RinoZ
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B5 Chapter 1 - Survivors
🕑 Added 2025-01-25 07:25:02 +0000 UTCWith each step Elsbeth took, crystal shards crunched underfoot. The ground was littered with them, broken from the larger clusters that burst through the ground, rising as high as a house at their largest. To think that crystallised magick, a precious resource over the mountains, was so absurdly abundant here.
It sickened her.
She cast her gaze across the plains and barely recognised her own world. There were almost no trees, no grass or greenery of any kind. Instead, a blasted wasteland of crystal shards and sandy, dry soil extended in every direction she turned, only terminating at the Barrier Mountains, scraping the sky to the east.
When they had finally been forced to flee through the mountains, a part of her had been filled with hope, dreaming that life away from the Empire would be better than it had been before. Reality was not so kind.
A presence within her spirit stirred, and the Priestess clasped her hands before her chest and closed her eyes. Slowly, the sensation grew as a being so much greater than herself reached out to speak into her heart.
A hard land will make a hard people. We will pour out our blessings on the worthy and upon this land. Fear for the people, and we will not fail to judge them.
The touch of The Three receded and Elsbeth released a shuddering breath. More often than ever before, the Old Gods were willing to speak to their Priesthood, taking a more direct hand. Perhaps they had foreseen this future all along? They intended for the western province to be wholly destroyed so that they could create a new land, carved out of the wilds for their followers to inhabit?
That wasn’t for her to worry about. The Gods knew her heart, knew what concerned her the most. She would continue to fear for the people and hold them up in prayer. Then, they would be judged, but there was nothing else she could do.
Footsteps approached from behind, easy to hear thanks to the crunching of crystal.
“What are you doing out here?” Munhilde asked. “Has something changed since yesterday?”
“Not that I can see,” Elsbeth said, turning to face her old teacher.
The older woman was smiling, not an expression that Elsbeth had grown accustomed to seeing on her face over the years they had known each other. Despite the frostbite that had taken three of her fingers, Munhilde had been more at peace than ever after crossing the mountains. Elsbeth had asked her about it, and had been told that living out from under the thumb of The Divines had been like being able to breathe freely for the first time.
“At least there aren’t any kin nearby,” Munhilde noted, scanning their surroundings. “Good to see the Slayers are doing their work properly.”
“They’ve been fighting constantly,” Elsbeth chided her.
“So? That’s what they do. Come back to the settlement, there’s nothing to be gained from standing out here.”
“Alright,” Elsbeth sighed, and began to walk back with her teacher turned friend.
“The Mages were forecasting another magick storm in a few days,” Munhilde told her, looping her arm through Elsbeth’s and patting her on the shoulder.
“Are the rods going to hold?” she replied, worried. “They’ve been taking a beating recently.”
“Getting information out of the lich is well beyond me,” Munhilde said. “I’ve met taciturn people in my life, but getting words from that particular undead has proven to be harder than getting blood from a stone.”
“I’ll try. He’s been a little more open with me.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
The two chatted back and forth as they continued to walk through the wasteland. In the distance, what had begun as a crooked smudge rapidly grew as the ruins of what had once been a great city came into view.
Broken stone littered the ground around them, enormous foundation stones, some several metres wide, jutting up from where they were half buried in the dirt. Elsbeth wasn’t sure what manner of kin had torn this once-thriving city apart, but she hoped she never saw one.
They began to see smoke rising and further signs of activity until finally, once they were well inside the circle of the ruined walls, they came across the first of the small settlements. Haggard-looking men and women came out from their homes amidst the rubble to greet the Priestesses as they passed, asking for news or for blessings. Many had perished in the western province, some had refused to leave, either not believing the Empire would destroy them, or simply lacking the will to start over somewhere else.
Millions had died, but millions had survived, and begun the great migration to the west. The mountain crossing had been perilous, especially difficult for the very young, and the very old, and many hadn’t made it. Adapting to life in these harsh conditions had claimed more. But now, two years after the city of Kenmor had fallen, life was beginning to feel at least a little normal for the survivors.
Whenever she was asked for prayer, Elsbeth was more than happy to stop and spend time with the people, calling on the Old Gods to turn their gaze favourably upon those who called on them. It was unlikely they would listen; Crone, Raven and Rot would judge who was worthy, and who was not, without much care for her input.
The closer they drew to the centre of the ruins, the more people, and the more signs of habitation they found, until they eventually wound their way to the city centre, where the first signs of fresh water could be seen.
In the very centre of the lost city, a fountain had once stood. An enormous edifice, dozens of metres across, which had once been topped with a grand statue, perhaps depicting a ruler, or hero of the long-dead people of Granin. Now, a different stone sat in its place upon the plinth, a rock which, when the light fell upon it just right, seemed to resemble an old man laughing. From beneath that rock, an endless wellspring of water flowed forth, filling the fountain basin and overflowing into the garden plots that had been constructed all around it.
This was where the settlement was at its busiest. The grand plaza of the ruined city had been turned into the last safe haven of those who had fled from the western province, the only place with potable water and fertile soil in the entire wasteland. All around the outskirts of the open space, great poles had been planted, rising ten metres into the air and crackling with power at the tip.
It was around the base of one of these that Elsbeth found what she was looking for.
The presence of the dead was everywhere in the settlement. Patrols walked the streets, skeletons worked alongside the living to dig the channels, clear the debris, work the plots. Even without the presence of their master, the wights and demi-liches were able to command the lesser undead, and it was one of these she was looking for.
Twenty skeletons, a wight and a demi-lich had gathered around the base of one of the rods, and after bidding farewell to Munhilde, Elsbeth strode toward them before stopping a respectful distance away.
As she watched, the demi-lich floated before the rod, one skeletal hand extended, causing the complex sigil patterns engraved on the wooden surface to glow.
“You can approach, young one,” the lich said at last, lowering his hand.
Elsbeth walked toward the group, watched carefully by the attendant wight, but she paid them no mind.
“Master Willhem, it’s nice to see you again,” she said.
The demi-lich turned his hollow-eyed stare on her.
“I think you are the only one who greets me like that,” the Arcanist said, his voice ethereal and ghostly.
“You may not be alive any longer, but you are still Master Willhem, and you’ve done so much to help people. I wouldn’t dare not show my respect.”
An empty chuckle emanated from the lich.
“It’s nice to be appreciated,” he said. “I suppose you came to ask about the rods?”
“I did,” Elsbeth confirmed, “Munhilde told me there should be another magick storm soon. I was hoping you would be able to tell me if they’ll be able to protect us.”
Master Willhem looked up at the rod, then at the raging skies above.
“I never imagined I would ever see such raw, unbridled power,” he sighed, then extended a hand to touch the wood once more. “I’ve been doing work on the rods for the last few days, but there are so many, it’s unlikely I’ll get to them all before the storm arrives. The ones I’ve fixed will function properly, but I can’t guarantee them all.”
Elsbeth bowed her head.
“That’s all we can ask of you, Master Willhem. Thank you for your efforts.”
“It isn’t like I have much choice. My pupil has asked me to do it, though I was going to anyway.”
The demi-lich snorted, or tried to. Sometimes it seemed as if he still hadn’t adapted to being dead, despite the passage of years since the transition.
“Do you mean Tyron is coming back? He’s been gone for months.”
“Should be back in an hour or two, the brat,” Willhem groused. “If you see him, tell him to help me with these damn rods. If he wants to collect and ground enough magick to scour an entire city, then he better come and assist. I’m too old for this.”
“You could tell him yourself?” Elsbeth suggested gently.
The lich stared at her with his blank eyes.
“I think not,” he said shortly, then turned away, drifting just above the ground as he moved to the next rod.
Elsbeth sighed. It was a shame Master Willhem found it so difficult to reconcile with his former student, and Tyron was surprisingly reluctant to force the issue. If she were to guess, she would say that the former Arcanist was the one person he actually felt bad for having turned into an undead.
If the Necromancer was returning, then he would be coming from the south. Elsbeth looked over the plaza once more, before she smiled to herself and began to walk to the southern end of the ruins.
Spotting Tyron coming back was much easier than she’d expected, the horde of skeletons gave him away. Rows of undead, marching in perfect unison, walked directly into the city as Elsbeth watched them go past. Eventually, in the middle of the column, she found Tyron and Dove, bickering as usual.
“Welcome back,” she greeted them. “Nice to see you getting along so well.”
“The best part of coming back here,” Tyron grunted, “is having someone else for Dove to annoy.”
“I’ll stick to you like glue,” Dove declared. “No distractions this time.”
“You won’t last five minutes.”
Before they could get caught up in another argument of Dove’s devising, Elsbeth interjected.
“You’ve been gone for months this time. Was it worthwhile? Are the Dust Folk going to help us?”
“They are,” Tyron confirmed, “and I was able to get a glimpse at some of their scrolls. We can expect the first caravan in a week or two. I’ll have a talk with Master Willhem and see if we can put together the things they want before they arrive.”
“Master Willhem is busy right now checking up on the rods,” she told him. “They’re expecting another storm in the next few days and he’s not sure he can get to all of them in time.”
Tyron looked irritated, then sighed.
“He still refuses to reach out to me, doesn’t he?”
“Seems that way,” Elsbeth confirmed. She fell in alongside her old friend as they walked back into the city. “I don’t think he’s comfortable with what happened to him.”
It was interesting to see how people responded to Tyron as he returned. Faces peeked out from behind the buildings, or looked down from above, out of crumbling windows from two story buildings overlooking the road.
Some were filled with light and hope, others, fear and disgust. Tyron remained a controversial figure amongst the survivors. Some praised him for his role in protecting and saving them, other blamed him for all that had befallen the western province.
“We found the tomb of Ahrinan the Black, by the way,” Dove said. “Apparently he was a bit of an amateur.”
“What? Really?” Elsbeth exclaimed. “You found it?”
Tyron nodded.
“There is a lot I can learn from what we recovered. It’s just that his spellwork was crude,” he said, glaring at Dove.
Overhead, the clouds stormed and rolled, light flashing and coiling as the magick gathered and intensified.
Comments
Sloth
That’s kinda how I thought he was gonna handle revenants/whites/liches before he went all john wick. I thought he’d commune with dead souls and ask if they wanted to continue to fight against the empire for a period of service and then be set free. More like what happened with Filleta
Suastes Jiménez Miguel Angel
Interesting
Suastes Jiménez Miguel Angel
I wonder if Elsbeth has ever met any family or acquaintances from her life before she was a priestess of the three gods. It would be interesting to see a flashback about what the battle or destruction of the western province was like. I can't believe Master Willhem is now a demi-linch, I didn't think Tyron would actually do that. What does his other apprentice think of this? If she's still alive, that is.
Sam
Thanks for the chapter. P.s I would love to here about maybe a willing undead, if such a things is possible. Like a father or mother getting sick and instead of leaving their family with out them they like "hey turn me into an undead so I can keep helping my family or community.
Zen-RPG
Yeah both powerfull but focused on different aspects of their craft
Brandon14754
I more wonder about willhem's other main apprentice
Brandon14754
his soul should be long gone by now (it's been like 5+ years since he died) so no point really. If he wants a chance at it he'd have to go to the realm of the dead.
Brandon14754
the stone that resembles a laughing old man and is creating the wellspring of water is the awakening stone, that's how it was described as well when the old man turned into the awakening stone
Grey Knight Lord
Ahriman probably was an Arch Necromancer that focused on the necromancy aspect rather than the magic side. Tyron is a hard core mage Necromancer with enchanting making his magic better.
christian montgomery
When Tyron was testing his weave before he discovered the “rope” method, Tyron mentioned that he only used Laurel because Rufus had probably gone completely mad and would only scream if he was given the ability to talk. I’m somewhat hopeful that Laurel will get some more development and/or that Tyron will start to treat her like his other wrights since she could lead to interesting interactions (with Elsbeth/Tyron/?Worthy&Meg), but I don’t have any hope for Rufus at this point
Bob ashwen
there's a map?
Prinny Knight
So far he's 2/3 of mentors retained, he needs to go find that butchers bones to complete the set.
Sean Hibbitt
Fair, but it was nice to see these points of view in person :)
Runaway_Cactuar
We're gonna need an updated map, RinoZ~
DrDankness
Lol. Getting roasted in the after life.
DrDankness
From what I can see I highly doubt Tyron could afford to lose a person as talented as Master Wilhelm. The guy was an enchanter at a level even Tyron hasn't reached. As a lich now he has practically infinite stamina and access to a constant stream of mana from Tyron's diverse array of sources. As fucked up as it may be I see why he would go through with making Wilhelm into a lich even if he has reservations.
DrDankness
The beginnings of new books in this series tends to include time jumps. It inevitably adds some clunk to the start. From what I remember these are the portions that receive the most edits upon publication and serialization so its not really surprising that it feels a bit off. In the span of the prologue to this chapter he jumped from the Dust people to Ahrinan the black's tomb to the new settlement. Imo he was probably better off starting directly with Dove and Tyron making it to the new settlement and they spend the prologue explaining the two more significant moments they have just been up to rather than jumping around physically so extensively.
Forint
This chapter feels a little incomplete.
Greyg
He is a revenant i believe no free will or growth like the wights Laurel is an archer wight, but better than a basic skeleton he doesn’t deserve a higher amount of freedom seems the likely answer also better souls are available for wights than a below bronze slayer in training at least laurel is driven to be better, while rufus is well rufus
Lucas Gulick
The awakening stone was brought with them, there were a few lines about it in this chapter
Derek Zoolander
I still wonder what happened to Rufus. Maybe he's still stuck in a rock. Maybe he's just another nameless foot soldier. At the very least I always thought he would have an important role.
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Greyg
a different stone sat in its place upon the plinth, a rock which, when the light fell upon it just right, seemed to resemble an old man laughing this sounds like the awakening stone, but it’s providing water still assuming its the awakening stone it would be hard growing enough food for millions of people even with free water only so much productive soil unless people can eat riftkin i couldn’t see millions being provided for over 2 years world building in a wasteland expect the population to drop until sustainable providing new bodies for necromancers assuming we get more students
Greyg
Only a few things missing is a mention of his students assuming some of the undead working in the city is theirs and the awakening stone info is it still in craigwhistle hard to create a civilization without class awakening? his students all of which should be bronze working towards silver so their main class advanced now after 2+ years since their last meeting plenty of riftkin to kill by the sounds of it?Windhelm feels like a good character hope he gets some development, as a more free range lich doubts on much freedom from the sounds of his relationship with tyron he felt the distance between them making dove the only true free undead so far made long before he had access to even demi lich would dove ever ask him for an upgraded body?
Navarog
Ahriman had army with undead Tyrion had never saw. And he had flying monsters. He was powerful necromancer just not the pedant mogę like Tyrion.
CentaureHeart
Tyron clearly said he was dying and beyond hope last time
ZaneofBane
As useful as he is, I doubt he was given a choice about undeath, even if it ate at Tyron.
Wensber
I think he was simply too injured to be saved.
Retroburn
He was weak from old age, and being deprived for a few days had almost been enough to finish him off. Could be he never recovered and succumbed a few days later, or Tyron saw the signs and sped up the process a little.
christian montgomery
Well, Tyron said he wouldn’t recover after he found him in the dungeon due to his old age, and Elsbeth said that the trip through the mountains/settling Granin was rough on the very young/very old, so he probably died at some point while crossing the mountain.
Hieu Le
How did Master Wilhelm die? Last I recall, he was only imprisoned in Kenmore.
Andrew
Thank you!
Buck
Poor Master Wilhelm. It saddens me that he was killed before his time by the Duke’s troops. Glad to see him back, even as only a demi-lich. His skills are desperately needed by the rebels. TFTC!
braeden winstead
Tftc
Brandon14754
Poor Ahrinan
DagNabItAll
Every day I wake up, I wake up and hope I will get some Dove dialogue that day.
