Ill-Fated: A Journey to Death (Dark Times saga #1)

The Dark Forest

Mandarin simply stared into oblivion, surprised to have missed that obvious possibility. After a very long consideration of considering the advantages and disadvantages of the methods of banishing spirits or trapping them, Mandarin decided that he would rather prefer a handful of terrified servants carrying those, uh, bottles, he had already forgotten their names, than to risk himself with any company while banishing spirits.

One immobility spell and a death spell, or a swing of sword or use of a single arrow, for that matter, would be enough to finish him off. Since he had already given up the advantage of detecting spells being casted, he knew that he would be unable to evade any spell successfully. Almost the entire male population was chosen to accompany Evil Lord as he journeyed to get the Elixir of Power. Unwillingly, Mandarin had told them about their responsibility. There was a small doubt inside his mind that he may be taking his potential attacker with him.

I estimated that there were about two hundred men going on the journey and each one of them carried at least fifty bottles in their backpacks and had a garland of eight bottles around their necks. They all had clear instructions about their role in the journey and Mandarin had warned them already that if any one of them got careless and got possessed by the spirits, he would not hesitate in killing them.

The women and the children gathered near the streets to watch the entire procession pass. I saw, and felt Mandarin notice, that some of the men used the huge crowd gathering to get away from the rest of the group and hide among the women. Mandarin smiled bitterly and then casted a spell.

It was a different spell and, to the escapees’ horror, it turned them into women. Mandarin moved on while the rest were delayed a little as shocks and taunts filled the crowd. “This will remind them to never try to outsmart me.” Mandarin thought and yelled at the remaining men to follow.

It was an eerily quiet journey. No one spoke a word. After passing through the outer edges of the swamp of the ogres, a few courageous ones began to talk and even though they were chastised several times from the other villagers to stay quiet, those gossipers did not stop. Initially, Mandarin was actually satisfied to hear at least something after a long term of silence. However, Mandarin’s patience was taken as permission to talk and soon Mandarin was not even able to focus on his own thoughts. When he realized that in this chaos, some people had tried to slip away, he was very angry. Then he noticed that they were travelling in circles around the edge of the swamp.

“Quiet”, Mandarin yelled and it was so quiet that Mandarin could hear even the flow of water of the stream which passed through the centre of the swamp. After confirming that no one got careless again, Mandarin selected those gossipers who had begun to talk initially and with a spell which could kill them within the next twenty-four hours, he sent them off to locate the escapees.

Afraid for their lives, the cursed villagers did round up all the escapees and brought them back to Mandarin before it got dark. On the condition that they would stop any more escapees, Mandarin lifted his present spell and casted another spell on them which forced them to keep all the villagers together. After effectively dividing responsibilities among the cursed ones, Mandarin sighed and then began to decide the punishment for the escapees.

It was getting dark and so Mandarin decided that they would be responsible for setting up the tents and will do all the chores, except cooking. They were not allowed to eat or sleep in any of the tents. Mandarin decided that it would be safe for everyone’s health if the food was cooked magically instead of risking the entire group in the hands of some inept cooks. On the warning that if Mandarin was dissatisfied with the quality of tents, he would kill them all, Mandarin said that he would spend the night in whichever tent he chose.

Fortunately for those poor escapees, nothing dissatisfied the Evil Lord that night. There was a small illogical doubt in his mind if someone would dare to attack him in his sleep. It was illogical because he had made sure that there was no possible weapon being carried by any of the followers.