16. Phantoms
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The Lucid One kept low as he surveyed the stalking hunters. The odds were against him, and though he had faced impossible battles before, their array of weaponry was nevertheless intimidating. One carried a shortbow of sinewy white wood, another held a gnarled staff and whip, and the last wielded what looked like an uprooted tree trunk, whittled down at one end into a thick handle. All three were dressed in little more than leather scraps and rags, a motley crew of savage warriors.
There was a good chance he could avoid confrontation in these thick mists, especially with his distracting spells. He promptly cast Lightfoot behind cover, then shot an Aural Decoy into the woods. The strange croaking noise echoed far, and soon enough, the hunters rushed by in pursuit, barely making a sound as they sped across the snowy terrain. He waited until they had passed, then prepared to run.
He suddenly noticed there were only two; the archer was nowhere to be seen. At that moment, an arrow embedded deep into his shoulder, and he spun in surprise as another whistled past his head. He dove aside as two more sunk into the dirt, fired with skillful haste.
He did not bother to check behind him. Instead, he made a mad dash towards the bowman, hoping to deny him of his ranged advantage. The Lucid One ducked beneath another arrow as he drew his golden sword, slashing with the same motion. However, the archer tumbled over the flashing blade and came up firing, piercing the man between his ribs. At the same time, an icy projectile burst across his back, causing him to stumble.
The others had spotted him.
As the sorcerer prepared another spell, his brutish companion charged in. He took a mighty leap and slammed the trunk down, missing his target by a hair. The Lucid One counterattacked instantly, though the sword bounced harmlessly off the club as a second frost bolt struck him in the shoulder, numbing his entire arm. Yet another arrow found its mark, but the man was forced to focus on the savage warrior, lest he be crushed by his oversized cudgel. He rolled back as it swung in a rising arc, and narrowly avoided a pair of projectiles as well. He panted as they kept him on the defensive, knowing that he could not last at this rate. His only hope was to slow the brute long enough to pick off one of his comrades.
His eyes snapped back to the statuesque Nephel at the center of the lake. Regardless of the poisoned waters, he needed that chime trapped in its stony grasp. He needed to cast his miracle. The Lucid One waited until the club was in mid-strike, then sprinted out of the way and into the mire, praying that his purple-stoned ring was enough to protect him.
The lake was deeper than he realized, and the toxic sludge hindered his movements. He waded frantically as the warrior gave chase, while the others fired from the shoreline. The archer fully nocked his bow, imbuing the arrow with frost, and hit his target square in the spine. Despite the man's grievous injuries, he pushed forward until he reached the islet, then lunged for the petrified creature.
He gripped the silver bell with both hands and pulled. The stone crumbled as it broke free, but before he could act, the club crashed into his chest and sent him sprawling through the muck. On the brink of death, the Lucid One ignored the stinging poison and desperately rang the chime. It responded with a loud, crisp peal that penetrated the chill air, echoing far across the ivory forest.
Nothing happened.
He stared in horror at the bell, but had no time to collect himself as the warrior brought the trunk down again. He barely avoided the deadly blow, rolling through the cesspool and swallowing a dangerous amount of poison. He gasped for breath as he clawed his way to the bank, trying to find time to heal, yet the sorcerer was waiting for him. He could only watch hopelessly as the gnarled staff shone blue, sealing his fate.
Just then, a round object flew through the air and collided with the hunter in a fiery explosion, interrupting his spell at the last second. The mage turned in alarm as a white phantom raced through the trees, sword and shield in hand. At first, the Lucid One thought it was Serise, though a feathered cap and oddly-shaped blade proved otherwise. The spirit rushed the enemy with a spinning slash, but the nimble caster leapt out of range, barely avoiding the undulating steel.
A sloshing noise made the Lucid One roll instinctively, right before the club slammed into the dirt where had been laying. He scrambled to his feet as the savage gave chase, but the pale phantom intercepted the warrior and cut deep into his side. The distraction gave the man a chance to drink his blessed water, even as two arrows flew into his arm, causing him to nearly drop the flask. He whirled on the archer in frustration and fired a sound bolt from his Inquisitor's cane, catching the marksman in mid-shot. The invisible spell knocked the arrow aside and rippled through the hunter's chest, making him double over in agony.
With the others occupied, the Lucid One was determined to down at least one of the phantoms. He drew both swords and dashed at the bowman, who was already loosing another arrow. To both their surprise, the man reflexively hacked the missile out of the air and bore down on his opponent, twin blades streaking in a vicious cyclone. They left two gouges in the archer's chest before he rolled away, then caught him in the shoulder with a lunging thrust. The hunter ignored his wounds and continued to fire, forcing the man to bob through the hail of arrows.
As the enemy smartly retreated to gain distance, a small detail caught the Lucid One's eye. Just behind his adversary, the vines of an ivory tree swayed gently, practically unnoticeable in the chaotic battle. Suddenly, the white serpent's words resurfaced, reminding him of the invaluable item in his arsenal.
"The seed of a spirit tree... a boon against malevolent spirits that would do you harm."
Still weaving between the projectiles, he retrieved the shriveled seed from his pocket and crushed it in his palm, releasing a cloud of spores into the frigid air. The archer drew strongly on his bowstring, coating an arrow in frost, but a pair of gnarled branches snatched him up before he could release it. He struggled in surprise as he was lifted off his feet, then the tree-woman exhaled her icy breath. The hunter was bathed in a cold haze until he stopped squirming.
She let his limp body fall to the ground. He was barely able to stand, frostbite numbing him to the bone. He raised his head defiantly, right before the Lucid One lopped it from his shoulders with a single stroke. The dark phantom slumped to the dirt and disappeared a cloud of smoke.
The man stepped away from the moaning tree, then turned his attention to the others. The white phantom was holding his own against the pair of hunters. The Lucid One marveled as the stranger leapt back from the heavy club, then swatted a spell aside effortlessly with his shield, sending it spiraling into the woods. He advanced towards the sorcerer, but the whip lashed out violently, its leather scales shredding through clothes and skin. At the same time, the savage battered him clear off his feet.
The Lucid One scraped his swords together, summoning their cold, venomous flames, then rushed to defend his fallen ally. As the barbarian hoisted the trunk above his head, the burning gold blade slid into his back, and a kick pushed him face-down in the snow. The mage began casting again, but the pale phantom flung another firebomb directly at his face. The sorcerer tumbled away in surprise, scorched and seething with outrage. He raised his staff once more, not realizing he had rolled right into the arms of a tree-woman.
As the hapless hunter was engulfed in a chilling cloud, the Lucid One and his comrade squared off against the warrior. They took turns cutting and jabbing, slowly wearing him down while avoiding the flailing club. Eventually, the Lucid One crept too close and took a dire blow to the side of the head. He toppled over, vision reeling, warm blood seeping from his fractured skull. His eyes refocused in time to see the sorcerer hold his staff high, launching a frost arrow at the stranger's back.
He tried to shout in warning, but of course, he could only point and gape. Fortunately, the swordsman noticed his alarmed expression, and twirled aside as the projectile streaked by. He lobbed a firebomb at the savage, throwing him off-guard, then charged the other hunter. The white phantom readied his shield and barreled straight through a second spell, never slowing his pace. His sword curled back, preparing to strike, and the mage frantically rolled away. However, the thrust was delayed, and instead shot out right as the sorcerer came to his feet. His eyes went wide as steel plunged through his gut. The stranger followed with an upward stroke, slicing him from navel to neck.
The dark spirit dropped to his knees, clutching at his spilt insides, and the wavy blade came down again to cleave his head in two. The hunter instantly burst into vapor, sifting off through the glistening trees.
At this, the barbarian released a warcry and rampaged towards the swordsman. The Lucid One was on his feet again, having healed himself with another swig, but he was too late. The club thrashed wildly, moving much too fast for its bulk, and the pale phantom was pummeled from both sides. Before he could reorient himself, the trunk came crashing down, flattening him into the frozen earth.
As the vanquished stranger dissipated, merging with the surrounding mists, the brute turned his gaze back to the Lucid One. They were alone now, but he would not underestimate his opponent. He raised his curved blades, still flickering with blue flame, then the savage roared again and charged.
Just before the club connected, he leapt aside and slashed once, twice through the enemy's torso. It was not enough, and the berserk hunter sent him flying with a rising swing. He clambered to his feet in time to avoid another attack, jabbing once before retreating. The warrior was relentless, unfazed by his countless wounds, and only his pronounced attacks kept the Lucid One from being obliterated. The man struck back between blows, dealing shallow lacerations, none of which seemed to slow the crazed brawler.
His breath came out in short puffs; he was tiring fast. The club swung too quickly, and this time, he had no energy left to evade. He barred his swords before him in terror, but the trunk plowed through his pitiful defense. It slammed into his stomach as the silver blade spun from his grasp, landing point-down in the snow and extinguishing its magic. The Lucid One collapsed, his insides ruptured. He pushed himself away with his feet, sliding through the slushy rime like a worm. The warrior approached him without mercy, preparing to deal the final blow.
The man rolled over and released a sound bolt from his cane. The air quivered as it shot through the savage's bare chest, leaving no mark, but stunning him in his tracks. His fierce eyes went wide in shock, and the Lucid One dove desperately for his lost sword. As his hand closed around the hilt, he immediately slid the blades together and spun around in a whirlwind of shadowy flame.
To his utter disbelief, the warrior backhanded the burning weapons with a closed fist. His attack faltered, then the club crashed into his chest, shattering his entire ribcage. He gasped for air as he crumpled, unable to move.
The savage lifted his club high, holding it aloft as if taunting his victim. It hung there, poised against the prismatic clouds, then it wavered unexpectedly. The tenacious gleam vanished from the dark spirit's eyes, and his taut muscles went slack. At last, the trunk toppled from his grip as he faded away, still standing on his feet. The Lucid One stared incredulously until he realized what had happened.
The toxins had finally taken their toll.
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He lay there in the cold, pain wracking every inch of his body. Even drinking from the sapphire flask was an arduous effort. He closed his eyes gratefully as the soothing waters alleviated his anguish, then drew from his Estus, granting him the energy needed to rise again. He was impressed to find that both flasks had retained some of their contents, their efficiency bolstered by the bone dust of the Cardinals. He would surely need it for the battles yet to come.
The man resumed his journey with caution, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. The mist played tricks on his mind, and more than once he swore that some ghostly apparition drifted through the woods. However, they would always disappear before he could be certain. Even the trees remained motionless, allowing him to pass by unscathed.
His heart leapt when he recognized the mellow glow of a lantern ahead. It sat atop a steep mound, and as he approached, he realized it was littered with the frozen corpses of angelic servants. As before, golden knights and dark-robed Inquisitors lay strewn across each other, their limbs and armaments protruding from a heavy blanket of snow. He stepped over them carefully as he climbed the hill, making his way to the lamplight above.
When he reached the crest, he found a single body laying at his feet. It wore a Sentinel's uniform, though the head was nowhere to be seen. Oddly, it was positioned perpendicular to the lantern, its stump of a neck nearly touching the post. The Lucid One found its placement too deliberate, almost ritualistic, though to what purpose he could not say. Rather than dwell on the mystery, he let it be, and settled down to rest his weary mind.
As he waited for sleep to take him, he recalled the strange chime he had pulled from the statue. He took it out to study, wondering why it had not cast the miracle as it should. There were engravings in the silver bell, maidens and squires dancing hand in hand, and slowly he understood its true purpose. This was not a chime for miracles, but a means of summoning aid. It had called that pale phantom to his side without the need for soapstone shards. He cupped it reverently in his hands, realizing just how powerful such a tool could be.
Something moved beside him, and he nearly fell down the hill in startlement. He reached for his weapons, but then paused in awe and relief. Seated by the lantern was none other than Morrow, with his unmistakable tricornered hat and leather coat. He stared into the shimmering glass panes as if entranced, paying no mind to the man beside him. The Lucid One smiled as he tried to get his friend's attention, but his gestures went unanswered. As his smile shifted into a frown, the warrior became transparent, then vanished completely from sight.
He stared despondently at the vacant spot, feeling as if the cold had grown more bitter. He had thought these woods to be peaceful, beautiful even, but their haunting mysteries disturbed him. He prayed that sleep would come quick so he could be rid of these illusory visions.
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As his eyelids grew heavier, and his body slumped, something kept prodding him in the side. At first, he thought it might be a wound from the previous battle, but they had all been healed. It finally became too much of a nuisance, so he ruffled around in his robes to find the source of his discomfort.
He withdrew a sharp object. It was the red crystal, the one Sister Celia had given him, and he held it up curiously to the lantern. The rigid gemstone looked like a miniature crimson sun, with pointed ends jutting in all directions. It was flawed, badly chipped, causing the lamplight to dance discordantly through its uneven facets. They formed hypnotic patterns that played across his eyes, and the Lucid One found himself wholly forgetting about the solace of the dream.
His fingers closed around the crystal; his fist seemed to tighten of its own accord. There was was fragile crack, then darkness devoured him.
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Appendix
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Bell of Consonance — A white gold bell blessed by Saint Davni. When rung, it calls upon aid across realms, and may be answered by a pale phantom. Saint Davni was the first of the Nephel, and discerned the harmony that binds all souls. Unfortunately, she was also the first to fall against the hordes of Heliphon.
Ebbing — The fabled greatsword of Captain Brenlyn. Depletes a target's stamina with each strike. Its blade has a unique shape, flat on one side and wavy on the other, representing his mastery over land and sea. Captain Brenlyn set sail for distant lands, seeking the gift of eternal life, but only tales of his adventures survived.
Firebomb — Bisque urn filled with black powder. Explodes on impact, inflicting fire damage. This invention was made popular by the mercenaries of Carthania, though it quickly fell out of favor as the faith of Nos spread to their kingdom.
Frost Arrow — An elementary sorcery of the Nephel. Fires an icy arrow that shatters on impact. Frost sorcery was born with the advent of the Nephel, the unholy spawn of Samaras. These frozen souls are granted piercing qualities through crystallization.
Sacred Bloom Shield — An antiquated shield depicting a blooming flower, a sacred symbol in the lands of Carthania. Boasts high magic defense, and is able to parry spells. Carthanians often found themselves at odds with the scholars of Falmour, and this shield granted them the upper hand in times of strife.
Spotted Whip — A whip fashioned from the tail of a Maneater Sphinx. Its dark scales are mottled with venomous spots, inflicting poison. The Sphinxes embody the memory of maidens lost in battle, and still envy those who inhabit flesh.
Trunk Club — An uprooted trunk used as a greatclub. Requires immense strength to wield. Stalwart Griswold was the loyal first mate of Captain Brenlyn, to whom he pledged his life. Only in death did he find a new master to serve.
White Birch Bow — A shortbow crafted from an ivory tree. Use the strong pull to fire arrows of frozen souls. The huntsman of Eveline the Direcat hail from many lands, but stand united by a common desire for vengeance.
Witchtree Branch — A staff formed by the gnarled branch of an ivory tree. Functions as a catalyst, but has greater resonance with frost sorceries. Despite their appearance, the barren boughs of the Ivory Forest retain an abundance of life, attesting to the Propagator's bountiful gift.