Mageslayer Ch. 06

There were plenty of cures for cold iron available in the hells, liquid moonlight was the mainstay for those who weren't shape changers like her, but even then, treant sap was much cheaper than fermented magic, let alone fermented magic refined by some fae blue moon bullshit. Still though, she trusted Lirc, as much as she allowed herself to, and his price wasn't obscene. If visiting his shop wouldn't aid her, it wouldn't have appeared to her. She'd be tired and low on venom for a while, sure, but if he thought there was a better remedy, he would have offered it, it wasn't in his own interests to waste away the valuable substance either. "Deal." She said simply, shuddering as she saw him collect the drop on his index finger, and then felt as it brushed against her cut. It didn't burn, but it did tingle, like the aftershocks of a held back and powerful climax, and she didn't restrain the moan that built in her throat. Before she knew it, or really processed the almost, but not quite alien sensations, the man had stepped back, his finger no longer pushing into her breast, which now entirely lacked any sign of having ever been wounded, back to its healthy crimson color. Moreover, she felt different, she wasn't sure how exactly, but her head felt clearer, her breath came cleaner, a tightness in her chest barely there loosened. She looked up at Lirc, surprised. "You... Broke my contract."

He smiled, peering down at her with a sightless gaze. "You may still complete it, if you wish, but I offer you a chance to right your path, if it now is off course, bound no more to the devil's whims. Think more clearly, consider where you go from here. Now then, regarding your payment..."

*****

Maddie still tasted her own blood, still felt tingles through her body at letting that much magic course through her. She had just banished a succubus, and couldn't help but feel giddy at the accomplishment, even though every part of her brain was detailing why she should be terrified. She watched as Lori's eyes closed, but her chest continued to rise and fall, if anything the Mistress's breaths were less shallow now. She glanced towards the prone form of Eric, now missing a hand, a small pool of his own blood underneath him. He was still breathing, she didn't know whether to pity him or finish the job, her mind flashing back to what he did to Sam, what he tried to do to her. She settled for leaving him to bleed out, if he died, so be it, if he didn't, he still wouldn't be able to hurt her again.

She went towards her shack as quickly as she could, sweat stuck to her forehead despite the cool night, she had stopped bleeding, but there was still a crust of partly dried blood around her nose and ears. The large brown stallion still stood near her shack, obviously nervous, but it hadn't run off. It was a destrier, one of the larger ones by the looks of it, she looked at it for a moment before bringing what she had once heard Sam call it to mind. "O'rei," Maddie spoke in her best attempt at a soothing voice, slowly approaching the horse before patting it on its flank. It calmed slightly, snorting and eyeing her. She didn't know exactly what Lori was talking about with Elzithu's tree, but she knew she didn't want to walk the mile or so distance. The horse stiffened slightly, tensing as it knew it was going to accept a rider, and she barely managed to pull herself onto the saddle. She had ridden a horse before, Ale had needed her to do some surveying around the perimeter of the estate, but that was a pony, the destrier she found herself on now was massive in comparison, a true warhorse, with a heavy leather saddle and reigns that she felt the weight of as she lifted. The ground looked so distant, and she could see the outline of the horse's well defined muscles. It was a steed meant to charge while covered in barding and carrying an armored rider, in comparison to that, she was nothing. O'rei snorted and stomped a hoof, and she directed him forwards, soon making her way through the woods at a quickened trot.

When she arrived at the clearing that contained the ancient iron oak, she almost didn't recognize it. Its branches were curling in towards the trunk, like the many withering leaves rotting on them. The usually striking pale gray bark was darkened, looking more like iron than the normal silver color it was more comparable to, ironically she supposed, given the name. Still though, the tree was an imposing form, massive and towering above the rest of the surrounding forest. Its spiderweb like tangle of roots seemed brittle and shriveled, but they still strangled the ground, sucking life out of the earth and keeping the tree alive. There was an almost black rot spreading across some of the bark, almost fluctuating and moving, like a living thing. Well, a living creature. She climbed off the horse, stumbling over a root but not letting herself trip. Soon she saw the origin of the blight spreading around a large section of the gargantuan iron oak. A sleek blade was embedded near the base. It must have been tougher than steel, or magicked, to pierce the notoriously tough bark. She gripped the hilt, it felt like a dagger, a simple, but high quality leather grip jutting out of the wood. Pressing a foot against the tree, she tried pulling it out, falling on her rear as she to her own surprise met almost no resistance, like the oak itself was trying to push it out already. A drop of sticky black fluid landed on her forehead, coming from the blade. It was a mix of sap and something else that smelled sickly, causing her to gag and toss away the blade which was entirely coated with the stuff. She wiped the gunk off her forehead, smearing it on her skirt. The effect was instant, the black coloration around the puncture site began to regress and eventually fade, as the entire tree became slightly more vibrant. Some kind of powerful poison had been being used, probably being kept at bay by Elzithu's magic, which now allowed the tree to rapidly recover.

She took a few moments to carefully clean the blade that she thought may be cold iron based on its coloration, taking a small sample of the poison and sap mixture and placing it in a vial. Taking both back with her back to the garden and her shack, once more riding the more comfortable seeming horse. She'd need to treat Lori's wounds, and figure out a story to tell when the expungers inevitably came knocking from the massive amount of magic she channeled to banish that succubus.

Arriving back at the garden she dismounted once more, patting O'reil on the head as he once more snorted, glancing at the crumpled form of his previous master, no longer bleeding, but seeming to still be breathing, albeit barely. A few feet away from him was the prone form of Lori, dirty and certainly damaged, but breathing steadily. Maddie went to her, trying to scoop her up, grunting as the lithe neko was thankfully light enough for her to lift, albeit barely. She placed the neko on the horse, who tensed but then relaxed, staying still enough to let the sleeping cat girl lie on his rump. Maddie left the horse to go into the garden, and the magic circle it concealed within itself. She walked to the position of the archdruid and looked up towards the moon. The shadows of the carefully trimmed tree branches blocking it let her know it was about first moonlight, likely another two hours before high moon, where the circle would be its most generally powerful. She didn't want to wait that long. The bane of cold iron would have a lot of time to wreck even more havoc on Lori's body by then, and while she may fully recover, there was always the risk she wouldn't. Her eyes were beginning to falter from the darkness around her, she had fairly good night vision, but as the remnant fae magic from the banishment continued to leave her, she realized that was the only reason she had been able to function so far in the darkness of the night without aid. The moon was waning, which was fortunate.

Maddie swallowed a knot that had formed in her throat, she needed to create liquid moonlight, that was the only cold iron remedy she knew of that she had any chance of getting for Lori. It was a ritual she could technically perform on her own, but it normally required a large amount of magical power, well beyond what she had. She blushed, knowing that she couldn't have Lori share her energy in the dangerously addicting way she did this time. If she was lucky, there was still some lingering magic from the banishment that she could use. She continued to look up impatiently, glancing down once more before the shadows the moon created lined up, and first moonlight arrived. There was a birdbath near the center of the garden, luckily it only needed to be filled with water, which it already was.

Maddie closed her eyes, beginning to chant in the ancient language that made her tongue feel heavy, like her saliva was tar. Primordial. She felt the tingle of magical energy prick at her skin, the circle, the moon, was asking for her to give. She felt her feet go numb, letting what little magical energy she had go into the earth, into the circle, soon the numbness spread to her legs, up to her knees and then thighs. The circle was hungry, the moon wanted payment. She was giving more than she had. She was rooted to the ground, even with the enhancement of the circle, it was tired, the banishment took more out of it than it did her, she swore she could hear the low groan of the forest as it strained to fuel the ritual she was performing. The conditions were far from perfect, but they met the requirements, the moon was shining and she had a vessel of water, not pure rain water like would be ideal, but still. It should be enough. It had to be enough. She knew what cold iron could do to a half fae, especially one already tired and injured like Lori was if left to fester, the bane could permanently damage her aura, it could spread like a cancer. Cold iron was the very essence of the material plane. It was mined only there, far from any leylines or other magical lattice, rare as a result.

Normal iron at that point, albeit with notably less ambient magic than typical, it then had to be smelted at a low temperature, with the heat of ancient ironoak. No flames could be made, nor could it be tempered with water or other ordinary means. It had to be beaten slowly into shape, just hot enough to shape without breaking, and then left to cool of its own accord. Only surface deposits were viable too, the forging took painstaking process to only use only the least magically infused, elementally touched metal, and to not introduce the touch of the elemental planes and their magic to it. The iron oak fuel could not be allowed to combust, but had to be burnt to ash regardless, taking days at a time. This didn't allow it to release any of its magic, to react to the world around it. The favored tree of many fae was destroyed, made into entirely mundane ash. The magic null metal is desperate to absorb some kind of ambient magic, and that is the closest it can come. It absorbs the very act of destroying magic, becoming unique in the regard that it from then on repels and rejects magic rather than absorbing it to some degree like every other material. To a creature outside of the confines of mortality, a demon or a fae, spirit or elemental, a creature built on magic, the metal doesn't harm their flesh as much as it harms their very essence. For a half fae, for Lori, it was arguably worse, even the brief contact was trying to tear her soul in two. It wasn't as hard as adamantine, or even steel or good bronze, but its anti magic qualities made it incredibly potent.

"Another creation of humans to destroy what they don't understand. Another tool to rend the very world they call home. Another accursed design to create an abomination of metal and pain." Maddie dared not open her eyes in the middle of the ritual, the numb feeling was up to her breasts, and she could barely move her arms. She was calling on ancient spirits, the very essence of the moon, their form was not meant for her sight. If she survived seeing whatever she saw, they would take her eyes as payment. The voice she heard came from all around her, more ethereal than the god she had spoken to, more whimsical than the archfae who used her like a toy. It wasn't masculine or feminine, it transcended any such adjectives, trying to describe how it sounded was like trying to describe how silence tasted, how the color purple smelled. It was like seeing an entirely new color, she could have never even envisioned its existence previously, but now it seemed mundane, if still indescribable. Her breathing quickened, but she continued her chant, continued her task. She would not fail, she could not.

"She closed her eyes thinking she would wake up. But she won't. Already the hurt metal is prying her soul in parts. She had been scratched by it before, but never this drained. Never this... Vulnerable. You do not give enough. You want to borrow the very light the moon provides, but even our words cause your legs to tremble. We have always understood that humans do not hold the same power we possess. But this is a feeble attempt. We were among the first. The first to teach your kind the sylvan arts, to allow you to mimic us. You same humans spit back in our face, not you, but your kin. You are not worthy of the gifts of the fae. The moon shines down on you and you crawl away to hide. The-" The spirits continued to speak, there were many but they spoke as one. She could feel them around her, a dozen, maybe more. Her neck grew numb as more magic left her. Only invisible and ethereal sylvan hands kept her upright. Her chanting stopped. It had to. She couldn't.

"Shut up!" Anger caused her voice to tremble. Where once her mind had been filled with fear and dread, now it was rage. She was already thinking those things, she didn't need to be reminded, she couldn't stand being reminded. She was tired of being scared, scared of Eric, of the succubus, for Lori, of her very own interest in magic, of the magocracy and the expungers who would erase her given the chance, and now of some ancient fae spirits who have nothing better to do than mock her. She had just banished a demon to the Hells, she had taught herself circle magic by pulling together scraps of books and countless hours of research. She steeled her nerves and opened her eyes.

There were hundreds of hands, or what kind of seemed like hands. No beautiful male or female forms like she was expecting, no distinct forms at all. She could barely make out the impression of faces, an ethereal gray glow, but they didn't seem to have any body, just many, many hands. They were still somehow lithe and graceful, floating above the ground, there weren't distinct individuals, but she still knew there were multiple, but there was only one thin mouth that a chorus of impossible voices came from, even though the sound surrounded her. She felt like she was looking at a projection, a shadow, something distorted and wrong because that was the only way she could see it at all. Hands gripped her legs, her skirt, her thighs, her breasts, they felt like nothing, just spreading an overwhelming numbness where they touched. She heard a shriek, or more the beginning of a shriek. The chorus wailed and cried, not with any emotion she could identify, maybe with every emotion at once. She felt her vision blur as she took in the sight of the ancient spirits. She felt like her mind was trying to split, like she wasn't meant to comprehend it and by doing so her very mind was twisting in on itself, tearing itself apart. More hands clutched at her, ghostly fingers digging into her nostrils, grabbing her ears. She was nothing compared to what she was seeing. What she saw was impossible for her to ever comprehend, it was beyond what she could ever understand. Her head ached as her mind continued to try anyway, bending itself until it would break.

But she didn't let it. It stretched and twisted and bent, but Maddie didn't let her mind break. She would understand, she wouldn't give these assholes the dignity of being unknowable. Fae were expressions of an aspect of life or nature. They were personifications of abstract ideas. These were somehow expressions of moonlight, which made no sense to her, they were impossible. Moonlight was simple, mostly. She could look at it and understand it, but she couldn't with these. Nymphs were personifications of passion, they were impulsive, they made sense. But she was looking at things the wrong way. She felt her mind bend once more, but not in a way that made her head sear with pain. She understood passion, so she understood nymphs. She didn't understand these creatures not because they were unknowable, but because she didn't understand moonlight and assumed she did. Hands were reaching for her eyes, but she shook her head, the numbness was gone, she felt a surge of strength. "I understand. You are the fae of moonlight, not the moon. You dispel lies, make illusions clear. But you do not know why, you are nothing more than a messenger, you do not understand your purpose, and are but a reflection, an image, an illusion yourself, like all light. You are only observed because you can be absorbed and reflected. You are ethereal, powerless without someone to receive a message. You only exist because I allow you to, because I believe you do, yet you are meant to dispel such illusions. You need me, I do not need you." She spoke with a certainty she didn't know how she felt. She didn't even entirely know everything she was saying, some of it seemed like nonsense, but it wasn't. And with her words, more shrieks and wails as the hands recoiled away, and she stepped forwards. She wasn't scared anymore. She didn't speak in primordial, but focused her mind. Moonlight only existed because people thought it did, because it appeared to exist. It was simply light that took the ambient magic of the moon, of the lunar expanse.

The fae spirits were gone, but the ritual wasn't done, it had been irreversibly disrupted, her little investment of magic still leaving her wobbling was wasted. But it didn't matter. She now knew what she needed to do. Moonlight and cold iron were one in the same. A catalyst absorbing a very specific type of ambient aura. Opposite auras though. One the creation and enhancement of magic, the other the destruction. Liquid moonlight was the same principle, just concentrated. Cold iron worked because it was kept magically inert up to that point. Maddie walked back to the horse and Lori's slumped form, and etched the rune of the moon on her chest with Lori's own blood.

<3 <3 <3 <3

Lori convulsed as her eyes darted open. She was in her room. For once Elz was not with her. Her mind raced for a few moments, a flood of memories. She could sense time had passed, at least a day, maybe more. The searing pain in her neck was gone, and she felt the reassuring embrace of her aura once more. Her chest tingled, when she looked down she saw a symbol, a rune of the moon if she recalled right. It rested just above her cleavage, dried blood, probably her own. She was mostly nude, only in some comfortable undergarments, though she grimaced as she felt them soaked through with sweat, the entire bed was. She both felt worse and better than she had in weeks. She placed a thumb against her throat, groaning as she still felt the outline of a shallow cut. There went any hope it wouldn't scar.

She forced herself out of bed, her limbs still weary from who knows how many hours of rest. She discarded the felt beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, her hair was getting matted and knotty, and she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. She went to her dresser and the mirror on it, glancing at her face. She looked terrible.

A cool bath and almost an hour of fussing over her own hair later, she dressed in a her usual attire. She realized she had started to let her status rub off on her, a month or so ago and she didn't care about looking like shit, let alone her hair having some knots. But especially with Elz's strange way of doting on her, she had taken how well groomed she had become for granted. She had almost died, she came closer than she realized. Even that scratch almost got her killed. But it was over now. The manor was still in some disrepair, but it was recovering, things quickly were returning to normal. Servants still performed countless tasks, horses were still being bred and raised, and the loyal guards remained. She didn't know who the new Marshal was, or even what happened to Eric. That could wait. What she wanted right now was her master.