by Rosie Scott
With a glance to my right, I saw the corpse of the ice wyvern in the midst of all its loot. Its throat had been gashed out, and that appeared to be the final blow. Blood had pooled below, though ice had frozen bits of its lifeblood on the bottom flap of the wound. It appeared that the creature had been in the midst of shooting ice when Nyx had finished it.
“How do you feel?” I turned my attention back to Cerin after he asked. His forehead was furrowed with concern.
“I'm...here. How is Theron?” It was a stupid question. I knew how he was; I could see both of his legs in alignment. I'd asked it just to make myself feel better, since I had been unable to finish healing him.
“I am alive, Kai,” the ranger answered. His eagle-like eyes were sharp and on mine despite the fatigue of his recent trauma. I was so happy to see them clear again. “Thanks to both you and Cerin.”
“I'm sorry I couldn't—” My voice broke with emotion, and I stopped speaking to swallow.
“The only thing you should feel sorry for is over-exerting yourself,” Silas spoke up. “You could have been killed.”
I ignored that concern for now, focused on the ranger's right leg, the one I hadn't been able to heal. “Did you boost his immunity to infection before closing the wound?” I asked Cerin.
The necromancer grimaced. “I do not know the spell.”
Theron held a hand out, as if to stop me before I panicked. “I have potions on me that should keep away infection. Do not concern yourself.”
I finally sat up from Nyx's lap, my eyes darting around the hoard of gold. “Are we staying here tonight?”
“That's the plan,” Nyx replied, massaging her leg where I'd been laying. It must have fallen asleep with the pressure. “The sooner the better. I'm exhausted.”
Cerin and I both volunteered to keep first watch for the night, since he had leeched much of the wyvern's lifeblood and was set energy-wise for awhile, and I had recently been refreshed by him. We wandered around the wyvern's hoard, searching through piles of it to see what we could find, keeping our friends within view.
“I wonder why all this is here,” I pondered aloud, picking up what once was a very expensive dwarven made battleaxe, before throwing it to the side because it turned out to be dull, like a ceremonial weapon.
“Dragons like shiny things,” Cerin replied, rummaging through his own pile.
“Don't we all?” I teased. I heard the necromancer laugh low, and was happy that he appeared to be enjoying himself. “I thought this was a wyvern,” I added, remembering his earlier words.
“Agh, I'm one for semantics, forgive me,” he replied. “It is a wyvern, but it is also a dragon. Wyverns are types of dragons. They have two legs rather than four, and are much weaker and smaller, in general.”
“I'd hate to run across a dragon, then.”
“Yes. Me as well.” I took that to mean he never had.
“How do you think this wyvern got all this gold in here?” I asked, motioning toward the piles. “I get that it probably was flying around and picked up whatever shiny things caught its eye, but these piles of gold are taller than us. That's a lot of weight for a flying creature, not to mention it would need something to carry it with.”
“The gold is an offering,” Cerin replied, before motioning toward the sconces along the wall. “You can tell people have taken care of this place. There must be a village nearby that does it.”
“Why?”
“I've heard that some view dragons as gods, or that they offer gold in exchange for protection.”
“Does that work? The wyvern didn't seem one for talking,” I mused.
“I don't know if it does or not. I have never met anyone from one of these villages, myself.”
“Forgive me. My questions must tire you,” I offered, given his short answer.
“They do not. I simply find it interesting that an heir to Sera is so green to the world and its ways.” I wasn't sure if that was an insult or not.
“My venture to Whispermere was the first time I stepped foot out of Sera,” I replied. “Terran is the true heir; not I. Father never included me in on his discussions of the world like he did my brother.”
Cerin was silent for a few moments, processing my words. “You call him father, but you do not believe it.”
I stopped rummaging through the loot for a moment, my eyes sticking to the gold pieces before me. “I do not. And neither does he.”
“I see why you traveled so far just to meet your mother,” he commented, a note of sympathy to his voice.
Warm air blew through my nostrils as I exhaled. “It is pathetic of me to drag all of you through this long and hard journey in some quest to meet her. I am an adult. I have no need of parents.” I'd allowed a little too much of my own self-reflection out into the open, and I squinted my eyes shut in embarrassment. It was easy to talk to Cerin, just like it had been years ago. Maybe too easy. I admitted far too much around him, because I somehow knew he would know just what to say, or simply listen to me when I needed someone to.
“This journey is far from pathetic,” he finally replied. I didn't hear him rummaging through the loot anymore. “And you are not dragging anyone. We are all here on our own free will, whether that is through friendship or coin.” He hesitated. “I have lost both parents, Kai, but at least I had them. I can only sympathize with your need to discover where you came from. I just hope you like what you find.”
“That is the second time you've mentioned that, like Whispermere is some shithole of a place,” I commented.
“Whispermere is beautiful, from what I saw of it. But its problems run deep.” Cerin paused. “I do not wish to say more. We will be reaching there within the next few days, and I want you to form your own judgments.”
I sighed, frustrated. Everyone I had ever spoken to of the place was so secretive. Unable to focus on sorting through loot, I turned and sat down at the bottom of a gold pile to take a break. I heard Cerin walking over spilled coins, but he was behind a pile of them, so I could not see him. Reaching up, I pulled my long hair slowly out of its hair tie, not needing it out of my way while I was resting. My long, bright red locks fell around my face, billowing out with new freedom. I let my head fall backwards with a clink against the coins.
I opened my eyes a moment later to find my companion staring at me, holding a golden urn beside a pile one over. As soon as my eyes met his, he blinked and looked away, putting the urn on the ground.
“I will come back to help you in a minute. I'm a little overwhelmed,” I explained, keeping a straight face. Really, I wanted to smile. Nyx had been right. The attraction between Cerin and I was mutual.
“No, you're fine,” he replied in a rush, though he stopped after a moment, and looked back over to me. “I will teach you my spells.”
Even as I replied, he was walking over to sit beside me. “I thought we agreed to wait on that until you trusted me.”
Cerin sat down on the ground just about two feet away, leaving enough distance so that his move wasn't awkward. He was a smidgen of black on a backdrop of gold. “We did, and it nearly cost you your life. Had you leeched energy from the wyvern, you wouldn't have passed out.”
He was right, of course. But his explanation also meant he still didn't trust me, which was frustrating. “Allow me, then, to teach you what healing spells I know that you don't.”
Cerin nodded. “All right. An exchange, then. A trade.” Thinking of it this way seemed to make him feel better.
“A trade that I come out of looking better than you,” I mused, given the amount of spells we'd be exchanging.
“No, you are getting the raw end of the deal, learning magic that you cannot use except for circumstances in which there will be no witnesses.”
“There won't be any witnesses to any of our battles,” I teased. Cerin huffed in amusement, having not expected my light-hearted jest in such a situation.
“I suppose not,” he agreed.
Cerin began teaching me what necroman
tic spells he knew, including informing me of what words in the spell language meant in ours. Many of the words he taught me—corpa, enflic—were ones I had never seen in any of the other schools of magic. By knowing how these words were translated, there was always a chance that I could someday create my own spells without learning them from outside sources.
He also taught me the details of necromancy I would have never thought about. For example, while combining two elements could sometimes create a nearly unstoppable magical force, much like my fiery tornado in the woods near Amere, combining fire and death was not always a good combination. Using corpa te risa a multipla to raise corpses in an area of effect attack along with creatius les fiers a nienda, which normally would attach fire to another element, would not result in an army of fiery undead that could inflict fire damage. Instead, it would result in an army of flaming undead, but the fire would only serve to char bone and melt the decomposition off of my own zombies.
There were also differences in how spells were cast. Raising only one corpse required thrusting the energy in its direction, much like many spells focused on only one other person, whether that person was an enemy and being hit with energy, or an ally and being hit with a shield spell. It also required a visible corpse, as the lower level necromancy spell did not infiltrate the ground. The higher powered area of effect raise dead spell was cast as if the ground itself was your target, much like I had seen Cerin use it many times. This spell did not require visible targets, as the energy would absorb into the dirt and seek its own targets.
Finally, Cerin taught me much about the behavior of the dead once it was reanimated. The dead would use anything at its disposal as a weapon. He described instances where he'd risen woodland animals, just for the skeletons of elk to ram their enemies, or small rodents to chew through skin. Humanoid enemies would seek out weapons, resorting to sticks or even long bones of fallen skeletons if no metal weapons were available. And the dead would always seek to protect the spellcaster, focusing on the enemy causing the most damage, or closest. Once they had that enemy surrounded, they would spread out, attacking others as they saw them. The spellcaster's thoughts affected the dead, Cerin told me, meaning that thinking someone was your enemy when they were not would still cause the dead to attack them. Paying extra attention to an enemy or weapon would cause the dead to attack the enemy or equip the weapon.
I asked him if the dead could be healed, and he told me they could not, because their cells were not living and could not rebuild. The only life spells that would work on the undead were shields, because shields would work on any object you cast the spell on. You could, technically, shield a piece of furniture before taking a hammer to it, and the shield would protect the wood until it had taken enough damage. Most mages would never use their magic so frivolously, of course, but it was a possibility, and helped explain how one spell from the life school would work on the dead, while others did not.
It had been a few hours since Cerin and I had first sat down, and he was just now getting around to teaching me how to leech. He put his arm out toward my chest, like he was going to use the spell, just to show me the correct method.
“You want to take the energy from the person's—or beast's—core,” he explained. “If you were to leech from the head, there's a possibility the target would become confused quicker, but the leeching process overall would take much longer. Leeching from the core pulls energy from the midsection, and by virtue of anatomy, everything leads there. That's where most of the major organs are, and so all veins and arteries connect here. While you are taking energy, the body itself is helping to resupply you by pumping more life to where you are taking it.”
“So you were standing behind the wyvern's wing for a reason,” I said, understanding.
“Yes. You could leech from a wyvern's chest or side, but I was also trying to break my way in through its rib cage with my scythe,” he admitted. “It's the closest way to the heart. Or hearts, if you're dealing with a much larger dragon.”
“The larger the creature, the longer to leech?” I asked, because it had seemed to be true for Cerin thus far.
“Usually, but not always. The longest it ever took me to fully leech the life out of a creature, it was a vampire. And vampires are tall, intimidating creatures, but they aren't even half the size of the ogre I fought back in the Seran Forest.”
“What are vampires?” I feared it was another stupid question. I had heard the word before, but never more than that.
“Soulless creatures who subsist on blood from other creatures alone,” he replied. “Pray you never cross one.”
“I would if gods existed to pray to,” I mused.
“Ah,” said Cerin, “Another nonbeliever.”
“Which gods do you subscribe to?” I asked him.
“None. I am the same as you. I said pray as more of a figure of speech. Because if you come across a vampire, you will wish you had a god to pray to.”
I watched him, intrigued. “How did you make it out alive?”
“Very, very carefully,” he said, before a low laugh. “Thankfully, I am a necromancer. Vampires and necromancers are very similar in the aspect that they absorb life. If you can absorb it right back out of them, they can fall. Which brings me to another thing about leeching—you cannot leech from the dead. If we ever come across an enemy necromancer, don't attempt leeching from anyone but the mage.”
“Can't get blood out of a stone,” I mused.
“Exactly. Now...” Cerin readjusted where he sat, just before me. He'd changed his position earlier so he could show me how to leech. His legs were on either side of mine, silver buckles begging for attention by shining brightly over black leather. “Before you try the spell, there's one last thing you should know. Have you ever gotten high?”
A smirk spread over my face. The question amused me. “Is this conversation still about leeching?” I asked.
A rare smile appeared over Cerin's full lips. “It is, I promise.”
“No, I have not been high. Been drunk a good too many times, but never high. You?”
“Not once. I have been living in the forests alone for years. Where would I have gotten rempka?”
“You could have gotten it beforehand. At the university, or in Thornwell,” I pointed out.
“Yes, at the university, where I had no friends,” he teased, before turning somber. “I ask this, because when you leech, it affects your mind. You feel this intense euphoria...no, that's not the word.” He hesitated, looking off to the side, trying to find his words. “It's this overwhelming feeling of power. You are full of so much energy, and it feels good. You may find yourself wanting that feeling more often. You have to learn to control it, lest it start to control you.” He paused, looking over me carefully. “The first time is the hardest.”
This all felt oddly intimate to talk about with him. “How did you get through it?” I asked him.
“I used it against one of your father's men, the first time. Wanted that feeling so badly again afterwards that I went hunting for animals to leech off of in the forest.” Cerin clearly wasn't proud of admitting this, breaking eye contact with me. “Not long after that I made it to Thornwell. Learning what I did there broke that feeling of being powerful pretty quickly. I've been much more careful ever since.” He raised his eyes back to mine. “It gets easier the more you get used to it, but I want you to try the spell on me, just in case.”
I frowned. “You want me to use leech on you?”
“Yes,” he replied, as if he didn't see the problem. “Better here in a controlled environment than out in battle.”
“I could hurt you,” I protested.
“If you meant to, yes,” he admitted. “But I still have an excess of energy in my system from the wyvern. It is safer to try it now than on any other night. I will stop you, if you start getting out of hand.”
I stared at him, watching me in expectation. I found nothing but kindness in his silver eyes. I wondered if he had started to trust m
e. Surely, he would not offer to be a guinea pig for a spell of mine if he didn't?
“Very well,” I finally agreed, exhaling slowly and hoping some of my anxiety would float out along with the breath.
“Okay. Now, remember what I told you,” Cerin said, putting his hand out toward my chest like he'd shown me earlier. “The spell is absort la mana del life.” A black energy began to swirl over his palm beside my chest, before he dispelled it harmlessly.
“Absorb energy from life,” I murmured, recognizing the language. I put my hand out toward the center of his chest, took a deep breath, and repeated the spell for myself. When I felt it accumulating in my palm, I directed it toward Cerin's chest, where a funnel of energy was created to siphon his life to me.
My arm began to shake with the abundance of energy. I stared at it, watching as my veins became more pronounced from the pressure. As soon as I felt the tingle of energy run through my shoulder and to my own chest, I knew what Cerin had been talking about.
It was like my whole body was a trembling mess of power. By the gods, I had such power and was raring to use it. I watched with gusto as Cerin's life was swept away into the black energy, knowing that if I kept going, I had the power to kill him without making another move. My brain was trembling against my skull, laughing with glee as if it had just found something it hadn't known it had been looking for. My vision sharpened. Everything—from Cerin's gorgeous face to each individual gold piece in the piles around us—was clearer, the colors sharper and robust. I felt like I could count each coin around me in seconds, if I had wanted to. My hearing, by contrast, had dulled. Because Cerin was yelling at me, and I couldn't hear him.
No—I could hear him. He was just telling me to stop, so I was ignoring it. He grabbed at my arm, trying to pull it away from his chest, but I overpowered him.
More. More. More. I watched that black funnel, obsessed with it, barely caring that he was fighting for his life.