Death Mage's Curse

by Jon Bender

  As he readied his next cast, the ground began to shake beneath his boots, accompanied by a low rumble. The dry, hard-packed earth cracked open, allowing many of the freshly dead to slip into the space. From within the new hole, a bright green pod emerged. The round, squat plant came up to his waist and was as wide as a wagon wheel. The pod split open with a tearing sound and dozens of vines poured forth. All were barbed, and a thick, yellow liquid dripped from the tiny thorns. Jaxom smiled. Now he faced a worthy opponent whose essence would offer him even more than that of common men. As the vines snaked towards him, he scanned the mass of soldiers, searching for the mage. Not finding the source of the magical attack, Jaxom countered with the blight. His own tendrils gripped the vines, their green lengths withering with decay. The two casts danced around each other. He destroyed the vines half a dozen at time only to have them replaced by more. The sparring went on for many long seconds and still he could not find the mage.

  Things became worse when two jagged rips of darkness opened. From the absolute black came two large warriors wielding massive swords. Jaxom replaced one of his cast with coil, smashing it into one of the warriors and forcing the massive figure to stagger back into the portal. But as he turned the swirling white smoke on the second, the first gripped the edge of the doorway with a black armored hand, pulling itself back through. He felt not fear but a sense of urgency. He needed to find the dark priests who had summoned these shadow warriors. Taking a brief glimpse, he spotted black cloth among the churning sea of grey. Emboldened by his predicament, the soldiers were inching forward with their weapons ready. Even the threat of the durgen no longer kept them at bay.

  He could not release either cast to deal with the dark priests or the earth mage. To do so would allow either the vines or the shadow warriors through. Jaxom reached out to the dozens of dead men nearby, calling them to stand and find his attackers. The strain of maintaining three casts was almost more than he could bear. The energy pulled from the transformed priests was swiftly draining away. One by one, the risen gained their feet, gathering up their fallen swords and spears. The living soldiers who had inched closer began stepping back again. Their faces awash in horror as they watched their fallen comrades rise again. Within seconds, thirty stood ready to obey his commands. Some of the vines from the pod struck his risen force, but the poisonous barbs had no effect on the dead. Jaxom felt himself drift into the mind of each risen until he was staring through thirty pairs of eyes. The effort was enormous, and he did not know how long he could maintain the link. As one, they rushed forward.

  Hacking his way through the frightened men, each risen now imbued with his own martial skill, one of his selves caught sight of a black-robed priest of Or’Keer. Instantly, two others joined the first risen, all ignoring the slashing of the enemy until they were on the praying man, butchering him with powerful, downward strokes. When he had finished, all that remained was a pile of hacked flesh and limbs. Another group of his others quickly discovered the green mage as well. The man abandoned his pod at seeing he had been found, calling instead a thick spiraling plant from the ground. Standing as tall as a man, the plant shot forth hundreds of barbs that embedded in the flesh of the risen. One was completely blinded by the assault as several of the missiles struck its face. Jaxom severed the link to the useless risen, using those left to circle the mage and deliver the same fate the priest had received. With the death of such powerful men, Jaxom felt a stronger energy fill the area around him to feed his hunger.

  In his own body, he watched as the first shadow warrior dissipated. Holes formed in its body, allowing the sunlight to pass through. The wriggling vines dropped lifelessly to the ground. With only one magical foe left to contend with, he hardened the coil once more. The tip of his cast hurtled forward to pierce the summoned warrior through the chest and pinning it to the earth. Stretching out his other hand, Jaxom called forth the bones buried deep below his feet. First, only a few burst forth, then more erupted, sending dust flying into the air and obscuring sight of the army surrounding him. The bones shattered into pieces, the smaller shards leaping toward the immobilized warrior. The white projectiles shredded their target, tearing wisps of shadow from its body. He watched with passive eyes as the warrior was quickly whittled away until it lost cohesion and broke apart as if smoke caught in the wind.

  His other selves continued to search for the last priest, though half had been destroyed. The power gained from the transformed priests was nearly gone. He needed to replenish it before he could continue. The thought alone was enough for two of the risen to return to him, almost of their own choosing. They dragged with them a captured Rilnormam soldier who futilely kicked and twisted, trying to free himself. When they reached him, Jaxom saw for the first time that their eyes no longer glowed white. Instead, the color remained the same as before their deaths. Stranger still was seeing himself through them, a lean, intimidating figure dressed in black with a claw-pommeled sword at his hip and a face stripped of emotion. The experience was like standing between two mirrors, the reflection going on for eternity. Something inside shrank away at what he saw, and he looked to the sprawled man at his feet. The soldier’s fear was absolute as he tried to scramble away on his back only to be stopped by the risens’ outstretched swords. His eyes were wide and mouth hanging open in a scream that would not come. Jaxom knew he should feel something, some sense of pity or compassion. The coil formed, spearing the man through the stomach but not high enough to kill him instantly. A quick death would not supply the power Jaxom desired. The coil turned a bright white as he drew the man’s esence into himself. More risen stood and joined those still fighting, and more living men were brought to him. As the fourth slipped into death, Jaxom paused, near to bursting with power. The army that had stood before him had retreated back into another unit, leaving a hole for the soldiers in tan livery to fill, but they came no closer. The Ostegans staring in fear and confusion just as their enemies were.

  Jaxom took a step forward to further slake his thirst when the ground began to shake. A loud cracking sound above drowned out the noise from the battle. He looked up, more curious than afraid, to find a part of the wall breaking away. His risen flowed toward the Rilnormans, searching for the mages responsible. The roar of falling stone was like nothing he had ever heard before. He watched, unconcerned, as it slid down the side of the dry lake. Even the durgen, which was now rushing back to him, would not make it in time. He watched the powerful animal’s low flight, its eyes glowing white as it skimmed the ground. Then, turning back, he raised his hands above his head as tons of rock came crashing down, burying him.

  Adriana swung her flanged mace and connected with a soldier’s shoulder. She felt the bone crumble beneath the blow. Following, Laiden held his hand out, unleashing a swirling inferno of flame from his enchanted ring. The fire engulfed three more soldiers and pushed others back. Six risen surrounded him and Darian, keeping the enemy at bay and allowing them to cast uninterrupted. After landing near the edge of two entangled forces, Darian’s prediction had proven right. The Ostegan soldiers quickly realized the small group of friends was on their side. Many even moved to help the mages. Without needing the protection of the durgen, Laiden had commanded them to clear a path ahead.

  Adriana had shouted for Jaxom not to send them away when the large birds appeared, thinking there was no way he could face them alone. After they landed, she had watched in amazement as he destroyed three within minutes. When the fight was over, and two of the shadow birds were retreating, she feared he had drawn more power than he could control. Her fears were confirmed when he dove straight for the heart of the fighting instead of joining his friends. Her first instinct was to go to him, but she realized the futility of trying when a durgen that took to the air was slapped down by a black tentacle. They would not be able to leave the ground again until they were away from the fighting. With no other choice, she pushed on, searching for Vaniece, hoping perhaps she or the prince could help Jaxom. The part of the drie
d lake they stood in was slightly higher than where Jaxom had made his stand. The vantage offered her a clear view of him and the chaos he had created. The space around him had been cleared of the living, and he was at that moment shredding a shadow warrior. He seemed to be holding against the entire army. She was forced to tear her eyes away as a Rilnorman soldier lunged at her. She brought her mace down in an arc, and the two weapons clanged loudly as they connected, the lighter sword knocked aside. Brenin was there instantly to exploit the opening, driving his own blade through the man’s stomach. She aided the Guard Captain in putting down two more before she finally looked back. What she saw froze her heart in her chest: Jaxom raising his arms just as a landslide covered him.

  Someone was screaming in her ear, and it took many seconds for her to recognize the tormented sound as her own voice. She had already taken a half-dozen steps deeper into the Rilnorman army when someone grabbed her arm and forcefully pulled her back. She swung her mace around to crush the owner of the hand.

  Darian’s other hand grabbed her wrist, stopping the swing before it could connect with his face. “We can’t reach him without help,” he shouted over the sounds of fighting and signal horns. She jerked furiously, trying to free herself, but Darian refused to relinquish his grip. Laiden moved the risen soldiers and durgen around them while summoning the blight to create more room. “We have to reach the prince. He is the only one who can help now.”

  She heard his words but did not comprehend. She turned her head back to the cloud of dust where she had last seen Jaxom and tried again to jerk away. A strong hand connected firmly with her face. The impact stunned her. When her vision returned to normal, she saw clearly what had happened. The man she loved was likely dead, but if he lived, she could not get to him alone.

  Anger pumped through her body like poison. “Follow me,” she said, her voice cold. Turning, she left the circle of risen. Darian and Laiden cast to clear her path. As they pressed forward, a group of three found courage and came for her. One dropped to the ground with a spear of ice through his chest. The second’s throat bloomed red as a bone dagger sank deeply into it. Bringing up her mace, Adriana gripped the flanges in her other hand, using the steel haft to block the incoming attack of the third and shove the wielder back. The soldier’s sword went too wide to stop her weapon folding his ribs inward.

  The fighting became less intense as they pushed deeper into the Ostegan lines. There was some confusion among the soldiers they passed, but none perceived them a threat until they were away from the fighting. Before them stood dark men in loose clothing, each held a pair of curving swords at his sides. As she took another step forward, those blades came up smoothly, all held at the exact same angle. Behind the wall of men, mages hurled magic over their heads to land amongst the opposing source or countered the casts of others.

  Adriana dropped her mace to the side, hoping to appear less threatening. “I am looking for a death mage called Vaniece Enhart,” she called out to the strangely still men. “I have a message from her brother, Jaxom.”

  None of dark men moved, but she could see their eyes taking in the risen soldiers and durgen. It was likely that they had never seen such beasts before, though none showed the least bit trepidation. “You picked an odd time to deliver a message,” one of the men finally said. The soldiers around them took notice of the exchange but did nothing to intervene. Whoever these men in the baggy, tan clothing were, the common soldiers thought them more than capable of handling the four friends and their escort of dead men and six-legged animals.

  Adriana gritted her teeth, but kept her tone calm. “Her brother is here, fighting on your side, but he needs help.”

  There was a short pause during which she thought she heard them speaking to one another. “Stay where you are,” the same voice said. One of the men sheathed his swords and stepped back, moving away as the others glided to fill the space.

  Adriana tried to slow her breathing and clear her mind. She played with the ring at her neck while she thought over what she was going to say. One thought repeated itself in her mind. What would she do if they refused to let her see Vaniece? The answer came too quickly. They would wait until the battle was over and try to retrieve his body. Without him, they had no purpose here. The thought of Jaxom dead caused her chest to tighten, and she crushed the doubt into nothingness. She could not give up hope. He had to be alive.

  The same man returned and looked them over slowly. “The others must wait here.”

  Adriana looked back at her friends. They nodded. The speaker held out his hand expectantly. She handed over her mace, and the man hefted the weapon with a hint of surprise on his face before also taking the bow she carried slung over her shoulder. He led her past the mages toward a group of well-armored men and horn signalers on horseback. The horses parted for her escort until she was standing in front of a handsome man with short dark hair wearing a steel breast plate emblazoned with the half-sun. His presence and air of authority marked him as Prince Sagrad. Sitting next to him was Vaniece. Adriana caught her breath at the unmistakable resemblance to Jaxom. Vaniece had her brother’s short black hair, sharp features, and dark eyes that seemed to draw in the light. Adriana had often stared into Jaxom’s eyes, entranced by the endless, lonely depths of them. The only thing out of place about the woman was the sword at her hip. Adriana recognized it immediately. It was the sword Jaxom had lost in his fight with Tandis, and she made a mental note to find out about that later. If there was a later.

  “You have a message for one of my mages?” Sagrad asked, with an air of amusement.

  Adriana ignored him and turned to Vaniece. “Jaxom is here. He has been searching for you,” she said.

  The other woman’s eyes hardened. “My brother is dead,” she said, anger edging her voice.

  “No. He has been in Ale’adaria, living as the adopted brother of King Corin. He came here searching for you, but he needs your help,” Adriana pleaded.

  Vaniece stared down from her horse. “Where is he, then?

  Adriana turned and pointed to the pile of rubble. “He was there when the rock slide came down. We must get to him soon.”

  Vaniece’s eyes never left hers, but the Prince looked. “The mage who collapsed the Rilnorm flank alone is the man you speak of?” Sagrad asked.

  “Yes. He is the adopted brother of Corin Baldrin, King of Ale’adaria.” She said, switching tactics and concentrating on the prince. If he knew Jaxom was Corin’s brother, he might be more willing to help. “King Corin has formed an alliance to fight the dark god. He is now marching through Bruxa on his way east.”

  The prince seemed to consider her words for a moment before looking at Vaniece. “This mage has helped us win the day. That alone is reason to save him…if he still lives.” Vaniece was about to speak when Sagrad raised a hand, stopping her. “If they are spies or assassins, we will know soon enough, but I do not want the king of Ale’adaria angry with me if what she says is true.”

  “She is lying about my brother. That alone makes her untrustworthy,” Vaniece said coldly.

  “Who told you he was dead?” Sagrad asked. Vaniece paused, and Adriana saw doubt in her eyes. “Take one hundred of the Desert Walkers to circle the main battle. The Rilnormans are already retreating. You should have no issue reaching him from that ravine,” Sagrad said, indicating a small opening near the rock slide.

  “I will not leave you unprotected,” Vaniece said.

  Sagrad looked about at the thousands of men and dozen mages surrounding them. “I think I can manage without you for a short while.” His tone brooked no further argument. “There is little risk and much to be gained if we have found a new ally.”

  “We need a mage to move the rocks,” Adriana said, the small flame of hope gaining strength.

  Sagrad nodded to Vaniece and turned his attention to speak to another man. Vaniece ordered Adriana’s companions to be brought.

  Jaxom’s sister hopped down from her horse. Seeing Adriana’s confused look,
she explained. “I will not be an easy target when you turn out to be exactly what I think you are. And you will pay dearly for invoking my brother’s name,” she said.

  As they waited, Adriana could not take her eyes from the skull-pommeled sword. “Where did you get that?”

  “I defeated an enemy mage and took it as a prize.”

  “Did he have only one hand?” Adriana asked.

  The question gave the other woman pause. “How do you know that? Is he a friend?” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

  “Jaxom is the one who took his hand the last time they fought. He is a mage created by the dark god,” Adriana said, but she was already scanning the battlefield. Tandis might be close by. The idea sent a chill through her.

  “Mages are born, not created,” Vaniece said dismissively, her angry façade slipping for a moment.

  Adriana had no desire to argue and let the matter go. Jaxom could explain everything. For now, Adriana had help to reach him, and that was all that mattered.

  When the others arrived, Vaniece took a moment to look them and the risen over. She lingered over Laiden and the durgen. It was apparent she was intrigued by the apprentice and the risen animals. Adriana thought it likely that she had not seen another death mage since her parents left her to fight Or’Keer. When she completed her inspection, the group left at a light jog with the hundred men she called Walkers following. Staring out over the churning battle, Adriana saw that Sagrad was right. The Rilnorman army was slowly retreating. Once they reached the narrow passages leading away from the lakebed, the prince would either have to break from the fight or pursue. The latter would mean fighting until well past dark, unable to overwhelm his opponent quickly in the tight confines.