by Pirateaba
“Hah! Is that what you seek, Human? Why didn’t you say so? We can find your dead-raiser far more easily than that bauble!”
Both Urksh and Ryoka looked up. One of the faeries flew down and gave Ryoka a pointy-toothed smile.
“We can sense where the dead gather. If you wish, we will take you to the one you seek.”
Ryoka looked suspicious, but then her expression changed. She nodded.
“If you know where to go. I’ll accept.”
Something tugged at her shirt. Ryoka looked down. It was Mrsha. The young Gnoll child was tugging at Ryoka’s shirt, insistently. She looked heartbroken Ryoka hesitated, and then turned and bent. She patted Mrsha on the head, like a kid, ruffling her hair. The Gnoll girl shied away, but looked imploringly at Ryoka nonetheless.
“I’ve got to go.”
Ryoka turned, and—had the Frost Faeries been smiling? It was just a flash, but she could have sworn they’d been smiling at Mrsha. But as Ryoka turned towards them they were wearing their customary looks of mischief or contempt. But that was just an act too, wasn’t it?
“Come on slow Human! We go west now, west towards death! You will tell us many stories as we travel, won’t you?”
“Maybe.”
The faeries scowled. One flipped backwards in the air.
“Bah! ‘Tis just another way of saying ‘never’!”
“I’ll tell you stories if you don’t bother me, but only after we stop. Deal?”
“Maybe.”
Ryoka rolled her eyes, but then it was really time to go. Mrsha clung to her leg, but at last Ryoka prized her loose. The young woman turned and waved towards the Gnolls, and set out. It was a clear, blue day and the winter air was crisp and fresh.
She smiled, and waved one last time as the distant figures and tents disappeared from sight. For once, Ryoka wasn’t running from something but to something. And she was following faeries.
Ryoka’s good spirits lasted for fifteen minutes as she ran through the snow. Then a snowball dropped onto her face and she heard a voice in her ear.
“Oops!”
2.24
Some called him Az’kerash. Others, quite few now, remembered the past and called him Perril Chandler. No one living or dead remembered to call him by the nickname even he had forgotten, Peril. And those who spoke of him usually didn’t even bother with ‘Az’kerash’. They called him the Necromancer.
He cared not. He cared little about many things, in fact, and that lack of emotion was a void which grew with each passing year. A little sphere of silence and empty feeling in his heart. But he had grown used to that, too.
He was busy. In fact, he was so busy he didn’t even bother looking around as his servant spoke to him. All of his gaze was focused upwards, and the magelight was the only thing that lit up the grand chamber he used for creation.
Creation. There was no other word for it. The Necromancer looked up and created something never dreamt of by any species, now or in the past. It took up all almost all of his focus, and yet he still replied absently to the woman with pale skin and green eyes who stood attentively by his side.
Her name was Venitra; all else was meaningless. She stood before her master, in darkness, in the silence of his castle. She was here to report, and that provided her with all the joy in her life. When she spoke to her creator—when she was in his presence and felt his attention on her, however slightly—she felt fulfilled.
“Another being has breached the outer web, master.”
Perril Chandler did not frown; his face never changed as he stared upwards. He was devoting so much energy to what floated above that needless expressions would have been a waste. The fact that he could even respond at all was incredible to anyone who could understand what was happening. But he had been a genius, once. A prodigy. Now he was a legend and so he spoke, although he would only truly remember what had been said when the spell was finished. If there was something important enough to warrant his full cognition he would attend to it. But until then he simply trusted to his subconscious.
“Another one? Curious. Describe this new intruder.”
“Human. Female. Six feet in height. Black hair; athletic build.”
“Hmm. Not part of either army, then. Are there any other features that set her apart?”
Venitra nodded, although she knew Az’kerash wouldn’t see her. She had been taught to mimic the gestures of the living and she did so dutifully even though she’d never been alive.
“She resembles a Drath Archipelago native. Also, she appears to have several pieces of highly magical equipment, and she is running quickly in this direction.”
“Anything else?”
Venitra hesitated. The watchers had seen something else around the girl. Some kind of…things. Blurry, fuzzy blue things. Frost Sprites. But her master had long ago insisted they were unimportant, so she did not mention them. She did not want to fail him or bother him. That would be her greatest nightmare, if she actually slept.
“Nothing of consequence.”
“Hm. And you said she is running?”
“Yes. Quickly, but without any movement-enhancing Skills.”
“A Runner, then. Possibly a Courier, although they move more quickly. Interesting.”
One pale white hand came up and rested on his lips as Peril devoted more thought to this new information.
“I would investigate myself but my work—no, no. She is no doubt a messenger for one of the armies. Are they still engaged in combat?”
“Yes, master. Zel Shivertail has retreated from Wall Lord Ilvriss and is attempting to reform his shattered forces. The other army is actively hunting the scattered bands of warriors. Neither side has noticed the presence of the castle or made their way through the second web.”
A sigh. The Necromancer would have shaken his head, but he didn’t need to think as deeply.
“How troublesome. Even in this remote region, chance and the petty squabbles of the Drake cities can bring an army upon our doorstep. Well, it matters not who wins. Observe them, mark the spots where the dead fall. And if any penetrate the veil and enter the castle – kill them.”
Venitra’s eyes glowed brightly and she smiled.
“Yes.”
“Leave me.”
Her moment was over. Reluctantly, Venitra withdrew, and then went to deliver the instructions she had been given to the guardians of this place. She left the large room where the supposedly-dead legend stood, and walked out the double doors, letting them swing silently closed behind her.
It was a castle where Az’kerash made his home, but not one that would have been familiar to anyone who studied castles in Erin and Ryoka’s world. The corridors in this castle were vast, and the stones that made up the walls, floor, and ceiling were huge chunks of black stone, far too large for even the most advanced construction equipment from this world to ever lift.
And it was inhabited, just not by the living. A small army stood in front of the doors, waiting for an enemy that had never penetrated these walls. But it was always best to be vigilant, lest their master be troubled, so Venitra decided to be extra-cautious.
She raised her hand, and a dozen undead warriors followed her as she strode through the halls. Venitra walked through the darkness, needing no light. Only the glow of the deathless eyes lit the darkness, not just from her and behind, but from the corridors, the walls, the ceiling…
The undead stood silently, waiting. Waiting.
Waiting.
—-
Four days after leaving the Stone Spears tribe, Ryoka realized she was smiling.
It wasn’t an unnatural thing; normal human beings did it all the time. So did Ryoka. But she had trouble remembering when she’d last done it unconsciously, just because she was in a good mood.
And it wasn’t even as if she was even doing something insanely fun. In fact, she was failing to do something. But it was the challenge Ryoka loved, the feeling of pushing herself hard and doing something of real worth.
It sounded vaguely like someone saying ‘eh’ through a microphone, but only if that someone was a rock who could speak and the microphone in question was some kind of tricked out synthesizer that made the sound warble and bounce.
It sounded weird, and it was loud enough to make some birds in the distance fly up as Ryoka walked through the snow. She frowned, concentrated, and the ‘eh’ changed into an ‘ah’ that was high-pitched, sonorous, and somehow, flat.
“Is it…? No. Damn.”
Something landed on Ryoka’s head. The girl ignored it, although the cold was just slightly below a comfortable temperature. She frowned at her hands, until a small face appeared upside-down in her vision.
“Human. What is that?”
Ryoka ignored the question. Two seconds later the Frost Faerie pulled back Ryoka’s eyelids and the girl swatted at the faerie with a shout of anger. The faerie flew away, laughing, and Ryoka looked up.
The Frost Faeries flew high overhead, a group of twenty or more. Only one was hovering around Ryoka, but she was sure the others could hear every word she said. And because they were traveling companions and because she knew they wouldn’t leave her alone until she answered, Ryoka spoke.
“I was working on a spell until you interrupted me.”
“A spell? Ooh, what is it? Tell me!”
“[Noise]. It’s a Tier 0 spell that Ceria taught me.”
The faerie just blinked at Ryoka. She sighed, and lifted her hand to demonstrate. Her palm glowed for a second, and then the same warbling ‘eh’ echoed from her palm, only quieter. The faerie stared at Ryoka’s palm in expectation, flicking her glance between it and the girl’s face.
“Is…that it?”
Ryoka shrugged.
“It’s what the spell does. Ceria taught me it as a way to practice controlling magic. It’s not very useful, according to her; you can’t toss the sound and complex things like voices or music are impossible to create.”
She’d been trying to figure out if that was actually true. But after nearly an hour of producing various squelches of noise, Ryoka had to admit that Ceria was probably right. The spell was too limited to create actual sounds, let alone any kind of deliberate sound no matter how much mana she put in it.
Not that she had much mana or understood magic that well. Ryoka could only sense half of the things Ceria had spoken about. To her, the spell was a vague feeling in her head, a feeling or thought she could focus on. It was like nothing else she had ever felt; if there was such a thing as a sixth sense, magic would probably be it. It was like feeling a new part of her brain open up, and Ryoka had no idea how any of it worked.
She could add mana to a spell to make it stronger, adjust certain parameters like the loudness of her [Noise] spell or change the noise that came out, but nothing else. Even that was apparently tremendous work for a beginner, but Ryoka had sort of been hoping for more out of the spell.
So had the faerie. She looked at Ryoka and shook her head.
“Magic here is so silly. Tiers? More nonsense for you playthings and fools.”
She flew around Ryoka’s head and landed on the young woman’s left shoulder. Ryoka looked over and saw the small faerie resting comfortably on her jacket, legs swinging. It was such an odd sight, Ryoka had to blink even though this wasn’t the first time the faeries had done it.
They acted so familiar now it was eerie. But after four days—six if you counted the two in the Gnoll tribe’s camp—Ryoka had gotten to know the Frost Faeries, at least in the sense that neither side was actively trying to kill or maim the other.
She told them stories, and for that they helped guide her, played less pranks on her, and generally deigned to answer her questions. Ryoka still had a definite sense that she was more ‘interesting lesser being’ than ‘equal sentient’ to them, but she took what she could get and put up with their remarks and occasional snowball to the face.
And honestly, it was a small piece of wonder for a faerie, a being of the fey and myth and legend to sit on Ryoka’s shoulder. She just wished it wasn’t so cold.
“It might be silly, but that’s the only magic I can do. That, and [Light].”
The faerie sniffed dismissively.
“Aye, we’ve seen you playing with your faint glows at night. ‘Tis a pale specter of faerie fire or wyrd light. Have ye never seen a will-o’-wisp? That light is true light.”
“I have not, and I don’t particularly want to be led astray. And what do you mean ‘faint’?”
Ryoka had been experimenting with the [Light] spell, and at least there, she’d realized she could actually alter the orb of light significantly. Instead of having it float next to her, she could just project light from her hands like a flashlight, or even shoot it from one finger. It was incredible, but again, only to Ryoka.
“Hah! You think your light is bright? It’s but feeble glimmer compared to yon candle up overhead.”
The faerie gestured upwards, and Ryoka didn’t have to look to know she was pointing at the sun.
“Well, I can’t make light as bright as the sun. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing to you.”
“Worry not, pathetic human. All you mortals do is disappointing and sad.”
The faerie laughed and back flipped off Ryoka’s shoulder to reappear at the girl’s side even as Ryoka abandoned her magic practice and picked up the pace. The faerie leaned backwards in the air and adopted a lounging pose, as if she was lying down in the air. But she never lost her position in front of Ryoka, even when the girl transitioned into a run through the snow.
“We did promise to guide you to your destination, but so slowly? We bore, Human! Run faster! Or tell us a story!”
Ryoka gritted her teeth and raised her voice as she ran through the snow that tried to drag down her every step.
“I’m just a sad, sorry mortal. I can’t fly, and I don’t have Skills. I’m sorry I’m not Val, okay?”
The faerie blinked down at Ryoka, and then laughed in amusement.
“The Human? He is just as slow as ye are.”
That was interesting. Ryoka frowned up at the faerie. They didn’t like answering too many questions when she put it to them directly, but she’d learned to draw answers out of them in the form of conversations.
“Really? I thought he’d be fast, to you at least. What about Hawk? Isn’t he quick?”
“Would ye compare snails to birds, Human? We ride the wind and race through storms! We move across paths beyond worlds—what can your small feet to do catch us?”
The faerie looked insulted, and Ryoka quickly changed the subject.
“Okay, fine. You’re fast and I’m not. I guess you travel around a lot, then? Is that how you know Teriarch?”
The faerie narrowed her eyes down at Ryoka. She and her friends had already refused to answer Ryoka’s many questions about their home, their magic, and pretty much anything else of value. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“We’ve seen the old fool about before. In passing, when he was but a whelp, and later. What of it?”
“You’ve been around here for a long time, then. Are you older than Teriarch? How old are you—or do faeries move through time differently?”
Now the faerie did frown. She flipped her wings and ‘sat’ in the air, facing away from Ryoka.
“Secret.”
“Oh come on. What’s the point of a secret if you can’t share it?”
Ryoka felt like she was coaxing a kid, but the faeries were childish at times. But when the immortal turned her head to look at Ryoka, she felt a chill as she realized she was speaking to just that. Sometimes the faeries were childish, at other times their gazes turned ancient and unreadable. Like now.
“Some things cannot be told, and certainly not for a single tale, mortal.”
“How about a hundred? Don
’t you owe me a favor? You may have promised to take me to the place where the dead gather, but I’ve told you countless stories and poems. Doesn’t that mean I get a few questions answered or—”
Squish.
Ryoka grimaced as she stepped on something soft and mushy. That was the problem with running in the winter, the fall, or outdoors in general. Oh, sure, the snowy landscape looked pristine, but she’d probably just landed in a patch of half-frozen muck, or a pile of compressed leaves of something.
“Damn.”
The faerie looked down at Ryoka and shook her head. Ryoka made a face as she pushed through whatever it was and ran on. She hated running in the snow. She had boots and heavy clothing on, and she was moving far more slowly than she or the faeries would have liked as a result.
And she couldn’t see where she was going, which led to moments like these.
“Okay, what about—shit!”
She stepped on something else that was slippery and gave way under her boot. Ryoka made a face as she lifted her feet higher so she could run on top of the powdery snow rather than on what was beneath it.
“God. Is this some kind of mountainous swampland or something?”
It didn’t look like it. Ryoka was heading up a hill, and she’d been running through a forest high up in the hills, close to the foot of one of the impossibly tall mountains. The faeries flew up the hill, and Ryoka followed, swearing as she slipped a few times on the ascent.
“Come on. I don’t want gold or any of those trick flowers you give, but I’d settle for knowledge. You told me you’re not even supposed to talk to mortals, right? Aren’t you breaking a rule already?”