Whisper of the End

by Held, Maximian

  “Our terms are simple, surrender unconditionally. Submit yourselves to the laws of the land.” He says. So, surrender and get executed. Not a great deal.

  “You expect us to give up, so you can kill us publicly?” Mendalde says icily, “You can’t be that stupid, and if you are you’re not leaving here.”

  “It’s really as simple as that, and besides you won’t both be executed. Caius and Kearika will be allowed live.” Alaric says. Kearika gives a little cheer, pulling a face at Karl and Mendalde. As touching as that is, I cannot allow it to happen. Order must be preserved.

  “Alaric, I respect you coming here to tells us this in person, but we cannot allow you to just take Mendalde and Karl and sentence them to death. That is now how it works. There are laws, laws that must be obeyed.” I say, trying to reason with him

  “The Tower is the only authority that can judge a Mage and their Protector. That is why I intend to petition the Tower when we return, to have them look into what happened at Hurendale.” I continue, ignoring his hardening expression.

  Caius, we both know nothing will be done. The Tower doesn’t have an interest in protecting non-mages. They’re only interested in preserving their own power.” Alaric says exasperatedly. That is not, entirely, true.

  “Yes, but they have good reason. Mages are different, and it does not matter how you look at it. Your movement is founded on the idea that mages are unfairly different, that we need to be brought to heel. I would ask you, if you cannot understand what we mages have to deal with, how can you expect to judge us?” I ask him, interested in what his response will be. Alaric sits for several long moments, making small circles on the tabletop with his finger.

  “I would judge you as anyone else would be judged. The madman who claims the voices in the moon made him murder his family is beyond my ability to understand, yet he feels the hangman's noose all the same. Why should you be any different?” Alaric asks.

  “I understand that you have abilities I can never hope to attain, I will never throw flames from my hands or heal the injured with a thought. I don’t have to be able to do so to understand the basic tenets of justice.” Alaric says flatly, his hand drifting towards the handle of his dagger. Maybe a different tack will work.

  “I would ask you this then, Adalan here says his wife was murdered by the Zauberei who operate in Ba’tshish. Would you give us Belandre, in exchange for Mendalde? A murderer for a murderer?” I ask. Mendalde doesn’t turn to face me, but I can feel the rage boiling out of her.

  “I don’t know anything about Belandre murdering anyo-” Alaric shakes his head as he starts to reply.

  “My wife you swine! Belandre even gave me a note saying she did it!” Adalan roars. Alaric’s head snaps up, looking at the furious barkeep.

  “Sir, I know nothing of your wife's death. Why would Belandre kill an innocent woman?” He asks.

  “She killed her because she was a Mage, and thus deserved it by your twisted logic. My wife, the Mage, the woman who conjured water during times of drought. Who created food when there was famine, who raised homes for those lost in the fire. My wife, the Mage, was killed for the crime of being who she was.” Adalan chokes out, tears leaking down his face.

  “I will look into this, and if it is true then we will try Belandre by our laws.” Alaric says. Adalan snorts and shakes his head. Your laws would just vindicate what was done.

  “You would not allow us to try her, would you? She did kill a mage after all. She is bound by the law of the Tower.” I say, leaning forward.

  “Obviously not! How could mages ever show pity to one of us? Belandre’s neck would be in the noose before sundown. You’re out of your mind if you think we’d ever allow one of our own to be judged by you!” Alaric shouts.

  Mendalde slaps her hands on the table, causing everyone to start.

  “Enough! I’ve heard enough of your drivel. You can’t judge me, because I won’t allow it.” Mendalde says as she inspects her fingernails.

  “It would be as if an ant came to you and told you that are to hang for stepping on its anthill. Utterly preposterous.” She states with a cold glare.

  “Do you think yourself and I so different? That I am an ant challenging you? That I have no grounds on which to take you to task?” Alaric asks heatedly.

  “You are wrong whelp. You are not an ant to me, you are less than an ant. At least an ant knows to scurry away from the boot that crushes it. You run towards it, for you are far more stupid then the ant.” Mendalde says, scowling at him. I wince. This is not going to end peacefully.

  “Then let me tell you something mage, this ant has many more of his kind to call on! You cannot crush us all.” Alaric snarls, rising from his seat. “We have talked, and found it fruitless, none of you will leave this house alive.” Mendalde laughs, a cold sound that freezes the breath in your lungs.

  “Run. Run and bring along all your other ants. Let all of you come and be crushed.” Mendalde says, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. Alaric turns and storms from the house, slamming the ruined door behind him. Well, that went about as well as I expected it too.

  An awkward silence hangs in the air, interrupted by muffled shouting from outside. I turn to stare at Mendalde, whetting my lips before I speak.

  “What are we going to do?” I ask, Mendalde sighs and pushes away from the table.

  “Exactly what I said we would do. We’re going to crush them, all of them. Their little rebellion ends here.” She replies with a withering look. She pulls another one of her vials from a pouch on her hip, throws her head back and drinks the whole thing in one go.

  I shudder at the sight of it. I can still hear the voices from the last one. Men, women, children and the old all calling out for help. Asking why everything is dark and cold.

  When Mendalde had made me drink that vial's contents, I’d been filled with power. With it came panicked whispers in the back of my mind, flashes of memories and the feeling of being crowded inside my own head. Mercifully they’d faded as I healed Karl, but I have a guess as to what is in those vials. Gods above, I do not want to be right. Please let me be wrong about it.

  Pursuing that train of thought would have to wait though, if we didn’t work together against the Zauberei then we would all die in this house. I do not know what I can contribute to this fight, I am far to drained to do much of anything. Kearika and Karl grunt as they lift the massive oak table between them. Together they totter over to the front of the house and slam it down on its side in front of the ruined door. The bang of it dropping snaps me out of my stupor.

  “What are you two doing?” I ask.

  “We need to defend this house, barricading the door will help with that.” Kearika replies.

  She and Karl move over to a large shelf and begin sliding it towards the front window. It scrapes and screeches along the stone floor as they push. I glance over at Mendalde, hoping for some inspiration towards what I should be doing. Her hair floats around her, dancing in an invisible wind. Her eyes are closed and she looks absolutely calm, the smell of freshly cut flowers floating through the room. The stone floor beneath her feet begins to glow with heat and her tattered dress begins to whip around.

  Mendalde’s eyes open, and she holds her arms out in front of her. Pieces of molten stone rise up from the floor, shaping themselves into armored plates as they do. They slowly circle Mendalde, coming to rest against her skin. The hiss of burning flesh makes me flinch. Mendalde makes no noise as more and more pieces of rock press against her. How can she stand that pain? The hissing stops and Mendalde stands covered in stony armor.

  Gauntlets with spiked fingers cover her hands and forearms, flowing pauldrons protect her shoulders. A stone helmet in the shape of a snarling wolf covers her head and protects her neck. The ears are swept backward, lending a savage look to Mendalde’s already unsettling appearance.

  Her exquisitely chased breastplate has dozens of scenes worked into its surface. Images of men being hunted by forest creatures, o
f the hunter becoming prey. An armored skirt completes her new outfit, all the pieces are connected by chain made from stone as well. I stare in utter shock at Mendalde. I never would have guessed she could just make a suit of armor like that. Especially not out of the floor!

  Mendalde sees me staring at her smirks. She stalks over to the upturned table, placing her right hand against the back of it. Kearika stares at her slack jawed, and Karl just has a knowing smile on his face. Mendalde pulls her hand back from the table, drawing out the handle of a blade as she does. She steps back flourishing a full-length blade of smooth, polished wood which she twirls comfortably in her hand.

  “You’re going to fight then with my floor and the kitchen table?” Adalan snorts.

  Mendalde glares icily at him, stalking towards him and raising her sword. Adalan watches her impassively, hands resting easily by his side. Mendalde brings her sword down on an unfortunate chair, the wooden blade passing effortlessly through it as it cuts the chair in half.

  How is Mendalde this good at nature magic? My instructor might have been able to do that, but she has been practicing for over five-hundred years!

  “Alright, that was rather impressive.” Adalan says with a smile, running his finger along the bisected chair.

  Mendalde gives a small sniff of derision and whirls away from him. Kearika glances over at me, then back at Mendalde. I do not have the kind of power, or experience, to perform that kind of magic. I still couldn’t connect to the aether, all I have is what’s left in me and the remains of Mendalde’s concoction. Besides, I try not to engage directly. I gesture for Kearika to come over to me.

  I run my hands over her halberd, checking the magic I’ve already woven into it. Everything seems to be working. I check the wards on Kearika as well, ensuring that they’re still functioning.

  “Be careful Kearika, I still do not know how you were hurt by Belandre and the others at the inn. With my trouble drawing on the aether, I do not know if your wards will work at all. Even if they are still in place.” I tell her.

  “You be careful as well Caius, this will get a bit chaotic. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but you may have to protect yourself.” Kearika says with a nod.

  I give her a wan smile and a weak nod in return. Muffled yelling comes from outside, Kearika and Karl both glance over at the bookshelf which is only halfway across the window. The both throw themselves against it, trying to push it the rest of the way. Too late.

  A pair of cloth bundles fly through the opening, shattering the window as they do. Sputtering, hissing fuses stick out from them. Adalan ducks into one of the adjoining rooms, and as I turn away both bags go off with a deafening bang! Everything is obscured by dust, which immediately turns to motes of blue and green light.

  I hold out my hand and watch the falling dust glimmer in my hand, the wards holding it away from my skin. Kearika shimmers green in the hazy cloud, clearly as confused as I am. Mendalde and Karl are both hacking and coughing though, and I move towards Karl to help. Blood pours from his mouth and eyes, he’s on his knees coughing up blood. Karl holds out an arm, I pull him to his feet and take him over to Mendalde.

  “Glass. They filled the room with glass dust.” Karl rasps, bloody spit falling from his mouth as he speaks. Mendalde sweeps her hand across the room and the dust falls to ground as little specks of ash. She presses a hand to Karl’s chest, and his breathing begins to ease immediately.

  Mendalde can heal? What did she need me for then?

  My head is spinning, how could Mendalde possibly be this good with so many kinds of magic? Creating that armor and sword is something a master of natural magic would be able to do. The bolts she’d thrown around in the swamp were a supreme display of black magic, Kearika has a hole burned through her armor to prove it. Healing someone without words so quickly is a skill I had worked for years to attain.

  Mages are expected to have a practical knowledge of fields outside their area of expertise. Reaching a working mastery in a field of magic takes decades, some mages could master two in their lifetimes. Most mages dedicated themselves to a single kind of magic, becoming talented specialists in their fields.

  But that level of skill in dark and nature magic, and she looks barely a day over thirty? She also tracked us back in Hurendale as well, and vanished into thin air according to Kearika. Just how powerful is Mendalde? The sinking feeling in my gut from before is back. I can think of only one way for Mendalde to be this talented at so many disciplines of magic, and appear so youthful.

  Necromancy.

  Necromantic magic was banned by the Tower a thousand years ago, because it was deemed too dangerous to be used. Necromantic magic gave its user power over life and death and invariably led megalomania in the wielder. Powerful necromancers could kill thousands with a wave of their hands, or bring the dead back to life.

  There’d been a systematic purge of the Necromancers and their teachings. All of their books, scrolls and texts were rounded up and destroyed. This cleansing had not been a peaceful affair though, the war to suppress them had dragged on for almost two centuries. No complete records of what occurred survived, just fragments and scraps. Killing the masters of life and death was more difficult than anyone had thought it would be.

  Even though the Necromancers are gone, with the majority of their teachings erased, their influence is still felt today. Most healing techniques have their roots in necromantic magic, and black magic is a just “safer” version of necromancy. Not that most modern mages care enough about ancient history to know that.

  Mendalde certainly has the mastery of black magic I would imagine a Necromancer would have. Not that I would know, no one alive has ever seen one. All I have to go on are the bits and pieces I have read, but living for a couple centuries would certainly explain her prowess. The question is, how do we get out of here without being killed by the Zauberei or Mendalde?

  “Caius!” Mendalde snaps, a look of scorn on her face. Oh no.

  “Help Kearika push the bookcase the rest of the way!” She snarls.

  I nod and back away towards Kearika. Mendalde turns back to Karl, a worried look appearing on her face for a fleeting moment. Karl gives her a tired smile and rises to his feet with her help. Kearika is peering out the window, and I tap her on the shoulder as I come up behind her. She turns and gives me a smile, which I return. She’s applied a hasty coat of war paint, a flowing display in blood red that makes her look like her eyes are bleeding. The paint around her mouth gives her smile a fearsome look as well.

  I can almost feel her joy, as if our link is still intact. I hope I can restore it soon. I miss her company.

  “Mendalde wants me to help you push the bookshelf.” I say, gesturing towards it. Half the window is still unblocked, and peeking out I could see several people in the distance. Kearika and I, but mostly Kearika, push the bookshelf the rest of the way.

  “How many of them do you think there are?” I ask.

  “About two dozen I think. They look pretty serious, they’re all armed and armored. This will be tough, but we can do it.” Kearika answers with a grin.

  “How are you feeling Caius? Do you have your strength back?” She asks. I wish.

  “Barely” I reply, “Try not to get too hurt, I have enough left for one major spell and maybe a few minor ones.”

  Even with two days’ rest the aether is still beyond my reach, the desolate silence from its absence still resting awkwardly on my mind. Coupled with my link to Kearika having withered after being stabbed, I felt positively alone. At least I still have some of the aether left over from healing Karl, and what’s left of my own personal supply.

  The cuts on my arms are healing well enough at least, but I have to make sure not to let the aether get away from me. If I let my concentration slip, I will end up on the ground twitching as I heal myself to death. Self-healing powered by personal aether always kills the caster, the damage from using their own aether forcing the healing start anew. It is an agonizing death, the more
powerful the mage the longer it would take for them to die. Without outside intervention, there isn’t any way to stop it.

  “You know me Caius, I prefer to win my fights without bloodshed. Mine at least.” Kearika says with a grin, making me laugh.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep us safe.” She says.

  We both jump when something slams into the door, rocking the overturned table. We share a sheepish grin and move away from the window. The battered door rocks under another impact, light filtering through as it splinters under the blows. That door is not going to last much longer. The banging stops, Kearika’s ears perk up in the following silence. She whirls around and begins shoving me towards her room.

  “Get behind something!” She shouts.

  Kearika tackles me into her room just as a deafening boom blasts through the house. We lay on the ground, and I can see large splinters of wood scything through the air. Something picks me up and slaps me into the floor, knocking Kearika off from on top of me. I lay there, hugging the cold stone while I wait for the ringing to stop. I shake my head, trying to clear the noise. Kearika leaps to her feet, rushing back into the common room while I struggle to stand.

  Chapter XVII - Kearika

  Duras - Outskirts of Ba’tshish

  11th of Telod, 1873 MD

  I was right, it was gunpowder. The Zauberei are getting predictable. I had heard hissing coming from the shattered door, and decided it was time to get out of the way. The door frame had done a wonderful job of shielding us from the blast. I can’t hear anything but ringing though. The house is a mess, the windows have blown out and thick smoke hangs in the air. Sunlight filters through the shattered windows, creating swirling columns of gold in the smoke. I shake my head, trying to stop the ringing. Found a weakness in Caius’s wards at least.

  I get up off the floor, leaning on my halberd as I do. I glance down at Caius, he’s still face down on the floor. Come on Kearika, stop standing around. There’s work to do. I shake myself, throwing off the disorientation from the explosion. My ears tingle with cold and the ringing subsides. A solitary blue spark drifts down towards the floor. Caius groans and shakes his head, slowly propping himself up on his arms. He’s going to be there a while. I shuffle back into the common room, halberd lowered in front of me.