by Pirateaba
Illphres raced towards him on the frozen sea. She lept, and a pillar of ice threw her up onto the deck. Ceria cried out. It was a trap! There was no way Illphres could fight an entire crew of pirates and their captain alone. She leapt from the deck of the ship she was on and dove into the waters below.
—-
Pisces remembered the past. With every step and thrust and dodge and parry, he remembered the lessons his fauther had taught him. His sword felt heavy in his hands, but he dared not stop moving.
“Tiring, mage? You have skill, but I have Skills.”
The tattooed pirate laughed at him as Pisces gasped for air. He was badly winded. Pisces knew he couldn’t continue. He stepped backwards, towards a place where the dead had been cut down in droves. The man advanced, laughing. He was coming for the finishing kill.
One slash nearly tore the rapier Pisces held out of his hands. The thrust with the dagger cut him across the ribs. Pisces hissed, and tripped backwards over a corpse. He raised his rapied as the man stepped over the body—
And it seized him by the leg. The pirate turned, stabbing at the man who rose from the ground.
“What is this?”
He was horrified to find the man who’d grabbed him was dead. The tears in his chest showed clearly where he’d been kiklled. But he still struck at the pirate, and another zombie grabbed him from the other side.
“Apologies.”
Pisces rose to his feet and lifted his rapier. The tattooed pirate stared at him with horror and fury.
“You coward! This is a duel!”
“Only to you.”
Pisces ran the tattooed man through. He turned, and took a deep breath. More pirates were coming, swinging onto the deck and stopping in horror when they realized who they were facing.
“Necromancer!”
“Ah, yes.”
Pisces stared sadly at the dead around him. They charged towards the living and he walked forwards, rapier in hand.
“I suppose there’s no hiding it now.”
—-
Illphres and the [Storm Captain] fought on the deck of his ship, exchanging blows. For Illlphres, each spell was a spear of ice, or a storm of frozen daggers that cut down pirate after pirate, merciless, tearing holes in the deck of the ship. But the captain of the pirates dodged each spell, moving with effortless grace and speed on the rocking deck.
And he was strong, too. Each time Illphres raised a wall of ice to block, him, he would swing past the wall of ice or shatter it with his enchanted blade. It could pierce her thickest barrier, and she didn’t have the time to fight him and the crew that assailed her from all sides.
He caught her as she froze a score of pirates around her. The captain kicked Ilphress of her feet. He tried to stab her through the chest as she lay on the ground, but she pointed and he dropped his sword, howling as it froze his skin.
He drew a dagger from his belt and threw himself at Illphres. She blasted him off his feet with a gust of frozen air, but he was back in a second. He raised his dagger with a yell—
And his foot came down on the patch of slick ice underfoot. Ceria shot an [Ice Dart] at the man’s head as she hauled her drenched body on the deck.
The captain’s boot landed on the ice and he turned and leaned out of the way of the shard of ice. He grinned as Ceria stared at him in dismay.
“On my ship, I cannot be tripped by air, water, or any other thing underfoot, girl.”
Then he turned and leapt out of the way. A flurry of [Ice Spikes] flashed past him, but each one missed. The [Storm Captain] lunged towards Illphres, and cut across her face.
Ceria screamed. But Illphres didn’t fall. Instead, her face fell to pieces. The [Storm Captain] froze as he stared at what remained and Illphres nodded.
“See what the face of a true mage looks like.”
Then the air froze. The deck froze. The captain raised his dagger and—
Froze.
Standing on the other side of the deck, Ceria felt the water on her freeze instantly. She cried out in pain and flailed about, hearing it crack. The cold was intense. She saw Illphres, kneeling on the deck.
“Illphres!”
It was minutes before the intense chill faded enough for Ceria to dash over to Illphres. She saw the woman kneeling on the deck, eyes closed, panting heavily. Ceria reached down to her, and froze.
“Yes.”
Illphres looked up, staring at Ceria. Blackened lips moved, but the rest of her face stayed still. Her jaw, her nose—the entire lower half of her face was blackened, the skin dead. Ceria had seen such symptoms before. It was the look of frostbite.
“Do you see?”
Illphres whispered it to Ceria. The shards of ice that had been the—the mask on her face slowly began to melt as the temperature on the ship began to normalize. Ceria could only stare.
“This is what magic looks like.”
—-
“We’re just in time by the looks of it.”
The three mages appeared in the air over the sea. They landed on the choppy water, staggering. Their feet met the surface of the water as if it were solid earth, but the constant movement of the waves still made it hard to stand. One of the mages, a woman with stitching around her hands, gasped for air as the other two caught her.
Jurix, the Dullanah and Bastam, the Drake, turned towards the ships where fighting still continued. Jurix pointed.
“There! Two ships are still active. A third is—”
“Are those zombies?”
Bastam stared intently at one of the ships. Jurix shook his head.
“Look later. I’ll take that ship, Bastam. You take that one.”
“Got it. Go.”
The Dullahan spoke a spell as Bastam began to chant.
“[Whirlwind Leap].”
He shot upwards, propelled by a massive gust of wind that hurled him towards the ship he had chosen. Jurix landed on the deck of one of the enemy ships and began casting spells at once. A trio of pirates rushed at him, but their blades scratched uselessly at his now-impervious armor. The Dullahan struck one with his palm.
“[Tremor Impact].”
The broken body of the Drowned Man flew far over the railing and splashed into the water below. The other pirates backed up, but Jurix pursued them, using [Flash Foot] to blink forwards and striking them with the same spell.
Caught by surprise, the pirates tried to swarm the ship Justix was on. But one of their ships slowed as spells began to rain down from the sky upon it.
[Fireball] and [Lightning Bolt] spells struck the deck of the ship with deadly accuracy. Bastam, standing on the top of the ocean waves with Ophelia, hurled the spells hundreds of meters into the air, arcing them to hit the pirates on deck with deadly accuracy.
Three ships sunk and two more taken by the enemy, the pirates attempted to flee. Illphres sunk one by breaking the hull with [Glacial Spears]—the other two fell to combined attacks from the surviving mages.
And then it was over. Ceria stumbled across the deck of the deceased pirate captain’s ship as Illphres connected it to another ship with a bridge of ice. She wanted to support Illphres; the woman stumbled twice as she walked, but the woman just shrugged her hands off.
“Leave me. Find your friend.”
Ceria hesitated, but then ran onto the other ship. She called out for Pisces, searching for him among the surviving mercenaries and student mages. Then she remembered he’d gone to the other ship.
“Pisces!”
The ship was full of people. How? Ceria shouted as the last surviving [Captain] turned his ship alongside the vessel. For a moment she thought one of the other ships had sent people to help Pisces fight, but then someone standing next to her cried out in horror.
“Zombies!”
They stood motionless on the deck, swaying slightly as the ship rocked back and forth. The undead. Some were mercenaries, others, Wistram students. More still were pirates, brought back from the dead after being slain. The ship was full of dea
th.
And one living person. Pisces stood at the railing, a bloody rapier in hand. He was cut badly, but intact. He stared across the railing and then stared at the mercenaries and other mages. They all gazed at him, some vomiting, others backing away in fear.
Someone dropped a gangplank. Ceria saw Pisces step up. He walked across to her ship, and stopped in front of her. She just stared at him, not fully understanding. Not wanting to understand.
Pisces couldn’t meet her eyes. He cleared his throat, stared at the ground. He looked at Ceria at last, and their was guilt in his eyes.
“I wanted to tell you—”
Ceria took a step back. The lifeless corpses standing on the deck stared vacantly ahead. The head of one had been hacked nearly apart, but it stood, bits of gore and brain falling to the rocking deck. Illphres regarded Pisces silently as both sailors and the other students stared at him in horror.
But he only had eyes for Ceria. Pisces lowered his crimson rapier.
“Ceria—”
She backed away from him. Ceria felt weak. Her head was spinning. She took one more look at the undead that Pisces—her friend had created and threw up.
—-
“Necromancer.”
It was the word on the tongues of every student and mage in Wistram. Even the dramatic battle at sea paled in comparison to the attention, anger, and hatred focused around one person.
Pisces. He stood in front of the Council, the assembly of mages presided over by the Archmages of Wistram, the body that governed the academy. Normally the Council voted on topics such as policy, Wistram’s stance towards nations, appointing new teachers, but it also served a rarely-fulfilled role as arbiter.
Standing in a balcony in the huge, circular room, Ceria stood next to Calvaron and Montressa as she stared down at Pisces, standing alone as he faced the Council. Beatrice had refused to attend the hearing. Or was it a trial? It felt like one.
The accusation was simple. Pisces was a [Necromancer]. It wasn’t as if Wistram had outlawed that school of magic explicitly—and yet, it was clear that they had. No sane mage practiced necromancy. It violated the dead. It was a tool used by crazed cults and madmen to create armies to assail the living.
It was wrong.
And yet Pisces stood in front of the Council and argued. Ceria heard his voice ringing through the chamber, confident, beseeching the other mages to understand. She stared at Montressa and saw the girl’s horrified face, and the grim look on Calvaron’s.
“Magic is pure! Necromancy is a force to be wielded for good or evil, not inherently biased in itself! And is Wistram not a place where all mages may study! Consider, I implore you, the case of Az’kerash! His name is infamous as the most powerful [Necromancer] of this mileniea. He once studied here before he was slain on Izril. His sins are legion, that is undeniable—and yet, is he not an example to study and admire?”
Outrage. The rumble of voices in the room rose, but Pisces spoke over them.
“Yes, admire! I came here to follow in his footsteps, to see if anyone else understood necromancy as he did, or if he left anything behind. Az’kerash was evil, it is true, but he was also a master of magic! He gazed deeper into the heart of magic than any but the greatest [Archmages] before him. Is this not something we should accept? Necromancy is the equal of any other magical school!”
Mages sitting or standing around the room shouted at this, furiously denouncing Pisces. But he ignored them. His eyes were only for the Council. He spread his arms pleadingly.
“Wistram Academy is a place where the study of magic comes before all else. Before law, before morality or ethical concern. Here, magic is all. I came to study magic, to deepen my understanding of it. Wistram once held a single phrase to be true: ‘To ever strive’. I ask that you allow me to study, to be part of this institution and add to it as the one expert in my field. I have committed no crimes, despoiled no graves. I simply wish to learn.”
They debated. And argued. A few stood for Pisces. Amerys was one of them. But slowly, Ceria saw the Council and the opinion of the mages swing only one way. At the end of it, a man stood. He was old, one of the Archmages, and the only one besides Amerys that Ceria knew.
The half-Elf, the ancient mage who had represented Wistram for over a century. Archmage Feor. He stared down at Pisces and spoke quietly.
“Wistram will turn away no mage who seeks to learn and is worthy of it. But necromancy is not taught within these halls. It is not accepted. And if you choose to study here, Pisces, you will do so alone. We hereby revoke your scholarship. If you would stay, pay the full dues owed to the academy. Otherwise, you must leave. That is the decision of the Council.”
—-
Pisces walked alone after that. He walked through hallways and rooms, but found no one who would speak with him. Some spat, others cursed him.
And when he found his friends, one would not stop to speak with him. Beatrice left. Montressa, Ceria, and Calvaron stayed, but all three looked at him as if he were different. Changed.
Evil.
“I have…one day to come up with the funds to pay Wistram. Or I must leave.”
Pisces’ voice shook with rage, pain, and anguish. Ceria wanted to hug him, but she couldn’t bring herself to. He was a [Necromancer]. He raised the dead.
It all added up. Already students were putting clues together. Someone had raided Pisces’ room, found the small army of undead mice he used to spy with. They had been burned, as had almost all of Pisces’ possessions.
“Do you have enough coin to pay? I know you had a lot saved up—”
Calvaron looked at Pisces with a trace of sympathy. Pisces shook his head roughly.
“Not—not enough. I need more, and a lot of it.”
“Well, I—I’m afraid I can’t lend it to you, Pisces. I could trade you secrets—and I’ll give you a good price for them—but I don’t think you have enough of those either.”
Calvaron didn’t meet Pisces’ gaze. Ceria didn’t look at him either. Montressa just stared at Pisces, as if she wasn’t sure who she was seeing.
“I know. I’ll trade you what I have. But I need more coin. So—this.”
Pisces fumbled for something at his side. Ceria saw him lift his rapier up. Calvaron froze as Pisces offered it to him.
“Would this be enough? If you sold it—it is worth a large sum to the right buyers. Is it enough?”
The rapier trembled in his hands, and the silver bell chimed once. Ceria stared at Pisces. Calvaron was silent for a long time before he replied.
“Enough to pay the academy’s fees? I can probably do that. But—are you sure?”
“I am.”
Pisces jerked his head. It could have been a nod. Calvaron stared at him, and then took the blade. Pisces stared at it, face white, and turned away. He stumbled as he walked out of the banquet hall.
No one went after him.
—-
It was quiet when Ceria found Illphres. Somehow, the spirit of Wistram had been sucked out, or so she felt. Everything felt hollow, and empty. Even when she saw people laughing, it sounded fake and insincere.
The ice mage opened her door when Ceria called out. She admitted Ceria into her room and for the first time, Ceria saw the inside.
It was just a room. Cold, far colder than normal, but there was a bed and a bookshelf, and precious little else. Illphres only had time for magic.
The ice mage sat at a table with Ceria as the half-Elf shivered. Ceria couldn’t help but stare at Illphres’ mouth. The ice mage had restored her mask of ice, and her flesh looked healthy and normal. But now Ceria knew.
“You see, it’s why I have to alter my face to smile.”
Illphres showed Ceria, warping the ice around her face to change her expressions. The ice rippled and shifted unnaturally as Ceria watched, making her feel queasy.
“Far easier to hide it.”
The woman passed a hand over her lips and smiled bitterly. Ceria stared at her.
“Tha
nk you for saving me.”
This was the first chance she’d had to say it. Illphres waved a hand over her face and changed it back to impassiveness.
“I suppose the fault is mine. I’m too soft-hearted.”
That made Ceria laugh. But that flash of humor was swallowed up by the hole in her heart. Illphres studied her.
“Your friend has upset the other mages. If he stays, he will only face their hostility. He will not be accepted here, not ever.”
“I know.”
“Did you know he was a [Necromancer]?”
“No!”
Ceria shuddered.
“If I had known—I think he wanted to tell me. But if I had known—!”
“You would have done what, stopped him? It is magic. He is a mage.”
“You think it’s okay?”
Ceria stared at Illphres in horror. She could still see the lifeless eyes of the dead people Pisces had brought back. Dead, and yet moving. Far worse than a golem; someone who had been alive once, forced to shamble about. Illphres just shrugged.
“It is magic. In his own way, your friend Pisces aspires to be what I yearn to be as well. A true mage. And you want the same thing, unless I am mistaken.”
“I do. But Pisces—I’m not the same as him.”
“He is a mage. And you are a mage. And I…I am a mage. But none of us are true mages. Not yet. I lost to that pirate captain. If you hadn’t bought me time to cast that spell, I would have died.”
Illphres said it matter-of-factly. Ceria nodded.
“But you saved me. You did what I never could. You’re a better mage than I am.”
“Yes. I am.”
The two sat in silence for a while. At last, Ceria asked the question, knowing the answer.
“Will you teach me magic?”
Illphres paused.
“Yes. If you truly wish it.”
It was the answer Ceria had been waiting half a year to hear. But it filled her with nothing. She looked down at her hands.
“Is it really okay? Is Pisces really…”
