Up close I could finally get a proper look at the troublesome mage from the front. A wide brimmed hat covered her eyes in shade, but it wasn't wide enough to hide the length of her pointed ears. She had ruby red eyes and silver hair. The blue coat was worn over an inscripted metal breastplate that matched her gauntlets and boots. She was clutching her Catalyst Halberd like her life depended on it. The golden etching on her gear told me that she wasn't a lowly rouge like myself.
I poked her chest with the hilt of my sword, "What's your problem? Busting in there and acting like you own the place. You're lucky one of the drunks didn't pick a fight with you."
Her words were cold, "Are you not drunk yourself?"
"That's not the point. I'm sober enough to know that it's a bad idea."
"Were you sober when you picked up that sword?"
My eyes narrowed, "Huh?"
Still expressionless, her free hand reached out and unwrapped the damaged flag - revealing the surface of the black and red blade underneath, "This is a cursed sword. I could smell it. You were watching me in the forest."
Ashmorn were not known for their amazing sense of smell. This girl must be very in tune with the magic emitted by Stigma.
"I was very much sober. I wouldn't have had to pick it up if I wasn't surrounded by Inquisitors. Happy?"
She didn't look happy. She had the same stone-faced expression she did when she spotted me.
"I believe you are a fool."
I groaned, "Yeah, laugh it up. I'm a moron who grabbed a cursed weapon to save his own skin."
"This is a prudent discovery. I require your assistance with an urgent matter."
I was shocked that she hadn't run to the nearest Inquisitor and sold me out, though they weren't big fans of the Ashmorn either. I pointed to her halberd, "You want my help? You seem pretty capable of handling yourself."
"It is not a simple task. While surely, I would be capable of destroying the target with little resistance, I'm afraid that they are a Nightwalker. Unless I find and destroy their heart, they will revive themselves in due time."
"But…"
"But using a cursed weapon makes the job much easier. The moment I detected it's scent, I knew that I needed it. You can consume the walker's soul before it can escape to their heart. I do not want to spend the rest of my days searching these woods for whatever shallow hole they buried it in."
Nightwalkers were dangerous. Mages who'd pursued immortality by separating their physical bodies and their spirits. The process of doing so was complicated and lengthy, and at the end you turn into a spirit piloting your own rotting body. It also foretold the coming of a deep madness that gripped their minds. They were destructive, aggressive, and could easily destroy a platoon a talented fighters with their magic.
To kill one, you needed to find their heart - preserved and embalmed, usually in a small glass jar. Hidden somewhere where nobody will ever find it. If you ever find a heart in a glass bottle, it's common courtesy to smash it on sight. I once went on a job with another rouge and he spotted one tucked away in the rafters of an old manor. He grabbed the damn thing and threw it into the nearest wall. We got found out, but we did the world a favour in the process.
"Who's paying?" I asked, leaning back against the wall, "You can tell me that, right?"
She nodded, "The Federation is concerned about him causing damage to the town. My contact within the local fort has offered a large bounty of fifty iron for his defeat."
"Fifty iron? That's a lot of cash."
"I have already ascertained his location. I would be willing to split the reward forty-sixty in return for your help."
Forty sixty wasn't bad, especially when she'd done the hard part already. The real problem was that I couldn't trust her. Her face was a stone mask. Her voice deadpan. This wasn't something Ashmorn did to mess with outsiders. There was something wrong with her and I didn't know what. She wasn't left wanting for beauty, her face was picturesque if a little stiff. Could I trust her to not stab me in the back? Was this job legit?
I felt a phantom hand land on my shoulder, "Yes, it is. I don't believe this woman is capable of deception."
She could read my thoughts too?
"No, I'm just studying your face. There's a spark of madness in her eyes, what fun!" Stigma clapped her hands together in excitement. "I wonder what fate lies at the end of this winding road."
Not exactly filling me with confidence.
But the money was too good to pass up though. I could take a few months off and focus on trying to stop Stigma from eating my soul. In the end that was what swayed me. "Alright. I'd like to add one condition though."
"Yes?"
"You don't tell anybody about Stigma. This stays between you and me."
"Of course. My lips are sealed. Allow me to inform you as to the conditions of this job."
She spent several minutes talking me through the job. It was a newly born Nightwalker, meaning that they didn't pose as much of a threat. They'd been tracked down to a small cabin deep in the woods. It'd take around half a day for us to get there. When we finished, I realized that she'd neglected to mention one thing, "What's your name, by the way? I feel like an asshole calling you Ashmorn."
"My name is Cali La'Corvan. A pleasure to meet you, cursed one."
"My name is Ren, not 'cursed one.'"
She seemed unperturbed, "My apologies."
"You're sure you can handle this lich on your own? I'm not a skilled fighter myself."
"We will surprise it and launch the first attack," she explains, "My magic is powerful enough to defeat them in a single blow. When it is immobilized, you can rush in and consume its soul before it escapes. Let us be away as soon as possible."
I hefted up my backpack and nodded, "I'm already geared up and ready to go, are you?"
"Yes. I have already obtained a new supply of [Catalyst Power.] Though the prices in this town are distasteful."
I followed her out of the alley and down the main street, "They're pretty bad. All the fighting is keeping traders away, and the soldiers are buying a bunch of the locally produced stuff." You'd have thought that the fighting pushing prices up would induce more supply. The opposite was true. The fighting was so intense and brutal that you actively ran the risk of running into it, especially if you were using the roads.
It was going to be a long walk and Cali wasn't the talkative type. I settled in for the journey and tried to put my mind to other things. As we wandered down the narrow dirt paths, signs of the ongoing war were evident everywhere we went. Destroyed carts, dead bodies. I checked to make sure that they had nothing valuable on them, but all had already been picked clean.
Cali was an interesting person. Ashmorn naturally attracted a lot of curiosity from people, as they were seldom seen out of the disparate nations that made up their homeland. A long time ago they were united as the most powerful Empire in the world, able to project immense influence. Now things were a lot different. Diverging cultures and ideological differences had shattered the Ashmorn Empire into several new Kingdoms. With every passing year the desire to reform the Empire became less and less prevalent.
The only remnant of those old days was the architecture and the name, 'Ashmorn.' This was all second-hand information I'd heard from one of the rogues. He really liked his history, and would regale the younger boys at the orphanage with tales of a world beyond the oceans. It interested me. What was the Ashmorn homeland really like?
"You're connected with the Feds?" I asked after three hours of travel.
"Yes. I have assisted them as a sellsword on numerous occasions."
"You don't learn how to use magic like that on your own. Rich family?"
"Somewhat. My mother taught me, our family has been passing down the art for generations."
"I wouldn't want to let go of that kind of ability either. She sounds pretty smart to me. But why do you do this kind of work? You could get a cushy job at any mage's guild in the world."
She frowned, the first indication of emotion that I'd seen from her all day, "That's personal."
"Alright. I won't pry then."
We entered the trees and started the more difficult section of the walk. We hopped over twisted roots and small rivers. The sun was starting to set on the horizon, and I was starting to worry that we wouldn't make it to the destination in time. Those fears proved unfounded. Cali crouched behind a bush and beckoned me to her side.
I peered through the foliage and saw an old stone outpost. It was a pair of rooms attached to a tower that used to look out over the trees. The tower had long since collapsed. A light burned from inside. "He's hiding in there," Cali concluded, "Exactly as my contact said."
"Alright, how are we going to sneak up on him? He's probably watching the door."
"Can you cause a distraction?"
"I can run past, hopefully he'll come out and see what's happening."
"I'll prepare my spell. I'll be waiting around the corner of the building. Try not to die too quickly."
I took a deep breath and psyched myself up. Time to get paid. We moved into position. I gave her a thumbs up and ran past the door, making as much noise as I could without speaking. I heard movement from inside the building, the ragged breath of something not quite alive. She braced the tip of her lance against her knee and started to weave her spell. I ducked behind a low stone wall and looked back, only to see nothing emerge.
"What? Come on…"
I jumped as a skeletal hand burst from the wall where Cali was hiding and grabbed her by the neck. It collapsed into a cloud of dust and stone, obscuring my sight of what was happening. I unwrapped Stigma and prepared myself for the worst. When it finally cleared, Cali was being held up off her feet by a half-decomposed man wearing heavy chainmail armour.
"Mage…" it rasped, "Foolish mage…" It had managed to detect us somehow, and even worse it had targeted Cali first because of her magical power.
"[Inspect!]"
Tarn Fisk
Level 46 Nightwalker
[Undead]
HP 400/400
Strength: 113
Intelligence: 245
Endurance: 456
Perception: 212
"You didn't tell me he was level forty-fucking-six!"