Wizard's Tower - Arc 3 - Chapter 36

I was stunned by the magnitude of the spell I had cast. It hadn’t happened since I learned my first fireball spell and the explosion from it scared me. The mages beside me at the time had faces of excitement and thrill at their newfound ability to cause such explosions, but I was instead frightened at the power at my disposal. I don’t think I had felt that feeling in a long time. The bolt of lightning called forth by the [Finger of the gods] spell was so powerful that it would have killed me had I been any closer.

When the shock of witnessing my own spell faded, so too had my anger. Instead, I felt empty, both of mana and anger. I closed my eyes and looked inside my head pulling back any remnants of the emotions I felt and stuffing them back into the barrels they had come from. I regretted my actions, my carelessness.  The scorched earth around the strike was cleared of all trees for miles around it, and beyond that I could see smoke from growing fires. I glanced down at the corpse of the seer below me and wondered to myself just how far she had seen. 

I was tired and weary, not physically but emotionally. I wanted to retreat back to my tower and throw myself into research to forget about the pain and anger. Hesitantly, I admitted to myself, I also wanted to hide from the shame of my overreaction. But I had a duty to put out those fires before they consumed the countryside. I doubted the circle of smoke would grow to compare to what I did to Tervan, but I was able to learn from my mistakes. 

I flew back towards the strike site, using [Fire Manipulation] to kill the flames, and summoning water elementals to come behind me and smother any embers. Most of the fires were at the edge of the circle of destruction, though some minor ones burned from lightning that had struck further away. I was halfway around the circle, numb to anything that wasn’t the task at hand when I first saw movement. 

The ground at the center of the strike had been blown away, leaving a deep crater in the earth. That crater was blackened and scorched, parts of the rocks and ground had been twisted into smooth rocks, that glimmered like glass when not covered with ash. Yet that ground in the crater began to crumble and fall, as if the earth beneath it had been hollow. In the center, the movement I saw was the head of a great serpent. No, not the head of a serpent.

The heads of a hydra. First one, looking upwards out of the hole to take in its surroundings. Then more.  I recalled the dwarves telling me that they had battled the hydra beneath the earth. With a growing sense of horror, I released what I had done. I had opened a new path for the Pestilence to emerge from. I quickly cast an arcing blade of flames, severing the heads that I could see and waited. I fearfully reasoned with myself. Perhaps it was just the one. A single hydra left behind the swarm, but that was quickly disproved as I saw more heads emerge and heard the sounds of monsters eating their dead. 

I didn’t have the mana to cast the spell again, not at the moment. I had used up all that was in the lanterns I carried, a quarter of what was in the tower, and half my reserves to call forth the spell that killed the assassin. I cursed myself for my hasty actions, regret at allowing myself to be overcome by emotions was verging on self-loathing. Yet, I had to do something and do it quickly. 

I reached my mind back to my tower and began pulling the mana needed to cast the spell in my mind. The earth around the crater was already dead and broken. It didn’t take hard calculations to alter the spell for the field of spikes to turn it into a trap for the Pestilence. Miles of broken dirt and rock soon became enormous deadly spikes that I watch the hydra impale themselves on. It should be enough for any but an armored hydra of a broodmother, but the thought of those two beings loosing the others kept me working. I pulled forth the death crystals I had with me, embedding them into the sharpest and largest of the spikes throughout the enormous field. My lightning strike had generated enough death mana to cause more to grow into the spikes as well. 

When I had finished the great trap, I breathed a sigh of relief. The fires still burned in the distance, but now I saw them as a good thing. Any hydra that escaped this pit would find little nearby to eat. In the center, I watch as the ones that emerged from the hole impale themselves on spikes. Their squirming bodies were quickly set upon by their kin, who were similarly impaled. The dead monsters gave off death mana causing spikes to grow.  

It was already nightfall, and I had done what I could to stem the tide for now. I left an air elemental so that I could check back tomorrow to ensure it was working. Slowly, I returned towards my tower, bringing along the corpse of the seer in a stone coffin for proper burial. Whatever her motivations, she had given her life and saved mine. 

The next day, I visited the Necromancer Pyl. He was the only one who had fought the assassin and survived, though just barely. His weakened body was being cared for at the temple of Elora, though their magics hurt him more than helped. The death mana that he had used in fighting had invaded him, and his control over it was the only thing that kept him alive. Holy magics might heal his flesh, but it weakened his control over his magic. 

Still, the sisters cared for him. I hadn’t been inside the tower temple since it was built, mostly due to my fear of the gods, but I did seek him out to speak with him once I learned that he would be passing soon.  The bottom of their tower held an altar, a few cots, and a long table with chairs. They surrounded their alter with sacred burning candles, the light burning a little more brightly than a normal candle would. Great windows had also been built into the temple, allowing sunlight in from outside. 

My eyes were focused on the man who lay sweating on the cot before me. Pyl, struggled with his pain. His normal cheerful expression twisted into a grimace. He held a hand on the shoulder of the other arm, though that arm was dead flesh. A leg had been removed at the thigh; the cloth bandages soaked with blood.  

“Master Nemon, you are here,” he whispered.

I gave him a nod with a sad smile. It hurt me to see such a man in such pain. I remembered clearly the love of magic that he always kept. A deep enthusiasm that reminded me of my own.  

“I couldn’t stop her. I was too late.” 

His words were spoken with regret or guilt, but I just shook my head. “You did what you could, and that was enough.”

He took several wheezing breathes before speaking again, “Master, I want to do one final experiment. I need your permission. And your guidance.”

My brows furrowed. One final experiment? Did this have to do with the mirror? My thoughts were so far away from the artifact that I’d forgotten about it. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could reach Loralie through it. If her ghost were on the Plane of Death, then perhaps she could offer guidance from the other side. If not, perhaps I would at least be able to bid her farewell. Pyl’s next words though brushed my thoughts away.

“It’s in the crypt beneath your lake. I’ve been preparing for this day, though I thought I had more time. Will you take me there and watch over me?”

“In the crypt?” I asked, puzzled.

He nodded. “It will be my last request. Will you aide me?