Rotten Æther

“The flesh and bones can be sep- separated,” I stumble over the word, the letters are moving around on their own and even rubbing my eyes doesn’t make it any better.

I can read. I’m not stupid, but it’s still not as easy for me as it is for others. Unfortunately, I can’t get any help this time. No one else wants to read the secrets of the ancient necromancers. Even if the others trust me enough not to make a fuss about it, they’ll feel uncomfortable and I don’t want to do that to them.

I slip the small notebook back into my clothes, securing it as well as I can so that I don’t lose it in a fight. I could leave it in my bag but I’m even less happy with that idea because if someone stumbles on it, we’ll all be in trouble.

Not to mention how difficult it would be to replace the book. The necromancer might have scattered them all over the place back when he was alive, but I’m sure most would have been found and burned by now.

Shifting around, I move about until I’m facing the ground planking, an exercise that I’ve learned from a few of the other mercenaries we’re travelling with. We’re still camped by the town, and I’ll have to get some rest soon, but training is more important for now.

Æther burns through me, leaking into the air as I consider the words that I read from the notebook.

Necromancy is a magic centred on controlling dead flesh. There are different elements to it, but controlling a corpse as a zombie is the most basic form of this magic, and it’s all that I’ve really been doing so far. I didn’t read anything about accessing a person’s memories in there, which is weird but doesn’t matter right now.

The other more advanced form of necromancy, that it advises me to practice, is modifying or building undead creatures. So with Crow, I could find another dead bird and rebuild him using the feathers and bones. Most of the ‘healing’ that I can do for them isn’t very quick, or effective so it’s better for connecting the dead flesh that I put together rather than regrowing it.

What I can’t wrap my head around is the idea of completely constructing my own undead from scratch. Taking random bones and muscles and just, building something. The notebook did say that I’d fail at it and that whatever I build will probably collapse in on itself before turning into a splattered fleshy mess on the ground. But then, I’ve failed at everything before I succeeded.

Still… do I want to make new types of undead?

Will that make me more powerful?

I don’t think I can build anything more powerful than the animals I find in the wild and doing something silly like building a dragon out of the spare parts I find isn’t going to end well no matter how many years I put into the idea. I just don’t see the use in it, outside of using it to fix the creatures I already have, of course.

There are other magics I need to be focusing on anyway.

My weight magic is the biggest priority.

When I activate the magic while charging, I don’t slow down instantly and I have a lot more force behind me when I hit. Getting the timing of the chant just right, I can even use it like that now if only one out of ten times. When I can cast it without chants, I can use it mid-swing, then lighten it again when I need to redirect my weapon.

I can float up into the air, or fall if I want to or make myself so heavy that I leave a crater behind when I land. Making myself lighter than my sword or vice versa can let me control my position so much more easily too.

I can’t do any of that with chants. Other fighters only really use the magic to make themselves heavier so they can use heavier weapons without getting thrown around, but that’s not how I fight. I need to progress from chanting.

My fire magic isn’t progressing in quality at all, but I could ask Adeleya for more help in figuring it out well.

“Syr, Syr!” Namor sneaks into the tent, a tense smile on her face and a crown of leaves scattered around her head. The other mercenaries are really getting along with her. “Syr, something is happening. No one’s listening to me, but something is happening.”

“What is it?” The tone in her voice is serious. The guards aren’t sounding an alarm, but I’ve never really trusted anyone else. I’ve never had anyone else to trust growing up, so I quiet my breathing, listening for anything out of place.

“The bugs…” Namor says, lowering her head and gripping her skirt.

It’s quiet. Normally the insects are always there making a fuss, but for all I know all the bugs are dead and gone. My skin prickles the longer I listen.

The fires burning outside crackle, and the light is flickering on the tent wall. A few guards are talking in the distance, but they’re not all that loud.

Grey, hiding as best as he can in the underbrush, opens his eyes and lifts his head a little to see if there’s something out there past our defences. There’s nothing around that I can see… if anything it seems like it might be a little darker?

A flash of shadow glides through the space between trees, moving with an unnatural grace. I order Grey to freeze and play dead, praying that he wasn’t seen.

Fear thrusts deep into my chest, even being this far away. A familiar fear. Fear that I’ve fought before, and strangely it inspires a little hope in me. It reminds me of her.

No. It’s not Rea.

“Vampire attack!” I shout, if I wait until I’m sure then we’ll be waiting until someone is dead.

Pulling Namor out of the tent, I snatch my longsword from beside the entrance and I rush to the nearest fire, standing so close that it sears my back through my clothes, I hold the girl close to me and glare out into the darkness.

“Vampire!” The shout is spread through the crowd, and the mercenaries quickly take up torches and cast their magic spells, spreading light through the camp. In less than half a minute the campfires spread out until there’s not even a patch of shadow left inside the line of guards.

Even the tents are cut down to give us all a clear sight of everything around us. It’s bright and hot, and sweat is dripping from me. Fire is everywhere around and I’m not the only one using magic to bring it closer. I let it flow along my shortsword, as I hold out my longsword with the other hand.

This isn’t enough. Not on its own. All this can do is limit a vampire’s power, so that we stand a chance. We still need to win the fight.

“Does anyone have eyes on it?” The march commander calls out, his voice heavy but confident.

Yes, confidence. We can’t be scared.

I flinch, glancing down at Namor who’s clinging to me desperately. She didn’t have time to grab her shield and going now would be stupid. It probably wouldn’t help anyway.

“The town! Somethings happening in the town!” A guard cries his warning, a few screams breaking out from that direction. Namor’s ears are twitching on her head.

“It’s… him. It’s him again…” She whispers, her eyes wide open and the fur on her back rising up tall. “He’s… he’s giggling.”

The image of a vampire rushes through my mind. The hunter. The one that captured them, twisted them up and made them into monsters.

He’s here, doing something to the village. Probably delivering monsters of some kind.

“Why?” Namor asks, clutching my side.

The taste of blood in my mouth shocks me aware, and I quickly heal my lip where I’ve bitten it a little too hard. A familiar, terrible, oppressive fear washes over me, much more powerfully this time.

Chunks of bone and flesh rain down from the skies around us, yet not a single drop of blood alongside. I reach out and snatch one from the air, a snowflake that doesn’t melt, perfectly white but warm as the air around us.

A thrill of pain and fear consumes me, rushing along my arm and stealing the air from my lungs. Each repeating pattern carved into the delicate shape is that of a screaming face, the desperate cries and screams that I can almost hear. The paper-thin bone flexes as I grip it tight, snapping it into pieces, but it’s not the only one falling.

She warned us about things like this, things that vampires can make from the corpses of those they kill. Things that force fear into your heart.

All around me, it’s the same thing, mercenaries fighting off the emotion that’s filling the air around us. A thick terror that can’t be dispelled. Namor is breathing too quickly, her eyes wet and wild as she tries to look everywhere at once. I let the terror sink into my bones and kneel, forcing the young girl to face me.

“Namor,” I grab her face tight. “You hate him. Don’t you?”

She nods slowly, her watering eyes slowly focusing on me.

“We’re going to kill him, aren’t we? We’re going to hunt him down and kill him.”

“You said that we’re too weak…” Her voice is barely a squeak.

“I have a secret for you,” I say, rubbing at her head and staring out into the darkness. “Vampires aren’t scary, they’re the ones who are scared. They hide in the dark because they’re scared of the light, and they’ll do these horrible things to try and make you scared because they can’t fight you if you’re brave.”

“We’ll be brave, together,” I say, and she quickly nods to me. The burning fire is right beside us, a shield against the vampire’s magics. She’s still scared, but she’s brave enough to stand up to it now. How much that will help us, I don’t know.

“Where is it?!” Lothar shouts, Adeleya chanting by his side, getting ready to cast the moment she has a target. A group of mercenaries stand around her to guard her since she’s making herself a big target. I want to help, but I’ve got Namor to worry about.

“They’re attacking one another. The villagers are attacking one another!” The shout comes from the men closest to the village, but that doesn’t matter right now. A few weak people, even enraged, shouldn’t be able to cause us any problems.

They would be good distractions though…

I itch to go out and hunt him. To stop being the prey and finally be the predator, but now is not the time. I need to protect everything that I can.

“Above us!” Nadia shouts, firing an arrow at the sky. Adeleya finishes her chant, fire bursting forth from her staff carried by the wind, a burning serpent that crashes into the sky raining sparks over the camp.

“Too~ late~!” A man laughs with a lilting, playful tune, standing far above us.

Adeleya’s flames wash over crystalline ice that hovers overhead. It hisses and cracks, the light shining through and illuminating the figure of a man above us. The shadows that were holding him aloft disappear but he only smiles, showing bloodied teeth as he falls into the water, riding it down as the ice beneath shatters.

Ice and water rush down over us, stealing the night sky.

I strengthen my skin and fall over Namor, forcing her to the ground and protecting her from the impact.

The water hits hard. Harder than water has any right to be. I grip tightly to the girl’s fur with one hand and my longsword with the other, but the ground washes out from under me. We’re rolling about in the water, hitting the ground and blocks of ice as we tumble through the wave.

Namor is clinging to me tighter, and I try to sink my sword into the ground, but I can’t get the force behind me to make it stick. After a few more seconds we break through and taste air again.

Shivering from the ice bath, I burst up from the still-flowing waters, lifting my sword ready for a fight. Namor is huddled down low, her claws sinking into me as she tries to look for the enemy.

A familiar fear washes over me, fear that is not mine. Something forced into me by that monster’s terrible magics, and the things that he’s scattered everywhere.

The fires are gone, not even a single coal still burning, but people are already summoning magical lights while I’m still spitting up water. Bright white, magical lights spread out over a camp devastated by the sudden wash of water. Some people are still choking, and others have hit trees and are struggling to get to their feet.

“Up…” Namor whispers, tugging at my hand and pointing to the sky.

My breath stops.

My heart skips a beat as I try to take in the sight, but my hands just won’t stop shaking.

It’s impossible.

How?

A spider.

As tall as a mountain, its legs like distant pillars standing in every direction. Looming overhead, a thousand of its children race down from the swarm that covers the queen’s belly, their hungry eyes reflecting the magic lights that we’re shining up into the sky.

I lick my lips blinking.

What… do I do?

I have to run. I can’t fight that. I can’t survive staying.

The others are all just standing there, staring up as well but-

“Argh!” I scream, covering my face as a bright white light burns my eyes. It takes me a moment to blink it away, but when I look back up into the sky, the spiders are all gone.

“An illusion!” Someone shouts, and I take in the sight of a much more capable group of mercenaries, not dazed by the illusion, but armed and ready for a fight. “The moment the fires were out it hit us. It knows what it’s doing, don’t let it get to you!”

The lilting tunes of laughter echo through the camp before fading into the darkness.

Another lie? An illusion to have us lower our guards?

“Syr…” Namor’s gripping my arms so tight that her claws are sinking into me, her eyes are wide open again as she sniffs at the air. “He was here. He was… was…”

She points at a footprint in the mud, and I pull her closer.

“Let’s get our weapons,” I say, pulling her closer to the others, “We’ll get him next time.”

She quietly nods, following me.

“Fighters, support the front! Monsters are among the villagers!” The march commander shouts. “Mages, more light. We won’t be surprised again.”

Grabbing my other sword, I take my place in the fight.