A Travelling Mage’s Almanac

Excerpt from Master Khahul’s ‘Neophyte’s Necromancy: Dealing with the Departed.’

“Disclaimer: Any methods presented within to bind, raise or otherwise disturb the dead for nefarious purposes are taken entirely at your own risk. Neither I nor the publishers of this tome are liable for any injury, damage or death incurred as a result of negligent necromantics. All content published for the sake of education and illustration—check your local laws to see if necromancy is legal within your region.”

Shen Stormsea stood before Yenna with an expectant grin—an expression that caused the mage an irrational amount of anger. Though she had never had much cause to interact with anyone approaching nobility, Yenna knew his sort. That charming smile, which under normal circumstances might have flustered her to be on the receiving end of, was a tool that said that Shen was entitled to anything he wanted—the wants and needs of others be damned. There was only one good answer for his request.

“No.”

“Great! Let’s– um. No?” Shen blinked, confusion radiating off of him. Yenna felt her heart skip a beat as some little voice in the back of her head insisted she should be embarrassed for such a curt answer.

“N-No.” With her resolve fading, Yenna decided to get her explanation over with quickly. “I can’t go with you now. I need to keep an eye on the priest, i-in case their wounds get worse. A-And Jiin is… I need to look after her too!”

Shen glanced between the people in the room, his face a picture of incredulity. “I really must find my sister. I can’t be, um, here.”

He’s panicking. Shen has a secret and isn’t sure he can trust himself with it. “Stop it.”

“Excuse me?”

Yenna jumped, realising she had just muttered her thoughts aloud. “N-Nothing! Nothing.”

“An Aulprean mage is a bit…” Shen rallied, delaying to collect his thoughts as much as to find the appropriate word, “Overqualified to play nursemaid. Cast your spells to fix up the young man here, and he can look after the priest. We really must hurry.”

For a moment, Yenna didn’t have a clue what Shen meant. Turning her head, she saw Jiin’s face had twisted into something like a grimace—as though she was unsure whether to be vocally angry or shrink away and cease existing. He was referring to Jiin—why would he mistake Jiin for a male? Did I not say ‘she’? It didn’t make sense to mix up something like that, and Yenna briefly wondered if she herself had made a mistake¹. However, that voice in the back of her head insisted he had done so intentionally, a fact that particularly irked Yenna.

“She needs some attention—it shall be several minutes at least.” Yenna tried her best to channel Mayi’s signature glare, managing to very crossly address Shen’s nose. Before her nerves could fail her, Yenna turned and walked across the room to Jiin. The woman had an unhappy but thankful look—Jiin appreciated the correction, it seems. I might have to ask about it later, to ensure I’ve understood.

“How are you feeling? That is, Jiin and Demvya. Um, one at a time, though.” Yenna gently placed a slightly trembling hand on Jiin’s shoulder—she was disturbingly cold, in a way that reminded her of the still realm.

“I’m… ugh. Feelin’ like I just ran from here to Hooloomoo². Don’t s’pose you’ve got a drink on you?” Jiin gave an exhausted smile, and waved Yenna off as the mage began to look for her water bottle.

“I’ll do what I can to help—Demvya? Are you, erm, well?”

“PRITHEE,” the spirit’s voice sounded distant, and she didn’t bother lifting Jiin’s body to her usual regal pose, “I AM DRAINED. I GAVE MY ALL, AND NEED MY RECOMPENSE.”

At that, Yenna thought for a moment and reached out with her heightened magic sense. It was phenomenal, being able to observe the spirit wrapped around Jiin’s body, though slightly concerning. Demvya’s being was lousy with holes, the magic that formed her very existence thin and tattered. She had quite literally given everything she had to spare, and the spirit hadn’t started with very much—it looked like Demvya had been rather pointedly refusing to take anything but the merest scrap of power from Jiin’s internal store of magic without her express consent.

For her part, Jiin had consented, giving up her own innermost reserves from her wellspring of magic. Most worrying of all was that while Jiin’s wellspring would recover over time, it looked as though it would starve Demvya in the process—irrevocably damaging or even destroying the spirit. She was quite literally dying of a lack of attention, with her food source of freely given tribute having been dry for so long. It didn’t help that the spirit could not break her own moral code—it seemed that Demvya would rather die than attempt to steal energy from another. Yenna didn’t want to test that hypothesis, so she began on a solution.

What Yenna needed was a tribute to give Demvya, something already rich in magical energy—a hearty meal to offset a magical anemia. The mage turned her senses towards the noble and looked him over from head to toe. Shen arched an eyebrow, uncertain.

“See something you like, my la– mage?” The noble mocked looking himself over, evidently more at home trying to schmooze. He finds himself very attractive—he’s not wrong, but he’s not my type. With someone like that, I wouldn’t so much as… ach, now isn’t the time!

“Th-That.” Yenna pointed at a brooch pinned on Shen’s chest. A simple disc of gold inlaid with swirling designs in a glossy, nacrous material, it radiated energy to her senses. “I-If you want to go find your sister, I will, erm, need to borrow it…?”

For a moment, Yenna wondered if she hadn’t pushed her luck too far, as Shen peered down at it and frowned. After a moment’s thought, the man unpinned it and handed it over with a small shrug.

“It’s a ward against the elements—I can always replace it. Keep it, as a gift.” Shen grinned, pearly white teeth flashing with practiced ease.

Weighing the lump of gold in her hand, Yenna looked it over. The magic imbued within was of a kind associated with Miluran master craftsmen—as such, it would have been an irreplaceable treasure for someone on a teacher’s pay. The mage wasn’t terribly familiar with the working of the spell, but the effect it was producing was simple to understand—it kept the wearer warm in cool weather, cool in warm weather, dry in rainy weather and clean of dust and dirt on the road. A traveller’s charm, filled with magic. The perfect tribute.

“Demvya, goddess of the harvest, I render unto thee– erm, you, this tribute given freely.” Yenna wasn’t sure why she had become so formal, but it just felt right. The mage held the hefty brooch out, and Demvya took it in hand. Her movements were deliberate and regal, though Yenna felt an urgency in that simple motion. Yenna watched in open fascination as the enchantment was devoured with all the grace of a starving mutt given a steak dinner, an invisible artlessness that only the mage could bear witness to.

“THIS BOON SHALL SUFFICE.” Demvya gave the tiniest fraction of a nod before tucking the brooch into a pocket. Her bearing shifted from Jiin’s tired slump to the goddess’ usual imperious posture. Shen scoffed at that, and Yenna’s distaste for the man elevated beyond what she had expected. Are all nobles this truly insufferable?

“If we’re quite done with… whatever this is, can we go?” Shen’s good humour was starting to wear thin, along with his sheepish appearance—his noble arrogance was coming out for being forced to wait. It only made Yenna want to find some other excuse to delay him further, though she held back her spite—her search for the other Stormsea nobles could coincide with her own goals.

“Jiin, rest easy and don’t go too far. Have something to eat.” Yenna nodded towards the table, though most of the food had been knocked aside in the fuss with the beast-man. “If the priest stirs, tell them to lie still until Mayi comes back. I-I’ll try and find the captain, okay?”

“Okay.” Jiin gave a small nod, her easygoing smile shining through Demvya’s stiff-backed bearing. Yenna smiled, trying her best to be reassuring, before she turned and left the room.

—

“Now,” Shen clapped his hands together as he walked out of the room, “I believe my sister’s spell would have dropped her into a safe part of the manor—she has likely locked herself in a room along with my brother, until the danger is past.”

Ah, that’s what the contingency spell was. Yenna recalled Seve Stormsea reaching for a glass reliquary—it had contained a spell that teleported one to safety. Expensive, and sometimes dangerous, it certainly beat being blasted by the beast-man’s crimson flame.

“Wait. If she hasn’t come out, then…” Yenna stopped and listened—she could hear the tell-tale sounds of combat from upstairs. “They’re still fighting! We have to go, fast!”

The mage’s hooves moved on their own, carrying her up the stairs before her cowardice could protest. She wasn’t even sure what she was meant to do—Yenna had already proven she was entirely ineffectual against the beast-man that had pursued her, except to slow it down. Most of the work actually stopping him had been a by-product of the still realm itself, and Tirk’s prayer. All the same, the thought of not helping countermanded the terror of rushing towards the danger.

Shen chased after her, protesting. “Let the others deal with it! It’s dangerous to go in!”

“I-I have to find the captain!”

As though fleeing her own thoughts, Yenna took off down a corridor towards the sound of danger. Several doorways were blocked off with the soap-bubble barriers, though a clear path of opened passages highlighted her route. Making a couple quick turns, her hooves thudding against the fine carpet, Yenna emerged into a wide sitting room. At some point it would have been a lovely place to sit, with a gorgeous view of the forest off the side of the cliff—now, it was consumed by chaos.

The window across one side of the room had been shattered entirely, ragged curtains and misfiring protective enchantments strewn amongst the glass shards. Fine tables and expensive ornaments were in ruins amidst several swirling melees—most dramatic among them being Aroearoe and Eone, locked in combat with a pair of beast-like yolm. Narasanha was a whirlwind of her own, battling several animated weapons that fought as though held by master duellists. Denn, the crew member she had spoken to earlier, wrestled with a tall, gangly humanoid to keep him from an injured ally. It was utter chaos, and Yenna knew that this wasn’t the only room consumed by battle.

The mage turned to help Denn first—the others were consummate fighters, but Denn was struggling in a fight for his life. The creature he was fighting resembled a skeleton wrapped in the loosest coating of flesh, and despite its fragile appearance it loomed over Yenna’s yolm crewmate. Consulting her memories, she realised it was a ghoul, a creature reanimated from a corpse with especially dark magics—Denn could never hope to win a contest of stamina against an undead being such as that.

Channeling the Certainty of earth, Yenna flung a glob of mud at the ghoul’s leg. The Certain Fetters spell began to spread up the limb, affixing the creature to the ground—she had wanted to hit both of its legs and trip it, but her current one-handed casting didn’t allow for that level of control. Denn looked up in surprise as the beast teetered, and immediately capitalised. Feinting a push, the yolm ducked the beast and let its momentum carry it forward—the sticky spell didn’t make it trip so much as it caused its leg to snap, the brittle bone jutting through its flesh in a way that made Yenna want to vomit. She thankfully didn’t need to look for much longer—with the ghoul grounded, Denn retrieved his short-blade and finished the deed, severing the beast’s head.

With a thankful nod, Denn turned to help pull his allies out of the room—Yenna turned her sights to helping the others.

“Mage! Help the captain!” Narasanha, executing a flawless parry against three dancing blades at once, barked her orders without hesitation.

“Hah, I don’t need help!” 

Eone looked to be actually enjoying the fight. The captain was locked in some kind of formation alongside her mother, both of them using their blades to keep their assailants at bay. The pair of monsters were clearly yolm, though covered in dark fur and bearing the teeth and claws of wolves. The beast-men fought with a savage, artless ferocity, their arms covered in rapidly-closing cuts where Eone and Aroearoe had used their weapons to keep them away. The fight was at a stalemate—the beast-men couldn’t close for fear of losing a limb to the blades, and the women couldn’t make a killing blow without stepping into range of their wicked teeth. A bite mark on one of Eone’s arms insisted the captain had tried, and failed.

Before Yenna could move to assist either party, one of the dancing blades broke away from combating Narasanha to menace the mage herself. It was a longsword, an arm and a half long, the steel of the blade notched where it had dented itself on the bodyguard’s superb defense. The metal glinted in the dim light of the room’s enchanted lamps, and Yenna’s eyes widened as it began to swing towards her.

¹ - It is somewhat harder to parse Yenna’s confusion when translated to English. Kesh have several phrases and pronouns to describe each other that don’t translate directly to gender, as they do not assign gender at birth. Meanwhile, yolm culture does involve a direct ‘male’ and ‘female’ pronoun—Yenna explains to us, in a fairly lengthy diatribe, that she was initially uncertain as to whether she had mistaken which pronoun he used. The mage also briefly explains a feeling of terror as she wondered if she had been in the wrong this entire time, though she does end her thoughts resolved that she was correct, and with a number of choice insults to the Stormsea noble.

² - Hooloomoo is a fictional town from a popular Miluran and Aulprean drinking song, characterised largely by it being very far away from wherever you are. The relevant part of the song goes something like this:
‘I ran here from Hooloomoo just to get a drink/When I run back again, I’ll need another I think!’