The Necromancer’s Daughter – Chapter 16

Broken and Battered

Layla I
After stopping in Larania to spend the night and stock up on supplies, Layla rapidly made her way through the dense forests of the Celeran Canopy. She’d heard many stories of strange folk living in this part of the world and she didn’t want anything to do with them. Not right now at least, she was in a hurry. Layla spent the past four years researching the strange appearance of a spirit that seemed to be living in her quill. While she was attending the academy she suddenly realized that the object had gotten a life of its own. It couldn’t form sentences but it would send her thoughts it had in the form of images. At first, Layla was utterly freaked out by this sudden change. She considered discussing it with someone at the academy but a sense of worry stopped her. Instead, she took her leave from the academy to study elsewhere and spent much time in K’Mirah before finally heading east. She didn’t head east due to any gained knowledge or information, but instead the lack of progress drove her to go and search for an old friend of hers. While she studied at the academy she met a young dwarf called Raze. Raze was a runesmith who paid for his education by teaching his craft to other students. Runecrafting was mainly a dwarven magic. It wasn’t exclusive to them by any means, but history had proven time and time again that dwarves had a general knack for it. For centuries, all different sorts of rock were used for runecrafting, marble proving to be one of the most effective stones. Raze had revolutionized the craft by using gemstones. You’d think dwarves would have figured out how to use those a very long time ago, and you would be correct. But the runes would damage the innate magic that precious gems often carried with them and this would be a massive detriment to the power of the finished product. Raze had managed to figure out how to make proper use of the gemstones without carving the runes into them. He crafted jewelry that was inlaid with both gems and marble, using the marble as a catalyst for the magic and the gemstones’ innate magic as secondary power, increasing the potency of the magic many times. Although the young dwarf couldn’t explain why carving the runes directly into the gold, silver or other metal jewelry didn’t work, he had created detailed lectures on the way energy flowed through the different parts of the jewelry he crafted and his research was praised by many. Layla now found herself at one of several entrances into the underground dwarven kingdom of Zargahal. Raze was somewhere down there, and she was determined to find her old friend.

The lantern hanging on the wall faltered. A gust of wind pierced through Kaylirr’s clothes as the room’s temperature suddenly lowered significantly. He was hired by a local noble to protect an art collection at night. Not exactly a difficult job at a glance, but after he accepted he started hearing rumors in town that someone was actively planning to steal from the place. There were a few items in the collection that were highly valued and a local syndicate apparently had their eyes on them. Kaylirr leaned against the back wall of the chamber, as far away from the only entrance as possible. The wavering lantern didn’t go out from the gust of wind but the flame got weaker and the already dimly lit room became even more difficult to perceive. His ears had already picked up the sound of someone moving around quietly. Kaylirr wasn’t worried as four of his men were stationed between here and the exit. Even if the intruder managed to sneak past the first two, who were stationed at the front door of the complex, they would still have to make their way past Devon who was patrolling the halls and Kari who was guarding the door to this room. The subtle sounds of moving were gone as an eerie silence filled the room before it was interrupted by the sound of a knife hitting the door leading to this room. Kaylirr unsheathed his sword and got ready. The silence felt like it took an eternity before a small crack of light appeared through the door as it slowly opened, followed by the thud of Kari’s lifeless body hitting the ground, a small pool of blood forming in the entrance to the chamber. Despite his friend’s death, Kaylirr stayed calm. Decades of experience taught him that losing your cool in a moment like this was akin to suicide. Looming over the slumped body was a short figure, face hidden under a hood and black robes hiding their figure. It was hard to see if this was a man, woman or child but it didn’t matter to Kaylirr. It was a foe regardless. He held out his sword and looked at the figure who was only armed with a dagger in each hand, one of them gleaming red with blood. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving this complex alive,” Kaylirr said, adjusting the grip on his weapon.
There was no acknowledgement of what he said except for the dagger that flew at him. With unnatural speed for someone his age Kaylirr dodged the thrown weapon, which stuck in the wall behind him, just below two ornate swords that were hanging on the wall.
“Very well.” He took a step forward and before he realized what was going on the figure was right up in his face, dagger cutting open his left cheek. This wasn’t a regular thief, this person was highly trained. Kaylirr retreated from all other thoughts and focused solely on the flashing of steel, barely blocking each hasty slash. A quick back and forth taught him he was completely outmatched and when he had a second to look at the person’s eyes he realized that they didn’t even have their full focus on him. Their eyes were shifting from Kaylirr to the weapons on the wall behind him. So that’s what they’re after. Kaylirr adjusted his stance to make sure he was positioned between the assailant and the ornate weapons. If he could just stall for a few moments, surely one of his companions would come rushing over and they’d be able to get the upper hand. Just as that thought filled him with renewed confidence the assassin planted the tip of her boot in his calf, catching him off balance. He managed to block the following slash with his weapon but the force behind it disarmed him. Pushed from his feet and into the wall behind him, Kaylirr scrambled to get back up, bumping into the weapons hanging above him. It’s better than no weapons, he thought, before unsheathing both swords and holding them at the ready. The figure took a step back as he did so and he swore he could see a smile on their face. “That was a mistake,” a feminine sounding voice said. Before he could reply to her, a searing pain filled his head. Two different voices crashed into his consciousness at once, violently exploding into an argument that took place inside of his head.
“Elet, we have to help him, he’s about to die,” one of the two voices said.
“We’ll tear this woman apart, cut her limb from limb, turn her into a pupper, make her bleed from every part of her body,” the second voice said, with a crazed aggression behind it.
“Brother you’re sick, you need to rest.” the first voice said, sounding incredibly worried.
The second voice just laughed maniacally as Kaylirr felt his arm moving on its own. He slashed at the women who deftly stepped off to the side and in one quick – almost beautiful – motion severed Kaylirr’s right arm. He watched the arm, which was still holding on to the weapon, fall to the ground. The violent voice in his head vanished with it. The woman picked up the sword from his bleeding arm and winced in pain, before jumping back. The last thing Kaylirr heard before his consciousness fading was the sound of weapons clashing and footsteps quickly making their way towards him. Then everything went dark.

Kaylirr slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a dimly lit space. The sound of metal being worked on filled his ears in a slow rhythm. He looked up to see his friend, Sairoc, working a forge. After a few moments to collect his thoughts he felt the searing pain in his right shoulder and doubled over, falling off the bed and onto the stone floor. He grabbed for his arm but instead of flesh his hands touched something metal.
“Careful friend, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” The dwarven mercenary put down his tools and quickly walked over to Kaylirr, helping him back onto the bed.
“What happened to me?” Kaylirr asked.
Sairoc pulled over a stool and sat down next to the bed. “I’d like to know that as well. By the time I got to you, you had already lost consciousness. I’m surprised I got out of there alive, that thief seemed to be out for blood. She cut off your arm and stole an ornate looking sword.”
Kaylirr looked at the bedside table to see the other ornate sword sitting there in its sheath.
Sairoc followed his eyes and explained, “when I tried to put the sword back onto the wall, the bloody thing spoke in my head. Craziest experience I’ve ever had.”
“It spoke to you too?”
“Aye, and from the sounds of it, I didn’t make it up, since you’re saying the same thing.” Sairoc poured some water from a jug and handed it to Kaylirr, who gratefully took it. “The talking sword told me to create this metal contraption for your arm. I’m no doctor and you were losing a lot of blood so I did what the voice told me.” His eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry about your arm friend, but there was nothing I could do.”
Kaylirr took the time to inspect the strange metal casing that was crafted around the stump where his arm once was. It seemed to be bolted into his bone and moving his shoulder hurt a tremendous amount, but there was no bleeding and the wound looked relatively clean. “How did you manage that?” He asked Sairoc.
The dwarf shrugged. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. I followed the instructions that flowed into my head and I think that the sword did the rest.” He stared at the sheathed weapon. “Am I going crazy? I’m talking to swords.”
Kaylirr shook his head. “I don’t think you’re going crazy, I heard voices as well after picked up the weapons. But I heard two different voices. Was there only one for you?”
“I only heard one, aye.”
“And the other weapon?” Kaylirr asked.
“The thief ran off with it. I didn’t manage to hinder them much but I did see a tattoo on their ankle as they bolted. A fool’s hat.”
The Emerald Jesters. Kaylirr thought to himself. They were a well known crime syndicate that operated primarily in K’Tapur and here in K’Mirah. The two big cities in Fyrston.
“I’m guessing both swords have ghosts in them or something,” Kaylirr concluded.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But let’s shelf that for now. How are you feeling, besides the obvious.”
“Horrible. My eyes feel like they’re on fire and I’m missing an arm. But I got out of this alive and I have you and that sword to thank for it.”
“I did what I could, the healing process is up to you.”
“What about the others?” Kaylirr finally dared to ask the question.
Sairoc shook his head. “I was patrolling outside for most of it, which I think is why I managed to get out of this job alive, but the rest wasn’t so lucky. I’ve buried their bodies in the cemetery outside of town.”
“I see. And the job?”
“I’m pretty confident they believe we ran off with the items, so as soon as you’re good enough to travel I reckon we should leave this town behind us and stay out of sight for a while.”
“Great.” Kaylirr sank back down into his pillow. Pain filled head as he did and his body shook violently.
“Get some rest buddy, and if you need anything just holler, I’m only working the forge as a front, there’s nothing important I’m working on.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kaylirr said. He spent the next hour trying to find sleep which eventually embraced him.

When next Kaylirr woke up, it seemed a few more days had passed. The weather had changed significantly and the rainy gloominess had been replaced by much lighter spring showers. The forge was quiet and there was no sign of Sairoc anywhere near him. His shoulder still hurt tremendously but the burning pain behind his eyes seemed to have been reduced to a light throbbing. He sat up on the side of the bed and let his toes gently touch the stone floor below. Lucky for Kaylirr, his friend had left him some slippers that he quickly stepped into. He stood next to the window for a little while, staring out at the quiet street. Some people were running up and down, quickly making their way through the rain, but the bustle of a city was nowhere to be seen. He recognized the style of buildings in the area and knew which part of town they were in. It made sense for Sairoc to bring him here, it’s where they holed up for a while after they botched a mission several years ago. They never were caught back then, so the place was safe enough. A cold shiver ran through his body and he made his way to the firepit which took some effort to light. It seemed to have been on for a while but with Sairoc not around to keep it going it had slowly gone out. The cold was probably what woke Kaylirr up. After getting the fire nice and toasty again he warmed himself some water and brewed some tea. That warmed him right up. He saw the stolen weapon in the corner of his eye, still on the nightstand where it was the first time he woke up. After a few moments of hesitation he walked over to pick it up. It was in its scabbard and nothing strange seemed to happen. It did feel weird in his left hand, he was so used to picking up things with his right hand, but that was no longer there. After some hesitation he pinched the scabbard between his legs and drew the sword. It slid out smoothly and after a moment of nothing happening the world suddenly crumbled around him. He blinked once and found himself in the dining room of a large manor. The floor, walls and ceiling had black and white pattern tiles that seemed to be moving ever so slightly, immediately causing Kaylirr to lose his balance. After he leaned on the table with his good arm he noticed that there was a flame jetting out of the stump of his missing arm. Before he could really process the very sudden shift his attention was grabbed by the sound of wet, squishy footsteps. He looked up to see a figure descending the staircase. Or the staircase was moving? He wasn’t quite sure, everything around him looked and felt like a dreamscape. The figure looked like a young woman, no older than twenty. She had white hair that reached all the way down to her knees before it curled back up again. Instead of eyes there were bright gems in her eye sockets, a ruby and a sapphire. Her feet looked like they were cut into a thousand pieces, leaving behind bloody footsteps as she walked closer to him. “Fear not this space, Kaylirr, for it is but an illusion of the mind. I’ve been wanting to meet you.” The voice sang to him as if the words themselves were musical. Besides that, the voice sounded familiar. It was the same voice that spoke to him when he first pulled the swords from the wall, before the assassin cut his arm. Except this time around the painful second voice seemed to be absent. “Who are you and what is this place?” He asked. He looked down again. “And why is there fire coming from my arm?” Despite it looking like a gout of flame, he couldn’t feel any heat emanating from it. He watched the young woman climb onto the dining table, stepping on the food that was laid out and leaving behind a mess of food and blood as she made her way to where Kaylirr was. She was rather short and even standing on the table she was only about a foot taller than him. “My name is Elet. I am the spirit that lives in the blade you hold in your hands. This place is the realm inside the weapon, where I live. The other voice you heard when you first pulled us from the wall was that of my brother. My brother is very ill and I need your help to save him.” She jumped down and he watched her legs buckle from under her, a sickening snapping sound signaling the breaking of bones. After a moment of worry on Kaylirr’s face, it seemed like the girls’ bones snapped back into place and she stood up, now much smaller than he was. “Are you alright?” He asked.
She smiled at him, revealing rows of dark black and red teeth. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. We spirits take on weird forms when we try to materialize like this and our energy is low. It doesn’t hurt me at all, it just makes it hard for me to appear like this.” She looked at his missing arm. “I’m truly sorry about that, but my brother couldn’t control his own emotions when you suddenly picked him up. That distraction was all the attacker needed to cut you down. I’m glad you made it through alive and it seems like your friend did as I instructed him.”
Kaylirr followed her eyes and looked at the strange metal cover on his shoulder. “Thank you for that, I suppose.”
“As for the fire, it seems that your innate magical energy is leaking out of it, which is the reason I had that device made in the first place. There’s a second part to it that I will need to explain to your friend so that he can provide you with it as well. If he does so, you’ll be able to wield me without dangerous side effects and I’ll be able to regain some of my power.” She jumped back up on the table and sat down, droplets of blood falling from her toes down to the floor below. “As for the rest, there is a lot I do not know. An evil mage put mine and my brother’s souls into two swords, hoping to make them stronger. He succeeded, but he never bothered to ask our permission, leaving the two of us stuck in this form ever since. I wish to find my brother, who went mad after he was locked into the sword, and find the mage who did this to us so that he can undo the magic and set us free. And for that, I wish to request your help.”
“I don’t know how much help I could be without my arm,” Kaylirr said, sadness seeping into his voice. He would have to retire from being a mercenary, that much was certain.
“Well, the evil mage did succeed in creating an incredibly powerful sword and if you learn to wield it with your other hand, you will become a much stronger fighter than you ever were. Together I’m sure we can find the assassin, save my brother and then figure out where this mage is hiding.”
A thought occurred to Kaylirr. “Do you need the mage at all costs? Or would it suffice to find a different solution to remove you from this weapon?”
Elet thought about it for a while before shaking her head. “I suppose there are certainly options and those would be preferable over not finding a solution at all, but if I want to have any chance of returning to my own body I would certainly need to find the mage first, for he knows where our bodies are. If we can’t find the mage, then perhaps we should find another who can at least put us back into some bodies that we can operate on our own, then we wouldn’t have to rely on your kindness.”
Kaylirr weighed his options. “Very well, I’ll support you for the time being. I would like to get some revenge for my arm and it’s not like I have anything else to do. Where do we go?”
Elet looked surprised by his quick acceptance. “Are you sure? You’re pretty quick to agree there.”
Kaylirr shrugged. “I’m not a big thinker, and I’m angry about my friends dying, it’s not a difficult decision to make.”
“Very well. Then the first step we need to take is to go visit a mage in town named Serandir. He’ll help you on your way. But before you go to him, make sure your dwarven friend speaks to me so that he learns how to create the second part of your arm.”
“I can’t wait,” Kaylirr said, the sarcasm not well hidden. A flash of light blinded him and he was back in the forge, alone, watching the soft spring rain hit the window. He let out a deep sigh and went to prepare some food, waiting for Sairoc to return.

“So you’re telling me that the strange voice I heard was actually a spirit that’s been locked into the weapon by an evil mage?” Sairoc took another puff from his pipe and breathed out deeply and slowly. “I’ve heard weirder stories throughout the years, but not many.”
“Well it’s definitely up there for me too. But I’m pretty confident that we both saw something similar. So I want you to listen to Elet.”
“That’s the lass’s name then?”
“From what she’s told me, yes. She wants you to craft some sort of strange focus for my missing arm. I’ll leave it to you to see if what she says is reasonable.”
Sairoc nodded. “I’ll do what I can for you, friend.”
With that, Kaylirr tossed the weapon to Sairoc who held it in his hands. As soon as he did, his expression went blank. For about a minute or so, Sairoc sat there staring into the distance before suddenly he blinked and started laughing.
“What’s so funny.” Kaylirr asked.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that this is such a weird request that I don’t know what to think of it. It’s also going to require some help, so I’ll have to go talk to a buddy of mine.”
“What are you going to make?”
Sairoc pondered for a second, a tiny wisp of smoke coming from his still smoldering pipe. “You know, I think I’ll just show you once it’s done. It’s more fun for me that way.”
Kaylirr shrugged. “Whatever suits you best, I need more rest anyway.” The wound on his shoulder might have been covered up with metal, but it was still very itchy. He also needed to maintain it properly so it wouldn’t get infected. Years of being a mercenary had taught him many things about healing wounds and it looked like this one would heal quite well. Despite the missing arm of course. Kaylirr picked the weapon back up from the ground where Sairoc had leaned it against the table. He felt Elet’s presence on the edge of his consciousness but he didn’t go to the strange illusory space he was before nor did he hear her voice. It was a strange feeling. A few more days would pass before Sairoc finally finished the project, working in tandem with a local glassblower that he knew from a few years back. Once they’d left town, they would fit it onto his arm, which Sairoc had since attached a small hooking mechanism that could hold onto his new creation. With all their possessions tightly packed, they made their way out of the city and south, towards the small village of Serandir.