Master Spectra approached and met Master Raquel’s gaze with fire in her eyes. “I know. I have seen places like this. By the Weave, I lived in the Spirit Realm for years! That is not the path we are on.”
A long silence passed between them. They held each other in a stare that could have melted granite, then Master Spectra turned to look at Saraphym. “This is a good lesson for you and the rest of our team.” She pointed to the woods. “You can build your power much faster by embracing necromancy, but that’s where it leads. Take a good look and never forget it.”
She looked at me. “This is what you and Shea must help me to guard against. This is the outcome of the easier path. This is what I by rights should have become.”
She said something in a foreign language that sounded like a curse, then took a deep breath and continued. “You can’t ever give in, Saraphym; not even a little, not for a single spell. The way back is infinitely harder than the way there.”
Master Raquel put her hand on Master Spectra’s shoulder from behind. She said, “I know you and I trust you, but you must understand the source of my fears. My late husband was a necromancer of the highest order.”
Shea smiled at her. “No, he was a wizard to the end. He was the first and the only one to fully embrace his power without turning.”
Raquel smiled at her, then turned away to look out over the forest. “Spectra, I need help.” She said it almost in a whisper, as if she could not bear to hear the words.
“What is it?” asked Spectra, the anger gone from her voice.
“This world is broken, so very broken, and I don’t know how to fix it. I am Sac’a’rith, by the four winds! I should be capable of mending it! But I can’t even figure it out how it broke. I have been here most nights for the past year trying and am no further along than I was when I started,” she said bitterly.
Spectra put an arm round her waist. “I don’t know yet, either, but we’ll figure it out together.”
They stood for a while in silence, then Master Raquel turned back to us. “You are all at liberty to explore inside the walls, but at quarter to midnight please meet in the central tower on the lowest level. There is more to learn.”
Master Spectra looked at Dusty, who nodded, then turned to Master Raquel. “We’ll be back. I need to see more if I’m going to understand this place.”
Master Dusty joined her at the edge of the wall and sent a questioning look to Master Raquel, who nodded. They teleported to the ground and walked towards the forest. The dark energy of the woods reached out and embraced them, much as it had in the Spirit Realm. Once again, Master Dusty’s necklace glowed with the light of Shea’s power.
“I thought you said to stay inside the walls,” I said.
A blood-chilling scream came from the sky as a large, skeletal beast circled overhead. It looked as if it might have once been the same species of creature as the gate guardians. It roughly resembled them in shape, but nothing else about it was reminiscent of them. The gate guardians were majestic and full of life; this thing, whatever it was, was foul and exuded an aura of death. It screamed again and dove for Master Spectra and Master Dusty.
Master Spectra looked up and met its gaze without any apparent fear. “Back off!” she called. Power was rapidly building around her, swirling and writhing, as if excited at the prospect of upcoming battle. The undead of the forest were unsure of her at first, but then fell back in apparent fear.
The creature continued its dive and I almost leapt to her aid, but Master Raquel caught my arm and said, “Wait. Watch.”
Master Spectra began to cast a spell which drew power from the forest and the world around her, forming a dark shield in front of her. The creature slammed into the darkness and was thrown back. She pointed a finger and called out a command word. The power around her channeled into a black lightning bolt, which leapt from her finger and struck the creature.
It screamed in pain and tumbled from the sky, crashing into the ground and sending soil and leaves everywhere. The creature tried to rise but Master Spectra cast again, this time slamming its legs with her dark power and knocking them out from under the beast. Master Dusty cast his bolt spell, targeting the joint where one wing connected to its body. A wave of plasma-like bolts slammed into the creature, cracking its bones, and a scream of pure pain escaped its skeletal mouth and shook me to the core.
“I warned you,” Spectra said coldly as she walked up to where it lay. She swung her staff around several times, gathering power from the world around her, then she swung it down in an arc which drew all that energy with it and into the creature’s skull, cracking it in two.
Whatever force held the skeletal structure together failed, and it fell to pieces. A dark cloud of energy escaped as it collapsed, drifting over to mix with the energy in the forest.
Master Spectra gave us a wave and the two of them went into the woods, the dark power of the world continuing to swirl and grow around them. As in the Spirit Realm, the more time they spent out there the stronger they grew.
“There are very few who can walk safely on this world, few indeed,” commented Master Raquel.
“Well, she’s a spiritualist so she’s in her element,” I said.
“Even a spiritualist would fear to tread that ground,” said Master Raquel in a hushed voice. She watched the retreating figures for a few moments. “I do not yet comprehend her full nature, but she is more than a spiritualist, more even than a necromancer. Out there amidst all that undead energy she resembles a god of the undead, and yet her heart is tender and caring.”
“What was that horrible creature?” asked Joan.
Shea responded. “You don’t have a word for it yet, but it was a dragon magus who was cheating death through the use of necromancy; powerful, arrogant and utterly evil.”
60
05-16-0067 — Greymere
Master Raquel led us a little way around the perimeter of the fortress and then pointed to a building near the main path through the heart of the property.
“There, about a third of the way in, do you see that building?” she asked.
Shea nodded. “It looks like a temple.”
Raquel smiled. “Yes, that is what I intend it to be.” She placed her hand on Shea’s shoulder. “Priestess, I would be honored if you would help to recreate the worship of the god you call Light in this place, some day when it has become more hospitable.”
Shea gasped. “I would be honored, but you must have built this long before we met.”
“There was a temple here ten thousand years ago, so yes, a little before we met,” she said with a smile. “The Order of the Sac’a’rith works for the Creator of Nature. We see ourselves as his warriors and workers, who protect the natural created order. You call the Creator ‘Light’. Grandmaster calls him the Real God of Creation. I would venture that he has as many names as there are people in the realms.”
A tear came to Shea’s eye. “Well, you’re full of surprises.” Shea embraced Master Raquel, who briefly returned the hug while retaining her stiffness.
“I think I’ll go and look at it. Lyshell, Joan, care to join me? We can talk along the way,” said Shea. They nodded and the three of them walked off towards the temple.
Saraphym was still watching the forest, in the direction that Master Dusty and Master Spectra had taken. “Are you sure they’ll be all right?”
“Yes, although it is immaterial at this point. We could not follow them until sunrise,” said Master Raquel.
“What if I changed into spirit form?” asked Saraphym.
“They’ll be fine. Come, let’s tour the area,” answered Master Raquel.
She took us around the fortress, pointing out buildings and telling us about what had been there. One of them was an exact replica of an original guards’ residence. Young families would live there until they outgrew them and moved to a nearby town. Before the fortress fell the residences had been almost full, but the replica was unused.
Another was a building t
hat Shira had designed. It contained her gardens, where she grew mostly food but included a small number of decorative plants. The building was locked, but through its glass walls it was possible to see a mature garden on the inside. Shira came back regularly to maintain the plants, but Master Raquel did not know when she would return again.
Zah’rak had designed many of the buildings. One had been intended as a hangar for the Night Wisp, which had been destroyed in battle. There were places to mount artillery to defend against both flying and ground-based attacks, but those mounts stood empty. He’d also designed a training hall and an auditorium.
Some buildings we toured, others she talked about from outside. She told us great anecdotes about the deeds of heroes and heroines who had once lived here, and she told us of the fall of the Sac’a’rith and the ultimate destruction of the fortress.
It was all impressive, but what was most surprising was that she could give this tour and talk for hours about the world of her childhood while still telling us nothing about herself. Both Phym and I tried to ask leading questions, but Master Raquel never took the bait.
As we circled back to the central tower, Master Raquel looked up at the sky and frowned. “It is almost time.”
“The sky is overcast; how can you tell?” asked Saraphym.
“As a Sac’a’rith, I have no need of the sky to tell the time, but I was hoping for a clear night since there is a full moon. Can’t be helped, I guess,” she responded, leading us into the tower.
We found Lyshell, Shea and Joan laughing together near the center of the room.
“That’s a good sign,” I sent privately to Saraphym and Master Raquel.
“Indeed,” responded Master Raquel.
“Sounds like we missed a party,” said Master Spectra, as she and Master Dusty came through the door to join us.
“It must be a private party, as we seem to be left out too,” I said.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Joan with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We were just talking about the gardener.”
“What gardener?” asked Master Raquel.
“You know, the massive rock creature that behaves like a toddler?” said Lyshell.
“Oh, the builder. I should have realized he would seek out the group with the priestess.” She shook her head and moved to the staircase which was the primary feature of the room. It spiraled both up and down, and Master Raquel placed her foot on the first step and looked up. She paused there for a moment and sighed deeply. “Come, there is little remaining time.”
We followed her up the long, winding spiral staircase. I lost track of how many floors we ascended, but I heard Joan mumble, “You need to ask the gardener to grow us an elevator.”
Master Raquel paused at the top of the stairs and looked through the opening. Her body was taut, and I began worry about what we would find up there. After that momentary pause, she sighed again and moved forward.
We came up the stairs into a large, round room. It took up the entire top of the tower and there were windows all around the room. There were three statues there, so life-like that I almost greeted them. They represented Zah’rak, Shira and Raquel herself.
“This is the hall of the progenitors. In the original fortress there were seven statues, but when the builder recreated it he put in only these three in. I guess it makes sense, since as far as we know we comprise all the remaining Sac’a’rith.”
Off to one side was a plain cot on which Master Raquel sat down. “Spectra and Shea, I must rely on you to keep everyone safe for some time.” They started to speak but she cut them off. “There is no time for questions. Shea will respond to any questions later. Someday we may be fighting back-to-back, and you need to be aware of my secret. In a few minutes I shall be dead.”
As she said that, she swung her legs up on the cot. “Every spell I cast costs me some life force, no matter how small. In the simplest of terms, with each casting I die a little. Shea’s potions assist me to some degree, but eventually I must return here to die.”
She lay down on the cot and chuckled a little. “The ‘undying’ is what they call me, one of the ageless, and yet die is about all I do.”
“What do you mean when you say you ‘die’?” I asked.
But she was gone. A last breath escaped her mouth and she was no more. All the color drained from her skin and her chest stopped moving. I knew she had died but I couldn’t accept it. I rushed to her side, but Shea stopped me before I reached her.
“She is fine,” said Shea in her calming voice.
“Is she really dead?” asked Lyshell.
Shea turned away from Master Raquel’s corpse and said, “Her life is tied up with this world. If she never left this planet she would never die, but one such as she could never be happy with that life.”
“But is she gone?” asked Lyshell.
“She is very much dead, but she’ll get better,” said Shea.
We looked at each other and back at her.
Shea smiled. “Like the great phoenix, she will rise up again with renewed strength. Please keep a vigil over us while I work. Mayhap there is something I can do for her while she is like this that could not be done while she was alive.”
Shea turned and knelt next to Master Raquel’s bed. Her head was bowed and her arms folded across her chest. I knew that stance; it meant she planned to work her greatest magic, which she called prayer. Soon I could see the pure white of her power flowing around her and into Master Raquel’s corpse.
“Master Spectra, can you clear this up at all?” asked Phym.
Master Spectra ushered us to the other side of the room so that we wouldn’t disturb Shea. “I’m not sure. I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Raquel referred to herself as one of the ageless,” commented Master Dusty.
“They are a race of people who don’t age, nor do they grow ill,” said Master Spectra as she watched Shea work. “Perhaps that’s why we all live so much longer than the pure humans of Shea’s world. We must have some of the genetic code from the ageless.”
“Just how old is Raquel?” I asked.
“Wings! That’s not a polite question to ask,” scolded Phym.
Master Spectra shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Her spirit is ancient, of that I’m sure; she could be twenty thousand years old. Could be more. Could be less.”
61
05-17-0067 — Greymere
The entire time that Master Raquel lay dead, Shea worked her magic. It was impossible for me to tell what was going on because her power was too bright; all I could see when I looked her way was a bright wall of pure white energy.
We kept our distance, speaking in hushed tones, not sure what to make of the whole thing. Shea had said that Master Raquel would come back, and such was our trust in her that we didn’t doubt it; yet across the room lay Master Raquel, very much dead.
I sighed. “You know, I’ve been wandering the stars a long time. At one stage, I really thought I understood this game we call life. I thought I had seen it all, or at least that there was nothing extraordinary left to discover. Now I think that I’ll never really understand it.”
“Wings, that’s a good thing! Otherwise life would be so boring. Imagine! I’d be miserable if there were no new colors to see, flavors to taste or knowledge to gather.”
Joan smiled. “That’s how many people end up seeing me in the hospital.”
Phym shrugged. “Living life is not without risks. Even the most cautious need a doctor from time to time.” A wry smile crossed her face. “Besides, look where you are now: hanging out with a bunch of magi who practice a banned art, in the middle of an army of the undead.”
Joan laughed. “Yes, I suppose I’m being a bit hypocritical.” She took Lyshell’s hand and looked into his eyes. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
“To be fair, the ban was lifted,” I corrected.
“Only for members of the Spirit Corps,” said Phym.
I pointed my thumb at Lyshell and
said, “Right. Lyshell used to be a cop, so I wanted to make that clear in case he might revert to type and arrest us!”
He backed away and put his hands up. “Oh, no! You’re not dragging me into this.”
Joan was looking at Shea. “What is she doing?”
I replied, “She would say that she is praying, asking Light to help Master Raquel in some way.”
Dusty, who had been quietly listening, said, “Yes, that is how she would put it, but it’s just her way of casting magic. I can’t see what she’s doing like a butterfly or spellweaver can, but I’m sure it’s some form of healing or blessing magic. She excels in those areas, and they would seem to be the most logical here.”
“Butterfly?” asked Joan.
I told Dusty, “All I can see is the level of power, the source and sometimes a rough indication of type. I can’t tell what it’s used for.”
He nodded. “That makes sense. The Shadow People would only really care about its suitability for consumption.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps, or it might be that it takes practice and training like it does with a spellweaver.” Not wanting to be rude, I turned back to Joan. “They call Saraphym and myself ‘butterflies’, which is a very imaginative interpretation of our native form.”
She smiled. “I’m sure it’s lovely. Could I see it sometime, or is that too intrusive?”
Phym beamed. “Sure!”
I sighed. I really must teach her to be more paranoid. “Well, maybe someday if we can find a way to do it safely.”
Phym looked at Shea and Master Raquel. “Master Spectra, what is happening to her?”
Master Spectra had been silently watching the night through the window. She turned towards us. “This world is badly damaged and she is cursed; these events are connected in some way.”
Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8) Page 31
