EDIT: I am...disappointed in this for some reason. It's one of those things where you go "It's good, but there's something...missing". I don't know, you be the judge. I'm just the writer seeking advice xP. This chapter is the end of the journey (finally), which means THESE REWRITES ARE ALMOST DONE FINALLY! :D Can't WAIT to actually continue with this story, it had been FAR too long. Maybe I can even finish rewrites before LG's second birthday and continue then *starts planning*. Anyways do ENJOY!
Disclaimer (since I've'nt done one in so long): I do NOT own Wizard 101. Kingsisle owns everything about it except my OCs, plotlines, and my own imagined ideas.
WARNING: There is ONE swear word. I doubt anyone cares, but just in case you do, here's a warning.
Chapter 12: Finding the Recipe
The first thing I noticed was a pounding ache in my head, a throbbing pain that almost made me black out again. The next thing was the soft grass beneath me, the individual blades gently rubbing my arms and hands as I attempted to grab it. Then there was a strange sensation running along my stomach, and after a few moments of just laying there, wondering what it could be, I realized with a jolt something was wrapping around me. With a sudden rush of fear and adrenalin I shot up, instinctively using my athame to slice at whatever had grabbed me. A few vines withered away with black smoke as I poured my Necromancy into the attack. They were healing vines - they deteriorated too quickly to be regular ones - and groaning I laid back down.
"Way for a wake-up call Heat," Rosie's voice was filled with barely suppressed amusement as she moved over to look at me. I ignored her, instead pulling my hand up to brush where the scratch had been. There's was the slightest hint of some scarring, but other than that it had been completely healed. It stretched from my temple to just past my hairline, so it wouldn't be noticeable. At least I hoped it wouldn't.
"Did you interrogate him about the recipe yet?" I asked groggily, running a hand through my hair as my headache raged on. Rosie shook her head.
"Not yet. Wanted you to join in since your glare works tremendously well." I rolled my eyes as she said this, sitting back up though taking much more care in my movements. It was at that moment that I heard footsteps rush over to me and felt four arms suddenly wrap around me at once, almost making me fall back over. Kiley and Cori had obviously been very worried. Groaning I gently shoved them off me. While it felt nice they cared so much for me, the needed to learn I wasn't always going to be there for them, not to mention a small little scratch across the temple was no where near as deadly as some other wounds.
"We were so worried!" Kiley squeaked, the relief clear in her sky blue eyes. Cori said nothing, but it was obvious what she was thinking the same by the smile on her face. I opened my mouth to respond, but a scaly body wrapping around my neck and the sound of more footsteps interrupted me. Stephanie and Serena approached me though they didn't say anything. Stephanie's smug look had returned, though behind her mask of bitterness I detected at least some concern. She wasn't back to her full self yet... thankfully. Serena on the other hand seemed completely devoid of any possible worry, just the same old inquiring curiosity. I ignored both of them and turned back to Rosie, running a few fingers along Lord Shadow's slim neck as he nudged my scratch.
"Where is he?" She jerked her head in the direction of a large oak tree. Bedoeir's emaciated body was wrapped tightly around its trunk, his insane smile still planted firmly on his face despite the sun shining right onto his sensitive albino skin, which was turning a pale pink color. Rosie held out her hand, and grabbing it she helped me to my feet. I groaned as my head continued to ache, my brain feeling like it had just suffered a blow from a Minotaur. Rosie glanced at me, as if telling me that if I was hurting I should sit back down.
"I'm fine, Rose. This isn't the worst wound I've ever had." I told her in a chuchoter.
"Even so you're not exactly as strong as other wizards. You bruise and bleed too easily. I'm surprised you haven't broken any bones yet... no offense of course."
"None taken..." I sighed and focused on the malnourished man who was now just a few inches away from me. He looked up and rolled his head to the side, reminding me of a puppet.
"Good ta see dat lil boo-boo isn't gon' ruin chu purdy face," Bedoeir chuckled, licking his lips. I heard Lord Shadow's half-annoyed, half-disgusted snarl in my ear as he muttered something in his native tongue. I'm sure he only felt half as disgusted as I did. The hideous albino's Cyrus's age and he's flirting with me...
Rosie had casually taken out her athame, fiddling around with it in her hands. I smirked, recognizing her familiar tactics with ease. She always pulled out her athame when she interrogated someone, and if the sight of the curved obsidian blade (which was poisoned, by the way) wasn't enough to terrify her victim into speaking, then she'd move onto her very vivid and malicious descriptions of torture she could use. More than a few wizards often questioned her technique. It was, after all, not as settle as the rest. Even so, it worked tremendously well on most people. Bedoeir was, unfortunately for him, "most" people.
"Congratulations Rosie; I have never seen Lord Shadow laugh like that!" I sniggered as we walked our way the forest, trying to catch my breath. Lord Shadow was still gasping for air after his little laugh attack, sometimes slipping off my silver-plated pauldrons as he tried to sit still. Rosie laughed and reached over, patting my dragon on the back.
"Sometimes I think your dragon should be mine with how much he loves torture," my red-headed friend chuckled, scratching him behind his horns.
"Honestly Rosie," Lord Shadow snorted as he fought back his laughter, curling himself around my neck as he nearly slid off my shoulder again. "I think that was the best one yet. I knew you could get cruel, but not that cruel,"
That much was true, and smirking I scratched my pet underneath his chin. Lord Shadow's sense of humor, to say the least, dark. Every time Rosie put someone through her verbal torture, Lord Shadow would be insanely amused by it, and the more sadistic she got the more likely he was to burst up laughing. With Bedoeir, it took more than Rosie's usual tactics. This time she went to a whole new level I didn't even know she could go to. She had just sort of became an insane, mentally ill person. All it took for her to reach that level was some disgustingly vivid descriptions, a slight change from a beautiful, raspy voice to a high-pitched shaky one, and an obsession of symmetry.
"Did you see his little pee stain on his trousers?" Lord Shadow was still forcing himself not to laugh, a few little chuckles escaping his mouth.
"Honestly I think that came from Heat's special lil' glare she gave just as things started getting descriptive," my friend winked at me. "Your glare mixed with an insane smile is perfect for any torture."
"Why's my glare so effective, at least, according to you that is?" I always thought it was odd how my glare could be so threatening.
"It's the color, Heat," Lord Shadow nuzzled my neck as he finally managed to calm down. "They're near luminescent they're so bright, and when you're really mad or passionate it's almost like lightning is crackling through them."
"Your glare is near Halston's level,"
"I don't even know what that is," I laughed. It was hard to imagine the eccentric frog - who was a Diviner and inventor extraordinaire - in a bad mood. Though, I always hear about how many times he's managed to make Scarlet look away, and that's saying something...
"Well, let me explain..." Rosie's voice trailed off, and confused I followed her gaze, seeing what was probably the most mystifying piece of nature I ever saw. It was a pale-grey bark tree with bright green leaves, twisting over a small patch of snow white roses. It was shockingly beautiful. To my surprise, Rosie shivered. "This was the place I warned you guys about..." She was getting paranoid again, I realized with a jolt, her eyes widening slightly as she haphazardly reach back for her blade. "Are you sure this was the place...?"
"I'm sure," I murmured, pulling out a slip of paper from my bag. "Bedoeir told us we needed the petals of Fleur Grace and the sap of Greyston. I even sent a chuchoter to Cyrus to research the Blood of Paix, and he wasn't lying."
"But are you sure it's this place?" Rosie's sword was clutched tightly in her hands, her eyes wide as she looked about her. I frowned a drew a small silvery-white dagger, little sparks of Ice magic sparking from its tips.
"Only one way to find out..." I murmured. The dagger I had was a cheap one - only fifty gold pieces - but if this these were right plants then the Ice magic it was enchanted with would absorb the energy they gave off. If they weren't, then the dagger would shatter. I took a deep breath and slowly approached the tree, reaching out my fingers to stroke the coarse, yet soft bark. It was as cold as ice and there was something...odd. I shivered and pulled my hand away, placing the tip of the dagger on the odd tree.
A startling screech rang through the air. Rosie jumped and let out a curse of Marleybonian curse words, staring wide eyed about her. I focused on the dagger. A stream of icy light blue absorbed itself into the sharp weapon, but it didn't shatter, and I forced myself to relax as much as possible. I moved onto the roses. Another screech rang in the air, and a darker blue substance was absorbed. I shivered again and pulled away from the strange plants, pulling out my cutlass. Lord Shadow's scaly body wound around my neck, a low, uncertain growl rumbling in his throat.
"I don't like this Heat," he muttered. "It's way too easy, and something about this makes me think..." His sentence ended in another uncertain growl, along with mutterings in his native tongue. He was just as paranoid as Rosie was, and I couldn't blame him. I quickly grabbed a rose and stabbed the dagger into the tree, twisting until sap began to pour out of its wound. I scarped it up and put just enough into the flask for it to be usable before turning away, walking over to Rosie and resting my free hand on her shoulder.
"Let's go, before something happens," I muttered, my hand clutching tightly at my cutlass and Lord Shadow shoved the flask and rose into my bag, obviously not caring of either were to be damaged. Rosie, without turning to look at me, nodded and lead the way, her large sword looking to slash anything that dared to move. There was another shriek, only this time it was much, much closer. Rosie cursed again, stopping. Lord Shadow slithered off my shoulders, two long, black blades twice the size of his body beginning to slide out of his scaly wrists, though he'd yet to become a Dragonblade. I pulled out my athame, and while it hardly passed to be a sufficient stand-alone weapon, a good dose of Necromatic magika made it nearly as deadly as Deadlock's Cutlass. A silvery-white and black flame wrapped around the obsidian blade.
Everything was eerily quiet. Our breathing was slow, though I knew all of us was feeling the adrenalin. At first there was absolutely nothing. There was sudden flash of black and silver, and Lord Shadow and I surged back. Rosie snarled and stood her ground, crouching into her usual fighting stance with two hands clasping her sword. The paranoia in her aqua eyes suddenly seemed to vanish as she realized the impending attack. I felt the palms of my hands begin to sweat. I lowered myself to the ground, hiding myself behind the undergrowth.
"Shadow," I sent a chuchoter to my pet. "Prenez mon tablier du sort et tirez Wraith," Lord Shadow's ice blue eyes twinkled for a moment before he nodded, slinking over to my shoulder and pulling my deck out from my belt, drawing Zaliithar's card. "Cast when I say,"
It was a big risk having my pet cast a spell - moreover one of my own - when we weren't inside a duel. Zaliithar was in my spell-grasp, not Shadow's, and there was always the chance that by being summoned by someone other than me Zaliithar would break that grasp and be released into the Spiral without any sort of leash. Lord Shadow was a stubborn and mentally strong pet, though. While he may not seem it with his lack of boosts and spells, he was the most magically inclined pet I knew. I trusted him to form a leash of some type by his own means, and a part of me knew Zaliithar wouldn't dare disobey the will of Bloodlust, and as far as I knew that "will" was to be my Servant. At least I hoped that was how it was. Everything about Bloodlust, except for the name and Necromatic background, was a mystery to me.
The darkness flashed by again, only this time it struck.
"Shit," Rosie spat, just barely blocking the scythe of the Wraith. I felt my athame begin to burn in my hand, the Necromancy increasing in power as I watched the battle. Rosie wasn't fast, but she was strong. The Wraith swung his scythe at her side only for it to meet her over-sized Grizzleheim-made blade. Rosie tilted her weapon upwards, using the strength of her right arm to catch the Wraith off balance before surging with an upward thrust. The Wraith leaned back with amazing speed before spinning, attempting to lop off her head. Rosie ducked just in time, a few strands of velvety red hair falling to the ground at the near-hit. Content that Rosie had the upper hand of the battle - at least for the time being - I found myself examining the Wraith.
Unlike Zaliithar, this Wraith's skin was pearly white and smooth, and his teeth were merely mustard yellow rather than blackened ones. A part of me wondered if it was simply Bedoier in disguise, but when I caught a glimpse behind the hood I saw two gaping holes. He was a Wraith, and a very poor one at that.
Skreth, I thought, suddenly understanding why Zaliithar found this being of Necromancy so pitifully weak. For one he was dead yet somehow cared about his hygiene, and upon closer inspection I realized he was using none of his magic, just his poorly kept scythe, telling me he really was untrained in Bloodlust. If he were trained like Zaliithar apparently was, he might've actually been a challenge for Rosie. My friend glanced over in my direction.
"You gonna help or not?" She chuchotered to me, eyes losing the excitement they had at the prospect of battle. I sighed as I looked for an opening. Skreth moved to and fro with his open attacks, clearly not thinking about his defense. I found myself sheathing my two weapons and taking my spell deck from Lord Shadow, who looked at me in confusion.
"Keep the Wraith in hand. Once we get the scythe away from him, my creature should send him back to where he came,"
"Bent u zeker van een Wraith kan veroordelen andere Wraith?" My dragon asked if such a thing were possible, his native tongue sounding odd in my ears as I deciphered his words (he has yet to master Civil tongue when it came to speaking through chuchoters).
"I should hope so..." I responded, pulling out my Spectral Blast card. My dragon huffed though said nothing in reply. Slowly I stood from my hiding area, levitating the card in the air. Muttering the words 'cast the auras of the Three' in Ancient Celestian - which wasn't necessary but a good way to practice the language - the card sparked a deep orange light before three spheres of Storm, Ice, and Fire energy formed around me, waiting for their command. I raised my hand, and the Ice spectral struck Skreth's shoulder, unbalancing him just enough for him to tear away from Rosie, frost glistening where it had struck. I snapped my fingers, then there went the Fire spectral, catching the bottom of the the Wraith's black robe aflame. He shrieked in fury, staring to head toward me though he was slowed greatly by the flames. I smirked, and with a flick of the wrist the Storm spectral clashed into his chest, bolts of purple and yellow lightning bolts sparking in a small explosion of light. Skreth was thrown back a good ways, tumbling over and over, his scythe knocked out of his hands. I nodded to Lord Shadow, and on the silent command my dragon cast Zaliithar. As the Wraith materialized, a barely visible stream of gold wrapped around his neck. A Dragonblade leash, I thought, nodding my head in approval.
My usual summoning stared in the direction of Lord Shadow, a scowl clear on his dry, cracked face, but he didn't do or say anything in protest. Instead he turned around and aimed his glaive at Skreth. A silent exchange seemed to happen between the two, a pleading one on Skreth's side and an outraged one on Zaliithar's. My creature struck down, the blade embedding itself in the back of Skreth's bloodless skull. There was a loud crunching sound, and as Zaliithar calmly pulled away Skreth let out an ear-pierceing wail. A black, liquid-like substance poured out of Skreth's mouth and eyes sockets as he was sent back to the Dark Realm, no longer held by spell-grasp. Rosie visibly cringed and looked away. Even Lord Shadow seemed startled by the liquid Necromancy that poured out of the once-again-dying Wraith. I had seen it happen twice before, though, and forced myself to look calm though inside I was fighting back the need to retch. Zaliithar glanced over at me, and though I couldn't see his face clearly I knew what he was thinking.
You should have left me alone to finish him.
As soon as the Wraith had gone completely, Lord Shadow dismissed the spell and returned the card to me. He looked tired, but not as overly drained as when we invaded the Kraken den. "I never realized just how powerful your Wraith was. I'm surprised he didn't break my leash," My pet's eyes glistened with unasked questions, one of which I imagined was 'why would a Wraith feel so loyal as to stay with their Master'. I ignored him and turned to Rosie. Other than her normally nice, even layers of hair was off, she looked uninjured and the battle seemed to smack some of her paranoia out.
"I'm almost positive that Wraith was Bedoier's," she told me, the paranoid light vanished from her eyes and replaced by her normal alert light. "Let's go, before he sends something else after us,"
"Ch-ch-chu defeated ma Wraith?" Bedoeir stammered, a frightened look in his eyes.
"And sent him back to where he came," Rosie's eyes were lit up with annoyance as she cut the rope binding him to the tree, reusing it as a binding for his hands, using her expert knot work to make sure he wouldn't be able to cast spells. I was leaning against a tree close to where we previously came in from, running my fingers along my newly acquired scar on my head as I thought. Skreth had obviously been sent back to the Dark Realm, but what would happen there? Would he be claimed and even lowlier Wraith unable to be bound to another Master and left to rot, or go through vicious training to become a much better, much stronger Wraith? Probably the latter, I guessed. I doubted anything called 'Bloodlust' would be merciful. I assumed it was a miracle they even permitted Skreth to become spell-grasped to Bedoeir.
"Heat," I was snapped back into reality by Kiley's soft voice. "Are we going home now?"
"Yes," I murmured, running a hand through her soft light and smiling gently. "We're going home.
AN: Here are some translations, via google translate (so accurate right?):
"Prenez mon tablier du sort et tirez Wraith." (French) - "Grab my spell deck and pull out Wraith."
"Bent u zeker van een Wraith kan veroordelen andere Wraith?" (Dutch) - "Are you sure you can condemn a Wraith with another Wraith?"
And in case I didn't clarify it:
Paix (French) - Peace (so in the story it's "Blood of Peace")