by Ink Bamboo
The burliest amongst them took a step forward. His gait carried the arrogance often found in someone who had never experienced a fight. Ignorant onlookers would never think that he was one of the first to run when the undead were revealed.
“One minute is all we need? I’m willing to take that holy water off your hands then,” he said.
Magnus smirked with a feeling of schadenfreude. Holy water was a valuable resource to those of humble origins, even more so in a kingdom without much religious influence like Nyx. However, it was as common as normal water back in his kingdom. Moreover, as the guardian of the church’s Chosen, he was given vast amounts of it to carry at all times.
“Very well,” said Magnus. “Since you’re the first to come up, I will give you the flask whether you last the entire minute or not.”
Arkus sighed, shaking his head from side to side. He was also interested in seeing how much control could be exerted over the undead. However, he knew the recruits were not the best match to do so. His previous punch towards an undead had told him their bodies were as strong as those of an armored rank one fighter. None of the recruits was a match.
The only thing keeping him from interfering was the fact that the church’s party could truly prevent any serious injury from happening. He didn’t think Magnus would go overboard with the recruits as long as he remained in the vicinity.
The ignorant first timer stepped forward from the crowd. His eyes carried hints of hesitation when he looked at the undead but regained their light once he saw the flask in Magnus’s hands. How hard could fighting a dead man be? He’s died once before, after all.
Magnus smiled, reminding the recruit, “You’re free to quit at any time. Just let us know when you’re ready to give up.”
The recruit blew out air from his nose, taking a combat-ready position he had been taught by his instructor. “Come,” he said “I don’t believe I can’t last one minute against a bag of bones.”
“I like your spirit,” said Magnus, laughing under his breath. “I will send the weakest one against you then.”
Following his words, a simple looking undead stepped forward from the group. It carried the armor of Nyx’s military and had only one arm remaining. It was easy to tell that it had been nothing more than a simple foot soldier while it was still alive.
“Ready?” asked Magnus.
The recruit didn’t answer, running instead towards the undead. Arkus’s words still sounded in his ears, reminding him to fight with courage.
*Thud*
Alas, courage wasn’t enough to gap a mountain of difference in skill. The recruit was sent to the ground as the undead retracted his one working hand. The lower jaw of the living dead seemed to rattle as if mocking the man who had dared to go against him.
The recruit stood up, clearly disoriented. The reflexes the undead had just displayed were far from what he expected. Not only did it side-step his punch, it had also slapped him hard enough to make him kiss the ground.
Sparks of indignation lit up in the recruit’s eyes. He was brave and courageous. The first amongst his group to step forward. How then was he defeated so fast? Filled with anger, he took the wooden sword resting on his hip. Recruits weren’t provided real weapons, but in his opinion, a wooden one was enough to crush the undead’s bones.
*Thud*
However, his actions proved to be failure once again. The remaining flesh in the undead’s eyes seemed to rise in mockery of his actions.
Truly splendid, thought Amro. Most of the spectators wouldn’t realize it, but Magnus had chosen an undead from Nyx’s army for his own selfish reasons. It wasn’t respect towards the fallen rebels, but an experiment.
Magnus was compensating for the lack of control he possessed over the undead by using the remaining fragments of will that were left behind in its body. Magnificent. Such a creative line of thought was truly fitting of his role as a wizard.
*Thud*
A third slap spelled the end of the battle. The recruit’s jaw had been shaken strongly enough to cause him to fall unconscious.
Magnus called one of the paladin candidates to heal the fallen man, commanding the undead to step backward. He approached the courageous fool, placing a flash of holy water in his pocket.
“Well fought,” he said. His words were honest, but seemed to spark a trace of resentment in the rest of the recruits. “Does anyone else want to try?”
Silence. No one stepped forward. After all, the seemingly strongest recruit had been defeated with three simple slaps. After seeing that, no other recruit had any will left to fight.
Arkus placed a hand in Magnus’s shoulder, apologizing for the incident. “They’re only recruits. They’re still unaware of the cruel reality we live in the battlefield. Your nation and ours have been at peace for far too long, so I request you forgive them for their lack of spirit.”
Magnus smiled, signalling for his party to group up. After a while, the initiate paladin finished using a simple healing spell on the fallen recruit, passing him to the other recruits before returning.
“I guess we can go back,” said Magnus, filled with expectancy towards the upcoming days.
“Of course,” said Arkus, turning to look at the dumbfounded recruits. “Tonight, we celebrate our alliance!”
Chapter 12
Goals.
Arkus stood in front of the council presenting his report. After an hour of discussing everything he had seen, everyone was left in silence. Frightening. The military implications of the divine weapon the church had offered were far too big to overlook.
“How many undead were there?” asked Nolan. Simple details could mark the difference in the stance they would take.
“Around a hundred of them,” answered Arkus. “But I’m unsure whether that’s the full extent of the object’s power. Magnus didn’t seem physically nor mentally exhausted after using it. However, you got to consider he is far stronger than our average soldier.”
“What about the man who fought them?” asked Katherine. She was worried about the man who had ‘bravely’ stepped forward in an effort to ‘gather information’ for them.
“He’s already awake,” said Arkus. “There is no lasting damage from what we can tell.”
Richard’s fingers tapped on the table. There were a hundred things going through his mind at the moment, “What’s your final assessment, Jan?”
The old strategist massaged his temples as he answered, “There are too many things to consider. According to Magnus’s description, its power is far beyond anything I originally considered. Imagine being able to raise our fallen comrades back into battle. That power alone would double our military capacity.”
Crossing his arms, he continued, “Unfortunately, I’m missing too much information to estimate the strength of this weapon properly. What is the range of its power? Can more than one person inject mana into it? Is there a limit to how many undead it can call upon? Too many factors remain uncertain.”
Richard combed his own hair in an attempt to calm himself down after seeing his strategist’s excitement.
“It’s okay, Jan,” he said. “Just plan based on what we already know. I’ll try to get Magnus to share more information with us the day after tomorrow.”
“Richard,” said Nolan, “I’m afraid they might ask for bigger concessions if you do such a thing. Those sly foxes from the church are far greedier than the nobles we know, you must be careful.”
Richard looked at Nolan with a slight frown on his face. He was aware of the man’s hatred towards the church. His shady business dealings were far from aligned with the teachings of the Church of Light.
Fortunately, Richard knew that Nolan wasn’t wrong either. The way the Church of Light had overtaken the Kingdom of Ionia made him well aware that their offer could be nothing but a ploy to weaken the foundations of Nyx.
“Don’t worry,” said Richard. It might have seemed hard but the decision he had to take was obvious. “We have no other options. If we let N
yx follow its current path, it won’t be long before its demise. Only our guidance will let the kingdom flourish once again. We can worry about dealing with the Church of Light once the kingdom’s future has been secured.”
Jan nodded his head in agreement to Richard’s statement. The old strategist was already formulating plans on how to limit the influence the Church of Light could gather in the future.
Only Arkus seemed to remain calm. A man like him was more suited for the battlefield than as a participant in the complicated stream of politics. “Today’s allies are tomorrow’s enemies, huh?”
Everyone gave a slight chuckle after Arkus’s remark. There was no point in overthinking the issue any longer. Whether they would win or lose, everything would soon be decided.
“Well then,” said Richard. “We should return to the barracks. It would be seen poorly if the leadership was absent at our alliance’s celebration.”
✽✽✽
Magnus faced the fire of a candle, pondering on how best to achieve his mission. Leading the rebels to victory was a relatively easy matter. What bothered him was what would come afterwards.
The Church was looking to expand their influence rather aggressively. Most churches on the continent were. As someone who had declared war on the clergy, he had his own theories regarding the issue. Without proof, however, theories were just that — theories.
What mattered the most to him was Erin’s current situation. The church would need a strong amount of military power to continue their expansion. Once Erin grew up to their standard, she would be thrown into the fray. This expedition was just the beginning of Erin’s cruel future as a war machine.
Unfortunately, Magnus had no option but to follow orders for now. Going against the church would put Erin’s life in more jeopardy than necessary. He needed to find a turning point. That’s where divination came in handy.
A rift appeared in space and Magnus took out a couple scrolls from its depths. The complex formations contained within those scrolls detailed Magnus’s cumulative efforts in finding that turning point. They were the results of researching forbidden knowledge, the gains received after peering into the stream of fate.
Magnus took a quill and dabbed it in ink, ready to break the taboo once more. He could feel himself closer than ever to his answer. His instincts as a mage carried nigh-predictive prowess as the result of constant contact with the forbidden. He had no qualms in trusting them.
Magnus moved to the window of his room, carefully opening it without making a noise.
It was time.
Following his determination, his eyes took the color of his robes. Peering into the river of fate required him to look into the sky and its stars. Often times, he had to do so through the use of magic. But it was different here, there weren’t any priests watching over him all day long. He could afford to commit this taboo in the open.
Taking this rare opportunity, Magnus’s mind proceeded to interpret that which was hidden in plain sight.
“Humans have only themselves to blame for their ignorance. Knowledge is out there,” said Magnus. His words had a slight prophetic tone to them. “Either visible or hidden in plain sight, the knowledge of the world is available to he who reaches out.”
That was his creed as a mage.
Magnus’s eyes returned to normal along with a strong headache after a few minutes. The few drops of scarlet falling from his eyes unto his cheeks were quickly wiped as the old mage took his seat once again.
It was not an easy task, but freeing Erin was worth every drop of blood he spilled. Worth every ounce of his life he gave away. The mage was close to achieving his goal. So close he could almost feel it.
After taking a long breath, Magnus’s golden quill was once again dabbed in ink. The piece of paper facing him was ready to bear his art. Only time would decide the results.
✽✽✽
A resounding celebration exploded amongst the rebels. People who had been working over a decade to ensure their goals couldn’t help but cheer with glee once the news of an alliance had spread.
Those recruits who had witnessed the power of the rising undead couldn’t help but tell the news to all their seniors. Eventually, the camp was filled with hot blooded individuals ready to battle. As the situation would have it, war seemed to be a possibility in the near future.
Hope was a powerful feeling to those who had experienced none in a long time. Their newly acquired alliance with the Church of Light represented a world of possibilities. One where success started to seem possible in the near future.
The sound of drums being played ignited a fire in the recruits’ hearts. Even if they were new to the rebel force, the feeling of hope also applied to them. A future where fairness returned to their nation was welcomed by everyone. Of course, what this ‘fairness’ represented varied from individual to individual.
Yet amongst all the celebration, there was someone who seemed intent on keeping his distance. Someone who was busy thinking about matters too complex to be understood by others — Amro.
He sat alone taking a sip of the drink in his hand. Not alcohol, but water. The pleasures of the flesh were far beyond his care.
His current body was not his to play with. It was only a functional loan from Zaros. The boy was still trapped in Amro’s soul domain fighting against himself, against those demons that plagued his heart.
Ignoring the noisy atmosphere around him, Amro gazed at the stars. His eyes turned cloudy as he took in a new stream of information. His mission was something important to the order of nature. It was his sworn duty to guard the law of death. He could be said to have failed once in the past, but that was a mistake he was willing to amend.
Amro knew the information available to him wasn’t absolute. Certain beings and individuals took measures to protect themselves against divination. That didn’t mean, however, that they could protect all the strings of karma attached to them.
As things were, Amro knew the journey that awaited him was long, with many breaks in between. That being said, a shortcut capable of saving him a few years of efforts had presented itself.
It’s worth a try, thought Amro. He wasn’t one to squander opportunities that came his way. Even more so when these opportunities were getting harder to find since the loss of his divine energy.
Divination provided too much information for the regular individual to handle. Even Amro in his current state had trouble filtering through everything in order to see the bigger picture. Unfortunately, that would have to suffice.
Amro sighed, ready to put his plan into motion. Fate had brought along a shortcut in his path for revenge. It would be a sin not to take it.
There is no point in hesitating.
Little did the Church of Light know that Amro’s presence could overturn whatever plans they had established. The divine weapon they held in their hands was the basis of his old mortal kingdom. In the hands of a common acolyte, it was enough to destroy a kingdom — in his hands, it was enough to build one.
Amro had to execute many plans in order to accomplish his future goals. One of them was to regain his power while the other was to undermine the power of the rivaling deities. The first one was considerably easier than the second.
“Ascension might take too long, however. I need to delay their plans first.”
As far as he was concerned, there existed two methods for a god to undermine another god’s power. The first was direct combat. Nothing could cripple someone’s authority more than their death. The second was messing with the source of their power. Scholars had once wondered what would happen if a god’s followers were eradicated. The answer they eventually came up with was quite simple: oblivion.
Gods held their place with the help of faith. The faith of the living granted them the authority to twist and control the laws of nature. Ancient sages had called it the world’s will.
However, most gods forgot the world’s will granted them not only power but also the responsibility to uphold the natura
l order. Killing Amro was the beginning of their downfall. They had gone against nature, and in doing so, against themselves.
*Sigh*
Amro rose to his feet in an attempt to clear his mind from the many burdens he had embraced. Both being idle and procrastinating were often the source of human despair. He couldn’t afford to go down that road.
Even I have limits, he thought.
Using the distraction brought upon by the celebrations, he retreated into the night. His steps were quiet as he passed by the outer buildings of the rebel camp. Walking along the darkness was already second nature to him.
Eventually, he arrived at his destination. A big building that served to house the rebels’ provisions. On a normal night, it would have been guarded at every corner. Today, however, there was only one guard who had already passed out from drinking too much alcohol by himself.
*Creak*
Amro’s hands pushed the door to the kitchen open. The staff was gone, too busy distributing alcohol and taking part in the celebration to care about their own work. Along with the guards’ absence, he had the building to himself.
It wasn’t long until Amro found what he was looking for — the kitchen’s pantry. Held inside, he found a variety of fruits and herbs ready for consumption. These were the provisions acquired through Katherine’s wealth and Nolan’s channels. Those the rebels would normally consume to heal their hunger.
However, Amro had come with a different purpose. Neither eating nor cooking were his goal. No, his objective was much darker this time. He wanted to concoct a few doses of poison.
He knew that under his current level of power, he was not a suitable opponent to Magnus. Not because he couldn’t manage a fight with him, but because it wasn’t worth it for his host to engage the mage in a direct confrontation. Thus, he had to look for alternatives.
A wise man never fights fairly.
After taking inventory of the items in the pantry, Amro grabbed a white-colored apple to snack on. His mind was busy processing the different poisons he could brew with the ingredients at hand. Taking a bite out of the apple, he suddenly came to a realization.