[TLQ-B1] 55. Isolation (Patreon)

LV

Isolation

The ambush had happened but a few hours removed from Camp Tauron. My squire guided me through the trees and over fallen trunks with the deftness of an animal native to the area.

My gaze narrowed between the slits of my helmet. Strange. Why did they choose to ambush me and not the camp? A force of their size should’ve been capable of annihilating everyone there without issue, even if I took control of the soldiers. Did they not know we were there?

Impossible. I’d cut off my little toe if Moonwalker wasn’t scrying every inch of the Duchy.

Then why?

That question lingered in my head as I came up on the camp. The frostguards were all waiting outside and had formed a line together with my undead, who I ordered to salute to complete the picture for the frostguards.

‘Ma’am!’ Gregory yelled by virtue of who he was. Beside him, Rider and Ian stood at attention as well. The latter didn’t salute because of his injury.

I returned their gesture. ‘Men. Some time has passed since our last meeting, but I’m afraid there’s no time for us to catch up.’

‘You found something down there, Ma’am?’ Rider asked.

‘An important site. I’ll be heading there right away.’

’Should we wait here?’

I glanced behind them. At the far back, faces peered out the cabins in the cordoned off section of the sickbay.

Fog exited between the gaps in my helmet. How must I look to them, in all-black, looming on my squire’s steed? Every rumour they’d ever heard about me must be flicking through their frail skulls. Of the Witch of Death. The Necromancer of the North.

Good, I thought. Let the fear sink its hooks deep into their flesh. They would spread the word about me, adding to my notoriety.

I turned back to the guards. ‘No. There’s a small army on the way. You’ll merge and both make the journey towards Frostmouth.’

I could’ve used the Darkblade in my own forces, but I had too little undead stationed at the castle for my liking. An ambushing force like the previous one would be a hard battle for the current garrison to overcome.

…which was one more reason for why the whole exchange was strange.

I sealed my doubt in a vault until a time where I had an answer for them and turned back to the guards. ‘Ready yourselves. I want you out of here by noon.’

The frostguards had been prepared to leave from the moment I arrived in Camp, so the wagons were already loaded. All that was left was loading the sick inside.

I didn’t stick around to watch. After the guards joined up with my dead, they had around fifty undead, a berserker and a darkclaw. All together, they were almost a hundred strong. The only safer method of transportation would be if I joined them myself.

Soon, the squire’s steps brought me to the log cabin in the woods Tina had used as an escape route. The inside of the cabin was bare (I’d already had my undead ransack the entire place) but before going down into the tunnels, my eyes strafed to the fireplace. Specifically, the empty space above it, where the painting of the woman had hung.

Even now, a touch of death and frost stuck to the wall like poorly removed wallpaper. The effect had been inscribed into the painting. It wasn’t anything that would stand out beyond giving the woman a more ethereal appearance, so it wasn’t that special. No. What surprised me was the two energies the enchantment was made of.

They were one, just like my own necrofrost.

She’d known. Whoever the woman was (and I had my guess), she’d been aware of the dual-nature of death. Not only that, but she had servants capable of utilising the energies, too, for I doubted a woman like her had painted the image herself.

I rubbed a gloved-hand over the wall. When had the last time been? That I met an undead I must consider superior. There was no doubt in my mind that I was older than my ancestor, that I understood things about death she could never dream of. Yet in this area of frost and death being sibling schools of magic, she was my senior.

A smirk. ‘I look forward to what you have left behind for me, ancestor.’

Another incline of the head to show my respect, then I leapt down the ladder into the tunnels.

The journey was uneventful, though a million times harsher on my muscles and back than it’d been when I’d gone through here as Wraith.

‘Not so much of a benefit when you have to crawl,’ I complained.

The rush of battle was great, but the benefit paled compared to negatives like this.

Even with knowing where I was headed and my undead guiding me, reaching the Tomb was the process of a few hours. There were even some leftover demons hiding in the nooks and crannies of the tunnels that tried to take a stab at me, but they were disposed of without issue.

Then I was finally there.

The double doors were as heavy and cold as the first time I laid eyes on them and lorded over me despite my stature.

I breathed in, calmed my thundering heart, and placed my hand on the entrance. The same words as before appeared, though now the result was different.

[Ceremony of Ruin] discovered!

…

Requirements for Ruin: Must meet Bloodline criteria.

Requirements met!

Nothing happened. For a few heartbeats. Then the earth displaced. Sucking in a giant’s breath, the door fell inwards. Displaced earth tumbled inside, too. Moving that much weight added seconds to the gate’s opening time.

A silver staircase, though it likely wasn’t made from that, descended deep underground. One-by-one, frozen orbs laid into the walls lit up.

‘Black walls,’ I murmured. They were the same colour as necronite. My eyes widened in surprise but relaxed within instants. Forging necronite required multiple minerals and machinery not available on this planet. It was a good fake, nothing more.

I took final stock of what I had with me—Ellen, the squire, and a few dozen un-named undead—then stepped inside. The click of my steps cascaded all the way down the staircase, which greedily swallowed the first signs of life it’d seen since its inception.

Behind me, the great entrance started closing. I glanced back. I wouldn’t lie: my heart skipped and my insides clenched. Wouldn’t it be terribly convenient for a ruin like this to be stationed in enemy territory? Was it a coincidence that I needed to show up here in person, underground, where my frost powers would be weakest? That’s why I seriously considered dashing up and out of the ruin.

But the chance was low. Death and frost permeated this place like frost did the Duchy. This was my ancestor’s ruin through and through.

So I merely watched as the entrance fell shut.

I regretted my decision immediately.

Like a pair of hands slapping around my ears, the many signals, their hum an ever-present undertone in my life, vanished. Now, my heart didn’t skip but froze. The absolute quiet was the silence a lifelong city denizen would experience when visiting a remote village. It was so quiet the nothingness echoed off the walls around me.

‘I can’t feel a thing.’

Every undead, every eye I had roaming through the earth, had gone up in smoke.

I flung out an arm and pulled Ellen’s shard into my hands. The deacon spawned as she always did, and her hum destroyed the silence.

My lips pulled into a line. ‘So only my connections to the undead outside are cut-off.’

I should’ve known this was a possibility. Cutting the connection of an undead with that of others was possible. But it required specific materials and spells that I hadn’t thought available here.

‘They got me good.’

Without a connection, I couldn’t take command over my dead. Moonwalker and the demons must’ve known.

A glance at the entrance was enough to convince me forcing my way out wasn’t possible. Enchantments not visible before had lit up, and the mana pouring through was significant. Waiting out the enchantments was possible, but the time that’d take was better off spent completing this Tomb.

‘The quicker I get through, the better.’

I just had to hope nothing happened while I was gone. That, what was waiting for me down here, was worth whatever I could possibly stand to lose on the surface.

It’ll be fine. My army was on its way to the castle, and Levi was in Winterforge. The village was suspect, but Levi could shield himself if needed and Durak was there to help him…

Yes. Everything would be fine. So I told myself as I bounded down down the staircase.

Levi rubbed his feet and turned on his side. The North was so frigid these days that it was cold even underneath your blanket. He shivered and clutched his arm like it was his most precious possession. The heat was still there.

Lips curved, the cold not enough to dampen his mirth. Here he was, a low-level priest in one of the most important villages of their Duchy, aiding the sick and injured. Where better a place for a priest to be?

‘Thank you, Goddess.’ His smiled pulled wider.

He never voiced the thought, but, sometimes, when it was quiet and he was by himself, Levi let himself dream. About how She had chosen him over every other faithful in the Duchy (She’d never shown herself to anyone, or so they were told).

He was like the hero from a fairy tale called to save the princess.

What am I, a child? Making the world about himself wasn’t like him. Only selfish basta—a yawn stifled the thought that followed. He huffed. I really need to sleep. Tomorrow would be full of helping more people, so he needed his rest. But the deep sleep so common at night had eluded him yet, and he hadn’t managed to dip his feet into anything but the shallow waters of the shadow realm.

He begun to fear it would be a sleepless early morning when his eyelids drooped like an anchor pulled them down.

Ah, here it comes. He let their weight sink into his mind, which slowed to the crawl of a snail. In mere moments, he’d be lost to the world—

An explosion shooting through his room propelled every anchor like a geyser. Levi shot up in his bed. ‘What the hell?!’

Before he could orient himself, a voice yelled: ‘Sir. Levi! Please. It’s me, Varrick. It’s urgent!’

Levi, no stranger to the interrupted late night schedule of the village healer, rose out of bed with more nimbleness than could be expected of him. He opened the door in the middle of another knock. The outside cold, a deeper cold than that in his room, gushed in, glad for the opening.

Levi rubbed his eyes. ‘Sir. Varrick. What’s happened? Don’t tell me another attack…’

A glance at Durak, who stood as a silent sentinel outside his chamber, told him that, no, the demons weren’t back.

‘The village is fine,’ Varrick said quickly. ‘It’s your sister’s men.’

Levi frowned. ‘The frostguards?’ Jaeger and his team?

‘Yes,’ Varrick rushed to get his words out. ‘We were out patrolling but got ambushed by a pack of demons. They must’ve been leftovers from the assault.’

Now the blood began speeding through Levi’s veins. ‘How bad are the injuries?’

Varrick looked away. ‘I’m not sure if we’ll be in time…’

‘Then let us hurry.’

Levi threw his coat around him, placed a few tools he thought might need in his bag, then headed out the door.

‘Lead the way,’ he said.

The two hurried into the night.