The magic here was different though, that was undeniable. More potent and much more volatile. Unfortunately, these differences were too much for my past's lives formulas to work properly, but their principles were still sound, allowing me to build something similar, if new. Better, using math and sufficient understanding, I could enhance the effectiveness of most spells, if at the cost of a more difficult casting. More difficult for people without great mental capacity for math, that is.
However, the lack of computation orbs was the real bottleneck for my capabilities, as I could not cast multiple spells at once, like in my past life. Though at least it was something every sorcerer or sorceress had to contend with. Unfortunately, medieval smiths would not be producing one of those anytime soon.
It was a considerable weakness if one every mage had to deal with. Where before I could maintain shields, fly, utilise reflex enhancements and attack, all the while keeping track of the battlefield, I was hard-pressed to do more than one of these in this life.
That didn't mean there weren't workarounds. My modified reflex enhancement was one of these. Instead of having to maintain the spell as I had in my past life, I had turned it into a short-term effect, lasting a little over five minutes. My foci was another, as the ability to store power cut down casting downs to near-nothing for spells of sufficient familiarity,
Unsheathing a dagger, I debated attempting a divination for a second, before quickly dismissing the notion. Though numeromancy had proven to be a potent tool, using it for divination was trying at the best of times. The price of wringing real numbers out of the temperamental discipline.
This proved to be the correct decision, as something akin to a Molotov cocktail shattered over the carriage door.
Eyes widening, I launched the door off its hinges with a burst of undirected force without even bothering to incant and jumped out of the carriage at the same time.
The door impacted someone with a crack, but I did not see the details, as my attention upon my hasty disembarkment was immediately captured by the twang of crossbows.
Fortunately, the reflex enhancement proved sufficient, giving me enough time to cast with a forceful whisper, "Vaeltha."
A shield composed of a great number of small hexagons appeared immediately. The bolts hit a moment later, sliding harmlessly to the ground.
The sight of six men greeted me. Four wore mismatched armour common to the mercenaries of this era, three were pointing crossbows at me with wide eyes, while the fourth was twitching beneath my erstwhile door.
The remaining two were much more concerning, wearing proper plate, if suspiciously unadorned.
Halberds in hand, they exchanged a glance, then advanced.
I was watching them carefully when the closer one's eyes flickered upward.
His mistake probably saved my life.
I whirled around just in time to intercept a dagger-wielding assassin jumping down from my carriage's roof.
Parrying one of his daggers, I quickly created a small shield to intercept the other.
A smirk worked its way onto my face, though it quickly disappeared when the shield shattered and the dagger neared my shoulder.
Eyes widening in surprise, a few options flickered through my mind. Yet there was only one spell I could cast in time that I could be certain the blade would not dispel.
I quickly closed my eyes and screamed an incantation, "AINE!"
An explosion of light emanated from me, resulting in a multitude of curses as I did my best to evade the dagger, but I was too late.
The dagger entered my shoulder, eliciting a grunt from me. My plans to capture one of them alive for interrogation disappeared like smoke. These weren't just some random bandits.
My enemies were, however, disoriented.
I used the opportunity to plunge my dagger through the assassin's throat and into his head, before quickly turning around. The man's dagger stayed in my shoulder, but he had luckily missed any arteries.
Another of the probable mercenaries lay on the ground, clutching his face and screaming, "I'm blind! My eyes!"
The other two were rubbing their faces, while the plate-armoured halberdiers were already rushing me. The one who had been flattened by my carriage's door was nowhere to be found.
I acted to replicate my earlier feat with the door, except with my assailants, but to my astonishment, the power refused to move.
It took me a second to realise the obvious and tear the dagger out of my shoulder with a spray of blood, but by then, the halberdiers were already on me.
Scrambling backwards, I cursed my lack of a proper weapon.
What I wouldn't have given for even just a pistol in that moment.
Fortunately, magic was even better in some ways.
"Dhu muire," I incanted, quickly drawing power from my foci, as I dodged a swing of the first halberdier.
Dark liquid tendrils condensed out of the air from behind the two men, quickly grabbing them both by their necks and lifting them up.
As the two men choked, I evaded another crossbow bolt, my reflex enhancement giving me sufficient time to react, especially considering the shaking hands of the mercenary.
A crack resounded as one of the knight's gorget gave, the tendril bending metal and snapping his neck.
I turned my attention to the mercenaries, leaving the remaining tendril to do its job, only peripherally aware of it as I walked past the remaining knight struggling up in the air and towards my remaining opponents.
One of them was now crying on the ground in a fetal position, babbling something about Melitele.
My cold blue eyes turned to the remaining two, one of whom was pissing himself if the growing wet spot on his pants was anything to go by.
Unfortunately, I could not hold Dhu Muire and cast another spell at the same time. Dhu Muire, or the black sea, was one of my most potent, expensive and complicated spells, developed with the extensive help of Tissaia de Vries. Well, she had just wanted to keep me from killing myself at the start, but it turned into a proper collaboration eventually.
I grinned. Fortunately, I had no need to cast anything else. Two little tendrils were hardly a sea, now, were they?
One of the mercenaries took a step back upon seeing my grin, but it helped him little as the tendrils I had worked beneath their feet struck, grabbing their legs and throwing both men to the ground.
It was then that I felt the tendril choking the knight behind disappear. I whirled around, spotting the knight on all fours behind me rasping for breath, some sort of shackles held in one hand.
Narrowing my eyes, I moved towards him, my motion almost dance-like. Though I must have been worsening my shoulder injury to move like that, I felt little of it, the reflex enhancement, Adda invaerne numbing my pain among other things.
Jumping on the man's back, I nearly draped myself around him before slitting his throat.
'Let's see you get out of that one,' I thought coldly.
Returning to the mercenaries, I found one of them dead, their skull cracked by his fall. The weirdo was still muttering on the ground, while the remaining one was shakily getting up.
"Haela," I muttered as I let the tendrils dissipate, hand over my bleeding shoulder. The wound stopped bleeding quickly, though I knew this to be a patch job. My talent for healing was lacking to say the least.
Before moving closer, spoke another incantation, "Vaeltha." The shield shimmered into existence around me again, nearly invisible.
Perhaps it was unwise of me, but this seemed like a good opportunity to gather some intel. I'd have to do it quickly before the reflex enhancement ended.
Precautions taken, I step closer to the two still-alive men, though far enough to be out of sword reach.
"Who sent you?" I spoke.
The dazed's mercenaries eyes immediately zeroed in on me, making him take a step back, "My la-lady, we, we didn't know! Please spare me!"
I frowned, "Didn't know what?"
"They, they said you were just some hedge-witch, paid good for help," he pointed towards the two knights, "I didn't know they'd try to kill you!"
I almost rolled my eyes. As if he wasn't shooting his surely non-lethal crossbow bolts my way a minute ago.
"And who are they?"
"I don't know, they didn't tell, I-I didn't ask."
I focused, skimming his thoughts, but the man appeared to be truthful, though he squirmed under my scrutiny.
Like healing, I lacked the talent to make any real use of mind-reading, but ascertaining an unprotected human's surface thoughts was not beyond me, especially when I did not care whether they noticed or not and when they were unbalanced. It was fortunate that Tissaia had never done this before I had learned to properly shield my mind, otherwise, my secret would have been exposed. Well, skilled practitioners could hide such intrusions, but had Tissaia done so, she surely would have confronted me.
"Then there isn't a reason for you to live, is there? Gaeth," I responded. The mercenary's mouth opened, probably to beg or some such, but no sound could be heard as the air around the man was no longer there, displaced by my aerokinesis.
I wasn't choking him to death because I was cruel, of course. It was just efficient. Displacing a bit of air wasn't much trouble, though not very useful in a fight. Finishing a couple of wounded enemies though? It was unfortunate that he wouldn't let me get close to slit his throat. That would have been much more humane.
The man tried to run away, but the fall had rattled him more than he had let on. He only managed to stumble away a few meters before he fell to the ground, clawing at the dirt. Both he and his insensate compatriot stopped moving soon after.
I turned my gaze to the carriage door, the last mercenary conspicuously absent from beneath its embrace.
A problem, but not a big one. The escapee had seen little of my capability and I did not intend to linger for long.
I looked around and saw no one.
Now, with a lack of witnesses, I turned towards the nearest knight, the one with the slit throat. He was in a much better condition than the one with the crushed neck.
"Grealghane," I pointed at his corpse.
It twitched soon after.
A scream tore its way out of the dead man's throat when I finished the gesture, the corpse arching and almost levitating off the ground.
"Speak! Who sent you!" I commanded the corpse.
Its screams quickly transitioned into groaning and squealing. Nothing intelligible, but this was nothing unusual.
"Uggh," the dead knight groaned.
"Who sent you!"
"Cooohh," the corpse rasped, "Coooehooorn," it repeated before the spell broke and the corpse fell to the ground.
I frowned. Coehorn? Coehoorn? Neither meant anything to me.
Annoyingly, definitely normal divination and totally not necromancy was something I was not particularly good at either. Most mages specialised in one or two disciplines while grabbing some general skills like simple healing or telepathy, and for a good reason. I was a bit more versatile thanks to my past life, but my experience in the Fatherland didn't help me at all with the more esoteric schools of magic, like necromancy which Grealghane definitely was, despite the Brotherhood's classification. Hence the need for both incantations and gestures.
The spell was, however, too useful and harmless enough, unlike the rest of the banned discipline. Supposedly. It was said that reviving the dead lead to unpredictable but somehow entirely negative effects, always resulting in evil. So the Brotherhood banned the practice, the effort led by one of Tissaia's peers on the Chapter, Gerhart of Aelle.
I didn't believe that at all, of course.
What even was evil? The banning of Goetia was much more sensible. Summoning creatures from different dimensions was guaranteed to result in a disaster eventually without any need for superstition.
That being said, I had little desire to spend time with rotting corpses, evil or no evil. Outside of making dead men talk, I saw little use of the discipline, not with the risk of the Brotherhood turning against me.
Unfortunately, despite being reclassified due to its usefulness, Grealghane had not helped me much. I had something to go on, but it wasn't as if I could just search the name up on the internet.
I shook my head, turning to the scorched remains of my carriage instead. The horse had escaped, which was something I was glad for, but it was a loss nonetheless.
Grimacing, I doused the remaining flames with a quick mutter of gaeth, stealing their air.
The driver was dead, a crossbow bolt lodged deep into his heart.
What a waste.
He had just been someone I had hired, but his pointless death sat ill with me. In hindsight, I definitely should have splurged on guards, but the main roads were safe enough, especially for a sorceress. Despite what one might imagine when they thought of a bandit, most such lowlifes were cunning enough to leave sorcerers, soldiers and the like alone.
I'd have to look into this Coehorn character properly when I had the opportunity.
I spared another glance to the carriage, before moving to examine the corpses. The assassin's dagger was, unsurprisingly, made out of dimeritium, a very precious type of metal with anti-magic properties. I've never seen it in action until now and to say I was unpleasantly surprised would be a great understatement.
That the metal could be used to suppress a mage's powers was well known, but I had not known that it could interfere with active magical effects as well, though it made sense in hindsight. I'd have to test things once I got out of here.
Examining the blood-soaked dagger, but finding no identifying marks, I cleaned it off on the assassin's clothes before chucking it near the carriage. The touch of the metal was extremely unpleasant. I'd store it later. If nothing else, it was valuable.
The corpse didn't yield anything else of note, though I took the few dozen orens it had. I'd have little use for the Temerian currency in Cintra, but I could always exchange them.
The first knight proved similarly disappointing. Were I inclined to lug around their armour, I could probably get a decent amount of money out of it, but undressing them would take too much time I didn't want to risk. I doubted I'd lack for money in the employ of Cintra's royalty anyway.
When I moved on to the second one, I was able to confirm that the shackles were made of dimeritium too. I wasn't stupid enough to lug those around, though. I quickly dug a small hole with magic some distance off the site and buried them in it. Similarly to the first, he had no written orders or anything similarly incriminating, but this knight did possess coins I did not recognise in addition to more orens. I pocketed both.
The mercenaries were similarly lacklustre, only netting me some more unnecessary pocket money.
Done with the dead, I entered the charred carriage, retrieving my slightly singed leather suitcase. Paying extra for one with some fire resistance along with the normal water-proofing had been worth it. I stored the dimeritium dagger inside quickly. Unfortunately, my book of Cintrian history was reduced to ash, but I could cope.
Then I looked around for the horse. Seeing nothing, I couldn't help but sigh. I did not relish the idea of a hike a few hundred kilometres long.
With a bit of luck, I could obtain a horse in one of the towns on the way, but I wasn't sure which direction I should go. Originally, I was meant to travel through the Pass of Klamat, eventually crossing the Yaruga river at a bridge near Red Port, but the bridge lay east, while Cintra lay west, though on the other shore. In other words, this route would have prolonged my travel by over six hundred kilometres, if not more, than just crossing the river on my own.
It would have been six hundred very comfortable kilometres in a carriage, so I had not minded, but following the plan when I was now on foot would have been idiotic. With an unknown enemy wanting me dead? Suicidal.
I unfurled a map from my suitcase and began plotting my route.
Going straight to Mayenna and then south-west to Dillingen and either crossing the Yaruga with magic or hiring a boat was the fastest option when I no longer had a carriage, but I was already quite a ways east and if I wanted to follow the Mayenna route, I'd have to backtrack to Maribor or risk the monster-filled forests.
Backtracking was out. Maribor was likely where my would-be assassins had waited for me, as the city was the most logical stop for a traveller going south from Thanedd. Chances were that going back would let my unknown opponent get another strike in.
I definitely wasn't risking the forests either. The sheer amount of bloodthirsty monsters in this world was incomprehensible and I wasn't willing to risk running into one without a very good reason. Well, risk more than anyone did when they traveled. This risk wasn't too bad when one stuck to the main roads, but it was still there.
That left just one option, continuing forward through Klamat.
This had its own issues. It was quite likely that my invisible enemy knew, at the very least, my destination, if not my travel plan. That I was going to Cintra had never been a secret. The Red Port would thus be a logical place to leave another kill team, making it somewhere to avoid.
Perhaps I was being too paranoid and my enemy was not so competent, but I wasn't willing to risk that.
The best option was then to go through the Pass of Klamat, then leave the main road and follow a lesser one along the Trava river, then rejoin it towards the Razwan fort. From there, I could go to Brugge and eventually reach Dillingen, where I could cross the Yaruga.
I'd be prolonging my journey by quite a bit, but it was worth it to avoid any more assassins. I just had to make it to Cintra, so there was no reason to take pointless risks.
The more annoying part was my utter lack of proper camping equipment, as I had slept in the carriage. Any equipment the driver had possessed got burnt. I'd have to buy something in a village. My nose wrinkled in distaste. Such a purchase was bound to be both extremely overpriced and low-quality, but it'd be better than roughing it.
Planning done, I nodded to myself.
Checking the sun, I began walking towards Klamat. I likely wouldn't make it today, but I could cope for one night. I'd need to get proper camping gear there, though.
So I walked, suitcase in one hand. My shoulder twinged but did not bleed, so I let it be. I doubted Mayenna would have a healer more competent than me, seeing it was a fort instead of a proper town, but there was bound to be someone in Dillingen.
It was almost dusk when I reached a crossroads with a strange, worn, sign.
'You, who is coming from the west. Should you go left, you will return. Should you go right, you will return. Should you go straight, you will not also return.'
I frowned at the faded sign, re-reading it once more, before shaking my head. Straight was east, towards Klamat, so that's where I went. Why someone bothered with this nonsense instead of providing proper directions I had no idea.
The night passed quickly, though my sleep was both uncomfortable and fitful. However, my defensive wards were not triggered. The defensive wards were a combination of alarm, illusion and compulsion warding that made me as secure as I could be in the wilderness, something which I had taken care to learn once the abundance of monsters in the world became clear.
In the morning, I quickly got to testing.
I wouldn't be caught off guard again. That I had not properly researched dimeritium, the one metal with anti-magic properties, had been an egregious oversight on my part. Not that sourcing dimeritium in Aretuza would have been simple, but that was no excuse not to have done so.
"Eveagh Aard," I pronounced carefully, performing the accompanying gestures.
A carefully constrained blast of force emanated from my pointing right hand, moving quickly towards a tree with my newly acquired dagger embedded in it.
A second later, the blast hit and the tree splintered.
I turned my eyes to a very similarly shattered tree a few meters to the right.
"No difference," I muttered, before retrieving the dimeritium dagger from the tree's remains, carefully picking it up in one gloved hand. The sensation of dimeritium touching my flesh was unpleasant, to say the least. Luckily, I had packed a pair of black gloves. It felt rather uncomfortable even through the glove, but the knowledge of dimeritium's anti-magic properties was vital.
If one group of assassins had such equipment, then others would likely possess dimeritium as well.
The weapon was a bit banged up, but I didn't care too much. I quickly stuck it into another tree.
This time, I forewent both the gestures and the incantation of the Eveagh Aard spell. I called it a force blast in private, though it meant something akin to Immortal Mountain. That wasn't very descriptive though.
A much weaker blast of force exited my hand as I concentrated, gouging a part of the tree. Repetition on a daggerless tree provided a similar result.
In other words, I had been overcautious when I had cast Aine.
That was… annoying. It had been the correct decision at the time, yet knowing that I could have easily avoided being stabbed grated.
I had spent a lot of time practising Eveagh Aard precisely for a situation like the attack. Normally, I practised combat spells only to the point I could cast them without gestures. The opposite approach had some merit, as an incantation would let a knowledgeable opponent glean information about your attack, but I'd much rather for my tongue to be occupied during a fight than my hands and the issue could be largely mitigated by whispering the incantations.
A spell normally required three components for a successful casting: an incantation, a gesture, and concentration. However, only the last of these was truly necessary. A skilled enough sorceress could go without either of the previous two, but to cast purely with one's mind needed a lot of practice and a good understanding of the spell, or cheating through catalysts and the like. The former was usually more trouble than it was worth while the latter was too expensive for now. The resulting spell would usually be much weaker in any case.
I had made an exception for Eveagh Aard. The only situations where I wouldn't have time to incant would be when someone or something was already close, in which case blasting it away would always be a good move. Better still, the spell was quite simple, despite its potency. I doubt I could replicate the feat with Dhu Muire or spells of similar complexity in my lifetime.
Well, I'd know for next time. Dimeritium could not do much when it was not directly touching me or touching some of my more solid spells. I doubt it'd do anything against geokinesis or the like either.
Satisfied with my testing, I retrieved my dagger, stored it, and resumed my march.
A few hours later, I spotted the beginning of a village.
As I approached, I was noticed by a young girl playing on the porch of a house.
She was around ten years old, with brown hair done in a braid and freckles covering her face. She was also rather stupid as upon noticing me, she immediately got up and ran closer.
"Lady, lady, are you a magic woman?" She spoke immediately.
I frowned at her and opened my mouth to respond, but she spoke over, "You have a magic ring! Did you slay a dragon too, like Visenna?"
"First of all," I began, "This ring isn't magical. Second of all, dragons are intelligent beings. Slaying one would be murder."
Not that the inhabitants of this world cared much for such distinction. A monster was a monster, but as long as a non-humanoid did not harm others, I wouldn't see their killing as anything but a murder.
The girl was opening and closing her mouth rapidly when a bedraggled-looking woman nearly sprinted from her cottage to us.
"Please forgive Enna for whatever she said, honoured lady!"
I blinked. The middle-aged woman seemed sincere, which was a welcome surprise. In a rather remote village such as this, I had expected her to think I was trying to lure the girl into a cauldron or something. As for her address, well, I wasn't exactly dressed as a peasant.
"It is no matter, madam. Curiosity should be nourished," I replied graciously.
The woman breathed a sigh of relief, before her eyes flitted up and down my figure, "Are you… from the Circle, my lady?"
I tilted my head, "The Circle?"
She flushed, "Well, you look like a wizard. I wouldn't guess you are over eighteen! So I had assumed…"
I looked down at myself. I wore well-made travelling clothes along with a somewhat worn midnight blue cloak. I didn't think it looked particularly wizardly, though they certainly marked me as decently well-off. The rest of my appearance wasn't anything special either. Though it had taken Tissaia a while to convince me to grow it out, I now had shoulder-length hair, currently done in a ponytail, still in the same golden shade as my past life's. I had taken off my gloves, so the silver ring with the embedded blue glass was visible, but sorcerers were hardly the only ones who wore jewellery. Sorceresses did tend to look much younger than they were, though I was not one of those.
In fact, I had requested for the sorceresses of Aretuza to age me up, much to their bafflement. It was something I had given quite a bit of thought to, and with the nobility knowing enough about mages to understand that we were capable of altering our appearance, it had seemed like the right choice. If I had shown up in Cintra looking sixteen, they'd likely immediately conclude that I was vain. My professional reputation would be tarnished on the very first day of the job. If I insisted that to be my true age, I'd only make a fool of myself.
I was supposed to look a bit over twenty, but I'd take eighteen from a villager. Sun and hard work had a way of making people look older, so I'd hopefully look over twenty to a noble, a completely ordinary appearance for a sorceress.
Seeing me check myself, the woman spoke again, "Well, the suitcase and travelling alone, too. Klucz isn't as remote as it used to be, but we don't normally get lone travellers."
"Ah. You are correct in assuming that I possess the Gift. However, I'm a member of the Brotherhood, not of any Circles," I explained.
"I see, I see. Is there something you need, honoured lady? Our village would be happy to help, especially if you can heal young Radim, he's been wasting away with some sort of a cough," the woman continued," But where are my manners? I'm Matilda, honoured lady. Welcome to the Village of Klucz."
I glanced at the nearly vibrating child, barely held back by the iron grip of her likely mother. The unexpectedly friendly welcome made me paranoid, but I did need to buy a few things. However, I had no idea whether this small village even had what I needed.
I inclined my head towards her, "I am Tanya von Degurechaff, a graduate of Aretuza and a student of Tissaia de Vries. I would like to buy some travelling supplies, but I am afraid my talents lie outside the healing arts," I replied politely.
One might think that introducing myself would let anyone after me track me better, alas, travelling sorceresses were rare. That Matilda was perceptive enough to guess at my occupation was slightly unfortunate, but lone travelling women were hardly any more common in any case. It was still a risk, but a risk I had judged worth it for the opportunity to obtain camping supplies, especially since any pursuer would likely assume that I had continued on this route. I'd have to be more careful once I left the main road near the Trava River. If nothing else, leaving my name behind here would help the Brotherhood's investigators should I fail to arrive in Cintra.
Disappointment flickered through Matilda's eyes, but she masked it quickly.
The child wasn't nearly so disciplined, "Loser. Visenna could have done that."
Horror mixed with embarrassment coloured her mother's face, but I just snorted, "And who is this Visenna, little one?"
Completely oblivious to her mother's ire, the child happily continued, puffing out her chest, "The greatest magici-cian to ever live. She killed a dragon in the Gorge of Mice and the Warlock Fregenal to save our village ages ago!"
I frowned a little. The child was probably exaggerating as I couldn't see a reason why a dragon would care for a tucked-away village like this. Chances were, this Visenna just wanted some reagents while the villagers were perfectly happy with a 'monster' disappearing.
Well, that was the most pessimistic view. Much more likely that said dragon was one of the unintelligent draconids, a basilisk or the like. Or maybe it was just a made-up story, perhaps even something this Visenna helped circulate on her own. Thinking of made-up stories had me recall the sign I had seen yesterday.
"This reminds me," I spoke, "I saw a strange sign a day or so away from here, do you know anything about that?"
"Oh, that old thing?" Matilda replied with a pensive pause, "It's said that a bandit lord tried to kill the Druid Visenna there, but the connection escapes me. Visenna is a bit of a hero around here, so maintaining the sign became a tradition, even if no one remembers what it means by now."
How quaint.
Tired of learning of the local folklore, I inquired again, redirecting the conversation to my original purpose here, "Interesting. Would you mind directing me to someone who'd have some camping supplies I could buy?"
Matilda nodded and soon I found myself in the house of Misha the old hunter.
"I can sell you some of my old camping stuff," the old man spoke gruffly.
Parting with some of my recently acquired orens, I was made the proud new owner of an old tent, a bedroll, a canteen and a firestriker.
I didn't really need the latter two as I was capable of conjuring both water and fire, but having somewhere to store the water was welcome as was a mundane way of starting fires. Fire magic was… problematic. Producing a few sparks wasn't really an issue, but the mental corruption associated with the magic made me leery of even that, though likely unnecessarily.
In the wake of the Type 95, I was not eager to have my mind tampered with again. I'd leave fire magic to others. Someone insane would probably pioneer a safe way to use it eventually.
After obtaining some directions from the locals I quickly departed the village in the direction of Duran-Orit, a ravine that led to the pass proper. The very energetic waving of the freckled child accompanied my departure. The friendly attitude of the locals crawled under my skin, as paradoxical as that was. Sorcerers dealt death with one hand and life with the other.
We weren't supposed to be liked.
Visenna's mark, I supposed.
The Duran-Orit ravine, locally referred to as the Gorge of Mice, was the true beginning of the Pass of Klamat, or so I was told by the villagers. Locating it had proven to be little trouble, so I now found myself walking on its rocky surface.
It was a peaceful place and my walk was undisturbed, right until I felt a flicker of magic.
Turning towards the source, I half expected to find a dragon, but saw only an unassuming cave I likely would have missed without the pulse of magic.
Wary, I debated investigating. On one hand, it was the Brotherhood's job to take care of such things and it could be an opportunity for me to gain some accolades that I could point to in Cintra. On the other, such a phenomenon could signal significant danger.
I frowned. If it was dangerous and the nearby villagers got hurt, my reputation would be tarnished if another mage got sent by the Brotherhood to investigate and found out I had passed through, ignoring the issue. My position would be put at risk. I had told the villagers my name, so even in the best-case scenario I'd be assumed incompetent for not noticing the matter.
"Adda invaerne," I incanted, after stashing my suitcase behind a rock and unsheathing my steel dagger. As the world slowed down, so did the twinge in my shoulder lessen to near nothing.
I glided towards the cave entrance under the influence of the reflex enhancement, my movement fast and smooth.
"Tor Aine," I cast a second spell, summoning a ball of light which quickly took position above and behind myself. It would last for an hour or so, which should be more than enough.
Thus armed, I ventured inside the cave.
The cave wasn't remarkable. Cramped, damp and dark. It was, however, longer than you'd expect a random crevice to be. Its walls were surprisingly smooth, though still worn down by time.
I slowly walked deeper, towards the magic I still felt flickering in my awareness. My footsteps, though quite silently, reverberated through the cave.
A minute or so later I reached the cave's end and with it, the source of the magic I felt.
It was a stone set in the ground.
Once, it must have looked indistinguishable from the surrounding earth, but now it protruded upward, its surroundings worn away by time.
It was obviously artificial. Someone had set it in the ground at some point and then forgotten about it. As time went on, its non-magically reinforced surroundings wore away, possibly along with any protections that hid its magical signature.
Naturally, I poked it with my dagger.
Nothing happened.
I was about to investigate further when I heard a truly demonic screech behind me.
Whirling around, my eyes widened upon seeing the source of the sound.
A spectre floated there, holding a wooden staff.
Then it disappeared.
My eyes flickered around frantically, but its reappearance right in front of me still took me by surprise.
Its staff was already coming for my head when it reappeared, but the reflex enhancement gave me enough time to step backwards. My back hit the wall, but the staff's passing only ruffled my hair instead of shattering my skull.
The spectre, now that I got a better look at it, looked strange. Squat and fat, despite the pallid and desiccated appearance death granted it. Its staff was cut in two, both parts held together by magic.
What little I knew of such creatures quickly flickered through my head.
"Vaeltha," I incanted, while swinging my left hand, balled into a fist. The silver ring on it gleamed under Tor Aine's light as I struck the spectre in its head.
The creature shrieked, retaliating with another swing of its staff, but my conjured shield proved sufficient enough to block its attack.
Another punch resulted in the creature teleporting a few meters backwards, towards the cave entrance.
I stopped maintaining the shield and decided on my next spell.
"Aespar aedd gynvael," I incanted, summoning shards of ice, over half of which immediately shot straight towards the spectre. The first one hit, eliciting another shriek, but the rest passed straight through.
As the remaining shards floating around me sharpened into something more akin to arrows, I nodded slightly. Dhu Muire would not have been very useful against a creature capable of turning intangible, much to my chagrin. The idea behind its inception had been versatility, but it was only now in the field that the spell's limitations were becoming obvious.
When the creature teleported again, I was ready.
It appeared behind me, fully corporeal, staff already swinging.
Just as expected from a near-mindless monster.
I ducked beneath the swing while turning enough to get it into my field of view again. Simultaneously, I sent the remaining ice shards towards it in a coordinated strike.
The first shard pierced the creature's head, the second, third and fourth its torso. The rest missed, as the creature fell to the ground, rapidly turning into a pile of dust, defeated.
I checked my surroundings for more enemies. Spotting none, I breathed out.
I understood much better now why hiring professionals was preferable for dealing with such creatures. A witcher might be expensive, but you really needed specialized tools and knowledge to deal with monsters like these. I'd have to get a silver dagger at some point, at least.
Had I a proper silver weapon or a spell designed to force a spectre into assuming their corporeal form, I wouldn't have had to use myself as bait. I was quite fortunate to be educated enough to understand that most spectres possessed these two properties and not to have encountered anything more esoteric.
I frowned at the pile of dust then, before shaking my head and moving back to the magical piece of stone which started this entire thing. The dust might be useful for something, or it could be toxic, or even attract other monsters. It could stay in this cave.
Crouching, I examined the stone carefully, before dusting it off. Inscribed upon it were runes, now almost visible. A quick mutter of Gaeth cleared the rest of the grime off.
Now fully visible, I identified them quickly as Elder Runes, the runic alphabet of Hen Llinge, the Elder Speech.
The runes Glosse Marw seemed to be the fulcrum of the spell, something which could be liberally translated as the death of watching or some such. A very inelegant combination, to the point I was surprised it had ever worked.
After a few more minutes, I was quite certain that the spell wasn't doing anything else. The stone was just a stone, the spell simply meant to hide it and if I was not mistaken, hide whatever was below it.
Somewhere in the middle of my examination, my reflex enhancement faded, letting me feel my shoulder in full force, causing me a grimace.
"Haela," I held my hand over it again, the pain lessening.
The wound taken care of, I pried the stone off. My eyes immediately landed on a half-rotten box, inside which I found a diary in a near pristine condition.
After examining it for traps, I opened the first page and read.
'The fools in Mayenna think they can expel me. ME! Progress requires sacrifice, if only those shit-eating motherfuckers could understand that. I've been forced to run away to the edge of nowhere, but if they think that depriving me of my resources will stop me, they are sadly mistaken. A genius can thrive anywhere. One day, the name of Fregenal will resound throughout the world.'
The script was an older version of the common speech, but it was still readable. If the beginning was anything to go by, I wasn't sure if there was much point in reading through it all, but it might prove entertaining.
It at least somewhat explained the presence of the spectre. My understanding was not the best, but if I recalled correctly, some types of ghosts could remain anchored in the world of the living by items of personal significance.
Book in hand, I left the cave, retrieved my suitcase and resumed my march through the Duran-Orit ravine. Though a bit too risky for my tastes, I had vanquished the monster. The villagers would have no cause to complain and I could rightfully point to this incident as another example of my competence, should someone in Cintra question me. All in all, a success.
'Turns out, money is easy to acquire. Just take it from the peasants, they cannot stop you. Killed a few of them to see what they'd do, but still nothing.'
'When disarmed, wait for an opportunity to brain your enemy with a rock. They fall for it every time. I wonder if the Circle will send anyone else?'
'More are joining my cause. Humans, Vrans and Bobolaks, bandits and brigands. I do not mind, more meatshields are always welcome, but the peasants are becoming more and more whiny. "Oh great and gracious Fregenal, we need food to feed our children." Blah blah blah. It literally grows on the ground, why do these shit-smelling morons think they can trick me with such a transparent ploy?'
'My work is progressing well. First Mayenna, then the world.'
'Alzur's Double Cross'
I did a double-take. Dusk had fallen and I had erected my camp. I was leafing through the book I had found by the campfire when the spell's name popped out at me.
I had already concluded that the book was a journal of some deranged bandit lord, but Alzur's Double Cross? That was a very complex and rare spell. The man being a mage would at least explain why he seemed to see peasants as no threat. I had just assumed he was insane, but perhaps he was slightly less so. A well-placed pitchfork could kill a sorcerer as well in any case.
Interest piqued, I returned to the journal.
After an hour or so of examining the spell, I concluded that it was likely legitimate, or very close to it. Though written in the same handwriting as the rest of the journal, the style was remarkably different.
A little note below the spell explained that discrepancy.
'That bobolak has been sniffing around too much, better to transcribe the spells here, if I hadn't sent Manissa away, I'd turn the fucker into a rug.'
Honestly, it was baffling. Alzur's Double Cross could be considered a spell of legend. I had little doubt that there were others who possessed the knowledge to cast it, yet that didn't diminish its value. It was a spell meant to create powerful monsters, so not truly relevant to my own pursuits, but I had little doubt that there was a lot I could glean from studying it. If I understood correctly, the Double Cross referred to the crossing of creatures with the Power itself, which made me uncertain whether Alzur was a genius or a madman.
I had to wonder which came first though. Witchers, or the Double Cross? Which inspired Alzur to create which? The implications were disturbing either way. I was only glad that he was already dead. Shugel had been quite enough for me.
One thing was certain. A means to possibly create a city-destroying creature like the Viy of Maribor was extremely valuable. Not that the past residents of Maribor would likely agree.
I'd have to transcribe the spell into Imperial, then burn the journal, just in case