The Land of the Undying Lord

by J. T. Wright

  It was not to be. Before he could urge his mount forward, thick black roots erupted from the ground, wrapping horse and rider in their embrace and pulling the creatures down. From that range? An Earth Spell from a Fire Elementalist at such a distance, impossible! Yet the Commander was trapped, with its arms bound, not even able to Summon more Warriors. It could see the Adventurers sprinting forward, except for the Mage responsible for this predicament. That one stood, bent at the waist, pale and sweating, exhausted from the single Spell. Then the Healer was standing over its trapped form. The Knight screamed in rage and anguish as Purification was cast.

  The Second Commander dropped more rapidly than the first one, faster than Kirstin expected. The first had been so stubbornly resistant to damage, even under the combined attack of the whole group. Why did this one seem so weak?

  “Lyra, see to Dirk. Everyone else, gather up the drops and get back to the wall.” Frank looked down at the shield left behind by the Commander. They needed that. It was just a matter of deciding who would carry it.

  “I'll help Lyra,” Kirstin informed the Corporal tersely, as everyone moved to obey his orders. She was stopped in her tracks before she could take more than two steps.

  “You will stand right where you are, Lady Kirstin.” Frank didn’t look at her. He still stared without expression at the shield at his feet. He didn’t move, but Kirstin felt like he’d reached out and grabbed her by the throat.

  The Corporal had spoken loudly, but his voice was curiously neutral. He’d called her Lady Kirstin. Corporal Francis had taken to calling all the Adventurers by familiar names. He called her Kris not long ago. This change back to her rank and full name was not good.

  “Did you know, Lady Kirstin,” her back stiffened as he continued, “that the Undead don’t have Health? Not as we do or as we understand the term, at least. Their life force is tied to their Mana. That’s one of the reasons that enchanted weapons, spells, and skilled attacks are the best way to handle them. Purification is so effective on them because it disrupts the Cursed ties between Mana and… Undeath? Un-life?” The Corporal was muttering this last bit to himself more than to her.

  Kirstin cleared her throat. “No, Corporal, I…”

  “No, of course, you didn’t.” Frank spun around, and she turned to face him. “Then you probably also didn’t know that this tie between Mana and Life is the biggest weakness of Undead Spell casters. It’s not apparent in higher-level beings like Dread Knights or Liches, but whatever these things were,” he gestured angrily at the ground where the body of the Knight Commander would have rested if Trial beasts left behind corpses, “they were not nearly that advanced. You can be sure of that because we are still alive!”

  Kirstin tried to think of something to say but couldn’t. Frank’s voice was still low, but a current of anger ran through his words.

  “For lesser Undead Spell casters, each Spell whittles away at their Health, weakening them. These Knights sacrificed their own life force every time they Summoned Warriors to throw at us! I'm guessing you noticed that we took almost no wounds fighting those Warriors. The only serious injury we suffered was when you threw our only heavily armored squad member right into the path of a charging horse!”

  “I thought…” she tried. She wanted to sound indignant, or angry, but only managed a defeated whine. She was almost grateful that the Corporal cut her off.

  “I don’t give a spit for what you thought!” He stepped closer, his hands balling into fists, “You had orders! Everyone had orders! The Warriors knew to hold, and the spellcasters knew to conserve Mana. Matt knew that a time would come when both Knights would be within range of his Spell at the same time. He knew I was depending on him. You destroyed my planning, and may have gotten your friend killed because you told them to act!”

  Kirstin turned her head in a panic to where Dirk had been lying in the dirt. Lyra knelt next to him, casting spells. Kirstin sighed in relief; the Healer couldn’t heal a corpse.

  “Yes, he’s alive for now,” Frank scoffed. Her eyes snapped back to him. “I say for now because Lyra is a very basic Healer. Can she even take care of broken bones? A Trial is a very dangerous place to have injuries that your party can’t heal.”

  The Corporal was not done yet. “Do you know the difference between Adventurers and soldiers, or Adventurers and Guardsmen? Soldiers follow orders! Even if they don’t understand them! Even if they don’t know the whole plan! Maybe an experienced Guardsman might improvise to some degree within a plan, changing to fit a situation. However, it just happens, Lady Kirsten, that you are not experienced!”

  Kirstin flushed. She was an experienced Adventurer. She was Level 22! This was not her first fight or her first Trial. She was a Party Leader! She was used to making plans, and she always discussed them with her team before they executed them. The Corporal had given some basic instructions and expected her to fall in line without any complaints? How was that fair?

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he turned away from her.

  “Sergeant Cullen left the lives of the recruits and Guardsmen in my hands. I intend to see that as many of them survive as possible. He won’t be happy, but he'll understand why we formed separate groups and went our own ways. You with your men, and me with mine. And that is what we will be doing.”

  He walked away. Her face grew red with anger and then paled as his words sunk in. Separate? They couldn’t separate! The Corporal needed them! The Adventurers had the only Healer, the only trained Mage. If they left, what would the Guardsmen do?

  “He isn’t joking.”

  The voice from behind caused her to jump. Whirling, she found Guardsman Merrill had approached her, soundlessly. He was a senior Guardsman and a little familiar to Kirstin. She had seen his lined face with its bushy grey mustache standing guard outside her father’s quarters many times, though she didn’t know the man well.

  Tall and lanky, with a longsword at his hip and an easy-going smile on his lips, Merrill contemplated the young Adventurer before him. He’d seen that mulish look many times on the faces of recruits when they were refusing to learn a lesson. The problem was Merrill knew the Corporal’s words hadn’t been instructing a Recruit. He was entirely serious about cutting the Adventurers loose.

  Merrill tightened his lips and tugged at his mustache, as he turned his attention to the pile of loot the Corporal had left behind. It was entirely possible that Francis had noticed Merrill’s eavesdropping and had left the equipment behind to give the older Guardsman an excuse to come forward and explain a few things. The problem was Merrill was at a bit of a loss as to how he could get through to the girl.

  He knelt, gathering up the shield and various items on the ground, considering what he should say.

  “He wasn’t joking,” Merrill repeated, not looking at Kirstin. “You think he needs you folks, your Skills, and that he'll come around. That’s not going to happen.”

  “But he does need us!” Kirstin’s hands went to her hips as she scowled down at the Guardsman. “We have a Healer and a trained Mage! I have Holy Strike! He needs all those things!”

  Merrill nodded and continued slowly gathering small coins. The Skeletal Commander had dropped Skill Stones as well. Those three glittering blue stones were more valuable than anything else in an Instant Trial.

  “The problem with young Adventurers and recruits is they don’t really understand Trials.” Merrill placed the small items in a pouch and handed the larger ones to Kirstin. She took them without thinking and started to deny his words. He didn’t give her the chance.

  “I know, you’ve probably cleared one or two small ones, and you’ve trained in the Al’drossford Trial for some time, but that doesn’t mean much, really.” Merrill stood and stretched his lower back. “Permanent Trials are easier than Instant ones. You can prepare for them, study them, and there’s almost always an option to run. Instant Trials, like this one, aren’t like that.”

  “Young Adventurers avoid Instant Trials. They fear
them, they think they’re death traps, and they are. All Trials mean death to challengers that fail. A Trial that you aren’t prepared for will kill you quick. And it’s impossible to prepare for an Instant Trial.

  He paused and winked at her. “But here we are, still alive. Still alive, despite the pretty serious mistakes you’ve made.”

  “One! One mistake,” she disputed angrily. “Fine! I shouldn’t have charged out but..”

  Merrill shook his head. “That wasn’t your first mistake or your biggest one. Learning Holy Strike and claiming that new sword of yours were far bigger mistakes.”

  Kirstin’s jaw clicked shut. She was completely taken aback by this accusation. “What?”

  “Trials will kill you, but that isn’t what their goal is. Death is just a result of bad choices in the Trial.” Merrill studied her face to see if he was getting through. “Trials, Instant Trials especially, want to be cleared, and they always provide the means to do so.”

  “When you found that sword and Skill Stone, you should have turned them over to the Corporal. Isn’t that the way Adventurers work? Party Leaders distribute the loot, right? Corporal Frank is damn near Level 40. I can’t be sure, but I'd put good money on all the enemies we’ve faced so far being under Level 25. If the Corporal had Holy Strike, he could have put down every one of those Knights by himself.”

  “This Trial has been going easy on us, slowly increasing the challenge. That’s why the Sergeant and the Lieutenant left. If they’d stayed, with their Levels and Skills, we would have faced much worse, much sooner.

  “The Trial is arming us, but somehow our most potent weapon ended up in the hands of someone, you, who can’t use it to its best effect. The challenges are going to get worse from here on out, but our strongest fighter is still handicapped. Men might die because of that. The Corporal isn’t willing to risk the lives under his command for a girl who can’t even see her mistake. Not even for the Duke’s daughter.”

  Merrill took the loot out of Kirstin’s hands. Her face was perplexed, lips slightly apart, thinking over his words to her. He couldn’t decide if he had gotten through to her or not.

  “Well, it’s really none of my business, but if I were you, I’d apologize to the Corporal. I’d take this opportunity to learn about Trials from the old soldiers, like Braum and Horace, not to mention Francis and myself. We've seen a few things, girl.” He gestured to where Joel and Lyra were helping Dirk to his feet. “Why don’t you go help that Defender of yours for now. Maybe think it over a bit, but think fast, girl. This Trial is far from over.”

  He made his way back to the wall with his burden of equipment. Behind him, Kirstin stood still for a moment, then made her way to her friends. The burden she carried was no less heavy.

  Chapter 26

  They needed a plan. Trent and Tersa sitting with their backs on the stone wall, facing the open doorway, had every intention of coming up with one. However, Tersa’s eyes had closed the second she leaned back. She was asleep, breathing deeply and evenly before Trent had even made himself comfortable.

  It had been a long day; he couldn’t really blame her. He was impressed at how easily she had fallen asleep in a place where she’d been fighting to survive only minutes before. He didn’t feel that tired himself, yet. That was probably the effect of Endurance. He would let her nap for a bit.

  He passed the time quietly, playing with Spark and Fire Manipulation while he had the chance. He could make the flame brighter or dimmer, cooler or hotter, with ease. He could even make it bigger or smaller or change its shape. He had the sense that he’d only brushed the edges of what he could do. He knew he could stick the flame to things and keep it from burning. He even thought he might be able to make the flame float, though trying this had immediately and completely drained his Mana and almost cost him his life.

  The Skeletons chose that moment to respawn in the room. He yelled for Tersa and moved in to fight them, blurry-eyed, dizzy, and a little nauseous. He took several hits from their clubs and a good backhand across the face before he managed to take out all three of them. Tersa never woke up from her sound sleep.

  When his Mana fully recovered over an hour later, he went back to his experiments, being much more cautious this time. Doing battle, while suffering under the effects of Mana depletion, was not something he wanted to do again!

  He created flames that would burn for about thirty minutes, setting them various places on Tersa’s body. Every time one burned out, he created two more to replenish this makeshift clock. After a few hours, Tersa was decorated with small flickering lights from head to toe. She didn’t even stir when he created a small crown of them for her hair.

  He discovered that the Skeletons reappeared about every hour. If he kept watch on his sleeping timepiece, they wouldn’t surprise him, but it took him three encounters with them before he was sure of this deduction. This discovery also caused him to lower his guard a bit more than he should have.

  He was sitting in the doorway contemplating his latest creation, a fire string, when the Undead Hound made a comeback. The string was about three feet long, and he'd made it as hot, but as dim, as possible. He held the ends and slowly pulled them back and forth while he attempted to figure out a way to use this creation that took nearly half his Mana pool.

  The string had been an accident, discovered because he was bored. His current Skill Level, coupled with his fire source, Spark, wasn’t high enough to create much beyond a string. He was about to dispel the useless thing when the padding of feet drew his attention to the hall. He raised his hands defensively when the Undead Hound barreled into him.

  Its feet struck his chest, its jaws reached for his face, and the two were tumbling across the room. He wondered if they would slam into Tersa. Would a kick wake the slumbering girl? Maybe a kick to the face? It would be satisfying if nothing else. Hopefully, the sound of him dying a brutal and senseless death at the jaws of an animal she found cute, would tear her away from her slumber.

  Only Trent didn’t die. As they rolled across the floor, Trent’s hands jerked and pushed frantically. The fire string that he still held became wrapped around the beast’s neck. Trent was probably the most surprised to discover that the Hound’s flesh was burned and cut by the elongated flame. If the Hound was the one more startled by this development, its bemusement didn’t last long. It’s hard to remain surprised when your skull is suddenly separated from your body.

  The beast’s head, jaws open, fell forward as its body collapsed. Its wide mouth covered Trent’s head. Its teeth scratched his cheek, and its long, rough, dry tongue lay flopped to cover his face from chin to forehead.

  The boy lay there with his arms up, stunned by what had just happened. It might have been difficult to breathe under the Hound’s dead weight, but Trent found he wasn’t capable of breathing at all as he froze in shock. Then the disgust set in. He banished the fire string and grabbed the Hound’s skull with both hands, flinging it away with a shriek. He pushed the dog’s corpse from his own body and scrambled away.

  The head thudded against the wall right next to Tersa and fell to the floor. The young Guard Recruit started in her sleep. A flinch, and yet she still didn’t wake up. Her arms flopped up and down, one hand coming to rest on the Hound’s severed head. As her fingers touched the creature’s coarse fur, her sleeping features lit up. She began scratching the Undead Hound’s ears gently and murmuring quietly.

  Trent rubbed at his face with a dirty sleeve. The tongue had been dry, but the sensation had been no less disgusting. He shivered and gagged as he snatched his water skin from his belt and poured water into his hands to wash his face. After wiping away the moisture with his other sleeve, Trent finally noticed the macabre scene of Tersa lovingly petting a corpse. He gagged again and turned away with a shudder.

  The body of the Hound lay waiting, and Trent swiftly Harvested the hide and Core. The beast’s body faded away, leaving small coins, a bag of dried fruit, and a Skill Stone. He started to pick up the Stone w
hen a thump behind him drew his attention.

  The dog’s head disappeared, and Tersa, who had been leaning against it, slumped over on the ground. Now she lay sleeping, curled up on the floor, her head resting on her arm. Truly, sleeping was the act in which Tersa displayed the most skill!

  Shaking his head, Trent picked up the Skill Stone and studied it. He intended to give this next one to Tersa but felt no real guilt in taking it for himself. She got to nap, and he got the spoils for protecting her. He was pretty sure Tersa would consider it a fair trade.

  The stone contained Dodge. Trent had mixed feelings about this one. It was a good Skill, one that increased reaction times and Agility. He knew from watching Kirstin in combat that Dodge, combined with Dash, could be a lifesaver. It was another Stamina burner, though, and it didn’t allow him to deal more damage to the Undead.

  He really needed an attack Skill. Then again, hadn’t he just discovered one? He summoned Spark and quickly reformed it into a string. Discovering that the fire string could evolve into such a devastating weapon, brought with it a new question. How should this newly acquired use of Spark be used against future attacks? What was the best way to use it? Accidentally beheading Skeletons, or other Undead, that tackled him was not an action he wanted to repeat.

  Trent stretched the flame until it was a few feet long. Could he use it as a whip? Maybe he could wrap it around his axes or Tersa’s mace? That felt like a good idea. If he could give their weapons a Purifying effect, they’d be more useful.

  He dimmed the flame’s light. It would be impossible to hide. The prison of the Undying Lord was so dark even a little light stood out. He couldn’t notice the difference because of his mask’s Dark Vision but to anyone relying on regular sight… but the Undead didn’t see, did they?

  He moved to the doorway and attached the string to the frame at about knee height. The string would last about fifteen minutes on its own. If he could keep channeling Mana to it, it would remain indefinitely.