Endrance staggered, and clutched the tree for stability. If the Ewer had some kind of necromantic corrupting substance, it could be added to the water stream, corrupting the life of the entire side of the mountain just by proximity. What was worse, if they managed to find the source-
Endrance looked back at Wrach. “You’re right.” He said, his voice choked and straining. “We’re not done yet.”
Wrach opened his mouth to speak, but a crack of a branch snapping made everyone freeze, anticipating a sudden attack. Instead of any Atastos, or worse, the masked mage, two women came into view, one of which had Endrance’s familiar on her arm. Selene and Bridget spotted Endrance and scowled at the same time.
“There you are!” Bridget growled, taking a step forward. Endrance was surprised to see she had two arms again. “I’m going to kick your ass, you bastard!”
“And when she’s done, I’m going to kill you so very painfully.” Selene said, her voice even and emotionless.
Endrance gulped. Wrach looked from them to him and shook his head. “Humans.” He said angrily.
Chapter 21
Endrance had fought hydras, slain a king, fought demons, survived hordes of the undead, and had been shot in the chest with an explosive fireball. But just then, staring at his two righteously angry Draugnoa, he felt a fear deeper than any he had felt before.
“I’m dead.” Endrance declared, trying to push himself off the tree he had been reclining against. He managed to stay standing, but Bridget had already closed the distance between the two of them. He noticed that she had removed the plate spaulder from her armor to let her new arm through. It appeared almost as if it was made out of wood, but it flexed and moved like a real, living arm. Then she hit him with it.
The last vestiges of Endrance’s wards collapsed under her blow, and the shot to the gut she had been aiming for only knocked him up into the air two feet instead of punching straight through him. Endrance did what anyone who had already been heavily abused over the course of several hours would do; he fell to the ground and blacked out. He lay face down in the dirt, blood trickling out of his mouth.
“Gods!” Selene cried out in shock, rushing over to their unconscious husband. “You aren’t supposed to actually kill him!”
Bridget stared down at her new arm in surprise. “I…I just meant to stun him.” She whispered.
“I think he’s still alive.” Selene said desperately. “But he’s not breathing!”
Wrach stepped forward and knelt down next to the mage opposite of Selene. “If you want him to live, flip him on his back and breathe for him.”
Endrance had fallen unconscious, but that apparently didn’t mean he had a chance to rest. He started dreaming almost before his body had fallen to the snow, dropping into the depths of his unconscious mind.
He found himself witnessing a tattered and worn memory of a war long past. Endrance stared out over a battlefield. People he recognized as barbarians were arguing with several others of their kind. They looked different; the strangers were dressed in animal furs and held weapons made out of animal fangs or horn. Their leader wore a crown made out of what looked like oversized fangs.
We must do this. One of the warriors demanded, his voice sounding distant and metallic. Endrance almost didn’t recognize Lord Rothel alive, still bearing his armor and crown. The man still had his eyes, and their gray-green depths were simmering with anger.
The crowned stranger shook his head. We are not ready. He replied. We must perform the rite when the silver circle is full!
I don’t care about your reasons, Rothel exclaimed. We need your people to hunt now! Do you think the Mercanians are going to wait until the next full moon to call fire down upon us again?
The stranger sighed, he waved towards Endrance, and he felt himself walking forward. His body stumbled and he looked down to catch his footing. He could now see that he was living out the memory in someone else’s body. He could hear other footsteps around him.
These twenty men and women are the first to volunteer, the fang-crowned man said. They know the rite and all are totem of the wolf. They will be the first mage-hunters. They are ready, but if we perform the rite before the silver circle-
Can you do the ritual now!? Rothel demanded. The stranger sighed, nodding.
But if we do, they may never be able to return to their form- he started to protest. Rothel cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
If they volunteered for this, then they know they very well could die at the hands of the Mercanians. Rothel countered. If they are willing to sacrifice their lives, then they accept the possibility of never regaining their true form. He turned to look at Endrance and he felt a familiar chill, just like when he had met the king’s ghost. His force of personality was incredible.
You, man, are you still willing to do this, even if there wasn’t a way to turn you back after? Rothel asked.
Endrance felt himself stand up straighter. I will give up my life, my form, so that you can use me to destroy our hated enemies! He shouted, his voice not his own.
Rothel nodded, turning to someone next to him. And you, woman?
Endrance looked, seeing a strong, black haired woman shout in reply. Yes, my lord!
Rothel turned to the other man. See? They already know the stakes. Do the rite tonight. Send our first hunters out.
The scene shifted, and Endrance found himself sitting in a circle of his fellow volunteers atop a stone platform under the waxing moon. Around him, he could hear the sounds of the forest at night. A trio of fires burned outside the circle, granting their light to all within. They were all naked, with symbols painted over their bodies in white paint. In the center of the circle was a freshly slain wolf, its throat carefully slit so that its blood poured into grooves carved into the stone floor. The grooves formed sigils and seals throughout the circle. Endrance looked down, drawing a sharpened fang dagger and cutting his palms with the blade. Setting it aside, he held his hands out over two circular sections of the grooves, and let his blood drip in, mingling with the wolf’s. The carved circle in the stone filled up as every participant’s blood mingled together.
He then picked up a small earthen cup and dipped it into the small depression, filling it with blood. He stared at it for just a second while the others filled their cups. He became aware that the master performing the rite was speaking, but he could not comprehend his words. They all drank the cup at the same time when the master raised his voice. A strange haze filled his vision, and his body started to itch. Endrance watched as several others started to groan and double over. The master’s chanting reached a feverish pitch and Endrance himself doubled over as a strange pain blossomed in his gut. His vision sharpened painfully, and his bones burned as they reshaped themselves. His skin peeled and tore, revealing dark gray fur beneath. Agony burned through him for only a few seconds, and then it was gone.
Pulling himself to his feet, Endrance could see standing in the circle were twenty wolfmen and women. In the center, a dead human lay, his throat slit.
The scene shifted again, and Endrance found himself stalking through the forest at great speed, moving through the woods in the dark like a human would an empty street during the day.
He was aware of others of his kind, running freely through the night, their dark fur hiding them in the dark as they were seeking a particular target.
They found it. There was a cluster of warriors wearing strange black collars and a single mage. At least at first, Endrance thought it was a mage.
The warriors were dressed in shoddy clothing, possessing cheap weapons and no armor. A matte black metal collar encircled each warrior’s neck, and something in their eyes signaled that they knew they were going to die, and had already come to accept it.
The mage in the back leading the force forward was a woman, scarcely dressed. Something seemed strange about her. Though pretty, her body looked like it had been… carved all over. Not scars, but grooves ran throughout her skin through her merid
ians like Endrance’s spell tattoos were, but they were different. As she moved, the grooves pulsed with running waves of faint golden light. A bizarre conclusion dawned on Endrance: those were her meridians.
He crept past the dead-eyed warriors, and inched up near the mage. They waited for a few seconds before lunging out at her.
Though she was not prepared for an ambush, the mage reacted instantly. Her meridians flared into life and she immediately roasted one of the wolfmen charging in from the other side. It gave the impression of golden fire leaking from seams in her skin, as she managed to bring down eight wolfmen before Endrance got his fangs into her neck. Blood sprayed, reddish gold and molten hot across the snow. She crumpled to the ground and immediately, the forty men who had been rushing to her aid fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
Endrance and the other remaining eleven disappeared back into the forest, leaving the warriors to die with their master.
His dream shifted again, blurring and speeding up, showing a half dozen more such kills, and several more rites, some of which he had officiated after the prior master had been killed in battle. He dreamed of the day that the war was finished, and Balator had discovered their invincible mountain.
He remembered that, with the war over, the thousands of his kind left alive had nothing more to do. Their people shunned them, preferring to not have strange beasts among them. So he left, taking the rest of his kind with him.
The dream skipped forward through several more tattered moments in the wolfman’s life, including the discovery that they could reproduce. The settling of their first den, his training the younger wolves in the ways of natural magic, and his eventual death by old age many years later. The last thing Endrance saw was the crown of fangs being handed off to a younger wolf, who would become the new Alpha.
Endrance awoke with a gasp. He was back in his body. The first thing he saw was Selene kneeling over him. The next thing he realized was that everything below his neck hurt like someone had pounded on him with a hammer for hours. He groaned, trying to sit up. Selene helped prop him up.
He was still in the forest. The sun had still not risen. “How long was I out?” Endrance asked.
“Maybe a minute, once we got air back in your lungs.” Wrach replied.
“Bridget?” Endrance asked.
Wrach looked past Endrance. “She’s nearby.”
“Thanks for not killing me.” He said, grimacing.
From behind him he heard her voice. “Don’t mention it… asshole.”
Endrance quickly felt his energy reserves. They were still nearly empty. “I wish I had more power.” Endrance said. “Then I could at least heal some of our injuries.”
Wrach tossed a small cloth bag into Endrance’s lap. It clinked of metal. “Took those off the mages you fought. I didn’t get a chance to give them to you before.”
Endrance emptied the bag into his hand. Several bits of glowing Crystalphage gleamed up at him. “This was their jewelry.” Endrance said with wonder in his voice.
“We usually take the magic things off the mages we kill.” Wrach said succinctly. “But you can use them more than we can, so hurry up.”
Endrance looked back down and touched his aura to the gems. They were old, well designed and masterfully crafted crystals. He drained them, filling his aura back up. The draw was too great for much of the jewelry, and the gems crumbled. Only a ring and an ear cuff remained intact. His aura full, Endrance could see a faint glimmer in both of the stones. They could be reused.
He slipped the ring on his hand. It fit just right on the middle finger of his left hand. He pocketed the ear cuff, as he didn’t have the time or compulsion to pierce his ears at that point.
“Okay, am I the only one who is injured?” Endrance asked.
“Of the remaining wolves, we are still in fighting shape.” Wrach reported. “Heal yourself and let us go.”
Endrance cast a strengthened, long form healing spell. As he did so, the three wolf mages’ memories came to mind and he knew now there were several other healing methods available to him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to explore them. Endrance stood, the pain a fading echo. He reached and turned to Bridget, who was holding his still weak familiar.
“Here’s your bird.” She said, passing Gullin to him. “Sorry for nearly killing you.”
“I… thank you.” He said, accepting the bird. “Where did you get the arm?”
“That seed you left at the house.” She replied. “Turns out your friend literally sent you a new arm for me.”
“And you just… stuck it on?” Endrance asked, casting the healing spell on his familiar. New feathers replaced lost ones, and wounded flesh was knitted. Gullin regained consciousness with a squawk.
“Yes. It hurt a lot. But it works and that’s what matters.” She replied.
“Whoa!” Endrance exclaimed as Gullin flapped about trying to right himself. Endrance set him on his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to suggest taking it off. It’s too late for that anyway. Let’s just hope that it works like it’s supposed to.”
“The Ascension.” Selene said. “Shouldn’t it be done now?”
Endrance shrugged. “Given how long I’ve been out here, it should have been. They had until dawn.”
“If they don’t succeed by then, we’ll have to start over tomorrow.” Selene said with a sigh. “I don’t think we can wait that long.”
Endrance remembered what he had realized before his wife knocked him out. “Oh gods!” he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. “We have to get there now!”
Bridget looked at Selene, and then the two of them looked at him. “We can get back well enough, but you won’t be able to follow.” Selene said. “I can’t carry that much.”
“Are you sure?” Bridget replied. “I mean, he is scrawny.”
“What?” Endrance asked.
“Tell you later.” Bridget said. “Why do we need to get back right now?”
“I realized what the Ewer was for!” Endrance said, gesturing frustratedly. “They’re taking it to the top!”
“What ewer?” Bridget asked.
Wrach stepped forward. “The great golden thing that Endrance discovered the mages were guarding.”
“What’s so bad about it?” Bridget replied.
“The Ewer,” Endrance began while trying to clear his head “it carries a powerful necromantic spell within it. They intend to anoint the mountain with it and corrupt every living soul in Balator into the undead.”
Shocked silence filled the immediate area. Even the remaining wolves perked their ears.
“I haven’t been able to confirm it, but I’ve reason to believe the mountain has a source of power up near the top.” Endrance summarized. “It could be a nexus of geomantic energy. The snow melt trickles through the source, picking up some of its heat and power, and diffuses as it runs through the mountain to the reservoir in the first bowl.”
“How can that be possible?” Bridget asked. “We haven’t noticed any magic… stuff in the water.”
“You wouldn’t.” Endrance replied. “Because you’ve grown up around it all your lives. But the signs are right in front of us.”
“What signs?” Selene asked.
Endrance pointed at Bridget. “Their bodies.” He locked eyes with Bridget, and something about his eyes made her clamp down on her desire to object. “Look at your average height for a Balatoran. It’s over six feet. That’s almost absurdly tall for a group of people. Consider also, the average build. Even children, on average, have more muscle power than any other human we’ve encountered.”
“Your people have grown up on a mountain that has been steadily feeding you magic in a small trickle. It’s in the water you drink. It’s in the food you grow. Tell me, in your tales of the past, did the people have trouble surviving on the mountain?”
Bridget nodded. “The first ten years were the worst when we settled. People fell ill. We decided that it was the act of mages trying to destroy our only city.”
Endrance shook his head. “How did the ones who got sick eventually die?”
“Tales say they burned up inside. Turned feverish and hot, and many went mad. Some had their skin begin to seep blood.” Selene recited.
Endrance nodded. “When our mages are trained, one of the first and most important things we learn to do is how to handle power flowing through our bodies. It’s not natural for the human body to have more than an iota of power. The meridians are not capable of handling the excess; and it can cause nasty side effects, and even death. I’ve been trained to handle it, but were I to put even the small amount of power I use in the weakest of my spells into a normal human, they would most likely die.”
“Why haven’t you noticed this before?” Bridget protested.
“Look, it wasn’t really important or a pressing matter; so I never investigated it. But the whole point of this is that your bodies have adapted to the power latent in your water and food. If they corrupt the source of that power, your people can be hit harder than if the walls of Balator had come down entirely.”
“That does sound bad.” Bridget said. She turned to Selene. “Think you’re up for one more trip?”
Endrance looked at the two, puzzled. Selene nodded. “Yes, we should be able to get back.”
“Trip?” Endrance asked.
Selene smiled at him, and then her face took on a look of extreme concentration. Endrance became more concerned when he heard a sound like bones popping their joints. Leathery black bat wings sprouted from Selene’s back. Wrach and the remaining wolves tensed, their hands on their weapons.
“No!” Endrance protested, waving them away. “It’s all right! She can do that!”
“I knew there was something strange with her smell.” Wrach muttered, glaring at the mage. “You knew she was infernal?”
“She’s only half,” Endrance reasoned. “And she is on our side.
“Your side, perhaps.” Wrach growled. “You choose dangerous mates.”
Endrance felt a twinge in his chest. “You’ve got that right.” He replied mutely.
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