by Pirateaba
She was their lone witness. The mages had told no one else that today was the day, and none of them had apprentices. Ophelia was the first to hold Ceria’s hand, smiling warmly. The stitches around her mouth pulled as she kissed Ceria on the cheek, to the half-Elf’s shock.
“Once this is over I might have to teach you a bit as well. It’ll all be different, Ceria. I promise. Mages will change. This place will change.”
“I’ll be waiting for you to shake my hand. So don’t go anywhere—this won’t take long.”
Jurix grasped Ceria’s hand tightly as he looked her in the eye. She nodded, throat too constricted to speak.
Bastam was next.
“You know, I saw your exam. I thought that you had courage then, courage and daring. I thought to myself, that’s what we’ve forgotten, all the older mages. I’ll show you we have it today.”
He passed her by and Qum was there. The Dullahan bowed his torso to Ceria and then held up his head. He regarded her solemnly.
“Luck to us all.’”
Illphres was last. She and Ceria stood apart from the others as the mages began casting spells. Ward spells, spells to increase their physical condition or protect against attacks. Illphres cast no spells. Hers was already active.
The walls of the corridor were already frosting over with ice. Ceria began to shiver and shake uncontrollably as the temperature around Illphres lowered and lowered again. The other mages weren’t affected—they all had artifacts to protect them against her cold, but Ceria didn’t have any.
Illphres looked at Ceria without an expression on her face, but then she let the ice reshape her lips into a smile.
“Seems like I need to increase your training if you’re cold from only this much. Remind me once I’m out.”
Ceria tried to smile, but her lips couldn’t move. Illphres stared at the double doors, and Ceria felt the chill around her grow deeper. It was so cold. But the mage’s voice was light when she spoke next.
“If I was an adventurer, if I had gone out into the world and fought monsters and gone into dungeons for a few years, maybe I wouldn’t be so scared now.”
“What?”
The woman turned back to Ceria, smiling.
“I grew up in Wistram. I spent my life here. But perhaps if I’d gone out into the world and gained more experience—well, I’d probably be scared all the same. There are wonders and horrors in this world, Ceria, remnants from the ages when gods still lived, memories of empires long gone. This is one of them. And today we will challenge the power of one of the true [Archmages] of Wistram.”
“I know you’ll succeed. I know it.”
Illphres just smiled. She put a hand on Ceria’s shoulder and the half-Elf shivered. Illphres looked deep into Ceria’s eyes as she whispered to the young half-Elf.
“Remember this, Ceria. For good or bad it matters not. In tragedy or triumph it is the same. Today you will stare into the heart of it.”
She smiled at Ceria. Her hand was cool on the half-Elf’s shoulder. Cold to the touch, but not freezing. The ice thickened on the walls around Illphres. She looked into the half-Elf’s eyes.
“This is magic.”
Then she turned away. Jurix stepped up to the doors and glanced to his left and right. Illphres stood next to him on his left with Qum further down, Bastam and Ophelia on the right.
“Ready?”
They nodded. Jurix took a breath, and then put his hands on the double doors. He pushed, and they flew open.
As one, the five mages stepped into the room that lay beyond. Ceria took a step towards their backs, but dared go no further.
The Golems of Zelkyr waited in the room beyond. She caught a glimpse of five figures, standing on the other edge of the room. A golem made of burning rock. A metal reaper standing tall and silent. A behemoth knight made of metal. A dark thing already bounding across the room, quiet, panting.
And Cognita, standing tall and proud against the obsidian doors, arms outstretched.
Welcoming the challengers.
Then the doors slammed shut and Ceria saw nothing else. Heard nothing else.
The challenge had begun and she could only wait. If there were any gods, Ceria would have prayed. But she could only hope.
—-
It felt like time stopped after the doors closed. Ceria stared at them, and then wondered what she should do. Sit down? No—she wanted to be standing when everyone came out.
But how long would it take? Suddenly, Ceria was consumed by that question. She shivered in the freezing air as she stared at the double doors. Not a sound passed from the room beyond. She couldn’t tell what was happening. She could only imagine.
What would happen first? Would Cognita speak before the battle began, give the mages one last chance to turn back? Would Illphres or the others speak? She wasn’t one for speeches, but Jurix might say something, or Bastam.
How long would that take if they did that? Or—what if the fight began the instant the mages stepped into the room? Would it be over in seconds?
Surely not. Either way—Illphres would slow them down with ice. She’d create barriers. It would be impossible to kill her and the others in an instant. They were already warded and prepared for battle.
So how long would it take to destroy the Golems? Ceria guessed as she shivered in front of the door. The ice generated by Illphres’ field of cold was still coating the walls, overwhelming Ceria’s own ability to nullify the chill.
When would it be over? No—when would the mages come out? Because, surely, they might rest after the battle. Ceria tried to calculate the time it would take.
Magical battles were rarely long, but this one was different. So…five minutes? That was far too short. Ten? Twenty?
Ceria waited. She knew the minutes were passing as she tried to put a number to her fear. After five minutes she felt relieved. Or told herself she was relieved.
Five was too short. If it was over in five, it would mean they were—
No, no. Not five. Obviously not. Ten, then? It still felt too quick. Or was it too long? Ten minutes, with every mage in there throwing their best spells at the Golems?
After ten minutes, the fear in Ceria’s belly turned into spikes that tried to push themselves out from within. A little thought in her head began to whisper to Ceria. It was too long. They were taking too long. Wouldn’t she have noticed something, seen some change if the Golems were falling? If it was silent like this for so long, it would mean…
No, no! Illphres was an expert at drawn out battles. This was just playing into her hands. Ceria kept telling herself that. She’d be locking down the Golems with ice, creating fortifications they had to battle past. A long wait was good—they might have to wear down the metal knight Golem, or Cognita. It didn’t mean—
Drip.
It was a faint sound, but the only one in the corridor. Ceria whirled. She saw a single tear of water fall from the ceiling. It splashed with the faintest of noises in the corridor. She looked up.
The ice on the walls was melting. Illphres’ ice was beginning to melt, slowly gathering condensation into droplets that fell down around Ceria. A few fell around her, and then one landed on her neck.
She jumped as if she’d been struck. Ceria turned her attention back to the door, trying to ignore the melting ice. But it kept melting, more and more of it, as the chill lessened and the walls became slick.
The melted ice puddled on the stone floor, wet, cold. Ceria stared at the door as the last of the ice turned to water. Minutes passed, too many. She felt the water touch her shoes.
And she knew.
But she told herself she didn’t. Ceria lied to herself, promising her rapidly beating heart that the doors would open at any moment and Illphres and the others would come out, beaming, battered, but alive. They couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be.
But soon the fear in her heart turned to a suppressed panic in her chest. Ceria wanted to scream, but didn’t dare to. She wanted to run, but there was
no one to run to. The lie in her mind became something else. So long as the doors didn’t open they were alive. So long as the double doors were closed, they were still fighting. They were still—
The doors opened. Ceria stepped back from them and nearly slipped. She blinked her eyes, willing the figures to be Illphres, Jurix, Ophelia, Bastam and Qum—
Cognita walked out of the double doors, her stone body whole and undamaged. Ceria stared at her.
And her heart broke.
The Golem saw Ceria standing by herself in the corridor and stopped. She stared down at Ceria, and said not a word. At last, Ceria looked at the doors.
“Are they—are—”
She had to ask, though she knew the answer. Cognita nodded. She spoke softly.
“They failed the challenge. They are dead.”
“It’s not true.”
Ceria started towards the doors. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be. Cognita could not be here, undamaged. She had to be injured, destroyed. She couldn’t be—
“Ceria Springwalker. I would advise you not to go within.”
“Let go of me!”
Ceria tried to push Cognita’s hand away, but the Golem was immovable. The half-Elf squirmed out of the grip and ran for the doors as Cognita let go. She pushed desperately on them, felt them give.
Ceria flung open the doors and stared at what lay beyond.
—-
Pisces heard the scream and knew. In truth he had known thirty minutes ago what the outcome would be. It wasn’t anything the mages had shown him.
It was the look in Cognita’s eyes.
It was a small clue, but one the young man understood. He alone had talked to Cognita. He had seen how her face changed. Very little, but she too had expressions. She felt. And ironically, Golems were bad liars.
Cognita had feelings. She could feel passion for something, and he had seen her eyes change when he spoke of his ambitions, of what might be done with magic that had never been attempted before. He had seen the spark in her eyes.
But he hadn’t seen it as she strode into the chamber. She had known how the battle would end. She had taken the measure of her opponents and seen what would occur without fail.
If Pisces could have, he would have stopped the five mages. He nearly broke his spell of [Invisibility] to try, but one look into their eyes told him they wouldn’t be stopped. They didn’t care that he was there. They’d seen him, all of them, he was sure. And they’d known from his face what their chances were.
But they’d gone anyways. Because they couldn’t turn back. Because they were true mages.
And now they were dead. And Ceria—
He saw Cognita carrying the half-Elf out of the room. She fought the Golem, punching her, casting spells, but Cognita ignored her. Pisces heard Cognita’s voice as she told Ceria that if the half-Elf entered the room and fought the Golems she would be killed. And he saw her head turn and knew that was meant for him as well.
Pisces couldn’t look at Ceria as she collapsed on the ground. Instead, he slipped away when he saw the group of five lesser Golems enter the room and exit with bags of holding. He knew what they were doing.
He knew where they carried the dead.
Mages died in Wistram. Not as often as one might think, but enough so that it was not rare. Failed experiments, duels gone wrong, simple suicide or accidents like slipping down stairs—
And of course, those who failed the challenge. Pisces walked after the Golems, noting how other students passed them, oblivious to what the Golems carried. They were just things to most of the mages.
But the Golems had purpose, and they fulfilled all manner of tasks. Such as finding a place for the dead.
The catacombs of Wistram were extensive, dark, and off-limits for Pisces. For all students, really, but especially him. Two suits of armor stood guard on the entrance at all times, a hallmark of another time when the remains of one mage might be destroyed by an enemy.
But the remains of the recently deceased went to another room, where the process of decomposition was initiated by Golems. Only the bones would go below.
Pisces slipped into the room, unseen by the five Golems. He saw them emptying the bags of holding onto the stone slabs. The room was empty save for one dead student. Pisces saw a dead body with too pale skin and realized one of the Selphids must have evacuated it for whatever reason.
Six bodies, then. Pisces sighed softly when he saw the remains of the mages that had been alive not an hour ago.
Illphres, Bastam, Jurix, Ophelia, and Qum. Not all were recognizable. Not all were in one…piece. The Golems bent over their bodies, hands raised. Pisces realized with morbid fascination that they would disassemble the bodies without tools, only brute strength and unyielding fingers.
For a moment, the young man hesitated. He was uncertain, but he stood up as one of the Golems reached down for Bastam’s face.
“It is not right. It is not fair. But it must be done. So. Rise.”
The bodies jerked and came to life. The Golems paused, not comprehending as two of the six corpses in the room slowly stood up. Pisces felt the magic leave him and staggered. He drank a small potion at his side, cast the spell again. The mana in him burned as it left, but then six corpses were standing.
Not zombies. Not Ghouls, or any of the lesser undead. Burning eyes and flames in empty sockets stared back at Pisces as he looked at the six Liches, mages claimed by undeath to roam the earth.
Liches, yes, but more powerful than their skeletal counterparts. That was just magic used to reanimate long dead bodies. So close to death, these six fallen mages were stronger than Wights, more powerful than common Liches. They were as close to Revenants as he could make them.
The Golems turned towards the undead. They didn’t understand what had happened, but they had their orders. One reached for the thing that had been Illphres.
“Fight.”
The Golem fell backwards as a fist struck his chest. Pisces heard the stone crack and saw Illphres’ frail hands moving. She leapt at the Golem, faster than he had ever seen her move. Pisces saw the other Golems fighting now, reacting to the threat.
Too slow. Pisces let the undead knock the Golems down but didn’t bother trying to finish them off. Instead he turned and ran towards the door.
“Follow!”
—-
Wistram was in uproar. Pisces ran down the steps, shouts and screams echoing behind him. The six dead mages followed closely, making no sound as they ran behind him.
He had hoped they wouldn’t be seen as he ran down the corridors, but there were too many students and mages about. But they’d made it. Pisces leapt down the last flight of stairs and gasped for air.
Ahead of him, a tunnel lead up towards a gate, guarded by two huge shapes. Armored knight Golems. They blocked the way. Pisces pointed a finger and his undead leapt towards the Golems. They reacted swiftly, raising their swords and shields and charging into the battle.
Pisces ignored both sides. He ran on, using [Flash Step] to evade one of the Golems who tried to cut him as he passed. He had only one goal in mind as he broke the lock on the gate and ran through it.
The catacombs were dark. Ward spells shone in Pisces’ eyes, enchantments designed to prevent the dead from rising by siphoning the mana away. He ran past sarcophagi, alcoves in the wall, coffins and burial urns, searching frantically.
It had to be here. He knew it was here. All the books said—
There. Pisces stumbled into an open corridor and saw the tomb. It was a dark, thick stone slab covering a stone bed. There was only a single glowing line of text, written in an ancient language on the cover. Pisces couldn’t read it, but he knew what it said.
The grave of Archmage Nekhret, one of the true [Archmages] of Wistram. And the only one to be buried in this place. The others had died elsewhere, or left no bodies to bury, or at least no bones.
But Nekhret—Pisces stumbled over to the stone lid and heaved at it with all his strength.
He couldn’t budge the heavy stone. Only when his four remaining undead ran towards him and pushed did the lid fall to the ground with a crash.
Pisces knew he had to hurry. He knew he had only minutes before the mages would come, or the Golems to protect this place. But his breath caught as he saw the yellowed bones and the grinning skull of the former archmage. It was just a body. Just a body.
But the bones still glowed with power. Pisces reached out with trembling fingers and then remembered. He took out the small bag of holding he’d stolen from the Golems and reached out to take the bones.
The instant Pisces’ hand touched the first bone he felt the world shift. He cursed, looked around wildly. Then he realized the magic was coming from the stone coffin itself.
Something was growing out of it. Pisces cried out in terror and shoved the rest of the bones into the bag of holding. He stumbled away, his undead forming a wall around him as something appeared in the air.
A shadow blacker than color pulled itself out of the darkness. From underneath the coffin, more…things appeared. They drifted upwards, taking forms that were vaguely like real shapes and at the same time not.
Dark night made the blade one of the apparitions drew. The blade glowed in the darkness, or rather, made the darkness shine around it. It was the antithesis of light, the darkness in every ray of light.
Slowly, the other summoned creatures drew weapons as well. They were undead, or perhaps something greater. Pisces knew it as he ran, leaving the bodies of the former mages to buy him a second of time. Nekhret’s last curse on those who would plunder her tomb.
He should have expected it. But Pisces hadn’t thought. He’d only known this was his chance. Now he ran as the apparitions flew after him, screaming with voices that made him throw up as he used [Flash Step] to dash up the stairs.
The undead stormed out of the catacombs as evening drew into night. The students of Wistram and mages heard their screams and turned to fight. Golems and mages alike battled the dark apparitions in the hallways, classrooms, and banquet halls, fighting to save their lives.