“I understand there’s been some excitement going on with the tuskers, Lady Magos,” the undead Master Ben Ten greeted me as I finished up the last of today’s Resurrections. Six more former undead were walking around dazedly, staring up at a sun and a sky that was not a gray and cursed smear of unkind pain above them, but light and hope and goodness once more.
Some didn’t have any family there to welcome them back, but if nothing else, there were always other Resurrected there to welcome them back to life and the living.
The most senior undead had still deferred their own Resurrections, despite having satisfied the requirements a long time ago. Only one of Master Ben Ten’s students had been given leave to return, and he had been the youngest and weakest of them.
Jorgio MacLinder had promptly headed out for the Hall of Lost Light to take up the Oath there, and finally join an organization truly wedded to a higher Cause. The Knights had plenty to do, and if the job hadn’t changed much, finding the right purpose was still something Good men chose to do in their lives.
Most of the Master’s students would have qualified to take up the Lost Light, but unfortunately they were all undead right now, and it would just burn them away if they tried it. Patience, something the undead had much of, and they too were trying to work on improving themselves, if only exchanging current Karma for old Karma and changing themselves to fit a new paradigm, as opposed to growing, something very, very hard for the undead to do.
“It was significant enough that I made Fourteen, and have begun clearing my secondary Classes again,” I answered the old Sho swordmaster with a nod. Although he was all bones, his soul was Silver, and I didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence at all, nor motivated to end him.
Well, his ending would be a new beginning, as it were, when he chose to be Resurrected.
“That sounds… important?” he wondered aloud, having been told that the Matrix Classes usually required a significant deed to advance past Ten. I turned to walk, and he fell in smoothly, the crowd parting respectfully around us. “I did not think making contact with the Tusker King to be so important.”
“It was the deaths of Mudmouth and Dark Bobo that were significant. They had basically usurped his kingdom and have been slowly spreading rot and death over the jungles and tuskers there. I’m going from here to make a whole lot of braziers to put in streams all over the islands to Burn the Taint off.
“They even managed to generate ghouls from the dead. That should tell you something about whatever was empowering them.”
“Cannibal feasters on the dead,” he murmured in his hollow voice, teeth clattering thoughtfully as he recalled old tales. “That is a foul step, indeed, Lady Magos.”
“It is, but now they are gone, and we are taking steps to right the situation, annoying and painful as it may be. Even the Tainted tuskers are coming to Bobo’s Lake to cleanse themselves, and that process is not free of pain. Even if vivus Burns them clean, they will need months to regain their strength. The Taint is not lost cheaply.”
He clacked his teeth again. “Curses seem to follow around this island, especially after the Fall.”
“It’s like something is out there encouraging the cursed to stay around and grow, or something.”
He glanced at me with ghostly white lights deep in empty sockets. “That sounds like a comment on something profound, Lady Magos.”
“Were you flesh and blood I’d trust you with more, Master Ben Ten, but your very undead condition leaves you susceptible to influences that the living are simply not aware of, and thus cannot hear without great effort. The massive Curse which brought you all back to unlife is very suspicious, as I’m sure you long ago realized. A miracle in its way, but true miracles don’t damn good men to undeath… just so they can keep on fighting.”
His teeth clacked again, letting me know he was thinking my words through deeply. “Yes. While our avowed purpose might be to defend the living, in the end we are here to fight and fight endlessly, just like those who were once slaved to the Deathstones and thought of combat as without risk, just some little pain to go through before being reborn.” He nodded serenely as we headed towards the new gardens to the side of the city, planted by diligent citizens restoring the city of Mayoi to something of its old and beautiful self.
It was not something the undead could truly appreciate with the necroic view of the world they had, but they could be told it was there, and would take care not to despoil it. In their eyes, such things were always rotting and lifeless, always seeing the slow deaths of the plants, not their bursting to life and color.
“The preoccupation of the System here with keeping things endlessly recycling themselves to fight and fight again is very much not a good thing, elder, and it keeps getting re-used. The implementation of the Deathstones themselves is incredibly suspect, all the good it did aside, and the incredible amount of wealth and magic that simply evaporated and now is gone as if it never was…
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Magic is not our friend here, Master Ben Ten.”
His teeth clicked quietly once again. “You are now even suspicious of Asheron himself, are you?” He shook his head slightly. “If he had malicious intents, Lady Magos, he fooled everybody. Even now I remember him as one of the kindest and most generous men I have ever met. I would be extremely reluctant to accuse him of planning us ill.”
“The destruction to his castle was not caused by the Harbinger, nor was the Rift there. The key thing is that he was a wielder of Empyrean Magic, and that magic has connections to some incredibly alien beings and influences. Regardless of his intentions, I don’t believe his magic was clean… and if he truly was as kind and benevolent as you think, then that explains why he never taught his magic to Isparians.”
Master Ben Ten’s skull tilted back, considering all that. “So, he used the magic of the System to integrate us into it and keep us alive, because he needed us for some purpose, even if he had to use the Empyrean magic to do so. The only one of us known to use Empyrean-level magic is Nuhmudira, and her dark arts are based on blood…”
“She is definitely dealing with something Out There, a being of Mythos, to wield the magicks she does, and the Cult of the Raven Hand believe it is their sponsor. She also refuses to teach her arts to other Isparians, but that is definitely not because she doesn’t want us using twisted arts. Her willingness to kill her own followers and pursue positions of power match the behavior she had on Ispar and has displayed here. She just doesn’t want the competition.
“I will note that Asheron never seemed to pursue power, but like all of the truly powerful, those desiring his power and counsel made sure to include him in all important decisions. Nuhmudira never earned that trust, and for good reason.”
“The Radiant Blood talked a virtuous talk, but they never delivered on their proclamations, and they pursued personal power and wealth relentlessly while chattering their lip service. A reflection of their hidden leader and her secrets, and now she is loosed from her prison, and, it seems, training a successor?” He didn’t hide his grim scorn, knowing full well the activities of the rival factions. He’d been the Grandmaster of the Celestial Hand, easily the most virtuous of said factions, if not completely clean because paramounts were often self-serving arseholes, and they couldn’t read Alignments back then.
“Her daughter is indeed here, and she is not here to help us, that is certain. The fact I would only like to kill her at this point doesn’t help matters, of course.” A fact I was unrepentant of, too.
“Given the tale you told of her, I imagine the feeling is mutual,” he nodded as we strolled along the outside of the city wall I had helped put up. Minor Casters had done a lot of touching it up with colors and murals and stuff, encouraged by the people, and so it was a fine illustration of old tales and fables of all three primary cultures here, along with some of the great events of Dereth itself. “Nuhmudira’s moves were always to benefit herself and her own influence, even if others happened to benefit. You, on the other hand, have not only introduced a marvelous new Tradition of magic to others, you also give of your own magic with a rare generosity, while shunning those stations of power that woman was always envious of. She was deathly envious of the power and influence Asheron wielded, and she took steps to tear down any other Caster among the Isparians who might seem more deft than her.”
I slowed to a stop abruptly. “What was her relationship with Harlune?” I had to ask.
“Poisonous,” the Sho swordmaster replied instantly. “Especially after he came to the Celestial Hand to help me. He made himself more accessible than Asheron, and he was willing to trade information on using magic in the Isparian Tradition unstintingly. He was a true cornerstone of the Celestial Hand, willing to overcome his own curmudgeonly and isolationist tendencies to do what was right.”
“Master Ulgrim said he was on an island up north. There aren’t many that are eligible for him. Given how much he loathed the olthoi for what they did to the Haebran Empire, we are assuming that island is the smallest member of the archipelago where the Olthoi Queen now hides, one not easily reached by she or her brood.”
“That… seems reasonable. Harlune was a frequent contributor to a circle of Isparians who also loathed the olthoi, including Queen Elysa herself. Looking over the olthoi does sound like something he would do, and he was a master at concealing himself if he needed to,” the swordmaster said thoughtfully.
“I am wondering if Nuhmudira managed to follow him and usurped his base for her own, and his knowledge as well.”
That earned me Master Ben Ten’s full attention. “If that is true, we should find him quickly!” the skeletal warrior urged me immediately.
“Our main forces are tied up on Aphus Lassel. They have to clear out a great deal of Summons points and Burn a lot of Taint from the place.”
“I and my students would be happy to assist you, especially for the sake of our old friend!” he volunteered instantly, his hand dropping to Giri, riding at his side as always.
They couldn’t gain much Karma as undead, but they could still grow the name of their Weapons, and they had done so unstintingly since they were taught how to.
I lifted an eyebrow at him and nodded. “Gather them, then. I will return here at dusk. I can Teleport us to a shore location close to where we need to go, and make the run around the side while you all ride Disks.”
“Even if Nuhmudira is not there, this will be worth it to speak with my old friend again,” Master Ben Ten stated firmly. “We will be ready, Lady Magos!”
“Excellent, Master Ben Ten. We have the end of a long Quest line looming ahead of us if we discover him. Have you any other questions?”
He rattled instead of hummed. “There is a request I would have, but it was more for the Princess,” he admitted humbly. Asking for help with something was somewhat shameful in Sho culture after all.
“By the way you’ve been handling Giri, I am guessing you want a new Warfang home for him? Perhaps full Jadework?” I asked archly, and he sighed in defeat at his desires being so easy to read.
I just laughed, knowing Kris would have no hesitation making such blades for the Old Master and his students… and she quietly /agreed before we took another five steps on our stroll...
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