The Wielder of Death Magic

“I doubt it,” she whispered, the torch within her grasp flickered, a strong wind ran through the path and into the great openness behind, a lock of hair fell prey and turned to follow the gust, her arms instinctively reached up to calm the already messy hair.

‘She’s really skinny,’ he observed, ‘-and the garments aren’t much to look at, how cold must she feel,’ faced the front, ‘-people do struggle to live, I forgot how much harder it is to live in a world with no technological advancement whatsoever. Draebala, what sort of secret do you hide?’ Their promenade stopped shy of the desolately beautiful manor,

‘-the reason we gave you the house was to let monster quench their bloodlust. Many guests who took residence were found a week later dead in a puddle of their own blood, severely mutilated. When we asked the physician how they left the mortal realm, he replied with, ‘-they drew breath until the famished beasts saw fit to slay their prey,’ it sent a chill down my spine – ever since then, I try not to wander around the outskirts to much. Well, since it’s a long summer, we don’t have to worry,’ a cheerful smile broke the tension, and off she skipped into the wall of mist.

‘Nice front,’ he ambled to the door, ‘-a reserved smile and a fake cheery attitude; this place is torture on your people, isn’t it,’ the lock clicked to a warmly lit fire, the temperature change was welcomed. Intherna had an apron around her waist and hair tied in a bun, the sweat dropped from whence she skipped left and right to prepare breakfast.

“Someone’s hard at work.”

“Stop standing in the hallway and come help me,” said a rough side-glance. He seamlessly handled the stove, chopped ingredients, and helped.

.....

“Igna,” her erratic motions slowed, “-tell me something,” a sincere gaze filled the inquisitive tone, “-do you feel empathy for the people?”

“Not empathy,” he replied gravely, “-I understand their perspective, not the emotions, rather, I don’t want to understand the emotions. Listen, if I were to take in the pain of everyone who I’ve met and who’s suffered, it would require a century to fix their problems – besides, when the matter is resolved, another would spring. Here’s an example, let’s say a couple has been together for years, a problem springs up, how about, their car broke down and the wife’s been pestering the husband to change the vehicle, he knows he can’t afford it but goes through and after a few months, takes a loan to buy a car. What then, the wife would be happy, right?” he stopped, fixed her in the eyes with the wooden spoon in hand, “-yes?” she answered per the strong gaze.

“Wrong,” he interjected, “-the wife will be happy for the next few weeks, afterward, another problem, the garage gate needs changing, springs up – what does she do again? Pester the man until he breaks. In said little story, the wife represents problems and the husband represents the fellow men and women in the world, a quandary solved and other springs. Similarly, if the food problem is resolved, they’d naturally firm on the other task, which I guess to be garments and basic necessities, fix what’s broken, and the fixed breaks; the never-ending cycle of life.”

“Very elaborate,” she cheered, “-sounds more like excuses for you to not get involved.”

“Can’t blame me for being heartless, can you?” he stirred the pot, “-I care not for them nor do I for the world.”

“I didn’t say I blame you,” she gave a friendly elbow, “-I only suggested the possibility.”

“Nor did I implicate thee,” he smartly replied, “-no matter, let us have breakfast and see what the boy has to say.”

The outside grew silent and cold, summer was upon the continent, or whatever Aulia said. Igna stood outside, bare-chested, with Orenmir in hand, he swung and trained, the physique earnestly added muscle and definition, the boon of a vampiric body leveled the playing ground in terms of abilities.

“Come on in, the boy’s finished eating.”

Towel around his shoulder, “-yeah,” he wiped the sweat, “-I’ll be there in a minute.” Shuffled to a water-filled bucket, ‘-breathe,’ it hoisted up and turned, dowsing him in icy water, ‘-COLD,’ he shrieked.

“Good morning, Igna,” said Fenrir.

“Good morning,” he replied, “-sure slept like a baby.”

“Right on,” she winked, “-the bed felt awesome, I loved the cold breeze,” one side sat the unbothered blue-haired child, the other, a sniffling Yognl.

“Cold,” he said tightly wrapping a scarf, “-thank you for the meal.”

“No problem,” he took a seat, “-we’d better figure what to do from here on,” glared across, “-Yognl Currinda, you remember the deal we made yesterday, don’t you?”

“Yes,” the forehead tipped and faced the steaming brown bowl, “-I sold my soul to the devil.”

“Correct, in other words, I own you,” he smirked, “-listen, boy, I won’t ask much, just what is necessary for us to be on our way.”

“Wait,” he interjected, “-please, discuss the matter in greater details to my father. I’m sure he’ll be of greater help than I could give.” The offer, grim and tedious in nature, had merit, two vague glances at Intherna and Fenrir showed lesser concern, ‘-they don’t care, do they...’

“Understood.”

Soon after, they made way to the town once again, the line of visitors lengthened, the boy made for the separate trader’s line, flashed his ring, received a bow from the guards, and ambled through the tunnel, “-he’s a young lord, alright,” affirmed Fenrir. Dirt path turned stone roads running into and throughout the town. Building’s line after elevated pavement, the architecture, though he said technology to not be advance, was far superior than expected. Rocks and stones proliferated across the roads, the colors matched between stone-grey till wooden brown, beige was most common on the walls. Forgo any sense of symmetry, the closely build buildings held various shapes, cylinders, cubes, and rectangles protruding out their sides. Horse and man-drawn carriages took the roads, “-follow me,” said the boy keeping to the wall. They circled,

“-very old and rustic,” said Intherna.

“Really, the town looks nice from where I’m standing, reminds me of Castle Garsley in a weird way. The old noble district, yes,” hand in hand with Igna, “-doesn’t this bring back memories?”

“Yes it does,” he replied, ‘-feels like we’ve jumped back in time, then again, the Rosespire I know still have the olden buildings interspersed by the newer concrete behemoths. The roads are very pretty,’ he observed, ‘-I miss the stone-brick paths, better looking than the dark-asphalt.’

Soon after in the vague direction towards the northeast of town – the clutter of buildings relaxed into open space. A clock rose above tents and the shouting of merchants, “-we’re at the marketplace,” said the boy, “-over here,” they beelined to a sternly built C-shaped building, the edges were curt and sharp, not rounded. “-Townhall,” he smiled, “-my father’s the mayor and the trader’s union’s leader.”

“Noble?”

“Yes,” he smiled, “-Tariel’s an independent nation consisting of traders.”

Therein, the boy entered inside, the trio followed suit, “-young master,” exclaimed a retainer, “-how good is it to see you,” the sudden announcement brought in maids and butlers from all over, the cacophony grew into a small welcome party, “-good to see you,” he replied.

“We were worried sick,” said the butler, “-the master had the carriages ready to go on a rescue mission. Tell me my lord, were you abducted?”

‘Trouble, if he speaks the truth, the village will suffer. What sort of person are you, Yognl Currinda.’

“No, I got lost in the forest,” he nervously scratched the back of his head, “-I know, I know, you always said to never go beyond the walls... I had to,” he rose his chin and spoke with chest, “-I wanted to see what laid beyond.”

“Young master,” murmured the retainers, “-please, go meet with thy father, I’m sure he’s worried sick.”

“Out the way,” rumbled from his back.

“You could at least apologize,” said Igna.

“Who do you think you are?” glared a richly vested rounded man, “-I walk where I please,” he looked up, “-do you know my name, impudent fool?”

“No,” he firmed his expression, “-should I care to know?” he leaned in menacingly, “-tell me, chubby o’ fool, how does one gain thy figure?”

“Guards, take this fool away,” he ordered, “-I wish not to breathe the same air as him.”

“Guards?” he laughed, “-you fat oaf, do you think a weak militia to stand ground against me and my companions?” the true statement for the militia, guards as was phrased proudly, were weak in body and spirit.

“Uncle June.”

“Young Yognl, how are you, my nephew?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled, “-what about you, dear uncle?”

“Alright, I think,” the expression shook momentarily, “-I see you made it back alive, must have been a traumatic experience.”

‘Back alive, traumatic experience?’ firmed Igna, ‘-he knows something we don’t,’ the joy of the long-waited return lowered their guards. Elation died shortly, everyone returned to their post. They climbed stairs to a private area of the building.

“Sorry about my uncle.”

“Why?”

“He’s been on edge ever since his company went in debt.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me, the outfit and plumpness aren’t sign of a man who’s in debt.”

“Well, he’s in debt to my father, owns our family around 500,000 Rulze.”

‘A motive,’ he thought, ‘-better keep the hypothesis in the back burner, without proof,’ he stopped at a walkway, gazed on towards the village, ‘-maybe,’ he turned to Intherna and Fenrir, the duo soon left the compound in a hurry.

“Are they well?” inquired Yognl.

“Yes, they should be fine,” he smiled, “-by the way, this uncle June of yours, how well does he get along with the mayor?”

“Badly, the battle of inheritance from my late grandfather’s left a bitter taste between our families. What am I saying anyway,” they arrived at an imposing office, guards lined each side, décor wasn’t overly blatant nor underly simplistic, a hard balance to achieve.

“Welcome back, young master.”

“Is father in?”

“Yes, head on in. He gave orders to allow anyone who had information on thy station to enter.”

“Understood,” the heavy hinges cracked, it opened inwards to a large room of similar décor. An imposing man sat at a desk whilst a robed lady stood to his side in the company of a staff, golden ending with a star-shaped crystal.

“Yognl,” he rose abruptly, the deep voice resounded, taking even the lady by surprise, “-where have you been, my son?” no care for appearance, the father rushed to tightly embrace his heir, “-I’ve been worried sick.” Like father like son, the facial features were uncanny, a rounded nose, cleanly kept facial hair, and glasses under which resided a striking judgmental look.

“I apologize for the pain I’ve caused, father.”

“And who might this gentleman be?” he rose and moved for a handshake.

“He’s the one whomst I’ve sold my soul too,” said the boy, rather, the words escaped.

“Pardon?”

“Right,” said Igna, “-the boy speaks true. In order to survive the grueling night and escape death, he sold his soul to me.”

“Yognl, are you insane?”

“No, father, I saw the atrocities of the village, so many people have died by the tax increase. The villagers tried to kill me, they would have and if not for him, I’d have died.”

“I see,” silence permeated, the chair drew and he sat, the elbows to the chair and fingers interlocked. “-How much do you want?”

“Come again?”

“How much do you want for my son’s soul, I’m offering to buy him back.”

“Not going to happen,” said a cold voice, “-I’m not a fool to put a price tag on the boy’s life. However, I wouldn’t mind exchanging him for something of equal value.”

“What would that be?”

“Information,” he smiled, “-I care not for money; knowledge is what interests me. I’m greedy for the knowhow of this world.”

“Information for my boy’s life,” he leaned into his chair, “-pretty cocky for a nobody. Devil or not, money is the ruler of all, and if I wanted, I could frame thee to take the blame for his kidnapping.”

“Wrong,” the door barged open, “-I have proof that says otherwise.”

.....