Thank you Finduilas for my only review :-) Hm, this really isn't much about Matteo, but I am writing something about him. If only I can find a fit ending, maybe I'll post it later. About the "technobabble": I'll admit it might be an obsession derived from my biologist formation, but I can't help but think that things must have a precise name. And so, I cannot imagine the mages of Faerun working and communicating and creating new spells and all without referring to spells with particular names. And, well, if it's not the ones we are using, then… I have no better name for them then the ones that's written in the player handbook, so I use those. I hope it's not proving to be too distracting. This was the worst gamespeak of the story however, I think. And, as for style… well, my other Amousca stories were among the first things I wrote in English. So, even if I don't read much of a difference between that and later stories, it's possible my style has matured since. And I also was a lot more "driven" and "inspired" when I wrote this than the two previous ones. The first ones were "well, good idea, not run-through-the-game… let's write it". This one was "oh YEAH! I HAVE to write that!" So this might also show ;-) Lich hunting isn't my best fanfiction ever written (that would be Archangels learn so far), but I'm… satisfied with it. :-)
So, everyone feel free to review and constructively criticize!
Chapter II. The scroll
There was a second of stunned silence, everything bathed in the dry, brown powder summoned by the spell. Pants and cries could be heard in the sudden silence. Many were lying on the floor around where the demon had been, none near the lich.
"Healing!", Anomen ordered.
The priests rushed to the battleground against the demon. Proteor had trouble standing, leaning hard against his Holy Avenger. His breastplate was torn asunder on his chest. The four claws of the demon had torn through it as it were a mere sheet of paper and not magically hardened steel. Blood and lashes of flesh were dripping from his wound. Three novice knights had been thrown so hard against the wall that they were unconscious. Many others had had limbs almost ripped off their body, trying to block the demon's claws, but forgetting to hold their weapons close enough to their body. More had been scratched or bitten at the shoulders, through their armor, the pit fiend biting through metal as easily as through flesh and bone.
Cordis surveyed the destruction. The impaled novice received a Heal spell from Anomen as he was slowly taken from his position still embedded on the claws of the demon, stiffling his screams as best he could. The spell healed him. He put a hand on his intact stomach in amazement, and then he fell over, unconscious. Cordis sighed to see that he would live.
She did not enjoy the sight of demons ripping men apart; especially not when those men were just squires not even old enough to grow a beard. Maybe it was because she was not human, but she felt like people of that age should be doing something else than risking their lives in lich-hunting business for the sake of the world becoming a better place. She agreed that there were innocents to save, and she had done her share and more; it had gifted her with her mastery her magic. And she had been young at the time. But it was not the same with the legions of young people that the Order had in its ranks. They were of an age to go on goblin-killing campains. They were of an age to look at their elders in longing, hoping they would achieve such a greatness themselves later. They were of an age to fight the ideological fights of youth, to wish to change the world; but they were too young yet to take arms into the fight.
That young man had not deserved to die at the hands of a demon. Cordis wondered for a while why she was more concerned about this young man's fate then by Proteor's, who did not look so well either. A life was a life – and she was not the one to draw a line between human and elf. Both were here by choice. Except that Proteor had a better idea of what awaited him and had already many years of enjoying life behind him. She deserved death more surely then any of the squires here; she was older, she had lived a satisfying life, she had achieved heights in the magic that she had never thought she would, when she was their age. Her dreams were spent; she still lived and tasted them, but she had realized them, when they had not even conceived them all.
Their life should be ahead of them. They deserved that it would be so. Much more then old cowards that cut their own hand to avoid military service when there was an orc invasion coming their way. And yet they were the ones to put their lives on the line, to risk their youth and all this life and these experiences ahead of them. They were thrilled in battle and rejoiced even now in great cries of victory to see that Echigam, the young knight, would survive, and that they had prevailed, even as so many of them had been so very close to death. And yet they were the ones to rejoice.
"A great deed in the name of light!", Guervin exclaimed.
"For Torm's glory!", Nogam shouted, lifting his sword over his head.
"Torm's glory!", all the young squires shouted in answer.
"For Helm's pride!", Anomen bellowed.
"Helm's pride!" The cry echoed through the tower, even stronger.
They revelled in the victory purchased at a high cost with blood; they offered it to their gods; they thanked fate that they had survived. In that order.
Cordis smiled. She loved humans. She admired them.
ooooo
There were six soul gems in the lich's lab.
"Coreen could have told what it was planning," Matteo said, lifting a piece of parchment here and there; each one of them was covered in a small, strange writing.
"Maybe I can help. I am not a magical engineer, but I know quite a few ones," Cordis said as she strode forward and took a look at the parchments.
Curious, she lifted one in her hands. It was hot against her skin; it would react badly to a good person or a non-undeath. It was written in a magical syntax she was not very good with, but she could still decipher it.
"It's rakshasa's based," she diagnosed. "It looks like… necromancy – but rakshasa don't do much else besides necromancy…" She pursed her lips as she recognized the procedure to imprison a soul within a gem. This one was unusal, though, and her forehead creased with its particular fold as she tried to understand what the modification was designed to accomplish.
"Don't break the gems!", she yelled all of a sudden, dropping the parchment, as it suddenly burned her hand. Her hand was now blistered, the parchment's magic resonating with what she knew.
Anomen turned to her, puzzled; he had been about to break one with his powerful war hammer.
"You have to dispel them," Cordis said. Everyone could see her shaking. "Otherwise the soul will not be set free, it will cease to exist."
Proteor walked towards her. He put a hand on her shoulder in a very cavalier manner, putting his arm around her as to comfort her.
"This is what the parchment talked about?", he said low, unnecessarily bending his head close to her ear to speak. "About those foul gems?"
"The fact that they are binding a soul is foul; the soul is not," she answered, drawing a little away from the paladin.
"It must hurt your naivety to learn that most of those trapped souls were bargained and offered willingly by their owner," Proteor added with a sweet, soft, sad voice.
"No need to patronize me, I'm older than you," Cordis observed coldly. "Besides, I read magic, remember? And those souls were not given willingly, I assure you."
There were a few, discreet laughs to see Proteor's defeat. The cavalier, after a second of disbelief at being so summarily dismissed, shrugged and made a sly smile. His squire nudged him on the shoulder with a knowing look and Proteor ogled the elf at everybody's notice but hers as she was walking towards Anomen, standing next to the table where the soul gems were.
Anoment saw Proteor's look above Cordis' head – she was small enough for him to look over her – and his face instantly showed how scandalized he was, but he kept silent. The elf looked at him, puzzled, before she apparently realized what was happening and rolled her eyes. Then she turned her attention to the soul gems.
"There is supposed to be an efreeti and a djinni in two of these soul gems. Be careful and ready when you dispel one," she said to the inquisitor that was about to cast a Dispel magic.
"Everyone stand back," Anomen ordered. "I will protect us against fire, and then you will dispel the gem."
"I'll dispel magic and breach if necessary," Cordis offered, stepping back with the others as Anomen protected the inquisitor and himself from fire.
The first soul gem they dispelled contained the soul of a little girl. They saw it thank them and go beyond into death, free from its prison; it had been imprisonned too long, the body was dead and there was no place for the soul to return to. The second one was the djinni. It was no match for Anomen and the inquisitor. There were three men after that, only one of them still alive and close enough to return to his body. Then the efreeti appeared in a puff of smoke. It did not fire a spell as his air cousin had done and Anomen stayed his arm.
"I bow to your will. As every other genie should," the efreeti said, arms crossed on his chest, looking at Cordis. His tone was at the same time lashing with irony and with imposed respect.
"Spare your breath, fire spirit. I did not summon you. The lich that imprisonned you is now dead and you are free, under conditions."
The genie laughed. "Always conditions, O! clever one."
"Be grateful that I do not bind you to my will but only to your own contract," she answered with ire and his eyes literally fired with anger, but he kept silence. "You are free if you leave as soon as you are dismissed – in time measured in the Prime material plane time frame – and swear an oath not to attack us before your departure to a plane of your choice or later, as a measure of revenge – in a future close or far, in time measured in the Prime material time frame. You will not Dimension-door back to this plane unless rightfully summoned. You will Dimension-door directly back to your home plane."
"I agree to your terms," the genie agreed begrudgingly.
"You are dismissed. Enjoy your freedom."
The genie rolled his eyes even as he was disappearing through the planes.
The other soul gems were other men, all of them dying too. Anomen said a prayer for their freedom in death in the end, asking Helm's intercession to guide them beyond the veil.
"Sir Anomen?", Cordis asked when he was done with his prayer.
"Yes, milady?" There was the slightest trace of hesitation in his voice when he said "milady".
"I would request to bring back those parchments to Athkatla; I do not have the means to destroy them besides casting them, and you do not want me to do that, believe me. There is something troubling about this magic that needs to be dealt with."
Anomen was giving her a perplexed look. For a second she was even afraid that he might refuse.
"Very well, milady. We will bring back those parchments to the city and make sure that they are dealt with properly."
"Thank you, sir." She turned, and was about to take the first sheet of parchment to put it securely into a scroll case, when an outraged yell sounded through the tower:
"And who shall deal with them? The Cowled Wizards?"
"Squire Theophilus, I do not remember you requesting the right to speak freely," Anomen warned coldly. Cordis had not touched a single sheet of parchment yet. The squire calmed himself under his commanding officer's icy stare.
"I am sorry, sir, but I feel that this needs to be told," he pushed on obstinately. "All contact ceased with the corrupt mages five years ago and there has been no mages on the Order's campains since. And now we have a spellcaster with us, the allegiances of which we are not even aware of, and she is about to take a lich's magic with her back to the city? Am I the only one in this company that thinks this is worth questionning?"
Some of the knights nodded, although with uncertainty. There were sounds of protest all around; people did not want to outright back Theophilus up, but did not feel confident enough to openly disagree with him. Cordis felt an edge of unease; she could not tell them what was on this parchment. She could not.
"I value your vigilance against all magical corruption, young inquisitor," Anomen said, his voice still very cold, "but you shall not be disrespectful towards my daughter and her colleagues. I am aware that some of the Cowled Wizards are indeed corrupt, but what you imply is akin to those that say that paladins are evil because some of us fall."
There were heavy shouts. There also was the beginning of what would have been a brawl in one of the less commendable taverns of Athkatla. Cordis wasn't sure how this would end. She hoped Anomen knew what he was doing, and that he truly was as good with his men as he was said to be.
"Lady Cordis here is known to me. She is a friend of Imoen Coltrane, my Lady's sister, as most of you know. Imoen and her husband Kelsey know quite a few magic users and I asked them who could help the Order with a lich problem. They told me that lady Cordis is a very skilled magic user, that she has a good heart and that she is not affiliated with any mages group. If Imoen is willing to testify of her righteousness, then I am willing to give my word that she is indeed righteous."
There was a silence. Imoen's and Kelsey's names apparently impressed the Order's men, as was their commander giving them his word that a spellcaster could be trusted.
"And so, I see no point in disagreeing with Cordis bringing back those parchments to the city, if Imoen or Coreen or another trustworthy spellcaster is willing to do the necessary to have them destroyed."
There was a silence. Theophilus still looked angry, but the others appeared satisfied with the explanation. Thank you, Anomen, Cordis thought to herself, sighing.
Anomen finally turned to her and gestured her to gather the parchments. She put them all in a case as quickly as she could, her hand burning even once she had let go of the scrolls. Finally she fished Glasses of identification out of her pack and looked at the robes the lich had been wearing.
She hissed in disgust and stepped back when she saw the black enchantment woven through the robe's cloth.
"It would probably be a good idea to burn it before we go, lest an evil archmage find it."
They all went out of the room, then Cordis set everything on fire with a Fireball. It scorched her hand that was already burnt as it left her fingers and she yelled out in pain, a little surprised. They went down the tower and steered a good distance away from the tower. Anomen healed her hand, and she rammed Fireballs into the tower until it crumbled and there was nothing but burning ruins left. And they started back to Athkatla.
