Kinnese did his best to keep his voice non-committed. “Nothing much, honestly.” He took a casual look around the dim laboratory.” All we would require from you is that you come with us, work on retainer. Resume your alchemy duties, but for a cause bigger than yourself.”
“Noble,” Undis said. “But there is a fly in the ointment, somewhere. There are dozens, hundreds, of alchemists out there that you could hire that don't come with my...colorful background. What do you really want?”
Kinnese cleared his throat. “My superior wanted me to ask you that when the time is right, if you would provide us with your knowledge of Aetherbloom. We aren’t even looking for you to give us your secrets regarding it, merely your presence to create it for us. However I've been authorized to pay you and depart if you do want to simply give us the technique now.”
All tiredness Undis had been displaying vanished in an instant. A slow smile spread across his ruined, leaking face. “Aha, is that all? ‘Merely’ provide you with Aetherbloom. As if it's such a trivial compound with little consequence. And I assume that I won’t be able to ask just what you and your associates will do with the army that would provide you?”
Kinnese shrugged, doing his best to ignore the pointed look Naria was giving him. He had warned her that this wouldn’t be a morally pure endeavor. “You can ask all you want. As to whether or not you’ll get an answer, well that isn’t up to me. But if I were you, I’d be more concerned with asking what sort of payment we are offering.”
Undis sniffed, a horrible clogged nasal sound. “I am intrigued, really. As you can see, I have no real use for wealth. I have all the reagents and components I need for my next thirty-seven experiments. I doubt you have anything-what’s that?”
Kinnese had produced a small, narrow crystal that was a chalky blue in color and was holding it up for Undis to see. He looked around, feigning confusion and then surprise when he pretended to notice the crystal for the first time.
“Oh, this? This is a replacement for your bloodstone, more or less.”
“More or less,” Undis repeated, an absent tone to his voice.
“That’s right. All I have to do is ‘kill’ your body. This crystal will then absorb your soul before your bloodstone can.”
Undis’s crusty brown-black lids slowly narrowed over his one remaining eye. “Assuming I even believe that would happen, why would I want to be trapped in that? Despite my rather painful existence, I do enjoy having agency.”
Kinnese smiled innocently. “Like I said, my master is aware of your condition. This crystal has been attuned to you, and will allow you to assume a more…presentable form. It will let you walk around in something like an illusion, an astral projection of sorts...but here in the physical world. You’ll have a body that will be able to interact with the world around you, but your soul will remain in here instead of your flawed stone. You’ll still be Undis the Lich, just with less of the, ah, painful rotting.”
The lich was silent for a moment, his cadaverous face unreadable. Then, in a quiet death rattle whisper he asked, “Will I still be able to harness the Power?”
Kinnese shook his head. “No, not so long as you’re bound to this.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” Undis sighed. “I need magic in order to bring about the Aetherbloom. I can't just will it into being, despite proper alchemical preparation.”
“We are aware of that much,” Kinnese said patiently. “We will have to bring your bloodstone with us. Which means that, unfortunately, when we need you to work for us you will have to return to your current body. For the time being, at least.” He paused a second, to ensure he had Undis's full attention. “You see, upon satisfactory completion of your contract, I will provide you with the second crystal, the master crystal, which would function like this, except with no limitations on your ability to harness and use the Power. You can even keep your bloodstone and this,” he hefted the small blue crystal, “to act as backups. You'd be a true lich, free to conduct yourself how you see fit.”
Undis was quiet only for a moment, then he rolled back his shoulders and rotated his neck a few times, the joints making wet cracking sounds. He opened his robe at his chest, showing oozing sores and rotten meat.
“The bait in your hook is far too good to pass up. Well then, let us get it over with. Strike when ready, Mistress, once you're ready.”
Kinnese raised a hand in offer to Naria.
“You're too kind,” she muttered before two whip-like tendrils of Power shot out of her hands and hit Undis, one in the face the other in the chest. The lich's frail body all but exploded in a shower of large wet chunks and burnt rags. Everything was quiet for a moment as Kinnese and Naria looked expectantly at the blue crystal in his hand.
“What happens if it doesn't work?” Naria asked.
Kinnese shrugged. “We still take him with us. We'll grab his bloodstone and just keep him out of sight until- ah here we go.” The chalky blue crystal suddenly glowed a brilliant sky blue, for an instant the laboratory was lit up as if it were exposed to the noon sun. The light from the crystal faded, but it remained much stronger than before.
“I have to say, I'm having severe misgivings about this whole thing, and in your true motives in recruiting some...thing like him. If he's lying, he's a monster. If he's telling the truth, he's amoral at best. Either way he's dangerous, and you're offering to make him an even moreso.”
Kinnese nodded as he placed the crystal in a pocket. “Honestly? I agree with you. But sadly, I was overruled on this one. Our little movement is in a rather tenuous situation at the moment, and eventually we'll need what he can provide.”
“Yeah, I heard. Just what exactly is this Aetherbloom?”
Kinnese was about to reply when a gentle blue shimmer illuminated the lab. When the light faded, they both turned to face the figure that had emerged. Kinnese heard Naria curse under her breath at what they saw. An older man, perhaps ten years Kinnese's senior, stood before them. He was stark naked, but he seemed not to notice or care. He was looking down at his hands intently, a smile growing on his face. The smile seemed to surprise him, and he began touching his face with his fingers. He laughed a hoarse laugh as he ran a hand through the thick shock of gray hair on top of his head.
“Well pike me,” Undis said, his rough voice having lost the weakness of his previous ghoulish appearance. “Yes, yes you can color me impressed.” He laughed again and began rolling his neck and flexing his hands. “Just the feeling of not decaying, of simply being is amazing.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “So, shall we get to work? There are a great many things, and people, I need to see now that I'm ambulatory.”
“In time,” Kinnese said. “First, go find yourself some clothes. I certainly don't need to see this for the next few weeks.”
“Ah,” Undis said, “yes of course.” As the man draped a tattered-looking robe around his body, he looked at Naria and opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue. Naria gave Undis such a withering glare that the man actually flinched back. She turned to Kinnese, giving him a disgusted look.
“I'll be waiting outside.” She leaned forward, her eyes intense. “If he tries anything, I'll break that fake body of his, and dedicate my life to ensuring his eternity is one of agony. And if you try to stop me, you'll join him.” Before he could say anything, she stormed out of the lab. Kinnese could hear each angry footstep on the rotten wood above them.
Following after Naria, Kinnese cursed under his breath. That could have gone worse, but he did alienate Naria a bit. When he walked out into the fresh air, he saw that she was already on her horse, but that she had taken up position with her four girls. He'd be riding alone, then. Then a stray thought struck him. He had no mount for Undis. He'd have to share his horse for now. Things were getting better and better. Feeling Naria's glare on him as he got on his horse, like the heat from an oven, Kinnese sighed again. Three more stops, then he could be rid of his slowly growing group of malcontents.
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Chapter Eight
“No boy, you're doing it all wrong. That's not a feint, that's a-no! Hold it like-good! Now swing like that. Yes, there you go!
Alek, after readjusting his grip on the wooden practice sword, feinted one way, and then struck at another. The crude training dummy absorbed the blow to its padded midsection with dignity, allowing only a loud cracking sound to be heard as it suffered yet another defeat. Alek tossed down his sword and stuck his tongue out at the dummy. Looking up proudly, Alek saw Torsten, sitting on a crude wooden bench under a shade tree, a small flask in his hand. Behind him was the old winery, a small converted farmhouse. Its familiar red door and white trim was oddly comforting to Alek. The older man caught Alek's eye, frowned and walked over and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. He stood a good two feet taller than the Alek at this point.
“I did it better this time, right?” Alek's voice was younger, higher-pitched.
“That was better, yeah, but why did you stop?”
Alek looked confused, but he was still proud of himself. “I got him right in the gut. He's done for! I win!”
“Aye true. But what if he were wearing armor under his shirt? Or he was crazy on Spring or booze or other such nonsense? Sometimes men like that don't even feel the death blow until their body just lets go. So say you're in an alley and you stab this poor sod in the gut after he tries to knife you. Do you just stab him the one time, grin and walk away? He may still have enough guts, heh, left to put his blade in you if you drop your guard. Lesson is, always always always keep swinging, keep striking, and keep fighting until they beg for mercy or are dead.” Torsten bent down, picked up the wooden sword, and handed it back to Alek. “C'mon boy, five more minutes. Then it's off to the inn and Grigs. Those monks promised they'd come back to us with a better deal on their grapes. And I need my bodyguard ready for the trip.” He grinned as he tousled Alek's hair before walking back to the bench.
Alek smiled as he gripped the practice sword again, feeling its familiar weight and feel in his hands. He prepared to take another go when he heard a faint sound, like someone yelling from far away. Looking around, he couldn't make out from who or where the yelling was coming from. He glanced over at Torsten, but the old man was gone, only the shade tree remained. There was a feeling, a shifting sensation, and the wooden sword was gone from his hands. Looking down, gone were the hands of nine-year old Alek, and in their place were the hands of Alek the man, large, gnarled, and powerful. Still, the yelling persisted.
The old winery was still there, and it sounded like the yelling was now coming from inside. Perhaps calling it the winery may not have made much sense now, since it was now a rather indistinct shape, with its colors mixing and swirling within. But Alek knew with certainty that it was the winery, as all dreamers know things with certainty. He could no longer see the red door, for example, yet he knew it was there. Spying a window, or what he perceived to be a window, Alek walked over and peered through, hoping to get a glimpse of whoever was yelling.
As he looked through the window, Alek was only partially surprised to find that he wasn't looking at the inside of the winery. He was looking inside someone's home. He could hear the voices now, clear but distant. And he could hear a very faint knocking. Looking about, he saw Ryker standing at the far end of the room, in front of a large set of double doors. Ryker was wearing his full Legionnaire kit, polished to perfection, his helmet under the crook of his left arm. While he could see everything about Ryker, Alek couldn't make out anything about the doors themselves. Indeed, they didn't look like any door he had ever seen before, but he knew they were a doorway. As his gaze focused on the doors he found himself suddenly in the room itself, now only a few paces away from Ryker and the door. Ryker seemingly took no notice of him, as he was looking at the doors with a faraway look on his face, as if trying to hear a distant conversation.
“He isn't listening,” a voice said from beyond the door. Alek jumped despite himself. “He invited me here, but he still stands behind the door, holding it closed. He needs to open it soon.” Alek, now transfixed by the door, said nothing. “He called out to me,” the voice continued, now joined by other voices, all from beyond the doorway. The knocking intensified. “Why does he not let me in?”
Alek slowly found his arms rising and he walked towards the door, as if to open them. Ryker whirled face him, horror etched across his handsome face.
“Who are you?!” Ryker demanded. “Stay away! Don't open it!”
“Let me in and we'll talk!” the voice beyond the door shouted, and the knocking from the door turned into a smashing sound, as if a battering ram was on the other side.
The air around Ryker rippled, and Alek was hurled backwards towards the window from which he had first gazed upon the door, hurled through the wall, past where he had been with Torsten, through the forest, through the horizon itself.
Alek woke with a start.
“I can't send you to Coula this afternoon,” Johan said distractedly. “But you can go now, if you have to. This won't take long, I hope?” He was in the practice yard, going through his sword forms. It was a cool, grey morning still, yet Johan was puffing air and sweating through his light tunic. Ryker swore he saw steam literally coming out of his friend's ears.
“Er, no, not long. I have to visit the fletcher and blacksmith to pick up some orders.”
Johan seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. “Okay, fair enough. Before you go, see Alek, he's been working on a list of things we need for the pantry. Minor stuff, supposedly, but if you're heading to Coula, it couldn't hurt to get it. Just be back before noontime. Toma has been working on a new patrol for the next few days, and we leave tonight.”
“You got it, chief.” Ryker grinned as he saluted. He spun on his heel and made it a few paces when Johan called out from behind.
“Take Garm with you, too.”
Ryker froze for an instant, and then spun around, confusion on his face. “Why?”
“I want my second-in-command protected by the best. And who knows? Some of Roy’s bandits may have gotten loose and are looking for payback.” A grin broke out on Johan's face. “But really, he’s going to keep you out of the taverns.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Dismissed,” Johan chuckled before resuming his exercises.
As Ryker walked back inside the house, he had to laugh. After having another one of those vivid dreams about the door, he desperately wanted some diversion. He had planned on some carousing in town, but Johan had seen right through it. Wasn't much fun to be had in the morning. Or when a giant scarred man shadowed your every move. His laugh ended in a sigh. These dreams really were starting to get to him.
Ryker stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen area of the farmhouse. Aleksander was working the small bellows of the brick oven he and Vegard had built. The large man had a sleepy, distracted look on his face. He didn't seem to notice Ryker, who then knocked on the wall. Alek started at the sound and looked at Ryker. His eyes quickly went wide for a second, but then Alek composed himself a bit.
“Hey, uh, sir,” he said. There was a strange hesitance in his voice at first, but the longer he spoke the more it faded. “Breakfast won't be ready yet, but I think I can scrounge you up something decent if you want. Garm just came through here, and if I can feed that engine, I'm sure a meal can be found for a dapper man such as yourself.”
“Thanks, but that isn't why I'm here. Came to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh,” Alek said, that hesitance back in his voice. His hands had stopped working the bellows. “What can I do for you?”
“The Commander told me you were writing down a list of supplies and such that we are going to need. I'm heading into Coula right now, and can try and pick up some or all of it while I'm there.”
“Oh. Oh!” The relief in Alek's voice as he scrambled to find the list made Ryker instantly suspicious. He had had to bust legionnaires countless times in the past back in the Legion prope
r for minor things, and even the worst offender was able to better mask their emotions than Alek was. When he handed out the list for Ryker to take, Ryker put his hand on it but made no effort to actually take it. He looked Alek in the eyes. Alek, to his credit, returned the look as best as he could.
“Something bothering you, Alek?” he asked, his voice neutral.
“What? Oh, no not really. Just, uh, didn't sleep well. Bad dreams.”
The way Alek said those last words made something click in the back of Ryker's head. He took the list, and found his hand shaking. It was hardly noticeable, and Ryker was able to stop it, but it was unnerving. “Well, rest up as best you can,” he said, trying to sound confident. “The Commander hinted at us heading into the forest today. We'll need you focused.”
“Yes sir,” Alek said before turning back to the oven.
Ryker stood there for only a second before leaving. His mind raced. Why did Alek mention dreams like that? Did he know Ryker was having nightmares of his own? That gave him a moment of pause. Could he be talking in his sleep? That could cause problems. At the very least, it would undermine his authority a bit if the others found it silly or childish. He had never spoke in his sleep before. But, he had to admit, he couldn't remember ever having such consistently vivid dreams before these started up. It was possible he was, and Alek had heard him. Their rooms were next to each other, after all. He shook his head. It didn't really matter now. The ride to Coula and back would help clear his head a bit, even with Garm tagging along, and even without the prospect of tavern girls.
Ryker stopped by his room, threw on his riding coat, and met Garm outside where the horses were stabled. The scarred man was already on his horse, and Ryker was almost shocked that he could see no visible weapons or armor on him. Garm was dressed similarly to himself, if a little less fine. A simple shirt, loose fitting pants, and tall boots, with his dark brown Outrider coat on. Their coats were custom made, with no Legion insignia visible. The coats were waterproof, blended in with most environments (barring deserts or snow), and, most importantly, had strips of Weaver-enchanted steel sewn into key locations so they provided sturdy yet light protection for when the they didn't, or couldn't, wear their full gear. Which, in the current heat and patrolling a humid forest, they rarely did.
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 10
