Eldritch Assassin

by Adam Witcher

  “The dagger is losing its enchantment,” she said, barely audible. “The souls you took must not have been very pure. You must recharge it if you wish to speak to me again. You must consume more souls or find another way to charge it.”

  “Wait! I have more questions. I need to know if this is a talisman!”

  He struggled to find the pendant, but it was too late, she was gone.

  Isaac was once again alone in the dark. The only sounds were those of the chirping crickets and Aerin, who was impossibly still sleeping and snoring away.

  He laid back down and stared up at the stars.

  Saldana’s devotary, he thought. The servant of an elf goddess. How had it come to this?

  He sighed, trying to push the storm of thoughts from his mind. For now, he only needed to rest.

  9

  Isaac didn’t remember falling asleep. When he awoke, Aerin wasn’t beside him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was just above the horizon, so it wasn’t much later than dawn. Aerin’s bedroll was already rolled up and resting against a boulder nearby. She sat atop the boulder, her legs crossed and her eyes closed.

  The canyon was even more beautiful in the early morning. Towering cliffs casted shadows across the landscape while golden light illuminated the bubbling stream and stretches of grass. The horses gathered in a line and slurped the flowing water. He enjoyed the peaceful scene. Moonlight strutted over to a patch of grass and began eating his breakfast.

  “Morning,” he called out to Aerin. “What are you doing up there?”

  She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and turned to him.

  “Meditating.”

  “Since when do you meditate?”

  “Since every morning for the last ten years.”

  He stood and approached her.

  “So full of secrets,” he said. ”I’m afraid of what I might learn next.”

  “Well, every morning you either out sleep me by an hour or disappear first thing to go thieving.”

  He shrugged. “I’m really missing out. Let me know next time you sacrifice a live goat. I think I’d like to see that.”

  “Too late, I went with a squirrel this morning.”

  She stepped down from the boulder. Clad again in her revealing robes, she looked radiant and refreshed in the morning’s light.

  “To be fair,” she admitted. “I have kept secret about it. I do this to regain my magic. But now that you know I’m a mage, I don’t see a reason to hide it anymore.”

  “I thought you regained magic from enchanted items.”

  “Well, I can do that now, but meditation is the usual method. It just takes a lot longer. Hard to do in the middle of a fight.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “You look dead. Couldn’t sleep?”

  Isaac’s mind raced again, suddenly remembering his conversation with Saldana the night before. He told Aerin every bit he could recall. Her face betrayed increasing fear as he explained what he’d learned.

  “Gods, you really spoke with her. With Saldana.”

  “That’s the shocking part of this story? I told you Scorpius is trying to merge our dimensions, right?”

  “Well, you have to understand. Us elves in Avalour, we grow up hearing about her constantly. She’s constantly touted as this benevolent goddess, this bringer of holy light. When I was a teenager, I started resenting her. Call it angst, I guess. It probably didn’t help that I was into the dark magic she was supposedly cleansing the world of. Even ordinary elves sometimes wonder if she’s actually real. But she is, and not only that, but she’s trying to save us. Save us from magic not unlike what I do.”

  She hung her head, all traces of her morning peace absent from her expression.

  “Her dagger is powered by dark magic,” Isaac said. “I don’t think it’s inherently evil, it just depends how you use it. Much like thieving really.”

  She looked up again. “I suppose so. Gods, if Saldana doesn’t know what Scorpius is doing, how are we supposed to understand?”

  “One step at a time. Let’s go find that witch, shall we?”

  “What about the three other horses?”

  “Set them free. We don’t need them. Well, let’s maybe save one. Could come in handy.”

  Isaac selected a chestnut colored stallion with blonde hair and set the other two free. He climbed atop it while Aerin boarded Moonlight, and they both headed for the forest.

  Two hours later, they reached the end of the canyons and encountered the edge of the Greatwood. The forest’s onset was abrupt but thorough, like a wall separating kingdoms. It was so thick they could barely see more than a dozen feet into the vegetation, and it went on for many miles.

  Isaac’s heart pounded as they approached it. Wide open spaces were soothing, but he could already feel claustrophobia kicking in.

  “I don’t think the horses are going to like it in there,” Aerin said. She stepped down from Moonlight and Isaac followed.

  She petted the horses’ manes while Isaac tied them to a tree with a long lead, enough to let them munch on nearby grasses.

  Then they entered the Greatwood.

  Once they were twenty feet in, the forest plunged into night. Tall and thick, the trees blocked most sunlight and sent shadows cascading into every crevice visible. The effect was surreal. Isaac pulled the compass from his bag and took note of their location. Getting lost had no appeal, and without care it was inevitable.

  Not knowing what direction to travel, they simply headed deeper into the trees.

  Soon they smelled something rotten that cut through the forest’s earthy freshness. The stench of decay and death. They hesitantly followed it until they encountered a clearing and the odor’s source.

  Five bodies—all in advanced states of decay—were aligned within the shape of a five-pointed star in a clearing on the forest floor. The symbol was drawn on the grass in a kind of white chalk or paint, each body corresponding with a point of the star. Limbs were splayed into a near-radial symmetry. They’d been cut open, blood smeared across greying, sagging skin. They wore heavy armor, but bits of it were stripped away, revealing empty cavities in the belly where organs had been removed.

  Isaac staggered backward at the sight, preparing to retch. Aerin stared in fascination, eyes locked on the carnage.

  “Good gods,” Isaac said. “Did that witch do this?”

  To Isaac’s disgust, Aerin stepped closer to the bodies.

  “I hope so,” she said.

  “You hope so?” Isaac forgot his nausea for a moment and turned to her. “Why? Does this look like a good time?”

  “Because if it wasn’t her, we’ve got more than one monster to look out for.”

  Isaac squatted and breathed slowly and heavily, trying to keep his stomach from churning more.

  “Fair point. Ever seen anything like this before?”

  She turned and smirked, apparently no longer fazed by the scene at all.

  “You haven’t been keeping up with your reading, have you?”

  “This is in the Arcaneum? Show me.”

  He pulled his tome out from the bag and handed it to her. She knelt beside him and thumbed through it. When she found what he was looking for, she showed him a page in which the pentagram symbol was prominently displayed. Though it was hard to see the words in the forest’s darkness, he could make them out when he squinted.

  The pentagram represents an appeal to an extradimensional entity, be it a mortal or immortal. Depending on who is being beseeched, animal or human sacrifice may be part of the ritual. In order to reach the intended subject, some kind of identifier must be present, an object which is specific to the recipient.

  By the time he’d finished reading, Aerin was already hunched over a spot in the middle of the pentagram. She picked up a piece of fabric that depicted Scorpius’s emblem.

  “If it is the witch,” she said. “I don’t know that we’ll find her very cooperative.”<
br />
  “That shouldn’t be a problem.” Isaac moved toward her and grabbed the fabric. Then he gestured her away from the bodies. The smell was assaulting his stomach again.

  “We’re trying to defeat Scorpius. Why would she help us?”

  “She’ll help us if she thinks we’re followers too.” He grinned. “Have you forgotten what I do for a living?”

  “I’ll… I’ll let you do the talking.”

  They examined the area around the bodies until they found depressions on the forest floor—small but made by heavy boots. A set of prints led toward the ritual’s site, and a set led back away. Carefully, they followed it.

  For half an hour, they trudged through the woods and saw little in the shadows. Several times, they heard cracking twigs and rustling grasses, like some kind of animal was nearby, but whatever made the sounds wasn’t visible. Owls hooted in the trees. Apparently, the shade provided enough darkness for their comfort. Beyond that, there was very little sound. The thick foliage absorbed other ambient noises.

  Soon they spotted a building ahead. Isaac put a hand on Aerin’s shoulder and pulled her low into a crouch.

  It could have been a thousand years old. Made of old, scarred wood, the structure slanted to one side as if displaced by an earthquake. Vines grew up each side, covering nearly a third of the wood visible. A chimney jutted from the top, its degraded bricks the only bit of stone present. Several of the bricks had come loose and sat atop the roof slats.

  The cabin was tiny, likely only suitable for a single occupant, and Isaac had a guess to whom that occupant might be.

  For a few minutes, they watched the still and silent cabin, hoping to not be the ones forced to reveal themselves first. But was the old witch even home? Or was she out sacrificing more innocents?

  They both jolted at the creak of her front door opening.

  The witch stepped out, softly humming to herself. Grey and black hair obscured most of her face, but gnarled teeth and sagging skin stuck out beneath the tangled mass. She was short, barely more than half Isaac’s height, and the dark green robes she wore gave her body the appearance of one singular unit—no distinction between legs and torso.

  She paced in front of her cabin, examining the foliage just outside it. At first, the plants looked like random forest vegetation, but on closer inspection, there was a method to it. The strange plants were separated into rows. Bright blue flowers with tubular appendages, white mushrooms with almost perfectly rounded heads, purple stalks that resembled corn. Isaac recognized none of it. He turned to Aerin, who was examining them too. Her cocked head and puzzled expression suggested mild recognition.

  “Send in a double,” he whispered as quietly as he could.

  The witch jolted up from where she hunched over a plant.

  “Who’s out there?” Her voice was rough with disuse.

  Dammit. For an ancient woman, her hearing was impeccable.

  Isaac decided to take a chance.

  “We come representing the glory of Scorpius!” Isaac gritted his teeth and hoped for the best.

  “You won’t find it here.” The witch shouted back. “You can keep your dark master. I seek to vanquish him. Now show yourself!”

  Isaac and Aerin shared a look of confusion.

  “I’ve seen your sacrifice to him, witch,” he said. “Don’t try to deceive me.”

  “Do you mean those dead barbarians?” The witch tossed her head back and cackled. “No, no, that was my sister’s doing. Esmelda loves her sacrificial magic, yes. But that Scorpius is bad news. I tried to put a stop to her little ritual, but I was too late.”

  Aerin shook her head and mouthed ‘she’s lying.’

  “Are you sure?” Isaac whispered even more quietly than before.

  Aerin nodded.

  “I seek your enchanting abilities,” Isaac said. “Is it true that you can instill an item with dark magic?”

  “Dark magic,” the witch scoffed. “Seek my sister if that’s what you desire. I am no practitioner of dark magic.”

  Aerin muttered a spell under her breath, and a phantom form crawled from her body to a further mass of bushes. It stood, revealing itself to the witch.

  The crone immediately grunted and put her hands together. A glowing purple light formed, which she directed into a beam at the phantom Aerin.

  The dark forest was awash with purple light, blinding for a moment. It passed through the double and crashed into a tree behind it. The tree withered and died immediately, its mass rotting and melting into the forest floor.

  The witch grunted in frustration. “So, you are a dark mage. Reveal your true self and perhaps I will assist you.”

  Isaac gripped the blade, prepared to shove it in the path of the witch’s dark energy beam if necessary. He stood up and faced his foe.

  “A young man,” she said. “And a handsome one at that. I see there are two of you, then. Perhaps the lady would like to reveal herself too.”

  Aerin stood up. Isaac could sense the tension in her muscles. They were ready to dodge a blow if needed.

  The witch removed the hair from her eyes and looked at them, irises glowing a faint yellow. Isaac felt she was looking right through him, into his soul.

  “An illusion mage,” the witch said. “That was an impressive double. But how powerful are you, really?”

  The witch clenched her fists, and the ground began to shake.

  Losing their focus, Isaac and Aerin glanced around in horror as bits of soil loosened, as if something was moving beneath the surface. The witch howled and cackled.

  Skeletal hands reached out of the soil and gripped the ground. There were dozens of them. Skulls burst through the surface as the hands pulled the skeletons up from their resting grounds.

  “Come, my pretties!”

  The witch reached into a crawl space beneath the front door of her cabin and struggled to pull out a long, flat chest. She opened it to reveal it full of short swords. The skeletons, once free, dashed over and each picked up a weapon. Isaac held his dagger up, ready to fight.

  “Oh gods,” Aerin said. “She’s a necromancer.”

  “They’re just skeletons,” Isaac said. “How strong can they be?”

  “Skeletons are weak,” she said. “She’s just testing us. I guarantee she can summon something more powerful.”

  “Then let’s not let that happen. Keep the skeletons occupied, I’m going for her.”

  Isaac ducked behind the bushes again and crawled to the side. He peeked out from behind a clump of vines and saw that the witch still cackled and watched her skeletons, which now approached Aerin and Isaac.

  Wait, what?

  Isaac did a double take. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. His own form stood beside Aerin, brandishing the same blade that was still clutched in his hand.

  You crafty genius.

  He continued crawling onward to flank the witch, trying to avoid brittle leaves that might ruin Aerin’s plan.

  Soon he was to the cabin’s left side. He glanced up to see how Aerin was faring. She kept a steady backward pace, maintaining distance from the slow skeletons. A few others swiped their swords into Isaac’s incorporeal form, not understanding why their blades fared uselessly against it. But the witch would notice very soon.

  Aerin cast another spell, and a purple light shot from her fist and into a skeleton. It stopped its advance, then turned on its fellow skeletons. In one blow, it reduced one of its brethren to a pile of bones on the forest floor.

  “No!” the witch cried.

  She was so distracted by her minion’s betrayal that she hadn’t noticed that the fake Isaac simply stood and watched its attackers swing futilely.

  “You little bitch!” the witch cried.

  Aerin cast the spell twice more, and two other skeletons turned on their counterparts. The whole area before the cabin turned into a skeleton-on-skeleton brawl. Even the ones attacking the spectral Isaac turned to join the fray. Aerin’s face was contorted with concentration. She was r
unning out of magic, and her now-loyal skeletons would soon fall.

  It was time to strike.

  Isaac rushed the witch, Saldana’s dagger still clutched in his sweating palm. She turned as he got close, fear clouding her yellow eyes. Her mouth opened in preparation for an incantation, but it was too late. He moved behind her, covered her mouth with his left hand, and held the dagger to her throat with his right.

  “Call them off,” he said. “Now!”

  The witch hesitated, but she then raised her hand, squeezed a fist, and let it drop. The skeletons dropped with it. Isaac released his hand from her mouth and was prepared to demand more from her, but the moment her mouth was free, she started muttering again.

  An arm burst from the ground at Isaac’s feet and grabbed Isaac’s ankle.

  Shocked, he dropped the dagger and jerked away. The hand gripped him tightly, though, so he fell to his knees.

  More arms pulled themselves from the soil, but these were filled out by partially decayed flesh.

  Ghouls, he thought, remembering a glanced-at chapter from the Occultus Arcaneum.

  There were nearly as many as there were skeletons, but they were far more horrifying. Some had long hair that clung to scalps with bone exposed. Most wore tattered armor, its grey hue indistinct from their flesh. Most had muscle—and lots of it. They looked like they’d been particularly strong in life, and judging by their current state, enough strength remained to make them formidable. They looked on—some at Isaac and some at Aerin—with blank expressions stripped of all understanding or personality.

  The one that had grabbed Isaac’s ankle pulled himself completely free. He pulled a hand axe from a strap at his side and held it up to Isaac, ready to deal a blow of death.

  Isaac lurched backward and fell to his knees. Saldana’s dagger was still on the ground, partially obscured by fallen leaves. He grabbed it and flipped around to face his attacker.

  The ghoul swung, but Isaac was too quick. He narrowly dodged the blade, then lunged. He went for the ghoul’s legs, and the blade sliced right through bone. The ghoul toppled over, waving his axe all the way down.

  Isaac quickly grabbed the axe from his hand and threw it to the side. Then he sliced the ghouls’ other limbs off. Why did the blade travel through solid bone like butter? He didn’t understand, but he didn’t question it. The blade felt warm and powerful in his hand.