17. Ignatius #2
Erys ticked them off on his fingers. “If it’s not a natural creature, that leaves several magical avenues to consider. First, it might be some manner of voidspawn that has broken past the Shroud to invade our world, either on its own or with the help of a summoner.”
The mention of voidspawn caused Iggie’s fingers to tremble, sloshing some of his tea onto his lap.
Many people, especially in Khordan, feared necromancers and other wielders of duskflame, but voidspawn were the stuff of nightmares.
Such creatures had never been meant to exist in ordered reality.
Spreaders of chaos and ruin, it was said the mere sight of one could drive even the bravest mortal mad.
Alistair’s grip tightened around his own teacup. “Some of the older Knights have encountered such things. They speak of it only in hushed whispers with haunted eyes. Do you really think that may be what we are dealing with here?”
Erys hesitated, his usual cheer dimming. After a beat, he shook his head. “Though possible, I doubt it. The barriers between realms are not so easily breached. Had such a horror invaded our world, I suspect there would be more obvious signs.”
Relief flooded Iggie. He fidgeted with his teacup, his finger tracing its rim while he thought back to what Erys had said during the council meeting, as well as his and Alistair’s earlier suspicions. “That leaves something created by magic, right?”
He flushed as the mage beamed at him. “Just so! While I raised the other options for the sake of covering all our bases, this is the possibility I personally find most likely.”
Alistair leaned forward, discarding his mostly untouched tea on the table beside him. “If you’re right, what can we expect? How can we defeat such a creature?”
“That would depend on its manner of creation.” Erys took another long sip of tea, and Iggie glanced at the mage’s cup, his eyes widening when he saw steaming liquid materialize out of thin air to replace what Erys had already drunk.
He checked his own cup and found it similarly refilled. More runeflame sorcery, no doubt.
Lowering his cup, Erys said, “Some conjured entities exist to carry out a singular purpose for which they were summoned, such as a nature guardian assigned to protect a specific location. Others are subject to the will of their masters.”
Erys’ eyes flicked to Iggie, who winced, thinking of his own undead. He supposed they would fall into that second category, created via duskflame and forced to obey his commands.
“In either case,” the mage continued, “the easiest way to resolve the situation would be to find the person or persons who summoned it. If they imbued their creation with a distinct purpose, they could tell you what it was so that you can either help the creature fulfill that purpose or render it void. And if it is an obedient servant, then you can convince its master to dismiss their creation one way…or another.”
Iggie shivered as Erys took another calm sip of tea. He’d killed once before out of necessity. The thought of anyone’s death being deemed necessary for the greater good unsettled him. After all, someone had decided executing his family was for the greater good as well.
Alistair’s jaw tightened. “And if that fails? If we can’t determine who summoned it or convince them to cooperate?”
Erys paused, his teacup half-raised to his mouth.
Slowly, he lowered it, looking at each of them in turn.
Iggie tried not to balk beneath his timeless gaze, devoid now of any hint of joviality.
“If dismissing the creature proves impossible, then your only choice is to destroy it. No magical construct, no matter how strong, is invincible. As your past efforts show, however, that doesn’t mean it’ll be an easy task. ”
Alistair gave a grim nod. Iggie could practically feel the determination radiating off him. “Assuming you’re correct and we do indeed face a conjured beast, do you have any idea who around here could have pulled off such a spell?”
Though the paladin kept his voice controlled and his face carefully neutral, Iggie didn’t miss the slight tension in his shoulders, nor the way his hand strayed to his sword’s hilt. Iggie found himself leaning in, keen to gauge Erys’ reaction.
The mage glanced between them. Then, to Iggie’s astonishment, he burst into belly-deep laughter. “I was wondering whether you’d suspect me. I suppose I have my answer.”
Alistair gripped his sword. “You admit your involvement, then?”
“Not at all,” Erys said, still chuckling as he raised his cup for another sip. “While I’m flattered that you believe me capable of such magic, I meant what I told the council. I lack the power to counter a creature like this, let alone create one.”
Alistair frowned. His fingers, Iggie noticed, didn’t stray from his blade. “Forgive me, Master Erys, but you are a member of the Arcanum, not to mention the only known mage within a week’s travel of Singer’s Rest. If you are not responsible, then who is?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps your friend Iggie isn’t our only uninvited guest this Dawncoming.
But I can assure you that training at the Arcanum is no guarantee of strength.
While I know of several spells among my tomes that might be used to conjure an entity like what you’ve described, even in my prime I couldn’t have managed such a feat.
It would take someone of either prodigious skill or incredible raw talent to… ”
Erys trailed off, a fresh wrinkle appearing in his brow.
Apprehension prickled Iggie’s skin. “What is it?”
“There is one other runeflame wielder who might be strong enough to pull something like this off.” The mage’s gaze grew distant, his face pensive. “Matrim Jarik, my former apprentice.”
“Former?” Alistair asked, echoing Iggie’s own surprise. “What happened?”