I had a perfect shot at his back.

  It wasn't honorable. But this man was dangerous. He may have killed Xera. If he noticed me, he would rip me apart with his magic. I was lucky to survive the onslaught at a distance. I had never moved with such dexterity.

  Gewin's guidance had been on me. The blessing I received the night before I departed on my Quest had kept me alive.

  “Master!” There was something approaching urgency in the simulacrum's voice. Emotion crossed her face.

  She bent down and came up with a dagger. Without a word, she rushed at me, lunging with the sharp weapon.

  My sword swung. I cut down the naked simulacrum. She fell in a spray of blood at my feet. I leaped over her and thrust my sword through the back of the mage. He stiffened and let out a gurgling gasp. He threw a look over his shoulder.

  “How?” he gasped, blood bubbling out the corners of his mouth. “Where?”

  I kicked him off my sword. His body fell and landed hard on the paving stones below, bursting like a rotten melon.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Lady Delilah's Plan

  Xerathalasia

  It was quiet around the fire. We had found the first piece of the sword, but no one wanted to celebrate. Sophia sat cuddled up to Angela as the pair both stared into the fire. Thrak was alone, his eyes red with grief, and Faoril was buried in Fireeyes's book.


  How much vitriol did the warlock have to have, to steal another man's body after he died? What did Angela do to receive this man's enmity? Why had he hunted us across the Magery? He was dead, hopefully for good, along with his simulacrum.

  But we would never discover his motivations.

  “So that's how he did it,” Faoril announced suddenly.

  “What?” I asked.

  Sophia and Angela sat up, glancing at Faoril. Thrak didn't move.

  “Fireeyes,” Faoril said. “He used what he dubbed a phylactery, a container that held his soul when he died.”

  Faoril paused and then opened a pouch. She pulled out a pair of pendants. The pouch had belonged to Fireeyes. We let Faoril attend to his belongings. Angela let out a gasp, her eyes locked on one of the pendants studded in garnets.

  Its twin was about Angela's neck.

  “This one,” Faoril said, touching a pendant with a large, black gem set in it. “I think his soul is in here, waiting for a vessel. The simulacrum must have smuggled the amulet away and then found her master a new host. I think that's what caused the spiritual disturbance Sophia felt a few weeks ago. It was Fireeyes's soul warring with the soul of the poor man he possessed.”

  “Destroy it,” Thrak rumbled.

  Faoril tossed the amulet into the fire. It roared brighter and brighter as Faoril poured her magic into it. A scream raced out of the fire. The flames momentarily burned blackish-green, and then they extinguished.

  “No more Fireeyes,” Sophia whispered.

  “Where did you get that broach?” Angela asked, her cheeks pale.

  “From Fireeyes, of course,” Faoril asked. “Don't worry. It's destroyed.”

  “No, the one you didn't throw in the fire.”

  Faoril frowned at the second necklace, encrusted with garnets.

  “Angela has one just like that,” Sophia gasped. I nodded in agreement.

  “Lady Delilah gave it to me,” Angela whispered, pulling out its exact match from beneath her armor. “What does that mean?”

  ~ * ~

  King Edward IV – Shesax, The Kingdom of Secare