by Billy Wong
"Before I could pierce the creature's brain through its eye, it struck me with a wild swipe of its claws, and knocked me to the ground badly slashed across the chest. Even half blind, it retained its ferocity and stomped on me, breaking more than one rib. When it saw to its shock I was still alive, it sucked in a great breath, and in desperation, I threw my sword"—Derrick stared at the notion of the massive thing being thrown—"and pierced the back of its mouth. But again, I hadn't penetrated deep enough, and now I was unarmed.
"Luckily for me, the drake's mouth filled with blood, denying it the ability to breathe fire. Still, its fury was undimmed, and it lashed at me with its tail while attempting to pull the sword out of its mouth. Its tail hit me with the force of a battering ram and nearly knocked me out, but its impact threw me up into the air, where I grabbed hold of its neck and began to climb agonizingly towards its head. It battered me against the roof and walls, but I saw this hurt itself as well, and gaining hope I forced myself onward.
"But I lost my grip as I got on top of its head, and with shocking agility it caught me—in its mouth. It was the worst pain I've ever felt, and that's saying a lot. A dozen ivory swords pierced me at once, and I thought I had suffered my death wound. But I felt determined to bring my killer down with me, and shoved the embedded sword deep into its throat. Its jaw slackened, and it dropped me.
"Now I lay in a spreading pool of my own blood on the cold floor, senses lost in agony. But ironically, it was it which brought me back to myself. From somewhere beyond the wall of pain, I heard the scraping of a body dragging itself, and I opened my eyes to see the form of a man, blood pouring from a mortal wound inside the mouth. It was still crawling towards me, trying to choke out words I could not comprehend. I knew that this was the dragon's true self, an ancient archmage; and while it would not survive in this body, its magics sustained it for the moment, and it could still destroy me should it complete whatever dark chant it attempted.
"Forcing myself to stand against pain more difficult to bear than the weight of a wagon, I somehow found the strength to raise my blade and bring it down again and again on the dying creature. It continued to reach for me as I hacked it apart, and its touch burned like the fire of the dragon. When the last of its twitching stopped, I fell to my knees and wept."
She stopped, briefly unable to continue. Finn walked back to her side and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Gaining strength, she spoke again. "The worst of it was yet to come. As I knelt there felled by wounds physical and mental, I felt the talons of the archmage's unbodied soul attempt to invade my flesh. I could sense how much the thing wanted my body, wanted to live. It tore at my soul as the dragon had torn at my flesh, but now all my strength and wits were useless in a battle I did not understand.
"I felt so helpless, though I fought with all I had to reject the invader which strove to destroy my self. Our wills grappled and attempted to crush one another, and at the end, though I don't know how it happened, I was still here, and no longer felt its presence."
Finn wrapped the tale up for her. "She barely made it back to town, more dead than alive. But even in her gravely hurt and frightened state, she remembered to fill her bag with what books she could, in order to learn more about such foes. It turns out only true masters of magic were able to undergo the transformation into a dragon—a fact which only made it scarier for Rose to look back at that encounter, for fear of curses. It took her half a month—a great deal of time for her, you know—to recover enough to chance traveling again, and she still bears the proud scars from that day."
Those last words annoyed Rose. "Proud scars? Are you kidding? I get a little shiver every time I inspect them at length. It's still hard for me to understand how I survived such wounds, even if I am fairly used to recovering from normally mortal hurts."
The big man brought a smile to her face as he stroked it and said, "You survived because you're you, of course. So, you feel better yet? You did beat him utterly, you know. There's nothing left to fear."
She did feel more confident now, and began to step forward. But then she stopped. "Wait. The creature's spirit has passed on, so why does such dread still fill this place and continue to claim new victims?"
Derrick had a possible answer. "I suspect that though the archmage is gone, some of his magics linger still in his body. How we can get rid of them, I'm not sure."
They looked at each other and the corpse for a while before Finn spoke. "If we burn it, maybe the power within will dissipate. Rose, would you do the honors?"
She walked closer, hesitated over it one last time, and touched her torch to the cadaver. Even faster than she expected, the dry and withered form burst into an inferno, as if the flame was fed by more than mere flesh. The body crumbled into ash, and the last remnants of the terror which had filled the ruins disappeared. As the fire died down and Rose gazed upon the dust which was all that remained of the archmage, she felt a sense of closure which had eluded her for years.
"Let's go," she said, and the three friends walked hopefully into the library.
Chapter 4
The place was indeed large for a personal library, but its size at least did not seem so impressive to Derrick. He had seen much bigger in his college and the city of Dunwal where it was located. But he knew the knowledge found here would be priceless, and his enthusiasm peaked as he began to search the shelves.
Rose followed suit, having gained some knowledge of Old Script since her last visit, and Finn tried to help though he quickly grew aggravated at his inability to read the books and often even their titles. They each found their own area of interest among the collection, and excitedly shared their findings with one another.
Rose smiled at a book she had found and asked, "Did you know in the Old World, female rulers were only slightly less common than males?"
"Maybe they wielded some of the mighty magic weapons and armor that were legendary even in the heyday of the archmages," Finn replied, "like the ones in these pictures." Derrick mumbled something about creating servants from minerals, but realizing his friends were not paying attention went back to reading.
Hours passed as the trio indulged their interests. It was Finn who eventually brought their attention back to what they had come here to research. "Hey, does this look familiar to anyone? I can't read much of the stuff around it, but it looks just like some of those little pots we found back there."
Derrick took a look. "Hmm, this..." His eyes widened as he took in the page. "Finn, you have the luck of a god. I think this is exactly what we found in the ruins. It's described as a lead-lined vessel capable of serving as a prison for a soul."
Rose nodded. "That explains a lot—if it was possession and not really a magic spell, that might be why we couldn't see anything amiss using our magesight. But what about the spell to keep the soul trapped? And whose soul would such a vessel hold?"
Derrick had no answer for that, but now they began to read with a purpose and soon learned more. "Apparently, lead was believed to be able to affect disembodied spirits as if they were material beings. An unbodied soul surrounded by a lead vessel could not escape and would not dissipate, and a weapon composed of lead could destroy those undead who have no corporeal forms."
Rose smiled as he said it. "Good to know, because my sword has an alchemically treated lead core." Again Derrick wore an expression of slack-jawed shock, as he often did during his time with Rose.
"It's not because I knew about the undead, of course," she explained. "I just wanted my blade to be heavier, so I could hit harder. Now we know what these pots were for, and what was in them. No wonder they were so tightly sealed despite seeming empty. But we still don't know how many of them had souls within, or even how many of us were exposed to them. What if we ourselves are possessed?
"No, I don't really think that's the case. We've been away from the Archmage's Studio over two weeks, and none of us has become violent or is acting uncharacteristically." She gave Finn a worried glance. "Well, to a point o
ur situation can't explain, anyway. But I'm still wondering, what kinds of souls are held in such vessels, and how they would choose their hosts?"
Continuing to read, the group spent the night there in the ruins which just hours before, they were terrified to even walk through. They had learned much, but there was much more yet to be discovered and many books to search.
#
"You're good," Adam commented as he parried Elaine's quick thrust and retaliated with one of his one. She slipped past the blade and tried to trip him, but it was he who brought her to the grass, pinning her with his sword tip at her throat. "Don't try that again. You're not used to close combat tactics yet. Let's just stick to swords for now."
They separated, laughing. The maid smiled at him as she came on again with her slender rapier, hard. "Looks like I'm not quite as skilled a fighter as you are a tailor yet, hmm? Don't worry, I promise to catch you soon!"
Her blade almost nicked him, but he dodged it by a hair and poked her lightly beneath the armpit with his blunted longsword. "Dead again," Adam stated as his friend hissed in frustration. He was shocked at how fast she'd gone from knowing nothing about fencing, to becoming a fighter of considerable skill. But his own ability had grown in leaps and bounds since they'd started practicing together, and the girl was still no match for him. "Don't get mad. You're doing great. I think you could beat most of the guards already."
The thought clearly cheered Elaine, who grinned as she beat him back with a quicksilver, if somewhat predictable, combination of strokes. "Yeah, but you could almost beat me in a sewing contest! I've never had a student before, but I know you're a great one!" As his sword jabbed her in the center of her chest, she spun aside and grazed his calf with her own blade. "Gotcha!"
"You'd be dead if this was a real fight," Adam pointed out. He wasn't about to concede anything to his novice opponent until she earned it. "I think we've got something really good going here. It's incredible how fast we've been learning from each other these past couple of weeks. You want to teach me more household skills now?"
Elaine panted as she backed away, frantically trying to defend against his vigorous attack. "No, enough of that. This is much more fun!" And she finally got a clean hit on him, a light graze to his arm.
It would've only been a scratch even with a sharpened blade, but he fell to the ground in mock death throes, dropping his sword and shrieking girlishly. Elaine jumped on top of him, and yelled a victorious "Yeah!" before the two fell to laughing together on the cool grass.
#
Adam had just returned from the intense sparring session when his uncle confronted him in the hall. "You look like you've been playing hard," Robert commented scathingly. "Were you with the maid again?"
He looked away. "We are only friends. Can we not be so?"
Robert's contemptuous tone made Adam's blood run hot in his veins. "I see the way you look at that girl. It's only a matter of time before you're tempted to act on your misguided attraction. So quit your foolery at once, before you do something you'll come to regret in later years."
He hated the way his uncle would not call Elaine by name, and could barely keep his voice even. "No, I will not. What I share with Elaine is only friendship, nothing which would bring harm to our name."
Robert was adamant. "So you insist. But even if what you say is true--which I do not believe—do you think others will view your company with the girl in such innocent terms? You must not spend time with her again. Or I promise, she'll be your only fencing partner."
Adam stomped away, furious. He contemplated running away with Elaine, and in doing so teach Robert a lesson about how far he would be pushed. But he realized such an act would only affirm his uncle's suspicions, and that he and Elaine were unprepared for life outside the safety of the manor. He'd wait, then, until they were ready, to finally grasp the freedom he longed for. He spent the next few days pretending nothing had happened and tried to enjoy Elaine's company as usual, but she knew why he no longer invited her out and their joy diminished.
His anger disappeared when Robert was found badly wounded in his room, a knife in his back, a few days after their argument. Adam hovered by his bedside and prayed diligently for his recovery. Even as he sat in prayer, he was distracted by thoughts of who had committed the assault and why. It seemed likely to be someone who lived here, as nobody heard or saw anything amiss on the grounds that day. He could not shake the thought that he and Elaine had the best motives to commit the crime.
His uncle awakened, and his first words made Adam's heart twist in his chest. "Arrest the young blonde maid, and hang her tomorrow morning. She is the one whose back I saw as my senses failed. See? The anger you inspired has doomed your uncle."
Adam was stricken, his thoughts confused and helpless, and more so when he heard Elaine scream for him as the guards dragged her from her room to spend her last night in jail. He ran to see her, and pity filled him as her terrified eyes met his. He knew then he had to save her, for there was no way she could ever commit such a heinous deed. It fell to him to prove her innocence—after he rescued her from imminent death, of course.
His mentor Sir Jacob was the last person he would ask for help, for no way would the loyal knight act against his lord for the sake of a suspected assassin, no matter how outlandish the accusation. In fact, Adam feared that if Jacob found out about his intentions, their relationship might be irrevocably damaged. He wished he could ask Rose for help, as she seemed open to ignoring rules in the service of the greater good. But she was not here, and he would have to accomplish this himself.
He noted there were two guards on jail duty per shift, and figured the best time to make his move would be when one took a break. Adam knew he was no master thief or even an amateur one, and he settled on a simple plan—wait around at night until one of the guards left, go in, incapacitate the remaining guard, and free Elaine. Then, they'd escape into the countryside where Elaine would hide until they could clear her name. Adam knew it was not much of a plan, but prayed to whatever just gods would listen to see him through and went to find his hiding place.
A terrible stench filled his nose as he waited in the trash bin he tucked himself into, and his knees ached from their perpetually bent position. Still, Adam patiently knelt there staring at the jail door, watching for someone to go for a drink or snack from the tavern down the street. After what seemed to be an eternity, he saw a man exit the building and walk away.
Once the guard disappeared behind the shabby tavern door, Adam drew himself painfully out of the garbage. His joints crackled and popped as he limped over to the jail. Finding the door locked as expected, he knocked. A few seconds later, an unshaven young man opened the door and blinked. "Lord Adam? What are you doing here?"
"I am here to see my friend Elaine," he replied truthfully. He was a poor liar, and his plan relied on the trust of the guard. To his relief the guard turned to lead the way, and Adam hit him on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. He slumped to the ground, insensate. The ploy had worked as well as could be expected, but Adam's heart still pounded at the thought of the other guard's return. He took the ring of keys from the guard and made his way to Elaine's cell, unnervingly conscious of the stares and yells from the other filthy prisoners around.
"Elaine! It's me, Adam! I'm here to free you!"
The girl looked up, shocking Adam with how haggard and weary she looked. The day must have been hell on her. Hope filled her exhausted eyes. "Thank you so much, Lord Adam. But aren't you going to get in great trouble for this?"
He smiled reassuringly as he opened her cell. "I don't care. I know what an injustice has befallen you, and I cannot allow such a travesty to stand." He grabbed her arm and led her away. As they reached the door, Elaine took the keys from him and threw them in front of an occupied cell. "Elaine, what are you doing?!" he asked in shock.
Now she led him out the door. "If they're distracted rounding up the other prisoners, they won't be able to focus as well on us, wil
l they?"
Adam still disapproved of her dangerous act. "Some of those men are rapists and murderers! Think of the harm they could cause in the time before they're recaptured—if they even are!" They were quiet for the rest of their escape from town, as she had no answer for that.
Finally, as they retrieved the supplies Adam had hidden outside town beneath a clump of bushes, she said, "You're right, that was the wrong course to take. But I was so scared, of that place and of what they would do to me if they found me guilty."
His anger melted before her fear. "Don't worry, Elaine. I will do all I can to make sure things are made right."
The gratitude in her eyes touched him, and she sounded more hopeful than worried when she asked, "Where will we go?"
"The old shed where we used to play as kids," he said, his mood lightening a bit. "I know it'll be rough to live in, but nobody knows about it. So it's best for now, until we think of something else."
Elaine grabbed his hand and clutched it as if hanging on for dear life. "I have nothing to fear in the world with you by my side." He thought she meant it, and his heart swelled with pride.
#
Looking over the archmage's books, Rose and Derrick discovered that there had been, in addition to what was commonly known as Old Script, another language used in the Old World specifically for writing incantations. Finn redoubled his efforts to find useful information after being left out of the others' discovery due to not knowing Old Script, and quite accidentally found a huge piece of the puzzle they tried to solve.
He stumbled across a map depicting an area much like the region around Bifford, only with different locations marked and named. After taking a look, Derrick realized the Archmages' Studio to be one of said locales and quickly flipped through the book, which appeared to be a catalog of the important sites around what was now Bifford.