Mud and Magic Ch. 11

Gael didn't hesitate, sending a barrage of arrows into the room. They thrummed against some kind of force field and dropped - robbed of their momentum - clattering to the floor.

The Raghbairn looked up. Eyes like green flames flickered under the hood. He didn't stop chanting though. The skin was pulled taut over the skull beneath, but traces of his former elven face remained. The undead spellcaster tossed the latest body aside and rose, the voice rising to a crescendo. The basin bubbled and frothed, the arcs of energy lashed out, fragmenting into tendrils. Some even hit Rhys and the others, leaving behind patches of icy burns.

Negative energy! he realized. Whatever this ritual is supposed to be, it's nowhere near what Carver had done. This only can end in dis-

An explosion shook the room, knocking everyone off their feet.

When Rhys got his bearings again, he was face down in a pool of blood. Spitting, he forced himself upright again. He caught movement in the corner of his eye. The bodies on the plinths stirred, as did the discarded husks of Carver's soldiers.

"What have you done?" Rhys yelled at the Raghbairn who came unsteadily to his feet as well.

"Lord Carver has pulled my soul back from the realm of the dead," the Raghbairn whispered. "My wish is only to please him. He desired more of my kind, so I went and brought back more of my kind. My kin. The best mages who ever drew breath."

"I'm not quite sure you performed the right ritual," Rhys spat. "You turned your beloved descendants into mindless monsters!"

"Quiet, insolent worm!" the Raghbairn thundered, thrusting his palm forward. An invisible hand seemed to grab him and knocked him into the closest wall. Without his Armor spell, the force of the impact would have killed him outright. Even sheathed in magical armor, his head rang and his vision swam. He saw tiny pinpricks of silver arc through his tear-streaked vision. Arrows fired off by Gael, most probably.

Leaning on his staff, Rhys struggled to his feet. Astra'il dashed past him, trying to attack the Raghbairn from behind. Her blade jangled off the undead monstrosity.

He heard Borna roar. Two of the mummies were advancing on her. They moved much faster than Rhys had thought, quickly closing the distance. Growling like a beast, she picked up a zombie and used it as a missile to knock her attackers off their feet. One of the mummies swatted it out of the air.

This is going downhill fast, Rhys thought. A pit of dread opened in his innards. He shook his head, trying to clear the ringing from his ears. It took but a moment to gather two fistfuls of energy. He formed it into a spear made from stone and fired it at the closest mummy. The missile cracked the millennia-old bandages like an axe and took the thing off its legs, buying Borna some time. The cursed girl pounced on the closest mummy and tore it limb from limb.

"Rhys! Help!" Astra'il yelled. Rhys turned his attention to her, Gael and the Raghbairn. The undead monstrosity had plucked Gael off his feet and was choking him with one hand.

Rhys gnashed his teeth. His last encounter with one of these horrors still was very fresh in his mind. And last time he had a Disjunction Stone to negate any enchantments the creature might have had.

I don't need one, he reminded himself. Limping, he closed the distance to the Raghbairn.

"Hey, Nelearyn!" he shouted, firing off his go-to combat spell. A quintet of Force Missiles exploded in a neat row along the Raghbairn's chest. It didn't even flinch or acknowledge the name.

Astra'il hammered the creature from behind with a cavalcade of sword slashes but none even penetrated the thing's robe. Seems like I'm not the only one fond of Armor spells, Rhys thought.

"Astra'il, watch out," he yelled, firing off a burst of energy her way. It enveloped her sword, enlarging the weapon until it had grown from a slender long sword into a veritable two-hander with a five-foot blade.

She changed her grip and used the enlarged blade to scythe at the Raghbairn's legs. Armor or no armor, there was no defense for sheer momentum. The undead spellcaster fought for balance, releasing Gael in the process. The elf snarled and jabbed Rhys' dagger at the creature, managing a shower of sparks as the blade screamed along the Raghbairn's arm.

"Just you wait - you will watch as I slowly kill every one of your friends. And only then will you be allowed to perish," the Raghbairn hissed. All other distractions forgotten, he advanced on Rhys with a grace and speed belying his undead body. Within a heartbeat, he was in arm's reach.

Rhys' whole body tingled from the waves of power the thing gave off. He has to be loaded with spells, the young sorcerer thought. How am I supposed to dispel the right one?

He closed the distance and grabbed the Raghbairn's arm. The thing was cold as death, just like the one back at the toll booth. Rhys didn't care. All he needed was to drain the spells away.

The Raghbairn laughed in his face. "What are you? You aren't even an elf! And you think you can-"

"No. I am no elf," Rhys growled through clenched teeth. "But neither are you." Tapping the Raghbairn's enchantments was much, much worse than any Sorcerer's Burn he had ever experienced. Magic like liquid fire tore through his system, too much, far too much to even try to contain. Screaming, Rhys reached out his free hand and forced all the power into some kind of release. A torrent of pure energy burst from his palm, turning the first mummy he hit into a cloud of white powder which slowly drifted to the ground. The ray blasted through the cloud, punching a head-sized hole into the ancient stone wall and the earth beyond.

The Raghbairn didn't move, didn't even try to toss him away. When Rhys dared to look, he saw why. Borna had him locked down tight, curling the undead horror's arm onto its back and barring the other so Rhys could keep draining it. Her angelic face was twisted into a mask of pure strain.

Astra'il suddenly was there, behind Rhys. He could smell her particular scent, the mix of herbs, leather, spices and that particular note she alone had. Her lips touched his ear. "Relax," she whispered, closing her long fingers around his trembling wrist.

Rhys allowed Astra'il to move his shaking arm. She aimed the ray of pure destruction at the next mummy, disintegrating it where it stood. A third quickly succumbed to the unbridled torrent of magical energy - which suddenly dried up. The Raghbairn slumped in Borna's grip. Rhys quickly stepped back, stumbling into Astra'il's embrace.

"Gael!" he gasped.

The elf's answer was a quick arrow to the monster's face. The silvery missile embedded itself between the Raghbairn's eyes. But the flames flickered on.

The undead spellcaster began to cackle, then burst into a hollow, haunting laugh. "You think you have bested me?" it rasped.

"Maybe not just yet, but we at least drained all your spells," Rhys said, hefting his staff. "You could surrender."

The Raghbairn scanned the bloodstained room. There remained quite a lot of elven mummies and they were slowly encircling them. The undead caster raised his hands. "My offspring will deal with your friends," it promised. "And while they die, I will simply refresh what you thought removed so I can meet you fully prepared."

"We shouldn't let that happen," Gael suggested. He had switched back to his melee weapons and was eyeing one of the mummies advancing on them.

"What can you do?" the Raghbairn shrieked "The first thing I did was make myself impervious to those pesky holy weapons. And then I forsook those mortal gods, granting me immunity to attempts by mortal clerics to banish me or my minions. And even without spells protecting me, my body is wonderfully resilient against physical and magical attacks. All thanks to my Lord Carver."

"And what will Carver say if he knew you slaughtered dozens upon dozens of his soldiers?" Rhys asked. "Or you leaving your post?"

"Oh, you are a clever one," the Raghbairn chuckled. "Yes, I was stationed at the supply camp. I was the one erecting wards. And I was there because I knew my family's crypt was close by. So when my chores were done, I took a contingent of men and came here."

"That explains why it was so easy to throw the camp into disarray," Borna muttered. "Must have been less than half its original strength."

"Carver won't be happy if he learns you deserted your post," Rhys said. "If you haven't noticed, the man is obsessed with obedience." Images of Dara and Daffyd flashed through his mind, rekindling his anger.

"Enough stalling," the Raghbairn snarled. "Watch your friends die and despair!"

The mummies lurched forward. Even with holy weapons, with Gael's ferocity, even with Borna's inhuman strength and resilience, they were simply outnumbered. Outclassed in every regard. A black wave of despair threatened to swallow him whole and Rhys wasn't sure if it was the Raghbairn's doing.

The moment he is laid to rest, everything he created since his return will cease to be as well. Haloryth's advice. What else did she say? Whatever is inhabiting the body...

Rhys' hand flew to his belt. The broken Soul Trap was still there. It hadn't shattered when the Fireball had hit him and Borna. He yanked it from his pouch. It would be impossible for him to create something like it or even understand how it might work but he could repair it. Make it whole again.

Holding the gleaming crystal aloft, Rhys gathered energy with his free hand, forcing the stream of power into the crystal, demanding that it would grow back into its old self. His senses raced outward, cataloging every single speck of crystal dust and gathering it through the Ether.

"What- what is this?" the Raghbairn stammered. "How can you do that?"

Rhys forced his eyes open again. A sharp-edged, roughly triangular crystal jutted from his balled fist. "We call this human ingenuity," he snarled. A quick step brought him within reach. The Raghbairn grasped at him, its near-skeletal fingers closing around his neck. Rhys gnashed his teeth and held his breath. This time, there was no panic. Only a fervent prayer to Mercy that his insane plan would bear fruit. He rammed the crystal's point into Grandfather Nel's stomach and fed a shot of power into it.

A brilliant light exploded between him and the undead monster. Suddenly, the death grip around his neck was gone. Dust crumbled around him. Rhys slapped a hand over his mouth and nose as not to choke on the corpse dust. The Soul Trap in his fist burned with a blinding light, almost pink. Around him, he heard bodies hitting the floor. Clutching the humming crystal he looked around. The mummies had fallen, whatever necrotic energy had suffused their bodies was gone.

"Couldn't you have thought about that sooner?" Gael snapped. He gingerly fingered a deep cut on his shoulder.

Astra'il nursed her left arm, rivulets of blood trickled down the bruised limb. "Give it a rest already. He managed what we couldn't." She bathed Rhys in an admiring smile. "But now what? Do you want to carry the crystal with you and bury it somewhere?"

"No. This thing is way too dangerous," Rhys said. "But I have an idea. I will put it where no one will ever find it." He closed his eyes. There was a deep ocean separating the Western and Eastern continents - the Sword Divide, so named for its appearance from high above, as if a god's huge blade had cleaved into the sea and caused a huge rift to open up. He only knew about it from books and maps he had seen but what he had in mind didn't require any degree of precision. The floor was a disgusting mess of blood and viscera but there was at least one puddle deep enough to throw a reflection. Rhys concentrated.

A moment later, a quiet courtyard appeared in the puddle. There was a small well and a hastily repaired sewer manhole nearby. The rear wall of Allura's temple in Storm Harbor was rather dark save for some flickering lights behind a few windows. Rhys didn't dwell there despite the urge to know how Najat, the golden-furred cleric of The Dancer was doing. Obediently, his scrying 'eye' zipped through a window and showed a candle-lit chamber. On a wide mattress, Najat was curled up between a curvy human female and a halfling male, her feline head on his lap. Rhys altered the 'eye's' course and directed it eastwards, past the harbor and into the night. The sky to the east already showed the first signs of dawn, a beautiful pinkish radiance outlining the horizon. When he saw no more sails and the sea appeared black as tar, he stopped the 'eye.'

This should be far enough. He clasped the Soul Trap one last time, familiarizing himself with every edge and facet before gathering energy, more energy than he'd ever dared. Even then, the crystal seemed to refuse his commands, pushing back against his will. Rhys bit his lower lip until he tasted blood, redoubling his efforts. And suddenly, the crystal was gone. For a moment, he saw a blinding comet arc through the puddle of blood before it impacted the water, sinking lower and lower. It took nearly three minutes before the last vestiges of its radiance were gone.

Rhys' legs suddenly turned into melting wax. Before he could land face-down in the mess on the floor, strong hands were there, catching him.

"That was some serious magic," Gael said. "Well done."

"I second that," Haloryth said in the back of his mind. "That wasn't the Nelearyn I knew. You did everyone a great favor by banishing it to the depths of the sea."

"Thank you," Rhys said, addressing both. "Now what?"

"A bit of rest and a few healing spells maybe?" Gael suggested, retreating to one of the plinths. They had survived the battle relatively unscathed and seemed to be mostly dry. Astra'il and Borna followed suit. The dark elf intoned one of her healing spells, gently touching Gael's shoulder.

"Maybe he's wiser than I thought," Haloryth said, a breeze of mirth tingling on Rhys' cheeks. "Simple things are their own reward. However, I have something more substantial for you, if you choose."

"Didn't you say you'd teach me about magic in exchange for our help?" Rhys asked.

"I'm not so sure you need my help after all," Haloryth said. "What I have in mind is in part rather selfish. You can decline of course. Please look through Grandfather's possessions for me. What I said for the body outside goes for him also."

"As you wish," Rhys dug around in the pile of corpse dust, pocketing several magic items. "What am I looking for?"

"A ring. Made from simple silver and inlaid with six emeralds. A rather plain thing."

Rhys remembered seeing that ring on the monster's left hand. He found it on the floor, halfway submerged in a puddle of blood. He used an unsoiled bit of the Raghbairn's robe to clean it.

"Simple, yet elegant," Rhys said. "What is it?"

"It's an incredibly potent artifact, one of the heirlooms of our house. No wonder he got it back for himself. Too bad it won't work on a selfish, undead sack of flesh." Haloryth calmed herself. "I want you to have it. And I would... like to haunt it."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "For me? What does it do? And why would you want to haunt it?"

"Put it on. You'll be amazed."

"Getting a straight answer from you is rather difficult."

"Only when I don't want to ruin the surprise. Trust me. It will be fantastic."

"All right. I do trust you." Rhys slipped the ring over his finger. It was rather unremarkable at first. He had handled his share of magical items by now, from the Infinite Water Bottle to his enchanted battle staff and every single one had tingled in his grasp. The ring didn't tingle. It felt like a rather mundane piece of jewelry.

But then the emeralds began to glow, a barely perceptible flicker. And then, one by one, four of them came to life, shining like miniature stars. Rhys moved the ring this way and that. "Why four?" he asked. And there was something else, a calm washing over him. The world seemed to be that much clearer all of a sudden, gone was the haze of exhaustion and the pit of fear in his stomach.

"Because there are four souls nearby which think fondly of you. Each one of them will boost your magical powers as long as they are close. You will be able to cast more powerful spells which will last longer or affect larger areas."

"My friends will improve my magic? How is that possible?"

"This is one of the secrets of High Magic. We left manipulation of the elements behind and turned towards matters of the soul. There is power in friendship. Love can be mightier than any spell or weapon. And Grandfather Nelearyn found the way to harness this energy when he was still alive."

"And you're giving this to me?"

"Yes. I think I've found a worthy bearer for it. And if you allow me to, I will be always by your side, the first soul to enhance this ring." Haloryth cleared her throat, dispelling the formal tone she had adopted. "And there's the small matter of my Geas being broken. Now that I have no more crypt to protect, my essence will dissipate eventually and I will die for good. If that is your wish, I will resign myself to that fate. But think about all the things we could do together!"

"You have just been freed of one millennia-old bargain. Are you sure you want to enter another?"

"That simple question has made my decision so much easier. Yes, if you'll have me."

"What do I have to do?" Rhys asked, awed by the force of the spirit's emotion.

"Oh, just cast another Geas on me. With your shiny new Ring of Souls that should be child's play - and I'm a very willing participant."

"Like a contract, hm? Why do I have to think of Desire all of a sudden?"

"Because she's the one who invented and mastered that type of magic. Just say that you bind me to that ring, ask me if I'll agree and we're done."

Rhys took a deep breath. "Haloryth. I offer you this ring as a haunt. It shall be your home and anchor in this dimension for as long as you see fit. You may break this Geas at any time. Do you agree?"

"I wish I could kiss you," Haloryth sobbed. "A thousand times yes!"

* * * *

"That ring must have a malfunction," Gael said. "It takes years to earn an elf's friendship. My respect you might have but friendship? Over my dead body."

"You can freely admit it. Rhys saved all our butts back there," Astra'il said.

"And he has my utmost respect for it," Gael snapped. "But the next time he pokes his nose into these woods, we might as well be enemies. I have sworn to kill every last human despoiling our homeland."

"I'm so glad that despoiling is the farthest thing on my mind," Rhys said, looking at the ring. It fit his index finger perfectly and was already like a part of him, a soothing influence. It seemed to attract and agitate power sources they passed, causing strands of energy to reach out to Rhys without conscious thought.

Haloryth floated close by, a somewhat translucent elven girl playfully making faces at him. Ever since they had sealed the Geas, he could see her, even when his consciousness wasn't on the Ethereal plane. The idea of that happening again was causing his head to spin. Two days ago he had thought his spellcasting days were gone and now? Alternate dimensions? Pacts with ancient elven ghosts? A tremendous weight had lifted off his shoulders. Even walking seemed much easier.

"I'll probably offer a warning shot," Gael conceded. "But that's the extent of my leniency." He shrugged. "Finally, the exit. This is where our ways part." He stopped, allowing Rhys to catch up. The elf turned around, the ghost of a smile on his lips. It was almost imperceptible underneath the tattooed monster visage. He held out Galdor's gift. "I think you might want this back. A decent blade. My gut says you'll need this more than me."