《Unliving》


 Chapter 1

    Oziath approached the former Threewater mansion with hope in his heart. For the first time in a long while he felt ¨C alive. The mansion, once the seat of the ruling family of the duchy, was now almost completely derelict. Only the west wing was haphazardly rebuilt and now the home of the Bone Sage. Or so Oziath was told.


    After taking one look at the door, made from fresh timber sitting in the burned and twisted ancient door frame, he knocked. As if the inhabitant had waited on the other side, the door opened almost immediately. In front of him stood a small, young-looking woman wearing a hooded, black robe. She had very dark, brown eyes and an impassive expression on her face.


    "Leave," she said in a flat voice.


    "You must be the Bone Sage. My name is Oziath, and I need your help. I''ll pay you handsomely."


    A flicker of annoyance passed the woman''s face. "Please don''t call me that. Oh, and also, leave." She moved to close the door, but Oziath was not so easily discouraged. He had this one chance for a better future and he intended to seize it. He moved his foot to stop the door from closing and fixed the Bone Sage with a serious expression.


    "Please, I have come a long way to seek your help. You are the only one who can help me now." The words appeared to have some effect on the woman, but Oziath could not quite discern what.


    The Bone Sage spoke with a flat voice. "Well, thanks for warning me. Now please excuse me, the inquisition is about to descend on this place like a gang of wrath demons, and when that happens, the both of us should be somewhere else. And preferably two different somewheres." She sighed and made her way back into the half-repaired wing of the mansion, not bothering to close the door. "And I was just getting comfortable here."


    Oziath followed her inside quickly, though the woman did not seem to care. Then he grasped the meaning of what he just said. He paused for a moment, thinking how to remedy the situation, then decided for honesty over flattery. The Bone Sage did not seem to be easily flattered. "Ehh, it seems there was a misunderstanding." The woman stopped and gave him a look, which made Oziath feel like an insect she was too lazy to squash. It made him shudder. "Well, when I said I came from far away, that meant the next town, Cloverbridge. The owner of the inn told me of you when I asked for someone who could heal my condition.¡±


    The woman did not seem to react.


    ¡°Soo, now that we don''t have to worry about the Inquisition anymore, what do you say? Will you help me?", he continued as he gave her a winning smile. Or hoped so, at least.


    The Bone Sage sighed even deeper and dropped into a simple chair that was standing in the middle of the room. "David''s spreading rumors again, is he now? That''s bad enough, but since you already let yourself in, there''s probably no harm in asking. What kind of help do you require?" She snapped her fingers, and candles randomly scattered around the room flickered to light.


    In the candlelight, Oziath saw the reason for her ominous title. On the walls were shelves filled with every kind of bone imaginable, sinister-looking runes carved into them. He hoped that those were animal bones, but some looked awfully familiar. That''s what you got from wild mages, he thought. No sense in stopping now.


    "Ahh, honored Bone Sage," A flicker of annoyance passed the woman''s face again.


    "My name''s Lucia. Bone Sage sounds ridiculous."


    Oziath bowed his head lightly and then straightened himself. "Honored Lucia, I come to ask for your healing. I am a successful mercenary due to the battle rage that grips me whenever I fight. But it is a curse as well as a blessing. I cannot control it and do not remember what happened afterwards. My warband tells me that I slay without discrimination, friend and foe alike. I have built up quite the fortune in my soldiering days, but now I want to settle down. My wife and my daughter are everything to me, and I fear for their safety whenever I am near them. I haven''t seen my daughter for two years.¡± He stopped for a moment, grief plainly on his face. ¡°Whatever drives me to my battle rage, please heal me from it so I can live together with my family in peace."


    "Hmm." Lucia examined Oziath from her chair. "Have you considered counseling? Maybe it''s some deep-seated trauma from your childhood." She paused for a moment, as if considering something. "Did your brother steal your food when you were little?"


    "Please don''t mock me; this is very serious. I am convinced it has something to do with magic. My troop reports that I show supernatural strength and ability when I fight. I don''t even know how to fight with a sword, normally." He shrugged sheepishly


    "Yeah, that''s obvious, really. Your stance is all wrong. You stoop too much, aren''t ready to draw your sword quickly. I''d say you need more prowess, not less. Are you sure that you''re a soldier at all? Maybe it''s all just in your head and there''s the problem."


    Now it was Oziath''s turn to be annoyed. "No, the last twenty-five years of my life are not just a fever dream." He gave Lucia an angry look.


    "You''re right, you''re right. Who am I to judge? I''m not the archetypal soldier either, am I? It''s just that there''s nothing wrong with you. Magically at least." She paused for a moment. Thinking. "Can I see your sword?"


    Oziath hesitated for a second. "Yes, of course, of course. But could you take it yourself? I fear that I will lose control when I touch it. It has happened before." He awkwardly kneeled in front of Lucia''s chair, showing her his back, where a very long sword was strapped. The handle was made of engraved bone that showed no signs of wear or age. Lucia removed it with a fluid motion from the sheath and froze. The candlelights did not reflect in the absolute black of the blade.


    "Oh," she said. "That''s not good." Then a scream that felt like a choir of angels wailing in agony erupted in his mind, and Oziath lost consciousness.


    <hr>


    Lucia had known that listening to the mercenary was a bad idea. To be fair, her past self had thought so because she was simply lazy and had no interest in helping random strangers. Her current self thought that it was a bad idea because now her mind was apparently trapped in a cursed sword. But that difference of why she had thought so was of no importance, really. She had known.


    But alas, it was too late now. Better focus on the situation at hand She noticed the outline of some creature in front of her and fixed it with her eyes. She could not focus properly, but she saw a humanoid figure with gray, too-long limbs, a pair of twisted horns sprouting from its head, and dark black eyes. Very dark. And not just black like a color, but black like the absence of colors, like the absence of everything. She felt a vast emptiness behind those eyes. Eyes that were examining her.


    The voice echoed in her mind like the death cry of a million souls. So far, so ominous. Then she felt the spiritual force of this creature pressing down on her like a mountain, and if she had been some lesser being, she would probably have fainted. A hint of worry crept into her mind.


    "I apologize for my ignorance, but who, or what, are you exactly?" A bit of courtesy was never wrong. Except if you deal with wrath demons, of course.


    A smile, like a crack in the fabric of the world, appeared on the face of the creature.


    So this Baal fellow could appreciate manners. That was good. Though the rest seemed problematic. But it still did not really make sense to Lucia. "It seems to me that there''s a bit of a problem. There are only three Infernals, you know. Abadon, Mephistopheles, and Moloch. And I should know, I studied the Deep so much, I basically live there."


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    The smile widened to a grin, exposing black fangs that whispered the promise of utter obliteration in Lucia''s mind.


    Baal chuckled as he spoke the last word, as if the concept of justice was a joke only he could understand.


    "That is an enticing proposal, but I''m afraid I have to refuse. It''s not that I don''t understand you, you know. Who doesn''t want to see the world burn once in a while? But all in all, I still live here, and for the moment at least, I do have a preference for living over dying. Also, destroying the world sounds like a lot of work, and I am rather busy at the moment."


    Baal did not answer, but she could feel the will of the creature creeping into her mind. That probably wasn''t good, though she did not know how to stop the intruder. Then tell me, what is it you desire, Lucia? What is it you want?


    The pressure in Lucia''s mind redoubled and she could practically feel the intensity of Baal''s stare. ¡°What I want is for you to stop whatever you''re doing with my mind.¡±


    What is it you long for, so much it breaks you in two? You don''t need to hide your feelings, Lucia. It is futile, in the end.


    Her head started to ring like a bell and fragments of a vision began to flash in her mind. Impressions of a catastrophe of unimaginable scale. She saw continents breaking beneath her feet. She saw the very ocean boiling. She saw the sky itself burning with black fire. The power of it hit her like a blow. ¡°No I was rather serious about that,¡± she said with a strained voice. ¡°I really wish you''d stop that.¡±


    Baal ignored the comment and focused even more on her. Could it be your fear? A terror deep inside of you that drives you ever onward?


    Now old memories were dragged from the depth of Lucia''s mind. Impressions of her childhood. Heedless riding through the forest. Her endless studying. She saw herself wandering the desert lands of the east, lost in the desert, the caravan long split up. She ¨C Suddenly, Lucia felt the intruder slip away. Grasping for something that wasn''t there. The pressure lifted and she dragged herself violently from these forced memories, looking at Baal. His reality defying grin had vanished from his face.


    Curious. That never happened before.


    She could not help it and gave him a smug look. ¡°Seems your mind magic''s not working on me, huh? Not where are we standing?¡±


    Do not throw away this opportunity lightly. I could show you so much, Lucia. The endless revel of the crimson hall. The gardens of despair, watered only by the tears of the lost. Forever cursed to wander in its shade. I could bring you to the library of stone, its hallways overflowing with knowledge not meant for mortal minds. I know you desire it.


    ¡°Nah, I''m good. Honestly.¡± Lucia extended her perception to her surroundings, feeling for the echo of the Source. There was nothing. She could only feel emptiness surrounding her. Lucia furrowed her brow in confusion. That was weird.


    "It is not that I don''t value your hospitality, but could you tell me how to leave? I was kind of in the middle of something."


    She took a moment to think about it. It was absolutely impossible that she could feel no echo of the Source. It permeated all of creation. So whatever she perceived had to be wrong. Of course. Baal had tried to meddle with her brain, so he probably was doing a similar thing right now. But whatever he truly was, he was still banished in a sword. That had to limit its power. Oh, of course, the sword. She still held it in her hand in the real world. She focused on that feeling and could almost feel the bone hilt in her hand. Her hand which was gripping it tightly.


    Now it was Lucia''s turn to give Baal a smile. ¡°I''d love to see you try.¡± She relaxed her grip, and her eyes snapped open in the real world. The sword of Baal clanked to the floor, its perfectly black blade still not reflecting the flickering candles.


    <hr>


    Oziath opened his eyes slowly. His head pounded, and he felt something lingering in the back of his mind, like a suppressed memory, too horrible to be remembered. He knew this feeling all too well. Somehow, he must have lost control, and now he paid the price. On the bright side, nobody would miss a wild mage, so it could have been worse. But he still needed someone to heal him. He dared not to imagine what could have happened to Asiel and Noroth had they been near him. He sat up and prepared himself for the carnage. Before him sat the Bone Sage slumped back in her chair, eyes closed. She was snoring slightly and was notably not dead. Oziath reached for his sword, immediately cursing himself for the impulse, but it was not in his sheath. "You are not dead," he said.


    Lucia opened her eyes and sat up. She gave him a weary look. "So I am told, though sometimes it doesn''t feel like it. Your problem''s solved, by the way."


    Now she had his attention. "What? How? And why did I not kill you?"


    "There was nothing wrong with you to start with. Your sword was the reason for your battle rage. It contains some kind of deluded demon that thinks it is an infernal. I''m afraid me touching it woke it up.¡± Lucia slumped back into her chair. ¡°But that''s not your problem. I guess it''s on me to deal with it."


    Oziath dropped to his knees in front of Lucia. He had originally tried for a deep bow, but his legs were still shaky. "Thank you, wise Bone Sage. How can I re-"


    "Oh, and you did not attack anyone. You just collapsed like a wimp. Now. Get. Out." He scurried out of the door as he heard Lucia call after him. "And don''t even think about telling anyone about this."


    <hr>


    Lucia sat cross-legged in the middle of her room, meditating. Her sole piece of furniture, the wooden chair, stood discarded in the corner of the room. She only used it to show off in front of visitors. Fortunately, there were few of them. Surrounding her was an intricate pattern of distinctly sinister-looking runes, drawn with chalk on her floor. She was very proud of her work and had tried very hard to incorporate the hints of screaming faces and eerie eyes into her runework. It was not strictly necessary, of course, but as a necromancer, she, of all people, should be allowed to have a bit of fun. In front of her lay a black-bladed sword on a pedestal.


    Lucia focused on the sword. Then she spoke. "Greetings Baal, would you care for a talk?" She waited a couple of minutes, but no reply came. Back to the drawing board it was, then.


    After three failed attempts to destroy the sword, Lucia had moved on to a different approach. Establishing communication with the trapped Infernal. The thought was still crazy to her. But there had to be some spark of truth to Baal''s claim because whatever the sword was made from, her echo forge hadn''t even been able to scratch the surface of it. It was an improvised mess, but still. She''d never seen such a powerful artifact, and it was only meant to keep someone inside. Baal. Maybe he really was the forgotten fourth Infernal. And that would be an opportunity she could not pass. She felt a spark of excitement for the project like she hadn''t felt in a long time.


    The power you could theoretically extract from a trapped infernal was worth more than most kingdoms, but Lucia''s mind was firmly on the dusty scholars from Westend. A fourth infernal, and she had found it. She would rub it in their faces until the day they died. Anonymously, of course, lest the inquisition decide to pay a visit to her and her new infernal friend.


    But then reality came crashing back at her. She failed to talk to him. Again. Lucia sighed and stood up in her runic circle, trying to manifest some positive thoughts. A monk of the Sightless had once advised her to do so and she attempted it every now and then. It rarely worked, though. No that was the wrong direction. She was not too disappointed that it hadn''t worked. After all, this was just her 34th try, and above all else, she was a realist. Life had taught her well and truly that things never work on the first attempt. Or on the 34. Which was a good thing when you think about it. More chances to learn or something like that.


    Despite herself, she had to smirk. The oldest trick in the book, yet Ball managed to deliver the line full of grace. Even if he wasn''t an Infernal, she couldn''t deny that he had style. "Yeah, that''s a gracious offer, but the last time was more than enough for me. Don''t worry, though. I''m working on something for you that will make it easier and safer for me to speak with you. It''ll take some time to figure out, but a millennium trapped in a sword puts these things into perspective, doesn''t it? Anyway, I thought about what you said when I was trapped inside the sword with you. That you are an Infernal, I mean. I''d hate to seem distrustful, but do you have any¡ªyou know¡ªproof?"


    After a while, Baal spoke again.


    "Yeah, that''s true. How did you know, by the way? Could you feel my attempts to destroy the sword, or do you have some sense of perception?" Lucia took a quill, paper, and an ink bottle from the deep pockets of her robes and started taking notes.


    Lucia could practically see the malignant smile in these words. She was intrigued. "And what would you have me do?"


    "So let me recap this. Assuming you are actually a long-forgotten infernal and not just full of shit, you want me to open a real physical portal into the Deep and then let you loose there. And all that for a faint hope that you actually hold your word. Historically, Infernals are not known for being true to their words. I mean, Mephistopheles is literally the Great Betrayer, isn''t he?¡± Lucia paused for a moment, thinking. ¡°How would you even create such a portal?"


    Lucia sighed. ¡° Come on, now you''re being ridiculous. That sounds like way too much work."


    Lucia raised an eyebrow. ¡°Just because you''ve read my mind doesn''t mean you know what I''m thinking.¡±

 Chapter 2

    The lead inquisitor, Maximilian, was in a bad mood. He did enjoy his work, who wouldn''t? Saving the world one wild mage at a time. But that didn''t change the miserable working hours. In his youth, he could have drunk through the night and still be ready for a good old manhunt the next day, but he was not so young anymore. He leaned heavily on his crooked wooden staff as he glanced at the mansion, hardly visible in the predawn gloom.


    "What is the report for today''s case?" Maximilian asked Sev, his first executor. He did not bother reading the reports beforehand anymore. Let the younglings struggle and strive, when you''ve been around as long as he has, you could take certain liberties.


    His first executor was a middle-aged man clad in heavy steel armor, which was covered with runes. The engravings should protect an ordinary human like him against the typical attacks from wild mages. But in Maximilian''s opinion, the best defense was a good offense. You just never knew what the Deepspawn had up their sleeves.


    "A woman, unknown to the locals, moved into the abandoned Threewater mansion about three years ago. Seldom seen in the town, no close connections. There''ve been rumors of evil rituals and black magic. One eyewitness is adamant that she saw, and I quote, ''A horrible twisted creature, with more limbs than a spider and as tall as a tree wandering through the forest.'' Oh, and apparently a handful of people went here for help. Poor fools."


    "No need to pity them, by coming here, they made themselves traitors to the crown. The iron statute is hard but necessary. Now, I, for one, am not so sure that we have a real case at hand. In my experience, the stories are too on the nose. Blighted monsters, evil rituals. Ridiculous. That''s only for nighttime stories about the Black General, it doesn''t really happen.¡± Maximilian looked at the bulging scars stretching up his left arm. ¡°At least not anymore. And there were too few of the typical signs. No stories of miraculous healing. No cornucopia of gifts for the hungry townsmen. I know how they think, and these rats can''t help but gloat with their ill-gotten gains. But no need to speculate, we will see soon enough."


    The first executor answered only with a grim smile. He gave a sign to the four junior executors, hiding behind in the woods, and together they marched on the mansion.


    Maximilian was proficient with elemental magic. To craft his spells, he used the echo of wind and fire, water and earth, which he found in nature. Or more likely in the vast woodlands of the Guild, provided for exactly this reason.


    When he was a youngling himself, he wanted to emulate his idol, Tiberius Anderberg, the greatest weather mage to ever live. But his abilities simply weren''t enough to summon thunderstorms or hold back floods, so he''d resolved himself to focus his average abilities on the small but effective. While Tiberius brought rain during droughts and stilled even the fiercest storms, Maximilian brought death to traitorous mages. This scum usually didn''t even defend itself.


    He thought back to the time after the war. Back then, the wild mages had still been challenging, leftovers of the army of the General or simply trained mages refusing to accept the new status quo. The Red Rebellion to the south. The druids playing hide and seek in the Everwood. He ignored the phantom itching of his left arm. Secretly, he was relieved that barely any adept wild mages were around anymore.


    With a flick of his hand, the newly built door was blown off its hinges, and Maximilian''s white hair billowed in the sudden wind. One of four carefully twisted tree branches attached to his belt withered and fell to the ground.


    The inquisitor took in the layout with the ease that comes from years of practice. The main room was large but gloomy, as all the places where there once must have been beautiful glass windows were now covered with wooden planks. There was one door that probably led to only one other room, if Maximilian had assessed the size of the repaired part of the building correctly, and there was a big hatch in the corner, leading to some form of cellar. The most notable thing, however, were the hundreds of defiled bones covering the walls. Maximilian noted dozens of human bones among them. He had seen enough human remains to recognize them.


    "Well, seemed the good people were right, after all," said Sev. "We''ve got our work cut out for us." He grinned as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. The rest of his team was less pleased with the situation. It was probably their first real combat mission, Maximilian mused. The youngest of them, Ilse, started to retch. Maximilian forced a chuckle as he turned towards the junior executors.


    "Don''t worry, children. I have seen far worse than this in my day. But it seems we have a trained mage at hand, so be vigilant. Our target could be a necromancer, so keep an eye out for undead creatures. She''s presumably still asleep, check the door first and be careful." His face was seized by an old grief as he scratched his arm. "I have lost too many comrades already."


    Then the door opened, and a small woman in black pajamas came out. "Could be a Necromancer? Could be? What else would I use all these bones for? It''s not very subtle, is it now? By the way, would you guys mind letting me through to the cellar? I''ve got something nice in there that I''d really like to show you."


    "Kill her" hissed the inquisitor, and the junior executors fanned out in a half circle and drew their swords as one. They grew noticeably paler, though. Maximilian was too experienced to waste a single moment the necromancer could use to prepare herself. He blasted her with a gust that slammed her back into the bedroom, and the executors stormed inside, Sev in the lead. A second branch on his belt withered away.


    The inquisitor followed them, but he wasn''t as fast as the young warriors anymore. Also, though he did not like to admit it, he was exhausted from the rapid spell casting. He had only prepared five spells for today and wasted one on the front door. He scolded himself for the sloppy mistake. But no need to fret, he had prepared a spell for exactly these circumstances. Maximilian removed a small inscribed piece of coal from his pocket. Under the focus of the inquisitor''s will, the piece of coal started to glow.


    The bedchamber was sparsely furnished, with only a bedroll on the ground and a small fireplace. There were luckily no inscribed bones present. So no spells for her. He had cut the necromancer off with his quick thinking. Yet, the image in front of the inquisitor''s eyes was not at all to his liking. Somehow all the executors'' swords had melted, and Sev and Ilse lay unconscious or dead on the floor. On the other hand, Lisa, Albert, and Jonathan, the other three junior executors, were bearing down on the woman with their armored fists.


    "Enough," Maximilian said after a moment. The executors let go of the woman and stepped beside the inquisitor. Blood trickled down their hands and onto their arms. He was confident that she had no more tricks prepared, otherwise, why would she let herself be beaten to a bloody pulp? He wanted to give the rookies a good execution and his spell was activated anyway. Better not to waste it.


    "I, Maximilian Octus, Inquisitor of the Mages Guild, with the power given to me by King Albert of Angrien, judge that you are in violation of the iron statute and sentence you to death." Under the awestruck gaze of the executors, a swirling vortex of fire had formed in his hand. He raised his hand with the fireball in a grand gesture of judgment, but just before he could unleash it to end the miserable life of the bleeding woman in front of him, a hand grabbed his legs from behind and threw him through the bedroom door. Something, probably his spine, cracked as he crashed against the wall on the opposite side of the bone room.


    As his vision faded, he heard the agonized screams of the young executors and a wet munching sound. Then a horrible creature, as if straight from the nightmares of the Black War, lumbered out of the bedroom in his direction. Rotting limbs were protruding randomly from its misshapen body, and its dozen mouths were opened in a silent scream. The last thing the inquisitor noticed was the smell of rotting corpses, so intense that he mercifully lost consciousness.


    <hr>


    True to its name, it was a quiet evening at the Serenity Inn, and David liked it that way. His grandmother named the inn after the Silent Waters, the system of freshwater lakes from which the name of the duchy originated. Or rather, one-third of the name.


    He was proud that after all these years the inn was still one of the social centers of Cloverbridge. It was the place where the townsfolk came to celebrate, to talk, or just enjoy the company of others in silence. He knew his grandmother would be happy to see him here. But the city was just not what it used to be. The crown-appointed governor had moved to the coastal city of Saltstone twelve years ago and the job and people soon followed. But that was the course of history, David thought. People came and people went, and there was nothing he could do about it, but enjoy the quiet years while they lasted. Maybe his son would someday see the inn bursting with patrons again. If Noah wanted to follow in David''s footsteps, that was.


    David decided that he had been lost in his thoughts long enough and went back to cleaning glasses. Not that they really needed cleaning, but he learned from experience that his patrons would get nervous, if he just stared into the room for too long.


    A woman in a back robe entered the inn. On her back was a big travel back and a long, stick-like object, draped in dirty linen cloths. She went straight to the bar, where David stood.


    ¡°Hello Lucia, I haven''t seen you here in ages. How are you doing up there?¡±, he said. Then he noticed the grim expression on her face. He had never seen her in such a bad mood. Strictly speaking, he could not remember her showing any emotions whatsoever. It was as if she hadn''t really been present at all.


    ¡°Is everything alright? You look... upset?¡±


    Lucia dropped onto one of the chairs at the counter and let her travel gear clank to the floor. ¡°Have you noticed anything unusual recently?¡± she asked. Her voice betrayed nothing of what she might think. ¡°Any newcomers asking too many questions. Warriors with strange armor? People in robes similar to mine?¡±


    Now he really was getting worried. He looked around but none of his patrons seemed interested in their conversation. He signed her to come behind the counter into a separate room anyway. ¡°No, of course not. I would have warned you of the inquisition. I hope you don''t think I ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don''t worry, I know you wouldn''t rat on me,¡± Lucia interrupted him. ¡°But you have been sending people looking for help my way.¡±


    There was no love lost between David and the Mages Guild. Even though he was just four at the time, he could still remember how the crown betrayed the Threewater family, after the Iron Statute was enacted. Soldiers marching through the streets of Cloverbridge, dragging anyone they thought might be a mage out of their homes. The Threewater Academy burning. His father telling him with tears in his eyes that his grandparents died, protecting their patrons from the soldiers.


    He used to hide wild mages from the Inquisition. Organized passage to the Green Continent or helped them escape to the Everwood. But with time all the mages escaped or were eventually found by the relentless inquisitors. At least in this part of the Middle Lands


    Then, about three years ago, Lucia had moved into the ruin in the mountains, and he had gladly helped her get established. As the innkeeper, he was also in the unique position to quash any rumors of the odd woman who moved into the old mansion. As for the people he occasionally sent to the mansion...


    ¡°Only the ones that truly needed your help. I was checking them for guild connections. You know what I think about mages. What are your abilities worth, if you don''t use them?¡±


    Lucia sighed. ¡°We talked about that David. I wouldn''t want to help strangers even if it didn''t put a giant target on my back.¡±


    David gave her a sly smile. ¡°But you did help some of them. Don''t think, I did not notice. Anyway, what going on with the Inquisition? Do you think they are on to you?¡±


    Lucia continued concisely as always. ¡°I was visited by the inquisition this morning. I''ll have to flee, so I''ll need some supplies.¡°


    ¡°I ¨C I didn''t know they were already so close. If it was me leading them here, then I am sorry. I truly am.¡±


    ¡°What''s done is done. There will be more investigations in the future, so ¨C ¡±


    ¡°I''ll tell them nothing, you can rely on me,¡± he interrupted. David had made up his mind a long time ago. He would never cooperate with the Mages Guild or their lackeys. He was lucky that so far, he''d never had to test his resolve.


    Lucia gave him a strange look. ¡°I''d like you to do the opposite, really. Tell them there lived a crazy witch up in the mountains that scared the hell out of you. Thank them for saving the town from evil. Do whatever you must to get them off your back. There is no need to put yourself in danger, it''s the opposite actually. The more nonsense you tell them about me, the less relevant information they''ll squeeze out of you later.¡± After a pause, she added, ¡°Preferably, there''ll be no squeezing at all.¡±


    Grudgingly, he agreed. This was going to test his resolve in an entirely different way.


    ¡°Oh and one more thing.¡± Lucia pulled a dead sparrow out of one of her pockets. ¡°If I get any letters, could you bind them to its leg and set it free outside? I''d hate to let my correspondence slack.


    David eyed the dead bird. ¡°I don''t see how that will work.¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry about it, the bird''s more than capable of finding me. But you certainly should hide it if the Inquisition decides to pay you a visit.¡± She thought for a moment. ¡°Thee meters of rock or earth between it and any inquisitor should be enough, so the wine cellar is all right.¡±


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    After Lucia dropped the cold body into David''s hand, the bird jumped to her feet and gave a single chirp. Then it froze again as if dead.


    Lucia stood up and turned to leave, but there was still one part of the story David could not quite make sense of. ¡°How did manage to escape the inquisitor?¡± he asked the leaving woman. She turned back and gave him the cold smile of an entirely different person than the Lucia he got to know.


    ¡°Oh, no one escaped.¡±


    <hr>


    The apprentice hurried down the corridor. The Grand Inquisitor had not been at his office, but then, he seldom was. When he was not out in the field, you could almost certainly find him in the dungeon, questioning prisoners.


    He heard a stern voice from a cell at the end of the corridor. The apprentice was not keen on disturbing the Grand Inquisitor, but it was well known that his interrogations could last hours. Before he could knock on the half-opened cell door, the inquisitor spoke.


    ¡°Do come in, Daniel. I suppose you have a message for me?¡±


    Daniel stepped into the dank cell. A man was shackled to the wall by an iron chain extending from his feet. He was sitting on a wooden plank which probably doubled as his bed and looked at his interrogator with a quiet fury. The Grand Inquisitor sat on his simple office chair, which he must have brought down with him. He had neatly trimmed black hair and was shaven clean and examined the prisoner with a placid gaze.


    His pale blue eyes were still looking at the shackled man when he spoke. ¡°You can deliver your message in a moment, but I intend to teach you a little lesson first.¡±


    Daniel was creeped out by the man, but he was careful not to show any of his emotions. Rumors said that he noticed these things immediately. He walked to the side of the inquisitor and tried his best to give him and the prisoner and interested look.


    ¡°The prisoners always think that they can resist, in the end. They believe that they have something worth fighting for, but their notions of family, justice or freedom are a pathetic excuse for real purpose. Only if you know what it is you value above all else, are you really free.¡±


    The Grand Inquisitor nodded towards the prisoner in front of him. ¡°Do you know what it is, you are fighting for? Is it loyalty towards the ones that helped you? Freedom? The safety of your family? You should think about that, because I''m afraid that you will have to decide.¡±


    The Grand Inquisitor removed a ball of cloth stuffed with something from this pocket and presented it to the prisoner. It was too mangled for Daniel to identify, but the man''s eyes widened in shock, even though he evidently tried to suppress his reaction.


    ¡°Yes you are correct,¡± the Grand Inquisitor answered the man''s silence. ¡°This is indeed what you think it is. My executors unfortunately had to take this item from your son, Kristof, as evidence for the case against your wife. As you might have heard, she is being investigated for infringing on the iron statute. To be precise, we have found conclusive evidence that she is a wild mage.¡±


    ¡°I will tell you nothing,¡± the prisoner spat. ¡°You''ll never find my wife. ¡°


    ¡°That is precisely my concern,¡± the Grand Inquisitor continued. ¡°With yourself incarcerated for obstruction of justice and your wife hiding away, shirking her duties towards your child, I worry for little Kristof. It is an unforgiving world out there, for such a small boy. Especially if all his belongings are seized by the crown. We take evidence in a case like this very seriously, you see.¡± The Grand Inquisitor studied the cloth toy in his hand, then threw it in the prisoner''s lap.


    The man''s face had taken on a pained expression and he had to stop his hand from shaking when he picked up the toy of his child. He started to whisper, more to himself than to his interrogators. ¡°Kristof will understand. He ¨C He is a strong boy. He will survive on his own.¡°


    The Grand Inquisitor gave him a gentle smile. ¡°I am sure you are right. It is no easy task, weighing the life of your child against the life of your loved one. But before I leave, please consider one more thing. What will your wife do, when she realizes that Kristof has to beg on the streets? Hunger and weather slowly eating away at him? We asked around the neighborhood, but no one wanted to take him in. Curious, isn''t it?¡±


    Although he was crying, there was still defiance in the eyes of the prisoner. ¡°I will never help you. No matter the cruelty we must endure,¡± he spat.


    The Grand Inquisitor stood up from his chair and regarded him with a disapproving shake of his head. ¡°I am sad to hear that. I truly am. I had hoped you would see reason, and there is a reason for the statute, you should never forget that. I wanted to convince the court that you should be reunited with Kristof, but you have given me nothing to bargain with. Nothing at all.¡± He said the last sentence with the stern voice of a disappointed teacher.


    ¡°If there is nothing more from you, then the only thing that remains is to drag Linda out of her cave. Near the lake Southeast of the city, is it not?¡±


    Horror dawned on the prisoner''s face. ¡°She is ¨C You won''t find her there anyway,¡± he whispered, but it seemed to Daniel, that the man tied more to convince himself than his interrogator.


    ¡°Oh, we will catch her eventually. She is trapped in the caves now and I made sure that she cannot escape. It might take us weeks, or even a month, but she will have to come out for food at one point.¡± He smiled softly. ¡°So tell me, now that you know, she cannot be saved, what do you value more? Your integrity, honesty, your loyalty to traitors or the life of your son?¡± The Grand Inquisitor leaned forward slightly and Daniel saw the glint of something in his eyes.


    A few moments later, the prisoner broke. His whole body deflated and his eyes became dull, as he stared at the inquisitor''s feet.


    ¡°What do you want to know? I''ll tell you everything.¡± said the man.


    ¡°The names and faces of the people who helped you organize the escape. Where you met. What they ate and what they smell like. Everything you can remember about them. Oh, and the various crimes of your wicked wife. We wouldn''t want the court to think you would defend a wild mage. My assistant will take care of the rest.¡± A gray-robed man with paper and ink entered the cell. ¡°I suppose there was a message for me?¡± He said to David as they left the cell.


    Still dazed from the interrogation, David had to remind himself of the message. ¡°Yes, Grand Inquisitor. Your expertise was requested in a recent case. A team has gone missing while investigating a case. The inquisitor and the lead executor are both veterans, so it is certainly not a runoff. We haven''t got their original report yet, so we don''t know the details, but it seems to have been a low-likelihood case. Now with them gone, well...¡±


    David gave the inquisitor the preliminary report on the suspected wild mage and he scanned the pages. At the name of the town the Grand Inquisitor looked up.


    ¡°Cloverbridge. So it must be the old Threewater mansion.¡± After a moment he gave the report back to the apprentice. ¡°Intriguing. I will take care of the situation myself.¡±


    <hr>


    Dear Lucia,


    I am saddened to hear that your research has been disrupted, and I hope this letter finds you well nonetheless. If your situation demands it, you can travel to the Academy of Westend. The academy here would greatly benefit from a researcher of your qualities and I am sure any hypothetical problems with the authorities could be worked out under my influence. But as always, I do not want to be too overbearing. You are surely more qualified than I to asses what your situation demands.


    I, for one, have great news. The theory of a forgotten fourth infernal, you proposed last year, did not leave my mind, and I have made an extraordinary discovery regarding that. My colleagues, illiterate imbeciles that they are, did unfortunately not take my findings seriously, but I am sure you, who came up with the theory in the first place, will grasp the importance of what I have discovered.


    In three of our oldest historical sources on the Second Dreadwar, I could find mentions of warlords of superhuman prowess. Though they are clearly different people, all three of them use a special sword, described in great detail. This description is the same, down to the smallest detail.


    I dare not ask how you came up with your admittedly rather bold hypothesis, but perhaps this sword sounds familiar to you. It is an unusually long yet very light sword with an engraved bone hilt and a black blade that does not reflect light as a metal ought to.


    You might wonder what this has to do with a potential fourth dreadlord, but here comes the best part. I found a very old fairytale that seems to describe the separation of the island of Gnrak from the Middle Lands during the First Dreadwar. And according to this tale, the land was sundered by a divine figure wielding the very same sword. The, unfortunately sparse, description of this evidently nonhuman entity did not fit any of the descriptions we have of the avatars of the other three infernals, though its abilities seem to be similar.


    I know this is not much, especially since all our reports of the First Dreadwar are apocryphal at best, but if someone were to find the vessel you believe the fourth infernal was trapped in...


    I do not mean to pry into your personal life, but I hope you are as aware of the significance of this finding as I am, and are prepared to take the necessary precautions.


    Yours,


    Aurelius Ianus


    Lucia threw the letter in the fireplace of her room and watched as the flames consumed the paper. Then she dismissed the undead little bird at her window, that had so stalwartly carried the big letter to her. The sparrow gave an affirmative chirp and then made its long way back to the Serenity Inn.


    So Baal was an infernal. She looked at the cloaked sword lying on the floor next to her bed. That was ¨C something. She wasn''t sure what, though. Maybe she should just dig a very deep hole and bury the sword in some inconspicuous position. But that seemed like an awful lot of work.


    Lucia spooned the gruel the kitchen help had brought up to her room. She did not mind the taste, or lack thereof, but it was cold now, because the fire in the kitchen was already out, when she arrived at the inn. She liked the feeling of warm food once in a while. Next time, she probably had to eat with the other people to get something warm. She''d survive.


    After sending out her three undead rat scouts, Lucia got ready for the night. She eyed the bed warily. The only room they''d had left was the one usually reserved for rich merchants or nobility, and while she didn''t mind the price, it was stuffed full of useless baubles. Worst of all, the bed was hopelessly cushioned up.


    After a moment of consideration, she took the top layer of the intricate construction that failed to be a useful blanket, folded it up, and laid down on it on the floor. She slept within seconds.


    A soft but insistent squeak woke Lucia from a dreamless sleep. One of her rats had come back and she felt its intention immediately. The Inquisition was close and it seemed they had come in force this time. The rat had impressions of about 15 different people on the king''s road to the south of the village. It was unfortunately not clear, how many of those were mages. It was hard for a rat to distinguish these things. If the memories of the rat were reliable, she had about four hours until they entered the village.


    Lucia hadn''t bothered to lay a false trail or hide her presence in the villages and towns she had passed, but the Inquisition was apparently hot for her, and she had been forced to leave Goliath hidden in her cellar at home. He was extraordinary in many ways, even for a flesh golem, but subtlety was a skill he decidedly lacked. So it was on her to pick up the slack.


    Two and a half hours later, Lucia was on her way up the king''s road. The border to the Kingdom of Nesdalen wasn''t far anymore, maybe one more day, but that would not help her escape the inquisition hunters. Nesdalen bowed to the Guild just as any kingdom in the Middle Lands and the Everwood was no option for her. No, she would only be safe outside of this forsaken landmass and since the storms of autumn made passages by ship difficult, she had to flee to the North.


    You could not say that Lucia was happy, not really, but she was satisfied with her work back in the village. If all went well, her hunters would follow the revenant she had left behind for days. And since they had to sleep and eat as least as much as she had to, that could buy her time until she reached the Coldwood and crossed into the Northlands. She''d have to get a horse though. That would bring back some unwanted memories. Still better than the druids.


    As Lucia trudged down the king''s road towards Nesdalen and the road of a different king, she thought about all the ways she could slow down her hunters. She had to be efficient with her magic, though. There were only so many bones she''d been able to take with her when she fled Threewater. She had to admit, that she hadn''t felt so alive for a long time. Even though this incident had disrupted her research immensely, being hunted by trained mage killers was oddly enjoyable to her. Perhaps because it gave her back some kind of purpose. Which was not dying, she supposed.


    <hr>


    Daniel woke with a start. They had made camp next to the king''s road and only a thin layer of cloth separated him and the night sky. Skreeeeeeeeee. There it was again. The sound grated on his mind. They had to put up with this for five days now. It was a kind of domesticated ghost that haunted them at night, and even though it could do nothing more than make them miserable, that was enough to slow them down. Skreeeeee.


    Everyone was on edge, ready to explode at the slightest problem and more than one of the executors had fallen off their horse, as they dozed away. Only the Grand Inquisitor was entirely unaffected by the nightly terror. It probably reminded him of his dungeon, Daniel mused. He''d sleep right through the screams like a baby.


    Originally, they had tried to catch the ghost, but it was surprisingly slippy and never came nearer than a hundred meters when it screamed. The Grand Inquisitor had decided they could not afford the time for a prolonged hunt.


    The wild mage they hunted, had left behind many other surprises for them along the way. It was now clear, that she intended to cross the border into the Northlands and escape their justice that way, so she could no longer obscure her track like she did in the beginning.


    Daniel still wondered how she had managed to get the remnant. These magic constructs made from animal bones and leather were a specialty of the shamans of the Emerald Isle. It was rumored that every man and woman under the protection of one of the powerful sorcerer rulers of the island lived like a king or queen themselves. Of course, no one trustworthy could actually check any of the incredible stories sailors told of the island since the rulers had the habit of executing any foreign visitors.


    Still, some magical trinkets made their way to the Green Continent, somehow. And by far the most prized of them were remnants. Undying servants with absolute loyalty and no material needs to speak of. Who would not want them?


    It must have cost a fortune on the black markets of the Green Continent and that was before you smuggled it over the Gray Sea into the Middle Lands. Fueled by ghosts, they were obviously forbidden by the Guild.


    But the logistics of getting a remnant weren''t even the most surprising part of their chase. When they had caught up far enough with the construct to feel for its magic, Daniel had noticed nothing unusual. Yes, he didn''t have the best echo perception, but he should have still been able to feel that they were not chasing a human. He was a bit relieved, that the other two inquisitors hadn''t sensed anything either. Only the Grand Inquisitor had noticed, that something was off, and broke off the chase. They had lost three days.


    But that wasn''t the only surprise the wild mage had in store for them. Far from it. In the last two weeks, they were set upon by every kind of undead animal, weaponized in the most bizarre ways. A flog of birds bombarding them with burning tar, a moose with sharpened antlers charging them out of the forest, a swarm of rats that exploded into putrid chunks of wiggling flesh, when they had reached their camp. One night, an undead fox had tried to slip into their camp and poison the food supplies. Luckily the Grand Inquisitor had caught the fox in time.


    These incidents made Daniel afraid of their eventual confrontation and he found himself quietly hoping that the wild mage would escape to the North. If she was willing and capable of using the nightmarish undead creatures of the past days, just to slow them down a bit, he was scared to death of what she would use in a real fight. Scared for him and all surrounding settlements. The stories of the Black War and the Red Rebellion he''d read were very clear on the horrors a rouge necromancer can unleash. He thanked the Source that the Black General was dead, the Red King banished and the Iron Statute passed.


    The Grand Inquisitor, in contrast, seemed more eager by the day to catch the wild mage. But after all, that was his job. And Daniels, one day. He wasn''t sure he wanted to become an inquisitor anymore.

 Chapter 3

    The main room of the Last Leg Inn was filled to the brim. In two days'' time, the guarded convoy would set out from the inn to cross the Coldwood and enter the Northlands. For everyone that was at the inn already, there wasn''t much more to do than sleep, eat and drink. Some people tried talking, but that ended in a brawl more often than not. The fact, that the mercenaries hired to keep order and protect the caravan in the forest were often the ones starting the fight, did nothing to assuage Sven''s growing fear of the journey.


    Olaf, his merchant partner, he did not consider him a friend, had chosen a new victim of his deluded ramblings. Sven was thankful for the moment of peace this brought him. The journey had grated on his substance, and if he were a different man, he would have left their group already. He listened in on the stream of words spewing from Olaf''s mouth.


    ¡°... when we started from Norlys. My good friend Sven here was terribly afraid that we wouldn''t make it, but I''m sure he is happy that I convinced him to come with us, back then. He''s always worried,¡± Olaf chuckled, ¡°but you get used to his personality after a while. After a year on the road, we are now almost back home. And the spices we brought are going to sell for a fortune. You have a rich man in front of you, young lady, let me tell you that. We traveled to the Pincer Peninsula, far to the south. I can tell you stories of that place, my dear, stories you would not believe. But they are all true, of course. Except the ones I made up.¡± Olaf gave the woman a wink.


    Sven regretted listening to Olaf''s stream of consciousness immediately. He wanted to take a sip of beer from his mug, but apparently Olaf had taken Sven''s after he had finished his own. Sven sighed inwardly and turned to Ingrid, the final person of their little travel group. Olaf liked to call them merchants, but they were more fortune hunters. Taking unreasonable risks in order to fulfill some fleeting idea in Olaf''s deranged mind.


    ¡°Can we train again tomorrow?¡± He asked Ingrid. ¡°I''m afraid there will be fighting in the Coldwood.¡± He worried about their upcoming crossing of the forest but knew that his meager fighting abilities wouldn''t make a difference, in the end. It was still better to do something to prepare.


    Ingrid shrugged. ¡°Sure, if you insist. But there''s only so much I can show you. You know all the basics already and I''m not the girl for fighting finesse.¡± She gave him a shrug. ¡°The problem is in your mind, Sven. Meditate on it or some such. If you think a good old knock on the head''ll help you, I''d be happy to try.¡±


    er grin faded and she added after a moment, ¡°The Source knows it''s not training you are lacking.¡±


    Ingrid was Sven''s childhood friend and he was happy she was there. She had saved his and Olaf''s life more than once on their journey when the situation demanded someone''s head knocked in. Head knocking really was her specialty.


    Sven turned back to Olaf and the poor woman next to him. She continued to stoically spoon her steaming soup, as if oblivious to Olaf''s increasingly suggestive remarks.


    ¡°... with such an innocent young lady as you are. I could imagine a travel arrangement with my group, we still have some space in our wagon. I''d love you to join us. There might be other ¨C ¡± he gave her a slimy grin ¡°benefits to this arrangement.¡± Olaf tried to casually rest a hand on her shoulder but twitched back as if stung. Holding his completely unhurt hand, he gave the woman an affronted look.


    The woman turned her head and examined their group, Olaf, Ingrid, and Sven. Now that she was no longer hunched over her soup, Sven was not sure that Olaf had gauged the age of the woman correctly. She had short black hair and a face unmarked from weather or age, but her dark brown eyes were those of a much older person. It was somewhat unnerving. Then the woman spoke with an emotionless voice.


    ¡°So the wagon outside with the spices and magical trinkets from the south is yours. Hmm. I hope you are aware that we are not in the Northlands yet, so you are breaking the law.¡±


    Sven froze. That was why she seemed so strange. The woman had to be from the Inquisition. They were all dead. Hanged within the month most likely. Damn Olaf. He had warned him, that this idea of his was going to end badly.


    He forced himself to breathe as he looked around. Olaf had become completely silent, his wide eyes still looking at the inquisition woman. Ingrid had casually rested her hand on the hilt of her sword and though she seemed to relax in her chair, Sven knew, she would be ready to fight at a moment''s notice. If she managed to kill the woman, that would only make it worse. They''d probably be hanged twice. He forced himself to take another breath.


    Unconcerned by the tension of their group, the woman continued. ¡°It''s none of my business, but you might find it interesting that an inquisition team is on its way to the border. They''ll probably be here by tomorrow and your smuggled items leak their echo everywhere. It would be hard for them to miss it.¡± She stood up and picked her travel gear from the floor. Among them was a strange lengthy object, wrapped in cloth. She gave them a last dull glance before leaving ¡°Not that I care.¡±


    Olaf slumped back in his seat and Sven managed to take a breath again. What a strange encounter.


    ¡°Well that was something,¡± said Ingrid. Her hand had left her hilt, but she was still nowhere near relaxed.


    ¡°What a snake.¡± Olaf shook his head. ¡°She seemed so nice.¡±


    Sven imagined how satisfying it would be to choke the life out of this empty-headed pig. He should have done it a long time ago, but as they said, the second-best time is right now. He did not actually do anything, of course. He never did. Luckily, Ingrid interceded.


    ¡°Damn it, Olaf. Think before you speak for once in your life. She warned us. I don''t know what her deal was, but she''s definitely not with the inquisition.¡±


    Olaf still did not get it. ¡°Yes yes, she scared us all with this inquisition thing. Big whoop. But we''ll be back home in the north soon enough and our fat king Gustav doesn''t let them in, blessed be his gluttonous soul.¡±


    This time Ingrid actually smacked him on the head. Much softer than Sven would have done it, had he the guts to do so. It was still satisfying. ¡°She said they''ll be here tomorrow, Olaf. Tomorrow! And if the Inquisition is known for one thing, then it''s punishing even the smallest infringement of their idiotic law. Damn them and their blasted Iron Statute.¡±


    Ingrid''s voice had become louder as she spoke and she was almost shouting at the end. More than a couple of patrons gave them wary looks.


    ¡°I think it''s time for us to leave,¡± said Sven in a low voice. ¡°It seems we have outstayed our welcome in this establishment.¡±


    ¡°I think we have outstayed our welcome in this damned kingdom,¡± Ingrid hissed, as the three of them paid and made their way outside to their wagon. It was almost full moon, so the courtyard was reasonably lit.


    ¡°We didn''t need them anyway. Big groups only attract the bandits. Let''s make the way through the Coldwood on our own, see how those inquisition freaks like that.¡±


    Sven looked at Olaf, disbelieving. That was one of the stupidest ideas he had ever heard from Olaf''s mouth, and that was a high bar to reach. They would be slaughtered like sheep. Like sheep that were stupid enough to wander into the Coldwood, without at least a dozen mercenaries to protect them.


    What they should be doing was throwing those trinkets Olaf had insisted on buying away. They wouldn''t even earn them a lot of money. A flute that played itself, a floating mirror; and a stone that cooled its surroundings. What would you do with that in the North? No one needed more ice back home.


    They should just throw them away and hide for a month or so, until whatever had brought the inquisition to the border had blown over. Then they could catch the next protected convoy into the north, where Sven could settle down and lead a comfortable life with the money they would make.


    But to Sven''s dismay, Ingrid did not seem to share his opinion. She gave them a toothy smile. ¡°You know what, I think you''re right. The convoy would have only held us down. Next week, we''ll be home in Vysund.


    Sven said nothing.


    <hr>


    It was about midday when they heard a rumbling from the back of their wagon. They had traveled through the night to get ahead of any potential pursuers and all of them were dead tired. Olaf had sobered hours ago and if he was exhausting before, his presence was positively atrocious now.


    Ingrid continued to steer the horses pulling their wagon, but Olaf and Sven looked back to locate the source of the noise. The woman that had warned them yesterday clambered out of the back of their wagon, clambered over the wheels and dropped next to them on the steering bench in front of the wagon.


    After a moment of stunned silence, the woman began to speak. ¡°I hope you don''t mind me taking advantage of Olaf''s offer from yesterday. I had in fact been looking for a ride across the border a place to sleep. My horse died. Again.¡± The woman took a look around, then turned her attention back to the merchants sitting next to her on the bench. ¡°My name is Lucia, by the way. I suppose we are on your way north right now? Big spruce trees. Dense ferns. Yeah, looks like the Coldwood to me.¡±


    Ingrid did not know what to say. Even Olaf was speechless for once, looking at her with the expression of a dead fish. Ingrid committed this image to memory. She began to like the woman. Lucia.


    ¡°Well, you did invite her, Olaf.¡± She said with a grin. ¡°Fair is fair.¡±


    Finally, Olaf caught himself. He gave Lucia a wary look. ¡°Did you invent the story about the Inquisition to get a free trip North?¡±


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Oh no, no. They''re quite real and would''ve certainly caught you. They were looking for me, after all. But don''t worry, they won''t follow you into the Coldwood. Nobody''s that crazy.¡± With these words, Lucia put her feet up, leaned back against the wagon and closed her eyes. ¡°And thanks for your hospitality. I know you northerners would be reasonable people.¡±


    Olaf relaxed a bit, but Sven still seemed wary of their unexpected guest.


    ¡°You are a wild mage then?¡± Sven asked. ¡°This is why they hunt you? You know that the Northlands don''t take refugees anymore, right?¡±


    Lucia opened her eyes again. ¡°So Gustav gave in to the Guild''s pressure? Never thought he would. He is still king, right?¡±


    Confused, Sven answered. ¡°Yes Gustav III is still alive, though probably not for long. He''s eating himself to death.¡±


    ¡°Ah, of course. Gustav III. And for the refugee thing, I don''t intend to go around telling everyone that the Inquisition is hunting me. I''ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Well, you have told us that you are a fleeing mage, and we aren''t even in the North yet,¡± Ingrid observed.


    ¡°Yeah, about that. It would be nice if you didn''t tell anyone. And confessing that the Inquisition is after me is supposed to be trust-building or something like that. You would feel pretty stupid, if you only realized that, once I''m arrested, after all.¡± With these words, Lucia closed her eyes again and dozed off.


    <hr>


    Only when the moon slipped behind the treetops and the horses in front of the wagon could no longer safely follow the road through the forest, did Ingrid call for them to make camp for the night. They had decided to travel as long as possible each day, to shorten the time in the Coldwood.


    During the day, Ingrid and Sven had tried to start a conversation with the mage Lucia multiple times, but she had not been very forthcoming with her story. Not very surprising, given her situation. Ingrid thought, that she''d probably been ripped from her old life by the inquisition''s assault. She knew how they operated. Attack at dawn, while everyone slept. Put the whole family of the mage in chains and the neighbors too, for good measure. Drag them away into some far away dungeon and put their house to the torch. Her mother had survived a similar experience when she''d been a child. Not that she could use her magic, but a flicker of it was enough for the Mages Guild. They were relentless. Fortunately, the North had accepted fleeing mages back then.


    Olaf was still upset that she had resisted his questionable charm and made him look stupid when she had climbed out of their wagon, so he ignored her as much as possible. Lucia on the other hand made that relatively easy, as she had slept almost all of the trip.


    Even after they stopped to make camp, she only took her travel bag and the strange object wrapped in cloth and lay down on the forest floor to sleep. Apparently, she had no interest in keeping a night watch herself.


    Ingrid sat down next to Olaf and Sven. They did not dare to make a fire, lest it lured bandits to them, but they had a small storm lamp.


    ¡°I don''t trust her,¡± said Olaf.


    ¡°That''s just because she made you look stupid. Get over it, Olaf. And there is little we can do short of leaving her to die in the forest, anyway. We better just hurry up and part ways with a friendly goodbye once we''re on the other side of the Coldwood.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she can defend us if bandits attack?¡± Sven tried to add to the conversation. ¡°She is a mage after all. Aren''t they supposed to create fireballs and lightning bolts?¡±


    Olaf rolled his eyes at that. ¡°No Sven, wild mages haven''t got any training. Maybe she can heal your ingrown toenail, but that''s the best we can hope for. She doesn''t strike me as very capable, honestly.¡±


    Sven gave Olaf a doubtful look but kept his thoughts to himself. Ingrid was a bit worried about him and Olaf. He could smell weakness like a dire wolf, and Sven exuded weakness. If you didn''t push back from time to time, Olaf only got encouraged. And during their little adventure, Sven had given Olaf ample encouragement. There was little she could do, anyhow. Sven had to learn this lesson for himself.


    ¡°I think the Inquisition imprisoned her family and she barely escaped. That would explain her odd behavior and why she travels alone with almost no possessions¡± Ingrid interjected. ¡°She''s probably still grieving.¡±


    Olaf huffed at that. ¡°Don''t like her anyway. Something about her is off.¡±


    They decided the order of their night watch and then Ingrid went to sleep. She had the last watch and already dreaded getting up again in the morning.


    <hr>


    Sven woke to the sound of Ingrid shouting. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing the sky, which was colored only by the slightest touch of dawn. He sat up and finally Ingrid''s words reached his half-asleep brain. Bandits.


    At once, he jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. Ingrid rushing into the forest, her sword drawn. Olaf and Lucia as tired and confused as he. As Lucia got up, a black-bladed sword disentangled itself from her sheets and fell to the ground.


    Olaf''s eyes narrowed. ¡°You''ve got a sword? Are you with the bandits, have you set them on us?¡± He spat. Then, without taking his eyes off Lucia. ¡°I knew we couldn''t trust her. Take the the sword, Sven.¡±


    Lucia gave him an exhausted look. ¡°Have you any evidence for ¨C ¡± She stopped, sighed. ¡°I guess such things don''t matter to you anyway. Maybe this is something you understand: there''s a big scary demon inside of this sword that will eat your brain if you touch it.¡± Lucia turned and walked to the back of their wagon.


    ¡°Take the sword, Sven, we still can''t trust her. And I need you defending us when the bandits manage to get past Ingrid. You know I don''t fight.¡±


    Sven hesitated. ¡°I don''t think that''s a good idea. Haven''t you heard what she said?¡±


    ¡°She''s obviously lying. Now don''t snivel around and get the damn sword,¡± Olaf replied. When Sven didn''t move at first he hit him on the back of his head. ¡°Go!¡±


    Sven crouched slowly and after a moment of deliberation, he used the cloth to carefully pick up the sword. He stood up again, the wrapped sword in his hand. Nothing happened. So Lucia had been lying. Then his world went black.


    It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Sven. It truly is.


    The voice came from the endless darkness surrounding him and disturbingly, also from the inside of his own mind, where it rang like a shattered bell. Sven tried to move but there weren''t even any limbs to move. Wherever he was, his body had been left behind. That was lucky because his heart would have given out just about then.


    I know you are scared. I know all your fears. But do not worry, I bring only ¨C gifts.


    Sven heard the warped voice say the word, but in his mind, he could only think of death and ruin. Whatever this creature considered a gift, death would be a mercy in comparison. He wanted nothing more than to be gone. To flee. Withdraw himself, as he always did, when things became too much. But he had no physical body anymore, standing between him and the world. His mind was laid bare. There was no escape.


    Let me show you something ¨C beautiful.


    A terrible smile that frayed at Sven''s dwindling sanity resonated with these words. He wanted to scream, but couldn''t. He wanted to cry, but what good would it be? This was no ordinary terror mere tears were enough to express.


    Remember this, Sven. Every end brings a new beginning. Such is the circle.


    He felt the being grasp something inside his very soul. An aspect of his self. Then he was ripped away, flung into the emptiness. He was diminished, less than he had been. Before his mind''s eye flashed all his fear, the terror of a lifetime. Every paralyzing thought, every time he had hesitated, every doubt that had weighed him down. It was all he was now, everything.


    Then he died.


    <hr>


    A new Sven opened his eyes, still standing in the Coldwood. Still holding the sword of Baal. Still in front of a puffed-up Olaf.


    ¡°You see, nothing wrong with this oh-so-cursed sword. Now get the damn mage and ¨C ¡° He saw something in Sven''s eyes and gave him a strange look. ¡°Is everything alright?¡±


    Sven did not answer, but he let the cloth that had protected him from directly touching the sword fall to the ground. The bone hilt firmly in his hand.


    ¡°Could you ¨C ahh stop holding the sword. Perhaps?¡±


    Sven tilted his head as if listening to someone. Then, with a flick of his hand, he cut Olaf''s throat, who fell to the ground with a gurgling sound. Sven knelt down next to him, blood soaking into his clothes.


    <hr>


    Ingrid noticed the whir of the arrow flying through the air and dived away to protect herself. That had been unnecessary as it turned out. The arrow went wildly off target. No experienced archers. Good. She shouted to wake up the group, then rushed into the underbrush in the direction the arrow had come from. The two scouts revealed their position by drawing their weapons, crooked knives. The sound the steel made was distinct to Ingrid''s trained ears. There had been quite a few fights on their journey, unfortunately.


    She saw them, trying to hide in a thorny bush, and stormed towards them. They were scrawny and looked barely like adults. Before they could react, she dispatched them with a knock on the head. When the main group came, she''d probably have to kill, but she was resolute on doing so as little as possible. Especially for bandits so young. They should get the chance to change their way, find a better way of life.


    Ingrid rushed back into camp. There was no time to lose, the main group of bandits would soon be there. The fight would get grizzly, with her trying to protect all of them. She hoped the mage had an ace up her sleeve.


    Then she saw Olaf''s body on the ground. Sven kneeling in front of him, crying. Were the bandits already here? But no, there were no others around, only Lucia searching for something in their wagon. She moved closer and saw the sword in Sven''s hands. The blood-stained sword. And Sven was not crying. He was laughing. Ingrid stopped.


    ¡°I told them the sword was cursed, but they never listen, do they?¡± she heard Lucia say behind her. Apparently, she had found what she was looking for.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Now Sven looked up from the dead Olaf. There were bloodstains all over him. A feral smile on his face. ¡°Wonderful, isn''t it?¡± Sven stood up and Ingrid raised her sword in answer. Lucia only gave him a skeptical look. ¡°Don''t worry Ingrid, it''s still me. But Baal has healed me. I am finally free.¡± Sven started to laugh again. It was a laugh of pure joy. ¡°I used to drown in my fear and didn''t even notice it. How did I ever do anything?¡±


    ¡°Whoever you are, lay down the sword and let me bind your hands. Slowly.¡±


    Sven laughed wildly. ¡°Of course. Of course my friend. You have no idea. It is wonderful.¡± He let the black sword fall to the ground. He stepped towards Ingrid and let his hand be bound behind his back. ¡°You know Olaf had it coming sooner or later.¡±


    Ingrid gave him a disgusted look then stepped back and took in her surroundings. All around them came people from the woods, dressed in rags, underfed. At least twenty. They had bows ready with arrows pointing at them. Carefully, Ingrid raised her arms.


    ¡°Take what you want, we have food, a bit of gold, trade goods. But please let us leave alive. We don''t want trouble with you. The scouts you send are still alive. I just knocked them out. Let us go. Please.¡±


    The bandits crept closer, sharing hungry glances. They did not reply. Did not lower their bows.


    With a sigh, Lucia took something out of her pocket. It was a chain of spinal bones, spiky red runes etched into them. Without hesitation, she ripped the chain in half and Ingrid heard the awful crack of breaking bones. All of the bandits slumped to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. Their necks twisted at unnatural angles. A woman lying on the ground behind Ingrid gurgled, blood trickling from her mouth. The bones in Lucia''s hands had turned to ash.


    ¡°I had hoped to avoid that.¡±

 Chapter 4

    They arrived at the Last Leg Inn weary to the core. The attacks had abated about a week ago and the echo of the screaming ghost had run out shortly after that. Still, they''d had no rest, driven onward by the Grand Inquisitor. But they''d caught her now. David felt the faint impression of echo being used from the inn. He shared a wary glance with Nilia. Even though she was only a couple of years older than him, she was a proper inquisitor. Like he would be when he finished his apprenticeship. If they survived.


    ¡°That''s it, huh?¡± Nilia said. ¡°No more running, no more hunting. We''ve got her now.¡±


    He gave her a grin he did not feel. ¡°Think about it. Catching a real necromancer will give you amazing advancement opportunities. We haven''t had one, since... Well, the last one that comes to mind is the Red King. She''s not on that level. I hope.¡± Nilia paled noticeably.


    David took a deep breath and focused on his prepared spells. He hadn''t spent the weeks in the saddle idly. Two green twigs brimming with the echo of the countless saplings he had drained. Each one ready to sprout into razor-sharp vines. He was proud of his work. For a mere apprentice to build three functioning spells under atrocious conditions. He had to see about the functioning part but still. The necromancer would be in for a nasty surprise.


    He shuddered when he felt the power Nilia''s spell exuded. In her hand lay a gray unassuming rock, a rune of interwoven circles carved into its surface. Daniel resolved himself to learn more about the runes. His spells could be so much more potent. Alas, that was an issue for later. Their group stepped onto the courtyard in front of the inn. It was time.


    With a flick of his hand, the Grand Inquisitor signaled the executors to proceed. The lead executor, Daniel hadn''t bothered to learn his name, slammed the main door open. There would be no spell wasting today. Their executors streamed into the main room of the inn and the inquisitors followed, Daniel with them. Four of the executors slipped away to guard the rear entrances.


    Daniel saw the fearful glances of the patrons, their previous conversations forgotten the moment they saw their Inquisition uniforms. Though they all knew why it needed to exist, nobody liked to meet the Inquisition. It was usually a bad sign. Daniel gave the patrons his best attempt at a dangerous grin and a merchant in front of him flinched back. He should do this more often. Then he remembered why they were here and his smile faltered.


    All the while, the Grand Inquisitor had stepped to the bar, unhurriedly. He did not need to raise his voice. the inn had fallen completely silent. ¡°We have located an extremely dangerous wild mage in this establishment. Anyone found collaborating with her will be executed. Anyone not following our orders to the letter will be executed.¡± He looked around the room into frightened faces. ¡°Stay where you are and be silent. We will handle the rest.¡±


    As the Grand Inquisitor turned to the owner of the Inn, who had scrambled counter, the merchant Daniel had scared lost his nerve. Grabbing his bag, he barged through the patrons obstructing his way and ran for the door. Before he was halfway there, an executor stepped in front of him and decapitated him with a clean strike of his unnaturally sharp sword. Then he stepped back to his position as though nothing had happened. Nobody else tried.


    The Grand Inquisitor turned to the owner. For a moment he just looked at him, appraising him. ¡°Show us your cellar? She is hiding in there.¡±


    Silently, the owner gestured for them to follow him. They arrived at a heavy iron trapdoor at the back of the building. The owner tried to explain himself. ¡°We... We barely use it these days. Believe me, we have nothing ¨C ¡° He was cut off by the Grand Inquisitor. Then he signed Daniel to open it. He''d go first. Oh no.


    Nilia gave him a pitting look, but there was nothing she could do. Cannon fodder, so that was why he''d been with them. Steeling himself, he heaved the trapdoor open and jumped down the ladder. Lantern in one hand, his spell in the other. Ready to strike. But the tiny branch seemed much less impressive now. Only a weak stub, like he was. Not even a proper inquisitor.


    The first thing he noticed was the cold. It penetrated him to the bone despite his warm travel robes. His breath fogged, then formed tiny ice crystals before him in the air. A soft flute melody reached his ears. Just like the one the street performers of Angfurt used to play when he was little. Before he had to leave his home for the schooling of the Mages Guild. Only this melody was not lively and fast past like the one from the flute player he liked to visit at the marked. No, it was slow and gloomy. Played with the last breath of a dying man.


    She was toying with him. He had to focus. He walked deeper into the dark of the basement, but his limbs had gone numb from the cold. Slowly, he advanced, scanning for movement. He would not go down easily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. A pair of eyes were reflecting the light of his lantern. Without thinking he unleashed his spell. The branch wiggled in his hand, then vines sprouted from it. Three, four, then five. He shouted as they shot forward, hitting something. He heard glass shattering, then the other inquisitors rushed into the cellar. August at the front with a roaring blaze in his hands. It illuminated the cellar with a flickering red light. His vines had caught a mirror.


    There was no one there. They looked around, expecting an ambush, but nothing happened. After a moment, the Grand Inquisitor entered, examining his surroundings. There were only some half-broken magical artifacts here, leaking all their echo. The necromancer had tricked them. Again.


    Nobody dared to speak. Daniel looked at the Grand Inquisitor and recoiled. His face was calm as ever, but his eyes burned with fury. ¡°It seems we have been led astray. By now, the necromancer has surely crossed the border. I am afraid we can''t follow her. The relationship of the Guild with the Northlands is strenuous at best. We cannot endanger it.¡± The Grand Inquisitor tore his view from the broken artifacts and looked at them. ¡°Our work here is complete. I will ensure the Northlands are adequately warned of the fleeing mage, but that is all. They will have to deal with her from now on.¡± Then he turned and climbed out of the basement.


    <hr>


    The sun had risen well above the treetops and they had made good progress so far. After burying Olaf, they had wasted no time getting back on the road. More than one band of outlaws roamed through the forest. Lucia was thankful that this had minimized the amount of awkward conversations about what had happened. However, good things never last.


    ¡°Tell me, why did he kill him? What did your sword do to him?¡± Lucia opened her eyes to find Ingrid looking at her expectantly. ¡°Will he change back eventually?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Hey, I can hear you, you know?¡± Sven remarked.


    There was unfortunately no way around this conversation. Lucia addressed both of them. ¡°I wasn''t sure what touching the sword does to you when I first got it, but I have built up a pretty good picture. Sven''s case all but confirms my hypothesis. The demon trapped inside, Baal, attaches to your strongest emotions and then separates them from you, turning them into their opposite. Sven was meek and fearful before and Baal transformed him into a fearless psychopath. Right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that''s fairly accurate¡± Sven agreed. Ingrid gave him a dark stare.


    Undisturbed, Lucia continued to explain. ¡°I''ve been in contact with Baal as well and that was a rather intense experience, even for me.¡± That earned Lucia a wary look from Ingrid. ¡°So, Sven awakes after Baal alters his personality, a literally mind-shattering experience, and uninhibited as he now is, does the first thing that comes to his mind. Kill Olaf.¡± She raised her hands, placating Sven. ¡°Not that I''d judge.¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Ingrid wasn''t satisfied with this explanation. ¡°But can you reverse it? Can you heal him or something like that? Or will this demon control him forever?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, you don''t understand. Just like he said, it''s still Sven you are dealing with, just an unhinged version. The demon is long gone from his head. And no, this is not reversible. The part of him responsible for fear and morality was completely annihilated. I could feel it happening, it was incredible. A couple more tires could lead to ¨C ¡° Lucia wasn''t the best in reading other people, but the look Ingrid was giving her probably indicated that she should stop now. Sven did not seem bothered in the slightest.


    Ingrid expression was one of fierce determination. You must destroy it. The demon cannot be allowed to live.¡±


    At that, Sven listened up. ¡°Wait, no. You can''t do that. Not yet. There is so much more Baal can tell me. I just need to know. I need to talk to him again. Please?¡±


    Lucia threw her arms up, exasperated. ¡°Don''t you think I would have tried that already? That I carry this sword with me just for fun. It''s not possible. It can''t be destroyed.¡± Sven relaxed again, as far as that was possible with hands tied up behind his back.


    Ingrid deflated a bit, but her look was still one of determination. ¡°Yeah, I could have seen that coming. But I''ve still got some questions. I''d say it''s time you get your story straight. Who are you really? I think I deserve to know that now.¡±


    Sven tried to raise his hand, but failed miserably ¡°Tell me too, Tell me too.¡±


    ¡°Well, everything I told you is true. My name is Lucia. I am a mage. The Inquisition was hunting me. There isn''t much more to tell about me. Maybe that I''m a necromancer, but you should have guessed that by now.¡± Hearing this, Ingrid looked even grimmer. Sven in contrast failed to stop his face from a full-on manic grin.


    ¡°That''s amazing. How did you learn it? Weren''t all necromancers killed after the Red Rebellion? Wait, I don''t actually care about that. How did you get the sword and could you give it to me? Pretty please?¡±


    ¡°I care about how you learned to become a necromancer. Usually, I avoid prying too much, but you just killed 23 people with a flick of your hand. Tell me something that lets me sleep tonight.¡± Ingrid''s voice was stern, but now there was a pleading look in her eyes.


    Lucia thought for a moment. She wasn''t keen on getting her throat slit while she slept, so she had to tell them a bit. Maybe Sven would try to slit her throat anyway, but that was why his hand were bound. The best he would manage was to gnaw through her throat. If he managed that he deserved it, she decided.


    ¡°I''ve been around a lot. I learned much of what I know on the Green Continent. They value necromancers highly there, mostly because of our healing powers. I could demonstrate?¡± The look of disgust on Ingrid''s face was enough of a clue to discard that offer immediately. ¡°I came back here, to the Middle Lands I mean, because ¨C ¡° Lucia stopped. She didn''t know why she had gone back, it had been just an impulse. ¡°I went back to the Threewater duchy and built myself a bit of a life there. Some guy came by and gave me the sword after he''d had his fun with it. After a while, the Inquisition decided to pay me a visit. I had to make a run for it, and the North seemed like the best choice.¡±


    ¡°The Everwood is much closer to Threewater. And much more open to refugees than the North nowadays. Why didn''t you go there?¡±


    ¡°Personal differences.¡± Lucia did not elaborate further.


    With this glimpse of her past, Ingrid relaxed. A bit. ¡°Do you have more of those bones? Like the one with which you killed the bandits? It might come in handy if we are attacked again.¡± She tried to play it cool, but Lucia noticed her unease.


    Lucia sighed. ¡°No unfortunately not. It is quite a lot of work, crafting these spells. It was supposed to be my protection against an Inquisition attack, if they managed to hunt me down. But I guess that danger has gone, by now.¡±


    ¡°If I may be so impertinent.¡± Sven interrupted. ¡°If you are out of spells it might be a good idea to free me in a fighting scenario. I had a lot of training with the sword and without my former limitations, I should be a force to reckon with. Also, this rope is annoying as hell. My nose itches and I can do nothing about it.¡±


    ¡°We''ll cross that bridge when we come to it,¡± said Ingrid.


    ¡°It might be a good idea to warm up with your new merchant partner. If you don''t decide to kill him, you''ll have to eventually.¡±


    ¡°I don''t want to talk about it,¡± snapped Ingrid. ¡°He remains bound until I decide to free him.¡± Sven shook his head slowly, contemplating this cosmic injustice.


    ¡°Oh well, ''s your call.¡± Lucia laid back against the wagon and rested her eyes for a moment. Nobody had tried to stab her, making the conversation a win in her books. She drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


    <hr>


    Although Sven spent the next two days of their journey tied up and ignored, he was not idle. Exploring your altered personality can be very time consuming. As it turns out, it is quite difficult to examine your mind using your mind. There was just no baseline. After a handful of fruitless attempts to discern the changes Baal had brought, he decided to work with hypothetical scenarios. Something solid and reasonable to start out.


    How would he kill Lucia and Ingrid? A very good question. His hands were still tied behind his back, but that wouldn''t be a problem if he managed to get them by surprise. He had noticed that Lucia slept during her night watch, so he could wait until that had happened, then step over his bound hands and strangle Ingrid while she slept using the same rope she used to bind him. He had to smile a little at the thought. Then he would have to dispatch Lucia and flee with the sword. She always kept it close to her, so there was little hope of stealing it without waking her. That would be more difficult since he didn''t know what she could do. He''d have to be quick then. Just grab the sword and stab her immediately.


    So far so good, but now came the difficult part of the thought experiment. What would he have done differently before encountering Baal? He frowned, thinking hard. He used to be fearful, right? Maybe the idea of strangling Ingrid would have frightened him. She was bigger and a bit stronger than him, after all. So grabbing the sword first, killing Lucia in the process, and then dealing with Ingrid. Something was still off, but he couldn''t put his finger on it. No matter, it was close enough. A more cautious approach for a more cautious Sven. Satisfied, he leaned back on his bench.


    In truth, he wasn''t interested in killing them, yet. Ingrid had taught him how to use a sword after all, and she''d been a good travel companion during the last year. And Lucia was simply too fascinating to kill so soon. He wanted to know more about Baal and even though his whispered promises had been enticing, he wasn''t foolish enough to take a demon at his word. Taking a necromancer at her word was equally foolish, though.


    Ingrid stopped the wagon, interrupting Sven''s ruminations. ¡°Time to stop for the day. The horses need to graze and we need some firewood for the night. The weather looks stable enough, but it''s going to get cold. It should be safe enough, there''ll hardly be any bandits this close to the Northlands.¡± With a sigh, Sven jumped from the wagon and held out his arms towards Ingrid. Ignoring him, she freed the horses from their harness, then marched off into the forest. Maybe killing her wasn''t such a bad idea after all.


    They gathered around the fire which banished the cold night from the perimeter of their camp. Even Lucia had joined in. ¡°Last night in the Coldwood, huh?¡± Lucia said. ¡°I have to say, you''ve been great travel companions so far.¡± Sven looked at her questioningly. ¡°I enjoyed the lack of interaction and sleeping in the wagon, mostly. Anyway, I wanted to give something back, to say thanks in a way.¡±


    Ingrid gave her a disgusted look, but that was expected. Sven would not let this chance go to waste. ¡°Can you tell us something about Baal? Something a bit more detailed than your previous account.¡±


    For a second, Lucia only looked at him, thinking. Her face betrayed nothing of what was going on inside. ¡°Sure, knowing won''t kill you. As long as you don''t tell anyone. Baal is a creature of the Deep, the infernal realm, the place you go when you sleep.¡± This earned her confused looks from Ingrid and Sven.


    ¡°Isn''t that just Mage Guild propaganda?¡± asked Ingrid. ¡°The place of corruption from which the mages draw power. It actually exists?¡±


    Lucia sighed. ¡°They have worked hard to confuse everyone, huh? The answer is yes and no, but let me start at the beginning.¡±

 Chapter 4 (Part 2)

    ¡°The power of the Source flows through all of creation, and it leaves behind an echo that we mages can sense and manipulate. We use it to form our spells. Every mage is specialized in different types of echo, so we all can form different spells. What you can do exactly depends partly on natural aptitude and partly on training. There''s a lot you can do with training, more than most mages realize. I, for example, work best with the echo of life. I wasn''t interested in becoming a healer, though, and you can see where that led me.¡± Sven could see no expression on Lucia''s face in the flickering light of their campfire.


    ¡°But I''m digressing,¡± Lucia continued her explanation. ¡°You see there is no connection to the Deep so far. The problem the Guild is on about lies somewhere else. The echo is especially strong in living beings, where the power of the Source forms a soul. Of course, that''s great because it makes us sentient and all that, but it also changes and corrupts the nature of the power. When living beings die, the energy from their souls is often too different from the purity of the Source and cannot return. At least not immediately.


    ¡°At that point, there are two different things that can happen. The soul can remain here in the physical world as an immaterial specter commonly known as a ghost until it naturally dissipates after a couple of years. The other thing that can happen is that the soul descends into the Deep, trying to return to the Source, but failing. There, in a hodgepodge of agony, rage, and despair, similar souls melt together and a new demon is born. If they have enough reason or someone is stupid enough to call them, they can reascend into our world, where they wreak havoc. Most of the time, that happens after a mass casualty event of tormented souls. Or if a reckless mage is too eager for that extra kick of power. They can even become possessed.¡±


    ¡°Like the Black General?¡± asked Ingrid.


    Lucia raised an eyebrow. ¡°You don''t believe in the Deep, yet the Guild''s propaganda about the Black One? No, I don''t think that one was possessed. Possession is not really the problem the Guild makes it out to be. As usual. Only mages weak in mind and body are in danger and the Black General was anything but weak. Some of the Red King''s followers might have been, the Deep knows they needed it, but there''s no way to be sure. Not that it would matter.¡±


    Sven was fascinated by Lucia''s explanation. ¡°So Baal is a trapped demon? ¡°


    Lucia turned towards Sven, looking at him for a moment before answering. ¡°No, he''s an Infernal.¡±


    Again, both Ingrid and Sven looked at her with confusion. As Lucia did not retract her statement, Ingrid had to ask. ¡°What? What do you mean?¡±


    Lucia nodded as if approving her question. ¡°Yeah, you are quite right to be confused. All the evidence I have gathered so far points me to the conclusion that Baal is the forgotten fourth Dreadlord trapped inside this sword, which is a ridiculously strong artifact in its own right. A friend of mine at the Academy of Westend agrees with that conclusion.¡±


    Ingrid continued to stare at her, disbelieve written plainly on her face. Sven on the other hand eyes the bundle on Lucia''s back with a newfound hunger.


    ¡°Well, that was that. Don''t say I didn''t warn you.¡± She thought for a moment. ¡°Hmmm, I didn''t warn you, did I? Well, no time like the present. If you tell anyone, they won''t believe you. If they do believe you, they will kill you for the slightest hint at its location.¡± She turned to Ingrid, who was about to speak. ¡°And no, it cannot be destroyed. You asked that already.¡±


    For a moment they sat in silence. Then Lucia jumped to her feet, looking into the woods. ¡°I know it''s bad timing, but it looks like there''ll be a practical part to our little lesson as well. A demon is approaching.¡±


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    Ingrid jumped to her feet as well, grasping her sword. Sven tried as well, but lost his balance and fell on his back. ¡°What?¡± Ingrid asked again.


    ¡°The bandits we killed.¡±


    ¡°You killed,¡± insisted Ingrid.


    Lucia rolled her eyes but continued. ¡°It seems the bandits I killed have spawned a demon. That is strange, their death shouldn''t have been enough to do that. Only in an area steeped in death and despair would such a thing be possible.¡±


    Ingrid looked at her incredulously ¡°You know we''re in the Coldwood, right? I bet this place has seen more death than most battlefields.¡°


    ¡°Hmm, yes. Now that you mention it. Anyway, it''s almost here and it''s a hunger demon. We''ll have to ¨C ¡±


    A gust of wind like putrid breath caught the three of them and swept them off their feet. Sven lost track of Ingrid and saw Lucia being thrown against a nearby tree. She hit it with an ugly crunch, then slit down the trunk, her back bent at an unhealthy angle. She did not get up again.


    In the middle of their camp, the night congealed into a writhing shape. Sven gasped as he felt the presence of the demon. It filled him with an insatiable hunger. A desire to consume burning like a fever. The whisper of Baal''s promises, ever-present since he''d touched the sword, swelled to a roar. He got up and stumbled in the direction he''d seen the sword fall, blind to the rest of the world. He only had eyes for the perfect black of the blade. Nothing else would do. He needed it.


    The cold night had become truly arctic, numbing Sven''s limbs. Two green eyes shone out of the boiling darkness fixing him. The darkness flowed into a humanoid shape. Too long, spindly limbs. A head like a skull, green fire shining from its sunken eye sockets. A twitching tongue lolling out of a toothless mouth. Like a mockery of the starving bandits they had killed.


    Sven did not notice any of this. He struggled forward, through the grass and rocks. Towards the sword. He heard a clang as his foot caught something on the ground. The sword. Without thinking, he threw himself to the ground, grasping. The sword cut into his ropes, his hands and arms. He only felt the smooth bone hilt, now slick with his blood.


    The presence of Baal washed the hunger demon''s presence from his mind like the ocean would wash away a pebble. Sven calmed, he looked up taking in his surroundings for the first time since the demon arrived. Lucia was lying on the ground broken, though she was evidently still breathing. He could not see Ingrid and the demon... the demon was approaching him. Sven could not resist. He laughed.


    A sword that could imprison an Infernal for centuries should be able to hurt a demon, right? Only one way to find out. He charged the demon, sword raised. The demon reacted immediately, jumping back. It hissed and Sven felt its frustration. Trying to flood his mind, drown his thoughts, but failing. It was wary of what lurked inside his head. Wary of the sword.


    But that did not dissuade it. No, nothing could. Another rotten wind caught Sven, throwing him to the ground. The demon advanced, staying just outside his range. He tried to get up, but it was getting more and more difficult. He did not feel the unnatural cold the demon brought, but it was draining his strength, made his movement clumsy and slow. Sven took a step towards the demon. Two. Then his legs gave out from under him. He fell to his knees, a soft smile on his lips. He could hold the demon at bay for a couple more moments until he was too weak to even hold the sword. Then he would die. The thought did not frighten Sven. Not anymore. He was content, maybe more than he''d ever been.


    Something moved behind the demon. Lucia was dragging herself towards it. She grabbed the grass and roots of the forest floor and heaved her closer, legs trailing uselessly behind. Sven put all his focus on holding the sword up, distracting the demon. The danger of letting it slip out of his hand had passed because his own blood had frozen it to his hands. The demon would kill him once he lost consciousness anyway. The darkness around Sven''s vision grew and his head lolled forward. The last thing he saw before his eyes failed was Lucia, grasping the ankle of the demon, confining its shadowy outline. He felt something around him change. A different presence pressing against his mind. Then piercing wail that seemed way too high-pitched to be audible. Finally, everything went black.

 Chapter 5

    The private study of Tiberius Anderberg did nothing to betray the immense power and influence of its owner. It was a tastefully decorated but simple room. A row of neat shelves, a functional plain desk, a small window to the courtyard below. For a man who could command kings, the simplicity was a statement in itself.


    Tiberius gave the Grand Inquisitor and Daniel a soft smile as they entered. He was an old man, very old, and that showed. His face was wrinkled and marked by age and his long beard and hair were completely white. But most of all, it were his eyes that spoke of an age most people don''t even dream to reach. They spoke of the wisdom and dignity of a man who had seen the worst and best humanity had to offer. Still, he exuded a great warmth and unquestioning understanding. Daniel relaxed a bit and released the breath he had been unconsciously holding.


    He wondered how all this had happened. For whatever reason, the Grand Inquisitor had taken a liking to him and dragged him along on his latest exploit. During which he was used as bait for the horrible necromancer, mind you. He hadn''t forgotten that quite yet. And now, after all, after having failed, if he was honest, he was meeting the most powerful mage of the middle lands in his private rooms. Should he be terrified or exhilarated? Both, presumably. They sat on two chairs in front of the desk.


    ¡°Alwyn, Daniel, it is great that you could join me today. I have read everything about this necromancer of yours. It is a tragedy. Someone like her living among the good and fair people of our lands.¡± He slowly shook his head, as if trying to banish this terrible image from his mind. ¡°For years she lived there and they suspected nothing.¡± Tiberius sighed and looked up again. ¡°But let us focus on what can be done rather than on what can no longer be undone. You said she fled to the Northlands?¡±


    The Grand Inquisitor nodded. ¡°She slipped away from right under our nose. Twice. The first time, when we tracked her to a little village near the Nesdalen border. The second time she beat us to the Coldwood, where we lost her track for good. She must be well and truly in the Northlands now and I am afraid they will the King would not be pleased if he found us meddling in his domain.¡°


    Tiberius nodded. ¡°There is not much that pleases him, anymore. His health seems to be among the things he grew weary of.¡±


    The Grand Inquisitor inclined his head. ¡°Yes, I believe you are right. Though I find it vexing, the best course is to wait. His son appears to have a more... positive view of the Guild. It would not be wise to jeopardize ¨C,¡± Tiberius raised his hand indicating the Grand Inquisitor to stop.


    ¡°What do you believe, Apprentice Daniel? Should we stay our hands, waiting for a more opportune time, or act now, risking much?¡± The old man looked now firmly at him.


    Daniel needed a moment to comprehend what the supreme mage had said. If the physical presence of man was impressive, his magical presence was something completely different. It was well known that Tiberius did not need to prepare spells in order to cast them, though no one knew why that was the case. But that did nothing to prepare Daniel for the overwhelming sense of magical power emanating from him. That''s how the Source must feel. Immediately, he chided himself for the blasphemous thought, yet a small part of him continued to wonder.


    Finally, he caught himself. ¡°I... I mean, the Grand Inquisitor is surely right with his evaluation. The fate of one wild mage cannot be worth the ire of an entire nation. But still. Her... Her power was unlike anything I have experienced. Or even read about, save perhaps the Black War. I am sure you read all about it in our report, but her undead creatures... they were beyond horrifying. If there is anything we can do to catch her, we should at least consider it... I think.¡±


    Tiberius smiled. ¡°Yes. I fear you speak true. Is it not, after all, our duty to protect those that cannot protect themselves from the dangers of our power? Even if they scorn our aid?¡± Tiberius looked back at the Grand Inquisitor. ¡°You will have a small team, a maximum of three people. Enter the Northlands with a convincing cover story, find the wild mage, and eliminate her. You will have the full support of the guild and its resources. Three weeks to prepare.¡±


    The eyes of the Grand Inquisitor widened ever so slightly. A casual observer wouldn''t have noticed, but Daniel had traveled with him for many weeks. The crack in the Grand Inquisitor''s near-perfect facade was as clear as day to him.


    ¡°So she belonged to the Red Rebellion? One of them has survived? Our witnesses thought she was in her mid-twenties. Could they have found a way to sustain their youth for over twenty years?¡± The Grand Inquisitor paused for a moment. His face became a mask again. ¡°I guess you would know how to extend your lifespan, wouldn''t you?¡± Tiberius only answered with a slight smile and the Grand Inquisitor bowed his head before the supreme mage. ¡°No matter. It will be done.¡± He turned to Daniel, something dangerous in his eyes. ¡°It seems this story is not quite over yet. And I think you will play a very special role in it, Daniel.¡±


    <hr>


    Sven awoke with a start. He was lying on soft moss, the sun warming his skin ever so slightly and the trees of the Coldwood towering above him. Still alive, after all. And he felt... good? Better than good, he felt incredible. Sven laughed as he jumped to his feet, surprised by his strength. This was not at all how you were supposed to feel after barely surviving a demon attack. He looked around. He was still in the same clearing where they had made camp last night, but neither Lucia nor Ingrid were there.


    He took in the destruction the attack had wreaked. Where the demon had appeared, the ground was torn apart, exposing the soil underneath. Soil which somehow looked blighted. It had an unnatural gray color and the plants in the middle of the clearing were already withering and dying. Then Sven saw the wagon. Or rather what was left of it. It was lying on its side, all four wheels and a good part of the front shattered, their belongings and trade goods haphazardly scattered in the mud. Their horses were nowhere to be seen. Sven took a step closer, examining the scene. All of their southern wine seemed to be lost, but he could save some of the spices. Maybe a third.


    But Sven found that he no longer cared. He probably never did, now that he thought about it. When he''d gone with Olaf and Ingrid on their journey, he''d been driven by fear. Fear of disappointing his friends, fear of missing out on an adventure, fear of losing his only chance in life to make real money. But he wasn''t afraid anymore.


    Sven gathered his belongings from the odd-smelling heap, cinnamon, pepper, and wine really was a strange combination when he heard someone whistling in the woods. He whirled around, looking for something to use as a weapon. Neither Lucia nor Ingrid had deemed it necessary to leave their sword behind, where ever they were right now. He decided on a large stick but relaxed as Lucia entered the clearing. Whistling. With a hint of a smile on her face. That was a strange look.


    ¡°Good morning, Sven. Hope you slept well.¡± Her face took on the neutral expression, she usually had. ¡°Looks like Ingrid ran away when the demon attacked. Can''t blame her though. Hunger demons hijack your mind, boosting your desires until you break. And she probably wanted nothing more than to be gone even before the demon messed with her head. At least none of you started to eat themselves. I''ve seen it happen before and it''s even worse than you think.¡± She shook her head in dismay.


    Sven realized something. ¡°I don''t want to seem ungrateful, but shouldn''t your back be still broken? Now that I mention it, my arms are no longer shredded to pieces.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the demon gave us quite the beating. You were almost a goner.¡± Lucia''s eyes flickered to the place where their horses should have been. ¡°I took the liberty to heal you, hope you don''t mind. You might feel slightly euphoric at the moment, but that should be gone in a month, max. During the fight, you did... good.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°We''ll have to travel without horses now, but they were dying anyway. Could have raised them afterwards, of course, but I think even in the more tolerant North, undead horses would''ve led to some awkward questions.¡±


    Sven stared at her. ¡°Wait, you can raise the dead? Like, bring them back as the undead?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Otherwise, I wouldn''t be a very good necromancer, would I? Let''s get going, we might reach the edge of the forest before night falls. As fun as that was, I''d prefer my next life-and-death fight in a different location. I''m old school like that.¡±


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    They were still walking two hours after the sun had set, but Sven didn''t feel the slightest bit of exhaustion and Lucia didn''t seem to mind either. In fact, Sven felt more energetic than ever before in his life, with the possible exception of this morning.


    Though it was hard to tell, Lucia seemed to be in a good mood too, so he decided to start a conversation. She was just too interesting to not know more about her and he still had to get the sword somehow. Fighting her was no longer an option, though. He did no longer fear death, but being killed and then raised as an undead would probably suck. A lot. Besides, Lucia had been a lot nicer after their fight. There might be a different way.


    ¡°You said the demon boosts your strongest desire, right?¡± Lucia did not react. ¡°Ingrid probably wanted to flee, so the demon forced her to do so. I wanted the sword, so I could think about nothing else until I got it and Baal helped to clear my mind. That was very nice of him, by the way. Are you sure he''s all that evil?¡± Lucia continued to walk, saying nothing. ¡°Anyway, what I wanted to ask is, what did the demon do to you? What the thing you wanted to do when the demon attacked?¡±


    For a moment, Lucia did not answer. Then she turned to Sven. ¡°Nothing. I wanted nothing, so it did not affect me.¡±


    Successful, Sven smiled. She was talkative tonight. More than she used to be, at any rate. This would be a very interesting walk. ¡°So you said you can raise the dead. Does that only mean animals, or can you raise humans as well? Before you answer: you said it yourself, I have no conscience anymore, so you don''t need to worry about my reaction.¡± Lucia explained and Sven started to grin.


    They made it out of the Coldwood that night and by the next noon, they were drawing near Southwatch, a small town that had grown around the garrison protecting the border. Nowadays the garrison''s job was more about dealing with immigrants and travelers and maybe chasing some outlaws back into the forest than defending incursions from the southern kingdoms. During the peace of the last hundred years, the town had grown into a cesspool of smugglers, charlatans, and pickpockets, all trying to fleece the incoming travelers. In Sven''s opinion, it was the worst the North had to offer. Except for maybe the cold. That was even worse.


    Sven chuckled at the thought that he used to be afraid of Southwatch. The wicked city, as it was known where he''d grown up. After a year of traveling all across the Middle Lands, there wasn''t much new Southwatch could offer him. Perhaps his lack of concern about entering the city could also be traced back to his total disregard for his health and safety. Who knew?


    ¡°I think Ingrid''s with the patrol over there,¡± said Lucia, breaking the silence.


    Sven raised his eyes, looking for the group Lucia meant. There was a tiny dot of people on the horizon. ¡°You can see her from here?¡±


    ¡°No, but I can sense her life force. I''ve gotten pretty good at distinguishing how they feel.¡±


    ¡°And with life force, you mean soul?¡±


    ¡°Yes, at least a part of it. The life force is the part of the soul anchoring it to a physical body. Without it, or without a body to attach to in the first place, the soul slip away, back into the Source or perhaps into the Deep.¡±


    ¡°But you can manipulate the life force, right? So could attach a soul back to a body? Take the life force from somewhere else and bring someone back from the dead?¡±


    Lucia shrugged. ¡°I mean, how did you think raising the undead works? The problem''s just that the Deep isn''t a kind place for souls. Whatever comes back, it is not what I would call wholesome. You''ve seen the demon, right? Would you like such a thing to have a physical body? The best way to go about it is to only use the tiniest sliver of a soul. The Source knows there are plenty of them down there. That way, the undead is barely alive and has no free will or agency to speak of. It makes it easier for everyone involved.¡±


    Sven gave her a strange look. ¡°So you have done this before. Raising humans, I mean. No wonder the Inquisition was hunting you.¡°


    They walked on for a couple more minutes before the mounted soldiers reached them, and indeed Ingrid was with them, although she looked worse for wear. Her clothes were muddy, her coat torn, and her eyes were sunken and spoke of exhaustion and despair. Sven gave her a grin and waved. ¡°Ingrid!¡± he shouted over the clatter of the hooves. ¡°You''re alive, how marvelous.¡± Sven turned to the soldier in front of him, the leading knight with his grim face turned to Lucia. ¡°When we couldn''t find her, we thought the demon made her eat herself. Down to the last bit. It was a truly heartrending thought. But you brought her to us, thank the Source. And not one bite was taken from her. You have my thanks.¡±


    The knight turned, giving Sven a short glance. Then he turned back towards Lucia. Without taking his eyes off her, he spoke. ¡°They look surprisingly good for people who have just survived a demon attack.¡± The second soldier stopped to the right of Lucia. The other two surrounded them and stopped behind. ¡°I''d say it''s your lucky day, but that would be a lie.¡±


    Ingrid gave Sven, who was still grinning, an apologetic look. ¡°I told them everything, Sven. I had to. At first, I only wanted to get the guard to find you, but when I entered the city, I realized what I had to do. We can''t let people like her in, it is just too dangerous. You are the living proof. The necromancer, she made you... this.¡± She gestured in his direction. ¡°And I think that deep down, you know that this isn''t right. Please don''t do anything stupid and come with me. I am sure we''ll find a way to help you. To undo the damage she dealt to your mind. I don''t think I can forget what you did back in the forest, but maybe I can understand now. They can make you make things. Screw with your mind. I felt it when the demon attacked us. How it twisted my thoughts. It is... I am sorry for what you had to endure. Probably still do.¡± Ingrid shuddered. ¡°But I know there is something left of you in there, it must be. So come with me. Please.¡±


    Sven looked at her. Skeptically. ¡°Do I get this right? You appeal to my conscience and what is left of the old Sven to bring back my conscience and what is left of the old Sven. I don''t think you have thought this through. Besides, I''m not a whole new person ¨C As I told you multiple times now ¨C I''m still dear old Sven. I''s just that now ¨C,¡± he gave her a predatory smile, ¡°I am unleashed.¡±


    Ingrid nodded slowly. ¡°If nothing else, then please remember that I tried.¡± Then she turned her horse around and trotted back towards Southwatch without saying another word.


    Sven looked around as if noticing for the first time that they were surrounded. ¡°Sooo, Ingrid spilled the beans, right? That''s a bit awkward. Would you mind letting us go anyway? I pinky promise we''ll be good.¡± The knight did not react to his outstretched pinky, which Sven acknowledged with a disappointed shake of his head.


    Lucia had not moved since the soldiers had surrounded her. She simply stood in the middle of their circle, looking bored. She looked up as the knight addressed her, hand on his sword hilt, expression strained. ¡°You have been accused of being a mage fleeing from the Middle Lands as well as a necromancer. You''ll have to come with us and remain in the garrison''s prison until an examiner arrives from Vysund to verify or refute the claim. Don''t resist or we''ll have to use force.¡±


    Lucia shrugged and offered her hands to be bound. Sven''s smile vanished from his face. ¡°Wait, what?¡± he said. ¡°What is with me?¡± Then he hissed in Lucia''s direction. ¡°And why are you not resisting?¡± She shrugged again.


    The knight looked at him annoyed and a bit confused. ¡°You''ve done nothing wrong, boy. You can leave whenever you like. Just don''t be in our way.¡±


    ¡°Oh no no no,¡± said Sven with a rising voice. ¡°Not so quick. I do intend to be in your damn way. I''ll make you regret having gotten up this morning.¡±


    The knight looked angry, then shocked, as Sven tackled the soldier who had dismounted to bind Lucia''s hands.


    ¡°I WILL KILL YOU,¡± screamed Sven but his fists did little against the reinforced leather of the soldier''s armor. ¡°I WILL END YOU...¡± Sven clung to the prone soldier as the shocked soldiers tried to dislodge him with punches and kicks, but his high from Lucia''s healing was overriding any pain for the moment. ¡°... AND SEND YOU TO THE DEEP.¡± Unnoticed, a smile flickered over Lucia''s face. Sven, seeing an opening, closed his jaws around the lying soldier''s neck, biting down with all his strength. The man screamed and finally, the surrounding soldiers drew their swords.


    ¡°Enough,¡± said Lucia, and an unseen light blazed around her. The Soldiers stopped rigidly in their tracks and even Sven opened his jaws and let go of the lying soldier. The wounded man scrambled away as quickly as if the Infernals themselves were after him, collapsing only after the whole troop of soldiers was between him and Sven. ¡°I think there was a misunderstanding,¡° Lucia continued. The confusion was slowly clearing from the eyes of the soldiers. ¡°I am here on the explicit invitation of King Gustav III, who has invited me to be his personal healer. The slander of me being a necromancer is pure fabrication. Sven here ¨C,¡± she gestured towards Sven, who gave her a bloody smile in return, ¡°is my bodyguard. He might have taken his duty a bit too seriously, but alas, he is how he is. I for one was hoping you''d take us to the garrison where we can send for the capital and get this mess sorted. Here, let me help you.¡±


    Lucia walked through the group of soldiers, who were still too stunned to stop her. She cleared her hands from the remaining ashes and leaned against the horse as she bowed down to touch the man Sven had bitten. He gasped but after only a moment, his neck stopped bleeding. Then, fresh pink skin emerged from the bloody hole and the mark of Sven''s teeth disappeared.


    Lucia straightened. ¡°You see? And if this sign of my good intentions is not good enough for you, then be assured: if you decide to kill me and my bodyguard here and now, the Kingsguard will find out ¨C no matter what you try ¨C and you will all die a traitor''s death.¡± She gave the soldiers a cold look, then Sven. ¡°Let''s go to garrison and then send for Vysund. You should write the king that Lucia Threewater has arrived.¡±

 Chapter 6

    Sven peered through the bars of their shared cell. ¡°I think we''re finally alone. You can talk freely now, so you got to tell me: What in the Deep is going on? I went along with whatever game you played, and some of the things you said even make sense. The noble family explains how you managed to get proper training as a mage, even though that seems incredibly risky to me. But I don''t believe for a second that the king has summoned you to be his healer. If there is even a sliver of truth to the story you told me, it makes no sense at all. And besides, you just aren''t the type to be summoned. But most of all: why did you let yourself be captured? I know that you did something to stop the guards from skewering me like a shish kebab, and I''ve seen what you else you can do, so don''t try to tell me that there was nothing you could have done.


    Lucia thought for a second, examining the jagged walls of their cell. Of course, the guards had not bought her story, but they had at least done them the courtesy of throwing them in the same cell. And letting her seal the letter they''d send to the king. Hopefully. She had often considered throwing the signet ring away altogether but never found the energy to do so. Now it gave her at least some chance of being recognized. And maybe a long-term solution to her current predicament.


    The mage cell was usually the deepest room of a dungeon, cut into the bedrock to be as far away from any potential source of echo as possible. Lucia had to admit that the builders of this cell had done a good job, as far as that was possible at least. There were no cracks in the stone of the walls, no mushrooms or plants nearby to use, and engraved iron bars to interfere with the control of the echo outside of the cell. But for once, Lucia shared the position of the Inquisition: you cannot hold a mage, only convince, coerce, or kill them. The Inquisition excelled in all three areas.


    Her thoughts returned to Sven, who was pacing up and down the tiny room. It was probably time to answer him. ¡°Fair. I will be as honest as possible to you. I am in fact Lucia Threewater, a noble from Angrien. I assume you''re not up to date with the feuds of Angrien''s nobility, so let''s just say the House Threewater has fallen from grace. I was not summoned by King Gustav, but I''m pretty sure I can heal whatever ails him. Someone at court should recognize my name and seal, so that should give me the chance I need to prove my healing abilities to him or whoever he sends to investigate.¡±


    Lucia sighed as she continued. ¡°And yes, I could have fought the guards this morning, but what good would it be? I''d be hunted again, and that is getting boring quickly. Plus, this cell is much preferable to the immediate execution that would await me down south.¡±


    Sven looked a bit deflated now but was still pacing up and down the cell. ¡°They even took the sword. Baal will crack their minds like his breakfast eggs and then be off to the Source knows where. It will be such a hassle to find him, once we''re out again.¡°


    ¡°Yes, that''s a good point, but you don''t need to worry about it. The sword should be safe, wherever they put the belongings of their prisoners. I made sure that Ball plays nice for the moment.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright. But I still would have liked some action. It was fun fighting the demon with you, you know. The guards would have been even better. Just imagine it: me, biting the guards to death. You, killing them by making their heads explode into a fine red mist. It would have been perfect. And now that I think about it, we would''ve only been hunted if we''d left survivors. Or witnesses. After the guards, we#d have hunted down Ingrid. Then anybody you sense in the surroundings. Maybe torch the city, while we''re at it. Oh yes, could have given me the sword. With Baal, I am unstoppable. Unkillable. He said we could tear this world down. I think I would like to see them burn. I see him dancing in the pale moonlight.¡± Sven''s rambling devolved into an inaudible muttering.


    Lucia took the time to extend her senses, looking for any hint of echo down here in the dungeon. It was a good exercise. Having been hunted all through the last month, she was forced to accept an uncomfortable truth: she was rusty. Her knowledge might be greater than it had ever been, but her execution was sorely lacking. Back in Angrien, none off her tricks had thrown the pursuers of her path for good and she''d been caught off guard two times now. It was time to change that.


    Lucia focused on the dull gray shimmer of the rocks. The echo there was barely worth noting. Like everything in this world, the rock had been touched by the Source, but that was all the shimmering showed. Nothing usable there. Far above her, there was the soft brown pressure of the earth. Dense and compressed, but still better than rock. There were roots and mycelium. Tiny insects. If she turned her focus past the stone, she could see them. Little spots of life, of existence. It was too weak, too far away. She needed something more. And plants and mushrooms weren''t her cup of tea anyway. She was no druid after all.


    It did not matter, tough. It was just a warm-up, so far. Lucia looked out of the cell into the darkness, but she did not need light to see. Sure, the iron bars were annoying, but more like a fly, buzzing around in your field of vision. She swatted their aura aside, just like she would with a fly. Her vision followed the tunnel, the gaps in the stone all around them. She saw the other cells. Voids in the gray shimmer, separated by buzzing white beams. She stretched her awareness further and further, her senses alert, while she thought about the tentative agreement she and Baal had reached this morning


    <hr>


    The knight sheathed his sword and stepped towards Lucia, stretching out his hand. ¡°Alright Ms. ''Threewater''. Unlike your ''bodyguard'', you seem amicable enough, so we will honor your request. But only as long as you and your friend stay peaceful.¡± He gave Sven a warning glance. ¡°Please give me your sword and your bag, then we will escort you to the garrison. We''ll keep you there until an examiner arrives.¡± He gave her a patronizing smile. ¡°Or until we hear from the king, of course.¡±


    Lucia had expected that, but that did not make it less of a problem. She had managed to insulate herself from Baal''s more adverse effects back in her mansion in Threewater, but she had no way of protecting others. Mostly, because back then, she could not conceive of a situation, where she''d need to. Well, there was one way to make sure that Baal did not run wild. But that involved a lot of talking. Ugh.


    Lucia reached for the sword on her back. The instant she touched the white hilt of the sword, the world around was replaced by endless black. Before her, a creature with twisted horns and eyes even darker than the void surrounding them stepped from the shadows. The being, whose existence alone was a mockery to all of creation, smiled as it appraised Lucia.


    You want to talk with me? How delightful.


    ¡°Yeah, and if you''ve as much awareness as I think you have, you should know what this is about. I have to give the sword away for now and It would be very irritating if you decide to invade some more minds and run away.¡±


    Curious. Have you considered not giving the sword away? It seems to me there is little these humans can do to force you.


    ¡°Maybe that''s not true for an infernal, but here in the physical world, there are things called consequences. And I do not want to deal with more of them right now.¡±


    I admit, there are things about this world I did not understand when I awoke. Much has changed. But Sven was kind enough to grant me his knowledge of this time, however limited it may be. A favor you have neglected to grant. Nonetheless, I understand much more now. I understand your memories. You did not seem like someone interested in consequences to me.


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    ¡°You know, we humans can change. A tiny bit, at least.¡±


    Oh yes, and isn''t that marvelous? Change. Baal spoke the word as if tasting it in his mouth.


    ¡°I haven''t all day, so let''s get down to business. I propose the following deal: from now on, I will help you somewhat to get back into the Deep, but I will mostly just not actively oppose it. In return, you will behave like a good non-magical sword and simply leave everyone touching the sword in peace, until I get it back. What do you say?


    Agreed.


    Lucia paused for a moment. ¡°That is... great? I did not expect it to be that easy, to be honest. Are you sure that you''ll hold up your end of the deal?¡±


    Let''s just see this as an investment on my part. I have become quite the admirer of your work and I think that working together lies in our mutual interest.


    The real world flashed back into existence around Lucia and the knight snatched the sword from Lucia''s hands. Less than a second had passed, since the beginning of her conversation with Baal. Lucia watched the knight for any sign of possession by a mad infernal, but he seemed normal. Of course, Baal could simply wait until Lucia and the sword were separated before beginning to possess people, but Lucia was somewhat confident in their deal, strange as it had been. According to Aurelius, among the Infernals, only Mephistopheles was known to break a deal. Betrayal was kind of his signature move. The other two known Infernals were rather straightforward in their malevolence. She hoped that the same held true for Baal. Well, no need to worry about it. What is done, is done.


    <hr>


    Lucia''s attention returned to the cell. Or rather to the spot on the first level on the opposite end of the dungeon where she sensed a small creature. Small, yes, but much bigger and more full of life than the bugs in the soil. A rat. She focused on the tiny critter, strained against the tons of earth and rock between them. Lucia calmed her breathing and touched the mind of the rat. It was very difficult, almost impossible even, to control the mind of a living creature. By the time a living thing had something that could be reasonably called a brain, it was far too drenched in the protecting life force to invade. But a rat wasn''t complicated and you did not need full control of it to dictate its behavior. Project the smell of food, the fear of a predator and you have the rat walking right towards you. Just like the piper had taught her all those years ago.


    Luckily, Lucia had memorized the layout of the dungeon as she''d explored it with her senses. She sent the rat scuttling towards their part of the dungeon and after a couple of minutes, it squeezed through the bars into their cell and right into Lucia''s outstretched hands. She dropped the squeaking critter into one of the many pockets on her robe and allowed herself a moment of rest. Then she focused her senses back towards the spot, where she''d found it. Where there''s one rat, there are a hundred. She wasn''t done by a long shot.


    <hr>


    King Gustav the Great, Third of his Name and Sovereign over the Northlands and the F?l Islands sat on his cushioned chair in his private study and was about to finish his midday meal when the Court Chancellor entered the room. The old woman looked at the remnants of the extensive meal with dismay. Stepping out of the doorway, she motioned the servants to enter, meeting the sheepish look of the king with a stern expression. She was probably the only person alive, that could do that without consequence. Walked to the corner of the room, leaning on her cane until the servants had cleaned the table and the king''s clothes of all traces of the sumptuous lunch. Then she sat down in front of Gustav and dropped the documents she had been carrying onto the freshly cleaned table.


    ¡°Ha, you don''t need to look at me like that, Lisa. It''s clear enough what you are thinking.¡±


    Her steel blue eyes met the king as she answered. ¡°You know that your habits will kill you eventually. And sooner rather than later, if the medics are to be believed. I try my best to calm the waves, but you''ve had no more public appearances for almost a year. Not during hearings, not during the festivals. It makes the commoners nervous. And I''m not even talking about the nobles, jumpy lot that they are. It''s getting harder and harder to deny the rumors of your ''condition'', though we are trying our best.¡±


    ¡°Pah, let the nobles think whatever they like. Not that that would change anything.¡± Gustav spat. ¡±They should thank me on their knees that I didn''t take away all their lands after their pathetic excuse for a coup.¡± The king''s voluminous face had taken on an unhealthy hue of red. He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he strained to straighten himself in his chair. ¡°Anyway, I don''t want to talk about this anymore. What have you brought for me today.¡±


    Lisa sighed but obliged. ¡°You will be glad to hear, that there is as always little that needs your direct attention. Ludwig throws himself into the administrative work, much more than he realistically has to. But he seems to enjoy it.¡± Gustav smiled at the mention of his son. ¡°The public hearing yesterday went as expected, but he''s not as liked as you with the commoners. His verdicts tend to be on the harsher side and the people notice. I tried to talk with him about it, but he does not listen to me as you do.¡±


    Gustav waved away the concerns. ¡°Don''t worry, I''ll talk with him about it. Let''s get the work over with.¡± He picked up the first item from the pile on his desk. In contrast to the rest of the pile, all official documents written on the fines adorned paper, it was a hastily written letter sent from the Southwatch guard. He scanned the text. Then grunted and threw it towards Lisa It flapped in the air and landed on her lap.


    ¡°So there''s a fugitive mage at the border not only claiming to be some noble from Angrien but also that I invited her to come here. You have to respect the audacity.¡± Gustav sighed and his big form shuddered. ¡°You perhaps know best of all that I don''t like the fanatics of the Guild in the South, but I can''t let them in anymore if I want to keep the peace. We''ve had this discussion already. Saving a couple of mages is just not worth the price the Guild would exact from us.¡± Gustav gestured to the letter Lisa had picked up again. ¡°Besides, such a ridiculous cover story is not going to turn the scales in their favor.¡±


    A soft smile formed on Lisa''s wrinkled face. ¡°I think there is more to this story than you realize.¡± She placed the letter on the desk again, putting the two halves of the wax seal back together. ¡°This is the actual seal of House Threewater. That is the reason why I read the letter in the first place.¡±


    ¡°You know as well as I that seals can be forged. And the House Threewater doesn''t even exist anymore.¡±


    Now the Chancellor was almost grinning. A very unusual expression for the usually solemn woman. ¡°You know that I was ward at House Threewater back before the madness of the Iron Statute and the Black War, right?¡±


    Gustav gave her a confused look. ¡°Yes, but that was... more than 60 years ago.¡±


    Lisa nodded. ¡°Luise, the eldest daughter of the Duke of Threewater, and a mage, Desrius Farseer, had a daughter, who was a mage as well. She was second in line for the dukedom and apparently a hotshot at the academy. That was until she ran away when I was about nine. They tried to suppress all rumors of what had happened, but Luise looked after me at the court, so I learned of everything that had happened. As far as I know, their daughter did not return before the Cloverbridge raid and after that... Now guess what her name was.¡±


    Gustav looked at the letter again. ¡°Lucia Threewater? Hmm, that is indeed interesting. The report speaks of a young woman, though.¡±


    ¡°Lucia was about twenty, when she ran away so she should be should be 80 if she is still alive. But being a mage runs in the family. The woman we''re talking about could be her granddaughter. And to her claim of being a healer: Desrius was a healer as well as a seer, so it lines up.¡±


    Gustav looked at the letter again, reading it more carefully. The look of quiet contemplation on his face made him almost look like a proper king. ¡°I have no desire to stir up an old conflict in the South and if she asks for support fighting Angrien or anything similar, I will send her away.¡± Gustav took Lisa''s withered old hand. ¡°But I know you think what Angrien did to Threewater was wrong and I see no problem in helping out a fellow noble. We''ll take her here and see what she says. And if she can actually heal me, all the more benefit.¡±


    Lisa flashed a thankful smile and hurried out of the room. ¡°We''ll deal with the rest in a moment, let me quickly send a messenger.¡±


    ¡°But don''t let anyone know who she is,¡± Gustav called after her. ¡°If Augustus finds out, he''ll be foaming with rage.¡± He chuckled at the thought. ¡°I''d love to see that, though.¡±