The next morning's wakeup was loud and slow. I hardly got any sleep, though I think my captors didn't care. Already, around me, wherever I was captured, was alive, and in the daylight I could finally see what my captors looked like, and I saw my door was unlocked. Sticking my head out, I could see my correct guess of scaly forms, being humanoids, with blue scales covering them. Many of them were armored in bronze, similar to the guard I saw in Tirwood, each one carrying a spear topped in black shiny glass. What differentiated them were black markings, both on their armor and their scales. Bidding me to join them, many were walking in the same direction, a few flag-bearers in their midst. The flags were dyed a dark blue, close enough to the colour of my longcoat, letting me pass as an ally.
"Where are we going?" I asked one, getting in return little more than a battle cry. I walked along with the strange people, knowing that theirs was an intent of war. We walked only a short distance, from one side of the town to the other, crossing over a bridge of planks. The water below flowed rapidly, some of the group stopping to drink. I nearly bent down to fill my vessel with water, but abandoned that idea in favor of subtly conjured ice. I had no idea how the captors would react if they saw this. A few, who must have been hunters, broke off. They had leather armor as opposed to bronze, and were carrying bows of dark wood. "Reminds me of the hunters of Tareris," I thought.
They returned half an hour later. In that half hour I just sat there, having no language to socialize in until I saw the ten who had left carrying back a large creature that resembled the upper half of a tube with legs. They threw it down, hacking chunks off with hunting knives and giving it to their people who ate it fresh, without a single fork, knife, or plate. One walked up to where I was sitting, handed me a chunk of flesh and made a noise I couldn't identify. I took an apprehensive bite, and the flavor hit me. I hadn't eaten in at least a quarter of a day, and hadn't eaten anything fresh in about a full day. The contrast between the fresh meat I was consuming now, and the preserved stuff I brought with me on my travels, was phenomenal.
I stood, unsheathed my rapier, and gave a mangled battle cry of my own. I did not understand their language, though they seemed roused by my shout, the intention overriding the language. With greater determination, the rough company moved out. I could see others of the same species, seemingly allies, join them, though the flag they carried was red in colour, a shiny black symbol depicted on it. Nearing the opposition, their first arrows fired. The army around me got into formation, shield-bearers rushing to the front. At first, all I saw were a few soldiers with spears and round shields, until something waded through the ranks. What I thought were thick skeletons approached, and while they moved slowly, the other units moved aside in respect and fear. I counted five of these skeletons, each armed with a shield of bone and a mace with a metal head.
Flights of arrows flew at the skeletons, as they did nothing but move towards the enemy's line. Many of the arrows that hit, uselessly embedded themselves in the skeleton shields, whoever was in that armor paying it little mind. One skeleton bashed through the front line, crushing an enemy spearman's chestplate and chest, until a large scorpion claw crushed his bone shield. The skeleton drew a greatsword from his back, but too slowly; the fight ended by impalement from a stinger. The scorpion, her body with a full human torso where the neck should have been, walked out into the area between the opposing armies. A battle axe was in one of her hands, tower shield in the other, and a random soldier wielding a pike was saddled on her back. Another skeleton fell prey to the pike, the rider thrusting it through an exposed eye hole, the third of the five crushed by a battle axe head.
I felt a sense of loss. I cared about the skeleton-armored soldiers, especially Osseous, even if I couldn't identify them in their armor. I pointed my hand, dark orb growing in it. First to notice were the soldiers around me, jumping back in alarm. Next were the two skeleton soldiers, holding their shields up to defend themselves from me. Last was the scorpion rider, who charged towards me. I only had 50 meters of distance, but the scorpion was closing fast. I played up this sense of loss I felt, closing my eyes and firing. The dark orb flew, landing in the sand in front of the scorpion. The orb flashed once, twice, scorpion rider bending down to look at it... before it released a swarm of angry things that might as well have been small ghosts. I saw bits of the half-scorpion's flesh and carapace burn away, admiring the power of my handiwork. A cheer rose through the army around me: one lifted me onto his shield and carried me to the other side of the battlefield. I fired icebolt after icebolt, this basic tactic comfortable in my hand, scattering the red-clad opposition. The fight was over, but the celebration hardly was, as they carried me around on the upraised leather shield for a good hour. Finally, they put me down. In a series of bizarre clicks and whistles, one soldier called out a few commands to a giant black scorpion, similar to the one I had killed with a dark storm, save for the lack of a human top half. It bowed, helping me onto its back with a giant stinger. A being in armor, fashioned to appear as a skeleton, walked up, and bowed its head. "Human." I realized it was Osseous.
"You're alive?" I asked, relieved, from the top of my new mount.
Osseous nodded. "Good to see you are, human. But I know you did not mean to come here. Good luck on your quest, human..."
I rode off, a few pokes to the scorpion getting it to move. It carried me on its six legs, throughout a full day. All the while, I was keeping myself on as best I could, the saddle offering little to no way to strap me on. Had I some rope or anything to tie myself down, I would have had a much easier ride. That sharp tail certainly didn't help, my mind holding a vivid image of a skeleton-armored warrior getting stabbed with a scorpion's tail. The scorpion, being a living creature, spied a small pool of water and walked up to it to drink. From its back, I cast ice into the far side of the dip in the water. The heat caused it to melt as the scorpion stuck its head in, drinking faster than I had anticipated. I cast a constant stream of ice, in a mist so thin it turned to water by the time it was over the pool, fighting the scorpion's drain. After a few minutes of casting, my hand feeling like it was shocked by a spark, closed. I tried to open it, aiming for another cast, but only a few drops of ice spawned. I stopped, remembering the words of Vuldeem, and sent the scorpion south again: "Mana. It floats through the air, and acts as a fuel for any spellcaster."
With comfort that my powers had not vanished, I kept riding. Evening fell, as the terrain changed. I had no description of where I was supposed to go, though I would have put money on the fact that I was in the right spot. As we walked on, the ground grew more barren. It was lined with a fine dust as opposed to sand, dead plants weakly bursting from sparse locations. The smell of something dead filled the air, and if that wasn't enough to convince me of where I was, the top of a dark tower was visible.
Something swooped in from above, landing like a falling statue, clawed feet sinking into the ground. The scorpion skittered closer, allowing me a better look. The figure was dark grey in colour and looked like it had rough scales. Though it was humanoid in form, claws were on the ends of its arms, looking as sharp and jagged as they needed to be. Two wings jutted out from its back, and while they were folded, it looked capable of flight even for such a heavy creature. The gargoyle turned its dragon-like head, roaring. It sprinted towards me and my mount, making me thankful the scorpion was trained for war. It did not run, as a horse would, instead holding its ground, snapping its pincer out in defense. Its other pincer came soon afterward. The gargoyle dodged both, but failed to dodge the scorpion's tail. Its downward stab pierced the gargoyle's stone scales, leaving a cracked wound behind.
Impressed at this progress, I focused on the gargoyle, slowly covering its wings in a thin sheet of frost. It jumped high through the air. My mount made a skittering retreat from the falling gargoyle, its wings being held firmly in place by ice. It tried to flex its wings, frost on them only getting more intense, until I heard a terrible snapping sound. The wings fell off, breaking at the point where they connected to the gargoyle's back, the victim letting out a terrible cry of pain. With one pincer around the gargoyle's legs, the other around its neck, the scorpion moved to pick it up and crush it. I cheered the scorpion on, as its pincers tightened. The gargoyle's logical endurance snapped. Its stone claws dug into the scorpion's arm, right behind its pincer. The other claw followed, digging in and ripping chunks of scorpion out. My mount reared in pain, throwing me backwards onto the shaft of its stinger. I dropped off as the gargoyle advanced through its pain and tore the scorpion's other pincer off. Eyes wide, I saw the scorpion flail in pain as the gargoyle hacked it to pieces with its claws. Dark yellow-green blood stained its stone flesh, bits of black carapace scattered around it like the remains of a morbid session of unwrapping gifts of its birthday. The gargoyle tore the last of the scorpion in half, casting its head aside.
Fear lanced through me as the gargoyle advanced. It walked, intentionally slow, as if savoring the moment. I sheathed my rapier and closed my eyes. Feelings of fear turned into vengeance: my hand felt that familiar pulse. Opening my eyes, I pointed my hand, and let my concentration snap. The bolt of force sailed towards the gargoyle's legs, causing it to fall forward from the speed and its own instability. Fuelling my desire to repay its violence, another bolt followed the first, a hailstorm of nothing but force, pelting the gargoyle's back. I repeated the action, blasting tiny marks in its stone flesh whenever it tried to rise, until I experienced the familiar feeling of running out of mana. I charged at it for the final blow, my feet stomping its back. The softness of the ground caused it to sink in, and as I drew my dagger, its name flashed through my mind, and I knew it was the right thing for the job.
"Magicbane!" I shouted, plunging the dagger downwards with both hands. The grey blade stabbed into a small crater, made by a force bolt I had cast. The gargoyle looked like it had been shocked, flailing its arms and legs in random directions as my grey dagger glowed slightly. I stepped over the broken gargoyle. "Nothing more for me to do here," I thought, and with that, walked towards the tower. The area grew cold, compared to the surrounding desert. I noticed my need for water fade. The falling night did favors for my warmth, though not for my sight. I could hardly see the tower at this point, its black glass surface blending in with the night. I walked forward slowly with my arm outstretched.
I nearly ran into the tower; thankfully I only scraped my hand on the rough glass. I felt no cut on it, but I took no chances, using the hilt of my dagger to feel for the door. Walking on, I felt an indentation in the wall, and my hand closed around a knob that gave way to the little force I needed to turn it. The door swung open into an average-sized room. It contained stairs upward, and a wooden table. Dark purple orbs of flame, not unlike the ones I conjured in sadness, floated in the upper corners of the room to provide a dull light. I could see only a few things by their glow: many clear bottles of liquid lay on the table. I moved to them, and one by one, I held them up to the light looking for some identification. I saw a red, a green, a swirling pink and a black one, until the colour of the last bottle caught my eye. It was a vivid blue colour. I recalled Selaria enchanting her claws with a mixed substance of this same hue, and Vuldeem speaking of mana. I put two and two together; drinking the potion, I got at least six.
The world seemed to brighten, though whether this light came from me is an open question. I saw the table more clearly, stairs up becoming a much better option. I kept my dagger in my right hand, rapier in my left, as I felt magic run through my veins. Heat, pulsing, and cold came like thoughts with every emotion attached and changed with every level as I ascended. I saw a floor meant for weapons. Passed it by. Saw a floor that looked like sleeping quarters. Passed it by. Saw a floor with a glowing eye in the center. I didn't pass this. I stopped here, turned, and with weapons still pointed forward from my sides, walked towards the eye. It blinked, and I could see its pupil, glowing like my hand did before a spell was cast. I lunged forward, a tactic I learned from dueling after school, causing the eye to tip to the side and misfire, widely shooting a burning beam diagonally into the side of the tower wall. I heard a rumbling and slashed up with my dagger. The eye grew dull, but I faced greater problems. Ascending to the roof, I looked around. The tower wasn't as level as I thought, and looking down I could see a small fire on the ground. Something dark moved toward the tower. It stopped, changing shape slightly, before I heard it speak some variety of painful word, as an orb of dull red fire curved up the side of the tower.
I jumped back, quickly descending the stairs. What looked like lava exploded from the orb at the top of the tower. Some spilled down the stairs but froze in a flash when it met with my cold magic. I poked my head back up, just in time to see my opponent enter the door at the top of the stairs. I cursed rapidly. I was only able to avoid that orb of lava because I had some latitude. At any closer range, I could expect my face to be burned clean off.
Like a monster from a swamp, a black-hooded figure descended from the stairs. "You'd do well to leave..." Another dull flame orb appeared in his hand. I couldn't see where it came from, but I knew he had to have some method of casting spells. Slowly, dramatically, Vylath moved his hand up to throw the orb; an upward flick caused it to fly up, ready to fall down to hit me. Practically, I jumped forward, a tactic that would make my enemies flinch.
No effect at all. He pointed his catalyst, stopping me in the air as if through a noose. My neck did not snap, but was the part that stopped me as I felt my breath slowly tighten. Vylath gave a horrible laugh; feelings of anger built in me at his gloat. I shot a force bolt, and while unfocused, the stairs under him shattered. Vylath lost concentration, falling through the floor, and I could hear the building creak. I saw his hood slowly ascending again, and put up a shield of ice, his quick jets of force falling flat against my defense. A flying rock shattered it, the fragments flying around me. Vylath stepped forward, a blade of flame extending from his catalyst. "I am done toying with you."
I cast ice onto the ground, under his foot. Vylath slipped, falling down the stairs. His arms did not flail, but a force bolt followed him down, as did its caster, feet first in a plunging dive. I heard something crack. Vylath, stunned from pain, though his grip on his catalyst remained like a rock. I sheathed my rapier, knelt down over his arm, gripped it with one hand...and with a clean, well-aimed cut with Magicbane, I severed his hand, catalyst in it. Vylath snapped up, free hand clutching at the bloody stump. If he had words of pain, I could not hear them as the tower collapsed from stress.
I dashed up the stairs, clinging to the side of the building. I sheathed my dagger, stuffed my stolen catalyst in the side of my pants, and focused on creating... something. Ice sheets formed, covering my hands, widening and thickening into wings as the tower was about to fall. They extended up my forearm, then to my shoulders. I jumped, icy wings catching the air under me, to slowly redirect my fall. My landing was not a good one, nor was it all too soft. Had any birds been alive to speak, they would have mocked my technique for days to come, calling me the worst flier they knew. And while I was not a good flier, I was certainly not a dead one at all. My wings shattered as they hit the ground. I landed, front-first, most likely causing damage to my arms and legs. My left arm, which I was going to use to check for the catalyst, could hardly move. My right had a little more power, just enough to move my fingers. But that was all I needed to croak out a critical word.
"Sano." I watched a green strand of light weave through my fingers, fixing the breaks as it moved. "Sano!" I said, more loudly. This ribbon of light travelled up my arm, letting me bend it at its full power. "Cusano!" I shouted in victory. The energized feeling the potion had given me had vanished on my flight, though I was able enough to stand. I headed towards the edge of the Deadlands, knowing I'd only need a few minutes before I would find life. Beyond the Deadlands, the ground felt more like dirt, as opposed to dust, and I could see the first few trees coming closer. I didn't know where I was going, or even whether my path was towards where I needed to go, but I knew that if I walked long enough, I'd find something. But all I found was my head slowly nodding as I walked into a more heavily wooded area. No amount of healing magic would fix being tired, but thankfully, I did not need magic for that. I lay down next to a tree and curled up, not even bothering to take off my clothes.