Arillia by Illuminati Architect

Chapter Eight, The Wraith

We reached the shores of Breached Lake on the afternoon of Friday, 23rd Meceder. Alice tied up Eugene with a rope long enough to let him graze for the night, then she set out with her notebook in hand to check the alignment of local landmarks against the reports of where the tomb was located while the rest of us set up camp.

A few minutes later, she shouted “Rebecka!” and ran back towards us faster than I had ever seen her move before.

Drawing my wand, I could see a dozen wolves emerge from the woods behind her, so I cast a ten-yard long, three-yard high, one-yard thick wall of flame between Alice and the wolves. As Alice ran past me, I drew Hoofblack Jr’s saber from my left hip with my left hand (in a reverse grip Sir Hoofblack would have scoffed at) to face the lone wolf that had run around the left of my wall of fire.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that the other wolves had gone around the other side of the flames and right into Elizabeth, who stood with sword and shield, backed up by Rebecka’s arrows. I would have to face this foe myself.

I just managed to get my left hand grip the right way around and slash down at the wolf before he jumped on top of me. He backed off at the last moment, but I still managed a shallow cut on his left cheek. With no time to attempt another spell (even with my abbreviated casting style), I channeled a blast of mana through my wand. This ignored his thick fur and struck directly at his life force. Stunned, he fell over, and I finished him by chopping through his throat with the saber.

I glanced back to see that Eugene (and Alice hiding behind him) were safe, then turned to see the last of the wolves fall to Elizabeth’s sword.

Rebecka stood with her bow in hand, looking for more targets as Elizabeth dropped her shield and sword. Then, she took off her right glove to reveal two fang punctures on the bottom edge of her right hand. I cast Heal to close her wounds and protect against infection.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Elizabeth examined her hand, then put the glove back on, “I have fought men more often than other beasts.”

“No, you were a much better help in this fight than I was.”

“Why didn’t they leap through your flames, Your Highness? Surely, they would have seen that their fur was thick enough to see them through.”

“Animals instinctively avoid fire, especially magical flames. An important part of wizard training I will need to see with my sister is the proper choice of element to use in each situation. Fire against beasts, water against fire, conjured stones against the fragile bones of creatures of the air such as birds and dragons, and so on. Anybody within sight will have already noticed this flashy display, so I will maintain the flames a while longer while you toss the wolves into it.”

Alice stepped back up to us. “I’ll help you move their bodies. Your Highness really is a powerful wizard.”

“Ask your father about energy and complexity someday. Let the great sage explain why maintaining a fire of this size for five minutes is less fatiguing than Telepathy between two minds in the same room for half a minute. So is the tomb here?”

“I checked the local landmarks, but this is not the spot.”

“Two more locations to check then unless we’re terribly mistaken.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

I stood at sunset and waited with my wand in hand. I instantly responded when I felt the tingle in my mind.

Carnel?

Sister, I’ve still got a terrible headache, but I used the book. Can you hear me?

Yes, quite clearly now. We fought some wolves, checked Breached Lake, and will continue on to the next location. Please cut the link and rest.

Is Elizabeth okay?

Yes, everybody is fine. Good night.

I cut the link and returned to my tent. As I stepped around Elizabeth, she opened one eye, saw that it was me, and went back to sleep.

Around noon on Saturday, 24th Meceder, we were climbing a narrow path south between a steep ravine to our west and a dense wood on the shallow slope up to our east. I heard Rebecka ready her bow behind me. I drew the saber of Sir Hoofblack’s son with my right hand and held this up. As I looked around for the danger, an arrow arrived from the south side of the valley, went through my right arm between the bones just short of my wrist, then stopped with a scratch on the leather of my jacket, having penetrated the jacket’s sleeve twice, going in then out of my arm.

Ow! That stings. Wait, if your arm hadn’t been in the way, then you’d have taken that arrow through the heart.

My arm jerked from the shock, and the saber flew out of my hand and then down into the thick woods of the ravine below, to be followed a moment later by the bandit archer with Rebecka’s arrow through his eye.

At this point, another half dozen bandits charged down at us from the woods to our east. A few seconds later, the lone survivor in the rear of their group turned around and ran for four steps before taking an arrow in the middle of the back of his neck that was then chopped off by Elizabeth’s sword.

Then, the pain registered on me. “By the three hells! I just had that hand working again!”

As Elizabeth searched the woods, Rebecka stepped up to me to cut away and then withdrew the arrow from my arm. She inspected the arrowhead but found no poison. I drew out my wand and cast Heal on myself as I looked down into the ravine. “It would take us a day to climb down and search.”

And then you would lose Polly.

“I sure hope she’s worth the look Sir Hoofblack will give me when I return without that sword!”

Then I saw Rebecka bow for the first time. “Your Highness, I am so sorry. We almost lost you because I reacted so slowly.”

“No, it’s my fault; I should have heard them.”

Rebecka and Elizabeth searched the bodies and handed me the local coins they found. They offered me the swords the bandits had carried, but none of these was a close match to a saber, and with my right arm in this shape, I was better off with wand in my right hand and the main gauche in my left.

That evening, we set up camp at Trent Grove but found no trace of the tomb there. My right arm was still very sore, but I didn’t report this to Carnel when she contacted me, as there was no point in making her worry.

Elizabeth woke me on the morning of Sunday, 25th Meceder. I reached over to my jacket, pulled out my wand, and cast Heal on my right arm, and with this, the bruising from the arrow wound finally faded away.

If only we had wands like that back in my world.

“Yes, Greg, you had a miserable life back on your primitive planet. I wonder what direction it’s in.”

Direction?

“Yes, without wizards, you wouldn’t have known. The seven worlds are the ones we know about. There is this one, and then one for each hop in each direction of magic. Just as we have north, east, south, west, up, and down here, we have labeled the six directions of magic: red, green, blue, cyan, magenta, and yellow. We named them after the color wheel and with some training wizards can just barely perceive these colors, but we know that’s fake. Three of the nearby worlds are rather hellish in different ways and hence are the three hells. The other three worlds are very strange. Souls freed of their bodies either permanently by death or temporarily by magic can wander around. We have some evidence that this hexagonal grid extends forever in all directions, so perhaps your soul wandered in from some strange place that somehow mirrored what we do here. There’s a lot more, but you’ll have to listen in when I explain it to Carnel someday.”

I dressed and packed, and then we gathered around the campfire to partake of the breakfast Alice had made.

“Alice, today’s our last chance?”

“Yes, Your Highness. By all the old accounts, the tomb must be on Nepi Ridge.

We made good time, and by late that afternoon we reached Nepi Ridge. We stayed on the east side of the ridge, but I peaked over it and down at the village of Frazile in the valley to the west and saw that they had driven a 20-foot stake into the ground and were piling logs around it. Was this to be how the people of Suskan celebrated their holiest night, with a bonfire of innocence?

“It’s there!” Alice pointed to a shrub-covered mound just to the east of us.

“The Tomb of Sparot?”

“It has to be!”

Elizabeth used an ax we had brought to clear away the brush at various places and a shovel to dig into the dirt until she struck stone. Alice checked the runes in the stone against her notes and moved a bit north to clear and check again. Finally, on the third try, she indicated a yard-tall and wide stone as the doorway. Elizabeth was unable to bulge this, so I had her stand back so I could cast Holddoor in the reverse sense. I felt the sealing weaken with my first casting, so I cast again. This caused the stone to swing out a few inches, and Elizabeth was able to pry it fully open.

I looked into the darkness and then back at her. “Promise me, Dame Elizabeth, that if the spirit within strikes me down inside there, that you will close this stone and trust in the runes in the tomb to contain my spirit as well as his. Then return to my family and tell them what happened here.”

“I will do as Your Highness commands.”

There was no point in relying on torchlight or magical light against the undead, so I cast Magescan now and saw clear as daylight stairs descending into the darkness. I knelt to pass through the yard-high opening, then rose to my full five-foot (with boots) height as I went down the stairs, which went down to a flat stone floor with the stone dome forming a hemisphere above this. And there I saw the sarcophagi of Lord David Argyle Sparot, but no sign of his spirit yet.

As I made my way down the stairs with Magescan running, I was reminded how Greg had spoken of a colored line that would indicate mana remaining in the game. I had no such visual indicator, just my own feel for my mana (that I would need to teach Carnel), but I felt that my mana was still mostly full.

I took a moment to examine the sarcophagi and saw a faint magic on the protective runes carved in it. With my wand still firmly in my right hand, I tried to move its lid aside with my left hand, but it seemed magically sealed. I cast reverse Holddoor on the lid, and it slid a few inches to the side. I pushed on it again, and it fell to the floor, breaking in two. Inside lay Lord Sparot’s large bones covered in places by decayed and rusted scraps of armor, and on top of this lay his saber, fresh as the day it had been made and polished like a mirror as if some spiritual guardian had attended to only this one item.

I reached over with my left hand to grab the hilt, but the sword flew up into the air, and then the point dove towards my breast, held in the grip of his wraith.

With no time to cast a spell, I channeled mana through my wand and blasted his spirit back as I drew the main gauche with my left hand.

Sparot’s wraith recovered quickly and forced me to back away with a quick series of cuts as I countered as best I could with wand blasts. Then, with my back to the stone dome, he thrust at me, but I caught his saber with my main gauche, as I blasted him yet again with my wand.

With a spectral shriek, he floated back, and the saber dropped to the ground.

He dodged to the side as I tossed the main gauche at him (though this ordinary blade couldn’t possibly harm his spirit), and at that moment, I snatched his saber up off the ground into a reverse grip in my left hand. This didn’t matter at the moment, as I needed it to function as a fetish, not a sword.

I held up the saber and pointed my wand at it as I cast with nearly the last of my strength. “Lord Sparot, let your spirit be bound in this blade that you held so proudly in life!”

I dropped the wand and put my right hand over the pommel. Then as I dropped to my knees, I drove the tip an inch into the stone floor. As expected, the supernatural blade did not bend or chip as it did so. With no strength to spare, I let the Magescan lapse, and I was plunged into darkness.

Next came the contest of wills, and I knew that the last ebbs of my strength could not overcome his. Thus, I must bend his will to mine with a binding oath on us both.

“Lord Sparot, I pledge a wizard’s oath that in exchange for your loyal service for the rest of my life to the extent that is proper and practical to investigate the descendants of your sworn enemies, the Jalo and Glister families, bringing the guilty to justice, and sparing the innocent. For example, I have heard nothing that indicates that my cousin Zoltan Jalo is set to follow in the perverse footsteps of his father, my Uncle Duke Gustav Jalo, and I know that the woman who stands outside your tomb with the same face as my own, Rebecka Glister, is as much a victim of her own family as any other has been. Are these terms acceptable?”

If she hath a face to match thine own, then I see no harm in sparing her. However, that is not sufficient.

“What more do you require of me, Lord Sparot? Is vengeance not your life’s dream?”

No, I set aside my dreams and worldly indulgences to fulfill my duties as a lord and, in that last year, my quest for vengeance. Now that my life is gone, thou must offer part of thine own to reach these dreams.

“And what is this dream of yours, Lord Sparot?”

Thou must act as my hands to design enticing women’s clothing that thou then wear. Thine plain cotton bra and panties do not flatter thine fine slender figure in the form that they ought.

I did not question how a spirit could see through my many layers of clothing. “I am wearing what is practical for a small team spending many days away in the field, but fine, I pledge to follow your fashion advice to the extent that is proper and practical. Is that all?”

Lass, I also sense in thee an affinity like onto my own in the appreciation of beautiful women. Thou shall pursue such a relationship and keep this sword nearby so that I can witness thine sapphic arts.

“Very well. I shall give in to my own desires and pursue a relationship with another woman to the extent that is proper and practical, and you can watch. However, I will also, at some point, marry a man and bear heirs with him. It is up to you if you wish to watch that.”

Lass, so long as thou rides proudly on top, it shall be a sight to witness.

“Please remind me to ask him at that time. Why is it that in a game that bans all displays of nudity, all the men are such perverts? And are we in agreement?”

Whoever wrote this mod seems to have been very consistent.

I, Lord Sparot, agree to the terms Thine Highness has set.

“By these terms, I, Princess Arillia Aurora Angleland, and thou Lord David Argyle Sparot are for the rest of my life bound.”

I took a deep breath as I felt his strength flood through my body. Lord Sparot had been known for his unusual strength, and I could feel this in my limbs now. I would have to be careful to not break my bones or dislocate my joints with this power. I could also see clearly through the darkness and even see that my wand had a faint magical aura, but not with the full analytical power of Magescan. I shifted to a standard grip in the saber’s guard with my right hand and, with my left, reached over to pick up my exhausted wand and put it in my jacket pocket.

As I stood, I drew the sword from the stone floor with what seemed but a tiny effort then examined the blade. It was undamaged, and even the tip seemed to retain its supernatural sharpness. I put the saber into my lent scabbard, which fit it perfectly (the style of our knight saber blades having remained the same over the centuries), and released my grip. Lord Sparot’s strength remained with me. I walked over to where the main gauche had landed and put that away also.

“Your Highness, come quickly!”

I turned to face the tomb’s entrance and asked, “What is it, Rebecka?”

Surely this Rebecka is thine twin. Could thou not make her thine lady love, for I hath long dreamt of witnessing twin girls enjoying the company of each other.

I whispered to my sword, “Lady Rebecka is pledged to another, so it would not be proper to steal her away.” Then, more loudly to her. “Yes, I am done here. Let me see.”

I ran up the shadowed steps towards her, with Lord Sparot’s strength and his spectral ability to see in total darkness.

I paused for a moment to duck down through the yard-high doorway, which I then motioned for Elizabeth to close behind me. Let Sparot’s bones lie in peace, for I had the better part of him at my side.

I followed Rebecka to the top of the ridge and saw that near the logs piled around the stake in the ground, the villagers of Frazile had gathered and now faced a platform where six figures surrounded a seventh. Her aura alone was distinct to Sparot’s undead senses from this distance, and she glowed brightly blue. I pointed at this figure and whispered to Rebecka, “There is Polly. Let us rescue her from this farce of a trial.”