by Jaxon Reed
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Nessa said, a tone of wonder in her voice.
“That’s on account of it’s uncommon,” Percel said. “The art has mostly died out. I imagine only the elves know much about it.”
Everyone looked at Tawny. She shrugged and said, “I’m untrained. I wouldn’t know.”
“Aye. Well, I do know to get through this corridor, we must not touch the runes. The team was attacked between here and yonder double doors. Toby, mayhap you should stay behind, lad. The way between these traps be very tight.”
Toby’s eyebrows went up and his mouth made an O shape.
“I’ll guide him through,” Nessa said. “Come on, Toby. Hold my hand.”
Tawny rolled her eyes, but she followed Erik through the path between the runes after Erik followed Percel.
Soon, the team stood before the door.
Tawny looked around, apprehensively.
She said, “Something doesn’t feel right.”
A black mist seemed to swoosh by her head, reminding her for a moment of the mana clouds in the Abyss.
Whuff!
The mist coalesced and turned into a man. He stood beside Tawny with a look of deep hunger, a bit of drool trickling from his mouth.
“Forgive me.”
He grabbed her head and bit her neck before anyone could react.
Chapter 8
The team sat around a private table back at Headquarters, staring sullenly at the vampire.
Choster ignored their glances, eating daintily at fried mutton on the plate before him.
“I don’t really need the food,” he said with a smile, fangs showing. “But it’s been so long, I’m happy to indulge.”
They had beaten him off Tawny, and Erik was about to run him through with his blade, for all the good that it would do, when Choster yelled at them to stop and produced his Dungeon Corps badge.
This calmed everyone down. Choster apologized profusely for biting Tawny without permission, but he needed blood. And elven blood was the best, infused as it was with magic.
Once Percel determined that Choster was the sole survivor of Missan’s team, he prepared everyone for returning. Although it was very expensive, they had carried with them a portal stone powerful enough to take them all home. Percel produced it and brought them safely back to a room in Headquarters’ basement set aside for that very purpose.
Now they were gathered at the table, filled with food and eyeing the vampire warily.
For his part, Choster took their stares in good spirits. He was rather used to looks askance, as it were.
“I’ll certainly file a report on everything that happened,” he said to Percel as he chewed and swallowed another bite of mutton. “I’ll include events from when the team was annihilated and what I was able to observe while in my State of Mist down in the dungeon.”
Percel nodded. He had little choice in the matter of trusting Choster. If he had served well on Missan’s team, then he would fill out an accurate report. Percel resolved to read it, though, and see how the vampire portrayed himself. If the report seemed too self-serving, it would likely be untrustworthy. If the vampire proved more circumspect, the report, as well as Choster, would gain considerable merit in Percel’s eyes.
He said, “Just as soon as you feel up to it, please.”
With that statement, Percel excused himself and headed upstairs for his room. He felt like taking a bath, then a long nap. He walked away without looking back.
Tawny and Erik sat across the table from the vampire, who was flanked on either side by Nessa and Toby.
Toby kept frowning at him. Nessa seemed upset, but Erik decided it was probably because she could not sit next to Toby rather than anything having to do with her proximity to Choster.
For her part, even with a table between them, Tawny seemed obviously ill at ease. She stared at the vampire in part horror, part fascination. She also had a death grip on Erik’s hand under the table. He let her, too. Better she express her unease that way than in some other more detrimental fashion, he thought.
Choster ignored them all as he nibbled on the food before him. He took a sip of ale and smiled again.
“Ah, this is delightful. Never thought Headquarters’ food would taste so good.”
“What’s going to happen to me?”
The question came from Tawny, and everyone froze. Choster stared at her, fork halfway to his mouth.
He said, “I never bite without permission, my dear. I am afraid the situation was quite unprecedented. Your blood thoroughly revived me, and was precisely what I needed after being incorporeal for so long down there.”
He smiled slightly, but Tawny kept staring at him. Erik felt her grip tighten on his hand.
Erik said, “Answer the question.”
Choster’s eyes flicked to Erik, then back to Tawny.
He said, “Ordinarily, I offer magical knowledge to those team members I bite, in exchange for their blood. In your case, we were unable to come to an agreement ahead of time, and again I offer my sincere apologies.
“In recompense, my dear, allow me to share the knowledge of Shadow Magic with you. Instead of just one spell, I will give you everything I have. Is that amenable?”
For a long moment, Tawny just stared at him. She continued to grip Erik’s hand under the table.
Finally she said, “I suppose so. What is Shadow Magic?”
“Ah. It is easier to show you than tell, my dear. May I?”
He reached a slender, pale hand across the table toward her forehead. Tawny hesitated, then bent so he could touch it.
Blue light sprang from his fingertips, covering Tawny’s head for the briefest of moments.
When he withdrew his fingers, her grip on Erik’s hand loosened.
Tawny tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling.
She said, “Oh.”
-+-
Although Dungeon Corps Headquarters in Phanos was unused to hosting vampires, such were not completely unheard of within the ranks. And so, Choster was relatively well received. Once everybody realized he was not going to attack them and try to drink their blood, they grew much more receptive to his presence.
He seemed very open about what his team found down in the dungeon, and excused himself after breakfast so that he could write up a report. He retired to a private room carrying several sheaves of parchment, a quill pen, a blotter, and a bottle of ink.
He stayed there until lunch. When he came out, he handed over a small stack of documents to Dunken.
Dunken thanked him and went to the building’s library to file the report. And, also, to read it firsthand.
Choster loudly stated he wished to dine with the team that rescued him, and sat with Erik and the others during lunch. Percel was nowhere to be seen.
The vampire ate sparingly, especially in contrast to Toby who had five plates of baked chicken along with three bowls of yellow squash and diced onions. Between bites he finished an entire loaf of bread.
For all the novelty of having a vampire at the table, and the subsequent attention he gathered, for his part Choster had never seen an elf as large as Toby. He stared at the food-devouring creature in amazement.
After his last plate, Toby leaned back in his chair and stifled a burp with a satiated smile and a fist to his mouth.
“You know, I haven’t spent any time in your land,” Choster said to Tawny. “Although I’ve read quite a bit about it. My kind is unwelcome there, sad to say. Are there many like him where you come from?”
“My brother? He’s one of a kind.”
Toby smiled at her and burped again, louder this time.
Tawny did not feel like going into an explanation of how Toby came to be, nor did she feel like diving into a long-winded discussion of elven heritage and lore. Choster did not press her on the issue.
By this time most of the morning teams had returned from their suppression runs through the crypts, and many were leaving their tables to go out into the cour
tyard for afternoon training sessions.
Seeing this, Choster said, “Would you like to learn more about using Shadow Magic?”
Tawny looked up, interest sparkling in her eyes.
“Yes.”
They both stood and headed for the door. Nessa immediately scooted over to sit by Toby.
Erik said, “Let go of Toby, Nessa. Toby, let’s go get some practice time in.”
“Be careful and don’t hurt him,” Nessa said, disentangling her arms from the elf’s.
Erik snorted. He said, “I doubt I could hurt him much even if I wanted to.”
Out in the courtyard, Choster reached into his left sleeve and produced a parasol, seeming to pull it from between his arm and shirt. He opened it, blocked the sun, and motioned Tawny over to a corner where a tree branching over the wall offered some shade.
He said, “So, Shadow Magic involves the manipulation of shadow, of course. The easiest spell to master is Shadow Invisibility. It is like invisibility, but it works in the shadows. It is rather self-explanatory.”
He smiled, with a look in his eyes indicating he was fully aware of the absurdity in the way his statements sounded.
Once in the shade, Choster folded the parasol and set it down, leaning it against the courtyard wall.
He looked at Tawny and said, “Observe.”
He winked out of sight.
Tawny blinked and looked to her left and right.
“That’s . . . that’s good. I can’t detect a thing.”
Choster reappeared, his pale white face creased in a smile.
“It has limitations. It does not work in sunlight, obviously. It works best at night or deep underground where sun never shines. It is favored by a handful of assassins and higher level rogues, although I’m afraid it is rather uncommon these days. It is not as popular as it was a century or so ago.”
Tawny nodded, soaking up all the information.
Choster said, “Would you like to try it? Step out of the sun.”
She moved into the shaded area, looked him in the eye and concentrated.
She winked . . . and a shadow of herself could still be seen under the tree, her outline clearly visible.
“Hm. Not a bad first effort,” Choster said, with a hint of disappointment.
“Wait. I can do better. Let me try again,” Tawny said, becoming fully visible again.
This time she closed her eyes tightly and concentrated harder.
She blinked out of sight.
Choster grinned in delight, his fangs exposed.
“You’ve got it! My, my. Elves are so adept at things they endeavor to master. What would you like to learn next? Ordinarily I would ask for another sip of blood, but since you did rescue me from that awful dungeon, I will teach you whatever you’d like.”
“I want to learn it all. How does one go about detecting if there is someone else using Shadow Invisibility nearby?”
“Excellent question!” Choster said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You could cast a reveal spell, but those who have mastered Shadow Magic can become attuned to its use. Far better, you can train yourself to recognize the signatures of a fellow practitioner. Then you will be more likely to detect their presence should they try to sneak by. Let me show you . . .”
On the other side of the yard, Clencher closely examined the sword Erik had looted.
“And y’say this came from a Cenotaph Wight’s statue, on the lowest level of that new dungeon?”
“That’s right,” Erik said, nodding. “We destroyed the cenotaph and its spirit went away. Turns out there was a fresh body inside the stone, or something. I don’t know, maybe breaking it released the spell. Anyway, the soldier was holding this sword and Percel said the sword’s spirit returned to it. I don’t think there are any enchantments on it, but it’s a nice upgrade from my old one.”
Clencher nodded, holding the blade close to his face.
He said, “This is an old-style battle blade, a Nikos sword.”
Clencher said it with a touch of awe in his voice. Erik looked at him sharply.
Erik said, “A Nikos sword? What’s that? I’ve never heard of it.”
Clencher frowned at him. Then his face eased before he could make a sharp reply.
He said, “Ah, young Erik. You come from Norvold, renowned for its swordsmen. But only recently so renowned, I believe. Nikos swords date much further back, long before Hedgrick’s ancestors walked this world.”
Clencher sighed and his eyes seemed to wander off, as if viewing someplace far away and long ago.
He said, “When the world was still young, and before much knowledge of the Greater Magics were lost to time, a group of men sought to imbue their swords with the finest elements they could fashion. They were known as the Warlords of Pelton, and they used the best metals, fashioning them in forges long lost, using techniques unfathomable today even by the best dwarven smiths. And they imbued their swords with the strongest fighting spirits possible . . .”
He drifted off, lost in thought.
Erik shifted his weight from one foot to the other, impatiently.
He said, “How?”
Clencher blinked as he came back to the present.
“Beg pardon?”
“I said, how, Master Clencher? How were they able to imbue a sword with a better spirit than it otherwise would have?”
“Ah,” Clencher said, nodding. “That is the question. No one knows. The Warlords of Pelton are long dead, gone these many centuries. But the spirits in their swords were stronger, more passionate, more robust than any before or since. It’s where we get the term, ‘fighting spirit,’ in fact. They always fought well, those swords. To victory, if at all possible, in every battle. They did everything they could to help their bearers win. Ancient wars were often turned by these blades alone. They helped forge the Ancient Empire, back when it was young.
“That is why they are called Nikos swords. Nikos is the Old Tongue word for ‘victory.’ It is said whoever wields a Nikos blade in battle will surely emerge victorious, if the sword has any say in the matter.”
He took a deep breath, holding the weapon a moment longer. Then he reluctantly handed it back to Erik.
“Don’t ever sell this, my boy. Never let it leave you, long as you live. Keep it by your side, and it will serve you better than any enchanted blade ever would. I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d get to touch a Nikos sword. They are extraordinarily rare in this present age, most having been lost in the mists of time. To own one of your own is a rich blessing.”
Erik took the blade back and looked at it differently now. Before, he could feel it was special, and he appreciated its unique balance and razor sharp edge. But now that he knew of its legacy, he held it with more reverence, almost in awe.
“Are there any books that mention these Nikos swords, Master Clencher?”
“Perhaps. Look in our library and see what you can find.”
Erik nodded absently and walked away, holding the sword out in front of him, staring at it in wonder. He could feel the spirit within the blade, and it seemed almost like an extension of his arm.
It felt . . . alive. Robust, and ready for anything.
“Hurk!”
Toby lunged from behind him and Erik stumbled as the flat edge of a wooden sword slammed into his back.
Erik jumped, twisting in the air to face his surprise opponent. The Nikos sword blurred and neatly snicked through Toby’s wooden blade.
Before he could stop, the blade flicked back in a simple beat parry, slicing through the flesh in Toby’s upper arm. The blade cut through muscle and tendon like butter, scraping the bone under Toby’s bicep.
They both stopped. Toby stared down at his severed wooden blade in surprise. Then his eyes shifted to the long line of blood flowing down his arm.
“HAAAAAAAHHHHHGGGGGGG!”
The roar Toby made drew every eye in the courtyard. Nessa screamed when she saw the blood, and came running over.
&nb
sp; “Toby! Toby! Oh Lord Creator! What has he done to you, love?”
Toby wailed again as the bleeding increased, cups of red liquid dripping to the ground.
“Toby! Oh, Toby!”
Nessa reached into her innermost being and cast Greater Healing. She did not stop to think, she simply cast the spell.
Erik saw a small flash of light surround Toby’s arm . . . and the wound disappeared. All that remained was the blood spilled on the ground.
Toby wailed again.
Erik said, “Toby, stop! Look at your arm.”
The giant elf glanced down and halted mid-wail, his eyebrows going up. He twisted his arm and looked under it, but no signs of the cut remained, neither scar nor scratch.
He pursed his lips into an O shape and looked at Nessa with wonder.
Nessa had to wrest her eyes away from his as others came and inspected Toby’s arm.
Norra walked up and looked at the perfectly healed skin. Then she smiled at Nessa.
“Congratulations. Now that you’ve cast it, let’s do it again. On command.”
She took out a knife and nicked her palm, drawing blood.
“Cast.”
Nessa looked at the wound and scrunched her brows. Everyone waited for a minute, watching. Nothing happened.
Norra sighed and casually reached over to slice open Toby’s shoulder. Her knife flashed and cut his skin.
“HAAAAAAAHHHGGGGG!”
“Toby!”
Nessa cast Greater Healing, and the new wound disappeared instantly.
Toby gave Norra a hurt and distrustful look. He backed up a step while eyeing her knife and covering his shoulders with his hands, hugging himself.
Norra said, “You need to be able to do it for everyone on your team, Nessa. Otherwise it’s useless. Now, cast it on me.”
She held out her bloody hand again. Nessa gulped, and concentrated.
This time, a few seconds later, she cast Greater Healing once again. Light surrounded Norra’s hand for a moment, and the wound disappeared.
“Very good,” Norra said. “We’ll practice it again tomorrow. I don’t feel like cutting myself anymore today.”
She walked away to resume working with others in the courtyard.