Chapter 18: Recovering

Nathaniel: 

When Givontair came back with the animals, I simply couldn't hold myself. I went to him, and held him in my arms. Erik joined the group hug soon after. 

"Your mother is not in Iuegova," Givontair says. He sounds tired. I wonder, just what did he do, while he was away. "But I got Tara plenty of animals. Two goats, twenty chickens, even a piglet." 

I smile at that. Then, I see it. A sapphire hanging from a chain that is around his neck. 

"Please tell me you didn't steal that," I ask of him, as I take a hold of the precious gem. It is cut in the shape of a circle. 

"I also defeated a Lich, and the people of Iuegova gifted me this as a result," Givontair then takes off the piece of jewelry, and places it around my neck. "There, this is my first courtship gift to you." 

"I can't take it," the last thing I want, is for his inner dragon to rebel about pieces of the horde being given away. 

"I'd give you something else, but I wanted for you to carry the proof that I am a good fighter," at times, I forget that Givontair is more than just a healer. I look at his ash covered clothes, and rise an eyebrow at him. 

"Just what did you burn?" I ask him. He grins at me. 

"A cursed hill," his tone is teasing. I hum, not wanting to show him that I don't want to play the guessing game. 

"Giv won't ever burn a town," Erik defends his savior. "He is a good dragon!" 

"I won't be able to fly us anywhere. My tail is damaged. Speaking of, you should check the ashes my tail tip turned into. A Lich may or may not still reside in them," I nod at that, and reach out for Givontair to hand me the ashes. The dragon does so. I can feel the foul mana coming off the bag. 

"I think I can get rid of the Lich," I say, more to assure myself, than to assure Givontair. Maybe, if I paid more attention to my studies when it comes to necromancy, then I would have had more confidence. 

"Do your best," Givontair says, and then takes Erik to the side. As they are busy unloading the animals and leading them to the shed that is right next to the cottage, I focus on the ash pile. 

Now, a more experienced necromancer would have simply overruled the Lich. Yet, I am not such. There is only one way I can cleanse these ashes, before the Lich manages to make itself a dragon body. 

I shudder at the very thought, that there could be an undead dragon caster. With my mind being made, I begin to suck in all the mana from the ash into myself. The memories flood my mind. 

Of a human boy, who just wanted to defend his village. Of a wizard, bitter, and closed off. Of a deal made on the crossroads. A deal that the wizard did not pay.

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Of imprisonment for just existing, and not being able to control his power. All false memories, to be sure. For, they are too clear. Too ordered. I snort at the Lich's attempts to make me feel pity for it. 

Even if there is a kernel of truth in these visions, I bet that the motivations behind them were not altruistic. One does not become a Lich, if they possess a good heart. When the Lich sees that it can't make me feel sorry for it, it begins its attack. 

I can feel my old wounds, as if they were freshly opened. The one wound on my right leg, from the shadow, begins to bleed now. Yet, I don't hold back, either. It pains me to use cleansing magic. Burns my hands, as much as it burns away the Lich. Yet, until the slight begging and threats don't stop, I can't stop either. 

Givontair comes to me. Once he sees the blood dripping from my leg, his eyes go wide. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, worry clear to be heard in his voice. 

"What I must. Please — stop the bleeding," I say. My head feels hazy. I wonder, if I will survive this. 

"Don't tell me you are trying to eat the Lich," even though Givontair looks ready to scold me, he still places a mana coated hand over my leg wound. His mana gives me the slight boost of energy, that I need. 

With a final push, I silence the Lich once and for all. The only thing left of it, are its memories. I can see the truth then.

 Of a child born out of wedlock, thrown out of his mother's house when it reached 18. Of a red-haired wizard promising power, and delivering the curse. My eyes widen, when I see the wizard. This is not Ulcer. What are the chances, that this is the man we are searching for?

"I saw a red-haired wizard in the Lich's memories," I tell Givontair. "He had a tear tattoo under his right eye." 

"That is no ordinary wizard. You saw Bael the Schemer," the name doesn't ring any bells, but if Givontair is sure about the identity of the man, I won't argue. 

"Is he a dragon shifter?" I ask. Givontair shakes his head. The bleeding in my leg finally stops, and he removes his hand from my leg. 

"Not a dragon shifter, but he is a necromancer from a long line of necromancer. He used to have a last name, long ago, but the Pope at that time stripped him of all lands and titles," I nod. Yes, that is the fate of most necromancers. To have everything taken from them, and then to be forced to become beggars. That is, if they accepted their punishment with a bowed head. 

"What are we going to do about Bael?" I ask. It seems, that we are piling up a task after a task on each other. 

"Erik's mother is a priority. We can't make any more such stops, like we did for Tara. The boy needs to be reunited with his mother," Givontair doesn't let me argue, as he holds up a hand. So, I close my mouth, and do my best not to think too much about leaving helpless people to fend for themselves. 

 

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