That evening, once we had set up camp, Terry pulled me aside. “I’ve been thinking about something.” She looked pretty serious.
“Alright,” I replied. “What’s on your mind?”
“Healing,” she said. “You’ve got the wand, and that’s okay. But what if you were hurt and couldn’t use it?”
“Burin can use it just as easily as I can. And if you’d like, I can teach you how to do it, though it will take some effort.”
“Maybe. But that’s the other thing. It doesn’t work very quickly.”
“You do weeks’ worth of healing in under a minute,” I protested.
“But it’s not as fast as a potion.”
The girl had a point. “Well, no. You’re right about that. It’s definitely slower than that. But it’s not like we can have Cortana make us more potions or some healing scrolls.”
“So, there’s nothing we can do? Burin was half-dead after that fight in the tower. If one of us gets that hurt again, shouldn’t we be able to do something for them?”
“Well, there might be something,” I said. “It’s experimental, so I’m not sure if he gave Cortana the ability to make it, but Daddy was working on recreating some tech that would allow the use of nanites to nearly instantly heal wounds.” It hadn’t gone through a full course of FDA approval or whatever, but he sounded like he was mostly sure it was ready for use.
“What’s a nanite? Is that some kind of magic?”
“Not exactly. It’s, technology. We’ve learned to make machines so small that a pile of them would look like grains of sand or maybe even a liquid to the naked eye.” She still looked confused. “Think of a machine like a magical construct, but not magic. It can move on its own using some form of energy, usually electrical.” I really wished I’d taken an engineering course or paid more attention in science at that point.
“And they could heal wounds? How?”
“The same way a human might fix a house. They’re small enough to be able to directly address the damage on a cellular level.” Or was it at a molecular level?
“Cellular level?” Crap. I’d witnessed the girl’s skill at tending wounds and had assumed she’d known things that we consider basic biology at home. It took me half an hour to give her a basic biology lecture. “I see,” she said, when I was done. “So we could maybe use these nanite things to heal wounds more quickly?”
Cortana had finished booting up the box. “Let’s find out,” I suggested. “Cortana, do you have any medical nanite devices in your database?”
“Category located. Specify usage.”
“Wound healing.”
“Subcategory located. Nanite hypoguns. There are nine objects in this subcategory. Displaying.” Interesting. They all used the same nanites. The only difference was in how powerful the gun itself was, which allowed it to impart more energy and more complex instructions to said nanites. They also had secondary effects, which correlated to known magic spells, but had to use more nanites to get said effects.
We discussed the idea with Gregor and Burin. “That is not a bad idea. Having another healing option cannot be bad thing,” Gregor said.
“Yes,” Burin agreed. “Especially if they can be used for quick heals.”
Based on our available funds, we pooled our resources and had Cortana craft us a level two gun, which was color coded as black. It was noted to not heal as much as the wand on a per gold piece basis, but it would be much better when we needed it quickly. And it could be used in secondary mode to heal the type of damage often done by basic poison and certain magic, which would be handy. We also had Cortana make two canisters of nanites, good for twenty uses of the device in total.
I showed Terry how to use it – the interface is incredibly simple if you’re used to basic tech from back home – and had Cortana bookmark the device, since I figured we might want one of the more powerful ones later if we managed to get the funds for it.
As we sat around the campfire – the others enjoying their dinner – Terry asked me about home and my parents – pretty much the same things that Nadya had already asked me about, so I won’t repeat them. But she did ask one different question. “So, of your parents, who wears the pants in the relationship?”
“They both wear pants,” I said. Which was true, most of the time. Unless it was cosplay season. But I had just spent over half an hour giving a primer on cellular biology. There was no way I was spending all night explaining cosplay to these people.
“No, I mean, who’s in charge?”
“Neither, I think. I’ve never seen them argue. Either they’ve already discussed everything or are in complete agreement on everything.” Or they had used magic to create a permanent telepathic bond and discussed everything where I couldn’t hear it. I really had no way of knowing. At least, not without asking, and that might be rude. “How about your parents? What were they like? How did they meet?”
“My father was a wandering knight. My mother was the second daughter of a lord. He was working for her father when her betrothed died in an accident. Not knowing what to do, my grandfather agreed to let her help my father in a mission he was on. As I understand it, nothing of real interest happened before they accidentally burned down the city they were in.”
“They burned down a city? How was this accomplished?” Gregor asked.
“They, uh, never told me the details. All I know is that after that they had to go on the run. How about you, Burin? What’s your family like?” I could spot a dodge when I saw one, but decided not to press the questions.
“Well, being ‘The Burin’ means growing up constantly training. I was proficient with the axe well before I realized I had a talent for magic. So that was added to my training.”
“Any family?” I asked.
“I have six brothers and twelve sisters.” Damn. Then again, as long as dwarves live, there could be a fair number of years between each.
“How is ‘The Burin’ chosen?” Terry asked.
“Well, if you imagine every family like a tree,” Burin began, “each Burin is like a fruit on the tree. No one chooses a Burin. We’re just born.”
Terry turned to Gregor next. “So Sergei adopted you, right?”
“Yes,” the warrior said. “All I know was monastery from early age. Only journey outside once, when I was fourteen. Is rite of passage, spend three, maybe four months, outside monastery to experience what world has to offer.”
“Like sex?” Nadya asked out of nowhere. I suddenly noticed that the kids were already in bed. Well, the kids other than Terry.
“Among other things,” Gregor admitted.
“And when you come back, is that when you get your god of fighting?” Terry asked sarcastically.
“No,” Gregor said. “God of Martial Arts show up later.”
It seemed like a subject he didn’t feel like talking about, so I spoke up. “Did anything happen on your expedition?”
“This and that. It was not so much interesting, I am thinking.”
Terry turned to Nadya. “We are probably the most unqualified people this could have happened to, if you hadn’t noticed.”
I laughed. “You’ve obviously never read the Adventurer’s Guild newsletter.”
“How is it going with the work on separating me and Burin, by the way?”
It would be hard to explain to someone who had never studied magic. “I’m getting stronger, but well, I’ll need to be able to cast at least an eighth, or possibly a ninth level spell to do anything about it. And right now I’m at a strong level two.”
“What’s the difference between the levels?” I had dreaded that question. I’d had to learn how to graph quadratics before I’d learned to understand just how much more powerful each spell level was than the last.
Luckily. Burin had a simpler way to look at it. He pulled out a ceramic cup and a bucket. “This cup is a second level spell. If magic is water, you need enough water to fill this cup to cast the spell. This bucket is a third level spell, so even though it’ll hold dozens of cups, you need that much water inside before you can cast it.”
“And a fourth level spell?” Nadya asked.
“The barrel on the dogsled that holds the meat for the dogs,” Burin suggested.
Terry’s face blanched at the understanding. “And a ninth level spell?”
“Whitethrone is on a large lake,” I said, remembering our maps. “Would that match your metaphor?” I thought it would, but I couldn’t be completely sure.
“Yes,” Burin answered. “A large lake would just about be perfect.”
Terry blanched. “And you think you have a chance of using that kind of magic?”
I shrugged. “I certainly hope so. It runs in the family.”
“My family wasn’t big on magic. My father preferred to complete his missions without giving wizards a chance to even know he’d been there. You don’t have to worry about magic if no one knows to use it against you.”
Burin cocked his head a bit. “That sounds more like an assassin than a knight to me.” Then he laughed. “But then again, I have a demon inside me. So who am I to judge?”
Terry gave me another look. “Speaking of Burin’s demon, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something you said.”
“Go ahead,” I told her.
“You mentioned that you could see his dream. Was it only his head you’ve been in, or have you been in mine?”
Ah, that. “I was never in his head. Not exactly. Sometimes I just find myself in the Dreamlands, a realm that is a reflection of the dreams of thinking beings. While there, sometimes I see other peoples’ dreams. I’m not even sure it was the whole dream. Just partial reflections. But to answer the question you meant, rather than the one you asked? Yes, I’ve seen parts of some of your dreams.”
“And what did you see, exactly?” She sounded upset.
“I saw you in a yellow coat, hanging from puppet strings just above a city street. There was a man staring at you, horror on his face. Both of you were frozen, but a crowd of people was moving around you as if you weren’t even there.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what I recall.”
“And what causes it? Are you doing it on purpose?”
I considered it. “I don’t think so. It might have something to do with that book you found on our first adventure, though.” She shuddered and decided not to press it further.
I had an annoying dream that night. It seemed like it was going to be a sex dream, but then everyone was lacking the necessary equipment. And then I was in church. The priest was giving out ice cream instead of bread and wine. And the ice cream was bubble gum flavored. Eww.
I woke up frustrated. Next village we went to, I was looking for a tavern wench or a tall, muscular farmhand. Both, preferably. It was either that or seduce Nadya, but Terry and Nadya’s kids were always there. And I got the feeling she wasn’t interested in women.
And no, my companions weren’t an option. Neither the child, the demon-infested dwarf nor the crazy man really did it for me. Especially not the child. But even legality aside, none of them interested me.
I was probably stuck with them for a while, anyway. What if they developed feelings for me? It was just better not to risk it. I didn’t feel anything for them, not like that, so why risk some kind of annoying one-sided thing when I couldn’t put some distance between us if things got weird?
Tavern wenches don’t follow you into the dragon’s lair.
That afternoon, we ran across a cabin in some woods. It was a quaint sight, with a well-kept exterior and soft puffs of smoke wafting from a cute little chimney. It was a sight straight from a holiday postcard.
Burin walked up and knocked on the door. “Hello!” he called out.
“Finngarth?” a woman’s voice called from within, her voice quavering.
“Sorry, no, I’m Burin,” the dwarf said. “We were just passing by and hoped we could ask if you’d heard any news from the direction we’re heading.”
“Just a moment,” the woman’s voice said. The door creaked open, revealing an incredibly beautiful redhead in a green cloak. She looked at us for a moment. “Are you adventurers? Please, I beg you. I need your help! My husband has been taken by a troll!” Damn! She was married. So much for getting my hopes up there.
“Where is this troll?” Gregor asked.
She pointed to a trail. “There’s a cave about a half mile from here, just off this trail. I saw the troll go into the cave. Please! If you can save my Finngarth, I’ll give you a magic treasure. And you can stay here tonight, out of the cold.”
“We’ll take care of this troll,” Burin said.
“So we’re just going to go?” Terry said. “Yeah, of course we are. Alright. Nadya, a troll’s cave is no place for your sons. You three should stay here with…”
“Sylgja,” the woman supplied.
“Right. Stay with Sylgja. But keep your hand on your knives. If she tries anything, do what you need to protect the boys. Kill her if she forces it.”
Right. Crazy child. “Let’s get going. We have a troll to kill and a man to save,” I said.
The cave was easy enough to find, but it was quite dark within. Burin and I didn’t need a light source to see inside, but Gregor and Terry lacked our ability to see in the darkness. So Terry put Hatch to work carrying a torch.
We didn’t have to go very far before we spotted a large shadow in front of us. Gregor charged in, ahead of the party. “Guys!” he called back. “This doesn’t look as big as troll!” The enemy met his charge. “This is not troll! Is man, covered in parasitic mold!”
Crap. We’d need to be careful not to hit the infected person, likely Finngarth. But at least he was alive. I hoped we could keep him that way. For my part, I used force bolts to try to hit the mold with little risk of harming Finngarth or the others. It looked like the mold was trying to dodge the attacks, though many of them did hit.
Burin called for Hatch to bring him the torch while Gregor disarmed the infected man and tossed the axe behind him. Terry kept shooting at the mold – I’m not sure that was the best idea, but let’s be honest, I had no real better plan. Which became obvious moments later.
“Lyriana, do you have any ideas on how to hit the mold without hurting the man?” Terry asked.
Crap. “Umm, we could hit him with the wand so he heals any wounds we accidentally inflict on him?” I know there are a number of spells that use powerful bursts of UV light to kill molds without hurting people too much, but I didn’t have any of them. We also lacked any kind of plant killing chemicals. So “poke him with a stick” it was.
I drew the wand and tried to get past the melee and get behind the man – hoping I’d find a spot without mold – but that wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounds. They were fighting in a chokepoint and I simply lacked the ability to get past.
But then Gregor punched the mold so hard that it passed out. Not the man. THE MOLD PASSED OUT.
I knew that to be the case because Finngarth – a massive, muscular bear of a man – suddenly snapped back to his senses. “Please hurry. I don’t think it’s dead! Get it off me!”
With Finngarth no longer resisting, I managed to get past him. Finding a mold free-spot to tap was a more difficult prospect, though. Burin continued working at burning away the mold while Gregor kept punching it.
He punched it so hard that dead, toxic mold went flying everywhere. I barely managed not to breathe any in. But it was dead at last, and Finngarth was alive. I poked him with the wand to mend his wounds.
“He is reeling from spores,” Gregor pointed out. “Is like damage from poison.”
“Terry, the nanites should be able to help with that if you turn the gun to its secondary setting.”
“On it!” she said excitedly as she came over. I think she was looking forward to playing with her new toy. She turned the dial, gently pressed the gun to his arm and pulled the trigger.
Burin torched away the last of the mold from the man and began burning any spots of it he could find in the cave. There were several animal corpses where he was working – likely the mold’s previous victims.
The effects of the nanites were impressively fast, faster even than I expected. These were going to revolutionize medicine back home. Finngarth looked just as surprised as I was. “Thank you, strangers. Please, tell me, have you met my Sylgja? Is she okay?”
“She’s at your home with a friend of ours,” Burin told him. “Come on, let’s get you back to her.”
The reunion was heartwarming. As the two embraced, I heard Terry ask Nadya if the woman had shown any signs of witchcraft. Nadya shook her head. Terry was obviously more than a little suspicious at the moment, as she scrutinized the woman’s answer for any sign of coercion or enchantment.
“Oh, what kind of story does she have?” I heard Burin say. I looked over to see the dwarf standing near Gregor and Mjoli. The boy had obviously tried to tell the fighter something in secret, but Burin had overheard and did Burin things. The child looked mortified.
I know that feeling, kiddo.
A smiling Sylgja looked over at the dwarf. “What was that?”
“Oh, I was wondering what kind of story you had. The boy says you have some kind of tale.”
“I knew it!” Terry said. “You’re another of those goat women!” What the heck was she going on about? Did she really think Sylgja was a forlarren? That was easily obvious to not be the case. “Pull up your skirt and prove you’re not, if you have nothing to hide!”
The woman looked terrified, but Finngarth consoled her. “It is okay, my love. These are not simple peasants, and they seem to be good people. They will understand.” She nodded, and he continued. “My Sylgja is a huldra, or a wood wife, if you’ve heard that name.”
I had, in fact, heard of huldras. They’re fey creatures and are mostly harmless, as long as you don’t try to suggest they work for trolls, their hated enemies. They generally just want companionship. Treat them with respect and they’re generally likely to be better companions than most humans.
They’re still fey, though, with the weird morality that comes with it. They don’t see any issue in using their magic to charm someone to make them want to stay with them. You’re not unhappy being there, but it can lead you to give up on your own goals. But for a person whose goals were only to live a peaceful life hunting, fishing or as a woodcutter? Not necessarily a big deal. And Finngarth seemed like one of those.
“Well,” Burin said, “since we’re coming clean here, I have something to admit as well. I’m a dwarf.” We laughed and I put my hand on Terry’s shoulder, to try to assure her that it was fine. “So, I have a question,” Burin continued. “Are there any wood husbands?”
Sylgja looked relieved. “I don’t think so, but it’s possible?”
“All good husbands have wood,” I said. Nadya snorted as she tried to hold back a laugh.
“I guess that’s true. You have to make sure you have enough firewood stored to keep the fires going through the winter,” Burin said innocently.
“Oh yeah. Good wood definitely keeps the fires going. Especially during the cold nights.” Nadya was making that sound you make when you can’t breathe because you’re laughing so hard.
Terry, ever the shining example of subtlety, spoke up. “My parents used to go at it all through the night.” She sounded almost nostalgic. I mean, I understand that her parents were dead. And I’m pretty blasé about my parents sex lives, but I don’t think fondly back to the time I walked in on them or anything.
Though that could be because I never did. I suspect they had Juiz warn them long before I made it to their room. And I guess I do find the way they look at each other adorable. Alright, weird little girl, you win this round.
A bit later, Terry pulled me aside. “So she’s really not dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than a random human, anyway. She might be a little weird to us, as a fey, but I wouldn’t worry about her.”
“Weird like the goat lady you let into camp?”
“Hey. That was Nadya’s idea.”
I’m not sure how she discovered it, but Sylgja realized that Burin had been cursed. She offered to use a magic scroll she had to cure him, which we graciously accepted. She also presented us with Finngarth’s magical bear trap as a reward for saving him. We told them that it was unnecessary, but in the end accepted the reward to avoid being rude.
The cabin wasn’t large. In fact, it was small enough that there wasn’t really enough room for everyone. Terry kept trying to say that it would work if Gregor and Nadya just shared a bed – there’s no shipper like a twelve year old girl – but Gregor declined. He instead offered to sleep outside, saying it was good for training.
We set out the next morning for yet another day of boring travel. The high point of the day was when we came across a pocket of summer within the winter cold. It looked like some druids had tried to fight off the eternal winter, even if only in this one little clearing.
We made camp there and Gregor used the warmth to try training the hawk he’d taken from one of those guards days before. I’d completely forgotten he had that, to be honest.
Still, it was nice to have a night with no clouds in the sky. I’ve always found something soothing about the starry sky. I even had a skylight put in my room directly over my bed. I started sleeping much better after that. Not that I’d slept poorly before, of course. Just that it got even better with the stars above.
The next day, we came across the ruins of a village. They looked ancient. Hundreds of years old, at least. So, of course, Burin called out a “Hello!” as we approached. Unsurprisingly, no one answered.
But we did find two men within the ruins of the monastery. They were wearing the robes of clerics of Desna, but there was something off about them. It was as though they were using a really out of date style of robe. “We weren’t aware that more children were coming. Please, run along and play with your little friends. I’m sure your parents will return soon,” one of the men said.
“We’re not children.”
“Now isn’t the time for games,” he said. “We have so many children to watch over. Please, run along and leave us to our work.”
“Yes,” Gregor said, amused. “Run along and play, Burin.”
Burin began trying to detect magic in the area. After about twenty seconds, he hissed. “Lyriana, are you seeing this?”
I searched for magical auras and quickly pierced the illusion as well. “They’re undead!” I gasped. Not just any undead, but huecuvas, the risen forms of clerics who had renounced their faith and blasphemed their gods shortly before death.
The fight, much like most of our fights, was quick and brutal. Also, we missed a lot. Not sure why. I just couldn’t aim straight. And neither could the others, it seemed. No one had any explanations. There was no magical reason. It was just something that happened.
Inside the remains of the monastery, Nadya spotted a loose flagstone. Gregor heaved it up and held it while Burin carefully tried detecting curses in the treasure hidden within. After the curse spotting was done – and we were in the clear – Burin began pulling out objects one at a time and identifying them.
“Hey, Burin,” Gregor said, his voice straining. “Stone is really heavy. Please hurry.”
“Oh! Right.” He pulled out the rest and Gregor put back the stone. Then we identified the items. Nothing worth really noting, other than a single scroll that would allow us to consecrate an area – more on that in a minute – but plenty of value. The clerics had obviously hidden all the monastery’s valuables in preparation for something.
The nature of that something was revealed in a search of the monastery’s living quarters. On one side, we found the rotted, tattered remains of a half-dozen small toys. Terry picked up a small, rusted figure of a toy knight and carefully put it in her belt pouch.
On the other side of the building, I found a scrap of paper. Most of it had rotted away, but this piece had been preserved by some spilled oil. It read, “We have to do something soon. Baba Yaga’s army is coming. There’s no way we can save them all.” Well, I’m extrapolating here. Only about half of those words were complete and un-smudged. I had to fill in the blanks.
When I told the others what I’d found – and translated it to Common for them – Terry spoke up. “Baba Yaga sounds more awful the more we hear about her. Are we sure we want to be working with her? Are we really on the right side?”
“We’re on the side that prevents the world from being covered in ice and snow,” I said. “Sure, if we had another option, I’d be happy to leave her to rot. But right now, it’s what we have to do to save the world.” No one had any real counterargument to that, so we headed back outside.
We made it twenty feet before the courtyard erupted in a ghostly scene. We watched as children were snatched up by ice trolls and giants, screaming in terror the whole way. I even saw a cleric grabbed. He screamed that he had done as they had promised, renouncing Desna and worshipping Baba Yaga as was agreed. The trolls and giants didn’t seem to care as they tore him limb from limb.
The feeling of despair that washed over me was overbearing. “I hear something coming!” Burin said. I scanned around quickly and spotted some ice elementals. “Strange. Those don’t look like goats.” Goats? What the hell was up with goats and our party?
Then, even in the rising winds, I heard it, the sound of a goat. I looked, and behind the ice elementals appeared the ghostly form of a goat-headed man. An icy mist appeared on the ground where his hooves clattered on the cobblestones.
It let out a roar, causing Terry to whimper. “What is that?!” Gregor called out as he charged the elementals.
“It’s a witchrime!” I called back. “It’s an incorporeal undead! You need to use magic or magic weapons to hit it! Holy water will work too, and you might be able to pour a healing potion on it if you have nothing better to use, though I wouldn’t recommend it!”
The witchrime strafed the party, launching a bolt of witch-frost at Terry. She cried out in pain and I could see an icy mist begin coalescing around her. “I WISH I HAD DIED AT THE DRAGON!” Terry shrieked before diving behind Nadya, who had rushed to put herself between Terry, the boys and the monster. The girl clung to the woman’s boots.
“Where did it come from?” Burin called out.
“They’re formed when the soul of a witch merges with the spirit of its familiar!” I called back as I unleashed a couple rays of flame at the foe.
“So we’re going to have to worry about one of these things every time we kill a witch?!” Burin had managed to rub magic weapon oil on Gregor’s fist while talking.
The monster continued strafing, making a circle around and trying to get a better shot at Terry. He hit me with a bolt of witch-frost, which was incredibly cold. Worse, the rime forming around me made me feel more susceptible to the cold of the wind. “No. They only form when you expose the bodies of a recently deceased witch and her familiar to a massive burst of magical ener- SHIT.”
“WHAT?!” Terry shrieked.
“It’s Radosek! We must have done this when we dispelled the ritual!” That would explain why it was focused on Terry. She’d been the one to land the killing blow on the witch. How could we have been so stupid? We really had to be more careful in the future.
“The children!” Gregor shouted. Sure enough, Terry might not be the only target. The witchrime’s path would take it straight to where the boys were cowering in the doorway of the monastery. The fighter teleported, putting himself between the enemy and the children. The monster reeled and let out a horrific cry as Gregor punched it with his enchanted fist.
Burin managed to enchant one of Nadya’s weapons before she ran off to join Gregor. I unleashed force bolts at the enemy, since only bolts of force would be able to strike true on a ghost.
The wraith hit Gregor with a touch of witch-frost, then dashed through Nadya. Both felt the chill of the frost, but both managed to strike the foe as it moved. Meanwhile, I felt the cold of metal on my calf as Terry injected me with healing nanites. They didn’t clear the rime, but damn if they didn’t feel good.
I attempted to unleash another volley of force bolts, but the ice made it hard to concentrate. The monster answered my attempt by blasting me with more ice. Gregor and Nadya gave chase, trying to keep up, though definitely slowed by the entangling rime.
“Whip it out for me, little girl!” I heard Burin say. I spared a glance to see Terry holding up her gun for him. Good. I had been a bit worried about what he meant there.
Terry used the enchanted weapon to shoot, but missed with both shots. But between her healing and shooting, she had the enemy’s attention. It let out a horrible shriek and charged through Nadya – who had once more gotten between Terry and the foe – straight for Terry. Yes, through. It’s a ghost, remember?
Gregor and Nadya used its desperate charge as an opening and swung. Their blows connected and the witchrime lost coherence and dissipated. Its face had been mere inches from Terry’s when it vanished.
The girl couldn’t even scream. Not at first. The sound caught in her throat. It took several moments before she let out a sound between a terrified shriek and a sob. Gregor and Nadya helped her up, then she hurried inside.
“Is there anything we can do for the souls of the dead?” Burin asked once the witch-frost had worn off of us.
“Well, maybe,” I said. “That scroll we found should put the souls to rest. But it’s divine magic, so it’s not like I can just cast it like normal.”
He nodded. “Right. It will be difficult. But can we try anyway?”
“Sure. I’ve studied on how to use scrolls and devices I’m not familiar with, so there’s a good chance we can make this work.”
The first part of casting a spell not normally available to you from a scroll is to clear your mind and fill it with thoughts like someone who can cast those spells. To cast like the cleric, you must think like the cleric. Or at least, you must feel like the cleric. You don’t need specific thoughts. But faith is a feeling that washes over you. It doesn’t matter what you believe in, but you must believe. Surrender to your faith.
Then, once the light of faith washes over you, you have to speak the words of the spell. Complete the spell and let the power stored within the scroll flow free.
With some help from my allies, I managed to pull it off and the courtyard was bathed in holy energy. I’m not sure if I felt happier that I’d done it or from holy aura flowing through us. A far cry from the despair inspired by the ghosts, I felt hope.
We could totally do this. We could save the world.
That night, Terry asked me for my help with Cortana. The encounter with the witchrime had spurred her to action. She wanted to spend the money she’d accumulated. She had felt powerless being unable to attack it until Burin had enchanted her weapon and wanted to be able to hurt things like it.
More than that, she wanted fire. She wasn’t knowledgeable about magic, but she understood fire. Fire was simple and made sense. And if we could make her gun shoot fire, that’s what she wanted. First, I showed her how we could enchant it to shoot magical fire, especially focusing on the Firedrake enchantment, which would let it shoot gouts of flame similar to that one spell I often cast.
She wanted that, but couldn’t afford it yet. For now, though, we could make her gun shoot flaming bullets with an eye towards that later when she had more money. Which left money for alchemical incendiary bullets and some defensive increases.
She went to bed holding her gun. More than ever, she looked like the child she was, holding on to a very strange security blanket. Poor kid.
I wasn’t sure what kind of reward she’d get from Baba Yaga for her aid, but I was sure we’d find a way to make it worth her while even if the witch didn’t. The truth is that everyone here deserved something good. Maybe I could find something when we reached the city.
And on that thought, I made still further alterations to my clothing. I had to make sure it was perfect by the time we tried to infiltrate Whitethrone.
0 Comments