The Lich Without a Soul Vessel

"I never controlled her," the man's voice said. "I only planted a directive in her mind — one she never even noticed. She's been passing along information without knowing it herself. That's all this ever was."

"You never controlled her, and yet here we are. Care to explain?" Evan asked, still perfectly calm. Jessica understood as well by now — the vampires' outpost really had rested on this woman all along.

"This was meant to protect her, so my efforts wouldn't go to waste over nothing more than a scrap of information you happened to trigger. After this, I'll have to let the connection dissolve. Feimaji, you've carried out your task well. You can step into the open now. From here, you'll take your place among the upper ranks." As the voice finished, a flood of new understanding settled into Feimaji's mind at once — her true identity, who she answered to, what her purpose had been all along.

Evan had already withdrawn his aura. Something in him sighed quietly. Four hidden powers, all revealed now. He wasn't quite sure what to say, and gave Jessica a rueful look instead.

Jessica had never seen anything like this before either, and a tangle of feelings rose in her at the sight of the woman in front of them — once nothing more than a working girl, now, through some strange twist of fate, the vampires' representative in Burk Town. Was that even a good thing, for her?

Feimaji stood frozen, at a loss for how to face this new identity. Jessica softened her voice. "Come back with us. We're from Hollingburton. As Count Dracula's representative, you're welcome among us. Our mentor, Lady Heathermere, is in Burk Town right now."

Feimaji hesitated. "Am I really suited to this?"

Evan spoke up from beside her. "By any reasonable measure, no, you're not. But since you were the one chosen, I doubt Count Dracula misjudged you. No one is born a ruler. You'll grow into it."

She nodded and walked out of the house with the two of them.

Evan wasn't especially familiar with Count Dracula, and something about his title as a mere count nagged at him. He knew vampire rank followed a scheme of duke, marquis, count, viscount, and baron, and a vampire count shouldn't have counted among the true top-tier powers — yet the man belonged to one of the Thirteen Clans, ranked above even Duke Windsor. That contradiction stuck with him.

He asked Jessica quietly, "How strong is Count Dracula, really? Why does someone that powerful only hold the rank of count?"

Jessica laughed at that. "Count Dracula's actual strength is at minimum on par with a duke, and some say he's closer to prince-level. But his count's title is a genuine one — granted when he was still human, and he's kept the name ever since, which throws people off. Don't forget, he ranks thirty-first on the Creationist Church's list of heretics."

Understanding settled over Evan. No one with a reputation like that turned out to be simple. Hearing the heretics' list mentioned again, he found himself wondering, with some private amusement, just where he himself might rank on it — somewhere near the bottom, probably.

They hadn't kept their conversation from Feimaji. A strange feeling rose in her as she listened. Since her turning, she'd known the Creationist Church hunted vampires without mercy — part of why she'd never left Burk Town at all. In Norse, though the Church held sway as the dominant faith among ordinary people, heretical beliefs like the Druids still survived here, and dark creatures were far more common than across the Tyrenese continent. On the mainland proper, dark creatures faced far heavier suppression than they did out here.

They returned with a lovely woman in tow, drawing curious looks from the others. Evan went in first. Heathermere sat reading, and looked up as he entered. "Sit, Wang. You've only been here a few days, and yet you've handled everything with real decisiveness. Between this and that magical crystal you found before, you've been at Hollingburton barely half a year, and already you've made contributions the school won't forget."

"I'll stand, if you don't mind. I went out walking today and ran into someone — a vampire. She's Count Dracula's representative. Jessica and I brought her here. Would you speak with her?" Evan said.

"So Dracula's people finally show themselves. Bring her in," Heathermere said, clearly intrigued.

Evan stepped out and returned a moment later with Feimaji, who dropped into a curtsy. "Honored Lady Heathermere. Feimaji, at your service. Good day, my lady."

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"Good day, lovely Miss Feimaji. Please, sit. I hadn't expected someone so young — though I suppose remarkable people so often are." Heathermere gestured her to a seat with a smile. Whatever she thought of Feimaji's own strength, the power standing behind her was nothing to dismiss, and Heathermere kept her manner accordingly courteous.

Once Feimaji had settled in, Evan turned to Jessica. "Honored Lady Heathermere, we have a few matters of our own to see to. We'll take our leave."

Heathermere nodded, and Evan and Jessica withdrew. Whatever the two women discussed after that held no interest for him. "We leave first thing tomorrow morning," Jessica said. "Aside from the four of us who came together, Lidis and Raight will be coming along too. Lady Heathermere plans to stay here a while longer. Once things settle, there'll be a standing presence of about thirty here, led by two teachers, one of them an Arcanist. The outpost's due for an expansion too — probably a yearly rotation from here on."

Evan nodded. The news had clearly come to Jessica through Heathermere directly. It seemed the town's adventurers would never amount to much of a force again.

The town carried on much as before on the surface, though its true balance of power had already been quietly overturned. The weather had cleared to overcast that day, the oppressive heat finally giving way to the crispness autumn was meant to bring. Two nightmares pulled a large carriage, its surface layered with glowing sigils, curtains of imported eastern beadwork hanging across the windows. Evan sat with the others inside, close to the left-hand window.

He lifted the beaded curtain and watched Burk Town recede slowly behind them, letting out a quiet, contemplative breath. He hadn't spent many days in this town, and yet he'd left blood and turmoil in his wake. Two of the town's three major gangs had fallen at his hand, and through what he'd set in motion, Hollingburton had swept away the town's old power structure like a thunderclap, forcing the four true powers out from behind the curtain and into the open. But the matter wasn't finished. One thread he'd meant to follow — the devil cult — had never really gotten anywhere. The only connection he'd found to it during his time in town had been Fiat, leader of the Gael Advance Corps, summoning a devil to possess him. Beyond that, nothing else tied back to it at all. It was almost as if the cult didn't exist.

Raight sat properly dressed today, an eyepatch over his ruined left eye, his remaining eye sharp and alert, wrapped in a Hollingburton robe, sitting quietly in the carriage.

Jessica turned the ring over in her hands — Evan knew the recovered shipment sat inside it. Lidis dozed nearby, while Jaymes and Peter sat in quiet meditation.

The carriage moved at an easy, steady pace. Evan let the curtain fall and listened to the steady roll of the wheels, and before long, his focus drifted into the sound itself. Monotonous as it was, something in the rhythm caught him, and he sank into a light trance.

He couldn't say how long it lasted before the sound of horses and men ahead jolted him back. The carriage had already come to a stop. He drew the curtain aside to find a mountain rising ahead of them, and a band of armed riders blocking the road. Evan didn't spare them a glance at first, looking instead toward the mountain's summit, thick with trees, its peak lush and green. Something up there was watching him — he couldn't see it, but he felt it clearly, and strangely, some sense of familiarity ran through the feeling. Whatever it was, though, it didn't seem inclined to act.

Only then did he turn his attention to the riders blocking their path, and a smile crossed his face. Wilbur — thirteen men in all. One was a mage, staff in hand, a faint wind stirring around him — a wind mage, fifth tier. Another, a slight, wiry man, carried a bow far too large for his frame, his quiver holding ordinary arrows alongside shafts glowing pale blue and others glowing red — Gale Arrows and Blaze Arrows.

Among them stood thieves as well. Of the thirteen, seven counted as genuine ability-users; the rest were simply built strong, muscle stacked on muscle, sitting their horses with a variety of weapons in hand. Wilbur carried a greatsword; two thieves carried long daggers of differing make; among the remaining ability-users, one wielded a flail, another a long-handled hammer; the last six carried long, double-edged curved blades. Killing intent rose off all of them at once, gathering into a single, mounting pressure.

Evan opened the carriage door and stepped down, then handed the two women down after him with easy courtesy. The other men climbed out as well. Wilbur's group made no move to attack yet — some measure of knightly restraint holding them back, it seemed — though from the moment Evan stepped out, his movements looked unhurried while his eyes never actually left the group, especially the mage and the archer.

Once everyone had climbed down, Wilbur spoke. "There's no turning back from this now. Only one side walks away from here alive today. Let's settle this like knights should. The Creator stand with us! Charge!" He leveled his greatsword at Evan and spurred his horse forward.

A bowstring sang, and an arrow glowing red streaked toward them. The wind mage began his own chant, a thin whistle rising through the air as a Wind Blade lanced out. On Evan's side, Jaymes and Peter threw up a protective ward over the group at once. Raight leveled his staff and sent a string of ice lances out to meet the incoming Wind Blade, shattering it apart in a rattle of impacts. Lidis answered with a dark red scorching ray, aimed straight at the archer. Evan raised a hand and cast Wind Blade of his own — not to shield himself, but sending it flying straight at the incoming Blaze Arrow. It detonated in midair with a burst of flame. Before the archer could loose a second shot, the scorching ray reached him. He raised his bow to block it on instinct, and the string snapped the instant it touched the beam — he'd dodged the worst of it, but his weapon was ruined all the same.

Wilbur paid none of it any mind, his horse thundering forward. He knew that once he closed the distance to this cluster of mages, the fight would already be half won.