Archetype: Sorcerer
Special Classification: Lich
Armor: Magical Aura, Tier 4
Green threads weaved through the lich’s sleeves and across his waist, forming constant circular patterns that looped back in on themselves. His back was bent, as if it were a struggle to stand, and his arms hung low through his enormous sleeves. Remnants of pale flesh clung to his skull, providing a faint remembrance of his appearance in life. A pendant rested above the exposed vertebrae of his neck, again the eternal triple-looping symbol. His eyes were alive with green fire. Though no tongue remained in his creaking jaw, he spoke with a thunderous voice.
“More trespassers,” the lich said. The words did not quite match the movements of his thin, desiccated lips as Cataloger translated his speech in Nick’s mind. “Would you deny us peace?”
“Fantastic,” Nick said, and immediately flung a
Spell: Bone Strike (Majere)
Nick dropped to the ground, covering Kasra with his body. Frost reacted faster. She slammed the sides of her hands together and pointed her palms, flinging out an
“You all right, Violette?” Frost asked as four more ribs pounded the other side.
“I will be,” she said, pushing back to her feet with a slight wobble. “Assuming that mad lich out there doesn’t kill us all.”
The ice blasted apart, Frost’s spell finally breaking before the barrage. The living skeleton stepped through, green fire wreathing his hands.
“I am Gavriil the Emboldened,” he said as he lifted his decrepit arms. “I will not let you defile the shimmering city.”
Nick and Frost both showed him their opinion of such a belief, unleashing their magic. An
And then Gavriil’s bare teeth spread wide in a vicious grin.
“You walk the proud city of Constance,” he said. “And we will not be broken.”
He lowered his arms while screaming a wordless protest. The noise washed over them, traveling with a physical force that made the rubble shift and vibrate.
Spell: Agony Wave
Nick screamed as his entire body locked tight. His mind shrieked in protest at the pain flooding through him. When he was nine, he’d split his leg open falling on an exposed pipe while exploring a dilapidated farm back on Taneth, needing fifteen stitches to seal the cut. He’d broken his collarbone playing handball when he was twelve. None of it compared to this agony blasting his mind apart. It was as if every nerve in his body was firing off at its most extreme.
Though it felt like an eternity, it lasted but two seconds before releasing its grip. Nick gasped, unaware he had been holding his breath. His head pounded, and he was dismayed to see that, in addition to the health it had taken, it had also robbed him of more than half his mana.
“Rude,” Nick said as he dropped to one knee, needing the stability to fight off a wave of dizziness. He glanced to Kasra, fearing how the injured man had fared during such a spell. “Not well” was the answer, his already minuscule health pool reduced even further. It should have slain him, though, which made Nick wonder if the spell could inflict pain but could not kill.
Frost recovered sooner, and she dashed across the home with her sword pulled back for a thrust. The lich saw, and his burning green eyes narrowed as he mumbled the words of another spell.
Spell: Bone Shield
The bricks beneath Gavriil’s feet broke into dust, and from the earth shot bones, dozens of them connecting, interlocking into a curving shield. Frost’s sword struck it twice, but not hard enough to break through. Nick could see a second bar hovering above the shield, which he suspected revealed the total damage it could endure before breaking, and it was still above half.
“You are beauty wielding steel,” Gavriil said, shifting the shield back and forth with the slightest movements of his hand. “But steel rusts. Beauty fades. Only bone remains, when the soil demands its due.”
Frost swung for the direct middle of the shield, but the lich met her sword with a flick of his fingers. The bone shot forward, colliding with Frost and sending her tumbling backward. Her armor absorbed all of the hit from the shield, but the same could not be said about the spike of pale green that shot from underneath her feet.
Spell: Corpse Vine
Its thorned edges cut across Frost’s side and clipped her face, showering her cheek and hair with blood. The vine whipped about, striking Nick across the chest with a far stronger impact than he expected. His insides groaned, and he feared torn muscle and broken bones as he staggered.
The
“I came to learn,” she said, lifting her arms above her head. The entire room seemed to darken to a deep shade of crimson, the air itself sucking into the orb of flame building between her fingers as she readied a
The orb of fire shot over Frost, who dove aside in fear, and continued straight for Gavriil. The lich crossed his arms, bowed his head, and positioned his bone shield in the way.
The explosion rocked the foundations of the home with heat so massive Nick turned away in pain, a single point of health burning from his exposed arm and face. The light of the explosion made a mockery of the faded sun. The bone shield blasted apart, a pitiful impediment to such raw magical power. Within that inferno, Gavriil screamed, and Nick could hardly believe the heat that stole away half the lich’s life.
Nick stared at Violette wide-eyed and wondered, not for the first time, how she was able to wield such power at a level so close to his own.
It seemed said power came at tremendous cost. Violette collapsed to her knees, her weight propped on her hands, as she gasped beside the wounded Kasra. Sweat dripped along her face and forehead.
“Is he dead?” she asked, unable to see the health bar that remained hovering above the lich amid the fading destruction of fire.
“You wield the magic of princes,” Gavriil said, the last of the flames burning away. His robe was seared, his bones blackened. “But you are still children.”
Armor: Negation Shield
A shimmering violet shield replaced the bone, burning like a wound to the air itself. Nick tested it with a
Swords it is, he thought.
Good, Sorrow responded, the blade humming. I have long wished a chance to battle the ancient lords of the Majere.
Nick and Frost advanced, each with their sword held at the ready, while Violette remained back in recovery. Nick approached slowly, fearing the lich’s magic. He might be wounded, but he was still horrifyingly dangerous. And if they failed to bring him down, Kasra and Violette would almost certainly die next.
Frost lunged first, and Nick followed from the other side, hoping her attack would distract Gavriil so his own might strike true. They both clearly underestimated their foe. Frost’s attack ended immediately with another
The grin on his gray, burnt face spread wide as another spell rolled off his fingertips.
Spell: Paralysis (Majere)
Nick struggled to run, to scream, to do anything, but he was powerless against the magic. He remained perfectly still, outwardly calm but for the panicked flick of his eyes.
“The powder of your bones will line my fireplace,” Gavriil said, a spike of bone emerging from the center of his palm, its tip jagged and cruel.
“Nick!”
“Get back!” Frost shouted, and he quickly obeyed. Frost flung her hand toward the floor to cover his retreat. Ice rushed forward, her
“I’ll keep him pinned,” an unsteady Violette shouted as she lobbed
Nick readied his lightning, then hesitated as a thought came to him.
It was such a stupid question to ask, but with only 11 mana remaining, he had but one cast of
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Cataloger, does ice count as water?
Ice is the solid form of water, maintaining similar properties to—
“Good enough. Frost, go for his face!”
Nick braced himself, aimed his palm, and unleashed a
After such tremendous damage, Gavriil’s concentration broke, his hands dropping and his
Reassessment
Level: 10 (+1)
Statistical Improvements
Agility: 6 (+1)
Physicality: 5
Endurance: 6 (+2)
Focus: 8 (+1)
“Let’s never do that again,” Nick said, taking a deep breath and waiting for the sensation to fade. His heart pounded in his chest at a ridiculous clip, and he suspected it matched it in real life. His poor brother was probably horrified watching the monitor. If only Nick could talk to him when in Yensere and tell him all was well.
With the lich defeated, Frost finally had time to look over the wounded Kasra. Her expression was perfectly neutral, but Nick sensed her growing apprehension.
“A nasty wound,” she admitted, reaching into her pack and pulling out a wound-up roll of cloth. “But nothing a strong man like you can’t handle, yeah?”
“Strong,” Kasra said, laughing and choking simultaneously as she started looping the cloth around his waist. It was immediately soaked crimson.
“I’ll go keep watch outside,” Violette said after watching a moment. Nick caught her staring at the lich’s corpse, a pained expression on her face. “Make sure no more surprises are coming for us.”
Frost nodded as she continued unrolling the cloth.
“I know why we are here,” Frost said, calmly talking to Kasra as if she had all the practice in the world tying a bandage. “Violette’s obsession brought us chasing forgotten empires. But why are you here?”
“I didn’t mean to be,” Kasra said as Frost used her sword to cut the cloth from the roll and then firmly tie it. “I was hunting…a deer. Wounded it. Made it run. I followed it here. Thought I could be quick, in and out. Stupid of me.”
“Yeah, well, we all make mistakes,” Frost said, putting away the cloth. “And you’ll live to make more, got that, Kasra?”
Violette returned inside, and though she was smiling, it looked beyond forced.
“We need to be going,” she said. “I think Gavriil might have woken up more of the city.”
“That, or we’re falling deeper into this era and farther from our own world,” Nick said. “None of this makes sense, and don’t try to pretend it does, Cataloger.” He knelt beside Kasra, sliding his arms underneath him. “We’re going to need you to walk, all right?”
“I don’t think I can.”
It turned out to be true. A few steps was all Kasra managed before his entire lower body went limp. Nick dropped to his knees as Kasra coughed blood.
“Please,” the man said; he stopped to swallow and then dragged out a tired breath. “Don’t let me die here.”
“I won’t,” Nick promised. “No matter what, I’m getting you home, you hear me? Even if I have to carry you myself.”
Nick twisted and forced Kasra onto his back. Once he had a good grip on the man’s legs and ensured Kasra’s arms were wrapped around his neck, he stood with a loud groan. Heavy, but not unbearable. He could make this work.
“Get us out of here,” he said as he stumbled for the door.
“Happy to,” Frost said. “Follow me.”
The four exited the home and continued out to the street. Frost glanced about, then pointed.
“We came that way,” she said. “Hurry. I never want to see another Majere building in my life.”
They hurried along, Kasra bouncing up and down on Nick’s back. He tried to ignore the tiny sliver of health left in the man, or how much blood continued to trickle across Nick’s back despite Frost’s best attempts to bind the wound. They passed towering buildings rising higher and higher, thrice Nick’s height, four times it, starting to resemble the skyscrapers of Taneth that formed a circle around the planet’s spaceport.
“This can’t be right,” Nick said, slowing down to gently place Kasra on the ground. His aching back needed a break, and he was determined to force the others to stop. Kasra lay still and limp, his eyes half-closed. “None of this looks familiar.”
“It has to be the right way,” Frost argued. “I’m using the sun to keep track.”
Nick spun in place, his neck craned up at the buildings whose purposes were lost to him and whose streets were much too wide and empty.
“That’s only if you trust the sun,” he said.
Frost crossed her arms, ready to argue, then stiffened.
“Nick…”
He froze, his heart sinking at the sound of Frost’s voice. It was too heavy. Too hesitant. Reluctantly, he turned about to confirm what he feared.
Kasra lay perfectly still, his mouth slumped open, his eyes wide and unblinking.
The blood loss was too much, pillager. It was not your fault.
Comfort from Sorrow was the last thing Nick expected, nor did he welcome its intrusion. Clenching his jaw, he knelt before the body and started to slide his hands around it.
“What are you doing?” Violette asked. “Leave it. It’s just a body now.”
Nick was shocked by her callousness, especially given how contrary it was to her normal lightheartedness and optimism.
“I made a promise,” he said, forcing Kasra’s arms around his neck and then hoisting him up by the legs. “I said I would get him out of here, and I’m going to. Even if it’s just to bury him.”
Frost lowered her voice.
“Nick, there’s no point to—”
“I don’t care,” Nick snapped. “I made a promise. He’s my weight to carry, so my choice. Worry about getting us out of here.”
“Of course,” Frost said, retreating a step. She pointed to the sky, and the faintly visible sun through towering ethereal buildings, before shifting the angle of her arm to point at one of the streets. “We entered Constance from the south, so that’s the way we keep going, south.”
“No,” Violette said, scanning the area. “No, not south. Don’t you understand? Our…time, our place, it doesn’t matter anymore. This is the world we now occupy.” She pointed to one of the signs labeling a street, along with some rudimentary arrows. “We came in through the Winter Arch, so that’s where we should go. We trust the signs, not the trees or the sun.”
Frost shot Nick a look.
“You’re tie breaker,” she said.
Do I have a vote?
Frost glared at nowhere.
“No.”
Nick shifted the body on his back, grabbing the legs tighter and trying hard not to think about how he was carrying a dead man.
“I think Violette’s right,” he said. “If we want out of Constance, then we leave Constance by its own rules.”
Frost hesitated, then tilted her head at a sudden noise from afar. It sounded like a rock slide, or a stampede.
“Fine,” she said, and nodded at Violette. “Get us out.”
The scholar took the lead, pausing only briefly to double-check the road signs, which were gibberish to Nick.
“If she’s wrong, we run the risk of being stuck here forever,” Frost whispered as she walked alongside Nick.
“Maybe not forever,” Nick said, unable to refuse his grim humor. “I’m sure we’d die eventually.”
“And if the ring of stones is also placed in this forgotten space locked out of time?”
Nick’s pace quickened. “Then we might do a lot of dying.”
“This way!” Violette shouted, gesturing for them to hurry as she hooked a right at the next intersection.
The ground shook the moment he reached the intersection. Following it was a trembling roar, and the sound of a lone trumpet.
“What is that?” Nick asked, his eyes wide.
Shall I answer?
“How about we run and never find out, instead?” Frost said as she broke into a sprint.
Nick shifted Kasra’s corpse to a more comfortable position on his back and then followed as fast as his tired legs could carry him. It felt like the stones vibrated beneath his feet, and that rumbling, crashing noise grew closer. Frost and Violette outpaced him, and he gasped with wide eyes as he followed them around another turn. Another horn sounded, dangerously close. Though he knew it was unwise, he twisted at the waist so he could look behind him.
He should not have.
Dozens of bodies marched toward them, their legs moving in frightening synchronization. They wore no clothes, their skin naked and exposed. Their movements were rushed yet clumsy, their muscles snapping and twitching wrong. Bones. They had no bones. Their open mouths had only waggling tongues and a dark empty abyss. Green fire pulsed within their chests, shaped like a blooming rose trapped in the vacant hollow where a rib cage should be.
Behind them, on a two-wheeled cart whose sides were covered in tanned hide and whose yoke was attached to a dozen flesh monstrosities with pale rope, rode another robed lich.
That is what the Majere in their time referred to as “a flesh chariot”
“Shiiiiiit,” Nick shouted, his boots pounding the stone, a pitiful tap compared to the roaring thunder giving chase. He dared not turn about. He dared not wonder how such a force could exist. The world was breaking. The world was broken. No amount of protestation from Cataloger could convince him otherwise.
He ran and pretended not to see the steady depletion of his stamina in the corner of his vision.
He ran through streets interspersed with trees. He ran past buildings flickering blue, ghosts of a civilization long dead that refused to accept that death had come for it. He ran, back aching, lungs burning, as ahead, the Winter Arch loomed. The stars blinked out one by one. The sun regained its light. Violette dashed through the arch, Frost right at her heels.
“Bring me the trespasser!” the lich rider bellowed from atop his chariot, and the fleshy horde let loose a unified shriek like breaking glass. With it came a terribly familiar spell,
Blood trickled down his nose, his every muscle aflame, but Nick tumbled the final few feet and collapsed to his knees on the other side of the arch. The moment he passed through, the world wobbled around him. The very air reverberated. The sounds of clattering feet instantly vanished, replaced with the soft rustle of leaves from wind blowing through the carpet covering the forest floor. Frost and Violette stood ahead of him, strangely stiff and unmoving.
“Halt,” a firm voice ordered, and Nick realized they were not alone. Six men and women, two with long knives, four more with bows raised and readied, waited beyond the forest’s edge. Nick slowly set Kasra’s body down and then raised his hands to show he meant no harm. The strangers’ garb was akin to Kasra’s, rough, dark fabric flowing down to their knees. All of them wore stone pendants carved into the three-loop symbol of the Majere.
“Kasra,” one of the men said, crestfallen upon getting a good look at the cold, still face.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said, taking a weak step back from the corpse. “We tended his wounds, but they were too severe.”
“Did you do this?” one of the women asked, the string on her bow stretching farther. Her hair was tied into a four-band ponytail, and her eyes were surrounded with white paint.
“Not us,” Frost said. She, too, kept her sword sheathed. “A Majere lich.”
“A lich?” said the eldest of the six. His skin was a deep brown, his eyes golden, and his hair tied into three braids that ended just beyond his neck. Unlike the others, he wore gold jewelry wrapped around his arms, and his robes bore a streak of green across their center. “Then you entered Constance.”
“We did,” Nick said, starting to feel hopeful. “Kasra said he was hunting a deer and stumbled into there on accident. I was hoping we could get him out and give him medical care, but…” His voice trailed off, for there was nothing more to say.
The six glanced at one another, and two of them whispered something Nick could not hear.
“No one’s encountered a lich and lived, not in my lifetime,” the elder said. It sounded almost like an accusation.
“Tell that to the one we slew,” Frost said. “Gavriil the Emboldened, he called himself.”
“Now he’s just Gavriil the embalmed,” Nick said, then immediately regretted it upon realizing he was the only person who would find the joke funny. The glares sent his way confirmed this.
“A slain lich,” the bow woman repeated. “Then you truly walked the shimmering city?”
Violette perked up at the term.
“That’s what Gavriil called it,” she said. “Have you ever been?”
“As part of our transition to adulthood,” she answered, chest puffing up with pride. The apparent leader shot her a look.
“Pan, Bree, wrap the body and carry it back to Hidden Hold,” he said. He returned his attention to the three, his hands clutching the emblem to his chest. “As for you, we must have words.”
“That symbol around your neck,” Violette said, sounding like she’d been barely holding back the entire conversation. “Do you hold to the Majere traditions?”
“Indeed we do,” the man answered. “It is why we settled beside these sacred ruins.”
Nick’s nervousness grew. These six, they had the appearance of a cult to him, and if they considered the place “sacred,” and the three of them trespassers…
“Forgive the cautious greeting,” the man continued. “But my people are ever in danger in the lands of the god-king. I am Ranu, leader of the Majere Remembrance. Would you be willing to surrender your weapons and accompany me to my village?”
“For what reason?” Frost asked, her demeanor still cautious.
Ranu’s smile brightened for the first time since seeing Kasra’s body.
“Because you encountered a former master of the Majere and lived,” he said. “And for the enlightenment of my people, I would beg that you share with me all you saw and learned.”