The trek through the forest wasn't the difficult part for the two men. It was climbing up the side of a cliff that gave Myron and his taller companion, Bernard, the most trouble. After their interaction with the young maiden at the pond and her equally as young protector, the two made their way to the Caverns of Horek, where their employer took up residence. It was a tall, rocky, edge of a cliff spotted with a series of caves, all of varying shapes and sizes. The cliff itself stretch a great distance in either direction, but it was the center-most caverns they were trying to reach. A makeshift rope ladder hung from a wooden platform some fifty feet above their heads.
"Why do we have ta do this every damn time?" Bernard asked as he looked down at his shorter compatriot.
"What are ya complainin' about? We're gettin' compensated, right?" Myron replied, grabbing hold of the rope ladder. Although he wasn't necessarily an overly rotund man, it still made him uneasy every time he had to climb the rope ladder up to the cavern. It looked aged and a sane man would assume the rope would give way eventually. But alas, the ropes held his weight every time.
"Ya, but this climbin' thing is gettin' ridiculous. Why couldn't he just find a place down here?"
"Why don't cha ask him when we get up there?"
"I just might do that. Ya see? I'm not afraid of him," Bernard replied as he watched his friend shimmy his short body up the ladder. After his friend had climbed a short distance up the rickety construct, he began to follow. Every time Bernard climbed the ropes, he felt as that would be the time he would fall to his death. After all, the ground below was nothing more than solid stone and boulders. A fall from that height would more than likely shatter some very important bones in his body. For the most part, he would stare up the side of the cliff while climbing, trying to ignore the fact that he was so far up the mountainside.
The wooden ledge where the ladder had led was securely fastened to the stone through unknown means. It stretched out connecting to a wooden platform that graced the tremendous entrance of a cave. As the two stood on the platform for a moment to catch their breath, torches began to ignite one at a time from the opening leading a great distance into the cliff itself. Unknown symbols and glyphs lined the cavern on either side of the passageway.
"I still...don't think this...this is a very good idea...Myron," the tall man said hunched over clutching his knees trying to recuperate his breath.
"What's wrong with ya? Yer startin' ta sound like a woman," the stockier man scolded standing himself upright. He tossed a disgusted look at his companion and began his trek into the cavern. Footsteps faintly began to echo as he made his way forward. For a moment, Bernard looked back at the rope ladder and pondered climbing down and being done with this madness. However, Myron had been his friend since childhood and felt it would be a betrayal to leave him behind. Looking back at his friend, he watched as Myron's red hair seemed to become engulfed in the shadows of the cave. Standing upright and letting out a deep sigh of disappointment, Bernard jogged to catch up. Myron was headstrong and often would lead without giving care to whether his friend was following, although the taller man would always be right behind him.
As the two made their way through the cavern, torches continued to ignite with every few steps while the ones prior would extinguish their flames. The passageway was exceptionally long, and the two could hear faint sounds of screaming in the distance. This was a new experience as normally the caverns were eerily quiet. With each step, the sounds of people became louder.
"What ya think that is, Myron?" Bernard asked, breaking the silence between them. It was almost in a whisper as he didn't want anyone or anything to hear the question.
"None of yer business. We're here fer one thing, damnit," Myron replied. The annoyance in his voice was apparent as if to tell his companion to shut his mouth. As the two continued, the screams and cries grew louder still. It sounded as if an entire village of people had been contained somewhere within the cave. Ahead, there had been a fork in the passageway that neither of the men remembered from before. Walking past, they looked down the unknown section and saw a massive wooden door just a short distance from where they stood. Standing guard was a figure adorned in full plate mail armor resting its hands on the pommel of a long sword seemingly thrust into the stone at its feet. There were no visible signs as to whoever was within the armor, only that the wearer stood perfectly still.
"This isn't right, Myron. Let's just go back ta the docks," the tall man blurted out. Bernard felt genuine fear as to what was ahead, and rightfully so. Their employer was shrouded in mystery and gave them both chills whenever he spoke.
"We're bein' paid well. Don't mess this up," Myron replied grabbing Bernard's arm and pulling him forward.
After several minutes of travel, the two men came to an immense set of double doors. They both stood for a moment gathering their composure as they had countless times before. As Myron raised his hand to use the large brass knockers, both doors slowly opened inward. The room before them seemed to come alive with torches, braziers and an unknown blue luminescence shining from behind a great throne of sorts. A silver pedestal stood next to the throne adorned with some kind of yellow crystal suspended on a shaft. Sitting on the throne was a cloaked figure hunched over.
"Come in, Myron and Bernard," the figure said in an all-to-friendly tone. It was almost condescending in nature and always made both men feel equally uneasy. The two stepped into the chamber and slowly walked towards the throne. As they cleared the entryway, doors slowly closed behind them. As they connected together, a loud booming sound echoed throughout the entire cavern. Both of the men, startled from the sound, jumped forward out of reflex. The two walked up to the base of the throne, stopping short of a series of stone steps leading up to the seat.
"We're here, m'lord," Myron said, clasping his hands in front of him. He was trying to hide the fact his nerves were getting the better of him.
"Is it done?" the figure asked, still hunched over seemingly talking to the ground. The hooded cloak and gloves made it impossible to tell with whom the two men were speaking.
"Yes...yes, m'lord. I've paid fer passage on the Sea Maiden, as ya asked."
"Very good," the voice replied. It was more muffled and raspier than Myron remembered the last time he spoke with the employer.
"Ya promised a few gold?" Myron asked fearful of what might happen. The figure has performed some great feats of magic before them, enough to make either man fearful of what the figure could do to them should he be angered.
"Yes. Your pay is in the tray by the door behind you." As the two men turned to make their way back to the doors, the figure slowly raised itself from the throne.
"Myron, you may go, but I have a special task for your friend, Bernard, here," the figure said pointing at the double doors. The set of wooden doors slowly began to open. Myron quickly made his way to the tray and collected the small pile of gold coins. He looked back at his tall friend who seemed to be petrified in place from fear.
"Don't leave me, Myron," Bernard pleaded.
"You can go, Myron," the voice interrupted in that eerily calm tone. With a slight smile, Myron tucked the gold coins close to his chest and quickly made his way through the double doors. He no longer had to share the bounty. Heartbroken that his closest friend abandoned him, Bernard slowly turned towards the figure. He was visibly shaking and his imagination began to overwhelm him with all kinds of scenarios. Again, the doors shut with the same booming resonance after Myron had made his way down the corridor.
"Don't worry, Bernard. What I have in store for you is very, very important."
The fear in the tall, lanky man's expression was apparent as he had no idea what his employer had in store for him. Based on what Bernard had experienced thus far, he doubted it would be anything good. The whole ambiance felt sinister, and he kept running the same phrase over and over in his mind...
You should have run.
"Do you know the hardest part about being me, Bernard? Time is a vessel in which I travel, but the means often degrade much too soon," the cloaked figure stated walking over to the silver pedestal.
"I...I don't understand, m'lord," Bernard forced out. His nerves were beginning to vibrate throughout his body as intense panic began to sweep across his spine.
"Ah, but you will, dear boy," his employer responded while waving a gloved hand above the yellow crystal in the pedestal's shaft.
"What do you need me for, m'lord?" Bernard asked, afraid to know the answer.
"I need a new vessel, dear boy," the cloaked figure responded, turning to face Bernard, "and please, you can call me Magarius."
Pulling back the hood on the cloak, Bernard let out a slight gasp. Before him was the gaunt face of what was once a man. The skin had stretched tightly across the bone while large segments had long peeled free and dangled like scraps of parchment. Most of the left side of the employer's skull was visible and only one eye remained intact within its socket. Bernard began hastily making steps backward at the sight before him, only to bump into the now locked doors. His heart began to race and his panic turned into sheer terror.
"When you live as long as I, it's incredibly difficult to find a suitable form that can last," Magarius said, taking his gloves off. His hands were mostly bone as desiccated scraps of flesh clung steadily. He continued walking towards the tall man as his bladder gave way, creating a growing stain on Bernard's trousers. Magarius let out a heavy sigh at the sight.
"Now, I'll have to clean that as well. You're not making this any easier on me, Bernard," the ghastly form said as he continued his approach. With one hand, Magarius withdrew a sickle from somewhere behind him. Its curved blade had long rusted, but the edge was polished enough to give it a slight twinkle.
"What are you going to do?" Bernard asked, but he already knew the answer.
"Don't fret, Bernard. You are exceptionally special. You should feel honored that I've decided to make you my newest vessel," Magarius replied. Without pause, the horrifying figure brought the sickle to one side and slashed across Bernard's stomach in a swift, backhanded motion. The blade sunk deep into Bernard's core, nearly completely emptying his bowels onto the floor. With a scream of agony, the tall man crumpled into the pile of his own organs. Blood began to pool from his wound. As Bernard lay dying on the floor, Magarius knelt down and lifted the tall man's head to look into his eyes.
"It's alright, my friend. Your body will go to good use," the half-skeletal man assured Bernard. With his final breath, the last thing the tall man saw was a single pale eye and a fractured smile of a man who was missing half of his flesh to complete the grin.
It took a bit of time for Magarius to drag Bernard's body across the chamber. Although being a lich still gave him some supernatural strength, the degradation of his current form made it more difficult to haul the heavier corpse across the ground.
"You are not as light as you look, my friend," Magarius said to the corpse as he heaved. Once the body was resting next to the silver pedestal, the half-skeletal man propped himself up against the throne. He was getting weaker by the moment, much faster than previous resurrections he had experienced. Each transition was taking longer to complete, and he was starting to get desperate to prolong his existence. Pushing himself off of the throne, he gently placed one hand on the crystal and began to mutter a phrase seemingly to himself. With a flash of light, the yellow crystal illuminated the chamber for a brief moment. The half-skeletal remains of Magarius instantly crumpled to the floor in a heap next to Bernard's body.
After several hours resting on its pedestal, the yellow crystal began to vibrate. The sound reverberated throughout the chamber for a moment until it stopped. Then, it released another intense flash of light filling the room. Bernard's eyes fluttered open. Only, it wasn't Bernard himself controlling them. The tall man's body sat upright and surveyed the room. A wave of dizziness caused him to lay back down on the floor.
"It's getting more difficult, my friend," Magarius's voice said from Bernard's body. "I need to find a way to stabilize this before it's too late." He had long lost count of the number of bodies he's used to prolong his existence. While he was incapable of taking control of the living in such a manner, being able to revive in a corpse has been quite beneficial over the years. Sometimes it would take years before a body would come within range of his phylactery. Other times, it was a much quicker experience. Normally, he would embed the crystal within his chest while traveling on the off chance someone would fell him in battle. That way, he would most likely be near a corpse to take over. However, the last few bodies have been taking longer to control even when placed closer to the crystal.
After composing himself, Magarius was standing in front of a large mirror which hung on one of the walls of the chamber. He had been spending time trying to clean himself up while getting used to seeing his new form. Though, the physical appearance was only temporary. It would eventually morph and contort in order to resemble his original visage when first becoming a master of the undead. Magarius suspected the transformation is what caused the flesh of the bodies he takes over to rapidly degrade. Of course, this time was different. The degradation happened almost instantly after casting his most recent spell. As he was trying to adjust the tall man's hair, the massive double doors to his chambers swung open.
"Come in, Darius. What do you think of my new suit?" the ancient lich asked while straightening the color of his cloak. A large, burly man walked into the chamber and approached Magarius.
"A bit...scrawnier than your last body," the large man answered. Magarius looked back at the bearded man and saw a healed scar stretching across his eye.
"That's new. Found a playmate, did you?" Magarius said turning back to the mirror.
"It's nothing I can't handle. I'll find him again," replied Darius looking back at the desiccated corpse resting at the base of the phylactery's pedestal. It laid next to a pile of organs Magarius had pulled out of his new body. Being a lich, he had no use for intestines, a stomach, or any of the other vital parts of the living. Besides, the gouge he made across the tall man's abdomen wouldn't support the innards being tucked back in. At least not without serious sewing, which Magarius had no interest in performing. It would be easier to wear clothing and cover the gaping hole than to spend time trying to close a wound that would never knit.
"Did you find it?"
"No. Maybe you had the wrong village."
"It's possible. Do me a favor and clean up that mess, will you?" Magarius asked nodding back at the corpse and pile of entrails.
"I'm not your handmaiden," the large man replied in an irritated tone. Magarius knew how much Darius hated being asked to do mundane chores. His response brought a smile to the lich's face every time.
"Quite right," Magarius replied with a smirk, "let's go speak with our guests."
As the two exited the chambers, the faint sounds of distant screams echoed down the stone corridor. Although the screams were less panicky than previously, it was apparent there were a lot of scared people tucked away somewhere within the cavern. Magarius walked in the lead with Darius coming up behind his master. Although the large, burly man feared nothing living in the world, he knew enough to respect the power of his liege. Even in his wolf-man form, his master could easily turn him into dust.
"It's been almost a century. Are you sure that little witch was right?" Darius asked keeping a watchful eye on the corridor. It was his job to protect and serve his master, which often meant intervening in assassination attempts. Over the years, he had taken more than his fair share of arrows and spears for his master.
"She has been correct thus far. Perhaps you're right and this just wasn't the correct township," Magarius replied still fidgeting with his cloak. The tall man's slender build prevented the cloak from fitting as well as it had many years ago. But that was on a much different body before it had degraded.
"Maybe if you hadn't killed her so soon..."
"What happened was necessary and unavoidable," Magarius quickly interrupted. The lich didn't kill for the sake of killing. He wasn't a ruthless individual but had no qualms about putting an end to a potential threat whenever he felt the need. During his existence, he had felt the need quite often but viewed each one as justified. The young woman was a talented seer and divined a lot of useful information for the lich in his quest. However, she also saw things she wasn't meant to divulge and had threatened to go to the local constabulary. Her death was simply one of many to keep Magarius hidden and protected from interference.
The two men walked up to the large door where the suit of armor stood guard. It remained motionless as Magarius lifted up his hand, palm outward, and muttered a phrase. The entire door was illuminated with a faint light for a brief moment as a slight clicking sound from a lock could be heard. Seemingly on its own, the door slowly swung on its hinges inward to reveal the massive chamber it concealed.
Before the two men was a vast room carved into the stone. It was filled with a large number of small cages, each holding a single person. Even the children had their own cage, though, many of them stood next to their parents. As they walked in, the screams and chatter of the people came to an abrupt halt.
"Please, sir, help us escape," one of the older men said in a hushed tone, "he's a monster."
"Monster? I'd hardly call myself a monster. A monster would denote a grotesque lack of a moral center, a delight from torture, or perhaps even slaughtering people for the sheer pleasure of it," Magarius replied slowly walking towards the man.
"That voice. But you're not...who are you?" the confused man asked. The body was different but the voice was burned into the man's soul. It was the voice of the one who imprisoned the entire village within the confines of the cave. In a quick flash of light, everyone he knew appeared within the small cells, locked away from their loved ones only to see them through the confines of the bars.
"I may be driven, my dear sir," Magarius continued, "but I'm no monster."
"What do you want from us," asked a younger woman in the next cell over. It was apparent she had been crying.
"Information. Actually, most of you might also contribute to helping me in more ways than you can possibly imagine," Magarius replied raising his voice so that all could hear him. As he walked between the cells, the lich examined each imprisoned soul closely. He wanted to find the perfect candidate for his next experiments. Magarius felt he was close to finding a way to stabilize his condition, but the answer still eluded him. In the past, he would grab a poor soul off the streets that no one would miss. This time was different, propelled by desperation to find a solution before he could no longer move from one body to another. Magarius had no doubt that an entire missing village would arouse suspicion. However, he felt confident the answer to many of his questions lay with this particular townsfolk. Besides, as long as they were careful about disposing of the bodies, no one would be able to track the villagers to the cliff. The spell he had cast earlier made sure of it.
His examination stopped as Magarius looked deep into the eyes of a younger man. He was well-built and appeared as healthy as any human. A small part of the lich was somewhat disappointed he chose Bernard's body instead of having the pick of the litter among the townsfolk. On the other hand, Bernard's visage had been chosen for a specific purpose for later.
"You look healthy enough," Magarius said approaching the younger man.
"Fer what?" the man asked standing his ground. It appeared he had no fear of the lich.
"Yes, you'll do nicely."
"A warnin' to ya. I'll go down takin' a piece o' ya wit me."
"Oh, I have no doubt about that, my dear boy," Magarius replied opening his cloak. He looked down at a series of sticks of varying shapes, colors, and sizes. They were wands of assorted powers, each one possessing a powerful spell. He fumbled through them while humming to himself. The lich got a bit of pleasure from the thought of the man not knowing what was going to happen.
"Not that one...not this one, either. Where did it go?" Magarius said seemingly to himself. It was a bit of a game he enjoyed playing as his prey looked on with confusion and anticipation of what could happen. Unlike many before him, though, the man stood his ground as stone-faced as before.
"Ya better have somethin' there that'll put me down quick," he said unflinchingly to the lanky man before him.
"Actually, I do, my dear friend." Magarius pulled a charcoal black wand from the pocket. He blew on the tip of it as if to signify that it had been dusty, although it was perfectly clean. With a quick flick of his wrist, he aimed the wand at the man and shouted an indiscernible word. An instant spark of light emerged from the wand and struck the man sending him to the ground. The room erupted with screams and yells from the remaining townsfolk.
"Enough!" Magarius shouted. The word echoed throughout the chamber with an unholy reverberation that seemed to touch everyone's soul with darkness.
"You killed him, you bastard!" the older man shouted from his cell.
"No, my dear sir, I put him to sleep. He is much too valuable to me to just kill him," Magarius replied returning the wand to the pocket within his cloak.
"What are ya goin' to do with him?"
"Take him to the room, would you?" Magarius said back to Darius. The burly man walked over to the cell while reaching into the pocket of his overcoat to retrieve a single key. After opening the cell and hoisting the younger man over his shoulder with ease, Darius began walking out of the chamber.
"For the rest of you, I'm looking for a young man who has an ancient artifact in his possession that belongs to me. It's egg-shaped and covered in silver and gold glyphs."
Although Magarius was discouraged to hear that the townsfolk had never seen the artifact, it didn't dissuade him from continuing his research. The last shift from the old body and into that of Bernard took much longer than he would have liked. There were times when, as Darius would put it, "body-hopping" would take a considerable amount of time. But in those cases, it was because there was a lack of a corpse nearby. The lich could only seize the dead if they were within close proximity of the phylactery. Normally, he would keep several bodies in nearby crypts. Unfortunately, decomposition makes for a difficult transition at times, not to mention a rancid appearance. As he often explored outside of the confines of his shelter, the lich had no interest in looking like a decrepit mess.
His goal was to find a way to immortalize the flesh he inhabited. Although he was able to take full control over the fallen, the rate of decomposition continued. Magarius was close to finding a way to sustain dead flesh for longer periods of time before a stalwart wizard intervened. Much to his dismay, the lich's mastery of necromancy and the power he wielded was not merely enough to accomplish his goals.
The body of the once healthy man laid before him on the stone makeshift table. Candles and runes encircled the body in a form of ritual where magic meets science. The limbs were stacked neatly next to one side. The man's chest had been cut open and his face frozen in frightful terror as his life drained away. Magarius stared at the corpse, still unable to wrap his mind around how to keep the body animated without decomposition. After several centuries, and thousands upon thousands of attempts, he was no closer to finding the answer. At least not without the artifact. Since the teleportation from Gaelun's basement, the lich found his research far less revealing than before. Unable to rely on his previous notes and the many books he had at his disposal, Magarius had to start over from the very beginning. Unlike his previous domain, these new lands seemed void of anything necromantic in nature. Even some of his spells and abilities seemed twisted in some fashion. He had no doubt that he would have found the answer by then if he were back in his kingdom. That is as long as he had the artifact in hand. Using a quill, he jotted down notes in a book while drawing diagrams of the experiment in question. Without having reference points from which to work, he had to rely on his own. This meant essentially creating his own library of necromancy. A part of him rather liked the idea of being a pioneer of the dark arts in this strange land. Though, he highly doubted anyone other than himself would have the pleasure of reading his books.
"You probably should have kept that one," Magarius said to himself glancing up and down the body. The man was in far better physical condition than Bernard. Although he had plans for his current form, the lich couldn't help but wonder if he should have sustained this figure for a bit longer and then switched bodies.
"It probably would have lasted you longer," Darius spoke entering the stone chamber. He was carrying a large traveling bag slung over his shoulder.
"What?" Magarius asked to himself as the burly man's voice snapped him out of his fixation on the body. "Ah yes, it's about that time, isn't it?"
"The ship should arrive soon after we do," Darius replied looking over at the body. It began to twitch and wiggle about. Magarius looked back at the dismembered core of the man. It took much longer to animate than any of his previous attempts.
"Well, that didn't work," he said in a disappointed tone. He feared that without his original lab or the artifact, achieving his objectives would be next to impossible. The lich reached out his fingers and muttered a quick phrase. A green spark of energy flew from his fingertips and struck the body of the man. The flesh briefly emitted a faint green light which soon dissipated. What remained of the man fell motionless.
"Do you think this shipment of witch wood will help?" Darius asked lowering the traveling bag to the floor.
"In Yarkspur? Yes. Witcham? Absolutely. Here? I have no idea. It almost seems like the balance of power is in disarray in these lands. In some ways, I am more powerful than I have been in the past. In others, it feels as though the fabric of the supernatural is torn."
"I still don't have as much faith in that little witch as you have," Darius said approaching the table. He was preparing to gather up the remaining pieces of the body to dispose of them down what they called, "the pit." It was a deep borehole leading into a sealed cavern where the two have spent many years tossing remnants of failed experiments.
"I know you don't, my old friend. But you need to trust that we're on the right track. So far, her foresight has been immaculate."
"Or, perhaps it was all coincidental," the burly man replied hoisting the torso over one shoulder and gathering the limbs with his other hand.
"Perhaps. But you can't ignore the fact that she foresaw the cliff, village, and our current situation." There was one other fact that the seer told Magarius that he had no intention of telling his servant.
His demise.
Standing at the base of the cliff, Magarius began putting on his black leather gloves. It was more ritual than practical as he felt no pain nor needed to protect his hands. However, the coverings helped hide his true visage once a body he inhabited started to decompose. For as long as he could remember, though, he always wore gloves when he traveled out in the open. To do so otherwise would make him feel...naked.
"Why don't you teleport us to the outskirts of town? It would save a lot of time walking," Darius grumbled as he hoisted the traveling bag over his shoulder.
"Because I don't have an exact sense of where we would appear. I doubt you'd like to find yourself halfway stuck in a tree," the lich replied walking towards the dense treeline.
"You were able to pull the townsfolk."
"And it exhausted every bit of power I had to make sure each one had his and her own cells. It's quite a delicate process, my friend."
Teleportation was one of those abilities that drained his power, especially in this new land. Without knowing an exact location, Magarius couldn't guarantee where the duo would reappear. The last time he tried a long-distance teleportation spell for himself and his traveling companion, the two found themselves in the middle of a pigpen. While it gave his servant a chance to slaughter a few for the walk home, the lich found the experience indignant.
It was roughly a two-day walk to the town from the cliff. Not too far to make it a full-on adventure, but not too close as to attract unsuspecting visitors. Although Magarius needed no rest, his flesh and blood companion needed to make brief stops along the way. Still, for any normal humanoid, the trek would more than likely have taken four days in total.
During the journey, neither spoke much. Then again, once you've been traveling with someone for a century or so, everything that could have been said has been said. That was aside from the fact that Darius didn't talk much. Out of all the companions Magarius had over the years, his most recent servant was the quietest. That wasn't always a bad thing, though. He remembered one in particular who made her opinions known quite often. She was a handful, to say the least. Although Magarius found her beauty striking, there were times when he contemplated getting rid of her and finding a new lycanthrope.
By the end of the second day, Magarius and his companion arrived at Wellshire. It wouldn't be long until the lich could retrieve his shipment of witch wood to continue his experiments on the remaining townsfolk.
The two men walked into the heart of town without so much as a second glance tossed their way. It was one of the few privileges of taking a fresh body as opposed to a stored corpse. Magarius didn't have to worry about scaring townsfolk into taking rash actions against him. As for Darius, he was perfectly in his right to walk around as a normal man. Although his natural size often intimidated most, his true nature of being a lycanthrope was well hidden.
Wellshire was bustling with life as people carried on throughout their normal routines. Shops were busy, the sound of children's laughter echoed from afar, and the smell of freshly baked goods wafted in the air. That was perhaps one of the things Magarius missed most about being mortal. As a lich, he had no need of food nor drink, and as he remembered, there were plenty of both that he quite enjoyed.
As the two made their way along the main road toward the docks, Magarius saw a familiar face. A short, portly man stood under the shade of an awning in front of a tavern regaling a group of men with a tale. It seemed Myron was able to get along just fine without his friend, Bernard. Although the lich missed the beginning of the story, it was the ending that piqued his interest.
"That's when I told my employer, pay up or I'll slit yer throat," Myron said in a grumbled voice towards the handful of men gripped by his tale.
"Then what'd ya do?" asked a younger man sitting on a nearby barrel.
"I didn't have ta do anything, he paid up and I left. He knew I would follow through with mah threat, so, he had the good sense to give me the gold," Myron replied placing a hand on the pommel of a knife at his hip, "Mah friend figured he would stay behind, probably to beg a few more coins of him."
"That's not exactly how I remember it, Myron," Magarius spoke up from behind the short man. Myron's face drained of color as he recognized the voice. If he had been drinking much more, he surely would have soaked his trousers. He turned to face the voice as the hairs along his neck and back stood on end.
"How er ya doing...Bernard?" Myron asked visibly shaken at the visage before him. He knew that his employer could take over the dead, and since the massive bulk of a man stood next to Bernard's frame, Myron deduced the process had been complete.
"Good. Though, I would like to have a conversation with you, if you're not busy," Magarius replied. Myron didn't dare deny the request. Even though his employer asked in a casual tone, he knew that refusal would be his undoing.
"I'll meet up with ya later," Myron called back to the small gathering of men. The group slowly scattered, some walking back into the tavern.
"I take it the ship is docking soon?"
"Ye..yes, my lord," Myron was visibly shaken. The man he knew most of his life stood before him, but with someone else's voice coming from his lips. Myron's heart pounded and every bit of his soul screamed for him to run.
"Come, let's make arrangements to have the wood shipped out of town."
The plan was to have Myron bring the shipment of wood to the cliff where he would unload the lot. Then, Magarius would decide if the ruffian's usefulness would be better suited for more tasks or as a subject of experimentation. In any case, it was important that the wood be transported immediately. While he was in town, Magarius wanted to visit a few of the shops for some odds and ends that he needed to continue his experiments. The local glass blower, for instance, always had jars and other containers that were some of the most beautifully crafted the lich has seen in decades. Given how long the most recent bodies had lasted after transitioning, Magarius knew that if he didn't take advantage of his form at that moment, he wouldn't be able to later on.
He so enjoyed browsing artisan wares.
As the three men made their way toward the boat docks, a sensation began to vibrate within the chest of the walking corpse. Next to them was yet another inn and tavern, something Wellshire wasn't short of having. The phylactery he embedded within began to feel as though it was slightly humming. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a very long time and only meant one thing.
"It's here," he said in a hushed tone to his traveling companion. Myron had been oblivious to his employer stopping in his tracks and continued his worried walk towards the docks.
"Are you sure this time?" Darius replied watching as Myron walked out of earshot.
"Yes, I'm sure of it." Darius scanned the immediate area. There were several guardsmen walking in the direction of the port, an elderly man smoking a pipe sitting on a bench outside of a chemist shop on the other side of the road, and many people walking about. If the artifact was there, it would be next to impossible to find it.
"Can you tell where it's at?" Darius asked looking back at Myron, who was now a fair distance away.
"No, only that it's here," Magarius replied putting a hand on his chest. The vibrations from the crystal were the strongest he's felt since that night at Gaelun's house. Walking around in a small circle, the lich felt the crystal vibrate strongest the closer he came to the chemist shop. He stopped his circling and fixated on the building.
"The chemist shop?" Darius asked still watching Myron disappear into the crowd near the docks.
"At least in that direction."
"What now?"
"I don't know. With the artifact, I wouldn't need the witch wood," Magarius replied. The tone in his voice shifted to one of excitement. After many, many years, the egg-shaped stone was within his grasp. As his master contemplated their next move, Darius caught a smell in the air that was familiar. For once, it wasn't food. Glancing around the people, his gaze fixated on a pair of travelers walking along on the other side of the road. It was the man who gave him the scar and the little girl. The burly figure of a man slowly made his way behind a pillar that was used to hold up a second-level patio from the nearby tavern. Magarius watched the peculiar behavior of his traveling companion.
"That's him," Darius grumbled trying to look inconspicuous.
"The one that gave you the scar?" Magarius asked looking back at the leather-clad man walking with the girl. He could see how the man would be intimidating to some. There was an air of confidence and power about him, not to mention the finely crafted silver axes tucked within his belt.
"I want him," Darius said as the anger began to swell within him.
"Yes, I suppose you do. But if you did that, we would have much more to worry about that one man and a little girl. Patience, my friend." Magarius knew it had to be much more than coincidence. There was more going on than just a happenstance of coming across the man his compatriot entangled with at the village. The village where he was told to look for the artifact by a seer. Perhaps it wasn't the artifact the witch saw, but the man who would lead Magarius to the stone. The lich watched as the two newcomers nodded a greeting to the elderly man with the pipe. There was a brief conversation before the two made their way into the chemist's shop.
Indeed, much more than coincidence.
Wellshire wasn't necessarily a small town, but it was much smaller than Witcham. There were times when Riley would find himself lost in the alleyways and side roads leading to various homes and farms in Witcham. This new town was considerably easier to manage.
As Riley had a decent working knowledge of herbalism and brewing, it didn't take long for him to find work in the local chemist's shop. Weston Capfell, the owner of the shop, took pity on the young man after hearing Riley's story. Upon his arrival, the young wizard spent a great deal of time trying to gain his bearings. Since most of the herbal shops Master Gaelun had taken him to were owned and operated by mystic folk, Riley thought it would be a good place to start looking for his mentor. That's when he met Weston, a much older man with quite a long white beard stretching halfway down his body. He was a short, thin frame of a man who had obviously seen quite a bit of history unfold before him.
Although the shopkeeper wasn't able to point Riley in the right direction, he did offer the young man a room and employment for as long as he needed. Weston was merely grateful he found someone who knew the difference between grass and sage. He was getting too old to man the shop alone and felt Riley had a trustworthy aura about him. This was aside from the fact that Weston was intrigued by the young man's tale and was curious about how it will end.
Riley had been cleaning the bookshelves while taking note of the different volumes. If he had ever wanted to dive deeper into herbalism or crafting potions and salves of any kind, this was surely the place to find information. He had not seen such a collection since his master took him to Yarkspur a year earlier.
Putting a handful of books back onto a freshly dusted shelf, the door to the shop opened. It triggered the hanging bell that rested above the door frame and in walked an unlikely pair. A taller man dressed in black leather garb stepped into the shop followed by a much younger girl. She was obviously trying to hide her face behind her companion for some unknown reason.
"Good day to you," Weston said walking into the shop from an adjacent room. His gait was slow and stiff with a slight limp on his left side. Although moving about was a great chore for the elderly man, he always seemed to have a smile on his face and had the presence that he truly enjoyed life in all of its splendor.
"And a good day to you," the man in leathers replied walking into the room. As Riley slid the last of the books onto the shelf, he looked back to see a nicely crafted silver axe hanging from the man's belt. Riley began thinking about how it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship when he heard a voice in his head.
"Thinking of replacing me already?" Nerok asked the young man. While the magical dagger was upstairs in Riley's room, he found that Nerok could communicate with him over short distances. And although Weston didn't strike Riley as being judgemental or suspicious, the young wizard felt that hiding Nerok's true nature would be best for the time being. After all, he didn't want others to think he was mentally ill. Riley didn't answer his dagger friend, but instead, let out a sigh and walked over to Weston's side to help him saunter to the wooden counter.
"What...what can we do for you?" Weston's breath was a bit shallow thanks to the difficulty of moving about. He placed a shaking hand on Riley's shoulder to help brace himself.
"I'm not sure if you can. But perhaps you can point me in the right direction," the man said reaching into a satchel and retrieving a book, "what can you tell me about this?" Weston took the ancient tome from the man and carefully examined its cover and binding.
"Well, this is an old book. I'd dare to say it's older than I am," the shopkeeper replied with a chuckle. It wasn't until he opened the book to view its contents that his tone immediately changed. From what he could tell, the pages were, indeed, older than he was. Riley had knelt down next to Weston searching through the shelves of the counter for a piece of glass. It was a spherical lens imbued with the ability to give the user a close proximation of the age of any object within its view. It was a Capfell family heirloom passed on by generations and still functioned as well as it did when it was first constructed. Riley felt that it was part of his job to anticipate the needs of his employer and knew Weston was going to ask for the lens. Just as Riley found it under a pile of rags, the shopkeeper's hand reached down for the piece of glass. The young man placed it into his hand and stood up.
"We found it in the woods," the young girl spoke up from behind the man. Her eyes locked with Riley's and she shied away to hide behind her protector once again. As Weston began scanning over the pages with the lens, Riley got a better look at the writing style of the text. There was something incredibly familiar about the structure and flow but he couldn't quite capture from where he had seen the text before.
"I was right, lad. This book is very, very old, but I don't recognize the writing," Weston said as he began turning the pages. With each flip of the parchment, Riley felt as though he was getting closer to understanding the text. Finally, as Weston stopped on a particularly gruesome page detailing the internal organs of a humanoid, a single phrase seemed to jump out at the young wizard..."the destructiveness of fire." It was written in a special code created by Master Gaelun.
"I do," Riley chirped up with overwhelming excitement, "where did you find this?"
"As the girl said, in the forest. We came across an abandoned manor a couple of days ago."
"Abandoned?" Riley knew that Gaelun would never just leave one of his books behind unless something happened to him.
"Son, this book was written hundreds of years ago, are you sure you recognize it?" Weston asked looking up at the young man.
"Hundreds?" Riley asked with an incredible surprise. Master Gaelun wasn't that old, and the young wizard knew that was his mentor's handwriting.
"Six hundred or so, actually."
"That's impossible," Nerok voiced.
"It can't be." The young man's excitement quickly transitioned to bewilderment. He was positive that was Master Gaelun's book, yet, the lens detected the book as being more than six centuries old. As far as he knew, the lens was always correct.
"Is there any way you can tell me the book's context?" the leather-clad man asked Riley.
"Not off hand. I can make out a few of the words and symbols, but I'd have to study it a bit." Riley's head hung low as he tried to understand the vast age of the book. It hadn't been a month since Master Gaelun shoved him through the mirror.
The man looked down at the book with concern. Weston could tell that it was something of great importance to him.
"Would you be willing to translate it for the gentleman?" the shopkeeper asked looking over at his young apprentice.
"I could. It might take a bit of time, though," the young wizard replied lifting his head to face the stranger, "Can you take me to where you found the book? It might help if I understood the context behind where you actually came across it." The man stood for a moment glancing at the young man. It seemed as though he was trying to peer into Riley's soul for some kind of answer.
"We could work a trade. Translate the book and I'll take you to where I found it." His voice sounded trustworthy. Not to mention having Nerok at his side gave Riley a great deal of courage.
"I can translate some of it as we travel."
"I hope you know what you're doing," Nerok said as Riley fixated on the man's eyes. After a moment of consideration, the man let out a deep sigh.
"Agreed," he said looking back at the young girl.
"Not to interrupt your haggling skills, but there's something wrong," Nerok said with concern, "I feel a dark presence nearby."
Jordan was apprehensive about taking along another young straggler. Due to the inexperience of the young, he felt obligated to do what he could to protect them from danger. Adding yet another child to his party would only make his tasks more difficult. Unfortunately, he felt as though he had no choice. If he wanted answers behind why he traded blows and words with a skeleton, he was going to have to oblige the young man. Besides, it was not like he had anything else to do at the moment. That was one of the freedoms of being a drifter.
"When would you like to leave?" he asked. Riley looked back at Weston, concerned that the old man would feel abandoned.
"Don't worry about me, son. I'm quite vested to hear how this story plays out for ya," he replied to the young wizard seemingly to know the answer before Riley asked the question. The young man's excitement grew with the prospect of finding anything of Master Gaelun's at this manor the leather-clad man described. Riley took a few moments to calculate how long it would take him to collect his gear.
"Is there any way we could leave first thing in the morning?" he asked. Riley could tell the man was getting frustrated. He also knew that he was holding all of the cards at that moment. If there was one thing that Master Gaelun had drilled into his head, it was to never be taken advantage of by anyone.
"I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Jordan replied raising an eyebrow with a half-smirk across his lips. He thought it was a bit comic that a brave hunter who has fought a vast number of battles and faced off with grotesque enemies was now playing nursemaid to a ragtag group of kids.
"Not if you want that book translated," Riley assured him with an assertive tone. If it were any other situation, Jordan would have just wished the young man a good day and been on his way. But the oddity of self-aware undead was just too much to ignore. Something about the situation was gnawing at him to understand.
"Then I guess we have a deal. I'm Jordan and this is Charlotte," the man said reaching out to take Riley's arm.
"I'm Riley," the young man said taking his arm as a confirmation.
"And I'm Nerok, though you can't hear me," Nerok interrupted.
"Tomorrow morning, then. I'll meet you out front," Jordan replied bowing his head slightly.
"Are you sure we can trust him?" Nerok asked.
"We don't have much of a choice," Riley replied. Jordan stopped and looked at the young man who was starting to blush from embarrassment.
"You're right, we don't." Riley could see the slight suspicion creeping across Jordan's face. The young wizard forced a bit of a smile in the hopes that the leather-clad man would accept his statement as a matter of fact for their situation and not a reply to an imaginary friend. Jordan turned to walk toward the door, Charlotte still clinging close.
"Graceful," said Nerok.
The young wizard hurriedly made his way to the small room Weston gave him. He had some packing to do and a few things to take care of before starting his adventure in the morning.
"What was the dark presence you felt?" Riley asked into the air as he began shoving a few articles of clothing and keepsakes into the bag.
"A darkness similar to that in the forest. But this one was far more powerful and far too familiar," Nerok replied.
"What do you mean?"
"It's a long story. But not to worry, the darkness has faded."
Riley spent the remainder of the day packing provisions and everything he could think of needing for the journey. It didn't take him long considering the young wizard didn't have a lot of gear, to begin with.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Nerok asked hoping to get some reassurance that the young man, indeed, knew what he was doing.
"It's the only lead we have to find Master Gaelun."
"If Weston is correct, Gaelun would have died centuries ago." Riley stopped packing and looked up at the ceiling. He had hoped to find his master and figure out a way to get home. But Nerok was right; the old man would have died long before then. The young wizard drew in a deep breath as he prepared his mind for the truth.
"I know. Let's just hope we can find some answers out there," Riley replied looking back at the dagger resting on his bed.
The young wizard continued to push various items into the satchel. Dried foods, books, jars of various concoctions he had put together while learning what he could from Weston, it all seemed to fit quite nicely.
"How much can I fit in this thing?" he asked more to himself than Nerok.
"You'd be amazed, my boy. Are you about done trying to fit your room into that bag?"
"Not quite, there is still one more thing I need to do," Riley replied turning to walk out the door.
*****
It was nearing evening when Tessa made her weekly visit to the clothier in town. The seamstress was quite talented and created some of the most elegant dresses the young girl had ever seen. Her bodyguard was close behind, insisted by her step-father to keep an eye on her. She had been keeping a watchful eye for Riley when she walked about town. And every so often, she would see him and smile. Unfortunately, the bodyguard of the day would only allow the briefest of exchanges. Tessa felt more like her step-father's prisoner than a daughter. She was certain if it wasn't for her...gifts...that he wouldn't care as much.
"Good evening, Tessa. And what brings you by today?" Lady Arnette was a middle aged, fine-figured woman who could put together scraps of cloth and leather to create a magnificent blouse. She was one of the few people in town who wasn't afraid of Burgomaster Caldwell and treated Tessa like the young woman she was.
"Good evening, m'lady," she replied with a curtsy.
"I wish you wouldn't do that. My name is Arnette, not m'lady," the woman said with a smile, "I think I have something you might like to see, today."
"Oh? Something wonderful I hope."
"You could say that." Lady Arnette began to usher Tessa toward the back of the shop. The bodyguard stood at the door with a keen and watchful eye. He knew better than to interfere with the young woman. His job was to keep her from the general public, not to watch her try on clothing. Besides, Lade Arnette wouldn't have it. She has been known to not pull a punch when men cross boundaries, and the last thing the guard wanted to do was to explain a blackened eye to Caldwell.
Arnette brought Tessa to the far corner of the shop. Before her on a table was a sprawling beautiful red silk dress.
"Oh, that is lovely," Tessa exclaimed running her fingers across the fabric.
"Take your time," Arnette said with a smile as she turned to walk away.
As the young woman continued to appreciate the dress, she felt a familiar sensation. It was one that she had felt several times over the past month, and it was one that she wish she could explore further.
"Where are you?" she whispered as a smile quickly swept across her lips.
"Wow, you are good," Riley replied, "I'm under the table." She had only been able to speak with him a handful of times since the young man's arrival in town. Her bodyguards never allowed for more than a few brief words. It was her step-father's suggestion that she kept herself pure. However, she found herself thinking of the young wizard quite often.
"If they catch you..."
"Which they won't. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."
"Goodbye?" she asked with deep concern.
"Yes. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I may have some answers about how I got here."
"How long will you be away?" There was quite a long pause after Tessa's question. Riley didn't know what to say to her. It wasn't like they were in love or anything. But there was something kindled between the two of them.
"I don't know," he finally replied. She was saddened to hear that he was leaving.
"You will return, won't you?" Again, another long pause as the young man sought an answer.
"I don't know."
"I would very much prefer it if you did." His heart began to pound, but he wasn't sure if it was from her soft spoken words or because he was under a table draped with cloth and hiding from a large, burly man who looked like he could break every bone in his much smaller frame.
"Then I will do what I can. I promise."
"Tessa, we need to go...now," a voice boomed from across the shop. The bodyguard's voice was gruff and commanding without an ounce of respect.
"Be careful," she whispered to the table and turning to walk toward the door.
The shopkeeper gave Tessa and her bodyguard a few moments to walk down the road before heading to the table in the back. Arnette lifted up part of the cloth draped across and covering the underneath to smile at Riley.
"You're playing a dangerous game, little man," she said helping him out from under the table.
"Why is her father so overbearing?" Riley asked standing to his feet.
"Step...father. He's always been that way since Tessa's mother passed. Her life has been quite sheltered from the world, and it's so sad to see how something so beautiful wilts on the vine."
"What do you mean?"
"Until a month ago, I don't think I've seen that girl smile for more than a few moments at a time. Lately, though, she's been a different person." Arnette could tell how infatuated Tessa was with Riley. The young girl talked about him as often as she could out of earshot of her guards.
"Well, thank you for helping me."
"It's my pleasure. Anything I can do to see that girl smile."