The Wielder of Death Magic

Igna side-glanced, “-doth thee wish to die?” he aimed, a brisk sound of knees and clothes hit the ground, “-please allow us to follow you,” they asked with foreheads pinned.

“Follow me?” he stopped, “-I’ll have to refuse,” a snap lit aflame the body of the deceased, ‘-I shouldn’t have shot, they seem like kids. The death’s left them distraught,’ he narrowed in thought, ‘-who cares,’ no second thought wasted, “-right, gentlemen robbers. Here’s the deal, I’ll be staying in Carne manor for the coming weeks. Drop on by, there might be work to be done.” Banditry, a life of petty crime scalable to assassination and kidnapping – no code of conduct or sense of self-preservation. An appalling frown voiced much of Igna’s thoughts. Past the log cabin, save on empty days, rose a trail. Meadows of vegetation, herbs, and many unknown plants. A keen observation for medicinal and produce for narcotics was always a priority. Money and health, walked hand in hand in the upper echelon. Igna’s fruitless scan, after much of a tedious climb, reached its destination. Yonder stretched a long-cleared part of the hilltop. The manor yard was massive and ended on tall walls guarded by onsite security.

“Carne manor,” he said, resting a briefcase before a great big gate.

“Who stands there?”

“Igna Haggard,”

A red dot peaked, and a hidden compartment slid, “-welcome, master.” The locks clicked and rotors rumbled. The inner yard stretched greatly – land cultivated for food crops. Demi-human gardeners, dressed in Phantom’s uniform, worked the fields. Sound of the gates, their varying-sized ears turned before the necks followed. “-Majesty,” they waved, “-welcome,” said they joyously.

.....

‘Food and cattle?’ the former showed itself towards the right, cupped adjacent to the walls and fields, ‘-for a manor, this looks more like a farm.’ A building rose squarely, indentations such as breaks in the flatness of the walls were brought by marble pillars, windows, and decorations. Nothing extra was to be said, it was a manor, one big, tall, and expensive. Retainers waited at the top, head of which was a butler, “-welcome to Carne manor, majesty.”

“Pleasure is mine,” he returned, “-I’ll be in your hospitality for my stay, I hope we get along.” An escort carried the luggage. Butler gave a guided tour, “-your room,” he said, “-the dining room,” he continued, “-the lounge area,” he said once more, “-and lastly, the common area.”

“Great,” affirmed Igna, “-the place is perfect for a pleasant holiday retreat.” Return from the tour followed linearly, the corridors held the usual decorations, armor, and such, “-head butler,” carried a softer voice, “-head butler.”

“Here, here,” he said, standing tall as to be noticeable, “-over here.”

“Head butler,” gasped a cat-eared lady, “-outside, the mistress has arrived and got into an altercation with some gentlemen.”

“Gentlemen robbers perchance?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, “-that’s their name.”

Up the stairs and onto a balcony, ‘-there they are,’ he stopped. Sathanas gripped her fists ominously, “-why are you here?” he barely identified from her lips.

“We were invited by the manor’s lord for an interview. Move along, lassy – we don’t want the blood to be spilled before the master’s gate.”

“You prick,” she hardened her fist, bright reddish orange flash to a complete halt. They dropped, unable to comprehend, ‘-death...’ shuddered the legs, ‘-we’re dead.’ Her fierce red hair turned to a nonchalant Igna presiding over the balustrade. “-You’re free to go,” she mumbled and entered. ‘-Who knew a single glance could possibly stop wrath?’ they stared at one another as she followed the long walkway home, ‘-he’s gone and become more terrifying.’

“Sathanas,” scenery swapped for a cozier atmosphere, “-long time no see, how have you been?”

“So and so,” she said, “-tell me, pops, why are you here?”

“Pops...”

“What is it?” she tilted her head, “-Vanesa and the others use pops, don’t they?”

He motioned as if to wipe tears, “-you called me pops, I’m glad.”

“Pops, melodrama doesn’t suit.”

“I know,” he returned, “-tell me, how’s life in the new world?”

“Long or short?”

“Long,” he firmed.

“The new world,” she paused, waiting on drinks to quench her thirst, “-let’s see, the place huge. Its scale is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Wracia Empire is big, and you know how few areas are undiscovered, lands deemed too dangerous for exploration? Compared to Iqeavea, the new continent dwarfs it. Terrain stretched from cold and snow to warm and tropical. The maps ought to be drafted by éclair soon. Native inhabitants, conveniently named the natives, have been forced into labor, working in mines and fields. The pay isn’t enough to sustain life. The colonies brought sickness and advanced weapons meanwhile the natives fought with bows and arrows. The richness of nature and the abundance of a resource is much a disadvantage as it is a blessing. Colonies settle at supposed mines, and the greedy force slavery onto the unlucky natives – mining towns and villages come and go as time pleases. Move northeast, pass the peaks; a great war fights between the native people and the invaders. Only a small part of the southwestern front has been properly culled, as they often mention. You saw it earlier, new world in name only, for the general populous have not much to their names. The farmlands barely provide for the growing population. Many spend their life savings on a one-way ticket, hoping to come across streets bathed in gold and fortune to be grasped. Reality’s no kind heart, for it jams the sadden truth down their throat. Unemployment, prostitution, drug trade – a new world hand-made for crime and unrest. All I could manage,” she slowed her speech, “-tell me, pops, why are you here?”

“On a customary visit,” he said, “-I met a strange fellow, he asked where to settle and I proposed here.”

“A strange bloke did arrive a while back – he’s settled at Port Dawn, one of the largest cities in terms of population. It’s a few day’s rides on horseback from here, else we could use the trucks, that’ll cut the journey into two days.”

“Does he employ the use of mechanic objects?”

“Yeah, he opened a shop, the Clockwork Factory. Mayor of Dawn’s pretty impressed. Why, is the bloke an ally?”

“On the contrary,” he tightened his lips, “-I wouldn’t say tis a good thing.” Igna’s arrival marked a new start, a turning of a page. Like him, great many o’ things awaited the harshness of Draebala.

“Watch out,” the ground levied into a shower of boulders, “-jump for it!” a vicious growl snapped from a tiny figure – sharp claws swiped, turning giant rocks into smaller pebbles, “-good job,” fired Cora, “-YURIA, THE SPELL?”

“DON’T RUSH ME!” she bellowed, *-song of the fairy, melody of the ladies – turn to ash turn to stone, brightened in lieu of downfall, Melty.* an orb rose to rain threads of bright pink – an army of monsters – vested in armor and oozing power beyond the norm found themselves stuck.

“Barbarians,” mumbled monotonously, “-die,” exclaimed Kaleem tapping his sword, the blade extended into a white line where he simply turned and evaporated the attacking horde, “-WATCH OUT,” Cora vaulted over Kaleem, summoned a pistol and fired – brain matter splattered over the dirt path.

*Lightning strike,* exclaimed Yuria in the distance – the odor of burnt remains spurred, “-we said no more lightning strike,” sighed Cora, “-smells like ass every time something gets fried alive.”

“No fighting,” returned Kaleem, “-got a long way until home.”

Esh’s loud breaths shortly caught Yuria’s attention, “-are you okay?” she asked, whilst the others thought to claim the monster remains, “-we said you didn’t have to fight.”

“So, do I have to sit like a kid?”

“Yeah,” she coldly added, “-you’re just a kid. I understand how much this quest counts for you and the others. I promise we’ll give it our best,” she smiled, “-don’t forget, Kaleem begged for you to come. Don’t try so hard,” a rejuvenation spell healed most and restored plenty.

‘Heroes from another world,’ he stood, ‘-they were serious... taking down elite monsters like it’s nothing. Invasions are dealt with by the palace guards, not adventurers. Are our strongest warriors nothing compared to them?’

A silent yet strong hand extended, “-let’s go,” said Kaleem’s body language. Little Esh agreed, and the quest continued. Nights of unrest, turbulent days, a trek through mountains, over rivers that blasted at the speed of a power washer, the journey was arduous, eventually, “-there it is,” a clearing in the forest marked the final location, “-it’s here,” skipped Esh, “-the cleansing lake.”

“Wait,” Kaleem walked in before Esh, Cora and Yuria followed his gut. A pristine body of water, liquified gemstones or so it seemed, set before a gorgeously flowing waterfall, “-we have guests.”

A man and woman waited; they bore no resemblance to normal humans nor races they’d seen before. Male and female, such was the only description to be made by the blurred figure brought on by cluelessness.

“Dead?” Cora stepped first, the assumption turned wrong – the duo started as if a machine, pulsing of the hearts rattled ominously. They turned to a sight of half-flesh and half machine, drowned in the color of brown, gold, and silver; a classic combination of dwarven technology, “-you guys sentient?” fired Yuria, Kaleem vanished.

“Correct,” they responded cordially, “-we’re children of our almighty father, Artanos. He asked for us to guard the lake. In honor of his great name, we shall obey his command.”

“For sentient beings,” Kaleem returned nonchalantly, “-you sure are dumb,” he tightened a sack’s knot, “-Cora, let’s run.” Nothing need be said, the trio sprinted, Yuria’s feeble frame easily grabbled and carried Esh, a boy who now held a disappointed expression, “-SO MUCH FOR BEING HEROES!”

“Don’t sweat the details,” they laughed, “-do you think us fool? The set-up, the wording, cliché, cliché, cliché, this ain’t no fantasy novel, Esh, we’re here to win!”

“What’s a fantasy novel?”

“Don’t worry about Cora, he turns stupid when adrenaline rushes.”

“Hey, lord of cliches, what about the encore,” mentioned Kaleem, bright lights sparkled, a sensation of utmost despair filled the jungle, “-I wouldn’t be worried,” they seemingly darted left and right, clueless as to where the paths actually led. In a sudden ambush, the pair leaped into the frame, the legs turned wheels, “-you THINK US FOOLS?”

“DON’T MOCK THE HOLY NAME OF OUR FATHER!” sharp blades flung and exploded.

“CORA, DO SOMETHING!” cried Yuria, more they ran closer grew the attackers.

“Jump sideways on my count,” they sprinted, darting at an inhuman speed rivaling demi-gods, “-three,” they readied mentally, “-two,” the bodies followed, “-ONE!” they jumped sideways and crashed into prickly bushes. “FUCK!” cried Yuria, “-IT STUNG MY AS-”

“Over,” Cora side-stepped, “-don’t underestimate us,” he smiled, the clockwork worriers flew off a cliff, *unity unravel, reality shatters, the call of the fallen is the pledge of the vanquished, come forth,* he clapped, *by the blessing of my patron goddess, be annihilated, GOPHY’S MIGHT.* A blinding explosion rattled the mountainscape which carried round the continent – the echo was heard at the farthest town, “-and that’s how it’s done,” he smiled, “-thank you, goddess.”

A flying spell was cast to lift Yuria’s bottom, “-why me,” she cried, “-it’s always me to gets stuck in the worst spots.”

“Landing was soft,” said Kaleem with Esh in tow, “-we landed on these,” he rose a soft, comfy looking slime, “-it was like sleeping on my lover’s chest. Squish and warm,” the exalted expression focused, “-Cora, I need these monsters for research.”

“The hell you don’t!”

‘They’re gone,’ Esh slowly inched to a jaw-dropping sight – any signs of life below were destroyed, a massive cup laid where once the forest reign supreme.

“Impressive, yeah?”

“Cora, what the hell. You guys fight, swear, act like kids and run whenever danger’s close. Then, from out of nowhere – you go and do something like this, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” returned Kaleem, “-we’re seriously heroes of another world.”

“A world which makes Draebala feels like a walk in the park,” added Yuria, “-don’t sweat the small stuff, we ought to return,” she summoned transportation portals.

‘We could have escaped...’ poor boy buried his forehead in his hand, ‘-unbelievable...’