"You have done exceedingly well, Mel," I extolled the imitation Guardian Spirit. "Alas, we cannot act upon your discoveries just yet. I am in need of several days to restore my strength."
I had to be patient and allow time for my Od to gradually recover. The skirmish with the Wizard had taken its toll, depleting a substantial portion of my power. Further use could have an adverse effect on my health. I was not sure how that would manifest in an Elf, but I was not eager for that kind of self-experimentation.
I could consider utilizing the magical energy stored within jewels, but that would be an imprudent expenditure. Even though I had discovered a method to replenish them by harnessing the abundant magical energy available in the Otherworld, it was still best to conserve resources.
It would be wiser to recover naturally. I found myself in a relatively secure haven, with ample provisions—though I did miss Archer's fare. He truly did spoil me.
In all honesty, it might be more judicious to delay action until my official return to Imladris. Such a course would eliminate me from the pool of likely suspects. Yet, it would necessitate leaving Mel behind as I journeyed back to Imladris, and I could not bear the thought of abandoning him entirely in Gondor.
It would be best for both the city and its ruler if I took the palantír into my custody as swiftly as feasible.
I was aware that Denethor utilized the seeing stone to observe the Dark Lord's forces, pitting his will against an immortal despot. Such a struggle had aged the Steward, yet I was taken aback upon learning he was a mere eighty years old. For a man of lesser lineage, he might be deemed well-preserved; but as one with the pure blood of the Dúnedain, he appeared positively decrepit.
I held onto the hope that once I removed the object he misused so terribly, he might begin to recover.
Furthermore, I hoped to use it to find and recover some of the lost ones. Palantíri called to each other, and with Kraken at my command, I could search for the one that was lost at sea.
"What happened?" Mel asked. "I followed the old man as you asked me to. As soon as he used the palantír, which looked just as you described, I hurried back to where I sensed you. But you were gone. And when you returned to the room, you couldn't see me."
His speech was fast, words blending into one another. His energetic demeanor was somewhat distracting, especially considering he was still completely naked.
I needed to do something about it, even though he seemed quite content with a naturist lifestyle. The problem, however, was that I had no idea how to create clothing for Guardian Spirits.
"I believe what you sensed was the Endelómeríe," I explained briefly, sharing my theory. I had kept the circlet either on or nearby ever since he awakened, so it was quite likely that when he thought he was sensing me, he was actually sensing the circlet. After all, he was bound to it and not directly to me. "And without it, I couldn't see you."
He crossed his arms over his chest and said, "I thought only you could see me."
Perhaps I hadn't explained it clearly enough, so I clarified, "No, since your spirit is bound to the circlet, only the one who wears it can see you. Your memories, have they still not returned?"
He shook his head and then added, "Just bits and pieces. One of the things I remembered was an older Elf teaching me how to work in the forge. I think he was my father. We made bars of shining black metal."
Intriguing. We had engaged in several discussions about forging techniques, but he hadn't mentioned that before. "Could you teach me? I mean, once we return to Imladris."
He nodded. "We will need a fallen star for it. I remember that much."
A meteor? I did have one in my workshop back in Imladris.
"I have one. We will see if it is suitable. But to answer your previous question, I had an unlikely visitor in an unexpected locale. Recall that place where you wouldn't go? Well, the White Wizard managed to find one of the entrances."
He furrowed his brow and began pacing back and forth. "How? I don't understand. That place was in your home in Imladris. Except later it was not. And from what I last heard, the Wizard was going to Bree."
It was difficult to explain. My own understanding of the Otherworld remained incomplete. I had devoted time to studying it, but the more I did, the more questions arose. It seemed oddly connected to the small souvenir I had acquired during my brief visit to the Origin. It was as if it were a training device for my specific True Magic. In a single year, I had progressed more since I first used the key than in the previous decade.
There was only one way to frame that explanation: dramatically.
"That place lies not within the spaces you know, but in between them. I can open a gate to it at any threshold. I could enter here and exit in Imladris. A journey of three hundred leagues, yet through it, would be as though I am walking to the dining hall."
He ceased his pacing and listened intently to my words. Afterward, he appeared mostly perplexed and slightly awed.
"I don't know what to say to that. I still don't remember much, but that sounds..." He paused for a moment, "Unusual?"
"In my knowledge, there is no place like it in all of Arda. And it's mine." The key was proof of that, and Cid had referred to me as the Primary User. "By my will, paths to it open and close."
"And how did Saruman enter then?"
He used the name Men called the Wizard. I wondered why since I mostly used the Elvish one, but I didn't inquire further. Instead, I answered his question.
"Because there is an anchor point beneath Amon Sul. It is one gate I cannot fully close."
"Strange. I am curious about it, but I would not want to enter it. I have a very bad feeling about it."
"Very wise. I have discovered new evidence suggesting that entering it could harm those who are not bound to it. That was probably what happened to other Barrow-wights. After capturing them, Fano dragged them through the Otherworld, from Tyrn Gorthad to Amon Sul."
"Other Barrow-wights? What do you mean by other Barrow-wights? What are Barrow-wights?"
How much should I explain? There was little purpose in going into detail since he would remember it eventually.
"Much of this you already know. You simply need to remember it. In brief, a Barrow-wight is a corpse possessed by a spirit. In all cases I have encountered, it was the spirit of an Elf." I paused for a moment. "But we have wandered far from what I wanted to discuss. You will remember all of this in time. Do not force yourself. Now, please tell me where the Palantír of Minas Anor, also called the Anor-stone, is stored?"
"Yes. I will remember it in my own time. Sometimes I want so much, but at other times I am so afraid," he said. Then he described the path to the chamber high in the White Tower of Ecthelion, where there was a secret door leading to the room in which the Anor-stone was kept.
From his description, the room was too heavily guarded for me to approach it, even while invisible. The chamber itself was unguarded, as the Anor-stone was a secret. It was disguised as an archive of confidential documents, accessible only to the Steward. However, there was always a pair of Citadel Guards stationed right outside.
I had a few days to recover and devise a plan. Ultimately, I decided to use the method of entering guarded spaces that I had employed many times with Archer. It required a Servant, but I believed Mel could serve as a stand-in.
Of course, I couldn't just hide in the rooms assigned to me. I continued my excursions in the city as before, spending most of my time in the Hall of Books. The point was to maintain my usual behavior and avoid arousing suspicion, not to make myself an obvious suspect.
My objective was to find Isildur's description of the One Ring. Minthradir had spent years on and off searching for that document, so I didn't expect to find it within a few days.
Whether it was luck or my knowing precisely what I sought – a testimony written by Isildur just after the victory of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men – I managed to find it.
The document was somewhat mislabeled. While it was correctly marked as Isildur's writings from the appropriate time period, it lacked any notation about the One Ring. Considering its entire content revolved around the ring, I understood why it was difficult to find when specifically seeking information on the One Ring.
I was surprised to find the document here. I had assumed it would be in a private archive, like the chamber with the entrance to the room housing the Anor-stone.
But then again, it didn't contain significant state secrets, just a detailed description and Isildur's decree that the Ring was part of the royal inheritance of the Kingdom of Arnor. So, by law, Estel would be its legal owner. However, since it was seized on the battlefield and its previous owner was not dead, there could be some contention to that point.
Not that it really mattered. Sauron wouldn't seek to regain it in court.
Additionally, it was a three-thousand-year-old scroll. If I had studied golemancy more, I could have created something terrible with it.
I was just rereading it when I was interrupted, "I can't say that this sight surprises me. If one is to look for Rin, heading to the nearest collection of books is a good guess."
Distracted by what I was reading, I said, "Did you know that the Ruling Ring was unique among the Greater Rings of Power in that it lacked a gem?"
"Saruman did mention that once," the voice spoke in a friendly, amused tone. "I have been trying to find the root of that knowledge for some time now. Perhaps I should have asked for your help with it. But Elrond would never forgive me if I lost you in a library."
I looked up from the scroll I was reading. Mithrandir was sitting across the table from me. He looked as he always did. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows. He had placed his tall pointed blue hat on the reading table. He wore his customary gray cloak and silver scarf. Fortunately, no fires were allowed in the Hall of Books, so his pipe remained unlit.
We were acquainted but I didn't know him as well as I should. For the whole of my life he was just there. The frequent visitor to Imladris, but not one who stayed long. Wise, but his wisdom lied in areas I had little interest. For while our acquaintance was quite brief, I found Curumo much more to my taste. Even as an enemy.
"Mithrandir? When did you arrive?"
"Some time ago." His mouth twitched. "I could have waited until you noticed me on your own, but I didn't want to spend the rest of the day here."
"It's morning. I would have taken a break for lunch." I shrugged. "Unless I found something really interesting. Something like this scroll." I unrolled back to the beginning and pointed my finger to the relevant section. "Listen: The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but records of it shall be left in Gondor, where also dwell the heirs of Elendil, lest a time come when the memory of these great matters shall grow dim."
He slammed a hand on the table.
"Stop," he ordered, "Such matters are not to be spoken about in the open."
"Why? It is ancient history and of little relevance. The only thing of real interest was the description of the Ruling Ring."
He extended his hand to me and asked, "Can I have it?"
"Of course. I have read it all. I was just going over it a second time in case I missed something." I rolled up the scroll and passed it to him. "There is also another thing I have for you. Well, you or Estel."
"Would that be a famous sword, by any chance? You have made quite a stir." His voice was gently chiding.
"It was not my intention to do so," I defended myself, "I planned to just quietly pass it to either you or its intended recipient. I have no idea how those rumors started. They are quite inconvenient."
"I suppose some things just cannot remain hidden." He sighed.
"Are you going to take it?"
"I suppose I must. I will see it delivered where it will be most needed."
I gave him the sword. After the Steward assigned guards to me, I kept the sword with me at all times.
"Oh, there is also this," I said and took out a letter from Elrond. With all the trouble with the sword, I nearly forgot.
He took it. Immediately he broke the seal and began to read it. Soon he was frowning. His bushy eyebrows rose so high that they seemed to want to jump off his head.
"Ill news. And strange. If only I was not so needed here…" He exhaled. He grabbed the pipe for a moment, then remembered where he was and put it back. "It was a kind thing you have done. Whether it was very wise or very foolish, we will only know in the end. When do you leave?"
"I was just waiting for you. So tomorrow."
"I will write some letters for you to deliver. One for Elrond, and one for young Frodo. Is he still in Imladris?"
"As far as I know. Unless he left while I was here. But that would be unlikely. Elrond is not one who would let his patients leave before they are healed."
Other young hobbits had left with Curumo, save Sam who stayed to keep Frodo company through treatment. There were cases before of Men who had got their hands on Lesser Rings. Most of them were servants of the enemy, but not all. Elrond was trying to treat both Bilbo and Frodo for damage that possessing the Lesser Ring of Power could cause. Since they were in possession of the Ruling Ring, it was unlikely to do much good, but it was even less likely to do any harm.
Pippin and Merry had been sent back to the Shire as messengers, to do what they could, according to the fashion of their country, to warn the people of their danger. And pave the way for Curumo's task. Fatty went with them.
When he left to write those letters, and whatever else he had to do in this city, I turned towards my unseen companion.
"He is either a much better actor than I think he is, or he has failed to notice you, Mel." I threaded a hand through my hair. "We are out of time. We will act tonight."
At midnight, I stood upon the shores of the hidden river beneath Amon Sul. Beside me were two corpses: one of a Man and one of a Troll.
The corpse of the Man was tall as an Elf, revealing his Númenórean heritage. It was swathed in a black robe, a blindfold concealing the remnants of his eyes. The art I employed to reanimate corpses restored them to their perfect state at the time of their death. Wounds and decay were undone. Yet it was a shallow Mystery, unable to restore the eyes of this particular corpse. There was a significance to the loss of the eyes that could not be so easily mended.
That corpse was once a Royal Seer of Arnor, entrusted by the descendants of Elendil to use the chief Palantir of the Northern Kingdom in service to his land, until he beheld something he could not endure. By his own hand, he tore out his eyes, and in his blood penned a prophecy before leaping to his doom from the Tower of the Winds.
I reckoned that the authority of the stones would not be revoked with death. I was not the first to harbor that notion. After all, that particular corpse had been possessed by Mel before.
That corpse also provided instruction on the use of a Palantir, albeit the madness in his final hours had tainted much of the restored data.
The troll was naught but muscle.
One of the common uses for a Command Seal was to summon a Servant to their Master in case of an emergency. It was a miracle bordering on True Magic, so I used True Magic to replicate it. This allowed me to perform a Forced Summoning without wasting a Command Seal. After all, I had only three of them to last me ten wars.
Since Archer had stopped being a Servant, that spell had become completely useless. But now, with Mel, I finally got to use it again. Mel was not a Servant, but was close enough for it to work. With some modifications, it was a first step to generalizing it to work on any familiar or contractor.
"Recall," I incanted in English. I knew that German was more traditional for my family, but I found English more to my taste.
The space tore, and in the next moment, Mel was next to me.
He blinked several times and shook his head. "Where? Where am I?"
"Under Amon Sul," I replied, and then asked the relevant question, "Is anyone in the room?"
"No. How is this possible?"
"Then your part in this is done. Stay here. Learn about this place. I mean to give you command here."
"How? When only you can see me?"
"When I recover, I will solve that problem," I said, and then put it out of my mind. I had to move to the next phase of the plan. The spell I had used created a trace, a wound in the fabric of reality. It would heal in time, but I also knew how to reopen it. It was a combination of spells that I often used in the past.
"Retrace," I invoked.
Once again, space was torn apart, but this time it stayed torn. There was a gate to the place from which I had summoned him.
I walked through, accompanied by the corpse of the seer. The troll would come later.
I found myself in complete darkness. Elves needed little light to see, but there was none here. There was also the smell of dust and old paper. With a simple gesture, I brought light.
Creating light was one of the basic spells. My soul, like other souls, was luminous; it was a matter of making the light shed by it physical.
That light revealed a small, square room. It was smaller than I expected from Mel's description. There was not much in it, a single table, completely clear, and a simple wooden chair next to it. The walls, on the other hand, were completely covered with shelves filled with scrolls.
First, I needed to isolate this space before I began to work. For what I was about to do, it was convenient that the room's walls, as was common with Numenorean structures, were aligned to compass points.
I shifted Larmo into device configuration and began drawing magical energy from the gems embedded in it in the correct order.
The primary purpose of each of the five elemental modules was to serve as a filter for one of the Great Elements, but that also meant that magical energy that passed through would be attuned to the element the gem represented. In that way, I could use it to cast a number of jewel-based spells, and what was even better, the magical energy I drew from them would refill from the Otherworld.
Of course, that was much less efficient than using them for their primary purpose.
Drawing magical energy colored by the Fire Module, I set the first circle at the south side of the room, just a little above the door outside.
Then, moving counterclockwise, I used magical energy from the Water module to mark the west side, then North with Air, and East with Earth, then finished by standing in the center and linking them together with magical energy drawn from the Ether module.
Fire. Water. Air. Earth. Yod. He. Vau. He. YHVH. By invocation of the Tetragrammaton, I assumed authority over this space, setting up a Bounded Field.
I usually just used a ruby to consecrate space, but I needed something a bit stronger here. And I lacked a ruby. A Fire Opal was a better fit for the Fire Module.
First, I isolated the sound, then the smell, and last, with a touch of the last gem, cut the flow of ether, blocking the emanation of magical energy.
Then I widened the gate and gave an order, "Cid, use the troll to block the entrance; I do not want to be disturbed."
The troll barely fit in the small room. It was a good thing I blocked sound from exiting the room; otherwise, his crashing would have brought the guards. The smell, too.
In the end, it somehow managed to put its back to the door, occupying almost the whole wall.
Mel had described where the secret door was, so it was hard to find behind the rotating shelf.
Now, I just needed to open it.
The door was made of metal, but I couldn't find a keyhole in it. It was decorated with abstract shapes.
Structural analysis showed that the door was over three millennia old. I was almost tempted to steal it too. I couldn't see the insides of it with that spell. There was interference. The metal was an unknown alloy. It contained iron, carbon, sulfur, silver, mithril, and several other things I couldn't identify.
The enchantments, on the other hand, were like shadows. I knew they were there, but I couldn't discern what they were.
It must have been part of the original tower since it had been rebuilt two hundred years ago.
Unfortunately, that meant it was made with a craft lost to the current Gondorians.
The trouble was that I wasn't much of a burglar, and if any of my Tohsaka ancestors were skilled in theft, they had failed to include such spells in my Magic Crest.
It was time to use Larmo as it was meant to be used.
The door had a presence in both the Seen and Unseen realms, and the enchantments were where the realms touched.
The Larmo mapped them all.
First, the passive mode. Just listening. Absorbing the door's unique Song, passing it through five filters, and then reuniting it in the processor. There, the gathered data would be further run through algorithms for signal noise removal, and then the data would be used to create a proper model of the object.
Once I had basic measurements, the next step was to see how the door reacted to stimulus.
I tried the simplest Word of Opening I knew. It was unlikely to work, but I could measure how the door reacted.
Next, I tried structural grasping again and recorded what blocked it.
Then, I created a contained fire using magecraft. Something like a blowtorch. Although the exact alloy the door was made of was unknown to me, it was similar to that used in the production of Elven swords, so I set the heat of the flame a little above the expected melting point.
I failed to manage to melt the door, but I did record the result.
Next, I tried to use my slime familiar to melt through the door. And when that failed, I tried the same on the stone wall on which the door was.
When that too failed, I recorded the results. At least the door looked much better, since my slime had managed to devour the aged patina.
Then I sat down and began the slow process of analyzing the data I had acquired. On one hand, if I wanted to create a very secure door, I had a good start. On the other, finding a weakness to open this would take some work.
The door was composed of several distinct parts, with each having an enchantment of its own. It differed in engineering philosophy from Elven works. There, the whole would be bound in a Name with enchantments branching from it.
As I expected, and now confirmed, direct use of magecraft would not work. The door was too old, and the enchantments were too carefully layered. Magecraft was versatile but impotent against something with such ontological inertia.
Brute force would take a prohibitive amount of time, if it was even possible.
But there was a weakness in how it was made. I just needed to find a weak point, a place where I could drive a wedge and unravel the whole thing.
And I needed to find a proper wedge.
"Master," Cid interrupted me, speaking from the corpse of the seer, "the troll is being attacked. Its back is cut."
Just what I needed. Out of time. I wondered why I didn't hear anything, but then I remembered. I had blocked all sounds. That cut both ways. Those outside couldn't hear anything from within the Bounded Field, but also I could not hear anything from outside.
Wait.
The door was untouched, but I could feel the weakness of where it was mounted on the wall. The walls were much more recent, and the enchantment much less complex and not as integrated as other parts.
But how do I use that?
And quickly too, because that troll was not going to last that long.
I could give up. This was not a critical mission. Archer was handling that one.
But it would be a waste, and I would prefer to have the Steward of Gondor not influenced by the Dark Lord.
A memory intruded. A memory of words. Words to shatter metal and rend stone. Words that the Witch King used to shatter Larmo.
Had he used that abominable spell on any other sword, its secret would have remained hidden. But Larmo meant listener, and its other form, at the time, was a device that sought other worlds, attuned to the frequency of the Unseen.
In that way, I learned the forsaken Words to break metal and shatter stone.
But to speak them was to open myself to forces of Discord.
Either I would abandon this and leave the Steward of Gondor to the nonexistent mercy of the Dark Lord, or take a firm step on the road to damnation.
The prudent thing would be just to reopen the gate to the caves under Amon Sul and leave.
In the end, I was not quite certain whether it was compassion or greed that made me stay.
So I spoke the Words. They tore from my throat like a flood of sharp razors. I put my hand to my mouth and was surprised when there was no blood.
But they worked. The stone where the door met the wall burst into fine dust, and the door, still untouched, fell with a loud clang in the chamber behind it.
"Get the stone," I gave the order, and then turned to reopen the path back. "How long until they breach the room?"
While I waited for the seer's corpse to retrieve what I came for, I moved my slime under the door and prepared to move it.
"They have stopped cutting," the corpse of the troll spoke, in a deep rumbling voice.
"What!?" In the end, I didn't need to rush it! But why did they stop trying to get in? "No matter. Are we done?"
"We are done," the corpse of the seer said. Its voice came from near the right. I turned my head towards it, and saw that the blindfolded corpse had a large black sphere in its hands.
I nodded, then opened the gate. "We go first, then the troll."
The troll corpse doll came without incident. No one was pursuing it.
I closed the gate, and ordered Cid, "Place the Anor-stone in storage." Then I turned to Mel and said, "I must go back to Minas Tirith now, before I am missed. Stay here. I will be back when I return to Imladris. Then I will fulfill my promise."
A short walk through the Otherworld, and I was back in the room assigned to me in the White Tower.
I put down my sword and began to prepare for bed. It would be best if I stayed here in this room until morning.
I just folded my tunic when the door to the hallways crashed open.
Someone charged me. Fast, but not fast enough. In dim starlight, I could see a half-naked woman running towards me, with her hand extended.
She was fast, but not as fast as an Elf. And completely unskilled, drawn by some manic energy she closed the distance to me in a few seconds. The front of her dress was completely torn, showing her naked breasts, and the rest of it tattered behind her like the wings of a strange bird.
When she reached me, I grabbed her arms, trying to subdue her. She twisted, uncaring of the pain and damage, until she was right next to me.
"Pretty Elf," she muttered, pressing and rubbing onto me. She was naked under her belt too.
But now that she was close, I could feel very familiar magical energy. The Spider's Kiss Curse. It felt almost like it.
But that curse was supposed to render its victims helpless, rather than aggressive.
No matter. I should attempt to harvest. There was some risk of failure, depending on how different it was from the original. But I was quite confident that I could do it.
Besides, I was curious. And leaving the poor woman under such a curse seemed untidy.
The slime moved from over my hands to hers, and then over her body. Crawling over her breasts, tendrils crawling over her nipples. Then it moved downwards. Flowing over her stomach, down to her womanhood, and then plunged right in.
Through the slime, I could taste her juices and something else. Cum. Both were tainted by the taste of Spider's Kiss.
Then the curse tried to infect my slime. Which was something that should not have happened.
Spider's Kiss was initially carried in the body, preferably sexual, fluids, but once the curse got to the victim it moved to a purely spiritual level. It could spread only through the transfer of magical energy, like karmic bonds between magus and familiar, although skilled enough magus could cut the bonds before getting it.
It was so by design, otherwise harvesting it would be too inefficient.
The attempt didn't work, naturally. The slime familiar was specifically designed for safe sex. And if it worked it would not have mattered. To successfully consume the curse I needed to be immune to it. That immunity I gained through Mithridatism, the ritual practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. So I knew exactly what she was going through.
Doing it with something so addictive was dangerous, but that was true for all magecraft.
She writhed in my arms, rubbing all over me. Her breast pressed into my still-clothed chest. But she was ridden by that curse for too long. She was close to the edge. and it didn't take it long for my familiar fucking her to drive her over it.
With a final shudder, she orgasmed and I harvested the curse.
Looking within I examined the tangled ball of magical energy, spells, and life force.
The curse was as I knew it, and yet there were significant differences.
While I began to metabolize my harvest I reviewed data on Spider's Kiss curse that was stored in my Magic Crest.
The primary concept on which it was based was "taking power trough sex". It was an ancient concept even mentioned in Papyrus Chester Beatty I. In those texts, there was a story "The Contendings of Horus and Seth", which deals with the battles between Horus and Seth to see who will be the successor to the throne of Osiris. There Set raped his nephew to prove that he was more worthy king, but through deception, by pouring Horus' seed on the lettuce Sat ate, the reverse was proven true.
Spider's Kiss curse was actually two spells. One to render the victim helpless and pliable and the other to steal the power from the victim.
The first spell was based on the concept of spider venom.
Spider venoms were a cocktail of many chemicals.
Some were neurotoxins, which evolved to kill or immobilize arthropods like insects by attacking their nervous systems; others were cytotoxins which help break down the tissue so the spider can ingest a liquefied meal.
Parts of the spell that was analog to neurotoxin had both paralytic and aphrodisiac effects. It affected the body, mind, and soul. On the material level, it caused paralysis of voluntary muscles, while creating physical symptoms of arousal, increased blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, and temperature In female victims her nipples, labia, and clitoris would fill with blood and become more sensitive. Male victims would gain almost painful erection, and in many cases also increased sensitivity of nipples. On a mental level, it lowered the victim's inhibitions and bombarded the victim's mind with sexual thoughts, making it hard to concentrate. On a spiritual level, it would make victims blind to greater truths, hiding them behind the veil of forbidden sexuality. Whatever victim abhors and secretly desires here he or she or it would need to face before accessing his or hers or its spiritual powers.
True damage that curse had was due to parts of the spell that was analog to cytotoxins. In the body of the victim, it increased the metabolism to unsafe levels, having the body of the victim devour itself to produce energy. The spiritual effect was an increase, or even activation of spiritual organs, like for example magical circuits, that converted that energy to Od, which was then used to produce more of the curse. Od was also forced to circulate, making the curse spread and entangled with the victim. The mental effect was most insidious because it fostered addiction.
The second spell was a variation of the sexual mana transfer ritual. There were many such spells but this one was based on the principle "that which is not fertile on the material plane is fertile on astral". Thus creative energy that would produce children instead created magical energy. By pouring life on barren soil, the subtle harvest was collected.
Harvest spell was also the only way the victim was supposed to be able to achieve orgasm while under the effects of the first part.
I had recovered more magical energy than I expected, so I checked the now unconscious woman. No magical circuits. Good, that would be an unpleasant surprise.
Her body was ravaged by the curse, but not as much as I had feared. In time she should recover without many permanent consequences.
Which did bring one thing to question?
Where did extra energy come from?
Could it be that those of Numanorian descent, even if faint, produced more magical energy under the curse than expected from humans, maybe even more than a trained magus? And with less severe side effects.
But enough distractions. I had to face unpleasant facts. This, whatever it was, was too similar to the curse my ancestors carefully designed. It was almost certain that I was the origin.
So two theories came to my mind. And either way, it seemed to be my fault.
The first and less likely one was that a sample of the curse had been stolen from me. I had used it in defense of Anchor Gate. Someone could have taken a sample and modified it. The main candidates for that would be either Curumo or the Witch-King. But that seemed unlikely, for both the distance and I didn't think that they could have done this. They lacked even basic theories of magecraft.
But more likely it was a direct consequence of my actions. I had brought a source of a curse here to the White Tower. Blood within the animated corpse of the troll.
But how did she get infected?
Was she near it when they spilled its blood?
There was something I had forgotten. A missing link.
Well, I could assume that she was not the only victim, either way. Which meant that I should go out and seek more of them.
It was my mess. It would be proper for me to clean it up.
Finding the victims would not be hard. Spider's Kiss had a distinct energy signature, and I had Larmo.
I stepped into the hallway. There was no artificial illumination, night was bright enough to see by. Even for Man.
At least I didn't have to worry about Ascarnil. Although he was given a smaller room near mine, he preferred to sleep with the glider. That was a bit rude, but then he was a scout and not a diplomat. I could guess that was why Elrond had little objection to me accompanying him here.
The nearest source was towards the exit which was concerning. I didn't want to have to chase cursed ones all over the city.
I heard a thumping noise and soon saw the target.
The next victim was either trying to force open the closed door or fuck it.
I saw that he was male because while he was dressed in parts of a uniform of citadel guards, a black surcoat, embroidered in white with a tree in blossom under a silver crown and many-pointed stars, his leggings were missing and under the belt, the tails of surcoat were parted showing his bare legs and hard cock. His boots were also gone leaving his feet bare.
He was still to notice me. Which was no surprise. My steps were silent and I carried no illumination. And he was busy doing whatever he was doing with that door.
He was clawing at it, then he would hit it with his fist. And from time to time he would thrust his hips, pushing his manhood in it. It looked rather painful, but I was used to masochists.
I set my slime at him, and it crawled up to his legs to his penis and anus and then stimulated him until he orgasmed. Then I harvested the curse.
Quick and easy. Just how I preferred it to go.
His semen was infected with a curse. That was what I had forgotten. A similar thing happened to the female her case, there was both infected semen that did not belong to her, and her own joists were infected.
With two samples I could form a preliminary theory. In some way, Spider Kiss had mutated, or been modified. So after it was active in the body of a victim, it would produce an inactive form in sexual fluids. From samples I had, both female and male.
I had slime crawl into the victim's mouth, and taste his saliva. There was no curse in it. Then I made a small cut and did the same with blood. Same result. So either it did not infest all body fluids or harvesting the curse removed it.
Unfortunately, for all the demented experiments my ancestors performed, and I really didn't need to know how Spider's Kiss worked on infants (they produced a lot of energy per count and quality of their magical circuits, but need special care not to die too soon) or plants (on ordinary plants it was a quick way to terminate them, but harvest gained less magical energy then invested) no one had tried harvest curse before it was introduced to a victim.
I would need to perform the same tests before I removed the curse from the subject. That would not be a problem. I was not lacking in potential subjects for research.
Then I would need to do the same experiment on an unaltered sample of inactive Spider's Kiss. But that could wait until much later.
But one question remained. How did it manage to spread so far? The victims did not seem especially strong, and they seemed quite stupid from what I had seen. The citadel guards should be able to subdue them if they were unwilling to kill.
I checked on him, and he would also recover. Either this variant of a curse was less damaging or humans in this World were much more resilient. Or both.
The next few victims were also easy to deal with. Most of them were roaming the halls, although there was one in the room. Those that noticed me rushed me, but they were a little problem.
I did notice one thing. They were rather fast and strong. Almost as if they could use rudimentary reinforcement by instinct.
I did manage to confirm two more things. First, there was an inactive version of the curse in the body fluids of the victims, and second that the harvesting process removed it.
There was also a new discovery. Or rather now that I had more samples I finally managed to notice it. There was a reading that I found only in one other item, the Bone Tree. Once detected that it was trivial to notice that each curse cast shadows across ephemeral potential realities. And as one was destroyed it would restore itself from the shadow. That could explain both increased energy output and difficulty in the metabolizing process. I would need to run numbers later after the crisis was resolved to be sure, but it did point to new and interesting applications of my True Magic.
No fatalities or even serious injuries so far. I hoped differently, but I knew that was little chance that trend would hold. But that was for later. And that was not counting psychological damage.
There were reasons I preferred to use that spell only on enemies.
Next, I arrived at an interesting scene.
Usually, the victims of the curse were solitary, mindlessly roaming and only charging when they detected me.
This time there was a group of them
They were all completely naked, a pile of writhing bodies.
I counted five, three males and two females, and they seemed to be engaged in group sex. I could smell the musk, and hear their moaning.
That seemed easy.
I sent the slime for a quick harvest, but then suddenly they stopped moving, and all turned their heads toward me. In two cases that looked very unnatural. Their eyes were so dilated that they were almost all pupils.
They separated quickly, twisting in what seemed quite unnatural ways, they untangled and charged me. Now I could see that they were all naked, and in low light, they really looked the same.
By the time five were near enough to grab me, the fifth was harvested.
I dodged their grasping hands. It would be much easier if I wasn't trying to keep them unharmed as practical.
I slipped under one pair of arms, and dogged two others, but I had to grab the fourth and throw the last victim.
If they ganged on me, well I would have to take more desperate measures. I needed to divide them until slime finished them one by one.
I received another dose of the curse. Fourth done.
I hastily retreated towards the slime, while tripping the only remaining female, and then pushing one of the males over her.
I jumped back, and the one victim still on his feet followed and stepped on the slime. It crawled fast up his legs, small tendrils twisting around his manhood.
The third dose of the curse burned. That was a little too much at once. If it was the original it wouldn't be a problem, but this mutated version was a bit harder to digest.
I was feverish and I still had two more to take. I pushed excess magical energy into the onyx on my circlet. It would be a shock to Mel when he suddenly materialized, but I needed to get rid of excess now.
The one in front of me fell down like pupped with its string cut, but the other two were getting on their feet.
I set a slime on the female. And for the male there was an experiment I had to try. Using standard methods was just too slow, I need to try to harvest without inducing an orgasm
As they rushed towards me, I countercharged. A fast strike to the female's throat had her fall, gasping for air. Then I grabbed the male victim's hand, and pulled him while tripping him. Once he was on the ground I sat on his back and began the process.
It was much harder. Like trying to pull out a well-rooted weed. More violent and more expensive in terms of magical energy. The curse itself had been hard to assimilate, like eating unripe fruit. But it worked.
And when I was finished I tested the victim. The result was the same, all of the curse was successfully removed.
Hunting them one by one, was too slow. I needed to turn the harvest spell to an area effect, rather than a single target.
That was actually easy to do. I just need to set a Bounded Field and cast the spell through it.
The first step was choosing the basic formula for Bounded Field, then applying the spell formula using references to create a working sigil.
For the foundation, I had chosen Calvary Cross with ten fields. In the same Thaumaturgical Foundation as Spider's Kiss, the geomantic shape it aligned was Carcer, a "prison", and that was aligned with Saturn at night, and thus harvest. Since it was nighttime it would be more potent.
Five of those ten fields were reserved for descriptions of the harvest spell.
Four were reserved for targeting data, the Citadel, and all living things in it. As well as exceptions, only me and my familiars.
Last field, that one on the top of the cross was receptable. It could have used me, but that would be beyond reckless, so I set it to my slime familiar.
I converted that to appropriate symbols and filled in the cross.
The next part was putting the sigil in as many places as possible in the shortest amount of time.
For that reason I scattered the slime, keeping only the minimum required to run the core. The miniature slimes moved to inscribe the cross in as many places as possible, while the core, now severely weakened, moved towards both the geographical and spiritual center of the citadel, the throne room.
Core slime was now severely weakened and I need to keep it safe. Escort mission. I hated escort missions.
I encountered five more cursed victims on the way to the throne room. With slime being so weak, I had to harvest them without inducing an orgasm. Being an Elf I could not risk it. Since I already had a mate, my body could register any sex with someone not him as rape and that was always fatal.
The throne room was empty.
Finally, all of this would come to an end.
By all of the mini slimes should have put enough sigils for me to able to set up Bounded Field
"I invoke the principle of lead, a sickle of harvest and usurpation."
I could feel them, numerous sigils glittering as stars in my mindscape, as they fed on me. I could feel an unseen barrier rise.
"I invoke the principle of gold, an unsoiled cup that holds myriad venoms."
The sigil lit under the core slime.
"Let the led give to the gold, malediction upon malediction "
The curses flew through the air, barely visible as red sparks, and one by one gathered into the core slime. Until its presence was like a malevolent sun right next to me.
Now I just had to take it. Consume it.
Suddenly, I lost connection to all the slimes.
Bounded Field was still up, but curses had stopped coming.
The slime began to bubble quite ominously. It also seemed to grow. It had already regained the mass it lost from scattering but then continued to expand.
I reached to harvest all of the curses from it. Unwilling to touch it with bare hands, I charged Larmo with a harvest spell.
But before I managed to get near enough to stab it, it exploded in a mass of tentacles, in all directions. One came right after me and I was forced to jump back and cut the tentacle closest to me.
I absorbed some of the curse, and red sparks flew from the cut tentacle into the main body. It dissolved immediately afterward. The rest of the tentacles began to flail around randomly, leaving gauges in the pristine floor.
More tentacles come close to me, forcing me to dodge and parry. I ducked under a persistent one, and hit a chair at the bottom of the throne on which Steward sat, when he had talked to me. The chair melted.
Nasty.
If that was the reaction to all of the curses gathered in one place, then I was lucky I didn't manage to get them in one go. It was wise of me to use slime as a vessel, even with what was happening. Because that could have happened to me.
With each cut of my sword, I got some. I just need to pace it properly so I could neutralize a curse before taking more.
Although the number of tentacles didn't seem lessened, even with me cutting some.
Considering that slime was just a mutating mass of curses now, using anything else but the harvest spell would be at best less efficient, at worst futile.
So it would be a battle of attrition.
The tentacles were fast, but not especially focused on me. I was not sure whether it was targeting me or just flailing blindly around.
Except when I cut. Then a mass of tentacles would strike around that position.
So I fell into a rhythm. I would cut it, and jump away while it rushed my previous position. Then I would just dodge until I finished absorbing the curse. After pushing excess magical energy into Endelómeríe I would cut again.
I don't know how long I did that. It could be minutes, or much longer. Less than an hour certainly. I was too busy to count time.
Tentacles stopped coming. They had retracted into a new shape slime had assumed. A black egg, about man-sized.
I approached slowly, cautiously. I could feel the power within it. With all of my work, I didn't think I managed to drain even a tenth of it.
Egg pulsed. Once. Twice.
I picked a small piece of broken marble from the floor and tossed it to the egg. It sank right in. No touching.
I looked to the floor and noticed that the primary sigil was gone. But I could still feel Bounded Field.
Egg cracked. A reptilian head pushed out. It was followed by a pair of claws. And a dragon-like creature pushed out. It looked at me. It had eight black spider eyes. Yet where the wings should be it had squid tentacles. It opened its mouth and started with a high-pitched, chirping sound. It sounded just like a bat. Then I noticed that it had bat ears. I missed them before because they pressed right to its head. But rather than fur the ears were covered in scales.
I was still observing when it sprang at me, tentacles first. I could feel the breeze as I moved my head a little dodging. I had to take this a little more seriously.
Until now, this was a chore. Dangerous only if I was not paying attention.
I apprised two tentacles, making shallow cuts on them. There was less of the curse in them. It seems that it was drawn deeper into the new body of, well it was no longer slime. It was now some sort of draconic amalgamation. Drake would do for a name for now.
I would be impressed by my work if I had done it on purpose.
It drew back tentacles when I cut them. So it could feel pain in this form. Useful to know.
I lunged to bite me. And there I saw a chance. It was a matter of skill and timing, but I successfully intercepted drake's head, pushing Larmo through one of its eyes, right into its brain.
A more complex body did come with additional weaknesses.
But still, the amount of curse energy I had taken was not that much. And I could still feel it in my body.
A flash of red light and I was pushed back, my sword drawn from the corpse.
When the light cleared it was no longer still. It moved. It breathed. It was no longer a corpse, but once again a living drake.
Could it be a Curse of resurrection?
Not quite. I could see the difference in drake. The new version had reptilian eyes, and its mouth was covered by mandibles.
I recognized that. To be sure I checked. And I was right.
With the application of the Second, a tree became a forest. And then a single monster became a horde. Yet, like an iceberg, only a small part was visible. Only one could interact with reality at the time. Others remained just a potential.
With the new version of the curse, there was an indication that property was transferable, but incarnation was so much more.
That was an interesting trick. Once I master it, and I would, it would have so many potential applications.
I never could understand the Philosophers, those Sealing Designates that found value in becoming menaces to society that abandoned all codes of conduct to continue their research without being bothered. But now, with this little accident, I could see some appeal of research unlimited by ethics.
The mandibles nearly bit me. I could see drops of venom, spaying on the now-ruined floor.
Should I transform?
It was fast and strong. But not skilled. And not much faster than me. Not enough to matter. That answer was no, for now. I should keep that in reserve.
I ran past the drake, making a long cut on its flank. Distracted by absorbing a larger portion of a curse, the tail nearly hit me, so I had to slide under it.
From the corner of my eyes, I could see red sparks rise from the small puddle of venom, and be drawn into the drake. Bounded Field was still operational.
It was more cactus now. Unwilling to get new to me. It tried to use a longer reach of tentacles to hit me from a greater distance.
I weaved between the tentacles, cutting them when I could. The parts I cut were replaced, as soon I looked elsewhere, but always with something different. A web spinner, a stinger, one opened like a flower with teeth. And many more. But with each replacement, I could feel its energy go down. And each time it came in contact with my sword, I took some of its energy.
The floor should be sleek with its blood, except both the blood and body parts I had cut disappeared as soon as I looked elsewhere.
It was a battle of attrition, and I was winning. Slowly, but surely.
And then it finally happened. When it was least useful.
The reinforcements have arrived. The company of Citadel Guards was an impressive sight, marching in their black robes and black surcoats, with their helmets ornamented with the white wings of seabirds.
Yet, in this fight, they were nothing more than a distraction. Their weapons could, theoretically, hurt and even kill the drake. But it would take quite a lot of killing to exhaust the energy that Bounded Field had gathered.
Still, they could make it much easier for me to kill it. I just had to use them and use them hard. They were more expandable than me, from a tactical point of view. My sword inflicted quite a substantial amount of damage, by the nature of the harvest spell.
The drake turned towards easier targets.
The logical thing was to let it attack them, and slowly drain it of curses. There would be causalities, but it was their duty to die defending the Citadel.
Shirou, either version of him, was such a bad influence on me.
I reinforced my legs and rushed, swift as wind towards the retreating drake. I jumped first on its tail, and from there vaulted on its back. With quick circular motion, I cut off the tentacles at their root.
Then I did something quite risky.
I have long detected where the curse congregated. Most of them had gathered to a single point in drake's body.
With a single stroke, I pierced that point with my Elven blade. That was stupid. There was a reason I didn't end this battle as soon as I determined the weak spot.
Because now I would take the curse all at once. A stupidity worthy of a hero enthusiast.
To save some, I risked it all. If the curses overwhelm me, there would be no way to stop them. The whole city could potentially be lost.
Act recklessly and hope for the best. A behavior I deplore.
If those men knew that I risked the city to save them, they would not be grateful and they would be right.
The curses flowed through the sword to me. But they were slow, almost as if they were resisting.
An orb of twisted energy rushed through the sword into me. It was some kind of pseudo Magical Core. A Curse Core?
Then it hit and I knew nothing more than fire and darkness.