A Flicker of Hope

[McIan]

Alicia Faye, owner of the estate known as Dominion Vault, discovered a sealed letter pinned to the door. It was addressed to Magnus. Knowing him well, as he made his home there, she placed the letter on a table atop her establishment. She did so with full confidence that he would find it there waiting for him.

Magnus found it shortly, and opened it.

“Greetings Magnus,

You do not know me but I am a friend nonetheless. We have a common adversary whom I shall not name. I know he has debased and humiliated you and seeks to keep you under his thrall forever.

I am among those who devised and aided in his restoration from the unnatural, hideous, being he was. Yes, we dark elves gave him a wondrous gift; he became one of us. Yet in his human pride he despised and brought death upon us in our own city. He was forced to rectify some of it in return for his miserable life, but not for me. He will be made to suffer in the vein that only we, drow, can devise and inflict. Vengeance and vendetta is our game, and the game is on with him.

I am offering you the same way out. I know your release from the curse you bear would annoy him greatly.

Do not doubt that we have formulae and rituals unknown to humans, surface elves, or gargoyles. They are ancient, rare, delicately administered, but consistently successful. If you wish to be free of this living death, contact me. Put a message on the public board at the tavern across from this place. State simply, “I am willing.” I will find you and we shall go from there.

For vengeance,

Jexmir”

Magnus read it. The unearthly fire in his eyes grew in intensity. He imagined the life with Virani at his side, as before, when she loved him as a man, whole, strong, handsome, virile, not this skeletal monster he had become.

Drow. Could he believe him?

Was their love worth the risk?

He set the note aflame while watching it crumble to ash.

He then set out for Alderia’s Oasis.

 

[McIan]

The Rite Begins

A gate opened exactly at the place Jexmir had designated, and on time. Magnus stepped through it, prepared for a fight if necessary.

If he had been human, he would have needed a spell or potion enabling him to see in the pitch blackness, but, being undead, he could see clearly his surroundings. He was in an unfamiliar, enormous, cavern. A figure stood before him; the cowling of his robe’s hood pulled back, to reveal the slim dark face of a drow. “Greetings… is it, in your language? I am Jexmir of Targrancimon. I am a friend and ally of Dharzhal T’Ar, the Black Prince of that city. I am sure he would offer his salutations as well were he here.”

At the name of Dharzhal, Magus perked up. He knew him from his brief time at the castle and before… a most unusual drow, capable of great good, and great harm, a brilliant chemist and scholar who worked for the Elder. “Where is Dharzhal?” he asked.

“I left him in his city. He has work to do rebuilding Sorcere and establishing his presence there. He will no doubt return one day to this realm, or another like it.”

Magnus nodded and felt more at ease. “Your offer was general – no real explanation on how you think you can accomplish my “restoration” to flesh and blood. How can you, a mere mage and mortal to some extent, undo what gods have decreed?”

“Gods? What gods?”

Magnus related to him the vision he had and his subsequent transformation into a death knight.

Jexmir chuckled. “No “gods” did this to you.”

Stunned by his suggestion, Magnus countered, “But I saw them, heard them, and when I awoke, I was thus!”

The drow shook his head. “What you underwent was a devilish and complicated rite that we taught him ourselves. When he killed you, he prepared your body and mind for it. He placed those “visions” into your head and he can still do that as you are his thrall. He wanted you to believe you were cursed by the gods, not him, so you would not resist him or thwart his plans for you.”

“It was all a dream then?”

“No, it was no dream. It was real but the images and words were his while you were in stasis undergoing the transformation.”

“What of their promise of redemption – doing some good thing would release me?”

Jexmir hesitated. “I know not the answer to that. It does not seem to make sense, but he may have had reasons, or someone else did.”

“What do you mean?”

“When one is in that transformative state, caught between worlds as you were, there can be communications from the nether world, from beings who traverse time and space… gods, if you will, but in our experience none interfere with the process. As you may know, the goddess of the drow… not mine, mind you… would never offer any glimmer of hope.”

“Then it could have been gods!”

Jexmir sighed. “If you wish to believe that, go ahead, but if I show you I can undo it, would you believe me then that no gods had a hand in this? After all, can a mere mage, as you describe me, thwart the will of the “gods”?

“I would think not,” Magnus replied.

“Then follow me and do all that I say. There will be some pain for you, but then, you are used to that, eh?”

The drow led him to a smaller cavern; a room filled with magical devices: orbs; grimoires lying on stone tables; gold and silver chalices; glass bottles of all shapes and sizes, some filled with hued liquids, some luminous; a cauldron, and torture machines. Magnus noted the machines. “Are those for me?”

Jexmir laughed. “No, but I have put them to good use recently. Take a look at the man inside the iron maiden in that corner,” he said, pointing to it.

Magnus went to it and looked inside the grilled opening where a terror-stricken face looked back at him from inside. “Who is he?” he asked.

“A servant of your master. He has been bitten by a vampire and is a minion of it. I found him in Papua spying and assisting the beast that plagues that town. I plan to give him over to other humans so that your master’s plans for his son will be further unraveled.”

Magnus shook his head. “You all really are malicious devils, aren’t you?” he marveled.

“You have no idea.”

He turned back to face the drow. “I am here. What is it you want me to do.”

The dark elf walked to him and offered the contents of a silver chalice. “First, drink this, it will ease the pain… soon. Do not drop nor spill the contents.”

On touching the silver, Magnus’ skeletal hands began to sizzle and burn. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but he quaffed it in two gulps. Quite expressionless, he handed the empty cup back to him. “Was a silver cup necessary or were you just enjoying my pain?”

Taking it, Jexmir smiled. “Both. But you are brave and tough. That’s good. You will need all you can muster my friend.”