Ethria- the Pioneer

by Aaron Holloway

  I began to stalk towards the duo to heal Tol’geth, and help him finish off the barely human witch. As I took the first step, and the knights began to follow, she dropped her hands below Tol’geths and brought them together.

  I realized then that she wore a set of two rings, one on each of her hands. She removed both in one fluid motion, imbuing them with mana. As they slipped from her fingers both pieces began to glow with a powerful yellow light, when they slammed together between the two high-level combatants, they exploded in fire and light.

  “You are deafened, you are prone, you were knocked back 15 feet. You are dazed for 15 seconds. You are stunned for 3 seconds. You are blinded for 3 seconds.”

  I waited patiently for the pain in my head to stop, and for the timers to finish counting down. I blinked and my vision returned, I rubbed my face, and slowly I got feeling back. A few seconds later my motor functions returned.

  I slowly got to my feet, leaning heavily on the staff I had somehow held onto. My belt had been ripped from me, and my armored jerkin and gambeson were in shreds. I took them off, exposing myself from the waist up, as the free-floating fabric would only have gotten in my way.

  When I was finally free of the tattered armor, I looked around. Tol’geth was a ruined bloody mess at the base of the stairs leading to the still-standing altar. I sighed in relief when I saw his chest rise and fall in long yet shallow breaths. The necromancer was opposite him, struggling to her own feet. The knight and Commander Traser had been flung back nearby where I had been, the dead body of Dazin was the only thing between us. Both of them were clearly unconscious, or worse, the heavyweight of their armor increasing the force with which they hit the wall, yet shielding them from the blasts direct force. It was not a tradeoff I would have personally made.

  “Bitch!” I screamed, my pure frustration fueling my profanity filters destruction. “Fucking Die Already!” I yelled as I pointed my staff at the still struggling woman, and unleashed the remaining Force Bolts I had stored in it in a stream so fast that it made the previous attacks look pathetic and slow compared to this nearly solid stream of punitive energy.

  A translucent black shield flared to life around her and began to sputter under the assault as she dragged herself the rest of the way to her feet. She stood tall and heaving a great sigh reinvested in her shield. The translucent black turned solid, only barely rippling at my assault as it solidified.

  “You come into my home! Assault me, and my creations!” With each accusation, she took another step up towards the altar. “Kill my allies, and steal my fairly captured prizes, insult me to my face!” She screamed the last word and pointed at herself with a bloody hand. “In one of the very seats of my God's Power, and expect me, ME!” She pointed to her chest to emphasis her words as she rose to her full height in front of the altar.

  She spread her arms out wide to encompass the whole of the room. “To die!? I think not mortal!” When she said this, the stream of aggressive energy that had been spewing from my staff ceased, I was out of saved spells. I began to cast a fireball, my concern for the people in the room overdone by the need to kill this monster for the benefit of the entire region.

  As I began to compress the mana to cast the spell, I felt a powerful force seized my body, and I found myself unable to move, or finish the spell. Even my will seemed frozen, and after a couple of seconds, the mana construct I had begun weaving unraveled, sending pain shooting through my mind.

  “Your spell Fireball 1, has failed. Spell feedback: 17 damage.”

  I found myself lifted off the ground, still unable to move, and slowly pulled towards the madwoman. She brought me close, close enough to see her eyes were a deep-sea blue, and filled with hate, confusion, and real pain. This woman, who would have seen every man woman and child in the region turned into undead for her armies, and further conquest was a broken, mad, and pitiable person, not some caricaturized dark lord.

  I didn't know what madness, choice, compulsion or tragedy had sent her down this path, but I knew that at one point, she had been someone's daughter. Perhaps, someone's lover. In essence, I saw the dark necromancer of the Dow’del ruins as a human being despite all of the efforts she put into stripping herself of her own humanity.

  “I will flay your skin from your body, drench you in salt, feed your meat to my pets while you watch, and then, only then in the height of agony will I sacrifice you to Tesh! No matter what pathetic divines have given you their favor!”

  Aaaand there goes the moment, I thought.

  With a wave of her hand, my body was forced straight, arms spread out like Da Vinci's diagram of the perfect man. I felt a searing pain along the side of my body, starting near my lower ribs and slowly, painfully, it rose up towards my armpit. I would have screamed, had I been allowed the use of my vocal cords. All I could do was take in light shallow breaths, and move my eyes. Blinking was almost beyond me.

  Through the pain, the tears that were blurring my vision and streaming down my face, I saw a flicker of shadow behind the necromancer, but I couldn’t follow it. As the searing hotline began down my arm, I saw flaps of my skin being seared and cut away. A similar spell to what the priest showed me earlier, I thought. Magic isn’t good or bad, it's how you use it I suppose.

  I knew what I was doing, distracting myself with analytical and philosophical ideas. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop this madwoman from doing everything she had promised to do to me and more. So why not distract myself?

  The shadow flickered again, for just a moment I saw movement behind the altar. Even as the searing pain began its work on my fingers and wrist, a new kind of hell I had never experienced, I kept my eyes averted from the insane woman and fixated on where I had seen the shadow flicker.

  A few seconds more, when she had moved the burning to my shoulders, and the smell of burning hair mixed with that of cooked meat and coppery blood that I could feel running down my body in large rivulets, I saw it. A hand, green and small, snaked out from the darkness and grabbed a bucket, filled with blackened daggers, and moved it closer before snatching back and hiding again.

  When the pain began crawling up the side of my face, past my ears and to my scalp, I nearly passed out. Tisking, she stopped the burning spell, and brought me lower, to almost eye level as I hovered above the steps in front of her. “I can’t have you passing out so soon into the party my dear, no, no, that won’t do at all.” A purple light encased me for just a moment, and suddenly the world became more of itself.

  The lights brighter, the floor a deeper shade of grey, the black of the skinsuit she was wearing was darker and deeper, drawing my eyes to it as it devoured the light that touched it. But so too did the pain. Nearly everything intensified, the searing, the feeling of the blood dripping down my body, the smells and even the tastes of the torture in the air became almost painful themselves.

  She raised her hand and started the process again. I would have passed out many times, my mind reeled with the pain of it, but the spell wouldn’t let me. My heartbeat so fast it hurt, I felt and heard blood in my ears, I wasn’t sure if it was rivulets that had filled them or if it was from the blood vessels about to burst in my head.

  Then, I saw it. The goblin, probably the chieftain's son from earlier, pulled himself onto the altar, one of the black daggers from the bucket that the necromancer had used to create her latex monstrosities in hand. His little green hand, large for a normal goblin, reached out and grabbed a fist full of the short cut necromancers hair, and yanked her back off her feet with all the weight and strength his little 4’6 body could muster.

  I fell to the ground, released from the necromancer's spell, and started to scream. As the purple haze released its hold on my mind now that it was no longer being sustained by the witch, I was able to think long enough to lay my hands on my chest and ease the pain with Cure Light Wounds.

  “What are you doing!” The woman screamed in terror. The young goblin warrior plunged the dagger into the witches eye. The black s
ubstance of the dagger melted into the screaming woman's skin, activated by the runes under the substance in the skin she wore as armor.

  “You won’t turn my people into these monsters!” The goblin shrieked in rage as he held her down. “We will rule north of the twins! Not you! We will conquer the humans and elves! Not you!” With every word he lifted her head and slammed it against the marble table.

  I left them to their struggle and crawled over to Tol’geth, his breathing was slowed, almost gone. I sat next to him, and cast Cure Light Wounds, every time the 5-second cooldown elapsed. As I waited I watched the goblin rage against the necromancer. The black substance slowly oozing over her. She’s dead, the goblin just doesn’t realize it.

  After eleven or twelve of the spells, I felt a massive hand on my shoulder, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. “Did we win, wizard?”

  “No, but the goblin won for us,” I said and pointed at the little imp as he brutalized the corpse he had created.

  “Help me up wizard, I want to see her dead.” I grabbed the man's hand and pulled him to a sitting position. We sat there, watching. I kept healing him than myself, then him again.

  “I’ll take your body back, and my father will watch as it bu- AH!” The reanimated, fully consumed corpse, sank its teeth deep into the goblin's throat. The blood of both of our enemies mixed on the altar, and it began to glow with a dark purple light that quickly faded.

  “Help me to my feet,” I asked, and Tol’geth obliged. Once standing, I began walking up the stairs to the altar, the black corpse its latex-like eyes rabid with hunger, continued to devour the corpse before it. Without the necromancers will, the creature was feral, barely capable of the most basic instincts, hunting, eating, staying alive. I raised my hand to hover directly above the beasts head, and cast one final Force Bolt. At such close range, it blasted the once necromancers head clean off its shoulders.

  I leaned on the altar for support and found my staff abandon on one of the steps. I picked it up and used it to help me descend the steps as I went to help treat the others.

  The battle was over, we had won. I just hope our victory didn’t take to long.

  Chapter 14: Journey South

  “Take the Journey, even if it means taking it alone.” - Unknown

  Necromancer's Lair, Frega, 34th, 2987 AoR

  Over the next few minutes, I healed the others. Bringing them back to consciousness and full health. I grew frustrated more than once with how little my Cure Light Wounds actually did, and promised myself that I would learn more healing magic whenever I had the opportunity.

  We had lost one of the knights we had brought into the fight against the necromancer. He had been an older man, and according to Traser was well respected by the Laketown leadership.

  Once everyone was up on their feet again, I turned to Ailsa and the two children, who had at some point found their way out of the room shortly after I finished off the shaman. They had reentered when I had been checking the knight's corpse for a pulse.

  “The children are malnourished, but uninjured for the most part” Ailsa explained as we walked into the far corner of the room so the children couldn’t hear us. As we talked, the last remaining knight took charge of them and began playing a game that sounded similar to eye spy back on Earth. “The girl hasn’t been touched by the goblins, thank the Goddess, but she is the worse off of the two int terms of health.”

  “What is her name?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Angelia. She might be the older sister of that boy you told me about.” Ailsa said buzzing her wings happily as I leaned against the stone wall. I felt the pull of a smile at her words.

  “Well, that brings a bit of sunshine down here, yeah?”

  “That and the fact that we killed the witch,” Ailsa said spinning her spear lazily in her hands.

  “I don’t think we had much to do with her death, not really.” We both went silent for a moment, and my eyes wandered over to the dead necromancer.

  “That's often the way with evil,” I said, remembering a lecture on ancient greek literature where the theme was prevalent. “It often destroys itself through the consequences of its own actions, rather than by the might of any good that seeks to oppose it.” I shook my head trying to clear the melancholy of the moment. “So, what can we do for the children?”

  “The type of trauma they experienced down here will have lifelong effects,” Ailsa said. “But, the sun priest is the one to talk too. He and the water witches from earlier are probably the best suited to figure out what to do with and for those kids.” I nodded and walked over to the remaining knight.

  “Why don’t you take the kids and play with them where there aren't dead bodies lying around?” I suggested. The young man, who was a height with me, looked sheepish for a moment at not thinking of the issue. He began ushering the children out of the room when I put out a hand to stop him.

  “Tol’geth, could you go with them? I’m sure your company would be welcome if something comes out of the dark.” Tol’geth, who had been resting on the steps leading up to the altar, grunted agreement, stood and began walking over.

  “What's wrong with your arm?!” Ailsa nearly shouted as she buzzed over his head, and began circling the barbarian.

  “The witch, she cursed me.”

  “But, your ancestors protect you from such curses!” Ailsa said, incredulous. “That's what that last ability you activated before we stormed in here was all about!”

  “My ancestors are only as powerful as the honor I earn for them. My honor was not sufficient to protect against such a powerful malady.” Tol’geth didn’t sound upset, he was merely acknowledging the fact. “She was a grand foe indeed, and our battle was well fought.” He lifted up the arm in question.

  It was blackened, withered, and thinner than an anorexic models ankles. In other words, totally useless. And while I knew the warrior could still be deadly, losing an arm had to make him less effective. “Much honor will be had if such a malady can be overcome!” He proclaimed with eagerness.

  “Can’t we just amputate the arm, and have the sun priest grow you a new one?” Tol’geth’s face fell into a stern expression.

  “The regrowth of a limb can take up to a year,” Ailsa said.

  “Too long.” Tol’geth proclaimed.

  “Even then, there's a chance that the curse if it's powerful enough, has made a mental imprint on his mind. Meaning, if it regrew, it would only wither again.” Ailsa explained.

  “So, how do you overcome curses?” I asked concern growing.

  “There are many ways, none of them are easily done. Let us leave that conversation for another time when we are rested. Yes?” Tol’geth asked. I nodded my acceptance, but Ailsa had other plans.

  “Let me try one thing first…” Ailsa’s voice dropped off as she began summoning mana to her. After a few seconds of casting, she had so much mana at her fingertips that I could almost feel the ebbs and flows of it on my skin. Once the feeling began to be slightly oppressive, Ailsa let out a sharp gasp and released a bright purple spell that encased the arm in a purple flowing liquid. The arm quickly began regaining some of its vigor. About when it started to look slightly human again, the healing slowed and came to a crawl.

  “There, it should heal, at least a little,” Ailsa said, her wings dropping as she landed on Tol’geths shoulder and let out a deep sigh of relief. The pressure from the spell was gone now, and all of us could breathe easier. “I used a good portion of my mana reserves and much of what was in the surrounding area. There is a surprisingly large amount of mana nodes that surround these ruins.”

  “Well, it was the center of a necromancers power and a minor shrine to a god. So, it makes some sense.” I said as I took my eyes from Tol’geth’s arm, “Maybe you two should take the children out of the room now?”

  “Uh, yes Wizard Rayid.” The knight who had been transfixed by the spell, said as he turned his attention back to the children and began showing them out of the sa
crificial chamber. As they left, Tol’geth followed them, flexing and testing his slightly rejuvenated arm.

  “Some people” I whispered as I turned to the rest of the room.

  “Says the guy who blasted a hobgoblin to bloody ruin on top of children.” Chided Ailsa as she spun through the room and examined it.

  I cracked my knuckles and winked at Commander Traser who had been leaning against the wall resting and watching. “Time to do some looting!” I started where I had begun the fight, with the hobgoblin shaman.

  The only piece thing I found of any use was the shaman’s cowl, which was imbued with a type of acid magic very similar to how my staff was with fire.

  “You have found Cowl of Acid Magic. Created for a Head Shaman of a powerful goblin clan, this cowl acts as both a magic enhancement and as a vestment of official authority among the goblins. Effects: +3 Acid damage to all offensive spells cast by the wearer.”

  I put that in my satchel for safekeeping, hoping that it might be useful later. I also found her staff, or rather what was left of it. The wood was burnt to a crisp, the crystal that topped it shattered, the larger pieces burned out from all the magic we had both been throwing around. It was essentially useless.

  After dragging the burnt, brutalized corpse of the shaman off to one side of the room, I continued to follow my path through the battle.

  Traser was standing over Dazin’s naked corpse, shaking his head. “He only had his sword. My uncle gifted this to him upon his recognition on his twelfth birthday. My uncle made Dazin legitimate in the eyes of society, but not a member of his noble household.” The sword was a piece of fine craftsmanship, and Traser held it out sadly in his hand for me to examine. I waved him off, it was his and his families to deal with, not me.

  Nodding his thanks, Traser continued. “His mother had been a townswoman Lord Traser had loved before his marriage, so there was little scandal when he was born. Everyone knew from the beginning who the boy belonged to and his origin. Not that it made his step-mother any more pleased about the fact when my uncle had him brought into the household, given a proper education, and then a commission in the towns guard when Dazins mother died.” Traser sheathed the weapon and slung it across his back.