Mud and Magic Ch. 11

"Hell yes," Celeste said, closing her fingers around Desire's. The goddess' fingernails extended into long, wickedly sharp claws which dug deeply into Celeste's wrist, drawing blood.

"Then our contract is sealed. Go, and save your dear Rhys." Desire withdrew her hand, licking a single drop of blood off a curved talon.

Celeste closed her hand around the mangled wrist and exerted a fraction of her power. The flesh knit under her fingers, the spilled blood absorbed back into the body. When she looked up, she was alone. Desire had left.

She heard loud, angry footfalls come closer. Shrugging, she opened the door and left Rhys' room. Zentam was stomping down the hallway, fully armed and armored.

"Looking for me, merchant?" Celeste purred. "Sorry I couldn't join your party earlier."

"Ye have quite the nerve prancing around like ye own the place," Zentam growled. "Have ye no shame, ye hussy? That poor elven gal is weeping her eyes out and ye made Hilgrun throw a fit at her on top of that!"

"I really don't have time for this 'knight in shining armor' bullshit," Celeste snarled. "Out of my way."

"Not until ye apologize!" He fell silent, his eyes focusing on something just above her breasts. The dwarf's eyes went wide. "What have ye-?"

Celeste barked a word and threw out her hand. Zentam flew away from her, driven off his feet by a monumental gust of pure wind magic. She heard him crash through the banister in the stairwell. There was a second, much uglier crash as he hit the bottom. A moment later, she heard Thurguz' confused bellow.

"I don't have time for you, old man," Celeste snapped. Instead of heading for the stairwell herself, she changed direction and stormed towards the balcony door. Hilgrun came her way. The barbarian stopped in her tracks and yanked a decorative sword from one of the armors lining the corridor.

"I don't know what just happened, but you'll stop what you are doing and apologize to Elara! Even-"

"Even if you have to drag me by whatever body part you spontaneously can come up with?" Celeste said. "Try me, girl."

"That's it!" Hilgrun yelled, charging at Celeste, sword raised for an overhead strike. "Fuck being Faedal's victim, fuck Elara's pleas, your ass is-"

Celeste didn't wait for the rest of her war cry. Manipulating the magnetic forces surrounding the blade was easy enough. Hilgrun gasped as the weapon was torn from her hand. The sword hovered in front of Celeste's face, the tip only a finger's width from her eyes.

"Someone could get hurt if you wave that lump of metal around," she snarled. A quick gesture turned the weapon around. Hissing, it sailed through the air, impaling the barbarian and nailing her to the closest wall. "Wouldn't you agree, sunshine?" Celeste purred. A horrible, wet gurgle answered her. A quick shot of earth magic took care of that, cutting off Hilgrun with a freshly shaped bit of wall.

The balcony door opened practically by itself and Celeste stepped into a murderous snow storm. She snarled and drew a cocoon of warm air around herself which the piercing ice crystals couldn't penetrate. Another jolt of earth magic turned the balcony door into a piece of wall. She needed a bit of peace and quiet to plan her next move and a tower full of madmen didn't help with that.

Finding Rhys was surprisingly difficult. Even with her new powers, she couldn't quite pinpoint his position. He has to be somewhere in the elven woods. Maybe once I'm there, I will find him, she thought.

"Wait for me, Rhys," Celeste said, her own voice barely audible over the screaming of the storm. She stepped onto the balcony's wide rail. "I'm coming to save you."

She jumped. Obediently, the storm granted her the wings she desired. It would not take long for her to reach the elven woods at all.

* * * *

"Hello." The voice was bright and lively and it came from right beside his head. Rhys opened his eyes. The world around him was blurry and out of focus, but substantially brighter than the elven crypt, especially since his glow stone had met a fiery end. A strange hum seemed to suffuse his body. It wasn't the ground shaking. If anything, that strange frequency seemed to come from everywhere at once, barely noticeable unless you concentrated on it.

There were more important things to worry about than some subliminal hum. He could clearly see three pairs of legs. Borna's were easy enough to recognize, with their inverted knees and hooves. But that wasn't important either.

Lying next to him, less than a hand's width away, was a pale elven girl. Her hair was like spun silver, pooling around her head like an icy lake. Her face was ageless like Elara's but completely different in structure, with a pronounced chin, beautiful snub nose and high cheekbones. Her eyes were of an eerie lavender and appeared very large. His eyes wandered down her body. She wore a dark gown, with a deep neckline ending just above her navel. Her breasts were gentle curves more hinted at than anything.

"So... many questions," Rhys muttered, remembering his manners. He locked gazes with the strange girl.

"It's been ages since someone looked at me like that," she said, her grin shockingly naughty. "Most people who see me start screaming in an instant."

Rhys tried to raise a hand and failed miserably. "Before we go any further... am I dead?"

The elven girl giggled. "No. Not at all. I've allowed your soul to join me on the other side."

"Other side? So I am dead?" Cold dread ran down his spine.

The girl shook her head. "No, silly. If you were dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation." She sighed. "In technical terms, your consciousness resides on the Ethereal Plane at the moment, slightly removed from the Prime Material. This is the realm accessed by most Teleport magic and, coincidentally, the realm many incorporeal entities inhabit. Finding your feet may be a bit daunting at first but a clever boy like you will figure it out. Look." Still on her side, she drifted upwards, then her legs pivoted downwards and she sank down again, her feet almost touching the ground.

"What about my friends?" Rhys asked. "They'll probably think you killed me." He tried to move his legs under his body but nothing happened.

"Even if they did, they can't reach us here," she said. "You are still trying to move your muscles, right?"

"Yes. You mean I shouldn't?"

"Many apprentices I have taught found it easiest to think about the Ethereal as a dream realm and in some ways, they have been correct." Her gown shifted shape and color, turning into a brilliant gold. The body underneath had changed as well, filling out the gown much more prominently. "See?"

Rhys stopped sending commands to his limbs. Instead, he applied what he had learned through the countless hours of training with Idunn. He reshaped himself into a sitting position, legs crossed and body upright. Without a damaged knee to worry about, he easily managed a comfortable position.

"Bravo," the girl said, bowing formally. "Introductions are in order, I think. My name is Haloryth Vasadil, third High Mage of Sunleaf. Or rather, that was my name when I was alive back then." She smiled apologetically. "I am the guardian spirit of this house. Crypt." She cast down her eyes. "And I have failed. Twice already."

Rhys imagined himself into a standing position and offered a bow of his own. He had seen both Elara and Moril do this whenever they had met at the Tower. "A pleasure to meet you, milady. I'm Rhys."

"Yes?"

He grinned. "Just Rhys. Simple farm boy turned somewhat-sorcerer."

Haloryth laughed at that. "That is an interesting title if I ever heard one. Most sorcerers I knew wouldn't stop boasting about their prowess, how they sheared off mountain tops to create their flying fortresses or tamed roaring beasts to draw their carriages."

"What's there to boast about me?" Rhys asked. "Recently, everything I try goes horribly wrong. I can't even control my own power any more."

The guardian spirit gazed past him. "Hm. I'm not sure what constitutes success these days but I see one of my kind, one of the Fallen and a champion of Desire arguing about how best to save you. Seems you have interesting friends. That creature touched by Desire in particular seems very worried about you." She smiled at him. "Are you blushing?"

"Um... yes. And yes again. You are frighteningly perceptive."

Haloryth walked... nay, drifted around him, looking him up and down. "I have to be. When I was alive, I dealt with delicate magics which could, if handled clumsily, alter the world in frightening ways. And as a guardian spirit... Well, the job is in the title."

"What do you want with me?" he asked.

"Like I said. I have failed in my duties. You seem like a nice person - and the only one who could understand me."

"Now that you mention it... why can I understand you? An ancient elven ghost..."

"Telepathy, dummy." Haloryth grinned playfully. "In the Ethereal, there are no words. Just thoughts. But to be able to ... talk, I needed you here. And only sorcerers and wizards can enter the Ethereal without peril."

"I'm confused. What about Teleports?"

"I said 'enter,' as in 'remain longer in here than it takes to cross a few thousand miles at the speed of thought.' Teleporting is an instantaneous effect versus the prolonged exposure to raw Ether you are experiencing now." She threw her hands up. "Don't you kids learn anything these days?"

"Forgive me but, so far, I've had barely two months of training, and most of that has gone towards Alteration magic."

"Oh my," Halorith said, her eyes going even wider. "And I thought you had a few decades of learning under your belt, considering how effortlessly you blew up the whole embalming hall and the adjacent storage rooms."

Rhys hung his head. "That was an accident - and I'm not sure if it even was a lucky one, considering I blew out Borna's ears."

"You took out two dozen corpse eaters, which nicely arcs back to my problem. I can't stop the defilers from wreaking havoc with my descendants. I've failed once before because that damned Desire cleric caught me and deposited me in a Soul Trap. And now I can't intervene because that new defiler is one of my own relatives." A spectral tear spilled down Haloryth's cheek.

"Whoa, slow down. I'm no ancient, extremely intelligent elf mage. Have pity on my human faculties."

"What luck that everything here works at the speed of thought," Haloryth said, grinning. "In baby dragon steps then." She floated back to the ground, only to land cross-legged on a bed of flower petals and leaves. She held out her hand and a long-stemmed goblet filled with a sparkling, leaf-green liquid appeared. "You know what I miss the most about being incorporeal?" she asked Rhys.

He mimicked her posture and sat down as well. "Since this is my first time meeting an incorporeal - and such a well-behaved one at that... Indulge me, please."

"Dream Wine, of course!" She threw the goblet over her shoulder. It vanished in a cloud of sparkling particles. "You know what? Once this is seen through, please let me possess you so I may use your taste buds. For one tiny gulp, please?"

"I don't know much about guardian spirits except what has been written in the "Tales of Orran"... but aren't you bound to the place you're supposed to guard? I couldn't take you with me even if I wanted and I'm sure none of my friends has Dream Wine with them."

"I retract my complaint about the youth of today not learning properly." She applauded quietly. "My Geas had been broken the moment that horrible man banished me into the Soul Trap. I could leave this place at any time."

"Wait a moment. You said something about a cleric of Desire. Did he wear white robes? Long blonde hair, noble visage?"

"It seems you know that man." Haloryth's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Please don't tell me you work for that fiend." Her gaze snapped towards Borna's motionless shape.

Rhys raised both hands. "Be at peace, please. The man's name is Morgan Carver. His second-in-command, Faedal, is my sworn enemy. I have lost count how often I wished his death by now. And Borna is a poor girl cursed by Desire, not a champion."

Haloryth reached out with a slender hand, her fingertips going into Rhys' ethereal body. It was a strange sensation, icy cold yet vibrant with energy at the same time. He held perfectly still and allowed Haloryth to finish whatever she was doing.

"You speak the truth," she finally said, settling back into her leaf-and-flower cushion. "Good for you."

"Why should I lie to you?"

"Because I could erase you with a mere thought," Haloryth said, all of her usual levity and playfulness gone. It took only a moment before a thin smile returned though.

"This Carver person. He and two of his undead casters broke into the crypt. They snooped around each level until they found the final resting place of High Mage Nelearyn Vasadil, first of our name, vanquisher of three Elder Dragons, Creator of the Dragon Stone of Flight and my grandfather. I tried to stop their advances with every trick at my disposal - flying weapons, all the traps the architects had built into the corridors, even some animated battle armor - but eventually this Carver looked at me and proclaimed 'I've had enough of you, spirit' and pulled that Soul Trap from his robes. By that time, I had laid to rest one of his henchmen. And before you ask, a Soul Trap is a mighty weapon usually reserved to deal with demons and their pesky cyclical return when their host bodies are killed on the Prime Material." She held out her palm. A beautiful gemstone rotated on her palm, scintillating between dark purple and ruby red. "Turns out they work just as well on guardian spirits."

"How did you escape?"

Haloryth's old smile was back in effect, probably even a bit brighter than before. "Your not-so-lucky accident turned out to be my lucky break," she said. "Carver had left the Soul Trap in the embalming room. When you blew it up, the shockwave knocked it off the shelf and it broke, freeing me." Suddenly, her arms flew around Rhys' neck. The scent of fresh leaves enveloped him as her lips made contact. They sank into his spectral cheek. A moment later, she was back on her cushion, rearranging her gown into something prim and proper.

"Something else you're missing?" Rhys asked, brushing his cheek. It still tingled.

"Well, I have actually forgotten how nice it was to feel another presence besides my own," she admitted. "But let's not speak about that. My ancestor. Grandfather Nelaeryn. He has returned as an undead monstrosity."

"And you can't do anything to stop him?"

"No. I can't act against my own kin. They are warded against anything I could ever do. The architects implemented that safeguard after another guardian spirit had been turned against those he was sworn to protect. It was quite the scandal back in my time."

"Dare I ask when that was?"

"What day is today?"

Rhys furrowed his brow. "November 17^th, 816 OY, give or take a day."

Haloryth shook her head. "Neither the month nor the year mean anything to me. When I made my pact with this house, the Fall was less than a century ago and we still tried to make heads or tails about this whole dark elf business."

"You've taken my companions in stride though," Rhys said. "Shouldn't you be mad at Astra'il for betraying her kin or the like?"

Haloryth shook her had, a sad little gesture. "Rhys, when the Fateweaver fell, my skin turned black as well. This-," she made a gesture at her own young elf-girl body, "is how I remember myself the fondest. When I left the Prime Material behind, I was a wrinkled, black-skinned hag only left alive because of the might my family wielded at court. I was sick of hiding out here, in this golden cage and decided if I was bound to this house, I might do something good while at it." She looked up, her gaze filled with an eternity of loneliness. "Your hoofed friend has almost reached your cheek. Let's get to it. I would like you to stop Grandfather Nel from causing any more harm. I'm afraid he's trying to raise his descendants. The moment he is laid to rest, everything he created since his return will cease to be as well."

"How am I supposed to defeat an ancient elven High Mage?" Rhys asked, throwing up his hands. "Didn't you hear anything I said? About my magic?"

Haloryth reached out and placed a gentle fingertip on his lips. "It is not your magic you should worry about. Focus. Rid yourself of the specters of the past and you shall prevail. Please. Put Grandfater Nel to rest. He might have been one of the brightest minds who ever wielded the elements, but death waits for no one. No matter the ritual used on him, the best that fiend Carver could expect were mundane spells without the touch of brilliance. Nelearyn Vasadil truly died before the Fall and whatever is inhabiting his body is merely a twisted shadow, no doubt planted by that bitch Desire."

"That's hardly reassuring. My first encounter with one of Carver's undead spellcasters nearly was my last."

"Rhys, I really like you. You're the first human I've ever met, to be honest. But allow me one question, please."

"Anything you want."

"Is it just you or does every human try to downplay his accomplishments like that?"

Rhys opened his mouth in protest. Haloryth winked at him, her hand on his knee. A moment later, Borna's plated hand hit him. His skull sang like a particularly detuned bell.

She prepared to smack him again, but this time, Rhys intercepted her hand. He squeezed her fingers.

"Stop. I'm all right," he said, pulling himself into a sitting position. After his time on the Ethereal Plane, his body felt unnaturally heavy and stiff, each movement seemed to require an inordinate amount of effort. And it was much darker, despite the faintly luminescent crystals mounted on the walls. Rhys closed his hand around a piece of rubble and enchanted it with a new Light spell. In the golden glow, he noticed a skull-shaped crater where his head had been a moment ago. If it had been caused by his initial fall or by Borna's attempt to wake him, he didn't know.

"What were you thinking?" Borna snarled. "Didn't you listen to a word I said?"

Rhys came to his feet unsteadily. He swayed as his left knee reminded him that it had been shattered not that long ago and he leaned against Borna for support. He managed a smile and hugged himself against her. Borna curled an arm around him protectively.

"Whatever it was, it seems to have vanished," Astra'il said, gazing around.

"What was that thing to begin with?" Borna growled but the worst of her earlier rancor seemed to have gone. Her tail curled around Rhys' leg and squeezed.

"A guardian spirit bound to that crypt," Rhys said. "Her name was Haloryth Vasadil." He locked gazes with Borna. "And I was right. She's not hostile. In fact, she provided me with some useful intelligence."

Rhys quickly brought his companions up to speed.

"She didn't mention how many guards this Nelearyn has with him?" Gael asked.

"No. But I could try to ask her again," Rhys said. He could feel Haloryth's presence close by, a localized power source seemingly hovering slightly beside him. He slipped from Borna's embrace and turned towards the emanation.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Astra'il asked. "The last time you made contact, you were out like a light and fell down like a log." She toed the dent in the floor. "Without your Armor spell, you would have probably caught quite the concussion, if not worse."

"This is all horribly new to me," Rhys said. "I didn't even know there were other realms besides our own. I mean, everyone uses the Burning Pits when cursing, but experiencing it was something else." He shrugged. "Knowing my luck, it won't work anyway." He raised his hand towards where he suspected Haloryth to be and concentrated as if he were trying to access a node of elemental power.