Battle Mage Visions (A Tale of Alus Book 12)

by Donald Wigboldy

  Turning to the two wraiths, Palose shut down the conversation saying, "Maybe one day I will tell you what happened as I saw it, but for now we have other work to do."

  "Yes, master," the two wraiths answered as one reacting to their tie through his magic. Wraiths didn't have the will to resist their creators. When he said the matter was closed, it was finished immediately as his order superseded any curiosity that they might have.

  The dark mage opened a door leading to a set of stairs leading down to a lower level. It led into darkness that was pitch black.

  Sylvaine grasped his wrist halting the mage's steps and Palose nodded to the two wraiths to go before him. "Nalack light the lamps in the room for me. I will be behind you shortly."

  A quickly chanted spell created a wizard's light that went before the wraiths lighting the way and they walked down the stairs disappearing from his sight. Palose didn't bother to watch if they would follow his command, but looked to the curly haired girl. Her violet eyes looked worriedly at him in turn.

  "Are you sure about them?" Sylvaine asked hesitantly. "If Oween were to talk about me..."

  The apprentice had been forced to hide from the warlocks she had once known. It had been a previous life and the caution stemmed from fear that his circle of resurrected friends would be hunted down and destroyed along with Palose for daring to make them. If a resurrection man was abhorrent to the warlocks of Ensolus, how much worse would it be if they found that he had made others like him?

  "Their lives will be tied to me and would likely be forfeit if they dared speak of it. How can they shine the light on an apprentice presumed dead, when they will be in the same condition soon enough? Besides, I have been looking through the books on blood magic and runes used to set the spell over and over. There are a few marks that I think will take care of any problems before they arise that I plan to try."

  Sylvaine knew that he had studied the magic closely and noted that Palose had been studying his books more intently recently. Assuming that he must have been preparing for this day for some time, the girl was ready to let the matter lie.

  Dorgred, on the other hand, had different worries. "You are adding more of these warlocks to our number? Does this mean that you are thinking of letting some of us go?"

  His question didn't just mean letting them leave Ensolus or the house. Those living in the house rented by the dark mage, went out into the city keeping their eyes and ears open for information to protect them or advance Palose's cause within the warlocks and with other men of power. One worry for Dorgred and the other wizard who was absent from the room, Wendle, was whether they would be replaced once they had rid him of the necromancer who had brought him back to life.

  His magic had tied them to him loosely and Palose had formed an agreement that they could live with after he brought them back to life in their enemy's city. After his first try at the spell, he had chosen to refine his choice of blood runes to make it more of a friendship rather than creating servants or slaves to him. Atrouseon had formed locks on him that made Palose a slave to his will in some ways, but he could have lived with those bonds if the warlock hadn't turned on his creation in jealousy.

  Palose had no problem with the relationship between him and the wizards, but he didn't take it for granted that it could last forever.

  "Are you thinking to return to Southwall permanently, Dorgred?" the mage asked skirting the other meaning of the man's question.

  "Would you let that happen?" the larger man questioned. Dorgred was broader in the chest with powerful looking arms. He was one of those fire wizards which believed that they were the real war wizards. If it came to a fight between them, however, Palose was certain that he could kill the man with little effort despite their size difference. Kill him again, he amended with some feeling of amusement.

  "You and Wendle stuck with me and protected me against Atrouseon. You have held up your end of the deal. If you two want to leave, I can open a portal any time you wish; though some of my options have been closed thanks to Sebastian," he assured the wizard. Palose had hoped to keep the two men near him, but as a battle mage he was also very self sufficient. "Where is Wendle, by the way?"

  It was Talia who responded first. The young woman was perhaps the most dependable of the circle and very responsible for keeping up the house. "Wendle is out trying to track down any lead on the intruder who used the portal. If there is a chance that he might come back, or is still in the city, maybe we can find him first. Well, Dorgred and Wendle will probably have to be the ones to find him since they can sense magic."

  Palose merely nodded. "Maybe we will need to sit down and discuss our future. Whether it will be together or if it is time to go our individual ways, I don't intend any of you harm. As far as I know, this gift is permanent, so it could only be stolen by killing one of us again. I don't plan on killing you and I hope that is mutual, my friend.

  "Now let's put this talk aside for later. I have work to do and I hope by adding these warlocks that it will strengthen our group."

  Chapter 6- New Life

  Palose followed the two wraiths down the stairs followed by Sylvaine and Dorgred. The former was there for support. Being the last to be resurrected, Sylvaine had never seen him work the magic of the spell. She had studied the magic for a time as an apprentice, but dropped the research in short order after discovering that she had no feel for necromancy.

  While Sylvaine had actually pointed out the first books on the subject for Palose in his study at the Ensolus library, her knowledge of the magic was more of a cursory knowledge at best.

  Dorgred, on the other hand, knew only what he had witnessed when Wendle had been brought to life. He was a fire wizard and from Southwall where the magic had been outlawed. It was disdained by the wizards even though there were apparently a few books on it kept in some of their libraries. The fire wizard had heard of those books, but had no idea where they would even keep such things. Such magic would be something of note for a research wizard, but not for one of his kind.

  While most wizards knew or had at least heard of such magic, as a battle mage Palose had known nothing of it at all before falling from his horse fleeing the emperor's werewolves. He had broken his neck, died, and suddenly found himself alive once more and determined to bring down Windmeer, one of the guardian cities, for his master.

  He noted the fire wizard's presence, but doubted that he would need him for anything. When Palose had brought back Wendle, he had needed help lifting the wizard onto the table. Though an orc had helped put the fire wizard onto the table first, either man would have been difficult for him to put there by himself. Stasia and Talia might have been enough help to move the dead weight, but other muscles had presented themselves.

  A new mystery presented itself as Palose looked at the two wraiths in front of him waiting in the light of a handful of lit lamps. He had never revived someone that was already half alive as a wraith. Unsure of the best way to go about it, the dark mage chose Nalack as his first test subject. While it was the case that he was unsure, Palose remained confident and ordered the man to remove his shirt before having him jump onto the table. It was certainly easier getting a subject onto the table as a wraith, the man thought.

  While he had created several wraiths, Palose had never taken the gift away. Some of his puppets had been destroyed, but that wasn't the same as essentially killing someone.

  "Lie down, Nalack. I have to say that this next part might be rather unpleasant, but remember that in the end you will be alive and your own man once more."

  The wraith's eyes revealed worry, but he had been ordered to lie down and didn't fight his master.

  Like all necromancy magic, there was usually the cost of blood between the caster and the subject of his spell. Even the lesser puppets required that cost, but it was less draining than the more complete spells used for a wraith or resurrecting someone. Without blood, he doubted that the cost could be covered even by someone as powerful as the emperor or his siblin
gs.

  This time the cost wasn't giving of his blood and spirit, but in taking it back or releasing it again. Palose placed a bowl on the table making Nalack raise an eyebrow questioningly. The warlock was as useless as Sylvaine and the others for this part, so there was nothing for him to compare it to, except perhaps some reading the man had done about thirty years earlier.

  The warlock had pointed ears, Palose noted. He was one of the many elves who had been born to those who had followed the emperor rather than be killed. They were said to have long lives, but the mage couldn't tell how old he truly was. It was an unimportant thought though and the dark mage needed to push it to the back of his mind as he prepared the difficult spell.

  Reversing the magic of being a wraith was in the books, but he didn't like the sound of what he was about to put Nalack through to get where they were going.

  Chanting the counter spell, Palose closed his eyes to avoid that red stare. His life, or unlife, was literally in the mage's hands. Nalack screamed as new wounds formed on his chest. The marks which had been set to create him bled out and the blood lifted from the wraith causing him to shudder and scream more as the life essence was drawn out of the half dead man.

  Oween paled, a surprising ability to find in one already pale from being a wraith. She was watching her future and fear of the pain was in her red eyes. While she wanted to feel truly alive once more, this second death looked more painful than the first. The woman turned away, covered her ears to block the screams, and closed her eyes mumbling a little prayer to any of the gods of the old world or new that would listen to her.

  Not alone in her pained look, Sylvaine and Dorgred appeared ready to do the same if they could only look away from the scene.

  Blood rose and dropped into the large bowl even as the wraith shuttered and screamed. It took longer than the mage had expected, since the magic had tied to the body strongly. Such a deep root had been necessary to reach the half life of a wraith.

  The screaming stopped and Nalack lay still. He was dead once more, but the necromancer knew that his spirit was close. It was in pain or perhaps it simply felt the loss. While he couldn't see it, the man could feel Nalack tied to the blood.

  Taking a knife, Palose cut his hands. New blood would be needed to return the warlock once again.

  Unlike his previous rituals, the dark mage had to use both the blood in the bowl and that from his cuts to draw out the runes he had chosen. In the previous spells, the spirits had been called back from death using just the blood from his cuts. It was his spirit that joined with theirs, but Nalack was already tied to him as a wraith.

  His chanting renewed after the runes had been drawn along Nalack's arms, head and torso. He had to paint runes on the man's bared feet as well, but now was the time of true magic. The blood and runes were just the preparation. Palose felt the tug on him as he pulled Nalack back into his body.

  A cut was made for resurrections on the chest, but the wounds were already formed. His blood would be drawn into the cut as he placed one hand over the wound and one over his lips. This time Palose used the blood from the bowl first. He poured it into Nalack's mouth and onto the wounds first before putting his hands in place.

  The remaining blood from the bowl suddenly flowed back through the air to Nalack's mouth. Instead of drawing more blood from his hands, the wraith blood seemed to return rather than using much of the mage's blood. The two were already tied after all, so Palose wasn't completely surprised at the change in the magic.

  A shuddering breath as the man returned to life drew Oween's eyes back to Nalack. He sat up and shook his head. There was no confusion in his eyes. The warlock knew where he was and what had happened to him. That was new as well.

  "Thank you, master," the warlock replied before shaking his head and changing the last word to, "Palose."

  Oween looked at the former wraith, her other half in some ways, though the two had barely known each other in life. They had been warlocks who had worked together, but they hadn't been close. As wraiths serving Palose, they had found common ground. Now they were different again.

  She looked at his green eyes and thought that they looked strange. His face was different as well, though it was subtle. The wraith wondered if Nalack had looked like that in life, but she couldn't remember him that way anymore.

  "Why don't you go upstairs and wash yourself?" Palose said directing his words to the newly risen man. Nalack nodded as he slipped off of the table. The former wraith didn't look wobbly as he stooped to pick up his boots and shirt. His body still had blood in places, but the wounds had disappeared. Even the original scar from the wound which had killed him could have been seen plainly as a wraith; but it also had healed leaving just a white line where it had been.

  The man had been ageless in his looks before, but Oween thought that he somehow looked younger. It could just have been the return of life to the warlock, but her curiosity about it remained.

  As Nalack climbed the stairs, Dorgred moved to follow.

  "I think I will go check to see if Wendle has returned," the big man stated looking pale. Palose knew a cover when he heard it, but let the matter go with a simple nod.

  Sylvaine was pale also, but the girl sat on an old stool left behind by a former resident. He wondered if her legs would have let her stand to leave, even if she had decided that two times would have been too much to sit through.

  Looking at Palose, Oween swallowed bringing a slight smile to his face. "Well, this is what you wanted," the man said as gently as he could. "You've seen that it will be painful, but in the end you'll be alive once more."

  "To go through all that, I could hope to be better than I was in life," the wraith chuckled trying to keep a sense of humor in light of what she had seen. Try as she might, her worry kept her from looking truly happy.

  The dark mage considered her words and asked, "What was so wrong about your previous life?"

  "I was getting old," she half laughed. "I guess I was still young, but I was prettier when I was a girl, at least that was what I thought; but I wasted a lot of my youth being an apprentice. I'd study with my hair pulled back into a bun like some old woman. Boys rarely talked to me because I was too busy with my books."

  Oween glanced to Sylvaine and added, "They say youth is wasted on the young, but I feel like I missed my youth trying to become a powerful warlock. I don't even think I wound up being that strong really, so I would say that it was a bit of a waste," the woman finished with a sigh.

  While Oween wasn't the strongest wizard he had ever met, Palose thought that she was being hard on herself. He also sensed that she was trying to delay what was coming. Giving her that smile he hoped was comforting, Palose said, "Time to undress. At least, you'll get a second chance at life this way."

  Unlike Nalack, the woman wore a one piece dress. Her cloak covered her to keep the woman warm in life, but as a wraith the cold barely affected her. Litsarin was also quite a bit warmer than Ensolus, though they were inside. The lower level room lacked a fireplace, however, and the room next to it had a larger door that wasn't perfectly sealed against the cold. While he wasn't seeing his breath in the air, the dark mage thought that it was a little cool.

  Removing her short leather boots first, the cloak and dress were pulled off leaving Oween bare save for the panties she wore beneath. The woman needed help onto the table, meaning Palose had to touch her bare skin. There was heat in her body, even if she was only half alive. She felt almost like she would in life, and the man thought that Oween had been undeservedly hard on herself in her belief that age was catching up to her. The woman couldn't have turned thirty yet and looked pretty good to him, though he compared her to Sylvaine and thought she could never be more than second best.

  He could feel Sylvaine's disapproving look, but it didn't matter how she felt about it. It was necessary and Oween wasn't the first woman he seen naked. If Sylvaine let herself think about it, the girl knew that he had been with Talia and Stasia before her. He had a lif
e before her, but the young man planned to spend the rest with Sylvaine.

  Losing his thoughts to the women around him for a moment, Palose ordered, "Lay down, Oween. It'll be over soon enough."

  The words weren't comforting the mage realized seeing the worry in her red eyes.

  Once more the chant began and soon the screaming did as well. The woman's higher pitched screams carried to the others upstairs. It was a wonder than no one came to break down the door to find out if he was torturing a woman to death. In essence it was torture, but Oween wasn't currently alive to kill. It was a humorless joke that Palose would consider after he was done.

  Sylvaine sat rooted to her stool and shivered as Oween's body released her spirit once more. He could feel the blood in the bowl holding the warlock's spirit as it had held onto Nalack before her.

  "That was..." the girl started but couldn't find the words for the soul chilling screams of the other woman. Pausing, Sylvaine changed her thoughts and said thankfully, "I am glad that I didn't have to go through that kind of pain. Nalack didn't say anything about it, but I wonder how much of that pain he remembers now."

  Palose took a deep breath as he turned to look at the girl. "It was another life, but I suppose pain could follow you from one to the next. Do you remember dying?"

  The question made Sylvaine pause to think about it. "I remember our squad being caught off guard in our camp. Arrows were shot from the trees, but I don't remember the pain.

  "I do remember looking into your eyes and felt loss. Then I was looking up at your face in here and alive again.

  "Still that was different from this torture. My death was quick."

  Speaking of her death made the girl shiver with the thought. It was still a foggy memory, but those moments of seeing the one she loved holding her lingered almost vividly. "Did you put a love spell into the runes you used on me?" she asked with a wry twist of her lips as she smiled at him.

  Love had been the tie used on Stasia and Talia, but Palose had learned of the dangers of those runes. The strong affects of the runes had worn away enough that the two women could love others as well, but at first he could barely be away from them before they'd act like they were losing their reason for living.