The misadventures of the necromancer

Chapter XXXIX

His body was covered in burns that he could feel receding as he sipped a potion. In front of him, his disciples were arguing among themselves.

“This wasn’t what I expected.” Seron didn’t know who had just said it, but he agreed completely. When he had decided to come with his students, he definitely hadn’t foreseen this.

He hadn’t even intended to act. After all, when Parthus appeared, saying he had heard rumors of a necromancer in the city and that they should pursue him, Seron didn’t believe it. What kind of necromancer would be stupid enough to raise the dead in the middle of a city like Central Crossing? But it seemed like a good opportunity to teach his disciples to think more about the rumors they heard.

So he came with them in pursuit of the necromancer. What he expected to be a small group of merchants who had likely made enemies in the city before leaving. Turned out to be a quite capable young mage.

“But this confirms that I was right. Right?” Parthus half-asked the others.

“What are you talking about? That guy was clearly a pyromancer, not a necromancer,” Marcus, the youngest of Seron’s disciples present, replied. He had, in a way, escalated the conflict by insisting they wanted to know about necromancy despite being the most vocal one in disagreeing with Parthus’s idea that the group in front of them were necromancers during their journey. Marcus had still been the one to bring up necromancy.

“But his reaction when he heard about necromancy was to immediately attack. That means he had something to hide,” Parthus explained, assuming an arrogant posture, nose held high, and a sly smile as he looked at his fellow disciple.

“Maybe he just didn’t like being chased,” Marcus tried to argue against Parthus.

“Even with the defenses Master Seron taught us. If that spell had hit us, we would have been injured. That scoundrel wanted to silence us. And the only reason for that is if he’s a necromancer,” Pilon, one of Parthus’s best friends, interjected.

What he said seemed to make some sense, something reflected on the others’ faces and in Marcus’s lack of response. Even Seron had to admit he had a point. After all, that was why he had intervened.

When he saw his opponent casting a spell, he immediately assumed it would be some fireball. That left him with no choice, as allowing someone to cast spells from that distance would have been more than imprudent.

So he had faced the attacker, serving as a distraction. By approaching, he would put pressure on his opponent.

“Exactly. You saw the power of those fireballs. Do you really think a necromancer would learn a spell like that?” Marcus retorted to Pilon.

And Seron recalled his surprise when he saw the young man cast a spell like ‘Draco's Flames,’ which supported Marcus’s point. He knew of only one other mage capable of casting that spell, and he was certainly not a necromancer.

As Seron finished the potion bottle, one of the boys said, “Someone’s coming. Looks like it’s Nissa with the others.”

This made Seron look down the path, allowing him to see his remaining disciples approaching in the distance. To speed things up, he stood up and went to them, bringing this group along.

On the way, he couldn’t help but consider the strangeness of this fight. The youth of his opponent, his display of power, right up to his final decision to immolate them both.

“Master, what happened?” He heard Nissa’s voice shout when she could see him clearly. Making her begin to run toward him, followed by the others.

“The necromancer was tougher than we thought. But nothing Seron the Rock couldn’t handle,” Seron looked at the happy face of Parthus beside him, who spoke with pride.

Nissa, on the other hand, observed Seron for a few moments, apparently trying to assess his injuries. But fortunately, the potion’s effect was noticeable, eliminating most of the burns.

“Necromancer? What necromancer are you talking about?” Nissa finally asked, turning to Parthus. This immediately alerted Seron, as Nissa had been with him when the boys started referring to a necromancer.

“What are you talking about, Nissa? I already told everyone how I heard about the rumors of undead in the city,” Parthus said with some hesitation, already knowing her well.

“Yes, a magnificent job of investigation!” Her acidic comment left Parthus silent.

“Explain yourself, Nissa,” Seron decided to hurry her explanation, as despite appreciating the girl’s talent, she tended to take her time making a point when she felt she could use it to torment the other disciples a little.

“Yes, Master. As you know, I stayed behind to gather the remaining disciples that were scattered around the city.” She said, gesturing to the group that had come with her, to which he responded with a nod.

“Well, as such, I had the opportunity to ask some questions about the event Parthus mentioned.” Good girl—she had taken the opportunity to learn more, showing she was a better student than the rest.

“So I found out there was a disagreement at the west gate. Apparently, some newcomers called a group of potion sellers swindlers. In the ensuing commotion, one of the newcomers revealed himself to be a mage.” Nissa stood straight and firm as she presented her report until she was interrupted.

“A necromancer, right?” asked a voice behind her that Seron didn’t immediately recognize but sounded like Pilon.

Nissa allowed only a smile to appear on her face before continuing. “He used a fire spell to impose himself on the merchants.” Here she paused for a second, turning to Parthus. “The necromancy story seems to come from someone thinking their mule looked strange. Someone mentioned it looked cold and expressionless like it wasn't alive.”

“A mule, a mule! But who would turn a mule into an undead?” someone in the group asked. And it was a very good question. In a battle, he could understand the choice, but in the middle of a city?

“Hey, were they talking about the mule that was with them, the whole way here?” Marcus asked, looking around the group.

He hoped all his students understood the significance of the question. It was impossible, for the mule to be an undead, as the spell that would keep it animated couldn’t last that long.

Nissa smiled as she saw the others beginning to understand what she had conveyed.

“It all makes sense. He really must have been a pyromancer. And a powerful one,” Marcus declared to the group, feeling vindicated.

“Powerful? Why?” Nissa asked, not having witnessed the battle.

“The guy had this super spell. Some kind of big fireball. Look at everything burned over there; he did that while fighting the master,” Marcus responded, pointing to the large scorched area where they had fought.

“Draco's Flames. The spell is called Draco's Flames,” Seron declared, tired of hearing them just say fireball. Lots of different fire spells were fireballs.

Nissa, the smart girl, swallowed hard before speaking. “Draco's Flames. Isn’t that the grand spell of Firestorm?”

“Exactly. That’s Agrav Firestorm’s spell,” Seron replied.

“Master, maybe we should go look for the mage,” Parthus suggested, repeating what his disciples had asked him right after the sea of flames created by his opponent, which had ended the fight.

“If he’s dead, it doesn’t matter much now. If he’s alive, what do you think his reaction will be when he sees you approaching?” Judging by their faces, they must have understood that he would hardly let them live after this. Even Seron wasn’t sure he could escape unscathed if the young opponent decided to repeat the feat that had ended the fight. That’s if the young man himself had survived.

“But if he’s Firestorm’s disciple,” Parthus began, leaving the question hanging.

A good question but one that Seron doubted could be true. The young man had managed to cast ‘Ortan’s Shield.’ But the thing was, Seron was certain Agrav never learned that spell. The man had always been more interested in offensive powers. Besides, he couldn’t believe that if Agrav had an apprentice as capable as the young man had proven to be, he would keep quiet about such a feat.

And Seron had never heard of another mage who had mastered ‘Draco's Flames.’ And one so young—even Agrav had taken nearly ten years to master the spell.

Moreover, the combat style was completely different. Agrav would surely have suppressed Seron with small fireballs right from the start. The young man hadn’t done that. In fact, his strategy had been terrible.

Why had the young man kept using only ‘Draco's Flames’? It made no sense at all. For one to learn such a spell they would first have to master many other fire spells, far more useful in this fight.

The young man had clearly learned powerful spells but didn’t know how to use them well. His lack of experience was evident in the pause he had taken in the middle of the fight, allowing Soran to gain the advantage. Only for the boy to end up going mad and doing what he did.

“Firestorm won’t let this go,” one of the boys declared, snapping Seron out of his thoughts.

“Great, look what you’ve gotten us into, Parthus,” Marcus said, annoyed.

“I just got a little carried away. Everyone was talking about necromancers. What was I supposed to do? The lunatic is the one who turned it into a fight,” Parthus tried to explain, looking around at his fellow disciples.

“He’s somewhat right. We just got carried away by all the stories of necromancers in Dantar. We started thinking, why couldn’t the same happen in Central Crossing?” Pilon said, defending them.

“Dantar!” Nissa exclaimed. This made Seron look at the girl, who seemed to be pondering something.

Seeing that she said nothing, he decided to press her. “What is it, girl?”

“Well…” Nissa began, hesitating a bit, which was quite unusual for her. “I heard something else.”

“What?” he asked, facing the girl’s hesitation.

“Have you heard of the Central Emporium?” Nissa asked, to which he nodded. In this city, it was the most famous store, the most expensive one but also the one with the best products.

“Well, the Emporium has just bought giant spider eggs,” Nissa finally said.

“Giant spider eggs? Isn’t that a bit expensive for this city?” someone asked.

“Idiot. Giant spider eggs come from Dantar, the place with the necromancers,” Parthus explained the source of Nissa’s hesitation.

And Seron had to admit that this seemed like a very strange coincidence. As, strange as a young mage using magic that even some of his best students hadn’t mastered well. Or a spell used only by the most powerful of known pyromancers. But not as strange as a highly talented young mage who apparently preferred death to capture.

“Let’s go,” he ordered after deciding not to let the children keep running this show. Until now this was only a nice learning experience for his students. But this was becoming too strange and complex for them. He was starting to have too many questions, that had too difficult answers.

“Where to?” Nissa asked him, respectfully. while the rest had gone silent.

“Back to Central Crossing. Let’s try to figure out what’s going on.” More and more, it seemed to him that it was better to try to understand what was happening.

The best way would be to find the young mage. But he had friends, and if they somewhat approached his skill. That would be a very difficult battle and one that if his disciples tried to intervene would end with many dead.

So, he decided to find out what exactly happened in town and try to determine if this mage had anything to do with those eggs.

While Seron starts to move out. Two young men with the help of a mule drag a burned body out of the river.