The Flawed Perception

Etham Bannecath

I try to concentrate. These times I can access my source pretty fast. I have tried to measure it and while the results were vague, it is at least something. Though don’t judge me on my way to measure time, I try to make do with what I have. What was it again? It has been a while since I actually did this. Oh yeah, two rocks.

Hm, and here I can just about hear Bob’s rotten brain grinding away at that. Two rocks? Yes Bob, two rocks. As in, order a zombie to move rocks from one side of the hall to the other. One rock for every time he gets to the other side, drops it, comes back, picks up a new one, and drops it off at the far side again. He was about to pick up another one when I stepped out of the dream-like state of my source and stopped it. It is the perfect way to measure time when you yourself can’t spare the concentration.

Which makes it all the more vexing that I can’t get to it right now. “Fine, I give up. Bob, tear number six apart please.” I look mercilessly at the zombie who keeps dropping his rocks. I mean, I would order it to push it but apparently that is harder for it to comprehend than carry, move and drop.

I guess I should continue on with trying to give the corpses a better mind. I have already successfully made the spell more efficient so that’s naturally the next thing to do. It wasn’t even such a difficult thing to do. You see, the mana targeted the whole corpse, clearly due to that my spell was too vague. To be fair, I still don’t completely understand the process that happens when the spell affects the corpse.

But I nonetheless improve it whenever I discover something new. For example, I now know that my spell somehow empowers the body and that it’s more mana intensive the greater the corpse’s mass. Discover that and you can try to either remove mass from a corpse or try to control what the spell empowers. After all, the corpse that has no intestines worked just as well as the one with them. Clearly, some things that were empowered aren’t necessary for the thing to function.

Took me a while to get to those conclusion though. I feel my connection to number six finally start to disintegrate itself and then it is gone. Happens in moments once it starts. Now that it is officially dead again, the mana I spend on number six should begin to come back. It will take just as long as it normally does when I cast an immediate effect spell but for each undead that I have, the mana I spend on the zombie does not come back until after the connection breaks.

Ah, I still remember having to smash, cut and tear the guard apart. Ha, the panic I felt at not having gained any of the warmth back after I rested. Luckily, I did have him work at hauling the stones from the rubble while I rested so I wasn’t too wasteful.

“Bob, fetch me another corpse from the dead quarters.” I can try to also command him how intact the body should be, but that wouldn’t work. Because I have in fact ordered that the first time after I realised I could make them do it. The result, I hear you cry? One zombie fouling up the air and doing nothing.

Hence why I just clean up the waste myself. Like I could command a zombie to clean up number six but they wouldn’t be able to, take too long and just take away from important things they can do. The trick is to find something simple together with imagining a solid way the zombie could do it. If the zombie can do it of course. There was that one case where I used a more specific version of the spell. Ha, that corpse went flopping like a fish. Apparently, empowering the correct parts of the corpse is important.

Bob, it’s random zombie but actually he is the one that came out best so far, shuffles off around the corner. I am sitting near the corridor leading to the elevator and there are currently two zombies working to clear it all. It’s a shocking amount of time since I first woke up, at least that’s what it feels. And yet, I have only cleared out a bit more than half. Apparently, the rubble goes all the way from where I found it to what I presume is still the elevator. Hopefully not though.

Not to mention that I have to check on the zombies there sometimes to make sure their orders haven’t broken down. Hm, I should probably do that soon. Actually, might as well do it now, since I am bored anyway.

I stride through the corridor, walking around the few stone piles. I should try and use those someday, even if only to keep more room for my zombies to work. And I would also like to do some actual remodelling. A moderate throne wouldn’t be bad. Or a good room to properly rest in. Currently, there is nothing better than the floor to fall into the trance.

I guess I could make the throne like a place to rest. With a few handy illusions, it would look positively lordly. I am currently trying to improve my little dungeon to something fashionable. It should be up to standards until I escape after all.

The torches on either side of the wall shine brightly with flames not unlike the purple blueish fires that once floated throughout the facility. Not even the semblance of a shadow emerges as I pass each set of torches. I crafted those illusion as an improvement to the first floating flames. And I had to discover how to undo the floating fires in the first place. They were kind of permanent unlike these new torches.

While that may sound stupid since I would have to recreate them, they actually cost a lot less mana now and all it cost to do that was change the way I thought of it. So simple as to have been inconceivable to me for a while.

I hear a scraping behind me but do not immediately turn around. Instead I just walk on at a slower pace. Eventually, before I reached my two working undead slaves, bob catches up while dragging a new corpse. “Took a while Bob. Severely disappointed.” Bob doesn’t reply as always. Not that his facial muscles an show any expression either, that would just be a waste of mana to empower.

Dust and small rocks dislodge themselves from the ceiling and fall through the force constructs there. That happens sometimes, often enough that the dust that falls on my force constructs gives them an clear outline. Without those things holding up the ceiling, it would have long since collapsed again. Hence, why I tried to make them permanent.

Back to the corpse. For the current spell, I have to not only clearly hold the correct muscles and bones in mind, the spell itself has to be built around it. But first I have to get to my source, which shouldn’t take too long nowadays. The two zombies will continue their work nonetheless , so no time is lost. A quick glance at them past the heaps of stone shows that they are still hauling together. Again, those commands took some time solidifying.

I sit down and prepare myself for the trance. The only way to get better in accessing my source is practise and challenging myself. Of course, it is hard to even so much as touch one’s source if there is a clear physical distraction. Such as a rock hitting your face. “Gods damnit. This can’t be normal.” I look up at the ceiling above me. Cracks are slowly but visibly spreading.

I put up those force constructs as simple beams, thus to support it all there are actually a lot of them. That also helps in spreading out the weight each one caries. It wasn’t time consuming, placing them. The only thing is that every time I need to place another one to support the ceiling, that is discovered by my zombies not being able to remove that one crucial heap of rubble and then don’t work anymore. So more time is wasted in inaction than setting the damned things up.

If only they would also stay up, that would be lovely. Just a few meters ahead of me, something audibly breaks, the sound which I liken to an object getting crushed at once. Suddenly, a tide of dust and tiny concrete stones rushes down from there and covers the floor. A loud groan echoes through the corridor. A piece of concrete, separate from its neighbours apart from an steel rod through them both, slowly lowers as the rod itself bends down. Chunk of stone, larger than my chest, quickly reveals itself the cause.

“Oh. Gods have mercy on me. Bob! All zombies. Get to the hall as fast as possible. Drop everything, leave it behind.” I can’t spare any more times for my slaves. They are replaceable, even bob. Me? Only the one, I’m afraid.

I hear more beams snapping behind me but by now I am even too afraid to look behind me. And I am sure the ones in front of me show the image clear enough. “Dodge the bloody rocks!” I shout behind me for the zombies, if they are still following behind. A jagged rock cuts open my left arm as it falls next to me.

Then I hear a definite collapse behind me as all the force constructs give way. The sound of the constructs breaking is easily swallowed by the downpour of new rubble into the newly semi-excavated corridor to the surface.

I dodge around the last heap of removed rocks and reach the more originally intact part of the corridor. I stop and while I don’t have to catch my breath, haven’t done that in ages, I do have to calm down. That idea is ruined as something rams into me from behind. “Stop!” I try to catch myself but I am pushed on. I grunt as my face painfully scrapes the ground.

I kick the now completely still form off of me and look at Bob. “At least you made it. Next time this happens… heads are going to join the throne.” Damnit Bob. The collapse catches up to us and ends in a cloud of dust. My nose, eyes, mouth and even ears are full of it. “Aaaaah, I want a bath…” I try to, but I fail miserably to keep that pitiful, wishful tone out of it. Haven’t had a bath in ages.

Tears wash the dust out of my eyes and but after a minute or so, though it’s hard to tell that nowadays, I can clearly see the remains of all my work. Bob lies still next me, not moving so much as a muscle. Not unless I command it to. Apart from him, there is only one other zombie here. Half buried but still trying scrape forward, zombie number five is clearly a lost case. Don’t know where three is but I certainly don’t feel it anymore.

Actually, I am somewhat surprised five is still functioning. Its entire lower half is completely crushed. Makes you curious as to where the connection originates. Because by all signs, it seems the bare consciousness of my zombies seems to be at the other end of the connection. If I could tinker with that, and apparently it’s in the upper body, I may make myself someone to talk to… apart from bob that is.

I should have done this far sooner. It’s not like this small revelation is that significant in anyway. How much time could I have used to get some company? Damn, if there’s anything I want… forget the bath. This is where I will find greatness. Sure, I’ll keep trying to escape but I finally realise… this is the perfect place to master this magic. No distractions, apart from a random collapse of course, and no responsibilities. This will be my home. My dungeon. And I’ll be ready when I escape. Ready for anything.

Surface, The Low Lands

“General! The monsters escaped the den before the rockets hit!” A soldier in a worn uniform and seemingly fragile modern armour rushes over to the general of the combined armies. “Gnat cursed monsters. There goes the plan.” The general can’t help but lace his words with anger, even if the other commanders can hear it. Doesn’t matter anyway, they know the plan is ruined. The settlement of Endoven will be furious to know they wasted their last rockets. Well, wasted, it probably got more than a hundred of the normal wolves and hopefully a few dozen beasts. But the two infamous pack leaders…

The grey giant female can swallow a man whole, the black male who is followed by a dozen shadowy copies. They ate entire villages and even rampaged through the settlement of Gorda before they barely managed to drive them out. More than a thousand casualties were caused by that night.

The general coincidently comes from Gorda, lived there all his life. His parents in particular were strong fighters, surviving the onslaught from the deep so many years ago. Fury wells up in him as he is reminded of their death by the very monsters there on the battlefield.

Nonetheless, more than two hundred mundane wolves escaped the destruction of their den and together with the two monsters and the hundred beast that join the already sizeable amount… The fight just got a lot harder to control and even if they win, it might become costly.

“Prepare the last of the grenade launchers and fire into the middle deep enough into the enemy on my order. Commander van Haag, please gather your men from the reserves and charge in from the right, try to scare away the wolves from the right flank and herd them to the middle.” After a quick moment of contemplation, he turns around and gives orders to the commanders of the individual forces. It took a lot of begging and bargaining to get this many settlements to join together against these monsters.

The older the monsters are, the more humans and mana they consumed. Funnily enough, the few monsters we managed to capture that were hunting humans are stronger than the ones who didn’t even though they should have had the same amount of mana. Therefore you can’t ever underestimate these man-eaters.

The commanders said those rockets were going to be overkill when the general brought them, but apparently even they weren’t enough. At least it managed to drive those damned monsters out. The general would hate to enter those massive storage complexes, who knows what’s in there. More of those hellish beast certainly, and that mostly does it for him.

“Sir Allis has to fire with his squad of archers into the centre, mainly try to slow the approach of the new beasts and the monsters if you can. Commander Morgan, gather up the few companies of gunmen of all factions and bring them to the left flank. Wait for sir Ruyter’s cavalry charge and allow free fire after they finish retreating. You know your own channels for if I need to contact you. That’s it for now.” The relevant people all got on their horses and quickly went to their respective forces. The general just goes back to observing the battlefield.

“Sir General. A word.” The general turn around to see an grey haired man. His eyes look weary but otherwise he doesn’t show a hint of fatigue. Even he himself was starting to feel the lack of sleep by now. “You have my ear.” The general replies.

“Good. The thing is, our city recent started training a cavalry corps as well, to save more fuel of course just like everyone else. While the others don’t have a big enough cavalry corps to send, everyone other than sir Allis’ Potterdam that is, I just got word that our cavalry should be arriving soon. We merely wish to tell you in advance so you can take it into consideration as well.” The man doesn’t come over as precisely deferential or respectful despite his words but reinforcements aren’t meant to be rejected.

“Of course. Remind me, who and from where are you again?” The general can’t quite remember who this man is. Anyone who had the foresight to train cavalry before their fuel is depleted is worth remembering.

“Arnell de Wit, from Brine city. It is closer to the old German border than most other big settlements.” At the name, a look of recognition appears in the general’s eyes. “Ah yes, the wildmage queen’s city. Many do speak of it, in awed tones no less.”

Arnell’s eyes loose a bit of that weariness and a satisfied look seeps through his previous impassive face. “Queen? Not quite. It is true that she has the highest power in the city these days and the old style of leadership has mostly vanished but that is hardly a subject for the battlefield, isn’t it?”

“Quite true, whitebane. Farewell.” With that the general gets up on his horse and goes over to where the remaining commanders are now standing. “To think even someone from Gorda would have heard of that nickname. At least they recognise all the effort we put into Brine.” Arnell can’t help but grin. If not for the mana within him, he would have called himself too old for this.

Suddenly, a storm of fire explodes on the right flank. There were a few wildmages here and there in the army, with more normal mages, but only one is so violent and full of cold fury. “God damnit. They charged right in didn’t they? And now I have to tell the general, even though I have no clue how I am going to get you out of there. Why is it always this Cecilia. Every time.” And despite the battle raging below and the blood, screams and lives being tossed around carelessly in it, or perhaps just because of the firestorm within it, he grins as he goes on to save her. Not that she would acknowledge that.

Surface, Northern Old Italy

At the village of Cumiana, the people living there haven’t been this happy in years. And until quite recently, they were the worst they had been in years. Such a profound difference from only a single simple change. But what a change it is.

Before, a monster plagued on the village and slaughtered men and cattle alike. How can those weak villagers stop a monster that flies at its own behest? The few bullets they still had and shot at the bird never seemed to hit it. If only, it caused them to rapidly run out of marksmen.

So, they could only return to Turin, the old city that still stands though much reduced, and ask for their aid. And now after it all, it seems like the bargain is worth it. The last of their little independency is merely pride’s foolishness. They clearly can’t take care of themselves. Why else would they need to ask for aid?

“I just think that the governor should force them to cooperate. I mean, these people lost nearly three dozen people within two months to that bird. They clearly don’t know what’s good for them if they couldn’t bring themselves to go to Turing earlier. How can we help them if they don’t ask for it?” An heavily armoured figure rides up front of the small returning army, along with several others. It is hard to tell from his appearance but at least the voice sounds young so the appearance stands to follow.

“People have to farm the land here and people have to eat back in Turin. We only need to protect them and the world goes round. If they came to Turin, it would upset the balance immensely. Don’t follow evil by making it good. Think well on that girl.” A gruff man with a harsh voice. The girl in armour turns to the other man as if to say something. Luckily, she doesn’t get the chance. “Hush, by now they should be able to hear us. Let’s enter on good terms and leave the same.” A middle aged woman, presumably the one in charge if you go by her tone, then looks at the fourth person with them. “Can you go ahead and tell them the good news?” The fourth person, an elderly man in an old robe, nods and spurs on his horse toward the gate that the villagers built in their crude wall. The girl can only swallow her words and continue in silence. No one else seems to mind.

“Welcome, good saviours! I see had a good hunting.” An middle-aged man says from on top of the wall, looking pointedly at the few black feathered corpses in one of the trailers. They might be pulled by donkeys now instead of a car, but they were quality nonetheless. The man truly looks happy as he says it.

The gates open and the man quickly gets down from the wall to the now open gate. “In the name of the entirety of Cumiana, welcome!” The man spreads his arms wide in a dramatic show of gratitude. Down the street, residents stand at the side and more keep joining as word gets around.

The gruff man lets a short laugh at the sight. “Everyone ready to be hailed as heroes again?” He doesn’t quite shout, but he makes sure that the few men behind him can clearly hear his comment. Within his half-modern but medievally inspired armour only he knows of his grin and mumble. “I never tire of it. Especially the nights. Ha aha ha!” The girl turns to look at the man as he laugh for no clear reason. With a visible shrug, she rides on and the entire army soon follows her.

After a night of festivities and feasting, the army has to go again. As the sun rises in the late morning, the few soldiers who found a darling for the night say good bye while the paladins, the priest and the commander finish up with the community mayor. Slowly, the army leaves the village while they talk outside of it. “We have left a dozen of the smaller beasts and all the normal crows and ravens near your storage, as well as the trailer they were in. Compensation for your losses and the feast.” The commander says.

“Lady Velati, there is no need to compensate us for the feast, that was freely given.” Then mayor Detti dramatically motion on. “Yet, I am sure the widows and families will appreciate this token. Good travel, and be assured that you can tell your governor the deal has been satisfactorily concluded.” Without a shred of further consideration he turns back to the gate. They do manage to pick up one thing as he hurriedly leaves them behind. “Damn zealots. Now they are taking our residents as well.” As soon as he passes through the gates, they slam shut..

“How friendly.” The gruff paladin can’t help but remark. “Lay it off Markus. They try to be as strong as possible. Sadly, that entails independency for them. And while they bargained when they were in need against that ideal, don’t hold it against them if they find it sour. Think of what your god would say.” Lady Velati, the commander, rebukes him. The group get on their horses and calmly ride to the front.

“Our lord is unfathomable to one such as I. I already count myself a lucky man to wield this power by his grace.” The girl and the priest nod in agreement to that. “But yet, I cannot help but think that we wouldn’t even have needed to be here if he intended for this village to survive. That’s the very reason we accepted new recruits to bring with us back to Turin.”

“And that’s why, Markus, Rome makes you advisors and not commanders. The lord has his kingdom of Heaven and we have this world of Men. Our task is only to make sure it stays that way. Not to judge the lives of the living. Rome stands above the church and god stands above us all. We shall not go back to the squalor of the middle ages. We are the descendants of great men and women. We will rise back to our birth right!” Lady Velati ends in a strong shout.

And next to them the soldiers, both men and women, though more of the former were in service, who hear it break out in cheers. Soon the whole army is cheering, even if the ones at the front have no clue yet why. Hopefully it’s something about booze. They soon enter a forest and out of the sharp morning sun.

They don’t especially hurry in their march, because well, they don’t need to. And the commander feels like they deserve it anyhow, with how they performed at the raven den. The monster previously residing there was especially vicious. The villagers had wholly failed to describe its strength. Were it not for some quick thinking of a few of her officers, many more of her soldiers would have perished before they killed that type one monster. It could maybe even have escaped had Markus not singlehandedly held it off.

She took a glance at the stout holy knight, one of the first from the new generation to join the rising order. She can still clearly see the previous battle in front of her. Markus in the air with shining wings, strengthening the few veterans that still fought with him. She knows it wasn’t all from the Vatican, that power. She herself has been picking up a bit of mana from all these fights against monsters and beasts. She also clearly understand the unusual exhaustion the use of it brings. It’s one of the reason why paladins channel the mana of others in Rome or even their priests. The exhaustion doesn’t interfere with the fight then.

With the bare amount she has she can light a fire and a few other cantrips she learnt from mages and paladins. The exhaustion Markus must feel from those magics, there is a reason they only allow a paladin to go on so many mission before they have to stay in Rome and become priests for new paladins.

“General!” A soldier rushes over to the group of four. He then points at the trees that were slowly starting to encroach on the road. The village should chop some of these down, since it was theirs to maintain. The girl turns in her saddle and leans toward the forest, as if struggling to see. “Fine. Teacher, my new record is a week.” She then takes of her helmet and reveals a slightly face with short black hair. “Yeah, now I can see them.”

Coming out of the forest line to too far back now, two men in cut, torn and bloodied uniforms shamble towards them while supported by three other soldiers. Lady Velati immediately tries to take control. “Hurry. Speak up, what happened.” The soldiers double their pace.

One of them keeps himself held up by the soldiers while the other scout manages to bow before her despite the blood on his clothes. “Sir, our scouting party was ambushed by bandits up on the road there. We were moving through the forest but we somehow stumbled on an ambushing force. We were under fire and split up. Michaël and I barely made it.” The commander nods. “And where is officer Gerat? And state your name when speaking to command soldier.”

The soldier gets up and gives a salute. “Private Osgardo, sir. Officer Gerat split up and I couldn’t see which way. Apologies sir.” A laugh comes from Markus. “Ha aha ha, calm down, get to the doctor to treat those injuries.”

The scout quickly shakes his head. “I feel well enough sir. It is more important that someone leads the way to the ambushers.” The girl perks up at that. “I can do that. Together with officers Arcuri, Brent and Rothel, we should have enough cavalry to drive them out of their ambush. With the scouts gone, that would be our safest bet.”

Lady Velati looks doubtful at that. “I agree that we need to send another stronger scouting force forwards but four cavalry units seems excessive. How about just you go with Arcuri. See as a test of your command. Find private Osgardo a horse and tell the officers to slower the pace. You go get officer Arcuri together with unit and tell him that he will follow Lucia’s orders.” Two of the three soldiers nod and go to pass on the message to the relevant officers.

Soon, the two cavalry units gallop over the road with Lucia, the paladin trainee, at the front. “For Rome!” She shouts. Markus can only look after her as he rides next to lady Velati. “Somehow, it doesn’t look she realises that scouting doesn’t involve giving away your position.” Lady Velati can only look somewhat disappointed but mostly amused on.

Then she can only jump up in shock as the entire scouting cavalry force suddenly start falling from the front. “What happened!” From the forest on either side of the scouting force arrows and bullets fire upon the fallen riders. “Brent and Marretes. Follow me!” Markus shouts and rushes his horse forwards. He is soon joined by two units of cavalry from amongst the army.

The firing at the fallen riders stop, who have all by now found cover or died. No, instead three dozen dogs, wolves, crows and with beasts among them, pour out of the forest. Not only that but as the cavalry units behind Markus reach the halfway distance between them and the fallen riders, a metal wire can be clearly seen shooting out from the asphalt. Cautious, a lot of the riders in this unit manage to jump over it but still many fall.

Arrows and bullets now rain on them from the forest. Luckily, only a couple fall to the arrows this time as they all got their shields out but the only protection against the bullets is luck or hiding behind the horses. The few riders still on their horses instead charge into the forest, with the only noticeable effect being a few arrows or bullets less for a while.

“Charge! Roth and Bouliard, take down the enemy archers and gunmen. All ranged units, return fire until confrontation with our cavalry. Everyone, rush forward.” Lady Velati shouts to the best of her ability. Past her, their last two cavalry units race past.

“Aaaaaagh!” From their own sides of the forest, even more foes pour out. The quick soldiers, and that have guns, manage to get off a few shots at them but they fall down as they themselves become targets.

“Halt! Gunmen and archers continue, infantry hold them off! Keep them bac…aaagh.” The last of lady Velati’s voice disappears in cry as her horse crumbles below her. One of the last officers that remain near her falls of her horse with a hole in her helmet.

Soldiers immediately run up to lady Velati and surround her with thick, heavy shields held high. Only the occasional shudder shows their effectiveness. “Aside! I need to see.” Urgently she looks through the small gap the make between their shields. Horses were starting to return from the forest, some with or without their riders.

She looks to where she last saw the priest. The old man was there on the ground, healing an arrow wound to his shoulder. “Gerardus, you have to support the infantry for a while. It doesn’t have to last long, just everyone.” The old priest nods but otherwise remains silent.

“Open up in three and protect the priest. One, two, three!” The soldiers instantly move on three and instead cover the priest. One arrow lands dangerously close to where lady Velati is now, without her protection of course. She rushes back to the group protection of the infantry but only for a while. “All cavalry, follow me! I repeat, all cavalry, follow me!” There are now a dozen horsemen and while not all of them listen to her, enough do to actually function. Barely.

One of the nine riders trips up over a body and falls into a few infantry soldiers. Eight still works however. The closest one to her reaches for her arm and pulls her on his horse. “They aren’t attacking the rear. Try and flank them from there. Eliam!” She makes a few hand movements towards the back of their army. Without looking for acknowledgement from the new unit, she rushes forward together with the rider. At roughly the same time a warm glow saturates all of the infantry, and they start to fight just that much more faster and stronger than before.

“Aaaagh!” A cheer comes from the men as the fight starts to turn their way. The rider, on whose horse lady Velati rides, can’t help but shout out as well. “For the Lord!” Elsewhere on the battlefield, someone else takes up the call. “For the Lord!” A few brave soldiers even manage to break through the line and bravely charge the enemy’s rear. Sadly, they instantly get shot to bits. Even the priest’s blessing can’t protect them that much.

The losses are already terrible but it looks like they are fighter a greater force anyway. If they survive she will be happy, but if they win that would be miraculous. She is wrenched from her thoughts as the horse falls from beneath her again. The rider twists himself mid air to try and protect lady Velati. Perhaps due to the blessing, but the rider somehow manages to jump of the doomed horse. Lady Velati hits the ground with the rider between her and it.

Lady Velati separates from him as she rolls on. The battle is still going on and the blessing is beginning to fade here and there, urging on the remaining soldiers with a new desperateness. Instead, lady Velati just lies on the ground, dazed, hurt and confused.

Suddenly, she is picked up by rough hands. Weakly, she looks at one of the new recruits. Yet, she is utterly shocked as she gets a look at her surroundings. There, at their rear, there was a reason the enemy doesn’t fire here. The road is covered in fallen stone still soldiers. Some look as if running while others have a more aggressive pose but all of them move not so much a muscle.

Then she sees the wildmage. With a vicious grin and cold pale blue eyes, he watches on as a stream of blood, the tips frozen, bore themselves into the riders eyes. He quickly goes limp. “Look at our luck. She came right into our hands. The warlock will be pleased. Go, I’ll hold the soldiers off. Good bye miss, was me a pleasure.” The previously injured scout look her dead in the eye, a floating stream of blood not far off.

Five soldiers break off of the line and charge at the wildmage. The stream shoots itself at the closest soldier, who just brings his lighter shield up. The blood flows around it and the woman soon falls down, grasping her frozen shut throat. The wildmage picks up a dagger and quickly cuts the dead rider’s throat. Soon a new stream flows around him. The three new recruits, who obviously aren’t that, quickly run of into the forest with a squirming woman held between them.

“Lord Warlock, the enemy is nearly broken. Shall we prepare the cavalry?” A man in clean dark clothes stands in the shadows of the forest, looking over the battlefield. He turns to the woman who spoke. “If you can call it that. Ha. They should however be enough to hunt down any of theirs that flee. You know what I think it is time to finish this. In the proper fashion of course.” The man says to her, and all the other subordinates around him.

The warlock holds out his hands and for a second, his eyes glow red. Then a black smoky bolt erupts from his hands. It shoots itself at a cluster of the paladin’s soldiers. It hits two soldiers, and at the point of contact, their flesh immediately begins to rot. They scream in horror as their guts spill out and rot in front of their eyes. They claw at their comrades for help, and when they touch so much a speck of the rot, they get it too.

A few brave inflicted rush at the warlock’s soldiers, but they have been warned of this spell. They keep away from the inflicted and when they do manage to get hold of one of theirs, they kill them both.

The fights are now sparse enough to not all get infected. Hence why the warlock spares these kinds of spells for last. Speaking of the warlock, his hands are shaking and his face is now gaunt with sunken eyes. A booming voice sounds out over the battlefield. “Surrender and we will spare your lives, flee and we’ll cut you down.” Instantly, whole groups of soldiers lay down their weapons.

The warlock can’t help but grin, despite the cost of the spell. The energy or the knowledge for the spell didn’t come from him but the connection to his master nonetheless always takes away his strength.

A soldier comes up and whisper in one of his subordinate’s ears. The man nods at the soldier then looks at the warlock. “Sir, some men have returned together with the enemy commander. In regard of the paladins, the one in the first charge seems to have broken her neck at the very start, but the other one is alive. Injured but alive.”

“Good, bring to me the paladin. I can’t wait to see who it is.” The warlock can’t help but rub his shaking hands together in anticipation. “Well go then, get the paladin!” The soldier who told the officer hurriedly leaves and soon returns with ten more men and a bound and bleeding paladin.

The warlock can’t help but be disappointed as he sees him. “A pity, I had hoped for someone else. Who were you again? Averic, Mavric, Maverus… Ah, Markus, the light of the new generation. Tell me, do you recognise me? I wouldn’t think so, but please try.” The paladin doesn’t utter as much as a word, though his breathing remained heavy due to the bullet wound.

“Thought so. Well, I had hoped it was my brother or one of his friends. The reason why I put this much effort into it all actually. Well, anyhow, you’ll do. Master wasn’t that specific after all.” The warlock stretches out his hand towards the paladin, and from Markus’ wound, a bullet flies out into the warlock’s grasp. With another wave of his hand, the blood begins to retract into the wound.

Markus can’t help but laugh. “Ha aha ha. Did the darkness drive you mad fiend? Or are you finally accepting god’s fate for you.” The Markus’ laughter slowly dies out, as he sees the warlock’s grinning face.

“Oh, I am not doing this for you, foolish mortal. No, this is for my master.” The warlock nods at the soldier who let the paladin free. The paladin immediately rushes at the warlock, his hands starting to glow. That glow fades a second later as the paladin staggers. The warlock holds a dark purple wispy sword, buried deep into the paladin’s chest. The warlock looks upon the paladin with glowing red eyes as he burrows the ethereal sword entirely into him. The paladin falls backwards and begins to writhe.

The warlock and his subordinates let him be and instead gaze over the road, back to the village. “Have the men quickly finish looting the corpses. We should march as fast as possible to Cumiana, before they have time to prepare. Tell the soldiers to try and take as many slaves as possible.” The warlock looks back at the still writhing body of the paladin. “My master will want to have as many slaves as possible to build his empire.”