by Rick Field
Slowly, after a few hours, the landscape started to take on familiar airs for Liane, and bad memories surfaced when she rounded a bend in the road, only to face a familiar lake with an equally familiar center island sporting a house. The forest of Philip spread before them, the sun starting to come down on the horizon. They were nearly there.
“You know this place?” Steve asked.
“This was where I saved my friend five years ago,” the Pillar said calmly, not wanting to look at the lake and the house any longer than necessary. “We took shelter in the forest after I first rescued him. Most people believe it to be haunted, and avoid it still.”
“Haunted!?” Steve asked, startled. “You're joking, right?”
Hearing his surprise brought a small smile to her lips. “Deep inside it is a castle, a castle built a long time ago by Veyrùn the Necromancer. It is heavily protected, but I broke those protections five years ago for myself and my friend. I believed the myth would protect us for one night. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Today, I will rebuild and reactivate those protections, and once again, the Forest of Philip will become haunted.” She glanced at him. “You needn't worry; I will exempt you while I do so. You and I will be the only ones able to exist within the castle.”
They kept to the main road, ignoring the familiar dirt track that lead up to the bridge of the house in the middle of the lake. Suddenly, she grimaced, a wave of magic bearing down upon her.
“Are you alright?” Steve asked worriedly as her horse pranced skittishly. She slipped from the saddle with as much grace as a falling sack of potatoes, but managed to land on her two feet nonetheless.
“I'm being attacked,” she snapped angrily, feeling the protections built into the Pillar's robes deflecting the curse aimed at her from a distance. Outside of line-of-sight, the attack had to be bonded to her by blood or by some other part of her body. Her grimace tightened. Blood, she had left plenty of that behind lately. The constant attacks had prevented her from cleaning it up, and now her carelessness was going to be used against her.
The attack was starting to shift, and Liane realized that, whoever was doing this curse, was not just a talented amateur. Anyone with a basic schooling in Blood Magic could key a curse to blood and target a person remotely. Shifting a curse to circumvent protections took skill. Whoever was cursing her knew what they were doing.
As good as the static defenses in her robes were, they would be evaded at some point, and Liane knew she didn't have the time to turn the curse back upon the caster before her own defenses would fail. Quickly, she placed Lucifer upright on its tip, grabbed her athame with her right hand, and cut deeply into the tip of the index finger of her left hand. Blood welled up, and immediately the Pillar dropped to her knees, using the open wound to draw a circle around herself. Her motions quick and hurried, the circle was nowhere near straight or perfect, the Mage hurrying to complete it before the protections in her robe would fail.
The moment she closed her dented, oblong geometric figure, she could feel the Blood Magic seal the wound on her finger, and the protections in her robe diminish their cries for her attention. Closing her eyes, she muttered counter-curses while the fingers of her right hand touched her defensive barrier. The energy of the curse felt distinctly masculine, and Liane had no trouble thinking of her distant assailant as being male.
She could feel his hesitation when her defenses shifted from her robes static protections to her shifting blood-based pseudo-shield. It was a Death Curse, straight to the point and very powerful, too brazen for most Mages, who preferred subtle curses that targeted senses or created debilitations. Death Curses were powerful, going straight for the heart, brain, and magic of a target, but took a lot of power and effort to set up.
The energy of the attack shifted, trying to figure a way around her new protections, and Liane smiled slightly. Her opponent had skill and knowledge, but lacked the imagination required to think outside of the box. Her focus shifted, and her whispers limited themselves to mere token shifts in her defenses, her mind and her magic waiting for the correct moment. The moment she knew would come, the moment where her attacker was making a mistake.
There.
She stabbed at the weak point in the curse with a single word that was backed by her blood on the floor and the magic in her chest. For a moment, she had the pleasure of feeling his incredible surprise, before the wrenched sensation of fighting off a Death Curse fell away completely. Whoever he had been, she was sure that her unseen assailant wouldn't be very pleased with the results. Try to curse her to death, did he? He must not have been informed of who and what she was.
Liane straightened up, the blood of her dented pseudo-circle evaporating into the air. She was Liane, Blood Magic was something she had been doing since her first year.
“What happened? Are you alright?” Steve was genuinely concerned for her, she realized, and her eyes met his. She made a motion for her horse, took Lucifer from where it was faithfully standing, and hefted herself back in the saddle. It took a bit more effort than usual, she felt tired after her improvised attack.
“Someone attempted to put a Death Curse on me,” she explained. “It takes blood or something else from your body, such as a fingernail or lock of hair, to tie a curse into and execute it beyond line of sight.” Her horse started walking forward, Steve right next to her. “Unfortunately for my attacker, my robes carry protections that stopped his immediate assault, and I was able to get an improvised blood shield up that allowed me to resist his attack and turn the curse back. In the best case, the curse would rebound upon him, but I do believe he would have taken precautions and protected himself, so he probably got a nasty backlash and will be fine after a few days in hospital.”
The pilot stared at her with open mouth. “So you can curse people from a distance, and the target can actually fight back, and turn the attack back?”
Liane nodded. “There is no limit range for a good caster of Blood Magic. If I had your blood, I could curse you from half a world away. There is a good reason why the Nobility will make sure no blood, hair, or fingernails are left behind.”
The man nodded. “You were lucky you were awake. If they'd done it at night, while you're asleep, you'd have had it.”
“There is a good reason why all personal dwellings are shielded against such things, and why I push us not to sleep on the open road if we can help it. Being invited into a person's home automatically invokes the protection of that dwelling's wards, but it is exceedingly bad form to accept those protections without informing your host if you are being pursued.”
“So that's why you did what you did at your friend's house,” Steve said.
Liane nodded. “Since a remote curse would have been stopped by his wards, he would have been automatically notified. In most cases, the host would then become involved, due to the rules of hospitality. Anyone attacking a person's guest is attacking the person himself. Again, it is bad form to claim the rules of hospitality if you are being pursued.”
The foreigner nodded silently, he could understand what she was saying. Liane indicated a direction, and they stepped off the road, their horses taking them into the darkened woods. They had entered the Forest of Philip, and Steve hoped they would soon be at this mythical castle. Wards or shields or defenses or not, he would feel better being off the open road and behind some solid walls.
Chapter Nine
Steve sunk into the conjured seat, and shivered. Liane had driven them hard, and he had not had any time to think about the recent events until they had entered the strange derelict castle and she had reactivated its defenses. He didn't feel at ease, inside the castle, despite Liane's reassurances of its strength. They had been able to make their way inside easily, with one of its exterior walls collapsed. His companion had impressed upon him that she had reactivated the structure's defenses – whatever those may be.
Despite being on edge and expecting an attack, the weariness of his body made itself felt. That meant that he now had to
deal with some things that deeply frightened him. It was one thing to be confronted by people with extraordinary powers. At least he could shoot people when they came face-to-face with him. It was another completely to become aware that those same people could attack him at a distance, using nothing but some blood or hair or fingernail left behind, and the first warning he would get would be finding himself cursed to death.
He looked at Liane, and wondered about her control. She seemed fine, except for the introspective mood and her tendency to lapse into complete silence. From the look in her eyes, the mythical thousand-yard-stare he had heard so much about, he could guess where her thoughts were.
“Do you have any idea who could be behind all this?” the pilot asked, suppressing another shiver and trying to distract his thoughts from dwelling on long-distance curses.
The Mage frowned. “There are few who could organize an insurrection on this scale, especially considering the vows and oaths required before entering any trusted position. The implications are frightening,” she answered after a few moments thought. “The power, both magically and politically, must be substantial, and yet, the person planning this must not be in any official position of power or they would be under oath, and the same thing goes for their aides and helpers.”
“You've told me before that oaths can be broken,” Steve reminded her. “I don't see why no official people could be involved in this. It would make perfect sense, those high in society but wanting to go higher staging a coup. It happens a lot.”
Liane stared at him, just long enough to make him uncomfortable. “Planning and staging a rebellion takes time. One doesn't just gather up a group of friends, break oath, and go for it. Months, if not years, of planning went into this. During that time, one cannot break their oath, or they would be found out. So, whoever planned this, has done so with the aid of those not in government or official positions, and executed it similarly without any people being under oath. Even knowing about this rebellion and doing nothing about it would violate the oaths of allegiance required by government officials.”
Steve nodded, still trying to keep his mind away from long-distance cursing. It was worse than being the target of a missile or other remote weapon, he realized. At least you could hope to evade a missile – simply not be there when it hits. A curse could target the blood in his veins, and he'd be safe nowhere. He shuddered again. “So couldn't someone break their oath and help out?” he asked, desperately trying to distract himself.
The Pillar shook her head. “An oath can surely be broken. However, such treachery is soon discovered – it is customary for oaths and vows to be inspected on a regular basis, and it is considered normal for officials to display their oaths to each other when engaging in official business. If an official were to be involved in this, their involvement would have revealed the entire plan before it even started. No, government officials aren't involved in this rebellion, at least they weren't involved in the planning or execution. I couldn't tell who broke their oath and changed allegiance since.”
Steve frowned. “So it's not possible to break your oath, do whatever is needed for this rebellion; then take it again to show you're still loyal?”
Liane gaped at him for a few moments. “How... dishonorable,” she told him. “I can see why your world struggles with government if that is the way you think.” She shook her head. “It wouldn't work anyway. If you break our oath, you're obviously going against it. It's either breaking the oath, or running the risk of falling afoul of its penalty clauses. Usually, oaths of office are sworn on life and magic. The penalty will thus be death and the loss of magic. Breaking the oath avoids the penalty, but does show you as a person who breaks their word. If you were then to attempt to re-take the oath, it would immediately drain you of your magic and kill you, as you had broken it previously and had gone against it in the past. You would have to be extremely careful that you really had a change of heart and were not planning on going against it in the future – only if you have that certainty would the oath not immediately kill you. Taking it just to show your loyalty and with the intention of breaking it again in the future will constitute as a breach of the oath and invoke the penalty.”
The pilot swallowed, thinking about long-distance cursing. A broken oath sounded very similar, able to kill anywhere and anytime for going against it. He shivered again, stood up from the seat Liane had conjured, and walked to one of the windows. It was a window that he expected to see in an ancient medieval European castle, it was small and open to the elements. He gazed out at the surrounding forest. At least the woods offered some form of protection, he thought. Nobody knew they were there. At least, he didn't think they did. But if they did, then they'd be able to sneak up on them...
Suddenly, he didn't feel as safe as he'd started to feel when he first looked. He shivered again.
“The interior will heat up momentarily,” Liane offered at the sight of his shiver. “I have started the fire, but these old constructions need time to warm up and drive off the damp. Probably the reason why we stopped using them.” She was aware that she was rambling now, offering useless information. She closed her mouth, and centered her mind. The stress of the last week was getting to her, the constant, unrelenting barrage of battles and fights had taken its toll.
“I just don't feel safe,” the foreign pilot replied, stepping away from the window, and leaning against the black stone next to it, looking at her with his arms crossed. “People can just sneak up on us through those woods, and that broken wall outside doesn't look very safe. And knowing that they can curse us from a distance, without even having to go through the trouble of going through the forest... I don't get why we're here.”
Liane reclined in her own chair. “I have reassured you before that the protections on this castle will defend us,” she said. “It seems that you do not grasp just how formidable those defenses are. This is the castle of Veyrùn the Necromancer. For five hundred years, this area has been protected against outsiders. I'll repeat and rephrase that. For over half a millennium this fortress has remained unmolested by outsiders, in a country that has people with tremendous skill and magical abilities.”
She sat upright when she noticed that she held his complete attention now. “The forest surrounding this castle is called the Forest of Philip. The reason it is called the Forest of Philip and not the Forest of Veyrùn is because Philip was its most famous victim.” He was gaping at her now. “Philip the Fiddler chose to traverse these woods rather than take the long road around the woods. He came upon this castle, and believed himself to have spent the entire night feasting and playing music with his deceased Master, as well as other musical masters that had long since perished. When he woke up the next morning, he was far from here, and he found that the bow of his fiddle had been replaced by a bow made from a human thighbone. That is the power of the protections upon this place and this entire forest. Those that enter here get confused, discombobulated, put under massive illusions, and finally, guided far away with a stern reminder never to set foot here again.”
She stood up and walked to the window. “Those that enter here see what they wish to see and are offered what they want most in the world, all to deviate them from their goals of entering here. When I broke these protections five years ago, it was only because my Assistant and I had our minds protected by permanent enchantments and a strong will. My friend was not as fortunate, and we had to drag him along until I was able to deactivate them. At the time I did not realize the actions I had taken. They were necessary, and I did what I had to do. It wasn't until later that I realized that I was the first to enter this place in 500 years.” She gazed at Steve. “Even now, five years later, nobody dares enter these woods or go looking for this castle. That is the level of protection we now enjoy. None shall harm us here.”
Steve nodded, feeling better, yet unable to suppress a shiver. “If you could do it, so could someone else, and you've just jinxed us.”
“True, theoretically, other Nobl
es should be capable of the same things I did. And yet, none shall. The reason I know this is simple.” She motioned for Lucifer, obediently upright next to her seat. “That is a work of Legend. I am the best at what I do. That is not conceit, but verified truth, acknowledged by the country.” Liane frowned slightly. “I did not cast any jinxes, however, nor would I be as unsafe as casting one upon us.”
The pilot shook his head. “I meant that, with all the boasting you did, you've just invited fate to prove you wrong.”
The Mage considered his words, and realized that she had been boasting. It hadn't been her intention, she had merely wished to reassure the man, but acknowledged the truth of his words nonetheless. “The Act-of-the-Gods factor,” she said, with a faint smile. Or an act of the elemental Spirits. “Those can never be discounted.”
Steve grumbled, and sunk back in his conjured seat. Heat was starting to spread into the large hall from the roaring fire, and he found himself relaxing, finally. The Mage nodded; she may have been boasting, but at least her companion seemed more relaxed now.
They ate in silence, each lost to thought, and went to bed early. After the hard travel, they didn't take long to fall asleep.