Tales of magic: grimoire of transmogrification

  Chapter 52

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  Arc 2 – “The hunter and the beast”

  Chapter 36- “From beyond the grave”

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  The being sat on the cold dry ground, completely naked. Countless chains covered him, all bolted to the ground. His sketch of a face had the familiar disgruntled smile etched on it.

  “The time draws near. Another one of your Mages is dead, lord.” A powerful voice echoed from the golden skies.

  “Not quite.” He replied.

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  Spirit realm.

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  The feeling was surreal. It was like no other. His body felt different somehow. His eyes, ears and all of his senses were heightened. He felt a flood of information pouring into his brain as his eyes shifted around taking in the sights and sounds of the spirit realm.

  ‘This time, I don’t have a physical body to go back to.’

  He turned back and a sight of his portal greeted him. From where he stood it appeared to be a hole leading to an intensely shining light, rather than the gloomy darkness he saw when he looked at it from the other side.

  Jordan sighed and turned his face away. Then he stared at the structure in front of him. It was a stone statue of a massive skeleton with a frail look, covered in a robe and wielding a huge scythe. There were skulls just beneath the head of the scythe. Around the statue there were nearly countless graves. Each and every one of them was different, Jordan knew because he could see them all. His abnormal vision allowed him to see them, even if he couldn’t.

  He held his head, feeling a slight headache. He knew it wasn’t real. The headache. It was just his mind trying to make him feel normal and human. He shook his head, dispelling the headache.

  More than a few of the gravestones had strange red markings on them. A red scythe. Every single one of those with a red scythe had cracks on them somewhere.

  All of a sudden, the statue’s eyes glowed crimson.

  Jordan swallowed hard. He retrieved a gun from his pocket and raised it towards the statue right before the statue turned into actual bones, fabric and what appeared to be steel. In an instant, a scythe’s razor sharp edge was pricking his neck while the blade reflected his face.

  If you want Death, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.

  Jordan stared at it a bit. It’s robe was red, and it was tattered near the bottom. The scythe had something engraved on the blade. It was in the Words of Magic.

  Messor qui daemon factus est. Ens, qui Deum suum prodidit. Dies eius numerantur.

  He shook his head. He didn’t have time to decipher it.

  “English? This is pretty convenient... Erm, please put it down. I’m terrified enough without your farm implement stuck at my neck.” Jordan forced a sly smile. Sweat pored from his forehead...or rather, he felt it. He couldn’t tell if it was real, either.

  What do you want?

  The scythe wielding bastard didn’t move an inch, neither did he move his weapon.

  “I want to make a deal. But I can’t do that with a blade at my neck.” Jordan’s voice shook a bit nearing the end.

  You lie.

  “Are you afraid of me? I mean, this show of force seems a bit small, don’t you agree? You could kill me with your very presence. Or paralyse me by simply thinking about it. There’s no reason to have your weapon on my neck.”

  ‘I am Lancaster. I am Lancaster. Come on, Jordan! Be like Lancaster! You have to!’

  Begging for your pitiful life already? Very well then. I give you one minute to make up your mind and tell me exactly what you came here for before I tear you apart.

  Jordan swallowed again.

  ‘I’m not Lancaster. I’m quill. I’ll win this, Quill- style.’

  “Yes...Sir.” He smiled again. This time it was a genuine one. “I’m sorry for disrespecting you as I did. No tricks. No ploys. I really am. I’m sorry for trespassing on your territory. As I said before, I came here to make a deal with you. I propose a fair competition. The loser is forever bound by the winner. As a bonus, if I lose you get access to my Title as a Mage and consequently the power of an Incarnation. Sounds interesting, right?”

  Why would I want the power of an Incarnation?

  “The grim reapers are....No, I mean you would walk freely in the material world. You see, spirits such as yourself have limited power over the lower plane. However, with the portal I’ve made using the Demon’s authority and my Title as mage, I can transport a spirit from the spirit realm to the physical realm, allowing you to retain all your abilities. You’ll keep my Sanctuary too and you won’t lose your Home here at the graveyard either. I mean, this deal is perfect, right, Soul eater?”

  I don’t trust your words. You haven’t sworn the oath of truth like the real Mages.

  “You’re right. None of us new-generation Mages have. But you can trust me. Our contract would have that clause in it if you want. That I won’t cheat or lie to you.”

  The soul eater withdrew his scythe. Jordan fell over, coughing a bit. There was a red line across his neck, but it was a shallow cut and nothing more.

  I will consider your offer if you give me an offering.

  ‘A what?’

  “Erm... Lord Soul eater I’m afraid I don’t understand what this is for?”

  The crimson in skeleton’s eyes suddenly shone brighter.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  You barged into my territory without invitation and proceeded to treat me with disregard.

  ‘Fuck you.’

  Jordan forced a smile again. A shy, smile this time. It was fake, of course.

  “What do you want, Sir?”

  Soul. A fresh complete human soul.

  ‘Human sacrifice?’

  Jordan sighed, again.

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  Meanwhile...

  4th of May, 1886.

  Weidson.

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  6:16

  Veronica stared at the portal. Then she scoffed.

  Why don’t you go visit your family? They must be worried sick about you.

  “Shut up.”

  You’re being lazy.

  “I’m being human.”

  You’re not.

  “Because of you.”

  She got up from the couch and headed to the passageway leading to the bathroom. On her way there, she passed a bunch of doors connecting to the other rooms in Oliver’s mansion. She stopped abruptly when she heard the noise of a door unlocking. Dragging her legs quietly, she hid behind an extravagant statue.

  A boy walked out of that door. He had short silver hair, and black eyes. His body was thin and he was quite short, though he was obviously close to Jordan’s age. His hands were covered in bruises and he looked like he hadn’t eaten for days.

  ‘I thought Lancaster was taking care of him...’

  You really shouldn’t expect him to show an iota of concern and compassion, should you? What did you even like about him?

  Veronica mentally ignored that question, opting to focus on Oliver. Oliver took slow, measured steps away from the door and towards the living room. She nodded her head and waited until he was out if sight before following him quietly.

  What do you think you’re doing? You know you could just catch him, render him unconscious and then tie him up again?

  “I’m not heartless. I’m..”

  You want to let him escape.

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  13:00

  On the road to Weidson.

  The trumpet sounds were grand. So were the procession of knights on horseback escorting the queen. The carriage where she sat was at the centre of that procession. It was a golden carriage as extravagant as could be. The emblem of Pridon was etched on it; that of a golden lion, a blue dragon and a red saber(the same one from the Sharpside family crest). The queen herself was hidden within the carriage.

  Sophia vi pridonica was as regal as always. Her royal blue gown was adorned with countless jewels and embroidery. Her sapphire eyes glistened with what almost appeared to be joy, though the rest of her face told nothing of her emotions.

  There was only one other person in the carriage with the Queen. It was a lady, with long brown hair tied to a ponytail, dressed in a modest maid’s outfit.

  “My Lady, may I...”

  Sophia silenced her with a stare. Then she snapped her fingers twice. The girl got up and bowed to the queen twice, before grabbing a bottle of wine from underneath their seats and a glass from a bag by her side. She proceeded to pour the glass of red wine with practiced flair. Finally, she presented it to the queen who took it from her without a glance.

  The queen took a sip from her wineglass before giving her maid a smile.

  “Your Majesty.... Would you permit me to ask a question?”

  “You already are.” Sophia was staring out the window. Many trees in the distance around the area of the Screaming Woods were burnt. Others were simply broken down to pieces. Her reflection on the window was smiling. The maid shuddered.

  “I... Why did you choose me to accompany you and not the seer?”

  Sophia frowned.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I’m sorry, your Majesty.”

  The queen finished the glass and handed it to her. The maid poured another one and the queen took it from her hands.

  “The seer would complicate things; You see, Dorothy, he would end my life if he had the chance. Don’t tell a soul.”

  “I won’t, ma’am.”

  “Also, you know how to serve me properly. Like my old butler did. Fetch me the letter again, dear. I think I have enough alcohol in my system to handle the contents.”

  Dorothy nodded twice before withdrawing an envelope from underneath the chair and handing it to Sophia. The queen accepted it and opened it up.

  To the current queen of Pridon.

  Pridon Castle,

  Pridon central city,

  Pridon.

  3rd May, 1886.

  My dear Sophia,

  By the time you receive this letter, I should be long dead. I was killed, by you. I must say, your skills are great. So is your cunning and intellect. It was a pleasure fighting you, in the so-called war of the Mages.

  I’m even more pleased to inform you that, though I am no longer alive, our battle is far from over. So rejoice and celebrate, because you and I still have an interesting game to play. The country is yours, isn’t it? It’ll be our field. You have your pawns and so do I. The battle was interrupted by Beast. But now she is dead and new Mages have been initiated, it’s time for it to resume.

  Prepare your heart, o illustrious Crown, and go to Weidson. My servant would meet you there, and then we shall begin. You’re not one to say no to such a polite invitation, are you?

  I guess I should leave you with a token of knowledge as a reward for staying alive this long, and as a present of goodwill. Do you still remember my name? Look at the dates of my books carefully.

  Yours faithfully,

  The Philosopher.

  Sophia crumpled up the letter and tossed it to Dorothy.

  “Burn it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

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  3rd May, 1886. 16:17

  Jordan took a few hurried breaths. Crimson blood soaked his hands. His heart rate was so accelerated he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. He stared at the mirror with a frown.

  ‘I’m sure I flipped the sign from open to closed, why the fuck are those people in knocking?’

  He plunged his hands in the bowl of water and started to wash the blood away. It took him a few moments to clean it all, but even after it was gone he didn’t feel good.

  “I didn’t do anything...I didn’t do anything...”

  “What didn’t you do?”

  Jordan suddenly screamed in fright, jumping to the corner and turning around. There Lancaster stood with a grin on his face.

  “Bloody hell.”

  “You killed someone?”

  “I...I didn’t. It just happened alright. I’m losing my head over it. Who the fuck just died?”

  “Soul eater’s magic?”

  “No. I... Look I just went to sleep, woke up and I was covered in blood, alright. I didn’t take the deal. I didn’t. I’m not a monster.”

  Lancaster grinned wider.

  “The plot thickens, right Jordan?”

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  Currently, 4th of May, 14:14.

  The new portal was ready. The swirling mass of blue darkness stirred him to stay away. He shook his head a few times. He was still shaken by what happened yesterday.

  Yet he managed to put on a brave front. His enemy won’t see him like this. He could still remember Lancaster’s words from the evening before.

  Look, I am behind schedule. I managed to get the intel on Willy- but the Fae didn’t know all that much. I’ll summon them soon so you get to meet them- I gather you haven’t yet. I also got my hands on an unbelievable defensive spell. All I need you to do is get this thing for me, alright? Maybe sacrificing human beings is a bit too violent for you. Why don’t we dial it back a bit and make a semi-homunculus? Yes. Yes. It’s magic far too advanced for rookies like you and me. But we’ll do it anyway. I gave up some... sensitive information to get my hands on the chant. You should figure out the spell formation on your own- use your Quill bullshit. The spell I got makes the homunculus body, but you’ll need a soul in that body- to sell the fact that it’s really a normal living human. So, you’ll get your hands on one if the Lich’s generals- so much Power that their memories from when they were alive come and go sporadically. As for the Soul transfer spell...figure it out yourself, I’ve done enough as it is. And I’ve got a lot more to do.

  Jordan took a deep breath again, and stepped through the portal. A vast hell scape populated by endless skeletons and spirits Jordan had never seen before greeted him there. He grit his teeth and stared at his palms, recalling the blood.

  “I’m going to kill Hunter. Very soon. I’m not going to shake, then, am I?”

  The crowd of endless horrific nightmares turned to him and went crazy. They swarmed him from all directions. The bloodlust was practically oozing out of them as they pounced on him.

  For a while he didn’t fight back. He just took it. The smacking. Kicking. Everything. In seconds, he was beaten bloody, life flickering from his eyes.

  “I’m not a weakling.”

  Jordan managed to smile, right before vanishing from that spot, leaving his bloody clothes behind. One moment, he was getting thrashed by the endless crowd of undead, and the next he was standing by a dead tree, staring at a ghost of a little girl around Lisa’s age.

  ‘Shit, the rejuvenating spirits don’t even want to come anywhere here. I’m on my own on this one.’

  He put his fists in front of his face and assumed a fighting stance.

  ‘No way I’m giving up after coming this far.’

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  Still.... Sometime, Somewhere in Pridon.

  A woman stood on the pointed top of a roof. The wind carried her black hair around, and the scene before her is dull. Beneath her, looking like ants, are her fellow countrymen, albeit not from the same time as her.

  She smiled.

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